#i know i’m not even beginning to comment on the full range of their characters and relationship

[rivetgoth]

what do you think of cursedindustrialconfessions on instagram? and other fandom style confession accounts?

personally i don't find much issue with the accounts themselves but some of the comments and confessions are truly cursed 💀

Been sitting on this ask since I woke up trying to figure out why it doesn’t sit right but yk, here— I don’t have any interest in name dropping specific accounts or pages and talking shit on them (OR conversely praising accounts who I think are the "right" kind of fan). I obviously vagued a few specific instances I’ve seen of behavior I found inappropriate from online “industrial fans” in the original post I made but even then kept usernames out of it and even then I was trying to emphasize that all of these are examples of a larger problem, not that One Particular Guy is the harbinger of inappropriate industrial fan behavior lol. I already shared the bulk of my thoughts about “fandomizing” real life musicians and real life music subcultures/communities and my distaste for it, but ultimately every single topic (especially things that are ultimately not life threatening and I’d even go as far as to call a First World Problem) is going to have plenty of nuance and grey area and I think it’s counterproductive and even hypocritical personally for me to start making lists of the Good and Bad industrial fans/pages. That just as much goes against my view of the industrial scene as a community as the stuff I was bitching about to begin with.

I’m honestly a little nervous about the post I made getting a decent amount of notes to begin with because it’s not like I was trying to write the absolute manifesto on Correct or Moral fan behavior, though I think sometimes my posts are mistaken for such because I write a lot and very passionately (sorry), I was just complaining about trends I’ve seen in online industrial music spaces that feel disrespectful or rub me the wrong way, and ultimately was just trying to strongly emphasize that this subculture is an incredibly important real life community for me full of people I absolutely adore and I don’t like seeing the music or the people who make it fandomized or treated like weird quirky characters, with their experiences and traumas not taken seriously. Obviously there is a grey area to any of it, and ultimately I think stuff like memes or jokes about these guys, fan creations ranging from DIY’d clothing to fan art to fan edits to cosplay to whatever else, and even expressing sexual attraction towards them is generally harmless and normal when it’s done respectfully and thoughtfully, keeping in mind these are real people with real traumas, who are not that famous, who can and do look themselves up online and see what’s going on, or have friends who do and then send it to them. Like, I was planning to make that post BEFORE Ogre spoke up about how he was reading comments online about people complaining about the show not being as bloody as prior ones and how it upset him because the older shows were an expression of authentic pain and suffering and even literal self harm and this new show was an intentional movement towards something new and the fact that he’s in a better place in life now… He said that because he saw firsthand what people were saying about him online!

So idk man. But ultimately if you really really want my thoughts? I think any time something is described as “fandom style” in the context of real people or an active real life music subculture all of my hair bristles like a scared animal and my fight or flight response kicks in lol. And I ultimately think that y’all are gonna have to decide for yourselves what you’re okay with rather than ask me, because Lord knows I am not the keeper of all that is objectively right and true. I think some of MY opinions for what is or isn’t okay might actually be more extreme than others (like I said in my previous post—I’m much more neutral on RPF than many I’ve seen, which I think is a controversial take? I just think like anything else there is lots of nuance in that conversation. Idk.), I just encourage anyone calling themselves an industrial fan or viewing it as a fandom to try dipping their toes into an IRL alt music scene and start talking more to old timers and going to shows and clubs and making friends and connections that way with other people who are devoting parts of their life to actively engaging with the community surrounding this music face to face because I think it can very quickly change your perspective for the better and kinda demystify some of the more fandom-y mindsets that these guys are larger than life caricatures to be memed on the same way you would talk about like, Herbert West or Will Graham or whatever.

[gaminganxious]

Stay - Review

Genre: Narrative suspense puzzle game

Release Date: Sept 12th, 2018

Playtime: 7hrs

Completed: Yes

Would Play Again?: I Absolutly plan to revisit this game again. I think it's smart to take some time between plays though.

Before I begin the review, I wanted to give a warning. This game deals with themes of anxiety, depression, and death. The game will caution you about the presence of these themes before you play, but I wanted to be sure I said something here as well. Please be sure you are in the right mindset before you play this game or avoid it entirely if needed. Your safety and well-being are not worth sacrificing to play a game. Please take care. 

With that addressed, I can say I’ve yet to play anything like Stay before. The main character is Quinn, a man who has been kidnapped and left in a dark room with only an old computer for light. On that computer is a chat room and on the other side of that chat room is you. Who you are or how you came to be on the chat is not explained. I’m certain it's left intentionally vague as there are multiple endings to the game. Your every interaction with Quinn impacts how much he trusts you and influences his decision making as he explores his confines. You’ll need to be cautious as the decisions you make can and will get him killed. 

This is a pixel art game which I can go either way on. Sometimes I find the stylistic choices can make objects hard to discern in pixel games. That is not the case here. The art is very clean regardless of whether it's a full blown pixel painted cut scene or just regular gameplay. There are several distinct styles of pixel art throughout the game that range in their complexity and detail but even when it switches to the more base style its still clear what every object is. There are a few points where Quinn looks a little goofy at times but wasn’t enough to really distract from the game. The music lends to the atmosphere without overwhelming the game at anypoint. Despite playing a straight seven hour playthrough I didn’t find it repetitive or intrusive at any point.

For the most part Stay is a narrative experience. Aside from the occasional comment from you, you’ll spend most of your time reading Quinn’s messages and watching him explore his surroundings. It does a good job of making your decisions feel impactful but I did find myself really wishing I could interact more at times. The only other interaction you will have is helping Quinn solve the many puzzles he comes across in his attempt to escape. Aside from a brief and very basic overlay of the chat controls at the beginning of the game you are not given any explanation of the controls. This can be particularly frustrating with the puzzles as the controls are not consistent from puzzle to puzzle and the only way to figure them out is by trial and error. Once the controls were sorted out I found I spent most of my time figuring out how to solve some of the puzzles rather than the actual solving part. The puzzles sort of broke the experience for me in places. Some of them fit the theme of the game really well but others just felt plain unnecessary to me. The use of humors to indicate Quinn’s mood was really interesting to me. Although again I feel like some explanation might have been helpful with regards to it. I have only the many strange internet rabbit holes I've fallen down to thank for knowing what humoralism even is. It fits the theme of the game well. I just wish they had expanded on it a bit more. There is one more feature of note with Stay and that is the Stay and Away tracker. Essentially once you start a game your time spent playing is tracked and your time spent away from the game is also monitored. Even if you close the game entirely, that time is still being recorded. If you spend too long away from the game you’ll begin to lose trust with Quinn so its best to be able to play the whole game in one sitting if you can. 

The story as I experienced from start to finish was suspenseful and captivating. Stay has a real lock on the thriller aspect, at least in the beginning. Things got a little weird for me towards the end and I’m not sure how much of that was the story path I was on and how much is part of the base story. I would definitely like to play it again and see if I come to a different ending. I was invested in the outcome the entire time and I was a little surprised to find just how quickly I became invested in Quinn’s escape. I wanted him to trust me and I wanted him to make it out. 

Stay is currently listed on the Playstation store for $9.99, which I think is certainly worth it for what I got out of the experience. I get the feeling this might be a game most have overlooked, as I did. I will say again that, though not quite a horror game, Stay has some dark and heavy themes. You might also take into consideration that it's best to play the game in one sitting and could take seven hours to complete. Something good for a weekend if you enjoy thriller games but not the best for a casual afternoon.

#gaming #review #playstation #Stay #Pixel game #Narrative game #puzzle game #Thriller game

[dykemaclachlan]

okay, no, here’s my collected thoughts so far on a year in the life but i’m gonna hide it under the cut for spoilers and mentions of ab*se:

i’m in awe at how gilmore girls (in the original show but especially the limited series) manages to realistically pull off the repetitive hostile cycle of having a narcissistic parent you're close to, especially mother. the show doesn’t simplify emily to just an ab*ser, in fact i don’t think viewers even hate her let alone demonize her, and that’s what makes it so organic and hard-hitting. you can't help sympathizing with both emily and her daughter. you love her. you want her and lorelai to be okay and to finally really see each other. you're rooting for them both. i just...seeing lorelai having to deal with the cycle of getting comfortable to her mom and getting hurt by her again, even if she might’ve done something wrong, and just seeing the amazing portrayal of a manipulative/actual gaslighting mindset from kelly bishop just really strikes me. this is all motivated by the funeral scene in episode freaking one. it’s incredible writing you don’t often see especially in drama television.

#*lorelai voice* full freaking circle #i know i’m not even beginning to comment on the full range of their characters and relationship #but that’s cause this is just an admiration post and not an analysis #even i really overlook gilmore girls sometimes but it really has some of the most powerful scenes i’ve ever watched #gilmore girls #emily gilmore #lorelai gilmore #tw abuse #tw gaslighting #might delete later

[memryse]

many thoughts about Scar in Last Life

We all know Scar is one of the standouts of Last Life; he’s always been one of the key players ever since 3rd Life, driving conflicts and shaping the course of the server. His chaotic nature lends itself perfectly to 3rd/Last Life, and he seems to have only refined it in the hiatus between seasons.

In 3rd Life, Scar was more of a subjective villain. From his own perspective and Grian’s perspective, he wasn’t scary at all! The two of them were just having fun and causing problems – sure, they threatened people, but their dumb antics together made them just feel like two friends messing around; their POV was lighthearted until the final session, really. From other perspectives, however (particularly Dogwarts’ POVs), that was not how the two of them came across. They felt malicious, scary in how casually they approached such a bloodthirsty game. They’d laugh as they took lives, showing no care for anybody but themselves – they’d betray their allies in a heartbeat without an ounce of remorse, and the rest of the players knew it. Scar wasn’t someone to fear from his own POV.

Since Last Life began, however, Scar has become very openly malicious. Even watching his own POV, it’s hard to see him as anything but a villain – his own comment section is full of people commenting on how scary he suddenly seems. I want to expand on some of these villainous moments, because holy fuck, Scar.

In session 1, Scar is certainly a prominent figure, but we mostly get to see his classic silly Scar antics. Sure, he plans on “selling souls”, but it feels like the equivalent of his reputation points in S1. We still don’t get the sense of him going full villain arc yet. He allies with Joel and commits a crime, and we all expect another lighthearted Scar scam which definitely does not go to plan.

And that is what happened… sort of. He’s immediately caught by Scott and Pearl, etc etc etc. The two of them cheerfully agree a scheme to try and kill Jimmy, but that casual discussion of murder is as bad as they get.

Session 2, Scar is chosen as one of the two boogeymen, alongside Joel.

Things go decidedly not to plan immediately. The two of them had agreed last session to try and kill Jimmy, and were supposed to be trusting enough to tell each other if they’re the boogeyman – and yet what does Scar do? Immediately try and push Joel into lava. He’d betray Joel without a second thought – already a contrast to 3rdLife, where upon turning red Scar threw flowers at Grian and asked if they could still be friends. He doesn’t succeed, of course, and Scar and Joel realise they’re both boogeymen, before parting ways.

Scar heads to the nether, where he immediately decides to deceive Etho and Bdubs into thinking he’s weak and has no food, so that he can get close to them nonthreateningly or something. I’ll talk about this more later, but here we get to see what a good liar Scar actually is. People want to assume that he’s all bark and no bite, that he’s a schemer who poses no real threat – when Scar plays into this, he can be reallyconvincing.

The next big moment I want to talk about is, of course, Joel’s trap. The first thing to comment on here is that Scar cries “Joel, are you trying to kill your best buddy?!”, and I can’t work out whether this is Scar acting to diffuse suspicion, or genuine surprise that he’d pull the trap when Scar was right there, but either way it definitely has the former effect. None of the Southlanders suspect Scar in the slightest. Until Scar murders Mumbo in a matter of seconds.

What’s really horrifying about this is that Scar had been begging Mumbo to ally with him just last session. And yet here… not only does he go for Mumbo without hesitation, his reaction afterwards is downright chilling. He just laughs, and tells the others “Welcome to Magical Mountain!” – it’s really quite like a movie villain in how little he seems to care. He doesn’t actually say a word about killing Mumbo; again, despite having desperately wanted to ally with him. To Scar, this was nothing more than an opportunity. Or maybe it’s all a show to him. Maybe it’s both. Scar doesn’t actually care about winning this game – to him, it’s more fun to put on as good a show as possible, and drag as many people down with him as possible (which is definitely a “cc!Scar being a good entertainer” thing, but it translates very well into being a LL!Scar character trait too).

He then hands Joel some supplies, and with the exact same level of nonchalance, tells him to go burn Scott and Pearl’s house down. I’m… getting the sense he enjoyed burning down Etho’s castle in 3rdLife.

Not much of note happens during his subsequent conversation with the Southlanders beyond him failing an initiation spectacularly – after this, he heads back to Joel. They chat from opposite ends of a broken bridge, which is quite a poetic scene honestly, representing the gap between their lives, the destruction of their alliance, etc. I’m just here to talk about Scar’s villainous moments, though, so let me point out one specific line from this conversation.

“I did avenge you, to be fair - Mumbo, I burned him to death, which was enjoyable. I heard him cry, so it was- yeah, that was a thing.”

Just… what the fuck, Scar? What? I know he tried to push the “red lives are psychopathic and feel nothing except a small sense of happiness when people die” in 3rd Life, but this was definitely a lie or at least an exaggeration, because 3l!Scar definitely had a much wider range of emotions than that. Either way, here he doesn’t even have the excuse of being a red life; this is just active malice, pure and simple. Bdubs had a similar level of pride in his boogeyman kill, but I never got the sense that he enjoyed it like Scar did.

Scar goes off to visit Scott and Pearl, and figure out whether they have the enchanting table or not. Note the emphasis on simply figuring it out, not actually getting the enchanting table. Here’s where I want to talk about Scar being a great liar: he fully convinces them into thinking that he was willing to trade lives for the enchanting table, and then he convinces them that he’s so desperate to get the table that he’ll lie about Joel burning their house down. The thing is, Scar had no intention of ever getting the table at that moment – he wasn’t going to trade lives for it to begin with. He’d try his luck at threatening them, but nothing more. He got exactly what he wanted out of that situation: proof. Meanwhile, Scott and Pearl were left believing they’d outwitted him, that they’d called his bluff and bullied him into leaving. They never saw his true intentions, never saw him as an actual threat. Scar is much smarter than people believe, which only makes him all the more threatening.

And finally, he goes on to prove this intelligence even further. He figures out that Scott and Pearl planned to trade for the enchanting table simply by seeing Scott ask Lizzie if she’s home in chat. He then goes to visit Lizzie, and she tells him she declined their offer. What’s notable about this scene is how much less belligerent Scar is than usual: he readily accepts what Lizzie says for once in his life and leaves without being too annoying about it. He later talks about lulling the others into a false sense of security, letting them think he’s not after the enchanting table anymore; that makes me think his visit to Lizzie was purely to confirm that the offer was even made, and he’s now certain that she accepted it. It’s not hard to work out, especially if he noticed her life count.

So, all in all, if you’re not scared of Scar in Last Life, you most definitely should be.

Did I forget to mention he’s currently tied for the highest life count on the server?

#last life smp #goodtimeswithscar #smallishbeans #mumbo jumbo #ldshadowlady #scott smajor #pearlescentmoon #bdoubleo100 #ethoslab #(all tagged are discussed in the post) #mae analyses

[cupofteaguk]

switching my positions

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

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 40.1k 

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

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

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CHAPTER 1: THE DISCOVERY 

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You’re late. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Seokjin replies with a nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was Yoongi about to faint right now or what. 

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

Yoongi takes it wordlessly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi nods. “He did seem nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi nods. “Thank you.” 

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

.

.

CHAPTER 2: THE REQUEST 

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook simply shifts his gaze between the two of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you stop?” You squeak. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi is quiet for a moment. “Right.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really should say something. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, he’d probably say no. 

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “That’s valid, I guess.” 

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hope you don’t regret this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

. 

CHAPTER  3: THE ANNOUNCEMENT 

. 

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

HELLO, WE ARE KSJ RECORDS. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wave him off. “You gave me the week off. I was starting to get a little restless.” You take a seat in the other vacant chair, in front of Seokjin and besides Yoongi. “What’s up, Yoongi?” 

Yoongi is already looking at you when you turn to greet him, but as soon as you ask your question, the corner of his lips quirk up into a vaguely uneasy and nervous smile. “H-Hi honey.” 

You freeze at that, immediately furrowing your eyebrows as you produce your own nervous smile. “Hi?” You return. “What the fuck are you on?” 

Seokjin interrupts before Yoongi can get an answer in. “Stop, stop, you’re way too stiff, Yoongi!” 

“Well, I’m trying!” Yoongi spits, before looking back at you with an utterance of your name. “Sorry, Seokjin wanted me to try treating you the same way I would treat a girlfriend. Apparently I didn’t do too hot.” 

“Not apparently, you just didn’t do hot at all,” Seokjin retorts back, flashing you an apologetic smile. “We were trying out a few moves easier to see how well you guys can adjust from having your normal manager slash artist relationship to displaying a long term, healthy and happy romantic relationship. It’s one thing to say that you guys are dating, but you guys do need to have something of an act ready.” 

You fold your fingers over each other, your mind on a dissociation for the briefest of seconds as the realization sinks its teeth just a little deeper. Holding hands and saying cute shit to each other had been easy to talk about in passing dialogue to Seokjin—but actually having to do it is a hurdle you hadn’t considered to the fullest. 

“I mean…” You speak up after a moment. “What if we’re just one of those couples that aren’t handsey with each other? Or don’t need that lovey dovey look in each other’s eyes to prove that we’re in a relationship?” 

Seokjin ponders this for a second. “True. But if we’re starting this, there needs to be a full level commitment on the act. If people start questioning the legitimacy of your relationship, that would be an even worse scandal than just letting people make assumptions about Yoongi’s relationship status in general! We definitely, at least, need to develop a basic level of your relationship, and then you guys can work around your own varying levels of comfort. This is something that we need to get rolling as soon as possible, because you.” He points at Yoongi. “Are booked in the next few days to do some radio interviews. And you.” He points at you. “Are going to go with him, as his girlfriend.” 

Even though you had known the label was coming, you can’t stop from feeling hot all over at how you were now technically Yoongi’s girlfriend. 

“So,” Seokjin continues. “How about I give you a base level of what I’m looking for. And we can do a few practice runs to make sure you guys are comfortable enough with these expectations?” 

Yoongi nods, leaving you little option but to do the same. But the thought from the recording booth bubbles up again: you hope you won’t regret this. 

. 

A few days later and you don’t think you’ll regret the outcome of this situation. But you’ll definitely get a little sick on the way. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” You say in the car. You’re sitting in the back, next to Yoongi, staring straight ahead at the passenger seat before you. “And stay all in one piece,” You add as an afterthought. 

Yoongi glances over at you, looking nervous enough to admit a pout. “At least you don’t have to say anything—I’m the one doing all the talking…” 

You huff out a breath. This is true. You’re just here to play the supportive girlfriend, the agreeable partner who’ll publicly accompany Yoongi to a public event since a public announcement. Seokjin says that doing this with the lense of a romantic relationship makes you seem friendly, open, and supportive of the relationship. You’re not too sure how public perception is shaped, but you understand where Seokjin is coming from. Tagging along to an event as a girlfriend instead of a manager makes you and Yoongi seem free. Like you have nothing to hide. 

Only in reality, it’s the complete opposite. With everything coming out to the surface, you have everything to hide. 

It only takes a few more minutes of driving before you arrive at the radio station. The instructions for today’s assignment have been easy: get out of the car, and walk the many steps needed to reach the entrance of the station. The empty step ahead is surrounded by paparazzi and fans, all screaming and shouting—trying to get their fill of Yoongi. 

You sigh. You could do this. You and Yoongi have been practicing for the past few days. Albeit, ‘practicing’ just mainly consisted of the pair of you walking down a hallway close together. It was more lackluster than anything else, and you don’t think it was entirely productive use of time. Seokjin seemed to think that the pair of you needed to work on a closer level of proximity. But you know the truth about your feelings, and know that the complications will come from just being too close to him. 

Yoongi unbuckles his seatbelt and is already moving to tug at the handle that’ll open his side of the car door, immediately exposing him to the walkway along with the flashing cameras and loud screams. Before he can pull all the way, however, he stops short. You’re about to ask what the problem is, before he angles towards you and flashes you that grin he has when he’s thinking of ideas you wouldn’t approve of. “I have an idea,” He breathes out, quickly reaching over to grab your hand. 

You stiffen at the contact, trying to ignore the flash of your heart speeding up in your chest. You and Yoongi hadn’t agreed on this—if you had, maybe you would have been a little more prepared for the situation! Oh god. 

On instinct, you try to wiggle out of his grasp. “What are you doing?” You hiss. 

Yoongi gives you a dry look, reaching over to grab your hand again. “Calm down,” He argues back, lacing your fingers together for extra measure, like that’s gonna be the thing to help you calm the fuck down. “This’ll help sell it, okay? Just trust me.” 

Leaving little room for arguments, he squeezes your hand briefly before loosening it enough. He pulls the car door handle, pushing it outwards, and stepping out into the wild. People notice his appearance immediately, because the screams grow louder as Yoongi uses his unoccupied hand to wave and bow towards those who have come out to see him. 

You trail behind rather helplessly; the hand connected to Yoongi pulling you out of the car. Yoongi stays near the door, staring down at you with a rather watchful gaze that only leaves you feeling hotter than before. Still, you don’t speak of it as Yoongi steps back just enough for you to step out of the car. “You okay?” He asks. 

You nod, readjusting yourself with one hand before Yoongi starts to pull you alongside him to walk the distance towards the radio station entrance. Although you want to engage slightly with the crowd, your nerves keep you mainly at bay, forcing you to angle your head downwards just enough to avoid any serious eye contact. Yoongi keeps his gaze ahead, walking a rather brisk pace towards the radio studio—where security leads the way in opening the door for the pair of you. Whether he’s walking fast because he doesn’t want to keep up the charade of holding your hand for so long… or because he can feel how sweaty your palm is getting. You don’t know. 

It’s only a few more steps before you and Yoongi are entering the building for the radio show, where Jungkook is lingering near the entrance. He’s on his phone, probably having just made a call with Seokjin about your arrival, before he spots the two of you entering. “Hey guys, how was it?” 

Yoongi nods. “A little loud, but I think it went alright.” 

Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to your intertwined hands. “Wow, you guys are committed,” He comments. 

You seem to remember that your soul has returned to the body that is still currently holding hands with Min Yoongi. Alarmingly, you take your hand back. “Y-Yeah, Yoongi thought it would be a good show for the people outside! No biggie—just a simple hand holding technique, people do that all the time!” You realize that you’re rambling. 

Yoongi, oblivious as always, raises an eyebrow. “You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah,” You manage. “Why do you ask?” 

Yoongi is about to answer, before an intern shyly approaches the three of you with an iPad in hand. 

“Are you all under Mr. Min’s team?” She asks, fishing out some badges when you nod in confirmation. “Okay, so make sure to take these so everyone knows who you are. Mr. Min? I can lead you to the studio you’ll be interviewing in, if you’ll follow me—did you need me to grab a soda for you?” She begins listing a series of questions about his well-being, leaving you and Jungkook behind in the hallway with your newly acquired badges in hand.

Jungkook, observant as always, gives you a look. “What was that all about?” 

“Huh? I-It was nothing…” You trail off looping the badge around your neck, meeting Jungkook’s eyes and realizing that he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. The same kind of grin that Taehyung gives you when you’re standing too close to Yoongi. Your eyes flare. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW?”  

Jungkook laughs. “Calm down, calm down, Taehyung and I gossip a lot on the side—hey, what the fuck, don’t hit me—we’re in a public place!” 

You relent your aggression, but only slightly. You lower your arms as well. “Just—don’t tell Yoongi.” 

Jungkook levels with you a dry look. “Do you think I have a death wish? C’mon, let’s head over.” 

With a hesitant sigh, you relent and let Jungkook lead you down the halls of this studio, until the pair of you find a door with Yoongi’s name written on the white board. There’s a darkened LIVE light panel above the frame, indicating that Yoongi’s radio interview hasn’t started yet. There’s some people lingering about, who nod and open the door for you when you present your TALENT badge at them. The inside of a radio booth is similar to the recording booths Yoongi has found a home in as of late. There’s people in this current room, headphones on and monitoring what’s happening before them while being surrounded with sound panels and laptop screens. On the other side of the glass is Yoongi, and the main hosts of the radio station, Jung Hoseok and Im Nayeon. 

From your side, you can hear their conversation amplified through speakers in the studio. They’re all currently joking around about external matters—it makes sense too. Yoongi has been on this particular radio show a handful of times. 

“Okay, okay, you guys,” Hoseok speaks after a few more minutes of playful banter. “Today, we have a very special guest with us today. He’s fresh off the tour of his first and most recent EP, we have Min Yoongi in the studio! Yay!” He claps. Nayeon follows suit. 

Yoongi stops his clapping sooner to speak into the microphone in front of him. “Thanks for having me back.” 

“Thank you for deciding to hang out with us for the afternoon,” Nayeon says. “Especially since you’re a big hot shot now.” 

Yoongi laughs. “I wouldn’t say that… I just finished my first tour, Nayeon, no big deal.” 

“‘No big deal’,” Nayeon quotes him. “As if your EP didn’t chart into a top 50 list or anything like that.” 

The conversation trails like this for a little bit. Yoongi is scheduled to spend thirty minutes doing a segment, which is meant to be uploaded onto Youtube later, so it gives the three of them a lot of legroom to play around and play off of each other. The purpose of the interview is to discuss the tour, the progress of the album, and (if anyone dared venture there) the status of his relationship—! 

“Well, moving on from the album—which I’m sure is going to be a huge success, by the way,” Nayeon continues on, bringing you back from the daydream that you’ve slipped into. “Seriously, it’s a very highly anticipated release.” 

Yoongi manages a nervous smile. “I’ll make sure not to let anyone down.” 

Nayeon nods. “I think it’s a good time to ask about a recent development that has occurred with you as of late.” 

“And, that is the announcement of your relationship,” Nayeon carries on. She glances at Yoongi from across the table. “We’re allowed to ask you questions about it, right?” 

Yoongi nods, choosing his words very carefully. “I’m all ears for your questions, Nayeon.” 

Nayeon brightens at that. “I just think that a lot of people want to know: how are you guys doing since the announcement?” 

He takes in a breath. To the general public, it’ll probably look as if he’s steeling himself to finally come clean about a relationship he’s been hiding for three years. But to you, you know it’s because he’s just trying to figure out what exactly to say. 

“We’ve been doing well,” He says with a nod of assurance. “It was a little stressful at first, and it still is because of how recent the news is, but I am glad we decided to make this call. Y/N has been with me since the beginning and has supported me and has been the inspiration for a lot of my music—and I’m at a point in my life where I want my fans to know that rather than drag them along and just make them assume these parts of my life.” 

“That’s so sweet,” Nayeon gushes. “So Y/N wasn’t always just your manager, even back in your Youtube days?” 

Yoongi shakes his head. “Actually, she was my girlfriend before I decided to upload song covers.” 

Nayeon swoons a little. “Can you tell us the story of how we met? You can be brief, of course.” 

Yoongi laughs. “We shared a class together in college, and she was probably the funniest person I had ever met—of course, we were friends for about a year before we started dating. But Y/N was always very supportive about me pursuing music, even when it was just a hobby. When I did start my Youtube channel, she stayed up to help with editing and just letting me know how some lyrics I had written would sound. She was a business major in college, so it felt right to let her have the reins on scheduling my appearances—and now she’s my manager. Besides just being my girlfriend, we work together really well.” 

You huff out a breath, something you hadn’t even realized that you were holding. You didn’t think Yoongi lying straight through his teeth could cause you so much anxiety. As if there are people around this radio station to fact check everything leaving Yoongi’s mouth. 

Nayeon hesitates for a moment. “Alright, I want to ask one more question.” 

Yoongi gestures for her to continue. 

“You write a lot about being in love and all these little moments of stability and that feeling of contentment—but what is your experience with love? How did you know that you were in love?” 

Your lips part in shock at the question, having not expected it. After all, Seokjin didn’t quiz Yoongi on this answer. And to talk about love in such a personal manner—would Yoongi even have an answer for everyone? 

Your gaze is trained on Yoongi, watching them through the glass separating you from him. It seems as if the entire room is silenced in anticipation. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze hot on your back, clearly trying to gauge your response—but you try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

“It’s actually funny,” Yoongi speaks up after a moment. Your heart lurches, thinking that he’s going to divert from the question. But you should know him better. “I always thought love, when it came to romance, was supposed to be this big explosion of fireworks and what not—like in the movies. You see someone and there’s this feeling in your gut right away, you know, this whole concept of love at first sight. I used to think that was how I was going to fall in love. It was going to be dramatic, but everything I wanted right away, and I was going to be whisked off and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. I thought that I’d meet someone, and they’d be everything I wanted them to be right off the bat, and that I’d know right away they’d be the one. 

But the truth is, through my relationship, I realized that it’s not like that. I didn’t know Y/N would be the one right away. It took a long time—because we liked each other, but that’s not the big explosion of fireworks I was promised. We liked each other, but it was never love at first sight. And truthfully, she wasn’t even everything I wanted right off the bat. I’ve realized that love is more about these adjustments you as people have to make to fit, and it happened so subtly with me that then I didn’t realize it was happening until I just woke up one day and knew. 

I knew because one morning, I woke up in a fit—I had fallen asleep at my desk again trying to get through some of the music arrangement of this one video I was working on, or something like that. I was always working on music and editing—so I actually don’t remember. Anyways, I woke up and my head was resting on a pillow, and there was a blanket over my shoulder, which I didn’t remember fixing up the night before. I got out of the little makeshift studio I had in my apartment, and there was breakfast food from this cafe I really like around the corner at my table. It was a little cold, but Y/N had taped a little note on the bag with heating instructions and what not, just telling me to do my best—really nice and supportive things. I had assumed that she had gone back home, because she knew I was pulling another all-nighter for work. That’s what I thought, until I look into the living room and find her sleeping on my couch. More than that, her hands were still on her laptop, where she had been in the process of still editing one of my videos. She still had her headphones on and everything. We had been dating for a little less than a year at that point, so it wasn’t like this was a rare thing. It was a pretty normal thing for her to do—wrap me up in blankets and buy me breakfast food the following morning, even falling asleep on the couch was a weekly occurrence. But I just saw her sleeping on my couch and I felt this wave of warmth and contentment. Like I always knew that she’d be on my team. I think that was the moment I really knew what love was.” 

It’s a long story, one that ends with a stunned silence—like no one had expected him to give out such a detailed answer and make it sound poetic at the same time. That’s the songwriter Min Yoongi for you, you supposed. 

Quickly, both the studio and the booth give out a chorus of aw’s and ooh’s, gushing amongst one another over the charming nature of Yoongi’s story. But you are still trapped into submission, staring straight through the glass with millions of questions still going through your mind. The spike in your heart rate also points to the rush of adrenaline flowing through you. Because you know this story that he is telling. He’s not lying through his teeth. You remember this night. Or, one of the nights, at least. Like Yoongi had said, you giving out blankets and food like air was second nature in your friendship. So was you falling asleep on the couch. 

Did those situations hold as much weight for him as they did for you? Or, was he just making up his feelings? After all, the key to lying was skirting as close to the truth as possible. That kind of situation may work for Yoongi, as the liar, but it wasn’t as comforting for you. 

You watch the way Yoongi laughs at the gushing Nayeon does, the way he smiles brightly and continues to reinforce how important you are—and you recognize his facade better than anyone else. Of course he’s lying, and you reach their realization with a bit of downfall in your stomach. There’s no way he would be telling the truth, especially considering the situation the pair of you are now in where Yoongi’s career is dependent on his ability to tell a proper lie. 

You allow yourself to sink a little deeper into the studio, near the back where the producers of the radio station can discuss amongst each other. This puts you with Jungkook, who has been watching the situation closely the entire time. 

“Yoongi can be quite the actor,” Jungkook mumbles. He has this unreadable expression in his eyes, but you know that Jungkook knows that situation Yoongi is describing. It had been Jungkook’s apartment as well. He glances at you, but says nothing. 

You continue to stare ahead. That pensive silence continues as Yoongi is released from the radio interview, and thanks Nayeon and Hoseok eagerly for their time and energy. Nayeon returns the gesture, waving to you through the glass when Yoongi points you out. You weakly return the action. 

It isn’t until you get into the car, where the pair of you are safe from the wandering eyes and careful ears of the entire world, that one of you elects to speak up. “So, what did you think?” Yoongi asks. 

By this point, you’ve recovered swiftly from your disappointment. You smile like it’s your only shield. “As your manager, I’m glad that you were able to make love so poetic—just on brand for you. As your fake girlfriend, I also really have to congratulate you for your storytelling. I even remember those nights too, so it was definitely a good memory to lie about.” 

Yoongi flushes a little at your comment, looking pleased with himself for a moment. You smile at his expression, before turning to train your gaze out of the window. The gesture makes you miss the way the smile slips off his face, the way he glances over at you. A good memory to lie about—right. 

.

Yoongi’s radio interview goes viral, and so does any hope you have in trying to forget the tale he had spun during it. Granted, you are happy that people bought his story. You just wish that it wouldn’t have muddled up all your thoughts and feelings along the way. 

Naturally, Seokjin is excited about the good press and the fact that the pair of you completed your first assignment well enough. At least, that’s the display he’s presenting when you walk into his office two days after the radio interview. Yesterday was spent looking over social media to see the public’s reaction to Yoongi’s speech about love, and if you as his manager would need to do any damage control. Luckily, you do not. As his manager, it leaves you in good spirits. 

But as someone who actually has a crush on Yoongi, it’s less so. 

That dejection only furthers itself when you see how excited Seokjin looks, like he’s already plotting the next steps to his little project. 

“Ah, Y/N!” Seokjin greets carefully. “Hi, hi, congratulations on your first successful outing with Yoongi! Per the reports I’ve been seeing over social media, you guys did a very good job.” 

You sigh, placing four coffee orders onto the table and sliding into the seat in front of Seokjin’s desk. “I didn’t really do that much,” You admit with a half-hearted shrug. “Yoongi did all the talking. I just waved at Nayeon through the glass window.” 

“Aaahh,” Seokjin hums, opening up his laptop and turning it around in order for you to see what is on his screen. “Seems like you did a little more than that.” 

Your gaze flints down to the big, bold words across the screen: THE INSIDER REPORT ON MIN YOONGI’S RADIO INTERVIEW: Employees at the K-IM Radio Station detail their experience meeting Yoongi and his girlfriend following the announcement of their relationship. 

That piques your interest, and you scoot forward in your chair slightly in order to reach out and see what Seokjin is talking about. It’s not a very lengthy article—there is a summary detailing Yoongi’s interview, of course referencing his grand speech about love—but that’s not what takes up the most space. 

Your eyes continue to skim over, almost not even believing what you were reading. The intern that first greeted you and Yoongi is in here, talking about how the pair of you were holding hands “in such a loving way, and the way they looked at each other before I led him to the radio booth was so romantic!” (The intern’s words, not yours). There’s even some excerpts from the employees and producers inside the radio booth, the same room you had spent the interview in. Surprisingly, a lot of the accounts are not talking about what Yoongi said. It’s all about how you looked when Yoongi was telling his story. 

“It was such a powerful speech, I couldn’t help but look over to Y/N to see her reaction, and she was staring back at Yoongi in such a way that I knew immediately that the genuine nature of their love was a two-way street.” 

“... a definite softness in her gaze, like she was reliving that memory with him.” 

And so on, and so on. 

Your face feels a little warmer when your eyes as you push the laptop away, glancing up to see Seokjin’s staring at you. “See? You did good. The small gestures you do can go a long way—especially when you don’t notice you’re doing them.” 

You close the laptop, as if that can physically distance yourself from the assurances of those who had been around you. “Right…” You manage weakly. 

“Well,” Seokjin hums, already moving onto the next point of the conversation. If he senses something fishy in your response, he doesn’t comment on it. “Anyways, Yoongi is in the studio right now with Namjoon, so I just want a little update report on your relationship with Yoongi. As in, how is it going between the two of you?” 

You ponder this for a moment, thinking about how he took your hand in the car, how he recounted such a personal story to explain the details of his love, the look he gave you when you congratulated his storytelling abilities—like he knew something that you did not. 

At the same time, it was such a minor appearance that you didn’t get much of a feel about the romantic aspect of this fake relationship. This is why you sigh. “I’m not too sure. We had such a minor acting role together that it’s hard to say. I will say that right now it feels pretty much the same.” 

“Alright, fair enough,” Seokjin approves with a nod. “So you don’t have a problem if I want to plan some informal hang-outs for you and Yoongi? Just as a way to keep your guys in the public eye enough times that fans don’t start doubting your relationship.” 

You smile weakly. “Of course. That’s what I signed the NDA for.” 

Seokjin laughs, finally waving you off. “Okay, sure. I’ll look into where I think your relationship will make the biggest impact and will update you and Yoongi when I’ve made my decisions.” Finally, he looks over the multiple cups of coffee you had brought over on your cardboard tray, and fishes out the one with his name on it. “This one for me?” 

You lean over, flickering your gaze from the cup to his face. “Well, at the very least, I know you can read now.” 

His relaxed expression morphs into a playful scowl. “Get out of here brat.” 

Your laughter echoes through his office as you take your cardboard tray of three coffee cups and reemerge back into the hallway of the record studio. You walk the familiar path until you reach the door to the recording room—pulling open the door and letting yourself in. Inside the booth, Yoongi is rapping away into his microphone, as his low voice fills the tiny space of this studio. You place the tray down onto one of the tables, picking up your own before sliding over to take a seat on the couch. 

As you continue listening to Yoongi wistfully hum about a desire to cross an emotional distance, about how he tells the truth because “it’s you, it’s always been you”—you cannot help your mind wandering into what Seokjin has in store for you over the course of the next few months. 

.

. 

CHAPTER 4: TURNING POINT 

. 

Yoongi’s first full length album is set to release in two months. 

At least, that’s what KSJ records claims after uploading a quarterly report of Yoongi’s schedule. At first, you don’t think it’s a big deal for Yoongi’s label to post a tentative update about his music progress, but his fans are extremely observant and catch on immediately. It’s good to draw up the hype, you suppose. 

Anyways, at the rate that Yoongi is working on the songs for the album, you won’t be surprised if he manages to follow the schedule down to a T. The boy lives and breathes music, and last time you checked the album would consist partly of songs from his EP and new songs—meaning that it cuts down Yoongi’s usual workload into half. Not that he minds, at any rate. 

“Okay, Min Yoongi,” Seokjin starts up, standing at the head of the meeting room which only consists of three people. Normally, with meetings with the head of KSJ records himself, there’s a lot more people around to discuss schedule, promotions, and the likes. The fact that it’s just you and Yoongi tells you exactly what you’re doing here. “It’s been a few weeks since your radio interview, and I know that you’re doing well in your progress of the album—but I think it’ll do you well to take a break.” 

Yoongi huffs. “It’s nice that you’re reminding me about this, but I’ll rest when the album is released.” 

Seokjin snorts. “When did I say rest? I just meant take a break from your album work. Plus you need to get some vitamin C, or whatever shit you get from the sun.”  

“It’s vitamin D,” You interject gently. 

“Pish posh,” Seokjin waves away your interruption. “Anyways, like I was saying, there is a way for us to kill two birds with one stone. So that you.” He points to Yoongi. “Can get out of the studio for a few hours and you.” He points to you. “Can play into a relationship that’ll help us kill two birds with one stone.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What exactly are you proposing?” 

“Well,” Seokjin continues, leaning over his side of the table to get a few good at his laptop, where it appears that he has a few notes written down regarding the direction of this meeting. “In order to continue generating curiosity about Yoongi’s upcoming album and maintain the public’s constant queries about your relationship, I want you two to go on public outings. I have a few specific places I think would be good cornerstones to touch on, but I’m also willing to let the two of you figure out where you want to spend your time.” He glances up at the two of you. “That should be okay, right?” 

You and Yoongi glance at each other. Come to think of it, the pair of you haven’t talked about nor reviewed the events at the radio station since it happened and the underlying questions you still have about his side of the story feels vaguely like a weight hanging over you both. But Yoongi smiles at you, and you think that you can continue to do what you’ve done for years: hide away your feelings. 

“Yeah, that should be fine,” You speak up first, smiling back at Yoongi. You turn to Seokjin. “What did you have in mind?” 

The question is how you find yourself in a car with Yoongi a few days later, your hands in your lap and your mind spinning with nerves. The radio interview had been one case, but a limited one at that—your role had been very minor and your interaction with Yoongi had only been seconds long. They had definitely been a lot smaller than this new role that Seokjin has assigned to you. 

For today, Seokjin has directed the pair of you to the streets of Yoongi’s old stomping ground—the same shopping district with the same corner Yoongi spent all his nights performing in from a time period that seems so long enough. Not long enough, apparently, as Seokjin thinks it would be a nice nod to be ‘accidentally’ discovered walking along a place that holds so much memory. 

“I just want you guys to walk around—be happy, but be close,” Seokjin had noted just a few hours prior to you and Yoongi’s departure. “Just look like the pair of you are on a date. Hold hands, smile at each other, all that jazz. Nothing too serious.” 

Too bad it actually was kind of serious for you. 

You and Yoongi make minor conversation, making some jokes here and there that do well in helping to ease your nerves. You don’t think Yoongi would take notice, but he can be strangely observant. Perhaps the way you keep bouncing one of your legs helps let him know that something is up. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You stop bouncing your leg. “It kind of feels like I’m about to perform, or something—it’s that same kind of rush.” 

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, before he looks out his side of the window. “Well, technically speaking, you are about to perform. You know, with this whole relationship being an act and all.” 

“Very true,” You say, nodding your head. “Do we need a game plan?” 

Yoongi shrugs. “I thought that we’d just wing it. We held hands back at the radio station so, uh, I’m assuming that you’re still comfortable with doing that?” 

“O-Oh yeah, of course!” 

“Then, we can do that. And walk around. Improvise while we do so—just see how the day goes.” 

You nod. “Okay, true, true. That sounds good.” You can’t help but give him a sneaky smile. “Look at you, Min Yoongi, you’ve become quite the performer. Improvisation used to be something you were never too good at.” 

Yoongi flushes a little, smiling back at you. “Give me a little credit. You gotta have backups for your backups, especially in situations when your sound gives up on you in the middle of one of your sets.” 

You laugh, because this reminds you about one of Yoongi’s first live sets along the very street the pair of you will be approaching shortly. His speakers had just given up, forcing Yoongi to go entirely acapella. In a way, that mistake ended up garnering him more fans who grew to respect his craft and talent for music and singing. But as they say, hindsight is 20 20. 

You and Yoongi continue to laugh about that memory for a few minutes before Taehyung arrives along the outskirts of the shopping district, pulling up along the curb. The car is on the other side of this bustling area, just a few feet away from the pedestrian walkway that is littering with people going to and fro. 

Taehyung turns around in his seat to give the pair of you a look. “Now kids, I want you to call me whenever you’re ready to get picked up.” He’s grinning around the words though 

You glare at him. “Sure thing dad,” You bite back, already opening the car door to take your leave. Your feet land onto the concrete of the sidewalk as you pull yourself into a standing position. Yoongi joins you shortly after, standing close to you. “Bye,” You say, slamming the door into Taehyung’s face before he can get in one last snarky reply. 

Yoongi looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh for Taehyung’s benefit. But it’s an act he can only hold together for so long, because he does start to laugh as soon as Taehyung and the company car turn the corner and disappear out of sight.

After a second, Yoongi turns to you and gestures towards the pedestrian walkway just a few feet ahead. “Shall we?” 

You nod, taking the hand that he extends out to you. Just an act, you tell yourself, you allow him to lace your fingers together. Nevermind the fact that the weight on your hand feels entirely too reassuring and comforting for the current context. 

Ignoring that feeling, you squeeze his hand and let him lead you towards the walkway, where you cross the street with no problem. Since Yoongi nor Seokjin had announced Yoongi’s presence at this plaza for the day, you can only hope that too much attention won’t be drawn to you. 

It’s a thought that you are able to entertain for a few minutes. Yoongi may not have the star quality status of mainstream celebrities (yet), but he’s still someone who has been on the radio, has done a country-wide tour, and has a youtube following of a couple million people (four now, the last time you checked—subscriber counts tend to zip by after a person hits a million). That small list of accomplishments is more than enough to drag in a few wandering eyes. Okay, maybe a little more than a few. 

You think that you’ve kind of developed a seventh sense to knowing when Yoongi was being recognized. It’s shown in the double-glances some people start shooting at him, at quick whispers behind closed hands, and craning necks over shoulders. 

You’re okay with people knowing about Yoongi’s current location, but the memory of his tours and even the crowd problem that came up during his street performances flashback in your mind. You don’t think you want to deal with that situation right now—secretly preferring if people just observed from a distance. 

Without thinking twice, you tighten your hold on Yoongi’s hand long enough to lead him into one of the stores along the sidewalk—an accessories booth with fake glasses, rings, earrings, the likes. 

Yoongi watches you, a touch of amusement in his eyes like he knows what you’re thinking. Still, he asks. “What are you doing?” 

You rummage through the wide selection of glasses, fully aware that one or two people have spotted the pair of you and are lingering near the entrance to catch a glance at what you two are doing. From the looks of it, no one is going to stir up a commotion. You still want to make sure. 

“You stand out,” You explain vaguely, finding a pair of circle glasses in black-rims from the pile before turning around and more or less smashing the glasses against his face. It’s difficult to try and put glasses on another person, you miss his ears a few times and almost get him in the eye, but Yoongi strangely enough lets you manhandle him. 

In the midst of your last few attempts you step forward and scoot even closer to him to try and get the glasses more properly situated on his face. Due to the proximity, Yoongi’s hands fly up from his side to avoid being pressed uncomfortably against his chest, choosing to rest at your waist. At first, you don’t feel the weight of his hands, you’re too focused on making sure the fake glasses you’ve selected can fit in place. 

As soon as you’ve properly aligned the glasses to his face, you lower your hands from his face. The action makes you suddenly hyper aware of the current position you’ve put yourself in. It’s not very often that you get handsy with Yoongi, it’s a side of you that comes out when the pair of you are in a hurry, but hardly during candid moments like this. 

Immediately, Yoongi’s hands feel like warm flames tickling your skin, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of his position, of his closeness. Your eyes flicker up, seeing his face with those glasses you’ve just shoved onto him sitting nicely at the bridge of his nose, highlighting the intensity of his gaze. The stare he’s giving you only heightens the gravitational pull you feel towards him. 

You don’t know how long the pair of you are just standing in the middle of the store, staring at each other, until you feel the weight of a third party approaching the pair of you. 

You practically shove yourself away from Yoongi, trying to make it seem as if you’re just stepping back to get an overall look at his face (Yoongi featuring glasses). Yoongi lets you go. 

The third party is an employee of the accessories booth, smiling widely. “Sorry to interrupt,” She says, looking over at Yoongi. “Sir, I just want to say that those glasses look great on you. And just to let you know we’re having a sale on that collection so it’s a buy one get the other one half off so maybe you two can match if you’re up to it…” 

You tune her out after a second, realizing that you can’t really keep up with what she’s saying considering the current firestorm that’s going on inside your head. Why couldn’t you have just asked Yoongi to put the glasses on himself? You curse yourself for letting your guard down—sometimes you try to do things of your own accord, and today you were paying the price.

When you don’t speak after a few seconds, Yoongi smiles at the employee. “Got it, thanks a lot.” He waits until the employee returns back to rearranging some earrings on a nearby shelf before turning back to you. “How does it look?” 

He does look good, but you play it down by tilting your head and settling with a shrug. “Well, you’ve looked better—but this’ll have to do.” 

Yoongi laughs, before he does something that catches you off guard. He steps closer to you. “So you think there are times when I do look good?” 

You try not to look too bewildered at his gesture. You can tell that he does feel a little nervous about the fact he’s testing the waters so boldly without any practice, but it’s all part of the act. Just as Seokjin said: be happy, be close. 

So you place a hand on his chest, pushing him slightly with your own little teasing smile. “I said better—that doesn’t always mean you were ever good to begin with.” 

Yoongi makes a noise of protest, and without warning just swings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his side. “You’re breaking my heart everyday!” 

“You must like the abuse, you’re still with me,” You bite back playfully without thought. For a split second, it doesn’t feel like you’re in a store with people who vaguely recognize Yoongi’s appearance—for a split second, it feels like just you and him, and everything you’ve ever wanted. 

Upon Yoongi’s lips hover over the shell of your ear. “Good job, I think the group of girls outside caught our picture.” 

That dreamy fantasy where it was just you and Yoongi and nothing else mattered came crashing down, squaring you right back into reality. It’s not a disappointing feeling per say—just a vague extra hammering of your heartbeat, a vague guilt that you let your mind let its guard down like that. “Right,” You say. “Uh…” You try to think, which proves to be a difficult thing to do with Yoongi’s weight pressed up against you and everything. You clap your hands together. “Okay, let’s grab a hat and then we’ll be on our way.” 

You make sure to be a little less handsy when it comes to hat selections, but you knew there was only so far you could escape given the current context of the situation. Yoongi seems to know that, because he stays close to you as you’re both shifting through hats, and even when he pays for his hat and glasses combination before exiting the booth. The pair of you pass through the two girls that were lingering outside of the booth, where Yoongi gives them the smallest wave and hello before carrying on with the rest of the trip. 

With the hat and glasses combination, it definitely draws less attention to Yoongi’s classic fluffy black hair and gummy smile—especially if you’re using what was going on in the beginning of your trip as a baseline. This means that you and Yoongi can carry on with the rest of your outing with feeling the obvious heavy weight of gazes on your shoulder. 

With intertwined hands the pair of you first stop by one of the local cafes and sit right alongside the window to enjoy some pasta and soda combinations. You roll up the noodles onto your fork and clink utensils with Yoongi before slipping the noodles in your mouth—tomato sauce with flavor slipped into every side piece of noodle. It’s amazing, and you cannot help but gush so as you smile brightly around your fork. 

You’re too busy stirring your fork around yet another string of pasta that you fail to see the softening look of the boy across the table from you. It’s a look that disappears by the time your gaze glints back up to resume the conversation. The pasta is considered a snack above all else, so it doesn’t take long for the pair of you to finish up your meal. Leaving a tip behind on the table, Yoongi walks over to you just as you’re straightening up from your chair. Silently, he offers his hand to you. 

Knowing the routine by now, you take his hand, silently lacing your fingers together and letting him lead the way out of the cafe and back onto the sidewalk. The later afternoon shows itself in the steady increase of people, which is good because it makes you feel as if you can blend into the crowd either. There are still the occasional phones out, trailing after you and Yoongi as you walk along the sidewalk, but nothing that ever makes you feel as if you need to call Taehyung. 

“Actually, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” You grumble to Yoongi quietly, a comment that he laughs at. 

“I’m not that famous,” Yoongi jokingly teases you. “And my fans are just being respectful—give them a little credit.” His voice dies down shortly after, however, but it only takes you a few seconds to realize why. 

The pair of you, in the midst of your simple ‘walk along the sidewalk’ plan, have arrived at a very familiar street corner. The sunset means that arriving performers who work best once the sun leaves are just beginning to set up their stage—laying out equipment, testing out sound systems, saying hello to some passersby who recognize the artists getting ready. You can read the signs of these interactions very easily. After all, it’s what Yoongi used to do a year ago, at this very spot too. 

In front of you, a new performer, a singer, is setting up her own equipment—guitar in hand as she practices her strumming. You inch closer to Yoongi, your arms molded against each other. “Hey, hey,” You whisper at Yoongi. The boy leans over to better hear you. “She reminds me of you.” 

Yoongi laughs. “What do you mean? How?” 

You glance over at the girl again, not noticing the way Yoongi is still staring at you, quietly awaiting your answer. “You guys have the same drive,” You eventually note. “And the same determination. It’s easy to see in her, just as it’s always been like that for you…” You trail off, looking over to realize that he’s still looking at you. 

“You noticed those things, huh?” Yoongi asks quietly. 

His gaze is too enticing to look away from, pulling you in through a situation not unlike what had happened at the accessories shop earlier that afternoon. “I-I mean, of course I do…” Yoongi’s gaze feels like hot magnets that are just pulling the next words out of you. “I always notice with you.” 

The world seems to quiet down at that, everything slowing down as you feel yourself mentally curse yourself out for those words. Why would you say it like that? 

A million thoughts go through your head at once. You weren’t really lying or trying to play a part. You were being honest. You do always notice with Yoongi. And since he clearly only sees you as a friend that could participate in whatever scheme he can get himself into, then he would obviously hear your statement and think of it as nothing more than a friendly complement. Right? RIGHT? 

Except, Yoongi is still just standing next to you, staring at you, not making any sort of comment whatsoever. He has that unreadable expression in his gaze, a look he always gives you when you let the cracks slip in your facade, but it’s something he never talks about, never explains to you—just like right now. 

The silence grows tense, so tense that it begins to feel like weights on your shoulders, like a coil wrapping itself around your heart, because why isn’t he saying anything? 

Yoongi hums, low and throaty and that coil around your heart drops into your stomach. “Is that so?” He inquires softly, continuing to gaze at you. 

His gaze drops down to your lips, and that coil is replaced with butterflies all around you. It starts are a flutter in your stomach, in your heart, and your mind starts to race because what the fuck is happening?

Around you, the growing number of people means that someone accidentally bumps into you, driving you forward right into Yoongi’s chest. The pair of you stumble, effectively dissipating that cloud of tension that had threatened to curl through you. You cough, taking a small step away from Yoongi so that while the pair of you were still holding hands, that was the only thing connecting the pair of you. 

You and Yoongi don’t have another run in like that for the remainder of the date, as that late afternoon sunset fades away into nighttime and you and Yoongi spend that time trying to enjoy each other’s presence whilst also not engaging in too much physical contact. Your fingers remain loosely intertwined but it never tightens as if the small air of space between your hands can hide away the nerves and tension you feel yourself trying to contain. 

Even when Taehyung comes to pick the two of you up, and you no longer are under the obligation to hold hands, that air of space still feels heavy between the two of you. 

.

The overwhelming positive response of your first official public date sends Seokjin through the moon, as well as provides him with a drive to arrange and send you and Yoongi out on more dates. All of which, fortunately for you, don’t come nearly as close to the level of tension experienced from the first date. Partly because you know your limits, and go into each planned date with a level of expectation for yourself as well as rules that you’ve internally programmed yourself to follow every time you and Yoongi step out of the car. 

At the museum date, you make sure to keep your distance, using your intertwined hands with Yoongi as the only signal of your relationship. The pair of you joke around about the art pieces, whispering between each other about how many fans have taken pictures of the pair of you lingering about the museum, as well as relay information to each other about various rooms that you are interested in. But in a way, it definitely feels more like a typical friendly hang-out rather than a date. 

The same idea can be applied to the next date Seokjin sends you on—a casual date at one of the local botanical gardens, each garden filled with a different culture to serve as the theme for its layout and plant growth. Some gardens have little cafe booths and grassy fields to buy some snacks before sitting down to enjoy the sunlight, which is an idea that Yoongi suggests that the two of you do. He points to one of the ice cream shops along the outskirts of a garden, and claims a seat on one of the benches so the two of you can enjoy your treat. The current summertime weather emits a warmer heat and breeze that curls lightly through the air throughout the day, making for a perfectly comfortable season to wear a sundress. It’s also the kind of undetectable weather for ice cream to melt down the cone, onto unsuspecting fingers curled into the dry waffle texture. Yoongi makes that well aware by poking your cheek with his sticky finger, garnering several pictures of the encounter. 

Seokjin has even tried to implement studio life into his constant narrative to keep up the facade of your relationship with Yoongi. While the pair of you go on these occasional dates, Yoongi also has a deadline to fulfill with his album release. On the days where dates are not planned out, he’ll be in the studio—rearranging songs to fit in with the music beats that have more or less been tapered down to perfection. As his manager, sometimes you find yourself staying past your allotted time slot of being at the studio, before sneaking into the recording booth way past midnight to see what Yoongi and Namjoon are up to. 

Just as it follows: you straighten up, craning your neck backwards a little to allow for slight muscle extensions after sitting at a desk for an extra hour too long. With Yoongi’s album steadily approaching, there are interviews that need to be arranged, magazines and newspapers and radio shows alike all reaching out to you for the opportunity to cover Yoongi’s growth as an artist. Albums also equate to tours to help promote the album, and with the close call from Yoongi’s last experience with such, it means that you need to book more locations—or the same location across multiple dates. 

Overall, the growing pile of work means that you and everyone else at KSJ Studios are just as anticipated for Yoongi’s album release as the general public. It seems as if his collective fanbase are hoping and waiting under the same parameters: was the album going to be as good as they were expecting? 

You shoulder your purse, stepping out of your office and shutting it behind you. You navigate through the hallways, glancing sideways to peek out the long glassway of windows, all overlooking the city skyline, the multicolor lights flickering ahead in the distance. You quirk a lip. 

Your usual brisk pace dies down when you pass the studio you know Yoongi and Namjoon are recording in. The soundproof walls inside mean that hardly any music ever seeps out from between the cracks, only heightening your curiosity. Your busy schedule recently has made it so you have hardly been able to hear what Yoongi and Namjoon have come up with. 

You glance down at your watch. It was nearing midnight. Well, you think to yourself, a little peek wouldn’t hurt. You reach over to grip the door handle, pushing it down and pushing it open. Inside is the usual scene: Yoongi behind the glass, his fingers curled around the headphones as he speaks into the microphone. His voice filters through the main studio area, where Namjoon sits behind computers and music panels, capturing every single second of what is going on. 

Further driven by curiosity, you find yourself pulling harder at the door to let yourself in. Namjoon turns at the sound, but softens a little when he sees that it’s you. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” You tease, standing next to Namjoon at the table, watching Yoongi’s closed eyes as he loses himself in the song. 

Namjoon grins back. “You’re not gonna tell us to stop, are you?” 

“Hey.” You bring both arms up in a sign of surrender. “I’m off the clock on this one. Just wanted to see what you two were up to.” 

Suddenly, Yoongi calls your name from behind the glass, as the noise is amplified through the studio. You jump slightly, having not expected to be noticed so soon. Yoongi waves. “It’s late!” He calls. “What are you still doing here?” 

You lean forward to press the button that opens the two-way communication. “I’m not sure you heard, but there’s an artist in this studio that’s working on an upcoming album—it’s causing a lot of pain for the rest of us.” 

Yoongi laughs at that. “Touche, touche.” He brightens up slightly. “Hey, we’re wrapping up on this song, so if you stick around I’ll drive you home.” 

This is a natural offer for Yoongi to make, considering the extent to which you’ve spent long nights here. Brushing it off as nothing more than Yoongi just being a good pal, you nod and flash him a thumbs up. “Sounds good, sounds good. But take your time. Don’t let me get in the way.” 

You turn around, allowing the music of Yoongi’s song to refilter back through the studio. You park yourself atop the couch at the back, settling into the soft cushions. Come to think of it, falling asleep definitely isn’t the worst thing in the world to do—especially on this couch. And you’re exhausted, what with scheduling events all day and having to burn through your social battery by making one too many phone calls with various people within the industry. 

The last thing you remember is Yoongi’s soft humming that fades away into a quiet static. 

You jerk awake after what feels like a few minutes—but judging from your new position on the couch (horizontal this time, instead of vertical) and the blanket that has been tucked under your chin, you realize quickly that this few minutes has actually been a few hours. It might be hard to believe that, because the world around you still seems very similar to what it had been when you fell asleep. The lack of windows in the studio make it very difficult to distinguish time—although Yoongi’s voice sounds much closer than it had when you first fell asleep. 

You sit up. 

Namjoon and Yoongi jolt at your sudden movement. “Woah! She’s awake now,” Yoongi teases. 

Blinking for a few seconds, you turn your head to find Yoongi out of the recording booth and instead sitting at one of the tables in the actual studio setting. Surrounding Namjoon and Yoongi looks like an entire McDonalds family meal: chicken nuggets, $1 menu burgers, lots of french fries… 

You let out a breath to help further situate you to your new surroundings. “Min Yoongi…” You start, voice hoarse. “You said you were just finishing up.” 

“I was,” Yoongi explains, looking vaguely guilty. Only vaguely though. “But I had this sudden epiphany, like holy shit you really had to be here—it was crazy.” 

“I was here,” You choke out. 

Yoongi waves you off. “You know what I mean—here here. Anyways, yeah, we realized that we couldn’t leave, especially when I got Namjoon on the same page. He was just as excited as I was!” 

Namjoon slaps his hand. “Don’t drag me into this!” 

Yoongi ignores him. “Anyways, it’s like two in the morning and we got hungry. McDonalds is the food of champions, after all. You hungry? Here, have some water first.” He grabs a bottle of water from the table and unscrews the cap. Suddenly, he’s standing up and making his way towards the couch. He sits down next to you, offering the water to you. “Here. You must be thirsty.” 

You are. Still heavy-lidded too, but you try your best to blink away the exhaustion as you blindly reach for the water and manage to grab it after Yoongi adjusts his own angled arm. He watches you as you tilt your head back to down some of the water, accidentally drinking a little more than your mouth can handle. Some of it slides down the corner of your lip, making you angle your head back properly and remove your lips from the bottle head. 

Yoongi softens a little at your clumsy nature, tugging the sleeve of his long-sleeved forward in order to pat the corner of your mouth. “Aw, look at my tiny little baby, can’t even drink water properly,” He coos. 

You flinch slightly away from him, trying for a glare that comes out more like a pout. Yoongi laughs softly at the sight. “There are no cameras around us, Min Yoongi,” You grumble out. “You don’t need to be so attentive.” 

“Nevermind that, I’m just trying to be a friend. You want a french fry?” He reaches across the space separating the couch from the table, and grabs the box of salty french fries. His voice carries that usual positive disposition from previously, but the light in his eyes has died down a little. You don’t notice it, too busy looking at the french fries and realizing that you are actually a little hungry. 

The remainder of Yoongi and Namjoon’s break is dedicated to finishing up the family meal, before Yoongi looks at the clock and claps his hands together. “Hey Namjoon, I think I should take my girl home before we get back to working. Is that okay?” 

Namjoon’s eyes flicker between the two of you, but he relents. “Of course.” He utters your name. “Have a good night.” 

“I should be saying that to you,” You return teasingly, more of your senses have returned since putting food into your stomach. “See you tomorrow, Namjoon.” 

So Yoongi takes you home, driving through the darkened streets, making light conversation with you, completely ignoring the fact that he has just addressed you as his girl, before your phone starts to buzz in your lap. It’s a notification from Instagram, saying that Namjoon has tagged you in a picture. Raising an eyebrow, you tap the alert, which takes you to a picture from just a few minutes ago—you and Yoongi at the studio, Yoongi tapping gently at your face with his sweater paw. The caption burns into your mind: three am company, ft my favorite artist and his favorite girl. 

His favorite girl. 

His girl. 

.

.

CHAPTER 5: HIS GIRL 

. 

Yoongi’s album is entitled Y2, and it releases in the autumn, when the leaves are colored orange and the breeze has called for cozy jackets and big sweaters. It’s the perfect attire to wear as the earphones get plugged in and slipped into ears—curled up by soft cashmere and Yoongi’s luring voice. He’s got about sixteen songs on the album, a sweet mixture of loose beats and soft vocal voices that seem to simultaneously battle the drawn out harsh tone of stories extended across various three minute arrangements. The stories cover the low point—passive aggressive fights, of late nights, of “holding your hand, being so close, yet feeling so lonely”. But the songs also touch on the high points—coming back together, of soft morning light, of “being with you, wiping the traces of exhaustion from the corner of your lips, so close yet so far away, and still knowing you’re all I [he] could ever want”. 

At least, it is what one article touches upon in a Y2 review, where the journalist gives high remarks to Yoongi’s album. She calls it a refreshing interpretation of music, continuing in the era of singers actually singing about their feelings. More than that, an era of storytelling in music. Of anything, of life, of the highs and the lows—the sadness, the happiness, the softness. 

Safe to say that Yoongi is very excited to read this review on his phone, along with the surplus of positive things people have to say—from highly regarded journalists who belong to highly regarded newspaper companies, from social media, from his friends and family. Most especially, from you. You: whose hand he holds underneath the table as the numbers of listens start pouring in from various streaming websites. 

He’s been nervous about this. He’s put his blood, sweat, and tears into the creation of this album, every song has been nailed down to perfection. His name, and his heart, is back out into the world. 

The night of the album release is the launch party. 

“Dude, it’s supposed to be a chill night,” Jungkook calls from the hallway, and you can’t help but laugh at how exasperated the boy sounds. “Would you just calm down?” Jungkook emerges from the aforementioned hallway. Despite his mention of this ‘chill night’, he’s still wearing something vaguely casual chic. “You’re his manager. Manage his overthinking tendencies.” 

You laugh, watching as Jungkook plops down into the empty spot next to you on the couch, immediately leaning back into the cushion. “You know as well as I do that I don’t have that much control over him.” 

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “You probably have more control than you think.” 

Before you can ask more questions, think more deeply into what the fuck Jungkook means by that, his eyes land on the hallway entrance before straightening up in the cusion. Your eyes follow Jungkook’s movement, where Yoongi is now standing in the once vacant space of his apartment. But his stance isn’t what gets you to stare, what makes your breath feel like it has just caught in your chest. Although he’s following the ‘casual chic’ dress code that Seokjin has ordered, there’s something about a white t-shirt that hits differently when it’s paired with a coat and dark jeans that highlight his long legs. 

Yoongi gestures down at what he’s wearing meekly. “What do you think?” Although it appears that he’s addressing both you and Jungkook, his gaze is almost entirely fixed on you. 

Trying hard to ignore the racing of your heart, you straighten up and somehow manage to make your way over to him without snapping your ankle on your chunky platform boots. Doing your best to pay attention to his outfit over his face, you reach over to straighten out the silver necklace he’s got dangling at his chest. “You look good,” You settle calmly. “And Jungkook is right—it’s supposed to be a chill night. Seokjin just invited people from the label. And some of your friends as well. Relax a bit, will you?” 

Finally, you force yourself to level your gaze with Yoongi’s, fully confident that he’s just staring at you and probably wondering why you aren’t making eye contact with him. But when you do manage to glance at Yoongi’s face, you realize quickly that he’s not even staring at you. Instead, he’s staring down, at the curve of your throat. 

Without warning, your cardiac system seems to pump itself too hard, because your breath of surprise comes out through your nose, effectively bringing up and lowering your lungs so fast that anyone would be able to read your vital sounds now. This proves to be true, because Yoongi’s gaze darts up from your neck to your eyes so quickly, that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had you stuck around without looking at his eyes. Doing that, however, might have saved you from this now tricky situation. “Sorry,” Yoongi manages, eyes flickering between yours. “I, uh, didn’t hear what you said.” 

You realize the gravity of your position—your fingers now curled around the lapels of Yoongi’s jacket and one of his hands curled around your waist. That gravitational pull from every single one of your dates with Yoongi comes back again, curling around your neck and seeming to push you closer, closer—! 

Jungkook coughs loudly from behind you. 

You and Yoongi tear your gazes away from each other, as you uncurl both of your fingers from around Yoongi’s coat. “I-uh,” You start. “Was just saying that you should relax a little. You don’t have to try and impress anyone tonight.” 

Yoongi sneaks one last glance at you. “We’ll see,” He says, before stepping away from you and brushing past Jungkook to make his way towards the door. Jungkook turns to look at you, wide-eyed and mouthing the words ‘what the fuck was that?’ 

To which you shake your head, very sure that you don’t want to get into this tonight of all nights. This was supposed to be a celebration for Yoongi. Just as you’ve done for the past few months, you can continue to keep your emotions in check. Easy-peasy. 

Except it’s not easy-peasy because you see Seokjin at the club that he’s reserved for Yoongi’s album release party, and you realize that this is not a chill event for you—you still have to keep up the facade of your relationship in front of everyone. 

Yoongi seems to realize this at the same time you do, because he inches closer to you and laces your fingers together. From afar, Seokjin nods in an unspoken confirmation regarding your behavior. 

The beginning of the party starts with the trickle in of the various guests Seokjin has invited—from the friends he has made in the business, to others signed under the KSJ records label, to you, Jungkook, and Yoongi’s personal friends from college. The onslaught of new people fills you with the usual sense of excitement after not having attended a party in what feels like years. Working as a manager for a budding new artist is a lot less about the parties and more about the hustle. 

The first hour of the event is dedicated to the mingling of people—of free food and conversations around the bottomless cocktails that every guest rushes to the bar to take full advantage of. It’s nice to be able to catch up with the friends that you and Yoongi haven’t spoken to since graduation—which is the group you and Yoongi first approach, as Yoongi is slinging his arm around one Park Jimin. The latter whose eyes widen and lips curl up into a grin at the sight of the two of you. It’s nice to see an old friend again, it almost brings you back to a time where you and Yoongi were both in-tune and surface-level friends.

“Hey, congratulations on the new album release!” Jimin exclaims brightly after the three of you have acquired some drinks from the bartender. Jimin raises his drink first, to which you and Yoongi follow suit. 

As the glasses clink into the air, Jimin adds in another thing that reminds you of the fact that you and Yoongi are not back in college. You are here, in the present, with a fake relationship on the line. 

“And congratulations to your relationship announcement,” Jimin continues. 

You cough on your drink at that, lowering the glass immediately, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “Jimin, I know what all those reports have been saying…” 

“Don’t worry,” Jimin brushes off. “I read through some of them. You guys have been dating for three years, right? I’m honestly surprised I never saw it. In hindsight, it makes sense.” Jimin takes a longer sip, gesturing towards Yoongi with a noise of acknowledgement coming from his throat. “Hm—I guess because you guys are dating now, I can let the cat out of the bag—but, Yoongi liked you from the first moment he met you.” 

Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to choke on his drink, his chest heaving as he coughs into his sleeve. “Jimin, ah, you don’t need to talk about that—!” 

Jimin laughs, naturally assuming that Yoongi’s choke was done out of shyness and not something deeper than that. “What, you think just because this happened when we were at college, I wouldn’t have said something all these years later?” 

You can’t help but smile at their exchange. Although Jimin’s comment about Yoongi’s crush definitely piques your interest. You turn to Yoongi. “You had a crush on me back then?” 

Yoongi opens his mouth, but Jimin beats him to it. “Oh yeah, he wouldn’t shut up about you—said that you had this smile like starlight and were super easy to talk to.” 

“You have a great memory for someone who almost flunked college algebra,” Yoongi bites out hotly. 

Jimin, clearly oblivious to the situation, laughs out loud. “I agree. Normally I would have forgotten all about that. But.” With Jimin’s fingers still curled around the wine glass, he is only able to point an index finger out at Yoongi. “I’ll never forget that look in your eyes. Like you saw something you were never going to let go of.” 

You know Jimin is the one talking, but you cannot help but look at Yoongi as you feel your world spinning slightly around you. You blame it on the alcohol—as small of a sip as you have taken so far. Jimin, unlike a lot of the other parties you’ve been spending your time with, is not in on the joke of your relationship with Yoongi being a PR cover story. So there has to be some merit to it. Right? 

Right? 

Before you can even think how to phrase the billions of questions flying through your mind, the soft beat of a hand against a microphone sounds through the bar, as the original music that has been pounding through the club gets lowered to show that someone is trying to command everyone’s attention. 

It’s Kim Seokjin, situated at the stage, with the microphone in hand. “Hey everyone! Before we actually start unveiling the numbers that Y2 has hit so far, I just want to say a few words. First of all, thank you everyone so much for joining us tonight as we celebrate the anticipated release of Min Yoongi’s album.” 

Lots of claps sound from the guests, several cheers, one of you and Jimin join in just for the sake of embarrassing Yoongi. If he’s flustered with the attention, he’s gotten a lot better at hiding it. 

“Actually,” Seokjin continues. “Why don’t we have the man of the hour join us? After all, my words don’t mean shit up here—I wasn’t the one who just released new music. Yoongi, come on up!” 

Lots more claps and cheers, and the music volume increases dramatically just to give Yoongi some sort of platform to enter on. It makes you laugh. Seokjin is clearly having fun with his role. So you watch, sticking by Jimin, as Yoongi emerges from the crowd to step onto the stage. Seokjin pulls the microphone away from the pair of them as he leans over to whisper something into Yoongi’s ear, where the latter nods a few times before accepting the microphone that is now being extended out to him. 

Yoongi clears his throat, speaking over the lowering music. “Hi guys, thanks so much for coming out,” He starts, laughing a little when there is another round of cheers. “As I’m sure a lot of you know, this is my first full length album that’s being released out into the world and it’s basically everything I ever could have dreamed of. One lesson that I’ve learned is that making albums of both the cover songs I did and the original songs I would produce in my shitty college apartment is a completely different experience than getting professional equipment to do a lot of the work for me.” 

You laugh at that, the memories floating through your mind. 

Yoongi smiles a little at the feedback he gets. But he continues. “And of course a lot of that professional equipment was able to work in my favor because I had helped. Seokjin of course, deserves a thank you for letting me learn and experiment with new sounds, and for letting me take a risk by trying out beats and stories that a lot of people might have turned down. And Namjoon.” He seems to spot Namjoon from the crowd, because he delivers a nod. “For being more than my favorite producer, but also my mentor and my guide. We had a lot of lightbulb late nights together. And finally…” His eyes land on you, and you feel yourself self-consciously straighten up. “Y/N—my Y/N. For those of you who don’t know, my girlfriend is my manager and we recently made our relationship public. I thought the transition from private to public would have been the hardest thing of my life, but she made it so easy. Just as she’s always made it so easy to inspire my music, to be my best friend—and to love her.” 

Love. 

You suddenly feel like you’re seeing the world through a small lens, unable to believe the words you are hearing and the sights you are seeing. Yoongi is staring right back at you, with all this love and adoration in his eyes, lips quirking up as a result of the coos from the audience. 

It’s a vague kind of spotlight anxiety from seeing so many people looking at you considering the circumstances. It’s a feeling that only heightens when Yoongi opens his mouth again to continue speaking. “Actually, honey, why don’t you come up here, so I can thank you properly.” 

The whoops and cheers sound again, and Jimin has to nudge you in the ribs to get you to move. Your initial thoughts are one of panic, suspicion, and curiosity. One glance at Seokjin’s direction conveys the high influx of questions that are flowing through your mind—what exactly are those two boys planning? 

Yoongi’s hand extends out to you, helping you up onto the stage, as you turn around to face the crowd of people Yoongi has just been addressing. Of course, you have less experience hiding your general shyness around crowds, so the most you can muster is a smile and a wave. 

Yoongi laughs into the microphone. “Don’t worry baby, I didn’t call you up to embarrass you. I just wanted to show you that all of this…” He gestures to the whole club, the crowds of people who have taken time out of their schedule to show support, the sounds of his album now filtering through the speakers. “All of this was possible because you believed in me, you supported me, and agreed to help me work toward my dream. This is all as much yours as it is mine.” 

Then, he surprises you by leaning forward to brush his lips across your cheek—a gesture that further incites a bigger reaction of positive cheers and hoots from the audience. You turn your head immediately towards him as soon as he pulls away, your eyes wide with surprise. After all, you and Yoongi have never discussed the rule on kissing before, have never brought up any sort of lip contact to any degree. His boldness is something that takes you completely off guard. 

And judging from the uncertain look that dances behind his eyes, a flicker that only you can see and decipher, you can tell that he hadn’t been expecting that from himself either. 

You’re about to pull away, maybe walk off the stage and take another drink to whatever the fuck that was all about, before Jimin’s familiar voice sounds off from within the crowd. 

“You call that a kiss, Min Yoongi?” Jimin calls, close enough now that it’s easier to see him. “C’mon, kiss your girlfriend like you mean it!” 

The rest of the crowd immediately catches onto what Jimin is doing, and they play into it immediately. Suddenly, shouts of “KISS HER, KISS HER!” sound throughout the guests. 

The new direction that this has taken over the span of just a few seconds seconds you into another wild onslaught of differing emotions. Nevermind the fact that you’ve never agreed to actually kiss Min Yoongi. Obviously, the internal choice has been made for a handful of reasons, none of which you can explain to Yoongi or Seokjin without digging yourself further into this hole where you would truly have no way of escaping.

Which is why you clearly can’t say anything of protest right now. Everyone thinks the pair of you have been dating for years, and that kissing has become a natural action for you both to do. Of course they would play into Jimin’s game, thinking nothing harmful of it. 

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears as you shift your gaze from the crowd of people before you to Yoongi, who looks equally as stunned by the request as you. He plays it off a little bit, however, smiling as he brings the microphone close to his mouth again. “I’m not sure you all would want to be subjected by some PDA, especially you over there, Park.” 

Jimin makes a noise of disapproval. “It’ll just be this one time! I’m sure people don’t mind! Spread the love, Min.” 

Other people from the guest list add on that they don’t mind in between their laughter and giggles, probably writing off you and Yoongi’s shy disposition as just that: a shy, private couple who is still getting used to the watchful eye of the general public. Nevermind the fact that you and Yoongi have just never kissed each other before. 

Yoongi then turns to look at you, microphone down to his legs so that it can’t pick up the small whispers the pair of you start exchanging. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you up here…” 

“No, no, it’s fine, I understand why you did it…” You trail off. “Kissing my cheek, on the other hand…” 

Yoongi groans. “Yeah, that’s my bad. Seokjin said I could consider doing it but I wasn’t thinking when I leaned over. I completely forgot that Jimin is a menace to society. I’m gonna kick his ass after this.” 

You want to continue this private, side-lined conversation, but it is overrun by the louder voices that keep repeating the same two lines over and over again: “KISS HER, KISS HER!” until the echoes of it start ringing in your ear drums. 

Yoongi switches topics to the more pressing one at hand. “So, uh, I guess we should…” 

You exhale quickly, nodding. “It seems so…” 

Yoongi inches closer to you, his breath fanning your lips as your eyes instinctively close. “I’m sorry,” He whispers, the final thing he says to you before he kisses you. 

Now, let’s backtrack a little. You’ve liked Yoongi for years, so to say that you’ve never thought of this moment would just be a lie to yourself. Of course you’ve thought about kissing Yoongi. Or, at the very least, you’ve caught yourself staring at his lips when he would go off on another spiral about his passions. That type of talking is very hot, so what? 

But you never thought you would be able to experience it, to kiss the lips you’ve flickered your eyes to more times than you’re willing to admit. So as soon as you feel the weight of his mouth against your own, your brain goes haywire. Suddenly, all your senses are hyper focused on Yoongi—from his lips, to the warmth of his body wrapping itself around you, to his fingers curled around your wrist. 

You hardly hear the cheers from the audience, too busy allowing your heart to melt into butterflies as he presses harder into you, moving his lips against yours. You part your lips as well, curling your wrist to gather the material of his shirt into your hands. 

It feels like time has stretched out before Seokjin claps both of you on the back, forcing you to jolt away from Yoongi. He actually looks flustered this time—pink cheeks and reddened lips, his eyes are fixated on you, chest heaving. You feel like you’re in a similar state of shock, especially because kissing Yoongi makes something dawn on you. A realization of ice cold water. 

This isn’t just a crush you’ve harbored on Yoongi for the past few years. This isn’t just some small schoolgirl crush living out a fantasy, or something you can easily brush off, or simple butterflies you can squash everytime he reaches out to hold your hand. This is love. You’re in love with your best friend. And you have absolutely no fucking clue what to do about it. 

If the audience is taken aback by this long-term couple in front of them looking zero point two seconds away from devouring each other in a frenzied passion, no one settles long enough to comment or stare upon it for too long. Seokjin does well to grab the microphone from Yoongi and bring the attention back to the actual party on hand. He mentions another round of free alcohol, which are two words that can take anyone’s attention away. 

“And Yoongi, uh, I actually need to borrow for you a moment,” Seokjin murmurs in a low voice. “So I hope I’m not taking away from…” He trails off, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you. “Whatever this is…” 

“Oh no!” You interject quickly, taking a step away from Yoongi. “Not taking away at all.” 

Yoongi gives you a concerned look. “Maybe we should, uh, talk about that…” 

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, seriously.” You shrug a shoulder. “Just part of the act, right?” 

Yoongi’s concern melts away into something that might be hurt, but it’s gone just as quickly as it had come. “I’ll try not to be long then.” 

You nod. “Yeah, no problem—no need to rush or anything… I’ll just be hanging out with Jimin…” 

Yoongi gazes at you for a few seconds longer, before he lets himself get dragged off the stage by Seokjin. Rather than immediately go out to seek your old friend, you find your gaze following after the two of them, trying to see where exactly Yoongi is getting roped into. 

You continue to trail after them in the club, until the two of them are pulled into a booth—the person opposite of them makes your lips part in utter shock. 

. 

“Yoongi, I want you to meet an old friend of mine,” Seokjin starts as he and Yoongi dive deeper into the thrones of people. Yoongi feels himself being directed towards a corner booth, currently occupied by two people. “She wanted me to introduce you.” Finally, the pair of them stop at the head of the table. “This is Lee Jieun.” 

Right off the bat, Yoongi is vaguely insulted that Seokjin thought that someone like Lee Jieun needed an introduction—because who wouldn’t know who Lee Jieun? 

Lee Jieun, like Yoongi, is a singer-songwriter with a sweetheart reputation, who weaves stories and experiences through her music. But unlike Yoongi, who got his start through Youtube and built himself from the ground up, Lee Jieun signed into a record label at the age of 15. As one could tell, she was that talented. Still is, as a matter of fact. Her albums are continuously winning awards, establishing herself in the charts, connecting with people all over the world. He would know—when Yoongi finally discovered Jieun in the midst of his Youtuber days, it was the catalyst that served as the biggest influence towards the release of his original songs. The fact that they’re both the same age only makes Yoongi even more in awe of her. 

Yoongi being able to see Lee Jieun, in the flesh, is a powerful enough sight to leave him speechless. 

Lee Jieun sits at the booth, looking all prettied up with her big eyes and red lips. Everything about her seems regal, from the smile she flashes Yoongi to the hand she extends out towards him. 

It takes a second for Yoongi to register what he needs to do. Hastily, he steps forward and takes her hand in his. Despite her delicate nature, her handshake is firm as the pair of them move their joined hands up and down once. Honestly, considering their status difference, he feels like a handshake is too casual for them, but he doesn’t speak of it. He just basks in the moment, until he lets go of her hand. 

Afterwards, he joins Seokjin in the booth, sliding into his seat. 

Jieun smiles brightly at the two of them. “Thank you for going out of your way to come talk to me. I hope I wasn’t disrupting your night.” 

Yoongi shakes his head immediately. “Oh, god no. Of course not. I’m just—I’m really honored to see you here. I-I had no idea that you were friends with Seokjin.” 

Jieun laughs. “Oh yeah, we go way back—we were actually signed under the same label. Seokjin left to pursue management a few years ago, but we’ve always kept in touch.” She reaches over to take her glass of soda from the table. “He told me when he signed you, you know. He said that you were doing street performances a few cities down?” 

Yoongi flushes at that. “Oh yeah—my origin story.” 

“I mean, everyone starts from somewhere,” Jieun brushes off, laying down her cup again. “So I’ve honestly been looking out for your name since Seokjin signed you. I heard about your tour, but knew that I wanted to wait until your first full length album just to make sure your reputation was a little more fleshed out before bringing up my idea with Seokjin.” 

Yoongi blinks, switching his gaze from Jieun to Seokjin. The latter nods, as if to let him know that Jieun would be the one providing information. So Yoongi turns back to Jieun. 

Jieun continues. “Since it seems that we’ve both developed a songwriting, storytelling reputation amongst the music industry, I was hoping that you’d agree to do a collaboration with me. Just one single, both of our names attached to it. It’s been awhile since I worked with another artist, and I’m sure that doing this will only further put your name out there. It could also be a really good learning experience.” 

Yoongi almost cannot believe his ears. Lee Jieun wanted to do a collaboration? With him and his inexperienced ass? 

Yoongi coughs out in wonder. “Wow.” 

Jieun smirks. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No, no, not at all!” Yoongi reassures, but then he backpedals a little. “I mean, it’s not that I was expecting you to ask for a collaboration—I just—!” He cuts himself off, exhaling heavily to calm his nerves. “It’s just, you were a very big reason I even wanted to sing my original songs back when I was street performing. So the fact that you’re asking me to do a song together is honestly so crazy to me.” 

Jieun grins. “I’m honored—so are you agreeing to my request?” 

Almost on instinct, Yoongi turns to Seokjin. It’s not that Yoongi doesn’t want to do the collab, it’ll probably be the single most greatest thing to happen in his career, but Seokjin was technically his boss and their contract had it so Seokjin usually had to final say in what he believed would be best for him. 

And for the briefest flicker of a second, Yoongi’s mind switches to you. More than Seokjin’s approval, he finds himself seeking your praise the most. After all, you know how much he admires Lee Jieun. He wants to share this moment with you. 

Instead of jumping up to go find you, he forces himself to stay rooted to his seat. “I-I think I would be the one who feels honored. T-That is, if Seokjin says it’s okay.” 

Seokjin holds his arms out. “Of course it’s okay! The collaboration was also partly my idea. Anywho.” He turns back to Jieun. “We’ll have to run through Yoongi’s schedule with his manager just to see when he’s available. But after that, we can get started.” 

At the mention of you, Yoongi’s manager, Jieun’s eyes brighten with her smile. “Oh yes, your girlfriend.” She sits a little straighter, trying to seek you out. “She’s here at the event right? I’d really love to meet her, if that’s okay?” 

Yoongi nods immediately. “O-Of course!” He also sits up a little straighter, moving about in his seat to try and locate you. He finds you near the bar, seeming to have ditched your hang-out with Jimin, as you take an occasional sip of your drink. “She’s over there.” 

With a nod, the three of them move out of the booth and towards the bar, where you’re still slouched over, scrolling through Instagram on your phone. You seem to notice their approaching presence, because you take a quick glance over to acknowledge them, before doing a double take when you realize who else is in Yoongi’s company. 

“Oh my gosh!” You exclaim, immediately sliding out of your bar stool, your gaze fixated on Jieun. 

Seokjin laughs at your starstruck reaction. “Y/N, this is Lee Jieun—but I’m guessing you already knew that?” 

You seem to realize your behavior, because your shyness comes back. “I do. Um, hi! It’s really nice to meet you.” You reach over to offer your hand. 

Jieun takes it, shaking for a second. “The pleasure is all mine.” 

Your gaze immediately flints to Yoongi. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me that you were acquainted with Lee Jieun herself!” 

Yoongi waves you off. “Actually, Seokjin is the mutual party.” 

Your lips part in shock, as you nod once, twice, in understanding. “Well, uh, in that case, I hope you’re having a good time tonight, Jieun.” 

“It’s really a wonderful launch party,” Jieun praises. “But I do admit to having ulterior motives. I actually came by to ask Yoongi if he wanted to work on a collab song with me.” 

Your lips part, and Yoongi feels a vague sense of pride swell up in his chest when you turn to look at him, eyes brighter than they have been all night. “Yoongi! That’s so amazing! I hope you agreed.” 

“I did, actually,” Yoongi says with the nod of his head. If you notice that he’s puffing his chest out a little as your words go straight to his head, you don’t comment on it. “We’ll definitely have to go over my schedule with you, pick some dates where Jieun and I can have some writing sessions, and then the recording sessions, just to name the big picture stuff that’ll have to get done. But we should all be good to go.” 

As Yoongi continues to list everything that’ll need to be done in order to create music together, your gaze shifts between Yoongi and Jieun occasionally, taking in their equal excitement and passion for the long project ahead. It isn’t until the end, when you and Yoongi leave the launch party, after having collected praise and much more from the many friends and connections that have been gained throughout the night, you enter the car wearing an unreadable expression—like you’re pondering something that threatens to break you. 

. 

To be frank, you aren’t surprised that Lee Jieun asks Yoongi to collaborate together. Sure, maybe she came a little earlier than you had expected, but you always knew it was a matter of time before the pair of them met. Their reputations are too similar, their personalities too good together; you’re sure that fate would have lined them up at some point. 

It just feels like maybe the universe made them a little too perfect for each other—and it’s something that becomes glaringly obvious as a month of songwriting goes by without a hitch. Every few days, Jieun would turn up to KSJ Records, bright-eyed and always looking so, so pretty. Every few days, Jieun and Yoongi would sit next to each other, conversing about the story of their song, both bright-eyed with unbridled affection for what they were writing. And sure, Namjoon would be a part of these songwriting sessions. But that’s not the point. 

The point is that as Yoongi gets bigger and success becomes a more natural occurrence in his life, the more people he’s going to meet with whom he shares a common interest and dedication for. People he would probably (most definitely) get along with a lot better than he could get along with you. Friendship is nice and all, but it can’t substitute for the powerful combination of passion, intimacy, and commitment that comes out of romantic companionship. 

And you see it in his eyes: the excitement he gets when he’s surrounded with like-minded people. You’re Yoongi’s manager, sure, and one of his best friends, obviously, but there’s only so much you can contribute to conversations about the actual music. Truth be told, when it comes to editing, you just do whatever Yoongi tells you to. And don’t even get you started on the music arrangements—you can’t even lift a candle to what Yoongi himself can do. Or Namjoon. Or especially Lee Jieun. 

And although you know that Yoongi means no ill-intention, it feels as if he takes every opportunity to remind you of that fact. 

“I mean, she’s amazing.” He’s sighing dreamily over his bulgogi. The pair of you are at a corner booth in a Korean barbeque restaurant, on another fake date Seokjin has prearranged for you. It’s not the first date you’ve been on since Jieun entered the picture, and it’s definitely not the first time Yoongi is bringing her up. And although this isn’t even a real date, and although this isn’t a real relationship, there’s only so much you can take—both as a friend and as someone who is starting to feel the curl of jealousy in your stomach. 

Still, you refuse to let the cat out of the bag. So you sigh, picking up your chopsticks and digging into your meat. The only thing you can manage is: “I bet she is.” 

But Yoongi doesn’t stop there. “You should have seen her today, she was on fire. Songwriting abilities, obviously. We were stuck on this one part of the song, but then she just swooped in with this perfect one-liner that made my heart drop. Seriously, it was so cool. I don’t know how her mind works, but I want to keep hanging out with her to learn more.” 

You almost drop your meat completely into your salt dish, but you recover quickly with a cough. The noise helps cover up the fact that your heart feels the white-hot burn of frustration and confusion. “W-Well, you guys do make a good team. You know, being on the same level talent-wise.” 

Yoongi laughs at that, completely oblivious to your state of mind. “Talent-wise? I wouldn’t say I’m anywhere near the level Jieun is at…” 

As he trails off, you dare yourself to flicker your gaze up to him, seeing the pink flush that dusts along his cheeks. Interpreting this as shyness for the internal praise and fondness he has for Jieun, you look away and pick up the plate of raw beef brisket to dump into the grill. 

Yoongi notices what you’re doing, and immediately reaches over to take the plate from you. “Here, let me do it.” 

A part of you wants to fight about it, but you know doing so will just lead you down the path of no man’s land. So you let go, offering the tongs to Yoongi as he takes it to scrap the meat into the grill between the two of you. He takes the silence as an opportunity to further gush about Jieun, and how he can’t wait to work on music arrangements with her, how he’s excited to record the song with her, so on and so forth. 

How could you even contribute to a conversation like this? He’s talking to you about a girl in a way that reminds you of your college days—back when the pair of you were strictly friends and nothing more, and he would talk to you about girls he thought were cute. It feels a little bit like right now. Yoongi and Jieun do make a good team, they get along together, and have formed a closeness within such a short period of time that anyone passing by the studio would assume they’ve been friends for years. Or, even further, that they were dating. At the very least, Yoongi speaks highly enough of Jieun that one could assume that she was the one he liked, and not you. 

It feels a little bit like being left behind—it’s a thought that only continues to fester. 

.

It takes a few more weeks, but you eventually draft up Yoongi’s tour schedule. It’s a few sheets of paper that detail the duration of the tour, the cities, the locations, the dates of each location, the size of the venue, how ticket distribution will work, on, and on, and on—all information that Yoongi has insisted on knowing about ever since he was signed into KSJ Records. The man just likes to know what his fans have to go through in order to see him, and you respect that. 

However, before you can officially create the tour post that’ll be up on the KSJ Records social media account, it needs to go through a final approval: from Yoongi himself. And because he likes to take notes with paper and pen, like the old-fashioned songwriter he is, he’s asked you to print everything out for him. 

This is what leads you to stand near the printer in your office, waiting for the last page to print and slide into your awaiting hands. Once all the pages come out, you flip through them to make sure that every city on the tour is accounted for. You turn back to your desk, collecting some magazines that have been stacked on top of your table. 

Along with getting the setlist for the tour, Yoongi had also asked you to get a hold of some magazines and articles that provided reviews from his first tour. Something about wanting to read any critiques people might have had for his show.

You gather the small stack as well before sliding it into your bag and stepping out into the hall. It’s surprisingly early for you to be leaving your office, the late afternoon, but there’s a part of you that just wants to give the document stack to Yoongi and dip out for the rest of the night. By now, the doubts of Yoongi’s affection for Jieun has dug itself deeper into your mind and letting yourself be around Yoongi for too long brings up too many questions that cannot be good for your mentality. 

Questions like: If he could, would Yoongi prefer to date Jieun for real? 

Was Jieun better than you? 

And the best one of them all: Were you just holding Yoongi back from better relationships? 

You continue to walk down the hallway of the building, your pace a little slower than normal because of the cloudy thoughts that threaten to overtake your mind. Finally, you stop outside of the studio you know Yoongi and Jieun are recording in. You take in a deep breath, forcing your usual cheery personality to shine through as you pull down on the handle and let yourself into the studio. 

As soon as you step inside, you almost wish that you had just slid the documents under the door. The sight of that would probably have been easier to process than the one in front of your eyes right now. 

Namjoon, as usual at the desk surrounded by music panels and laptops, playing the recently finished music through the recording booth situated on the other side of the glass. Behind this aforementioned sheet of glass are Jieun and Yoongi. With headphones on, they’re standing next to each other behind the microphone. Their shoulders practically touching, you don’t miss the way they both keep sneaking glances at each other, the corner of their lips turning up, looking like they’re having the best time together. 

You try not to slam down the door behind you, but your grip on the knob is a little too harsh to call for a softer click. Fortunately (or unfortunately, given how much fun Yoongi and Jieun look like they’re having—wait, did Jieun just touch Yoongi’s arm), neither of them notice your arrival. 

Namjoon, however, notices. 

He turns around to look at you. “Hey, what’s up?” 

You try for a smile, your hand brushing against the door. “Sorry, I slipped a little,” You lie cleanly. You hold up the documents in your other hand. “Yoongi wanted me to prepare a few things for him, stuff for the upcoming tour.” 

Namjoon gestures for you to sit next to him, something that you follow. As soon as you sit down, Namjoon asks to see these aforementioned documents, which you pull out of your bag and hand over to him. It’s quiet between the two of you, the only sounds being the laughs and giggles between Yoongi and Jieun—as if one has them as just told a secret only understood between them. It’s a feeling that doesn’t settle well in your stomach. 

“Wow, this is very efficient,” Namjoon observes, seeming completely oblivious to your internal seething. 

You shrug, eyes still locked in on the inside of the recording booth. “Yoongi asked for the best, so I gave him the best. Hey, so—!” You change topics. “Is there a reason they’re in the booth together? Don’t a lot of collabs nowadays just exchange everything virtually?” 

Namjoon hums. “I didn’t know the jealous girlfriend was a full time act of yours now.” He’s clearly just trying to have fun. After all, only Taehyung and Jungkook know about your crush on Yoongi. “But honestly? I’m not too sure. They just wanted to go in together—said that they could be more personal when working in a face-to-face setting. And they’re actually making a lot of changes as they keep going through the song and hearing how the music is turning out. They’re a good team.” 

Namjoon’s usage of the very same phrase that has been haunting you for the past few weeks doesn’t sit well in your stomach. 

Namjoon returns the documents to you. “Did you want to talk to him now? See if he’s cool with you just dropping it off?” 

You nod. “If that’s okay?” 

Namjoon smiles. “We’ll just wait until they take a breath.” 

Waiting doesn’t turn out to take a long time, because Jieun stops the song to make another statement about what line should replace the one they just sung. And Yoongi looks at her like she’s just hung up all the stars in the galaxy. 

“Namjoon, do you mind starting the song over? We got a new idea for this part,” Jieun calls from inside the booth. 

Namjoon leans forward to press the button. “Actually, you guys have some company.” 

You lean forward as well. “Hey guys.” 

Jieun grins, waving at you through the window. Yoongi acknowledges you as well, but there’s something suddenly stiff about his movements. You notice that he’s also stepping away from Jieun, as if to hide what has been going on between him and Jieun. As if that makes you feel any fucking better. 

“Hey, uh, Yoongi?” You continue. “I have the documents you asked me to prepare for you. I can just leave it here for you to go over if that’s cool. Maybe take a little bit of time today to go over everything.” 

Yoongi thinks about this for a moment. “Actually… honey,” He adds the pet name as an afterthought. “Do you mind dropping it off at my apartment? We’re probably just gonna be focusing on the song until pretty late tonight.” 

The acknowledgement Yoongi has that he and Jieun are in for another late night only grows the seeds of doubt in your mind, as you clench your teeth. You can’t let your insecurities get the best of you. Not now. “Sure,” You manage, trying for a small. 

Yoongi grins. “Thanks baby. I’ll make it up to you this weekend, okay?” 

At this point, it just feels like he’s teasing you and it’s something you find you aren’t really in the mood for. So you manage a curt reply, giving a positive response that you’ll drop by his apartment to deliver the documents regarding his upcoming tour, before you’re up and out of the studio before Jieun, Yoongi, or Namjoon can say one last thing. But you don’t care. The sooner you’re out of there, looking at the heart-eye festival between Jieun and Yoongi, the better you feel. 

So you take the train to Yoongi’s apartment, a now much bigger space in a slightly nicer area of the city. At least, nicer than the college apartment he shared with Jungkook that was no stranger to bed bugs and constant maintenance issues. The newer apartment Yoongi has recently acquired is nicer, has more modern finishes, and is now a space he fills in all by himself. 

As you unlock the door to his apartment, you immediately make your way down the small hallway entrance, where a mirror and his shoes occupy a small corner of the area. The hallway opens up into the living room, and you turn on the light and take in the vaguely familiar sight of his new furniture—home pieces that you helped arrange with him a few months ago. Come to think of it, that was probably the first and last time you had come by Yoongi’s apartment. Before certain life elements got involved. 

Tonguing the inside of your cheek, you plop yourself down on the couch and place the document stack at the corner of the coffee table. It looks rather strange just stacked like that, no context provided, so your eyes shift over for a pen and a post-it note. 

You find a stack of post-it notes, and find a pen sticking out from inside a notebook. Paying little attention to the notebook, you just make a grab for the pen and rip it out of the notebook with the aggression of a gorilla. The notebook flies open, the contents inside barring itself right at you. 

Your immediate reaction is to close the notebook. After all, it just takes one glance at Yoongi’s scrambled handwriting to know that this is one of his writing journals. His most recent one, in fact, judging from how flat the pages after the one currently open appear—like it hasn’t been stained with a pen yet. 

You want to close it—you really do. You and Yoongi have built a friendship on trust. That’s what kept you both together throughout the long years, and you know better than to risk everything just for the chance to scope through what is essentially a songwriter’s diary. 

Your fingers inch towards the edge of the book, about to close it shut, before the title at the top header makes you freeze. 

MY SECRET 

Without meaning to, your eyes read over the lines. And you feel sick to your stomach. 

The song is so raw, so personal, brimming with desire in every verse. It covers lingering stares, secret smiles. A barrier. How Yoongi “wants you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you”. And you know Yoongi—you know him better than anyone. You know that for all the love songs he sings and the topics he sings about that he feigns ignorance for, he draws on personal experience to write his music. How else could he make everything so personable? 

How could this song not be about Jieun? 

The lingering stares, secret smiles: it clearly points to the events in the recording booth you saw earlier that day, and if he’s writing a song about it, it’s obvious that today hadn’t been the first time for those stares and smiles. 

The barrier: obviously you. The relationship facade he’s forced to put up with you, when he’s clearly so much happier with someone else. 

With those factors, it’s so clear that Yoongi would want Jieun, but would be unable to have her. 

And you’re just the girl in the background with the starry eyes for a guy who would never even look at you the way you want him to. 

That realization brings the hot tears to your eyes, as you slam the notebook shut and bring your hand to your mouth, biting your finger to muffle your sobs. What comes out is the build-up of months of insecurities, of having to keep the biggest secret of your life to yourself, and the additional jealousy brought in by a third party. 

This despair and sadness isn’t good for you, and you know that only continuing to hide it away in light of Yoongi and Jieun’s partnership, in light of your feelings, and Yoongi’s exploding career—you should only be able to handle so much. You’re a human being, and you have your limits. 

And you think this might be it. 

.

.

CHAPTER 6: TRUTHS 

. 

“Y-Yeah, I think it’s food poisoning or something,” You speak quietly into the phone, playing with the edges of your blanket. “I’m really sorry, Seokjin, I’ll try to send out some emails to respond to news outlets today…” 

“Hey, no, you’re totally fine,” Seokjin replies hastily. “I don’t blame you for that. Just try and get some rest today, and update me on how you feel tomorrow.” A pause. “What was it?”

“Uh, it must have been in the takeout I got last night.” That’s a lie. You cooked your own dinner last night, and are lying straight through your teeth regarding your condition, but you can’t find it in yourself to go to work today. Not since the discovery of Yoongi’s crush on Jieun made you want to dig yourself into a hole and never crawl out. 

It’s not like you ever thought you had a chance with Yoongi—but you had just thought maybe something would be different after the hand holding, after his radio interview, after your kiss together. 

But Jieun serves as that nice splash of reality that Yoongi wants someone better than you. Someone more like him—someone passionate about music, who gets along with him better, who can write music with and write music about. 

At this point, it just feels like you’re a weight, dragging Yoongi down in the waves of his past. 

On the other side of the phone, Seokjin sighs. “Damn, that’s always the worst. Those are the ones you suspect the least. Anyways, I’ll let you go. Get some rest. Maybe I’ll let Yoongi know so he can bring some soup.” 

The mention of Yoongi makes you feel like you could actually get food poisoning. “You can let him know, but he’ll probably be too hung up on Jieun to give a shit.” 

Seokjin, of course, knows nothing, so he laughs at what he thinks is your joke. “That’s true. They’re actually at it again today, which is surprising considering Jieun only comes by a few times a week. But no, she was here bright and early and so was Yoongi. Basically, they showed up to the studio at the same time. They called it fate, or some shit like that.” 

“You don’t say,” You return dryly. 

Namjoon’s confirmation that they make a good team, paired with Seokjin’s admittance that Yoongi is hung up on Jieun, puts you in a delicate mood for the rest of the day. You try to watch some TV shows, some movies, play some video games, but you are constantly distracted by thoughts of Yoongi and Jieun. 

You’re all curled up on the couch, about to click into another movie, when there’s a knock on your door. Your heart leaps in your throat as you stand up. You hate the brief flicker of hope in your chest, the curiosity that perhaps Yoongi is the one knocking. 

All those hopes are dashed when you see it is Jungkook on the other side of the door. 

“Oh,” You remark, the smile dropping from your face. “It’s just you.” 

Jungkook looks at you like you pissed in his cereal. “Uh, I don’t see other amazing friends over here bringing you store-bought chicken soup because they heard you got food poisoning last night.” He holds up the bag for extra emphasis. 

You roll your eyes, grabbing the bag from him. “I don’t actually have food poisoning, I just didn’t want to go to work today.” 

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at your statement. There’s a lot you’ve given him that he can work with, lots of things he can ask about. Maybe ask why you would lie about your food poisoning, maybe ask why you didn’t want to go to work today, maybe ask why you still looked like shit. 

But the first thing he says: “You owe me twenty dollars.” 

You roll your eyes, beckoning him inside with the jerk of your head. “Sure.” 

Jungkook laughs a little. “Wait, okay, I was actually kidding.” But he still steps into your apartment. “I’ll be serious now. Why lie about food poisoning? And since when do you not want to go to work? If anything, you love to go so you can stare at Yoongi’s ass through the recording booth—!” He cuts himself off when you give him a glare of such pure hatred that it actually shocks him. “Wait, are you mad at Yoongi?” 

You tear your gaze away from him, placing the bag of groceries on your countertop. Sorting through what Jungkook has bought serves to be a good distraction. 

Jungkook continues to look at you. He’s quiet, but he always has a lot to say, and since you’ve been his friend for so long that only heightens his need to talk. “I knew it!” He finally says. “I knew you were mad at him. Taehyung and I were placing bets down.” 

You slam the can of chicken soup on the counter. “HEY. What did I say about gossiping?” 

“Not in front of your face?” 

Your hand flinches, as if to stop yourself from grabbing the can and throwing it at his stupid face. Jungkook doesn’t even move in fear, the bastard. “I’m just gonna pretend I don’t know about the bets. You want a can of chicken soup?” 

Jungkook confirmation finds you at the stove, heating up two of the many cans Jungkook had bought for you. Included in his twenty-dollar purchase had been a few containers of tums, and some orange juice. 

Jungkook lingers in the back. “You wanna tell me why you’re mad at Yoongi?” 

You whirl around to face him. “How did you even know I was upset?” 

Jungkook snorts, but quiets down when you glare at him. He coughs. “You’re pretty easy to read, you know. You’ve been acting weird ever since Jieun started coming by the studio.” 

“Weird how?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re just a little quieter. And you haven’t been spending as much time in the studio as you used to. That was the biggest giveaway.” 

You’re quiet for a moment. You rub at your cheek. “Does Yoongi know?” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Doubtful. But I think he knows something is up. I was on the phone with him last night.” 

It’s your turn to snort. “Okay, that’s really fucking funny.” At Jungkook’s raised eyebrow, you explain. “I thought he’d be too busy comparing Jieun to sunlight, or something, to notice me.” 

“Oh, so you’re jealous.” 

You and Jungkook have a staring contest, before you sigh. “I accidentally saw Yoongi’s writing notebook yesterday. It had all these love confessions in it, and I’m pretty sure he was talking about Jieun.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No way? Are you sure?” 

You cough. “Well, I’m not a hundred percent. But it was all about this forbidden crush he couldn’t act on because of a barrier. Who else could be the barrier? He obviously thinks I’m holding him back from pursuing a relationship with Jieun.” You think about your words for a second, trying to decide if Jungkook is trustworthy enough to disclose this information to. “I think I’m gonna break it off with him. Maybe quit too, while I’m at it.” 

Jungkook’s lips part. “But why?” 

“What else am I supposed to do?” You cry. “I can’t keep up this fake dating with Yoongi anymore, it’s too complicated, and I’m actually in love with him so that opens up this whole other series of complications. And it’s not fair to Yoongi—he shouldn’t have to deal with feelings he obviously doesn’t return. The whole charade thing just isn’t doing me any good. And even if I break off the relationship, I would still have to see him all the time because of the whole manager situation. Quitting just seems like the best option for me.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a second. “How do you even know he wrote that song about Jieun?” He finally asks, speaking carefully. 

You shrug. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling. Who else has he been spending all this time with? Who else could that song possibly be about?” 

Jungkook gives you a long, hard look, like he almost can’t believe your brain can be thinking those thoughts. But he relents. “I think you should talk to Yoongi before quitting. He’s one of your best friends. He deserves to know why, at least.” He looks over your shoulder. “The chicken soup is done.” 

You whirl back around to turn off the stove. But also so Jungkook can’t see the tears glassing over your eyes. 

. 

It turns out, telling Yoongi you want to quit is a much more difficult task than you could have thought. For starters, Seokjin sets the pair of you up on more dates than before. Apparently, there are some rumors going around regarding Jieun’s more and more frequent turn-ups at KSJ Records, and people have started connecting the dots that her appearances are tied to either one of two reasons. Either Yoongi and Jieun are collaborating on music. Or they’re dating. 

The second reason is a lot juicier, much more exciting, so naturally a lot of people have gravitated towards supporting that reason. To try and expel those thoughts, Seokjin sends you out on more dates with Yoongi. It’s all fine, but your thoughts about breaking off this relationship and quitting just makes you more quiet and closed off as you wallow deeper into your thoughts. 

You suddenly don’t know how to contribute to the conversations Yoongi tries to bring up to you. The words seem to fail you every time, and you feel yourself constantly resorting to silence or one-worded answers. And it constantly always feels like Yoongi is standing too close to you. Every step towards you is a step away from him. When he tries to hold your hand on the sixth date in two weeks, you wiggle out of his grasp and pretend that you need to fix your jacket. 

Your own journey to self-destruction means that you are completely oblivious to the hurt in Yoongi’s eyes with every step you take to distance yourself from him. But what could you even say to him?

How could you tell him you want to quit your job in public? That would obviously lead to a fight, and it would reflect badly on Yoongi’s public image. Just because you want to quit doesn’t mean you still care about him, because you do. And you still want him to succeed. With Seokjin’s constant scheduling of dates, it leaves little room for you to share in an actual private discussion. The only off times Yoongi has are the days Jieun comes by the studio, and you try to stay a mile away from that place now. 

But it turns out, you don’t have a choice today, because Seokjin calls you into his office and tells you to drop off the samples of cover art that has just been dropped off at the studio. The cover art is something that Jieun and Yoongi have designed together for the album, to be displayed when the single is released. 

With heavy feet, you make your way through the hallways and towards Yoongi’s studio space. Every fiber in your being hopes that Yoongi and Jieun will be in the recording booth, working on their song (or even better, just not in the studio at all), so that you don’t have to face them enjoying each other’s company right in front of your face. There’s no music coming through the door, so your heart soars that latter prospect. 

As you open the door, however, you realize that there’s no way for you to be so lucky. 

Inside, Yoongi and Jieun are eating lunch, takeout noodles split between the two of them, and they’re in the middle of laughing. The laughter, however, stops when you open the door, effectively interrupting their fucking date. Which is a thought that does nothing to make you feel better. The silence that echoes on only further makes you feel like shit. 

You and Yoongi sharing a room privately nowadays is a rarity, since you’ve been doing a good job at avoiding him at all costs. His unanswered text messages and shortened calls echo through your mind at the sight of him. With the look he’s giving you, you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. 

Jieun, however, remains completely oblivious to the situation as she gives you her normally bright cheery greeting. You stare at you, momentarily stunned. You would have thought Yoongi shared the troubles of your relationship with her, for some reason. You try to remain nice about it, though, giving Jieun a small smile as you return her greeting. 

“I, uh,” You start, bringing the package up for both of them to see. “Your cover art came in today. Seokjin just asked if I could drop it off here.” 

Jieun brightens at the sight. “Oh my gosh, it came! Do you mind if I…?” She trails off, hands reaching out to take the package from you. You give it to her. “Yoongi, isn’t that so exciting?” 

“Yeah…” Yoongi trails off. A quick glance at him tells you that he’s staring at you. You look away. “Did you see it yet?” He asks you. 

You shrug. “I, uh, haven’t. But, anyways, I have to get going.” 

“Hey,” Jieun calls, freezing you slightly in your path. “Thanks for bringing this over. We really appreciate it.” 

We?

The use of that specific noun, while supposedly harmless in the current context, makes your stomach flare with that white hot curl of jealousy. Your teeth clench, as you swallow down the spiteful words that almost manage to escape into the air around you. You smile, no teeth. “You’re welcome.” That’s the only thing you can manage before you’re turning around to open the door and practically bolt yourself out of the studio. 

You only make it a few feet before the door to the studio opens and you hear footsteps trailing after you. He calls your name, and your heart drops. You are so not ready for any type of one-on-one conversation with Yoongi right now. 

But your entire soul still gravitates toward him, so you stop and turn around to face him. 

Yoongi is by himself this time, and looking like a mixture of confused and defeated as he approaches you. “Listen,” He starts. “I know that we haven’t had a lot of time to really talk…” 

“It’s okay,” You brush off. 

Yoongi says your name again. “You know, you don’t need to lie to me. You’re my best friend—I can tell when you’re hiding something from me.” 

You sigh, shaking your head as every nerve in your body is telling you to walk away. “Yoongi, I’m not sure I can do this right now.” 

“Do what?” He presses. “I know that I’ve been super busy, but if you want to talk you can just let me know. Tell me what’s bothering you, okay? Because I…” He trails off, sighing, and you feel that vague sense of guilt wash over you. “I can tell that you’re avoiding me and it’s really shitty. I can’t even focus that much on my song with Jieun.” 

The mention of Jieun stiffens you up again. “Well, sorry for being an inconvenience,” You spit. “Why don’t you go back to your new fucking girlfriend if you’re gonna bring her up to my face again.” You couldn’t stop yourself this time—the words were too ready at your lips. Your chest is heaving from it too, but it is things that you know that you will regret saying. 

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow deeper together as your words. 

You stare right back at him, the shadow of a thought passing over you. If you’re going to tell Yoongi your biggest secret, it might as well be right now. You don’t know the next time you will be this brave, this reactive, this bold. 

Both of you open your mouths at the same time. 

“Did you just call Jieun my girlfriend?”

“I’m quitting.” 

You clamp your mouth shut. You hadn’t meant to speak at the same time as him. A small wave of regret passes through you, as you hope that Yoongi wouldn’t have heard your statement over his question. But of course he does. 

Yoongi’s frowns at you. “Did you just say you were quitting?” 

You take a step back, running a hand through your hair as your exhale comes out shaky. More shaky than you intended it to. Oh no. “Yeah,” You manage, already feeling your emotions bottling up. “I was gonna try and talk to Seokjin about quitting before I left.” 

If Yoongi thinks you were joking before, he definitely doesn’t now because he takes a step towards you and catches your wrist before you can go that far. “B-But why?” His eyes have gotten a little wider, and he’s staring at you like his world is being pulled apart. 

You try to tug your wrist away to no avail. Your mind tries to flash through several different excuses, but you realize that you need to tell him the truth. Yoongi deserves that much, at least.

As you try to collect your thoughts, Yoongi starts scrambling. “W-Was it something I did?” He asks quickly. “Because normally you’d always try to call me out and I’d fix myself immediately. A-Are you unhappy with your position? Because I can try to get Seokjin to give you less workload or something. I-I’m really sorry if it was something that I did to hurt you. I-I just really need you here so talk to me… please…” 

You shake your head. “It’s a little more complicated than that,” You whisper. “I know your secret, Yoongi, and that’s why I can’t do this anymore.” 

“W-What secret?” His eyes are still on you. 

You take in another breath. “I went over to your apartment that night,” You start. “And I saw what you were writing in your journal. I know that you’re in love with Jieun, and that you only see me as a barrier to pursuing a relationship with her. And that sucks because normally, I’d encourage you to go after her. But we’re doing this whole dating thing, and I feel like I’m neck-deep because…” Your words come out a little more shaky. “Because I’m in love with you,” You whisper. “I’ve been in love with you for years. B-But I know now that I’ll never measure up to Jieun, or any of the other girls in this industry who deserve you more than I do. I thought that I could keep being professional for you and your career. But it’s too hard for me.” 

“W-Wait,” Yoongi says, tightening his grip on you. “Can you just let me explain, please? It’s not like that, I promise you.” 

You rip your wrist from his hand. “I read it!” You retort loudly. “Who else could be the person you want more than anything, but can’t have because of a physical barrier? When else have you used a real person to inspire your music? It’s too hard for me, Yoongi! I can’t keep doing this!” 

Yoongi seems to be struggling with his next words. “So, what?” Yoongi asks, circling around his next question carefully. “You’re just going to leave? Is this… the end of our friendship?” 

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know! I haven’t thought this out that far. But I know that we shouldn’t be doing this fake dating charade anymore, because I know there’s no way these past few months have meant the same to you as it did to me. I also know that I can’t really be in the same room with you right now.” 

Yoongi hopelessly gazes over at you, his own chest heaving as he himself struggles with what to say. “Please don’t do this,” He returns softly. 

Your gaze lingers on Yoongi’s for just a while longer, trying to burn the image of him in your mind, before you shake your head. “I’m sorry.” 

. 

As it turns out, Seokjin is out of the office for the rest of the evening. Which is fine, right? Whatever. You can just call him tomorrow morning and schedule a meeting with him, tell him the urgency of it and will definitely be able to muster your strength for another conversation about your secret feelings for Yoongi. 

You return to your apartment and immediately burst into tears as the weight of today’s confrontation sinks its teeth right into your neck. You just shared your feelings with Yoongi, you threatened your employment, and almost cut off your friendship with Yoongi as a result of that. 

Your many years of friendship, of late nights, of laughter together. It seems silly to want to cut off an important friendship just like that—but it just seems unfair of you to carry on with a friendship where you’re always going to crave more. And if Yoongi is smart, he’ll know that as well, and he won’t come back. 

Still, a part of you just hopes a little. Even though, of course, it’s a stupid thing to hope for. Yoongi has already established his taste, and it’s definitely for people leagues above you. The thought only makes you cry a little harder, so much so that you try to drink some water in order to calm down. 

You’re in the beginning stages of patting down your face, of grabbing some spoons to put into the freezer, when there’s a series of frantic knocking at your door. You turn your head towards the source of the noise, trying to figure out who could be visiting at a time like this. It’s been a few hours since your confrontation with Yoongi at the studio, but you assume that he’s probably blowing smoke up Jieun’s ass. There’s no way that it could be him. 

So you open the door, and freeze when you realize that it is Yoongi. 

More than that, it’s Yoongi with his chest heaving. Almost like he has just run around the entire city to reach you. 

The only thing you can manage right now is a wide-eyed stare.

Yoongi stares right back at you. Just a few hours ago, he had looked so helpless and lost for words. A first, actually. But this time, he’s staring at you with so much intensity that you cannot look away. 

Yoongi finally seems to catch his breath. “You’re an idiot,” He states. 

You’re so caught off guard by that statement that you forget you’re supposed to be upset with him. “I’m sorry?” You ask. 

Yoongi huffs, practically barreling past you to step into your house. You try to tell him to stop, but he’s distracted by rummaging through his backpack for something. With a sigh, you decide to close the door. As soon as he’s standing in your kitchen, he finds an old, beaten up notebook that you vaguely remember from his college days. He points at you with his notebook. “You’re an idiot,” He repeats. “If you think that the lyrics on my coffee table are the first time I’ve written lyrics about a specific person.” 

At your shocked expression, he immediately starts flipping through the notebook. You notice that certain pages are marked with sticky tabs. 

Yoongi settles on a page and clears his throat. “Hidden within the walls of our lecture hall, your laughter curls through the cracks like liquid fire. You light up my day amongst borrowed pencils and shared jokes. I knew that you were going to change my life,” he reads. He looks up at you. “The first day I met you, when I asked you to borrow a pencil.” You remember those lyrics. It was from a song he had written called ‘starlight’—the opening song on his first EP. 

He flips through a few more pages. “I never learned about love, but I watch her believe in my dreams, take the same steps to join my team, and I feel like I could figure it out.” He looks at you. “When you agreed to help me with my Youtube channel.”

He continues through his notebooks of lyrics, of stories, of secrets. Every single lyric he reads to you connects back to some memory he holds of the two of you. All the memories together in college: from the panic attack he had in the bathroom of the first party the pair of you attended, to exploring the nearby cities via subway until early mornings, to corner ramen shops. 

Soon enough, he moves on to the lyrics he had written during his first tour. The distance he felt, and how that related to the emotional distance he felt with you—that desire he constantly felt for more, and how the manager and artist relationship the pair of you had couldn’t hold a candle to the friendship you once held. The distance was never a physical challenge, and that was something you could never connect the dots on. 

Every stone of his hidden affection is turned over, every lyric he has marked read over and explained with such a passion. It’s like he has waited years to finally have his turn, to finally speak the way he’s always wanted to—directly, with no tricks of music and whimsical arrangements to make you doubt everything he could say. 

He had written whole songs about the fake dating experience, of how he wasn’t sure he could only pretend to love you when it was the only thing he ever knew how to do. 

Finally, he flips to his most recent song. The very song that you had stumbled upon the other day in his apartment. “I want you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you,” He reads. He looks up at you. “The barrier was the blanket of our fake relationship. You were never stopping me from doing anything, because you were the only thing I have ever wanted. So…” He gestures to all the notebooks that he has laid out across your kitchen counter. “Do you now see how many song lyrics are actually about you? All about you. Because you’re all I’ve always known.” 

Your gaze carefully studies each notebook, layered over each other, overflowing with dedication and passion. The privacy of someone who has surprisingly spent his entire singing career sharing nothing but his darkest secrets. Your arms are overlapped with each other, tightening against your form. “I-I had no idea.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, but when he looks at you, his eyes are soft. “I figured that.” He’s leaning across the counter to keep his gaze leveled with you, but he pushes himself even closer to tap a finger on the spot between your eyes. “I thought I made it so obvious. You were never listening.” 

“I-I never thought to,” You admit softly. But Yoongi has a point. Ever since he started writing and sharing his original songs, he has done nothing but sing them to you in any and all forms. From the private sessions the pair of you shared in his college apartment, to the performances he would deliver on the street, in the recording booth at all hours of the day, to the tours and the audiences that sing those love declarations right back at you. For years, Yoongi has done nothing but give, and give, and give. And you had no idea. 

Your breath hitches, and Yoongi rounds the counter and gathers your face in his hands. “Shh,” He coos softly. “It’s not your fault.” 

You sniff. “It is my fault! I’m such a stupid bitch. And I treated you and Jieun like shit because I thought you were in love with her. I thought I was holding you back from being able to date who you really wanted to be with.” 

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, technically, you were.” At your look, he hastily goes to explain himself. “The person I really wanted to date was you. But since we were, uh, fake dating, that prevented me from being able to date you for real…”  

You groan at his teasing grin. “You idiot, that was so bad.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Yoongi is still grinning though, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. His eyes follow the movement, mentally outlining you into his mind. “I just wanted to see you smile.” His smile slips a little. “Since you had been ignoring me for so long.” 

You pout. “I told you, I thought you were in love with Jieun. And honestly, that would make a lot of sense… she’s really pretty and talented and you guys could talk about music for hours, especially compared to me—!” 

“Stop,” Yoongi cuts in, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m gonna stop you there before you say something I don’t like.” He angles his head to level his gaze with you. “Jieun is really cool, I’ll probably be the first one to admit that. But she’s not you. Hey, c’mon, look at me.” He forces you to look at him again. “You are also so, so pretty and smart and talented. You may not know a lot about music and songwriting, but you were always the one who pulled all-nighters with me to edit my videos, or learn music with me, or point out if something in my music didn’t sound right. Your passion to help is something I really love about you.” 

You pursue your lips to hide your smile. “Love, huh?” 

Yoongi doesn’t even hesitant. “Well, yeah, because I’m in love with you. I thought that was obvious.” 

You exhale. “Yeah, well, it’s different hearing you say it outloud.” 

Yoongi grins. “Well, hopefully you’ll get used to it. I have many years to make it up to you.” His smile dies down a little. “I’m sorry,” He finally settles with. “I should have been more straightforward and honest with you about my feelings. You must have been suffering for so long, having to keep it all in and everything.” 

You shake your head. “I’m also sorry,” You whisper. “For jumping to conclusions so fast. And also not really listening to your lyrics. That was kind of stupid of me, considering I’m your manager and everything.” 

Yoongi laughs. “It seems like you’re good now, seeing as you’ve just gotten an exclusive behind-the-scenes artist cut and commentary about his songs.” He pauses for a second. “So, I hope this means that you won’t quit being my manager. And that, maybe, we can promote our relationship from fake dates to real ones.” 

You smile. “I’d like that.” 

His smile turns softer. “And I was hoping that maybe I can kiss you again. For real, this time. No cameras, no Seokjin breathing down our necks.” 

You giggle. “Just so you know, if the kiss at your album release party had been a real one and we were actually dating at the time, I probably would have wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom or something.” 

Yoongi groans. “Don’t say that with that cute smile on your face. Makes me want to do things to you.” 

“I don’t see you pulling away though.” 

“Of course not.” Yoongi’s figure loams over you now, his lips brushing against yours. “I have three years to make up to you.” 

With that, he kisses you, silencing whatever next words you were going to say. That is, if you even had any to begin with. Now that he’s kissing you, stealing the breath from your lungs, you’re not even too sure any thoughts have been floating around at all. Unlike the kiss at the album release party, which had been softer and dainty, held back to hide a secret, this kiss is rougher. Yoongi is already moving his lips against yours, already parting his lips to brush his tongue against your lower lips. His hands are already sliding across the counter, trying to cover you more and more. 

His hand slips on the counter though, almost sending his sprawling on top of you. You catch him with your hand on his chest, as the sudden action makes both of you pull away from each other. The sight you both face is very much like the sight from the launch party: flushed cheeks and redden lips, a desire for more flickering behind eyes. 

But this time, there is no expectation to carry on in a party like a long-term couple. That is what allows Yoongi to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to his chest this time. He kisses you again, slower, softer, but you deepen the kiss with the part of your own lips this time. There is an unspoken agreement between the two of you as he lifts you into his arms and blindly navigates through your apartment, into your bedroom, where you both fall atop the mattress. 

“And just for the record,” You whisper, right when Yoongi pulls away to let both of you catch your breath. “I love you too.” You’ve already admitted your feelings earlier in the day, but it’s worth it to see Yoongi deliver that heart pounding gummy smile. 

#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

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier​, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha) #takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[unpopularwiththepopulace]

Don’t I Get a Dream for Myself ? – Bernadette Peters and the 'Gypsy' Saga

Gypsy. It’s perhaps the most daunting of all of the projects related to Bernadette Peters to try to grapple with and discuss. It’s also perhaps the most significant.

For someone notoriously guarded of her privacy and personal life, careful with her words, and selective of the questions she answers, the narrative around this show provides some of the most meaningful insights it is possible to derive in relation to Bernadette herself. The show���s ability to do this is unique, through the way it eerily parallels her own life and spans a large range in time from both Bernadette Peters the Broadway Legend, right back to where it all began with Bernadette Lazzara, the young Italian girl put into showbusiness by her mother.

The most logical place to start is at the very beginning – it is a very good place to start, after all.

(Though no one tell Gypsy this, if the fierce two-way battle with The Sound of Music at the 1960 Tony Awards is anything to be remembered. Anyway, I digress…)

Gypsy: A Musical Fable with music by Jule Styne, lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, and book by Arthur Laurents, burst into the world and onto the New York stage in May of 1959. After closing on Broadway in March 1961, Ethel Merman as the world’s original Mama Rose herself led the first national tour off almost immediately around the country. Just a few months later, a second national touring company was formed, starring Mitzi Green and then Mary McCarty as Rose, to cover more cities than the original. It is here that Bernadette comes in.

A 13-year-old Bernadette Peters found herself part of this show in her “first professional” on-the-road production, travelling across the country with her older sister, “Donna (who was also in the show), and their mother (who wasn’t)”.

The tour played through cities like Philadelphia, Chicago, New Haven, Baltimore and Las Vegas before closing in Ohio in 1962. Somewhat uncannily, its September 1961 opening night in Detroit’s Schubert Theatre even returns matters full circle to the 2003 revival and New York’s own Schubert Theatre.

Indeed this bus-and-truck tour was somewhat of a turning point for Bernadette. She’d later remember, “I mostly thought of performing as a hobby until I went on the road with Gypsy”.

But while this production seminally marked a notable moment for the young actress as well as the point where her long and consequential involvement with Gypsy begins, it’s important to recognise she was very much not yet the star of the show and then only a small part of a larger whole.

Bernadette was with the troupe as a member of the ensemble. She took on different positions in the company through the period of nearly a year that the show ran for, including billing as ‘Thelma’ (one of the Hollywood Blondes), ‘Hawaiian Girl’, and additional understudy credits for Agnes and Dainty June.

The above photo shows Bernadette (left) with another member of the ensemble (Sharon McCartin) backstage at the Chicago Opera House as one of the stops along the tour. Her comment on the stage of the Chicago theatre – “I’d never seen anything so big in my life!” – undeniably conveys how her experiences were new and appreciably daunting.

Along the tour, she assumed centre-stage once or twice as the understudy for Dainty June, but playing the young star was not her main role. Unlike what more dominant memory of the story seems to purport.

Main credits of June went instead to Susie Martin – a name and a tale of truth-bending that’s now well-known from Bernadette’s concert anecdotes. While performing her solo shows as an adult and singing from Gypsy, Bernadette has often been known to take a moment to penitently atone for historical indiscretions of identity theft or erasure where her mother long ago conveniently left out the “understudy” descriptive when putting down Dainty June on her resumé, in an effort to add weight to the teenager’s list of credits.

Whatever happened to Susie Martin? – many have wondered. Well, she soon left the theatre. But not before appearing in two more regional productions of Gypsy and a 1963 Off-Broadway revival of Best Foot Forward with Liza Minnelli and Christopher Walken.

Bernadette too went on to other regional productions of Gypsy. She spent the summer of 1962 in various summer stock stagings with The Kenley Players, like in Pennsylvania and Ohio, and this time she did indeed get to play June.

Above shows photos from different programmes for these productions. While some may have featured odd forms of photo editing, they at least also bring to attention Rose here being played by none other than Betty Hutton.

The two women couldn’t have been in more different positions when they coalesced in these rough-around-the-edges, small-scale productions. A young Bernadette was broaching summer stock in starting to take on bigger roles in the ascendency to her bright and long career. Meanwhile, Betty found herself there while navigating the descent that followed her sharp but fickle rise to Hollywood fame in the ‘40s and early ‘50s. Top billing Monday, Tuesday you really are touring in stock after all.

While details aren’t plentiful for these productions, it was recounted Betty apparently struggled in performing the role. And understandably so. Following the recent traumatic death of her mother in a house fire, and the birth of her third child shortly before the shows began, it’s not hard to see why her mind might have been elsewhere. Still, she was apparently impressed enough by the younger actress who turned in one of the show’s “creditable performances” to make comment that she would’ve liked Bernadette to play her if a movie were made about her life.

Bernadette might not have done this exactly, but she did go on to revitalise Betty’s best-known movie role, when stepping into Annie Oakley’s shoes in the 1999 Annie Get Your Gun revival. With Bernadette’s first Ethel Merman show under her belt, the ball was soon rolling on her second.

The 2003 production of Gypsy was imminently beckoning as her next successive Broadway musical and it was Arthur Laurents who lit the match to spark Bernadette’s involvement. Laurents, as the show’s original librettist, drove the revival by saying he “didn’t want to see the same Rose” he’d seen before. Going back to June Havoc’s description of her mother as “small” and a “mankiller”, and Arthur’s take that Bernadette sung the part “with more nuance for the lyrics and the character than the others”, the choice of Bernadette was justified. Moreover, “Laurents – whose idea it was to hire her – [said] going against type is exactly the point,” and Sam Mendes, as director, qualified “the tradition of battle axes in that role has been explored”.

So Bernadette also had her own baseline of innate physical similarity to the original Rose Hovick, in addition to her own first-hand memories of the women she’d acted alongside as Rose in her youth to bring into her characterisation of the infamous stage mother.

But there was a third factor beyond those as well to be considered in the personal material she had access to draw from for her characterisation. Namely, her own real life stage mother.

Marguerite Lazzara did share traits with the character of Rose. She too helped herself to silverware from restaurants, and put her daughters in showbusiness for the vicarious thrill. Marguerite had “always wanted to become an actress herself”, but had long been denied her desire by her own mother, who likened actresses to being as “close to a whore as you could be without, you know, getting on your back”.

In that case, to “escape a housewife’s dreary fate in Ozone Park”, Marguerite channelled her latent dream through her pair of young daughters instead, shepherding them out along the road. Thus was produced a trio of the two children ushered around the theatre circuit by the driven mother, forming an undeniable parallelism and a mirror image of both Bernadette’s reality and Gypsy’s core itself. Bernadette didn’t see some of these familial parallels at the time when she was a child, considering “maybe I didn’t want to see” – “didn’t want to see a mother doing that to her daughter”.

It was coming back to the show as an adult that helped Bernadette resolve who her mother was and some of the motivations that had propelled her when Bernadette was still a child. She realised, “I think she thought she was going to die very young”, as her own father died young. So “she was rushing around to get as much of her life as she could in there”.

When she herself returned to the production in playing Rose, Bernadette conceded to sometimes bringing elements of her mother and her driven energy into her portrayal, and admitted too she looked “like her a lot in the role”. You can assess any familial resemblances for yourself, from the images below that show a young Marguerite next to Bernadette in costume as Rose, and then with the pair backstage in 1961 in a dressing room on the tour.

Marguerite was ambitious. From her own personal position and with the restrictions imposed upon her, it was ambition that materialised through her children. Irrevocably, she altered them. She placed Bernadette on TV as a very young child (“I was four when my mother put me in the business”); changed her daughter’s surname (“She told me my real name was too long for the marquees,” or really – “too Italian”); doctored her resumé (“Somehow the word ‘understudy’ vanished. ‘No one will know,’ said Marguerite”); and lightened her hair (“She’d say, ‘Oh, I’m just putting a little conditioner on it.’ But slowly my hair got blonder and blonder!”). All in the hope of giving her child a more favourable chance at the life she’d always wanted for herself.

On paper, a classic stage mother. “When I was a kid, she fulfilled herself through me,” Bernadette would say. “She put me into show business so she could get a taste of the life herself.”

But it’s important to consider Bernadette often qualifies that her mother wasn’t as brutal as Rose, nor was she herself as traumatised as June.

Bernadette didn’t begrudge her mother for her choices – at least by the time she was an adult, she’d rationalised them, explaining “naturally it was more exciting [for her] to go on the road with me than staying home and keeping house”.

As a child, Bernadette hadn’t necessarily wanted to be on stage, but there was a sense of ambivalence – not resentful belligerence – as she “didn’t care one way or the other” when she found herself there.

Like June, Bernadette may have been entered into and coaxed around a path she hadn’t voluntarily chosen. But unlike June, Bernadette had a deal with her mother that “she had only to say the word”, and she could leave.

Most crucially, she never did.

But that’s not to say Bernadette was enamoured with acting from the beginning.

She seemed to feel ‘outside’ of that world and those in it. And others saw it too.

It was in 1961 in Gypsy that Bernadette first met Marvin Laird – her long-time accompanist, conductor and arranger. The way he put it, he “noticed this one young girl, very close with her mother” who, during breaks, “didn’t mix much with the other girls”.

Beneath the effervescent stage persona, there’s a quieter and more reserved reality, and a sense of separation and solitary division.

When asked by Jesse Green in 2003 for the extensive profile in The New York Times if she thought her experiences on the road in Gypsy were good for her at that age, she gives a curious, somewhat abstract, predominantly dark, potentially macabre, response. He wrote:

She doesn’t answer at first but seems to scan an image bank just behind her eyes for something to lock onto. Eventually she comes out with a seeming non sequitur. “I didn’t know how to swim. I remember, in Las Vegas, I fell in, once, and they thought I was flailing, but I felt like: ‘It’s pretty down here!’ I might have been dying and I was thinking: ‘Look at the pretty color!’ And suddenly my fear of water was gone, and I could have stayed in forever.” After a while, I realize she’s answered my question. Then she dismisses the image: “But I had to get my hair dry for the show that day, so up I came.”

I’m still not entirely sure I know what she’s trying to convey here. My interpretation of this anecdote changes as I have re-visited and re-examined it on multiple occasions at different time points. It’s arguably multiply polysemic.

Was she simply swept up in a moment of childlike distraction, lost in the temporary respite alone away from the usual noise and clamour? Was she indicating comprehension that her feelings and perspectives came secondary to any practical necessities and inevitable responsibilities? Was she using the water to depict a muffling and fishbowl-like detachment from others her age who got to live more ‘ordinary’ lives in the ‘normal’ world above that she felt separate from? Was she referencing the pretty colours she saw as a metaphor for show business and how she became bewitched by them even despite potential dangers? Was she trying to legitimately drown herself, or at least exhibiting an ambivalence again as to whether she lived or died, because of what the highly pressurised demands on her felt like?

The underlying sentiment through her response in answer to Green’s primary question was that, in essence – no. Being a child actor was not “over all, a good experience for a youngster”.

Acting might have been something she fell in love with over time, but not all at once, not right from the beginning, and not without noting its perils.

It was a matter of accidental circumstance that landed Bernadette in the show business world to begin with at such a young age in the first place – “I just found myself here,” she would offer.

Her mother, who was “always crazy about the stage”, “insisted” that her sister, Donna take lessons in singing, dancing and acting.

A further point of interest to note is that, although it was Bernadette with her new surname who would grow up to be the famous actress, look to the cast lists from the 1961 touring production of Gypsy that featured both sisters in the company (see photo below) and you’ll find no ‘Lazzara’ in sight. Donna too, appearing under the novel moniker of “Donna Forbes”, had also already become stagified (nay, ethnically neutralised?) by her mother. As such it is clearly demonstrated that Marguerite’s intention at that point was to make stars of both her daughters. Correspondingly so, when her sister returned from her performance lessons some years before, “Donna would come home and teach me what she had learned,” Bernadette remembered. She may have gotten her “training second hand”, but the key element was that she got it.

For Bernadette, it was a short jump from emulating magpied tricks from her sister as well as routines from Golden Age Busby Berkeley musicals on the ‘Million Dollar Movie’ in front of the TV screen, to her mother getting her on the other side of the screen and actually performing on TV itself – belting out Sophie Tucker impressions aged five for all the nation to see.

The photos below show Bernadette in performative situations at a young age (look for criss-crossed laces in the second for identification).

“At first, as a toddler, Bernadette enjoyed performing; it came naturally, a form of play that people inexplicably liked to watch.” It was “just a hobby” and she “wanted to do it”.

But while she may not have detested it, she didn’t entirely comprehend what was going on either. “I didn’t even know I was on TV,” she said. “I didn’t know that those big gadgets pointed at me were cameras and that they had anything to do with what people saw on the television set.”

When she started gaining more of an awareness of how “such play [was being] co-opted for commercial purposes”, she grew less enthralled. “She didn’t care for the bizarre children, accompanied by desperate mothers, she began to see at auditions: ‘They spent their whole time smiling for no reason, you know?’”

Being a child who had become sentient of being a child performer began to grow wearisome and grating to the young girl who had her equity card, a professional (and strange, new) stage name, and an increasingly long list of expectations by the time she was nine. There’s a keen sense she did not enjoy being in such a position: “I wouldn’t want to be a child again. When you’re a child, you have thoughts, but nobody listens to you. Nobody has any respect for you”.

Gypsy did indeed mark a turning point for Bernadette as mentioned above – but not just in the way that seems obvious. Looking back at it now, it does appear the monumental turning point at which she started appearing in significant and reputable productions, beginning what would be the foundation to her ‘professional’ career. However it was also the turning point after which she nearly quit the business altogether.

When she returned from performing in Gypsy, Bernadette felt like she’d had enough. One way of putting it was that she “then retired from the business to attend high school”, wanting to have some semblance of a normal scholastic experience “without the interruptions”. But whatever dissatisfaction she was feeling as an early adolescent on stage, she didn’t resolve at school – going as far as saying that while at Quintano’s School for Young Professionals, “she was in pain”.

“When you’re a teenager you’re too aware of yourself,” she recalled. Being a teen and trying to come to terms with of the expectation of the ‘60s that “you are supposed to look like Twiggy, and you don’t, you feel everything is wrong about you”. Everything “was all about tall, skinny, no chest…[and] hair straight”. Little Bernadette with her “mass of [curly] hair and distracting bosom”, as Alex Witchel put it, was never going to fit that mould. “That was not me,” she stated. “At all.”

Her self-consciousness grew to the point that it became overwhelming and asphyxiating. “I was trying desperately to blend in and be normal, but that doesn’t allow creativity to come out,” Bernadette said. “I knew I was acting terrible. The words were sticking in my mouth and all I could think about was how I looked”. It was hard enough just to look at herself (“I didn’t like what I saw in the mirror”), let alone to have other people gawk at her on stage. So she stopped trying. She “didn’t work much from age 13 to 17” in the slightest. Bernadette would later reflect in 1981 in an atypically open and vulnerable interview, “I was very insecure. Insecurity is poison. It’s like wearing chains”.

It was a combination of factors that helped her overcome these feelings of such toxic and weighty burden to draw her back into the public world of performing and the stage. “The two people who helped her most, she says, were David LeGrant, her first acting teacher, and her vocal coach, Jim Gregory.” Jim helped with “[opening] a whole creative world for [her] with singing”; and it was David who’d give her the now infamous and often (mis)quoted line about individuality and being yourself.

Having these kinds of lessons, she reasoned, was “really a wonderful emotional outlet for a kid of 17”. The process of it all was beneficial for her therapeutically – “you have a lot of emotions at that time in your life, and it was great to go to an acting class and use them up”. And Bernadette felt freer on stage than she did out on her own in the ‘real world’, saying “[up there] I don’t have to worry about what I’m doing or saying because I’m doing and saying what I’m supposed to be doing and saying”.

Finally then and with considerable bolstering and support, she grew comfortable with the notion of being visible on stage and in public, and realised she was never going to blend in as part of the chorus so it was simply better to let go of such a futile pursuit.

David LeGrant’s guiding advice to Bernadette (“You’ve got to be original, because if you’re like everyone else, what do they need you for?”) wasn’t just a trite aphorism. For her, it was a life raft. It was the key mental framing device that allowed her to comprehend for the first time that she might actually have intrinsic value as herself. And that it was imperative she let herself use it.

She had always stuck out, yes, but she had to learn how to want to be seen – talking of it as a conscious “choice” she had to make when realising she did “have something to offer”.

Thus soon after Bernadette graduated, she stepped back into productions like in summer stock and then Off-Broadway as she made her debut at that next theatrical level at 18. It wasn’t long before she was discovered in what’s seen as her big break in the unexpected smash hit, Dames at Sea. And so Bernadette Peters, the actress, was back. And she was back with impact and force.

Besides, as she’s also said, she couldn’t do anything else – “if I ever had to do something else to earn a living, I’d be at a total loss”. An aptitude test as a teenager told her so apparently, when she “got minus zero in everything except Theater Arts”. So that was that. Her answer for what she would’ve done if she’d never found acting is both paradoxically exultant and macabre – “I don’t know, probably shot myself!”

Flippant? Maybe. Trivial? No.

Acting is thus undoubtedly related highly to Bernadette’s sense of purpose and self-worth. This is what makes it even more apparent that a show with such personal and historical connections for her, as in Gypsy, was going to be so consequential and impactful to be a part of again as an adult and perform on a public stage.

She’s called inhabiting the role of Rose in the 2003 revival many things: “deeply personal”, “life changing”, “like going through therapy” – to name a few.

In interviews regarding Gypsy and playing the main character, when asked what she had learnt, Bernadette would frequently say something like, “It taught me a lot”. Pressed further about specifics, her answers often hem close to vague platitudes as she maintains her normal tendency of endeavouring to keep her privacy close to her chest.

On one occasion, she actually elaborated somewhat on what she’d learnt, giving a fuller answer than the question is normally afforded anyhow. Beyond all it revealed to her about her mother, she extended to admitting “my capacity for love and my capacity for anger” as aspects in her that the show had permanently altered. Moreover, Rose to her was undoubtedly the “most rewarding and fulfilling acting experience” she had ever had.

But while such deep, personal and emotional depths and memories were being stirred up beneath the surface in private, she was getting vilified in public singularly and repeatedly by New York Post columnist, Michael Riedel.

Even before she’d set foot on stage, Riedel set forth in motion early in the 2003 season a campaign of vocal and opinionated defamation against Bernadette as Rose that she was miscast, insufficiently talented, and would be incapable of executing the role.

Too small, too delicate, too weak, too many curves (and too much knowledge of how to use them). Not bold enough, not loud enough – not Merman enough. Chatter and speculative dissent begun to grow in and around the Broadway theatres.

For such a prestigious and historic musical theatre role, it was always going to be hard to erase the large shadow of an original Merman mould. Ethel was woven into the very fabric of the show, with the rights to Gypsy Rose Lee’s memoirs being obtained at her behest in the first place, and the idiosyncrasies of her voice having been written into the songs themselves by their very authors.

To step out from such a domineering legacy would be a marked challenge at the best of times. Let alone when battling a respiratory infection.

Matters of public perception were certainly not helped when Bernadette then got ill as the show started its preview period and she started missing early performances.

Nor did it help with critical perception that the Tony voting period coincided so synchronously with Gypsy’s first opening months – giving Bernadette no time to recover, find her feet, and settle more healthily into the show for the rest of the run before the all important decisions were made by that omnipotent committee.

The tale of her illness is actually undercut by a more innocent and unsuspecting origin than you’d expect from all the drama and trouble it engendered. Bernadette decided nearing the show’s opening to treat herself to a manicure. In the salon, she was next to a woman very close to her with a frightful sounding cough. Who could’ve known then that this anonymous and inconspicuous lady through a fateful cause-and-event chain would go on to play such a part in what is among the biggest and most enduring Tony Awards “She was robbed!” discourses? Or even more broadly – in also arguably playing a hand in the closure and financial failure of an $8.5 million Broadway show after its disappointing performance at the Tony Awards that ominously “[spelled] trouble at the box office” and led to its premature demise?

Bernadette did not win the Best Actress in a Musical Tony that night on June 6th 2004. The award went instead (not un-controversially) to newcomer Marissa Jaret Winokur for Hairspray.

She did however give one of the most indelibly resonant and frequently re-referenced solo performances at the awards show just before she lost – defying detractors to comprehend how she could be unworthy of the accolade with a rendition of ‘Rose’s Turn’ that has apocryphally earned one of the longest standing ovations seen after such a performance even to date.

Even further and even more apocryphally, she reportedly did so while still under the weather as legend as circulated by musical theatre fans goes – performing “against doctor’s orders” with stories that have her being “afflicted with anything from a 103-degree fever, to pneumonia, to a collapsed lung”.

Seeing then as unfortunately there is no Tony Award speech to draw on here, matter shall be retrieved fittingly from that which she gave just a few years earlier in 1999 for her first win and previous Ethel Merman role in Annie Get Your Gun to wrap all of this together.

As has been illustrated, there are many arguably scary or alarming aspects in Bernadette’s Gypsy narrative. There’s undeniably much darkness and an ardent clamouring for meaning and self-realisation along the road that tracks her journey parallel to the show. But unlike Rose’s hopeless decries of “Why did I do it?” and “What did it get me?”, there was a point for Bernadette.

As her emotional tribute in 1999 went: “I want to thank my mother, who 48 years ago put me in showbusiness. And I want to finally, officially, say to her – thank you. For giving me this wonderful experience and this journey.”

Whatever all of this was, maybe it was worth it after all.

#bernadette peters #gypsy #gypsymusical #gypsy the musical #stephen sondheim #arthur laurents #jule styne #ethel merman #broadway #musical theatre #musicals #broadway history #annie get your gun #betty hutton #tony awards #gypsy rose lee #sam mendes #new york #musical #musical theater #broadway musicals #the sound of music #summer stock #liza minnelli #stage mother #child actress

[hyunjilicious]

what is and what should never be [bucky barnes]

A/n: ok, so. Im really fucking insecure about this. I literally poured my heart into this fic. I'm genuinely unhappy with the beginning, but I promise you, it gets better!! I don't have it in me to rewrite it for the 4th time. I really hope you'll still like it though. If you ask me, this is the best fic idea I even had. Please, please, if you enjoyed it, let me know!!!

Summary: It was you and Bucky. An unlikely couple that shared equally disturbed pasts. When you get a day off, your paradise turns into hell as Bucky's nightmares return, leaving you alone to deal with The Winter Soldier. (FLUFF, SMUT, ANGST) 12k

Warnings: 2 smut scenes - they're graphic but not extreme, fluff, angst, violence, mentions of death and suicide, blood, a fight scene - also quite graphic but it was written to serve the angst. I don't want to spoil the ending, but if you really connect with the characters, you will not hate me!!

This day had been long awaited. After months of back to back missions and endless efforts to climb up the greasy pole of US social standards, words failed to describe how ecstatic you were to know, that for the next 24 hours, your whole schedule would fully be in your hands.

You had the freedom to do just about anything you wanted, and the simple fact that the rest of the avengers left to deal with some paperwork excited you to no end. You woke up when it was time for them to take off, and made a snarky remark about heading to the gym - something along the lines of having a productive day centered on self development.

Just about 20 minutes later, you and Bucky, now also alone in the Stark Tower, decided to start off your day on the right foot. He offered to make protein smoothies as you changed into something comfortable and fitting for a workout, but neither of you got their job done.

You had no idea how that happened, but before you knew it you were wearing your sports bra and still had your pajama pants on, moaning on the counter of Tony's kitchen as Bucky had lodged himself between your legs, hungrily exploring the heated skin of your neck, peppering you with bruise marks that represented his adoration for you. "You heal fast anyway" he shrugged, pulling you closer and digging his teeth into your flesh, sucking profusely and eliciting an erotic moan from your lips. 

With every new hickey he left, another one would disappear, which in turn would make him even more frustrated, “The hell should I do? Tattoo hickeys on you!?” he groaned, moving up your neck. You caught his cheeks into your palms and kissed him back, smiling as he kept getting more and more aggravated. 

It didn't come as a surprise when the blender went berserk, splattering fruit pulp, almond milk and protein powder all over the pristine walls of the room - both of you have long forgotten about it. 

The way Bucky cleaned the mess was the epitome of not giving a shit, and you couldn't find it more endearing. He bitched and whined his way through the whole process, and tears formed at the corners of your eyes at the ridiculousness of the half assed job he just did. 

You eventually reached the gym - of course, against all your pouting and begging to put off this session. "Doll, you're the only avenger who can't fight. A punk on the street could snap your purse and there would be nothing you can do"

Wrong, he was not. You couldn't fight - but at the same time that didn't mean you were defenceless. It was your immense power that for months on end made your teammates consider you a liability. The energy that surged through your veins had been too great for you to handle, and in fact, it still was, but now, thanks to the joined efforts of Tony and Bruce, there was a way for that power to be contained. Their solution came in the form of two massive shackles wrapped around the length of your forearms. They were made of dimeritium and kept all kinds of energy from leaving your body. But, even so, that energy was in full form, buzzing inside every fiber of your being. And so, while wearing them you couldn't attack anyone, but there wasn't a way for them to harm you either. That field of energy protected you from every kind of damage and wounds you had ever encountered, ranging from fist fights to automatic rifles to guided grenades.

"I'm the only one that doesn't need to know" you huffed and puffed, annoyed but still determined to get this first training session done with.

But that never happened. Halfway through your warm up rounds, your teasing side awoke and it took you about ten minutes to go from batting your eyelashes and flaunting your ass, to nonchalantly cupping his cock into your hand.

No one could blame Bucky for not even trying to stop you. Bless him, he did everything he could, but he was never able to resist you. And probably never will be.

By the time you were done at the gym, both your bodies were coated in lecherous layers of sweat, no of them being from actually working out. It was only a matter of time until you managed to break his self control and he had you sprawled on all fours in the middle of the boxing ring, moaning your soul out as he pounded your pussy. 

The momentum made your whole frame rock back and forth, your hair falling around your face, "Holy fuck-" 

The room vibrated with the vulgar slaps he afflicted on your bare ass. You arched your back and cried his name out loud, "Come on, Bucky- I- harder please-"

"How are you already so needy?" he chuckled, caging your waist between his strong arms and pulling you up until your back reached his chest. "I ate this pussy this morning before we got out of bed"

"You know I love your tongue-" you giggled out of breath as you tried to look at him over your shoulder. "But it doesn't compare to your cock"

"What does?" Bucky rhetorically questioned before picking up his pace. He kept slamming his hips into yours, fucking you at full force as with each thrust, his cock rammed against your walls hard enough to make you see stars.

"I'm really fucking close, Buck" you whined, feeling your knees start to refuse to maintain your weight any longer. 

"Don't cum yet" he panted, "Wait for me"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you cried out loud, liquid pleasure seeping out of you in the form of fresh tears streaming down your cheeks. "Please-" you whined, "I can't hold it anymore, I'm-"

"Not yet, baby" Bucky groaned, easily stopping you from wiggling around in his hold. His thrusts became sloppy and the orgasm got the best of him. He buried his face deep in your shoulder as his high forced guttural moans to rip from his throat. 

As he filled you up with his cum, as much as you wanted to comment about him making you wait and then not even bothering to tell you you could cum, you couldn't. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and your chest heaved as the spiral of bliss seemed to go on and on, tons of ecstasy propagating in long painful waves across your body.

"Fuck-" Bucky panted as helped you up, "I could get used to days like this. We should retire"

"I'm not retiring-" you teasingly shook your head, "not until you find a way to give me a baby"

"I'd give you all the babies" he retorted, tugging your hand.

It caused you to lose your balance and stumble into his chest, "I love you"

"Love you" Bucky kissed the top of your head and spun you around. With his palms on your hips, he started guiding you towards the door, "Let's get you cleaned up"

And then, another wave of unproductivity followed. You showered, ordered pizza, whined about how there was still some smoothie left on the floor, and after you warned him about it, your face fell as Bucky stepped directly in the middle of the puddle of almond milk. He was fuming, the incident wiped any traces of happiness off his face. He mumbled something about that being the last pair of comfy socks he had left and something about Tony's devices being a constant pain in the ass. 

He went on and on until you ambushed him with kisses up his neck and shoved your hands under his shirt. In an instant his bickering turned into soft giggles as he innocently relaxed under your touch. You eventually cleaned up the mess and tried to make yourself busy. Nothing worked, you weren't in the mood for anything and at the same time, even though you did absolutely nothing all day, you felt a wave of tiredness envelop you.

At about 4pm, and you Bucky had already been lazily laying in bed, a mess of tangled limbs under the fluffy duvet. Your conversation started from the tactical gear he swore would look better on you than on him and then wondered how you didn't know how to sow.

"I'll hit you" you threatened.

"I'm sorry" he laughed, holding onto your forearm as it was resting on his chest, "But you know how much I love it when you get angry at my misogynistic jokes"

"It's rude" you scoffed - you didn't mean his jokes, but the fact that when he grew up, women were not anywhere near where they are today. 

"You know I don't mean it"

"I know you don't" you laughed, "Otherwise I'd have actually hit you"

"Don’t worry" Bucky said, "I'd hit myself if I was that stupid"

"Cute" you smiled, kissing his shoulder. Looking up at him, you promoted your chin against his chest, "Do you miss it? The 40s i mean"

He thought about it for a second. "Nah" there was a bit of nostalgia in his tone, but you believed him. "I've kinda made my peace with the fact that everyone from my old life is gone. I wouldn't want to go back now. I got you. I got all of you guys. I'm good now, really good"

"I'm glad" you beamed, feeling yourself warm up from the inside just thinking of the progress he made. After a few seconds, you spoke up again, "But what about the society? Like the day to day life? How do you like the 2010s?"

"I can't lie" Bucky laughed, "I liked Romania better. Much simpler."

"You lived in a dead beat apartment, hiding everyday" you scoffed, "How was that better?"

"I don't know… maybe it was the simple life. Apparently I'm all about that"

"You'd move back there?"

"If you came with me?" he questioned, looking down at you. There was genuine sincerity in his eyes and a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. "Wouldn’t even think twice"

"Maybe one day" you sighed with content. You snuggled back against his side, and closed your eyes. "We're not done avenging yet" you mumbled.

He didn't say anything to that. You didn't know whether he was getting lost in thoughts or if he was starting to drift off, but you would have been fine with either. When he spoke up again, you didn't expect the conversation to take this route.

"About Romania…" he sighed, "What made you come with Steve back in 2016?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean-" he muttered, rubbing his light stubble, "I know why Steve came-" Bucky chuckled, "And Sam's all up his ass, so there's that. But what about you?"

"I-"

"I'm aware of the rift I caused between you guys back then. So that's why I'm asking. What made you stand by Steve from the beginning?"

"I knew how much you meant to him. And I know how this is going to sound, but I felt sorry for you, Buck. I know what it's like to be alone, to have everyone turn against you. You deserved better"

"Love-?" he called softly, his voice nearly breaking. "What do you mean you know what it's like to have everyone turn against you?"

As you maintained the eye contact, you felt tears prickle, "I know it wasn't fair of me to keep my past a secret, but-"

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to-" he said softly, his eyes warm. The pain was readable on his features, he hated how your whole demeanour changed.

"It's not that I don't want you to know, it's just that I hate talking about it. Gives me nightmares."

"Then we can just drop it" Bucky murmured, gathering you closer.

"I wish you could know without me telling you" you laughed, "You make everything better and easier. I should've told you, I know. It isn't fair to you. We've been together for almost two years but as far as you're concerned I didn't exist until I joined the avengers. I don't even know how much they know. We never talked about it"

"Love, listen to me. I'm here whenever you want to talk about it. You didn't do anything wrong. There are a lot of things about me that you don't know either. We're not those people anymore. No one can blame us for trying to escape out past"

"Yeah, you're right" you sighed.

Gathering your power, you pushed yourself up and settled beside him, with your legs crossed. You grabbed his hand pulling it into your lap, and intertwined your fingers with his as you spoke.

"Forget the official story, there's no truth to it anyway"

"I really didn't believe your mum was a criminal and that you were in a mental asylum" he joked.

"Good-" you smiled, his words lifting the atmosphere a bit. "Truth is, I don't know anything about my parents. But I have my assumptions. I grew up in that soviet facility so I never met them. I was told it was owned by a group of socialite scientists who wanted our help"

"Our? Who's we?"

"There were 7 of us"

"Did they have the same power as you?"

"Approximately. When we were younger, we used to comply and do everything we were told but as we grew up, things started to change. We weren't happy. Who could be? Considering we were being held in cells and studied like lab rats. We started to act differently and some might even say we tried to rebel, but that didn't work obviously, and that's when the restrictions began. For the last 3 years I spent there, there hadn't been a day where the temperature passed 0°C." 

Your skin crawled as you recaled the endless nights you spent shivering your way to sleep. Everything around you was ice cold. But it wasn't for the sole purpose of torturing you. It was your only weakness. As the temperature dropped, so did the movement of the atoms that made up your body - eliminating your powers to the point where you were barely alive. 

"One day, as spring came, we wanted to break out. We made a plan, and figured that as soon as we were out, we'd be fine. We were wrong. We were off about the weather and they got us before we even exited the perimeter. That's when the avengers heard about us."

By now, Bucky's eyes were wide with genuine curiosity, his mouth agape as he took in the information you provided. With every word you spoke his grip tightened around your fingers and his eyebrows gathered even further. There was discomfort and anger in his features, but he didn't interrupt you once.

"After that, the restrictions got tougher. We realised there was no way out. A lot of things came together in that small time frame. I realised what that place actually was days after we tried to escape. My friends - or that's what I thought they were, figured out another plan. Why fight when you can just eliminate the premise?"

Bucky moved his lips but no words came out. He cleaned his throat and sat up a bit, "What- what do you mean?"

"They tried to kill me" you said, plastering a sympathetic smile on your lips, hoping it would make it easier for him to hear.

"What the fuck. Why?"

"I think my dad used to be part of that team. And I think he made me the way I am. Now I don't know why he wasn't around anymore, but that team wasn't trying to get us to do anything. They were trying to make more of me. So if I was dead-"

"There would be no reason to keep the other kids…" Bucky finished the sentence for you.

You nodded.

"And what happened?"

You bowed your head trying to find a way to put your words together. Bucky didn't rush you, just reassuringly rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, waiting. When a tear from your cheek slipped and landed on the back of his hand, you looked up and took a deep breath. "I killed them. All of them."

He didn't say anything. Didn’t move a muscle, as he waited for you to continue. 

"I didn't even want to do that, Buck" you sobbed, breaking down. "I killed over 20 people because I was afraid. I didn't even move. I was in the corner of my room the whole time, but everyone who approached me was fried to death. I don't even know how I did that. I was just scared"

"Oh, baby" Bucky cooed, pushing himself up to wrap his arms around you. You fell against his chest, crumbling in his embrace. "I hope you know that was not your fault, ok?" he asked, rubbing your back. "You were just a kid, alone and afraid. It breaks my fucking heart, those bastards. Please don't feel sorry for them"

"I feel sorry for the other kids"

"They tried to kill you, Y/n" Bucky countered, "If you hadn't killed them, I would've gone after them. All of them"

"They were desperate..."

"So were you!"

"I can't help but feel like a monster sometimes, you know? Like I'm reckless and out of control. There are times when I'm all happy and excited about what tomorrow would bring, and then i remember what I did, and I have a hard time fighting away the thoughts that try to tell me I don't deserve that"

"What you deserve is the fucking world ok?" Bucky said, tilting your chin so you could see just how serious he was. "This past couple of years, you saved hundreds of lives and I know for a fact you did it out of the pure kindness of your heart, not because you wanted to make up for anything in the past. You're a fucking angel. You're the embodiment of good, you hear me? I know you. You'll never understand how much respect I have for you, and how in awe I am with the kind of person you are. Please, don't ever think less of yourself. Ever, ok?"

Tears rolled down your cheeks as his words proved to be much more than you were able to hear at that moment. "Thanks, Buck. That's sweet of you to say-"

"It's not sweet of me to say, it's the fucking truth" he scoffed, but he somehow managed to make it sound loving. "You didn't even fucking try, but just being around you made me feel like a person again. You're amazing, Y/n. We're all lucky to have you. I'm lucky to have you."

"You're gonna make me cry" you sniffled, curling yourself into a ball against his chest, "I know you were in a dark place when we met. I'm glad I managed to help you through it"

"You pulled me through it" he sighed, tightening his hold around you. "I went from wanting to die, to thinking that I didn't even deserve the easy way out. Look at me now."

"Buck, stop"

"I love you so fucking much" Bucky laughed. 

His whole frame shook as he pulled you back down, safely holding you between his arms, "You're amazing" he added, kissing the top of your head, "Perfect"

"I said, stop" you chuckled, slapping his side, "I get it, you like me, can we-"

"I adore you" Bucky cut you off after grabbing the sides of your face between his palms. "And thanks for trusting me. I know it wasn't easy for you to talk about your past, so thank you. I'm always here for you. If there's anything ever, I got you, ok? Forever"

"I got you too" you added, kissing his cheek and then moving along his jawline, "No matter what happens, you'll always have me on your side. I'm all yours, Bucky"

"Yeah, you are, doll. All mine"

After that talk, how you managed to fall into a deep sleep will always remain a mystery. Nightmares didn't make their way into your mind, and you settled for a dreamless slumber, actually fully content for the first time in a long while.

But not everybody processed grief the same way. And if Bucky mentioned earlier that he was lucky to have you, as you were pulled out of your sleep, you realised that he wasn't as lucky as you were when it came to the mysteries that creep up on you when you least expect them.

-

"Wake up sunshine"

The sound reached your ears, but it wasn't Bucky's voice, so you just groaned in response and rolled over to the other side, completely pressing your face into the pillow.

"Buttercup, it's time to wake up"

The voice seemed uneasy, as if the person speaking was actually terrified. You opened your eyes wearily, and were met with the usual, complete darkness of your room. 

"Come on, Y/n" they spoke again. You turned to see one of Tony's maintenance robots hovering above your body, one small screen lit up on its front. Blinking a few times to rid yourself of the sleep still lingering in your eyes, you managed to make out the faces of Tony and Steve, both staring at you.

"What's going on?" you mumbled.

"You've got incoming," Tony announced, and then shook his head at whatever someone next to him had said. The microphone wasn't performant enough for you to hear what the other person said, but it was not like you cared.

"Incoming what?" you questioned, still confused out of your mind.

He turned his attention back to you, "The asshole"

You frowned and Steve scoffed, "Y/n, it's Bucky. He's not well"

"Wh-" you mumbled, your head snapping to the side, only then realising his side of the bed was empty. You shuffled your arm around the sheets, still warm. "What- what happened?"

"He's gone rogue, Y/n" Steve announced, genuine worry and guilt audible in his voice, "You need to make sure he doesn't leave. You need to stop him"

Tony's workstation. You needed to get the shackles off your arms if you wanted to stand a chance, "Tony? How do I take these off?" you asked, pointing to your cuffs.

"Already taken care off" he nodded, "Get to my desk, it's unlocked. All you need to do is actually get there. If you can"

"If I can-?" you began asking, but a loud explosion sound cut you off, causing the bed to shake as a wind blew through your room. "What the fuck!?"

"He may have found the grenade launchers" Tony smiled bitterly.

"Y/n," Steve called for you, "Please, be careful. And call us. Me and Nat will take the jet but I don't know-"

"Don't worry" you shook your head, jumping off the bed and rushing to your closet. You chose the first clothes you saw laying before your eyes and put them on, ready to go look for Bucky. "I got this, I promise"

"Oh, and Y/n?" Tony said, making you turn to him at the last minute, "Try not to fry my tower"

You nodded and refrained from making any promises you didn't know you could keep. 

As soon as you walked out the door, the sound of automatic rifles going off became deafening. Stepping over piles of broken glass, you made your way to the emergency staircase, heading to Tony's lab. You did so with maximal caution, knowing that if you were spotted, there would be no going back.

Descending the last remaining flight of stairs until his work station, a rush of adrenaline surged through you, knowing just how close you were. Silently rounding the corner, your eyes landed on Bucky's frame, easily holding one of the remaining SHIELD agents up by the neck.

He turned to look at you, eyes cold and empty. Not even rage. There was nothing there. No expression, no empathy, no feeling. It was as if he was dead. This wasn't him. 

"Buck-" you panted, raising your hands up in the air, signaling surrender. You eyed Tony's desk, determined to stall him until you managed to free yourself of the cuffs.

You took a cautious step to the side, hands still up in the air. Bucky watched you as the man struggled against his hold, legs spasming uncontrollably as he kicked and squirmed, even though it was so clearly in vain.

"Don’t mind me-" you smiled, sweat flooding your pores as you slowly approached your destination. "I'll just-"

"You'll just what-?" Bucky groaned, flinging his victim with impeccable ease. The agent's body flew across the room, crushing into the only device that had the power to help you get through this. As the work station crumpled under his weight, so did your hopes of getting out of this. 

"Bucky, hey-" you mumbled, afraid of pissing him off, "I-"

"Who the hell is Bucky?" he frowned, starting to march towards you. Your blood ran cold, knowing you didn't have what it took to keep up with him. You were never able to dodge anyone's blows, let alone his. When he reached you, his hand instantly reached around your neck, lifting you off the floor, "SHIELD?" he asked after taking a look at your attire. Although not carrying the emblem, it was probably the only explanation that made sense to him.

"Well, um-" you huffed, holding onto his wrist in hopes of not running out air, "No, not SHIELD"

"Then who are you?" he growled, tightening his hold on your windpipe.

"Fuck-" you gasped, kicking your legs, even through he didn't even flinch when you hit him. "You're not gonna believe this but, um-"

"Try me"

You looked into his eyes, hoping it would serve as some kind of a memento, that maybe he'd remember you. "You know me, Buck. It's Y/n, I'm- your girlfriend?"

Even saying it made you feel weird. This killing machine, apparently hell bent on wrecking havoc, was not the man you loved, and you cringed just imagining his reaction to hearing your words.

And it did turn out to be worse than expected, as he spun around, doing a complete 180° with your body before slamming you down on the floor. The wood cracked under your bones, knocking the wind out of you. The pain of the impact was excruciating, propagating along your body in waves of some physical agony you had never felt before. The sound of your bones cracking made you sick to your stomach. Your ears caught the sound of your arteries being torn as your organs collapsed.

And if you felt every inch of your body being shattered and destroyed, it was God's way of making you pay for your parent's mistakes, as when your wounds healed mere seconds later, the pain did not go away. Your nerve receptors still registered damage to the tissues, and no matter whether you were actually as good as new, your brain couldn't process that.

What consumed you the most was the fact that as you struggled to stand up, the pain of broken limbs lingered on. But you fought through it, gathered yourself and stood up, facing him again.

You winced with every muscle contraction, but eventually your eyes met his. He showed curiosity, along with something else. Something else which you wished wasn't determination to finish you.

"Can we-" you whimpered, extending a hand, "Can we talk?"

"Talk!?" Bucky raged, grabbing your wrist and twisting your arm to the point where he spun you around, your back pressing against his chest. "Not here to talk" he growled into your ear.

The hairs on your body stood as you heard his voice. Even though it was technically the same voice you loved more than anything in the world, it made you now shiver with a fear you've never experienced before. 

You didn't get a chance to sink too deep in your thoughts before Bucky raised your arm, dislocating your shoulder and busting your humerus into pieces. The pain cut your legs at the knees and you screamed in agony, falling to the floor at his feet.

"Stand up" he commanded, slamming his foot into your side. The momentum made your body roll away, until you settled back on the ground, face deep in the rubble. Your muscles pulled you to your feet with ease, but the pain coursing through you was immense, nowhere near close to what you thought bearable. You felt the skin being ripped from your body and when you looked down, your clothes were torn, soaked in blood, but your skin was intact. It was what you needed to keep going - to get inside your head the fact that you were fine, because at this point, the pain was one bruise away from making you faint.

"Bucky, please-" you cried.

"Stop calling me Bucky!" he yelled, starting to approach you again.

With every step he took, you slowly backed away. "Please, listen to me, just a second, please!"

He shook his head no, a demented smile on his lips as he closed in on you.

"Bucky-"

As a reply to your question, his fist flew up, slamming into your jaw, hard enough to throw you to the ground, "Why do you keep calling me-"

"What else do you want me to call you, huh?" you yelled at him, vision blurred under too many layers of tears. "Tell me, and I'll do it if it'll get you to listen to me."

"I don't want you to call me anything-" he cocked his head to the side, unstrapping a handgun from his thigh. He loaded it as you barely managed to crawl away, "You can take the pain. I respect that. Let's see how well you do with these lead bullets"

You saw them in slow motion, barely managing to duck your head behind the remains of what once was a heavy wooden bookshelf. The bullets missed your chest and face, but you saw them, felt them penetrate your skin, ripping through your muscles. 

The sound of your tissues being pulled to shreds made you feel sick to your stomach. As the bullets left your body, your wounds closed back up, leaving you a crying mess on the floor. Your throat constricted due to the wave of shock that hit your body, and your lungs started hyperventilating. Lightheaded and gasping for air, you struggled to crawl away from him, tears marching down your face and ending up on the floor, nothing but diluting the droplets of blood that had fallen from your body mere minutes before. Your heart was in overdrive and your vision blurred as every fiber of your being threatened to let you down. "Please-" you screamed, your voice breaking as you raised your hand for him, "Let's talk, please. That's all I want. Give me a minute"

But he didn't. He didn't even consider it. Instead, the force that controlled the body of the only man that ever managed to make you feel safe, tortured, destroyed and consumed your body for what felt like the better part of an eternity.

You had been thrown through walls, shattered windows, had glass shards lodged into your body from all angles. He unloaded cannon after cannon on you, used up all the ammo he had on him, only growing more and more annoyed when you refused to give up.

There was no way to know how much time had passed. Now you were standing by the window, inches away from the spot where two nights ago, you and Bucky clicked your glasses, smiling at how far you both had come. He laughed, saying he wouldn't have made it without you. And then he kissed you, confessing that the thought that maybe you couldn't have made it without him either, was what kept him going. 

And then there you were. 48 hours later, again, just the two of you. But now there weren't any champagne glasses between you, just his metal arm, wrapped around your neck, this time, as he said, for the last time.

"I don't get it-" he scowled, teeth gritted and frustration in his voice, "Why don't you fight me?"

"I can't fight you" you whimpered as your tears poured down against his cold hand, "And even if I could, I wouldn't."

"WHY?" Bucky screamed, and for a second, you thought you saw a crack there, a glister of emotion hidden deep in his otherwise beautiful eyes.

"Because I love you" you cried.

But there was none. He rolled his eyes and pushed you back, your body slamming into the window. You should've thought faster, been more witty and considerate, but terror washed over you and in the heat of the moment, you grabbed onto him for dear life, pulling him down with you, plummeting to the ground from what looked like the 70th floor of the Stark Tower. 

If until now you had been afraid of what you'd have to endure, it was now that you met true terror. You'd survive the fall, but he wouldn't. 

Even in the air, approaching the ground at a dangerous speed, he kept fighting you. Even in this state, you admired his determination - he had a job and wanted to get it done - even if that job was killing you. A man of his word.

By now, the pain was unnoticeable. If you wanted to keep him alive you had to act fast. Clinging to his body despite his vicious protests and ruthless blows, you used your momentum to turn the two of you around. And you did so at the last second, as before you knew it, your bodies crashed into the boulevard below, sinking down into the asphalt as it crumpled under your weight. 

The impact cut your breath away and there was a gnawing feeling all over your body, as if you had blades under your skin, pulling your body apart fiber by fiber. But you snapped out of it.

"Bucky!" you yelled, slapping his cheek.

He had fallen completely on top of you, his head pressed against your chest. He didn't move and the continuous buzz in your ears made it physically impossible for you to tell whether he was breathing for not.

"Bucky, please-" you cried, trying to move him so you could see his face. 

Nothing.

"No, no, no!!" you screamed, "You can't die, baby, please! Not like this, love. Please come back to me, Buck, I'm begging you!!"

You remained there and wailed, with him glued to your chest. Your arms had wrapped around his motionless frame, keeping him as close as you could. Nothing could have gotten you to stop. Tens of people gathered around the crater your fall created around your bodies, police showed up, cameras were pointed at your faces, but you didn't care. If he died, so would you. 

"You're all I have, baby-" you muttered, voice hoarse and dry from all the wailing and crying, "Please, you can't leave me. This can't be the end of us. Please, I don't know what to do, Bucky, please!"

You were soaked. In blood, and you didn't even know whether it was his or yours. God, how you hoped it all belonged to you, how the pool of blood you laid in was all yours. Tears soaked your face, pouring down your temples as your whole frame shook with your sobs, that was the true agony. You'd rather spend the rest of your days fighting for your life if it meant he got to see the sun again. You wished he'd hate you, rather than not feel anything at all ever again.

"Please-" you said again but this time your voice didn't even reach your own ears, you didn't hold that power anymore, "Please, you need to come back! You deserve so much better than this. You're the best man I have even known, you can't die like this, not today, Bucky. Not today!"

By now, the people around you had scattered. They knew your identities and for all the wrong reasons, feared you both. You were grateful for that now, you were alone with him again, as the sun began to set and a chilly New York night began to settle. 

Still, you didn't move. You still had faith. Or you were just stubborn. There was no way you'd pull away until someone either pried him off of you against your will, or someone that you trusted showed up promising they'd help.

None of them came, and you remained there, cradling his frame to your chest begging whatever God was listening, to bring him back. You didn't know if one of them heard you, or if it was just blind luck or fate, but you only realised his metal arm was lodged under your body when he moved it.

"Buck!" you cried, cupping his cheeks in your bloodied palms as literal life cursed through your veins. "Oh god, you're ok, you're alive!! You came back to me!"

You managed to hug him close one more time, before he pushed himself off of you. In the process of standing up, his eyes met yours for the briefest second. Again, nothing.

He gathered himself to his feet, wordlessly bending down to grab your hair. He forced you up and you instantly obliged, following him back into the building.

Once inside, he knocked you through a glass door, your body once again absorbing his fury. The pain had dissipated into a dull ache, and this time, you stood up faster. "I can do this all day" you sighed, the lie slipping past your lips with such ease, as if the energy inside your core wasn't running dangerously low.

"What did you just say?" he questioned.

He seemed taken aback, "I said that I can do this all day"

"Who are you?" Bucky yelled, marching towards you, determined to get answers out of you through nothing else but brute force. He slammed you back onto the floor, only to straddle your thighs and pick you up by the collar of your shit. "Why won't you just fucking die!?"

Circling your fingers around his wrists, you searched for his eyes, "Wanna know what keeps me alive?"

"Are you stupid enough to tell me?"

"I might be" you shook your head, "but I'll still tell you"

"Why?"

"Because I know you won't kill me" you cried, "I know you know me. I know you're in there somewhere. The man I love. I know you don't have it in you to kill me"

"Try me" he laughed, drunk with the power you were so willing to give him.

"These-" you panted, raising your arms in the air to show him your cuffs, "These are what's been keeping me alive but I know you won't-"

But you never finished the sentence. He didn't even think twice before ripping them off your arms and throwing them onto the floor, along with all the other mess you two had made.

You never thought he'd actually spare you. So it wasn't a surprise when the first thing he did after freeing you, was reach for his knife with the sole purpose of driving it through your chest.

But you were faster. You framed his face into your palms, releasing the energy from your body and allowing it to flow through his. It felt weird, wrong and chaotic, and the power surge wiggled itself out of your control, until a blast between your bodies sent you both flying back across the room, falling down onto the floor.

And this time none of you stood up.

-

"I leave them alone for what, a day?" Tony sighed, walking out of his Iron Man suit. 

"Holy shit!" Steve cried out, his knees betraying him as he tried to rush to you.

"No, wait!" Nat stopped him, "You can't wake them up until we get them somewhere safe. We need to make new cuffs for Y/n, and find a way to keep Bucky contained in case, you know… he's still not Bucky"

Steve was fuming with anger, nostrils flaring, "These are my friends you're talking about!" he exclaimed, pointing to your bodies on the floor, "Your friends too, Nat. You see them like this and the first thing you think about is restraining them!?"

"We need to make sure we're all safe" she sighed with sympathy, grabbing his hand for a comforting rub.

"You make sure you're safe-" Steve scoffed, "I'll make sure they're alive"

"Hey-" Nat stopped him, "If you touch her and startle her in any way, you die!"

Her words hurt him but he knew you never would. Steve felt his heart shutter just imaging what you must have gone through. He was ablaze with pure determination to prove Nat wrong, and to do right by you and Buck. "I carried her in my arms while she was passed out when we rescued her from that facility-" he fummed, pointing at you, "She never knew a man that didn't try to hurt her before. And when she woke up, she was afraid. Scared for her life. She cried in my arms and begged me to not let them take her again! She was never anywhere close to hurting me! She's good. So good. There's only good inside of her, I trust her to not hurt me more than I trust myself, ok? If I'm wrong, so be it. I die. I don't care. She deserves someone to look after her. If I had to chose, saving her would be the way I'd want to go"

His rant left Nat speechless. She just gave him a simple nod and stepped back. 

Carefully, he picked you up and carried you upstairs, as Tony put his suit back on and carried Bucky.

-

Never in your life had you woken up this fast. Your eyes snapped open and you sprung to your feet. 3 pairs of anxious eyes watched you, all of them ready to jump into action in case the situation called for an intervention.

"What-" you gawked, scanning the room, "Where is Bucky? Is he- is-"

"He's fine, Y/n" Steve assured you. He stood up and slowly approached you, arms outstretched. Your first instinct was to go for it, but when you reached him, you placed both your hands in his, and looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Are you sure?" you whimpered, "Can I see him?"

Sympathy took over his features, but Tony jumped in, "Absolutely not"

"What-" you turned to him, "Why? Did I-?"

"You didn't do anything wrong" Steve hummed, engulfing you in a hug even though you remained stiff in your spot. He rubbed your back, eager to soothe your worried mind, but you were too out of it.

“Can I just go?” you whispered, pulling back just enough so that he could see how serious you were, “I need to see him, please”

“Are you mad at him?” Nat asked with caution and your face fell.

“No!” you gasped, stepping away from Steve’s embrace, “No, not even one bit. I know that was not him, I know it’s not his fault. But when Bucky wakes up-”

“If he wakes up-” Tony sneered, roaming around the room. He nursed a glass of whiskey, as a mixture of disgust and exhaustion was readable on his features. 

“When he wakes up!” you spoke through gritted teeth. Determination coated your words and the hairs on your body stood as you refused to even think of the alternative. “He will wake up. And I have to be there”

“What if the Winter Soldier wakes up?” Nat asked.

“That didn’t stop me last time”

“Oh, no!” Tony butted in, stepping in between you and Nat, arms outstretched, “You know I’m not one to cry after money, but you and your pal left me with $37 million worth of damage. You two are one broken cup away from getting thrown into the streets”

The sum he mentioned made the skin on your back crawl. You didn’t even have $37 dollars to your name, but it made sense. Your body alone crashed through three TV’s, one gamma ray projector and if you thought about it, you remembered Bucky pulling apart one of the Iron Legion robots, and only the thought made you flinch. 

“So-” Tony said, “You two? Never in the same room again!”

“Take these off then” you suggested, pointing at the cuff on your wrists.

“Ha” Tony exclaimed, “A big chunk of that money comes from you frying all my electronics up until the 12th floor. Absolutely not”

“Tony, I’m serious” you whined, “He will hate himself. I need to be there! I need to make sure he doesn’t take all the blame on his shoulders”

He frowned, and sighed. He wasn’t an unreasonable man, and you hoped that core deep inside his chest really made up for a heart. And… it did. None of them were happy about it, but they finally accepted. Nat and Tony would have never probably given up if it wasn’t for Steve - right now, like so many times before, he really did seem like your guardian angel.

They ended up monitoring the room, and Tony waited for your signal, one hand on his cigarette, the other on the Iron Man suit. He was all talk - if anything was to go down and you would actually be in danger again, he wouldn’t even think twice before tearing his towers into pieces if it meant he could get you out alive.

And so you left, thanked them in the form of a simple nod, and headed down the dark hallways.

Oh, how you hated this.

What consumed you now had nothing to do with the pain you had endured in the past 24 hours. Its source was not physical, yet your whole body ached. You felt the weight of the world on your shoulders - and in some way, it was - Bucky was your whole world, and the fear of losing him breathed down your neck.

It had been about 20 minutes since you stopped in front of the door that led to the room he'd been confined in. When FRIDAY announced that Bucky woke up, you rushed over, only for a hazardous sense of anguish to stop you dead in your tracks. Judging by the way he sat in the corner of the room, his fingers aimlessly tracing every indentation in the handcuffs Tony had restrained him with, you had no problem telling which one of him woke up. He broke your heart. His room was equipped with 5 different cameras and 2 microphones. Completely unaware of them, he sat inches away from one, and your heart shattered, sinking 3 stories below when you heard him whimper.

It was soft and quiet. His whole frame shook as he wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. He was hunched down, brown hair covering his perfect face, but still, his sadness brought you to tears. 

You heard him again. He sniffled as he laid back against the wall. His eyes were bloodshot, lips almost white and dry as his chest raced up and down. His muscles clenched and his feet bounced against the metal floor, it was a sight you never wished you see ever again. 

Softly, you raised a hand, and thought twice before finally knocking.

"Go away," Bucky called, voice all hoarse and dry as it broke halfway through.

You were able to see him on the small screen next to the door, but he had no idea who came to visit.

Out of instinct, you knocked again before typing in the password and ever so slowly walking inside.

Instantly, he looked up. He was surrounded by an air of darkness and despair, ever so obviously tormented to the peak of his capability.

He stared at you for a few seconds as his eyes watered, and then he gathered his lips into a straight line, shaking his head. "Please, go"

"Bucky, I-"

"Please" he cried, head falling forward as he toyed with the metal edges of his prosthetic arm. He shook his head, "Please, don't do this. Just, go"

You took a deep breath, only then entering the room far enough to actually be able to close the door behind you. Slowly turning back to him, your palms sweated as you had no idea what to say to him. 

"Can you talk to me, Buck? Please?"

He chuckled, "About what?" 

"About whatever it is you think you did wrong, I-"

As he heard your words, his hands instantly flew up to cover his face. He was, however, stopped, as the cuffs on his left wrist kept him from moving too much. While a new row of tears flooded his cheeks, his eyes met yours, "Look at me.. I need to be restrained while you're alone with me"

"Those cuffs would literally do nothing to stop you from escaping, and you know it"

"Maybe it's just a sense of reassurance"

"To who?" you scoffed.

"To them" Bucky responded, nodding his head towards one of the cameras. "I'm a monster" he added, wiggling his cuff restrained hand, "I'm a danger to everyone"

"Oh for fucks sake" you rolled your eyes, marching up to him. With absolutely no remorse, you grabbed his hand and harshly pulled apart the metal that had him restrained to the bed. Before he got a chance to say anything, you bent down, unclipped the microphone from the foot of the bed, threw it on the floor, and stepped on it, until it was nothing but a small pile of shattered plastic.

And you kept going, destroying the second microphone along with the 5 cameras on the walls as Bucky watched you with surprise. You finished by going for the door and locking it from the inside. "You think I'm afraid of you?" you asked softly, "For 6 hours you did your best to kill me and failed miserably. Look at me, I'm unscathed"

"Did you hear yourself?" he cringed, shaking his head, "I tried to kill you"

"Ok, I know I said that you did your best-" you said, mentally scolding yourself for the error in communication. "We both know that wasn't you. That wasn't you, Buck. It was Hydra. It was the winter soldier, not you. My Bucky would never-"

"Y/n-" he stopped you, "I know you don't see things the way I do-"

"But I see them the right way"

"Listen-" Bucky sighed, driving his hands through his hair. For the first time that night you actually saw his full face, his cheek and signature scowl, his blue eyes and the tilt of the corner of his mouth - your soul melted when you associated the picture with the words that came out of his mouth. "I can't blame you for being here. I can't. If the roles were reversed, I'd be doing the exact same thing. But, holy fuck-" he sighed, pausing to gather his thoughts. Bucky looked you up and down. His lips quivered and his head fell to the side as a sad smile appeared on his lips. "Remember this morning? How we talked about our hypothetical child?" he laughed and shook his head, "Even if I know we could never have a kid because we're both sterile, it was still the most beautiful thought that ever crossed my mind, Y/n''

"Mine too, Buck-"

"And what did I do?" he dismissed your empathy, "Two hours later I was unloading an AK-47 into your stomach, like the brainwashed maniac that I am!"

"Don’t say that!" you exclaimed, "Don't you dare think about things like this!"

"Why wouldn't I?" he threw his hands up in the air, "What does it matter whose fault it is? I get to live with the consequences."

"But-" you breathed out, "We can work through this. You did it before. You can't let something that hydra did dictate your life, Bucky. You deserve so much better. You deserve to be happy!"

"I tried to kill you!" he screamed, for the first time losing his calm and standing up to be at the same level as you.

"That was not you!"

"So what?" he huffed, "I was there, Y/n! I will never, NEVER get the feeling of crushing your bones out of my head! I felt your neck snap! I choked you with my arms! That is not something I can live with! I can't live a life by your side if every time I look at you I'm reminded of those horrible things I did to you!"

"Buck-" you cried, looking at him from behind too many layers of unshed tears, "Please, don't say that"

"I'm sorry" he responded in the same fashion, his pain coating every word he said. "When I close my eyes I see you laying in a puddle of blood. I can't stop hearing your screams of agony. Agony that no matter how you put it, was caused by my hands. That's not something we can live with, Y/n. You were not made for this. You really do fucking deserve someone that won't wake up one day and try to murder you in cold blood"

"And what do you deserve, Buck?" you quietly asked, searching for his eyes, "To live your life alone? Forever? If you had been with anyone else, this would have turned out so much worse. That cute barista three blocks down that always scribbles a heart on your coffee cup? She's cute, yeah. You deserve to be loved by someone, but if that someone was her, you wouldn't be drowning in guilt right now, Bucky, you'd be mourning her. Yes, you got troubles. Yes, you've got a past more fucked up than anyone else I have ever heard about. That's the kind of shit you can't change. But whatever you do from now on, is in your fucking hands and yours alone. Don't try to tell me you're not worthy of having someone, because that's the fattest load of crap I've ever heard. You're a good man! With a fucked up past! And a dark side that you need to fight! And you have me! I don't care you dropped Tony's piano on my legs, apparently I can take it! I'm here for you no matter what! You don't want to be with me anymore? Fine. But don't you dare push me away, thinking that a ruined future makes up for a ruined past"

"Who's to say I won't try it again?" he asked, "I don't know what triggered the transition. But what if once a week I end up trying to kill you-"

"Apparently you can't!" you laughed bitterly.

"Ok, so I can't" he nodded in approval, "Is that what you want? I should be your rock, your best friend, I should always be there for you. Do you want to have your whole world turned upside down whenever my brain decides to go berserk?"

"See, Buck" you sighed, "Of course I don't want that. I can't fucking stand here and tell you that I do. What kind of credibility would I have then? But you know what I want? You. You and whatever nazi shit that comes along. I want you. To help you. To have you with me. To see you everyday. If every Saturday at 10am you decide you want to kill me, you best believe I'm sacrificing my morning coffee just so we can kung fu around the living room"

He looked at you for a long second, the corners of his lips fighting a hard battle against the hint of a smile that started to show on his features. Eventually he caved and chuckled, shaking his head, "That was a bit funny"

"And fucking true," you cried, going for his hands and bringing them up to your chest. He winced, but you spoke up again, determined to not let his mind torture him.

"I love you, Bucky"

"How do you not hate me?" he choked, shaking his head in disbelief. "Can you seriously look at me and not get even the slightest instinct to run away?"

"Bucky..." you breathed out, cupping his cheek. "How could I run away when I've never seen you in more pain than right now?"

"You're an angel, you know that?" 

"I've been called a lot of things" you giggled, "Angel isn't one of them, but if that's what you want, I'll take it"

"Come here" he whispered, wrapping his arms around your frame. He had you nuzzle against his chest, his hold keeping you tight and secure. His heart beat against your cheek and your eyes watered again. There wasn't one thing in the world you wouldn't do for that heart - to make sure it keeps beating, and that it keeps the man you love alive. And content, above all. All you wanted right now was for him to accept the things that happened. You wanted to take whatever weight he was carrying on his shoulders, and put it upon yourself. "I love you so much, Bucky" you cried against his chest as your hold tightened around him, "I hate to see you torn like this. I don't want anything to ever happen to you. It terrifies me. I love you with all that I am. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You deserve the world, baby"

"So do you" he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You felt his chest shake, a deep rumble echoed from the depths of his lungs. You looked up to see him fight back a sob, his eyes wide open, glossy and red, trained down on you, "I love you too much to do this, Y/n. I'm sorry, I don't think I can"

"No!" you gasped, pressing your face back against his shoulder, "Don't do that. You can't do that. No"

"We won't work, Y/n" Bucky said as he brought you even closer, "I can't look at you anymore. I can't look at you without dying inside. You don't want to live with me like that"

"Yes, I do!" you sobbed. "I'll work with anything you give me, I swear there is nothing more I want. Just you. Just you and me. Bucky, please don't do this"

He held you close for what felt like half a second, but rationally speaking, your legs were getting numb. You just stood there, clinging to his body, taking in his scent and listening to his breathing even out until he pushed you away. Oh, how you didn't want to let go. Ever. But you did, and choked back a sob as soon as you felt the cold air of the room brush against the part of your body that had been pressed to his.

"We should get some sleep, Y/n"

"Are you coming with me?" you whimpered, afraid of the answer he might give you.

Bucky shook his head, "I think I'll just sleep here tonight"

That broke you. The shock and terror cut your breath away. It felt impossible - the feeling of losing him. The amount of pain that surged through you. At that particular moment, you felt like cracking your chest open to grip your heart into your hand and pick apart the broken parts. But not even that felt good enough, you were fairly sure you'd be left with nothing. It felt like a slap across your cheek, like a cloth had been placed over your mouth and your legs cut at the knees. It felt like the end. 

Optimistic by nature, not even you could deny the reason he wanted to sleep alone. It was clear as day.

"If-" you mumbled, tears coating your face at their own free will, voice shaking as you barely managed to articulate the words over the violent sobs that ripped their way out of your throat. "If I promise to not do anything to try and convince you to stay… can you promise me that in case you decide to leave, you'll come and tell me first?"

"Oh, doll" Bucky broke down all over again, throwing himself at you again. He collapsed on top of you, molding his body around yours. "I promise, angel"

You just nodded. That was all you could do. It took another few moments for you to gather yourself and stop wailing, but you did, and then, with nothing else other than a sad smile, you left. 

Your feet carried you to your room, and you were ready to collapse on top of your bed. Eager to cuddle into his pillows. They smelled like that shower gel you got him and you hated it. You wanted his scent. Not even caring how ridiculous it sounded, you padded over to the chair in the corner of your bedroom, the one Bucky uses to discard all his worn clothes. 

You wanted to find a shirt he wore, one that smelled exactly like you knew him, but before you reached the clothes pile, your attention was drawn to the window.

Steve was standing there, facing the busy streets outside, hands in his pocket and his head turned in your direction.

"I didn't see you, sorry" you gasped, as your eyes accommodated to the darkness.

"It's fine" he shook his head, "I just figured you'd turn on the lights, you know, like the normal people. Didn't think I'd scare you"

"Yeah, sorry" you sighed, plopping down on the edge of the bed. "I did even think about turning the lights on"

He didn't say anything, but you saw him nod. He knew your pain. He lost enough in his life, and seeing his best friend sink back into his darkness was surely not easy for him either.

"Is he ok?" Steve eventually asked.

You shook your head, "He's too good of a man to be ok"

"That is Bucky" he laughed, and you couldn't help but do the same. The irony.

Steve's curiosity was palpable in the room. Words could not describe the appreciation you had for him for respecting your boundaries and not pushing you in a moment like this. But he deserved to know.

You opened your mouth to explain to him what happened, but as your mind processed everything all over again, you broke down. "I think he's gonna leave-" you cried.

Steve was quick to gather you in his arms, engulfing you in a bear hug, helping you stand on your own two feet. "What do you mean?" he asked, concern tracing his tone.

"I understand him, I do. And I promised I won't try to get him to stay if he doesn't want to. But- but I should've done more, Steve. I should've shown him somehow how much I love him. But I'm afraid he'll leave, and I don't want to live-"

"Hey, hey, hey" Steve hurried to stop you, petting your head softly before urging you to look up at him. "Bucky loves you more than I ever thought possible, ok? There's no question about it. I'm sorry I'm doing this, but I think he'll postpone it anyway"

"What?"

"The man wants to marry you, ok?" Steve smiled, "He asked Tony if he had any work for him so he could raise money. Can you imagine how that went down? He was red like a tomato, but he didn't think twice. James Barnes used the computer to look for rings for you. The Bucky I know? Never would've done this. You brought to life a part of him that no one else has seen before. He loves you. With all that he is. And trust me when I tell you, he won't stand to be away from you. You're his whole world, Y/n. He's my best friend, trust me when I tell you this is something you'll work through. I'll help, we'll all help. You're not gonna lose him, Y/n. He's so beat up about all of this because he loves you this much. He's all yours. If he decides to leave, I need you to be strong because he will be back. I got him back 70 years later. You just need to trust him. Trust his heart, ok?"

"Oh my god" you cried, "I don't know what to say"

"Don’t say anything" he chuckled, "We've been through so much together. All of us. Even if we try, nothing pulls us apart, ok? How many times has Loki died, hm?"

"God, Steve!" you scoffed somewhat amused and pulled back just to hit him, "Did you seriously compare Bucky to Loki!?"

"It got you to smile, didn't it?" he laughed. "But I'm serious. You've both been through so much worse than this. You'll get through this one too. And in case you ever feel like you won't, I'm here, ok?"

"Ok…"

Funny as it all was, it worked. He calmed you down - to some extent. Gave you hope you didn't know existed. If it wasn't for Steve, you probably would have not been able to fall asleep. And even though dreams didn't visit you, and you never relaxed enough to actually get some rest, you just dozed off. All clothed and curled diagonally on the bed, you cuddled Bucky's pillow to your chest as your eyes slowly fell closed.

When you opened them again, it was still dark out. You had no idea what pulled you awake as you struggled to sit up on the bed, but then you heard Bucky's voice again, from the doorway.

"Y/n?"

“Buck?” you gasped, turning around. Only his silhouette was visible, head hung low and hands deep in his pockets. He was leaning against the doorway, silently awaiting your response.

Right then and there, you felt your world collapse. Steve’s monologue made you actually fucking believe things would be fine, but here he was, keeping his promise. In the buttcrack of night, he kept his word, bidding you a much feared farewell.

“Is-” you sobbed, jumping out of bed and rushing towards him. You almost knocked him off of his feet when you flung yourself at him, but he was quick to reciprocate, caging you between his arms. “Is this it? You’re leaving?”

He didn’t say anything which frankly made everything worse. You broke down even further, clinging to his shirt as if it was the only source of oxygen keeping you alive - it sure felt like it.

“Look at me” Bucky urged you, tilting your chin up, “Please?”

You slowly lifted your head, your eyes meeting his.

“I’m sorry, I will make it up to you” he whispered, a frown settling above his tired eyes, “You’ll see”

“What does that even mean?" you questioned, tired and sick of this ongoing conflict that should not even have been an issue to begin with. "You don't have to make up for anything"

"I know you see things like that" he cooed, rubbing his thumb along your cheekbone. He spoke softly, his breath fanning against your skin, somehow, even in this situation, managing to calm you down. "But you can understand me too, right?"

"I don't want to" you shrugged, "I don't care. Why does it matter if I understand you or not if you're gonna leave anyway?"

"I'm not leaving, doll"

"What!?" you beamed, pulling away from his hold and grabbing his face in your palms, "You're not- but you're-"

His whole frame softened, "I'm not here to say goodbye, Y/n. I'm not going anywhere"

"Oh god" you gasped.

"Come on, come here" Bucky chuckled softly, bringing you back into his hold, "I'm staying here. I'm sorry for everything I put you through. You're the most badass woman I know and I managed to break you"

"I love you, Buck" 

"I love you more, Y/n" he sighed, "I'll make everything right, I promise"

"Oh, fuck" you breathed out relieved, "Just do whatever you want, I don't care. You're here. That's all that matters."

"And we also need to teach you to fight-" he added, "For real. And find a way for you to take those goddamn shackles off in case this happens again"

"Tony won't be too happy about it" you laughed.

"Fuck if I care-" Bucky said strenly, pointing at you, "Next time, you need to be able to stop me. And fast"

"Maybe it won't happen again"

"Maybe not" Bucky nodded, "But if it does, we need to be ready"

"Thank you" you said, "I know I didn't play this right. I know I literally dismissed everything that you must have gone through today. I'm sorry"

"You don't get to be sorry" Bucky stopped you, "Not after-"

"Then you don't get to, either!"

"Meh" he shrugged, "We'll see"

"Bucky!"

"I love you" he laughed, bending down to pick you up. He planted his hands on the back of your thighs, picking you up with ease and walking you over to the bed. You plopped back against the fluffy mattress with a huff, and giggled as he crawled his way on top of you. Instantly, his lips met yours. It was exhilarating, the kind that made your chest ache. You moaned against his lips as love transpired through his touch. It was overwhelming and the first happy tears of the day streamed down your temples as you arched yourself against him.

"I'm so weak for you, fuck" Bucky groaned, his right arm reaching around your back and pressing you against his chest. "You're everything" he added as he kissed his way along your neck, "I'm all yours forever, Y/n. I love you too much"

"I'm here, baby" you moaned, hiding your face into his shoulder, "You're mine, Bucky. All mine."

His lips didn't leave your body as he pushed himself up just enough to be able to reach the buckle of his jeans. The sound made your core ache, and your mouth watered.

There was no patience in his movements. He barely pulled his jeans down to his knees before ridding you of your pajama pants. He lodged himself between your thighs, his mouth instantly back on yours again.

"Come on" you panted, steading your arms against his strong back. Your legs found their way around his frame, ready to pull him closer.

When Bucky guided his hands between your bodies to align the tip of his cock with your opening, you whimpered in anticipation. Agonisingly slow, he trailed his tip along your folds before reaching your clit. With a blissful moan, he reached further up, tapping his cock against your bare cunt a couple of times before returning his attention back to you. 

"I got you, baby" he hummed, pecking your lips. "You ready? Is this ok?"

With eagerness, you nodded and wiggled under his weight, your pussy aching for him. "Yes, yes"

When you felt his cock push past your folds, you moaned out loud, your voice cracking with the pure pleasure that took over your being.

He eased himself in, going all the way until he all but knocked the breath out of you, and he stopped. Bucky reached down to kiss you again, his cock motionless, balls deep inside of you.

He bit down on your lip and you giggled.

"Felt your pussy clench around me, doll" he laughed, "You're good to me"

"You may be all mine, Buck, but I'm all yours too"

"Holy shit" he panted, shaking his head in disbelief. It was as if you weren't real. He'd have pinched himself, but if this was a dream, he really did not want to wake up. So he kept going.

Nibbling at the skin of your neck, he started to pull himself out of you. The slow pace was driving you insane. Your need grew so strong you felt everything. His breath, the way his hair tickled your chin, his strong around around your shoulders, his massive thighs rubbing against yours, every small vein along his cock that drove you closer and closer to the sweetest bliss you had ever known. 

He got you all worked up at an agonisingly slow pace, before his thrusts became more and more aggravated. You moaned with each thrust despite your struggles to keep quiet.

"You know how much I love hearing you, doll" Bucky shook his head as he drove himself back inside of you all the way, "Moan for me"

"Fuck, ok" you gasped, and closed your eyes as you started to fall apart. You gripped the bed sheets into your hands and pulled as he kept fucking you, deep and hard.

"You're so good, baby" he groaned, "So, so good for me"

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, fervently sucking deep, maroon marks all ice your skin. Gutural grounds betrayed his air of self control as a plethora of curse words escaped his lips. "Taking me so fucking well. I can't keep going like this, you're too fucking tight-"

"Cum, baby" you encouraged, voice low and tender as you spoke against his ear, "Cum for me"

"Don’t have to tell me twice" he chuckled.

His thrusts started to become sloppy and irregular, as his eyes flew closed. You missed the blue of his eyes, but his mouth was slightly agape as he panted his way to an orgasm.

His chest heaved against yours, "How do you feel so fucking good?" Bucky cursed, eyes still closed as he barely managed to mumble his words between the numerous grunts of pleasure that forced their way out of his throat.

You gave him no answer, instead just clung to him tighter, "Fuck, Bucky, I'm close-"

"Come on" he encouraged, hurrying to rub your clit. His fingers found your bud in an instant, working experienced, familiar circles that almost drove you over the edge. "Cum with me, ok?"

You nodded, gathering your lips between your teeth. He kept fucking you, harder and faster until he had turn limp under his weight. You came as his name rolled off your lips, and he followed seconds after, pumping his juices deep inside your pussy. 

You felt his absolute pleasure as he breathed heavily against your shoulder. He kept going until you were both spent, and then fell down beside you. 

"Bucky-" you whined, turning over and curling into his side, the lack of contact making you more needy than ever.

"Yes, darling?" he panted, tapping your chin.

"Nothing. I just love you"

"Love you too, doll" he huffed, spinning you around so you laid on your back.

He effortlessly helped you out of your shirt and plopped down on top of you, his head resting on your bare chest. His warm, right hand cupped your breast as he closed his eyes. He wrapped himself around you, "Hold me" he muttered, "please"

"Always, Bucky" you said, engulfing him in the tightest hold you could muster. Only then did you feel him calm down completely, and there was nothing in the world you could ever ask for.

-

If you liked it, please reblog and tell me what you thought? :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan smut

[astaroth1357]

Unpacking the Angel Event (Through My Own Perspective)

Okay so uh… this was a very uncomfortable seat the Devs have offered us today and like all things that give me moral uncomfiness, I HAVE to analyze it. Blame the ethics classes. A full disclaimer, this is not spoiler-free and is pretty much entirely just me unpacking my own feelings here. What may bother or not bother me could really affect you and there is nothing wrong with that. You are entitled to your own perspective. This is just me trying to walk through all the stuff in this event that just… rubbed me the wrong way. So let's get to it.

The Costumes

So. Let's start at the beginning. Diavolo apparently had the bright idea to put everybody in magical costumes of their angel forms (or something like it in Satan's case). This is… problematic.

The reason the brothers lost their angel forms was because they fell after the Celestial War… who's greatest causality (in their eyes) was their sister, Lilith. So one could imagine that their memories as angels aren't particularly happy ones… By this point in the "continuity" (this is Post-Attic, more on that later), they would have known that Lilith didn't actually die which may soften something like this a little. I dunno, I'm not one of them and trauma is uniquely personal to the individual, but the bigger issue is that Diavolo thought this was a good idea to start with to which I say! - I'm not at all surprised by that. Hear me out.

Diavolo is heavily implied to have had a huge ass crush on Angel Lucifer. He's also uh… probably a little sheltered (as sheltered as the royalty of Hell can be) and probably not used to think of his subjects' feelings on the things he does before he just does them. This is fairly evident in other events where he'll order the brothers to do XYZ task even if they want no part in it. It doesn't surprise me at all that Diavolo would want to see them (Lucifer) as angels again and not take into account how that could affect them. I don't think that'd be malice on his part, just shortsightedness, and he likely would have apologized if any of the brothers expressed an emotional problem with it to him directly.

Do they have problems? Yes. But since the event kind of wipes them of their true selves, that's better discussed elsewhere. Moving on.

The Bangles 

Holy fuck, how do we even approach this? So Simeon, in conjunction with Michael (probably, at this point I have to wonder if he's telling the truth about this) gives the brothers jewelry, presumably to wear to the party, that would… I'm not even sure. Curb their impulses? Force them to be mannered? The important thing is he did not tell them about that little detail before they put the bangles on…

This is… also problematic. First, we can try to establish Simeon's intentions versus what actually happened: 

The bangles were (likely) intended to be removable. It was the mixing of the magic that locked them in place so we can assume he didn't mean this to be a permanent change.

The magic on the bangles was probably amplified by the angel costumes. What this means is though we can assume that Simeon never intended them to become quite so… different, we'll never know just how much influence he was actually trying to put on them. It could have been anything from suppressing their sins to full blown force you to say please/thank you. We'll just never get to know now… 

I won't be the first person to liken this to mind control (nor the last) because… that's kind of how it turned out. Even worse still, it would have been completely involuntary on the brothers' part. Simeon DID NOT tell them what the bangles were going to do. Now, he claims later that he would have eventually, but we don't get to know when that would have been. I presume at some time after the party, because like. These are our boys. They're not going to consent to wearing something like that, they're just not.

This poses all kinds of questions and problems ranging from issues of consent to anatomy and even the worth of good deeds done out of obligation vs. free will and… I mean quite literally when I say Jesus Christ, Simeon, what the hell?!

I could write a completely different post debating whether or not what Simeon did actually had any moral merit but I won't because it'd be very dry and boring. I think the most interesting thing to take away here is that Simeon thought it was okay to do like, at all, and with approval from Michael (maybe) no less… That reflects something on angel society that I doubt will get explored but I need to ponder farther…

This section is all kinds of sticky so we need to move on.

The Development(?)

First off, to new players, don't worry this probably isn't canon (at least to the main story continuity). The Brothers should be back to normal in the new chapters and this won't have a long term effect on anything (aside from maybe a tie in to the next event ala Beach event-> Games). That's how Obey Me has always treated their events it seems and I sure hope they stick to it now. But, these are still the same characters going through a unique situation and that can offer some insight so… Let's discuss.

I mentioned earlier that the brothers had problems with this… Unfortunately, I think we only get to see Lucifer and Satan's thoughts in any detail because everyone else is too far gone by the time we reach them… Lucifer can pretty much be summed up as troubled and unhappy because (you know) not a lot of great memories as an angel. I presume that his wounded pride after the fall may also contribute. 

Satan is… more complex. I’m honestly more bothered by his change than anyone else’s because even he expresses how weird this is for him... (We get confirmation that he never in fact had an angel form, btw). Poor baby is going through a full on identity crisis and there’s a certain part of his mind that he’s not even allowed to use right now... Anger. The Avatar of Wrath, born from Wrath, can’t get angry and… Something about that just bothers me at a deeper level, not even I can express properly…

Everyone else is too far gone once we reach them. Their personalities are completely different and they can’t even acknowledge that’s the case. They think that they’ve turned a new leaf but we know that’s not the reality, that leaf was very much turned for them and it doesn’t make anything feel any better…

This may be my own opinion, but part of me thinks that this portion (and only this portion right here) was actually what the Devs were going for. They wanted us to be uncomfortable by all of this for like, story reasons. It’s a narrative trick. Think of the phrase “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.” I think they were trying to use the absence of the brothers’ usual flaws and traits as a weird way of celebrating them. Kind of like saying, “We could have given you guys these perfect brothers, but they’re not perfect and we know that’s why you like them. Look at these perfect guys, doesn’t it feel wrong?” The answer is, yes. It does feel wrong. And under other circumstances, it would be affirming like they’d be intending, “I don’t want this emotionally-open non-otaku, give me Levi dammit!” But when you add this intended discomfort with the already sketchy way we got here it just makes it all the worse… 

And absolutely NONE of this is helped by...

The… End?

I think the thing I hate about this event the most (actually legitimately hate) is how it ends. In that it doesn’t. It kind of just… abruptly stops right after Lucifer starts coming to himself again. Though I suspect that’s because they’re putting incentive into getting the event cards, this in NO WAY does the narrative any favors.

Most people are not going to get those cards. Even with Lonely Devil as an option, it’s a huge time/resource commitment to get there. Because of that, the majority of people are not going to get to see the aftermath of what happened. We don’t get to see how the brothers feel about what happened. We don’t get to see if they do, in fact, come to and if they have any takeaways from the experience or if they’re utterly disgusted by it. The player character doesn’t even get the option to comfort them after something that was probably terribly traumatic. It. Just. Ends.

What that means is all of that discomfort that we had just lingers… There’s no resolution or pay off. It just… stays… This is the worst possible thing they could have done. If you want your audience to feel uncomfortable, that’s one thing, but unless you’re telling like, a psychological thriller you gotta settle them back down again! Deep moral conflict is not a turn on!!!

Personally, I don’t hate that this thing exists. I don’t. The part of me that majored in Philosophy loves analyzing media like this so I can’t say that I didn’t get anything out of it. I don’t think all media should play it safe, it’s okay to leave the audience with no good answers or a feeling of unease, but you really got to be self-aware of it. The biggest flaw of this event, in my opinion, is that it rarely comes across as self-aware of its own horror. You get a very brief glimpse of it from Solomon when he comments on how creepy things are, but Simeon’s happy. Diavolo’s happy. And though he’s a little uneasy, Luke’s pretty content, too. Add that to the abrupt ending and we never get to know if ANY of them realize how awful of a thing this was to do to the brothers... It makes it all come off as an endorsement of mind controlling your friends into better people and (to me) that feels really, really wrong.

So in conclusion… I dunno. If the next event isn’t something along the lines of “Angelic Demons Part 2: Fixing What We Fucked Up!” then I think they really botched this one guys… I hope somebody was taking notes.

#this is pretty much an essay #fair warning #long post #even for me #obey me angel event #obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me

[ebp-brain]

the wolfstar fandom and the problem of gender policing

To begin with: some gay men are femme, and that’s okay. Some are not, and that’s also okay. When someone is telling you that only a certain gender presentation is allowed from a fictional character, that’s not activism or advocacy; that’s gender policing. Even if you’re a woman or nonbinary person writing about cis gay men, it’s still gender policing—you are allowed to explore the full range of gender and sexuality in your own life and art. It’s easy to be taken in by statements on Tumblr about How To Write Good Queer Representation, because we want to be good people, and we understand that the language we use and the stories we tell are important. But our desire to be good people can be manipulated until we don’t recognize that we are participating in harmful behavior, or that we are being impacted by bullying.

If you’re in the Wolfstar fandom and you’re feeling alienated, lonely, confused, hurt, or angry because of things you’ve been hearing about what Sirius’ gender presentation “should” look like: you are not alone. There has been a longstanding problem in this fandom (for at least two years as of early 2021) with some vocal, active, popular fan writers telling other people how they should depict Sirius’ and Remus’—especially Sirius’—relationship to gender and sexuality. Generally, they suggest that depicting gay men as femme or feminine is homophobic. In particular, they say that writing/drawing Sirius as femme, feminine, flamboyant, short, “whiny,” or a sub or bottom is Bad. The logic is that because there’s a stereotype about gay men being feminine, all depictions of feminine gay men are homophobic. Because these voices are so loud and have such intense, aggressive support, it is easy to feel that you are Bad if you disagree with them, or to think that you’re alone in your disagreement. You’re not.

It’s important to recognize that this group of people is engaging in bullying. Not “wank,” not “discourse,” not “drama”—bullying. When you see them targeting other people’s work, it may seem like a petty personal dispute, or on the other hand like a legitimate conversation about gender and sexuality; it is neither. These folks are friendly, welcoming, and supportive right up until the moment someone disagrees with them—and then they attack that person and demand an apology. Because they use the language of social justice, and because they’re only antagonistic to people who question them openly, it’s easy to think they’re courageously protecting vulnerable people and standing up for what’s Right. But they aren’t. They are using their own identities and feelings to dictate how everyone else should behave while disregarding other people’s identities and feelings.

They claim that Sirius shouldn’t be written as “stereotypically gay” (i.e. feminine) because it hurts gay men; they claim that they are fighting homophobia. What they are really doing is gender policing. Awhile back, they started off by saying “Sirius shouldn’t always be feminine or always bottom in all fic.” Sure, true enough. But then it became “Sirius should never be feminine and never bottom.” And then it became “Sirius should never be short and whiny” (because those are apparently feminine traits). And now it seems to be “no one should ever depict cis gay men as feminine.” Allegedly because that’s “stereotyping,” but in practice this idea shames femme gay men, nonbinary femme folks, and any trans men who can’t or don’t want to present as masculine. It is gender policing disguised with social justice language.

Here are some red flags to look out for in the Wolfstar fandom—phrases that signal that you might be reading something that’s participating in gender policing, even if it doesn’t seem like it on the surface. They include:

“short, whiny Sirius”;

“let Sirius top”

“stereotypical gay man” (in the context of men being written as femme, not in the context of like…shitty mass media representation from the 90s)

“let men be men”

“women writing m/m” used in a derogatory way

and a couple that seem totally innocuous, even good, but mean something different in this context, like:

“being gay shouldn’t be your whole personality”

“topping or bottoming shouldn’t be your whole personality”

I’ve heard quite a few people talk about their feelings of isolation, confusion, self-doubt, frustration, and shame as a result of the bullying that’s been happening over the past few years in this fandom. Lots of people have left Wolfstar or Tumblr because of it. The good news is that a lot of Wolfstar folks are still out there: much of the fandom is flourishing on Discord, on Ao3, and in private messages. You can find your people! They’re the ones who actually listen respectfully to what you say, don’t shame you for mistakes or disagreements, and practice kindness and care.

And please look out for yourself. Try to recognize when your feelings of shame or guilt are a result of coming into contact with bullying and manipulation. Try not to accidentally spread transphobic and effeminophobic (anti-feminine) ideas and language; really think through what a post is saying before liking or reblogging it. And if you’re feeling hurt by what’s been said about gender expression within this fandom, know that you have lots of support and solidarity. We’re still around—we’re still around, and we love all your gender-related headcanons: we love a burly bearded biker Sirius; we love a five-feet-in-socks Sirius with a tendency towards dramatic temper tantrums; we love Sirius in lipstick and Sirius in crop tops and Sirius in ripped jeans. We love power bottom Sirius and ace Sirius and dom Sirius in high heels and Sirius who doesn’t care about how he has sex as long as it’s with Remus. We love Sirius who thinks being a trans man is the most important part of who he is and Sirius who thinks being a trans man is simply a basic fact of life. We love your fics and art and posts that explore your own weird complicated messy queer relationship to gender and sexuality. Of course we do. <3

(Also: I’ve got Big Anxiety and may or may not respond to comments on this post. I definitely will not respond to comments purposely misrepresenting my argument. I feel no particular need to defend myself; everyone can decide for themselves whether they think what I say is valid, and if I’m silent in response to criticism it’s not because I can’t think of a solid response—it’s because I don’t think responding is going to help myself or anyone else have a better experience on Tumblr and in this fandom. I’ll try to answer genuine, in-good-faith questions if I have the wherewithal to do so, and if you want to just message me and chat or say hi or share headcanons, I’d love that!)

#wolfstar #harry potter #remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #wolfstar fandom #fandom discourse #gender and sexuality #fandom politics #queerness #gender policing #cw transphobia #cw homophobia #it's been a long time since I posted something like this but it feels overdue #this has absolutely gone far enough #if you're feeling shame about your desires and headcanons: you don't need to #let's discuss and debate and interrogate and try to be better--but without bullying and without shaming and without gender policing #love all you wolfstar weirdos #thanks to the folks who helped me revise this post--much love #my writing #long post

[finalfantasyix]

Meet The Team Working On A Final Fantasy 9 Remake You’ll Never Get To Play

Final Fantasy 9: Memoria Project is a fan homage like nothing we've ever seen before. “It is no secret that fan projects get shut down all the time,” Dan Eder tells us about Final Fantasy 9: Memoria Project, a fan-driven love letter to the classic JRPG. It isn’t aiming to be a playable remake of the epic adventure though - instead, it’s an aesthetic homage to its timeless world and characters.

It’s somewhat anomalous in the world of community creations, but Eder wants to use this distinct identity to craft something truly special, even if many obstacles stand in the way of making it a reality. But the team keeps moving forward: “Without a doubt, some of the most frequent comments we get from naysayers is ‘have fun with it while it lasts’ or ‘cease and desist incoming’”, Eder explains. “People are understandably skeptical of the longevity potential of yet another passion project. The key difference is that, unlike those projects, Memoria is essentially an elaborate piece of fan art, nothing more - it will have no actual gameplay, will never be released to the public, and is nothing more than a ‘what-if’ scenario. [It’s] no different from any other fan-made piece of artwork. We have never, and will never, make a single dollar out of this project, and are basically doing this for the personal gratification of the fans.���

The genesis of Memoria Project dates all the way back to Eder’s younger years, with dreams of a potential FF9 remake entering his imagination soon after the original game’s launch. That’s no great surprise - millions still regard Final Fantasy 9 as the series’ finest hour. “While it's true that the project really started to pick up steam a few months ago, it wouldn't be a stretch to say I've been planning it since high school,” Eder explains. “I remember scribbling ‘FF9 remake’ on my notepad during classes and writing imaginary new features and battle system mechanics, starting online petitions to remake FF9 for the PS2, sketching drawings depicting scenes from the ‘FF9 sequel’ and whatnot. I could confidently say that my life would probably have been completely different had my older brother not borrowed this game from his friend in the summer of 2000.

“As a non-native English speaker who had never played an RPG up until that point, my first playthrough was a challenging experience to say the least, and I can honestly say that I understood literally nothing of what was going on the first time I finished the game (how I even managed to beat it is a mystery in and of itself). It didn't really matter to me though, since I was absolutely enamored with the incredible cast of characters, jaw-dropping FMV sequences, mesmerizing music, thrilling gameplay, and just the overall atmosphere and charm it exuded at every step. My unconditional love for this game persisted throughout my entire childhood and adult life, and it is one of the central reasons why I chose to become a 3D character artist in the video game industry. In short, this project is my way of thanking this game for everything it has done for me over the past 21 years.”

Eder’s passion for this game can be found across several industry professionals who grew up with games like this and wanted to replicate them, or create something entirely unique to live up to their brilliance. This is very much how Memoria Project found its feet, beginning life as a trivial side activity before blossoming into something infinitely more ambitious. It still has a long way to go, but there’s little urgency to reach the finish line, so the team can take their time and just enjoy the nostalgic indulgence of it all.

“Memoria actually started unofficially as a side project when I reached out to Colin Valek [of] Sucker Punch Studios in early 2020 after I came across his fanart of an environment from FF7,” Eder says. “I had already modeled Princess Garnet, and thought it could be a fun idea to combine our talents to reimagine the opening area of Alexandria. Initially, it was progressing at a snail's pace - we were slowly chipping away at it for over a year without making a lot of progress. While Colin continued modeling the buildings, I created another character - Vivi.”

This glacial pace received a resurgence of sorts in January when the Alexandria scene was finally complete, with Eder and company finally being able to see how much potential the project had if it was opened up to a larger range of creators. “When I posted that WIP screenshot, the response from fellow FF fans was overwhelmingly positive, more than we could have imagined,” Eder remembers. “Very quickly, other people from the gaming industry started reaching out - environment artists, animators, riggers, concept artists. That's when I decided to turn this side project into a full-fledged modern reimagining of the original game, while always making sure to emphasize the fact that this is a non-playable proof-of-concept, since we never have any intention of doing anything to violate Square Enix's copyright. Four months after officially announcing the project, we've grown from a couple of FF fanboys to a huge team of over 20 industry veterans working collaboratively to honor this masterpiece, fueled by our love and adoration for the source material.”

Now, the project has over 20 developers from Sucker Punch, Ubisoft, Rare, Unbroken Studios, and more all diving into this labour of love in their spare time, with composers and voice actors also contributing their talents to help make this glimpse into the world of Final Fantasy 9 worth celebrating. But Eder is aware of being overly enthusiastic, knowing that fan projects like this often doom themselves by undertaking something that isn’t feasible with so few resources.

“One of the most common traps for these kinds of fan projects is being overly ambitious,” Eder says. “Since all of us are actively working in the video game industry, we understand the importance of milestones, short term goals, and taking things one step at a time. For now, we are focusing our efforts on the opening sequence of the game, which mainly revolves around Vivi and his exploration of Alexandria. Where we go from here is still being discussed, but one thing I can say for sure is that Vivi will not be the only main character we're planning to include.” I’m told that Memoria is aiming to look indistinguishable - at least from a graphics perspective - from something you’d see in a triple-A blockbuster, and it seems the team has the pedigree to back that claim up.

Visuals are the entire point after all, since turning this project into a playable piece of media would require far more resources to create. By narrowing its focus, Memoria is able to deliver something special while also hopefully avoiding the ire of Square Enix. “The fact that this is a non-playable project definitely makes it easier for us to tailor the experience in a way that would truly allow the audience to be fully immersed in the world without having to worry about technical limitations,” Eder tells me. “Creating actual functional gameplay is a completely different ball game, one that we never had any intention of even discussing given the copyright limitations. This gives us a lot of leeway with how we are going to portray the world of Gaia in terms of character interaction, camera movement, [and] scene transitions. We have a lot of cool plans for the near future - please look forward to it!”

As for the sad truth of fan projects like this often being wiped from existence by publishers throwing out cease and desist letters, Eder is confident that Memoria occupies a niche where this won’t happen. It’s not a commercial or even playable product - it’s a piece of fan art, albeit an endlessly elaborate one. If the tides were to change, Eder believes companies should welcome the enthusiasm for experiences like this.

“If I were to be completely honest, I think it could be a potentially brilliant decision by Square Enix to do something wildly unexpected and invest in a project like this,” Eder states. “There's a considerable amount of hype, talent, motivation, and pure, unadulterated passion behind it. It's not something I would expect, but I think it could be incredibly helpful in regaining some of the trust and reverence that this legendary company was known for during its golden years.”

(source)

#final fantasy ix #memoria project #final fantasy 9 #ffix: memoria project #article #news #interview #long post #very long post!

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Stay The Night // Malcolm Bright (Prodigal Son)

Summary: He never stays the night.

A/N: My first Prodigal Son fic! I am still getting to grips with Malcolm’s character so forgive me if things seem off! I would love some requests for Prodigal Son so feel free to drop them in my inbox! I am only writing for Malcolm right now. I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: light angst, hurt/comfort, cute

Word Count: 1.7k

He never stayed the night.

He would fasten his shirt; taking care with each button as he kisses you again and again. He would laugh against your mouth – his hands stopping yours from undoing the buttons once again.

He never stayed the night.

It never mattered how many times you told yourself this would be the last time; you found yourself answering his phone call or his text and unlocking your door for him. Knowing he would let himself in; sweet nothings on the tip of his tongue – ready to be whispered lovingly into your ear.

It didn’t matter how many times you pleaded with him. He never stayed the night.

He claims that it’s to protect you, but you wonder if it’s more to protect himself. That he’s so innately terrified that the walls he spent years building are so happy to crumble around you. That he just isn’t ready for that yet.

Doubts fly around your head; distracting you from your work, pulling you away from his arms when he least expects it. Malcolm notices – of course he does, he’s a trained profiler, he would notice the little changes in your behaviour. The distance you so obviously try to put between you; short answers to texts, upset sighs on the phone.

Malcolm starts to spend his days thinking of you: thinking of your smile, your laugh, your kiss. It occupies the better part of his day as he wonders whether he had taken advantage of you, of what the both of you have together. He knows that something has changed between you; that something is wrong, but he cannot work out the cause.

It comes to ahead the evening he enters the tunnels under the city, following a serial killer claiming to know more about the Girl in the Box. He follows the suspect blindly; not thinking of anything else but getting his answers though, for one brief moment, as his ribs are crushed in the turnstile gate, Malcolm’s mind briefly flickers to you. A moment of pain free peace in and amongst it all.

Malcolm’s breathing is slow and heavy when you find him in Gil’s office. His eyes are closed, but he feels your presence – it charges the atmosphere in the room, making him long to touch you, but falter at the idea that he could possibly hurt you.

“I thought they had called my mother,” Malcolm says in greeting; his voice tight as his ribs protest any movement, any breath.

You shake your head, holding up your phone as some semblance of evidence, “Gil rang about a half hour ago, asking me to come to the station and get you of his sight.”

Malcolm laughs, then gasps in pain, “I think Gil is angry with me…”

“Think?” You all but shout, “You think Gil is angry with you? Christ, Malcolm, I’m angry with you.”

Malcolm furrows his brows, confused at your outburst. His eyes wander over your body; the speed of your breaths combined with the flush under your skin and the thin line of your lips suggests your anger, but your eyes…

Your eyes show pain; anger is there, it is simmering away quietly, waiting for fuel to be added to the fire but through it all, pain is the key emotion. He cannot help but wonder how long he has been blind to the pain in your eyes; wonders whether it was visible every time he kissed you goodnight before leaving you once again.

Throwing your hands in the air, you cross your arms over your body, protecting yourself from whatever else is about to happen. Nudging the chair leg with your foot, you sigh, “Come on, I’ll take you back to your flat.”

Malcolm frowns: opening his mouth to begin to protest but decides against it at the last moment. Instead, he slowly pulls himself out the chair, doing his best to hide the grimace that falls across his face at the first hint of pain and follows you out of the door.

The car ride is silent and full to the brim with awkward tension. He doesn’t know what to say; he doesn’t know what to do. He cannot decide whether he should reach across the console and take your hand, offering you some form of comfort despite it being him that is injured.

He doesn’t take your hand. He chickens out at the last moment, unable to stop thinking about the pain in your eyes. Instead, he clenches his hand into a tight fist, willing himself to keep his hands to himself.

Distantly, Malcolm tries to pinpoint the exact moment it went wrong between you both. It wasn’t his job – you were just as dedicated to yours. It wasn’t his talent for profiling; for the keen sense of observation he uses in his everyday life.

It comes to him all at once.

He never stayed the night. He had left you too many times.

Tilting his head back onto the headrest, Malcolm deliberates whether he had left you alone one too many times, whether his time with you was now running out. He can feel the first crack in his heart when the thought crosses his mind; he feels it and he doesn’t like it.

-----

Malcolm’s flat is cold when you enter behind the brunette. His bird twitters away happily at the sight of their owner; you cannot help but smile softly at the sight of Malcolm greeting his beloved pet.

That very smile turns fond as Malcolm turns his attentions to you, gesturing you further into his home. To your heart, it didn’t matter how many times Malcolm had left you in the night, how his side of the bed turned cold before he had closed the door behind him. It didn’t matter because he had so easily managed to capture it for his own gain.

Malcolm takes a seat at his breakfast bar gingerly, willing himself not to jostle his side too much. He watches you with a wide-eyed expression as he tracks your movement; watching you grab a glass and fill it with water.

The glass landing on the counter is the only sound in the room. Malcolm doesn’t dare say anything for fear of pushing you further away; you refuse to say anything for fear of showing your true feelings.

“If you have everything you need, I’ll get going. I’ll call you in the morning to check up on you, Malcolm,” You comment quietly, pushing away from the breakfast counter, ready to leave and not come back unless absolutely necessary.

“What?” The questions falls from his lips before he even thinks it through; he just cannot seem to comprehend that you would leave him.

“I’m going. You’ve got your pain meds and some water, I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” You sigh, tugging your jacket tighter and heading for the door.

“Wait!�� Malcolm calls, standing from the breakfast bar with slow, painful movements. It is only in this instant that he regrets ever following that man into the tunnel; it is only now he regrets such an action for the fact that it looks like you’re about to walk out of his life and Malcolm feels as if he won’t see you again.

“Wait,” He repeats, “Please.”

You pause at the door, turning to face him. His eyes are almost wild with unspoken emotions as he outstretches a single hand, as if he could bridge the gap that had grown between the both of you over the last few weeks.

“Yes, Malcolm,” You sigh tiredly. You feel the fight leave you as your limbs suddenly become heavy; the weight of the emotions you have been feeling these past few weeks beginning to press down heavily upon you.

“What happened between us?” He asks timidly, as if afraid of the answer he will find. Malcolm has searched for answers since he was ten years old, watching his father being hauled away by the authorities. Now, however, he finds himself scared of the answer he might find.

“You never stayed the night. You would always kiss me and then leave. Why?” You counter, finally asking the question that has been circling your mind since the pattern emerged. Your voice breaks with barely held in emotions.

“There is a lot involved when it comes to being with me. I didn’t want to put you through all of it,” He replies in reason, closing his eyes at the pain that so clearly sounded in your voice.

“I think I did alright tonight,” You comment airily, gesturing to his bandaged chest.

Malcolm laughs, but doesn’t regret the burst of pain from his ribs. He reaches for your hand again, smiling happily when you don’t pull your hand away. “I think you did alright tonight too,” He murmurs.

“So why would you leave?”

Malcolm averts his gaze, thinking over the words carefully. “Would you believe me if I told you I was scared?” He asks.

“Of what?”

“Of it all,” He confesses, “There is so much that comes with being with me, having to manage everything… I understand how it can become too much for one person so that’s why I would leave every time when all I really wanted to do was spend every waking minute with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” You demand, curiosity your besetting sin.

“I was scared. I was doing it all to protect you, but I’ve gone about it the wrong way.”

You squeeze his hand, offering him a form of comfort as you work through what Malcolm has told you. He remains silent, happy for now to be stood by you, holding your hand in his.

“Stay the night?” He asks, pulling you gently towards the couch.

You bite your lip, glancing quickly between the door and the hopeful expression on Malcolm’s face.

“I want to make this a regular thing,” He states before clarifying, “Not the injured side of things, but staying with you, sleeping with you. I don’t like leaving you anymore. I don’t want to leave you anymore.”

“Malcolm…” You trail off, thinking of your countless attempts at taking your relationship further, at asking him to stay with you in the futile hope you could help with whatever terrors he suffers with at night.

“Stay the night?” He asks, repeating the same question from moments ago. His voice is hopeful, and his blue eyes shine bright with untold emotion along with the clear trust that burns there.

Smiling softly, you answer, “I’ll stay the night.”

****

Prodigal Son Taglist: @thecaptainsgingersnap​

#malcolm bright x reader #malcolm x reader #malcolm bright fanfiction #prodigal son fanfic #prodigal son fanfiction #prodigal son fandom #malcolm bright #prodigal son

[sunaswife]

Summary: It’s been five years since you’ve seen your ex, Rin. He’s still not over you and you’re not over him. When he finds out you have children he thought he didn’t have a chance. Then he finds out they’re his? All of a sudden you’re teaching Suna how to be a single dad.

note from denise: To be added to the taglist please send an ask. Comments and dms will be unintentionally ignored/forgotten. Also if you have sent an ask to be on the taglist. I am not ignoring you I add people onto the taglist when I update a new chapter! <3 love youuu

Warnings: Fluff, angst I guess, drama, and cuteness twin overload

Previously Up Next Masterlist

Chapter six

Suna was completely in shock and he was overwhelmed. He just froze. What can a man do when his ex tells him he is a father, let alone the father of two toddlers.

He immediately thought about the trauma you must have faced, being pregnant and alone. He also thought about how much he’s missed already, he wasn’t there for their day of birth, their first steps, first words, he’s already missed so many birthdays.

All he ever wanted was to be a father, especially to be the father of the children he made with the woman he was in love with. Was it truly a blessing or a curse?

Surely you don’t want to get back together and live like a perfect family behind a white picket fence. He’d have to learn how to push his feelings aside for these kids and share custody of them somehow. Before he could even speak you were walking away and he quickly turned.

Why aren’t his legs moving? What’s pulling him back? Is he afraid of this responsibility and commitment? Of course he is. He doesn’t want to be a shitty dad, will he be able to raise them correctly? How if he’s always busy training and practicing. All his free time is dedicated to napping.

His heart truly broke the second time ever when he saw those grayish eyes looking back at him with such hurt and betrayal. They screamed that they needed him. He didn’t know how but he felt it. He decided that he was going to take a step and work things out with you. Maybe not romantically but he really wants to be in his kids life.

“After all this time and trouble I went through. You’re gonna let her walk away again?” Atsumu’s annoying voice filled the silent hallway. “Fucking bastard.” Suna seethed and turned with a glare. Osamu knew his brother fucked up and decided to be cautious in case Suna decided to land a few punches on his brother like the last time Atsumu has pissed off Suna.

But as Atsumu braced himself for a comeback or for a fist to meet his face he was met with Suna’s back as he ran to catch up with you. When Suna turned the corner he saw the staff parking lot and he began to run even faster.

If you leave it’ll be too late.

When he made it in the parking lot he stopped and used his height to his advantage and he looked around. He couldn’t see you anywhere. “Y/N!” He called outloud and his voice echoed. “Y/N!” He repeated. He was about to continue walking through when a car backed up and quickly breaked so that they wouldn’t run over the man. You looked through your mirror and saw Suna standing there and looking around like an idiot.

Your heart clenched yet you felt butterflies at the same time. He came, not for you but for the kids. You really hoped and prayed that he would come, and he did. You parked your car and you got out. He sighed in relief and neared you. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I want to be in their lives I really do.” He exclaimed.

“It’s fine, Rin. I’m glad you want that.” You smiled softly.

For a moment he got lost in your eyes, and yours in his. It probably lasted less than a minute yet it felt like a eternity. Neither of you could turn away or say something else. It was comfortable and warm.

All of a sudden your phone rang and your finally blinked and turned away to answer your phone. “Did suna find you?” Jamie immediately asked. “Uh we were talking just now....” you said awkwardly and he stood awkwardly as well. “Ok good if not I was going to give him your number.” She sighed in relief and you rolled your eyes. “Alright I got to go, the kids have school in the morning.” You said and you both hung up.

“So I would love to stay and chat..ya know about the kids but they’re asleep already and they have school.” You mumbled. “No it’s fine I completely get it. School is important...are you available tomorrow? It’s off season for me so I don’t have any rough practices, only gym. I want to talk with you before meeting the kids.” He said and you nodded. “I’ll text you when to come over when I get home.” You told him and he nodded. You both exchanged numbers but Suna didn’t really seem that satisfied.

“Be safe. Text me when you guys get home safe.” He said and his eyes widened. “Okay, I will.” You smiled softly and he saw as you entered your car. You slowly pulled out and you drove away.

“Tsumu has her social media in case you’re curious.” Osamu spoke up causing Suna to jump. “What the hell dude, don’t just scare me like that.” He placed his hand over his chest and Osamu laughed.

“Come on, let’s go.” Osamu said and Suna nodded and walked away.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck.” You muttered and slapped yourself as you drove. Your kids were already asleep so they couldn’t hear you having a mental breakdown on your way home. “Mommy you said a bad word.” Akira pointed out and you glanced at the mirror. “Sorry about that. Don’t repeat it okay?” You asked and she nodded. “I know I know.” She mumbled and look at her signed volleyball with a bored expression. “Is daddy going to be in our lives, now?” She asked and you sighed softly.

“Well we talked and it sounds like he wants to be there for you and nii-chan..he’s going to come over tomorrow while you’re at school so we can talk like adults. Then when you come home he’ll be there to hang out with you guys and you guys can get to know eachother.” You said hopefully.“I don’t like him. Why couldn’t Sakusa or Atsumu be our dad. Even that guy you were with earlier with the suit is fine. But dad is a jerk. He made you cry.” Rini huffed and your eyes widened, were they awake the whole time?

“Hey, I know you don’t know him but your shouldn’t disrespect your father like that. If it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t have had you guys. You two are the best things that has ever happened to me. You’re a Suna, once you get to know your dad I know you’ll be proud that I put your last name as Suna not Kageyama.” You told him and he scowled.

“Can you tell us more about dad?” Akira asked and you nodded. “What do you wanna know?” You asked. “Why did you fall in love with him.” Rini immediately asked, “Well he was sweet and funny, he loved anime and we were in the same class. He also taught me how to love volleyball again after my grandpa died.” You said smoothly. “What position did he play? Did he go pro?” They asked. “He was a middle blocker and he was really good. He still is a middle blocker and yes he is pro.” You said and Rini gasped. He’s more of a middle blocker type of fan. And Akira prefers setters. Even when you or Tobio teach them volleyball. They choose those positions.

The whole drive they asked about him and you answered the best you could, you can’t tell them everything but they were satisfied and they had a better understanding. They did get upset with you for not telling Rin that he was a father since the beginning but they understood that he broke your heart and you didn’t really want to see him.

When you got home you texted Rin that you arrived. You quickly bathed your kids. Dressed them in their pajamas and read them a script from the new anime you’re going to be on. (They liked listening to the scripts rather than bedtime stories)

After reading three pages they were already knocked out and you gave them a kiss. You fixed Akira’s fox plush in her arms and made you way to Rini’s bed. He was hugging a green piggy with a crown from the angry birds game and the moon made his face glow. You stood there in shock and you imagined second year Rin sleeping like that with the pig plush with the crown that reminded him of you.

You quickly rubbed your eyes to see second year rin turn back into five year old Rini. “I need some wine.” You muttered and kissed his cheek and fixed his blanket. You took out the phone from your pocket as you made your way to the bathroom to take off your makeup and start your nightly routine.

You chuckled but quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. Why was it so easy to text Rin again after all this time. Isn’t it supposed to be awkward? Why are you so comfortable?

You quickly typed an awkward goodbye and he scratched his head confused but replied goodbye as well. He really wanted to continue talking to you more.

After you changed into your pajamas and finished your nighttime routine you made your way to the kitchen and you grabbed the half full wine bottle.

You held it to your chest as you made your way to your office/studio and began reading the script and answering some emails involving the character you’ll be portraying for the new anime. You celebrated a few weeks back when you got the offer and sighed thinking about this certain character.

You’ve read the manga already but it wouldn’t hurt to re read it to get a better feel of the characater right? You took a sip from the wine bottle as you found the first book of the manga. In your endless shelves of books.

“Alright Emma let’s go on an adventure.” You sighed and began to read The Promised Neverland.

Also don’t forget that I love you and you’re worth it <3 Idk who needed to hear this today :)

🏷: @therealwalmartjesus @differentballooncollection @aaesuki @atsunflower @dope-squish @prettysetterboiss @june-phantom @tomo-uwu @austriasmariazelle @xrnia @katsulia @aprettyfruit @shut-your-eyes-kiss-me-goodbye @tvbiio @sun-daddy-yoriichi @kamenoyaki @ppangiiroo @loeyprivvv @kmskj92 @lovinnoya @sarahvvictoria @tris-does-stuff @mokkeguts @sunaluvr6969 @bara-rose-would @sempiternal-amour @volleybloop @leykyuu @bokutoichigo @stfucanunot @iloveanime691 @tpwkatsumu @ohshirabu @shoutosimp @mqrinqcele @bokutosdivineass @anngelllla @toworuu @hidden-otaku-stuff @seijohiselite @caxsthetic @aquariarose @hhwanggu @bakuhoetoedoroki @yoozuku @osamus-onigiri @akaashi-todorki @donica95 @kakaokenma @airheadpillar

#haikyuu suna #suna rintarou fluff #suna rintarō #miya atsumu #suna x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!! x reader #suna smau #suna au

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

overlordred said: Heyyyyyyyyyy Doll Face, it me again 🥸🤓, so I saw that you’ve had Porco on the brain and it made something in my brain click again. I don’t know what it is with my need for characters with devoted animal companions but it’s just my thing. Like Porco’s S/O has had her tortoise since she was a kid and it’s HUGE now and since I’m sure you’ve mentioned Udo loves turtles, in a last ditch effort to keep the kids occupied while babysitting them Porco’s like I have a turtle and the kids just lose their minds from this tortoise (who for some reason has a name like Speed or something 😆) If you don’t see it I very much respect that but I just thought I’d share lol. I hope you’re having a beautiful day and good fortune smiles on you. Laters!

Porco & you babysitting pt.2

{ Porco x reader | tw:none | fluff, light drama | modern }

{ "De Forest Interior" 1878 by Walter L. Palmer  1854-1932 }

"What's wrong?" He said with a frown, stepping back to give you space. "Did i do som-"

"No. It's just that…" you interrupted him, "Porco, what are we exactly? Is this a relationship or are we just friends wit-" 

Before you could finish, a high pitched scream came from where the kids were, snapping your attention to the closed door. Porco was the first to move, not wasting a second in pushing it open before hurrying to the living room, you followed behind.

The room was dark, with the tv blue screen illuminating it, whatever was on it was forcefully turned off. It was mostly quiet except for the shallow breathing you'd hear the closer you got to the couch.

Your eyes landed on a small figure, curled into a ball beside the couch, wasn't it for his glasses reflecting the tv light you wouldn't have spotted him.

Before Porco would trip and fall on his face, you flicked the light switch on, so he could avoid the pillows littering the floor.

Udo was looking sickeningly pale, glasses pushed to his head with his face buried in his arms while hugging himself.

Falco was kneeling to him, hands visibly shaking as he tried to soothe the other, growing more nervous as you approached them. "We… we were playing this game and then this-" he hiccuped between his stuttering as he tried to explain what happened.

Porco quickly carried Udo who clung to him like his life depended on it while Falco continued trying his best to form coherent sentences.

You went around the couch where the other two were. Gabi was hugging a pillow in a tight grip, eyes damp as if she's holding back tears while glaring at the floor to avoid meeting your eyes.

She only shook her head when you asked if she's okay.

Meanwhile, Zofia was just...sitting still, too still. Her stare blank and empty at the tv screen, keeping silent and barely acknowledging you when you approached her.

Part of you felt responsible for leaving the kids alone with a horror game when seeing their state now.

"Let's just move them to the kitchen, it'll be okay. Can you carry Zofia?" Porco said with Udo in his arm as Falco trailed after him while clutching his shirt.

You nodded before going to pick her up, she didn't resist but she seemed too stiff and uncomfortable. 

Falco actually came back to hold Gabi's hand and guide her with him after Porco, she took her pillow with her too.

When All of them were huddled in their chairs near the table, you could clearly see how visibly shaken they were.

You attempted to soothe them as Porco gave them some cookies and milk that they drowned quickly.

After time, reassurance and Porco lighting up the mood by making some snarky comments about the horror game they were playing that got them giggling, they slowly calmed down.

Falco was the first to feel better

Gabi soon enough followed. 

He was telling Porco about how he got the highest score in the game so far which made Gabi object and say she's the one who got the highest score, soon enough forgetting why she was scared in the first place.

They started another fight that basically was one saying "no you didn't!" and the other replying with "yes i did!!" over and over.

That actually managed to make Zofia laugh, more at them than with them. 

The only one left who hasn't spoken a word since the beginning was Udo.

Still holding onto Porco with shaky hands.

You and Porco watched as the three of them attempted to cheer him up, each with their unique way.

Gabi saying it's okay he shouldn't be scared because she will protect him and beat up the scary monster if it showed up.

No one dared to bring up the pillow on the table.

Falco said they can just go back and watch some Minecraft let's play instead.

It almost worked but the mention of going back to the living room made Udo even more scared.

Zofia suggested that they can play some animal crossing together and she'd even water all his flowers for him.

That made him perk up, only to frown again when he realised he forgot his switch at Reiner's place.

They kept listing off suggestions but nothing seemed to work or make him smile.

And the fact he still was actually scared and shaking made you and Porco more concerned by the second.

And then Falco said, "maybe we should...call his mom, she usually knows what to-" 

"Absolutely not" only to be interrupted by Zofia, "she'd never allow him another sleepover for at least a month."

You and Porco shared a look, as the adults in this situation it was your responsibility to make sure he's safe and call someone who knows what to do. 

Holding Udo closer to him with one arm while the other reached for his phone from his pocket, Porco scrolled through his saved contacts. "I think i have his mother's number saved somewhere...here it is, ms-"

In a quick motion, Zofia snatched his phone away. Surprisingly not only you but Falco and Gabi too with her strong reaction.

"No. You don't understand she won't allow him near us again." She explained in a firm tone, grip strong against the phone while looking at Porco in the eye. "Call Reiner instead."

Porco stiffened at the mention of the other's name, a sour look on his face. He was about to refuse but seeing at Zofia's pleading eyes made him stop at the last second.

He looked at you, you gave him a nod.

"Fine." He caved in, running a hand through his hair, "I won't call her, I promise.". 

Some seconds passed by as Zofia was eyeing him to determine if he's telling the truth, her grip only softening when her gaze fell on Udo who's still clutching the other's shirt. She reluctantly handed him the phone.

You watch the weirdly intense scene unfold, unsure if you should say something or not.

In the end, you decided not to interrupted. Although noticing how unusually quiet Gabi and Falco were, you realised that they weren't even in the room anymore.

Porco seemed too busy glaring at the air while murmuring something under his breath as the phone rang, while Zofia had her full attention on Udo.

Thankfully, you didn't have to say anything since Both Gabi and Falco came running back into the kuchen, huge smiles on their faces.

"Udo! Udo you won't believe this, there's this giant turtle in Porco’s room!" Falco yelled in excitement.

"It's this big!" Gabi stretched her arms as wide as she can, "and it's black all over with yellow dots! It looks so cool!"

That seemed to get Udo's attention, slowly turning his head from where he was burying it against Porco’s now ruined shirt.

"Really?" He whispered, eyes hopeful and colour returning to his face.

"You went inside my room?" Porco said, alert in his voice.

"What?" Came a voice from his phone, "why would you call me to ask that?...no i didn't. Are the kids okay? I can hear them yelling." Reiner said.

Apparently, that was what it took for Udo to finally calm down.

You watched as Gabi and Udo sat on the ground, faces pressed against the tank glass while attempting to coax the shy turtle out of hiding.

"Her name is lady dash, and if you step back and stop scaring her like that then i might let you feed her some meat." Porco said.

With that, both of them were under lady dash's love spell in no time. 

Gabi thought she was the coolest thing in the world, Udo agreed while counting the yellow dots on her shell.

Keeping true to his word, Porco let them give her some food.

They watched with anticipation as she emerged from the shallow water, slowly gliding towards the food.

They both held their breath as she extended her neck, opening her mouth as wide as she can before taking a big bite of the meat, slowly munching on the piece she cut off.

As soon as it ended, they turned around begging Porco for more food to give her.

Zofia and Falco joined too complaining that it isn’t fair since they didn't have a turn.

Porco looked at you for support, you just smiled before saying how come you don't get a turn too?

In the end he gave you all strawberries to give her to munch on.

After that roller coster of emotions, it came no surprise that the kids started getting sleepy and yawning, having used all their sugar energy from ice cream in the previous freak out.

If there's something you know, is that you should never tell a kid that needs a nap, that they need a nap.

Never ever.

Apparently Porco didn't know that.

And now you have four sleepy kids being defensive and offended that you'd even suggest that.

Thankfully tho, they seemed too tired to agru too much as they decided to finally sleep.

Gabi said she isn't even tried, she's only joining because Falco wouldn't stop whining.

Udo and Zofia agreed, despite the three of them being minutes from dozing off.

Falco ended up being their excuse for a nap, but he didn't complain...too much.

Realising that there's still two hours remaining before Reiner comes to pick them up, Porco seemed too eager to get them to sleep to get some time alone with you.

Hell he even grabbed the blankets and pillows and made them makeshift beds in the living room himself just so him and you can go back to his room alone.

"What…no we're not sleeping there." Said Gabi, standing in the middle of the doorway to the living room, arms crossed as the other three stood behind her.

"Yeah...it's still scary." Added Udo, stepping closer to Zofia. 

"Can we just sleep in your bed instead? Please?" Falco too was hiding behind Gabi, eyes avoiding the tv at any cost.

Porco gave a stern look, lifting an eyebrow as he too crossed his arms. "No. You're big kids you can handle it." 

"If you say so" Zofia poked her head from behind Gabi, "although, it'd be a shame if these pictures of Udo crying, Gabi drinking energy drinks and Falco eating a hot pepper pizza reached Reiner huh." 

And in that moment, you remembered exactly the fimilar sense of unease you felt about these kids some hours ago. 

You looked at Porco’s unbelieving eyes, knowing fully well he must accept this defeat gracefully. 

#Porco🕯 #kiddo gang🕯 #fluff🕯 #drama🕯 #porco x you #porco aot #porco galliard #porco x reader #porco x y/n #porco fluff #porco snk #aot #aot x y/n #aot x reader #aot x you #snk #snk x reader #snk x y/n #snk x you #aot gabi #aot falco #aot Zofia #aot Udo #gabi braun #falco grice #fluff #light drama #aot modern au #modern aot🕯

[tuff-and-fluff-archives]

How does Ruby's tutorial sequence for the game go? :00

OHOHOHO OKAY 👀💖💖💖 Idk why this ask has taken me so long to get to but let me TELL YA, I've been looking forward to this one!! Ok for those who don't know, this is referring to my Wreck-it Ralph self insert, Dr. Ruby Redblood, who's the tutorial character from Undead Apocalypse 3.

Oh look right there on the left! There it is! :D Undead Apocalypse 3 is an on-rails FPS game where the "controller" is a light gun mounted to the game cabinet, much like House of the Dead! The tutorial sequence is one of five levels within the game, with Ruby Redblood only being in the first and final levels :3 So in honor of UA3 being an early 2000s game, I'm going to write out the tutorial sequence as if it were a Gamefaqs walkthrough! Please enjoy, and give this a reblog or comment if you liked it! :D 💖💖💖

Author's Note: This walkthrough is for the 1-player mode of the game. There aren't many major differences in 2-player mode other than extra enemies, extra power-ups, and more resilient bosses.

***** STAGE I: THE LAB *****

Once you've inserted your coins and picked up your light gun, the game begins with a cutscene. You are Chuck Trigger, a security guard at Zealous Labs, and the cutscene begins as an alarm starts blaring in the facility. You run down the hall and round the corner only to see just why that alarm sounded in the first place; the lab has been overrun by zombies! The cutscene ends and gameplay begins here. There are four zombified scientists visible in the hallway ahead of you, all of which are taken down easily with just a few shots. Don't let your guard down if you're on Hard mode, though, because health is scarce even in this first level and any damage from the smaller enemies will stick with you through the whole level.

After you dispose of the zombies here, Trigger continues ahead to the double doors at the end of the hall, but before he can go through the doors, a young woman in a white labcoat and very short skirt bursts through the doors. Despite being bloody and shaken up, she seems relatively fine, and is especially relieved to see Trigger. Another cutscene ensues as the two briefly talk, complete with cheesy, badly acted dialogue:

Trigger: Dr. Ruby Redblood?

Redblood: Oh thank goodness, someone who hasn't died.

Trigger: You're the head scientist here, what the hell is going on?!

Redblood: I... don't know. A neuropathogen that we've been studying somehow breached containment and transmutated into a super-virus, and now-

Trigger: In English, doc.

Redblood: S-sorry. Basically, a virus has spread through the facility and mutated most of the staff into vicious maneaters. We need to get out of here as quickly as we can!

Trigger: Wait... Has it spread into the city? I have family out there! I need to rescue them!

Redblood: It's too dangerous. The probability of you making it through the city and back here are incredulously slim.

Trigger: I don't care. I have to save them.

Redblood: Very well. I'll guide you down to the first floor of the lab, but you're on your own from there.

Trigger and Redblood move forward through the doors, and at last the cutscene ends. In the next room ahead you'll find three more scientist zombies who appear one at a time. Redblood will yell out a few (rather obvious) hints to you as you go, like how headshots do a bit more damage and the ammo zombies drop is important to pick up. Gee, ya don't say... Kill each of the enemies here to continue towards the next set of doors, leading into a chemistry lab with three more Scientists and a new type of zombie, a Guard. The Guards take two more bullets to kill than Scientists due to their armor, so try to take them out first.

After clearing this room, you'll suddenly hear a scream behind you, and will turn around to see Redblood being attacked by a Scientist. Quickly gun it down to save her, but be careful not to shoot her on accident, as it will kill her. Once you save her, she thanks you and encourages you to keep going. This will be the first of four times that the doctor gets herself into trouble, and as annoying as she is to rescue, try to keep her alive for a bonus at the end of the level.

As you exit the lab and enter a stairwell, Scientists will jump down from the flights of stairs above you to catch you off guard; take them out quickly or they'll chip off health that you'll need for the boss. Just before you exit the stairwell, Redblood will trip behind you on the final step and have her leg grabbed by a Scientist (guess she should have taken off those heels!) Take it out with a headshot to save her again.

As you exit the stairwell, you''l enter the first floor of Zealous Labs, a large open space that is absolutely crawling with both Scientists and Guards. Trigger will dash forward with Redblood to the reception desk in the middle of the room, and the building essentially becomes a zombie shooting range! If you're playing on Hard mode, try not to miss any shots, as ammo is scarce, and no matter what mode you're playing on, do not let any enemies get too close to you. Once any zombies get close to the desk, they'll go straight for Redblood, and you'll have less than a few seconds to save her so it's better to keep them away than risk that happening. (Why doesn't she just hide under the desk? You think she'd be a bit smarter as the head researcher in the lab.)

Once all the enemies here are taken out, Trigger will proceed towards the front doors, but will suddenly stop as you hear the elevator on your left ding. The elevator doors will open, and out will walk the boss of the first stage: Sheriff Bruiser.

Ruby Redblood is quick to inform you that Bruiser was the lab's head of security, but he has been infected and transformed into a powerful zombie. As large and intimidating as he may seem, he isn't much harder to take out then the Guards. The major difference is his full-body armor, meaning that he can only be damaged by headshots. Bruiser's main attack is a full-body charge at you that can be stopped by shooting him enough times in the head; a single hit from him takes off a fourth of your health, so don't let him hit you too much or it's game over.

Once you get his healthbar down completely, he'll try one more desperate charge attack, but not towards you; he'll run straight for Redblood, so take him out with three shots to the head as he's running or he'll kill her in one hit (I guess just stepping out of the way is too hard for her). Once he's down, though, you can take a breath, because all that's left is a brief cutscene, and then the level's over.

In the closing cutscene, if you were able to keep Dr. Redblood alive for the entire level, then she'll reward you with an upgrade to your gun that doubles your attack power! Why she didn't give you this when she first saw you is a mystery, but at least she wasn't just dead weight for the whole level. Redblood and Trigger briefly part ways, and the doctor promises to save him and his family a spot on the rescue helicopter before she steps into the elevator to escape to the roof, as Trigger turns toward the glass doors and steps out into the open air, heading into the city to save his family...

#UM. I GOT A LITTLE CARRIED AWAY #listen i know this is long but i had SO MUCH FUN WRITING IT so please dont be afraid to read it! 🥺🥺🥺🥺 #and like i said leave a like or comment or reblog if u liked it cuz i worked rly hard 🥺🥺 #tbh i think this has been my favorite self insert to develop because i also get to basically develop the game and the world and lore #i just find this really fun to develop SO TBH IF YALL HAVE ANY MORE QUESTIONS. i'm not afraid of em 👀👀👀 #okay its 2am im done with this please read it and thank you to who asked it okay buh bye 🥺💖 #ruby answers #selfshippinglover #ruby's writing #self ship community #🍒🧱: i went to college!! #💜: don't go wreckin' my heart

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Part two of three. Izuku has a new goal for this tournament, and Shouto’s getting a vibe check.

[No. 39 - Todoroki Shouto: Origin]

We start off with a brief flashback from a younger Shouto’s POV, ith Rei saying that that’s fine, he’s not…

Shouto’s narration wonders when he forgot what came after that. In the present, Shouto demands to know what Izuku is planning. Everything he’s got… did his bastard of a father pay him off or something? Shouto is pissed, and dashes forward, thinking that Izuku won’t be able to deal with him at close range. Izuku reacts by dashing forward as well, ducking low as he gets close. 

In the stands, Katsuki has also notices Shouto’s slowed down, likely because of the frost covering his body. It’s different than Katsuki’s limits - kind of like magic points in a video game. The scale of that attack against Sero was probably the most he could muster.

Shouto panics just a bit, realizing Izuku had moved the instant he raised his left leg. Izuku himself is furiously muttering to himself about imagining the microwave, don’t let it explode, even as his powered-up right arm comes swinging, landing right in Shouto’s stomach. 

Of course, Izuku isn’t entirely unscathed, Shouto managing to get some ice on Izuku’s left arm at the elbow before being flung away by the force of the punch. Present Mic makes a comment on things heating up, while both Izuku and Shouto take a moment to recover from the backlash of that punch. The crowds are shocked at Izuku landing a blow, but also note that he’s the one who can barely stand. 

Shouto coughs, commenting on how now Izuku is on the offensive. He’s wondering how (I’m guessing on how Izuku finds the strength to keep going?), sending out another weak burst of ice that Izuku leaps over. Izuku comments on how Shouto’s not just slowing down, but his ice is weakening too. 

Cementoss asks Midnight if he should stop the match. It seems like Izuku’s going all out because he knows he can be healed no matter what. And he’s not feeling all the pain he’s in because his adrenaline’s pumping. But those injuries… a single healing session won’t be enough for a full recovery. Even if he wins here, he’ll be in no shape for the next match. Midnight has no reply.

Aizawa thinks back to the quirk assessment, where he told Izuku to learn to control his quirk. In the present, he notes that that control is starting to come, even if it means weaker attacks. He’s not just blindly going wild out there. In order to win, this is the best strategy for him at this point. But… even if he does know he can be healed, putting himself through all that pain takes a hell of a lot of guts.

Toshinori, however, has caught on to what the others have not, wondering what it is that’s motivating his successor. Which is a small little thing that I find neat! Toshinori’s known this kid for just over a year at this point, while the rest of the staff have only known him a few weeks.

Izuku can’t make a fist with his right hand anymore. So when Shouto sends another up-close ice attack, he puts his thumb in his mouth and uses that to flick it, destroying the ice with a crack that is equally likely to be from the thumb as it is from the ice. During all that, Shouto (or Izuku?) thinks back to Izuku’s words, about wanting to be like All Might, and for that, he has to be number one, he has to be the strongest. It might seem like a lame motivation compared to Shouto’s, but.

Shouto asks Izuku why he’s going this far. Izuku dashes in, saying he’s just trying to meet expectations. A smiling, dependable, cool hero - that’s what he wants to be. 

Shouto flashes back again for a brief instant, providing enough distraction that Izuku gets in another hit. Izuku states that that’s why he’s giving it everything! For everyone! Shouto’s experiences, his determination - Izuku can’t even begin to imagine what all that is like. But if he becomes number one without giving it his all, then Izuku doesn’t think he’s serious about denying Endeavor everything. 

A longer flashback. Endeavor tells his son to get up. He won’t even be able to defeat third-rate villains, let alone All Might, if he gets knocked down by a hit like that. Rei begs Endeavor to stop, that Shouto’s only five years old. Shouto looks up from where he’s kneeling on the floor in his own vomit, just in time to see Endeavor slap Rei out of the way while stating that Shouto is already five, and to get out of his way.

Present Shouto tells Izuku to shut up, his right side absolutely coated in frost. 

More flashback. Young Shouto is curled up in his mother’s lap, saying that he hates his father, he doesn’t want to be like him. Someone who bullies mommy - he doesn’t wanna be like that. She rests a hand on his head, noting that he wants to be a hero, right? That’s fine, he’s not… 

In the present, Izuku takes another swing, thinking back to… someone’s words about if you have a future you’re striving for, while out loud declaring that that’s why he has to win. Which I guess clarifies the earlier reasons that everyone might think this is about winning the match. Toshinori, however, is cottoning on to what’s actually happening, thinking back to his talk with Endeavor, and how Shouto won’t use his left side because of his conflict with his father, which means Izuku is…

Izuku lands his hit while stating he has to surpass Shouto. 

While the other Todoroki children play soccer under the supervision of an elderly lady, Shouto watches on from the window. Endeavor grabs him by the arm and yanks him away, telling him not to look, that his siblings belong to a different world than him. 

Shouto stumbles across his mom talking on the phone to her own mother. She states that she knows it’s not right, but she can’t do it anymore. The children, they’re like him more and more everyday. And Shouto, his left side - sometimes she looks at him and hates what she sees. She can’t raise him anymore; she shouldn’t raise him. The kettle rattles as Shouto peeks into the kitchen, nervous and overwhelmed by what he’s hearing. Rei… does not react well.

Shouto, a bandage over his left eye, asks Endeavor where his mom is. Endeavor states that she hurt him, so he had her put away. He calls her a fool, during this crucial time in Shouto’s development, no less. Shouto weeps, furious and upset, stating that he’ll show Endeavor, that it’s all Endeavor’s fault. 

In the present, he starts to talk about how he’ll show his father, only for Izuku to interrupt - 

Not quite the same line as the anime! Which I was surprised by, to be honest. Like, I get why the line was changed up for that, and both have the same meaning, but there’s… something interesting in the original version of those words as well. 

We flash back again, to an All Might interview Shouto is watching with his mother. All Might states that quirks are naturally passed from parent to child. However, that’s not the only thing that matters. It’s not just blood ties - instead, one must recognize and appreciate oneself! That’s what he means when he says it - when he says ‘I am here!’

(Not gonna lie, that bit of All Might interview actually has me thinking. That comment on blood ties makes me wonder whether he’s thinking about Nana, and that line about how one must recognize and appreciate oneself seems like a lesson both Toshinori and Izuku are needing to internalize in the current manga.)

Rei notes that Shouto wants to be a hero, right? That’s fine. Shouto isn’t bound by Endeavor’s blood. He can decide who he wants to become.

Shouto is practically in tears as he wonders when he forgot that. Flames lick at the corner of his eye and cheek, right before his entire left side goes ablaze with great force.

Everyone spectating is in shock. Tenya thinks on how Shouto had stated he’d never use his left side in battle, remarking on how he’s using it now. Toshinori realizes Izuku was trying to save Shouto. Endeavor is elated by this development. 

As Izuku flinches back from the heat, Shouto comments on how he thought Izuku wanted to win. So why is he trying to inspire him? Which one of them isn’t taking this seriously now? But he wants to be a hero too. Shouto and Izuku grin at each other, and so this chapter ends.

Not gonna lie, I kind of vibe with this version of The Line. It’s still similar to the more popular anime version, but it’s also just different enough that I am. Thinking. Mayhaps it shall be used one day in a fic somewhere.

Anywho, character sheet incoming. Rest of the Izuku vs Shouto match on Friday. See y’all then.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #readthrough #chapter 39 #sports festival arc #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #aizawa shouta #cementoss #yagi toshinori #todoroki enji #todoroki rei #this hits different in the manga than in the anime #i like it #feels different and new