#Quitting now feels like it’d be mean to my coworkers since things are so crazy

[littlemisslipbalm]

I live in the neighbourhood - Part 3

What happened to the cycling classes after work and the occasional drinks with coworkers? Now it was flying to Italy to vacation for the December holidays with Harry and his family and friends.

Ok part 3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and the final part of ilitn i believe! let me know what you think! plssss! Not proofread, but your support means the most and it means the world to see your thoughts, literally anything about it, and this little harry I always have to remember that’s the simp your honor ^ right there! anyway happy reading!

Read Part 1 | 2

Word Count: 10.9k | Warnings: swearing, smut! (finally) - oral (m+f receiving, dirty talk, choking? i can’t remember ngl there might not be, sloppy sex, outdoors by the pooldeck just btw, christmas, idk but hopefully nothing I missed, feelings! happy ending (possibly rushed 

-

“You’re really flying to Italy and then traipsing around the Italian countryside for three weeks with Harry and his family? I cannot believe you’re leaving me behind.”

“You’re gonna kill me for saying this, but he had said I could invite a friend or two if I wanted. But I thought it’d be weird with his family so you literally can’t be mad at me!”

“Fine. I’ll move past it, but how did you move past the whole panic attack? Like you barely spoke to him for a month and then he’s on your doorstep and you’re kissing and agreeing to a Roman Holiday?”

“It’s Harry,” she sighs, laying down on her couch. “How could I not, I got scared because he was gone, but once he was back, nothing else mattered.”

“I guess,” Cate mumbles.

“Oof, sorry Cate I have another call, I’ve got to go…”

By the time she tries to pick up the other line has gone to a message and she’s left to listen to her boss over a voicemail:

“Hey Y/N, I know your holidays have just begun, but I wanted to inform you that you’ll be getting a new client in the new year. Big artist! Anyway, just wanted to inform you that I’ll be emailing over some of their paperwork. Feel free to ignore it until the new year! Have a nice trip.”

She sighs. “Interesting...but will definitely be waiting for the new year to even think about work,” she says to herself.

She throws her phone to the side. Tired of all the phone tag and messages she had begun to have to deal with as the Holiday season dawned more and more upon her. She had more important things to think about. Most important being the suitcase laid out before her and the flight she was bound to be taking in less than 24 hours. This time, she wouldn’t be picking Harry up from the airport. No, this time they were flying out of London Heathrow together.

Together together? She wasn’t sure. The kiss on her doorstep and plea of Italian holiday meant a lot to her, but did it scream committed relationship? She had no idea when it came to Harry. Maybe it was better not to ask and just wait until he told her. Wondering had gotten her in a pit last time and she never wanted to feel the way she had over the last month while he had been gone.

She sleeps in her bed for one last night before leaving for a month. Harry had managed to convince the airline to allow Rori to ride with them in first class, so she wouldn’t have to leave her dog in a kennel or with friends during the holidays. She was grateful for that and she just didn’t understand how she had gotten so lucky as to have someone like Harry in her life.

They fly first class and while Harry had secured her ticket last minute, she insisted that he take her money to pay for the ticket. She was determined to not lose herself in this process. She would happily go along with Harry’s crazy life as long as she maintained her constitution. And paying for her own ticket was one of her ways of doing that.

The flight is short, a quick jaunt compared to the arduous trips across the Atlantic, both her and Harry were quite used to from their work and family lives. He smiles at her throughout the journey, coming across the aisle often to check on her and pet Rori. He would make little jokes that wouldn’t make anyone else laugh but them and he would grab the airpod she would take out and play whatever she had been listening to and offer a dance. His little dances were so sweet, if strange and awkward in the small flight cabin.

She wore grey marbled leggings and a matching thick strapped tank top beneath a nondescript hoodie. Harry’s dressed quite nice for traveling, she presumes in case he’s papped. Linen trousers, a collared coat, and some beaded necklaces he had taken to wearing over the last few months - each month seemed to add on another necklace, but she wasn’t counting.

He had reminded her to bring large sunglasses for the airport.

He had said “I don’t care if we’re seen together, but it’s more for your comfort. I hate when my friend’s lives are put on display for the whole world. You’re not the one who signed up for this.”

She had been appreciative and grabbed her largest pair of sunglasses because truthfully she didn’t want to be seen with Harry. She didn’t want the whole world knowing her or her business, it wasn’t who she was. No, not at all. So when they step off the plane and head to baggage claim after customs, she feels aware of her surroundings in a way she never has been. It reminds her of the way Jeff, Charlotte, and Mitch had conducted themselves in the bar that one time. Extremely alert. Watching people’s eye movements and considering whether they recognized her companion. She trails behind him a fair amount, three paces at least. Harry glances back every few moments, checking in to make sure she’s still with him as they move through the bustling airport.

They make it to baggage claim with no stops, but sadly Harry’s luggage seems to give him away. That or just his presence, he was a 6 foot tall and extremely broad man who gave off this energy that couldn’t help but turn eyes. And all it took was one of those eyes to recognize the fluff of hair, the olive-y skin, the peaking bird tattoos and colorful necklaces to alert the world of just where he was.

He doesn’t get stopped for any pictures, but she feels the number of eyes on him grow. She also watches as Harry doesn’t shrink from the growing attention. If anything, it simply makes him move quicker, but only slightly. He glances at her once to see her hood up and big green glasses covering up half her face. Rori has left his carrier and is covering the other half as she pushes a cart in front of her. He makes a nondescript nod and then sets off towards the exit, she follows behind easily.

By the time they’re in the car that was waiting to drive them to Harry’s villa, he’s gotten buzzed by Jeff just to check-in since a few photos have been uploaded of him at the airport. People were so fast. She shook her head in disbelief as she looked up Harry Styles on twitter and saw the scene she had just been apart of minutes ago on her screen now. She’s unrecognizable in the photos she happens to appear in and to everyone else she looks like another traveler instead of Harry’s companion or whatever she was to him. Instead of his friend.

Harry calls Jeff as they’re driven to his lovely sprawling home near Lake Como. He informs him they’re fine - he is quick to ensure that Y/N is well after asking her himself once they had gotten into the confines of the small car. She thinks it’s sweet especially because she was sure that Jeff really was more focused on Harry and his well-being since he was both his friend and his client while she was just an extra. The two men talk about the flight and customs and what Jeff will be doing with his holiday since he had turned down Harry’s invitation to come out to Italy as well. This leaves her to stare out the window at the passing scenery. She and Rori are completely content with this as they watch the tranquil life around them as they pass by little forests and towns over cobblestoned ground.

The colors seem brighter throughout Italy compared to the sad and gloomy winter of London. The dreary scape traded for something far more picturesque. Italy growing ever more beautiful the closer they drive to Harry’s home. Everything was so radiant, from the sun shining above her head to the little dew drops still pooled on the perfectly green leaves of plants she knew not the names of.

The car pulls up to the long driveway to Harry’s place which he insisted was just a house, but she knew better. The driveway felt like half a mile of perfect cobblestones, seemingly handpicked to make the smoothest drive. Outside the house sat a gorgeous little convertible that was in between steel and cream and sparkled in the sun. The top was currently up, but she could tell the interior was just as nice as the exterior. Harry had a thing for cars and she suspected that no matter where he was, he managed to keep his cars in perfect condition.

The house was breathtaking due to its simultaneous simplicity and intricacy. It’s coloring was variations of cream and gold and some terra cotta. But it sprawled into the hillside behind it and wrapped around the nature to the side of it and the pool to the back right of it. There also was a little separate shed like thing that also seemed to be a residence. Harry insisted it was just an extra bedroom, but it looked like almost another house to her.

As she stepped out of the car, she thought that she might get lost in that house if she was left to wander around it by herself. A feeling she feared to get accustomed to.

The door of the house was a dark green that seemed oddly familiar to her as she walked through it. And when Harry looked back to make sure she had gotten in the house alright she recognized it. His door somehow matched the color of his eyes in dark lighting. A green that was timeless and ancient at the same time. A green that was unnerving yet inviting. A green that was Harry. She never thought she had a favorite color, but in that moment she was sure it was his eyes.

Harry calls her name and she realizes he’s been saying it for awhile.

“Sorry?”

He smiles fondly at her confused face and leans towards her as if he might kiss her. She stops breathing in that moment, wanting more than anything for that to be his next move. His chest brushes against hers, his warmth invading her space. His face is a mere milimeter from hers and she can count every speck of stubble on his jaw. But his lips don’t brush gently over hers in a way that she knew was addicting. Instead, his strong hand reaches past her and shuts the entrancing green door gently.

His eyes flicker back to her face when he pulls back, taking a single step backwards to allow for a comfortable space between them. Still close, but not like he’s about to embrace her expecting frame and kiss her.

“I asked if you wanted a tour of the house? Or if you just wanted me to pick your room.” His eyes are crinkled at the corner, a smile on his face even though his mouth is hung open in a lingering question.

She blinks her eyes and twitches her head to glance around the rest of her surroundings. Rori had run off the moment they had gotten in the door. The hallway Harry and she found themselves was narrow and simple, a single painting right behind Harry’s head was the sole decoration and a tapestry style rug beneath their feet. She nods after a moment, feeling all her words caught somewhere in her throat for no reason at all.

“Good,” he nods and gives her a funny look, trying to understand her quiet demeanor. “Just drop your stuff here for now,” he adds.

His hand encircles her wrist, as it had grown accustomed to, to lead her through the house. She bites her lower lip to muffle the little giggle that somehow escapes her as he tugs her playfully down and through the house.

He goes on about almost every piece of art and trinket he has hung and placed throughout the house. Each thing has its story and Harry waxes eloquent on every single one. He shows her each room in the house and then leads her outside through the single door of the master bedroom on the second floor. The door takes them onto a small balcony that overlooks the center of the estate which included the pool and then a garden to the left of the converted poolhouse - what Harry insisted it be called when Y/N had told him it was a mini house.

His hand has traveled down to intertwine with hers as the tour had drawn on. So as he leads her down the little spiral staircase to the ground floor, she hums at the warmth his thumb rubs into her skin ever so softly. His eyes flicker to her face and hold her gaze for a moment as he watches her descend the last two stairs.

She smiles at him, her cheeks rosy from the air outside. They walk between the garden and the pool to reach the “converted pool house” and she stops for a moment to dance her fingers through the perfectly clean pool water - he must have had a housekeeper who came by recently to open everything up and clean it all.

“This is truly amazing, Harry,” she sighs as she stares out at the entire house from the single stone upstep to the little cottage. It gave her a view of the entire place besides the front of the house. It was gorgeous.

Harry nods, tucking his head to his chest slightly, possibly feeling a little bashful. Behind the successful man that stood before her was a young boy with a dream that had made this possible and he never forgot that.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely and unlocks the door of the cottage, a similar green is painted on this door as well.

She goes ahead of him at his request and he watches her fingers on the green paint, caressing it softly, each finger never wishing to leave it as they slowly depart its surface. This place is just a microcosm of the house they had just been. A kitchenette, a living area, a bedroom, and a full bath - including a freestanding tub.

She all but runs around the place, fingers running over the countless spines of books that Harry mindlessly chose to store there in ceiling high bookshelves and eyes taking in prints of personal photography he had been too nervous to store anywhere but here. There were larger poster sized prints as well as smaller ones, all black and white, of different scenes on the walls of the living area. Some were portraits of loved ones, others were landscapes of cities and countryside alike, and some were of past lovers with their hair swept behind them as they looked back at Harry in some beautiful place. She smiled at these obviously film photographs and turned to Harry after a moment, almost mirroring the people in the more personal pictures.

“When’s the last time you used your camera?” She asks.

Harry’s figure is perched in the door, his body slightly slumped on the frame while he rolls his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. He hums, thinking back to the last time he took out his camera.

“Last tour...I think. I got film back with Camille in it and I just didn’t feel like putting more in it after that,” he rasps out and clears his throat at the end, clearly unnerved by the topic.

“Well, these are beautiful, you have a smart eye for catching precious moments,” she smiles softly, understanding Harry’s apprehension.

“Thanks,” his voice still a bit deeper than usual, “I still use my Super8 pretty regularly when I’m doing things for work. Like when I shoot music videos, I usually bring it along to get my own footage for later.”

She only nods and watches him enter the room, moving closer to her to gaze at the images more up close as well.

“I like to have something to remember it by. Just in case, someday,” he starts and sighs, eyes trained on the wall of memories, “My mind isn’t what it once was.”

She watches him delicately place his hand on the couch behind them to brace himself and she notices the slight fear in his face as he says it. She blinks at the scene in front of her. A man in an amazing moment in his life fearful that it might all disappear from his vision someday. A horrible thought that seems to plague him more often than one would expect.

She nudges closer to him immediately. Her shoulder brushes his arm as she presses her head to his own shoulder and stays there firmly.

“Thank you,” she whispers and his head drops down to look at her face now radiating warmth against him. “For sharing this with me.”

His hand on the couch moves to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. Instinctively, she wraps her arms around his waist and he rests his head atop of hers. He stays silent but places a chaste kiss in her hair. She squeezes harder, telling him everything is alright and all he had to be with her was himself.

He switches his gaze between the girl wrapped up in him and the pictures of the rest of his life in front of him and he takes it all in. He feels safe, a comfort he was hard pressed to find with his life always on the move. The bustling change felt eons away while he was wrapped up in her. She was constant and kind. Understanding. She took him as he was, no expectations. That realization has him melting further into her, his head dropping down to her shoulder and nosing into her hair. His hands cusping at the back of her neck and the small of her back. And he presses firmly yet gently.

They stand there, swaying slightly to an unknown tune that played only in their private world of just them two.

A branch sways too and breaks them out of their reverie when it taps against the French doors that lead out to somewhere else in Harry’s estate.

“I think I’d like to stay here, if that’s alright,” she says, pulling back from him only slightly.

His hands migrate from their embrace around her back and neck and slide to her hip and her shoulder separately. Her hands both rest on his chest and she feels his consistent heartbeat that she had been listening to for the last few minutes against her ear.

His eyes sparkle at her suggestion. “Really? There’s plenty of spots in the main house,” he rushes.

“No, I love this place,” she glances around once more, soaking in the cozy room that housed Harry’s art. “Plus, your family will be here tomorrow and you should all be together under one roof for the holidays. I know how rare that can be.”

He nods in agreement and twists a tendril of her hair around one of his fingers slowly. She doesn’t notice until he makes an experimental and playful tug on it. Her lips purse at the feeling and her eyes narrow.

“You’re an evil little thing under all those layers of niceties and kind words, Mr. Styles,” she says as she pulls away from him.

Now that it was decided on where she would be staying for the next few weeks, she wanted to get her things settled and take a shower possibly. She also needed to check in on Rori and see what he had gotten up to while they had been wandering.

Harry laughs, filled with an unmatched glee as he follows her out of the cottage and back into the main house, “I can show you evil if that’s what you want, dove. I’ll give you anything you want.”

And while she knows he’s saying this in jest, she knows he’s also telling the truth. He’d give her just about anything she wanted, all she had to do was ask.

-

After settling the house a bit, finding where Rori wanted to sleep - he chose inside the main house, and some showers, she and Harry both felt refreshed.

She walked out of the front door of the cottage and crossed to the French doors at the middle point of the house. They had them open to get fresh air in the house and she walked right through and into the kitchen where she found Harry and her dog happily perched on the countertop.

Rori batted at Harry’s hands and nuzzled into his scratches as Harry cradled him to his chest. It was criminally sweet and she knocked on the door frame to pull Harry’s attention away from her furry friend.

“You look nice,” Harry smiles.

She glances down at her outfit; a cashmere olive colored sweater and high waisted cream corduroys along with her sneakers of choice. She thought it was casual, but she appreciated the compliment nonetheless. She murmurs a thanks and a quick “you too”, she didn’t even need to look at what he was wearing, he always looked good. Her head tilts to rest on the door frame as well, her eyes trained on Harry’s face.

“Do you want to go for a drive?” He inquires as he places Rori back on the ground.

The dog scampers to her side for a moment before running off to do his own thing. Her lips quirk up on the sides and her eyes narrow slightly. He’s looking at her with a quiet confidence set in his jaw that she doesn’t quite understand.

His smile makes her bite her lip, slightly unnerved by the energy he was giving off. Maybe it was because they were completely alone - not something new to them since that’s how they interacted almost solely, but something about being in Italy seemed to have shifted the dynamic. Something in the water or whatever that saying was.

“Do I get to drive?” She stands from her leaning position and crosses in front of him.

His laugh comes out quickly and heartily. “No chance, dove.”

She groans and pushes at his shoulder.

“Trust me, you’ll like it better. Can just enjoy the scenery, don’t have to focus on the road.”

He wraps a hand around her waist and then scoots her towards the door that would lead them out of the house. She giggles at the contact and she feels him watching her. It felt nice, felt simply theirs.

He drove her down the driveway and onto a country road until it merged into a road by the lake. He brought the top down so the wind rushed around them, blustering about as he drove at a quick yet somehow leisurely pace. She glanced at the scenery and took a few pictures, but something else kept demanding her attention.

Harry. He was a quiet kind of handsome in this moment. It wasn’t in your face, it was just how each curve of his skin seemed perfectly placed. Every pore was clear and every mole had a reason. His tattoos peeking from his collar and shirt sleeves were that perfect inky black that remained smooth. It was consistent, the way his hair fell over his forehead and he would smooth it back without even thinking. His eyes were focused and bright, yet slightly stormier than normal. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. And she wondered what she had done to be beside him at that moment. Wondered what it was that she had done to be cared for by Harry.

His hand on her leg brings her out of her mind once again. His looks always seemed to get her lost in thought. He was just that special. No one else had ever caused any similar reaction. His fingers splay on her thigh, no rings on them today. He rubs his thumb back and forth softly and she leans closer to him to whisper in his ear. They were completely alone, but it felt like something even the wind didn’t deserve to hear.

He tilts his head to her, eyes flickering to her movement for a moment and then back to the road. His hand on her thigh slips upwards with how she moves.

“I’m the most lucky girl in the world,” she says, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she says the words.

She pulls back and stares at him, her hand going down to her thigh to play with his lovingly. He looks at her again and sees her serious expression. This causes him to pull over on the side of the road by the water. He rubs at her thigh again with his thumb and she shifts in her seat.

“And why’s that?” His voice low as he asks and shifts the car into park.

“Because I’m here, with you. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this world.”

He hums in response and licks at his lips when her sweater happens to fall off her shoulder. She notices the slip, but doesn’t bother to fix it since she also saw how Harry’s eyes danced over the newly exposed skin.

“I wouldn’t trade this either” the words dance slowly off the tip of his tongue. His accent fuller as he says the last word. “Let’s walk around,” Harry suggests when he sees her eyes flicker between his and his lips.

They explore the grassy area that lives just before the dip of the water at Harry’s request. He guides her along with his hand entwined with hers. Her eyes stay on only him still, the scenery unable to compare to the beauty of him that she was just fully realizing how bad she wanted to be enveloped in. His profile is illuminated by the sun shining above them and she swears he’s sparkling under the light.

The fear of what they were and all of the things that came along with labels were the furthest away thoughts. The man who had been the quirky neighbour had transformed into the man she was pretty sure she was in love with. Too afraid to say those three words, she decided the best thing she could do was to show rather than tell.

“Harry,” she calls and he stops his wandering, turning to face her instead.

A hand reaches up to trace over his strong cheekbone and caresses down the side of his face and cradles his slightly stubbled jaw. Her thumb rubs over the place where his dimple often showed up. He sighs into her touch and says her name back. His voice fails him as he gazes down at her, everything he means to say dies in his throat, for once at a loss for words.

She purses her lips and reaches up to connect their lips, having missed his sweet lips touch. They were meant to press against hers. Harry seems to forget how to breathe, her initiating the kiss between them, something foreign to him, but not unwelcome. He leans down to make it easier on her and she glows in his reciprocation. His hand shifts to cradle the back of her head as the kiss continues. Their lips dance, brushing back and forth, tongues slightly licking into one another’s mouths ever so delicately, playfully even.

A specific clash of teeth as the kiss continues leads to a breathless laugh from her as Harry presses himself closer to her. His other hand pressing her waist safely into him. She happily obliges, sinking one hand to rest over his backside which makes him smile.

“Naughty,” he mumbles against her brightening lips, eyebrows bobbing over his closed eyes.

She laughs now, her head tilting up for a moment, eyes opening to look at his face, yet up so close it's just his eyes and upper cheeks. His eyes are extra large from this angle and the grey green they had been dancing between had merged into a darkening seafoam green that was rather rare for them. She wanted to take an inventory of every color his eyes managed to be, but she was sure the list would never end.

“You like it,” she quips back, a peck sneaked at the corner of his mouth. That little love touch leads to more minutes of making out. Her supple and soft chest against his strong one, hands roaming the other’s body searching for purchase. Soft sighs and gentle moans leave Harry’s mouth when she nibbles at his ear and leaves loving kisses to his neck and collarbone. She makes similar sounds when he laves his tongue over the hollow of her neck and mouths happily on her neck.

The sight of them is two lovers enthralled in each other’s mouths and bodies in a meadow beside a lake. The sounds of nature are only overtaken by their happiness with each other.

When he ruts his hips against her body and she writhes against him with eagerness previously not seen, Harry realizes just how in public they are and he pulls away. A whine of discontent falling from her lips before she can control herself.

“We should…” He falters again, staring down at his neighbour he had begun to want more than anything else in the world, “Should head back.”

“Right,” she nods curtly.

Hands falling back to her sides, but Harry grabs one of them and intertwine their fingers as they had them before. She smiles so wide her eyes crinkle at the corners and he can’t help himself to peck at the left side of her temple.

They drive back to the house and Harry suggests a dip in the pool which Y/N agrees to easily. Something to cool them off from the heavy makeout session they had partaken in down by the water.

“Everyone else is arriving tomorrow,” Harry says after he surfaces from his expert dive into the deep end. He treads water lightly and drifts towards her.

She’s floating on her back a little ways from him. Her hair was shimmery all wet again and the  skin of her face glowed with tiny droplets. Her eyes were closed as she moved her hands back and forth through the comfortable water.

She feels his eyes on her, burning into her, waiting for a response. She peaks open one eye and looks at him. His cheeks pinken quickly from the slight embarrassment of being caught, but he doesn’t look away.

“It’s going to be really fun, Harry,” she rights herself and swims closer to him causing him to smile happily. “I’m really happy to be here.”

“It won’t be just us anymore,” he says, swimming backwards and creating a slight chase for her as she follows after him.

She narrows her eyes at his tactics, but still follows as he swims to the edge of the pool where they could both stand.

“Nope, but we’re gonna really get the holiday spirit flowing. Family dinners and games, shopping for gifts...this really is one of my favorite times of the season,” she smiles back at him and puts her hand against the edge of the pool, her chest emerging from beneath the cooling water.

Droplets roll down her chest, racing down her body and in between her cleavage. Harry’s eyes follow the water droplets disappearing beneath her bright red tied bikini top. He gets distracted when the air pebbles her nippls beneath the thin wet fabric, his tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight. The round of her breast was especially full in the thin fabric. He had never seen this much of her despite their friendship lasting for many months now. It was...mouthwatering and his eyes stayed trained on her breasts as they rhythmically moved up and down with her breathing. It was like a spell.

That he was brought out of when a splash of water flicks at his face. She gives him an obvious look saying she had caught him staring and then she rolls her eyes at his smirk obviously not embarrassed by his latest fixation.

“We won’t be alone like this,” he steps closer to her, his own chest running with water droplets. His hair messy and wet atop his head as he pushes it off his forehead. “Possibly at all for the next three weeks,” he continues and hears her breath catch as he moves even closer. His body hovers a moment away from hers as he stares down at her. His nose almost brushes hers as he starts to lean down. She stays almost completely still. Her head moves though to allow Harry access to where his mouth seems to be headed, the side of her neck.

“After today,” he whispers before smudging an open mouthed kiss just below her ear.

A small gasp escapes her at his hot breath and a searing kiss against her chilled skin. She feels his smirk on her skin as he continues down her neck, leaving spongy eager kisses down the column.

“Well, I don’t think that’s a problem,” she tries to remain composure, feeling the burn inside of her pitch back up. The fire had dulled from the kissing by the lake once they had swam, but here he was pressing into her once again. Suddenly more eager and forward than he had ever been. Her breathing is hard to regulate with his expert hands running along her naked sides below the water and his legs backing her into the edge of the pool while his lips make love to her neck.

“Oh?” Harry hums, moving a hand up to fiddle with a strap of her top, the wet nylon twisting easily and then he lets it snap back softly. Her arousal only grows from the tiny smack. “Not a problem, eh?” His lips travel down between her breasts and she gasps in anticipation.

“Won’t be able to make you feel this good anytime you want,” he breathes and then ghosts over her covered pebbled nipple.

“You’re a tease, Harry,” she grips at his shoulders that are hunched to allow him to kiss on her. Her eyes having the perfect view of his curved neck and spine, the skin an expanse of clear perfect flesh, no tattoos in sight from this angle. The little curls at the nape of his neck trickling with spare droplets as he sucks on her own skin.

“Hmm…” his lips travel back up to the underside of her jaw causing her to tilt her head back and her stimulated chest to press into Harry’s. A chuckle passes against her skin as he feels her two points press into him.

Then, suddenly, he pulls back and grips at the back of her head to make her look at him. His eyes are deep and dark as the day starts to wear on, the sun beginning to set off in the distance.

“Maybe I need to demonstrate just what you’ll be missing out on?” He tilts his head at his suggestion and the glimmer in his eyes shows that he knows exactly what he has to say to get his friend - and soon to be lover - riled up.

Her chest heaves once, longing for the warm touch of Harry’s lips again. “What are you getting at?”

“Wanna make you feel so good you’re begging me to call my family up and tell them to not bother coming because we won’t be leaving your bed for the next few weeks.”

A breathless laugh leaves her, in disbelief, but also in wanton need. Her desire for him grew tenfold in the last ten minutes. His last sentence leaves her itching with longing. For his touch as he promised it.

“Give me the best you got then,” she challenges, her conviction never wavering despite her needy state.

That little sentence is what sets Harry’s eyes ablaze and has him gripping her waist and picking her up and setting her on the edge of the pool.

A quick press of his lips against hers and a “wait here” before he’s pulling himself from the water and shuffling to grab one of the towels he had laid out. She watches him curiously, confused why he had just promised to ravage her but was pausing to towel off.

He comes back with the towel and lays it behind her.

“Harry, what are -”

A finger presses to her swollen lips as his other hand goes to her shoulder and lays her back.

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

She nods, eyes wide and glassy as she stares up at him kneeling over her, his body between her bent knees. He leans down to press another kiss to her lips and then begins his decent.

“Gonna make you feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” he whispers.

Down her throat that he had happily been sucking on. His lips ghost over her still hard nipples and his hot breath has her arching off the ground immediately. A whine leaving her lips when he mouths between her two breasts in the valley just above the tie of suit. His fingers dance around on her skin, playing with her swimsuit fabric and she wants to scream at him to just untie it and really touch her, but she refrains. He continues his assault down her body. His hands grip at her knees when his lips travel below her navel. Her breaths have grown more strained as he’s gotten closer and closer to her heat. The cold wet fabric that covered her was a poor substitute to what she wanted to rub against her.

“Please,” she begs in a sigh as Harry’s lips skip where she wants him, instead traveling to her upper inner thigh.

He spreads her legs wider with his arms and her back arches further, her body just about fully on display for Harry. His eyes flicker up to her face that was staring right back down at him, watching his every move.

The cheeky bottoms left little to the imagination and the ties on the sides were so enticing Harry’s fingers smoothed up her thighs and began to toy with them. His face now hovering over her clothed center. His breath fanning the flames of her arousal just below the cherry fabric.

“See,” he smirks, eyes back on her face, “I haven’t even touched you yet, but you’re already begging.

“You’re an ass,” she grits out, trying to not be bothered by how easily he has gotten her in this position.

He clicks his tongue and tugs experimentally at one of the bottoms ties, “S’not a very nice thing to say to the man who’s about to stick his tongue in ya’?”

She gasps and slaps at his right shoulder at his crudeness. “You’re dirty!”

“And you’re wet,” he says confidently, smirking up from between her legs.

His fingers finally tug the ties undone and pull the fabric away from her center. The red bikini bottom falls limply to the ground and Harry’s eyes train on her glistening mound. Wet with the pool water as well as her arousal. To add to the cool air ghosting over her newly exposed skin, Harry blows his own breath over her. She writhes at the sensation, she bites at her lip to hold back any possible moans.

He glances at her face again and settles one arm to be wrapped around her leg and pressing down on her left hip. His other hand snakes between his face and her body and lightly drags between her folds. She bucks her body again, completely in need of some friction after all of the build up and teasing of today. Every nerve down there was electrified at the possibility of Harry finally touching her like this.

His finger pulls back and a string of arousal clings to him, a testament to the filthy thoughts she had about her neighbour. Thoughts she had pushed away for so long until recently. Thoughts she only indulged in in the dead of night, when she was exhausted but her mind insisted on wandering to the green sharp eyes that might stare at her if he ever were to delve into her depths. Her hands would travel to where he was now and rub out a triumphant shake of her thighs and heaving chest all in hopes that maybe he would bring her to that euphoria himself one day. Well that day was today.

He filthily takes that finger into his mouth and grins.  “So wet,” he corrects.

His eyes disappear from view as he launches into his work. His drying curls flop over his forehead and tickle at her lower stomach slightly. He flattens his tongue and licks a strong stripe between her folds. The wet from her weeping hole spreads to her lips and around her clit as his finishes the lick with a little swirl. He uses his free hand to spread apart her lips a little more and takes the new angle to suck on the little puffy nub that is already throbbing. She gasps audibly when he pulls off of it with a squelching sound.

“Fuck,” he sighs and goes back to eating her out, happily pressing his tongue into her.

His hand on her hip travels to grope at one of her breasts and he deftly pulls at the top’s tie and grips onto her skin underneath the fabric. The strong grip mixed with his expert work between her thighs has her moaning loudly and her body writhing as he builds her up.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he rasps, thumb on her nipple flicking happily back and forth. “Scream it out,” he says into her quivering center, “Nobody around to hear you, be as loud as you want.”

She moans louder at his words, her hands gripping harder into his hair. The thought of this scene turns her on even more. In all honesty, if someone did hear them she’d kind of like it. If someone walked in and saw her stretched out next to the pool with their wet bodies writhing against each other in pleasure. Harry’s head buried between her thighs making her feel better than she ever has, her breasts falling out of their top as he massages them harshly.

“Taste so sweet,” he groans, lapping at her tight hole, the muscle contracting against his tongue’s invasion.

She liked how messy he got with it, not that she really had much coherent thoughts in this moment. But his hot tongue swiping up and down and back and forth over her glistening lips and sucking on her clit left her breathless. Her juices and his saliva were making a mess of her thighs and the towel below her. When Harry felt her getting closer he’d back off and pay attention to another part of her and then go back to sucking and nipping perfectly into her.

She was eventually stuttering out, “I’m going to cum, Harry.” Breathing becoming uneven as she was about to tip over the edge. He nods, sucking harder at her clit one last time before taking his tongue and pushing it in and out of her hole, one of his thumbs traveling to rub over her clit in quick succession.  

“Cum for me, dove,” he mumbles quickly before going back to making her feel good.

She grips her own nipple now with one hand and Harry’s hair with the other, her hips pushing up into Harry’s face over and over again. And then she’s hitting her climax and tipping over the edge, a moan ripping from her throat and freezing on her face as Harry eats her out through it. His tongue licking over her quivering pussy. His thumb rubbing comforting circles around her clit until she stopped shaking. Her breathing slowing down, eyes fluttering open eventually. They lazily stare at the man below her who’s lips and chin are slick with her juices as he grins up at her.

“Do you want me to call my mum now or wait until you’re fully back on earth,” he says slyly and kisses the inside of her thigh once more. Eyes lovingly staying on her pleasured out face.

“Seriously talking about your mom while you’re still between my thighs,” she breathes out, completely in disbelief. Harry and her had never gone that far before and it was life changing. He had been right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, she wasn’t sure if she could go three weeks without that again.

He sits up and begins to gently pull back on her swim bottoms and tie them back up. She lays there watching him work.

“How about now?” He asks with a smirk, moving to sit beside her and help her sit up when her bottoms have been readjusted. The fabric against her newly sensitive area was definitely interesting, but she couldn’t care with Harry beside her. She ties off her top on her own, even though Harry gestured that he could do it.

“Shut up,” she laughs and takes a hand to caress at his cheek.

He nuzzles into her touch.

“You forget I’m staying in the cottage...separate from everyone else,” she winks at him.

“Think they’ll still be able to hear ya’ from in there, dove. You’re a loud one,” he bites the inside of his cheek as he teases her.

She huffs and drops her hand, “I was gonna return the favor, but now I don’t think so.”

It’s Harry’s turn to laugh and reach out to her face, he pulls her face close to his, bringing her eyes level with his. “I’m just teasing. Plus, you don’t need to return the favor, I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

A laugh bubbles from her lips at the thought of Harry wanting her as much as she wanted him and she pecks at his lips. She grimaces only a little, tasting herself on him still.

“We’ll just have to be sneaky,” she pulls back and rests her forehead against his.

“Yeah,” Harry breaths out. His breath hitches when he feels her hand begin to trail down his chest and fiddle with the hem of his shorts. Her eyes are trained on his, expressionless like she wasn’t beginning to palm his hardened length over his sticky swim shorts.

“I told you,” he musters, “You don’t have to.”

“But,” she rasps, finally. “I want to,” she licks her lips with determination, “Want to make you feel good, too.”

He hums as her soft fingers go back up to the hem of his shorts and he helps her pull them down as he gives a nod of approval to her watching eyes.

Her eyes widen when his length is finally revealed and its bright red tip stands tall and strong against Harry’s stomach, placing itself slightly just below one of the ferns. Harry watches her lick at her hand and then places it between his thighs, her body positioned right next to him. On her knees, she makes an experimental first pump, seeing how his body responded. Her eyes mainly watch his face and an open mouthed smirk twitches onto his face when he notices her gaze. She pumps him again, twisting her wrist this time and swiping at the precum leaking from his tip. A groan leaves Harry’s mouth at that and his stomach flexes, the skin beneath his many tattoos hardening.

“Feel good?” She inquires.

“Great,” he breathes out as she leans forward on her knees and attaches her mouth over his head.

She slowly moves her head down and attempts to fit his entire length into her mouth, but despite her best efforts, she can’t quite get her throat to open up for his entirety yet. After holding him there for a moment, his head scratching at the back of her throat, she pulls off. Heaving a sigh and continuing to work him with her hand, her now glassy eyes look at him. Saliva gathers at her mouth and Harry can’t help himself but reach one of his hands from behind him to her lips. He swipes at it and presses the wet to her lips which she sucks at eagerly, a whine hidden beneath the action.

When his hand pulls away she says, “You’re quite girthy.”

“Girthy?” He sputters, both at the funny comment but also that she’s said it while still jacking him off.

“Mhmm,” she nods seriously, “Couldn’t get you all in.”

“That’s alright,” he starts, but falters on a specifically masterful tug. She grins, knowing what she's doing to him. “You seem to excel, no matter the setbacks.”

“I’ll get it eventually,” she begins to speed up her strokes, “Just need a bit of practice.”

Then her lips are pressing back onto Harry’s prick. She sucks solely at his head and Harry moans out as he gets more sensitive. Then she slides down further and bops her head vigorously. She wants Harry to come undone for her just like she had for him. Make him feel like she had moments ago. And within a few more minutes of enthusiastic sucking and pumping of her hands, even some fondling of his balls which Harry had been extremely receptive to, she has him stuttering beneath her.

One hand gripping at her hair, while the other keeps him upright, Harry’s head is thrown back on his shoulders as he tries to keep his eyes open and trained on the girl taking him so well down her lovely little throat.

“I’m almost there, sweetheart,” he pants, his hips bucking up once as he begins to lose control.

This only spurs her forward, spit drooling down his cock every time she pulls back from his slightly. Her ass is high in the air now as she arches over his length, trying to get him to unload.

“Taking me so well,” Harry praises. “Fuck,” he exclaims at another squeeze of his balls.

She swirls her tongue around his runny head and then hollows her cheeks and sucks on him with everything she’s got. This has Harry cursing and repeating her name, his load spurting into her mouth as she stays still. His chest now covered in beads of sweat as he tries to catch his breath after tipping over the edge himself. His eyes are trained on her. She keeps her lips diligently around his cock, wanting to swallow everything he’s just expended. When he’s done, she pulls back and sits on her legs, swallowing quickly and staring at Harry as she does it.

His eyes bug at the sight. She was the hottest woman in the world and she’d just sucked him off so well that he’s pretty sure he saw stars. Then she made eye contact as she swallowed his cum with her pretty little bikini barely covering her anymore, as she seemed to shift slightly uncomfortable in her drying bottoms. God, he was fucked.

“Shit,” he says, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re an absolute angel.”

-

Harry’s family arrives the next day and the pair have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. She doesn’t know why they decide to start this little game where they pretend like they don’t want to jump each other’s bones each minute of the day. But as the days go by, they maintain to his family and chosen family that they are only neighbours who became friends. Anne gives a knowing look to Gemma every so often and Gemma’s boyfriend whispers in her ear sometimes, but for the most part they buy it.

No one notices that some nights Harry’s or Y/N’s beds are vacant sometimes. They don’t see him descend his spiral staircase at midnight or see her scamper next to the pool and slip into her cottage in the wee hours of the morning.

In the nights, it’s Harry’s soft lips pressed against her hot skin, panting praise and leaving little bite marks that can’t be seen with clothes on. Her lips mouth at his shoulder when fills her up and she exhales a breath that feels like she’s been waiting to let go for her entire life. They make each other feel good and they don’t talk about it but the secrecy of it makes it all the more enticing.

At least that’s what she thinks. Harry had been completely ready to tell his family about him and Y/N, at least that things were new between them, but when she introduced herself to his mum and Gemma she had said she was a friend. Harry had gulped, his adam’s apple bobbing hard, taking in the change of direction and agreeing with Y/N immediately. “Just a friend” he confirmed with a nod of his head and glance at her. She had smiled wide and given a hug to the other most important women in his life like she’d known them forever.

He didn’t understand why she wanted it this way, but his objections would be forgotten when night fell and she’d do the things he’d only dreamt of. Her breathy whimpers and pliant body would all but wipe his mind of any other thoughts but her and then he had no complaints, just a wish for the night to never end.

Y/N doesn’t even tell Cate when she calls her a week into the trip. It’s just something she wants to keep to herself and Harry. Their own private world.

It’s Christmas Eve when that bubble pops. The Champagne has been flowing for hours non stop - well only stopping when a different drink is in their hands, whether that be red or white wine or a mixed drink Harry has decided to concoct.

In the big Italian house, he’s free of prying eyes and he’s able to truly spend quality time with his loved ones. They have fancy dinners at private restaurants, go on gorgeous hikes, swim, and relax. They have a good time with playing holiday games, which they do most nights when they stay in.

Tonight’s the first night that Harry and Y/N haven’t ended up on the same team. He fears that most times he cheats it by swapping a paper or two, but tonight the alcohol has fizzed his brain and he forgot. This shouldn’t be a problem, not really. Except that everyone in the house has learned over the past week and a half that besides being perfectly matched in almost everything else, Harry and her are both equally and extremely competitive. Being on the same team has both advantages and avoids squabbles like the one the house has found themselves in at half past 11.

Harry’s arguing that his team got the last question before the buzzer went off, but she won’t back down. She is sure that Gemma had said the correct answer, but after the timer had run out. Everyone else was too sauced to care, but Harry and her were adamant and passionate about game play. As the argument heats up, Anne gives Gemma another one of those looks.

Y/N has stood up and crossed the short distance to Harry. She’s a breath away from him and he puffs up his chest, his eyes dark and serious as he’s ready to fight for this win all night.

“The time was out,” she says simply, but her eyes are beginning to glower.

“No. It was not.” He states back.

His eyes narrow at her as she stares right back at him.

“Was too.”

“Was not.”

They go back and forth, rapid fire as the alcohol in their veins flows straight to their mind and hearts.

“Children please!” Gemma exclaims,  finally growing tired of the bickering. “It’s Christmas. Harry show some spirit and let your guest have the final say.”

They think she’s done but then adds, “Or else she might never want to come back here.”

Harry exhales harshly through his nose as his gaze flickers to his older sister and listens to her scolding. Handing over the timer to Y/N, which had been what kept them from moving on, he turns on his heel and walks out of the room.

“Oh gosh,” Y/N says after a moment, her frazzled mind processing that Harry’s leaving has something to do with her. A hand goes to her lips for a moment, a ghost of his warm breath still there, but gone too soon.

“I’ll...I’ll be right back,” she confirms and exits the room, following Harry’s footsteps.

She finds him on his front porch step, his breath misting in the cold air, much like it would back in London when they’d walk the neighbourhood streets together.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” she says, placing a hand on his left shoulder to really get his attention.

He turns from looking out at the clear night sky, his nose and cheeks already pinkened from the night breeze. His eyes are still dark out here, but there’s no malice or anger behind them. His lips tilt up on one side for a forgiving half smile, but there’s also some pain mixed in there.

“You wouldn’t not come back, right?” He asks helplessly, his smile faltering.

She swallows, taken aback by the question, both unsure of where it came from but also how exactly her drunk brain was supposed to respond with the double negatives.

“I’d come back next Christmas and the Christmas after that, Harry,” she whispers, “If you wanted me to of course.”

“Of course I’d want you to. I want you, sweetheart. All the time.” His voice isn’t slurred, but it’s raspy, a slight dry mouth from all the alcohol consumed tonight.

“Okay,” she confirms, “Then I’ll come back.”

They stand on the porch silently for a few minutes, eyes on one another, but no movement towards anything. It’s not a profound moment for their hazy minds, despite the meaning behind their words. It’s not quite clicking for them, but maybe tomorrow when they wake up with massive headaches it will register.

“I really am sorry,” she repeats when she sees little goosebumps begin to prick at his skin.

He had forgotten a jacket. And while his drunk blanket makes him immune to the feelings, her brain still registers that she doesn’t want him to get sick.

“S’alright. For what it’s worth, I was being a little childish. So, m’sorry too.” He says sincerely, maybe a little slurring of words slipping in.

He reaches a hand out of his pocket to touch at her upper arm. She can feel his warmth from beneath her thin long sleeve. They smile at one another and turn to reenter the house, feeling the giggly tide of alcohol wash over them again. Euphoria on their mind rather than family game malice.

Just as they’re about to open the door to the house. The two of them at the precipice of a house, a place they often find themselves, Gemma swings it open face and with little care for its heaviness. She glances between her brother and his “friend”  and then up to the top of the door.

The top of the door? Why was she looking at the top of the door? Mistletoe.

“Mistletoe!” Gemma exclaims, pointing between the two of them. “You’re beneath the mistletoe, go on!”

Harry shakes his head in protest, falling onto the sword of friendship again. But then Y/N is grabbing at the back of Harry’s neck and pressing her lips to his. It’s a little sloppy, but Harry can’t help but enjoy the taste of her against him. They slot together like they usually do, but this time his sister is watching them, which is a little odd, but his muddled mind quickly forgets that fact. Her tongue is the deciding factor as it licks into his mouth and he licks back, pulling her closer by the waist. They get lost in the kiss and only pull apart when they hear a cough.

Gemma is now accompanied by the rest of the household watching them in disbelief. Everyone’s eyebrows are raised and even Rori is standing with the group, confused that the humans didn’t know they were doing this.

“Erm…” Harry has no idea what to say, shifting to face his family more fully.

Y/N blushes and shrinks into Harry’s chest, feeling like a teenager caught in the closet with her crush.

“That’s not how friend’s kiss one another,” someone murmurs.

There’s a few “I knew it”s mixed in as well with the rest of the chatter.

“Well…” She finally musters and throws a hand out to her side in a ta-da motion,

“Happy Christmas!”

-

After the revelation on Christmas Eve, everyone won’t stop teasing Harry and Y/N. The two laugh it off but something always nags at the back of their head. What they were to the other person. The status of this relationship. This friendship that had taken a turn to something else entirely.

It’s another Eve of a holiday when Harry finally musters up the courage to ask her directly. They learned from Christmas day that they couldn’t drink as much as they once did for multiple reasons. So on New Year’s Eve, they both choose to only consume a couple glasses of Champagne.

It starts with “Can we talk about us?” right after midnight. Right after Harry’s just started the New Year with her lips on his. She hears his question and takes it in, her stomach twisting with nerves and possibly excitement as well, and nods.

They slink off to his bedroom, but not for the activity everyone else was certain they were engaging in.

He sits them on the edge of the bed, both her hands clasped in one of his. He’s been quiet all day, she just realizes as he stays silent another moment longer.

“I love you,” he says in his dimly lit room.

Her jaw drops slightly, not quite expecting those three words yet.

“You don’t, don’t have to say anything yet. I just wanted you to know that,” he continues. “And that I want to be with you.”

“Harry,” she starts, breathless at his words.

“No,” he stops her again, “I felt something draw me to you the day you moved in across from me on Sherwood, like I was meant to know you or something.  Then I met you and you made me feel so comfortable, all I wanted to do was be with you and that month when you didn’t really talk to me...dove, those weeks were wretched. But when I came back, it was like nothing happened and I was so happy because I couldn’t fathom life going back to the way it was before you. When we kissed, I felt overjoyed, I was so happy that you liked me like that because every time you called me friend...felt like a knife in me. I don’t want to be just your friend,” he pauses to say her name again, “I don’t want to be just your lover, I want to be your boyfriend or whatever they call it now - If you’ll have me.”

He takes a deep breath and blinks away the little well up of water that had grown in his eyes. He had forgotten to blink for a moment he realized.

His stare had been intense as he’d confessed all of his feelings to her, but she didn’t feel intimidated, his gaze had warmed her with its sincerity. It had strengthened his confession.

She sighed, her own eyes not as strong as his, unable to hold his gaze as she herself said her own confession.

His hand rests between them on the bed, steadying himself upright with it. She places her own hand over it and their fingers slightly intertwine. She feels him begin to fiddle with her fingers like usual. Like normal.

“Thank you,” she starts, “Of course I’ll have you. All the time, Harry.”  She repeats his words from Christmas Eve back to him.

He starts to interject, the rambling thing, but she tugs at his pointer finger and he takes it as a sign to be quiet.

“I want to be your partner, too. I want it all with you, lover,” she gazes at him now, his free hand reaching up to caress her cheek in that moment. “Want it all,” she repeats in a whisper before he’s kissing her again.

Kissing her and kissing her. Over and over again. Because she was his. And he was hers. And it was a happy beginning. A happy new year and a happy new beginning of a relationship that was bound in friendship, born out of proximity, and nurtured by two kindred souls.

And it all started with her parents making her take her dog. Harry really needed to thank that dog for being the best wing man to ever run around on four legs.

-

Who knows who that new client of Y/N’s might be...

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles series #I live in the neighbourhood #part 3 #neighbor!harry #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles story #idk what else to tag #pls leave feedback #lmk what you think #not proofread #lol

[doc-pickles]

right where you left me

It’s finally heeeere! One of the reasons I waited so long to post this fic was because my brain wasn’t working but also this accidentally went from a one shot to 8k words... Oops. Since this got so big I’m going to post it in two parts. Here is part one, so I hope y’all enjoy! (and don’t say i never did anything for y’all)

TW// Blood and Miscarriage Mention 

Jo had just left Val’s room, her situation not improving and looking like it might get worse. The news had brought her to tears, her body desperately racking with sobs as she stood outside the hospital. She knew she probably looked crazy, she felt crazy, but the day had been too much for her. 

The thing that terrified Jo about Val’s situation was that she could place herself there in an instant. Val was pregnant and scared and alone and because of that Luna might not have her mother around. Her mind drifted to the little life growing inside of her, hand flitting down the swell of her stomach as she sat on a bench and gasped for air. What if she died and her child didn’t have anyone? What if she was fighting for her life and her baby was in an incubator alone and scared? 

Logically she knew that wouldn’t happen, her friends and coworkers would make sure her baby was taken care of. And Alex… well she still needed to tell him, but she knew he’d step up and take care of their child despite what had happened between them. 

That particular thought brought another round of tears to Jo’s eyes, her heart aching at the fact that she had to call Alex and tell him that they were having a baby instead of coming up with some stupid cheesy way to tell him when he came home from work. They’d been trying, maybe not with any conscious effort but she’d gone off her birth control after coming back from treatment and he hadn’t restocked on condoms and well… If there was anything Alex and Jo were good at it was finding time to have sex. They’d even managed to find time for a quick round in the shower the morning he left.She missed him, after all the shit he’d put her through she missed him so much. She chalked it up to her hormones, but Jo would give a lot to see Alex again. 

“I’m so sorry to intrude, but are you okay? I know we’re supposed to keep our distance but you look like you could use a hug.”

Jo looked to the woman who now stood in front of her. She was bundled up in a dark pea coat and a grey woolen cap that covered her whole head except a few blonde curls that managed to sneak out. She couldn’t make out any discernible features through the woman’s pink striped face mask, but her dark brown eyes looked friendly enough. 

“I’m just having… a really shitty year,” Jo threw her hands out in exasperation, another sob coming up as the woman sat next to her on the wooden bench. “I have this patient and she’s basically dying and she has this… this beautiful little daughter in the NICU and her baby has no one else and it’s just… What if my baby ends up like that? I mean my husband already up and left me to move halfway across the country, wouldn’t me dying from COVID or something just as horrible really be the cherry on top of this disastrous year?”

The woman places a hand on Jo’s shoulder, the small amount of human interaction soothing her soul as the stranger begins to speak, “You have a good heart, I can tell. Who else would be this concerned about someone else’s baby?”

A chuckle escapes Jo as she thinks in her head that her newfound empathy is a direct result of her pregnancy hormones, “Not me usually, but impending motherhood and the prospect of being alone for the rest of my life has turned me into a softie.”

“I get it, when I saw my kids for the first time my whole life changed. My heart just…,” the woman paused, then let out a laugh. “You know in the Grinch? When his heart grows three sizes? That’s what holding my babies for the first time felt like.”

Jo settles a hand onto her slightly rounded stomach, wondering if that’s the reason Alex hadn’t come home. If he’d been so overwhelmed with love for his kids that he just couldn’t leave. She’d never considered the possibility, but now that she did her own heart cracked a bit at the thought. 

 “I just… I never thought I’d be going through this alone. My husband, he’s so good with kids and he’d wanted them for so long and I was finally ready,” Jo wiped at her eyes as she stared up at the sky, willing her tears to stop just for a moment. “And then he left because he found out he already has kids with his ex. So of course that’s when I would get pregnant, right? Right when things were about to change and we were going to get everything we wanted, he left.”

There was a pause that let Jo collect herself, blinking back her tears before she really had a meltdown in front of this complete stranger. She brushed her coat off, standing and facing the woman on the bench who was staring curiously at Jo. 

“Thank you, for letting me vent. I really needed it,” Jo sighed, running a hand through her unruly hair as she straightened her face mask. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a NICU baby to go and check on.”

Jo walked back into the hospital feeling lighter than she had in weeks, the kindness of the stranger she’d met lifting her spirits as she journeyed upstairs. She would be okay, her baby would be fine, and Luna’s situation would resolve itself no matter Val’s outcome.

_

“Alex!” Standing outside Meredith’s hospital room, Alex turned at the sound of Izzie’s voice. He was grateful she’d offered to come with him to Seattle for emotional support, but he was so lost in his thoughts that he’d barely registered her presence. 

“Hey Iz, I just checked on her. They won’t let me in, but she’s doing good,” Alex let a chuckle out as he looked to Meredith’s sleeping form. “She was shocked to see me but the grin she got on her face… It was priceless.” “I think you should stay in Seattle.”

There’s a momentary silence as Alex tries to absorb what Izzie’s said to him. Why the hell would he come back here when his kids were in Kansas? Sure he loved Meredith and her kids… and Jo too, he loved her more than anything. But none of that mattered anymore, his kids were his first priority and he wouldn’t let them down. 

“I just think… maybe you should consider it,” Izzie kept speaking before he could even get a word in, her tone making him listen intently. “I love that you’re there for Eli and Alexis, but they’ll be fine only seeing you on holidays and during the summer. I just think you’re needed here, by more people than just Meredith.”

“Iz I-”

“Go up to the NICU, just trust me,” Izzie looks at him, eyes shining with unshed tears as they meet his. He notices that she doesn’t look sad, she looks relieved, happy almost as she speaks to him. “Go to the NICU and if your answer is still the same when you come back then fine. But just… I think it’s important for you to go and see what you’re missing.” 

Izzie doesn’t say anything else, settling into a visitor’s chair in the hallway and bringing out the scarf she’d been working on since they’d left Kansas. Alex knows better than to ask questions when she’s this adamant about things, instead letting his feet carry him on the all too familiar path towards the NICU. He missed it if he were honest, being chief of a huge hospital didn’t give him much time to go up and stare at the babies in their plastic incubators anymore. But the room had always been soothing to him, it’s where he’d realized that he wanted to be a Peds surgeon and for that he’d always be grateful. 

When he approaches the room he sees exactly what Izzie had been steering him towards. She’s walking out of the NICU, stripping out of the cumbersome PPE she’d had to wear inside and back down to her scrubs. Her hair tumbles out of the messy bun it’d been in but she seems unaffected as she smoothes down the creases in her navy colored scrubs. 

That’s when he notices it, the slight swell of her stomach straining against the dark fabric as she reaches up to adjust her face mask. His breathing hitches as his eyes stay glued to her abdomen. After looking at her for almost every day of the past eight years, Alex considered himself an expert on Jo’s body and he knew that the small bump was not there the last time he saw her. 

When she turns towards him finally she freezes, eyes wide as they stand across from one another. Their eyes meet for the first time in months and all Alex wants to do is surge forward and bring Jo into a tight hug. He knows he can’t, she would probably punch him in the face if he got within 3 feet of her, but he can dream, right? She’s blinking at him in confusion as if his presence genuinely doesn’t compute in her brain. 

“Alex.”

-

She’s not sure if she’s hallucinating the sight of her ex husband in front of her, but he’s standing there in that stupid black jacket looking at her as if it were for the first time. Her heart is racing, telling her to run to him and hug him tight and not let go. Her brain talks her out of it, instead carrying her forward to stand a few feet in front of him. Jo doesn’t know where her courage comes from, but she hears herself speak first. 

“What’re you doing here?”

Her tone isn’t angry or upset like she’d thought it would be, instead carrying a neutral tone to it as she takes in Alex. His eyes are scanning over her too and she knows that he’s going to catch on to the fact that something is different about her. He knew her well enough, it wouldn’t take him long. 

“I’m Mer’s healthcare proxy still, I’m gonna hang around until she’s out of the woods,” Alex’s eyes finally come up to meet her again, his fingers reaching out to grab at her hand. “Can we… Can we talk?”

Her heart wins out that time, fingers lacing with Alex’s as she nods and lets him lead her down the hallway. Jo doesn’t know what she’s going to say, doesn’t know what Alex is going to say, but the feeling of his hand pressed against hers is a relief she can’t quite explain. 

When they enter the empty on call room, Jo sits herself on one of the beds, her eyes watching her feet as she rips her face mask away. The cool air of the room gives her lungs a needed reprieve as she focuses on anything except Alex. 

“How far along are you?”

Her heart stops then, eyes darting up to Alex in panic. He’d already figured it out, already realized that she was pregnant before she even had a chance to say anything to him. Fear builds up inside her as she desperately hopes that he doesn’t think she’s been hiding from him on purpose. 

“12 weeks… I haven’t known for that long, I was avoiding it for awhile,” her fingers nervously tangle together as she wills back another round of tears. She’s not going to cry in front of him, she’s stronger than that. “I swear I was going to tell you, I just-”

“I’m not mad, take a breath Jo,” Alex was kneeling in front of her, placing his hands over her own shaking ones as he looked her over. She couldn’t meet his eyes, her own letting hot tears stream down her face no matter how hard she tried to stop them. “Hey don’t cry, I’m not mad. It’s okay, there’s no reason to cry.”

“There is though! There is because you left! You left without a second thought. You didn’t even call, couldn’t even look me in the eye and tell me,” Jo looks up then, meeting his eyes that are now displaying a sad expression. “You left Alex. Nothing changes that, not a baby or a pandemic or anything else. You left me.”

He sighs then, his head hanging low as he takes a deep breath. The all too familiar instinct in Jo wants to hold him close and run her fingers through his hair, but she keeps reminding herself that he’s the one that got them there, not her, “I know I left and I’ve regretted it every day since. I wish I could take it back and talk with you and-”

“You can’t though! You can’t take back what you did, you can’t take back leaving me for Izzie,” Jo pulls her hands out of his grasp then, running them delicately through her hair as she tries to get a grip on her emotions. “You can’t just waltz back in here and pretend a simple apology is going to fix everything because it’s not.”

There’s a thick silence then, the only sounds between the two are their heavy breathing. Jo’s mind is racing and Alex… well Jo is sure that if he didn’t feel guilty before that he definitely does now. She lets her eyes close for a moment, ignoring the tense air and the presence of her ex husband so that she can collect her thoughts. 

“I wanna be there, for you and the baby, you know,” Alex’s voice is soft and laced with trepidation as if he might say the wrong thing. “I’m… Izzie is gonna send the kids for summers so I can come back here. And I’m never gonna stop apologizing for-”

“Fine, you can help with the baby but that’s it. I can’t… I can’t do this again. I can’t trust you anymore,” she knows the words are cruel, but they’re true. The moment she opened the letter he’d written Jo had lost all trust in Alex. “You can be there for the baby, I won’t keep you away, but I don’t need you anymore. I can’t need you anymore.”

She stands and leaves then, knowing if she stays any longer she’ll say something she regrets. She’s full of anger and hurt, but more than anything she wishes she could turn around and fold herself into Alex’s arms for hours on end.

+

There’s something wrong.

As soon as she wakes up in the middle of the night, Jo knows something is wrong. She sits up and turns on the side lamp, not feeling any different but knowing deep down that something had changed. She almost rolled over and went back to sleep, but her fingers brushed against something cool on her sheets. When she looks down at her hand, her heart stops. 

Blood. 

Her fingers were bright red as she looked down at them, heart hammering loudly in her ears as she tried to make sense of what was happening. She’d been fine when she went to bed just a few hours earlier and now her sheets were covered in blood. 

“No no no, please no,” Jo’s voice was barely audible as she reached one hand out towards her phone, blindly dialing the number she knew by heart. “Please god no.”

“Jo? It’s two in the morning.”

“I know but I-”

Her voice cracks then, not able to make out any other words as she stares at the pool of blood on her white sheets. She could hear him clattering around on the other end, the sound of keys jangling and his front door opening and closing. 

“I’m coming, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

Really he's there in 10, sliding the door to the loft open and finding Jo sitting up in the same spot she had been when she’d called. As soon as she sees him across the darkened loft she really cracks, a loud sob breaking through her as Alex rushes to her side, his eyes immediately taking in the blood stained sheets. His arms are around her in seconds, pulling her into his chest as heavy sobs wracked her body. 

“Hey, deep breaths it’s okay,” Alex’s fingers are under her chin, tilting her head up and meeting her eyes. She’s terrified, her heart beating out of time, but Alex’s calm demeanor slows her breathing down and gets her to focus on him. “Go rinse off and then I’ll take you in. Okay?” 

Jo nods, trusting Alex’s words as she walks silently to the bathroom and strips out of her clothes. She climbs into the shower, letting the hot water calm her only slightly as her fingers float down to her swollen belly. At 15 weeks she’d thought she’d left her worries behind in the first trimester, but the cold reality of the real world had decided to slap her across the face tonight. As she stands under the warm spray she prays to any god that might be out there to keep the baby resting in her womb safe where they are. 

“You okay? Jo?”

Alex’s voice sounding outside the bathroom door snaps Jo out of her thoughts, her burning skin telling her she’d been in there for longer than she’d thought. She responds quickly, letting Alex know she was still alive before shutting the water off and grabbing a towel to wrap around herself. Jo realizes that she hadn’t even noticed him putting a pair of sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts in the bathroom for her. She quickly pulled the clothing on, exiting the bathroom to find Alex gathering up her bedsheets and throwing them into the laundry hamper. 

“Hey,” Alex’s tone is laced with concern and care as he steps towards her. She’s barely talked to him in the few weeks he’d been back in Seattle, but Jo can’t resist folding herself into the comfort of his arms as hot tears begin to stream down her face. “Hey it’s okay, everything is gonna be okay.”

Jo hadn’t changed her mind on what she’d told Alex when he’d found out about the baby, but as she faced the possibility that they might lose their child all she wanted was his comfort. His arms settled around her waist, one hand curling towards her stomach to let his fingers brush across the bump there. 

“Let me take you in, we’ll get you checked out and everything will be okay,” Alex’s voice is muffled as he presses his lips into her hair. Jo blindly nods, not moving from her place against Alex’s chest. “You’re gonna be okay, you’re not bleeding anymore right?”

Jo shakes her head in answer, her body curling closer to Alex’s as she thought about going in and being told her baby hadn’t made it. 

“That’s a good thing. Come on,” when Jo still makes no move to leave his embrace, Alex leans back and looks down at her, eyes scanning her face somberly. “I’ll stay with you the whole time, okay?”

Jo lets Alex lead her out of the loft and down to his car that’s parked haphazardly in the lot. The drive seems to take twice as long as usual, Jo’s hand never leaving Alex’s grip as she watches the scenery of Seattle pass by in a blur. Her free hand subconsciously wraps around her belly, hoping for the flutters she’d felt the past few days to return. 

Before she can comprehend what’s happening around her, Jo is sitting in an exam room waiting for the OB on call to see her. She doesn’t remember walking out of the car or coming into the hospital, she doesn’t remember changing into the sterile smelling hospital gown or answering whatever intake questions were asked of her. She figures Alex had taken care of that, his hand still clasped in hers as he sits in the chair next to the exam bed. 

“I’m still here, I’m not leaving,” Alex’s voice soothes her nerves, as if he can hear the exact thoughts running through her head at the moment. “I’m not leaving Jo.”

And he doesn’t. The OB comes in and performs a quick physical exam before she powers on the ultrasound machine. Jo lays back, eyes closed in a combination of fear and anxiety as she feels the probe slide around her abdomen. She doesn’t want to see the woman’s face when she tells her that her baby isn’t alive anymore. 

And then, there’s a booming sound that echoes through the room. Jo’s eyes flash open and look towards the screen, the black and white image of her uterus showing a baby that won’t stop moving around. The heartbeat booms again and it takes everything in her not to break down and cry tears of joy. 

“I told you it would be okay,” Alex’s voice is soft and filled with emotion as he squeezes her hand, his lips involuntarily pressing against her forehead. “See, they're fine. You’re both fine.”

The OB spouts off something or another but all Jo hears is that she and the baby are okay. She needs to stay off her feet for a few days but she’ll be fine. Her heart returns to normal as the woman leaves the room, hands coming up to cover her face as a fresh round of tears begin to float down her cheeks. 

“Come here, you’re okay,” Alex envelops her in his arms once more, Jo pressing herself tightly against him as she let her tears flow. They weren’t sad or scared anymore, the tears she was crying now were ones of relief and joy. “Get dressed and I'll take you home okay? I’m gonna go get you discharged.”

Quickly changing back into her clothes, Jo sat on the edge of the exam table reflecting on her night so far. The terrified feeling she’d had when she saw her blood stained sheets hadn’t gone away unless Alex was holding her in his arms, his soothing words and physical presence doing more to put her mind at ease than any of her years of experience as a doctor. Her fingers moved to her stomach as she felt a light flutter, her baby making sure she knew she wasn’t alone. 

“You ready? You’re all set to get out of here and crawl back in bed,” as soon as he had stepped back into the room, Alex laced his fingers with Jo’s and squeezed her hand reassuringly. 

“I don’t want to go home,” Jo shook her head, eyes moving to Alex’s as she took a deep breath. “I don’t want to go back to sleep in my bed. Please.”

“Okay, I won’t take you home,” Alex pulled Jo up and into his chest, one arm wrapping around her shoulders as they walked out of the ER. 

The constant comfort of Alex’s skin against hers is the only thing that keeps Jo stable as he drives away from the hospital. One hand is on the steering wheel but the other is still grasping tightly to Jo’s hand. She thinks he knows how calming his presence is, how at ease he makes her feel when everything around her is uncertain. He’d never say anything but she knew that he could read her thoughts so clearly. 

They pull up outside of an apartment complex just a few blocks from the loft. Jo realizes then that she’s never been to Alex’s apartment, she’s never had a reason to before now. She lets him lead her inside and upstairs, opening the front door of the small one bedroom apartment. There’s still boxes around the living room, some she’d even packed herself in her haste to get rid of anything that reminded her of Alex. 

His hand is on her back as she walks into his bedroom, an empty shell of a room besides the bed frame, bedside table and dresser. Jo takes in the two pictures on the nightstand, the first is of Alex sandwiched between two young children that she knows to be his kids, all three wearing matching crooked smiles. The second is an all too familiar picture frame wrapped up with a red bow. She knows if she looks on the back of it that she’ll see her own handwriting penned in gold ink, but she doesn’t dare to do this now. Instead she settles herself on the edge of the bed, watching silently as Alex kicks his shoes off into the corner of the room before gently removing her own slippers and placing them next to his. 

“You can take my bed, I’ll sleep on the couch,” Alex’s voice snapped Jo out of her daze, her fingers reaching back out to him as he moved away from her. She doesn’t say anything as she wraps herself in his covers, staring up at him silently and waiting for him to join her.

When he finally does climb into bed Jo waits a moment before curling her body around his, her fingers clutching his shirt tightly. It’s not until Alex’s fingers brush across her stomach that she breaks down, letting her sobs fill the air as he holds her close. She’s relieved, of course she is, but she doesn’t think she’s let her emotions properly air out. So she cries and she lets herself be vulnerable in Alex’s arms and for just a few hours, everything seems like it’s going to be okay.

#jolex #alex karev #jo karev #jo wilson #greys anatomy #jo x alex #jolex fanfic #jolex fic #nina writes #fix it fic

[atinybitofau]

Y E O S A N G ⇛ office au

THE ONE WHERE YOU WANT TO KILL YOUR SUGARY SWEET BOSS

disclaimer: may contain mature content

• you were gonna kill him

• cause he can’t be..

• it’s impossible to look that good and not be an egotist.

• come on!

• there’s gotta be a flaw, you thought.

• Yeosang was everything BUT a flaw.

• in fact, you’re convinced he’s not even human

• you refuse to believe yourself too.

• because there was absolutely no way in hell you were secretly crushing on your boss.

• you barely knew him?

• right?

• WRONG.

• “y/n, can you get my reports ready?”

• “y/n, can you run to the break room and get us some hot tea?”

• “y/n, my little hardworking butterfly, how is the monthly budget looking?”

• you about had it up to here with his antics.

• he’s buttering you up.

• you just know it.

• but maybe you just hated him because after 5 years of working for him, he never returned the actual feelings.

• pure business between the both of you.

• “y/n, can you—“

• “No!” Your head was spinning and your hands were up at your ears. “No, Yeosang you get it!”

• ...

• oh shit.

• you weren’t in your little thought bubble anymore.

• he audibly coughs behind you and you whip around in complete horror.

• you offer him the best apology you can manage, “S-sir, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just stressed out from all the work and all the stuff that I just—“

• he knew you were lying.

• but that son of a b bitch had to be a sweet about it.

• “Snapped?”

• he chuckles coming to you with his hands dangerously rubbing at your shoulders.

• you refrain from your eyes rolling back in the pleasure of it hoping the heat from underneath you not getting picked up by his devil senses.

• because YES you had a hand kink only for the man himself.

• “If this is your subtle way of requesting a vacation, y/n, you know I would give you one.”

• you shrug his hands away ignoring the churn in your stomach. “N-no sir. I don’t need—“

• “An unpaid vacation. You need a paid one, of course.”

• he was pressing your buttons.

• good and bad.

• “Am I going to get fired?”

• “Of course not, y/n. I could never fire the most important asset of my team.”

• you’re scruntled at home.

• GOD you miss looking at his face.

• hearing his voice everyday telling you to do everything he asks.

• giving into the devil everyday of your life is starting to send you to the pits of hell.

• it sucked more that you were basically in love with the guy.

• “IM COMING SHUT UP!”

• you grumble empty curses as you open the door after the 5 attempts to ring your doorbell.

• you fall into immediate regret when your boss is standing wide eyed with a bag of food in his hands.

• “S-sir?”

• “Was I interrupting?”

• you done fucked up this time, y/n.

• “No. I was just...”

• mentally cursing the shit out of you.

• “Busy?”

• “N-no! Come in.”

• now the devil was in your lair.

• you don’t know how you feel about it

• but your heart sure did.

• “I just came to show you the reports. Thought you’d want to look into those before you go back.”

• you want to strangle him.

• stop being so nice to me you prick, you want to tell him.

• “That’s very kind of you sir.” what else were you gonna say?

• get out of my house?

• he smiles before looking around your place weirdly close to you.

• you don’t notice how close he got.

• probably because you were still in the clouds by his abrupt visitation.

• “Nice place.”

• his tone changed.

• you don’t know though. “S’all my paycheck can afford.”

• “You know, y/n. You’ve been awfully verbal about your problems as of late. And I can’t help but feel they’re directed towards me.”

• he’s caging you. moving so he has you perfectly against the wall.

• you were waiting for him to finally break.

• but you didn’t think it’d be like this.

• “N-no. They would never, sir.”

• “Oh?” he taunts cocking his head to the side. “But they are, y/n. I can tell. You don’t need to lie to me.”

• his eyes are hooded and your neck cranes when his lowers.

• you kind of pick it up now that kang yeosang wasn’t just here to be nice.

• he’s so fucking hot—

• you’re on the verge of asking him to take you on your kitchen counter.

• “Sir. I really don’t think you should be um... this skeptical.”

• “I can relieve your problems, my lovely assistant.” He whispers hotly making you swoon. “You just have to tell me what they are. What I can do to release that stress you have pent up in your little body.”

• you want to answer the truth.

• but the sound of, ‘bend me over sir and fuck me till I can’t walk for days’ wasn’t exactly the best thing to ask of your boss.

• “You know, y/n.” His fingers lightly crawl up your skin and you shiver under his touch. “The vacation I gave you wasn’t intended for your pleasure.”

• “Is that so?”

• your breathless when his lips brush yours.

• “It was intended for mine.”

• you let out a sultry moan and he’s over the hills at that.

• “And since you don’t seem to know your stresses all that well. Let’s start by tackling my own. You think we can do that?”

• he shoved you against the wall lips kneading yours like a stress ball.

• you’re absolutely strung and you feel more obedient than ever.

• YES.

• you feel victorious in every way possible.

• you made him break.

• but why does it feel half his win more yours?

• “Fucking hell.” He grunts against your lips when he shoves you again. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that. To kiss you to make you shut the fuck up. When you complain to your coworkers about me. Think I can’t fucking hear you when you’ve had it up to here with me.”

* your eyes voluntarily roll back into your skull and you find euphoria.

• “Do you know many times I wanted to hear you say you want me. Living like hell with and without you. You’re driving me crazy y/n.”

• you breath slowly and you break to say something.

• “Always liked you, sir. Always wanted you sir.”

• it was definitely not a good time to hit him with a home run but—

• being a successful CEO and all, he was prepared for anything.

• “Been wanting you too. Wanting you to tell me how you felt for years. Wanting to fuck you over my desk everytime you strut your little ass in and out of my office, you damned brat.”

• “Sir—“

• “Yeosang.” He smirks against your lips before he’s hoisting you up around his waist. “Is what you’re going to call me when you’re begging me to cum walls tight around my dick.”

• “Yeosang.”

• it’s more a moan than anything but,

• the name slips off your tongue like that’s what you should’ve been calling him since day one.

• day one of being the guy you end up with.

• even after you have to quit being his assistant cause he can’t seem to get his hands off you in the office.

@atinybitofau

#yeosang #kang yeosang #ateez yeosang #ateez x reader #ateez #ateez au #ateez preferences #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #yeosang imagines #yeosang scenarios #office au #ceo yeosang

[writersplanetarium]

Facade: New Beginnings

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 11 Part 12

Aelin and Rowan: The Burning Hatred Between Them

Aelin sighed as she spotted another article about her and Rowan. It’d been a few months since she’d gone and spilled the beans, and the news sites were still talking about it. She and Rowan had since developed a... friendship of sorts. After they’d confessed to each other what they hadn’t dared tell anyone else, they found themselves in a sort of in between place with each other, not sure whether they were going to settle for being friendly coworkers, aquaintences, or close friends. Aelin was trying for friendship, and he wasn’t pushing back, which was a good sign.

Now that they were actually getting along, the articles were pointless, but Aelin knew if she went out now and said they’d made up, it’d seem like a publicity stunt. Oh, who was she kidding, she knew no matter when she did it, it’d seem like a publicity stunt. It had worked in their favor though. They were still the hot topic, especially since everyone was loving the new season of the show and their character’s budding romance.

She had even missed him a little when he went home to spend the holidays with his family. However, with Rowan gone, Aelin could have a party at her house, so she had everyone over for the holidays and not risk upsetting the delicate balance of their relationship. It was a nice, family-friendly party filled with all her favorite people. And yet somehow she found herself looking out the window and sighing at the empty house next door.

She tried not to let her mind linger on the man. Tried not to think of how he’d started waving at her when she’d drink her coffee on her porch before his morning run. Tried not to think about how she’d catch him taking the garbage out at ungodly hours of the morning rather than the night before like a normal person. Or how he’d always get his mail after he’d been working out, so he was sweaty and shirtless. She definitely wasn’t letting herself think about any of that.

But now Rowan was back, the holidays were over, and they’d gotten their new scripts. He’d come right over once he’d put his stuff away and eaten dinner for the reading. And despite their new friendship of sorts, Rowan scrunched up his nose at the first scene, and Aelin finally set her phone aside, putting the articles out of her mind.

“Really?” He asked, “A sex scene right off the bat?”

“We’re supposed to be in love, Rowan, what did you expect?” She laughed, “They’re giving the people what they want.”

“But why does it have to be sex? There are more ways to show affection, to show they’ve grown closer.”

“Yes, but this is the most fanservicey,” Aelin said. She prodded his leg with her foot. “Don’t worry, though, I’ll be gentle with you. I only bite a little.” He rolled his eyes but seemed to be fighting a smile.

“Let’s just get on with it. Your line’s first,” he said.

“You mean the various sounds of pleasure?” She teased. He gave her a flat look. “Okay. Okay. Let’s see.” She flipped open the script. In the middle of their intense moment together, a loud knock on the door startles them both. Charlotte speaks, breathlessly. ”Who is it?” Aelin called.

“It’s Henry,” Rowan said, reading Fenrys’ part. Charlotte and Daemion give each other a panicked look as they see the time and notice they’re late.

“Just a minute!” Aelin said with a bit of franticness in her voice. They both jump out of bed, Charlotte clutching the sheets around her, and Daemion grabbing his underwear from just beside the bed, the both of them racing around the room to get dressed. “Dae, where’d you throw my underwear?”

“I didn’t throw them anywhere,” Rowan replied, “You did. Check by the dresser.” Charlotte continues to look, not checking by the dresser.

“Seriously Dae, I need-” She turns, finding Daemion half-dressed, holding her underwear up by a finger.

“I told you to check by the dresser,” he said.

“Whatever,” she laughed. Charlotte quickly dresses and pulls her messy hair back before turning back to Daemion, who’s dressed as well. She steps closer to him, lacing their fingers, pulling him down to her. “I’ll catch you later.” She kisses him intensely, and when they pull apart, neither seems to want to let go. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he replies.

“I love you most,” she says. They part fully and Charlotte grabs her bag and puts it on. She makes her way to the door where Henry is waiting. “I do expect you to finish what you started.”

“Always,” he says. He presses a quick kiss to her neck before letting her slip out of the room to meet with Henry. We see him give a fond look at the door, thinking about the girl who just slipped out of it.

“Aw, that’s cute,” Aelin comments. Rowan makes a small sound of half agreement, clearly just wanting to keep working.

So they did. They went through the rest of the script, reading through their lines. It was... odd, now, though. It was easier to read scripts and act with him when she hated his guts, but now... Now it had a different energy to it. Now... it was more tender. Awkward. They were practically friends now, and she had to pretend to be in love with him. To want him. Though if Rowan picked up on the feeling, or felt anything was off himself, he didn’t mention it.

So Aelin brushed it off.

“You want something to drink?” She asked as they finished off the episode.

“Sure,” he said, reclining into her couch, “What have you got?”

“Water, wine, apple juice, and milk.”

“Water’s fine,” he said. She nodded, grabbing him a cup of water and pouring herself a glass of wine.

When she returned to her living room, she caught sight of Lysandra in her kitchen window, grinning like a lion that just caught a gazelle. Rowan was flipping through his phone, so he didn’t notice her staring, but Aelin most certainly did. She saw her best friend lift her phone, and Aelin knew she was texting her.

“Thanks,” Rowan said, his eyes still on his phone as she set the cup down. Aelin’s phone buzzed, and she scowled at Lysandra but picked it up anyway.

It looks like a certain SOMEONE is getting quite comfortable on your couch

He came over to run lines, Lys. Trust me he’s not getting too comfy.

Well he didn’t just run out as soon as you were done. That’s a good sign

It’s weird being nice, and then having to pretend we’re in love. 

You two have a new dynamic now. You just have to adapt your acting to suit it. Which you’ll get the hang of in no time. I mean if you can pretend to be in love with him when you hate him, you can do it when you like him. You’re both professionals, so if you’re worried about him thinking you LIKE like him, remember he knows you’re acting.

Aelin rolled her eyes.

I can see you rolling your eyes, you know.

Aelin laughed lightly.

I’m not worried about anything. It’s just... different. 

Embrace the change, Ace, embrace the change.

Aelin looked up at Lysandra through the window and her friend winked before heading deeper into her house where Aelin could no longer see her.

“You want to watch something?” Aelin asked, taking a long sip of her wine.

“Do you have anything good?” He asked.

“By your standards? No,” Aelin said, “But even grouchy old men like you need to enjoy a movie so bad it’s good every once in a while.”

“I’m barely older than you,” he said with a flat look.

“Old. Man,” she said again with a grin, poking him in the arm with her foot just enough to nudge him. He rolled his eyes.

“We’re going to watch an awful movie,” Aelin said, “And you’re going to love it.”

“Are we to the point yet that you can force me to watch bad movies?” He asked. She picked up the remote.

“Just got there, Buzzard.”

********

Rowan glanced at Aelin as she watched the movie with mirth in her eyes. It was awful. Cheesy times ten with the most Rom Com dialogue he’d ever heard. It reminded him of his first movie, an awful thing that filled him with regret every time he thought about it. But... he liked watching it with Aelin. Despite the fact that he’d never admit it out loud, she was actually pretty funny, and her commentary amused him to no end.

“Yes, of course I’ll go on a week long vacation with you, man I’ve only known for three days.”

“Yes, definitely walk up and stand that close to me while I’m not looking.”

“Of course I’ll marry you after not even knowing you three weeks! We’re soulmates.”

It actually made him smile. It was a nice shift from the awkward tension earlier while they read their lines. It hadn’t gone badly, but it sure as hell just felt... different. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but where things used to be all spark and anger fueling them to try and be better, they were just... there with each other. Somehow, the comfort brought discomfort that the movie helped to reduce.

“You enjoyed that,” Aelin said, moving closer to him.

“I did not,” he lied.

“You did too!” She laughed, “You liked that! You thought it was fun. Look, you’re smiling.” She poked his cheek and he rolled his eyes, dropping the smile.

“I’m going home.”

“No!” She said, grabbing his arm, “You have to stay and watch more bad movies with me.”

“I have to do no such thing,” he said, “Besides, it’s getting late, and you’ve had a whole bottle of wine.”

“One more movie,” she said, “Just one more. This one’s the best.”

“Aelin-”

“Too late, it’s already playing,” she said, picking up the remote and selecting the new movie. He rolled his eyes, but watched anyway.

Usually when he went back home for the holidays, he was glad to be away from Aelin. His family could get crazy, for sure, but they didn’t blast their music so much he could feel it in his feet over a hundred feet away. But this time... He’d actually wanted to come back to her.

She didn’t move back to her spot as the movie started, having made herself comfortable with barely a foot’s worth of space between them. So close he could smell the mix of her jasmine soap and the wine she’d downed. He promptly ignored it. 

She was going strong for the first thirty minutes with her witty remarks and full laughter, but at around forty five minutes it started to die down and her laughter turned to huffs and her sentences turned to words, trailing off to less and less until her head hit his shoulder.

“Aelin?” He looked over at her. She was out cold. He let out a sigh, grabbing the remote. He hit pause on the movie and shifted, gently laying her down on the couch. He tucked a pillow under her head and pulled the blanket off the back, laying it over her.

He turned on his phone’s flashlight as he shut off the TV so he’d be able to find his way out. He paused when he looked at her sleeping, peaceful figure in the dark, only the moonlight coming in through the window illuminating her. He patted her head gently, pushing her hair out of her face, before making his way back home, collapsing into his bed to find himself with dreams filled with that familiar bubble of laughter.

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[glittercndgcld]

( 𝑙𝑖𝑎𝑚 𝑥 𝑎𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑒 )

    📲 text messages | @xboutlxstnightmuses

alfie Just a heads up my father is going to come for inspection tomorrow So I am just letting you know and inform everyone else there it is gonna be a "surprise" inspection So act surprised!!!! :scream_cat:

liam Ugh, good god. Another one? I feel like he does this almost weekly. Thanks for the heads up though. I guess that means I should clean up on my shift tonight :upside_down: I always do, don't I? :joy: Honestly, I should do the acting thing with Daniel - I feel like I could really get somewhere with it :thinking: I mean, not to brag, but I can totally cry on command.

alfie Do you want to hear some good news on that? Yes YOU should ooooh god no Really? Acting? But yeah , you can get things done with that :upside_down:

liam Sure? I don't know what good news can come from that, but hit me with it. What does the emphasis on YOU mean? I'll help my fellow coworkers get the place clean. Why not? Acting seems fun. I do have zero direction in life at the moment, so :man_shrugging: With crying on command? It's gotten me places before. Tug on people's heart strings enough and you can get what you want.

alfie Well, my father suggested I start getting full control over various businesses he owns And I chose the coffee house. And I will be there almost everyday Keeping things under control But also hanging out with you A little bit more Good, good. Well you see how hard it is for him at the moment. Getting to work somewhere else until he ACTUALLY gets a job

liam Wait. Really really?? I wasn’t expecting to hear that. So I get to hang out with you on the clock - how much fun :partying_face: it’ll be like I’m not even actually working with you around :zany_face: Great thing I was kidding then, hm? Maybe I’ll just go get a job as a go-go dancer - I’d be set for life after just a couple of years doing that :stuck_out_tongue:

alfie Yes really really :) Don't say that to anyone, but I am actually quite nervous about that I am not really sure how that will go. I honestly don't want to be as strict as my dad is but as long as the business goes smoothly and not a lot of people hate me( which I wouldn't mind either way) Oh you are still thinking about that? To become a go go dancer?

liam Well, that is good news. As long as you don’t go on bossing me around so much :rolling_eyes::stuck_out_tongue_winking_eye: About what? Taking over? You’re going to be great at it, don’t be silly. Please don’t be. Your dad is crazy strict. It’s exhausting. It’ll be just fine, Alfie - don’t worry so much. Just go in there and do your job. And boss everyone but me around because I am your favorite. I’m always considering it.

alfie Don't tell me what to do :sunglasses: I really really hope so Always my favorite. Have you really searched for job openings FOR go-go dancers?

liam :rolling_eyes: Ok, but you don't tell me what to do either. I don't like being bossed around. Unless it's in the bedroom :man_shrugging: Damn right. Maybe.

alfie So I can't boss you around in the coffee house but I can boss you around in the bedroom ? not counting the fact that   the second situation won't eeeveeeer happen WHAT kind of logic is this? OH I didn't know you were serious about it? AND....what about that? Did you call to arrange interviews or...?

liam Yes, exactly. Well then I guess you just don’t get to boss me around then. It’s my logic. And it makes plenty of the sense to me. I’m not, but I should be :unamused: It’d be better money than the coffee house and my gig at The Flatiron Room.

alfie Still doesn't make any sense. How can you let anyone boss you around in bed? I'm going to do my thing and boss around my favorite, too, okay? Are you indirectly asking for a raise? Cause at the moment I can't do that. But do your research.

liam Because being bossed around in bed is fun. It makes perfect sense. It's very easy, actually. Ugh... I guess I'll let it slide for a little while. Since you admitted that I'm your favorite :smirk: I wasn't, actually but let me know when you can do that - then I might ask. Do my research on what though?

alfie You're unbelievable!!! Agree to disagree!!! Why do you think it's fun? :wink: I walked right into that, but yes, I will let you know. On the go-go dancing gigs? Mia asks if you're going to be in this party this weekend?

liam :rolling_eyes: I'm almost surprised to hear that you don't like bossing people around in bed. You strike me as the type. It's fun because I'm a giver in the bedroom, Alfie. Letting someone boss me around is more for them than it is for me, but it's fun because I like when people take control a bit :smirk: You definitely did walk right into that one. Great though. I'll be awaiting your take over of power :innocent: I forgot that was happening this weekend. No, I don't think so. I work at The Flatiron Room and likely will stay for drinks after. You going?

alfie :woozy_face: riiiiiight?! I never thought that we'd have that sort of conversation together You do strike me as a type that you talk a lot in bed. If we are sharing that kind of stuff, then. Good to know? Nope, me neither. I have loooooots of work

liam Very surprised, actually :joy: bex01/22/2021 liam:Ah, it's not that big of a deal. Maybe a little tmi, but that never hurt anyone. Ah, it's not that big of a deal. Maybe a little tmi, but that never hurt anyone. I tend to be pretty vocal, you're right about that.

alfie That's so nice of you, though! No, you can't. I mean I am good at sports, but that kind of flexibility...hmm? And before you say anything-shut up :eyes:

liam Oh... I mean... are you serious or just messing with me? I didn’t know I was even capable of making you so uncomfortable. You know me better than most other people. You know I’m just kidding most of the time, right? Okay, ALFIE! Jesus. I was just kidding about it anyways :unamused: if you’re so tense though I recommend finding a way to relieve some of that tension. I don’t like super tense Alfie. He’s sensitive. Yes! Daniel is very innocent, in comparison to us, anyways :laughing: I’m a nice person, what can I say? I’m shutting up! My lips are sealed :zipper_mouth:

alfie .....:weary: No, I'm not messing with you I'm not that uncomfortable per se....but please, don't overdo it! Yes, I know. Believe me I'm trying to deal with that tension, but those comments just....:angry: Yeah, he's very sensitive, so tone it down a bit? He's great, though; can't take it off my head that his eyes are on Mia, ALL THE TIME Mia will deny it...currently denies it You can't get it out of my head. Yeah, and that's why you're my favorite. Because of your nice moments. Let's see how long that will last :laughing:

liam Oh... well, I'm confused, but WHATEVER, I guess. Do you know me to not overdo anything? Like what is considered 'overdoing it'? :thinking: :rolling_eyes: since when are you so sensitive? What do you mean? They're always together, sure, but they're just friends. Maybe you really do need to take up yoga, Aflie. Or like... start meditating or something? Only because of my nice moments? Those are few and far between though! I feel like I've already hit a new record? :joy:

alfie There's always an explanation for everything, Liam. At the moment, I cannot tell you anything.  Combined with the workload on me, at this point... No, I don't....but I'm asking you to at least try. You put things in my head; I didn't have to know how you're in bed, LIAAAAAAAAM That's overdoing it I just am in general, but I supress it....is that okay? Or you have to confirm it first, just to be true? I mean that they are both....:heart_eyes: for each other. Especially Mia! He's our friend and all... BUT Maybe I need to? But I don't want to know what's in your head about that situation, okaaaaaaaaaay? They are a lot, you just haven't added other ones to the list. YAY TO YOU:partying_face:

liam :face_with_raised_eyebrow: okay... that doesn't make me want to know wth you're talking about. But for the sake of not pushing, not making you uncomfortable and not adding to your stress right now... fine. Ugh, wth, Alfie... fine. Whatever. I WAS KIDDING! ... somewhat, anyways. That's overdoing it? Really? :unamused: I just mean that... you aren't usually so sensitive? Maybe it's coming with all of this stress you're under right now... which brings me back to yoga. But seriously though. No they aren't! They're close, but I have no doubt that they're just friends. They've been friends for a long time. If they were going to happen, I think they would've already. Yeah, yeah... I know. I'll just stop saying whatever is on my mind :upside_down: Sure, if you say so. Yeah. Well it's hard not to hit those new records when you're being a grump over... me and how I act. And the things I say.

alfie THANK YOU! Yes, really. Somewhat....?! Like do you actually mean them or you are like that with everyone?! Why are you so sure that they would have happened already? Maybe both of them are not ready to admit it Good....? is this me.being a grump or am I just bossing you around? :sunglasses::smirk:

liam I can't stand you right now :expressionless: What do you mean? I wasn't lying, if that's what you're asking... which, obviously we already covered that you don't want to know how I am in bed, so idk why you're clarifying here. Because they are just friends, we all know that. If they were going to happen already, I think they would've, don't you? So you want me to just stop being me, nbd :upside_down: If you want to boss me around so badly, Alf, you can :smirk: just not at work. K? Thanks. You see, you make it very hard to not make comments like that, which I'm sure is one of those comments that you suddenly don't want me making :face_with_hand_over_mouth: Oops? :man_shrugging: :rofl:

alfie That's not the point, Liam. I didn't say that you were lying? Like...I just want to know the reason why you think I want to know this? Noooooo So, lemme get this straight....you think that they can't just have something? Because they're friends. But, I'm allowed to know how you are in bed? Are we really friends? Or Mia should share what she likes in bed for Daniel? 'Cause yeah, like you said...sex is normal and we are adults...but... A friend would suffice on the knowledge that you are having fun... I'm digging up my own hole here MY POINT: I don't know what I should do with the info that you talk a lot in bed. Which now that I think about it...I don't know what else you might say, because you DO say a lot of things BEFORE IT??? We'll see about that Oops....what? I see it as a normal thing since I'm not sharing that kind of information with you I give myself the freedom to tease a friend, riiiiight?

liam Omg, Alf :rolling_eyes: I don't entirely understand why we're even having this conversation right now. I just say things, okay! You know this - why are you making it such a big deal? You know how I am. I blurt things out without thinking and it was just a comment?? What does Mia and Daniel have to do with me and you? I mean, are you saying that we aren't just friends because I share things abut how I am in bed? Is that what determines if two people are friends or more than friends? Didn't think so. And no, Mia wouldn't even do that because she isn't like me in that sense. You ARE digging your own hole here, but I'm still trying to figure out why :unamused: What is the problem? If it really is THIS big of a deal for you, I won't mention how I am in bed anymore... goodness. I don't expect you to do... anything with that information? Oops for the comment I made, but I see that didn't quite register, maybe, in the midst of your freaking out over me mentioning how I am in bed. Okay! I won't mention it anymore, okay? Gosh.

alfie They just started having a different impact on me, okay? Why don't you get that? :unamused: Why are you insisting that my opinion on Mia and Daniel is wrong? I didn't want to know hoooow you are in bed OKAY Good Still hasn't registered...I don't understand why ....you made it...but whatever Okay...

liam Okay... I don't mean for them to impact you in any way? ... I'm sorry? Obviously, it pisses you off. I'm not trying to do that here. Because it is? Okay, Alfie... I hear you. I'll stop. Why do I say half of the things I say? I don't even know. This is what happens - I make messes. So I'm just gonna shut up.

alfie Anyway... It might not be wrong, though I DON'T KNOW, LIAM! Why do you say them? You tell me Okay...

liam But it also probably is. They're friends, just like we are. I DON'T KNOW, ALFIE! I say a lot of stupid shit... you know this. I don't think before I talk. Obviously, I need to work on that if it's pissing you off so much :rolling_eyes: Are you just... really irritated with all of the stress you're under and taking it out on me? Because that's what it feels like.

alfie :man_facepalming_tone1: can't deal with that at the moment, Liam Yeah kinda... All there is stress at this point and nothing more I am not taking it out on you I just.... Let's forget it okay? This argument never happened

liam Omg, Alfie, what is there to “deal” with?? All this stress and yet you aren’t just taking it out on me... what did I do then? Because I haven’t done anything I don’t do normally, so you’re really throwing me for a loop here... but whatever. Sure. Consider it forgotten :unamused:

alfie Liam....I... said...forget it- okay?! Good

#muse : liam lancaster #liam x alfie

[laruna]

— interloper.

characters. lim yuri, min yoongi, kim namjoon.

word count. 21.1k

genre. angst, fluff, friendship, romance, slow burn

warnings. underage drinking, hospitals, car accidents, mentions of family issues

summary. when yoongi feels like an interloper, yuri reminds him that he belongs.

November 7, 2011. Big Hit Entertainment Building, Seoul.

While Namjoon signed his contract until earlier that year, he still had to wait until the dorms were built to move in. Yuri gave Hitman Bang an earful when she found out he had signed him as a trainee when the company didn’t even have fucking dorms yet, but Namjoon fully assured her that it was okay and quelled her rage long enough to stop her from biting the poor old man’s head off.

But it all worked out eventually. Namjoon moved in when the dorms were built back in August, and without the awkwardness that parental presence at his house entailed, Yuri invited herself over as often as possible, practically making the dorms her second home. 

It’s almost a kind of domestic bliss, the way her and Namjoon lived before, cooking for each other and cleaning up the shitty company building until they get so tired they fall asleep on the floor. Sometimes, if she’s really lucky, he’ll offer to let her share his bed. You know, since all the empty beds are going to be occupied by other trainees eventually, and it’d be rude to give someone a used bed, right? Of course.

It’s a Monday when they go to the dorm and actually find the bed across from Namjoon’s occupied.

“...hi.”

The new trainee’s name is Min Yoongi. He’s only a year Namjoon’s senior, but despite the closeness in age, he doesn’t seem willing to bond with them at all. If anything, he barely talks to either of them. According to Hitman Bang, Yoongi is from Daegu, and the only speaks so little because he’s still trying to get used to Seoul’s dialect and is embarrassed that his satoori keeps slipping out.

Yoongi only talks when necessary, like a coworker. They spend the first week or so not talking about anything but work—music, in their case—but even that they can’t be friendly about. Despite their similar interest in hip-hop, Yoongi and Namjoon have very different approaches to rap music. To music in general, really.

Yuri can’t help but feel as if Yoongi has kind of an edge over them. On top of being a year older, he’s also both a producer and a rapper. Yuri is only the former and Namjoon is only the latter, so it’s like he’s got the force of them both combined. She can’t help but feel a little bit small, next to him. 

When they argue about something in the studio, he tends to use this as leverage, telling them to just listen to him because he knows better about this kind of thing. That escalates into arguing, which usually consists of Namjoon and Yoongi yelling at each other while Yuri desperately tries to mediate the situation. The current tally she’s been keeping in her journal shows that Namjoon having won two arguments, Yoongi having won six, and Yuri having successfully distracted them from finishing eleven. She likes to believe that means she’s winning.

Hitman Bang begs to disagree.

He finds out about it one day when he comes to visit her when she’s alone in the studio. The old man never knocks before entering, Yuri notes the invasion of privacy with annoyance. Even so, he kicks it up a notch by glancing over at the journal she’s left open on the corner of her desk. He laughs when he sees the page headed argument wins, pointing to the to the tallies by her name.

“I’m not surprised you’re in the lead,” he laughs. “You’re a menace.” She cringes when she remembers his first impression of her. She wasn’t exactly… tactful about it, but it got the point across well enough. Now that he’s her boss, though, she worries it’ll give him more reason to check up on her, and she would rather selfishly indulge in having some alone time with Namjoon.

“I’m not!” she defends herself, flustered. “I just know better than to waste my time arguing with boys. My points are for when I stop them from arguing, okay? Not having to hear them try to bite each other’s heads off is a win for me.”

“Hm.” He purses his lips at that, regarding her with a look she can’t quite read. She hates how unreadable he is. Her instincts have rarely failed her, but the old man is one of the few people whose energy has yet to come to her.

“Don’t be afraid of fighting,” he tells her after a bout of silence. “They should be able to fight if they’re angry. You should let them fight, let them yell if they’re angry. Even fist fights are fine. It’s okay to fight. Fearing fights only makes conflicts grow bigger.” Yuri shifts uneasily in her seat.

“I don’t like fighting. I don’t like yelling. I don’t like fists,” she says. “I get enough of that at home.” She doesn’t mean for it to slip out, doesn’t even realize that it does until the old man makes that face.

“Oh, Yuri.” He says it more sincerely than she’s ever heard from anyone at the dad age.

“Oh my God, no,” her voice cracks as she speaks. “We’re not doing that. We’re not having, like, a moment. I’m not emotionally prepared for that. I’ll cry and I’ll hate you.” He just nods at that, before awkwardly clapping a hand down onto her shoulder.

“Just remember that you can’t solve everything between them,” he says. “Let them resolve some of that on their own. You won’t be around to resolve things forever.” It feels like a jinx, the way he says it, but she still nods along.

“Okay,” she says. Sounds like simple enough advice to follow.

“And try to befriend Yoongi, okay?” he adds. She wrinkles her nose. That one seems a little harder.

“Okay,” she says anyways. She’ll definitely try.

Namjoon wrinkles his nose when Yuri proposes inviting Yoongi to the Lim household.

“He doesn’t really know anyone else,” Namjoon rationalizes. “Wouldn’t it be a bit awkward for him?”

“That’s the point, dummy,” she says, “I think it’d help him learn to get along with everyone, is all. Including us, hopefully. I don’t know.” Namjoon sighs, if only because she’s been getting harder and harder to say no to these days. He’s not sure why.

“Alright,” he agrees.

Unexpectedly, it’s significantly harder to get Yoongi to agree.

“I barely know you guys,” he deadpans, and Yuri winces. The I told you so look that Namjoon shoots her doesn’t help, and only reminds her of how much she’s always struggled with making friends. 

Hoping to spare her pride, she persists. This is the only opportunity she has to have everybody over in a while—she doesn’t know the next time her father’s going to be working overtime and they’ll have the house to themselves. Knowing him, the old man would probably bite her and Kyunghee’s head off if he came home from work and saw everybody over on a daily basis.

“You can,” she offers softly. “Get to know us, I mean. Please?” 

Yoongi only raises a brow, seemingly unconvinced.

“We have alcohol?” she offers, but the inflection makes it sound more like a question. Namjoon smacks her arm at that, only for her to shoot him a look that says, What? It’s true! Awkwardly, she adds, “Also, um, free food.”

And that’s enough to convince him, apparently.

Yoongi looks starstruck when he first enters the Lim household, suddenly feeling very small. Or at the very least, smaller than usual. He was easily the shortest of the company’s trainees, second-shortest of everybody in the building, towering over only the perpetually tiny Lim Yuri. He almost has a heart attack when said tiny girl takes his shoes from him to put in the garage. It’s her big-ass house, after all. Shit, just being here makes him feel like he should be the one serving her.

Yuri and Kyunghee explain that their father is out working overtime and... doesn’t really say anything about their mom, but the others know better than to bring something like that up unprompted, so they don’t.

The alcohol is present as promised, provided by none other than resident adult, Ikje. Was it illegal? Yes. Was that going to stop any of them? In the words of Donghyuk, ‘hell nah!’

What terrible, terrible influences, Yuri thinks.

She’s never had alcohol before, nor does she plan to have it anytime soon. Not for any legal or moral reasons, mind you—with the amount of alcohol so freely available in her household, she could probably sneak as much as she wanted whenever she wanted. Personally, she just thinks it smells weird and makes her dad act like a crazy person.

She’s only fifteen, but they make it seem fun. They take the thin metal tail of the soju bottle’s metal cap and tighten it into a straight, brittle line. Everyone takes turns flicking it until Kyunghee’s fingers finally break it off. He makes a face when Ikje fills the shot glass in front of him with soju as punishment.  

Yuri doesn’t miss the way he side-eyes Donghyuk before downing it, like he’s trying to make sure that he’s watching. Like he’s looking for approval. She wonders if that’s how she looks at Namjoon. She wonders if that’s how Namjoon looks at her. He’s on her brain too often, these days. Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon. 

They’ve gotten even closer since they made up, and she’s learned a lot more about him since then. He’s still the stickler that refuses to drink in public where he could get in trouble, but he still still laughs and encourages the others’ antics in private, maybe even allowing himself a shot or two. He is also more than the sexless smart dude that she stereotyped him as when they first met, as she has come to learn through his awful, nasty jokes. 

She really was right when she said that he had a whole solar system in his head. Whenever he seems like he could fit into some mold, he immediately proves her wrong. Kim Namjoon is everything.

In contrast, Min Yoongi isn’t much to her at the moment.

When she turns over to look at him, she immediately feels bad for not really paying attention to him the whole night, especially when she was the one to have invited him. The only reason she’s even paying him any mind right now is because he’s just situated himself next to her at the table, as a now drunken Ikje has thoughtlessly occupied his previously-claimed spot. 

Yuri isn’t sure if it’s because he’s not comfortable enough to drink around them yet, but she finds the way he innocently refuses to drink is a little endearing in the same way she found endearing when Namjoon refused to do so back in Hongdae. Instead, Yoongi opts to eat his entire body weight in meat, and is on what she believes is his third plate of fried chicken wings. Respect.

It’s a nice environment, and Yuri really is still adjusting to the fact that this is actually her life. She has a solid friend group that eats and drinks and laughs and plays stupid games together in her house. It’s relaxing. It’s safe. It feels like home. They feel like home.

It’s when they hear her dad’s car pull into the driveway a couple hours earlier than anticipated that makes Yuri remember, oh yeah, home kind of sucks.

In the next few minutes, their living room descends into absolute chaos. Kyunghee moves to swipe all the food and shot glasses off the table and into the sink, Yuri helps load them all into the dishwasher, Ikje is scooping all the soju bottles up into his arms, and everyone else is drunkenly scrambling out the back door. Once they’re all collected, Ikje climbs out the back window, for whatever reason. She blames it on his batshit drunkenness.

Everything is in the clear by the time their dad steps in. The entire scene is inconspicuous enough, Kyunghee passing Yuri plates from the sink to load into the dishwasher like they just ate a nice dinner. They even go so far as to force awkward smiles for their father, but he simply nods at them in acknowledgement before rubbing at his temples and makes his way upstairs, clearly still stressed from work. Kyunghee breathes a sigh of relief when he hears his father’s bedroom door click shut.

“We’re good,” he says, clasping a comforting hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Go lock the back. I’ll finish up the dishes.” Yuri nods, before making her merry way off to follow her brother’s orders. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she’s about to lock the back door and sees a male figure standing ominously in the shadows instead.

She turns on the back light, and lo and behold, there stands Min Yoongi, eating a fucking chicken wing on her back porch. And he has the audacity to look surprised, like she’s the one who shouldn’t be there on her own porch. Heaving a sigh, she steps outside, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.

“What are you doing here?!” she whisper-yells. “Why didn’t you go with the others?!” It comes off as more aggressive than she intended, but the last thing she wants is for him to get caught and in trouble when she’s the one that invited him over in the first place.

“Namjoon went to sleep over at Donghyuk’s place,” he explains awkwardly. “Ikje went to sleep over at Hunchul’s place and, uh. I wasn’t invited to either. Ikje dropped me off here from the dorms, so… I don’t really know how to get back to the dorms from here.” 

Yuri heaves a sigh. She’s going to have to give everyone a stern talk about the importance of camaraderie and the no-man-left-behind policy. After shooting a quick text to her brother, she uses the house key hanging off of her lanyard to lock the back door.

“I know Seoul like the back of my hand,” she says. “C’mon. I’ll walk you back.” 

“I don’t know how I feel about you walking back home alone so late at night,” he says. “It doesn’t sound very safe for you.” His genuine worry makes her heart warm. Those unexpected moments of sweetness he has always throw her off. Not in a bad way, though. It’s nice.

Unfortunately, the rest of the walk is significantly less nice. They spend the first ten minutes arguing over whether or not it really is safe for her to be walking back home alone so late. He feels bad that she’s out because of him, but she insists that it’s fine as she’s done so many times before. 

“Taking the subway home and walking home are two very different things,” he admonishes her. She resists the urge to roll her eyes at his patronizing tone.

“Relaaaax. I’ve got pepper spray,” she justifies herself. “Also, I hold my keys between my fingers.” She even holds up her hands for emphasis.

“I’m sure you could give a good stabbing if you wanted to,” he snarks. He doubts the tiny girl before him is capable of causing any physical damage, even with a deadly weapon in hand.

“Are you making fun of me?” she whines, and he snorts, because it really should be obvious. “I’m just trying to make sure you get home safely, and this is the thanks I get?”

Yoongi stops in his tracks to think about it for a moment, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he does so. She obviously means well, as annoying as she may be. She’s also his junior, and when he thinks about it, he’s just being mean to her for no good reason.

“Fine. I’m sorry for being an ass,” he relents with flushed cheeks, more for his conscience than anything else. “It’s just that—I just like being alone with my thoughts when I walk, that’s all. You’re not annoying.” 

Or at least, not that annoying, he doesn’t say.

“I know I can be annoying,” she says so matter-of-factly that it makes him feel even worse. “And my brother can be the same way. He likes just thinking, too, so I can just be quiet if that’s what you want. I just want you to get home alive, that’s all.” His eyes soften.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “I can defend myself if I really need to. I was on my school basketball team, you know. Boxing, too.”

“With these noodles?” she says bluntly, reaching over and taking hold of his arm. “And how did you get into the basketball team? Aren’t basketball players supposed to be tall?”

“You don’t have any right to talk about height,” he says, staring down all 150 centimeters of her frame as he snatches his arm back from her. “And my arms are not noodles just because I’m not built like The Hulk.”

“We can’t all be Kim Namjoons, I guess. He’s got biceps for days.” Yoongi gives her an amused look at that, and she flushes uncharacteristically. “Sorry. That was weird. Just don’t—nevermind. I’ll stop talking now.”

“No, by all means, keep going,” he teases. “As long as you don’t mind me telling him about it later.” She gasps at that, smacking him in the arm.

“Oh, so now you want me to talk!” she huffs, smacking his arm. “You will be telling him no such thing, Min Yoongi! You don’t even talk to him about that kinda stuff, anyway!” He laughs as he jumps ahead to get away from her playful smacking, smiling so wide that Yuri can see his gums showing. They’re cute. She decides that she likes them.

“You really like him, don’t you? Namjoon?” he chuckles, far too blunt for her liking. It’s a special kind of adorable the way that she so visibly shrinks at his words, he thinks.

“We’re not dating, I, um—” she sputters. “Is it obvious? That I like him, I mean.”

“Relax,” he says. “It’s not. Really, I don’t think he knows. I don’t think anyone knows except Kyunghee, and I only know because of him.”

“My brother knows?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck that guy.”

Yoongi laughs at her sudden vulgarity. She really got really blunt and fiery when she wasn’t thinking, even with her seniors like him. It makes things feel a little bit more comfortable.

“Relax,” he repeats. “I think he just knows you? Because he’s your brother, I mean. He was like, ‘I just have to tell someone and nobody talks to you so it’s okay.’ So I doubt he’s told anyone else.”

Yuri nods, inclined to agree. She’d never tell Namjoon about Kyunghee’s crush on Donghyuk, and she has enough trust in her brother to know that trust goes both ways. Still, she feels bad that the exclusion Yoongi goes through on the daily is so obvious, even to her socially-awkward brother. But she has her own relationships to worry about.

“Just don’t, like. I don’t know. Interfere in whatever is happening, okay?” she huffs. “You’re the only one who knows, as far as I know. I just… don’t try to plant any thoughts in his head, okay? I want whatever happens to happen naturally. Because he likes me for me, or something.”

“Spoken like a true romantic,” he says sarcastically.

“Oh, stop it,” she whines. Yoongi laughs.

“I won’t,” he assures her.

He doesn’t know when they started walking again, but it feels just a bit less awkward and stilted now. Yuri’s just a couple steps ahead of him, guiding the way. Wrinkling his brows, he stops dead in his tracks.

“This isn’t the right way,” he says. “You take a left here.”

“No?” she says. “The subway pickup is right here.”

“I’m not taking the subway, I’m walking, remember?” he says.

“What?!” she says. She didn’t mind the fifteen minute walk to the subway, but this was too much. “The whole way? The whole walk back to the dorms is like, an hour, Yoongi! Jesus, if I knew we were gonna be walking the whole way, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Well, you don’t have to walk me home if you didn’t want to,” he says. “You’re the one who offered.”

“I didn’t think you were a crazy person!” she huffs. “Why don’t you just take the subway?”

“I spent all my money on chipping in for dinner, how the hell am I gonna afford a subway ticket?” he snorts. “Look, I can walk however long it takes, but I can’t spawn food out of thin air like you guys can.” He tries to say it as casually as he can possibly manage, but the venom still leaks through. Her face visibly drops when he says it.

“Oh,” she says, her voice tiny. “I didn’t… sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Stop that. You’re being weird,” Yoongi says. 

He hates this part. He hates the pity looks he gets from rich people like the Lims who have year-long subway passes their father bought—who, by the way, probably gets to sit pretty in a big office telling other people what to do while overworked laborers like his parents carry the South Korean economy on their backs.

But he digresses. He doubts she’s the kind of person who’d want to listen to his long-winded spiels on the economy or the government or the Gwangju democratization movement, anyway. Really, he doubts she’s type to need or think about funds at all.

Much to his surprise, she does.

“Okay, but like—just to make sure—money for that kinda stuff isn’t an issue for you guys, right?” she asks. “Like, Hitman Bang is feeding you guys?” There’s a level of threat to her voice that reminds him of the story Bang PD told him when he first joined the company, of her marching into his office to make demands for her friend’s safety. Loathe as he is to admit it, the image of it is equal parts genuine and endearing of her.

And maybe that’s why he feels the urge to spill his guts to her so suddenly, then. Maybe it’s also the warm, almost disarming energy in the way she talks to him now that they’re finally speaking one-on-one, despite his previous assumptions. Maybe it’s how innocent her eyes look when they shine under the Seoul streetlights.

“You know, I… I used to make beats out of a studio in Daegu,” he confesses. “Most of the time, I’d get scammed out of them, though. The guys who went in and out of the building would rip my shit off or use them but never pay me back, so like… I didn’t make much. But I stayed there because I still wanted to make music and using the studio was cheaper than buying equipment on my own.”

“Oh,” is all she says, pressing her lips together in a thin line. It’s definitely not the kind of thing Yuri and her brother ever had to worry about, seeing as they were so well-off. Hell, they were giving away the shit that Yoongi was slaving his life away over for free.

“So I couldn’t really pay for food or transport that easy, you know?” he continues, against his better judgement. It’s the first time he’s ever talked to anyone about this, and fuck, it feels so good. He can’t stop himself. “In front of the studio, there was this Chinese restaurant that sold jajangmyeon for 2000 won, and down the street, there was this place that sold janchi guksu for 1000 won, and like… I don’t know. It sounds stupid, but I had to worry about that shit everyday. If I ate the janchi guksu, I’d be able to get the bus and if I ate the jajangmyeon, I’d have to walk 2 hours to get home. So. I don’t know. I’m just stuck thinking like that, I guess. I know it’s not like… a thing anymore, but I feel using public transport still makes me feel guilty.”

“Mm.”

“Sounds stupid when I say it out loud.”

“It doesn’t,” she reassures him. “I’ve just, um, never had to think about stuff like that. I’m sorry you had to, though. It sounds shitty.”

“Not your fault. Don’t apologize for something like that.”

“Okay,” she says, smiling up at him. “Thank you for telling me, Yoongi.”

“Uh. Yeah. No prob,” he says, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His flush only darkens when she shoves a couple of won in his hand, and he realizes she’s been slowly guiding him in the direction of the subway station this whole time. “Wait, h-hey—”

“No, no, I don’t need it,” she says when he shoves the money back into her hands.

“But—”

“It’s fine,” she assures him, soft smile still gracing her features. “I’d rather not walk all the way back to the dorms. Just take it, you’ll be doing me a favor. You don’t have to pay me back or anything, either. It’s not that much, anyway.”

Yoongi frowns. As much as he wants to argue with her, he’s tired enough as it is, and he has no doubt she’d stay up all night just to stay here and debate this with him. 

“Okay,” he relents. She grins in what he believes to be triumph before gently taking hold of his hand in one of hers and placing the money back into his grasp with the other. She waits outside for the subway take off, like she’s afraid he won’t do as she says unless she sees it happen. When the train lurches to a start, he watches her figure retreat through the glass windows. 

There’s a stark contrast to her soft hands and the fussy way she thrust her money at him, he thinks. 

Lim Yuri is a strange, strange girl.

Namjoon jumps in his seat, startled when Yuri suddenly marches in, plops in to the studio chair next to him, and looks up at him with crossed arms and a very non-threatening scowl on her face.

“I have a bone to pick,” she says, and his brain immediately kicks it into panic mode as he rakes through his mind for anything that he could have possibly done to upset her within the past week.

Namjoon likes to consider himself a considerate person who wouldn’t want to upset anyone, but for some reason this feels different from pure consideration. At the beginning, Yuri was just Kyunghee’s kid sister who happened to help make good music. These days, though, she feels more like a peer than a junior, more like a friend than a dongsaeng. 

For whatever reason he can’t quite pinpoint, her opinion of him has become quite important to him as of late. The idea that he’s done something she disapproves of makes his hands sweat. Even so, he manages to keep his composure, nodding as calmly as he can manage.

“What’s up?” he asks, cringing at the way his voice cracks. The way she sighs as she scoots her chair closer to his amps his anxiety up to eleven.

“You guys need to be nicer to Yoongi,” she says sternly, “You all really excluded him last week. He said you guys all went to each other’s houses after bouncing out last week and he just had nowhere to go. Why didn’t you guys plan for that or something?” Namjoon droops inward, like a kicked dog.

“Sorry,” he says, face hot with embarrassment despite immediately trying to justify himself. “It’s just—it was just kind of weird because nobody is really close to him or anything. The only person he really talks to is Ikje, and they’re not really even friends. We didn’t know how to broach the subject with him, or if he already had plans or anything, you know?”

“You could’ve asked,” she huffs, “I mean, I walked him to the subway station so he could ride back to the dorms, so everything turned out okay in the end. But—”

“By yourself?” Namjoon cuts her off. “That’s dangerous. Did you walk back by yourself, too? That late at night? Something could’ve happened. Why didn’t you ask Kyunghee to do it?” Yuri shakes her head fondly at his worrywart antics, and he sighs in relief when she smiles. It’s a warm reminder that she’s really not that mad at him.

“You sound like my dad,” she giggles, gently shoving at his arm. “Stop that. I’m trying to be mad at you.” He can’t resist cracking a smile back at her.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t sound apologetic.

“Anyway,” she continues, her tone considerably lighter, “Yoongi and I talked a bit when we were walking to the station, and like… I don’t know. It just made me realize how excluded he really was from everyone else. So can you just talk to him more, or something? And please try to get the other guys to talk to him more, too?”

“Yeah, of course. But for future reference, you could’ve called for a group discussion for this,” he chides, playfully adding, “I thought you were just mad at me for something. I really thought I did something wrong and didn’t know about it. You gave me a heart attack for no reason.”

“Sorry.” She laughs shyly now that it’s her turn to apologize. “It’s just—you’re the only one who really listens to me, you know? I feel like the rest of the guys kinda just see me as a little kid. I mean, I get it, because Kyunghee is my brother and Donghyuk is his best friend and Ikje is old, but like. I don’t know. I don’t feel like they respect me like you do, sometimes.”

Everything she says comes out in that nervous, rambly tone that she uses when she wants to keep things light, no matter how serious it actually is to her. Namjoon frowns.

“Sorry,” he says again. She shrugs.

“Not your fault,” she says, “I think things are gonna get better with Yoongi around, anyway.” Namjoon raises a curious brow at that.

“Oh?” is all he says. Yuri nods, like that’s an answer.

“He’s cool,” she says. “He was a little rude at first, but he got really shy and apologized when I pointed it out. Can you believe it? A man! Apologizing! Men never apologize, Namjoon!”

“I resent that statement.”

“Shut up, man,” she teases. They both chuckle at that. “Anyway. I think that you should try to talk to him, if anyone. I can’t tell you everything he said ‘cause that’s his business, but I will say that you’re both really passionate about music, so I think you’d get along really well.” Namjoon wrinkles his nose at her idealism, not quite sure about that one. 

He supposes she’s sort of right, seeing as music is probably the only thing he and Yoongi can agree on. Even saying that is a stretch, because their very different methods of music-making lent cause to many studio debates. It’d probably be more accurate to say that music was the one field in which they respected each other enough to discuss things amicably. If the conversation wasn’t about music, they spent more time throwing passive-aggressive one-liners at one another than talking about anything else.

“I don’t know about that,” is all he decides to say.

“It can’t be that hard,” she says, pouting. “Yoongi is a nice person. And even if there are things you don’t agree on, you can’t deny that he works really hard. So at least try? For me?”

“That walk to the subway really changed you, huh?” he jokes. He’s expecting her to laugh or roll her eyes or smack him or something, but she nods sheepishly instead.

“He gives me good vibes,” she says like it’s an explanation.

“There you go with your vibes again,” he says. It comes out a bit more passive-aggressive than he’d have liked. 

The atmosphere is a bit too fragile for him to start another debate, but it bothered him that she could dislike people like Hunchul because of the bad vibes she got from him, yet expect everyone to drop everything and befriend Yoongi because he gave her good vibes. She says that it’s just her intuition, but he thinks it’s just an excuse. Even without him saying all this, though, she rolls her eyes when she picks up on his implications.

“Yoongi really is a good guy, okay? I can feel it,” she tries convincing him. “I actually saw him smile, Namjoon. And he never smiles! And it was all cute and gummy! I know he comes off as kinda cold, but he just seems soft underneath it all. I just think he’s a person who’s been through a lot.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you have a crush on him,” he teases. For whatever, the prospect of that makes him more uneasy than it should.

“I’m being serious!” she whines, smacking his arm. “I’m not asking you to stop fighting or arguing with him or whatever if that’s what you want. Just… try to make up after you fight.”

“It’s just weird,” Namjoon admits sheepishly. “It’s not like I want to fight, so I don’t. Especially if it’s over something stupid. I just try to ignore the little things. But then all those little things pile up into one big pile of resentment until I get mad at him for something stupid and he thinks I’m crazy and I’m still mad at him and it’s weird.”

It sounds stupid when he says it out loud, but the way that Yuri purses her lips and nods in understanding as he speaks makes him feel a little less crazy about it all. She’s always been someone that people just feel comfortable around, and Namjoon himself is no exception.

“It’s not weird,” she reassures him. “Fighting isn’t bad, I don’t think. I don’t love it, obviously, but Hitman Bang said the other week that being afraid of fights is only gonna let stuff like that and make the conflict big and worse. All I’m asking is that you at least talk to Yoongi.”

She looks up at him with those doe eyes when she says it, big and hopeful and pleading, and he can’t possibly bring himself to say no.

“Alright.”

Ever since his talk with Yuri last week, Yoongi has been finding instant ramyeon cups in his desk.

At first, he thinks it’s a one-off thing, maybe Yuri’s apology for saying something she thought was insensitive because he made her feel bad and she needs to soothe her conscience. But once he’s run out, they quickly get restocked when he’s not looking, and he has to admit that it warms his heart. He didn’t expect his words to affect her nearly as much as they currently seem to. 

He appreciates that she doesn’t give him the noodles directly or even say anything about it. It lessens the guilt he already feels from receiving free food from his junior. Yuri doesn’t ask for any thanks or even any acknowledgement, not breaching the topic beyond asking if he’s eaten yet.

Lim Yuri, he’s come to find, is not as bad as he thought. A little naive, to be sure, but nothing like the selfish, spoiled little girl he’d conjured up in his head when he first met her. He feels bad for the image he’d once conjured up of her in his head, the little brat surrounded by shiny, foreign production equipment who was no doubt born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

Lim Yuri is kind and generous and even thoughtful when she wants to be. She feels too hard, so sentimental that she cries when a beat she’d been working on for the past six hours fails to save before her computer shuts off. He tells her she can just remake it, but she sniffles and shakes her head, saying that it just won’t be the same as the last one.

“That beat was, like, my baby, Yoongi,” she explained to him that day. “I can’t just replace it, you know?” He doesn’t quite get what she’s getting at, but nods anyways. Over time, he comes to find those weird antics of hers he once found annoying to be kind of… cute? Even if he doesn’t get them. Even now, as she whines cutely, all he can offer is a couple of comforting pats atop her head. He wishes he had more to give.

Maybe that’s the worst part of being the poor kid, he decides. Everyone is impossibly kind here, and he’s probably making an ass of himself by meeting that kindness with a cold distrust. So he brushes off their niceties knowing that he has nothing to give back in return, and thus is seen in a doubly awful light. He tries to comfort himself with the knowledge that at the very least, that prickly demeanor means that nobody is expecting anything of him.

After all, Yoongi doesn’t do well with expectations. He’s not the son his parents expected him to be, who’d get good grades and go to university in pursuit of a business degree or something before slaving away at a desk from nine-to-five everyday for the rest of his life, nor does he want to be. 

But he has to be something.

Hence why he’s in need of a job. Not one of the office jobs that his parents suggested, mind you, but a simple part-time job to hold him over on top of being a trainee so that he doesn’t feel like a useless moocher. Thankfully, he’s already got it in the bag. As expected, they can’t just hire anyone, so they’ve just got one little test for him before they can officially put him on the employee roster.

What he doesn’t expect is to run into Lim Yuri, numerous plastic bags in hand.

“Yoongi!” she shouts when they make eye contact, running up to him excitedly. He’s never seen anybody that excited to see him, even back home in Daegu. It makes his heart feel a little funny.

“Hey,” he says, “I didn’t expect to run into you. What are you doing? Are you alone?” As annoyed as she wants to be, she can’t help but be endeared by the concern she shows her, the same kind that he showed her back when she walked him to the subway.

“Well… yes. But it’s fine. I’m not a kid, you know? Don’t worry about me so much! Really, you just sound like a grandpa when you talk like that,” she teases, “I bet one of these days I’ll come into your studio and you’ll be sprawled over the floor because your back gave out or something.”

“Hey, Hitman Bang says I’m an old soul,” he jokes, a wry grin on his face. She rolls her eyes.

“That’s just a polite way of saying he’s surprised that you’re this young and already depressed,” she snorts, but he can tell that there’s no malice to it. Still, it’s so unexpected of her that he has to do a double-take before bursting out laughing. 

He doesn’t even notice the pedestrian light flash on until she links her pinky with his and walks him across the street. Surprising even himself, he can’t bring himself to really mind that much. In due time, he’s found himself growing adjusted to her touchiness. It’s kind of nice, when he thinks about it. It makes him feel a little less like an interloper. Makes him feel like he belongs where he is.

“It’s fine!” she assures him. He doesn’t look very convinced. “We’re in broad daylight, Yoongi. I just finished grocery shopping.” She lifts her bag-lined arms up for emphasis. “It was my turn this week. Kyunghee and I take turns with groceries since our mom isn’t around.”

“Makes sense,” Yoongi says. Now that she mentions it, they’d only ever mentioned having to avoid their father whenever everyone came over to the Lim household. He’d always just assumed their mom was out or at work or upstairs—never that she wasn’t around at all. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about it, but it seems too heavy of a topic to pry about right now, especially when he already has somewhere to be.

“What about you?” she asks. “Where’d you come from? Or are you headed somewhere?”

“Work,” he explains. “Sort of. It’s just a part-time job. I haven’t technically started yet, but I’m going to. It’s a delivery thing, so I’m just going to test the delivery bike so that they can see that I actually know how to drive and won’t ride around like a crazy person.”

“Like a motorcycle?” she asks enthusiastically. “A real one? You know how to ride a motorcycle?”

“Yeah,” he says as nonchalantly as he can manage, secretly revelling in how much it impresses her. It’s cute of her, he thinks, the way she’s so wowed by the little things. It’s like every conversation with her is an ego boost.

“Can I come watch?” she asks hopefully, eyes glittering with excitement.

And how could he possibly say no to that?

It’s a little silly, how bouncing-off-the-walls excited she is when they get there. Even the old couple who own the restaurant he’s supposed to be delivering for are enamored with her, wrapped up in conversation about meat buns or something. She really is genuinely sweet with them, so much so that they barely take notice when Yoongi mounts the bike they’ve prepared for him to test-ride.

It’s an older Yamaha model, the ‘YD250’ on the scratched up by what he assumes can only be years of wear and tear. He thinks nothing of it as he revs the bike up to life, but before he can take off and begin driving, he’s cut off by Yuri’s voice.

“Hey, hey, hey!” she calls out. “You should be wearing a helmet!”

“It’s in the box,” the old man explains. 

“I’ve ridden without one before,” Yoongi mutters, resisting to roll his eyes at their safety concerns. And Yuri calls him the old person. Even so, he opens the delivery bike box mounted on the back of and reaches in to grab hold of the big black helmet so that he can put it on. “Happy?”

“Very,” Yuri says, sounding far too pleased for his liking. The old woman chuckles at their banter.

Yoongi takes off in a flash after that, quickly riding around the busiest blocks and most bustling streets a couple times, the image of Yuri’s enthusiastic eyes as he rode away on the motorcycle burned into his mind. It’s nice to be admired so deeply. It’s the only reason he’s still on board with the whole idol thing, after all. He doesn’t want to rely on his parents and their money for everything, though, so right now he just needs this job to help support his training. 

He’s officially got the job, they inform him when he gets back. They also tell him that Yuri has been vouching for him in the mere minutes that he was gone. She ducks her head to hide her blush at that, and he finds her shyness in the moment impossibly cute. It only intensifies when she pipes up.

“Can I join you? On the back, I mean?” she asks bashfully. “I’ve, um, never ridden one before. I just think it’d be neat. You can just take me home, if you want. It’s not super far from here, I think.” In any other circumstance, he’d say yes in a heartbeat, but she’s asking him this question in front of his employers. Thankfully, the two nod when he looks to them for permission.

He can’t but feel kind of mortified by the way the old couple coos at him when he takes off his helmet off and places it atop her head, taking extra care to fasten the buckle tight. 

“Cute,” she says. “But what about you?” It’s the little things like these that remind her how thoughtful and softhearted he is, even if he doesn’t really care to show it.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve ridden without one before,” he echoes his earlier sentiment. She doesn’t look convinced, but the old man speaks up before she can get a word in.

“Get your girlfriend home safe, alright?” he says, clapping his hand down onto Yoongi’s shoulder a little too forcefully. Both him and Yuri send each other an embarrassed glance at his assumption, but neither can find it in them to correct the old man.

“Yes, sir,” is all Yoongi says.

The ride back home is a lot less nerve-wracking than he had expected. Yuri’s soft from head to toe, he notes, like a little human pillow. Against his expectations, the feeling of her form pressed against his back throughout their ride in the city feels more comforting than restricting. So much so that he actually feels a little bit disappointed when they get to her house and she has to let go.

He helps her unload her groceries from the delivery bike box, watching as she takes every bag but one. He reaches in to grab it until he sees what’s inside—ramyeon. The exact kind that spawns in his desk every week. At that moment, he realizes that she left that specific bag inside on purpose.

“This is for me,” he says. It's a statement, not a question.

“Mmhm,” she replies. “It’s my favorite brand. It’s got that little egg brick in there, you know the one? These things are mostly carbs, so I think it’s a good source of protein. Good for building muscles.” He frowns, baffled as to how she can be so nonchalant about all this.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” he says. “I have a job now, so I can buy my own food if I’m ever craving anything beyond those cardboard chicken breasts Hitman Bang gives us.” Yuri giggles at that. “I’m serious. I’ve already gotta pay you back for the last couple of weeks. I’m not sure if my salary is gonna be able to keep up.”

“Hey,” she says gently, staring him down a bit more earnestly now. “You don’t have to pay me back for anything, okay? The ones I get for you are only, like, 1200 won per little cup.”

“Isn’t 1200 won kind of a lot?”

“It’s not,” she assures him. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s fine. It’s really fine. It doesn’t hurt me at all. If it did, I wouldn’t keep doing it.” Yoongi pulls a face, not entirely convinced.

“You may not feel bad, but like—I feel bad.”

“Well you shouldn’t.”

“But I do,” he says. Yuri sighs.

“Yoongi—”

“It’s not just the ramyeon, you know?” he says, staring mindlessly at some spot on the ground. Anywhere but her face. It’s a daunting task when he speaks so earnestly. “It’s just—you do so much for everyone all the time. And I’m just—I don’t even talk to anybody.”

“Hey.” Yuri speaks softly, taking one of his hands between both of hers in what he thinks is an attempt to comfort him. Her hands are just as soft as they were that night by the subway, he muses. “You can’t blame all that on yourself, you know? I know the other guys aren’t the best at being friendly and inclusive and all that, but that’s not your fault. It’s more of a time thing.”

“A time thing?” he asks.

“We’ve all known each other for, like, two or three years before you came here,” she explains. “ So I think they’re just trying to get used to you? But they don’t dislike you! If anything, I’m sure they’ll like you soon. I mean, I already like you, so it shouldn’t be too hard for them to follow suit.”

“Okay,” he says, thinking nothing of the flush that spreads up to the tips of his ears.

Namjoon supposes that now is as good a time as any when Yoongi steps into his studio.

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. After all, Yuri points out, Yoongi is the one alone in Seoul with nobody to talk to. When she puts it like that, it makes them all sound like assholes. Maybe they are. But it’s fine, because Namjoon is finally going to be nice and converse with him about something not music-related. The bar is on the floor. All he needs to do is open his mouth and say something.

“We need to talk,” Namjoon says. He immediately knows he’s said the wrong thing when Yoongi’s eyes widen like saucers, anxiously backing up until his back hits the door like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. “Oh God, no, not like that. You’re okay. You’re not in trouble.”

“Oh. Alright,” Yoongi says, visibly relaxing.

“I just, um. I wanted to talk,” he repeats. “I feel like I’ve been… mean? But I’m not trying to be. It’s just that I’m supposed to be the leader, but you’re the hyung. “And you also produce a lot of our songs—which I’m really, really grateful for, of course. I just don’t know how to talk about things as a leader without seeming disrespectful. I try to keep my mouth shut about it, but I guess that’s how things like that build up, you know?”

“My mom gave birth to me,” Yoongi says, seemingly out of the blue, and Namjoon laughs. It’s that loud, booming laugh of his that always fills up the whole room.

“What—?!” he laughs incredulously.

“Let me finish,” Yoongi says, hopelessly fighting to the smile off of his face. “My mom gave birth to me. My mom is older to me, obviously, and she’s done a lot for me, too. And of course I’m grateful for that, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fight her on some things. Doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything she says, because I haven’t. Neither have you—if we did, neither of us would be here right now. We’d be like, I don’t know, doing cram school or preparing for university shit or something like that. I think I’d resent her if that’s what I was doing right now just because I wanted to please her. That’s why it’s okay to fight. If we don’t, then all that resentment just grows.” Namjoon smiles fondly at him.

“You really are an old man,” he chuckles, prompting Yoongi to raise a brow at him. “Hitman Bang said the same thing, you know? About fighting being good, since conflicts just get bigger if you don’t fight.”

“Well… he’s right.”

“Wiser words were never spoken,” Namjoon replies.

“So no more not-fighting?” Yoongi asks. It’s so ridiculous, the way he has to phrase it—but Namjoon nods, so he supposes that it gets the point across well enough. “We’ll try to resolve problems instead of avoiding them completely.”

“No more not-fighting,” he agrees. “Resolving things. Not avoiding them.” He holds out a pinky.

It’s a ridiculously silly sight, Yoongi thinks, the way Namjoon’s large hand offers out a pinky for what he thinks must be a pinky promise. Seeing someone as big as Namjoon do something so childish is unfairly endearing. He must’ve picked up from Yuri, he muses. Yoongi can’t help but laugh.

“Did you just giggle?”

“Huh?”

“That was kind of cute, hyung.” Yoongi flushes a dusky pink.

“…shut up.”

Yuri doesn’t come in late on Sundays anymore, Yoongi muses.

She always used to come in late on Sundays, which was a stark contrast to her appearances right after school on weekdays and her early morning entrances on Saturdays. He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice before, but he supposes it’s a good thing that he does now. It means that at the very least, they’re taking note of each other’s presence. 

Yoongi does think it’s weird, but for as curious as he is, he is not nosy enough to ask about it. Normally, it wouldn’t even cross his mind to do so, but with the talk he had with Hitman Bang last week about getting along better with everyone, he’s having second thoughts.

Yuri may not be a fellow trainee, but she’s still a member of their team. He only just started talking easily to Namjoon, so Yuri is easily the most comfortable person to talk to. After a rather heated internal battle, he gives in and brings it up to her.

“I’m glad you come in on Sundays, now,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. “What cleared your schedule up?”

“Oh!” she says, pleasantly surprised that Yoongi is taking the first step in making conversation. “My mama worked as a vocal teacher before she divorced my dad and moved away, so my little brother Daniel and I would go over there to help her, especially with translating stuff since her Korean wasn’t very good. I used to go over to help the other lady who works there on Sundays since she’s nice and I liked singing!  But Daniel handles all that now, so I’m free to work here with you guys.”

That’s certainly a can of worms. He’s learned more about her and her home life from this single conversation than he did from the night he was over at her house, but he doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable by pressing further about the deep shit, so he keeps his digging as shallow as he can.

“You sing?” he says, and she flushes.

“Yes,” she admits. “But like. Not in front of other people. That’s scary.”

“Like stage fright?”

“Sort of,” she says. “It’s different. More like, scary in the sense that you have to share your art that you’ve poured all your heart and soul into for so long. Because then when people reject it or don’t like it, you feel like they don’t like you. On top of that, people also care about visuals and dancing and aegyo, and like… how am I supposed to fulfill all those categories?”

“I get that,” he says. He always knew that music would be a big part of his life, but he never imagined he’d be performing for other people. The thought of scrutiny had always made his stomach churn, but that’s basically all that idol life was. He’s not sure how he’ll handle it. “You don’t think you’ll ever be singing on a stage one day?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. Maybe one day,” she says. “Maybe if I was more… you know.” She grimaces as she makes a vague gesture with her hand.

“Mm-hm.” Really, he doesn’t know, but it seems like a touchy subject. 

He deems it better not to pry.

Big Hit and Source Music are due to debut a girl group soon, Hitman Bang says.

Unlike the boys, they’ve even got a name—GLAM. Yoongi, however, has yet to know the group’s trainees beyond seeing them in passing. After all, Source is the one handling all the management and promotion and all that fancy stuff. 

(Hitman Bang says he’d never be able to manage a girl group because he doesn’t understand women. It takes all of Yoongi’s willpower to stifle a laugh when Yuri says she’s not surprised.)

Meanwhile, all Big Hit has to do is help make their music. 

Yoongi feels a bit of pressure when faced with the prospect of making music for somebody else. Music has always been a very personal process for him. The thought of someone else interpreting his work was both exciting and overwhelming. While the prospect of someone interpreting his work or liking his work enough to perform it piqued his interest, the idea of someone either fucking up something he made or pitching his work to someone who’d only reject it was anxiety-inducing.

To his relief, that is not what he is currently doing.

At the moment, he’s currently mixing a demo for one of GLAM’s future songs, touching up the vocals so that they stand out above the instrumental’s bouncy synths. It has a nice vibe to it, he muses. It’s in English, but he understands enough of it to make out that it’s about getting ‘too close’ to somebody who’s supposed to be a friend. Hitman Bang must’ve purchased it from some overseas songwriter. He’s not sure why. It seems like it’d be an expensive process, and even after buying it they’ll have to translate it back into Korean. What was the point of all that hassle?

At least it sounds nice, Yoongi supposes. It’s a cute, pop-based little R&B track with airy vocals. The high notes are clear and smooth, with a distinct little squeak at the end of the high notes. It’s almost familiar, he muses, but he’s listened to a lot of music in his lifetime, so—wait a minute.

Yuri. That’s Yuri’s voice.

He recognizes those little squeaks anywhere, reminiscent of the whiny tones she makes whenever she’s being stubborn about something. It’s harder to pick up on when she speaks in English, which he supposes he should’ve assumed she’d know how to speak. He recalls Namjoon offhandedly mentioning that she was his English tutor a couple of times, as well as Yuri mentioning translating for her mom. Still, he’s never actually heard it come out of her mouth. It’s kind of jarring.

Against his better judgement, he asks her about it.

“Oh! Um, yeah, that’s me,” she admits, laughing sheepishly. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”

“It’s good,” he assures her. “Your voice is pretty. The lyrics you wrote are catchy. I bet you could be an idol, if you wanted to.”

“Uh-uh. I don’t think so,” she says just a bit too forcefully, “I’m perfectly content just producing for you guys. Seriously.”

“That’s selfless of you,” he says. She shakes her head.

“It’s actually a little selfish, when I think about it,” she laughs nervously. “To be honest, I think a big part of my support comes from living vicariously through you guys. Saying it out loud makes it sound kind of awful, but you guys are doing things I could only ever dream of doing. I’m just here to make sure you guys are as successful as possible at all the things you’re doing, you know? Even though I’m not actually, like, putting in all the work and being on stage and all that.”

“You could, if you really wanted to,” he says encouragingly. She shakes her head.

“I mean, I don’t think I look very idol-like,” Yoongi muses. 

“You do!” she argues. Poking at his pale cheek to emphasize her next point, she says, “White as sugar, just like old man Bang said. You’ve got that glass skin, you know?” 

“That’s because I don’t go outside,” he says, self-deprecating as ever as he swats her hand away.

“Oppa,” she whines in a way he thinks is unfairly cute of her. “Just accept the compliment, okay?” He rolls his eyes, but relents to her wishes anyway.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re very welcome,” she says, sounding far too pleased with herself. “Don’t be like that, okay?”

“Like what?” he says, wrinkling his nose.

“Well… you know. Mean to yourself about how you look,” she explains. “Namjoon is the same, which is sad. And also just not great for an idol, you know? You have to be at least a little confident in your looks, or you’re gonna be miserable every time the stylists dress you. It takes them longer than you’d think. Or so I’ve heard.”

“There’s not much to be proud of,” he deflects, not missing the way that Yuri rolls her eyes like that. 

When she raises her hand, he thinks she’s gonna flick his forehead or prod at his face again or something, but instead she places a finger on the tip of his nose. He furrows his brows together.

“What—”

“Your nose is cute,” she says matter-of-factly. He can’t help the strangled noise of surprise that escapes him at that, face growing hot as he flusters. “And your pale skin makes it easier to see when you blush, too. That’s a strong charm point as well, I think. You’ve got lots of charms.” He turns away, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Still, it’s nice to know that somebody thinks so.

Yoongi presses the end call button on his phone just a little too forcefully.

Another phone call, another argument with his parents. It was instances like these that made him not want to call them at all. He’s always in this limbo of guilt, grateful that they paid for his trainee contract while also being angry at the way they constantly voice their disapproval. He slams his phone down onto his desk in frustration. 

Apparently, it was louder than he thought. His studio door opens up a sliver, just enough for Yuri to peek her head in.

“Hey,” she calls softly. “Everything alright in there?” Yoongi pulls a face that makes it obvious that no, he is not alright. “Can I come in, then?” 

Upon his nod of approval, she files into the room, gently closing the door shut behind her. She walks over and settles into the seat across from his, sliding it over next to his so she can lay her head on his shoulder. Her touch is comforting, he thinks.

“Talk to me,” she says. “What’s wrong?”

“Sometimes, I think I should just… I don’t know. Anything to stop shit like that from happening,” he sighs. “My parents nagging me, I guess. Just go back home. Go to college. Get a nine-to-five. Have a nice family, or something.” And Yuri frowns, because she gets it.

It’s something she’s spent many days and nights comforting Namjoon over when he’s just had another argument with his parents over the same exact thing. She wishes she could relate or understand, or anything to comfort him—but she can’t. 

She’s glad the two can talk to each other about it now, but she can’t help but feel a little jealous that she can’t be a part of the conversation and can help them. She almost scoffs at herself for envying them being able to bond over their unsupportive parents. How fucked up was that?

Heaving a sigh, she hops up and takes a seat on the edge of his desk, careful to mind his production equipment. She swings her feet up into his lap, in that very casually touchy Yuri-esque way of hers. Impulsively, he brings a hand up to gently tap at her shin. She tries not to giggle at the ticklish sensation.

“Yoongi,” she starts, as seriously as she can manage. “Not to be, like. A downer or anything. But when your parents are gone, where would that put you? Stuck in a job you hate for no reason?”

“Six feet under,” he snorts, and she gasps.

“Not funny!” she whines, kicking at his hand. Her assault on his poor palm only gets worse when he bursts out laughing. “So not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, but he’s still laughing.

“I really am trying to be supportive,” she huffs, a bit less childishly, now. “But I can’t like. Get it, get it, you know? The only reason I have any idea what to say here is ‘cause I’ve had this talk before. You know, if you two tried talking to each other more about personal stuff, I think you’d see that you and Namjoon are more alike than you might think. I’m not going to spill his business, but. I’ll just say that I think if anyone were to get it, it’d be him. It took some coaxing from my dad, but both my parents are okay with me pursuing music, now. As long as I took the producer route and not the idol route, at least. But still. It’s a good start. I’m lucky. I’ve got it better than a lot of people do, I think.”

“Would you?”

“Hm?”

“Take the idol route,” he clarifies, looking down at her shoes. “If you were given the choice.”

Sometimes, Yoongi feels like he’s never been given a choice. It feels like he’s been given every setback in the world. He’s never had the support or the funds or the hunger for fame that so often accompanied those pursuing music. He can barely remember why or when or what began his relationship with music, but he so vividly remembers feeling it, feeling like music chose him rather than the other way around. He can’t help but wonder what someone who seems to have been given almost all the choice in the world has to say about the only restrictions she’s been given.

Not much, it seems.

“Oh, um, nah. I don’t think so,” she laughs nervously. “I’m just—I’m not really pretty enough?”

“You are pretty,” he says, too quickly and too naturally to be insincere. He doesn’t miss the way that she ducks her head to hide the flush flooding into her cheeks.

This must be the vague ‘you know’ thing she was always talking about, Yoongi muses. He really should’ve picked up on it from the moment she said she didn’t look very idol-like. He’s never been the type to kiss up, so he hopes she knows that he means it. 

“You’re so—stop that,” she whines, embarrassed. She half-heartedly attempts to kick at his hand again, but makes no move to try again when she misses. “You’re too much.”

“I’m serious,” he says.

“I know,” she squeaks, hands flying up to cover her flushed cheeks up in embarrassment. “That’s the embarrassing part. Get some taste or something.”

“Don’t be a hypocrite, Yuri,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You always tell Namjoon and I not to be insecure about appearances, but you act the same when it comes to yours.”

“That’s different,” she whines, “You and Namjoon are gonna be in front of the cameras. I’m gonna be behind them. I don’t need to muster up any kind of confidence for that. Which is good. Because I don’t have it.”

“Looks don’t matter to me,” he says flatly. “But confidence does. I’m not gonna hold your hand and tell you that you’re pretty all day, even if I think it’s true, ‘cause you’re not gonna believe it no matter how many times I say it.”

“Ouch.”

“Let me finish,” he continues, “Even if it isn’t your looks, you deserve to at least be confident in something. Your music, your grades, your music, whatever. You’re generous and thoughtful. Don’t let society make you miserable just because all they care about is appearances.”

Yuri doesn’t say anything, her face still buried in her hands. More than a little bit concerned at this point, Yoongi flicks her forehead through her bangs. 

“Hey, you good in there?” he asks. She doesn’t reply. Just sniffles. Oh, fuck. “Uh, sorry, I—” Yuri shakes her head, finally lowering her hands.

“Don’t be,” she laughs nervously, still teary-eyed. “That was one of the nicest things a boy ever said to me. You should be, like, a motivational speaker or something.” He snorts.

“I can’t give advice to like. People I don’t care about,” he says, grinning awkwardly, “I’d just tell them to get their shit together and I’d get fired.” Yuri can’t fight the smile off of her cheeks at that.

She’s sure she’d know that he cares through his Yoongi-isms alone, but it’s nice to hear it from the man himself. He wouldn’t be giving this advice if he didn’t care. 

Min Yoongi cares about her, and it makes her heart feel warm.

Lim Yuri has become an unexpected addition to Yoongi’s delivery sprees.

Yuri’s arms, small and gentle, have become a comforting presence as they wrap around his waist. The old couple doesn’t seem to mind the extra person joining him on his trips, content with her politeness and the fact that she isn’t demanding any money despite providing help. They coo about the highs and lows of young love whenever Yuri arrives to join him on his trips, and Yoongi can’t find the energy within himself to correct them.

Things go on like this for a long time, hours, days, weeks, of this halcyon. Her arms keep him warm in the winter and her cold hands keep him refreshed in the late months of spring. The old husband hands them a bag of leftover food for them to eat together, an wistful smile on his face. 

They eat in the midst of impromptu therapy sessions, which usually consist of Yuri comforting Yoongi as he complains about his problems. It’s okay, though, because she likes to give advice and she likes how deep his voice is when he talks and she doesn’t have many problems of her own to complain about, anyway. When she does talk, it’s always lighthearted, talking about a song she wrote or something dumb Kyunghee and Daniel did or how cute Namjoon’s dimples were on that particular day. 

One day, curiosity kills the cat, and Yoongi asks a question that’s been killing him from the start.

“Why do you like Namjoon so much, anyway?” It’s something Yoongi asks out of the blue, so much so that he doesn’t even realize he’s asking it until it slips out. He’s not sure what he’s expecting until she answers, and when he does, he realizes that his expectation was literally anything but what she says next.

“No reason,” she says, and he’s so thrown for a loop by the words that leave her that he practically stumbles over his feet when he hears them.

“Wait, seriously?” he says. “I’ve read your lyrics, you know. You’re good with words.”

“I am?” she says, sounding far too surprised for his liking.

“Yeah. Which is why I thought you’d have a way better answer than that,” he says. “I expected you to talk about…” He pauses as he sifts through his brain for all the things that he personally finds attractive about Namjoon. “…I don’t know, his dimples or his height or his good grades or something.” All things that he lacks, Yoongi muses with insecurity.

“Oh my God. Those are all, like, great and all, but they’re not like… why I like him,” Yuri giggles. “He’s just—I don’t know. There’s a lot of things about him that make me like him, but I can’t, like, come up with an itemized list. It’s not like one day he reached a quota in traits I liked and suddenly I liked him. I just realized I did. I just… felt it. It felt right. He felt right.”

“Oh.” Yoongi feels a pang of jealousy at that, like an itch he can’t scratch. Maybe it’s because a tender part of him can only dream of being loved so dearly.

He silently wonders what it would be like to be loved by a person like Lim Yuri.

Namjoon has been feeling himself growing fonder and fonder of Yoongi in these past months.

Finally learning to talk to him without being all weird has helped with that. Without the formalities, they’re both able to speak a lot more freely. In the time that they’ve done so, the two have been able to talk about and bond over their rocky family situations and their choice to pursue music.

What’s fueled his fondness more than anything, though, is Yoongi’s little habits—the way he runs a hand through his jet black hair as he shyly recommends jazz and art study because they seem like the type of thing you’d like, Namjoonie, the way he always wears those grey jacket and sweats because they’re warm and winter is starting to trickle in, the way he smiles with his gums just like Yuri said he would.

Those two have gotten impossibly close lately, Namjoon notes. Now, he doesn’t think he’s the most perceptive person in the world, but it’s hard to miss the tenderness in their actions. Every time he steals a glance in their direction, they’re exchanging knowing glances or whispering softly to each other or linking pinkies in the way that Yuri loves to do so much.

It’s only natural to conclude that Min Yoongi and Lim Yuri are involved.

He doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. It has no reason to, right? But it does. He combs through his mind for any possible reason that it should. Maybe it’s because Yoongi, who’s agreed to be more honest with him, hasn’t told him about it. Maybe it’s because Yuri, ever perceptive, has been one of his closest friends for years and yet seems to have no intentions in telling him about it despite how painfully obvious their interactions make things.

The familiar sting of loneliness rises sharply in his chest when he sees them interact, like they’re in their own little world, with seemingly no room for him. He feels like he’s spying on their relationship when he shouldn’t be. He feels like a voyeur. He feels like an interloper.

Maybe this is how Yoongi felt when he first came to Big Hit, he muses. If this is how he feels just watching him and Yuri, he can’t imagine having to watch everyone who’s known each other for years talk and laugh together from the outside. The more he thinks about it, the more he feels selfish and ridiculous for being so bothered by it. After all, who was he to meddle in their affairs?

Maybe it’s high time he finds one of his own.

Yuri’s sheets are soft, Yoongi thinks.

They’re at her house today, Yuri not feeling very keen on having this conversation in the Big Hit building for fear that Namjoon might walk in on them while they’re talking about him. Right now, she’s half-heartedly producing something on her bedroom computer and venting to Yoongi as he lies on her bed.

She rants about how Namjoon has been talking a lot about girls lately, clearly bothered. She especially seems bothered by the fact that Namjoon won’t let her be as touchy with him as she used to be. Normally, Yoongi wouldn’t give a damn about other people’s affairs, but things are different, this time. While he’s not personally bothered by it, he doesn’t like the fact that it bothers her so much, for whatever reason he can’t quite pinpoint. 

Dear Lord, she even goes into detail, describing each and every pretty girl in a way that is far less flowery than he believes Namjoon would speak about a girl.

“And then there’s Jieun, who they all say is a good kisser. What does that even mean? Like, what the hell makes someone a good kisser? You just jam your lips together, right?”

“You’ve never been kissed,” he says, more a statement than a question.

“Yes?”

“Kinda late, don’t you think?” he says. Yuri gasps as she smacks at his arm, clearly mortified.

“No it’s not! Shut up!” she says indignantly. He’s trying to take her seriously, but her squeaky little whines make that hard.

“Sorry—” he tries apologizing through his laughter.

“You don’t sound sorry at all!” she whines. “It’s not funny, okay? It’s fine! I’m still young!”

“You’re sixteen already!”

“I’m only sixteen!” she huffs, crossing her arms and turning away from him. “I-I have time, okay? We can’t all be heartbreakers, Min Yoongi.”

“Heartbreaker?” he repeats. “I haven’t had a girlfriend since middle school.”

“I never said you were one,” she defends herself.

“You implied it.”

“I—whatever!” she huffs. “I’m saving my first kiss for someone special. And it’s gonna be somewhere magical, like under the cherry blossoms at the Goyang Flower Festival or on a picnic blanket under the stars on New Year’s or something.”

Oh my God. He’s trying so hard to stop his laughter. 

“Did you swallow a fucking romance novel?” he laughs. “My first kiss took place in the hallway after gym class, so like. Don’t be surprised if it sucks and you mess up and slobber all over them or something like that.”

When he turns to look at Yuri, she looks incredibly nervous. She’s come to a still in her spinny chair, nervously pulling her hair over her face as she ponders his words with utmost seriousness.

“Do you think that?” she asks, voice small.

“What?” he asks. Wordlessly, she sighs, wheeling her chair backwards over to where he’s lying on her bed. She cranes her neck back onto her bed, coming face-to-face with him.

“Do you think I’ll mess up my first kiss?” she says softly. Not that she needs to speak anything but—she’s so close he can feel her breath against his nose. He pulls away, face aflush.

“You’ll be fine,” he mutters, voice cracking. 

Yuri gives a huff, seemingly dissatisfied with his answer. She hops down from her chair—there’s an inherent cuteness in the fact that her feet don’t touch the ground when she sits on it, Yoongi muses—and up onto the bed, right next to him. He rolls his eyes when she settles onto her knees and urges him to sit up, too. He obliges, in spite of his annoyance.

“What was your first kiss like? Aside from the whole being in the hallway thing?” she whispers, like they’re telling secrets. There’s nobody else in the house but Daniel (who’s probably got his headphones cranked up to a hundred percent), so Yoongi can’t help but find her antics endearing.

“My first kiss was just a kiss. Nothing bad. Nothing mind-blowing,” he says with a shrug.

Even that’s a bit of a stretch. They were both gross and sweaty and their teeth clacked together. But he already feels kinda bad for making her doubt herself so much, and he doesn’t want to aggravate her worries.

“So how did… did you just…” she gestures awkwardly with her friends as she trails off, unable to articulate whatever she wants to say. He gets it, though. He always does.

“You just go for it,” he says, “It’s the kinda thing you just feel your way through. Just don’t think too hard about it. You’re good at doing things without thinking, so it should go well for you.”

“Gee, thanks,” she says, rolling her eyes at the back-handed compliment. “It’s just—I don’t wanna mess up in the future if I ever… you know.”

“Just say kiss,” he teases. “It’s not as sacred as you’re making it out to be. It’s just lips-on-lips. If humans never decided it was a thing to kiss people you liked, it wouldn’t be important at all. It’d just be an exchange of germs.”

“It’s important to me!” she bristles, so aggressively that it throws him for a loop. She takes note of her overreaction, coughing awkwardly before returning to her normal volume. She repeats, “I-It’s important to me. I just want it to be nice. I don’t wanna be disappointed. And I don’t wanna be someone else’s disappointment. That’s why I’m asking you this.”

“What are you asking?” he says, raising a brow.

“Augh!” She buries her face into her hands, miserably failing an attempt to hide her flushed cheeks. Peeking through her fingertips, she gently continues, “Just… hypothetically… purely for practice reasons… it wouldn’t count as my first kiss if you could, um. Help me. Try. Practice. I don’t know.”

The room goes impossibly quiet. She can’t say a word after that, the pair just staring at each other in awkward silence, him impossibly floored at the suggestion. Their faces go blank as Yuri processes what the hell she just did and Yoongi processes what the hell just happened.

When it all finally clicks, Min Yoongi has the audacity to fucking smirk, gums showing and all.

“Practice,” he repeats, no lilt to it, no bite. His attempts to remain straight-faced are to no avail, because her pouting up at him is all it takes for him to burst out laughing.

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” she yells, pushing him back down onto the bed. “Just forget it! Forget I said anything!” She hooks a leg over his waist, pinning him down before grabbing a pillow and smacking him as hard as she can with it. The pain does little to quell his laughter.

“Get off!” he laughs in-between smacks. “You’re too much!”

“Are you calling me heavy?!” she asks, more fake-offended than anything.

“What—no! What the fuck made you think that?!” he tries to sound indignant, but he’s still laughing, and before he knows it, she’s laughing too. When the laughter subsides and the room goes quiet, they both realize what kind of situation they’re in. Yuri’s still got him pinned down, having just talked about first kisses. Kisses in general. Having just proposed that they kiss. The air goes tense.

“So,” Yoongi says, cutting through the silence.

“So.”

“I didn’t. Uh. I didn’t say no.” He has the decency to look embarrassed, now, cheeks flushed and eyes blown wide. “Unless you don’t want to.”

The two stare at each other for a moment after that, like they’re waiting for the other to back down. A Clint Eastwood-style duel of the eyes, so to speak.

“I won’t start something I can’t finish,” she says decidedly.

She leans in as promised,

presses her nose against his—

“I’m sorry!”

—and promptly places both hands over his mouth.

The motion isn’t harsh enough to hurt too bad—only a light sting—but it is very sudden. Yoongi blinks up at her a couple of times in surprise just to reassure himself that whatever that was actually just happened.

“I’m sorry,” she repeats. “For um—yeah. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this? Because, um, you know. If someone asks me when my first kiss was, I’ll have to say, ‘Oh, it was on my bed at like, 11PM when I was in high school. A-And that already makes me sound terrible! And then when they ask with who, I’ll have to say, ‘Oh, just with my friend that I work with so I could practice kissing for the future since I was in love with our friend!’ And that’ll be my stupid goddamn answer! And that’s… that’s, um… that’s kind of not very romantic…”

Her voice tapers off towards the end, quieting in what Yoongi thinks is embarrassment as she takes his hands off of his mouth. It really does sound kind of ridiculous when she says it out loud. Maybe Yoongi was onto something when he laughed at her for sounding like she ‘swallowed a romance novel.’ To her relief, his next response is anything but patronizing.

“Hey,” he says, “Relax. Don’t apologize for changing your mind, that’s just—that’s just weird. Don’t force yourself to do shit you don’t want to. That’s weird.”

She’s so close. They’re still nose-to-nose, breath tickling each other’s lips every time the other speaks. He awkwardly pats the back of her thigh a couple of times, which she reads as a signal to roll off of him. She obliges. Even though she knows he doesn’t mean much by that little touch, the intimacy of it still makes her blush. Thankfully, he can’t see it with the both of them laying back down onto the bed and staring awkwardly at the ceiling above them. Yoongi pretends to find interest in the faded glow-in-the-dark stars on her bedroom ceiling.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” he repeats.

“Sorry,” she says again.

“It’s fine,” he reassures her, because as mortifying as the situation is for them both, it really is fine.

She blindly reaches her hand out to find his, feeling around until their fingers meet. When he fondly links his pinky in hers, the way she always does with him, she decides that a kiss isn’t the kind of thing she should be rushing into, anyways.

Yoongi just assumes it isn’t weird.

After all, Yuri settles against him so naturally, her face buried into his neck and her studio chair sidled next to his as he sits at his desk and works on mixing what he hopes will end up being a song on their first album, whenever that comes out. Were it not for the way that her breath hit the sensitive skin of his neck, he would barely even register that she was there.

Well. Maybe not barely.

She’s so warm, the way she presses against him. She’s always warm, except in her hands, but it’s fine because his hands are always colder. Her cold fingers thread through his hair, and it reminds him of how accustomed he’s become to her touchiness. It’s just a habit of hers, he’s since learned. She has a lot of little habits he once found weird, but now only sees those habits as things that make her Yuri. 

Yuri who hides behind her hair when she’s shy or nervous. Yuri who only wears half her jacket and leaves the other half hanging off for no reason. Yuri who wordlessly leaves ramen cups on his desk. Yuri who has to link her pinky with someone else’s when she’s nervous. Yuri who awkwardly bends her hands to link both of hers together when she doesn’t want to be a bother.

But it’s come to the point where she’s never a bother anymore. If she were, he wouldn’t have situated himself in her life as the outlier, the one person who coaxes her to talk about all of her problems because she’s the one resolving everyone else’s. Yuri taking always feels like giving, because he takes in her little habits and private thoughts that she shares with him and nobody else. It makes him feel more important than it makes him feel annoyed.

She has a special bond with everyone at Big Hit, and even with the Source Music and JYP trainees they practice with—she wouldn’t be going out of her way to force them all to resolve their conflicts, otherwise, even if they see her as nosy and meddling because of it.

In everyone being special, he supposes, he has gone full circle in no longer being special. Maybe he is, but he’s not as important to her as say, Kyunghee, her own damn brother, or Namjoon, who she stares at like he holds all the world’s answers. With that, Yoongi takes his place in her heart at a solid bronze (at the very most), which stings a little more than he’d like to admit. 

He hasn’t had much opportunity to grow as close to anyone at Big Hit—hell, anyone in Seoul—yet. Maybe that’s why he’s grown so attached to her like this. As sad as it is, she is quite literally the one person in the whole city that he’s close to. Listening to all her problems like this makes him feel like he’s just as important to her, so he can feel a little bit less pathetic about holding her so close to his heart. Even if the problems that she tells him reveal anything but.

“I’m so stupid,” she whines against his neck. Her warm breath gives him goosebumps.

“Jeez, you’re not. How many times do we have to go over this?” He’s been comforting her over this for the past half-hour now.

Namjoon has a girlfriend now. A tall girl from his advanced algebra class with great math skills and pale skin and sharp eyes—everything that Yuri does not have. He knows she’s insecure about it from the way she wrinkles her nose when she sees her reflection in the mirrors of the practice rooms. It makes him want to throttle Namjoon, despite him probably not having a clue.

“Sorry,” she says, her voice small, “For dumping all this on you, you know? I don’t wanna be that friend who only ever talks to you when I have problems. I kinda feel like I’m using you.”

“Hey, hey. It’s fine. Relax,” he says, feeling her nod softly into his neck as he continues, “It doesn’t bother me.” In fact, he prefers it, is what he doesn’t tell her. Humiliating as it is, he revels in feeling like he’s giving something, when he always feels like he’s taking from her. Like everyone is taking from her.

He knows what it’s like to be a producer, always behind the scenes of it all. She says she’s perfectly content with it, but he once said the same thing back in Daegu. But even when he chose to do things and make things for other people like this, there was always that underlying feeling of feeling like something has been taken from you. Sometimes it was just wanting the same amount of recognition as the people singing the songs you made.

Being young in society meant a desire for acceptance, and what bigger acceptance was there than fame? He recognizes the stars in her eyes whenever they practice with the other trainees in JYP’s big, shiny entertainment building because his own eyes held them once, too.

He’s still a trainee, so maybe they still do.

But for now, he’s letting himself dream small, living in the studio whenever he doesn’t have to practice those stupid dances Hitman Bang has them do. For now, music comes first, especially with his current job as one of the company’s main producers.

Producing is a lot harder with one hand, he muses, noting that she has at some point monopolized his left one when he wasn’t paying attention. He interlocks their fingers in spite of it all. With his ability to perform keyboard shortcuts impaired, he delegates the task of manually clicking things to his free hand. It’s annoying, but the feeling of her hand fit so snugly in his makes the inconvenience feel worth it. They sit like that for a while, quiet as one of her hands threads through his hair and the other softly strokes at his hand with her thumb.

“I like your hands,” she says. “They’re nice to hold.” Yoongi swallows. She’s so close to him that he’s scared she’ll hear how fast his heart is beating. To his relief, she says nothing of it.

“They’re just hands,” he says as nonchalantly as he can manage. “Cold hands.”

“Usually when you hold someone’s hand they get all hot and sweaty and clammy and gross, which is why I do the pinky-linking thing,” she muses, “Yours don’t do that, so they’re nice to hold. And they’re honestly not even that cold.”

“They are,” he argues.

“I don’t think your hands are ever that cold,” she says, her voice a teasing lilt. “I think you just keep saying that so you have an excuse to have your hands held. I bet you secretly love skinship.” He rolls his eyes, tightening an arm around her tiny frame.

“Watch it. Your life is in my hands,” he says, as flatly as he can manage for maximum ominosity.

With a squeak, she flies off of him like he’s on fire. He can’t help but smile, wide and gummy, at her Yuri-esque antics. Even when she turns away, shaking her head fondly, he can feel his heart swell in his chest as he looks at her. It reminds him why she’s the first one at Big Hit he was able to really talk to. Everything feels easy and comfortable with her, the way he felt back in Daegu.

His reverie is interrupted by Namjoon’s voice booming from the studio next to his.

“Yuri!” he calls. “Can you look at this for me?”

Hearing this, she does a little happy dance with her feet. It’s a habit he usually finds endearing, but right now it just makes his stomach twist. She waves him off, dropping everything—she even forgets her water bottle on his desk—to run off and attend to whatever Namjoon needs her for.

“I’ll be back,” she says in a sing-song voice as she’s out the door. 

He knows she will. She always comes back to him whenever Namjoon isn’t available.

Yoongi runs a frustrated hand through his hair, not sure why it bothers him so much. The fact that he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much bothers him more than anything else.

Yuri is awake at the Big Hit dorms at two in the morning.

This is nothing out of the ordinary, though. Whenever their dad was out of the country on a business trip, she always took the opportunity to stay out past curfew as a chance to spend her nights at the Big Hit studio while Kyunghee played video games with Donghyuk in the dorms. She always had to hide in the studio until early dawn so as to not get caught by Hitman Bang, who made it clear that he detested the idea of someone so young being out late just to work for him.

Today is different, though. Today, she’s in the dorms, taking a well-deserved break from work as she lays on her stomach next to Yoongi and watches a movie with him. She brought the DVD over from her house, thinking nothing of the way her father’s old American movies lined the TV stand until the day Yoongi bashfully mentioned wanting to watch it.

So here they are, watching a Korean-subbed version of Scarface on the tiny screen of his laptop. Yuri can’t enjoy the movie very much, finding it a bit too bleak and violent for her liking. And it just never gets better. It’s just hit after hit, one bad thing happening after another. She’s sure that if she squinted hard enough, she would be able to appreciate the cinematography and whatever deeper meaning the film holds, but that sounds like too much brainpower to be using at two in the morning.

Yoongi seems to find it interesting, though. He’s enraptured by every word that leaves the main character’s mouth, so much so that Yuri would be surprised if he forgot she was there. It really seems like he’s in his own little world. Instead, she finds her entertainment in his little gasps of delight, the innocent widening of his eyes, the way his grins of anticipation look as they’re illuminated by the dim light of his laptop screen.

It’s unfair, she thinks, how pretty Yoongi is. Perfect skin and catlike eyes and gummy smiles and he’s not even trying—hell, he doesn’t even have a skincare routine! God really does pick favorites. Yuri absentmindedly brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes, one he’s probably too entranced by the movie to notice. She hums softly at the way he leans into her touch without thinking.

She wonders if anyone is ever going to look at her this way.

There’s no time for her musings to continue when she hears what sounds like someone throwing their guts up in the bathroom. It stops for a moment before continuing, and Jesus, that sounds pretty brutal. She nudges Yoongi with her arm.

“Sounds like someone’s dying in there,” she says. He furrows his brows together in concern.

“Huh?”

“Someone’s not having a good time in the bathroom,” she says. “Did Namjoon undercook the chicken breasts again or what?” As if on cue, the poor guy is retching again, and Yoongi shakes his head.

“Jihoon,” he says, pausing the movie before he stands up and dusts himself off. “He hasn’t been feeling well for a while, now.” Yuri gets up and follows Yoongi when he makes his way towards said bathroom, cringing at the distinct sound of dry heaving as they draw closer. Yoongi knocks on the door before entering, his frown deep-set when he sees Jihoon hunched over the toilet.

“Hey,” Yuri says softly, stepping forward and placing a comforting hand on the small of his back. “Are you okay, buddy?” Yuri and Jihoon aren’t exactly the closest—of all the Big Hit trainees, Namjoon and Yoongi nabbed that spot—but he’s still nice to talk to, always offering to walk her home when it got too late like a good oppa. Seeing him like this breaks her heart.

“‘M fine,” he rasps, despite the pain in his voice telling them all that he is anything but. “Probably just food poisoning. No big deal.”

“Food poisoning for three days?” Yoongi says, obviously in disbelief. “It could be a stomach bug. Or God forbid, appendicitis. You really need to get yourself checked out.”

“It’s fine, hyung. I—” he begins, but the need to heave again cuts him off. Yuri rubs comforting circles into his back some more, unsure of what else to do. She sends a questioning glance Yoongi’s way, who looks just as concerned as she does.

“We’re taking you to the hospital,” he says. Jihoon groans, but doesn’t have the energy to resist.

The drive to the hospital is tense, Yuri filing in the back before Jihoon so he can lay his head against her shoulder and she can make sure he doesn’t throw up anymore. Meanwhile, Yoongi pushing is the edge of the speed limit, eyes darting back and forth between the road and the rear view mirror to make sure that they’re holding up okay in the back. Yuri sends him a reluctant thumbs up.

Yoongi insists that they take Jihoon to the emergency room, where they take Jihoon to the back. As soon as he’s out of eyeshot, Yuri watches with wide eyes as Yoongi takes out his wallet and puts down a hefty payment for the walk-in fee.

“I can pay for it,” she says, shaking her head as she fishes for her wallet in her own jacket pocket. Yoongi smiles, a bittersweet thing, at the unspoken words—she knows how much he’s struggled with money in the past. Even so, he shakes his head, reaching out to tenderly fit his hand into hers.

“There are worse things to spend my money on,” he says. “You can’t really put a price on anyone.”

Something in the way that she sees Yoongi snaps, then, but she has no clue as to what it is. She’s not sure if it’s the lack of sleep or the lateness of the night that makes her think this, but something about him reminds her of the moon, at that moment.

They stay like that the rest of the night, side-by-side in the seats of the hospital waiting room. Yoongi’s lashes flutter dreamily at the way a sleep-deprived Yuri noses against him, softly muttering sweet things against the sensitive skin of his neck and meaning every word.

“Your heart is warm, Min Yoongi.”

Yoongi can’t help but notice the way that Yuri’s wrap around him a little bit tighter during their deliveries, these days. More than that, he can’t help but notice how much he likes it.

He’s slowly accepting the fact that this might be a thing that he will have to address in both himself and with the rest of the Big Hit team later. Yuri being her normal touchy self was one thing, but him finding himself enjoying her touch rather than just allowing it was… new. It’s scary and exciting all at once, but mostly the former. For now, while it isn’t a problem, he chooses to ignore it.

He still puts the helmet on her head himself, pulling the buckles tight and making sure it’s fully secure before anything else. He takes extra care with it these days, tender in the way he always does it for her like it’s the first time. He feels like a little kid all over again, the way he cares like this.

It’s easy for him to psyche himself out of things, convincing himself that she’s just being all touchy because that’s how she is, but then she does little things that make him think it isn’t all in his head. Just last month, she gifted him with a black Yamaha helmet, covered with stickers of Kumamon and logos of brands he likes and Scarface, even though he remembers her having a pointed disinterest in the film while they watched it on his bedroom floor.

He never anticipated that he’d actually need it one day.

He doesn’t know how it happens, who went too fast or too slow or turned when they weren’t supposed to. All he remembers is tightening his arms around Yuri as they tumbled off the bike and onto the ground, hoping that she’d be okay. 

She always kicked in his protective instinct, being so small and so delicate. The thought of her getting hurt because she wanted to help him out makes him feel impossibly guilty.

Yoongi’s fading in and out of consciousness, vaguely registering Yuri’s voice sobbing into her phone on what seems to be a 1339 call.

“He’s—he’s unconscious,” he hears her sniffle, “Oh my God, he—um, no, no, he has a helmet on. His head is under the car. His body’s sticking out from under it. I just—I don’t wanna move him, ‘cause, oh my God, what if I hurt him? Oh God, what do I do? I don’t know what to—no, ma’am, the street is—um...”

When he wakes up, he’s lying in a hospital bed, groggy and miserable and aching to the joints. He’s in the emergency room, he realizes, the same one he drove Jihoon to only weeks ago. His heart sinks when the doctor informs him that he’s got an incredibly bad shoulder injury—no more boxing, no more basketball, he tells him. It was nearly dislocated, he says, so don’t move too much. Don’t put too much pressure on it. Just relax for a month or so.

This sends him into a full-blown panic. He doesn’t have a month. He’s never been much of a dancer—of everyone, she should probably be practicing the most. This sets him back far behind the others. How is he gonna catch up? How is he gonna make up for that?

As soon as the doctor leaves, the weight of the whole world hits him all at once. He can even feel himself hyperventilating, but is halted by the shock of a gentle hand reaching out to grasp his. When he turns, he sees Yuri sitting on the hospital chair next to him. Lord, he was so out of it he didn’t even realize she was there. She’s got bandages on her legs, but other than that, no major injuries. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey,” he says, slowly blinking up at her.

“Why did you do that?” she says, voice cracking.

“Huh?”

“You, um, kind of,” she begins, “…broke my fall? You held me. I don’t know. I crushed your shoulder. That’s why it’s all fucked up. Why would you do that?”

“I—I don’t know,” he admits. “I wasn’t thinking. I just felt like it was the thing to do at that moment.” She whines pitifully at his answer, squeezing his hand as tight as she can.

“I just feel like I owe you one,” she says. “Something. Anything. I don’t know.”

The tender part of him tells him to assure her that she has no need to do any such thing. After all, nothing was more important than other people—especially Lim Yuri—but the scared part of him takes over.

“Make me a promise,” he says softly. She leans in to hear him better, nodding as she does so.

“Anything,” she says.

“Promise me you won’t tell the others about this injury. Please.” Yuri furrows her brows and widens her eyes upon hearing this, obviously not expecting that answer. She practically rips her hand from his at that, pulling back from him as if appalled.

“What?!” she says. “Yoongi, no! They have to know about this!”

“They’ll worry. They’ll bench me. They’ll pull me out,” he says. “I promise you, it’s better if they don’t know.”

“What, so they can make you dance and exercise and all that shit with your injured shoulder? If it was sprained, that’d be one thing, but this is a serious problem! You’re only gonna hurt yourself further by not telling them.”

“I don’t care. It’s fine.” Yuri shakes her head.

“I just don’t get it,” she says, sniffling. “How you can care so little about yourself when I—when everyone—cares about you so much.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “It’ll heal. Everything will, alright? I just need you not to tell anyone about it.”

“Of course,” she says, as flatly as she can manage. “I owe you one, after all.” Yoongi knows her well enough to sense the bite in her tone. He rolls his eyes.

“C’mon,” he clicks his tongue. “Don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like that, then,” she says, pressing her back to the opposite wall of his little hospital room. “It’s just—it’s just so stupid, Yoongi.” She slides down against the wall and onto the floor, looking impossibly small and hopeless in a way that only makes him feel guiltier. “You don’t have to pay anyone back for any of the nice things we do. You think we do all that just to kiss ass, or what?”

“What—no! Of course not.”

“Then why am I keeping this a secret, huh? Tell me that,” she says. 

Yoongi pauses for a moment, deep in thought. Every single thought falls upon him, all at once. He thinks of the evaluations next weekend and he thinks about his family back home. He thinks about the money they spent on his trainee contract and he thinks about the amount they’ll have to pay off, regardless of whether or not he debuts. His heart beats wildly in his chest. His head pounds away.  His lips press together into a thin line.

“There’s so much at stake,” is all he can offer as an explanation. What else can he say?

“All the more reason to trust us, then, isn’t it?” she says desperately. “Come on. No way anyone would let the company drop you. I’d fight for you, you know that! We’d fight for you. No one else can rap and produce like you. Don’t you remember what Namjoon said? You can debut before him, or he can debut before you, but it’s important that everyone supports each other, always. He’d be here for you, if he knew. He wants to be there for you. We all want to be there for you. You’re so loved. You just have to trust us. You just have to let us in.”

“Sorry I don’t remember every little thing Namjoon says,” he scoffs. “I’m not you.”

“Are you really talking about that right now?!” she bristles. “This is serious, Yoongi!”

“I’m being serious,” he says firmly. “You’re the one bringing up Namjoon while I’m lying in a hospital bed. He’s the leader. He’s the one I’m worried most about. The whole group is built around him. I don’t know if I can trust him not to tell any of the staff about this. If he does—, if anyone does—they have a reason to drop me as a trainee. I can’t let that happen, Yuri.”

He doesn’t know why he’s saying these things. He’s talking out of his ass right now. After all, he trusts Namjoon. He likes Namjoon. But the pain in his shoulder and the claustrophobia of the tight little hospital room makes him feel anxious, restless, paranoid. He wants to get up and move and run or do something. But he can’t, so all he can do is project every negative feeling bogging down on him onto other people.

“If you can’t trust Namjoon,” she says softly. “Can’t you at least trust me?”

A beat of silence is her only answer, Yoongi’s lips pressed together into a thin line as he looks away.

“I can’t believe you,” she says, voice cracking. When he hears her begin to sniffle and sob, he has to force himself not to look back at her, guilt and shame bubbling up in his stomach.

He doesn’t even get to see her as she storms out, slamming the door shut behind her.

Yoongi feels incredibly alone.

He really shouldn’t, though—after all, his family comes all the way down from Daegu just to visit him while he’s in the hospital. They bring him all sorts of different foods, agreeing with his complaints that hospital food really, really sucks. After repeated assurances that he’ll heal just fine, they ask him about trainee life, about his food, about his friends. On the third day, they ask why nobody else has visited him. He lies and says that they’re all too busy training, when in reality they don’t even know that he’s here. 

The insecure, self-loathing part of himself wonders if they’re even worried.

Rationally, he knows they are, because he misses them, too. They’ve been in such close proximity that it’d be impossible for them not to grow as close as they have in these past months. He chuckles softly whenever he thinks about the way they were so rarely separated, bonding and laughing over situations where Hoseok was using the shower while Donghyuk used the toilet and Namjoon brushed his teeth, all at the same time.

It only makes Yoongi feel worse about the last conversation he had with Yuri, making an ass out of himself over Namjoon of all people. Namjoon who he’s lived with the longest. Namjoon who he gives his shirts to when they come in two sizes too big. Namjoon who he holds so dearly. 

He wishes he didn’t have to be apart from everyone for so long to realize what an ass he was being.

It hits him the worst on the sixth day his family visits him and they bring him a cup of a very familiar brand of ₩1200 ramyeon. He saves the little egg brick for last. It tastes bitter in his mouth. 

As he reluctantly finishes his water, listening to his brother, Geumjae, and his parents chatter about their dog and their work and the weather in Daegu. Usually, catching up with them felt like a much-needed break, but right now he just feels restless. 

He’s been lying in this hospital bed for too long. Listening to nothing but their idle chat for too long. He’s been drifting in and out of sleep so much that he probably wouldn’t even know how many days he’d been in the hospital if his phone didn’t tell him. The repetition of it all ends one day when the nurse informs him that somebody’s coming up to visit, even though his family is already there in the room with him.

After a set of gentle knocks, Lim Yuri appears from behind the hospital door like an angel.

She introduces herself to his family a bit too formally, bowing more than she needs to, like she’s trying to impress them. It’s cute of her. What’s even cuter is the way she blushes and flusters in surprise when they ask if she’s a Big Hit trainee and she waves her arms around as she explains that she’s a producer. She looks nothing like an idol, she says. Geumjae jokes that Yoongi doesn’t look anything like one either. He glares at his brother from the hospital bed.

Yuri looks shy as she tells them something too softly for him to hear, but they nod in understanding and send Yoongi a knowing look as they file out of the door with promises to visit tomorrow. His cheeks flush in embarrassment as he realizes he’s going to have a lot to clarify for them then.

His flush deepens when she sets the plastic bag in her hands on his side table, clambering up the bedside to take a seat beside him. He moves to make space for her, revelling in the way the warm skin of her thigh presses against his arm. 

“Did you eat?” she says softly. “I brought you food.”

“Yeah, I ate,” he says. “Thanks, though.”

A beat of silence. She reaches down to grasp his hand, which fits so perfectly into hers. When he squeezes it, she squeezes back. Everything feels like it’s falling back into place where it belongs.

“I didn’t tell anyone, like you said. I told them all that you went back to see your family in Daegu. Said it was a family emergency that you didn’t really wanna talk about,” she says softly. “Told Hitman Bang, too. I think you should be okay if you want to stay here for the next week or so.” He shakes his head.

“It’s okay. I’ll be discharged soon,” he assures her. “Next two days, maybe. It won’t be completely healed, but I’ll just tell them that I fell down the stairs back home or something. I don’t know. Gonna try to play it off as nothing major.” 

She hums in reply, squeezing his hand again. He can tell she still disapproves of his secrets, but is willing to keep them if that’s what makes him comfortable. She slides down so she’s laying next to him, legs slotted nicely next to his. He feels a wave of comfort wash over him as she gets touchy with him, like nothing has changed.

Seeing as Yoongi has never been the touchy-feely type, one would think that this would annoy him. To his own surprise, it doesn’t. If anything, he finds himself reveling in her affections. It’s weird even to him, the way he likes her touch so much.

Wordlessly, she starts playing with his hair. She’s always liked his hair, she’s said before, all sleek and smooth—she doesn’t like her own hair and the way they curl at the ends. And he’d frown every time she talked about herself like that because he thinks she’s one of the cutest people he knows.

Not that he could ever tell her that without shrivelling up and dying of embarrassment.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by her wandering fingers, which have moved on from playing with his hair to prod at his ears. The sensitivity makes him cringe, but it isn’t an entirely unpleasant thing. He gasps sharply when her fingernails nip at the shell of his ear in a way that feels like the sensitive skin is being bitten. Mortifying as it is to admit, the goosebumps that rise on his skin stem from a sensation more pleasurable than it is uncomfortable. It feels good. Suddenly, the touches that he once found curious and innocent—childish, even—make his face go hot.

“You have something you’re not saying,” she chides. “You can tell me, you know, if it’ll make you feel better.” He turns in closer to her, close enough that her breath tickles him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “For saying stupid shit that I didn’t mean. I was jealous and stupid and angry.”

“Apology accepted,” she says immediately, trailing her finger back down from his ear to prod at his bready cheeks. “I’d forgive you even if you didn’t apologize, you know. I missed you too much.”

“I missed you, too.” 

She freezes, then. They both do. Yoongi doesn’t even realize what he says until it’s slipped out—it’s probably the most intimate thing he’s said out loud. The closest thing he’s ever said to I love you.

“Can I kiss you?” she asks suddenly. “I just—I know it’s not super romantic to ask, but I don’t just wanna do it without your permission, so—” Yoongi’s face burns a dark crimson as he cuts her off.

“Yeah,” he chokes out. “Go ahead. Please.” He can’t trust his voice to say much else. His hands are shaking.

When she presses her lips against his, everything feels different. 

It’s like every shitty romance movie he’s ever watched has come to life in his bones. Every cheesy metaphor—the sparks flying, the angels singing, the flowers blooming. It’s the way he finally understands why wars have been waged and empires have fallen for a single heart. It’s the way Yuri smells like cherry blossoms and whatever else is in her girly lotions. It’s the way he’s never felt like this before.

It’s different from his first kiss. It feels exactly like Yuri said it should feel. Maybe because it’s her. 

And Min Yoongi finally understands why Lim Yuri put so much importance into a single kiss.

Yoongi doesn’t know how long he’s been avoiding her.

It’s not like he immediately iced her out after the kiss. It was a gradual thing, each interaction slowly becoming more and more unbearable. The first time he can recall feeling things start to fall apart was when he made some rude joke that he can’t even remember now. All he can remember is the way she laughed afterwards, so naturally and so easily that he couldn’t help but to think about how everything with her was just easy. Easy to tease, easy to joke with, easy to share secrets with.

That’s how things should be, right?

And then it spirals. Makes him think about his girlfriend from middle school, a smart girl with pretty hair that sat in front of him in class, who began going out with him when he shyly asked her out via letter. He could talk to her normally before, could ask her for pencils and for homework help, but once they began dating he couldn’t even do that much.

It’s weird, the way he acted so differently once romantic expectations were set up. There’d always been this tense aura of awkwardness around them, and he could vaguely tell that it annoyed her, but he was too chicken to do anything about it. He never thought it could happen with Yuri, who he always felt so comfortable, but here he was now.

He feels pathetic, agonizing over this when she’s probably thinking about Namjoon. Even if she does like him back, there’s a clawning fear in his gut that tells him that he’s never going to compare. He wonders how long she’d do that, seesaw herself over to him whenever Namjoon was unavailable. Moreover, he wonders how long he’d let her.

Everytime her little hands found themselves laced in his, the rate at which his thoughts dissipated and his heart melted became laughable. If she asked, he’d probably let her do whatever she wanted with him forever.

The tiny, selfish little devil on his shoulder whispers to Yoongi that he would possibly-maybe-kind-of be more compatible with her than Namjoon. Even without thinking too hard about it, he knows it’s a terrible thought just from the way it makes his stomach churn with guilt.

Namjoon and Yuri have known each other for several years longer than he’s known either of them. He’s nothing more than an interloper in this relationship, and it’s conceited of him to even think he has any kind of chance when he probably isn’t even in the running. The possibility of being in the running scares him more than it excites him, at this point.

So he ices her out.

With how frigid he’s gotten, it should come as no surprise that she wants to hang out more with the trainees at JYP and Source. These days, she’s been over in their dorms more often than she’s been in theirs. He only ever sees her in the studio. Even then, he only speaks to her indifferently, replying to her when it has to do with music and brushing off her attempts at small talk. It reminds him of his interactions with Namjoon back when they first met, tense and awkward and professional.

And speak of the devil.

“Hey,” he hears Namjoon say, his voice deep and distant at his studio door. “May I come in?”

“Sure,” he says thoughtlessly, not even bothering to look up from the song he’s producing on his computer. That changes when Namjoon seats himself on the seat next to his and he can practically feel the air go tense, forcing him to turn and give Namjoon his full attention. The way that his leader, who was a year younger than he was, could command so much authority with his presence alone was both admirable and terrifying.

“You’ve been avoiding Yuri,” Namjoon says. He immediately knows there’s no beating around the bush with this one. Regardless, he pushes his luck.

“I haven’t,” he lies through his teeth. Yoongi has never liked lying about matters of the heart. If it were anybody but Namjoon, he wouldn’t have, but he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. Namjoon sighs, obviously in disbelief of the lie. Yoongi doesn’t blame him.

“Look,” he says. “I’m not asking you to tell me what’s wrong, or what happened between you two or whatever. If it was between two members of this group, then I would have to. It’s my job as leader to be responsible for you guys. But whatever is going on between you and Yuri? That’s your business. It’s not my job to keep up with our producers, no matter how much I might want to.”

“But you do want to,” Yoongi clarifies.

“Of course,” he says. “I mean, she’s not just a producer to me. She’s my friend. And so are you. So I’m asking you this as a friend, and not a leader.” Yoongi raises a brow.

“What are you asking?” he says.

“I don’t know. Just don’t be mad at each other anymore. Please.” Namjoon sounds impossibly desperate, hopeless in a way that feels incredibly out of character for him. “I don’t like seeing you guys mad at each other. Remember what Hitman Bang said? It’s okay if you wanna fight or yell or whatever. Just sort it out. I don’t know what she did, or what happened between you, but everyone seems pretty miserable without her around, including you. So please make up soon. Please don’t be mad at her anymore.”

“I’m not mad at her,” he says, and it’s the truth. If anything, he’s mad at himself—but not at her. Never at her. “It’s just… weird. I don’t know. But I’m not mad at her.”

“You think she knows that?” he says, and Yoongi’s heart immediately sinks.

“Probably not,” he admits, suddenly feeling a large wave of guilt wash over him. Now that he thinks about it, she’s probably been blaming herself this whole time. Yoongi’s face burns hot with shame.

“Then you should let her know.”

“Hey, can we talk?”

Yuri practically jumps in her seat, eyes widening like saucers as she whips around upon hearing the voice of Yoongi of all people at the studio door. She hesitates for a moment, but it’s not long before she gets up to let him in. Over the months, he’d gotten harder and harder for her to refuse.

“Okay,” she says as she unlocks the door, letting him into the studio. They’re face to face now, so much so that his incredible closeness reminds her just how much he towers over her. He always said that he was short, but he’s pretty tall to her. It only makes her all the more nervous.

She hasn’t had the opportunity to talk to Yoongi alone like this about something non-music related in months. She can’t beat around the bush with this one—she doesn’t know the next chance she’s going to get to say what she wants, so she has no choice but to say it outright.

“Let’s not fight anymore,” she says, gently dropping her head against his chest. It comes out soft and sad and a thousand times more pathetic-sounding than she’d originally intended. “I won’t kiss you anymore. We can pretend it never happened. Just talk to me again. I miss you.” The way her voice cracks breaks his heart into little pieces.

“We’re not—we’re not fighting, Yuri,” he assures her, stern and gentle all at once. Hesitantly, he brings an arm up around her to rub gentle circles into the small of her back. “We’re… disagreeing.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you,” he says. “And even if I was, it wouldn’t be because you kissed me. Why would I be avoiding you because of that? I said that you could, didn’t I?”

“But you are mad,” she says.

“At me,” he clarifies. “Not at you.”

“Why?” she asks. “Yoongi, tell me.” He flushes, feeling incredibly trapped by the way her doe eyes look up at him. Refusing her wishes feels impossible, these days, so he supposes that honesty is the best policy in this case.

“Because I wanted you to kiss me again,” he admits, cheeks burning hot with shame. “Even though everything was fine as it already was.” Yuri blinks slowly at him upon his admission.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I think I get it,” she says, and despite being forgiven, he can’t help but frown at how understanding she’s being—it’s more than he deserves at this point, if he’s being honest.

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s scary.” Words are hard right now.

“I think it’s why I could never say anything,” she continues. “It’s so easy to love someone without them knowing, because you get to live off these happy little fantasies of being together and everything being perfect in your head. I think that’s why being loved back is scary. Because then anything is a possibility. It’s kind of like—it’s kind of like finishing a really good webtoon.” He chuckles softly at the comparison, fondly bumping his nose against hers. “It is! Because then you have nothing left and you’re hit with that post-webtoon depression, because the fun and the fantasies and the excitement are over and then you’re left to deal with the real world. And sometimes the real world means that everything changes, or that even if the person you want loves you back right now, they might change their mind later on. And that’s scary.”

“I still want to be able to talk to you like we used to,” he says. “But I also still want to kiss you. I don’t know. It’s weird.”

“Kiss me, then,” she says. “We don’t—we don’t have to think about it or talk about it or decide anything. Just kiss me. Please.”

And so he does.

It makes him shiver, the way she seems to shrink when her back presses against the wall, the way she feels so small when he cages her between his arms, the way her tiny hands find purchase against his chest before travelling up to wind behind his neck.

Yoongi can’t find it in himself to be afraid at that moment. He’d kiss Lim Yuri forever, if she let him.

#era.glass #fic.interloper #laruna.conn #laruna.dev #ship. yoonri #writings

[nyrator]

and so ends another birthday week with Kresnaaa

by week I mean ten days, but it was a good ten days

full of DDR, EDF 4.1, Ghost Stories, red square pizza, guitar serenading, and plenty of good times

godddd so much to remember

Well for starters Kresna’s amazing of course and continues to prove it

This trip had several ongoing stories it feels like, but let’s see...

had to work my normal schedule most of the week unfortunately for us, but we still did a lot with the time we were given- he even came to visit during lunches and made me lunches and nyaaaaaa

HE ALSO MADE ME THOSE LOVELY MY MELO PANCAKES... unfortunately they tasted like rubber because the ingredients in my apartment are garbage BUT STILL MY MELO PANCAKESSS (I made the one on the left with the mouth rip)

in terms of food I’ve eaten, let’s see... risotto was the big one (rice again AND mushrooms, mannn), also these soft baked protein bars or something, they be neat. Also more eggs, asparagus, kiwi, wing bites (aka my first exposure to chicken, though technically the second time we’ve had wing bites), and french toast for the first time~

ALSO FUJI APPLE BUNNIES... apple bunniess... also fuji apples are probably my favorite apples I’ve discovered so I should probably use them to try eating more apples

We also went for pizza a lot at our usual place (good ol’ Nina’s red square pizza), we were stuffed every time but it’s the only good pizza there is. Also one last ice cream trip for the season before they closeddd

But yes, enough about food for now~

One of the main events was our classic DDR routine- andddd the machine has just broken on our first visit there, ripppppppp-

BUT WAIT. The owner of the place walks out and tells us it’s out of order, and Kresna’s like, man, I can probably hook you up with ways to fix this, I know people who own these machines, and we got into talking a lot- this dude takes really good care of his machines, it was a really nice experience. Just for wanting to help, he gave us both a few free passes for laser tag (the main attraction of the place) and Kresna and him kept in touch.

And of course, Kresna, being the genius that he is, manages to find out the problem. And we go in the next day, talk with him, inspect the innards of the machine, talk more about solutions and stuff, Kresna sends him some other CDs for the machine to see if it’d work, and sure enough, on Friday, my birthday, it’s fixed- and even better, since Kresna told him how to unlock the secret songs and everything in the cabinet.

So dance a lot we did this weekend~ First night we didn’t see the owner, but the next (after he unlocked the songs), he gave us basically 20 free plays (each two rounds), plus one of his employees who loves DDR gave us a free play as well (and he also invited me to and destroyed me in a round, dude goes hard without a bar), really really nice people. On our last visit the owner tries to give us more quarters for more free plays and we’re like “stop, stop, we’re still trying to spend the ones you gave us!”

And now I feel obligated to go to this DDR place more because man, would like to support this place more (and y’know get good at DDR beyond a level 4-5 intensity song). And it’s great, since right before we first visited, we were just talking about making connections with people and getting our own DDR cabinet (which we shall, someday, once we have a stable place togetherrr)

In terms of DDR, we also set up my dancepad and played some Max~ My first song pick was Sandstorm once Kresna pointed it out and I regretted it instantly, I think I might have jeopardized our relationship because of it

We also went to another Round One- this time in Middletown NY, good times. I think I preferred the one in Exton a bit more, but man, gooodd times. It had Music Gungun 2 and that’s all I need (ALSO IT HAS TWISTER FROM TWEWY...) Got a high score with it and I feel proud of us

(would also totally be down with owning a Music Gungun someday)

Kresna meanwhile is still impressive at IIDX, also speaking of games that had TWEWY music

not the greatest game but hey FF music (of which Kresna is great at playing on guitar by the way, his FF2 Town theme is so gooddd). Also played more of that one Gunslinger Stratos game, this time a functional one- went through the tutorial and it seems neat, all the crazy gun combinations and stuff, but it feels a bit like Dissidia NT which is just painful for me to think about that game.

also as you can see above, Kresna won us Kirbyssss

so we both decided to have one try at the machine, and I failed, and then Kresna tried and won the laying Kirby first try for meee- Then before we left, we decided to use our last credits to win him one, and together (mostly him) we won the standing Kirbyyy- both are staying with me at the moment but they are our Kirbys (and I need to play more Kirby games- only played the first two Dream Lands and Adventure, and a bit of Dream Course)

good kirby (with a beautiful orange sunset my phone can never capture properly)

as for my birthday itself it was nicee

I had to work of course but Kresna brought me that cake and it was lovely and goodddd

a random customer came though and took the piece we were giving to my coworker and that was very... odd, but okay, enjoy it, random lady.

he also decorated my room as seen a bit above (also admire aforementioned guitar that plays aforementioned Town theme very well)

I also got him a little something~

He also got me a nice shelf which I need to fill up so I can take nice pictures with it, as well as coat hangers and other nice things, but nya~

We also as mentioned played a lot of EDF 4.1 again (this time, more Inferno missions/DLCs) and boy, who hurt you, DLC 2 pack maker. We grind, but not a super lot, and mannn those glowy flying red drones are death. We got to the last DLC 2 mission before calling it quits, but I might do solo grindinggg

Also, in honor of this spooky month, we decided to watch a classic, one he’s seen before ages ago- Ghost Stories dubbed. Mannnnnnn. It’s definitely not something that’d fly in today’s environment, but man is it so good. Both of us were completely out of character with our language from quoting it and general jokes inspired by it (I myself have been letting my language slip lately and as someone who dislikes specifically myself swearing and making crude humor it’s nyehhhh), but man, what a show. The f-bombs, the insulting every possible thing with extreme prejudice- it’s almost refreshing, y’know? Being able to appreciate the humor in that kind of stuff from time to time while knowing it’s just doing it for comedy and not maliciousness, it’s very cathartic. 

overall a great birthday and good times and he will be misseddd, until next timeee

oh yeah did I mention he stole my phone for a bit and changed my wallpaper early this visit

I don’t know much about Detroit but the man loves his boys and so I left it on all week for him

tried changing his in retaliation and failed and he finally gave me the chance and immediately regretted it when I gave him an image of the Worst Girl (TM) as his wallpaper

I am still amazed he’s still with me to be honest, but he is a good

#camera stuffs #text stuffs #long post #kresnyan~

[seonghwa-things]

Strike

This one is over on Archive!

Warnings: angst

“I’m just not ready to tell them yet,” De Jun glanced across the bedroom at Yang Yang. De Jun thought he looked cute today, with his auburn hair pushed back with a red beanie, and a colourful top made by a local artist - a big contrast to his own black outfit.

One of their friends had invited them out for a bowling night. Yang Yang agreed before consulting De Jun and was insisting that they appeared as a couple.

De Jun had his guitar up on his lap, messing around with a few chords. A hobby turned into a nervous tick. “I’m not ashamed of us Yang, you know that. I haven’t even told my mother yet. How am I supposed to-”

“I’m tired of hiding it. It’s been months.”

“Let me think about it, okay? We have a couple hours.” De Jun kept his gaze on the guitar, placing it back on its stand.

Yang Yang nodded, the disappointment clear on his face. “You know I won’t force you to do anything.”

“I know.” De Jun stood, moving from the desk he was sitting at, and joined Yang Yang on the bed. “Telling them all at once is just...scary.”

Yang Yang pulled De Jun into his arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Whenever you’re comfortable.”

De Jun couldn’t understand how Yang Yang was so open about his sexuality. After years of trying to work up the courage to tell others, De Jun was still torn down by simple things - tweets and nasty comments. He knew his friends were supportive of Yang Yang, but he was afraid they wouldn’t support them together. As a couple.

“I want to do it,” he said, coming back from his thoughts.

Yang Yang glanced at him. “You do?”

“Telling people that I already know are supportive should be easier, right? I mean, they’re our friends.”

“Normally,” Yang Yang nodded, taking De Jun’s hand, and interlacing their fingers.  “I can’t tell you it’ll be easy Jun. I know it’s not. But I can assure you that I’ll be your number one supporter.”

“I promise, if not tonight, then soon.”

“Take as long as you need.”

***

De Jun started to get cold feet as they arrived at the bowling alley. Standing in the parking lot, he could see Yang Yang reaching for his hand. De Jun hesitated, looking around. He knew Yang Yang was excited to share their news. He didn’t want to ruin that.

“I’m worried…” De Jun muttered, letting Yang Yang take hold of his hand.

“You’ve got this.” Yang Yang reassured him.

De Jun gulped, nodding, and let Yang Yang lead him inside. They stepped towards the counter. He watched the cashier’s eyes flicker to their intertwined hands, and then back up at their faces.

“What size?” she asked, turning towards the cupboards filled with the ugly shoes.

Yang Yang stated the sizes for both of them, turning back towards De Jun. “See? People really don’t mind anymore.”

De Jun nodded. He could see their friends at the lane farthest away. They’d noticed that they’d arrived, and were waving, but they couldn’t quite see their connected hands. The cashier handed them their shoes, and De Jun took the opportunity to drop Yang Yang’s hand, grabbing the shoes instead. Leaving Yang Yang to pay, De Jun joined their other friends.

He sat himself down in one of the uncomfortable blue seats, and slid off his shoes to exchange them with the bowling ones. When Yang Yang had made his way over, De Jun turned to hand him the other pair. He was greeted with a cold stare.

De Jun turned away, pulling his foot up onto the chair to finish tying it. He knew Yang Yang would be upset if nothing was said about their relationship tonight. He just had to work up the courage to do it.

Ten caught on quickly. “Are you two fighting?” he whispered, slipping into the chair beside De Jun. Ten was usually a loud person, so hearing him speak in such a quiet voice confused De Jun. He noticed that Yang Yang was preoccupied, Yukhei teaching him an under-the-legs method of rolling the ball - much like how a child would roll it before they were strong enough to lift it.

Yukhei had invited them out and paid for three games in advance. The first few rounds were played in silence - at least by De Jun and Yang Yang. The only noise coming from their lane was Yukhei’s laughter, and Ten’s complaints of having to keep score. The music, however, was deafening. It sounded like an eighties playlist - fitting for the retro style of the bowling alley.

“No...no. We just stayed up late last night. Both of us are a little tired,” De Jun replied.

“He practically lives at your house now, doesn’t he?” Ten teased.

“I guess that’s what happens when you get close to someone,” De Jun said, glancing up at Yang Yang, smiling. He hoped that whatever was going to happen tonight wouldn’t change their dynamics too much.

“Hey, Yang Yang,” Ten raised his voice. “Are you heading to De Jun’s tonight?”

“Wasn’t planning on it. Why?” came Yang Yang’s reply.

De Jun frowned. He thought Yang Yang was. (It was a normal thing for them.)

“So how about a movie night? Like we used to before De Jun stole you away?” Ten teased. De Jun knew there was no malice behind his statement, but he couldn’t help but be upset - jealous even. Especially when Yang Yang agreed to go.

De Jun had been winning this game, but found his score plummeting. Every time he went up to take his turn, he felt dizzy - almost to the point of being nauseous.

“Man, are you sure you’re feeling alright? Normally you kick our asses,” Yukhei worried.

De Jun shrugged, glancing at the seat across from him, where Yang Yang was sitting. His boyfriend was avoiding his gaze, looking anywhere but at him “I’ll finish this game, but then I’ll probably head out.”

“Yeah, don’t push yourself, dude,” Yukhei said, patting De Jun on the shoulder.

De Jun nodded. They wrapped up the game pretty quickly. Yukhei had convinced Yang Yang and Ten to stay for another. Yang Yang didn’t even look at De Jun when he said goodbye - he offered only a half-hearted wave.

De Jun quickly made his way out, dropping his shoes off at the counter and thanking the cashier.

Stuffing his hands in his pocket, he stepped outside, glancing at the sky. The moon was full tonight. He’d have some light while walking home at least, since his ride - Yang Yang - had decided to go elsewhere. He made it about halfway - a good 25 minutes -  before receiving a text.

You promised me.

De Jun frowned, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to reply.

You said I could take my time.

I’ve given you three months. I’m tired of having to stop myself from being close to you around them, De Jun. I’m around you all the time and they know I’m gay - they’re starting to get suspicious. I’m tired of telling my mother that I still have no one to bring around for holidays even though I do. I’m tired of lying to my best friends.

De Jun pocketed his phone, continuing his walk home, trying to decide what to say. He was afraid he’d make things worse.

He didn’t pull out his phone again until he was settled in bed. He missed another few messages.

De Jun, I can’t be with someone who has to hide all the time.

De Jun felt his chest tighten. I’ll tell them.

As much as I hate this limbo we’re in right now, I don’t want you to come out before you’re ready.

I don’t want to lose you.

De Jun quickly opened a group chat with Yukhei, Ten and Yang Yang. I have something to tell you guys.

He was met with rapid responses. Yang Yang stayed silent.

I wanted to tell you in person, but I chickened out. Again. But maybe it’ll be easier for me this way?

What is it? Yukhei pressed.

...I’m gay. And, uh, Yang Yang and I are dating?

It’s a question? Ten quickly shot back.

No it’s not a question! I’m just crazy nervous. Yang Yang was literally the only person who knew.

How long? Yukhei questioned.

De Jun didn’t like that he’d asked. Three months.

The chat went silent after that. They’d all seen the message, no one had replied. De Jun was praying that it was because they were all watching a movie, that something distracted them. But he knew better. They were upset that he’d waited so long, at the very least. He couldn’t tell what they thought about his sexuality - not based on the texts.

Maybe he’d made a mistake. Maybe he should’ve listened to his gut. He would’ve lost Yang Yang, but he might not have lost everyone.

De Jun went to bed, wondering if he’d wake up the next morning regretting coming out just as much.

***

The sound of his alarm woke him up - it’d been going off for almost ten minutes. De Jun groaned, shutting it off and dragging himself out of bed. He pulled his uniform out of the closet, dreading the fact that he had to go to work. Making his way to the bathroom, he caught sight of himself in the mirror. He looked like shit. His dark hair was sticking up - bedhead style -  and the bags under his eyes were larger than normal. He didn’t think sleeping alone would be that bad.

De Jun hoped that Yang Yang wouldn’t visit him. He normally stopped by on De Jun’s breaks to bring him lunch. But De Jun didn’t think he wanted to see him. Or any of his so called friend group for that matter.

Yang Yang still entered the cafe. He was wearing the same outfit he was yesterday. It was clear he hadn’t gone home.

“Can I take your order?” De Jun asked, forcing a smile as Yang Yang came to the counter. De Jun wished that he could turn him away.

“An americano, two cream, one sugar.” Yang Yang replied. Same as always. “And I’d like to talk to you.”

“I’m working.”

“You have break in five.”

De Jun sighed, but nodded. He shouldn’t avoid it. He turned away from the cash - no one else was in line - and started making Yang Yang’s drink. After letting a coworker know he was taking fifteen, he brought it out from behind the counter and joined Yang Yang at his table.

“What’s up?”

“I don’t think this,” Yang Yang stated, pointing between them, “is gonna work.”

De Jun froze, his gaze focused on a coffee stain on the table.He couldn’t look Yang Yang in the eye.

“If I stayed with you, I’d be losing my best friend.”

De Jun frowned. “So Ten isn’t okay with it?”

“He said you’ve been holding me back from being myself for the past three months. He’d said I’d changed for the worse,” Yang Yang sighed. “I think he’s right.”

“Okay,” De Jun breathed shakily. He couldn’t believe this. He stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Of course I’m upset, Yang Yang. But I’ve got a job to do, and I’m not going to lose it because I let my emotions get the better of me. Maybe we’ll talk later.” He knew that was unlikely. Ten always took priority. Who was he to get in the way of that? Ten had known Yang Yang for years - they were like brothers. De Jun only had a few measly months to compare to that.

De Jun walked behind the counter and took a deep breath, trying to convince himself that things would be okay.. Smiling sadly, he watched Yang Yang exit.

He looked at the unfinished transaction on the register, pulled out his wallet, and paid.

#angst #nct #wayv #xiaojun #xiao de jun #yang yang #liu yang yang #xiaoyang #ten #lucas #fanfic #kpop #my writing #creative writing

[justsomebucky]

The Only Exception (Part 9)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,249

Warnings: language, confrontation, threats, therapy session, talks of trauma, dangerous situation, talk of messed up people. Author note under cut.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

A/N: If you don’t like it, don’t read it.

“Y/N?”

You kept your eyes focused on your sleeve while you picked at imaginary lint, trying to avoid eye contact with Sam.

He sighed loudly, and the tell-tale squeak of his office chair told you he was coming over to sit beside you. Sam placed one hand over yours, ending your nervous distraction.

You finally let your eyes flicker up to his. The weight of his gaze on you was too stifling not to.

“Yes?”

“You aren’t ready to be back at work,” he told you gently, removing his hand and resting it on the chair arm. “Why did you come here today?”

“I- I just…” The words were there on the tip of your tongue, but it was so hard to say aloud. It was so difficult to admit that this time, you were the one who needed trauma help. You were the one who needed to talk about it.

After Bucky found you in the burning hallway, you collapsed in his arms from smoke inhalation. You didn’t know he had slept out in the waiting room all night until a nurse asked you if he was your hot boyfriend, then described him in detail.

He’d been there for you, and you were realizing that with each passing day, you wanted him there.

In the meantime, you were staying with Natasha. Her apartment was cramped, and it very well might be the next target, but you didn’t have the heart to venture too far from Brooklyn, and you weren’t about to let some psycho drive you off. They’d already taken your sense of security, your ability to sleep calmly through the night.

You weren’t letting them have Brooklyn, too.

Sam nodded, his eyes softening as he took your hand again. “Talk about it. For me.”

You shook your head. “Sam, you’ve got better things to do than be my savoir tonight. You’re so much more than that.”

“I’m your friend, first and foremost. So let’s hear it.”

You took a deep breath and looked away, trying not to relive that night in your mind’s eye. “You know what happened already.”

“I’ve heard accounts from Bucky and Steve, and from the news. I haven’t heard your side.”

“My side,” you said with a sarcastic laugh. “My side is that my home was set on fire on purpose. My side is that I don’t understand why I’m still being targeted. My side…my side is so tired, Sam.”

He wordlessly waited for you to continue, so you did.

“I relied on no one for the longest time, and now I have to rely on someone – anyone – to save me. I hate it. I quit that job to regain control of my life and I still haven’t. Thank god someone saw the smoke and called for help before I did. They got there really quickly.”

“By ‘they’ you mean the first responders?”

“Yes.”

“How did it make you feel to see Bucky there? After everything you’ve been through?”

Ah, there it was…the ‘how does that make you feel’ question you’d been waiting for. “I felt relieved. How else is one supposed to feel when you see a fireman arrive at a fire?”

“Well, you could have felt panicked at seeing him. You could have felt distrust.”

“No, nothing like that. He saved my life. And…well, you know we started over as friends. He’s been there for me a lot lately.”

“And what about the firebug?”

You leaned back, shrugging. “There’s been no progress. Bruce found a link from the emails we gave him back to September Media, but it wasn’t official. Without reasonable cause or suspicion, he can’t obtain a warrant.”

Sam nodded. “It was arson, though?”

“It was arson,” you confirmed.

“There’s nothing the police can do besides a regular investigation?”

“Nope.” You stared at the floor for a second, until it hit you. “Unless…”

“Uh-oh. Whatever you’re planning, don’t.” Sam shook his head. “This person is clearly deranged and dangerous.”

You shifted so you were looking at him, eyes wide. “If I go back to the office, then the person responsible might get scared and say something, or try to get to me.”

“Natasha still works there, though. Didn’t you say the one email told her she was next?”

“Yeah, but could you imagine the two of us back in the same office? It’d be like catnip for crazy people!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, mulling it over. “On what pretext would you go back there?”

“Lawyers. Legal stuff. Surely they’d be willing to meet with me. That way, I get into the building for official business.”

“This seems like a stupid idea that’s gonna get you hurt.”

“No,” you said excitedly, standing up. “I need to see Natasha. I can do this. Thank you, Sam!” You turned and swung open his office door, eyes set on the exit down the hall.

“Don’t thank me, this wasn’t my idea,” he called out after you.

You shifted nervously on your feet as you watched the digital number increasing on the panel above you. The slow speed of the elevator gave you a moment to get it together. Your anxiety was high; it was the first time you’d been back since quitting, since way before the fire was set in your apartment.

Natasha, who had readily agreed to your plan in an effort to ‘finally get this shit over with,’ was waiting outside the boardroom for you. That’s where the legal team had agreed to meet with you.

Bucky and Steve were waiting with Bruce at the café across the street, to not cause alarm or draw attention to themselves in case the perp recongized them.

You reached inside your pocket, feeling your phone nestled safely inside. The Bluetooth earpiece you wore was so small, no one would ever notice that Bucky would be listening to you the whole time.

“Are you still there?” you whispered.

“I’m here, Y/N,” Bucky’s reassuring voice sounded in your ear. “And I can be there with you in less than a minute. Just say the word.”

“Not yet.” The elevator made a sound as it reached the floor you needed, and you stepped off, trying to look as stoic as possible. “I’ve reached their offices.”

“Be careful,” was his only reply.

You took a breath, then let it out slowly as you made your way down the familiar hall, past May’s office, all the way to the main board room.

Natasha was standing at the window, looking out at the city below. When you knocked once on the door, she turned and immediately motioned you over.

You tapped your ear to remind her that you were on a live call, and she nodded.

As soon as the two of you made your way around the long table to sit, three lawyers wandered in, with May and Maria trailing behind them.

“Y/N. It’s so good to see you!” May’s voice was sickeningly sweet as she smiled at you, though her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Maria’s face held a similar fake smile.

“May. Maria.” You looked up at the lawyers. “I’m sorry, you are-?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, my name is Brock Rumlow, General Counsel for September Media. These are my associates. We’ll skip the pleasantries and get right to it. September Media is fully aware of the recent events that have happened, and we want to assure you that we take this matter very seriously.”

“As you should,” you replied coolly, eyes narrowing. “I’d like to know what has been done in the meantime to try to rectify this situation internally.”

Rumlow and May exchanged a short glance, before he looked back at you. “That information is on a need-to-know basis, and I’m afraid the internal investigation isn’t over just yet, so you don’t need to know yet. However, we would like to offer you a settlement, one that I think you’ll be very happy with.”

Anger coursed through your veins, and you could practically feel Natasha seething, too.

“I’m not settling anything, Mr. Rumlow. I know my rights. I know that I was initially told I’d be included in everything that was found here by my former supervisor here, May Parker. I want to know what you’ve been doing since I quit, to try to locate the person responsible for everything!”

“As of today, there is no evidence to support your claim that someone inside the company is-“

“No evidence?” Your hands were shaking now. “All those emails came from the company server, Mr. Rumlow. I’m not stupid; I know how IP addresses work.”

He smirked at you, irritating you to no end. “Are you an IT professional, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Well, no…but-“

“Then I suggest you leave the technology to the professionals. That argument would be thrown out of court the second you opened your mouth.”

He stood, sliding a document from his briefcase over to your side of the table. “This is our final offer. I suggest you take some time to mull it over.” Rumlow nodded his head, then turned to leave, and his associates filed out of the room behind without a glance back.

“This isn’t right, May, and you know it,” Natasha snapped, standing up.

“Natasha, can you please come with me?” May asked, her voice a little less sweet. “There’s something I want to show you.”

Nat glanced at you, and you nodded for her to go ahead. You watched, still fuming, as she followed May down the hallway, presumably to her office.

You were so lost in thought, you didn’t even notice Maria still sitting across from you. She’d been so quiet throughout this whole ordeal.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into the middle of this, Maria,” you told her, trying to sound lighthearted. “It’s pretty ridiculous.”

“It really is,” she agreed, her blue eyes finally showing some life.

Your brows furrowed in confusion as she stood up and moved to the door, locking it. She turned back to you, eyes glaring.

“Why’d you lock the door?” You stood up, making your way over to it. “I don’t have anything to discuss with you, Maria.”

“Oh, I think you do,” she cooed, leaning back against the only exit.

“What is this?” You shook your head, your heartbeat becoming erratic. Was she trying to keep you in here while May did something to Natasha? “Do you know who has been threatening me? Who set fire to my place?” You took another step closer. “Are you covering up for May?”

“It’s always about May with you, isn’t it?” Maria laughed. “Oh, Y/N. We need to talk.”

She moved forward so quickly that she caught you off-guard and you stumbled backwards a bit.

“Have a seat, Y/N. I’m going to explain why you need to take this settlement and never show your face around here again.”

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit!

“Maria,” you said, voice even. “Are you the one? Have y-you been sending emails?”

“Yes,” she replied, giving you a satisfied smile. “I did. Not just to you, though, Y/N. It’s not all about you, is it now?”

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words to say to make her confess fully through your Bluetooth connection. “Did you try to kill me?”

“Oh, that?” She waved her hand as if you’d just said something absurd. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I only wanted to scare you a little.” Maria leaned over, pressing her palms flat against the table while you moved further away.

“Why, Maria? Why would you do that?”

“You want me to start from the beginning?” She made a face, as if she was contemplating her options. “Fine. Let’s start with Leah.”

You knew she was involved somehow!

“Little Miss Perfect was the first person to make me hate my job,” Maria said, standing up straight. She started walking around the table, and you backed up as far as you could as she made her first circle.

“When I first started here, Y/N, I had goals. I had aspirations. I wanted to be Tony Stark’s go-to person. Instead, I was assigned to help his flagship media company.” Maria paused in front of you, causing you to shrink back a little.

“Was I put in charge? No.”

You eyed the door, but Maria saw your line of sight and moved back in front of it.  

That’s it. You were gonna have to make a break for it. You’d have to push her away long enough to unlock the door.

“That’s awful,” you replied, laying on the fake sympathy. “What happened?”

“I was second fiddle to May, that’s what happened.” She planted her feet, crossing her arms over her chest. “So I proposed a role that would get me out of there, something that could get me noticed by Mr. Stark.”

“The YouTube Show?” You made a face at her. “Really? You think Tony Stark gives two shits about-“

“Yes,” she snarled, her arms falling back to her side. “I wanted to be the one to make him money, to get him the best press.”

“How’d that work out for you?” You cursed inwardly, trying to stop your smart mouth from replying again.

“Well, as you’re aware, May loved the idea, but promoted Leah, a freaking intern at the time, to be the face of the show. She told me that Leah had chutzpah to be lead on the show. When I heard she was getting free shit from Tony’s clients, I decided to partake a little, and in exchange, I kept quiet about what she was doing.”

You rolled your eyes. “You were after greasy men’s money, too?”

“Money is power in this town, sweetheart.”

If you kept her talking, maybe she would relax, and you could make a rush at her to the door. “Then what?”

“She threatened to reveal everything, so…I set her up to be discovered instead. The money stopped flowing, so I figured now would be a great time to be the show’s lead. Did I become the lead, though, Y/N?”

“No, you did not,” you played along. “And I honestly never wanted the role, Maria. You could have told me you wanted it and taken it from me. I’d have given it up gladly.”

“Wasn’t your call, though you would have been right to give it up. You deserved what you got, I think. You weren’t even good at it.” She snickered a little. “Anyway, now I was not only still a nobody at this company, but I lost my extra income. No more vacations, no more fine dining…I wasn’t about to lose that.”

“I didn’t get any offers,” you promised, shaking your head. “Leah, they stopped with Leah, and-“

“No, they didn’t. You got them. You just never saw them, but I did. And Natasha gets them now, too. But, that’s another problem for next time.”

“What’s May doing to her?” you asked, your palms clammy now.

“May? She isn’t involved. She’s useless. May hasn’t got the chutzpah for much of anything, don’t you agree?”

“Why?” you asked, voice flat. “Why would that make you want to hurt people? You hurt me, Maria.”

She stopped pacing again, eyes flitting to yours briefly. “I already said I didn’t mean to hurt you, just scare you a little. I knew you were seeing that fireman. I knew about the restaurant fire – and no, I didn’t set that.”

“What does Bucky have to do with this?”

Maria shrugged. “Just seemed poetic to me. Anyways, I knew your little knight would come save you. I never knew that they’d offer you a settlement, though, after the fire. That was ingenious.”

“I’m not taking it,” you warned her. “I’m walking out of here today, and I’m reporting you to the police.”

“No, actually, you’re going to agree to this settlement, and you’re going to put the money into my bank account, and you’re going to disappear. I’ve got too much at stake here; I rely on this extra income, Y/N, and it’s all but dried up thanks to you and Natasha.”

This was it. Moment of truth.

“I’m walking out of here,” you repeated. “And you’re going to let me.”

“Oh? Who says I won’t open the window behind you and toss you out of it?”

You heard a scuffle outside, and the two of you watched as the door was kicked in off its hinges. Bruce’s face appeared in the doorway, and he pointed his gun at Maria.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, but you’re under arrest,” he ground out, motioning for her to get on the ground.

You stared wide-eyed as Maria moved down to the carpet and put her hands up. Bruce moved quickly, handcuffing her and dragging her back to her feet. He handed her off to two officers standing outside the door, then turned back to you.

“Are you all right?”

“Fine,” you replied weakly, pulling the earpiece out. One look at your phone told you that the call had ended about a minute ago. “Did you get all that?”

“Loud and clear, full confession,” he said with a sharp nod. “I’m still gonna need you to-“

“Make a statement, yeah, I got it. I’m getting good at those,” you joked, trying to hide the fact that your hands were still shaking a bit.

“Hey, it’s all right. She didn’t have a weapon.”

“No, but she’s still batshit crazy.”

You let Bruce lead you out into the hallway, where Natasha and Steve were waiting.

Nat ran over to you, and you threw your arms around each other tightly.

“It’s over,” she whispered, stroking your hair gently. “It’s finally over.”

“What did May want?” you murmured, not ready to let go of her yet.

“She told me she suspected it was someone on the team, that’s all. She didn’t know it was Maria.”

“I would never have guessed it was her, either. She laid it out to make almost everyone a suspect.”

You pulled back from Natasha when Steve walked over, giving him a smile when he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

One person was noticeably absent.

“Where’s Bucky?”

“He, uh…” Steve and Natasha exchanged a look. “He took the recording down to the station. He figured they’d need it right away.”

“He’s not here?” You couldn’t stop your frown. Why didn’t he wait for you, why didn’t he stay to make sure you were okay? “Oh.”

Natasha rubbed your arm, her face full of understanding. “We can all go over together, okay? I’m sure he’ll still be there.”

You nodded numbly, the adrenaline you’d felt early finally wearing off, as you let them lead you away from September Media for good.

“I think that’s everything,” Bruce said, tapping away at the keyboard in front of him as he filed the final report. “She’s gonna probably go away for a few months and get released with a plea deal, but I’ve also filed a restraining order on your behalf. That way, in the unlikely event she isn’t sent to a mental health facility, you’re at least protected, legally.”

“Thank you, for everything.” You offered him a tired smile. “I don’t know what would have happened. I kept hesitating, thinking I needed more of the story on record.”

“Yeah, I think any jury would be able to see she’s unstable. You did good, kiddo.”

“I’m going to go rest, I think.”

Before you could stand up to leave, Bruce touched your hand. You glanced back up at him in question.

“There’s someone here who wants to meet you first, if that’s all right.”

“O-kay?” Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Who?”

“Tony Stark, at your service.”

You whirled around at the sound of the voice you’d only ever heard before on your TV screen. “Mr. Stark?”

“Please, call me Tony.” He removed the sunglasses that covered his big brown eyes, staring at you intently now. “Do you mind if we have a quick chat?”

Was he trying to buy you off, too? “I can’t talk about anything without my lawyer present, Tony. I-“

“No, no. Not about that stuff. I’m cooperating fully with the investigation.” He blinked a few times, then continued. “I wanted to let you know I’ve dissolved September Media in its current form. Everyone not involved with the show, with the exception of Mr. Lang and Ms. Romanoff, will be transferred to a job suited for them in Stark Industries.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you for letting me know.” At least Scott and Natasha would be safe.

“I also wanted to let you know that you are more than welcome to find a new apartment on my dime, one with top-notch security.” He waved a hand. “Wherever you want, and it’s totally separate from the case. I just…” Tony let out a deep sigh. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else but this, Y/N, since I heard about the fire and the suspicions behind it. I have to try to make it right. Is that okay with you? At least for this part?”

“I’m not really sure what to say, Mr. Stark. Thank you. I’ve been staying with Natasha since it happened. I would appreciate a safer place to live.” After all, it wasn’t like you’d ever feel safe or comfortable in your old apartment again.

Tony nodded. “Good, good. And about jobs, Y/N-“

“Let me stop you there, Mr. Stark.” You gave him a genuine smile. “I’m good on that front. I’ve got a great job. I am happy there.”

“Shame to lose you,” he lamented, running a hand down his face. “But I understand. Is there anything else I can do?”

It was like a light bulb went off in your head, and your smile grew. “Well…”

Once your impromptu meeting with Tony was over, you pulled out your phone and texted Bucky. You tried not to run into any people or objects while you typed and made your way out of the police station. It had been the longest day of your life, and you were anxious to unwind.

Where are you?

Outside, the sun had already gone down, and the streetlights shined on everything. Cars were zooming past, and the usual Brooklyn crowd was milling about, headed to dinner, or the subway, or any number of places.

Now that Maria was out of the picture, you felt like a huge, scary weight had been lifted from your shoulders.

If you were ever to talk about this to someone…maybe Sam…the first thing you’d mention is how happy you were to have your neighborhood back. It was home for so long. So many wonderful things happened here, and you didn’t want it to forever remind you of what almost happened.

You didn’t want to hold on to that forever.

Yeah, you were going to talk to Sam about it, one-on-one, and probably keep up the therapy to get over it. But at least home was home again. The apartment didn’t matter. The people, the place…that’s what mattered.

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

If I said right behind you, would that be creepy?

You burst out laughing at Bucky’s text, then turned with a smile to see him leaning against the cement railing of the police station.

He looked so handsome and serene in the streetlight, it nearly took your breath away.

Bucky had become a pillar of strength for you lately. He’d snuck under your skin sometime between the first meeting and now, and you weren’t really sure how it happened, but you weren’t about to question it.

“Not creepy. No, you were here first this time, technically.” You walked closer until you were right in front of him.

His blue eyes sparkled mischievously. “So does that mean you followed me, then?”

“Oh, no, I totally followed Bruce,” you joked. “I have a thing for cops, now.”

“Cops? Aww, come on, Y/N. I’ve got the cool gear, though. I’ve got the firetruck, and the better uniform…”

“And the fireman’s pole,” you quipped, your grin widening.

Bucky laughed. “That, too.” 

“Why did you leave earlier? I was hoping to see you…once…ya know…”

He nodded, glancing down at his shoes then back up to you, looking more than a little apologetic. “I wasn’t sure you’d want me there. I heard what happened, that Maria threatened you again. That she…well she sort of used my profession against you.”

“I wouldn’t blame you for that,” you said softly. “That wasn’t your fault. She was clearly a little bit insane.”

“I’m sorry for assuming.”

“It’s all right.” You leaned over to nudge his arm. “Anyways, you waited for me for all the hours I was in the station, right? That means a lot to me, too.”

He straightened and put his hands in his pockets, looking a little nervous. “What do you say we spend some time together now? We can get you something to eat? I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“A little,” you admitted, shrugging one shoulder. The two of you fell into step beside each other down the sidewalk, heading closer to the heart of the neighborhood. “What did you have in mind?”

“Well…” He still seemed a little unsure of himself. “There’s this woman staying with me who hasn’t seen you in forever, and she wanted me to bring you by…she’s cooking tonight, if you’re up for it.”

How could you refuse such a sweet offer? You smiled again, reveling in how lighthearted everything was now. You were truly grateful to have him around.

“I’d love to join you, Bucky.”

{Epilogue to follow}

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #fireman bucky au #au!bucky #AU!buckybarnes #bucky barnes au #fireman!bucky #firefighter!bucky #jsd only exception

[sambart93]

Dokkaebi / Goblin: It’s Not Bad But It’s Not Good Either [A Review. An Essay]

It’s been YEARS since I did a review on a drama but this one has so much hype that I was inspired to go back down that hole again... So I started writing this review-turned-essay after only seeing 6 episodes of it; because I was already having major problems with it, and I already knew it wasn’t going to live up to the hype for me. But first a BACKSTORY!

BACKSTORY

So the reasons why I started watching this:

1. I love Gong Yoo! 2. Everyone raves about it 3. It’s so highly rated and recognised even internationally. Any fan of Korean culture or KPop or KDramas, everyone knows and has watched this damn show. 4. It kept popping up on my netflix. 5. My coworker also wanted to see it.

But also my backstory:

1. I much prefer J-Dramas over K-Dramas 2. Me and K-Dramas do not get along for the most part. I’ve dropped so many over the past 10 or so years, and only managed to completely watch 24 in total. << compared to my JDramas which is way over 200/300 (MDL).

So now that the backstory is out of the way. Let’s get into how I feel about this show, and as the title suggests: it’s good but no where near as good as what people make it out to be. But it’s also not bad either. It’s.... meh. It’s.... alright. I have already finished this drama completely but was writing this review throughout my viewing, so great a snack and be prepared.

***DISCLAIMER: Normally I wouldn’t be this analytical or this critical on a drama for the most part, but because it’s just so god damn hyped, I just had to. Don’t hype a drama up if you don’t want it to be put under a microscope and scrutinised by others, okay?

So first lets discuss the general dismay I have with this show. 

****BTW I do have a positive section so if you really must, skip to ‘THE SPECS OF GOOD’ instead if you wish to avoid the negativity that gunna go down.

GENERAL DISMAY

I’ve read some reviews and talked to people about this show quite a bit and many places mentioned that this tv show revolutionised how K-Dramas were made after this one. But that puzzles me because there are SO MANY production problems with this show. Let me break some down for you...

(1) Pacing/Tone is a Mess. Oh boy, the pacing is so bad with this. The first episode was just perfect in every aspect in my opinions, but after that we just get episodes where the pacing is too slow; episodes where the pacing is crazy fast; then we get the ending of episodes which are like super high in tension and just have you on the edge of your seat, but then immediately in the next episode it’s gone back to just being a comedy and all fun and games - this dramas pacing and tone is just as, if not more, hormonal than EunDak herself! Sometimes she’s nice to him, or she’s ignoring him, or she’s badmouthing him in front of him to Reaper. Like make your fucking mind up how you’re going to pace and tone the drama - also stablise her fucking attitude. But I’ll get to that later... It feels like the pacing and script was very rushed in the beginning and so we lost what could’ve been good, juicy development between Goblin and EunDak, Goblin and Reaper. Which makes me so sad! I would’ve loved to have seen the boys have more of a hate-hate relationship for just a WHILE long before getting buddy-buddy. I feel like Reaper nicely agreeing to not kill EunDak happened too fast and out of character. Agreeing to is not my problem; the fact that he agreed NICELY. He definitely should’ve had more spite in him at that point of the episodes and story.

An example of pacing disasters: When shit went down at the end of episode 9 with Reaper and Soni -- omg I was so IN! I was hooked! But then in Episode 10, the tension completely deflated so quickly, and the pacing slowed and relaxed so quickly that the show got boring again.

And then the final 5 or so episodes are just all plot driven; There’s about 6 major plot points PER episode once we get to the final 5 or so eps. I loved the plot points and they were shocking but, what was the point of the previous 10 or so episodes? They were completely plotless and pointless! It would’ve been a much better drama if they’d spaced out all those lot points over the entire series rather than one massive rush at the end. << I’ve heard that this is very much Kim Eun Sook’s style. Shes all ‘nice scenes with characters for no reason’ instead of ‘the point and plot of of this scene is’. Even massive fans of the show agree with me that the pacing is just a mess for this show. And it really is.

(2) Editing/Scene-Arrangement is a Mess. There’s so many ROUGH cuts and poor editing in this show. It’s not smooth at all. It actually hurts my heart to see how sloppy it is sometimes. This also links into the scenes that take place. So many times I’d get half way through an episode and think ‘what the fuck was that previous scene about? What was the point of it? How does that scene help the story or plot move along? What the fuck is going on in this scene?! It feels like they’re only bothered to edit in HALF the story for this scene.’ I felt like there were major things being cut out or major jumps were being made between scenes and such. Not only is this a pacing/script problem but I feel like maybe they did film certain scenes but then cut them out completely and it felt very obvious that they had cut them out. I don’t know how to eloquently describe it but I felt like so many scenes were HALF made or HALF edited and put into the story. The whole point of putting a scene in is so it adds to the story, to the plot or to the characters, and scenes within themselves should have a start-middle-finish, but so many times it felt like this tv show showing us just the Middle-Part of a scene; we weren’t being given a whole point, a whole story in that scene. So I was left many times thinking ‘why did they bother putting this scene in? what’s the point of it?’ Just because it was a nice scene? Just because it had their sponsors product in it? Why were so many scenes in this IN IT where they added nothing and didn’t even feel like a whole scene to begin with?! Ughhh...

☆The last twelve minutes of Episode 7 perfectly shows the disaster that is pacing and editing.

☆The beginning of episode 8 perfectly illustrates the mess that is editing continuity.

☆The ending to Episode 9 and the first part of Episode 10 is perfectly showing the mess that is the tone of the show.

(3) The Product Placement is terrible. It’s glaring obviously, it’s so cringely done and it really feels like they spent MORE time trying to fix the products in place so their logo could be perfectly seen, rather than what the fuck their actors were doing and what the script said. It’s actually disgusting; I am actually disgusted in how much effort was put into product placement in this show rather than the actual story or the actor. 

☆A good example: in End of Episode 7 / Beginning of Episode 8 we our two main characters wearing the EXACT SAME SWEATER. She is supposed to be a poor 19-year-old high schooler, how the fuck can she afford the same sweater as him?! We haven’t seen him getting her any clothing; only those gifts before he was supposed to die, giving her breakfast, and the bedroom decorating. There are no implications that he’s also buying her clothes -- or are we just to assume that he’s buying and providing fucking everything for her? <<< again, if they’d spend more time on the fucking script(!)...

☆Another example is that fucking BAMBOO PANDA towel. So many scenes with this fucking towel that it’s ANNOYING! So there’s one scene where Gong Yoo has clearly gotten out of the shower and the towel is just flat over his head, but the logo is glaringly front and center in the shot! Then he ruffles his hair with it and pulls the towel around his neck -- which for a normal person means the logo is hidden cos it’d been scrunched up -- but immediately we get a slightly farther shot of him and magically that logo is lying perfectly flat on his shoulder/chest and again front and center of the shot!

I swear to fucking god they spent MORE time arranging the logos and products in place in every damn shot rather than ANYTHING else on this show. It just makes me feel bad for the actors. I can just imagine ‘Yes great shot, great acting Gong, but the logo was off camera slightly, so let us rearrange it and we’ll take that shot one more time, and don’t touch your towel this time.’ you KNOW this fucking went down and it just hurts to think it did!

Other reviews and critiques on this show had put emphasis on the product placement being a problem. As well as:

(4) The Cinderella Syndrome: I don’t have AS much of a problem with this as other people do. But I do think it should be addressed, especially when it comes to how I feel about Goblin and EunDak’s relationship. But first, let’s think back to episode 1/2 when EunDak was essentially on her own; she went to school, did her homework, she got up, cooked breakfast; she was very capable of looking after herself. Jump about 6/7 episodes; she no longer cooks, she BARELY offers to clean the dishes even when BOTH of them (Goblin and Reaper) are giving their meals to her. And when was the last time we saw her study or even go to school? When was the last time she cared about anything else than her ‘romantic life’? << I don’t know about other people, but I remember when I was about 16/17, and I knew I really wanted to go to university so I made the conscious decision of ‘it’s going to distract me from my studies so I just ain’t gunna do it’ which is why I decided to stop working part-time, and to stop dating for almost the rest of my education from that point on. But seems like I was a lot more mature and future thinking than EunDak... because she just doesn’t seem to be showing any passion in her studies, she doesn’t seem to really want to study anything - we’ve seen her mention wanting to be a Radio Director all of TWICE in the first 10 episodes. TWICE. That is a girl that doesn’t really care about continuing her education at all. Again, could just be the script and the directors fault because this IS supposed to be a ‘romance’ drama, but I just think it’s so degrading and gives the wrong idea if we see Romance being the main or entirety of a young girl’s life. ANYWAY going back to the main point: in the beginning we’re clearly show how independent and resilient she is at the beginning, but at the drop of the hat she no longer does anything for herself or for others. She very quickly became selfish and self-centered the moment she moved into his house! It looks like all she cares about now is him and the gifts he gives her. Also remember that scene they first went to Subway after the movie, and she’s like ‘oh sorry, I can’t afford to buy one’ WHERE THE FUCK DID YOUR MONEY GO?! As far as I’m aware: you were getting a wage from the chicken shop; school fees are either paid annually or by semester so a payment wasn’t due around this time; you don’t have to pay for any rent or food at home: SO WHERE THE FUCK IS YOUR MONEY?! Also, you’re fucking 18/19 years old! How about your open your fucking hand and paying for HIM for once?! Ughhhh... Seriously, her attitude SUCKS. As mentioned above; she’s ALL OVER the place and she’s really not all that nice to Goblin at all. She’s over 18 years old yet she’s acting like someone who’s 13 and just hit puberty for the first time. JESUS. Get your shit together.

But this links into my next comment which is:

(5) That’s NOT a Romantic Relationship; That’s a Father/Daughter relationship. I don’t care if you disagree; you are wrong (jokes though, you can believe what you will).

It’s weird seeing it or having it anything other than a father / daughter relationship. Examples: He paid for her hospital, he gave her a place to stay, he redecorated her room, he paid for her university fees, he gives her presents for things like passing exams, he pats her on the head. THAT IS A PARENT! That is a parental role! That is not a romantic love interest! The most he’s ever said about her is ‘you’re cute’, he’s never shown any other physical or actual attraction towards her. And her? She never states what she likes in him and when she does, it’s only about his appearance. It’s just an infatuation and schoolgirl crush that she has on him. Nothing more. On top of that, she shows no fucking remorse or appreciation for the fact he AND Reaper are giving her a home, a family, a place to sleep, food, an education etc. Neither of them have ANY grounds to romantically like each other AT ALL.

This drama would have been more mind-blowing, much more meaningful, would’ve had a much better message if it had been a father-daughter-you-don’t-have-to-be-related-by-blood relationship. It would have been much more amazing if: by taking care of her, giving her a safe home, giving her a family, giving her a parent regardless of being non-blood related, and then in return she could see the sword and give him his eternal peace, would have been so much more heart-filling, so much more heart-wrenching, so much more meaningful, so much more moving! I totally would’ve been down for a Lost Adopted Lamb story line SO MUCH MORE than this messed up, groundless, pretty pedophilic feeling romance. Tell me I’m wrong, I dare you.

Which also leads onto:

(6) The lack of chemistry between the two MCs is just atrocious. I didn’t feel any connection, any natural flow between their movements, nothing that told me these two actors have any chemistry, which made the characters seem even more unnatural and awkward and icky to watch. I still feel like we had this HUGE lack of character and relationship development between those two too! It really does feel like a father / daughter relationship than a romantic one. Seeing them kiss is just ‘ew’.

And speaking of relationships:

(7) Reaper and Soni’s relationship is very Childish. It’s 1 dimensional for a long time. I understand that: because they know each other from a past life they don’t need that much substance for a connection BUT(!), I feel like for a GOOD chunk of Reaper and Soni’s relationship, they were only interested in each other because of their looks. Of course, slowly Reaper’s dorkiness and the fact he was clearly trying to answer her properly and trying to make an effort came through, but in the beginning, it felt like he only liked her because of her looks and vice-versa. We the audience were shown how amazing she is personality wise, and yes he did fall for her more when he was invisibly stalking her (because that’s what it is: stalking. It’s creepy, it’s in no way romantic), but I don’t think that's enough to validate their ‘adult’ romance. And when Soni did try to make it more ‘adult’ and he couldn’t do it, he rejected her, which led to them breaking up - which makes complete sense and she’s in the right. And definitely ignore the whole ‘oh they’re meant to be together because of fate and their past-lives’ bullshit. A good chunk at the beginning of their relationship was that they’re only interested because both of them are good looking, and it’s only til a while later that they are exposed to each other’s personality. That’s not an adult romantic relationship in my opinion. But you can totally disagree.

And don’t get me wrong I fucking LOVE them as a couple. I ship them SO HARD (minus in their next life because they fucking suck in that final episode life!). And I love their chemistry and their scenes together and seeing Reaper all mushy for her and trying so hard is just so fucking adorable!! I DO LOVE IT! But you gotta admit; there wasn’t substance actually between them for a long time.

Similarly:

(8) The Dramatics and The Illogics. I’m so not here for it. I lost my absolute shit during the massive car crash that Goblin caused and the stupid Snowboarding incident. 

Seriously, in Episode 9: you knew that the snowboards were going to fall down in dramatic fashion, causing the shelf and skates to fall onto her -__- but it was WAY OVER dramatic, she could’ve moved in time but ‘for drama’ her reactions were way to slow. Also the fact that after that scene, the shelter was completely closed without anyone ever going back in after that guy left! You’d notice the shelves had fallen down, you would’ve noticed! It was barely mid-day when she handed in the snowboard and the accident happened. You’re telling me; managers and such at a ski resort don’t do one last look around before closing shit for the day?! BULLSHIT!! But it’s a ‘k-drama’ so apparently logic and common sense is supposed to be ignored.

They were SO over the top, so dramatic, so illogical, so unrealistic, so ridiculous, that it made me angry. They were absolutely bonkers! How is that a well written script?! I understand ‘but it’s a show! It’s a romance! Suspend your disbelief! Just enjoy it!’ but like, these incidents were FAR TOO out of the way (in what should’ve been a normal realistic world minus two extra types of creatures) for me to “just enjoy”. They were absolutely ridiculous and just hurt my brain rather than be enjoyable. It’s just too over the top for my liking. It can have it’s charm - especially if it’s a rom-com tv show - but for this one, it’s just... ridiculous. Too much.

(9) The Biastry in the Fandom; and this ain’t the fandom’s fault at all! But I just noticed, while talking to others who had seen the show: only those who have seen the show, are the ONLY ONEs who have seen the show. It seems like those that hated the show, never even got past episode 3, and dropped it completely. So that HEAVILY explains why the only reviews I see for this show are ridiculously positive all the time/ Because those that didn’t like it, didn’t like it straight away and gave up completely. I think I’m one of the few people who doesn’t/didn’t necessarily like it but stuck through it. And it DOES have it’s good moments; it does. But they’re so few and far.

(10) Not all characters were given justice. This is just a personal preference of mine but I wish Doek Hwa had had more screen time and development. I loved his character from day one; he was a sassy child and then when he grew up, he was spoilt but was also very loving towards people and very open and tried to help when he could. He’s a sweetie. But he literally has the smallest fucking role for 11 episodes -- I don’t think he even featured in over half of them(!) -- yet we get to episode 12 and all of a sudden we have this massive switch up, plot twist with him and suddenly he’s become all super important and has been possessed by a god this whole time(?!) -- oh please fuck off! Give him the appropriate and proper screen time, AND the character development he deserves before doing that god bullshit on me! He deserved better than this! If he was going to be this major plot point or major important character, give him some more screen time from the start! Give him more development rather than every other line we hear from him is ‘where’s my credit card?’. Seriously, what the fuck script writers?!  I know some people have tried to defend his lack of screen time as ‘oh but he’s in a boyband and he was touring at the time’ then don’t fucking hire THAT actor then! Give me someone who’s going to fucking be there. NO EXCUSE! GIVE US THE DOEK HWA WE DESERVE!!

Another person is Grandpa Yoo; around episode 9 we’re left with a scene of him in the hairdressers and it’s HEAVILY implied that he is going to die soon, and Goblin realises that day at his house too. But then he doesn’t show up again! It’s all explained by the characters and it’s all off screen and not shown at all when he dies 2 episodes later! What the fuck is that all about?! Don’t introduce a sudden ‘ooohhh things aren’t looking good for him’ type vibe and then completely ignore this plot line for episodes, AND THEN when you come back around to it, don’t have him die off screen! It would’ve been better if he’d died there and then in that last scene we got of him! Address it straight away motherfuckers.

Oooohhhh and that STUPID Tehi plotline. What was the fucking point of that?! He gets introduced like he’s going to be a big threat to Goblin, he gets about two scenes with EunDak who clearly likes him and then that’s it! He’s almost never mentioned again for the rest of the drama! Goblin magically gets over his jealously within like 5 seconds, and EunDak forgets her long childhood feelings for him as soon as he’s not physically on screen - seriously, what was the fucking point introducing him if you’re not going to give him a juicy storyline of getting in the way of their disgusting-feeling romance?

ANOTHER is EunDak’s mother’s friend! She is literally a ghosts that has all about 20 seconds or something of screen time and you expect us to get all emotional when all of a sudden it’s revealed that she is EunDak mother’s friend and saved all these bank books for her and stuff. OH PLEASE! If you want me emotionally invested maybe you should, oh I don’t know, give her decent screen time! Let us SEE the relationship between the two of them actually develop! OH and her stupid mother fucking school friend! Who ISN’T her friend by the way!!! She turned up at her house and started talking to EunDak as soon as she learnt they were going to the same uni; that is NOT friendship! That’s called ‘making friends so you can use them for your own gain’ type of shit. If you wanted EunDak and her to have a proper friendship then AGAIN: FUCKING SHOW IT AND GIVE US MORE SCREEN TIME OF THEM TOGETHER! And develop that relationship!! They spoke all of like 4 lines between themselves before the 9 year gap. OH and all of a sudden 9 years later they often go to Soni’s place and drink together?! FUCK OFF. A lawyer and a radio director? There’s no way she would’ve had time during her law studies to make time for people outside of her class and internship. NO TIME. That is bullshit. They have nothing in common. Nothing to link them together (besides going to the same uni) because she practically ignored EunDak for most of their school life so them being classmates doesn’t count for shit! That is the most 1 dimensional friendship bullshit I have ever seen! They don’t even seem comfortable talking to each other in the 9 years later episodes either!! My god.

There are SO MANY god damn loose plotlines and untapped potential in so many characters in this!

(11) Goblin doing a 160. I know that like over 900 years you’d naturally get used to that current time’s society and that current time’s rules and how people live but... the way he speaks can’t be the ONLY thing that stayed ingrained in him from the beginning. 900 years ago men would’ve been SO MUCH MORE conservative and it just really surprised me how quickly he turned into a little school girl within episodes of meeting her. It really surprised me how open he was with his feelings. Yes he was probably influenced by the 900 years he’s been living in but surely there would’ve been SOME things he just couldn’t change about himself. Many men; past and present still struggle to be open with their feelings, especially towards the women they love. A LONG time ago it was very much ‘you will be my wife’ and that’s that which I kind of expected from him. This man has killed hundreds and thousands of people; how does he not have PTSD? How does he not struggle, even 900 years later, to trust not only other people but himself? How is he not struggling with a ‘I killed so many so I don’t deserve to be treated well’ complex? He just felt TOO modern to say he’s been alive for 900 years. Even those of us who live on 40, 50, 60 years are SO ingrained with what we’ve been educated on and brought up with, that even tens of years later, we still can’t easily destroy or throw away certain beliefs or personality traits or internal thoughts we have been taught or we’ve had. And that is why I REALLY struggle with how ‘modern day’ Goblin is. Stuff from 900 years ago should still be with him now. And it’s just not shown or brought up on screen at all.

Now for the final problem child:

(12) My GOD that Ending was a MESS. First of all, all it takes is her to really need someone and blow out a candle to bring him back? That’s all?! He suffered 9 years in that desert, snow wasteland but all he needed to get back was that?! ALSO WHY did you not make him age once he got back to earth?! I was SO looking forward to him waking up one day, looking in the mirror and being like ‘OH SHIT I have a white hair!’ but that doesn’t happen so... he stays immortal for ever? ............. please fuck off. He should’ve come back mortal and after EunDak’s death, he should’ve gone old, died and then in the next life they should’ve met and properly been together! But NOOOOOOOO they kept him immortal, so when they meet again, EunDak is on her second life. So that means after three more lives and two more deaths, she’s no longer around. SO WHAT THE FUCK IS HE GUNNA DO?! HOW THE FUCK IS HE SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE ONCE SHE’S GONE FOR GOOD? The script writer, Ms Kim, is stupid as FUCK. Seriously. Why would you choose that for an ending?! 

There was literally a point while watching this show where I just stopped the show and out-loud just said ‘Ms Kim really should to quit her day job.’ That’s how awful this story and script it to me.

And I already mentioned but they seriously fucked up Soni and Reaper’s personalities in their 3rd life. They were absolutely HORRIBLE. It ruins them completely. And they rushed through it too! There were about 15 minutes left of the show, the final episode and they just rushed the entire 30-or so years later within that shot amount of time. I seriously think a WHOLE episode needed to be dedicated to the 30-years-or-so-later part.

And I will stop my points THERE.

Some people have told me that this show changed the way KDramas were produced and created after this one, but my question... HOW?! How did this show ‘revolutionise’ or change the way K-Dramas were made?! Was it just the high quality of the show that changed them?! <<< which I’ve clearly proved, it is not high quality at all. It has so many flaws that just show how poorly managed, shot and produced this drama was... so please tell me.

***I am definitely open to be proven wrong in any and all of these points above, but seriously; where did this show change KDramas?! Where did this show become so amazing?! Why does this show deserve all this ridiculous hype?

Sigh...

NOW FOR POSITIVES!

So here are the small amount of positives I have for this show.

THE SPECS OF GOOD

(1) The theme song is good! (Just not when you watch all the episodes in less than 2 weeks like I did).

(2) It has a really good, really strong star. Episode 1 is PERFECT!

(3)  It does have some very funny moments.I did chuckle in some places. The comedy in this show is good. This scene is definitely one of my favourites, but NOT because of the MCs, but because Reaper is just a witness to the madness and his blank expression is hilarious.

(4)  Some moments REALLY GOT me in the feels! When Soni grabbed Reapers hand and he had the flashbacks of her -- my god that was INTENSE and I was freaking out! A lot of Soni and Reaper scenes did have me crying. Especially when she chose to walk away from him --- because WE KNOW he’s a good boy, but he just wouldn’t open up to her!

Another moment that got to me was: The scene with the mother and the daughter at Reaper’s place, and the mother is like ‘oh we came to this cafe and ordered the drink called ‘heaven’’ ugghhhh it hurt! It hit me right in the feels! Another Reaper House moment was when the blind man was reunited with his dog that had clearly waited for him this entire time.. UGHHH GOOD DOGGIE!! I’m dead!!! And ANOTHER was when the War Grandpa had waited his whole life for his wife to be to die so they could be together again. But he had died in war or super young and she’d had her whole life but hadn’t forgotten about him. I cried a LOT ---- these two had more depth and character development and a whole story in those FEW minutes than like Goblin and EunDak did the entire show!

(5)  The ridiculous bromance between Goblin and Reaper - it was GOLD. Yes, I really would’ve liked more tension and hatred between them in the begin and that being a bit more extended would’ve been nice, but their bromance after that is just GOLD. I love them two. I ship them SO HARD. I ship them WAY MORE than Goblin and EunDak.

(6) While it was predictable; I really like that the whole concept of ‘if you don’t die, she will’ plotline. I was totally all in for this story line. Granted it didn’t turn out how I wanted it but the concept itself was really good.

(7) The locations in this drama are very beautiful and very well chosen. They all look great --- but then the excessive product placement ruins a lot of them. But Quebec was beautiful and the flower field was beautiful and their house was gorgeous!

ANNNND BACK TO THE BAD FOR A TAD!!!

THE MINUTE DETAILS

And now allow me to be SUPER pedantic but here are super small things that really pissed me off:

When EunDAk said ‘Saranghae’, I just sighed. She doesn’t love him. She is INFATUATED. 

There was one moment where EunDak gets beers ready in the store and then walks off to give them to customers, but there’s no fucking other customers in the store during that scene!!! WTF she go with those beers?! xD

Oh and GOD I hate. hate, hate, hated her ‘tehe’ breathly laugh/scoff SO MUCH!

OH WHAT I WOULD CHANGE

During episode 10 I had a revelation: I realised JUST how a billion, million, trillion times better this show would’ve been IF = it had just been the three of them: Kim, Kim and Kim! If it had been more about them slowly meeting, learning their fates with each other and developing bromance and romance and such relationships, OMG it would have been FUCKING amazing! And the Goblin finding his ‘end’ could’ve been more like a ‘towards the end of the show’ thing rather than at the start and rather than as the main plot. I would watch the SHIT out of a WHOLE tv show just about the bromance and the Soni/Reaper romance. Fuck the MC romance that actually happens! OMG I am SO sad at how amazing it could’ve been if they had removed HER or made her a minor instead. OMG I’m so sad.

Either THAT or give me that damn Father-Daughter ‘you don’t need to be blood related to be family’ plot line instead that I mentioned earlier PLEASE!!!

EXTRAS

A friend who LOVES this tv show, luckily commented that ‘they fucked up the main story so soon and so easily that they had to focus and develop the side characters and that’s why they’re so great.’ which made me so happy that even someone who’s a huge fan of the show even admits the main plotline is and was always a mess.

Sigh....

SO

IN CONCLUSION

This show has some good points. It has some really charming points. It has some great moments. But overall; this show does not deserve the hype and the praise and the attention it gets. The plot, the editing, the script, the story, the character development is a mess. It gets nothing more than a 3-4/10 from me. I’m glad I experienced, I’m glad I got on the hype train and discovered what it was all about but it really wasn’t worth my time. Sorry, not sorry.

Like I said! You are totally open and free to persuade, me other wise! I am open to hearing your opinions and proving me wrong!

REFERENCES

Goblin (MDL) (as of writing, it had a 9.0 average rating) Reviews 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 Video Reviews Articles 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,6  My Opinions and “Expertise” (< seriously, don’t take this seriously) comes from  the fact I’ve seen over 800 tv shows and movies in 4 different countries (USA, England, Japan, Korea); the fact I LOVE movies and TV; that I always watch and read about the BTS makings and how a movie or TV show is produced and created etc.

#goblin #guardian the lonely and great god #dokkaebi #kdrama #review #drama review #dorama review

[thewayshefeels1]

There’s no good guys left... and other lies we tell ourselves

I totally get it girls. The last guy you slept with never called you again and the one before hooked up with your ex best friend. They say they love natural girls best yet they like girls photos who have fake butts, fake hair, fake everything. So this must mean all guys suck right? Wrong. I used to be a man hater myself. I’ll admit it. “Men are a lost cause” was my religion & I used to share it with anyone who would listen. “All guys are assholes and only want one thing. Men can’t be trusted. I wish I could just be a lesbian.” Maybe one of these is true… the lesbian part. Or half true at least since I am bisexual. But I digress gals… why do we spread this rumor we know is false? Why do we convince ourselves that it’s true? To make ourselves feel better perhaps? In hopes that IF ONLY we lived somewhere else we would find the man of our dreams. Well I’m here to bust this myth once and for all. It wasn’t long ago I said to my friend, “guys are jerks & only care about sex” This might’ve rung true for me at the time… maybe I was frustrated with a situation I was dealing with or was subjected to some unappealing male behavior at some point during my day. However, I know this is far from the truth. I love men. My first crush was when I was 4 years old. His name was Jimmy and he was a teenager. I apparently really had the hots for him. I had a new crush every year after that. Kindergarten, first grade, and so on until 4th grade when I thought I found my first love, Nick. I liked him for 3 years. Fast-forward many years later, my mom still tells me I’m boy crazy. And as much as I wish I could turn off my feelings and attraction for the opposite sex, it’s not going to happen. No matter how many times I get burned, my heart won’t give up. Yes, I am bisexual but if I ever saw myself married, I’d say it’d be to a man. I for one, know what it’s like to encounter the worst of the worst. I attract narcissists, abusers, I’ve been played, lied to, used, time and time again, yet I still keep trying... I know I’m not alone in this; women have this fantasy of happily ever after since childhood. Fairytales and rom coms definitely don’t help. Still, after everything I’ve been through [don’t get me started] I still believe in love. I’m not proud of this per se… like I said, I wish I could just switch to being a full on lesbian rather than bi at times… girls are gentle and sensitive, sweet and delicate, whereas guys tend to be hostile, aggressive and shut down emotionally. But I know myself and I know this is what I like in a man [to an extent]. I’ve tended to lean towards the more dominant male… perhaps since I’m more of a submissive type. I’ve definitely avoided men and have gone to great lengths to steer clear of anything with a penis. I didn’t have much guy friends when I was a kid. I struggled with severe social anxiety and my social phobia was debilitating and made me extremely awkward, especially around boys. In high school my relationship with guys didn’t get any better, I just craved their attention and tried to impress them by any means necessary. My first actual male friends were in twelfth grade but still, I felt I had to live up to this expectation. It wasn’t until 2014 that I started developing strong, intimate connections with members of the opposite sex. I got a retail job at Target… exciting right? Well it was. It was probably the best thing that ever happened to me until that point since I didn’t know how to interact or communicate with anybody. My friendships were superficial and I felt very alone. I have since (temporarily) quit Target, but from it I have gained a numerous amount of friends. Although when I’m dating someone, this can be an issue since jealousy creeps in… but I promise, guys and girls can be just friends. So where am I going with this? I am trying to say, not all men are bad. Please trust me on this. There are loads of great guys out there. I didn’t believe it either until recently, but most of my friends now are male. I have maybe two good girlfriends and the rest are men. We are nothing more and I love these guys to death. Being the only girl hanging with a large group of guys in the past would’ve sent me running for the hills. I would’ve thought they’d attack me or have hidden agendas but in reality I trust these guys with my life. They have protected me from harm, been there for me in times of great stress and danger, and love me for who I am, all made up or bare faced. It’s because of them, and other important male figures in my life like my dad and old therapist, that there’s more amazing guys out there. It may just not be what we’re exposed to on a daily basis. I need you to find one guy as a role model so you don’t lose all hope. It can be your brother, a friend, coworker; really any guy you know that has a huge heart. It can be easy to get frustrated and discouraged, especially if you’ve had loads of negative experiences like me with the opposite sex. But it starts with looking for the good in people, not vice versa. It also helps to learn the psychology of the male species. This post isn’t just for you, it’s sort of a mini reminder to myself. If we continue to spread the word “all men are dogs, rude and disrespectful” we are doing ourselves a great disservice. It’s true, a lot of guys can be that way, but let’s not forget, so can we! We all have positive and negative qualities inside us, it just depends what we choose to act on. We must stop categorizing and putting everyone into a box because when we do this, we are no better than people who discriminate against a certain race, etc. If you look for the bad in people, then you will see just that. There’s light and dark all around us, it just depends what you focus on. We tell ourselves these lies so we don’t have to take a deeper look inside ourselves. But that is precisely where we must begin if we are going to find real love.

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