#The Resident (2011) Angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

feistynighean16 · 2 years

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Playing with Fire

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Genre: smut, timeline before Thor (2011), teasing, oral satisfaction, mentions of BDSM, very chatty Loki, power-play

Words: 4,2k

Summary: As a representative of your clan, you are chosen to attend the annual convention at the residence in Asgard. Everything has a fast cadence when you are asked to dance with the God of mischief.

The drapes lazily moved when the asgardian autumn wind blew into your chamber. Your skin covered itself in goosebumps as you were stepping out of your bath and your servant handed you a silk sheet to wrap yourself up. The rose scent melted into the air, it was your significant mark.

This year, you were chosen to attend the annual and glorious convention where all the clan representatives meet and raise their concerns. From your mother’s narration, concerns are never heard because, according to Asgardians, entertainment is essential for all’s well-being. It is an opportunity to explore the residence Norse gods live in.

Your servant brought you the attire in your clan’s colours – silver feathers around the neckline, black corset and tight-fitting skirt with thigh slit, modestly revealing garnets.

On the one hand, being the eldest child gave you many opportunities, on the other hand, also many responsibilities. You were raised to become a future owner of your family’s three-floor mansion, a future Jarl whom everyone would respect as an equal. There was always a hint of leadership in your blood, a drop of slick strong-mindedness taking you to everywhere you wanted. Whether it demanded fairness or not.

You let your servant braid your hair while you were curling your lashes.

The image of walking down the magnificent hallways intrigued you. Enormous power laying in those walls gave you chills you did not want to shrug off.

You stood up, smoothing your skirt, and waved your servant off. She kindly made a bow and left your chamber. Scrutinizing your look in the mirror, you gave yourself a few compliments and encouragement for patience for you were sure you were going to need it.

…

Arriving at the residence made you a bit anxious, but determined. Your people’s respect for you would surely increase when their ears heard you had met the other Jarls, and perhaps had negotiated some useful deals for a future cooperation.

You held your head high and stepped graciously into the massive hall. There were two long dining tables full of Asgard’s most delicious dishes. There were portraits of the Gods in random acts and positions on the high walls. In between them were gold intricate candelabras. You were offered a welcome drink which you gladly accepted.

The hall was already filled with Jarls, recognizing and greeting some of them. You participated in a few almost similar small talks, which contained seldom hatred and angst against other Jarls. You found yourself feeling like a snake – slithering from Jarl to Jarl, listening and partly agreeing to some falsely proven allegations. It was an advantage though; you never knew when it would come in handy.

There was someone you did not recognize. He did not belong to any known clan or so you thought. He was talking passionately about something with a group of people, charming them. You narrowed your eyes and sneaked up closer just as much as you could hear him.

‘...and it was a wild boar which stole it! I swear to the Norns!’ People surrounding him broke into an abrupt laughter. You needed to roll your eyes. Typical competition among Asgardian men – overtaking themselves in dangerous animals which they had taken down. And you thought he was worth listening.

The sound of horn caught everyone’s attention.

Through a massive door entered Ódin, after him Frigga. They nodded to the crowd and sat down on the thrones. After a while, their eldest son Thor, entered as well with a big smile on his face.

You expected the second son to enter, but nothing happened. By the expression on other’s faces, it was no surprise.

‘Welcome, welcome, Jarls and friends, on another annual convention of Asgard. I hope you all have had a peaceful journey,’ Ódin addressed the crowded hall and everyone, including you, made a bow. Ódin’s eyes were filled with concern, but his complexion remained relaxed. Frigga beside him patted Thor on the back with a smile, as he was examining the liquid in his jug.

‘We shall proceed with the reason we are all gathered here today. Therefore I am asking you: ‘Does anyone have any concerns regarding your clans, or Asgard?’’ Silence settled in the hall, no one moved, nor coughed. After an awkward time of silence, Ódin stood up.

‘In that case, let the feast begin!’ He spread out his arms and bards started to play a joyous melody while everyone proceeded in their earlier conversations.

You chuckled and downed your glass. Mother, you really were truthful.

…

Bards were playing at least a nineteenth song, people were chatting louder than before, and you felt your patience getting out of your hands after a few very insightful conversations about the latest hearsays. You needed to contain annoyed sighs and rolling your eyes. You thought it was going to be an exciting opportunity, not a memory of your distant uncle lying under the table completely passed out. Thor was among the people with whom your uncle competed in how many jugs can one gulp down.

You excused yourself from another riveting conversation and sneaked away. You felt someone’s eyes on your back, but you didn’t bother to inspect the source. You only wanted another glass and something to eat. You moved closer to the table with refreshments and helped yourself with a grape while watching the Asgardian nature through colossal windows.

‘Pardon me, madam, I believe I must have misheard your name,’ you had heard behind your back before you turned to the voice.

‘Actually, you really have not,’ you replied coldly and realized to whom the voice belonged. It was the man you had not recognized earlier. His hazel eyes were curiously observing firstly your face, then his eyes dropped down to your cleavage, and stopped at the beginning of the slit. You raised an eyebrow.

‘In that case, allow me to introduce myself. I am Erik, the cousin of Jarl Knud from the Finnling clan,’ he took your hand and kissed it while maintaining eye contact. You felt a sudden flash of electricity beam in the place his lips touched your skin.

‘I suppose it is my turn to reveal my name, mister Erik,’ you sipped from a glass and continued: ‘My name is Y/N, the daughter of Jarl Arne from the Kranling clan,’ you nodded respectfully, inspecting your companion.

He had long red hair and his beard was braided. He wore a fur collar, guessing from a sable, thrown over the shoulders, broadening them. You did not doubt his immense strength even though he took your hand so tenderly. But his smile felt somewhat…peculiar.

‘So mister Erik, did you think of an interesting matter to discuss when you felt the need to approach me?’ You did not plan to sound annoyed, but you eventually did.

‘Should I have? Is my presence not enough for your gracious sight, madam Y/N?’ He fired back, and you raised your eyebrow again. You noticed a slick smirk on his face as he was trying to catch you off guard.

‘Of course not, mister Erik. It just seems to me like your presence would be appreciated somewhere else, that is all,’ you narrowed your eyes suspiciously.

‘Are you saying you are not curious about how many trophies I own in my mansion, madam Y/N?’

‘And what if it was true what you are saying?’

‘You hurt my pride, madam Y/N. For your apology, I request the next dance with your graciousness,’ he smirked, and his audacity left you wordless.

‘I beg your pardon?’ You blinked, stunned. For a cousin of a clan you had not heard of in your life, his attitude did not live up to the persona he introduced himself as. His eyes scanned the room superficially, his lifted chin showed high upbringing and the way he talked was not amicable in the slightest.

‘There is no need to apologise, darling. Shall I take it as a yes, or is it an attempt of the Kranling clan disgracing the comradeship lasting for centuries?’ His eyes blazed with amusement. You looked around with caution to inspect whether someone had heard.

It is an ancient unwritten principle, but every dweller of Asgard respects the comradeship among clans. They are to help each other in need, share forces in war or trade stock. If this principle is broken by action or even one of the clans declares not being respected by the other, the accused one faces shame and, in the worst case, the Jarl is flogged and subsequently forced to resign and expelled from his own clan.

‘There are other ways to make me dance with you than endangering my clan, you know,’ you said under your breath only for him to hear.

‘Believe me, I could have used my own practices, but where would be the fun in that?’ He licked his lips and cocked one eyebrow mischievously at you. Annoyed, you let out a snort. As the following Jarl, you could not have allowed this accusation to be proven true. There was no hostility present during your conversation, irritation perhaps, but it would have been your fault if someone mentioned it. And by that time someone did, the flogged Jarl could be no other than you.

‘I presume I have not got a choice if I want to preserve my back without scars, have I?’

‘Your choice only indeed. Personally, I would not have enjoyed the sight of your smooth bare skin being butchered, I heard they use a rope with metal spikes,’ he clicked his tongue and narrowed eyes in feigned pain. ‘At least if it was not done by my hand.’

You turned to face him stunned, again, and surprised. The image of him standing behind you and lashing the rope sent chills down your spine, terrifying and intriguing.

‘And what would your hand use as a punishing device? The same rope, or a band perhaps?’ You prompted his thought curiously while touching his arm with your index finger. You locked eyes and he leaned closer.

‘There is only one correct answer,’ he whispered in your ear, ‘a leather strap.’

‘Are you skilled sufficiently with the leather strap, mister Erik?’ You continued in querying not minding the chills taking turns with electric jolts in excitement.

‘I am quite natural, darling,’ he whispered again and brushed his lips against your earlobe. ‘It is effective, and no one has made a complaint yet.’

He stepped back from you a few inches and inspected pleasingly the reaction he caused. You gulped down and felt the slight redness in your cheeks burning your skin.

‘What is your choice then? Shall I address Ódin, or your graciousness will obey to dance with me?’

He grinned down at you and his hazel eyes twinkled with newly gained supremacy. You took a deep breath and reevaluated your options. There were no options precisely, your stubborn nature wanted to fight against better judgment, but it eventually won.

‘Damn you, mister Erik.’

You took his offered hand and with your racing heart you let him lead you onto the reserved place in front of the bards. After you had stood in front of him, he put his right hand around your waist, and you put your left hand on his shoulder.

You could feel his eyes piercing into your soul, you tried to reciprocate, but you felt too small in his embrace. You were swaying in the partially cheerful melody across the dance floor. Your chests were nearly touching, although it was inadmissible for court decorum. Neither of you could care less.

In one movement, you felt his left hand sliding lower on your back.

‘Observing the territory already, are you?’ You said teasingly. He snorted. His hand travelled across your back down and up until he gripped the back of your neck. This motion sucked out air from your lungs. He bit his lip and let go of your neck.

Away from the eyes on the thrones, his hand slid through the slit and touched your bare thigh, his large fingers tracing the line of the garnet. You hissed when the garnet snapped against the tickled skin.

Your heart was beating rapidly, and your mind was blank. His actions managed to leave you in doubt and possibly turned on the flight response, but somehow your body stayed clinged to his. However, the fight response did not abandon you yet.

Drawing his coat aside, your hand squeezed one of his cheeks. His unexpected moan and frozen posture made you grin with satisfaction.

As your eyes focused back on his face, your previous actions had consequences. Not only were you pressed against hard cock, but there was also something happening with his face.

His eyes flickered and changed colour to poisonous green.

Caught in shock, you tried to push yourself away from him, but his grip tightened around your waist, pressing you harder.

Even his scent changed from thick musk to a pine smell mixed with leather.

‘You are a one feisty grace, darling,’ he whispered in your ear and slid his hand down your back to find the rim of your underpants. His eyes opened wide shockingly when there was none to be found. ‘I have worked on this disguise long enough apparently for it to crumble down with one inappropriate touch of yours.’

‘For what it is worth, you deserve to take the beating for blackmailing me, mister Erik,’ you replied and licked the bulging vein on his neck. He moaned, this time a little bit louder. You pressed on him more eagerly and rubbed yourself on his attire, ‘or shall I call you Loki now?’

‘I...’ he whispered before closing his eyes momentarily. You grinned widely after his piercing green eyes looked down at you. Your skin was burning, slowly realizing who was touching you all this time, ‘I would prefer God of Mischief.’

‘Tsk tsk, Your Highness,’ you clicked your tongue unapprovingly, ‘red hair suits you better.’

‘You cannot be serious, too much ale must have clouded your spotless judgment,’ his eyes remained green, but his jawline began to flicker and transform.

‘And yet still made you lose your grip.’

‘Well, I am currently trying to get a grip on your corset if you will not mind,’ he smiled and started untying the back of your corset. You grabbed his hand and placed it back on your waist.

‘Your Highness, if anyone sees us, both of will be in trouble.’

‘Only you, darling. I will leave this hall still in disguise as mister Erik who had never existed in the first place,’ he said and let you twirl under his arm. After you returned to his embrace, you innocently slid your hand against his crotch. He growled and his hair had darkened for a quick moment before he composed himself again.

‘My deepest apologies, Your Highness. It seems I have rather fidgety hands this evening…’ you smirked as he gritted his teeth, ‘...I suppose mister Erik will not be able to walk out of here that easily.’

‘Madam Y/N, you are strikingly right, indeed. I believe it is time for us to go somewhere…more private to proceed with what we have started here, is it not?’ He looked around to find the way out of this hall.

‘Precisely, Your Highness,’ you agreed, anticipated and completely roused, ‘however, do you know of an exact place to execute what you had in mind?’

‘As much as I would love to tie your limbs to my bed and lash your arched back senseless all day, I fear we do not have time for that.’

‘Promises, promises,’ you reluctantly pulled apart, little sparks covering your fingertips. His eyes, now baring green colour, were looking around the hall, trying to find a way to leave unnoticed. You made a quick bow, hoping to look natural even though your legs started to tremble.

Ódin was sitting on his throne, completely focused on a heated discussion, Frigga was sitting beside him, often engaging in the discussion, and Thor changed his competition to how much cooked lamb could one eat.

Loki strode across the hall, and left through the same door everyone entered. You waited for a while not to look suspicious against your pounding heart.

When you felt it was safe to escape, you walked across the hall. As soon as you vanished behind the corner, your body was slammed into the cold golden wall, feeling your adrenaline intensifying in your blood. Loki's lips crashed into yours hungrily and with suppressed desire. You were leaning against the wall, too stunned to make any tiny movement. He lifted your leg up and hooked it to his waist, with his slender and long fingers travelling on your stocking. You moaned into the kiss and pulled yourself together just to notice a change in his attire.

‘I would prefer a place more out of sight, Loki,’ you heard a growl and put your hands on his cheeks. There was no beard anymore, only a smooth shaven face with a sharp-edged jawline. You opened your eyes to see His Highness panting and wanting.

His green eyes desirously stared into yours, a thin line between his eyebrows signifying slight irritation, and raven curls scattered on his shoulders in frustration. His breathing was hard as his lust was rising. You were more pleased with his appearance in real life even though your earlier remark. He was pressing on you, giving you a big hard snippet of his arousal.

‘Are you certain, madam Y/N? In all honesty, those people could use a bit of inspiration themselves,’ he smirked and tugged at your garnet, making you gasp and smile.

‘As much as I would love to fuck you right in the hallway outside the room in which whole Asgard and your family is, I believe it would put in me in the wrong light later,’ he raised his eyebrows and you could swear you saw a glimpse of amazement in his eyes.

‘And we cannot risk it, can we?’ He let go of you abruptly and took your hand. He began walking through the long hallway, and you followed him blindly. Something in the way he walked made you bite your lower lip. How the leather jacket was embracing his form and how the gold shoulder pads made him appear resilient and strong.

You sneaked through several chambers until you found yourself standing in front of a massive door. Spotting a green mist, the door opened, and he let you enter inside. You were astonished by the place, likely his bedroom. Huge number of books was neatly organized in bookshelves and the sight of the giant bed with silk black sheets was calling you to crawl in.

Biting your lower lip, you turned to face him and pin him against the door, closing itself with audible thud. He was caught off guard, but quickly read your intentions. Your hands explored his attire and your fingers slid down to his crotch. You were about to enter into his pants, when he picked you up and slammed your body against one of the tall bookshelves, while several books fell onto the floor.

He was kissing you with lust, sliding his tongue inside your mouth, and pressing on you more harshly. You tangled your fingers in his locks, tugging it for him to know how much you are content. He started to work his way to your earlobe with his lips, nipping at it. You moved your hips in his direction, eagerly nudging him.

‘Your scent drives me crazy, Y/N,’ he growled and pressed on you more fiercely so you could feel individual shelves digging into your back. You were growing impatient, so you grabbed his hand and put it on your thigh.

He sucked your lower lip between his teeth and caressed your thigh. His hand moved torturingly slow before it reached the skin of your inner thigh. You moaned his name when his index finger ran through your folds.

‘So wet, so soaked for me,’ he murmured against your mouths.

‘And will dry out if you do not do something about it,’ you said hoarse. His finger stopped in its tracks and his eyes stared into yours.

‘Firstly, it would not for I can make you wet any time I like.’

‘Stalling, are you?’

‘And secondly,’ he intensified his stare and gripped your neck, ‘do not tell me what to do.’

He squeezed your neck for a moment. You gasped for breath, but then his hand loosened, and his lips returned to yours, tugging and sucking until they were puffy and red. Your heart skipped a few beats out of horror, but not for long. You knew it was a play of who is in superior position, he knew it too.

He parted from you and observed two puffy pads he had been molesting.

‘Otherwise, you will not be able to walk out of here on your own,’ he wetted his lips longingly and inserted his finger in you. You gasped and purred in his ear.

‘What if it is exactly what I am aiming for, Loki.’

He smirked and bit down on the sensitive skin on your collarbone. You moaned loudly. He needed to brand you with his signature. However, you did not let that happen one-sidedly. You pulled his hair, making his head fall back, and sucked the skin on his neck. Whilst you were working towards the neckline of his attire, he shoved another finger in you and began circling them slowly.

You pushed the thighs together, nudging him closer. He shoved into you a third finger, increasing the speed. You panted into his neck. His thumb rubbed your clit while curling and spreading his fingers inside. You were soaking wet, breathing heavily, pulling his hair roughly. Sweat was building on your forehead, and you knew you were going to explode any second. You made him look you in the eyes, him smirking and you fluttering your eyelids.

You felt yourself approaching your climax, curling his fingers inside you and releasing pressure. You hung onto him, with your legs trembling. He worked your high off, slowly decreasing the speed.

‘Are you sure you wish to live up to the idea of you crawling out of here on your knees?’ He removed his fingers, and without breaking eye contact, he licked them.

‘Are you always so full of words during sex?’ You remarked and used your full strength to press him on another tall bookshelf, causing it to rumble. You seized the situation and slid your hand in his pants. He moaned and you felt him harden. You watched him melt under your touch.

‘You are going to be filled with me in a moment.’

‘I very much count on it,’ you traced your fingers on his throbbing veins, circling on his tip. For each of these movements, you earned several moans. You started to pump him slowly, looking at his expression, twisted with pleasure. You kissed him on the other side of his neck and bit down on his skin. Feeling him approaching his climax and pressing his lap on you for more, you increased the speed. Suddenly, you felt his cum cover your hand. You worked his climax off as his chest was heaving and he growled in satisfaction. His hand fled to his hair to run through it.

‘Well, Your Highness, it seems the tables have turned,’ you smirked and let him watch as you slid your hand with his cum under your skirt and rubbed it on your entrance. His pupils dilated and his voice sounded raspier.

‘Have they, though? I do not think you are prepared for what is going to follow.’

He picked you up, squeezing your buttocks, and threw you on the bed. Before you fell into the silk black sheets, you felt a wind blowing around your body and causing goosebumps to appear. You realized you became completely naked except for your garnets.

You spotted his wicked grin when he took off his attire. He snapped his fingers, the green mist appeared, and the attire fell onto the floor. Your eyes wandered from his shoulders to his chest, to his arms, to his chiselled muscles, and ultimately to his crotch. He was enormous. You licked your lips in anticipation.

Loki sat between your legs grabbing your left one and laid small kisses from your hip to the garnet. Then he bit down on the garnet and slid it down your leg, leaving you breathless. He did the same on your right leg, after which he laid kisses back to your hip.

Longing for his lips, you grabbed his cheeks and led his face to yours. He pinned you with his weight to the sheets, falsely thinking he would fuck your cockiness out of you, but you had other plans – bending your legs and embracing him, you rolled to the side so now you happened to be sitting on top of him.

He let out a surprised gasp when you rubbed against him. You bent down to kiss his parted lips. He tried to roll you on the back again, but you refused him to do so.

Although if he had really wanted it, he would have done it in a snap.

You started making your way of kisses from his jaw to his collarbone and back. Meanwhile he squeezed your buttocks with both hands, and you felt him hardening again.

You put his cock in your hand, pumped for a few times, and thrusted in yourself, slowly adjusting to his size and at your own terms. You both were panting as you slid all of him inside.

He felt so heavenly.

Loki sat and drew you closer to caress your breasts, nipping and sucking on each one. You let yourself give in for a moment, but then you pushed him into the sheets and leaned against his chest.

For a few times, you teased him by only circling your hips and heard him curse. You smiled mischievously. After he realized you were doing it purposely, he flipped you on your back in one swift motion, leaving you baffled and out of breath.

‘Do you really think you are in a position to provoke the God of mischief, darling?’ He kissed you roughly, biting until you felt the iron taste, and pulled out, after which he thrusted in you with all of his length. You gasped and dug your nails into his arms.

‘You bet...I do,’ you panted between each thrust, always hitting the exact sensitive spot. He was proving you wrong, but you rejected admitting it. You could not back down, your pride did not allow it.

‘Persistent until the very end,’ he whispered and increased the speed. Sweat was building on both of your foreheads, but yours was more evident. He was giving you a hard time. Loki made you stare into his eyes, but all you could do was dig your nails into his arms and reach your climax. Your mind went completely blank.

You tried to tell him you were going to come, but you were short on breath as he was thrusting into you senselessly. You felt clenching his cock inside you, heartbeat in your ears, and digging your nails even deeper into his muscles. He was staring into your eyes and working towards his own end.

With a final thrust, you cried out loud his name.

Hearing his name coming from your mouth made him close his eyes and release himself. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and pinned you with all of his weight to the sheets.

Both of you were panting breathlessly, your chests heaving. The only thing you could think about was how to start breathing again. After you had come down from your high, you scrutinized his arms full of little scratches and his neck. You stroked his hair and the arm he had wrapped around you and smirked.

Although he must have been less worn out than you, his face said otherwise.

After he had come down from his high, he pulled out and stayed lying on top of you, visibly enjoying you stroking his hair. With his free hand, he caressed the marks on your neck, and soothed them with his lips.

‘Just so you know, I take promises with utmost seriousness, darling,’ he whispered, giving your lips a peck, ‘you were talking about leather straps earlier, aye?’

Last updated: 17th August 2023

#loki #loki x reader #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki god of mischief #loki of asgard #loki x f!reader #loki x you #loki x y/n #mcu #mcu x reader #marvel

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agerefandom · 11 months

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Top 10: Tumblr vs. AO3

Just felt like doing some statistics with my work!! Comparing AO3 popular fics vs. tumblr popular fics and seeing what I found out: thought other people might be interested as well! Ramblings about patterns and causes are under the ‘read more’ :P

AO3 (by kudos):

Class Outing: BNHA, regressor!Izuku (1247 kudos)

Only Heaven I’ll Be Sent To: Resident Evil, regressor!reader, caregiver!Lady Dimitrescu (759 kudos)

Cold Palms, Warm Heart: Twilight, regressor!reader, caregivers!Alice and Jasper (573 kudos)

The Doctor’s Office: Twilight, regressor!reader, caregiver!Carlisle (403 kudos)

Kitchen Friends: Marvel, regressor!reader, caregiver!Steve and Bucky (336 kudos)

Sound and Silence: BNHA, regressor!Aizawa, cg!Hizashi (321 kudos)

Restrained: Death Note, regressor!Light, caregiver!L (309 kudos)

A Story For Sans: regressor!Sans, caregiver!Papyrus (278 kudos)

Home Sweet Home: caregivers!Carlisle and Esme, regressor!Cullens (273 kudos)

To Weather The Storm: caregiver!Tamaki, regressor!Haruhi (238 kudos)

Tumblr (fics only):

Class Outing (167 notes)

Cold Palms, Warm Heart (159 notes)

The Playtime Solution: Sanders Sides, regressor!Logan (159 notes)

The Doctor’s Office (150 notes)

Sugary Sweet: Twilight, regressor!reader, cg!Jasper and Alice (150 notes)

Kitchen Friends (125 notes)

Only Heaven I’ll Be Sent To (116 notes)

What Family Is: Harry Potter, regressor!reader, cg!Remus and Sirius (116 notes)

Just Plane Overwhelmed: Sanders Sides, regressor!Virgil (111 notes)

Golden Slumbers: Harry Potter, regressor!reader and Harry, cg!Fred (110 notes)

Overall Tumblr Top 10:

Caregiver Valerie Frizzle headcanons & moodboard (409 notes)

Writing Prompts 2019 / 2022 (290/365 notes)

Caregivers Tiana and Naveen headcanons (244 notes)

Caregiver Jack Skellington moodboard (229 notes)

Caregiver Morticia Addams moodboard (224 notes)

Regressor Wybie Moodboard (205 notes)

Caregiver Bruno Madrigal headcanons (201 notes)

Caregiver Jack Skellington headcanons (191 notes)

Caregivers Sundrop and Moondrop headcanons (189 notes)

Caregiver Belle headcanons (182 notes)

This was really interesting!!

Re: overall tumblr top 10: I think it’s funny that my throwaway moodboards are often some of the most popular content on my blog. Things I’m just like ‘ooh I gotta make this’ are mixed in with requests, I think that’s interesting! Ms. Frizzle just blowing away the competition, that’s amazing and I love it. Nothing is even close to how popular she is, and she deserves it. Jack Skellington coming onto the list twice? Come through king, I would love to write a full fic in Halloweentown sometime.

Generally, the more ‘alternative’ characters seem to get a lot more attention on my blog: The Pumpkin King, Morticia, Wybie, Sundrop and Moondrop... Tiana and Naveen really snuck up there though!

Moving onto the more direct fic comparison:

....well this made me realize that I never published my Sanders Sides fics from this blog on AO3, whoops

Setting that aside, fics with angst and plot tend to do better on AO3, while fluffy stories do better on tumblr: Sugary Sweet doesn’t even hit my top 10 on AO3 and it’s one of the fluffiest fics I’ve ever written, coming in at #5 on the tumblr list

On the other hand, Only Heaven I’ll Be Sent To is by far one of my best performing fics on AO3, but comes in at number 6 (tied with another fic) on tumblr, probably because it features a lot of action and gore alongside the fluffy agere elements, same for Restrained showing up on the AO3 top but not tumblr’s.

My Harry Potter fics do way better on tumblr, which is interesting? Maybe Harry Potter fans are still reading their fics on independent forums? Or Harry Potter folks on AO3 don’t cross over much with the agere crowd. (Or maybe they’re just overloaded with /reader fics) I haven’t been actually into the HP community since around 2011 so I’m not sure what’s up there.

Big shoutout to Class Outing for dominating the top of both lists: BNHA is such a big fandom that it makes sense, and I wrote that fic on @agere-fandom-time, which I think got more interaction than this blog: it seems like people are more comfortable interacting with a group-run blog, rather than an individual writer. Or maybe that’s a natural consequence of more writers putting out more consistent content, letting the blog get bigger. I’m not sure! Either way, even if I’m not into BNHA anymore, I feel like it’s a good piece of my writing, so I’m happy for it to be my top spot.

#how do i tag this lol #hark i say nothing #stella babbles in statistics #ao3 stats are one of my hobbies #i love to compare years and fandoms and ships and tags #i have like over a hundred graphs on my computer for different comparisons #i've considered making a sideblog for it #but i can also just ramble to my partner #like a person with a conspiracy board #it's great #links.... so many links

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sugareey-makes-stuff · 2 years

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Welp! Today is my birthday, and I’m another year older. It’s crazy to think about how much time has flown by since I joined fandom well over a decade and a half ago and how that has shaped me as a person. But hey, I wouldn’t have it any other way. My past self wouldn’t have thought I would still be making things to this day. But inspiration and motivation needs to come from somewhere, and it’s thanks to all of you lovely fandom folks for being the reason why I still make art, and why I started writing again! If it wasn’t for fandom, I have no idea where I would be. Fandom holds a very special place in my heart because it’s a community where I can be myself and feel at home. The support I’ve received on my many crazy initiatives, and each friendship I’ve made over the years have all been truly special. As a thank you, I’m presenting a throwback rec list of 22 Drarry and rare pairs fics dating back between 2003-2017. Each and every one of these have impacted me in some way, have pulled me through some really difficult times and/or I still love to reread to this day. Maybe these are ones y’all love too, or have yet to read. I’ve added some tags where applicable just in case, since not all of these have extensive AO3 tags. Don’t forget to give these authors some love by leaving kudos and/or comments! [If you do want to see more detailed rec posts for these fics, send the word by commenting or sending a request in my inbox!] Without further ado, here ya go and enjoy!

Drarry

🧁 >>> Waters of March by geoviki (T, 21.6k, 2003)- Canon-Divergence, AU, Post-War, Order of the Phoenix, St. Mungo’s, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, brief mentions of Torture/Violence, London, Coffee Shops, Banter, Getting Together, Alternating PoVs

Summary: Voldemort's final victim resides with the other spell-damaged wizards in St. Mungo's Hospital. Harry suffers survivor's guilt and finds an unusual beta.

🧁 >>> Tip of the Icing by megyal | @megyalwrites (M, 32.6k, 2007)- EWE, Post-war, Pre-DH, Fluff, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Magical AU, various OCs, Baking, Kid!fic, Past Relationships, Mentions of Past Affairs, Jealousy, Banter

Summary: Harry's successful cake/pastry career brings an old nemesis as a new client.

🧁 >>> Small Blessings by oldenuf2nb (M, 37k, 2009)- EWE, Post-war, Adopted Children, Found Family, Dad!Harry, Model!Draco, Pureblood Culture, Expectations, Attempted Kidnapping, Getting Together, Snogging, Humping, Falling in Love, Parenting, various OCs, Alternating PoVs

Summary: After the war, Harry opens an orphanage with the help of a surprising friend. When he adopts an infant left on his doorstep, he has no idea what fate has in store for him.

🧁 >>> Taste of Magic by Romaine | @romaine2424 (M, 10.1k, originally written in 2009)- Auror!Harry, Unspeakable!Draco, Banter, Goblet of Fire, Magic Vanishing, brief mentions of deaths, Drinking, Sex, Muggle World, Bittersweet, Light Angst, Hopeful Ending

Summary: As the world's atmosphere changes, magic starts to disappear. Only a "lucky" few will stay in the magical world until the earth begins to heal.

🧁 >>> Symbiosis by fireflavored (E, 20.2k, 2009)- Post-war, 8th Year, Quidditch, Humour, UST, Flirting, Arrangements, Bullying, Prejudices, Wanking, BJs, Rimming, Sex, Christmas, Getting Together, Happy Ending

Summary: sym·bi·o·sis (sĩm'bē-ō'sĩs) n. Biology A close, prolonged association between two or more different organisms of different species that may, but does not necessarily, benefit each member.

🧁 >>> The Charm Conundrum by dysonrules (M, 8.3k, originally written in 2010)- 8th Year, Awkward Flirting, Humour, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Courting, Misunderstandings, Crushes, Idiots in Love, Jealousy, Banter, Teasing, Sneaking Around at Night, Sex, Happy Ending

Summary: Harry misplaces an interesting "self-help" manual. Draco finds it and discovers some fascinating insights into Harry Potter.

🧁 >>> Sæglópur by femmequixotic | @femmequixotic (M, 34.3k, 2011)- EWE, First Person PoV, Break-up, Affairs, Fuckbuddies, UST, Idiots in Love, Banter, Holiday, Travel, Old Magic, Iceland, Lack of Communication, Feelings, Banter, Public Sex, Jealousy, Meddling Friends, Angst with a Happy Ending, Getting Back Together

Summary: After a difficult breakup, Draco finds himself dragged to the land of magic, law, and natural wonders where, of course, nothing goes as planned.

🧁 >>> Draco Malfoy, It's Your Lucky Day by faithwood (E ,37.4k, 2012)- 8th Year, Mystery, Enemies to Lovers, Injuries, Felix Felicis, Temporary Memory Loss, Cuddling, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Handjobs, Rimming, Feelings, Curses, Misunderstandings, Deception, Memory Potions, Happy Ending

Summary: Even though he's unarmed, injured, lost in the Forbidden Forest, and facing a possible murder charge, Draco Malfoy gets lucky.

🧁 >>> Phoenix Rising by tuesdaymidnight (M, 25.6k, 2013)- Post-war, EWE, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Permanent Injury, Music, Trauma, Prophecy, Divination, Muggle world, Holidays, Friendships with Gryffindors, past break-up, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Getting Back Together, Song!Fic

Summary: Twelve years after the war, Draco is a successful organ tuner living in London, but he is still burdened by the effects of the war. Dark magic left him with a crippled body and, he sometimes worries, an empty heart. By chance he spots Harry in Muggle London, and the old feelings he once had for him rush back. When mutual friends express concern about Harry, it prompts Draco to seek him out. Draco is surprised but intrigued by Harry's interest in prophecy and seers, and he finds himself falling for Harry all over again. The only problem is figuring out if Harry could possibly return his feelings.

🧁 >>> Falling Stars, Catching Lightning by daftfear | @13pawns (E, 6.6k, 2015)- Post-war, Magical Tattoos, Symbolism, Flirting, Lust, Banter, UST, Sex

Summary: Draco’s talent and skill as a tattoo artist are without equal, but when Potter comes in asking for a custom piece that’ll take several sessions to complete, Draco finds his abilities and professionalism tested.

🧁 >>> Solder by Oakstone730 (E, 34.5k, 2015)- more tags on AO3

Summary: Seven years ago, Harry disappeared out of Draco and Scorpius's life without a trace after Harry's addictions destroyed his and Draco's marriage. Now, Harry’s back, and Draco wants to believe he’s changed. But Harry isn’t the only one haunted by the past.

🧁 >>> (The Piece) I was Missing All Along by lauren3210 (E, 34.5k, 2015)- Post-war, Flashbacks, Best Friends, Feelings, Idiots in Love, Pining, Heartbreak, Sex, UST, Infidelity against an OC, Engagement, Wedding, Confessions, Meddling Friends, Jealousy, Denial, Confrontations, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Draco and Harry have been flatmates and best friends for years, and Draco thinks life is just perfect that way. But when something comes along and threatens to take all that away, Draco has to decide what it is he really wants, and just how hard he's going to work to get it.

Rare Pairs

🎂 >>> WAGs to Riches by nqdonne (Perciver, E, 8.8k, originally written in 2007)- Non-Magical AU, Reunions, Rugby, Offices, Wooing, Flirting, Getting Together, First Dates, BJs, Sex, Crushes, Fantasies, Humour, Puns

Summary: How the boy Percy had idly daydreamed about in school had ended up one of the country's top rugby players was something Percy left up to bad karma.

🎂 >>> What Pride Doesn’t Know by igrockspock (Perciver, G, 3.7k, 2012)- Getting Together, Coming Out, Canon-Compliant, Misunderstandings, Anxiety, Family, Apologies

Summary: How Percy Weasley came to dance with Oliver Wood at Ginny's wedding is a long story, and he may have forgotten to tell his family a few parts of it -- like how he's gay, and in a relationship with a man.

🎂 >>> A Root So Deep by wook77 (Deamus, E, 13.8k, 2012)- DH Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Roommates, mentions of other relationships/hook-ups, Separation, Travelling, Pining , Snogging, BJs, Sex, Miscommunication, Apologies, Getting Together, Falling in Love

Summary: There is an Irish proverb that states, "when the root is deep, there is no need to fear the wind". Seamus is about to learn how deep the root of his friendship with Dean truly is.

🎂 >>> Willing to Be Proved Wrong (Or, How Percy Weasley Fought the Magic of Christmas and Lost) by Eleos (Perciver, M, 5k, 2014)- HBP, Christimas Eve, Leaky Cauldron, Snogging, Reunions, Awkward Flirting, Conversations, Hook-up, Hopeful Ending

Summary: Percy Weasley didn’t believe in fate. He didn't believe in luck, destiny, or serendipity, and he certainly didn't believe in the magic of Christmas. A surprise encounter with Oliver Wood may just change his mind.

🎂 >>> you had time by mixtapestar | @mixtapestar (Perciver, E, 13.2k, 2015)- Post-war, Future-Fic, Reunions, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, Friendship, Getting Together, Crushes, Misunderstandings, Light Angst, Snogging, Handjobs, Happy Ending

Summary: Oliver isn’t quite sure what convinces him to go back to the Hog’s Head on the 4th anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. He had never gone to any of the official celebrations that happened over the past few years, but he knows that Aberforth isn’t one for ceremony. Here he can have a quiet drink to commemorate lives lost and to celebrate what was won without anyone making a big show of things. What he isn’t expecting is to run into Percy Weasley at the pub.

🎂 >>> Grazed Knees by montparnasse | @montpahrnah (Linny, T, 5.5k, 2015)- EWE, Post-war, Hogwarts, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Snogging, Anxiety, Nightmares, Reassurances, Growing Up, Hopeful Ending

Summary: The war is over, except that it isn't, and Ginny is done fighting, except that she's not.

🎂 >>> A Little Like This by bansheee (Deamus, M, 5.5k, 2016)- more tags on AO3

Summary: “I wish there was a way to practice first,” Dean commented. “Y’know, before the real thing.” “We could,” Seamus said. “We could practice together.” Dean balked, and Seamus held up his hands. “No, no, hear me out,” Seamus’ cheeks flooded with red and Dean felt like his were just as hot. “Ya don’t want a girl to think you’re a shit snog, because she’ll go tell all the other girls, and then you’ll never get another one.” “But I’m not—” Dean lowered his voice. “You’re my best mate. My best guy mate. I’m not gay.”

🎂 >>> keeping count (losing count) by oliverwvvd | @oliverwvvd (Flintwood, T, 1.2k, 2017)- Kissing, Getting Together, Anxiety, Post-War, Confessions, Falling in Love

Summary: Marcus uses numbers to manage anxiety. He keeps count of their kisses. One day, he slips, and he says the number out loud.

🎂 >>> tied and true by slyther_ing | @mxrcusflint (Flintwood, M, 14.9k, 2017)- AU, Soulmates, Soulbond, Red String of Fate, Pureblood Culture, Expectations, Hogwarts, Enemies to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Feelings, Anxiety, Fear, Quidditch, Hogwarts, Lack of Communication, Misunderstandings, Confessions, Hopeful Ending

Summary: There are two routes of action. Three, if he were really desperate, but Marcus doesn’t think anyone in history has ever successfully dissolved a soulmate thread before without dire consequences and he’s not willing to die over Oliver fucking Wood.

🎂 >>> Terms and Conditions by maraudersaffair | @maraudersaffair (Luna/Pansy/Ginny, E, 7.7k, 2017)- more tags on AO3

Summary: Pansy can't get over super fit Ginny Weasley. Too bad Weasley is now with Loony sodding Lovegood.

#drarry #drarry squad #deamus #perciver #flintwood #linny #luna/pansy/ginny #hp rare pair #hp multi-ship #multiship #hp fanfic #fic recs #rec lists #spicy #happy birthday #sugareey #sugareey recs things

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acrossthecherriverse · 4 months

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Meet the OC:

Cherri Evelyn Hawthorne

Universe: Resident Evil (Remake timeline)

Age: 14 (1998), 20 (2004)

Pronouns: She/Her

Love interest: Leon Scott Kennedy (Ship name: Cheon)

Relationship tropes: Sun x moon, colleagues to lovers, age gap

Occupation: USSTRATCOM agent (2002-2011), DSO agent (2011-)

Height: 154 cm/5'1 (1998), 163 cm/5'4 (2004)

Weapon of choice: M24 rifle, SR M1903 rifle, Punisher handgun

Character playlist (Spotify)

Biography:

Cherri Evelyn Hawthorne was born on September 18th, 1984 in Memphis, Tennessee to parents Michael and Lisa Hawthorne. In 1988, at age 4 her family moved to Valencia, Spain due to her father's work. Michael Hawthorne worked for Umbrella Europe under Team 6, along with researcher Luis Serra Navarro. Her mother worked as a nurse at the local hospital.

In 1994, when Hawthorne was 10 years old, she and her mother moved back to the USA, to Raccoon City, Colorado, while her father stayed in Spain. The reason for Raccoon specifically was Umbrella’s influence over the area. At the time she attended Raccoon Elementary School, and befriended Emma Kendo, acting as an older sister figure and best friend to her. Her mother found work as a nurse in the Spencer Memorial Hospital. Her father visited them for only a week or so at a time every few months, at the time working on the Nemesis Project.

On September 25th, when Raccoon Elementary School shut down due to the T-virus outbreak, she became isolated in her own home with her father. Lisa didn't return home from work that night, informing Michael through the phone that she is stuck in the hospital, tending to infected patients, both of them deciding to keep Cherri in the dark about it just in case.

Hawthorne stayed mostly in her bedroom with the blinds down as instructed by her father, occasionally leaving to play video games, until the events of September 29th, documented in the Raccoon City Tapes.

Post-Raccoon, she was sent to a military boarding school under close supervision of the government, her survival of the massacre being seen as extraordinary and worth looking into.

She was coerced into joining the same government program as Leon S. Kennedy at age 18 in 2002. It is mentioned that they vaguely knew each other for the two years before Ashley’s kidnapping, but Leon didn't recognize her from Raccoon City.

On November 2nd, 2004 Hawthorne was sent together with Kennedy to a remote village in Spain to investigate president Graham's daughter’s disappearance, due to both of them being the only ones not being investigated for cooperation with the kidnappers. Leon, because of his close relationship with the president and Cherri, because she was still under close supervision. The rest of the mission is (will be) documented in a Resident Evil 4 (Remake) spin-off fanfiction :3

Random facts and info:

the scar under her left eye is from the double garrador fight before the throne room

knows english, spanish tried to get Leon to teach her italian (failed miserably)

learns and picks up things very quickly

she works best with long-range weapons like sniper rifles

adopted an orange cat with Leon, thought it was a male, named him Vincent only to later notice the lack of balls (her name is still Vincent)

started cutting Leon's hair after getting together because hates going to the hairdresser

at some point between raccoon city and stratcom she started considering dropping out and becoming a merc sniper (teenage angst stuff)

definitely puts stickers on her motorola flip phone

has a beetle-shaped keychain (won by Leon at the shooting range in Spain)

speaking of, has more keychains than actual keys

christmas is her fav holiday, five seconds after halloween ends she's already hanging mistletoe and singing last christmas

probably uses strawberry scented no tears disney princess shampoo (Leon probably accidentally used it at least once)

keeps her hair rather short because in raccoon city when she had a long braid it got caught on something and she almost died

I didn't put it in any fic but she definitely sang that 99 bottles of beer song on the way to valdelobos in the car w Leon

definitely went on an aquarium date with him at some point

at least one

basically cannot drive, used to commute to and from work but now she just hitches rides with Leon for the low price of three kisses per ride

definitely bought him a cat ear headband as a joke but he does wear it sometimes when his hair falls into his face

modern au she'd watch those TikTok episodes of family guy with the asmr videos underneath for hours bcs she doesn't even realize

sometimes when she's in a hurry accidentally puts on Leon's shoes and looks like that amongus drip meme

forgets the word recoil and calls it knockback like in minecraft

can't have too much sugar she WILL jump on walls

calls people slurs in cod lobbies

fav game is silent hill or mortal kombat

can barely cook but Leon can barely cook too so when they cook together they become like gordon ramsey it's just math

(cook together aka Leon cooks Cherri sits on the counter and looks pretty)

Gallery:

#| cheon #resident evil oc #re4 oc #oc #writing tumblr #resident evil #leon kennedy x oc #oc content #re4 #| meet the OC

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tiannasfanfic · 2 years

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Boys of Sumner: Part 2

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader (Angst)

Summary: After your family moves away from Evergreen when you were 16, you and Adrian Chase keep passing by each others lives like ships in the night. (Crossposted to AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up

Author Note: Have a good weekend!

CW: Reader is more gender neutral in this one, no pronouns used that I can remember. Some angst and sadness, missing people, siblings being jackasses.

Word Count: 1,903

Out on the road today, I saw a Black Flag sticker on a Cadillac. A little voice inside my head said, "don't look back, you can never look back." I thought I knew what love was, what did I know? Those days are gone forever, I should just let 'em go, but…

July 2016

Even though you only went through your first two years of high school in Evergreen, you still ended up with an invitation for Evergreen North High’s Class of 2011 five-year reunion. That baffled you until you saw three of your old friends in high positions on the planning committee. It all made sense then. They’d all been haranguing you to visit, and they finally found an excuse to lure you back.

You hadn’t been to Evergreen since the move seven years ago. There hadn’t been really any reason to, even though you and your dad often talked about how much you both missed Washington. While Phoenix was certainly warmer and had way dryer weather, which you both enjoyed a great deal, it never felt like home. Not like Evergreen still did, which is why your dad planned to retire there here in a few years.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” your dad asked you when you to told him you were thinking of going. “Hell, maybe you’ll get to see that Adrian kid again. I always did like him.”

Now there was a name you hadn’t thought of in a while.

Adrian Chase.

Out of all your old friends from school, he was the one person you hadn’t been able to stay in touch with over the years, or even reconnect with. Periodically you tried to see if you could find him online but had no luck. Either he was the last person on the planet to have any social media accounts or he had them very well hidden. You considered asking around about him a few times, but you couldn’t think of anyone to ask out of your old friends that still lived in Evergreen. They had never hung out with Adrian unless he was with you and neither side had kept up the friendships after you left. Even though you were the one that moved, it was like Adrian had made a quiet exit from your life without leaving a forwarding address.

Seven years ago, after leaving the Chase residence, you went straight back home to help your dad finish packing. A few of your friends and their parents stopped by throughout the evening to help and say goodbye. You even got calls from acquaintances from school who couldn’t come over but wanted to wish you a safe trip.

This was also the day you realized you were better liked at school than you had previously thought. That would’ve been helpful to know going into freshman year.

But the one and only person you truly wanted to see never came by, or even called. That really surprised you with how adamant Adrian was about doing something with you before you left. Neither of you had cell phones at the time so you couldn’t call Adrian directly. And you absolutely hated calling the house when Gut could potentially answer. He always gave you so much shit about calling his brother. That was why Adrian always called you instead ninety percent of the time. He knew how his older brother treated you and made you feel.

The move itself wasn’t without its issues, but nothing outside of what you would expect while dealing with a moving company. It took a bit to get settled and situated, but as soon as you were able, you called Adrian to give him your new number.

Instead, you got Gut.

After listening to him talk about how lame you are to still be calling his brother now that you were out of state, you asked him to pass along your new phone number to Adrian. Gut told you he would. Or, rather, said, “yeah, sure,” then hung up on you.

You never heard from Adrian though.

You kept trying to call. Either nobody was home or Gut answered and you left a message with him again. You weren’t going to give up, but then a few months later, the phone number had been disconnected. A couple of weeks after that, the number had been reissued to a different household. That really puzzled you, and worried you a little, but at that point, were out of options. You gave up trying to reach him.

You thought of Adrian frequently the first couple years before life carried you and your thoughts far away. After high school, you took your dad’s advice and avoided the military altogether. However, an old friend of his convinced you both that a career in higher law enforcement, such as the FBI or NSA, would be a good fit for you. He said you had that sort of analytical mind both agencies looked for in candidates, plus enough tenacity you wouldn’t be eaten alive. He had contacts in both organizations and would be able to at least get you considered for any position you might want. You went through your first four years of college with that career path in mind.

The reunion caught you the summer after you finished your bachelors, just before starting your masters. In the end, that’s what made you decide to go to the reunion. This would be your last chance to get away for a while if all went according to plan.

And your dad was right. You might get to see Adrian again. That thought alone excited you. It may have been seven years, but you still remembered your crush. Hell, you still had it. There was a big What If in your mind when it came to Adrian and that had kept your feelings alive all these years.

But, on the other hand, Adrian didn’t exactly have the best high school experience. To be honest, you weren’t sure if he would even want to go. It was a big chance you were taking hoping to see him there, but one you wanted to take. In nothing else, you’d see your old friends again.

The reunion was organized as a summer barbecue at a pavilion in one of the bigger parks. They even had a bouncy castle for the kids. And the adults too when the kids weren’t in there. It was fun, but sometime after the three-hour mark, you and two of your old friends decided to blow it off and head out to a bar for drinks. You figured if Adrian was going to come out, he would’ve already been there by then.

However, not even five minutes after you left with your friends, Adrian finally arrived. And was not happy about getting there so late.

Initially, he wasn’t going to go to the five-year reunion. Or any of the reunions at all, for that matter. He hated school, and high school was horrible for him, especially those last two years. He had no desire to see anyone he went to school with except for one person and he highly doubted you would even know about it, much less go. You only went to high school there for your first two years, so you didn’t graduate with him like you should had.

Then, last night, Adrian got bored while on patrol, checked out the event on Facebook and nearly fell off of the fire escape he was on when he saw you were going.

Seven years ago, he didn’t find out you had to move early until he overheard his mom talking about it two days later. He had tried calling you the day before but had discovered the phone already disconnected and assumed the service was shut off early. But no, had to moved already. Something to do with your dad needing to take over his new position sooner than expected.

This news utterly crushed Adrian.

While logically he knew there had to be a good reason you hadn’t told him, or even tried to say goodbye, that irrational part of his brain whispered that Gut was right. You had forgotten about him already. Adrian kept reminding himself that you and your dad had a lot of packing to go still, so you had to be very stressed finding out you had to do it all in one night. That thought ended up confusing him more though because if you’d have told him, he could’ve helped.

Even though you had promised to call him with your new number as soon as you had one, you never did. Now that one really hurt. Neither of you had social media either, so he couldn’t even message you on anything. He thought about asking your friends, but always suspected they only tolerated him because of you. Adrian felt like he was completely cut off and, to his knowledge, had no way of getting ahold of you.

It wasn’t too long after you left that everything changed. And then, soon after that, he was left on his own and he started to hone his skills for a much higher calling.

Truth be told, Adrian didn’t have much time to think about you during the first couple of years that you were gone. It had been just one thing after another since then. Once things settled down some and he became established in his new routine, he occasionally found his thoughts drifting towards you while on patrol. But he never let those thoughts linger for too long. If he did, they would make him upset and far too sad.

In the weeks after you left, Adrian had realized you weren’t his best friend, like he had thought all along. Not even best friends could leave such an impact on someone the way you had impacted him. Your absence in his life made him realize you were actually his person and the one that got away.

And that was why once he knew you were going to the reunion, Adrian panicked. There was no way in hell he could pass up this chance to see you. But, with that short of notice, he couldn’t take a vacation day, and no one could switch shifts with him. Calling in again was likely to get him fired since he had done a lot of that in his early Vigilante days. So, he had no choice but to work his 11-7 shift. He arrived at the reunion at 7:28.

And of course, today was one of those days where everything had gone wrong. He had overslept and been late to work. People had called in, so he wasn’t even able to leave early like his manager had promised. Then, to top it all off, he was utterly filthy. Right before he clocked out, one of the new waitresses had crashed into him with a full tray of food. While he had changed and cleaned up as best he could in the bathroom at work, he still smelled like a blend of marinara sauce, olive oil and vinegar, and souring Alfredo sauce. Since Adrian hadn’t thought about bringing cologne with him, and wasn’t about waste more time going home to shower, this was the state he was stuck in.

As Adrian hopped out of his car and jogged towards the pavilion, he desperately hoped that you still loved Italian food.

#adrian chase #vigilante #adrian chase fluff #adrian chase fanfiction #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x y/n #adrian chase x you #adrian chase x reader #vigilante fanfiction #vigilante imagine #vigilante fluff #vigilante x y/n #vigilante x you #vigilante x reader

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fictionz · 4 months

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New Fiction 2023

I struggled with the idea that I need to keep up with everything new, when it's evident that I don't want to. Movies are easy thanks to subscription services like A-List (and a pathological need to get out of the house), but I was consistently happy to dwell in the past for reading and video games.

So I think I'll be more chill about fiction this year. Just follow what feels right.

Previously: 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013

2023: Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, May, Jun, Jul, Aug, Sep, Oct, Nov, Dec

Short Stories, Chapters, Excerpts

Jan - "Psalms" (1-100) ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Jan - "The Husband Stitch" by Carmen Maria Machado (2017)

Jan - "Inventory" by Carmen Maria Machado (2017)

Jan - "Mothers" by Carmen Maria Machado (2017)

Jan - "Especially Heinous" by Carmen Maria Machado (2017)

Jan - "Real Women Have Bodies" by Carmen Maria Machado (2017)

Jan - "Eight Bites" by Carmen Maria Machado (2017)

Jan - "The Resident" by Carmen Maria Machado (2017)

Jan - "Difficult At Parties" by Carmen Maria Machado (2017)

Jan - "The First Peer" by Dayton Ward and Kevin Dilmore (2010)

Jan - "Reservoir Ferengi" by David McIntee (2010)

Jan - "The Slow Knife" by James Swallow (2010)

Jan - "The Unhappy Ones" by Keith R.A. DeCandido (2010)

Jan - "Freedom Angst" by Britta Burdett Dennison (2010)

Jan - "Revenant" by Marc D. Giller (2010)

Jan - "Work Is Hard" by Greg Cox (2010)

Feb - "Psalms" (101-150) ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Mar - "Proverbs" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Mar - "Ecclesiastes" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Mar - "WPO" by Joanne McNeil (2022)

Mar - "Flesh" by Louis Evans (2022)

Mar - "Devolution" by Ellen Ullman (2022)

Mar - "Always Home" by Jeff Vandermeer (2022)

Apr - "Canticle of Canticles" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Apr - "Wisdom" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

May - "Ecclesiasticus" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Jun - "Isaias" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Jul - "Jeremias" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Aug - "Lamentations of Jeremias" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Aug - "The Miracle of the Lily" by Clare Winger Harris (1928)

Aug - "The Conquest of Gola" by Leslie F. Stone (1931)

Aug - "The Black God's Kiss" by C.L. Moore (1934)

Aug - "Space Episode" by Leslie Perri (1941)

Aug - "That Only a Mother" by Judith Merril (1948)

Aug - "In Hiding" by Wilmar H. Shiras (1948)

Aug - "Contagion" by Katherine MacLean (1950)

Aug - "The Inhabited Men" by Margaret St. Clair (1951)

Aug - "Ararat" by Zenna Henderson (1952)

Aug - "All Cats Are Gray" by Andrew North (1953)

Aug - "Created He Them" by Alice Eleanor Jones (1955)

Aug - "Mr. Sakrison’s Halt" by Mildred Clingerman (1956)

Aug - "All the Colors of the Rainbow" by Leigh Brackett (1957)

Aug - "Pelt" by Carol Emshwiller (1958)

Aug - "Car Pool" by Rosel George Brown (1959)

Aug - "For Sale, Reasonable" by Elizabeth Mann Borgese (1959)

Aug - "Birth of a Gardener" by Doris Pitkin Buck (1961)

Aug - "The Tunnel Ahead" by Alice Glaser (1961)

Aug - "The New You" by Kit Reed (1962)

Aug - "Another Rib" by John Jay Wells & Marion Zimmer Bradley (1963)

Aug - "When I Was Miss Dow" by Sonya Dorman (1966)

Aug - "Baby, You Were Great" by Kate Wilhelm (1967)

Aug - "The Barbarian" by Joanna Russ (1968)

Aug - "The Last Flight Of Dr. Ain" by James Tiptree, Jr. (1969)

Aug - "Nine Lives" by Ursula K. Le Guin (1969)

Sep - "Baruch" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Oct - "Snatched from the Brink" by Mary E. Penn (1878)

Oct - "The Canal" by Everil Worrell (1927)

Oct - "The Lost Performance of the High Priestess of the Temple of Horror" by Carmen Maria Machado (2020)

Oct - "The Time Remaining" by Attila Veres & trans. Luca Karafiáth (2019)

Oct - "CUE: Change" by Chesya Burke (2011)

Oct - "Last Call for the Sons of Shock" by David J. Schow (1994)

Oct - "The Real Right Thing" by Henry James (1899)

Oct - "The Haunted House" by M.A. Bird (1865)

Oct - "The Island of Regrets" by Elizabeth Walter (1965)

Oct - "The Stolen Body" by H.G. Wells (1903)

Oct - "The White Priest" by Hélène Gingold (1893)

Oct - "The Man Who Went Too Far" by E.F. Benson (1912)

Oct - "Mater Tenebrarum" by Pilar Pedraza & trans. James D. Jenkins (2000)

Oct - "Menopause" by Flore Hazoumé & trans. James D. Jenkins (1994)

Oct - "Señor Ligotti" by Bernardo Esquinca & trans. (2020)

Oct - "Shambleau" by C.L. Moore (1933)

Oct - "The Pit and the Pendulum" by Edgar Allan Poe (1850)

Oct - "The Village Spectre" by Gianna G. Maniego (2002)

Oct - "The Fog Horn" by Ray Bradbury (1951)

Oct - "The Lady of the House of Love" by Angela Carter (1979)

Oct - "The Woman's Ghost Story" by Algernon Blackwood (1907)

Oct - "Black Bargain" by Robert Bloch (1942)

Oct - "Vastarien" by Thomas Ligotti (1987)

Oct - "The Doll" by Daphne du Maurier (1937)

Oct - "The Transferred Ghost" by Frank Stockton (1882)

Oct - "The Shadowy Third" by Ellen Glasgow (1923)

Oct - "The Daemon Lover" by Shirley Jackson (1949)

Oct - "The Interval" by Vincent O'Sullivan (1918)

Oct - "The Phantom Cyclist" by Ruth Ainsworth (1971)

Oct - "Couching at the Door" by D.K. Broster (1942)

Oct - "Bloodchild" by Octavia Butler (1984)

Dec - "Ezekiel" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Dec - "Daniel" ed. Richard Challoner (1752)

Audio Shorts

Jan - "The Briefcase" by Rebecca Makkai, performed by Victor Garber for NPR's Selected Shorts (2009, 2023)

Jan - "Paradise" by Yxta Maya Murray, performed by Tanis Parenteau for NPR's Selected Shorts (2020, 2023)

Oct - Tales from the Crypt Presents: Dead Easy by A.L. Katz & Gil Adler, performed by Sean Astin, Jake Busey, Tia Carrere, Brett Cullen, John Kassir (1995, 2022)

Novels & Novellas

Jan - Honor in the Night by Scott Pearson (2010)

Feb - Abyss by David Weddle & Jeffrey Lang (2001)

Mar - Demons of Air and Darkness by Keith R.A. DeCandido (2001)

Mar - Coraline by Neil Gaiman (2002)

Apr - Horn and Ivory by Keith R. A. DeCandido (2001)

Apr - Return to HorrorLand by R.L. Stine (1999)

May - We Deserve Monuments by Jas Hammonds (2022)

Aug - Twilight by David R. George III (2002)

Aug - Are You Terrified Yet? by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - Creature Teacher by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - Invasion of the Body Squeezers - Part 1 by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - Invasion of the Body Squeezers - Part 2 by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - I'm Your Evil Twin! by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - Revenge R Us by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - Fright Camp by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - Headless Halloween by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - Attack of the Graveyard Ghouls by R.L. Stine (1998)

Sep - Brain Juice by R.L. Stine (1998)

Dec - Revenant by Alex White (2021)

Dec - Silver Nitrate by Silvia Moreno-Garcia (2023)

Dec - The Men by Sandra Newman (2023)

Dec - Aftermath by Christopher L. Bennett (2003)

Dec - Jekyll and Heidi by R.L. Stine (1999)

Gamebooks

Jan - Trapped in Bat Wing Hall by R.L. Stine (1995)

Jul - The Abominable Snowman by R. A. Montgomery (1982)

Aug - Tick Tock, You're Dead! by R.L. Stine (1995)

Sep - The Deadly Experiments of Dr. Eeek by R.L. Stine (1996)

Sep - Night in Werewolf Woods by R.L. Stine (1996)

Sep - Beware of the Purple Peanut Butter by R.L. Stine (1996)

Plays

Jan - A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare, presented by Rice University Department of Visual and Dramatic Arts (1595, 2013)

Poems

Jan - "Comet as Paperboy" by Samantha Blysse Haviland (2022)

Jan - "The Art of Negotiation" by Meghan Privitello (2016)

Apr - "A Boat" by Richard Brautigan (1968)

May - "Idaho" by Dobby Gibson (2005)

Comic Shorts & Single Issues

Jan - "Forest Spirits" by Secondlina (2022)

Jan - "Forest Spirits 2" by Secondlina (2022)

Jan - "With Sympathy" by Oglaf Comics (2017)

Jan - "it went like this" by chaumas-deactivated20230115 (2023)

Feb - "The Hole in the Wall" by Angela Hsieh (2022)

Mar - "It hurt, but i don't regret it" by miggs perez (2023)

Mar - "Heaven, Heaven, Angel, Angel" by NoneToon (2023)

Mar - "A poem" by oddlyunadventurous (2023)

Apr - "Halt" by spiralshells (2023)

Apr - "Broomistega & Thrinaxodon" by Erin Roseberry (2023)

Jun - "A young couple have a strange encounter on a dark country road" by Iguanadon't (2016)

Jul - "My Local Gas Station" by Ink (2018)

Jul - The Adventures of Mighty Max - "Mighty Max and the Grand Slam" by Robert Hudnut, Gary Hartle, Brett Koth, David C. Weiss, and Phil Roman (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Trapped by Arachnoid" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Liquidates the Ice Alien" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Lashes Lizard" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Traps Rattus" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Outwits Cyclops" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Tangles With the Ape King" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Slays the Doom Dragon" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Grapples with Battle Cat" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Squishes Fly" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Blows Up Dino Lab" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Stings Scorpion" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Crushes the Hand" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Escapes from Skull Dungeon" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Conquers the Palace of Poison" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Sinks Nautilus" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Caught by the Man-Eater" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Bytes Cyberskull" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Terminates Wolfship 7" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Survives Corpus" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Against Robot Invader" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Zaps Beetlebrow" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Crushes Talon" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Out-Freaks Freako" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Rams Hydron" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Versus Kronosaur" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Challenges Lava Beast" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Tangles With Lockjaw" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Defeats Vamp Biter" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Fights Nuke Ranger" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Pulverizes Sea Squirm" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Battles Skull Warrior" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Hammers Ax Man" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Hounds Werewolf" by Bluebird Toys (1993)

Aug - "Mighty Max Neutralises Zomboid" by Bluebird Toys (1992)

Aug - "Mighty Max Defeats Battle Conqueror" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Head to Head With Hydra" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Melts Lava Beast" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Strikes Fang" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Shuts Down Cybot" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Shatters Gargoyle" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "Mighty Max Assaults Skull Master" by Bluebird Toys (1994)

Aug - "La-Mulana" by KC Green (2023)

Aug - "Mental Health Marge 2 Da Rescue" by ossian (2019)

Sep - "Hotline Miami" by KC Green (2023)

Sep - "I was told by my doctor that this'll completely compensate my human meat diet" by scribblingchimp (2023)

Oct - "Birds of a Feather" by Stephanie Phillips, Maan House, Giorgio Spalleta, Justin Birch, Chris Sanchez (2021)

Oct - "The Origin of Vampirella" by Budd Lewis & Jose Gonzalez (1981)

Oct - "Do You Know… the Beast-Man?" by Richard Howell, Colleen Doran, Kevin Cunningham (1992)

Oct - "Good Ol' Fashioned Vanilla" by W. Maxwell Prince, Chris O’Halloran, Martín Morazzo, Good Old Neon (2018)

Oct - "For Better or Worse?" by Richard Corben (2016)

Oct - "Werewolf!" by Frank Frazetta (1964)

Oct - "Chickadee!" by Aya Rothwell (2016)

Oct - "The Evil Dead" (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3) by Richard Floyd-Walker (1986-1987)

Oct - "Famine's Shadow" by Rachel Deering & Christine Larsen (2014)

Oct - "A Pretty Place" by Emily Carroll (2023)

Oct - "The Thing from the Sea" by Wally Wood & Joe Orlando (1951)

Oct - "The Living Ghost" by Frank Belknap Long & Fred Guardineer (1948)

Oct - "Essence of Life" by Gail Simone, Tula Lotay, Jared K. Fletcher (2013)

Oct - "Hag of the Blood Basket!" by Al Hewetson & Sean Todd (1971)

Oct - "The Fisherman" by Franco, Tressina Bowling, Wes Abbott, Sara Richard (2022)

Oct - "Dental Plan" by Joy San (2019)

Oct - "Frankenstein y el Hombre Lobo" by Unknown (1946)

Oct - "Man's World" by Keith Giffen, Mary Sangiovanni, Bilquis Evely, Mat Lopes, Taylor Esposito (2017)

Oct - "Shadow of Death" by William M. Gaines, Al Feldstein, Graham Ingels (1953)

Oct - "Smoke and Cedar" by Abby Howard & Alina Pete (2016)

Oct - "I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream" by Harlan Ellison & John Byrne (1994-1995)

Oct - "A Dog and His Boy" by Evan Dorkin, Sarah Dyer, Jill Thompson, Jason Arthur (2006)

Oct - "The Horror Beneath" by Leah Moore, John Reppion, Timothy Green II, Michelle Madsen, Nate Piekos (2006)

Oct - "Shadows on the Tomb" by Joe Certa (1952)

Oct - "The Muck Monster" by Bernie Wrightson (1975)

Oct - "The Duel of the Monsters" by Archie Goodwin & Angelo Torres (1966)

Oct - "The Willowdale Handcar or The Return of the Black Doll" by Edward Gorey (1962)

Oct - "Inside You" by Valerie D'Orazio & David James Cole (2014)

Oct - "Soylent Teen" by Jordan Morris, Liana Kangas, Ellie Wright, Jack Morelli (2023)

Oct - "The Gris-Gris" by Jim Keegan & Ruth Keegan (2004)

Oct - "Fair Ground" by Jo Duffy, Mike Manley, Jackson Guice, James Fry, Kevin Cunningham (1992)

Dec - "> THE JESTER" by Margaut Shorjian (2023)

Graphic Novels & Collections

Jan - Simpsons Comics Colossal Compendium - Volume One (2013)

Mar - Star Trek Deep Space Nine: N-Vector (2000)

Betas & Demos

Jan - "Full Void Demo" dev. OutOfTheBit (2023)

Video & Electronic Games

Jan - Thunderbirds dev. Saffire (2004)

Feb - Men in Black: The Game dev. Gigawatt Studios & The Collective (1998)

Feb - The Game of Life dev. Mass Media & The Collective (1998)

Mar - Hack 'n' Slash dev. Double Fine Productions (2014)

Mar - God of War dev. Santa Monica Studio (2018)

Mar - Buffy the Vampire Slayer dev. The Collective (2002)

Apr - Indiana Jones and the Emperor's Tomb dev. The Collective (2003)

Apr - Bartman: Avenger of Evil dev. Acclaim Entertainment (1991)

Apr - The X-Files: Resist or Serve dev. Black Ops Entertainment & The Collective (2004)

May - Bart Simpson's Cupcake Crisis dev. Acclaim (1990)

May - Star Wars: Episode III – Revenge of the Sith dev. The Collective (2005)

May - Marc Ecko's Getting Up: Contents Under Pressure dev. The Collective (2006)

May - The Adventures of Mouth Man dev. Retrocade Media (2023)

Jun - Spacebase DF-9 dev. Double Fine Productions (2014)

Jul - Mighty Max dev. Tiger Electronics (1994)

Jul - The Adventures of Mighty Max dev. WJS Design (1995)

Oct - Haunted House dev. Atari (1982)

Oct - Castlevania dev. Konami (1987)

Oct - Clock Tower dev. Human Entertainment (1995)

Oct - D dev. Warp (1995)

Oct - Friday the 13th dev. Atlus (1989)

Oct - Silent Hill 3 dev. Konami (2003)

Oct - Five Nights at Freddy’s dev. Scott Cawthon (2014)

Dec - The Simpsons: Bart vs. Homersaurus dev. Tiger Electronics (1994)

Short Films

Jan - "bugs" dir. k. pakiz (2023)

Jan - "enter initials" dir. k. pakiz (2023)

Feb - "An Ostrich Told Me the World Is Fake and I Think I Believe It" dir. Lachlan Pendragon (2022)

Feb - "The Flying Sailor" dir. Amanda Forbis & Wendy Tilby (2022)

Feb - "Ice Merchants" dir. João Gonzalez (2022)

Feb - "The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse" dir. Peter Baynton & Charlie Mackesy (2022)

Feb - "My Year of Dicks" dir. Sara Gunnarsdóttir (2022)

Feb - "Ivalu" dir. Anders Walter & Pipaluk K. Jørgensen (2022)

Feb - "Night Ride (Nattrikken)" dir. Eirik Tveiten (2020)

Feb - "Le Pupille" dir. Alice Rohrwacher (2022)

Feb - "The Red Suitcase" dir. Cyrus Neshvad (2022)

Feb - "An Irish Goodbye" dir. Tom Berkeley & Ross White (2022)

Apr - "The Greatest Living Show" dir. Toby Fox & Itoki Hana (2023)

Jun - "Wolf in sheep's clothing" dir. Yea An (2023)

Jun - "War of Colors" dir. Emir Kumova (2022)

Jun - "Double King" dir. Felix Colgrave (2017)

Jun - "How Finding Nemo Should Have Ended" dir. HISHE (2016)

Jul - "What It Feels Like to Live as an Immortal?" dir. LazyOwl Studio (2022)

Sep - "Carl's Date" dir. Bob Peterson (2023)

Movies Jan-Jun

Jan - Avatar: The Way of Water dir. James Cameron (2022)

Jan - Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody dir. Kasi Lemmons (2022)

Jan - Thunderbirds dir. Jonathan Frakes (2004)

Jan - M3GAN dir. Gerard Johnstone (2023)

Jan - Corsage dir. Marie Kreutzer (2022)

Jan - Broker dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda (2022)

Jan - Skinamarink dir. Kyle Edward Ball (2022)

Jan - Plane dir. Jean-François Richet (2023)

Jan - Missing dir. Will Merrick & Nick Johnson (2023)

Jan - That Time I Got Reincarnated As a Slime the Movie: Scarlet Bond dir. Yasuhito Kikuchi (2023)

Jan - A Man Called Otto dir. Marc Forster (2023)

Jan - Puss In Boots: The Last Wish dir. Joel Crawford (2022)

Jan - Women Talking dir. Sarah Polley (2022)

Feb - Groundhog Day dir. Harold Ramis (1993)

Feb - Infinity Pool dir. Brandon Cronenberg (2023)

Feb - 80 for Brady dir. Kyle Marvin (2023)

Feb - Magic Mike dir. Steven Soderbergh (2012)

Feb - Living dir. Oliver Hermanus (2022)

Feb - Magic Mike XXL dir. Gregory Jacobs (2015)

Feb - She Came from the Woods dir. Erik Bloomquist (2022)

Feb - Magic Mike's Last Dance dir. Steven Soderbergh (2023)

Feb - Knock at the Cabin dir. M. Night Shyamalan (2023)

Feb - Sword Art Online the Movie -Progressive- Scherzo of Deep Night dir. Ayako Kono (2023)

Feb - Consecration dir. Christopher Smith (2023)

Feb - Winnie-the-Pooh: Blood and Honey dir. Rhys Waterfield (2023)

Feb - Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania dir. Peyton Reed (2023)

Feb - Johnny Mnemonic dir. Robert Longo (1995)

Feb - Virtuosity dir. Brett Leonard (1995)

Feb - Jesus Revolution dir. Jon Erwin & Brent McCorkle (2023)

Feb - Cocaine Bear dir. Elizabeth Banks (2023)

Feb - Gattaca dir. Andrew Niccol (1997)

Feb - Strange Days dir. Kathryn Bigelow (1995)

Feb - Kissed dir. Lynne Stopkewich (1996)

Feb - Richard III dir. Richard Loncraine (1995)

Feb - Eye for an Eye dir. John Schlesinger (1996)

Mar - Creed III dir. Michael B. Jordan (2023)

Mar - Operation Fortune: Ruse de Guerre dir. Guy Ritchie (2023)

Mar - RRR dir. S. S. Rajamouli (2022)

Mar - The Lawnmower Man dir. Brett Leonard (1992)

Mar - Scream VI dir. Matt Bettinelli-Olpin & Tyler Gillett (2023)

Mar - 65 dir. Scott Beck & Bryan Woods (2023)

Mar - Shazam! Fury of the Gods dir. David F. Sandberg (2023)

Apr - A Good Person dir. Zach Braff (2023)

Apr - Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves dir. Jonathan Goldstein & John Francis Daley (2023)

Apr - The Super Mario Bros. Movie dir. Aaron Horvath & Michael Jelenic (2023)

Apr - Air dir. Ben Affleck (2023)

Apr - John Wick: Chapter 4 dir. Chad Stahelski (2023)

Apr - Suzume dir. Makoto Shinkai (2023)

Apr - Mafia Mamma dir. Catherine Hardwicke (2023)

Apr - Renfield dir. Chris McKay (2023)

Apr - The Pope's Exorcist dir. Julius Avery (2023)

Apr - Beau Is Afraid dir. Ari Aster (2023)

May - Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 dir. James Gunn (2023)

May - Polite Society dir. Nida Manzoor (2023)

May - Born to Fly dir. Liu Xiaoshi (2023)

May - Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret dir. Kelly Fremon Craig (2023)

May - Fool's Paradise dir. Charlie Day (2023)

May - Hypnotic dir. Robert Rodriguez (2023)

May - Evil Dead Rise dir. Lee Cronin (2023)

May - Master Gardener dir. Paul Schrader (2023)

May - Sisu dir. Jalmari Helander (2023)

May - Fast X dir. Louis Leterrier (2023)

May - The Wrath of Becky dir. Matt Angel & Suzanne Coote (2023)

May - Kandahar dir. Ric Roman Waugh (2023)

Jun - The Hangover dir. Todd Phillips (2009)

Jun - The George McKenna Story dir. Eric Laneuville (1986)

Jun - Last Action Hero dir. John McTiernan (1993)

Jun - We Have a Ghost dir. Christopher Landon (2023)

Jun - The Mother dir. Niki Caro (2023)

Jun - The Little Mermaid dir. Rob Marshall (2023)

Jun - Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse dir. Joaquim Dos Santos, Kemp Powers, Justin K. Thompson (2023)

Jun - The Boogeyman dir. Rob Savage (2023)

Jun - The Roundup: No Way Out dir. Lee Sang-yong (2023)

Jun - Chevalier dir. Stephen Williams (2023)

Jun - Transformers: Rise of the Beasts dir. Steven Caple Jr. (2023)

Jun - Sanctuary dir. Zachary Wigon (2023)

Jun - A Thousand and One dir. A.V. Rockwell (2023)

Jun - The Blackening dir. Tim Story (2023)

Jun - No Hard Feelings dir. Gene Stupnitsky (2023)

Jun - Past Lives dir. Celine Song (2023)

Jun - The Flash dir. Andy Muschietti (2023)

Jun - Asteroid City dir. Wes Anderson (2023)

Jun - Adipurush dir. Om Raut (2023)

Jun - God Is a Bullet dir. Nick Cassavetes (2023)

Jun - 1920: Horrors of the Heart dir. Krishna Bhatt (2023)

Jun - The Childe dir. Park Hoon-jung (2023)

Jun - Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny dir. James Mangold (2023)

Movies Jul-Dec

Jul - Metropolis dir. Rintaro (2001)

Jul - Insidious: The Red Door dir. Patrick Wilson (2023)

Jul - Joy Ride dir. Adele Lim (2023)

Jul - Lost In the Stars dir. Cui Rui & Liu Xiang (2023)

Jul - Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One dir. Christopher McQuarrie (2023)

Jul - The Miracle Club dir. Thaddeus O'Sullivan (2023)

Jul - Shadows dir. Glenn Chan (2023)

Jul - Barbie dir. Greta Gerwig (2023)

Jul - Oppenheimer dir. Christopher Nolan (2023)

Jul - Haunted Mansion dir. Justin Simien (2023)

Jul - Talk to Me dir. Danny Philippou & Michael Philippou (2023)

Aug - Theater Camp dir. Molly Gordon & Nick Lieberman (2023)

Aug - Never Say Never dir. Baoqiang Wang (2023)

Aug - Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: Mutant Mayhem dir. Jeff Rowe (2023)

Aug - Meg 2: The Trench dir. Ben Wheatley (2023)

Aug - Ransomed dir. Kim Seong-hun (2023)

Aug - The Last Voyage of the Demeter dir. André Øvredal (2023)

Aug - Jules dir. Marc Turtletaub (2023)

Aug - Strays dir. Josh Greenbaum (2023)

Aug - Blue Beetle dir. Angel Manuel Soto (2023)

Aug - Gran Turismo dir. Neill Blomkamp (2023)

Aug - birth/rebirth dir. Laura Moss (2023)

Aug - Landscape With Invisible Hand dir. Cory Finley (2023)

Aug - Porco Rosso dir. Hayao Miyazaki (1992)

Aug - The Wind Rises dir. Hayao Miyazaki (2013)

Aug - Retribution dir. Nimród Antal (2023)

Aug - To Live and Die in L.A. dir. William Friedkin (1985)

Sep - The Equalizer 3 dir. Antoine Fuqua (2023)

Sep - Bottoms dir. Emma Seligman (2023)

Sep - Elemental dir. Peter Sohn (2023)

Sep - They Live dir. John Carpenter (1988)

Sep - Jawan dir. Atlee (2023)

Sep - Christine dir. John Carpenter (1983)

Sep - The LEGO Movie dir. Phil Lord & Christopher Miller (2014)

Sep - Outlaw Johnny Black dir. Michael Jai White (2023)

Sep - Satanic Hispanics dir. Alejandro Brugués , Mike Mendez, Gigi Saul Guerrero, Eduardo Sánchez, Demián Rugna (2023)

Sep - Prey dir. Dan Trachtenberg (2022)

Sep - Tales from the Crypt Presents: Demon Knight dir. Ernest Dickerson (1995)

Sep - Tales from the Crypt Presents: Bordello of Blood dir. Gilbert Adler (1996)

Sep - Tales from the Crypt Presents: Ritual dir. Avi Nesher (2002)

Sep - Vault of Horror dir. Freddie Francis (1973)

Sep - Tales from the Crypt dir. Freddie Francis (1972)

Sep - The Origin of Evil dir. Sébastien Marnier (2023)

Sep - The Expendables 4 dir. Scott Waugh (2023)

Sep - The Creator dir. Gareth Edwards (2023)

Oct - It Lives Inside dir. Bishal Dutta (2023)

Oct - The Company of Wolves dir. Neil Jordan (1984)

Oct - Freddy’s Dead: The Final Nightmare dir. Rachel Talalay (1991)

Oct - Honeymoon dir. Leigh Janiak (2014)

Oct - Organ dir. Kei Fujiwara (1996)

Oct - The Bride of Frankenstein dir. James Whale (1935)

Oct - The Royal Hotel dir. Kitty Green (2023)

Oct - House of 1000 Corpses dir. Rob Zombie (2003)

Oct - The Nun II dir. Michael Chaves (2023)

Oct - The Godsend dir. Gabrielle Beaumont (1980)

Oct - Hatching dir. Hanna Bergholm (2022)

Oct - The Velvet Vampire dir. Stephanie Rothman (1971)

Oct - Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter dir. Joseph Zito (1984)

Oct - A Haunting in Venice dir. Kenneth Branagh (2023)

Oct - Piggy dir. Carlota Pereda (2022)

Oct - A Night to Dismember (The Lost Version) dir. Doris Wishman (1979)

Oct - The Blob dir. Irvin Yeaworth (1958)

Oct - Embrace of the Vampire dir. Anne Goursaud (1995)

Oct - Onyx the Fortuitous and the Talisman of Souls dir. Andrew Bowser (2023)

Oct - Exposed to Danger dir. Yang Chia-yun (Karen Yang) (1982)

Oct - Saw X dir. Kevin Greutert (2023)

Oct - The Birds dir. Alfred Hitchcock (1963)

Oct - Slumber Party Massacre II dir. Deborah Brock (1987)

Oct - Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island dir. Jim Stenstrum (1998)

Oct - The Being dir. Jackie Kong (1983)

Oct - Kuso dir. Steve (2017)

Oct - Visible Secret dir. Ann Hui (2001)

Oct - The Exorcist: Believer dir. David Gordon Green (2023)

Oct - The Love Witch dir. Anna Biller (2016)

Oct - Bones dir. Ernest R. Dickerson (2001)

Oct - Bedevil dir. Tracey Moffatt (1993)

Nov - A Million Miles Away dir. Alejandra Marquez Abella (2023)

Nov - Anatomy of a Fall dir. Justine Triet (2023)

Nov - Killers of the Flower Moon dir. Martin Scorsese (2023)

Nov- Five Nights at Freddy's dir. Gil Kenan (2023)

Nov - The Marsh King's Daughter dir. Neil Burger (2023)

Nov - It's a Wonderful Knife dir. Tyler MacIntyre (2023)

Nov - The Marvels dir. Nia DaCosta (2023)

Nov - Freelance dir. Pierre Morel (2023)

Nov - The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes dir. Francis Lawrence (2023)

Nov - Next Goal Wins dir. Taika Waititi (2023)

Nov - The Holdovers dir. Alexander Payne (2023)

Nov - Priscilla dir. Sofia Coppola (2023)

Nov - Thanksgiving dir. Eli Roth (2023)

Nov - Napoleon dir. Ridley Scott (2023)

Nov - The Persian Version dir. Maryam Keshavarz (2023)

Nov - Wish dir. Chris Buck & Fawn Veerasunthorn (2023)

Dec - Dream Scenario dir. Kristoffer Borgli (2023)

Dec - Godzilla Minus One dir. Takashi Yamazaki (2023)

Dec - The Boy and the Heron dir. Hayao Miyazaki (2023)

Dec - The Abyss dir. James Cameron (1989)

Dec - Eileen dir. William Oldroyd (2023)

Dec - A Christmas Story dir. Bob Clark (1983)

Dec - Wonka dir. Paul King (2023)

Dec - Monster dir. Hirokazu Kore-eda (2023)

Dec - Leave the World Behind dir. Sam Esmail (2023)

Dec - The Polar Express dir. Robert Zemeckis (2004)

Dec - The Muppet Christmas Carol dir. Brian Henson (1992)

Dec - Velvet Buzzsaw dir. Dan Gilroy (2019)

Episodes

Jan - Thunderbirds - "Trapped In The Sky" (1965)

May - Well ABRIDGE Me, Princess! - "Well, Excuuuuse Me, Princess and the Frog" (2023)

Jun - The Simpsons - "My Mother the Car Jacker" (2003)

Jun - The Simpsons - "The President Wore Pearls" (2003)

Jun - Fox's Peter Pan & the Pirates - "The Coldest Cut of All" (1990)

Oct - Regular Show - "Terror Tales of the Park" I-VI (2011-2016)

Oct - The Simpsons - "Treehouse of Horror Presents: Not It" (2022)

Dec - The 100 - "Perverse Instantiation – Part One" (2016)

Dec - The 100 - "Perverse Instantiation – Part Two" (2016)

Dec - The Crown - "Ipatiev House" (2022)

Dec - The Crown - "No Woman's Land" (2022)

Dec - The Outer Limits - "The Galaxy Being" (1963)

Dec - Night Gallery - "Pilot" (1969)

Dec - Babylon 5 - "The Gathering" (1993)

Series

Jan - The Outer Limits - Seasons 1-3 (1995-1997)

Feb - The Outer Limits - Seasons 4-6 (1998-2000)

Mar - The Outer Limits - Season 7 (2001-2002)

Apr - Star Trek Discovery - Season 4 (2021)

Apr - Moonbeam City (2015)

Apr - Star Trek Picard - Seasons 2-3 (2022-2023)

May - Tales from the Crypt - Seasons 1-2 (1989-1990)

May - Star Trek Lower Decks - Seasons 2-3 (2021-2022)

May - Star Trek Prodigy - Season 1 (2021)

Jun - Star Trek Strange New Worlds - Season 1 (2022)

Jun - Tales from the Crypt - Seasons 3-4 (1991-1992)

Aug - Tales from the Crypt - Seasons 5-6 (1993-1995)

Sep - Tales from the Crypt - Season 7 (1996)

Sep - Tales from the Cryptkeeper - Season 1 (1993)

Sep - Star Trek Discovery - Season 2 (2023)

Oct - Tales from the Cryptkeeper - Seasons 2 & 3 (1994 & 1999)

#new fiction #2023

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rcliicta · 2 years

Text

* knowing your partner well can potentially make writing a lot easier, repost, do not reblog.

name : bear --- crow --- rae

pronouns : she --- her ... dude

preference of communication : discord, tumblr eats things or doesn’t notify me at all

name of muse(s) : ... a lot, like a lot a lot --- i have a problem. just a random few ... nocturnal from skyrim, clint barton comic / mcu adaptaion, donna and jill from resident evil. personified death, humaniod nemean lion, remy lebeau aka gambit, genderbent steve rogers, personification of spring, a headless jelly bean. i can go on for days.

experience / how long ( months / years ? ) : ... after extensive research, that has lead to me crying over a old muse, i have been on this site since 2011.

best experience : its complicated, i’ve had few good times on tumblr most of it is constantly moving blogs to avoid a person that i do not speak to anymore for my own health. so most of my memories on here arent good but i am trying to get over that. currently its any time i find a few of my old thread / shipping partners and i get excited.

rp pet peeves / deal breakers : i feel like for most people on here its the force shipping, and i agree. i deal breaker for me is not respecting me saying i dont want to write something bc i find it uncomfortable or out of character for a certain muse, if you push it i will drop everything and unfollow and block you. i cant keep bending my muses for other people.

plots or memes : both. memes are a great ice breaker when you dont know what to discuss and want to test the waters between muses. plotting is always something i will love expecially if its something im super excited about. ... which currently is skyrim / fallout / assassisn creed aus. im sorry.

preferences fluff, angst, or smut : so ... smut is great. i love to read smut. i cant write it --- once upon a time i could make a seasoned nun blush with smut. not anymore. idk why. i just can’t. fluff i adore, i die when characters hold hands or one kisses the other foreheads, im a weak bitch. angst is life, that mostly due to my friends and all the shit we put are muses though.

best time to write : its either when i am caffinated listing to murder mystery podcast at 8 am OR 2 seconds before i have to clock in at work.

tagged by: @intombed 🪄 tagging: @tiberiusmadhouse, @tcrniishedcopper, @priimalurges, @ticktikboom, @tlkingtothemoon

#rcliicta. | ooc // let's get lost in the dark of the woods.

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you-a-southpaw-doll · 4 years

Text

Deaf ~ A Max (The Resident) One-Shot

Summary: Max gets a new tenant...and maybe a new family? With all the silence, will Leigh be able to draw Max outta the walls and into her life?

Warning(s): Angst. Happy ending. Single mother OFC. Mentions of cheating. Bisexual OFC. Hearing issues. Deaf infant. Implied PTSD. Implied childhood trauma. Panic attack. Self-harm. First aid. Non-canon. OOC Max. Slight voyeuristic tendencies. OFC’s P.O.V. Soft Max. Hurt Max. Scared Max. Touch-starved Max. Max just needs some love.

Author’s Note(s): So, I watched The Resident (2011) a couple nights ago, and got this idea. I don’t do rape, so I changed Max’s character so he never goes that far. I also decided to do this from the OFC’s P.O.V. and show a different side of Max, one that would hopefully, kinda sorta, explain why Max seeks the refuge the walls give him. For people that suffer from PTSD, and other mental illnesses, everyone finds their own way of coping with their struggles. I’m not in any way condoning what Canon Max did. I just wanted to try and a different, less creepy, softer side. Also, in this story, Max is not a rapist, nor is he a murderer. And...I wanted a happy ending for Max, so that’s what I gave him.

Word Count: 7,982 words.

Relationship(s): Max x Leigh Sullivan (OFC) [romantic].

Characters: Max. Leigh Sullivan (OFC). Maxwell Dean Sullivan (OMC). Chris Sullivan (OMC).

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho @ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl @sebs-padawan

_______________________________________________________________________

Story Time:

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~

It’s been two weeks since I moved to New York City to start my new job at the museum and try to get on with one of the numerous publishing houses for my next books. Two weeks of sleeping in a cheap hotel room. Two nights of frantically searching for a somewhat cheap apartment that would be big ‘nough.

Two weeks of missing having his little body snuggled up next to me. Two weeks worth of triple FaceTime calls to my brother back in San Deigo just to see his cute little face. Two weeks of missing my baby boy. Two weeks of missing my adopted, six-month-old son, Maxwell. Two weeks of being completely alone in a new place for the first time in years.

It’s been two days since I saw that flyer pinned up on the hospital bulletin board after passing out from dehydration. Two days since I went to that old building that’s close to the huge bridge stretching out over the river. Two days since I saw the fancy apartment still being renovated that was clearly well outta my price range.

Two days since I met him and saw that beautiful dimpled smile hiding under the construction mask. Two days since I felt my heart flutter for the time in nearly half a year. Two days since that deep, slower than molasses but sweeter than honey voice told me it was mine for only $3,800 a month, minus utilities.

It’s been two hours since he, my new landlord left my apartment after sitting down to enjoy a dinner of takeout from the nearby Chinese restaurant once we’d finished moving my meager belongings in. Two hours since he and I opened up a little bit to each other, getting to know the other person.

It’s been two hours and I still haven’t stopped smiling.

Leaning back in my chair, I slide my iPhone outta the pocket of my men’s holey, Skinny Flex American Eagle dark blue jeans. Holding my thumb down on the button so it recognizes my thumbprint, I wait for it to unlock before I click on the FaceTime app and call my brother. I take a deep breath, relaxing, as I wait for him to answer.

Only...he doesn’t. Instead of my slightly younger brother answering, I get the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. The moment I see my son’s face fill the screen, I tear up and smile.

“Hey, baby boy! You playing with Uncle Chris’s phone?” I coo in a soft voice.

I don’t get an actual response, but that’s ok. My son Max is deaf. He was born that way and the doctors said it’d be a few more months before we could even try to get him fitted for hearing aids. The said it was a side effect from where his birth mother had been using hard drugs for 99% of the pregnancy, even though I tried to get her help.

Max makes a bunch of soft, cooing noises as he holds the phone close. I realize that he hasn’t noticed that I’m the phone yet. Especially once I see his gums get closer to the camera. I laugh, knowing he’s trying to gnaw on the rounded corner of my brother’s iPhone. Hearing movement on the other end, I watch as the phone jostles, and a loud thunk echos to my end.

A moment later, two small, chubby hands grasp the phone and my son’s face fills the screen once more. I watch as his eyes widen and he lets out a high pitch squeal, giggling, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Max has finally noticed that I’m on the phone. Smiling, I wave to him and blow him kisses.

It just makes him squeal more, louder, and happier. I giggle and happily listens to his giggles, squeals, and babbles. After nearly 15 minutes of listening to him, and slouching in my chair, the phone jostles once more and I hear Max let out a whine and hear him sniffling, knowing his ‘bout to start crying.

A second later, my brother’s face fills my phone’s screen and his eyes widen too, making him chuckle.

“Hey, sis. Sorry. Didn’t realize you were on the phone. I guess Max got ahold of mine when I went to fix him a bottle and a small jar of that mushy baby food you picked up for him before you left.” He says.

I smile. “Nah. Max didn’t call me. I called. He answered. Took him a hot minute to realize I was on the phone. Then he started telling me ‘bout the stuff y’all did today. Sounds like a productive day.”

Chris laughs and I watch as he gets settled on the couch in his apartment, holding my son in his lap, keeping him to where he can still see me on the phone.

“Oh yeah.” He chuckles. “Real productive. 3 naps, 6 poopy diapers, and a few bottles.”

I giggle. “Sounds like it.”

He chuckles more and shakes his head. “Anyway. How’s the city? D’you switch motel rooms? That don’t look like the one you’ve been staying in.”

I grin from ear to ear. “That’s actually why I called you. I found a place. By the river and train tracks.”

“Yea? That’s great! You all moved in?”

“For the most part. All that’s missing is little man. Oh. And the actual furniture. I was thinking...think you and Max could be out here tomorrow?”

“Uh...yea. I still got 3 more weeks’ worth of vacation time saved up at work. Give me a sec to pull up flights and shit.”

I smile and nod, waiting as Chris sets his phone down. After listening to some shuffling and the protests of my son, my brother and my son’s faces are visible once more. I help guide my brother through the process of looking for, booking, and getting two cheap plane tickets. I tell him my card info so he can type it in.

“Alright, sis. It looks like we’ll be flying out ‘round noon our time. And, after a 5 and a half flight, we should be to the city by dinnertime. How’s that?” Chris double checks.

“Sounds fuckin’ good to me! I can’t wait. I’ll meet y’all there!” I grin and cover my mouth as I yawn.

Chris chuckles. “Good. Looks like you need to get to bed. It’s what, 11 there?”

I nod. “Yea...I think so. It’s been a long day.”

“I can tell. Well, get some sleep. We’ll be there tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to see y’all. It’s been a long two weeks.”

“I bet. I honestly don’t see how you’ve been a single mom for the last 6 months. I’ve been watching this little monster for 2 weeks and I swear, I’m never having my own kids.”

I laugh. “Shut up! He’s not that bad. He just misses his mommy. And, you never wanted your own kids. You’ve always been too scared. Couldn’t even sit down if there was a kid in the room.”

“Hey! I just didn’t want to risk accidentally sitting on them and squishing them!”

I giggle as my brother grins. “I know, bro. I’m just giving you shit.”

“Yea. Just like your son’s been doing all day.”

I laugh, yawning again. “Shouldn’t have given him the sweet potato mush. I warned you.”

He rolls his eyes, chuckling. “Whatever.”

“I am proud of you, bro. You’ve done so well with him, and I appreciate everything you’ve done to help me. I know it’s been a long couple of months, not just the two weeks I’ve been out here.”

“I just wanna see you happy again, sis, and I’m always here for you. That’s why I’m more than willing to help you.”

“I know. And it means the world. Give him kisses for me and tap his little tummy twice to tell him I love him?”

Chris smiles. “I will. Be careful, yeah? We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll try. Love you.”

“Yea. Ok. I know.”

He grins and waves, getting Max to copy him as he hangs up the call. I smile to myself. My brother’s never been one to say “I love you” to someone. He’s been like that since we were little when he was 5 and I was 6. So, I don’t take it personally when he just responds as he does. I know he still loves me.

He’s been there for me, just like I’ve always been there for him. After my last relationship hit the fan and I caught my fiancé cheating on me with a man and said she no longer felt like being a mom in a same-sex relationship, just a few weeks before Max was born and we were supposed to gain custody of him, Chris offered to let me move in with him once Max was born.

So, that’s what we did. Max and I left Kentucky where I’d been living all through and well after college and moved to San Diego to live with my brother. The 5.5 months we were there, I looked ‘round for a job that I could use my history degree in, while also working on my last novel. After getting an offer from a museum in New York, I broke the news to Chris that Max and I would be moving to the city.

He’d been shocked at first since we were both from a small town in the mountains of Western North Carolina, and I’d sworn I’d never live in a big city. ‘Specially one in the North since it got too cold in the winter and I’d always been made fun of for my strong Southern accent. I’d explained to him that I had to do what was best for Max, that I had a son to think ‘bout now.

He’d understood after that and was willing to watch Max while I traveled back across the country to a new place, to look for a good living arrangement, and get settled in for my new job. He told me that once I got settled, he’d bring Max out and then help me get all moved in and everything. Which is what led us to tonight.

After hanging up with my brother and my son, I plug my phone up, set a few alarms, and curl up in the chair to try and get some sleep, knowing that tomorrow’s gonna be an even bigger day. All while never knowing that I was being watched by landlord peeking through a strategically placed and well-hidden hole in the wall.

When I wake up the morning, well early afternoon really, groaning and blindly reaching out for my phone to shut up the annoying alarms, I stretch and rub my eyes. I’m definitely not a morning person, and usually, get my best work done between the hours of 1 and 7 am. It’s been great since Max still hasn’t picked up on the whole sleeping through the night thing.

I finally push myself up outta the chair, my joints protesting the clearly uncomfortable position I just spent the last six hours in while curled up. Making my way to the kitchen, I get a pot of coffee going before padding back across the apartment to the bedroom and bathroom. I shoot my brother a text, letting him know that I’ll still pick him and Max up from the airport.

After my shower, and downing the entire pot of coffee, I put some music on as I start to plan how I want the apartment set up and start looking up furniture stores on my phone, even ordering a few things online to be delivered in a couple of days.. I get lost in my search, that it takes me several long minutes to notice someone’s knocking on my door.

Clicking my phone off, I tuck it in my pocket and make way to the door, opening it to find my landlord.

He and I talk for a few minutes until I suddenly realize the time.

“Oh shit! I gotta go!”

Max, my landlord, raises a brow. “Hot date tonight?”

I smile. “You could say that. I gotta go pick the love of my life up from the airport.”

I watch as Max’s face falls and he gets a sad look in his eye.

“I thought you were single?” He asks.

Scrambling to put my boots on, I reply to him. “I am. But, I still gotta pick him up.”

“Oh. Well, alright then.”

I look at him as I grab my drawstring bag that I use instead of a purse and put it on my back.

“I’ll be back soon. If you wanna come over, I’d love to introduce you. You’ll see him ‘round a lot.” I say, grabbing my key.

“Um. Maybe. I know I’ll be busy with the renovations in the other apartments. I just thought I’d stop by and check on you, see how you settling in.”

I smile and gently place my hand on his shoulder, trying my best to ignore the rush of excitement that courses through my body at the touch. My landlord is not only smoking hot, but he’s also well built and I can feel his muscles under my hand.

“Thank you, Max. I greatly appreciate it.” I say.

He just nods and stares at my hand for a moment.

“Oh...sorry.” I apologize, dropping my hand, quickly remembering how shy he is. “I’ll...uh...see you later, maybe? I’d really love for you to meet him. He’s a sweetheart.”

He shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “We’ll see how the renovations go.”

“Sounds good! Don’t work too hard!”

“I am working too hard!”

I giggle, playfully smacking his shoulder.

“Don’t do it.” I giggle.

I quickly leave after locking my door and hurry downstairs, hailing a cab and head to the airport. Thankfully, there doesn’t seem to be too much traffic, which surprises me since the first I noticed when I got to the city was all the traffic. When I get there, I realize I’m still a few minutes early, so I make my way over to the gates to wait.

Nearly half an hour later, I spot my brother, holding my son, carrying only the diaper bag and a small book bag, and rush over. As soon as I reach them, I happily take my little boy in my arms, peppering his chubby little cheeks with kisses, which has him squealing happily and patting my head. I giggle and tilt my head back to look at him, despite the happy tears rolling down my cheeks.

Tapping my finger against his belly twice like I’ve done since the moment I first held him and the moment the docs told me he was deaf, I let my son know I love him. He giggles and curls his fingers ‘round mine, holding it tight. I lift my shoulder, turning my head in an attempt to wipe my tears away. Once I’ve done that, I look up at my 6’2” tall brother, grinning from ear to ear.

He just smiles and pulls me in for a hug. I lean against him since my arms are full from where I’m holding Max. Laying my head against Chris’ chest, I smile. He just hugs me a little tighter, but not too much ‘cause of Max.

“Missed you, sis.” He says.

“I fuckin’ missed you too, bro.” I reply.

He laughs and lets go of me, looking at me. “You look happy.”

“I am now! I’ve got my little boy in my arms, and you’re here. But, I’m sure you’re hungry?”

“Always am!”

I laugh. “C’mon. Let’s go get some food and head to my place. You’re really gonna love it!”

He chuckles and follows as I carry a giggling and snuggly Max outta the airport. I look up Chris.

“You’re taller. Hail a cab.” I say.

He raises a brow. “How?”

I giggle and tell him since it’s the time he’s ever had to do it. Growing up in our small town, we didn’t have taxis, and then when he moved to San Diego during my senior year of college, he already had his own car, so he didn’t have to worry ‘bout taxis out there. It doesn’t take long before one comes to a stop in front of us.

Piling in, I give the driver my new address, and we set off towards home. Well, my home. Chris and I spend the time talking while I just hold Max close, patting his butt. Right as the driver makes it to the apartment building, the air suddenly smells shitty. I know Max has pooped himself, and I soothe him before he can start crying and apologizing to the driver, giving him a decent tip.

Ushering Chris out the cab, so I can get out with Max, I shift my son in my arms.

“Don’t worry, baby boy. Mama’s gonna get you upstairs, and get you all cleaned up!” I coo, softly, my lips near his ear so that he can feel the vibrations of my voice as I talk.

Max settles down a little as he sniffles, clinging to my shirt. I kiss his head and led the way inside and up to my apartment. Shifting him once more, I dig my key out, unlock the door, and step in with Chris right behind me.

“Let me get him changed. Feel free to look around. There’s not much, but we’ll fix that tomorrow.” I say.

Chris nods and drapes the strap of the diaper bag over my shoulder. I carry Max into the bathroom and set him on the tiled floor. I keep him distracted while I change his diaper, and tap his tummy twice after buttoning his onesie and slipping his little shorts back on. He lets out a giggle, holding his hands up.

Giggling myself, I scoop him back up in my arms, tossing the dirty diaper in the small trash can as I walk out.

***

Over the next couple of weeks, Chris helps me move furniture in, get the apartment set up, takes turns with caring for Max, and even teaching me some of the new recipes he’s picked up. He’s come along way, considering that the kid used to burn cereal when he tried to make himself some when we were kids.

We take a few days, once the apartment’s set up, to explore the city. I haven’t done much sight-seeing myself since I arrived. It was mainly ‘cause I was too busy trying to find a place and everything. A few times, I spot my landlord while we’re out and about, and I try to wave him over so he can meet my son and my brother.

Especially since he never showed up the night Chris arrived. I’d been really excited to introduce them. I couldn’t explain why, other than the fact that I wanted Max to meet my son and my brother. Yet, Max never comes over. He always pulls his phone out when our eyes meet and presumably takes a call, walking in the opposite direction.

Two and a half weeks after Chris arrives in New York, Max and I take him to the airport to catch his flight back to San Diego. We stay with him till it’s time for his plane to be boarded. As he hands his ticket over, he assures him he’ll text me when he lands in California and when he gets home. I give him one last hug and lift Max’s hand in a wave.

***

After Chris leaves, Max and I settled into our normal routine. I wake up shortly after he does, get him changed and dressed for the day, and then lay him down on the living room floor for tummy time while I get to work. The position I have at the museum allows me to work from home, occasionally going in once or twice a week, with Max, to take care of some things there.

When I’m not working for the museum, I’m attempting to work on my novel. After I get done with work, I feed Max and me, before we settle on the couch with a Disney movie or one of the three Despicable Me movies playing for naptime. Even if Max can’t hear, he still loves watching the screen, giggling.

He absolutely loves the minions and squeals every time he sees them on the screen. After naptime, he and I lay on the floor for more tummy time while I try to teach him the sign language I’ve been learning. My baby brother, Eli, was also born with hearing issues, so thankfully I knew some when he was growing up, but I’ve also been teaching myself more since I found out Max was deaf.

At the end of the day, and getting some more work done, along with dinner, I give Max his bath. He’s always loved bath time, except for the few times water lands in his ears. Since it’s his favorite, I give him one every day, which doesn’t put too much strain on the water bill ‘cause Max’s baby bath is small and doesn’t take a lot of water.

When bedtime rolls ‘round, I curl up on my new bed with Max cuddled to my chest with my shirt tightly gripped in one hand and his shark blankie in the other. I rub his back and hum softly so he can feel the vibrations from it as he drifts off to sleep. We keep the routine up for the next month a half. During this time, I never talk to my landlord, not even when I go to give him the rent.

I mean, yeah, I’ll see him occasionally ‘round the building, but he doesn’t say a word. He just looks at me for a moment, before dropping his head and walking away. It breaks my heart ‘cause I want to talk to him. We had so much fun talking and goofing off the night he helped me move in. But, since that day I had to rush off to the airport, we haven’t spoken.

I just resigned myself to knowing that he obviously thinks we’re nothing more than landlord and tenant. Which, honestly, make me sad ‘cause I thought we’d have become friends. He was the first person that was actually nice to me after I moved to the city. I also tuck down the feelings of the crush on him I have.

He reminds me a lot of Papa Winchester from my favorite tv show, Supernatural, and I’ve always had the hots for the oldest Winchester. Even my ex-fiancé knew that, and she agreed. See, we’re both bisexual, but I’d always thought she was the one. Until I caught her in bed, our bed, with a man, and she’d told me what she did.

The six months after we broke up were the hardest, ‘cause I’d been ready to marry her. But it didn’t work out. And after I’d moved to New York, met my landlord Max, and realized I’d had a crush on him, I was starting to come to terms with maybe moving on. Getting back out there. I mean, I knew there’d probably be nothing more than a friendship with my landlord, but I was ok with that.

But, I don’t even have that anymore. I sigh to myself, urging my thoughts to go down a different road, as I pull the clothes out the dryer. Just as I finish pulling the last few clothes outta the dryer, I hear whimpering. I listen for a moment to try and figure out where the sound’s coming from so I can go get my son.

After a moment, and the realization that the sound of whimpers is coming from the falls, I try to tone down the feeling of panic that’s quickly spreading through my body. Max started crawling shortly after we moved here, and I know he’s been exploring the apartment. I just hope he hasn’t gotten himself stuck somewhere.

I quickly leave the clothes on the dryer and walk further into the apartment, closer to the sound of the whimpers.

“Max? Honey? Don’t worry, ok? Mama’s coming to get you.”

I call out, without thinking ‘bout the fact that my son’s deaf. I call the words out based on instinct and the need to assure my son that he’s gonna be ok. I follow the noise, getting closer to the kitchen and my eyes widen. Did I forget to put the baby gate up so he couldn’t get in there? When I reach the kitchen and realize that I did indeed forget to put the baby gate, my heart drops to my stomach.

“Fuck!”

I step into the pantry where the sounds of the whimpers are louder and look ‘round. I don’t see my son anywhere. Then I hear the whimpers again and realize that they’re coming from the other side of the wall. I gently push against the right wall, to give myself leverage, as I keep looking, thinking there’s no way that the whimpers are coming from the walls.

My eyes widen as the wall shifts a little with my touch, and they nearly pop outta their sockets when I realize the wall isn’t just a wall. It’s a door that’s already slightly open. My heart starts beating faster as I realize that there’s a slight chance that Max could’ve crawled in here, and through the small opening.

I take in a shaky breath as I push the door open enough for my small frame to fit through. Once I’m through, I notice two things from the get-go. One, the whimpers get louder. Two, the door leads to what looks like an old set of maintenance hallways. I know older buildings used to have them, so it makes sense that this building would have ‘em too.

I just never really put the thought into asking or caring if the building had them. I make my way deeper into the hidden hallways, being careful not to trip or hit my head on anything. Keeping my eyes peeled for my son, I get closer to the sound of the whimpers until I finally reach the source. My eyes widen when I see who’s making the sounds.

“Max?” I ask, softly, getting closer.

My landlord doesn’t even look up as he flinches at the sound of my voice. He just whimpers and bites harder into his wrist.

My heart breaks and I crouch down next to him, gently taking his hand and pulling his wrist from the tight grip his teeth have on it.

“Max? Honey, it’s ok. You’re safe.” I murmur.

He whimpers a little more and hides his face. I immediately realize what’s going on. He’s having a panic attack, and it looks to be a bad one. Rubbing my thumb across his knuckles, I lean closer to him, gently wrapping my arms ‘round the slightly older man, and pull him close to me. I reach a hand up and run my fingers through his hair, softly and silently convincing him to lay his head on my chest.

I soothe him, calm him, and help him relax ‘nough that he slowly eases outta the panic attack. Not stopping my fingers as they continue to run through his hair, I start humming softly. I know panic attacks are one of the worst things to go through. Especially all alone. It takes several minutes, but I eventually feel Max relax, sagging against me as the panic attack leaves him.

Even though he’s outta it, I continue to run my fingers through his dark curls.

“Better?” I ask softly.

He nods, just a quick, subtle little jerk of his head against my chest, but it’s still a nod.

“Will you come back to my apartment with me? I wanna take a look at your arm. You bit down on it pretty hard.” I explain after he looks at me with uncertainty swirling in his muddy water brown eyes.

He takes a deep breath but nods again. I smile.

“That’s a good boy. C’mon. We’ll get you all fixed up.” I say, not sounding patronizing, but rather motherly.

I smile to myself as a light blush covers his cheeks at my words. I gently pat his shoulder before we stand up. As I lead him back through the maintenance hallways to the door that leads into my pantry, I notice other little holes in the wall, discreetly checking them out. When I realize they show off different points of my apartment, I raise a brow but don’t say a word.

After peeking through one of the holes, I see Max, my son, sleeping peacefully in his little playpen and let out a soft breath of relief, remembering that I’d laid him in there when I went to do laundry. I hold my landlord’s hand the entire time we walk through the hallways if nothing more than to keep him calm.

When Max and I get to the door leading to the pantry, he suddenly stops, jerking me to a stop too since I wasn’t expecting it and had been leading him by the hand. I turn ‘round and look at him.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, confused.

“The love of your life? Where’s he at?” He asks after, nervously, after a moment.

I smile. “He’s sleeping, in the other room. It’s ok.”

I watch as more hesitation and uncertainty fill Max’s eyes. I give his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Hey. It’s ok. He won’t mind you being in there. He gets a bit protective over me, but I just know he’s gonna love you.” I assure him.

“I...I don’t think so...guys typically don’t like me. Neither do girls. I’m a loner.” He mumbles, looking at his feet while flicking his thumb against his finger on his other hand.

“Max?”

He lifts his head, looking at me. “Hmm?”

“Trust me. He’s gonna love you.”

He shrugs. “Nah. He won’t. ‘Specially not since he has you.”

“Hey. Stop doubting yourself, ok? He’s gonna love you ‘cause I like you.”

“You...you like me?”

I smile and nod. “I do. And you’d know that if you hadn’t been avoiding me since I had to leave so quickly to get to the airport.”

A small smile tugs on his lips. “You’ve been busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you, Max. Now, c’mon. Let’s get your wrist all cleaned up, then you meet the person who stole my heart with just one look. And, he’s gonna steal yours too.”

I giggle and gently squeeze his hand as he looks nervous. I lead him into my apartment from the pantry, and into the living room.

“Have a seat on the couch, ok? I’m just gonna go grab the first aid kit. Don’t try and leave. I’ll follow you and kick your door down if you do.” I playfully threaten. “I don’t mess around with first aid.”

Thankfully, it gets a chuckle outta him and he takes a seat on the couch, holding his hands up in surrender. I grin and head to my bathroom to grab the first aid kit. Walking back through my bathroom, I stop by the playpen, lean down and kiss my son’s head, covering him up more with his shark blankie.

Watching him for a moment, I smile to myself and head back to the living room. Max is still in the same spot he was when I left him a moment ago, but this time, he has his hands on his lap as he picks at the bite mark on his wrist. I gently slap his hand away.

“Stop that, mister. You’ll do more damage than what you’ve already done.” I say, kneeling on the floor in front of him, between his knees.

He raises a brow and mutters a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

“Good boy. Now hold your hand out so I can look at it.”

He blushes a little but does as I ask. Gently taking his arm in my grasp, I inspect the self-inflicted bite mark on his wrist. After cleaning it with some alcohol wipes and putting Neosporin on it, I gently wrap some gauze ‘round his wrist and tape it so it stays in place. Without thinking ‘bout it, I place a gentle kiss on over the wrapped wound.

It’s outta habit that I do it since I do it whenever my son gets a boo-boo. I hear Max suck in a deep breath and my eyes jerk up to meet his. His bottom lip is captured between his impossibly white teeth and his cheeks are a shade pinker than they were before.

“I...I’m sorry. It’s outta habit that I do that.” I mutter, trying to explain as quickly as I can.

“I...it’s fine. I’ve just never had anyone do that before.” He mumbles.

I raise a brow. “Your mama never kissed your boo-boos?”

His eyes get that sad, lost look in his eyes. He pulls his arm outta my grasp and, not answering, he walks over to the window. I sit back on my ankles, packing the first aid kid up.

“Max...I’m sorry. I didn’t...you don’t have to talk ‘bout it.” I say quietly.

He just sighs and stares out the window, not saying a word.

“My…” He starts, still staring out the window. “My parents died when I was 10. My grandfather, August, he’s the one who raised me.”

I stand and gently pad over to him. “I’m so sorry, Max. I didn’t know. I didn’t think before I asked that.”

He glances at me then looks back out the window. Without thinking, and just doing it, I wrap my arms ‘round his waist and lay my head against his chest. He tenses up immediately at my touch.

“What...what are you doing?” He asks.

I tilt my head back to look up at him. “It’s called a hug. It’s supposed to be comforting. I can stop if it makes you too uncomfortable.”

I watch as his facial expression changes with several different emotions before a smile finally settles on his lips.

“Nah. It’s not too uncomfortable. I’m just not used to this.” He says after a few moments.

“This?” I ask.

He nods. “Hugs. I can’t even remember the last time I had one.”

I tighten my arms ‘round him and lay my head back on his chest. I feel his arms slowly make their way ‘round me, loosely holding me close, and I smile.

“Whenever you want one, just come to me and I’ll happily give you one.” I say. “I’m not really much of a hugger, but with you, it just feels right, so you can have a hug whenever.”

“Really?” He asks.

I nod against his chest. “Mmhhmm.”

“Thanks...but...what ‘bout...the love of your life? Is he ok with you giving random men hugs?”

I giggle and look up at him. “You’re not a random man, but yes. He’d be ok with me giving you hugs. He loves them, so he’ll probably try and give you one too.”

“Um…” He hesitates, slowly dropping his arms. “I dunno how I feel ‘bout your man giving me hugs.”

I giggle. “You’ll change your mind when you meet him.”

“I dunno.”

“I do! Stay here. I’ll bring him out to you.”

“Ummm…”

I giggle and lean up to kiss his cheek. “Just wait here.”

He swallows deeply, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “Ok.”

“Good boy.”

I giggle and leave him in the living as I walk into the other room where I know my son is. Reaching into the playpen, I scoop him up, making him giggle. I heard him cooing to himself a few moments ago, so that’s how I knew he was awake. I kiss his cheeks and gently tap his tummy twice. He makes a happy noise and snuggles to me.

I smile and hold him close as I walk back out to the living room. Max is looking out the window again, this time, though, he’s got his arms wrapped ‘round his torso, almost like he’s giving himself a hug. I giggle softly and make my way over to him.

“Max?”

He lifts his head and turns his gaze from the river to me. His eyes widen as he sees my son in my arms. Shock, confusion, and another emotion flash across his face.

“Who? Who’s that?” He asks.

“Max, this is the love of my life. My son.” I say, grinning from ear to ear.

“Your son? Love of your life?”

I giggle and nod. “Mmhhmm. I adopted him when he was born. I can’t have kids myself, and my ex-fiancé and I had talked ‘bout adopting. So, we decided to do it. Found out that this little guy’s mama was putting him up for adoption before he was even born. Then, just before he was born, my ex-fiancé and I split. I still adopted this little monkey and it’s just been he and I against the world since.”

“But...that man...who was here...was that your former fiancé?”

I giggle and shake my head. “No! That was my oldest younger brother, Chris. He’d been watching Max for me while I got settled in the city. After I moved in here, I called him, and he brought my son out here and helped me get furniture and whatnot. I really wanted you to meet him while he was here...but you kept getting phone calls…”

“Your brother?”

I smile and nod. “He’s the oldest of my two brothers, and I’m the oldest of all the kids.”

“Oh…”

I giggle. “Yea.”

“Those phone calls...they weren’t actually phone calls.”

I raise a brow. “You mean to tell me you faked ‘em just so you wouldn’t have to come over?”

He looks down, nodding. “You just seemed so happy with him. I thought y’all were together and that the kid was y’all’s. It…” He shakes his head, cutting off the rest of his sentence.

“Max, I wasn’t lying when I told you I was single the first night I spent here. But I also didn’t tell you that there is a guy I like.”

“Oh...well...I don’t wanna meet him…”

I giggle. “Too late. You already have.”

He frowns. “I have?”

Nodding, I grin and take his hand. “C’mon. I’ll show you who he is.”

“I don’t wanna…”

“Tooooo bad, mister.”

I giggle and lead him to the bathroom, standing him in front of the mirror as I stand next to him, holding my son.

“I thought you were showing me someone I don’t wanna see.” He says, his voice quiet.

“I am. Tell me who you see.” I say, grinning.

“Me. I see me, you, and your son.”

“Exactly. So, you see the guy I have a crush on.”

“Isn’t that a little weird to have a crush on your son?”

I giggle. “Yea. So, it’s a good thing he’s not who I have crush on.”

His brows furrow in confusion and I giggle and gently turn him to face me.

“You’re adorable.” I say.

“How?” He asks, confused even more.

“You’re just not getting it, are you?”

He shakes his head. “No?”

“Max, you’re the guy I like.”

“Me?”

Nodding, I smile. “You.”

I watch as he gets the cutest, dimpled smile on his face, making me giggle more. He blushes and ducks his head down for a moment before looking at me.

“You really like me?” He asks, softly.

“Mmhhmm. I do. I just thought you didn’t like me since you kept ignoring me.” I say.

“I was just trying to distance myself...I thought you were with that guy, who’s actually your brother...I thought he was your ex-fiancé that you’d mentioned that first night...that you’d taken him back.”

I giggle. “Oh, Max. My ex-fiancé was a woman. Who cheated on me with a man. In our own bed.”

His eyes widen. “You were with a girl? But...you like me?”

“I’m what you’d call bisexual. I play for both teams. I like guys and girls.”

“Oh!” He lets out a soft chuckle. “So...what’s this mean? For us?”

I giggle. “It means, that I’d like to date you. If you want that.”

He grins, making his dimples show more. “I’d...I’d like that.”

“Me too! We just have to get someone’s permission first.”

“Permission? From?”

I smile and turn my son ‘round to face him. “Max here has to approve first. I have to think of him now, especially when it comes to relationships.”

Max nods and looks at my son, then back at me. “Wait. His name’s Max?”

I smile. “Maxwell Dean Sullivan. Sometimes, though, I’ll call him Deaf.” (Deef.)

“Why?”

“Oh. He’s deaf.”

“Oh!”

I smile and nod then look down at my son as he wiggles in my arms, reaching out for Max. I giggle and gently hold him out, waiting for him to take him. Max gently, and somewhat nervously, takes my little boy, and cradles him.

“Awww! You’re like a pro!” I grin.

“I’m not gonna lie. I’m scared shitless. He’s so small.” He whispers.

I giggle. “You’re also really big. Max and I are both small compared to you. And you help me close and gently.”

This gets a soft chuckle from my landlord and he visibly relaxes, shifting Max so he’s a little more comfortable. My son giggles and reaches up, patting Max’s cheeks, squealing at the feeling of the short beard tickling his tiny palms. I smile and lean against the mirror, watching them.

“I think Deaf likes you.” I say.

“Yea? You really think so?” Max looks up and he visibly tenses as he soon as he sees me leaning against the mirror. “Don’t lean against that. Please.”

I raise a brow, but step away from the mirror. “Why not?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t, Max. It seems like a sturdy mirror. Plus, the wall behind it keeps it up.”

He lowers his gaze and hands my son back to me, much to my son’s protests and my own confusion.

“I...I should go...just please don’t lean against the mirror.” Max says quietly and turns to leave.

I reach a hand out and curl my fingers ‘round his upper arm.

“Hey. Stop. You don’t have to go.” I say.

He nods. “I do. There’s stuff you don’t know ‘bout me...I’m not a good man…”

I raise a brow. “Max. Aside from ignoring me for the last several weeks, we’ve still been good to me. You are a good man. I know you are.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but can’t help.”

A thought hits me and I look up at him. “You mean the holes in the walls? That allows someone to peep through into my apartment?”

His face pales and I get my answer. I reach up and cup his cheek.

“Max. It’s ok. I saw him when I was leading you back to my place to fix your wrist. The walls...they’re your safe place, aren’t they?” I ask, softly.

“It’s quiet in there. I like the silence.” He mumbles, closing his eyes. “I can watch...and it calms me.”

“Have you watched me?”

He swallows deeply. “I tried not to...but I…”

“Shhh. It’s ok, Max. I’m not mad.”

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m not. Some might think it’s creepy, but in a way, it’s like you’re watching over, protecting me. Me and Deaf.”

“I...I didn’t think of that.”

I smile and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. “It helps you stay calm, watching me?”

He nods. “I can’t hear the voices…”

“What voices?”

“The ones telling me…” He shudders.

“Breathe, Max. It’s ok. What do they tell you?”

“That I’m a coward. A pervert. A creep.”

His reply is so quiet I almost don’t hear it. But I do. I place my palm back against his cheek.

“Is that why you bit your wrist earlier?” I ask softly.

He nods. “To make them shut up.”

“Well, you don’t have to do it alone anymore, ok? I’ll tell those voices to shut up too.”

He opens his eyes and looks at me, unsure.

“I will.” I assure him.

“But...why?” His child-like voice breaks my heart.

“Because, they’re lying to you, Max. The things they tell you, they’re not true. You’re not a creep. Not a pervert. And you are definitely not a coward.”

“But...I am.”

“No, Max. You’re not. You’re not any of those. You’re just a man who needs someone to show him what it’s like to be loved. You didn’t have a good childhood. Losing your parents, and having your grandfather raise you. But you survived. You grew up. You coped with everything thrown your way in the ways that you knew how. You’re a survivor, Max. And, that alone makes you the furthest thing from being a creep and a coward. As for being a pervert, I don’t think you’re that either.”

He doesn’t say a word, but he leans into my touch more.

“How do you know?” He asks after a few minutes.

“I know, because I can tell you’re not. Believe me, I grew up ‘round ‘nough perverts to know that’s not you. You’re nothing like them. That’s how I know.” I whisper.

“You still like me?” He lifts his eyes to meet mine.

“I do, Max. And, I’m gonna show you what it’s like to be loved. We’ll get there. And Deaf here, this little boy in my arms, he’ll show you too. I told you he’d love you when he met you.”

“He does?”

I smile and nod. “He doesn’t reach out to just anyone. It took him months just to go to my brother. But it took him maybe 5 minutes to go to you. And, kids are usually really good judges of character. Just like dogs. So, I can assure you he doesn’t think you’re anything like what the voices tell you.”

He nods slowly and looks down at the little boy in my arms.

“He is cute.” He mumbles.

I giggle. “Damn right he is! He’s my son.”

Max chuckles softly. “That’s true. But...you’re not cute.”

I raise a brow and look at him. “That’s not exactly the best thing to say to your new girlfriend.”

He grins. “Girlfriend? I like the sound of that...but you’re not cute. You’re beautiful.”

I blush. “So are you. Ain’t you can’t argue with me. The girlfriend’s always right.”

He laughs softly. “Is that so?”

“Mmhhmm! Now. I believe there’s a little boy who wants to be held by you.”

He smiles and kisses my palm before standing up straight and gently taking Max from my arms, holding him close.

“As for the mirror, Max. We’ll just board up the other side.” I say, getting the picture, from his reaction, that it’s one of those mirrors like police station interrogation rooms have. “And, you won’t have to go back into the tunnels anymore. You have me and Max now. We’ll be here for you.”

He swallows deeply and nods. “Promise?”

“I promise promise, Max. But, know that if you ever cheat on me, I’ll cut your dick and balls off.”

His eyes widen as he nods. “I...I wouldn’t do that to you.”

I smile. “Good. And I wouldn’t do it to you either.”

He lets out a breath of relief. “So...does this mean...that I have a family?”

I smile. “Yes, Max. It does. We’re your family now, and you’re our family.”

#Deaf #Max (The Resident 2011) One-Shot #Max Fluff #Max Angst #Max gets a happy ending #The Resident (2011) Fluff #The Resident (2011) Angst

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holydragon2808 · 3 years

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Thoughts On Dragon Age II after Replaying (Massive Spoilers)

Hello fellow DA fans! It's been quite some time since I last posted anything here on Tumblr. Hope everyone has been safe during all of the world's craziness. Figured I'd post something to let people know I'm still alive.

Anyway, DA2 was first released back in 2011. I was 20-21 years old at the time. Back then, while I still acknowledged the lack of genuine player agency with Hawke (in comparison to the Warden before them), I did belong in the camp of people believing that people went way overboard with the DA2 critiques regarding those complaints, at least back then.

Now though? After replaying the game again a decade or so later, and also in light of the Inquisitor and DAI, I now personally believe that Hawke's story stands out as (overall), all the more unbalanced in comparison to both the Warden and Inquisitor.

Massive Spoilers for the franchise abound beyond this point. Last warning.

Despite a lot of the old critiques leveled at DA2, it isn't a 100% terrible experience, and despite the oncoming rant, I do love the game overall.

Even though I've personally always thought that DA2 story was centered around tragedy a bit TOO much, in light of the growing franchise and the directional tone of the other protagonists thus far, it unfortunately stands out even more to me, and not in a good way.

A shame really because DA2 could have been a better and interesting contrast to DAO in tone and direction had it been more balanced with meaningful successes and failures for Hawke as a character rather than veering too far over into angst and tragedy.

For example, in DAO, your Warden character is railroaded into success against the Blight no matter what. Regardless of the origin, regardless of what sort of allies you acquire, no matter if you live or die in the end or which warden gets the final blow, you succeed.

This sort of narrative framing gave the writers a much easier way to balance genuine tragedy and success throughout the journey without veering too far in one direction or the other, and also without making nearly everything the player does seem like an exercise in futility.

In other words, there were failures and successes more properly balanced throughout, from experiencing meaningful failures and heartache during the chosen origin stories, to failure at Ostagar, to having more balance with the party members and their struggles (they weren't too boring or too dysfunctional), romances that stood out as a light for the Warden amidst all the fighting and death and their massive burden, to succeeding with building the army to take on the Darkspawn, to potential personal sacrifice to save the world and so on.

The option to play a more tragic, angsty or "evil" character who alienates everyone around them and then ultimately dies in the end is there too. The point is that the game largely gave the player the reins and let THEM decide what sort of story they were interested in shaping within the confines of the narrative railroading.

This balance just isn't there with DA2 as the player progresses. Hawke is railroaded into failure in almost every way from start to finish, whether in their personal life or with the massive political struggles in Kirkwall.

I'm sure most people would have been fine with the main plot between the mages/Templars spiraling out of their control in the end (thanks Anders), the Qunari rampaging no matter what, and even the Hawke family being forcefully separated as the story progressed.

However, to me some of the railroaded bleak tragedy should have been offset by Hawke (and by extension the player) at least having the OPTION of being able to keep their family alive.

I'm fine with the tragedy of losing the whole family being ONE POSSIBLE option in the game, but when this tragedy along with the main plot failures, the dysfunctional party members that are too problematic to help ease Hawke's burdens (in fact, they all add to Hawke's worries, which if Inquisition shows anything, that it finally takes its toll on Hawke) is THE ONE AND ONLY OPTION in light of everything else wrong in Kirkwall, then that's a potential writing issue and could potentially alienate the player more than make them care about anything that happens and wonder why they aren't given the option to just nope out and leave Kirkwall to its fate.

Tragedy can be fine, don't get me wrong, but not everyone wants to role play a COMPLETE AND UTTER tragedy from start to finish with no option to deviate in any way from that narrative. Options in the way people progress (especially where people can break the story down and see the holes in the narrative where it COULD have possible but just wasn't allowed), should be presented in a ROLE PLAYING game.

I personally find it more realistic and relatable when a character experiences a nice blend of both MEANINGFUL success and failure. However, the writers seemed intent on railroading Hawke into just being at the mercy of the main plot with little to no agency.

In stark contrast to DAO, planning for the entire story in DA2 (or just in an RPG period) to end in failure no matter the player choices is already a bold enough risk on its own. It can definitely work with the proper balance of both positive and negative experiences along the way though in both the political and personal aspects of the player characters life, to keep the player actively engaged in a way that doesn't leave them thinking that their presence in the story amounts to little more than the equivalent of holding a book and simply turning the page rather than actively doing something.

But combining an already planned bleak ending with a very corrupt setting where the leaders on all sides are either completely moronic or passive, party members where the majority of them have too many burdens of their own to give Hawke a genuine sense of a reprieve from the madness even if romancing one of them (except for Varric, Aveline, and Bethany, if alive, everyone else is either a whiner or dysfunctional. It's very telling that Hawke's PET DOG gets more no strings attached visits from the party members than Hawke does. Just saying), railroading Hawke to lose the majority of their family in some way, AND having what little success and influence Hawke DOES acquire to come back and bite them in the ass in the end (Hawke struck it rich and became Champion of Kirkwall?! Awesome!.....right up until its revealed the red lyrium idol they found in the deep roads played a part in screwing up everything), then at that point, a serious argument can be made that the writers veered far too heavily into tragic overdone melodrama for some people.

How cool would it have been to be able to leave the game with "Well, okay, I couldn't do anything about the corruption in Kirkwall or the mage/Templar tensions spiraling out of control, but at least my whole family is alive and well"? There could have even been an achievement/trophy for this very outcome called "The pride of the Hawkes" or something.

Just one possible example of how the railroaded political failures could have been offset by giving Hawke, (and by extension the player), the OPTION for personal success in a more meaningful way. The option for extreme tragedy with some or even all of the Hawkes dying can still be there of course for people who want that degree of angst, but again having multiple OPTIONS is more likely to accommodate more people and their preferred play styles or stories, and thus, give more reasons to play the game multiple times.

As it stands now, sure, Hawke can save the life of one sibling, but they're still railroaded into losing one of them before the prologue is over, the other is either killed by the Blight or forced from their side in act 1 because the game said so, and the mother is forced to die in the most shock value induced way possible (nevermind not even being able to warn Leandra in act one or follow up on this quest until it's too late in act two or the guards and Templars being forcefully incompetent for this to play out like the writers want).

Those have just been my thoughts as of late. Some people argue that in a way, this is the entire point of the game. That sometimes only REALLY crappy choices exist and there may not be a third option. I agree with that to a point.

But "there might not be" and "there NEVER is" an option for an ideal third way are two very different things and IMO, DA2 suffered in veering far too heavily in the direction of the latter, often being too focused on heartbreak and shock value (looking at you "All That Remains") to really work as well as it could have.

Anyway, these are just my thoughts a decade later. Make no mistake, I still love DA2 for what it is, love the general concept and idea of DA2, just not the execution. It's just sad to me that this game could have been so much better with more development time, more options to shape Hawke's story on a more personal level (whether with an ideal outcome of everyone in the family living, or a semi tragic one where some can die depending on choices, or everyone dying), and not being railroaded into tragedy to nearly nigh ridiculous levels to the point where a giant spider nightmare residing in the Fade in a whole other game mocks Hawke for their "failure is the only option" status.

And just to further clarify my point here, true, Kirkwall was a ticking time bomb with or without Hawke being there. They made the tensions between the two factions apparent as far back as DAO. A Mage/Templar war was all but inevitable, as was Anders eventually losing himself to Justice/Vengeance and after exhausting all peaceful options, finally doing the unthinkable and "forcing everyone to choose a side". That part was fine. And it makes sense for this part of the story to remain static and unchanged no matter what (as I said before, the issue isn't necessarily that DA2 had a planned tragic ending or was framed as a set story within a story).

The issue is that, at the end of the day, regardless of whether this is framed as a recounting of events already played out, Bioware still chose to present this part of the story to the world as an RPG, not a novel. It's just too easy to pick apart the current execution of the narrative and find too many holes and inconsistencies, far too easy to see that Bioware wanted tragedy and completely railroaded the player into it regardless of whether or not it made sense to do so at times. Part of it is definitely that it was rushed, but not all of it.

" Genuine inevitable tragedy" (example: the mage/Templar rebellion) and "railroaded and just never given the option to question/change anything because the game/developers said so but still forcefully insisting and trying to frame it as an inevitable tragedy" are two very different things (outright confirming in Act 1 that the remains of the serial killer's vicitms did indeed belong to one of the missing women (Ninette's wedding ring) and he gave them white lilies but conveniently never given the option to bring any of this up to the guards/Templars or pursue the quest or warn Leandra until it's far too late). Leandra's death isn't the only example of this problem, but it definitely is one of the most prominent and IMO, takes away from the intended story of a good woman who met a bad end with their oldest son/daughter being unable to prevent it when the game failed to let them (and by extension the player) truly try.

DA2 could have been a great contrast to DAO. Rather than having the influence to shape the fate of the world like the Warden and succeed in their goal, they could have compromised in DA2 with having the fallout of the Kirkwall Chantry destruction and the rebellion still happening no matter what (i.e. Hawke "failing" to stop any of the madness and still ultimately forced to flee Kirkwall in the end after finally dragging the Amell line back into prominence) but still given the player the option to save their immediate family members across the story if certain choices were made throughout. I'm sure most people would have been fine with a more "bittersweet" option being presented for Hawke, (and by extension the player) in the game, especially where again, one can pick apart the narrative and see where it could have been an option, but just wasn't allowed for no other reason than seemingly because of the "True art is angsty" trope.

Bioware could still have their own canon (similarly to how Alistair is shown to be king in their canon no matter what as an example) of the ultimate tragedy if they wanted, but again, DA2 is still an RPG where players expect to have more meaningful choices reflected in how they progress, even with an inescapable darker and downer ending.

Complete and utter tragedy is fine, but I just don't think it was the best decision to have it as THE ONLY option in an RPG.

#dragon age 2 #da2 #dragon age origins #dragon age inquisition #marian hawke #garrett hawke #bethany hawke #varric tethras #leandra amell #leandra hawke #da inquisition #dragon age #carver hawke #dai

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lovesgonnabe · 3 years

Text

Love Is Worth It - Episode III: When Boy Meets Girl

Characters: Chris Evans x Maya Alonso-Evans (Black OFC)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, cursing, slight Implied smut

Word Count: 2126

Summary: What happens when boy meets girl and that boy underestimates that girl?

AN/Disclaimer: It has been a while since I’ve written so please bear with my rustiness, and there’s slight edits so there may be errors. italicized is a flashback.

Taglist: @thesecretlifeofdaydreamss, @canadian-girl87, @i-just-like-fanfics if you would like to join the taglist message me.

Please leave a note and tell me what you think!

December 14, 2019 - 3rd Person

Every Year Chris, Maya and their friends get together and do a Friendsgiving in December to celebrate holidays.

This year it was the Evans’s turn to host in their second home in Brooklyn, New York.

This group consisted of a good combination of Chris and Maya’s friends.

Scarlett came with her fiancé SNL Writer Colin Jost. Along with Anthony Mackie, Sebastian Stan and sometimes (but not this time) RDJ.

Austin, Maya’s brother of course, Tika and her fiancé. Maya met Tika while at Yale spending time in New York, and Tessa Thompson who met Maya at a glamour magazine event and has actually been quítely seeing Sebastian for the last year or so.

“You know you look a lot like Chadwick Boseman” Colin said looking at Maya’s brother Austin.

The group laughs “yeah I get that a lot” Austin says as he takes a sip of his drink.

Maya walks into the media room with a cheese board and popcorn in her hand, as their friends sat on the couches getting ready to watch a movie on the projector.

They were all sat close to the Evans fire place chatting, drinking, laughing and just enjoying eachothers company since they don't get to get together often. Especially since Chris and Scarlett are no longer actively apart of the MCU.

“Ok so what is your story, like how did you guys meet, everytime i ask Austin he refuses to tell me” Austin’s girlfriend Alana asked pointing at Maya as she sat on Chris’s lap in the love seat they were sharing.

Chris and Maya at the moment were getting a bit handsy with each other under their blanket. He was sweetly kissing her neck as he rubbed her thigh, moving his hand up to play with the elastic on the waistband of her shorts.

“Oh god I love this story” Tessa said sitting with Sebastian and grabbing some popcorn.

Chris chuckles “you wanna tell it or should I” he said smiling at her biting his lip.

“How about I start and you cut me off if I get something wrong” Maya said playfully rolling her eyes and Chris nodded.

She sat up and cleared her throat since Chris’s hand moved to shifting her shorts and panties to the side.

“Ok so I meet Chris through Scar they were in New York filming their first Avengers film, having a night off she called and asked if I wanted to go out, of course I said yes then invited Austin and Tika to go with me so I wouldn't be alone.”

”We meet up at the pool bar, we walk in and here is this six foot blonde not paying me any attention” Maya said

She shifted cuddling closer to Chris as he slowly he teased her warm slit as it slowly got wet and slick.

************************************************

Maya - September 2011

It was a warm fall evening in New York CIty the leaves were beginning to change and I was midway through my first year of my dermatology residency.

This bar was in the middle of Hell's Kitchen Manhattan and did not look like much from the outside. We went down a flight of steps into a smokey, dingy pool room.

Scarlett was in the back of the bar with two men. One brunette with sunglasses who looks to be making a joke and a blonde leaning against the pool table laughing.

When we walked up to the group the blonde and I locked eyes, even in the dim room his blue eyes pulled me under a spell. He was the first to break eye contact as we got close.

“Hey Scar thanks for the invite, I needed this break” I say hugging Scarlett.

She chuckles “it’s not a problem, we have been trying to get together for a while and I’ve been the one blowing you off”

I shrug “it’s all good this isn’t a place I’d pick to hang but it’s cool.”

My face scrunched up at my surroundings I wasn’t fond of going anywhere in Hell’s Kitchen but hey I didn’t pick the hangout this time.

We introduce both groups of friends to each other, the brunette with her was Robert or Downey and the blonde was Chris.

The first hour was pretty chill and I was having a good time just watching the crowd as the bar began to actually get full with people.

Robert opened up to me fast he is warm and inviting, telling stories and cracking a jokes about every person that passed our way. However, Chris was giving me the cold shoulder mostly gave me the side eye and sometimes a condescending smirk when he looked my way as he and Robert played on the table next to Austin and Tika’s as Scar and I drank watching the games.

“What’s wrong May it seems like you have a lot on your mind” Scar asked.

I shrugged “just thinking you know school, work, and I don't really know, I haven't been here long yet Chris keeps giving me a side eye”

Scarlett laughs “please don’t try and figure out Chris I promise it will just give you a headache.”

But I can’t stop thinking about this golden man standing in front of me without a care in the world, he enamores me, his smile was beautiful his eyes would make any women weak in the knees and I was going to figure him out by the end of the night.

When Chris and Downey finished up there game Chris stood up and looked at me like he was challenging me.

“Look at that, who’s next It seems that Downey can’t hang with the pool champ” Chris boosted.

I rose from my seat and removed my jacket “I’ll give it a shot” I said grabbing my drink.

I walked over to the pool to a brooding Chris as he smirked at me readying his pool stick.

“Can you actually play princess?” Chris asked.

He reset the pool table as I grabbed my stick smirking at his question.

I shrugged when he looked up at me “we will see, you break” I said.

As we begin our game Chris was like an open book and was so easy to read. His stance oozes confidence he played lazyly like he couldn’t be beaten. I let him win the first game no problem and he let me win the second game, while i acted like I couldn’t play.

He was making the game so boring and easy so I decided to spice the game up a bit.

“How about we make this a bit more interesting? Every ball we make into a pocket we must answer a question?” I say setting the balls.

He laughs “ok, be prepared because this could get interesting”

I smirk and break sinking the blue solid ball “I’m solids now what’s your problem with me we just meet” I said missing my second ball as I step back.

“Um I don’t have a problem it’s just you’re just a little prissy for my liking” Chris answers monitoring the table prepping his next shot.

i roll my eyes “I’m not prissy, I just I like what I like and I know what I don’t like, I guess you were listening in on Scar and I’s conversation.” I say

I leaned against the pillar next to me with my arms crossed waiting for an answer.

He shoots one in the pocket and misses the next ball yet completely avoids my question all together.

“how old are you” he asks

I roll my eyes “you know you shouldn’t ask a women her age, but since you asked nicely I’m 25” we both laugh.

The back and forth continued until he had about two balls left to win and I had five it was my turn.

I shot the first ball into the center pocket.

“if you could go anywhere in the world what would it be?” I ask

“The Swiss Alps” he said

I nod and shot ball two in the left corner pocket

“Do you have any siblings” I ask

I walk around the table analyzing my 3 shots I had left.

“Um yes one brother and two sisters” he says

Chris now looked nervous as I smirked at him laser focused.

“Don’t run scared on me now big boy” I laugh walking to my next ball.

I shot my third ball in the bottom right pocket, and we now gained a bit of a crowd forming.

He clears his throat “well damn i wish you would have told you knew how to play”

I shrugged my shoulders looking into his crystal blue eyes, smirking.

“You didn’t ask but now that you are interested I’ll tell you, I am the middle child between two very competitive brothers and a daughter of man who doesn’t like to lose” I say smiling at my brother, walking over to Austin and did our handshake.

“But I’m suppose to be the one asking the here questions sir” I say turning to Chris and smirking at him.

With my back to the table I take the shot behind my back and I sink my second to last ball into the cup.

Now everyone at the bar was watching our game with anticipation and we both only had two balls left.

“ok wow I like her Scarlett” Robert said and I laughed.

I walked up to Chris “next question if I win will you tell me how big your friend down below is because I think he is happy to see me” I whisper to him.

I brushed up against Chris as he clears his throat “I plead the fifth” he says standing tall covering his growing friends in his jeans.

I sucked my teeth and pouted “you’re no fun.”

With only my eight ball left i decided to miss on purpose just to extend the game a little longer what can i say i was having fun messing with him.

The crowd of the entire bar though they did like that I missed an easy winning shot since they all groaned in displeasure.

Chris looked so nervous, when he lined up to his next shot his hands began to shake.

“Don’t choke on me now” I taunt him.

He takes a deep breath hits the ball to the left corner pocket the red stripe rolls as if it was going in but stops a hair short from the pocket.

Some people cheer others groan in sadness for his defeat, Chris stands back looking satisfied yet defeated.

I smirk, walking around the table and shot my ball into the right corner pocket.

The crowd cheered and Chris smirked dropping his head in defeat.

I walked up to him as people congratulated me which I found weird because all we did was play a few rounds of pool.

“That was one hell of a game young lady” he smiled trying to act cool as he leaned against the pool table.

“how about we start over?” I ask

Sticking my hand out shake he took it, smiling at me.

“I’m Maya Alonso from San Francisco and you are?”

“I’m Chris Evans from Boston” he said chucking.

“Well Mr. Evans you wouldn’t mind going out with me sometime maybe get to know each other a little better?” I smiled as we kept holding each other’s hand.

“Well Ms. Alonso I wouldn’t mind that at all, until next time.”

He let go of my hand, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

“until next time” I whisper to myself butterflies in my belly feeling like a giddy school girl.

***********************************************

Everyone was laughing

“Se la vie, now almost ten years and one kid later, I still can’t keep my hands off of him.”Maya says

“Umm that’s not how I remember it happened.” Chris said looking at Maya confused.

“That’s exactly how I remember it” Tika laughed

“We left and he couldn’t stop talking about her, begged me to give him her number all the way back to his airbnb.” Scarlett said in between a gut wrenching laugh.

“Whatever, at the end of the day I got to the girl and that’s all that matters” Chris said holding my chin, pecking my lips continuously whispering that he loved me.

Austin sucks his teeth rolling his eyes “Alright that’s enough, y’all got a room for all that, let’s start the movie already” he said pressing play on West Side Story.

Maya laughs and goes back to kiss Chris masking the moan trying to slip from her mouth, as he slowly pushed his fingers inside her wet cave just hitting her g-spot as the movie played in the background.

#chris evans x black ofc #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x poc!reader #poc reader #woc reader #chris evans fanfiction

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laruna · 4 years

Text

— 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

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