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marginalmadness · 4 years ago

Text

Summer Nights: Chapter 1/4

Pairing: Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N

Rating: Teen (later explicit)

Genre: Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Synopsis: A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long...will it?

Warnings/Tags: None right now, will add with additional chapters

Author’s Note: So the beautiful, wonderful, ever patient @johobi commissioned as we went into lockdown the first time, and it took me forever to write, and ended up being about 4x longer than I expected because, feelings and plot kept getting involved. Anyhow, the fic is finished, but with NaNoWriMo this month, and my already teasing this, I’m releasing this in 4 chapters, as I edit it, the next one will be next Friday, so I hope you all enjoy this, I got some wonderful comments from @johobi and she made this WONDERFUL HEADER <3, and I hope you all look forward to Chapters 2-4

Chapters: Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Word Count: 4.3K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The events depicted here are entirely of my own imagining, and have no basis on actual people or events.

Summer Nights

The weather report this morning said nothing about rain. Not a shower, not a sprinkle, and even now, as you check your phone for the thousandth time, there’s no indication of the storm that is currently darkening the sky over the entire city.

You fight your way out of the subway station, pushing past people rushing down the stairs out of the deluge. As you clamber your way up through them and onto the street, it feels like you’re pushing against a wall of water.

You curse yourself and the umbrella that sits serenely dry and unused under the side table by your front door. Because according to the highest-rated, “most accurate” weather app available, it was supposed to be nothing but dry, sunny spells through the end of the week and staying warm and dry over the weekend.

You dash across the road, taking a shortcut through the park, hoping to find some relief under the canopy of trees but somehow the drops feel heavier under the leaves. Cold rivulets of water run down your neck, under the collar of your coat, completely defeating the purpose of you clutching it closed.

You’re halfway home when, as suddenly as it started this morning, the rain stops. You look up through the branches and the sky is miraculously clear, dappled sunlight falling across your face as birdsong suddenly fills the park, nothing but dripping leaves and ground puddles to indicate the previous weather. This must be the sunny spell that was previously promised.

You wipe your hand across your face to remove some of the hair clinging to it, but since your hand is as wet as everything else, it’s a losing battle. There’s just as much water on your face after wiping it, and strands of hair are now just pulled across your forehead rather than limply clinging to your cheeks. You sigh, readjusting the strap of your bag and hoping the contents inside aren’t as soaked as you are, when for the second time in less than a minute you are stunned to another stop.

Before you is a tiny, shivering, soggy ball of fur.

You could swear it wasn’t there a second ago, but it’s possible it darted out from under one of the surrounding bushes and you startled it as much as it, you.

Crouching down, you reach a hand out towards the small creature, which lifts its head, twitches its nose and shuffles towards you. It’s hard to tell under the sopping wet fur, but it doesn’t look like what you’ve seen of regular wild rabbits. Its fur is darker, but that might just be an effect of the rain. It also seems longer, but again it’s hard to tell when wet. The biggest giveaway that it’s no regular wild rabbit are the two long, floppy ears that hang down either side of its head, dragging along the path as it moves towards you.

“Hey cutie pie,” you say in as soft a voice as possible while shivering from the wet and the cold. “You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

The creature makes a full hop towards you and sniffs at your hand, and you’re almost 100% sure it’s a rabbit and not a hare. You slip your other hand beneath its tiny body and stand, clutching it to your chest. You wait to see if it’s going to resist or fight but it only snuggles into your coat. “Okay, let's get you home and dried off, and then see if we can find your owner,” you say, scratching its head gently.

Almost as soon as you tuck the tiny creature under your coat, the rain starts again, skies grey, water coming down in sheets as though it never stopped. You run the rest of the way through the park and across the road, not minding that you step into a puddle since your feet are already so wet. You barrel your way into your apartment building, stopping to catch your breath as you wait for the elevator.

As soon as you’re through your front door you carefully step out of your shoes, drop your bag and shuck off your drenched coat, vowing to come back and clean them up later. You’re so soaked your clothes cling to you, as though you weren’t wearing a coat at all, and you hit the thermostat on high as you run past on your way to the bathroom.

“Why don’t we get you all nice and snug in a towel? Let you warm up while I take a shower, hm, little buddy?”

Grabbing a hand towel, you carefully wrap the trembling creature in your arms, rubbing the wet fur carefully before placing the bundle in the sink and stripping down to jump in the hot shower.

The hot water stings your chilled skin the instant it makes contact, but it warms you up quicker than waiting around for your apartment to heat up or hiding under your duvet would. Stepping out of the shower, you wrap a warm, fluffy towel around yourself and notice the small rabbit has its eyes closed. You pick it up in its bundle, and it seems to blink in alarm at being moved.

“Awww,” you coo aloud. “Did the warm steam lull you to sleep, lil’ bun?” The rabbit looks up at you and then closes its eyes, nuzzling back into the towel covering it. You carry it into your room and place it on your bed before changing into something warm and snuggly and drying your hair. By the time you’re all done, the bunny has fallen asleep, curled up in a little cocoon of warmth.

You head back towards the front door, picking up your coat and moving your waterlogged shoes into the bathroom. You pick up your bag and hope your phone was buried deep enough inside to escape water damage. Luckily, all of the contents inside seem untouched and you send a prayer of thanks to whoever was watching over you to pull that one off.

Grabbing your phone, you quickly search for a local vet that’s still open, hitting ‘call now’ when you find a decently-reviewed one. You kneel at the foot of the bed until you’re eye level with the fluffy, dark-furred rabbit. It watches you with curiosity, whiskers twitching as your face gets closer to it.

“Hello, Park Place Animal Hospital,” a tinny voice says pleasantly through the phone. “Eric speaking, how can I help?”

“Hi,” you say cautiously. “I found a rabbit in the park, and think someone might have lost it. It doesn’t look like a wild rabbit.” Maybe it was a wild rabbit, you argue with yourself; you’re not exactly a rabbit expert.

“Can you describe it to me?” Eric asks.

“It’s got long, dark fur; black or maybe dark brown? Seems… fluffy?” you say with uncertainty. “It was drowned-looking when I found it in the storm, and it’s wrapped in a towel drying now. But its ears are long and floppy. Really long. Really, really long,” you emphasise.

There’s a chuckle on the other end of the phone. “Well it certainly doesn’t sound like a wild rabbit. Possibly a member of the lop family. It could be a lost pet, but are you sure it’s not a hybrid?”

That stops you. A hybrid? Never even crossed your mind. Why would a hybrid stay in animal form in a storm and let a stranger take them home?

“I-” you stutter. “I don’t know. I’m a mundane, I don’t know how I would be able to tell.”

“Well, scent is the easiest way to tell, but you wouldn’t be able to use that as a mundane and it’s a little late to bring it into the clinic. You could talk to it, ask it some questions.”

You frown down at the bunny. Maybe you were missing something. “I don’t speak Bunny.” You could hear Eric holding back his smile over the phone.

“But hybrids understand human speech,” he says, holding back his laughter. “Assuming you speak the same languages.” You purse your lips, eyes glancing around the room, cheeks burning in embarrassment. “Where are you right now?”

“In my bedroom,” you say. “The bunny-hybrid-whatever is wrapped in a towel on my bed and I’m kneeling on the floor at the foot of it.”

“And what is the ‘bunny-hybrid-whatever’ doing?”

“It's-” You look at the rabbit and are a little taken aback to realise it’s watching you, head raised, nose twitching inquisitively. “-watching me.”

“Okay, unwrap it and leave the room. Tell it, if it’s hungry, to follow you to the kitchen. If it’s a hybrid, it will understand and follow you.”

You blink owlishly at the creature, before nodding in determination. “Okay.” You unwrap the towel and move to the doorway. The bunny watches you leave.

“I need to make dinner. If you’re hungry, follow me. I have some veggies you can eat.” The bunny stands up on its hindquarters, giving itself a shake until its fur is sticking up in funny-looking spikes. It jumps down from the bed and lops after you as you walk towards the kitchen. You turn your attention back to Eric on the phone. “I promised the bunny veggies, and now it’s following me into the kitchen.”

“Congratulations, you have a hybrid-rabbit in your home.” Eric laughs. “It’s late now, we’ll be closing soon, but if they haven’t turned by morning you can bring them by the clinic and we’ll be able to either issue a T.o.C or take them in until we can find out where they came from.”

“T-O-C?” you ask slowly.

“Treaty of Care. Hybrids who stay in their animal form for extended periods of time need special care. It’s usually infant or adolescent hybrids born in animal form who haven’t turned for the first time yet, or hybrids hurt in animal form who need to heal before they can transform back. A Treaty of Care is usually served to a close friend or family member, but it can be anyone.”

“Even a stranger?” you ask, stopping in your tracks and looking down at the small creature by your foot. It looks up at you with big, dark eyes.

“If they didn’t fight you when you first picked them up, and they haven’t shown any signs that they want to leave, then they feel comfortable with you. At least for the time being. So the decision seems to be yours. Think about it tonight, and come in tomorrow.”

“Will do. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mutter, biting your lip and shuffling from foot-to-foot.

“No problem, have a nice evening,” Eric says politely.

“Thanks, you too.” You hang up the phone, motioning with your head towards the kitchen. “There’s apples in there.” The bunny-hybrid zooms off, hopping towards the kitchen, and you let out a little giggle at its enthusiasm.

Once there, you head to the fridge and pull out what you need to make yourself dinner, plus some extra veggies for your unintended guest. You dump them and the promised apple into the sink, making sure to give them a good wash before you start chopping things into rabbit-convenient pieces. A gentle pressure against your calf stops you, and you turn to find the long-eared bunny leaning against you as it stands on its hind legs, either trying to get a better look at what you’re doing or begging for a snack.

“Are you nosey or impatient?” you ask, and the hybrid drops to all fours before hopping around your feet. You lean down to pick it up, placing it on the counter next to you and offering it a slice of apple. Its tail—no, its entire body wiggles in appreciation as it munches on the apple slice, nibbling away with its eyes contentedly closed. You finish chopping the veggies and place a selection on a plate, setting it in front of the hybrid. The bunny hops high, kicking its back legs in excitement before diving into the pile to devour it.

With a tentative finger, you reach out to scratch behind the rabbit’s ear. To your relief, it doesn’t recoil. Encouraged by this, you settle your hand on its head and gently stroke its fluff. The hybrid leans up, nuzzling its face into the palm of your hand. You smile appreciatively, tickling the rabbit’s chin before you turn to cook your own dinner.

---

The rest of your night you spend relaxing, curled up on the sofa watching TV. The hybrid decides to join you, settling at the opposite end away from you. Normally you wouldn’t allow a pet or an animal on the furniture, but it’s not really an animal and you’d feel bad forcing a guest to sit on the floor if there was space on the sofa. You’re second-guessing your decision, though, when the rabbit expresses opinions on your choice of entertainment, nudging the remote when it wants you to change the channel and thumping its feet when it sees something good. You spend a good twenty minutes having a one-sided argument with a creature that communicates through nothing but foot stomping and nose twitches before you come to a consensus: a superhero movie that you never got to see in the cinema. You drop the remote and the rabbit hops closer to you, shuffling into a loaf by your feet. Like that, the pair of you spend the night watching six unlikely heroes and their friends save the world from total destruction.

---

Your first real, big conundrum is when you go to bed and the little ball of fluff follows you, jumping onto your comforter.

“No. Don’t be ridiculous, you are not sharing my bed,” you try to say forcefully, but the surreal nature of what's happening makes your tone just a little bit hysterical. The hybrid simply lowers its head to the comforter, making itself smaller, lopping closer to your hand until it’s nudging it. It wiggles its head beneath your fingers. “Is this you asking for permission? No! Off! Down! Off the bed!” The creature shimmies its fluffy tail and doesn’t move an inch. “I know you can understand what I’m saying, and it’s weird,” you whine. The tail-twitching stops. Big, dark eyes blink up at you as it sits up on its haunches, front paw waving at you like it’s trying to grab you.

You can’t help but feel you’re in a pouting contest with a rabbit.

“Fine,” you huff, flopping back on the bed dramatically. The hybrid lops towards you and you turn to watch. Fluff obscures your vision as it boops you gently on the nose, and you laugh at the tickle of its fur. You shuffle under the comforter with a yawn and turn off the lamp. “Okay. Tomorrow, when I get your Treaty of Care, I’m picking you up an animal bed. This is only for tonight, because you’ve obviously had a stressful day, so don’t get used to it.” The second you say it, you know it’s a lie. You’d lose a pouting contest with that bunny every time.

---

Ten weeks later, the rabbit now has a side of the bed.

The side of the bed where his animal bed sits unused on the floor.

The vet had given the hybrid a clean bill of health, identified it as a young adult male and given you a T.o.C for as long as it wanted to stay with you. Or until you returned it. But that would never happen.

Somehow you’d just fallen into a routine; breakfast for the both of you, rushing to and from work, changing the litter box, dinner for two, TV in the evenings. And now somehow, suddenly, it’s summer. Gone are the spring storms that brought the two of you together. Now you have the stifling heat and humidity of the peak of summer.

All the windows in the apartment are open and have been for at least a week. You don’t even sleep with a cover anymore, just collapse on top of it in the flimsiest two-piece that can cover your modesty. Honestly, even that feels like too must most nights, sticking to you in the humidity. It’s so hot that the hybrid - who you had simply called “Bun” for lack of a better name - no longer lay close to you, but far on the other side of the bed, stretched out on his side, ears akimbo. The city desperately needed a storm to break the humidity.

Half way through summer, you get your wish. You flinch, even in your sleep, as the room fills with blinding, white light. The crack of thunder that immediately follows is explosive in the silence of your room thanks to all the open windows. The storm startles you awake. Turning away from the window, you bury your face in your damp, sweat-drenched pillow, just as the gentle roll of heavy rain starts to beat against the heated concrete city.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask in a sleepy, raspy voice as you reach for the small creature. But where you expect to meet soft fur, you meet soft skin, solid muscle coiled tight beneath it. It takes a second for your brain to register the foreign sensation, before your head snaps up and your eyes open. You’re used to sleeping next to a small rabbit-hybrid, but in its place is a very naked young man, curled in the fetal position. His large, terror-filled eyes stare at you.

You scream, scrambling off the bed and across the floor to press your back against the wall. The naked man shrinks in on himself when you yell, curling himself into a tighter ball. You can see just enough of him over the edge of the bed to spy a long, floppy ear drape over one of his arms.

“Bun?” you ask in a breathless voice. He lifts his head, and those eyes—those large, round eyes are just as dark as they were when he was a rabbit.

They’re the same.

He moves up onto his hands and knees, crawling cautiously across the bed to peer down at you. His fingers curl over the edge of the mattress, long ears dangling either side of his face.

“Sorry,” he whispers in a soft voice. He’s still tucked in on himself like a loaf, like he would sit when he was a rabbit. You can hear his foot tapping against the mattress; he’s agitated. “I woke up like this a little while ago, before the storm was over the city. I guess it scared me into transforming back.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask, finally getting a handle on your breathing. It’s not everyday you wake up with a naked man in your bed…or any day recently, if you’re being honest.

“You’ve had trouble sleeping because of the heat. I didn’t want to disturb your rest.” Your heart aches. You knew the hybrid living with you was friendly and sweet-tempered, but hearing it makes it difficult not to reach out and pet and coo at him like you regularly would. There’s just enough light coming in from outside for you to see him bite his lower lip in the darkness. Your heart pangs again when you notice that he has bunny teeth even in his human form.

You shift, getting to your knees and moving closer to the bed. The hybrid doesn’t stir, still huddled in on himself, floppy ears falling each side of his face. They blend seamlessly into his long, dark, wavy hair. His eyes are impossibly large, as dark as the night sky, and reassuringly familiar. Just over his shoulder, down the slope of his back, you spy a fluffy tail twitching at the base of his spine. Resolutely, your eyes snap back to his face.

“That was very kind of you,” you say softly, watching his face spread into a warm smile, front teeth prominent and pressing into his bottom lip.

“You’ve been very kind to me,” he practically whispers, and you smile in return, resisting the urge to pat him on the head. You don’t know if it’s appropriate now he’s no longer a rabbit.

“Do you have a name?”

“Jungkook, but you can keep calling me Bun, if you want. I like it,” he says, louder this time. Confidently. And you decide, screw it, you’re going to pet him. But then thunder crashes again, bright light simultaneously filling the room, and for a single, breathtaking moment, in the stark light of the storm, you take him in.

And he is absurdly beautiful.

Jungkook ducks his head. Curling into himself, one of his feet taps incessantly against the bed. You reach out, threading your fingers through his soft, chocolate brown locks until you’re rubbing his head, fingernails scratching lightly.

“Don’t worry, Jungkook, you’re safe. I’ll not let anything happen to you.” Slowly, he raises his face; eyes searching yours. “Treaty of Care, remember.” You give him a small smile. Jungkook leans forward then, pressing the tip of his nose into your cheek.

You still.

He used to do this all the time as a rabbit. It’s normal behaviour. Your research told you hybrids behave similarly to their animal counterparts. When in animal form, that is. You never expected it in human form.

His nose skims across your cheekbone until he’s rubbing it against yours. You can’t help but sigh at how incredibly intimate the act feels, and Jungkook must take that as some sort of sign, because the next thing he does is gently caress your lips with his. If it weren’t for how focused his eyes are, gauging your reaction, you might write it off as an accident. But then he does it again.

You pull back suddenly, shaking your head as though to clear it. “Let me get you something to wear,” you say, climbing to your feet and closing the blinds on your way to your draws. “I don’t know if they’ll fit you, but these are some old sweats.” You throw them to him on the bed, turning back to find him a shirt; something loose. You dig out an old t-shirt you won in a radio contest.

“Are you covered?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook says in a small voice. You turn around, extending the shirt toward him and short-circuiting when he stands at his full height. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his sculpted abdomen. All of him could be cut from marble. You stare, open-mouthed, as he shuffles foot to foot, awkwardly rubbing his elbow.

“Is that for me?” He asks finally, motioning to the garment in your hand. You nod, holding out the t-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a radio station you don’t ever recall listening to. Just as he takes it, thunder claps again and brightens the room and his arm flexes, dragging you into his personal space before you can release your hold on the fabric. His chest heaves, breaths coming heavy.

“I’m tired. Let’s sleep tonight and we’ll talk in the morning, okay?” you say softly, going for the bed. Jungkook just nods and moves towards the door. “Where are you going?” you ask, laying a hand on his arm.

“The sofa.” He ducks his head, ears hiding most of his face. “I didn’t think you’d want me sharing your bed anymore since—” he motions to his human form.

You swallow. It’s loud in the quiet of the room. “Is that why you stayed a rabbit for so long? So I’d let you stay?”

Jungkook looks up at you through his lashes; you can see him biting his lip again. “Kind of,” he mumbles, avoiding your eyes. “You were so kind to me when you found me. I was scared you’d want me to leave if I transformed back, and I wanted to stay for a little while.”

“Why?” you ask softly. “Didn’t you want to go home?” He smiles, but it looks embarrassed, his nose scrunching.

“No, not yet,” he says meekly, dipping his head. He hides behind his chocolate brown waves and long, floppy ears. “Going home is… it’s complicated.”

You lean forward, carefully reaching up to brush one of his ears aside so you can better see his eyes. His ear twitches but he doesn’t pull away, instead looking at you with all the stars of the cosmos in his eyes. “You can tell me when you’re ready,” you encourage with a soft smile. “There’s no rush. I’m also not going to make you sleep alone when you’re scared,” you say, taking him by the hand and tugging him towards the bed.

“Are you sure?” he asks, looking over your shoulder towards the bed. But his face is hopeful, so you can tell he’s only asking out of politeness.

“There’s plenty of space. And besides, you’ve had weeks to hurt me and you haven’t. I trust you.” You let go of his hand and clamber into bed.

Jungkook perks up and slips the shirt hurriedly over his head, inside out and obscuring those perfectly sculpted abs. He scrambles over the mattress to his usual side of the bed, a buck-toothed smile all over his face. His human form is impressively built, but somehow, when his head hits the pillow and he curls into a ball, he looks almost as tiny as he did in bunny form.

You lay facing him, watching him carefully. His eyes are huge and flitting between your face and the window, like he’s waiting for another crash of thunder. You sit up, reaching down to where your thin blanket had been kicked out of the way when the heatwave started, holding it up, your meaning obvious. Jungkook immediately shuffles closer, curling into your side and burying his head under your chin. It startles you for a second, your entire body going stiff, but you take a deep breath and wrap an arm around him, willing yourself to relax. You thread your fingers through his soft, brown locks, caressing his head the way you did when he was still a rabbit.

And before either of you realise the storm has already passed, you drift off together into restful sleep.

Next Chapter

#Jungkook #Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook Fluff #hybrid!Jungkook #Jungkook Smut #Jungkook x you #Jungkook x reader #Bunny!Jungkook #Jungkook Fic #BTS Fic #MarginalMadness #commission #MM Summer Nights #Summer Nights

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lochrannn · 3 years ago

Note

Do you think that ao3 is the best platform for fanfiction writers or should there be some changes?

Hey OP, I’m gonna level with you, I was considering not answering this question at all because it feels a lot like I’m being dragged into disc horse that I have no real interest in participating in. But I’ll try and take this question at face value and in good faith and I’m genuinely sorry in advance if my tone drifts into the defensive.

My short answer is, hell yes!

For one, is there really any even comparable alternative? And secondly what changes should there even be made for authors specifically? I mean, I can store and sort my stories, people can indicate that they like them, write me comments. I can give information through tags that make them searchable for people looking for something like them. This is perfect! Would I love it if more people read my fics? Sure, but that’s not an Ao3 problem, that’s because I write for a small fandom ship in the absolute drought period between seasons. That’s on me. Ao3 is an archive, a library, it’s not their job to promote my stories. They make my stories just as accessible as other much worse and boring stories (in my personal, probably bad opinion) and they make my stories as accessible as much, MUCH better stories (in my personal, vey wise opinion). How people interact with the stories is entirely on fandom behaviour and how people find shit – whether through Ao3’s search functions or my own promotion on other platforms… tumblr for instance.

Now, I feel like, if this is about the Ao3 bad or Ao3 good conversation, the question should actually be, is it the best place for readers and should there be any changes made. And there I’d say, minor ones if any. This is always about the idea that Ao3 is somehow responsible for the content on their archive, and I wholeheartedly disagree. If they were a commercial operation (and please see this post about why they very much are not) I’d say they’d definitely be responsible for the content they make money off of, but they aren’t, so they’re not. Ao3 has an exceptional content filtering system, so though I’m sure there’s some heinous shit on there, because people are going to people, I’ve not actually come across anything, cause I can easily avoid it by not going looking for it. But what I find distasteful, the next person might find some artistic merit in or any kind of personal entertainment, and honestly, vice versa. And if a fic becomes big that’s usually because it gets attention elsewhere and then, I think, the discussion about it should happen on that platform, too (mind, I do believe people should feel free to go into the comments of a fic to tell the author off if they think they’ve done something really bad, while hopefully not being a total arsehole about it. But honestly, why bother engaging with something you find upsetting? Close that tab and use the tags to find the type of coffee shop AU that’s more to your taste). But I don’t believe that by content being available on Ao3, the people who run it endorse it or promote it. It’s just being stored there and it’s up to individual users how they want to interact with it.

And ultimately on what basis would anyone make a decision of what content is acceptable and what content isn’t? We’re all watching the internet being sanitised beyond recognition and functionality due to advertiser pressure and we’re rightfully appalled at nonsense like female presenting nipples. I’d much rather have a website where, if you are so inclined and go looking for it, you can find someone's FICTIONAL WRITING about incest and rape than the entire internet being rid of love and sex and queer stories and people boning aliens or sentient werewolves, and I just genuinely don’t see how we are ever going to get rid of one (though I’m not even sure we should) and hold on to the other. We can only ever learn to engage with this stuff responsibly and critically, or individually chose not to engage with it at all (which Ao3 makes very possible), but that’s not going to happen by simply making it all go away for everybody.

If there was one change I could suggest, it would simply be to make it easier to block authors whose stuff you just don’t want to see anymore (there is a script/site skin you can run, but you need to know it exists and it’s a tiny bit involved, you can find the info in this post. I've used it, it works). Like, if there’s an author who continuously tags stuff as your ship, for instance, and it’s just so they can brutally murder one of the love interests, then I think it’s understandable you don’t want to see them anymore (yes, this is why I went and found the script to block an author, and yes, I also understand how this is an incredibly minor complaint, compared to, say, legitimate complaints of perpetual racism in fic – and here I don’t mean discussions of racism or depictions of racism, cause that is my understanding for why the tag exists, so people can avoid that if they don’t want to read it, but rather conscious or unconscious racist attitudes within the writing).

So once more, wholeheartedly, thank fuck for Ao3 for protecting and storing transformative works and for not making it their job to be the arbiters of what is morally acceptable fiction. I hope that answers your question, OP.

#turns out i do have some feelings on this #but i don't have more than the ones i just expressed so i also have no interest in more of a discussion #i've seen all the arguments #this has been going on for years #i've come to my own conclusions

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sukirichi · 4 years ago

Text

suki’s restaurant is now CLOSED! please read updates after the “keep reading” tab!

thank you for the milestone! it’s really such a huge gift to me since i just started posting jjk content here ten days ago (◕ᴗ◕✿) as a small token of appreciation, all requests are now open and there’s a variety of ingredients you can choose from!

masterlist !

meal guides:

🥞 breakfast - fics longer than 1k word counts

🍙 lunch (headcanons)

🍷 wine (nsfw content)

🍰 snack (timestamps, imagines & drabbles)

🍌 thirsts (ramble with me about our smexy thoughts!) for the brainrots

PLEASE READ:

— this event is officially closed. my asks are only open for the previous anons who i’ve asked to do a redo for any mistakes/restrictions in their previous orders.

— new requests will no longer be accepted. or maybe it will because i’m easily swayed with great ideas but it will no longer be part of the milestone event.

— my writing schedule is only during wednesdays, fridays, and the weekends. some works will be written in advance and scheduled to post daily (if possible.)

— please be patient! as you can see, i’ve got a lot of requests, and i really want your meals to be as pleasing and delicious as possible, so please please be patient. i’m training for med school and i’ve got other responsibilities too. if you want to decline a request if you can’t wait for it, that’s fine.

— i’m human so...my mind can change any minute, and i could no longer be interested in a certain idea. if that happens, i’ll reply to your ask that i won’t be serving your meal anymore even if it’s here on the list below. it sounds kind of rude, but i wouldn’t want to write something i’m not interested in for the sake of pleasing others, because if i write something i don’t enjoy/am not that interested in anymore, then the meal won’t turn out as good had i been passionate for it. it’s going to be done out of forced productivity and the food might taste bad :<

— the last batch of accepted meals will be marked as ✿

— favorites will be marked as ★. because they’re the ideas i find most interesting and the ones i adore the most, they will take longer to be completed. i really want to give my ultimate best on that and just UNLEASH everything i have in me.

how to order!

✦ choose from the ingredients below

✦ choose your own sugar and spice!

✦ choose from the meal guides above! please specify if you want your request to be

✦ send in your request by dropping it on my ask box!

✦ be as descriptive as you want in your request, i want to make a good meal for you!

✦ example of how to order:

— breakfast: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 for gojo

— alternative: 9+1+1+song (optional) + dialogue of choice (optional)

— alternative: breakfast with wine: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 + spice 1 for gojo

— optional: ingredient 9 + sugar 1 + spice 1 for toji + cookie “starboy by the weeknd” and “you wanna fuck me so bad”

ingredients : au (max of 2 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

✦ sugar daddy au

✦ arranged marriage au

✦ accidental pregnancy au

✦ high school au

✦ university au

✦ med! student au / doctor! au

✦ lawyer au

✦ detective au

✦ ceo au

✦ sugar mommy au

✦ neighbours au

✦ bed sharing au

✦ roommates au

✦ co-workers au

✦ body swap au

✦ soulmate au

✦ fake dating au

✦ marriage for convenience au

✦ bodyguard au

✦ assassin au

✦ married au

✦ love triangle au

✦ mutual pining au

✦ unrequited love au

✦ meet drunk au

✦ meet cute au

✦ siblings’ friend au

✦ friend’s sibling au

✦ established relationship au

✦ breakup au

✦ barista au / coffee shop au

✦ teacher x student au

✦ royalty au

✦ rentboy au

✦ camboy/camgirl au

✦ ex au

✦ mistaken identity

✦ fuck buddies au

✦ bartender au

✦ tattoo artist au

✦ apocalypse au

✦ playboy au

✦ stoner au

✦ love at first sight au

✦ hate sex au

✦ sleepover au

✦ worthy opponent au

✦ age gap au

✦ loss of virginity au

✦ gangster au

✦ mafia au

✦ bet au

✦ rebound au

✦ drunk hookup au

✦ bad boy good girl au

✦ amnesia au

✦ reincarnation au

✦ one of them is famous

✦ one of them doesn’t know the other exists

✦ one of them is oblivious

✦ one of them is taken already

✦ polar opposites au

✦ met at the subway au

✦ library au

✦ football player au

✦ canon au (jjk canon)

✦ send me your own au!

sugar: tropes (max of 2 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

✦ best friends to lovers

✦ enemies to lovers

✦ lovers to enemies

✦ strangers to lovers

✦ mutual pining

✦ unrequited love

✦ forbidden relationship

✦ partners in crime

✦ slow burn

✦ send me your own trope!

spice: (for nsfw requests) (max of 3 picks!)

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

— here are the kinks/sexual content i’m comfortable writing about. there’s still a lot of kinks idk about so if it’s not here, please feel free to include the spice in the ask!

✦ breeding kink

✦ size kink

✦ stockholm syndrome

✦ age play

✦ agoraphilia (public place kink)

✦ somnophilia (consensual sex where the other is asleep)

✦ breath play

✦ dumbification

✦ cum play

✦ begging kink

✦ praising kink

✦ thigh riding

✦ collaring

✦ face sitting

✦ 34+35

✦ dacryphilia

✦ disciplining

✦ dirty talking

✦ exhibitionism

✦ role playing

✦ gagging

✦ watersports

✦ send me your own kink!

cherry on top : characters

CROSSED OUT OPTIONS MEANS IT’S NO LONGER AVAILABLE

— characters i can write anything for (nsfw & sfw)

: gojo satoru, fushiguro megumi, fushiguro toji, choso, noritoshi kamo, ryoumen sukuna, nanami kento, okkotsu yuta

— characters i can only write sfw for

: itadori yuuji, inumaki toge

— characters i want to write for but don’t think i can write well (nsfw & sfw)

: suguru geto, naoya zenin

— characters i’m MOST eager to write simp for

: fushiguro toji, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, choso, naoya zenin

additional cookie!

✦ send me a song as a story inspo!

✦ send me your dialogue! (ex. “shut up and kiss me.”)

restaraunt rules : please read!

— i do not write about yandere, stalker, pregnant! reader (unless it’s still until the early age where the belly is still small), non-con, and heavily canon requests

— nsfw content i won’t write about: period sex, blood play, temperature play, pegging, male characters dressing up as female, monster fucking (sorry, sukuna won’t be getting four arms if you want nsfw for him), bestiality, incest, hypnosis (non-con related)

— not exactly a restriction, but please keep in mind that y/n is still a character for me as the writer. i may or may not add in features that even though isn’t explicit, could be something not suitable for everyone. phrases like, “he peered down at her” sounds neutral enough, but could still be implied that the reader is shorter than the anime character. it’s difficult to write a 100% neutral fic that won’t imply appearance one way or another. if i’ve written anything offensive/upsetting, feel free to tell me about it. i’ll do my best to keep it neutral.

— the reader will always be female bodied in nsfw content

— please be patient! i want to write fics the requester enjoys so i’m going to take my time in preparing your meal!

— i may or may not cook your meal 100% according to your request. depending on my comfort upon the idea, i may have to tweak a detail or two.

— i can refuse your request if i don’t want to write about it for personal or other reasons. i’ll let you know beforehand.

— wine will take longer to be served!

— i will announce if a trope/au/character is no longer open for requests. i feel like some ingredients will be quite common amongst requesters and i don’t want to write for the same thing over and over again. same goes in the manner that if you have a similar request to another, it’ll be fused into one idea/meal.

— if your request contains offensive/uncomfortable content, i won’t even respond back to you. i’ll immediately delete your ask.

— if you still don’t get or are confused by the guides, send me an ask! i’ll happily guide you!

— this event is now closed. i will temporarily be closing my ask box so i don’t get flooded. i’ll open it again tonight for anyone who has questions or just want to drop a message!

hmm...i’m still not sure how to order for my meal.

✧ what if the story/scenario i want isn’t included in the choices above?

— as i’ve stated, please feel free to request whatever you want! the choices are there to give people an idea what they’d like to see, but if it’s not there, you can still request for it as stated in the “send me an au/trope/kink you want!”

✧ what if i don’t have any ingredient, spice, or sugar i want but a song inspo anyway?

— that’s also fine, but it would be preferred if you’re descriptive so your meal could be delivered better and faster. in this case though, i’ll just have to get creative!

✧ what if i want more than one character in the request?

— having others included in the request is fine, but as much as possible, i can only write a maximum of two main characters (the reader excluded)

✧ what if i want to request for the ones you want to write for but you don’t think you can pull it off well?

— just a heads up! i would love to write for them, but because i’m not entirely caught up in the manga, the characters mentioned above aren’t ones i know very well yet.

✧ not exactly regarding the meal, but i’ve sent you requests from last week. would you still be writing them?

— i’ve received several requests when my bio states that requests are closed. however, because the ideas are actually really precious and i know i’d have fun writing them, i’d still write about them. i just cannot guarantee you’ll receive your meal soon since my requests were closed when you sent them.

UPDATES:

Day One: breeding kink, size kink, thigh riding, married au, best friends to lovers is NO LONGER AVAILABLE.

Day Two: established relationship au, mutual pining, dumbification, and gojo satoru is NO LONGER AVAILABLE. to the asks that were received before this update, you may check on the requests accepted whether you made it to the cut or not. i’ll update this later. the restaurant will also reach out to you if one of your requested ingredients/spice/sugar/cherry on top did not make the cut. my asks are still open, so please tweak your requests a little bit to what is available!

Day Two Update 2: Restaurant is CLOSED! spice 6 (somnophilia) is also no longer available! Check the requests accepted to see if you’ve made the cut, the latest and last accepted requests will be marked as ✿!

requests accepted:

✦ fushiguro megumi

megumi really likes reader and gojo, yuuji, nobara helps him confess

shy megumi who is really flustered and shy around his crush meals fused into one. read here: not shy

★🥞🍷 40 (tattoo artist au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 2,12,13 (size kink, praise kink, thigh riding) + reader is shorter than megumi and isn’t shy read here: work of art

(★🥞🍷 5 (university au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 12, 3 (praise kink, stockholm syndrome) + virgin megumi) i’ve been outlining this for days but idk...i just can’t seem to form something out of it. i still have it saved but idk if i can still finish, i’ll try my best though. it’s just challenging to write, sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 1 (best friends to lovers)

🍷 + 27 (siblings’ friend au) + 1, 11, 19 (breeding kink, dumbification, dirty talking) + feral megumi (feral megumi supremacy) read here: unstoppable

🥞 + 3, 38 (accidental pregnancy, fuck buddies au) + childhood friends to lovers + baby moments with father! megumi MEAL ORDER 9 & 7 FUSED read here: happy little accidents

★ vampire au + 55 (reincarnation au) + 6 (somnophilia) + vampire markings + blood drinking + nursing megumi...or him nursing you? hmm? (STRUGGLE PAANIK) read here: scarlet

✿ 🍰🍷 23, 38 (mutual pining au, fuck buddies au) might fuse it with request 7 MEAL ORDER 9 & 7 FUSED read here: happy little accidents

✦ nanami kento

jealous nanami with oblivious reader + gojo annoying nanami making nanami confess read here: a little push

comfort & angst fic where reader dates gojo but gojo cheats so she breaks down, leaves him, and nanami comforts reader it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :(

★🥞 + 33 (royalty au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) read here: violet

🥞🍷 + 21 (married au) + 4 (strangers to lovers) + 2, 12 (size kink, praising kink) MEAL U

🥞🍷 + 23 (mutual pining au) + 1 (best friends to lovers) + 1 (breeding kink) read here: like crashing waves

ingredient 6 (med! student au / doctor! au) + sugar 7 (forbidden relationship) + spices 12 (praising kink) + dacryphilia read here: overtime

✦ noritoshi kamo

fem!dom reader where nori defends his wife from the elders so she gives him the best night + blowjobs + overstimulation + sub! househusband nori + tit sucking spspss (MEAL UNAVAILABLE)

🍷 + 18 (marriage for convenience au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 18 (disciplining)

🥞 + 21 (married au) + 1,13 (breeding kink, thigh riding) meals fused into one, breeding kink is no longer included | read here: i know

🥞🍷 + 20, 58 (assassin! reader, oblivious! noritoshi) + 13 (thigh riding) + love at first sight + “wait, are you flirting with me?” + “have been since the beginning, thanks for finally noticing.” (BIG BRAIN ENERGY) read here: illusion

✦ gojo satoru

serotonin boost for that lovely anon gojo simp 9487 (i’m going to make this special for you because i love you anon) i was thinking maybe gojo comforts his uni!student s/o? just fluff and some cutesy tootsy to relieve your stress! MEAL FUSED WITH SEVEN

Tokyo by Leat’eq + ice cream shop! au with limited cat themed ice cream, you need to wear cat ears to go order + “nyaa!” read here

🍷 + 44 (hate sex au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 12 (praising kink) read here: divine

🥞🍷 + 29 (established relationship au) + 5 (mutual pining) no longer included + 6 (somnophilia) + fused with other request that isn’t listed here read here: sweet angel

✿ 🥞🍷 + 29 (established relationship au) + 12,15 (praising kink, face sitting) + reader runs into awful ex and gets worshipped by gojo like they deserve (queen tingz) + gojo comfort read here: breathless

(✿ 🥞🍷 + 12 (bed sharing au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) + 19 (dirty talk) + magdalena bay : killshot + jujutsu tech goes on a trip, gojo and reader ends up sharing rooms and a twin bed) i’ve been outlining this for days but idk...i just can’t seem to form something out of it. i still have it saved but idk if i can still finish, i’ll try my best though. it’s just challenging to write, sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

★✿ 50,1 (mafia au, sugar daddy au) + spice 8,12 (dumbification, praising kink) wow butterfly anon POPPED OFF | read here: earned it

✿ 33 (royal au) + 5 (mutual pining) + 11 (praising kink) read here: fall from grace

✦ choso my MAN

Tokyo by Leat’eq + ice cream shop! au with limited cat themed ice cream, you need to wear cat ears to go order + “nyaa!” + flustered choso + “onii-chan” read here

★🥞 + 17, 34 (fake dating, rentboy au) + 2 (enemies to lovers) + optional wine read here: easy

soulmate au + forbidden relationship MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ inumaki toge

🥞 + 15 (body swap au) + 1 (best friends to lovers) read here: total opposites

🥞 + 10 (sugar mommy au) + 4 (strangers to lovers) BIG BRAIN ENERGY THIS ONE (STRUGGLE PAANIK) it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :(

★🥞 + 64 (canon au) + 5 (mutual pining) + sensitive first kiss with inumaki, them trapped in a room + yuuji as matchmaker uwu + WALL PIN KISS YES SIR + basically hot af inumaki...debating whether i should turn into wine HMMM read here: delicate

✦ naoya zenin 🙄

naoya putting reader back in their place, LONG SCHLONG CLUB read here: acquainted

✿ deity au + virgin sacrifice for naoya + reader with worship kink (DAMN THIS ONE GOT ME TINGLING, its going to be consensual tho, we all have consent kink in this house) read here: true gift

✦ okkotsu yuta

🍷 + 53 (bad boy good girl au) + 8,10 (dumbification) read here: good for you

★🥞🍷 + 65 (both are oblivious) + 5,9 (mutual pining, slow burn) + 6,9,16 (somnophilia, cum play, 34+35) MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✿ 🥞🍷 58, 65 (one of them is oblivious, hanahaki disease on reader) + 5,9 (mutual pining, slow burn) + 12 (praising kink + cockwarming) + clumsy first time sex MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ itadori yuuji

🥞 + 21 (married au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) (STRUGGLE PAANIK) it’s too difficult for me to write sorry :( MEAL UNAVAILABLE

✦ toji fushiguro

★✿ toxic toji YES + enemies to greater enemies + toji railing reader in front of someone they’re seeing because he doesn’t want to see you happy but he doesn’t want to “keep” you either (LOL this is so toji, might tweak a little bit) read here: personal disaster

age gap au + size kink, somnophilia read here: shhh

✦ ryoumen sukuna

🥞 + 2 (arranged marriage) + 2 (enemies to lovers) read here: black magic

55 (reincarnation au) + 7 (forbidden relationship) no longer included + unrequited love + home from war inspired read here: home from war: the ending

✿ 🍷 + 38 + master x servant + degrading, edging, begging (oooh degrading aint my kink but let’s see let’s see) MEAL UNAVAILABLE

236 notes · View notes

army-author · 4 years ago

Text

namjoon scenario | the early hours

❝ chance encounters are what keep us going ❞ - Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

➝ summary: you love the city when it’s at its most quiet - in the early hours of the morning. you like it for its peaceful mystery. never did you expect that a stranger, spotted in your favourite 24-hour diner, would eventually invade your early morning solitude, and - most surprisingly - you wouldn’t even mind...

➝ pairing: namjoon x reader

➝ genre: fluff

➝ word count: 5.9k

➝ warnings: none

➝ author’s note: this whole fic is just me indulging in fluff! it was a lot of fun to write!

You prefer the night to the day. There’s something magical about the world after the hands of the clock pass the threshold into a new day. You are transported to a new experience – a new universe laid over the old – that will only be witnessed by a small handful of people, those who are still awake at ungodly hours. There’s a strange silence that stretches across the city after midnight. The occasional car sighs past, but the streets are empty. With the pavement bathed in blue moonlight and the sodium orange of streetlights, you could convince yourself that you’re viewing a parallel reality, shimming above the real world.

That’s why, despite your office job demanding that you get up at seven for the commute, you find it difficult to go to bed early. When you lie under the duvet at night, you have the odd feeling of missing out, aware of the city shifting beyond your closed blinds.

Most nights the city draws you out. The streets, that you often find yourself hating in the daylight – saturated with polluting traffic and bustling crowds, laying out a labyrinth of social interaction – are transformed at night, suddenly alluring in their quiet neon glamour. You love the lights. You love the moments of stillness, when the streets clear of taxis. You love the mystery.

That’s why you walk the streets at night. Sometimes you end up at your local convenience store, purchasing the discounted lunch snacks that didn’t sell that day. Other times you walk to a diner that remains open twenty-four seven – offering the best decaf coffee you’ve ever tasted. On occasion, you find yourself walking around the deserted shopping district, staring in the dark windows, haunted by the typical hubbub of the daytime.

This love of the city at night isn’t something you can properly communicate to anyone else. When you try to explain to your friends, they simply shake their heads and tell you that you should get some rest.

But how can you rest when the world is in its most pure, beautiful state? Sometimes, you think you prefer the company of the empty city to the company of people. You value the quiet – a respite from the drain of daily social interactions.

This is how, when the clock slips past midnight, you find yourself slipping out of your apartment. You fill your lungs with the cold air of the early morning, fresher without the fumes of traffic. It’s just stopped raining, and the onyx pavements glisten with dark puddles, reflecting back an alternate world where the street lights shine, distorted by ripples. It smells of wet tarmac. You zip up your coat and hitch your backpack up your back as you beat your feet along the familiar track towards your favourite diner.

As you walk, you pass stores, closed for the night, proffering clothes, make-up, and stationary that won’t be available again until nine in the morning. You pause in front of the bookstore to stare greedily at the hardbacks you can’t afford. You have a bookshelf at home filled with books you haven't yet finished. Still, the new releases stare back, tempting. They hypnotise you with the curve of their spines, their fresh paper, their smooth covers. Your wallet cries out in protest.

Rousing yourself from your thoughts, you push past the store, and walk down the street, turning at a pedestrian crossing. Ahead, you see the neon lights of the diner, pink and blue in the reflective pavement. You smile at the sight, like you would smile at an old friend.

Entering the diner, you find it empty. The sole waitress who works the nightshift glances up as you enter.

You take a seat at your favourite booth, next to the window. The waitress walks over to take your order, and you ask for a decaf coffee – as usual. Always the same order when it’s past midnight.

The waitress nods, and leaves the booth. You unzip your backpack and take out your sketchbook. It’s blue leather cover is soft in your hand. Past midnight is the best time to draw. When you’re enveloped in the cotton-soft murmur of the barely-stirring city, inspiration floats thick in the air around you – easy to pluck and put onto paper.

While you start sketching, the waitress silently sets your coffee and a pitcher of milk in front of you. You like the waitress because she never speaks more than necessary, silent for the vast majority of your interactions. It’s a welcoming, warm silence.

You take a sip of your coffee, black, the flavour washing over your tongue. Its a bitter and smoky taste, with a hint of chocolate. You breathe in the scent, invigorated, and set down the mug to continue drawing.

The door swings open, and despite yourself, you turn your head in the direction of the sound. It’s not often that someone else enters the diner at this hour. It’s too late for those who have clocked off from late shifts and too early for those who work early shifts.

Your gaze settles on the man who enters the diner. He’s tall, well-proportioned, in an umber jacket, with a bag slung over his shoulder. His hair has been dyed a light brown, but you can see black at the roots. He doesn't look like the typical patron at this diner. Then again, neither do you. Your eyes tack him curiously as he walks over to a seat in the corner. The waitress goes over to him, and he tells her his order in a deep, soft voice: “Decaf coffee, please.”

Despite knowing you should stop staring at this stranger, you cannot help but watch as the man takes a book from his bag, and removing a bookmark from the pages, resumes reading. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. You smile. You like that book. A part of you wants to pipe up and tell him it’s a good read. But you never speak to strangers. You aren’t about to break a twenty-five year habit. You’ve got this far by allowing all your friends to do the introductions for you. Thank goodness for extroverts.

The waitress sets a mug of coffee beside the man, with her usual silence, and he murmurs his thanks.

You remain in your seat, sipping your coffee in silent thought, and adding to your sketch book. Before long, you’ve forgotten about the man sitting on the other side of the diner, focusing on the drawing you’re working on – a dragon slinking around the grey bricks of giant skyscrapers. The giant breaths golden fire.

For you, drawing is a way to organise your thoughts, spilling the contents of your head, giving them a concrete image you can identify. For that reason alone, you could never actually show anyone else your drawings. As you continue to sketch, the world slowly melts away into a pleasant white noise that hums around you.

It’s a shock when the quiet waitress walks up, asking if you would like a refill. You tell her you’re okay for now. Checking your phone, you realise it’s slipped past three in the morning, without you even realising. You need to get some sleep. Reluctantly, you stand up, slipping your sketchbook into the front pocket of your backpack. You leave a tip for the waitress, then make your way over to the door. Feeling eyes on you, your gaze falls to the man sitting in the corner. He’s observing you over the pages of The Hitchhiker’s Guide. Upon seeing you seeing him, his eyes quickly drop back to the book. Distracted, you bump against the edge of one of the diner’s tables, stumbling. You correct your footing, and with a blazing blush rampaging on your cheeks, you hurry out of the door.

✽ ✽ ✽

It isn’t until you get back to your apartment that you realise that your sketchbook is missing. You hunt around in your backpack, checking all the pockets, but it’s definitely not there. It must be in the diner. That’s the last place you had it.

You resist the urge to run back tonight. It’s past half three, and you have to work tomorrow. You can always go back to search for it later.

You lie awake in bed, worrying. In losing your sketchbook, you’ve left it open to the possibility of being read - your personal thoughts sketched out for a stranger to digest. It was your own carelessness that resulted in its loss, so you resign yourself to the possibility of never seeing it again, and slink, resisting, into sleep.

✽ ✽ ✽

The next evening after work, you return to the diner. You arrive earlier than you normally would. The sun is still visible – just setting beyond the crowns of tall apartment blocks. You arrive below the familiar neon blue and pink sign and open the door to the smell of chips and coffee. There are more people here than you are used to.

You check the table you normally sit at, which is mercifully empty. However, a quick search reveals no trace of your sketchbook. The quiet waitress who works the night shift isn’t there yet. Hesitant, you speak to the other waitress, explaining that you lost a sketchbook at the diner last night.

“Sorry, don’t know anything about it,” she says, wrinkling her brow.

Resigned, you thank her. You can always come back when the night shift starts and see if the other waitress knows anything about it.

Deciding to hang around the area, rather than return home, you grab some sushi at a nearby restaurant, then take a restless walk around the nearby park, watching pigeons pick at crumbs on the ground, and local college students smoke under the shade of trees. After you grow bored of the park’s trees, you wander around the streets, without direction, taking a long loop around the diner. The sky above darkens from blue to navy to black, and the streets slowly drain of life as people go home for the night. Still you stay outside, checking your phone every so often to keep a track of the time.

When it hits midnight, you return to the diner. The quiet waitress, who you are used to, is a welcome sight. She offers you the same small smile she always gives. You walk up to her. “Excuse me, I think I left a sketchbook here last night. Have you seen it?”

“I’m afraid not,” she says, “But if you think you left it here, feel free to have a look around.”

You frown. That wasn’t what you wanted to hear. You were so sure you had left it in the diner. Where else could it have gone? It was possible it had fallen out of your backpack on the walk home, but if that were the case, it could be anywhere.

Sighing, you tell the waitress not to worry, and order your usual decaf coffee. Sitting down at your favourite seat, with the comforting smoky scent of coffee beans wafting through the air, you wonder what to do next. You pick at the threading of your sweater, sip your coffee, and stare out the window. The sky is especially black tonight, clouds cover the stars and moon. Looking past your own ghostly reflection in the glass, a pool of darkness stares back, swirling with the stirring in your chest.

An hour could have passed, a minute could have passed, it’s unclear to you. Time seems to stand still in that diner, frozen on the brink of tomorrow, stuck between an old night and a new morning.

“Excuse me?”

You look up at the sound of the voice.

A man is standing by your booth – the man you spied in the diner yesterday, tall and slim.

Your gaze trails over his face – his cropped hair falls over his forehead, his crescent eyes capture the neon lights of the diner, soft dimples poke dents in the marble-statue structure of his cheeks.

“Hi,” you say, not sure why he’s speaking to you, but not wanting to be impolite either.

“Hi,” he says back. He searches in his bag, and pulls out a familiar blue sketchbook. “I think you dropped this yesterday.”

A wave of relief crashes over you. “Thank you so much,” you say, as he hands it back to you, “I had given up on ever seeing it again.” The worn leather cover feels comfortable in your hands.

“Is it okay if I sit here?” he points at the seat opposite you in the booth, “It’s my favourite spot.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” you indicate for him to take a seat.

He sits down opposite you, and raises a hand at the waitress, who nods, and scurries off to fetch a coffee. “I figured the notebook must have been important to you, so I kept it safe,” he says, “It might have been a little presumptuous of me, but I had a feeling I’d see you again, and that I’d be able to return it.”

“Did you...” you trail off. The thought had crossed your mind that whoever found the sketchbook would end up looking through your personal drawings, and the worry had squeezed tight at your throat.

“Look inside the notebook?” The man asks, his waning-moon eyes scrutinising you.

You nod solemnly.

“No,” he says. “I didn’t.”

The second wave of relief hits you, warm like a tropical sea. “Good,” you stroke the soft cover of the sketchbook, “I really appreciate that.”

The man smiles, and his dimples deepen. “I must say, I’m a little curious what would bring someone to sit in a diner with a notebook in the early hours of the morning.”

A blush creeps hot under your skin. “I’m… drawing,” you admit.

The man nods.

You lick your lips which feel oddly dry. “But I suppose I could ask you the same - what would bring you here at these hours?” Curiosity cuts through your introversion.

The man shrugs.“I can’t sleep. I keep getting more and more frustrated, cooped up in my apartment, so I wander around at night, hoping I’ll get tired, and be ready to sleep when I go home. But something about the city at night is so exciting,” he stares out the window, at the darkness beyond, brimming with endless possibilities, “It doesn’t tie me out. It only excites me all the more.”

“I know what you mean,” you say, “I love the city at nighttime. It’s so alluring. I could wander around its abandoned streets for eternity, and never get bored.” Your blush only becomes all the more severe as you realise that you are spilling your heart to a complete stranger. Embarrassed, you shut your mouth, and swallow thickly.

The waitress arrives with a cup of coffee and pitcher or milk for the stranger. He thanks her softly, and without adding any milk, takes a sip of the dark liquid.

Unsure what to do with this stranger sitting across from you, you say, “If you were expecting any company from me, you might be disappointed. I’m not good at conversing with strangers.”

“Neither am I,” the man replies over his coffee cup, “Don’t worry. I was planning on reading anyway.”

Relieved, you take a mouthful of your own coffee.

The man pulls The Hitchhiker’s Guide from his bag, picking up where he had left off.

You scrutinise him for a moment, unsure what to make of this man. Something about his gentle manners, his kind smile, and his love for the city in the early morning resonates deeply with you – an unnameable vibration stirred at the very core of your being when you look at him. Despite your aversion to talking to people you don’t know, you find yourself wanting to make the effort to converse.

Instead, you open your sketchbook and begin drawing again.

Outside, the night flows by, a river of darkness punctuated by the occasional light from a car.

Time passes quickly without you realising. The man stands up to leave. “I should get going.”

“Oh yeah, I suppose it’s late,” you say, “Or is it early…?”

He packs his book back into his bag, and you take the courage to pipe up, “It’s a good read. Douglas Adams, I mean.”

“Oh yeah,” the man looks down at the novel in his hand, “It’s my third time reading it.”

You smile, “There’s this one line from the book that’s always stuck with me.” You pause, making sure you get it right, “‘Isn’t it enough to see that a garden is beautiful without having to believe that there are fairies at the bottom of it too?’ I’ve always like that.”

The man grins, his crescent-moon eyes deepening, “I like that too…” He looks as if he is considering his next words carefully. “Listen, I’m sorry if it was strange that I chatted with you today. I just felt compelled to do so. I don’t know why. But it reminds me of a quote from Kafka on the Shore, which is another book I’ve read at least three times - ‘Chance encounters are what keep us going’. I don’t know, I just thought you might like that one.”

“I’ve always meant to read Kafka on the Shore,” you say, “I really like Murakami.”

“You should read it,” the mans says, “It’s fascinating.”

“I will.”

“I’m Namjoon, by the way,” he says, “I don’t believe I gave my name before.”

“Nice to meet you Namjoon,” you smile, giving your own name.

With that, Namjoon exits the diner, leaving you to your own clouded thoughts as the door swings shut behind him. Despite yourself, you hope you’ll see him again.

✽ ✽ ✽

When you get home, you search your bookshelf for your copy of Kafka on the Shore. You never read it, despite is sitting on your shelf for a long time. You snuggle into bed, and start on the first page.

✽ ✽ ✽

The next night, you find yourself wandering the streets again, allured by the glowing neon lights on the city.

It’s a Thursday, and the streets are empty. Your feet lead you towards the diner. A small portion of you is hoping that you’ll see Namjoon again. You taste an oddly bitter disappointment on your tongue when you step inside, only to find the diner empty, apart from the quiet waitress.

Disheartened, you sip your decaf coffee, and read Murakami, while the earth spins by outside.

When you reach the bottom of the coffee cup with no sign of Namjoon, you stand up, resolving to go for a walk, rather than waiting around.

The air outside is cool and refreshing. You breath it in deeply, enjoying the cold sensation in your lungs.

Walking through the city, you wind your way through streets, passing abandoned play parks, empty shops, and silent office blocks. You could almost convince yourself that the whole world has stopped, and that you’re the last remaining human on the planet. Despite this, the earth still rotates, still makes its orbit around the sun, and this thought is comforting. Sitting down on a bench at the edge of a green park, you take out your sketchbook, and begin drawing. You want to capture this feeling permanently.

✽ ✽ ✽

As Friday rolls into Saturday, you avoid going out into the city at night. The city erupts with noise on weekend nights. People flock to the bars and clubs, laughing, joyous and loud, as they swing themselves down the streets. You don’t often go into the city on busy nights.

Instead, you stay inside, making your own decaf coffee from your coffee machine. It’s not as good as the coffee you get from the diner, but it’s good enough in a pinch.

These are the nights when you should sleep early to make up for your lack of sleep during the working week. Yet, as you lie in bed, staring at the dark expanse of your ceiling, your thoughts constantly circle back to Namjoon, hoping you’ll see him again some day.

The thought of connected souls flashes through your sleepy mind as you drift towards dreams. The idea is childish and naive, but it makes you smile.

✽ ✽ ✽

On Monday night – or is it Tuesday morning yet? – you return to the diner. Spotting a familiar figure at your favourite booth, you suppress a smile.

You sit down opposite him. He flashes you a smile. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you say back. With a signal to the waitress, she goes to make you a cup of decaf coffee with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again,” you say, surprised at your own honesty.

The dimples pop onto Namjoon’s cheeks, giving his grin a boyish charm. “It’s nice to see you as well.”

The waitress sets down the coffee on the table. It trails tendrils of aromatic steam. Its bitter taste is a good distraction for your mouth, empty of words. You take a sip, revelling in the chocolate sweet aftertaste.

“I love the decaf coffee they do here,” Namjoon says, as you set down your cup. “I never found a decaf coffee that tastes quite like it.”

You nod in agreement. “I don’t know how they manage it. All the other decaf coffees I’ve had feel like they lack as special… something that regular coffee has. By taking out the caffein, the taste often suffers as a result. But this-” You indicate to the coffee “- This is good.”

“Finally, somebody else gets it,” Namjoon grins, “Although, if we’re talking caffeinated coffee, nothing can beat a cafe down the road from here. it’s called Cloud 9. Have you heard of it?”

“Oh yeah, I pass that coffee shop on the way to work,” you nod, “Never had a chance to go in though.”

“You should,” Namjoon says, “If you like this coffee, you’ll like it there. The beans they use are really rich, like dark chocolate.”

“Sounds good,” you say, leaning back in your seat. You examine Namjoon, sitting across from you. It’s uncommon for you to be so comfortable with a stranger, yet here you are, conversing with him as if he were an old friend. You wonder what about him makes him so different for you. A cursory glance does not show anything out of the ordinary: tall frame, slim figure, the kind of handsome face that doesn’t stand out in a crowd, but gets more handsome the longer you look at it. A few leagues above you. And yet here he is, sitting with you, by his own choice no less.

“What?” Namjoon questions your inquisitive stare.

“Sorry,” you feel your cheeks turning pink with a warm flush, “I was just thinking… it’s not often I can speak so comfortably with someone I barely know.”

“Me neither,” Namjoon admits, “But I felt a certain spark with you, so I thought I’d follow it through, and see where it leads. I hope you don’t mind?”

A warm hand clutches your heart. “I don’t mind at all.”

✽ ✽ ✽

You sit quietly in the diner with Namjoon opposite. You read Kafka on the Shore – he smiles at your choice. He reads The Hitchhiker’s Guide. The world pauses on its axis. You feel a deep-rooted peace, engulfed in the silence of the still night.

When the coffee in your cup has gone, Namjoon closes his book. “Would you like to take a walk?”

You slip the receipt for your coffee into your book, marking the spot where you stopped. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

You exit the diner, and follow Namjoon out into the dark street. He leads you down new paths, paths you had not explored before. The night is full of eager possibility with him by your side.

As you walk, you talk about everything and nothing, the universe flowing from each other’s heads, spilling your minds to one another, and bearing your soles bare in the process.

By the time you pause your walking, realising that you’re standing by an old play park that you recognise from childhood, you feel as if you’ve known Namjoon for an eternity.

You walk to the swing that stands at the centre of the park. It’s the large basket kind of swing – the sort that you would lie down on as a child, and beg for your parents to push.

Now, years later, you lie down again, and Namjoon pushes you gently. The sky is unusually clear above you, starlight shining past the orange glare of the city. The heavens bow down to greet you as you swing upwards, then pull away as you hit the crest of the arc and fall back down to earth. Namjoon pushes you again and the cycle repeats.

At least, Namjoon gets tired of pushing and lies down in the basket beside you. There’s not much space on a swing made for children. Your arm is squished next to his. Namjoon’s warmth seeps through your jumper.

“I’ve enjoyed tonight a lot,” Namjoon says.

“Me too.”

Namjoon turns his head to look at you. You pull your gaze from the starry sky to gaze back at him.

“Would it be okay if we do this again?” he asks.

A glowing fire sparks inside your chest. “Of course. I’d like that.”

Above you, the stars shine down, hazy through the city’s street-light sheen.

Namjoon moves his arm, wrapping it around your shoulders. The action fuels the fire in your chest. You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, and stare up at the vast sky.

✽ ✽ ✽

You spend your nights in this way, enjoying the secrets of the city with Namjoon by your side. You walk through empty parks, visit quiet pubs, wander around empty shopping centres, and as the nights pass, you find yourself enamoured with this stranger whom you can no longer call a stranger. You even find yourself sharing your sketches with him on the odd occasion, unafraid of his judgement.

Namjoon is on your mind, even when you’re apart – wondering if he would enjoy the book you’re currently reading, if he’d like a cafe you visited, if he’s thinking about you the way that you’re thinking about him.

On your lunch break at work, you decide to visit Cloud 9 with a friend from your office – because Namjoon recommended it of course.

“This place is really… quaint,” Taehyung says, twisting his neck to inspect every inch of the coffee shop. He’s right. House plants balance on shelves above wooden tables, and oil paintings hang behind brown leather armchairs, all combining to give the cafe a homey feel – like returning to your grandparents’ house. Your attention is dragged over to the bookshelf in the far corner of the cafe, loaded with lopsided piles of second-hand books. With you and Taehyung both in formal office clothes, you look a little out of place.

When you order your coffees, and sit down at a table by the window, you’re eager to taste the beverage that Namjoon had been praising. You ordered a black americano, because you don’t want the full taste of the coffee to be dulled by milk or syrup. The first taste explodes across your palate with the bitter tang of dark chocolate, that quickly mellows to a blackberry flavour, earthy and sweet.

Across from you, Taehyung gives a hum of approval as he sips his flat white, a moustache of foam forming on his lips, which he licks off.

You stare out of the window at the busy plaza outside. Families duck in and out of shops, office workers scramble to make it to their next meeting, and tourists snap pictures of the fountain in the middle of the square.

“Hey!” You realise that Taehyung’s talking to you. “Are you even listening?”

You focus your gaze on him, his blue office suit contrasting with the brown leather armchair he’s perched in. “Sorry, Taehyung, I’m listening.”

“You seem really spacey today,” he says, frowning, “I mean, normally you’ve got your head in the clouds, I know. But today is especially bad, even for you.”

“Sorry, you’re right.” You train your attention on your friend.

“You seem really tired,” Taehyung continues, “I know you’re a night owl, but I’m starting to worry a little.”

You consider his words. It’s true that you’ve been sleeping later and later each night, enjoying your time with Namjoon. Normally, you’d allow yourself a few nights to recover, and get a full eight hours of sleep, but you’ve been missing out, not wanting to loose any time with Namjoon. As Taehyung surveys you with concern in his eyes, you realise you should be taking better care of yourself.

“You’re right,” you say, “I have been missing more sleep than usual. I’ll sort out my sleep schedule. Don’t fret.”

“Finally, you acknowledge my sage advice,” Taehyung grins, taking another sip of coffee, “Seriously though. I’m rooting for you. Whoever it is that’s keeping you up later than usual, he must be a real catch!”

Heat rises below your skin, red and urgent. Taehyung’s smirk only amplifies as you blush harder.

“So I’m right,” he says, “This is about a guy!”

“It’s not!” Your denial comes too late.

“Nope. I don’t buy it,” Taehyung says, triumphant, “You’ve finally got yourself a boyfriend. After all these years a virgin! I’m so proud.”

“Shut up, Tae,” you laugh, kicking him softly under the table.

His mouth parts in a wide grin that you cannot stay angry at.

“Okay, fine,” you admit, “So maybe there’s a guy. But we’re not actually dating or anything. Not officially. We just enjoy spending time in each other’s company.”

“I hate to break it to you, but that’s what dates are,” Taehyung says.

You struggle to find a rebuttal to this. Your blush deepens.

“I’m really happy for you,” Taehyung leans across the table to give your hand a pat, “But if you could try to arrange some dates for the daytime, for the sake of your sleep, you’d make me even happier.”

“I can’t promise anything, Taehyung. You know what I’m like.”

“All too well.”

✽ ✽ ✽

The next night, you meet Namjoon at the diner as usual. You don’t have butterflies in your stomach. You have a whole flock of birds, flapping around nervously inside you.

Namjoon smiles his dimpled smile in greeting. “Would you like to take a walk tonight? There’s something I’d like you to see.”

“Of course,” you say.

You follow him through the city streets, along empty pedestrian crossings, past silent railway tracks, up a large hill where the pavement slopes, with apartment buildings sticking straight up, like a giant came along and stuck large white logo bricks into the slanting side of the hill. Up and up you climb, conversing with Namjoon all the while – about movies you’ve watched, plans for the holidays, favourite seasons, childhood pets.

When you reach the top of the hill, Namjoon stops. “Look,” he says, so you look.

The city stretches out in front of you, an ocean of winking lights. On the far side of the city, you can see a motorway, the red and white lights of cars whisking strangers to different points of the compass. Apartments and office buildings tower over smaller structures, a forest of artificial light. A faint mist hangs above the city, giving the whole vista an other-wordly quality – a city on a distant planet.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe.

Namjoon turns to face you. You look up to his face. His beauty strikes you once more, strangely contrasted to the beauty of the city. The city is alien. His face is familiar – it’s home.

“Tell me, Namjoon,” you say, “What’s going on between us?”

“What do you mean?”

“These walks we take every night. Would you count them as dates?” You are surprised by your own honesty.

“I suppose they could be considered dates,” Namjoon tilts his head towards you, eyes reflecting the galaxy of city lights.

You swallow, hesitating. Where are you supposed to go from here? You’ve never been on a date before.

“You don’t have to think of them as dates if you don’t want to,” Namjoon responds to your silence. “Although… I like the idea of dating you.”

“I like that idea as well,” you admit quietly. Your voice is barely a whisper.

A smile spreads across Namjoon’s face. His expression catches you off guard, mirroring your own surprised smile – surprised that a man, who was a stranger only a few weeks ago, has enriched your life so much.

“Could I consider you my boyfriend?” you ask.

“I’d like that,” he says. In the dusk, his hands find yours. A halo of light from the city’s bright haze outlines your skin.

You take a step closer to Namjoon, led by his hands, fingers threaded through your own. Your heart vibrates in your chest.

Half of his face is lit up by the city lights below. Slowly, imperceptibly, you lean towards him, while he leans towards you. His eyes ask you a question. You answer back. Your chest rises, pushing out a nervous breath. You close the distance between the two of you.

Your lips connect to his, soft and warm. You slide into the safety of his kiss, a kiss that says: I’m here, I understand you, I want this to last forever too. You sigh against him, a thrill rising inside you. On parting, you find that your legs are unsteady, and your head is spinning from the impact of two mortal bodies colliding.

Standing in the glow of the city, framed by the lights of the other living souls on the streets, Namjoon is more beautiful than ever. There are no words. You can only smile. Namjoon smiles back. He understands.

✽ ✽ ✽

“Namjoon?” He looks at you, eyes gentle as you speak his name. You’re walking with him, down from the hill where you had both confessed, and shared your first kiss.

“Yes?”

“Would it be okay if we had some dates during the day as well?”

He chuckles, “You know, I was going to suggest the same. I love the city at night, but...”

“But my sleep has been suffering,” you finish for him.

He nods, huffing out a laugh. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

His hand finds yours, his fingers cold, but his palm warm against yours. You’re always on the same page with Namjoon – two souls connected. You had thought the idea of soulmates was juvenile. Now, with your life entangling with Namjoon’s, you begin to understand. Two souls, singing in harmony. That’s what you have. A special, chance connection. You won’t let it go.

You squeeze Namjoon’s hand, and he squeezes back, and your souls entangle a little more.

- THE END -

➝ author’s note: i just love writing about this kind of setting - a calm, sleepy city with beautiful lights :’) it’s a shame that most cities aren’t like this in real life. even in my city, which is relatively safe, I wouldn’t feel comfortable walking around at night on my own, like y/n does! but hey, that’s what fics are for - wish fulfilment! i hope everyone is staying safe!

if you enjoyed this fic, feel free to let me know! <3

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1ddotdhq · 4 years ago

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◟̽◞̽ Tues 24 Nov ‘20 🐠

Grammy Nominations and Live Shows OH MY!!

LOUIS’ BACK!!! And I don’t mean “oh he liked something on Instagram” or “oh he tweeted about a RHCP concert”, I mean he’s going to be doing a VEEPS LIVESHOW! And so we solve the mystery of the Spotify vids (they were a stage!): a few hours before the announcement, he tweeted, “Hope you’re all doing alright. Exciting stuff coming up!!”, and then left the masses to wonder what could possibly be happening and when. Three anxious hours later: “So excited to announce that I’m getting my band and crew back together to put on a special show for you all that will be streamed December 12 [!!!adkhfkadhfjj!!!] and will be available for 28 hours after. The show will support 5 important causes very close to my heart”. The causes Louis Tomlinson Live From London will support are FareShare (they redistribute food to communities in need), CrewNation (the LiveNation COVID crew fund), StageHand (similar to CrewNation, but UK based), Bluebell Wood Children’s Hospice, and paying Louis' own touring crew! The tickets go on sale TOMORROW. If you can't afford one, Luke Massie (founder and CEO of Vibe Tickets) is giving funds away on twitter to fans who want to watch the show! “I’ll do my best to help as many of you as I can see him and his amazing crew perform,” he said. Louis has said that there is no cap on the ticket sales, so I’m taking him at his word and hoping that Veeps is prepared for what's about to happen (they're REALLY not lol.)

And that’s not all!! The press release for the show promised “songs from… ‘Walls”...alongside a few surprises” (I - could it - new music????), as well as “an exclusive range of new merchandise” that comes out tomorrow! The merch proceeds will go to the charities listed above. And! The Telegraph published an interview! Louis promises AN UPCOMING NEW ALBUM (“I had basically penciled down a plan before corona took over our lives”). He says again that he wants to move into the KMM style rock sound, “I think there were some songs where I took slightly more risk and owned what I love, saying, this is who I want to be..there is a certain energy in [KMM], in its delivery, in its attitude, that I want to recreate. People are struggling at the moment so I want to create a raucous, exciting atmosphere in my live show, not a somber, thoughtful one.” He says that he wants this next album to be more optimistic, because that is who he is, but new songwriting is HARD during a pandemic: for him (like for all of us), his days have fallen into a routine, and so he has no ‘new experiences’ to draw from. And, once again, Louis brings up John Frusciante and how he “fucking wishes” he could chat with him. Louis - drop your RHCP stan account PLEASE! We also learned that fans were RIGHT in speculating that he’s been in LA recently (though likely not for the reason the Telegraph wants us to think). About his travels, Louis says, “[The spot he goes to] is remote and kind of weird, and I’m going to go there for three days and write. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to it... it’s got some very interesting (peculiar?) locals who live there...it feels like you’re going back in time when you’re there.” ANY COMMENT, @/visiteroda??? And, in a rare look ahead, Louis reveals that he wants to manage an all-women’s rock band playing instruments (hey, friend, you know where women could play instruments? YOUR OWN BAND, MY DUDE! Just a suggestion). He said that his process with Syco had become “challenging and frustrating” because the kinds of artists he wants to develop aren’t “ready-made” - he sees a lot of artists that were “rough and ready” but labels want to see “something that works straight away”. But with Syco dust in the wind he can get back to it: HELL YEAH! The band he’s currently got his eyes on is Fickle Friends (an indie Brighton all-female rock band); he says this is the kind of band he wants to manage, “because there’s no one in that space. And I know eventually if I don’t do it, someone else will!”. Guys, I say this a lot, but really, Louis is about to make some WAVES in that space and I can’t WAIT to see it play. But first the concert, please!

AND!!!!!! Harry has been NOMINATED FOR THREE FUCKING GRAMMYS!! GUYS, HE MADE IT! The categories he is up for are: Best Music Video (Adore You - the TASTE), Best Pop Solo Performance (Watermelon Sugar), and BEST POP VOCAL ALBUM! I know that we’re always like, Grammys mean nothing, and how can we feel otherwise 1D was never nominated, but this is a MILESTONE in his career, and I am so happy to see his work getting the recognition it deserves! There were no nominations for him in the general field this year (artist or record of the year) BUT just you WAIT. Everything that Harry does makes me think that he is gearing up for a very long and successful career and I am. Very Happy for him. And so is everyone else! Harry’s friends, family, colleagues, and labels have all been quick to congratulate him on his well deserved recognition. In other Harry news, we got some stills from an Austrailian movie called “Holding the Man” which bear remarkable similarities to the Golden music video. (Were Harry's Vans really in there as a tribute to the film or did that part just work out very well for him??) The movie and the song don’t have anything in common thematically except being gay, but it really looks like a visual homage to this film (or, my personal theory, a fix-it fic to give it a happy ending!). And! Harry was papped on the DWD set with Florence Pugh again today, in a suit and an opulent background - it’s hard to make out Harry’s face, but I think we can guess that it's beaming in pride, as it should be.

GQ Spain did a piece on Liam’s Hugo capsule, praising it for being “the utilitarian style” (“the star trend of 2020”). They’re very nice about it, and seem to be genuinely interested and like the color scheme of the clothes: “the monocolor look...is an irrefutable argument in men’s clothing”. They also praise the collection for being an example that “you don’t need to spend hours in front of a mirror to dress like the best dressed men on the planet”. All of these were meant to be compliments, I SWEAR! Niall was around on Twitter yesterday, reminiscing about the time when some fans asked Justin Beiber to take pictures of them with Niall, it's true Niall that IS hilarious and also good psychic timing: that's EXACTLY how relevant Justin Beiber should be (yes I AM bitter the Weeknd was ROBBED). He also congratulated Shawn Mendes for his documentary, “So proud of this boy. He’s smashed it and always so humble. Well done to everyone involved.X”. I have not seen this documentary but if there are any more “Camila Cabello orders bananas at sushi restaurants moments” PLEASE let me know!

#louis tomlinson #Harry styles #Liam Payne #niall horan #woah WHAT A DAY OH MY GOD #okay well i loved This thank you #also Louis wanting to expand tje Brit rock scene to include more women is uh #badass and I love him #anyways!#song of the day!#apple pie by Lizzy McAlpine

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puppywritings · 4 years ago

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you make it feel like christmas - kim doyoung x gender-neutral reader

⇢ synopsis: when you entered your job a few years ago, you found your best friend, doyoung. the two of you were partners-in-crime, platonic soulmates. however, during a drunken phone call with doyoung’s mother, she catches the wrong idea and invites you to spend christmas with their family… as doyoung’s partner. ever the mama’s boy, doyoung doesn’t want to disappoint her. and you? you’re counting down the days until you can stop this lovers pretence and slap your best friend upside the head.

⇢ word count: 5.6k ⇢ trigger warnings: alcohol use resulting in minor memory loss, swearing, slight suggestive references. this piece is suitable for all audiences!

⇢ a/n: this is my piece for @pastelsicheng and @dearyongs‘ a taste of winter collab. quick disclaimer that doyoung’s family in this fic may not represent his real life family situation, however this is a work of fiction and isn’t meant to mirror real life. i don’t know doyoung, nor do i know his mother, and the characters represented in this writing are fictitious versions of them. furthermore, the christmas traditions depicted in this story are mainly based on my own experiences celebrating the holidays in england.

⇢ taglist: @hunjins @ahgase55g7 @mmoondance @notnctu @orange-nimon-cross @yeoshwa @infnteen @neonun-au @luvlala @neo-shitty @yutacrush @ethaeriyeol @fairyinaflowercrown @in-my-neofeelings @dreamieofu

"All I want for Christmas is youuu, baby!"

Doyoung's voice was almost deafening in your ear, which would've been a problem if you were sober. Your voice, too, merrily drunk and far too loud, belted out the holiday tunes. Your best friend's arm was slung around your shoulder, and yours was around his waist. It was like the blind leading the blind, however; neither of you were keeping your balance very well. The two of you staggered together, navigating the city's streets back to his apartment.

The Christmas party that your office held would have been okay without your favourite coworker - you would've had a good time and enjoyed yourself, sure. But with Doyoung's presence, paired with the copious amounts of alcohol, it had been a riot. Even if you had peaked too early and had to depart by 11pm.

Doyoung was, undoubtedly, the best part about your job. The workload wasn't overwhelming, nor was it tedious, and the salary was nothing to sneeze at. But, without a shadow of a doubt, the best thing your job had ever provided you with was the opportunity to meet your best friend. Doyoung was your platonic soulmate, and your favourite person.

"Hey," Doyoung slurred, calling out to you suddenly. "Is that your ringtone?"

Squinting, you listened closely. "No, Doie," you hiccupped. "I think that's your ringtone."

"Oh, shit,'' Doyoung mumbled, diving into his coat pocket to retrieve his ringing phone. "My mom! She's facetiming."

Your vision was blurred, but you very vaguely saw Doyoung answer the call, bringing up his mother's image on his phone screen. Though you’d been best friends with Doyoung for a few years, you’d never met her. Doyoung lived and worked alongside you in the city, but his mother lived a while away in the countryside, and so your paths had never crossed.

"Hi Mom," Doyoung waved at her.

"Doyoung? Where are you?"

"I'm walking home, Mom," he responded, beaming at her through his phone.

"You sent me a strange text message," she told him, her voice raised a little more than necessary - Doyoung had mentioned that she was somewhat inept when it came to technology.

"Huh?" Doyoung looked confused.

"Something about lunch the day after tomorrow," she elaborated. "Doyoung, you aren't coming home for the holidays until next week, right?"

"Ah," Doyoung said, understanding. "That was meant for somebody else, sorry Mom."

"My boy," you heard her tut, and you laughed. "Is someone there with you, Doyoung?"

"Yeah," Doyoung nodded, "Y/N is here."

"Hi, Mrs Kim," you waved, as Doyoung turned the screen towards you. If you weren't so drunk, you would've been nervous about meeting your best friend's mother for the first time. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it) your bloodstream was mainly rum at that point, so you had absolutely no worries nor qualms.

“Kim Doyoung! Why didn’t you tell me you had a partner?” his mother blurted out.

“Huh?” exclaimed Doyoung, utterly confused.

“Oh Doyoung, you must bring Y/N home for the holidays! I can’t wait to meet them,” she cooed.

“Mom, wait-”

“See you two next week!” she cheerily said her goodbyes before hanging up, disappearing from the screen and leaving the two of you in silence.

Doyoung looked at you. You looked back at him.

“Did she…” you began, not quite wanting to end your sentence.

Doyoung nodded gravely. “She thinks we’re dating.”

The look on Doyoung’s face - eyes wide, lips in a straight, serious line - it was too much for you. You snorted, gripping his arm as you buckled in laughter. He wasn’t far behind you, bursting into a fit of giggles too. You and Doyoung loved each other, that was indisputable. But it was completely and entirely platonic. The two of you laughed together the rest of the way home.

As you were coming to your senses the next morning, you groaned. Why the hell did you feel so lousy? you wondered, full to the brim with self-pity. Your head pounded, a throbbing ache so strong you were certain somebody was banging pots and pans in your brain. Your throat was so, so dry, and you felt as though you could drink a whole gallon of water and still be thirsty afterwards. And then the memories of the previous night came flooding in.

Ah, you thought, Now it all makes sense.

You sorted through the events of last night, mentally flicking through the filing cabinet of your memories. A filing cabinet that was sorely empty when it came to the night prior. You remembered arriving at the party with Doyoung; you remembered the first few drinks, but following that your memories began to fade. You remembered Doyoung pressing a sloppy kiss to your boss’ cheek - a rather stoic middle-aged man - and you had no doubt that Doyoung would be apologising profusely on Monday morning. You had absolutely no recollection of the walk home, but since you had awoken in Doyoung’s spare bedroom, you supposed the night could have gone worse. At least you made it home safe.

Begrudgingly, you threw back the blankets and lifted yourself out of bed. Doyoung - bless his heart - had left you some painkillers and a glass of water on the bedside table. You consumed both of them gratefully and emerged from the spare room, wincing at the sunlight that met you. As you made your way down the hallway, whistling met your ears. How Doyoung could be so lively after a night of heavy drinking, you had no idea.

“Why the hell do you never get hungover?” you grumbled at him as you entered the kitchen, finding him at the stove.

“Good morning to you, too, sleeping beauty,” he greeted you with a smile.

“Seriously,” you continued as you took a seat at the kitchen island, “I swear I get hungover enough for the both of us.”

“Thank you for taking on that burden,” Doyoung replied sweetly, which you responded to with a spiteful glower. It doesn’t last long, however; Doyoung finishes cooking breakfast, and dishes you up a serving. Sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, baked beans, hash browns, and toast. As much as you playfully bickered with Doyoung, he was an absolute treasure.

“Doie, you’re a gift from the heavens,” you praise him, the sight of the warm, greasy food reviving your soul almost immediately.

Doyoung took a seat next to you, placing down a plate of his own breakfast. “So,” he began, “How much of last night do you remember?”

“Huh?” you asked, suddenly wondering if you’d forgotten something drastic. “Did we…”

“Oh my god, no,” Doyoung denied quickly.

“Thank fuck,” you sigh in relief. Your best friend was attractive, definitely. But you saw him as more of a sibling than a lover.

Doyoung waited a moment before explaining, and with each second that passed, your suspicions rose. “My mom… She’s invited you to spend the holidays with us.”

“Oh!” you exclaim. That confession was a lot tamer than what you’d expected. “Sure, that sounds great. I was spending the holidays alone this year anyways.”

“There’s a catch.”

You dropped your knife and fork onto your plate. “Doyoung,” you groan, “Why is there always a catch?”

“My mom thinks we’re dating.” Doyoung pointedly avoided your eye contact while he spoke.

“And you corrected her, right?” you asked, fearing the worst. Doyoung’s silence only confirmed your fears. “Right?”

“She was so happy when she thought I was dating someone! And she’s been on my back about settling down forever,” Doyoung rambled, trying to save himself from your wrath - to no avail.

“Doyoung!”

“Please, Y/N. It’ll only be for a few days,” he pleaded, clasping his hands together and giving you his very best puppy-dog eyes. And you had to admit, they were some top-notch puppy-dog eyes.

You gave a resigned sigh, and Doyoung cheered. “Fine. But only because I really want to try your mom’s cookies.”

“You’re the best friend in the world,” Doyoung complimented you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug. You whined at him, fighting the urge to bat away his affections; in your hungover state, you were not at all ready for hugs.

“Then make me some more hash browns,” you grumbled. If Doyoung was prepared to put you in this situation, he’d better also be prepared to pay you for it.

“You got it, best friend,” Doyoung beamed at you, getting up to obey your command. “You should pack those Christmas pyjamas you’re wearing, by the way. My mom would love them.” You scowled at him. He immediately backed down, waving away his previous statement. “We can figure out the logistics later.”

“You better make this worth my while, Kim Doyoung.” When he served you your hash browns, you were still scowling.

As the taxi pulled up at Doyoung’s childhood home, you couldn’t help but marvel at it. You raised a hand to the cab’s window, looking out at the idyllic cottage, rooftop covered in snow, decked out in twinkling Christmas lights. The environment had grown increasingly more peaceful as you had travelled out of Seoul and deeper into the countryside, picturesque hills and winding valleys rolling past the train windows. This place felt worlds away from the hustle and bustle of the city, and it was difficult to feel even slightly stressed. Even if the situation your best friend had put you in was less than ideal, this was an absolutely beautiful place to spend the holidays - it looked like it had jumped straight out of a Christmas card.

Despite the beautiful winter wonderland before you, you still weren’t prepared for the cold that hit you when you stepped out of the cab. You busied yourself getting the luggage from the trunk while Doyoung paid the driver.

“Are you ready?” Doyoung asked you, looking into your eyes sincerely.

You sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You gave him a smile, reassuring him. The truth was, you were truly excited to spend the holidays with Doyoung and his mother; you were excited to meet her, to eat her home cooking, to hear stories about Doyoung in his youth. You just had some qualms about the whole fake relationship pretense, and you really didn’t want to let your best friend down.

“Y/N?” Doyoung spoke, taking bags out of your hands.

“Yeah?” you asked, watching wistfully as the taxi drove away.

Doyoung smirked at you. “Just try your best not to fall in love with me for real, okay?”

You rolled your eyes so hard they practically fell out of your head. “You wish.” Just as the cottage door swung open, you reached for Doyoung’s hand, holding it tightly. So began the relationship charade.

“Doyoung, my boy,” his mother beamed, coming out to greet her son. It was hard not to smile upon seeing her - she was clearly over the moon to see you and Doyoung, and her joy was infectious. She was a small woman, but you had gathered from Doyoung’s description that she certainly had a big character. She welcomed her son into an embrace, kissing his cheek. “You don’t visit home enough, Doyoung,” she chided lovingly.

“And you must be Y/N,” she spoke, moving her gaze onto you. She looked at you fondly, and you beamed back at her. “You’re so beautiful,” she praised you.

Your cheeks, already red from the cold, blazed a little brighter. “Thank you, Mrs Kim.”

She wagged a finger at you. “Mrs Kim, you make me sound so aged. Please, call me Mom.” She turned around, welcoming the two of you inside, and you shared a smile with Doyoung.

The interior of the cottage was every bit as charming as the exterior. Family photos decorated the walls, and warm rugs hugged the floors. You supposed the home would have a cozy feeling all year round, but now, in the festive season, the place was dressed up to the nines. Lavish paper chains were strung up, along with twinkling lights and boughs of holly. Not to mention the Christmas tree; though not huge it was still sizeable, likely the biggest Mrs Kim could fit through the cottage door. It was embellished with golden tinsel and crimson baubles.

“Your home is so beautiful,” you commended. “Did you decorate yourself?”

“All by myself,” Doyoung’s mother confirmed proudly.

“This must’ve been a beautiful place to grow up,” you marvelled, your comment pointed towards Doyoung, who smiled back at you appreciatively.

“Oh, the stories I have about Doyoung growing up,” Mrs Kim said, and you detected a mischievous tone.

“I can’t wait to hear them,” you grinned.

“And see them!” she added. “I have so many photo albums.”

Doyoung groaned, while you and Mrs Kim laughed in the presence of his misery. Yes, you decided. You were going to enjoy this visit very much.

When you settled into bed that night, you were beyond exhausted. Doyoung’s mother had kindly set you up in the spare room, which was delightfully warm and snug. Doyoung’s childhood bedroom contained only a single bed, whereas the spare room had a double bed to accommodate you - the ‘couple.’ Though it had only been a few hours since you’d arrived that afternoon, the gravity of your situation had well and truly sunk in. The performative affection you and Doyoung had been carrying out was alien, equal parts strange and comical.

“I can’t believe the amount of times you called me Honey today,” Doyoung scoffed amusedly, dressed in his blue flannel pyjamas with his dark hair laying flat and fluffy on his forehead. He turned off the big light to leave the room illuminated by the warm glow of the table lamps, before climbing into bed beside you.

“Mock me all you want, Doyoung, but I think I put on a pretty convincing performance,” you return smugly.

“Well, I can’t imagine it’s hard. I’m very easy to love. You on the other hand?” Doyoung faked a weary sigh. “I have my work cut out for me.” You flicked Doyoung on the forehead, snickering when he yelped.

You yawned, depositing your phone on the bedside table and snuggling down into the blankets. Though you were exhausted, and the cottage was immensely cozy, it always felt a little strange to fall asleep in a new place. You were thankful for the company of your best friend, who always put you at ease.

“I hate sharing a bed with you,” you grumbled your complaint. Despite the comfort he brought you, he wasn’t the easiest person to sleep with. “You starfish. I always wake up with, like, one centimetre of bed space.”

Doyoung dropped his phone, letting it fall onto the blankets. He looked at you, eyebrows raised. “One centimetre?”

“Yeah, one centimetre!” you insisted.

“Well, I always wake up with your cold feet on my legs,” he rebutted.

“Yeah, well-” you sputtered. “It’s not my fault you’re a living hot water bottle!”

“And it’s not my fault you’re always cold. Yet I’m always punished with your horrible cold feet.” You laughed back at him; the normality of your bickering helped to put you at ease.

“Let’s get some rest,” you suggested, yawning again. “I don’t wanna miss your mom’s cookies tomorrow morning - I wanna try them while they’re warm.”

“Mmm, good idea,” Doyoung agreed, eyes wide with the thought of his mother’s cookies.

“Goodnight, butthead,” you teased your friend, turning off the lamp beside you.

“Sleep well, idiot,” he replied fondly.

Thoughts of warm chocolate-chip cookies were the last things on your mind before you fell asleep, and you were lucky enough to have them drift through your dreams that night.

As you slowly woke up, gradually returning to the land of the conscious, you first became aware of how delightfully warm you were. A light winter sun was shining through the gaps in the curtains, bathing the room in a soft white light. You sighed, hugging your pillow closer to you, but furrowing your eyebrows in confusion when you found it to be much firmer and less pliant than a pillow.

“Nice to see you’ve finally awakened. You drooled on my pyjamas.” Doyoung’s voice was gentle, and lacked any real annoyance.

“What time is it?” you asked, rolling off the boy.

“Half nine,” he told you, looking at his phone screen. You digested the information as Doyoung got out of bed, stretching his muscles which had stiffened from sleep.

“Now that I’m finally free,” he stared at you pointedly, “I’m gonna take a shower. There’s another bathroom down the hall if you want to wash up.” You nodded, accomplishing your own satisfying stretch in bed.

A while later, fresh and ready for the day, adorned in your favourite comfy sweater, you made your way downstairs, trying to dampen down your high, high hopes for cookies.

“Good morning, Mrs Kim,” you greeted the woman with a smile. A smile that increased tenfold when you saw she was, in fact, in the middle of preparing cookies.

“I already told you to call me Mom, darling,” she chastised gently. “Did you sleep well?”

You gave her a nod, silently thinking about the several times you woke up to Doyoung kicking you through the night.

“Lovely,” she commented. “I’m making cookies, would you like to help?”

“I’d love to,” you answered honestly. “Your cookies are kind of famous back in Seoul. Doyoung never stops talking about them.”

“That boy and his cookies,” she remarked with affection.

Doyoung’s mother set you off to work making another batch of mixture, as she began her duties with the rolling pin. The two of you worked in a comfortable silence, and you marvelled at how much she put you at ease. She was a warm lady, the kind of mother figure a person is lucky to have.

“Y/N, I want you to tell me everything,” she spoke after a while. “How did you and Doyoung meet?”

“Ah,” you mumbled, gearing yourself up to talk about your fake-boyfriend. “Well, we work together. I joined the company about two years ago, and Doyoung was the one to show me the ropes.”

“Was it love at first sight?” Mrs Kim asked you sweetly.

You turned away from the cookie dough, choking a little at the mention of romance with Doyoung, as you remembered the first time you met the man.

You were almost trembling as your new boss showed you around the office; this was your first “grown-up” job and you were the very definition of nervous. You were thankful for your brand-new black blazer which covered the sweat stains that you knew were building.

“And this,” your boss introduced you, “Is Kim Doyoung. He’ll help you settle in.”

“Hi. Y/N Y/L/N,” you offered Doyoung your hand to shake, which he accepted.

Doyoung waited for your boss to leave before speaking. “So,” he began with a smirk, “How hard did he try to be ‘relatable’ and ‘down with the kids?’”

You hid your laugh behind a cough. “He’s a little out of touch, huh?”

“A little?” Doyoung raised an eyebrow, laughing alongside you.

“Is it okay to talk about the boss like this? We’re supposed to respect him, right?” you asked your new coworker, a little uncertainly.

“Ah, Y/N, of course we respect him,” Doyoung tutted at you, before adding, “To his face.”

Doyoung had you in stitches your entire first day. Though he tried not to show it, you hadn’t seen anybody try so hard to help you become comfortable and calm. He had been easing your nerves since day one.

“Yeah,” you confirmed as you recovered. “I think it was.” Maybe it wasn’t love at first sight in a romantic sense, but the two of you definitely connected on a personal level right away.

“So romantic,” Doyoung’s mother cooed as she rolled out the dough. “What do you love most about him?”

“Hm.” You paused, taking a moment to think. It was true that you loved a lot of Doyoung’s qualities - he was your best friend after all. He was always supportive, an ever-present shoulder to cry on. He was funny, and kind, and pleasant to be around. You always had fun together. “I love a lot of things about him,” you answered truthfully.

“He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she agreed with you jovially, to which you smiled and nodded. “Now, I don’t want to rush you,” she continued, “But will you and Doyoung be giving me grandchildren any time soon?”

You choked on your spit, just as Doyoung entered the kitchen, coming to your rescue.

“Speak of the devil,” his mom noted affectionately, as she loaded the full trays into the oven.

“Cookies?” Doyoung’s eyes glinted hopefully. His hair was still damp from the shower, dripping and leaving wet droplets on his plain white t-shirt.

“Yes, in about fifteen minutes,” she confirmed. “You can wait that long, right?”

“Oh,” Doyoung moaned, “I don’t know. I can feel my life escaping from me as we speak.” He collapsed at the kitchen table behind you, falling onto the chair as he pretended to faint. You chuckled at his antics, reaching over to ruffle his still-wet hair adoringly. You caught his mother looking over at the two of you fondly, and you smiled, a little self-conscious.

It felt more natural than you’d imagined, being cute and cozy with Doyoung in this false relationship. You supposed your friendship was a little more affectionate than you realised. Now that you thought about it, there was a certain tenderness that was common between the two of you - aside from the constant snipping and bickering, that was.

You’d never considered that you could be suited to a life outside the city, but the longer you spent in the charming countryside, the more ideal it felt. On your second morning of your winter break, you and Doyoung had donned your warmest winter gear (hats, scarves, and gloves included) and set out on a walk down the rustic lanes that your best friend had once called home. Though there were no eyes on you, and logically you didn’t have to keep up your fake-dating pretence in these hidden moments, shared only by you and Doyoung, the two of you held hands as you ambled down the snow-covered roads. It was an unspoken act, and one that felt strangely comfortable and oddly natural. You didn’t accredit too much thought to it; best friends could hold hands, if they wished to.

“We’re almost there,” Doyoung told you, after a short time of walking.

You tilted your head in confusion. “Where?” You hadn’t thought you were walking with any specific location in mind - you’d assumed the pair of you were meandering through the countryside with no direction.

“You’ll see,” was all he said, leaving you wondering.

Not long later, Doyoung directed you towards an opening in the shrubbery at the side of the lane, maneuvering himself over a stile before helping you over. The field you found yourself in was empty, the normally green meadow blanketed in completely untouched white. The only thing standing in the field, other than you and Doyoung was an old, rather dilapidated-looking barn. You imagined it once blazed a beautiful scarlet, although the years and the weather had chipped and faded its coat, leaving it a patchy maroon.

“Who does this belong to?” you asked, reclaiming Doyoung’s hand as you approached the barn together.

“I don’t know,” Doyoung countered. “Nobody, I think. It’s been abandoned as long as I can remember.”

“It’s a little creepy,” you commented apprehensively.

“Don’t worry, there aren’t any ghosts,” Doyoung mocked you, although it was devoid of any cruelty.

The door creaked as Doyoung pushed it open, and you didn’t entirely trust it not to fall completely off its hinges. The interior of the barn was a dark contrast to the stark white of the winter wonderland outside, although some sunlight filtered through the gaps in the wooden structure.

“Welcome to my secret clubhouse,” Doyoung introduced you. Your hands fell apart, as Doyoung left your side to venture to the back of the dwelling, finding a rickety swing that hung from the rafters, constructed of two pieces of rope and a plank of wood. He sat on it, swinging lightly and you were surprised to find that it managed to support his weight.

“How many of your romantic conquests have you brought here before me?” you teased, examining his hangout.

“You’re the first.”

The barn wasn’t particularly exciting, but there was a certain buzz to be derived from gaining a little bit of insight to Doyoung’s past. The floors of the building were no longer lined with hay, but dirt and dust, featuring intermittent weeds and plants. A tree had reached its spindly branches inside the structure, intertwining itself with the beams and pillars. You perched yourself atop an old stool that was sitting amid the weeds and rubble.

“Did you put that swing up yourself?” you asked, eyeing its stability.

“Yep,” Doyoung confirmed. “All by myself. I climbed right up into the rafters to fasten it.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt yourself,” you remarked. The barn was a rather significant height, and it can’t have been safe for a young boy to scale the wooden bones of the building, likely aided by the serpentine branches of the oak tree.

“When I was a kid I thought I was superman,” Doyoung said, and you could see him reminiscing internally. You watched, captivated, as he looked around the tattered old barn which was clearly a sentimental place for him. He was beautiful, your best friend. Eyes that shined, dark as the night; a nose that sloped almost perfectly; pink lips that looked best when smiling. Though the winter was a cold one, your heart was warmed by your love for Doyoung. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, simply existing together without any demand or pressure to make unnecessary conversation.

“We should get back home,” Doyoung spoke after a while, standing and stretching. “My mom is making hotpot for lunch.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” you said with enthusiasm. Spending time with your best friend, taking walks through the beautiful countryside, and being fed homemade dishes for every meal. This Christmas holiday may just be the best thing to ever happen to you.

Christmas morning came much more swiftly than you expected. The homely atmosphere of the cottage, the domestic haven where Doyoung spent his youth, felt like a sweet sanctuary that existed outside of the linear flow of time. Early morning walks down dew-covered lanes gave way to plentiful lunches that you savoured, which morphed into homely afternoons that eased into sleepy evenings around the fireplace. It was the sweet retreat you hadn’t realised you’d needed, and you were remarkably upset that you had to return to the city the following day.

“I know it’s not much, but I hope you’ll put this to good use,” you grinned at Mrs Kim as you handed over the Christmas present you’d brought her. She unwrapped the parcel, although the shape didn’t quite leave room for a discreet gift, to reveal a bottle of red wine.

“I’m sure I’ll find some way to use this,” she responded, a teasing twinkle in her eye as you shared a laugh together.

“Y/N,” Doyoung spoke, handing you a small box wrapped in festive paper. “Here.” He was already wearing the watch you had gifted him with. You peeled back the wrapping, opening the box to find a delicate silver necklace, hanging from it a shining silver jewel. It looked expensive; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was a real diamond.

“Wow,” you gasped, at a complete loss for words.

“Let me put it on you,” Doyoung offered, and you let him.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled at him. “Thank you.” He smiled back sincerely.

Doyoung’s mother reached under the Christmas tree, bringing out two identically wrapped packages, square-shaped and squishy. “You kids open your presents together; I made them matching for you.”

You tore into the paper, opening the bundle to reveal a mass of knitted wool, soft and burgundy. You lifted it up to reveal a beautiful, intricate Christmas sweater - and noticed that Doyoung was holding an identical one.

“They’re so beautiful, Mrs Kim,” you complimented her, a little starstruck; though you knew Mrs Kim had handcrafted them, they looked like they were bought from a shop. They were of the most perfect quality, and looked splendidly snug and cozy.

“Yeah, thanks Mom,” Doyoung added, admiring the material. He waited until she looked away, taking a sip of her hot cocoa, before turning to you and muttering “Matching Christmas sweaters?” accompanied by a fake gag. You looked away, finding it almost impossible to stifle the giggle that bubbled up within you. They were beautiful, and you were endlessly grateful for the homemade gift, but Doyoung’s comment had amused you.

Mrs Kim looked at you with a knowing expression, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d noticed the exchange.

“Now you know I wasn’t kidding about my mom’s homemade cooking,” Doyoung said as he worked on the mountain of dishes in the sink.

“You really weren’t,” you agreed, stood next to him with a towel to dry the porcelain. You typically weren’t such a big fan of turkey, but something about the way Mrs Kim cooked it meant that it was surprisingly delicious. You had gone back for several helpings of the meal, encouraged by Doyoung’s mother, who seemed to derive pleasure from keeping people well-fed.

“I need a nap,” Doyoung declared, and you shared his experience of full-stomach sleepiness.

The pair of you finished up in the kitchen, and moved to the living room where Doyoung’s mother had relocated.

“Ah!” she stopped you in the doorway, before you could enter. “Look.”

You followed her pointed finger, to the green sprigs hanging in the archway. Mistletoe. Doyoung gave an awkward chuckle.

“Mistletoe for the lovers,” his mother chortled gleefully.

Doyoung captured you in his embrace, and your heart began to beat a little faster - was he really going to kiss you? You closed your eyes as he moved into you, and felt his lips peck your forehead. You smiled, before pulling him in for a kiss on the lips. In the spirit of Christmas. Doyoung’s eyes widened, and you laughed as his mother cheered. You followed her into the living room, making yourself comfortable on the couch that had no right being as cozy as it was. Doyoung’s cheeks were still red when he joined you, taking a seat on the couch alongside you.

The television was on, playing some old Christmas movie you vaguely recognised but had never seen. You brought your legs up onto the couch, snuggling into Doyoung’s side and nestling in further when he wrapped his arm around you. The film was already halfway through, and you were too sleepy to pay attention. It wasn’t long before you began nodding off to sleep, and you knew Doyoung was doing the same. Comfortable and relaxed, you let it happen, easing into a well-deserved nap with your best friend. Just as you fell into the unconscious, you sensed Doyoung’s mother draping a blanket over you both, and you smiled gratefully before letting yourself go.

“Taxi’s here!” Doyoung announced from his point of watch at the front door.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving already,” Doyoung’s mother pouted.

You agreed with a sad smile. “It was wonderful to meet you, Mrs Kim,” you bid her goodbye as Doyoung took your luggage out to the car.

“Beautiful Y/N,” she smiled back at you, taking your hands in her own. “Tell me the truth here.”

You blinked, surprised at her direct request. “Of course.”

“You and Doyoung aren’t really dating, are you?”

“I-”

“It’s okay, my love,” she reassured you. “Don’t worry about it. That Doyoung, he’ll do anything if he thinks it’ll please me.”

“He’s a good boy,” you commented, to which Mrs Kim nodded in agreement. “But how did you know?” You’d thought you’d given a pretty convincing show.

“Nothing gets past me,” she responded, her eyes glinting. “Listen. Doyoung’s partner or not, I can tell that you’re important to him. And for that, you’ll always be a member of this family. You’re always welcome in this home, Y/N.”

You swallowed back tears, touched by her warm words, and by how genuine they were. “Thank you, Mom.”

The older lady pulled you in for a hug, just as Doyoung called out to you, “Y/N, we gotta go.”

“You have my number, right?” Mrs Kim checked, and you nodded. “And keep that cookie recipe safe - three generations old, that is!”

“Of course,” you assured her, retreating to the taxi as Doyoung said his goodbyes to her.

“Come back soon, you two!”

“We will,” you and Doyoung promised her in unison.

Settled in the back of the taxi, you heaved a sigh. It had been a beautiful holiday period, but part of you was happy to be returning to the security of your own home. And an even bigger part of you was relieved to drop the act of being Doyoung’s partner.

Doyoung looked at you, a tired look in his eyes. “Y/N, I love you so much-”

“But we could never date,” you completed his statement, sensing its direction.

“Never,” agreed Doyoung with a laugh.

The two of you were much better off as friends. It would be a lie to say you’d never wondered what it would be like if your relationship ever happened to cross that boundary, but you were sated by the lesson you’d learned over the last week. Your relationship was platonic, and was destined to remain that way. That didn’t mean your relationship was any less significant than that of a romantic couple, though. Doyoung was your family. And you were beyond lucky to have found him.

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pricemarshfield · 3 years ago

Text

don’t go

A post-canon/canon divergence Climbing Class fic. Read on AO3 here. Does not name the monsters from UD.

The thing is, Chris never believed in ghosts.

Past tense, because though Ouija boards are definitely still bullshit, flesh-eating nightmares who are his friends from beyond made his internal perspective change, a little. Less focused on Ashley (now happily dating Sam, who'd have thunk), less focused on cleverness, less focused on everything other than survival.

The problem with that is, survival is way, way less of a concern everywhere else.

No matter how much Mike asks, Chris won't go to the gym, won't go running with Sam. Instead, he goes to the gun range and shoots, practices with a dozen different guns until he can hit a target from as far as they'll let him try. Someone asks him if he wants to go hunting, and he says, "No, thanks. I don't have the stomach for it." With a practiced, self-deprecating grin and a little anecdote about getting sick in health class after watching Supersize Me (but hey, he'll still eat fast food!), they just laugh, clap his shoulder, and say, "Well, maybe next time."

Chris knows now how to hunt. He won't go because he doesn't want to go back to the mountain, but if something happens, if Jess ends up going on her expedition to find Emily's remains like she keeps talking about, if any circumstance happens that'll force him back out of his safety, he'll be ready. He has a dozen books on how to skin and prepare wild game, has a YouTube watch history that he probably shares with a future serial killer, is slowly working his way through quizzes on edible plants in the area he can forage.

Two weeks after the mountain, his friends all found it normal. Six months after the mountain, he worries he's the only one still caught up in it.

Sam's still going out in wilderness semi-regularly, albeit with so many protein bars in her bag that she could feed a small army. Mike throws himself into whatever the hell project he's involved with. (Chris and Ashley make a point of not asking about it, just to see his face turn red.) Jess rock climbs now, but however it started, now she just seems to be having fun, and Chris doesn't want to ruin the mood by asking why she's doing it. Ashley writes, poems and prose and articles, jumping on their fifteen minutes of fame to get a foot in the door of publishing.

Josh doesn't do much of anything.

They'd found him next to the bodies of Matt and Emily and Jack Fiddler, emaciated and staring at the bodies with a hunger that had caused all of this. (Chris assumes. He wasn't there, wouldn't have been there even if he'd known he would have found Josh okay. He wasn't brave before, let alone now.)

His parents won't let him keep a handgun in the house, so he moves.

Finding an apartment is hard. Nothing to do with the publicity or lack of options or even money; he just is picky. It needs good WiFi, because he's still Chris Hartley. It needs a room without windows, easily defensible and big enough to be able to stockpile food. It needs walls that aren't painted a sickly green color that he jokes is scarier than the idea of going back.

justgidding: Terrible joke!

justgidding: Even if it wasn't in bad taste, it's just not funny.

sn0wflakequ33n: I thought it was funny Chris

gogogadget: thank you jess

screamking: Oh bro is that that place on Hilda St?

screamking: I looked at that place when I was trying to find a place

screamking: Definitely the worst

ladykiller: why did you move out, rich boy? don't you have like six bedrooms in your old place?

sn0wflakequ33n: don't be a dick, mike

smartcookie: Eh

smartcookie: Not the most dickish thing one of us has done this year

justgidding: Okay guys, let's not bring this up over TEXT!!

sn0wflakequ33n: why do you hate the internet sam

smartcookie: I always forget how much of a Luddite you are, babe

ladykiller: i don't know what that means

gogogadget: i feel like we've gotten farther from the point

gogogadget: which is how ugly these walls are

So, yeah. Apartment hunting. Would it be weird to ask Josh what place he found? He needs to move if he's gonna get a gun, and while he knows logically it's not going to help and that he's not in danger, he's pretty sure just having it around would be great for his peace of mind.

Also in the case of monster attack, but at this point, preparedness for monster attacks and his peace of mind are pretty much one and the same. Not only correlational but causal relationship.

gogogadget: josh dyou mind sending me the address?

screamking: Why, you coming over?

gogogadget: trying to find a place

gogogadget: or are you still looking?

screamking: Nah, here

screamking has sent you their location!

---

Chris is sure that the place Josh's sent him will be too expensive, because Chris is comfortable, but Josh is. Well. His family owned a mountain (past tense). But as it turns out, if he moves in now in February rent is cheaper for as long as he lives here. It's still a lot, but it's at the very upper range of his budget rather than completely out of it.

They don't allow pets, but they do allow (legal) guns, and Chris signs the lease right after seeing the place. The property manager seems thrilled, but Chris doesn't really care why; he's just glad to have a place.

Sam and Ashley are the only two friends available to help him move, though Ashley mostly just picks through his books. Chris doesn't have a ton of stuff, and the only really heavy things are the one box of books and his PC. It takes one trip in just the one car and then he's in his apartment, alone.

Unpacking takes the better part of a couple days, but that's mostly just building furniture and setting up his food stores. The place doesn't quite feel like his, but he's alright with that. It feels safe, and that means a lot more.

His neighbor keeps thudding against the wall, though, and at 2am, when it wakes Chris up, he bangs back in annoyance.

"Sorry," his neighbor calls.

"...Josh?" Chris responds.

"Oh, what?" Josh says, and then Chris' phone lights up.

gogogadget: dude what the fuck

screamking: My bad, dude

screamking: Won't happen again

gogogadget: look as long as it's not ghosts i'm okay lol

screamking: I've got some bad news for you

gogogadget: JOSH WE TALKED ABOUT PRANKS

He can hear Josh laughing from across the wall, and Chris texts back a bunch of middle finger emojis.

screamking: If the ghosts do scare you, consider this an open invitation to come over

gogogadget: there are BETTER WAYS to invite me over dude

gogogadget: game nights

gogogadget: weed

gogogadget: just a straight up booty call

Chris doesn't really realize what he's said until after he's sent it, and then he briefly considers skipping out on his lease so he can go lie down outside and wait to die.

screamking: So if I were to do one of those now

screamking: You'd come over?

gogogadget: if you have someone over and that's what the banging's about i'll literally never talk to you again

gogogadget: just so you know

screamking: Nah it's just a tennis ball

screamking: Helps with anxiety

screamking: Dude?

screamking: If this isn't your thing we can still be friends, man

screamking: That better be you knocking on the door

---

justgidding: Chris, wake up!!!

justgidding: You said you'd go to the farmer's market today

justgidding: I WILL break this door down I don't care about your security deposit.

justgidding: Ashley says you're not answering your phone

justgidding: Josh is, though :)

justgidding: I'm texting the group chat

gogogadget: groupchat is one word

justgidding: Get dressed now we're going to the farmer's market!

gogogadget's phone can no longer recieve messages! This could be due to a loss of WiFi or the phone being turned off.

justgidding: Bitch?

gogogadget's phone can no longer recieve messages! This could be due to a loss of WiFi or the phone being turned off.

#climbing class #until dawn #josh washington #chris hartley #christopher hartley #my fics

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atiny-ahgase · 4 years ago

Text

A message to my Moots

Hey all, I originally wasn’t gonna do this cause I honestly didn't even know where to begin (I still don't tbh) but I said that I’ll still give it a try cause I wanted to tell you all my feelings before the new year rolls around (for me at least lol). So let’s get too it.

Firstly thank you to every single person that follows me, or has read any of my fics or liked any of my edits or even just interacted with me in any form. Thank you for the immense love and support that I’ve received on this site, honestly I didn't expect to make any friends here and the fact that I was able to meet and befriend so many amazing people. So I just wanna say thank you so much for being a part of my life. I’ve always put up walls and I’m really bad at getting close to others but Tumblr was the first site that I’ve really felt comfortable enough to be the real me. So thank you for that.

Now on to the Mentions

I had no idea how to start this so I decided to start at the beginning.

@mingishoe -Luna, you were the reason that I joined Tumblr in the first place, your fics brought me here and your interactions with other blogs opened up so many doors for me and helped me to interact and befriend so many amazing people. You were the first person that I ever sent an ask to, you made me feel so comfortable and welcome so thank you for that. Thank you for being you, a literal moon; bright and beautiful always lighting up the way. I honestly don't think that I would ever be able to explain how much I love, admire and look up to you, I honestly can’t find the words. Honestly, just thank you for being there for your little anon (Idk if you know which anon I am though lol)

@vocalyunho -Ames!!!!! The 2nd person that I followed! an absolute angel. You are such a calm soul and I just love your vibe and energy so much. I think that I’ve said this a million times but you just make me feel so safe and secure, you have such a calm and capable aura that is just so soothing to me. Thank you for coming into my life and being the amazing person that you are.

@jonghoshoe -ZAD!!! Baby Brother! My Teddy Bear! My Sunflower!! Where do I even begin?!? You were basically my first friend on Tumblr (and I am even more grateful to Luna cause I found you through her). IDK what it was about you but you had such an amazing out look on life while still being chaotic in the best way possible. I would wake up every morning and look out for your posts cause you would always make me smile. Without even knowing it you became a big part of my life and I am so grateful for that. You were my motivation when I was feeling down, you encouraged me to see the good things in the word, you hyped me up to write fics; honestly you are part of why I am the Gabby that I am today and I cant thank you enough for that, I love and admire you so much.

Next on my list is my little bunny @lustjoong -PK PK PK, my knee loving queen!!!! IDEK what to say cause I feel as though I confess my love to you at least twice a week on discord lol. I love talking with you, you're incredibly level headed and give amazing advice (which I always need cause I’m a mess lol). I’ve said this before but I’ll say it again that I admire you so much and would of never imagined that I would of ever gotten the chance to talk to you (much less be able to call you my friend) cause in my mind I always saw you as this amazing and untouchable writer (but then I realized that I’m taller than you so... lol I’m kidding). I’m happy that you found out that I was messaging you on anon and thank you for reaching out to me. I look forward to more chaotic conversations and knee pics in the new year.

@atiny-piratequeen -FIE I FREAKING LOVE YOU SO MUCH THAT I MIGHT EXPLODE!! You fill me with so much life that I cant even begin to explain. I’ve said this a million times before but I love how you aren't afraid to speak you mind and say how you feel. You're such a strong figure to me here on the platform and I've always admired how natural and bold you are with your opinions. I find your personality to be extremely refreshing and welcoming, I was never afraid to interact with you (I combusted when you sent me an ask but that’s only natural..) so thank you for providing me (and a lot of other Atiny) with a safe and welcoming place that we can come to.

@twancingyunhoe -Allyssa!!! My mom!!!! My cookie baking, Yunho loving, cat mom!! where do I even begin?? Thank you for being an absolute angel! You shine so brightly here and you're always so supportive to literally everyone. I am and always will be there for you no matter what so I want you to remember that in the coming year. and remember that I love you in your highs and your lows and I am available to provide cuddles anytime they are needed or wanted cause you are precious to me ok luv.

@felixs-moonlight -my little duckling AJ!!! I’m wishing you the best in the new year cause that's what best bois deserve! You are so incredibly sweet and caring so don't you ever forget. Even if you do forget don't worry cause I will always be there to remind you.

@seoultraveller -Cat. Your presence makes me so happy!! IDEK what it is I just love seeing you on my dashboard, when I don't see you I wonder how you are. I hope that this new years is treating you well. Also, you are NOT boring and lets talk a lot more in the coming year okay luv

@yunhozone -Jey!! I miss you, I hope that you're well, its been raining lately so I hope that you're staying dry and safe. I love your boldness and sense of humor so please don't ever change. i started following you on a whim and I have never regretted following you ever since. You make me smile and laugh so much and I hope that I can do the same for you in the coming years. Stay safe okay luv

@pirate-hongjoong -Kayla, lets both talk more in the coming year ok luv. I pretty much told you everything that I wanted to on your post so I’ll try to keep this short. I think that you're really sweet and we should get to know each other more, I’ll try to reach out some more and be a little less shy. so lets continue to grow our friendship okay.

@taelepathysroom -You were the first friend that I made on Tumblr all on my own (meaning that I didn't see you interacting with a moot or anything, I found you all by myself) to this day I don't remember how I mustered up the bravery to message you. I remember wanting to message you on anon and realizing that you had anon off and I STILL went for it lol, apparently I was wilding. But that was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made, I love talking with you and receiving all of your extremely important messages and I look forward to many more (my heart is not ready but it is fine).

@moongaera -Gaera you are such a great motivation to me and I’m so happy to be a part of your life. You are so sweet and incredibly talented. I love seeing you on my dashboard and talking with you cause you honestly make my heart want to explode.

@yungidreamer - Big sister!!!! Kelsi!!! My aesthetic queen who I am convince is tryna kill me on our discord chat you are so kind and helpful and give such great tips. You are such a calm soul and I love interacting with you (especially when things feel crazy) its like you just magically know the answer to everything.

@yunhoiseyecandy -Violet, we don't really talk much but I think that you're really cool and fun so lets talk lots in 2021 ok. Also IDK why I felt like this was the perfect place to post this but you're the only moot whos emoji pops up when I start to type their name in the hashtags and I always thought that its really cute. (You're also really cute). I think that we would be really good friends so I cant wait to talk with you more.

@hwaberrykiwi -CAM CAM CAM CAM CAM!!!!!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!!! You are so fun to talk to and so sweet and so calming and you make my heart feel like its bursting (in the best way possible). I hope that you're well and I look forward to sharing more moments here with you on Tumblr (and I am still keeping my promise of not eating Lemon Bars if they aren't from you so...)

@atinywrites -Angel!!! My precious, little angel who always attacks my poor little heart. I love your messages and how you just pop up randomly and shower me with love (then I read your posts and you're just straight up roasting people JBJDJFILJFISREHF) I love absolutely everything about you and I’m really happy that we met each other, I cant wait to see what 2021 has in store for us.

@choisans-dimples -Cass my dearest little Sugar Plum, apart from you being absolutely precious you are also extremely previous to me. I remember our first interactions and they still bring a smile to my face (we were like Tom and Jerry and honestly in a way we still are lol). But you mean so much to me and you never fail to make me laugh or smile no matter what is going on in my life. I wish for you to never lose that smile in 2021 and if it ever begins to falter just know that I’m here ok luv

@latte-fairytaekwoon -Latte, I’m not gonna lie; when Mei started adopting family members I felt like my brain was gonna explode but I gotta hand it to her cause she has great taste in family cause she chose you. If it wasn't for her then I probably would of never found you. if that happened then who would spoil me rotten?!? I am so happy to have met you I honestly thrive every time I see you on my dashboard, you are absolutely hilarious and I love to see your interactions. I cant wait to see what you do in 2021 and all of the other years to come. Thanks for being a great Tumblr Mom

@little-precious-baby -Mei, where do I begin?? You came out of no where for me, you just sort of appeared and then in the blink of an eye you became so dear to me. Id just find myself looking out for your posts and wondering how you are. IDK how to explain it but you've somehow managed to bring so many amazing individuals together in such a short time, you're absolutely amazing and I hope that one day you'll be able to see yourself the way that we already see you. Ik that things can be hard (and they will be because that’s life) but just know that this family that you helped to bring together is always here for you when you need someone to confide in and when it feels like its too much and you need a break we’ll be right here waiting for you until you come back. Just remember that your big sis loves you ok my little bean.

@ateez-little-star -JAS!!!!!! My babie sister IDK how to write this without crying cause you make me so happy that idek what to do. You are so bold and brave while still being shy and cute, I cant explain it. You are so wholesome to talk to and so fun and interesting and sweet and loveable! Like how could someone not love you!! Thank you for always checking up on me and showering me with love and just making me smile.

@yunhofingers -My sweet little bean who definitely never behaves badly!! I am sending you all of the positive vibes for the new year. Ik that things wont always be easy but just know that I’m always here and I believe in you. You are so sweet and kind and bold and I love that about you, don't ever change and thank you so much for making me smile; I hope that I can do the same for you in 2021 and beyond cause I hope that we can be friends for a really long time.

I also wanted to include the moots that I do interact with but I also want to talk to even more in the coming year. Thank you for being here for both me and other people in the kpop community. I love your blogs and you all are so incredibly kind (and ridiculously entertaining; I’m looking at you Caly and Vivi lol), I hope that we can become even better friends.

@hanatiny @sansbun @hongism @multidreams-and-desires @smallfrye @aixy-hpsa @galaxteez @jongpleasure @simphwa @inkigayeo @heeseungluvs

#my precious moots #Gabby rambles #happy new year my luvs #I hope that I didn't forget anyone #I am not the bestest at words #I am also a little tipsy so...excuse my english #I hope that my true feeling were able to reach you all #please stay safe in the coming year #sending you all og my love and support

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wormstacheangel · 4 years ago

Note

Since your last post implied it I would love to know about your AU recommendations ❤ I am obsessed too!! Thanks in advance 🙏🏻

hello! I hope you don’t mind if I just make a basic list of some of the AU stories I have read or want to read. Not in any order I just went through my bookmarks on AO3 :) Also I need to read more...Under the cut because it got too long!

Angel's Wild (not gonna lie this is my favorite fic. I have read this almost a dozen times now)

Summary: But that’s the whole reason he’s here, isn’t it? He’s not out here hunting Humans. He’s not even hunting deer, or bears, or anything else that featured in Bambi. He’s out here, freezing his nuts off every night, because he’s hunting Angels.

Sometimes Dean wishes that Angels were like how they’re described in the Bible. How people from time too old for him to care much about thought Angels were messengers and warriors of God, protectors of Humans. He knows that how they’re really described in the Bible is actually pretty terrifying, but at least they were told by God that they’re supposed to love Humans, right?

That’s a thousand times better than what Angels really turned out to be.

Checked Out

Summary: Castiel Novak can think of many writers who would not be welcome under the roof of Heaven’s Gate library, where he is the librarian: Ayn Rand ranks highly (no explanation needed), as does Charles Dickens (he hasn’t forgiven Charles for the month he lost to The Pickwick Papers). And, of course, Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester, local author and obvious a-hole, who is entirely too handsome to be true and who is clearly totally lacking in profundity, intelligence, sincerity, and self-awareness. Unfortunately, though, Dean’s been invited to do a book signing at Heaven’s Gate - and Castiel’s about to be confronted by some unexpected feelings when he finally meets Dean for the first time.

A Ghost Story

Summary: Castiel Novak has haunted his family's estate for 150 years, awaiting the return of his lost love. Upon their reunion, Dean Winchester learns of his past reincarnation. After the night of Castiel's resurrection, the two try to find out why they've been given a second chance. The answers may be hidden in the forgotten memories of Dean's former life - but sometimes the truth is better left buried.

Patient Love

Summary: Castiel Novak is 27 when he suddenly loses his twin brother Jimmy, and his whole world turns to ashes. How do you deal with losing half of yourself when your whole life always revolved around the two of you, like yin and yang and black and white? How do you deal with a broken soul and old demons looming over you with no one to hold you back anymore?

After 10 years as a Navy Special Warfare Operator and more than a dozen deployments in both Afghanistan and Iraq, a battlefield injury forces 28-year-old Chief Petty Officer Dean Winchester to chose between being stuck behind a desk for the rest of his career or going back to civil life. When he learns about his friend Jimmy’s death, Dean makes his way back to Kansas with his heart in his throat and broken pieces at his feet.

Things are already complicated and painful enough as it is, but when former lovers Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak meet again after 10 years of radio silence and a galaxy of wounds and scars solidly standing between them, it feels like both a curse and a blessing has been placed on them both. Is there any hope in putting back their broken pieces together after a decade, and how do you deal with grief and broken dreams?

The Unbroken

Summary: Dean’s life had been made of running. He ran from a curse that had desolated his life ever since he was a child — whenever he got hurt, he turned into a goddamn human-torch, killing everyone around him — and he ran from himself and his own self-loathing.

But managing all that at the end of a world full of Croats lurking around every corner was easier said than done.

Until a mysterious man with tousled dark hair paired with blue eyes as clear as the sky during a hot summer’s day stopped him from free falling, literally. In one fell swoop, the stranger had not only saved his life but also calmed the wildfire threatening to burn everything in its wake.

There was something about Castiel that made Dean want to stop running but also hid something darker — something Dean couldn’t quite put his finger on. And between soft, pillowy lips and feather-like fingerprints, Cas could very well shatter Dean’s world and maybe help save the whole world in return.

While You Were Sleeping

Summary: A Destiel version of While You Were Sleeping! Castiel is alone and floundering. He has a crush on one of the passengers who passes through his subway station every morning. When the man gets pushed onto the tracks, Cas saves him. But when they get to the hospital there's a mix up and Cas finds himself engaged to a complete stranger. Enter, the rest of the family, including big brother Dean. How will Cas navigate the relationship with his supposed future in-laws? What will he do when Sam finally wakes up? And why can't he stop thinking about Dean?

Purgatory, director's cut

Summary: this doesn’t have a summary but it is dean and cas in purgatory and it’s soooo cool! I promise it’s amazing and worth the read!

Basic Lessons in First Aid, Magical or Otherwise

Summary: Most people probably wouldn’t take the naked, heavily wounded man they found in an alley home with them. Most people probably wouldn’t also offer that man a place to stay and become his best friend after realizing he’s suffering from an intense case of post-traumatic retrograde amnesia. Most people probably wouldn’t then risk almost everything they know to save said man, and maybe save the world in the process.

But then again, Dean Winchester, RN (with a specialty in supernatural care), has never been like most people. He may not have a magical bone in his body, unlike his brother Sam, but he’ll do whatever it takes to help. Even if Castiel has questionable opinions about Star Trek.

What Greater Gift

Summary: Story idea: The most wanted woman in town has announced that she’ll only marry the one who can open her front door with the key around her cat’s neck. Many men try to hunt the cat down, chase and trap it, but to no avail, the cat is simply too quick, smart and clever, and always finds a way to evade and avoid them. You are the first one to figure out the obvious: Do not chase the cat. The cat is befriendable. Get the cat to trust you, to genuinely enjoy your company, and you can hang out with the cat. You may eventually be allowed to touch the cat. The cat will freely let you take the key.

From a prompt found on Tumblr. Saw this and I couldn't resist a Destiel AU, and I've been wanting to write Witch!Cas for ages.

I know when you go down all your darkest roads

Summary: Dean and Castiel go undercover as a couple going through therapy, in order to catch a monster that specifically targets couples dealing with issues, feeding on their distress, anger, and pain.

They end up going through a lot more than a case, unfolding feelings left untold for so long, discovering parts of each other they never intended to uncover.

But will the feelings raging inside them be enough to bring their walls down?

A Fish Out of Water

Summary: To tie up the loose ends of a hunt, Dean is forced to go undercover and visit Brock Pleasure Ranch, a horrifying establishment that markets its inhabitants to people with ‘monstrous’ tastes.

It should have been a simple thing, to persuade a mer to give him a few scales for a spell. All part of the usual Winchester byline: saving people, hunting things.

But Castiel is far less of a ‘thing’ than Dean expected. He might not be human, but he’s definitely a person. And that means he needs saving, too.

The Way to a Man’s Heart is Through Chlamydia

Summary: Dean doesn't expect to see his one night stand again, but then again he also doesn't expect to find out he has an STD. Sometimes life is hilarious like that.

Just as lost as I

Summary: Dean's been in love with Castiel for centuries. He keeps it buried, never letting himself get too close, but when Castiel goes missing he doesn't hesitate. He's going to find him if it’s the last thing he ever does.

Love Bites

Summary: Cas Novak graduated with a 4.0 in Mathematics, but not even Naomi Novak’s money could help him at job interviews. Anxious and dissatisfied with life, at nearly thirty he’s still washing dishes in the back of his best friend Hannah’s café.Until one night when his cat drags an injured bat into his apartment.

Dean may be a vampire, but he’s not an asshole (well, not much.) He feels like he owes the awkward guy for rescuing him from the cat’s clutches, so he sets about changing Cas's life.

A silly story about families who aren’t quite what they seem, fake boyfriends, and falling in love with someone who’s never, technically, met you.

The Bad Cop, Worse Cop Adventures of Freckles and Feathers

Summary: Miami. A place with beaches, babes, palm trees, and a growing drug-fueled crime organization. To help combat the drugs littering the streets, Captain Singer puts together a Tactical Narcotics Team composed of Miami's two finest and fearless officers. Charming casanova Dean Winchester has fought tooth and nail, rising through the ranks for this position. Trench coat toting Castiel Novak knows more hand-to-hand combative techniques than he does people skills. Between Dean's big mouth and Castiel's take-no-shit attitude, their introductory meeting ends on a less than stellar note and a couple of hard to shake nicknames.

After six months of partnership, the nicknames have stuck and so has the sexual tension. When a murder in the middle of the night launches their biggest lead on a cleverly evasive drug lord, Dean is shocked to find Sam at the center of it. Sam comes clean with his involvement and Charlie, their witness, seeks revenge against the man responsible for killing her friend. As the stakes rise higher so do Dean’s feelings putting everything in jeopardy. Is a cop with everything to prove, a cop with everything to lose, one computer hacker witness, and a damn good ADA enough to save the day?

The Care and Feeding of Castiel

Summary: Dean’s quiet time in the bunker is interrupted by some stranger-than-usual behavior from his angel. Oh, and feathers...there are a lot of those, too.

First Gentleman Wanted

Summary: President of the United States Castiel Novak is popular, charismatic, and knee-deep in campaigning for a second term. He’d be the ideal candidate if it weren’t for the fact that he hasn’t dated once while in political office. With his opponent’s relentless PR team calling him incapable of emotional commitment, Castiel’s staff decides to remedy the situation by finding their boss a fake, picture-perfect boyfriend. And when Dean Winchester enters the scene, he and Cas become America’s new favorite couple, except they’ve got a whole lot of history between them and complicated feelings to resolve.

The Graveyard Shift

Summary: Dean’s favourite coffee shop, The Graveyard Shift, is only open after the sun goes down. Which is perfect for him, because that’s exactly when he craves coffee the most while doing the overnight at the fire hall. The coffee shop’s owner is pretty perfect too, but it’s kind of a bummer that Dean never gets to see Cas during the day. In a world where the supernatural live more or less in peace with the rest of humanity, it’s a little impolite to ask Cas just what he really is - or what his dark past entails.

The Path of Fireflies

Summary: After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven

Summary: Heaven is white.Well. Isn’t that fucking stereotypical.-Dean isn’t really sure how he got here. Or even why he’s here. And hell, for all the times the Winchesters have died, he thinks he ought to know the drill by now. But what he doesn’t know is when most folks go, they find something different.

There’s a system God put in place. That when you’re gone (for good), there are a couple things you gotta do first. There are five people waiting for you.

They are the five people you meet in heaven.

Doing this made me realize I need to read more longer fics. I usually just read the short ficlets on tumblr but I need to broaden my horizon and read more. But yes! These are the AU’s currently in my bookmarks. Hope you find one to enjoy :)

#fic rec #answering the q's #lalisfandoms

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downwiththeficness · 4 years ago

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In the Bond-Chapter 5

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~3,700

Warnings: None

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13

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Lilah sat at a conference table, hands at her temples, groaning. The meeting was going nowhere. There had been so much goddamned bickering in the last hour that Lilah was tempted just to get up and walk out to see if they would even notice. The fucking testosterone in this room was thick enough to choke her.

They’d been arguing on and off for hours, save for a few breaks that Lilah had mandated when the urge to either bludgeon them to death or to pee arose. Every little thing had to be discussed, debated, twisted every which way. Nothing was simple, especially not when it came to the territory assigned to each side.

“Alright!” She yelled, finally having had enough. “Let’s just go over this again.”

Standing, Lilah leaned over the map. The surface was covered by solid, clear plastic, onto which they were outlining territories with dry erase markers. The current argument centered around the delineation of land around a fertile riverbed.

“Okay,” she grunted, “We aren’t planting crops, we’re just trying to figure out what land we’re going to be responsible for.” She put her hand over the area on the map, giving her friend a meaningful look, “We don’t need it, Seth.”

Making a derisive sound, Seth held up his hand, “Hold your horses. This river cuts through our liquor supply chain. We need access to the highway over there.”

Brasa shrugged, having leaned back from the table, “No one is saying you can’t import your liquor. Your horses will be safe.”

Lilah felt her eyes roll, couldn’t keep the sigh from escaping her lips, “He wasn’t talking about literal horses.”

Acting as if he hadn’t heard her, Seth barreled forward, “Yeah, but let’s say things get tense between us. You could cut off our supply just like that.” He snapped his fingers to emphasize his point. “No, we’re going to extend out past the river and over the road.”

“An extra fifty miles,” Brasa drawled, “For an uninterrupted supply chain.”

“Correct,” Seth answered, a smug little smirk on his mouth.

As he eyed Seth, Lilah could feel the barest brush of warmth across her hands. Reflexively, she drew them back, closer to the safety of her body. The heat dissipated as Brasa stood, leaning his weight into his palms as he braced them on the table.

Like the rest of him, Brasa’s hands were large, the fingers spreading wide over the wood. Lilah noted how the gloves he was wearing stretched tight across the backs of them. She wondered, not for the first time, why he wore them.

“Then, I want the desert land here,” he pointed to a swath of empty land, “And here.”

Seth considered it before giving a nod. Lilah marked it out on the map with the coordinated colors she’d chosen before the meeting began.

“Wait,” Seth said, and Lilah’s jaw clenched, “What would you want with a couple hundred square miles of empty land?”

Brasa lifted a brow, “Are we holding more horses?”

“Forget the horses,” Seth bit out with a wave of his hand, “No one willingly chooses to own land like this.”

“Is that so?”

Lilah did not like the way he said that. A question wrapped around a veiled barb, wrapped in ridicule. She glanced at Seth to see if he caught the undertones in the words. He hadn’t. She didn’t know whether to be annoyed or relieved.

“There is a group of my people who have made camp there,” Brasa explained lightly.

Seth looked unmoved, “You don’t want us going out there and doing population control.”

Lip curling, Brasa replied, “Is that what you call what you were doing? Looked a lot like chaos to me.”

Without blinking, Seth shot back, “Well, its not our main bag, alright? This shit is new to us, since your people came along and infected my brother.”

And, there they were, talking in circles around the thing that made negotiating such an arduous task. Seth would never forgive Brasa for the hell he’d put them through, for the uncrossable gulf that now existed between him and his brother. Fighting with Richie about it only made things worse, and Seth was resorting to striking out at the only other available target.

“This isn’t the time for this,” Lilah edged, fingers tightening on the marker.

“When is the time?” Seth nearly yelled, “We started out killing them and now we’re marking out territories and writing fucking policies and procedures together.”

Lilah drew in a calming breath, “This is business, Seth.”

She’d explained it to him several times over. They needed the cooperation of Brasa and his people. There were just too many factions, too many rogue culebras to hunt down all by themselves. It would take scouring the land every day for years to make that happen. Brasa had already assured them that anyone getting blood at their sites was vetted intensely. Anyone who broke the primary rule and killed humans without regard for the safety of the group was eliminated.

Seth looked at her with ire, “Fuck business.”

“Yes,” Lilah countered with a sneer, “Fuck business. Fuck ending a war. Fuck peace.” She sat back in her chair with a huff, “You want to keep fighting forever? Guess what? You don’t have forever. He does.” She pointed at Brasa, “He has all the time in the world to wait you out, and he’s offering a solution—now, not later.”

Seth went quiet, jaw working. His fingers drummed on the table, eyes cutting.

Lilah saw the crack in his resolve and kept talking, “This sucks. It all sucks. Ironing out details fucking sucks.” She tapped her fingers on the map, “But these details are going to save lives. Possibly yours and mine. Let’s just get this done so we can get back to shit we used to do, the fun shit.”

There was a heaviness in the air as she trailed off, her expression urging Seth for some sort of compromise. She was being honest when she said she wanted to get back to what she was good at. Lilah had been itching for a job for months, had actually stooped low enough to snag a pair of sunglasses at the gas station just to satisfy the restlessness in her hands. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to end out figuring out who the richest person in the country was and rob them blind.

Brasa spoke, his voice piqued with interest, “What did you do before...population control?”

Seth cut a look at him that was both suspicious and angry, “We’re thieves. I run point, Richie is the box man, Lilah monitors with tech.”

“That is fortunate,” Brasa said as he sat, with a little smile that was far too easy for Lilah’s taste, “I happen to need a few items stolen for me.”

Lilah leaned her head on her head, motioning for him to continue. She was intrigued by the idea that he would be interested in contracting with them. A job was a tasty idea, at the moment, and found that she didn’t much care that it would be Brasa that would be directing them.

“As you might be aware, relics are often stolen from indigenous people and either put on display in a museum or kept in a private collection. I’d like some of those relics back.”

Lilah’s brows lifted. That was certainly not what she had expected him to say. The idea had some merit, though. Lilah’s favorite jobs were museums. So many pretty things that definitely needed a new home.

Seth considered it, “We’re not a cheap crew.”

True.

Nodding, Brasa simply said, “I have money.”

Definitely true. Every inch of Brasa’s office and the bar adjacent screamed money at her in an understated way. As old as he was, there was no denying that he likely had a cache of assets squirreled away.

Lilah looked back and forth between them, already calculating cost, labor, and expenses. Depending on what he wanted, she could potentially negotiate a hefty profit. And, if there happened to be something else in the museum that caught her fancy—bonus.

“Say we do this job,” Seth began, slouching in his seat, “And you pay us—and, we iron out all these details,” he gestured to the map. “Is that going to be it?”

“It?”

“Yeah. Or, are we going to have a dual relationship, here. Both contractor and partner.”

Lilah was actually a little impressed that Seth not only knew how dual relationships worked, but also applied it to their unique situation. She turned her attention to Brasa, curious to hear his response.

“I can contract others, if you like. But, I like to work with people I know, people that I...trust to have a stake in things going well for them.”

Logical. Practical. Efficient. Lilah was quickly learning how skilled Brasa could be when he wanted something done. He might want whatever these relics were back in his possession, but she wasn’t stupid enough to dismiss the fact that he was creating yet another tie between them, anchoring her nearby with every task they agreed to take on. It wasn’t possible to deny his motivations any longer. Denial wouldn’t do her any good. She was undecided on how she felt about it.

Seth remained silent, watching, waiting. Lilah was holding her breath.

Brasa’s eyes narrowed, “I will give you the river, and the connecting highway from here,” he pointed, “to here. In lieu of payment, of course. You make take your horses wherever you like within that boundary.”

Mildly offended, Lilah cut in, “In lieu of payment, but you will cover expenses. Air fare, hotel stays, food, and equipment.”

His attention, when it turned to her, was keen. Though his expression did not change, there was a twinkle of laughter in his eyes, possibly pride, as well, “Done.”

“What if,” Seth began, “We took this deal, and our horses, and added this area, too.”

He pointed to the desert Brasa had originally bargained for. It was surrounded by enemy territory, across the river they’d just gained, with no inherent resources. Lilah glared at him, knowing he was needling his opponent. The man just couldn’t help it, consequences be damned.

“Well,” Brasa responded levelly, “I’d say that you might have your horses, but you’d be isolated, alone, and on the wrong side of the river.”

Seth conceded the point with a nod of his head, “Not a fan of sand, anyways. Unless its a beach. Beaches, I can do.”

Unmoved by the sentiment, Brasa simply replied, “I will keep the desert.”

Lilah blinked slowly, and when Seth made no move to argue, she asked “So its settled, then?”

Both of them indicated in the positive, with Seth saying, “There’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“One thing?” Lilah commented, though she didn’t expect him to respond. He’d started on a tangent, and getting him back on track would be difficult. Better to let him roll through his thought process.

“You’ve got a whole group of culebras that you’re feeding, right?”

Brasa nodded, though his expression had shuttered.

“How are you doing that?”

A valid question that she had figured out not longer after these meetings had started. Lilah cut in, trying to head off any insult he might inadvertently blurt out, “He’s having it shipped in.”

“From where?” Seth asked, hands gesturing widely. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re in kind of a food desert, here. Literally and figuratively.”

Without an answer to his question, Lilah looked to Brasa, brows lifted. She was curious enough about his process to let the question stand.

Cocking his head to the side, Brasa licked his lips, “I run a rather complex medical supplies company. We ship all over the country. Part of that business is blood donation.”

Seth’s mouth thinned, “You’re stealing blood.”

Brasa huffed, “We transport most of it to where it needs to go. Call it a finder’s fee.”

“What about the sick people who need it?”

Where was all this compassion coming from? Lilah wondered. Although far from heartless, Seth didn’t usually care this much about the people he ripped off. Why should this be any different?

“Would you rather we feed on the humans in the area?” Brasa’s voice was low, dangerous. Lilah could feel the offense, as if it were her own.

“No.”

“Alright, then.”

Sensing that the conversation had come to an impass, Lilah gathered up her paperwork, “I’m going to get this all formatted and polished for both of your signatures. Shouldn’t take more than a few days.”

“Great,” Seth muttered as he rose, “Let’s get out of here.”

***

Later, when her eyes started crossing from staring at the computer too long, Lilah shut down her laptop and sat it on her nightstand. Rubbing at her face, she yawned and settled against the headboard. Furtively, she glanced to the side, her hand already reaching for the candle she’d tucked away. After checking that the door was closed (despite having closed and locked it a few hours before), Lilah lifted the lid and inhaled deeply.

Coffee. Caramel.

A little too quickly, Lilah replaced the lid and set it back in its little hideaway. Embarrassed, she crossed her arms and stared at the ceiling. Lilah was feeling things she hadn’t really ever felt, not since she’d been in high school. And, even then, it was never this intense. She managed to get through their meetings solely because there was always something else to focus on. Every one on one interaction with him left her feeling frazzled and lightheaded. She’d stolen rare artifacts with less trouble.

In this business, Lilah had what most would call a late start. She’d had a normal childhood, had gone through high school and done the work thing for a bit. Lilah had even sat in a cubicle, bored out of her mind. It wasn’t until she’d met a chop shop owner named Chewie that she’d been introduced to theft. First, cars, then she’d set her eyes on higher things—art, diamonds, one time she managed to steal a yacht.

It had been a steady rotation of teams that were well-established in their own right, but never did more than a few jobs together before they split to keep the heat down. Lilah had spent almost a decade running in those circles before she’d run into Seth at a dive bar south of the border. He’d hit on her, laughed when she’d knocked him off his barstool, and offered her a job.

And, here she sat. Hip deep in a relationship she didn’t understand and brokering a deal between her friends and the people they’d taught her to fear. Sneering at the course of her own thoughts, Lilah pushed her feet under the covers and turned off the light. It took longer than she wanted to get to sleep.

***

Oh, fuck, the bed was comfortable. Lilah turned over, burying her nose in the pillow and kicking out her legs. With a sigh, she settled back into the mattress that she was pretty sure was more expensive than her car. So comfortable was she that Lilah could be forgiven for taking a little longer than normal to become aware of another body in the bed with her.

She took a few seconds to assess and decide on what she was going to do, which was pretty much nothing. Eyes opening, she waited for them to adjust to the warm light emanating from the lamp sitting on the nightstand. Cast in shadow, Lilah recognized the slope of Brasa’s profile. His eyes were closed, but she couldn’t tell if he was sleeping.

Her fingers curled with the urge to reach out and touch, her brain a little foggy from sleep. Lips parting, she breathed, lids falling to half mast Lilah let it roll over her tongue. She had to clench her jaw to stifle a pleased moan.

Lashes fluttering, Brasa opened his eyes, his head rolling to the side on the pillow. He looked her over calmly, unsurprised that she’d somehow ended up in his bed. Lilah, however, had questions.

“Is this real?”

His mouth quirked, “Does it have to be?”

She started to answer, and then stopped. Did it have to be? Lilah wasn’t sure which she preferred. When they were together, she felt excited and eager, even when she was outwardly annoyed. When they were apart, she struggled to reconcile the two versions of him that she knew to be true. With barely a thought, he’d eviscerated his opponents, hands tearing them into literal pieces. And then there was the way he was looking at her right now—all softness, all quiet affection.

Lilah’s silence continued, the space between them spreading thin with her indecision. Brasa shifted slowly to his side, lifting up onto his elbow so that he was looking down at her. His body was cut in half by lamplight, eyes too bright to be merely natural reflection.

Lilah’s skin drew up tight around the curves of her body as she worked to keep her gaze on his. Every inch of her seemed to be viscerally aware of him, responding to the smallest movement. Her nerves sizzled with his nearness.

He tilted his head to the side, eyes tracing the contours of her cheekbones, her neck, and shoulders. Lilah swallowed, disconcerted by the scrutiny, but unable to think of any way to break it. He studied her as if he’d never look at her again, memorizing details with tender care.

Finally, when she couldn’t take the silence anymore, she said, “How am I here?”

Brasa lifted a shoulder, “We had so little time together last night. Perhaps we needed more.”

She didn’t know what to do with that. Next question, then.

“You sleep during the day.”

Not really a question, more of a statement, but she waited for his answer nonetheless.

“Sometimes,” he replied, taking her change in subject in stride, “I need less sleep than most.”

“Why?”

He smiled, “I am very old. We need to sleep less, to feed less, as we age.”

Lilah had heard a little about this from Richie, who’d lamented that it took so long to build up a tolerance to going long periods without feeding. And, she knew Richie only slept a few hours a night. She wondered just how often Brasa would need to sleep, given how much older he was. Lilah was no longer surprised at his efficiency with getting his projects together. If she could miss a few meals or miss a few night’s sleep every once in a while, she could get a hell of a lot done.

“That’s a nice perk,” she commented lightly, “When I go too long without eating, I get grumpy.”

Nodding, Brasa reached out and traced the pad of a finger over her shoulder and down her arm to her wrist, “I will keep this in mind and endeavor to keep you well fed.”

Would she do the same? He hadn’t mentioned that she had taken his blood without giving any in return. Whenever Lilah thought about it too deeply, she always came back to the same line of thought—his bite. She had tried to do a little covert research about the venom, but only found a few vague references to ‘donors’ seeking it out. Venom, it seemed, could be a popular drug in certain circles.

“I’m sorry that we left so quickly,” Lilah murmured rolling her wrist to place her hand over his, “I know that I didn’t...fulfill my end of our agreement.”

Twice. Two interactions in a row, she hadn’t. He hadn’t brought it up, but the disparity between what she’d promised and what she’d done nagged at her. She didn’t like to be made a liar.

Brasa’s brows lifted, “Are you afraid I’ll tell them?”

“No,” she replied quickly, “I just don’t want you to think I’m avoiding it.”

He smiled flirtatiously, “Are you offering now?”

Eyes widening, Lilah’s mouth parted, voice silent as her brain stumbled over forming a reply, “This is a dream. Is—is that even possible?”

He laughed, a real laugh. It made his face, so predisposed to severity, brighten in such a way that he fairly glowed in the dim light. Lilah felt her breath catch in the back of her throat, struck by just how goddamned pretty he was to look at.

“I don’t know,” he breathed, when he was able, “Would you like to try?”

The word ‘okay’ was out of her mouth before Lilah could stop it, her eyes wide, her heart beating hard. Brasa’s smile faded, his eyes focusing on her, the pupils bleeding out into the whites until there was nothing but blackness looking down at her. She drew in a shuddering breath, her fingers curling over his.

Sliding closer to her, Brasa cupped her jaw, tilting it back just a little. He glanced at her face again, checking for her consent. She gave the smallest nod, licking her lips. The motion drew his eyes to her mouth, his body growing hot against her. He leaned down, but instead of hovering over the thin skin of her neck, he moved to the side. The realization that he intended to kiss her came to Lilah in a slow, honeyed wave.

“Yes?” He asked, his breath fanning over her mouth.

“Yes.”

It was so, so slow, this kiss. Light pressure that grew heavier in the smallest increments. Lilah gripped his bicep, trying to ground herself as every nerve in her body screamed to life, reaching out desperately to get more stimulation. He drew back, changed the angle, and kissed her again—deeper, hungrier, tongue running along her bottom lip.

She was too hot, her skin seared by the heat emanating from him. Sweat rose and pooled in the hollows of her arms, beneath her breasts, the crease between her hip and thigh. She heard herself moan, felt her muscles relax as he rolled her beneath him. Brasa pulled away, nosing along her jaw and down to her neck. Lilah surprised herself when her lifted her chin, giving him more access.

The sharp press of his teeth snapped her awake. She sat up, breathing as if she’d been sprinting. Her entire body was shaking, her sheets damp with sweat.

“Well,” she croaked, “That’s new.”

#from dusk til dawn #from dusk til dawn: the series #Brasa #In the Bond

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ashintheairlikesnow · 5 years ago

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Box Boy Worldbuilding: Training

I had a request to put together the phrases I’ve mentioned Box Boys memorizing/being forced to memorize and training references from my fics! This won’t be an exhaustive list, I’ll be adding as I find/remember things I’ve mentioned. Feel free to message me any memorized phrases, training specifics, or anything else from other BBU fics I’ve missed or that appear in your own fics that I don’t use, and leave a username so I can properly tag!

As always, a disclaimer: The Box Boy concept belongs to @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and was popularized by a variety of bloggers including @shameless-whumper and more. Nothing listed here is set in stone. Your Box Boy and/or Box Babe stories belong to you! It’s a sandbox and you can build that castle anyway you want.

Discard all of this or use any of it as you want or it fits your story. I’m just playing around with ideas, and people have asked me to kind of put some of this stuff together as reference material!

Memorized Phrases:

“You signed up for this.” - @shameless-whumper

“The owner is safe. You love the owner. You will do whatever the owner wants.”

“All pets are of legal consenting age and make a choice to pursue a change of circumstances including no longer retaining legal ownership of themselves.”

“I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner’s desires.” (Romantic or Combination only)

“The owner’s touch is safe, whoever they are.”

“I want to be touched. I want this. I want you.” (Romantic or Combination only)

“All merchandise is acquired through fully legal channels.” - @shameless-whumper

“Discipline is a necessary and humane event ensuring the continued obedience and wellbeing of a pet.” - @shameless-whumper

“I am a weapon and a toy. I exist to obey and protect my owner(s).” - @redwingedwhump

“The process of training is intensive and can have residual effects including sudden but brief loss of consciousness when resetting to a product’s default state.”

Designations:

- Domestic - household servant, includes cleaning, cooking, organization, and household management training. Cooking training covers basics unless specific cuisines or skills are required. In my stories, Dex, Sebastian, and Peter are all trained Domestics with different specializations. Positions 1-25 included. A domestic is trained to be loyal and obedient to their owner but will have no particular affection or love for them unless customized in the request.

- Platonic / Caregiver - Designed to act as a companion or caregiver to someone within a household. Often used as a kind of limited home health aide. Custom training available to match specific healthcare needs. Also wonderful as a kind of companion for elderly or isolated persons. Positions 1-25 included. Conditioned to be affectionate and loyal.

- Romantic - Designed to substitute for a physical or romantic relationship. Trainee is taught to physically service the needs of their owner and conditioned to become loyal, attracted, and completely devoted to their owner. Romantics have the lowest success rate for runaways and often return to their owners within three months or less of leaving. Positions 1-25 included, with an extra 10 “Romantic-specific” positions available, each with an added fee.

- Combination - Any combination of these. A Companion and Romantic are similar but not exactly the same, so if you ordered a Romantic who would still need to know certain home healthcare skills, they would be a Combination. Or a Domestic who would also perform Romantic duties would be considered a Combination.

- Guard Dog - see @redwingedwhump‘s Guard Dog David and @moose-teeth‘s Daniel Brennan/B The Guard Dog (Moose really did the development on the Guard Dogs here - please send her asks with any questions!) often exists under the Combination Designation and performs bodyguard duties and other duties as required by their owners. Fighting training, targeted aggression, and very specialized and single-target loyalty is part of training here. Basic positions included. Guard Dogs will be extremely loyal to designated ‘safe’ people (owners) and will regard nearly everyone else as suspicious and untrustworthy/potentially dangerous.

SEE HARO-WHUMP’S LIST OF BOX BOY POSITIONS HERE

Referenced Training Specifics:

- Box Boys/Babes are trained to be afraid to see their own contracts - they get shaky/panicked even just looking at them after the signing date (Kauri)

- Read @shameless-whumper‘s the The Host’s Discipline Tutorial for a great run-through on disciplinary techniques Box Boys are taught to respond to

- Disciplinary methods in the Facility include black batons wielded by Handlers that have an optional electric shock component for a minimum of permanent scarring or injury with maximum pain infliction

- Food in the Facility includes ‘nutrient loaf’ and ‘nutrient shakes’. The loaf is largely flavorless and the shakes are “chocolate”, but it’s mostly chalky and disgusting. Has been referred to as tasting like someone described chocolate to an alien, but poorly. Keeps Box Boys from descending into total malnourishment while still not quite fully satisfying nutritional requirements. Teaches Box Boys to be even more grateful for food with real flavor once they’re with their owners.

- Memorization is a big part of conditioning, a memorized series of phrases and rules that become second-nature to recite if asked anything pertaining to them (Trainee Peter (435698), for instance, despite being underage, insisting that he’s eighteen again and again when Todd questions him)

- Incorrect thoughts or aberrations: defiant, rebellious thoughts or memories that come back that aren’t allowed

- Trainees may develop different responses to their repressed memories. Kauri has a vasovagal response to seeing his own face or trying to remember his real name - he has a sudden precipitous drop in blood pressure and passes out. Dex very occasionally has a kind of seizure called a nonepileptic seizure that is not caused by a physical mechanism but by repressed memories attempting to be recovered.

- Attempts to remember things they aren’t allowed to, or to think too heavily about where they might have come from - and often even attempts to clearly remember the Facility and the training they underwent there - result in a sharp, agonizing pain and headache that can last a long time or even result in unconsciousness, and a feeling of “fog” taking over. - @shameless-whumper

- Romantic designation training can include bringing in outside contractors if their skills are needed to help the trainee meet the standard the prospect owner requires - @redwingedwhump

- Trainees are usually trained with shock collars, but prospective owners may specify that they don’t want shock training included for their pet

- Trainees are drugged as part of inducing memory loss and making them more suggestible/compliant

- Trainees rarely directly interact

- Training takes anywhere from a few months to years depending on how quickly the trainee learns and what a buyer has ordered. - @shameless-whumper

- Pets are purposefully made to be unable to exist as free humans, or are at least told that they can no longer live on their own and that they would be miserable, lonely, and likely end up injured, starving, or worse.

- Some owners may specify that they do not want their pets to be able to read or write. Most pets will read more slowly post-training as a side effect regardless, but not all. Pets can also be specifically trained for complicated work, if needed.

- What an owner does with a human pet after the three-month return period is up is their own prerogative. Whumpees-R-Us takes no legal responsibility for the actions of any pet while under their owner’s care.

- Any trainee that has had a direct interaction with Karen Renford is terrified of her

- Every pet is terrified of being sent back for “refurbishment” more than anything else - @shameless-whumper

- Box Boys are taught not to admit if they recognize or remember each other from training - @shameless-whumper

- Hearing the word ‘respect’ will often result in the Box Boy, even those who are freed or who ran away, dropping to their knees and touching their forehead to the floor automatically

- Box Boys move through positions instantly without even a conscious thought, due to repeated positions training that ingrains the movements into their minds even deeper than conscious thought ( @deluxewhump)

#box boy #box boy universe #worldbuilding #please message me anything that needs added this is just a start #box boy multiverse

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radioactive-synth · 4 years ago

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#FOOCtober2020 - Oct 19 - Defining Moment OR Faint

a day late but here we go, a small part from the fic i need to write about my oc Vaughn Zander

under read more:

'I don't think it's worth all the trouble for just some memory banks', Nick said, surveilling the area.

They were above the cave where the old submarine resides. DiMA suggested either sneaking in or joining the Children of Atom. Vaughn was not keen to join in, and Nick knows too well that his lover is too clumsy to sneak.

'Come on, Nick. You know we need to find out more about DiMA's plans. We just need to sneak in and-'

'Remind me last time you successfully sneaked somewhere, doll', Nick said, turning to look at his partner.

Vaughn let out a sigh and turned to look Nick in his eyes.

Yes, he was right. He was never good at sneaking. Be it in a dangerous zone, or even in their own house, he always trips over something and alerts everyone in the area.

'Don't give me that look, I'm sure this time I can do it.'

'Famous last words.'

Vaughn elbowed Nick into his shoulder.

'If you are done, let us figure it out how to get in', Vaughn said, getting a bit closer to the edge.

Down there, there were three armored people, weapons in hands, and two other people, in rags. They can't make it out what they are talking about, but it doesn't seem like a friendly meeting.

'We just wait until they are gone and th-'

Vaughn felt his left leg giving up, and slipped from the edge, landing on the platform underneath. He landed on his left side.

‘Vaughn! I’m coming!’, he heard Nick saying.

Vaughn groaned in pain, and lifted himself on his knees, and put his right hand over his left arm.

'Fuck me… I will feel this tomorrow morning', he murmured. Why does it seem that his left side is the most unlucky? Scars, bruises, even his leg was shot.

'WHO IS THERE? SHOW YOUR FACE', a man's voice is commanding.

So much for sneaking.

Vaughn reached into his waist bag and pulled out a stimpack, and implanted the needle in the left arm. It should soothe the pain for a while. He looked up, but Nick is not anywhere to be seen. Is he on his way?

'I said, reveal yourself, stranger,' the voice insisted.

'I'm coming', Vaughn said, descending the stairs.

One of the armored ones has told the other two in the rags to come with them, as the other two focused on Vaughn. One of them spoke:

‘What are you doing here?’, he asked, getting a few steps closer, ‘Did Far Harbor send you?’

‘N-no… umm, I umm… we came here on our own’, Vaughn said, unsure on what to answer.

‘We?’

‘My partner should umm… arrive in a bit’, he said, looking behind. No sign of Nick yet. ‘But what is the issue with the people of Far Harbor?’

The armored man looked at him in suspicion, but spoke: ‘Those heathens persecute our missionaries and use profane technology to steal lands that belong rightfully to the Atom. And I want to know if you are here to do their bidding… you are your imaginary partner’, he said, gripping on his weapon even more.

Vaughn felt how the panic overtook him any moment. He has no other solution but to convince them that he wants to join in.

‘Vaughn!’

He turned behind, and Nick came running to him, his pipe revolver in his hand. He made a sign to lower his weapon and to come next to him.

‘So I see that you weren’t lying about a partner. Looks alike with that damn synth from the mountain. Are you sure you aren’t from there too?’, the armored man asked, eyeing Nick.

‘What are you doin-’

‘Just trust me’, Vaughn whispered, taking Nick’s hand.

‘No. We came from the Commonwealth. We want to join the Children of Atom’, Vaughn said.

He felt how Nick squeezed his hand, but he answered by running his thumb over his partner’s.

‘The Commonwealth? That’s quite a journey. So, you think you deserve a spot among Atom’s children?’

Nick gave a glance to Vaughn, but said nothing. He knows that Nick will give him morale later, but he needs to play their game now.

‘Yes. Sign us up.’

‘The decision on who will enter our family will be left to the Atom. Prove yourself worthy, and you may enter. You need to perform a ritual first.’

‘Sure.’

‘There is a small spring not far from here. Those chosen by Atom drink and are granted something. A token. An experience. Those not chosen… rarely return.’

Vaughn glanced at Nick. He knows that look: ‘You better know what you are doing.’

‘We will do what Atom requires.’

‘Then let us hope He deems you fit. Go to the spring there’, the armored man pointed out, ‘drink, come back, then we will discuss joining us. Also, consider to give up of that mask.’

-----

'Look, I don't think you should drink from the spring. Just say whatever you think off, and pray that we are let in', Nick said, looking at the running water with an unnatural yellowish color.

'Praying is not what I do, feggari mou. And besides, how much rad-x I took, it should not affect me at all', Vaughn said in a confident tone.

'Had you forgot the old man's warning? The fog can play tricks on your mind', Nick said, the words of Longfellow still ringing in his head.

'Yea but I don't think I saw anyone on this island taking rad-x… or even hearing about it. Nicky, my love, you know I'm a doctor. I will be fine!', Vaughn said, putting his arm around Nick's shoulders.

Nick let out a sigh, and looked at him. 'For a doctor, you sure don't think of the danger you are putting yourself into.'

Vaughn let out a chuckle. He then leaned in to kiss Nick on his cheek. 'I got you if I get hurt. I taught you well, didn't I?', Vaughn said with a warm smile on his face.

'Yes. And you make a very grumpy patient.'

'Yea yea, Vinnie used to say that doctors made the worst patients. I still don't know what he meant.'

'We sure do', Nick said with a huff.

Vaughn gave him a short glance to his love, then looked at the spring.

'Well, not like that will drink itself', he said, letting go of Nick's shoulders. He put his hand over the running water. It was clearly not pure at all, and he felt it unnaturally warm, even underneath his glove. He looked back to Nick. 'Cheers', he said before taking a sip from the water.

The taste was the worst that he ever felt. It felt like rust, copper, expired medicine, all at once. He started to cough violently, his vision being blurred. He heard Nick's voice, but he can't make it out what he said.

'FOLLOOOW MEEEE', he heard a woman's voice, gravelly, yet very soothing.

Looking up, he saw a figure in the shadow. The voice seemed so familiar, yet very scary. But the figure… it also seemed familiar.

'Maná?', he asked.

But it can't be her. How can she be here? Unless…

He followed the strange figure into the woods.

'WAIT! DON'T GO! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?', he asked the figure.

Around him, it seemed like a nightmare. The sky became a dark green, with lighting coloring the clouds, and strange figures appeared. Were those radstags? Horses? Big salamanders? He can't figure it out.

'This is not real!,' Vaughn said to himself, but also he doesn't seem to have control over his body. He felt his left leg aching, yet he can't stop following the figure.

-----

‘THIS IS WHAT I WANT TO ASK TOO!’, Nick yelled after Vaughn, but no use.

He was running after him for two minutes into the woods. He was amazed at how fast Vaughn can be.

‘VAUGHN!’, he kept calling his partner. God knows what can hide in these woods, and if he can’t reach Vaughn in time…

He felt his fans working faster, as to keep up cooling off his body. He does not know what is more terrifying: the fog crawlers that can appear in any moment? Any feral ghouls around? Or that his lover can collapse anytime and he can’t properly help him?

He saw Vaughn stopping on the road, looking at a nearby building. He heard him asking something, but he can’t make it what. He stopped too, trying to ‘catch a breath’. His fans were working at an alarming speed, as his internal processor notified him.

But he couldn’t rest for more than a few seconds, as Vaughn collapsed on the ground.

‘Vaughn!’, he called, and walked towards him.

He heard snarls and growling around the bushes and the rusted cars nearby.

‘No, NO! VAUGHN, GET UP!’, he yelled, falling to his knees and putting his arms around Vaughn’s shoulders, lifting him a bit.

But his efforts were in no avail, his partner was out of cold. He looked around, as the ferals started to sense them and came in their direction. He could feel how fear starts to settle in. He can’t lose Vaughn… he can’t lose the one he loves the most.

He lays Vaughn easily on the ground, and pulls out his secondary weapon, a small size modified assault rifle. The pipe revolver won’t do any good now.

----------

Vaughn woke up with a headache, and a pain in his left arm. He could feel that he is somewhere inside, given the closed air he feels. As he gains more of his senses, he can feel his back against Nick, and one of his arms around him. He looked to his right, and saw their bags, alongside ‘Ares’, his power fist, and ‘Athena’, his shield. He lets out a small sound, and moves his legs a bit.

‘Don’t move yet’, he heard Nick saying. ‘There is still rad-away in the bag, so stay put.’

Nick’s voice was unusually neutral, which surprised Vaughn a bit. What really happened? All he remembers is that he followed a shadowed figure that looked very similar as his mom. Yet the voice was not really hers.

He put a hand over Nick's arm. 'My love?', he croaked, feeling his throat dry.

'What?', answered Nick in a firm tone.

'Are you… you ok?'

'You asking me if I am ok?', Nick answered, letting out a nervous laugh. 'Do you even remember what you did?'

Vaughn didn't answer. Nick rarely was angry, but when he was… it was scary.

'I told you to not drink from that water, but have you ever listened to me? No, you just think that if you have a degree in medicine, you think of yourself invincible!', Nick's voice became louder.

Vaughn felt his heart plummeting in his chest. Nick was right. But he always felt bad when a loved one sounded disappointed in him.

'I'm so sorry', Vaughn murmured to him.

'Sorry for what? For not listening to me? For almost being ripped apart by ferals? Had you forgot you have a child at home, waiting for you? How do you want me to tell Oliver that his dad drank poison and was killed by ferals?', Nick's tone was harsher than usual.

Vaughn felt his partner's arms tighter around him, and his head into his shoulder. Vaughn responded by rubbing his free hand onto Nick's arms.

'I don't want to lose you', Nick said, his voice being muffled into his lover's shoulder.

Vaughn felt his eyes with tears.

'I finally feel that I belong somewhere. That I belong with you. I can't lose you…', Nick let out a sobbing noise. 'I love you… so much', he said, now crying into Vaughn's shoulder, his own shoulders shaking.

'My love…feggari mou… '

Vaughn straightened his back up, as best as he could, careful to not rip off the needle from his left arm, and used the other arm to pull Nick into a one-arm hug. His lover put his head into the crane of his neck, his arms being tight around him. Vaughn let out his own tears to fall on his face.

'I'm ok, my love. I'm alive, and that's… that's important', Vaughn said, running his hand over Nick's back. He seemed to calm himself down.

Nick pulled out of the hug, and Vaughn could have seen that he too had tears coming out from his eyes. Well, not exactly tears, as it seemed to be coolant, but… he never thought that Nick could cry. This broke his heart even more.

Vaughn put his hand on Nick's face, wiping away a tear.

'I'm sorry, love. You were right. And I was too stubborn. I'm so sorry', he said, leaning in to kiss Nick's cheek. It tasted like coolant.

'Just… don't put yourself in danger like that. When I saw you collapsing on the ground, with all those ferals coming…', Nick said with another sob.

'Hey, I'm here now. Thanks to you', Vaughn said with a smile. 'I told you that you know what to do if I'm hurt, right?', he let out a chuckle, and gave Nick a kiss on his lips.

Nick smiled against Vaughn's lips. 'I had a good teacher', he said before kissing Vaughn again.

#fooctober2020 #fallout oc #fallout ocs #sole survivor #sole survivor x nick valentine #nick valentine #fallout 4 #fo oc #oc vaughn zander #blue.txt #not entirely happy with the vision part but whatever

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