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junghelioseok · 4 years

Text

clandestine. | 05

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.6k [5/6]

notes: second to last installment of a fic that didn’t need to be as long as it is!!! really this entire thing can be summed up with last chapter’s warning, which was “reader is dumb and jungkook is slutty.” i stand by it, okay!!! 🤷🏻‍♀️

warnings: dumb banter, a couple brief smutty bits, oral (f receiving), listen to slow dancing in the dark by joji during the soft smut scene in the middle if u want

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

“No. No. God, no. Has your music taste always been this bad, or is this a recent development?”

“You will excuse yourself,” you retort sharply, wagging a finger at your brother. “Mr. Brightside is a classic and I will not hear this slander. Please feel free to permanently vacate the premises if you disagree.”

Jimin rolls his eyes from where he’s slouched on the couch beside you, one hand submerged in a bag of chips and his bare feet kicked up on the coffee table. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? Really? You wanna go there, Chim?” You raise your hand and begin ticking off on your fingers. “I’m not the one who threw a fit over a piece of cilantro in my taco. I’m not the one who refused to bathe when Mom couldn’t find the right bubble bath.”

“Oh my god, I was eight,” Jimin snorts. “Both times. And cilantro tastes like soap.”

You raise a third finger. “What about the time you hid all the Monopoly money because you kept losing? Or when yo—”

A knock on the door cuts you off mid-sentence, and you nudge Jimin’s shin with your big toe. “Go get the door,” you order, and you aren’t sure if he’s just tired of hearing your voice, but he stands up without complaint and wanders into the entryway to receive your unexpected guest.

“Hey,” you hear him say. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” a very familiar voice replies. “I need some help.”

It’s Jungkook. Of course it’s Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since he dropped you off and kissed you senseless in your driveway, but you’d have to be delusional to think that you could avoid him for the next week and a half before you leave to return to Seoul. And yet, you allowed yourself to indulge in your delusions for two full days, before he tears them apart with ten simple, innocent words.

“So, I think I might have done the laundry wrong.”

Jimin laughs out loud, covering his mouth with his hand. “That’s all you, Noona,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you, and you don’t even have wherewithal to lecture him about the sexism of his remark because Jungkook is smirking like he’s just won the lottery and you’re his grand prize.

“Noona?” he begins, his voice syrupy sweet and thick with intent. “Can you come help me?”

You glance down at your pajamas—gray sweatpants and a pink Pusheen t-shirt that’s a couple sizes too big. It’s beyond obvious that you have no plans for the day, and therefore no excuse not to help. Heaving a resigned sigh, you clamber to your feet and roll your eyes when Jimin immediately flops down across the newly abandoned couch and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Have fun,” he calls lazily as you walk out, and you do your best to ignore the wicked grin that flashes across Jungkook’s face.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll find a way to make it fun,” he says as he lets you pass by him to exit the house. “See you later, Jimin.”

As soon as the front door slams shut, you round on him with a glare. “Are you serious, Jungkook?” you hiss. “He’s totally going to catch on to… to whatever it is we’re doing.”

“You’re being paranoid,” Jungkook chides, clicking his tongue. He hops over the low bushes that divide your property, and waits patiently as you skirt around them. You follow him into his house—down the hallway and into a little side room that houses the washing machine and dryer—and as soon as the door swings shut, he’s grabbing you by the hips and pulling you close.

“This—this isn’t how you do laundry,” you stammer weakly, winded by his sudden proximity and the dark promise in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I may have lied a little bit. Would you have come if I hadn’t?”

You don’t answer, because you know he’s right. If you had your way, you would have avoided him until it was time for you to leave again. But Jungkook just doesn’t seem to be willing to let that happen, as he tightens his grip on your hips and tugs until you’re flush against him.

“See, the truth of the matter is, I’m actually good at laundry.” He smirks and tilts his head, dark bangs flopping across his forehead. “I’m good at other things, too. Why don’t you let me show you?”

Attraction blooms in your belly, hot as molten lava, and it takes the last ounce of your wavering restraint to say what you say next. “We can’t take too long,” you whisper, letting him hoist you up onto the dryer and jab the start button. The machine rumbles to life beneath you, and you nearly lose your train of thought when the vibrations go straight to your clit. “Jimin!” you gasp. “Jimin—he’ll kill you if he finds out. He’ll fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Why are you talking about your brother? Is this your idea of dirty talk, princess? Because I gotta tell you—it’s not doing it for me.”

“Jungkook!” you chide, and he grins and moves to tug off your shirt.

“That’s much better.”

///

In the days that follow your laundry room tryst with Jungkook, sneaking around becomes routine. Both of your parents work—as do his—so avoiding them is easy. Jimin, however, is a different story. The dance classes he teaches are irregular, and the schedule shifts often enough that you’ve come dangerously close to getting caught on more than one occasion.

And it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook has taken to texting you at all hours of the day, even when you’re eating a sandwich on the couch with Jimin half-sprawled across your lap in his effort to invade your personal space as much as possible.

[12:35pm] Jungkook: hey i just thought of something

[12:35pm] Jungkook: you know how i call you princess?

You nearly throw your phone across the room. Cautiously, you glance at your brother, who is glued to the television and doesn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

[12:36pm] You: yeah…

His response is instantaneous.

[12:36pm] Jungkook: well i’ve got a throne for you to sit on

You almost sigh out loud. Please don’t, you write back, and you practically hear Jungkook’s cackle in your head as the ellipses that indicate he’s typing pop up at the bottom of your screen.

[12:37pm] Jungkook: it’s my dick ;)

[12:37pm] Jungkook: get it?

I fucking hate you, you tell him, thumbs flying across the keyboard.

[12:38pm] Jungkook: and i love fucking you

[12:38pm] Jungkook: princess ;)

///

After nearly a week cooped up at your parents’ house, you’re getting restless. Without a car, you’re confined to the suburban neighborhood you grew up in, and the revelation that you’re bored somehow spills out to Jungkook during one of the many heated makeout sessions you’ve started having in the backseat of his sedan.

“Do you want to go somewhere?” he’d asked, tilting his head curiously, mussed hair falling across his eyes. “I can drive you, if you want.”

And that’s how you find yourself wandering around downtown Busan on a beautiful Tuesday afternoon. Jungkook drops you off at the curb after cumming down your throat, and now that he’s dashed off to work the lunch shift at the restaurant, you’re free to explore all of your old haunts. The shopping center that you and your friends used to frequent is right around the corner, so that’s where you decide to start. After all, you’re still in need of some professional attire, and as much as you love your mom, you’d rather avoid the unflattering dresses and itchy pantyhose she would be sure to seek out.

As soon as you step through the glass revolving doors, you find yourself in a familiar air-conditioned paradise of shops and restaurants. Stopping at your favorite coffee spot, you treat yourself to an iced mocha before heading to the first store.

Two hours and three full bags later, you decide to head to the food court for a quick snack. You’d promised Jungkook that you’d meet him at the restaurant once you were finished, but a glance at your phone tells you that you have more than enough time to stop by Kim’s Kitchen. Mrs. Kim makes the best cookies in the entire city, as far as you’re concerned, and you decide to order a dozen to take home and share with your family.

You’re lowering yourself into a seat at one of the many tables scattered around the tree-lined atrium when you spot a familiar head of strawberry blonde hair. The owner spots you a split second later, and you return her smile as she immediately swerves and heads your way. “{Name}, hey!”

“Hey, Chaeyoung,” you greet, gesturing for her to take the chair on the other side of the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you, from the looks of it.” She grins and hefts her shopping bag. “I swear I’ve been to every shoe store and still haven’t found what I’m looking for, but somehow I’ve bought this much crap anyway. What about you? What are you on the hunt for?”

“Professional attire,” you say with a grimace. “Why are pants so hard to find? I swear, they’re all either too long or too short, and never fit properly in the waist and thighs.”

Chaeyoung pulls a face. “Ew, I know. Pantsuits are a nightmare unless you have a tailor. And who has money for that?”

You laugh, nodding in agreement. “So what are you up to now? Mrs. Kim has cookies fresh out of the oven, if you’re interested. Cinnamon rolls too, I think.”

“Ooh, that’s tough,” she says thoughtfully, tapping her chin. “Would it be bad if I got both?”

“Not even a little bit,” you assure, reaching into your box and pulling out a cookie. “But here, I’ll make it easier for you. Hope you like chocolate chip.”

Chaeyoung gratefully accepts the cookie you hand over. “Who doesn’t love chocolate chip?” she asks, taking a bite.

“Criminals and heathens,” you reply, snagging a cookie for yourself. “Among others.”

She tilts her head. “Doesn’t Jimin hate chocolate chip?”

“My point exactly.”

Chaeyoung giggles, hiding it behind a manicured hand, and you laugh right along with her. Together, you decide to grab some smoothies, and when you sit back down, the conversation turns to your trip up to the lake house. “Next time, we’ll have to do a girl’s trip,” Chaeyoung says, propping her chin in her palm. “Feels like it’s been ages since we’ve done one. You must’ve been exhausted with all those boys around.”

Unwillingly, your thoughts turn to Jungkook. “It wasn’t that bad,” you say slowly. “It was actually nice, being able to spend some time with them.”

“Who ended up going, anyway? Your brother, obviously. Taehyung? Yugyeom?”

You nod, raising a hand and ticking them off on your fingers. “Jimin, yeah. Taehyung, Yugyeom, Taemin, Minho. And Jungkook.”

If Chaeyoung notices the way you pause before saying the last name, she doesn’t comment on it. Her expression grows pensive, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head as she considers her next sentence. “You must be seeing a lot of him,” she says at last. “Jungkook, I mean.”

You take a massive sip of your smoothie and wonder if you’re imagining the lingering taste of him on your tongue. “Yeah, a bit,” you manage, your voice surprisingly steady. “He games with Jimin a lot.” After a pause, you decide to tell her the truth. “He dropped me off today, actually. Jimin’s working this summer, and I’ve been stuck at home, so he offered to take me downtown on his way to work.”

Chaeyoung hums thoughtfully. “He’s working at a restaurant or something, right?”

“Just a few streets away, yeah.”

Slowly, she nods. “We went out, you know.” Her voice is distant. “Just for a few weeks. He ended it after… well, after we slept together.”

There’s a pause, as Chaeyoung lets you digest this information, and a part of you wants to spill everything to her right then and there. Jisoo told me, you want to say, as acidic guilt begins to bubble up in your belly, every memory of the moments you’ve since shared with Jungkook rising unpleasantly in your throat. I’m sorry. I’m so,so sorry. You say it over and over again in your head, but the apology gets stuck in your throat when you try to voice it aloud.

Chaeyoung takes a sip of her smoothie and leans back in her chair with a sigh, oblivious to your internal struggle. “Maybe I should have seen it coming,” she says, gnawing on the end of the straw. “Everything changed our senior year, you know? It was like a switch had flipped—he started dating around, relationships that never lasted more than a week… I really should have known better when he asked me out. But I guess I thought I was different. We were already friends, after all. But whenever we were together, just the two of us, he was always… distant. Like he was somewhere else, mentally.”

Her words trail off, leaving only silence that you don’t know how to break. Chaeyoung sips at her smoothie again, before huffing out a laugh and waving a manicured hand in your direction. “God, sorry! I can’t believe I just started monologuing, ew. Jungkook this, Jungkook that—god. I’m not even mad at him anymore, you know? I just want him to figure his shit out.” Her eyes flit up to you briefly, before skittering back down to where a cookie crumb has landed on the tabletop. “It’s funny, though. Seeing him at Taehyung’s graduation party was probably the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. He almost seemed like himself again.”

You can’t help it—the singular word bubbles up before you can stop it. “Really?”

Chaeyoung nods, her gaze flickering up to meet yours again. “Really. And honestly? I think it was because of you.”

Your heart does a series of backflips in your chest, thudding against the slats of your ribs. You try to respond, try to find the words, but they stick in your dry throat and your smoothie is practically gone at this point. Chaeyoung shrugs, unfazed by your silence, and you watch as she swirls her straw around in the remainder of her own drink. “I don’t know—maybe I’m imagining things. But it always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Didn’t he used to follow you around the playground?”

The memory draws a startled laugh from your lips. “Sure, yeah. But that was in elementary school.”

Chaeyoung shrugs, smiling around her straw. “Still. We never really forget our first crush, do we?”

///

You head over to the restaurant after bidding Chaeyoung goodbye, her words weighing heavy on your mind and your heart. Through the tall glass windows, you can just barely make out Jungkook—looking sharp in a black collared shirt and matching slacks as he greets a table of diners. His smile is warm and his stance is confident, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s grown from that gangly kid you knew back in grade school when you catch the edge of flirtation lingering in his gaze.

The boy who used to follow you around the playground is gone. There’s no doubt in your mind about that. And so, you take a deep breath and walk into the restaurant, doing your best to smile at the host who greets you and asks whether you’d like to sit at a table or the bar.

“Hey, you made it!”

Jungkook strides over with a grin, taking the menu off the host’s hands and leading you over to an empty seat at the bar. “It’s full service, so you can order food here, too,” he explains. “You hungry? Thirsty?”

You glance down at the menu he places on the counter, scanning the lines of text. “Not really, but it smells really good so I might get something to go. And this carbonara sounds really good, actually.”

“It is,” Jungkook confirms. “I’ll go put the order in. You want some water or anything to drink?”

“Water’s good,” you tell him, and he nods before trotting off to do his job. You watch him disappear to the back of the restaurant before reappearing with a tray of glasses, and follow his meandering path through the tables as he disperses drinks and checks on the guests. Somehow, his shoulders manage to look even broader in his black shirt, and you can’t ignore the way they taper into a narrow waist that’s only emphasized by the belt threaded through the loops of his dark slacks.

He’s stopping at the table you first saw him at now, leaning in close when one of the women seated there asks him a question about something on the menu. His smile oozes easy charm, and you can’t help the feeling that flares in your chest when she reaches for the menu and purposely lets her fingertips graze his hand. Frowning, you tear your gaze away and focus on the wood grain of the bar counter. Your eyes zero in on a smattering of water droplets near your left arm, and you’re just about to run a fingertip through them when a voice sounds to your right.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Surprised, you look up and find yourself face-to-face with a man who appears to be in his early thirties. Dark hair is brushed away from his forehead, a stray lock falling into his eyes, and you find yourself momentarily at a loss for words when your brain registers just how handsome he is.

“I—uh. I think Jungkook is going to grab me some water,” you finally manage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the ground when you hear the stammer in your voice.

“Ah, you know Jungkook?” The man laughs—a sound that is distinctly reminiscent of a squeaky windshield wiper. “He’s been pretty busy today, so why don’t I grab you that water instead?”

You nod, watching as he fills up a glass from the nozzle below the bar, accepting it when he hands it over. “Thanks.”

“Name’s Seokjin,” the man replies with an easy grin. “What’s yours?”

You return his smile and tell him your name. “Seokjin—Jungkook’s mentioned you a few times, I think. This is your place then, isn’t it?”

Seokjin beams. “Yep! Opened just a few months ago, after we finally sorted out the rat infestation and the asbestos problem in the rafters, and—” He pauses at the dumbfounded look on your face, and several beats pass before another peal of squeaky laughter escapes him. “I’m kidding. One-hundred percent. I promise the whole place is up to snuff.”

“So, I see you’ve met Seokjin.” Jungkook materializes at your side with a glass of water, which he takes a sip out of upon realizing that you already have a drink. “Is he making jokes about the health code again?”

“I would never,” Seokjin sniffs, and you laugh, finding yourself completely at ease for the first time since you entered the restaurant.

Jungkook rolls his eyes good-naturedly and turns his attention back to you. “Your carbonara should be out in a few,” he says, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Positive,” you assure him. “I’m full of chocolate chip cookies, anyway. Here, you want one? They’re still a little warm.”

Jungkook eyes the box you pull out of your bag hungrily. “Hell yes. I can smell them from here.” Laughing, you push the box toward him and watch as he pulls a cookie out and takes an enormous bite. “Thanks,” he says in between chews, his cheeks puffy. You can’t help but smile when he takes a sip of water to wash it all down, his eyes growing round.

Turning to Seokjin, you offer him a cookie as well, which he declines with a graceful wave. “I should be feeding you, not the other way around,” he remarks. “You got the carbonara, right? I’ll go see if it’s ready.”

With one last glance at the patrons sitting at the bar, Seokjin departs with a promise to be back in five minutes. Jungkook finishes off his cookie, and you’re considering offering him another when a familiar chirpy voice sounds from your left.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here! What do you think—should we sit at the bar?”

You whirl in the direction of the voice, your eyes immediately landing on a group of three girls standing near the entrance. Two of them you don’t recognize, but the third you’ve seen before. Mina, you’re pretty sure her name was, and you’d recognize her anywhere. The last time you’d seen her was at the restaurant on the night of Jimin’s and Jungkook’s graduation, and your face heats at the memory of everything else that transpired that night.

“Welcome!” Jungkook draws you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see that he’s wearing a bright, welcoming smile. “Were you looking to sit at the bar, or at a table? It looks like there are a few empty spots at the end of the bar, if you ladies would prefer that. Otherwise, I can take you to a table.”

Mina’s face lights up in recognition, and you’re forced to hide your scowl in your water glass. “Hey, we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“You work at that place a few blocks down, right?” Jungkook jabs a thumb in the general direction of the street. “I’ve seen you around.”

She giggles and tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “That’s right, yeah! I remember you now. Graduation, right? You were my best table of the night.”

Jungkook chuckles. “I bet you tell everyone that.”

“Not a chance,” Mina answers, looking him up and down before a coy smile curves her lips again. “I only say what I mean.”

“Honesty is the best policy,” Jungkook says agreeably. Then he turns to you, distractedly fiddling with his apron as he speaks. “Jin should probably be back with your food soon. Are you okay to sit here by yourself for a bit?”

You can only nod, still staring down into your water glass. “Yeah, sure. Go on, then.”

He smiles and gestures for Mina and the girls to follow after him, and you’re positive you don’t imagine the triumphant look that flashes across Mina’s face before she departs. Frowning, you grab a cookie from your box and break a piece off, grateful for the distraction. Seokjin drops off your carbonara a minute later, and you find yourself suddenly ravenous as you dig into the steaming bowl of spaghetti.

Jungkook returns to your side about five minutes later, raking a hand through his hair as he replaces his notebook back in his apron pocket. “Man, I’m beat,” he remarks. “Thank god Mina and her friends didn’t order anything complicated. My brain would’ve exploded.”

“Thank god for that,” you echo dully. Unwillingly, your gaze drifts over to where Mina is now sitting, chatting happily with her friends. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Seeing Mina here, of all places. I mean, what is she even doing here?”

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but most people go out and have fun on their days off,” Jungkook responds dryly, a grin breaking across his face when you roll your eyes at him. “Or wait… could it be that you’re jealous?”

You scowl. “Don’t be stupid.”

Jungkook just laughs, tilting your chin up with two fingers so he can look you in the eye. “It’s okay,” he says, his thumb brushing softly along the corner of your lips. “You’re cute when you’re jealous, princess.”

You don’t know how to respond to that, and thankfully you don’t have to. Seokjin returns with a takeout container for you to put your leftovers in, shrugging off your gratitude when you offer it.

“I’m discounting your food, too,” he says, leaving zero room for argument. “Any friend of Jeon’s is a friend of mine.”

Jungkook’s shift ends half an hour later. He turns on his roadtrip playlist on the drive home, and you are more than happy to let the music wash over you, eliminating any need for conversation and drowning out your thoughts.

“See you later, princess,” he says once he’s pulled into your driveway, following your every move as you climb out of the passenger seat.

It sounds like a promise coming from his lips, and you can only nod. “See you.”

///

You’re in the middle of buttering a piece of toast for breakfast the next morning when there’s a knock on the front door. Perturbed, you walk over to answer it, wondering if perhaps Jimin has forgotten his keys again, but when you peer through the peephole it isn’t Jimin who stares back at you.

“Jungkook—” you begin, swinging open the door, but he cuts you off before you can finish, taking your face in his hands and pressing his mouth to yours.

“Hey,” he whispers once he’s had his fill, pulling back just enough to mumble the greeting against your lips. “They’re all gone for the day, right?”

“Yes,” you confirm, still reeling from the suddenness of his appearance and the subsequent kiss. “But how did you—?”

“Jimin told me,” Jungkook answers shortly, before pulling you close and kissing you again. This time, you let yourself get lost in the feeling of his mouth against yours, following his lead as he ushers you back upstairs and breaking the kiss only once in the process. He lays you down onto your bed, the mattress dipping under your combined weight, and you sigh when he moves down to nip at your neck.

“No marks, Jungkook,” you remind him breathily. “You can’t leave marks.”

A low whine escapes him. “Can’t you wear a scarf?”

“It’s the middle of summer!” you huff in amusement, smacking his arm when he whines again and stubbornly sucks at the soft spot where your neck meets your shoulder.

Jungkook’s breath is hot against your skin. His fingers find the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, tugging them off your hips and down your legs, and you kick them off as soon as they’ve reached your ankles. Hungrily, his gaze traverses the newly revealed skin, and you shiver when he gently trails his fingertips up your calves and all the way to the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh. “Jungkook,” you sigh. “I haven’t shaved in days.”

“Ask me if I care,” he replies hoarsely, leaning down to press the flat of his tongue against the growing damp spot seeping through the cotton of your underwear. It’s far from your sexiest pair—you’d categorize them as granny panties, in all honesty—but Jungkook doesn’t seem the least bit fazed as he hooks them aside and licks a broad stripe all the way up to your clit. “Want you,” he groans, and the vibrations from his voice send a volt of tingling electricity straight up your spine. “Want you in every way I can have you.”

You don’t respond. You don’t have to, because Jungkook is diving in with the enthusiasm of a man starved, tossing your underwear aside carelessly before banding his arms around your legs to hold you open. His face disappears between your thighs until only the top of his hair is visible, the dark strands mussed. Lips parting in a moan, your fingers find their way to his head, tangling at his roots, and Jungkook parts from your cunt briefly to groan his approval. Then he’s eating you out again—alternating between broad licks and teasing flicks to your clit before his tongue delves into your entrance, inhaling deeply as if he just can’t get enough.

The sun rises higher into the sky, beaming through your window and illuminating Jungkook’s head and shoulders in warm, hazy gold. You chant his name as you reach your high, spurred on by his teasing tongue and whispered words of encouragement, and the grin he wears when he straightens back up is near blinding. Slowly, he peels off his shirt and shucks off his jeans until he’s completely bare before you, the sun painting him in warm strokes of color. Deliberately, he crawls up your body, hiking up the hem of your shirt as he does. He plants kisses into your newly bared skin, and when he reaches your lips he settles there as if that’s where he’s meant to be.

Jungkook kisses you slowly. He kisses you deliberately—sensually—and you melt into his gentle touch, relishing in the feel of his bare body pressed so intimately against yours. You don’t miss the way his cock hardens against your thigh, but Jungkook seems to be in no hurry to do anything about it. Instead, he cups your cheeks and licks into your mouth, and you’re all too willing to part beneath him like a flower in bloom.

The rest of the afternoon passes like this—hot kisses and slow fucking, the two of you meshing until you’re no longer sure where you end and he begins. You keep an eye on the time, though, and by the time your parents and Jimin return home, you and Jungkook are showered and dry, sitting on the living room floor embroiled in a Mario Kart tournament.

“No fair! You played without me?” Jimin whines, plopping down between you and trying to wrest the controller away from Jungkook. “C’mon, let me have a turn. You’ve been at it all day!”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers up past Jimin’s shoulder to meet yours, his lips twitching in barely suppressed mirth. “Yeah. We sure were.”

///

“God, I’m going to be sore for the next month.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen,” your brother snorts, squeezing your cheek between his thumb and index finger like you’re a small child. His three o’clock dance class has just wrapped up, and people are slowly filtering out of the studio. A few of the younger women glance back toward where you’re standing with Jimin, and you have no doubt they’re vying for one last look at your brother in his tight-fitting joggers and loose tank that keeps drooping off one shoulder. Rolling your eyes, you suppress the urge to loudly bring up the time he walked into a sliding glass door and nearly chipped his tooth. Instead, you pinch his cheek back, and laugh when he pouts.

“Ow, hey! What happened to giving me all your love and support?”

“Please, Mom made me come to your class,” you retort, batting his invasive hand away. “I think she just wanted me out of the house.”

Jimin laughs. “Can’t blame her. You’re a goddamn freeloader.”

“Seriously? Because in that case, I’m dying to hear what that makes you.”

Thoroughly nonplussed, Jimin pinches your other cheek before dancing away on light feet. “I’m an angel. Now go away, so I can get ready for my next class!”

Rolling your eyes again, you heft your bag over your shoulder and turn on your heel. “Fine, fine. Good luck, and all that. See you at dinner.”

Jimin doesn’t respond, and when you peer over your shoulder at him, he’s already sprawled on the floor and reaching for his toes in the unmistakable first step of his warm-up routine. He waves when he sees you watching, and you stick your tongue out at him playfully before exiting the studio and heading for the door. You’ve borrowed your dad’s car for the day, and hum cheerily as you climb into the driver’s seat.

You spend the rest of the afternoon running errands—stopping by both the post office and the bank before heading for the grocery store to pick up some ingredients for dinner. By the time you get back home, Jimin has finished teaching at the studio as well, and you fix him with a stare as you plop two full bags of groceries in front of him on the kitchen counter.

“Care to help me carry the rest in?”

“Not really,” he replies, but he stands up and follows you outside to the car nonetheless.

Once all the groceries are inside and unpacked, you begin prepping for dinner. Jimin, to his credit, offers his help without you even having to ask, and with his assistance you finish cooking in record time. Your parents join you in the dining room, and together you enjoy the meal over the evening news.

You retire to your room after dinner, cracking open your laptop to go over the details of your internship for the umpteenth time. You’ve read the emails and the attached documents so many times you practically have them memorized, but the anxiety gnawing at your belly refuses to be quelled. You’re returning to Seoul in less than a week, and your empty suitcase sits in the corner of your childhood bedroom like a taunt. You wonder, briefly, if you should start packing.

“Nah, it can wait,” you decide, muttering the words to your nonexistent audience. Standing up, you stretch lazily before exiting your room and heading down the hall to the bathroom that you and Jimin share, muffling a yawn behind your hand.

You’ve just finished brushing your teeth when your phone vibrates against the bathroom counter, a notification lighting up your screen. Spitting into the sink and rinsing off your toothbrush, you towel off your face before picking up your phone, blinking owlishly at the text.

[11:08pm] Jungkook: can you come over?

By itself, it’s not an unusual request. At this late an hour, though, you can’t help the unease that rises up in your belly. And as if sensing your apprehension, your phone vibrates again.

[11:09pm] Jungkook: my parents are out

[11:09pm] Jungkook: please? i could use some company

There’s an edge of desperation in his last message—something you haven’t seen in him since you returned home. It reminds you a bit of the Jungkook you used to know—the scrawny, gangly one with a nose too big for his face and an all-encompassing fear of the opposite sex. Give me ten minutes, you tell him.

Okay, Jungkook writes back. See you soon.

The next few minutes are a blur. You slather on some moisturizer and consider changing out of your pajamas and putting on a bra, but dismiss the thought immediately. Jungkook has seen you in far less, and you’re staunchly opposed to putting a bra back on after a certain hour of the night. Besides, he’s sure to dispose of your clothes at some point, so there’s little point in changing. With that thought in mind, you tiptoe out into the hall, past your parents’ bedroom and Jimin’s closed door. You carefully edge around the creakiest floorboards and hop over the two steps in the staircase that always groan when subjected to additional weight. Gingerly, you edge open the front door, just enough to slip out into the night.

The trek across the yard doesn’t take long, and Jungkook swings the door open before you even get a chance to knock. “Hey,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at the familiar round glasses perched on his nose. He’s in his pajamas as well—a blue and white checkered set that’s about two sizes too big—and when he ushers you inside, you catch a whiff of his floral laundry detergent.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Long day,” he sighs, raking a hand through his already tousled hair and mussing it further. “Come on in. You want anything to drink?”

You shake your head, stepping into the entryway and watching as he closes and locks the door again. Jungkook nods and shuffles to the kitchen, where he pours himself a glass of water from the faucet and downs half of it in one swig. His throat bobs as he swallows, his head tilted back to expose the long line of his neck, and you step a little closer as he turns to refill the glass.

“On second thought, maybe I’ll have some water too.”

“Mm. Okay.” Jungkook turns and fetches a second glass, filling it to the brim before handing it over. Then he takes your free hand and leads you upstairs, taking a left turn into his bedroom and nudging the door closed with his foot.

“So…” you begin slowly, putting your water down on the nightstand and reaching for the hem of your shirt. “We need to be quick. My mom’s a light sleeper, and I’m pretty sure I heard Jimin playing games in his room when I walked by.”

Jungkook chuckles and lays his hands over yours, stilling your attempt to take off your shirt. “When did you turn into such a horndog, Noona? Maybe I just want to hang out.”

You blink. “Did you just want to hang out?”

Jungkook plops onto his bed and grabs you by the waist, tugging you down and into his lap. “I mean, yeah—I thought that was obvious. Figured we could watch a movie or something.” Grabbing the tv remote, he switches on the television hanging on the opposite wall. “Any suggestions?”

You hesitate. You’ve been in Jungkook’s bedroom just once since you’ve come back, and the memory of the way he’d bent you over the desk in the corner sends a pulse of heat to your cheeks. Tearing your gaze away from the piece of wooden furniture, you instead focus on the television screen, watching as he navigates over to the Netflix menu.

“We can go old school too, if you want,” he remarks as he scrolls through the list of new arrivals. “I have a DVD player.”

That draws a laugh from your lips. “When was the last time you purchased a DVD? Last I checked, you only had Kung Fu Panda, Iron Man, and two copies of Titanic for some reason that you still won’t tell me.”

Jungkook laughs, his chest rumbling against your back. “Call it human error,” he says, looping his arms comfortably around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder. “How do you feel about going super old school? I can get the VHS player out of the basement and pop in one of the Pokémon movies.”

“I’m sure we won’t have to resort to that,” you assure him, grinning. “Here, why don’t we just watch Iron Man? Three’s your favorite, right?”

“Three is everyone’s favorite,” he says, scrolling over to the appropriate menu and clicking play. “It’s the best one, hands-down.”

“Won’t argue with you there.”

The movie starts, and you shift off Jungkook’s lap to switch off the lights. Darkness overtakes the room as the screen lights up with the opening credits, and when you return to the bed, Jungkook has sprawled comfortably against the pillows lining the headboard. His eyes remain glued to the screen even as he reaches for you, and you hesitate for only a second before joining him, laying down beside him and letting his arm find its way around your shoulders. The scent of floral laundry detergent fills your nostrils, and you subtly nestle a bit closer, resting your head on his chest.

This isn’t the first time Jungkook has seen this movie. You know this for a fact, yet that doesn’t change how raptly he watches the screen, the action sequences reflected perfectly in his glasses. He’s practically vibrating with excitement by the time of the final showdown, mouthing along to the lines, and you hide your smile in the blue-and-white squares of his pajama shirt as the music swells.

It’s well past midnight by the time the credits roll. Jungkook seems perfectly content to lie on his bed with his arm around you, and when you make to get up, his grip slides down to your waist to hold you in place. “You gotta watch the credits all the way through,” he says, blinking at you with bleary eyes now that the adrenaline from the final showdown has worn off. “There’s a post-credits scene, remember?”

You shake your head, but let him pull you back down onto the mattress regardless. “I’m sure you already know what it is. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“What’s the fun in that?” he asks with a grin.

The end credits continue—an endless stream of names scrolling down the screen. Your eyes begin to droop, the words blurring together, and it’s only when the music stops and the final scene begins that you jolt awake. Jungkook is faring no better than you are, suppressing a yawn behind his hand as he watches the last bit of the film through half-lidded eyes. Then the screen goes dark, and silence descends over the room once more. You glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand and see that it’s nearly two in the morning. A look back at Jungkook reveals that both his eyes have fallen shut, and you slowly begin wriggling free from his embrace in order to head home.

You’ve barely moved an inch when Jungkook’s arm tightens around your waist. “Stay,” he mumbles sleepily, one eye cracking open.

You should say no. You should head home to the safety of your own bed. But there’s something about Jungkook—something soft and fond in his tired gaze and something vulnerable in the way he’s holding you so tightly against his pajama-clad body with his hair in complete disarray and his round glasses askew. Heaving a sigh, you reach up to take them off his face, placing them neatly on his nightstand.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll stay.”

Jungkook smiles sleepily and shuts his eyes. “G’night, then, Noona.”

“Night, Jungkookie.”

Within seconds, his breathing evens out, and you know he’s off in dreamland. Twisting in his grasp, you tug your phone out of your pocket and set a quick alarm for six o’clock. Neither of your parents wake up until seven at the earliest, and Jimin would sleep until three in the afternoon if he could get away with it, so you’re certain that you’ll have plenty of time to sneak back into the house. Besides, Jungkook’s bed is comfortable, and his chest is practically a furnace against your back. You aren’t sure you could work up the energy to leave even if you tried.

So instead, you settle back into his embrace and let sleep whisk you away.

///

There are birds chirping outside the window when you open your eyes the next morning, blinking blearily against the sun shining through the curtains. The blanket is tangled around your legs and there’s an arm looped around your waist, and you sit bolt upright when realization dawns. Jungkook groans and mumbles something unintelligible, but you don’t pay him any mind as you twist out of his grasp, clutching for your phone on the nightstand.

7:03am.

Shit.

Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you rise to your feet and shove your phone into the pocket of your pajama pants. Jungkook makes a sound that vaguely resembles your name, and you spare him a glance as you fumble for your shoes. He’s flat on his back, blinking hair out of his eyes as he fights to stay awake. “Hey,” he manages, his voice raspy.

“I gotta go,” you whisper urgently, successfully putting your shoes on the right feet and wrenching the door of his bedroom open. And then you turn and dash out, leaving a very sleepy, very disheveled Jungkook blinking after you.

Your house, when you carefully crack open the front door and poke your head inside, is quiet. Much to your relief, you don’t hear any of the telltale signs that your family is awake and downstairs yet—no drip of the coffee maker and no sizzle of bacon or eggs. From upstairs, however, you can distantly hear the sound of the shower, so you dart inside and toe off your shoes, padding into the kitchen to start the coffee maker. You check the alarm you’d set the night prior as you scoop coffee grounds into the filter, and curse under your breath when you realize you’d somehow managed to select six PM instead of AM.

You’re seated in the living room with a mug of fresh coffee when Jimin shuffles in with damp hair and a sleepy frown. “You’re up early,” you remark.

“I have a morning class to teach,” he replies, yawning widely as he grabs a fresh mug. “What’s your excuse?”

You shrug. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Fair enough.”

Suppressing another yawn, your brother turns his attention to the refrigerator, rooting around for the milk. And you return yours to the window, where you can see the side of the Jeon’s house, and Jungkook’s bedroom window on the second floor. There are no signs of life from within, and you wonder if he’d gone back to sleep after your departure. Considering how tired he’d looked last night, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

Chaeyoung’s voice echoes in your mind then, soft and wistful. It always seemed like he had a bit of a thing for you. Happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. And honestly? I think it was because of you. We never really forget our first crush, do we?

And then Jisoo’s words rise up in your brain, just a bit louder. He’s a heartbreaker. He never, ever stays until the morning.

So why, then, did you wake up in his arms today?

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfiction #brother's best friend au #lia writes

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choptop-sawyer · 3 years

Note

Hi again 😎💫 im here to dig at ur brain again bcs i. M. Aaa sorry i just love ur stuff but. I have this kinda rly specific storyline type hc area and I'd love to hear any hcs you might get from it if its at all jr thing. But um I keep sometimes thinking back to the idea of kinda, vaguely growing up in the same area as the Sawyers, being childhood friends (and being stupid 2gether, running arount the countryside, ditching school & playing in corn fields) -

But then having to leave in your late teens to school / whatever (I mean 😎 my sappy ass also thinks abt mutual pining w Bobby but you know...... nearly unrelated.......)

Then, later on (Bobbys now Chop Top, Nubbins is..... dead I guess but also >:( maybe not, the family is up to being a mess etc) returning to town to take a break from work or whatever. N meeting up w the family again, i mean, oblivious to the bullshit they get up to but.... yk

This is a bit rambly i should probs have waited to sleep but I can't get the thought of returning to the Sawyer door wearing Bobbys tie dye sweatshirt that hr borrowed u years ago and all the impact of being a former family member bc u were also kind of an outsider or whatever but also the drama of leaving so uwu sksjd

This got so long. All i wanted to ask is: sawyer family headcanons for a childhood friend returning to town after being away for years. Rip.

THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS god I love the image too of just standing in the doorway,, you're not home, you've changed a little bit, but you still fit into some of the old aspects you know so well they fit you and cover you.

Actually this is great because that fic that I swear exists has pretty much the same premise but!!! I can make this one less tragic than that one. 😎

(This is mostly Chop Top n you centric please don't mind)

Also this timeline is all fucky. I think that as soon as Chop came home from Vietnam the Sawyers had basically uprooted themselves and were living in North Texas because of the... Hardesty incident. But like can we pretend that that never happened they r still there in Newt? Just for this. (Hope you like it!)

Chop Top's Childhood Friend Returns

You don't think you would have turned out the way you did without the Sawyers.

They were the main element of your childhood, a mystery that you had to be a part of. A mystery, because they were closed off. Mistrustful. The sickness of small towns carried to the extreme, because they were mostly alone. The loneliness made them more miserable, the misery made them more isolated. A cycle, a legacy.

So it was a a miracle that you were even allowed to be apart of some of it, but you attribute that miracle to Bobby.

He seemed to think you were as much of mystery as what you thought the Sawyers were. Two kids looking through a small window into another world. But he liked that. He liked that you were something different, something new. From beyond that small world of loneliness that lived in the house.

You learned quickly that he had a desire for anything beyond that world. So he'd invite you out with him, when you were kids, to run free in the tall grass, when you got older, to drive with him to places unknown. He had a knack for finding these odd places, and he always brought you along with the music cranked up loud on the radio.

Bobby told you many times that he wanted to see the world. He had this lust for life that went beyond the restlessness of the young. He also said that he wanted to bring you along with him when he saw the world. You didn't ever mention how that always made your heart skip a beat when he said that.

Maybe you should have. But the past is the past and you can't change that.

You knew the other Sawyers too, but Bobby tended to avoid them sometimes. But occasionally, you got to hang out with them.

Nubbins was an enigma. You didn't think Nubbins was his real name. But that's the only one you heard from him, but the name situation was the least confusing thing. He was the most open person you knew. And yet you couldn't understand him, and decided at some point that you wouldn't ever. But he was fun. His energy was infectious, if he was filled with joy, you couldn't help but laugh with him too. That was Nubbins, so absent of any purposeful deceit that he was almost a mirror, you saw yourself around him, sometimes it was uncomfortable, but other times it was fun.

Bubba was the opposite. He seemed to be legitimately wary of you. Bobby once told you that Bubba didn't like to leave the house, ever. He stayed and did the chores. You wondered if he minded, being stuck with all the chores but Bobby said he didn't. It was comforting for him. Always having something set to do. You only saw him once. Nubbins had made him tag along when he needed him to hang some things from a tree. Bones from indeterminate animals, a clock with a nail through it. You don't think Nubbins actually needed Bubba to reach the branches (he climbed pretty well) but he just wanted his little brother to see his work. Bubba didn't make eye contact with you the entire time. He was wholly focused on his task of helping Nubbins. But he was gentle when he helped his brother, careful, and for that you liked him.

Drayton was... well. He was the one Bobby argued with the most. He was his brother, but with how much age between the two, it was almost hard to believe sometimes. Drayton was the one that everybody in Newt knew the most. People liked him well enough, but they said he was odd behind his back. He knew that. You don't think he trusted anything outside the insular world he and his family had existed in for years, and was at odds with Bobby because he didn't get why Bobby wanted anything to do with the world outside.

Oftentimes you would see Bobby after he and Drayton got into it. He'd be fuming, but he'd smile when he saw you. You'd leave with him whenever he came to you. These adventures were the most fun you had when you were there.

The other times you'd go off were when he'd convince you to skip school. Bobby never went himself. He didn't get the idea of all those kids sitting in classrooms for hours, doing nothing but writing and listening. Why do that when you can find things out for yourself? Get into some trouble? In his mind, he was saving you from a very boring thing.

You two knew the area around Newt well. The fields and the flat expanses were the best kind of playground. Your dreams were still set in them. A kind of sunshine filled melancholy.

Bobby told you things in the grass. His dreams yes, but his own thoughts. On music, on late night radio, on movies, on you. He perhaps thought of you as wonderful as voices on the radio, stars on the screen. He never told you that though. But your name was never far from his mouth when Bobby talked about the things he loved.

You and him loved each other as much as two kids who didn't know how to could. He was always on your mind now, with not much tangible objects to remember him with. A photograph taken by Nubbins, your faces blurred because you were laughing. A button, the pin on the back bent. A sweatshirt, which he tie dyed himself, and gave to you one night. The colors were faded. You never did get to return it.

The years away did nothing to lessen thoughts of him. No, they just blurred all together now, and the stream of the sunshine filled melancholy was almost endless. You needed a break. There was only one place you could think of that could help you with that.

So you came back. All things led back to this place eventually. Newt was dying, or dead. Didn't you see somewhere that when a ship went down, it took everything with it? You didn't want to stay for long. But you had to see all of them, you had to know that they were all not these strange figures you had dreamt up.

You went right to the house. You'd never actually been allowed inside, Bobby just always said something along the lines of 'Grandma and Grandpa are napping upstairs' or 'there's a mess' (never mind that he could care less usually about messes.) But you figured he had had a good reason. Maybe he was embarrassed.

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And that was all. Nothing happened, no indication that anyone was there. You waited, the sweatshirt was too hot but you didn't want to take it off.

Maybe you should come back another time. You were just about to turn around and leave when the door burst open, almost whacking you in the face. And there (you couldn't believe your eyes you couldn't this was a dream) he was.

Bobby had a hammer raised over his head, grinning, he was poised to swing it down, but then he saw you and he felt as if he was in a dream too.

It's been so long. He thought he made you up, a dream to carry him through misery, and you looked the part, even as you stood before him on the doorway. The light of the setting sun shone behind you, heat waves shimmered in the dusk, and you... you.

Facing each other, you stood, just staring. Over head the sky grew colorful, in the fields the grass whispered in the wind. Nothing had changed. Everything had changed. Bobby dropped the hammer and grabbed for your face, and he held it, fingers digging in so tight it hurt.

"H-hey you." He said, and fell to his knees, releasing your face. You numbly touched the marks his fingers left. Bobby still looked like a man who had seen a ghost.

You called his name, and his eyes looked lost, like he hadn't heard it in a long time. He looked up at you, and you could really get a good look at him. His face was leaner, he looked sickly and wiry, but his eyes were just as you remembered. You sank down to the porch to sit with him.

"Fuck... FUCK I didn't... I- I thought ya'd forgotten all about me... uh.. uhm. Fuck! I mean, r-really! Turnin' up out of the blue like you're some kinda... ghost or whatever... WHOA man... like, ya here to return m-my, my sweatshirt? You're wearin' it, you can keep it! You look better in it anyway... heh, fuck." He rambled on and on, hands tensing and twitching as if they were moving to touch you again, just to reaffirm your existence. Did he know how glad you were to see him? Did he know that you hadn't felt right for the longest time being away?

You forgot all about the sweatshirt, the hammer he had raised with a sadistic grin. You reached out and held one of his twitching hands, and he stilled and stopped talking. There was a peace now.

It didn't seem possible for your heart to feel this full. But it was. And by god, if this wasn't the best decision you made in your life to visit your old hometown, if only just for this moment.

Bobby stood, with your hand still in his, pulling you up. He smiled at you, and you knew you still loved him, and in your deepest heart, you knew he loved you too.

But this time around, maybe you and him could love each other right.

#tcm #texas chainsaw #chop top #chop top sawyer #chop top sawyer x reader #tcm 2 #texas chainsaw massacre #slashers #slasher x reader #my writing #chop top x reader #choptop sawyer

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dameferre · 3 years

Note

i also wanna know abt who am i really 👀

okay. so. ‘who am i really’ is the first zukka thing i ever wrote, started before i had even. finished watching the show lmao

basically i have 25k of it written, probably another 4-5k written in notes and an outline, but i am mature and knowledgeable of my own shortcomings enough to know there’s no way in hell i’ll ever finish it, because that 25k? isn’t even. 20% of the fic if i were to actually write it, like this shit would approach 200k in its final form and i very simply do not have the time to actually. write that lmao

but i’m happy to talk about it! so basically it was the whole ‘oh my god they were roommates’ premise except zuko is sokka’s downstairs neighbour, they fight over music volume, and for the first part of the fic zuko’s a bootlicking son of the city police chief and starting out at the police academy, who calls the cops on sokka for his music one night

aand i just realised how long this is gonna be so under the cut!

so we start from the ‘zuko’s a fucking asshole’ stage and move on from there, and then due to a couple of different mildly traumatic events zuko realises the police system is inherently evil, has his whole redemption arc slash emotional breakdown and quits the force, he gets cut off by ozai and moves in w sokka for cheaper rent bc sokka is a nice person (who’s seen the way zuko has been walking around looking like absolute Death for weeks) and also needs someone to help w the rent

we also start from the point where sokka’s dating suki, and zuko’s still coming to terms with his sexuality, so there’s all that to work through

basically it just goes into the development of zuko and sokka’s friendship, and zuko’s development as a person going from an incredibly sheltered, incredibly privileged life to... the opposite of that lmao and how his friendship with the rest of the gaang grows, and his personal journey, and whatnot, just a nice little mirror for canon except w more swearing and the author talking about how all cops are bastards

it’s all self indulgent nonsense and little bits of shit that popped into my head so i wrote it down, really, but here’s my favourite bit

“So I was thinking.”

“Never a good sign.”

“Ha, ha.” Sokka deadpans. “Seriously though. I want a GNO. Drinking, dancing, questionable choices, might even get some action if I’m on my game.”

“And you think this is something I would enjoy.” Zuko, the introvert who can’t dance, responds.

“You’ll enjoy it because you’re going with your best friends, one of whom is just getting over the emotional hangover of the end of a three-year relationship.” Sokka pouts. “We can even go to a gay club! It’s been ages since I’ve been to one.”

Zuko snorts, and looks back to the TV. “I thought you wanted to get some ‘action’.”

“I mean, I would also be fine with just a fun night out with the gang. But if there are interested parties.” Sokka shrugs.

“Well, forgive me if my idea of a fun night isn’t watching Toph beat the shit out of you for creeping on lesbians at a gay club.”

Sokka makes an exasperated noise. “C’mon, you know me better than that.” He says, throwing a cheeto at the side of Zuko’s face. “I said interested parties. I can be strictly dick-tly for an evening, no sweat.”

Zuko turns, brow raised. “What does that even mean.”

“Y’know. I wouldn’t say no to a girl of the bipan persuasion if she wants to make a move, but if I’m actively pursuing anyone, it’ll just be guys. And, y’know, any non-girl people who seem into it.”

A record scratches in Zuko’s brain. “You… why would you pursue a guy.”

“I dunno, if he’s hot?” Sokka says, looking at him like he’s crazy. “Or has a nice smile? Shiny hair? I dunno, why do you usually pursue guys, Z.”

“But.” Zuko stammers, staring at Sokka. “But I’m attracted to men.”

Sokka blinks at him. “…so am I?”

What. “What.” No seriously, what. “What?!”

“Is this… are you trying to be funny?”

Zuko stares at his roommate, frantically trying to understand what’s going on. “Are you trying to be funny?!”

“No, I’m being bisexual.” Sokka says, slightly defensively. “Because I’m bisexual?”

“Since when?!”

Sokka stares at him, then gestures to wall. “Zuko, that’s been up since I moved in. I know you’ve seen it.”

Zuko turns to stare at the wall, but all he can see is- “The flag?”

“Yeah, Zuko, the fucking flag. Did you think I just thought it was pretty?”

“Is-” Zuko flounders. “Is the flag significant?”

Sokka looks intently, somewhat crazed, at Zuko’s face, like he’s searching for something. Whatever it is, he obviously doesn’t find it. His arm is still held out towards the wall, and he uses it to gesture towards the flag again, more aggressively this time. “It’s the fucking bisexual pride flag, Zuko!”

“I.” Zuko gapes at him, still confused. “I thought the pride flag was a rainbow?”

“Oh my-” Sokka starts. “Are you fucking with me right now. Is this you fucking with me.” He pauses, staring at Zuko. “Jesus fuck, Zuko, there are different flags for different sexualities. That’s the bisexual one.”

Zuko stares at the flag, then back at Sokka, then back at the flag. Then back at Sokka. “Well how was I supposed to know that?!”

“Everybody knows that, Zuko!” Sokka exclaims, then brings his hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “Okay, I guess you just. Didn’t know that. Somehow. And that’s fine. Point being, I am bisexual. I am attracted to all genders, I’ve been- I thought- out since I was sixteen. So yeah. I’m bi.”

“But.” Zuko’s brain has been trying to process this information, and now rejects it entirely. “But that. You can’t be.”

Sokka gives him a weird look. “I can’t be?” His face shifts, into something sort of… defensive. Wary, almost. “Do you have a problem with bisexuals?”

“What?” Oh shit. “No, of- of course not! I- I love bisexuals! All of the- um,” Zuko’s mind races, trying to think of a bi person he knows personally, and then frantically widening its search to any bisexual human being in all of recorded history. “Jet! Jet’s bi! Love Jet, he’s, um. Yeah! Bi.”

Sokka’s face isn’t defensive anymore, but it is shocked. And- something else, Zuko can’t quite place. “You love Jet?”

“What?”

“You just said you loved Jet.” Sokka says, sort of quietly. “I just- I guess I didn’t know you guys were at that point.”

Zuko absolutely does not love Jet. Only Jet loves Jet. But Sokka’s looking at him, lit by the artificial glow of the TV, still the most attractive thing Zuko’s ever seen. So Zuko’s self-preservation instinct kicks in. “Uh. Yeah, you know.” He swallows. “It’s still pretty new, but. Yeah.”

“Well hey, that’s.” Sokka gives a small smile. “That’s great.” He places his hands on his thighs, pushing up off the couch. “I’m just gonna text everybody, see if we can get the night planned.”

He walks away, leaving Zuko to his mental breakdown in peace.

Sokka’s bi.

Sokka.

Is bi.

[later that week or some transition i haven’t written lmao]

“Zuko, you know I’m bi, right?” Suki laughs, but the grin slides off her face when Zuko hesitates. “You know that, right.”

Zuko makes a reluctant face. “I know now…?”

“Oh my-“ Suki stares at him, then looks at Sokka who makes a face as if to say ‘see, what did I tell you’. “Ew, Zuko!” She cries. “Ew, you thought- you thought I was straight?!”

“You had a boyfriend,” Zuko defends himself weakly.

Suki looks like she wants to scream. “I’ve never been so offended in my entire life.”

“Now you know how I feel.” Sokka says.

“Me! A straight girl!” She laughs, slightly hysterical. “Me!”

“Okay, I guess I just-” Zuko starts, but Suki holds out two fingers in front of his face, shutting him up.

“No no, that’s enough from you today.” She looks, wide-eyed, at Sokka. “What do I have to do, paint the fucking bi flag on my face?”

Sokka snorts. “He wouldn’t recognise it, anyway.”

Suki turns back to glare at Zuko. “I thought we were friends, Zuko.”

and then in a perfect world this would be followed by a montage of all the times sokka has definitely been openly bisexual in front of ‘still coming to terms with his own sexuality’ zuko who’d just. wrote it off as bro culture

#this au has so many fun things half-written for it lmao #shame most of them will die with me #wow i'm dramatic #if you can tell id just finished my schitt's creek rewatch when i wrote this so can i lmao #dickpuncher #elle writes things #elle answers your questions

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brooklynboysficrecs · 4 years

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Ria’s Top 10 Shrunkyclunks Fic Recs

Okay, let me preface this by saying: I could name about thirty fics and still not be able to tell you, definitively, what my favorites actually are. The top spots change kinda frequently, depending on what I’m in the mood for, and there are always new fics to consider. But these ten are some of the best I’ve personally read, ones I’ve re-read multiple times, even, and I really value whether or not I can see myself re-reading something (published books or fics) when I’m considering how much I actually liked it. Also, I went with lengthier fics that were finished, because otherwise it’d be a completely different list. Anyway, without further ado...

1. The Voyager by notlucy. God, I’ve read this at least three times and I’m definitely going to be reading it again in the future. notlucy is a fantastic writer in general, but this particular fic from them checks a lot of my boxes. I’m not especially into age differences in ships, but I liked the dynamic between Steve (who’s around... six, seven years older than Bucky, I think?) and Bucky here, and it’s made even more interesting because for the majority of the fic, Bucky has no clue who Steve is. There’s a long road trip, Bucky as a burgeoning writer, and Steve coming to grips with his sexuality as well as his place in the 21st century, as this story takes place pretty much right after he comes out of the ice. There’s also art! Which is always great, imo.

2. The Honey Honey series by justanotherStonyfan. This definitely has one of the most unique takes I’ve seen on a Cap!Steve/Modern!Bucky fic I’ve ever seen. It also features a pretty big age difference (Steve is 40, Bucky is 20/21), so if that’s not your thing, sorry. But it’s a long, long, long series, with multiple installments, that tells the story of Stark Industries employee James (who doesn’t go by Bucky because of reasons) and Commander Steve Rogers (who passed on the Captain America mantle to Sam a while ago). Not only has Steve been in the 21st century for almost two decades by the time he meets James, he’s also had a few colorful relationships prior to the start of the story that influence his current relationship with James and who he is as a person. I don’t want to spoil anything, but they’re all mentioned in the tags I think, so. I’m probably safe to say that uh. Steve still grew up with a Bucky Barnes, just not the one we see in the story.

3. All of Your Love is Sunlight by canistakahari, WarlockInTraining. I can’t express just how cute this story is -- or I can, but I doubt I’d do it justice. Magic Bucky and his flower shop stole my heart the first time I read this, and honestly, I was as giddy as Steve pretty much the whole time. Steve’s kind of a disaster too and it’s frankly adorable. The whole story is adorable. All comfort no hurt, which is right up my alley. Also, come for the cute boys in love, stay for the butt plants. Just saying.

4. sleeping lessons by glim. This is such a good fic, oh my god. Steve’s auditing a college course to try and catch up on history (instead of like being bombarded by not-so-well-meaning SHIELD agents) and Bucky’s the professor, and he’s just. So sweet with Steve. So intuitively kind. I actually reread this one recently because I was on a shrunkyclunks kick and I remembered why I liked it so much, and even why I tend to like this trope/AU as much as I do — because it gives Steve a foothold in the new century, a friend who treats him as Steve and not Captain America, a civilian he feels safe and comfortable around. It’s a way to introduce Steve to the rest of the world through someone he didn’t meet as an Avenger or through SHIELD, which I think a lot of people agree is something he was sorely missing in the actual movies. I don’t know, this fic is great, give it a try!

5. Matchmaking by Nori. OH WOW. Let me just say, the premise of this fic is absolute precious. It’s like. The closest thing I can equate it to is a wrong number AU? Bucky is a gamer and Steve and Sam are on his team for something, and Steve — the dork — uses the in-game chat to respond to Bucky and it’s just. Fantastic and hilarious and so damn cute. Their friendship develops through playing games together and then Bucky gets a crush and... well. Love happens, like in every other fic I’ve read. But really, this is one of my favorites period, and another one I’ve re-read a number of times. It’s so so good.

6. the cold never bothered me anyway by icoulddothisallday. Alright so this is one of two soulmate AUs on here because I’m an absolute sucker for the concept of soulmates. Especially when it comes to shipping, because I adore the idea that two people are meant for each other regardless of the universe they’re in, ya know? Which is why I really love it for modern Bucky and Cap!Steve — proves their circumstances could’ve been completely different and they’d still find their way to each other. The lore for soulmates in this fic was interesting, too; I like the whole world-building that went on, and the mirroring concept they introduced. Bucky kinda got the raw end of the deal with his mirroring, considering Steve was stuck in the ice, but... as always, love conquers all, and Steve makes sure Bucky is never cold again so it’s all good!

7. Where All Roads Lead by alby_mangroves, DrowningByDegrees. Ooooh this was a fun one. There’s time-travel involved!! I love time travel (when it’s done well — looking at you, Endgame) and I really love when you randomly get a person from the past popping up in the present/future, which is exactly what happens here with Steve. Instead of surviving 70 years in the ice, an artifact sends him to the future where he meets Bucky, who’s something of an expert on Captain America. What follows is they’re attempts to get Steve back to the past and to the team he left behind, all while falling for each other along the way. The ending was so good, too; or, I thought so, anyway, but I suppose that’s just something people have to decide for themselves.

8. This Feeling We Carry In Our Souls by jinlinli. The other soulmate AU! In this one, it’s soul marks that people share; whoever has your mark is your soulmate, though technically it doesn’t mean they’re the love of your life. Bucky explains it at some point that sharing a mark can just mean you were meant to meet the person, that there could be a moment that changes your life and they’re a part of it. Obviously the soulmate connection here is of the romantic variety, which is good for Bucky — eventually. He has to deal with people faking his soul mark to try and get to Steve, and the fact that he lost the arm that had his soul mark on it... happy endings guaranteed though! I don’t read things without happy endings, because I don’t really see the point of them? But yeah, trust me to provide only the happiest of happy endings with my recs, and this one is no exception.

9. Waking Up Slow by odetteandodile. This is another author who I follow kinda religiously. I’ve read most of their stuff and I love all it. This fic is up there, though, because a) it’s my favorite AU and b) it involves Bucky living in an old lighthouse with his daughter. It also features an amnesiac Steve, which was a nice change of pace. Instead of being found on the Valkyrie by SHIELD, Steve thaws our and washes up on Bucky’s beach, and with nowhere to go and no one to call, he ends up staying with Bucky and his daughter until he can get back on his feet. They make such a great family, and it’s lovely to see their relationship grow even as Steve’s memories start coming back. Highly recommend this one!!

10. The Roommate by Niitza, layersofsilence. Okay, this is number 10 but by no means is it my least favorite of the bunch. This one features Steve trying to carve out a life for himself and give someone else a break by looking for a roommate for his place in DC. SHIELD (thought Natasha) tries to get him to give up on the idea, of course, but in true Steve Rogers fashion he goes through with it anyway and even picks one of Natasha’s “reject” candidates — one recently discharged James Buchanan Barnes. They prove to be good for each other, with Bucky proving more than capable of protecting Steve’s privacy and helping him integrate into this new century, and Steve helping Bucky find his footing now that he’s back in the States and in need of a friendly face who he can trust. The best (and worst, good lord) part of this fic is how long it takes the rest of the Avengers to figure out Steve and Bucky aren’t just roommates. You’ll be groaning at some of their assumptions, i swear, it’s both hilarious and painful to read them misunderstand the situation to the degree some of them do.

#stucky #stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #chris evans #sebastian stan #marvel #shrunkyclunks #fic rec #top 10

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

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Come What May - Ned Kendall x Reader (Beautiful Kate)

Soulmate!AU

GIF CREDIT: X

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: For @severalmiles‘s Mendo Nation Secret Santa - I know you’ve already read this, but I still wanted to tag you and thank you for letting me post it on here of New Year! 😁💜

Alright guys, this is it! Your last fic of 2020! And it’s my very first Soulmate!AU

I hope you enjoy - I got a little creative with the whole AU idea..!

@mandy23b - thank you so much for your Soulmate discussions with me, they were SO helpful 💕 Now you get to read mine! 😁

Disclaimer: Beautiful Kate characters not mine / it is my own Soulmate!AU idea / lyrics not mine / gif not mine

Premise: Soulmates are rare; and to have one you need to meet a specific set of criteria. Ned Kendall does. The Soulmate trend is known in the media as ‘New Years Day Phenomena’, and the end of year is far approaching...

Words: 8380

Warnings: sexual content (but not too explicit) / Swearing / Drinking / AU (obviously!)

______

Never knew I could feel like this, Like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss; Every day I love you more and more.

Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing? Telling me to give you everything. Seasons may change, winter to spring; But I love you until the end of time.

Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day.

Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste It all revolves around you.

And there's no mountain too high, No river too wide. Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side, Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide, But I love you Until the end of time.

Come what may, come what may, I will love you until my dying day.

There's glitter on the floor after the party Girls carrying their shoes down in the lobby Candle wax and Polaroids on the hardwood floor You and me from the night before…

You squeeze my hand three times in the back of the taxi I can tell that it's going to be a long road I'll be there if you're the toast of the town babe Or if you strike out and you're crawling home

Don't read the last page But I stay when it's hard or it's wrong or you're making mistakes I want your midnights But I'll be cleaning up bottles with you on New Year's Day

Hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you And I will hold on to you

---

The only noise in the room was the scratching of pen to paper, the clock ticking the seconds of the day away - and, as it was late evening, there were precious few of those left. The still burning cigarette lay regretfully forgotten in the ash tray as his writing hurried across the page. The final draft of his latest novel was due in a few weeks, but he was hardly bothered by that now - something was pulling his attention and it was infinitely more pressing. Ned ran a hand through his hair: it was like writing while possessed, that was the only way he could describe it. When he’d look back the morning after and hardly remember a word of it. And the writing calibre too… so far removed from the trashy smut he seemed to be pretty into these days. They sold copies; he wasn’t bothered by that… but this kind of blacked-out writing often made its way into novels of its own. His darker, more serious work; and hopefully not the kind that his family would be embarrassed reading. He flipped another page and continued - always the same… it always started the same. Soulmates. Usually Ned Kendall scoffed at such a word. It was banded around far too often, and made everyone far too excitable. But it was a rarity to actually have one. Someone out there hardcoded into you, someone made just for you. But he’d heard the news reports - the ‘miracle’ of it all. Seeing the same person all your life; compelled to do everything you could to make them real by any medium necessary. Until you finally found them. It was known as the New Year’s Day Phenomena - because all the reports of this ever happening around the world occurred on New Year’s Day. Everyone seemed to find each other on this magical clock strikes midnight evening. New Year, New Beginnings. The beginning of forever, it seemed. Ned Kendall was sceptical. This wasn’t like those soulmate universes he’d read before, countdown clocks embedded in your skin… timer running out when you met, or first words exchanged tattooed on your wrist… In those universes everyone had a soulmate. In the world he was living in, they were rare. And when a new couple appeared, they were treated like celebrities. The problem was, ever since he could remember, Ned had dreamed of the same woman. At first she scared him, she haunted him, like she was there in his veins and he couldn’t get her out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he covered her with other women, no matter how many times he thought they might be the one and would laugh in the face of the whole notion of a Soulmate, these relationships always fell apart. And she was always there in the back of his head. Even when Ned was sleeping with them, it was her he got flashes of. It was almost like she was real, like if he imagined hard enough, he could reach out and touch her… and yet she always remained just out of his grasp. So he wrote her. Ned poured her into every single one of his novels, somewhere. Even if she was a bit part character with no dialogue, her image was there. She had been his main character a few times: when he got this urge, as he had right now, and a force he couldn’t explain compelled him to write her in such a way. She was the worst muse he’d ever had. And what Ned Kendall hated most of all was that he was falling for her. And hard - for this past few months she’d been nearly his every waking thought. Pages and pages, and reams and reams of writing covered his apartment and it was all her. And what scared him most was the year was ending. It was nearly New Year. He’d spoken quietly with Sally about this a few times. Because he didn’t want to believe it, because it felt crazy and Ned needed her to set him straight. To let him know that he was crazy, because Sally definitely would. Instead she looked at him, amazed, and then laughed: “Oh my god, Ned… Do you… Do you have a Soulmate?” “Sally, stop, it’s not funny!” “You! Part of New Year’s Day Phenomena!?” She cleared her throat, trying to act serious as she apologised, “Of course the most disbelieving person in the world on Soulmates would have one…” “This is so stupid. There’s no way, I’m just a writer and she’s…” “Ned. I know you’re just a writer - but all the tells are there. Aren’t you excited? You’re going to meet the person you’re meant to be with. And you know what she looks like already… Finding her will be so easy..!” He exhaled, tipping his head and body back to look at the sky; “What if I don’t like her-!?” “What part of Soulmates don’t you get, you were made for each other!” “What if she doesn’t like me?” Sally sighed, “Then she’s crazy.” “With how fucked up my life’s been?” “Geez…” She shook her head at him, and placed her hand over his, “Just give her a chance… Ned. Whoever she is.” He quirked his eyebrow at her, with a smile, “It doesn’t exactly sound like I’m going to have a choice-!”

Usually the holiday didn’t mean a thing to him, it was just another year. Maybe he’d go to a bar, swallow all his sorrow with an expensive tab and take someone home. But something was changing. It wasn’t just the way she looked anymore; he was so used to flashes of her body, her face, her smile, those pretty eyes, the kind of person who - if Ned was totally honest - had walked straight out of his fantasy. But he was starting to get a feel for her personality and the way she sounded; her laugh, her voice, the way she flirted, her tells when she was shy or bending the truth just a little. And the closer the end of the year was, the stronger her presence became: now when he dreamed her he could feel her touch, how it felt to hold her, to run his fingers through her hair… He didn’t even know her name, but Ned knew what it felt like to pin her beneath him, heartbeat flush with his… He shook that thought away and dropped his pen, leaning back in his chair. This was all getting a little too much. This woman was driving him insane. Ned swallowed hard, and looked to the clock. He had but one conclusion for the whole thing, and how much it all scared him. He was exhibiting every sign of a crazy person, so utterly paranoid and obsessed with the thought of finding his ‘Soulmate’. What if she was just a muse his thoughts had dreamed up? What if she didn’t even exist…? Was it all too real for that? Could Ned bear to find out the truth. But Ned had all the tells; even when whining ‘give me a breaaak’ as previous girlfriends had forced him to watch these ‘romantic’ interviews, he’d been listening. And this was what happened, everything got stronger and you became more fixated with them until you finally found them. 31st December into January 1st.

He couldn’t risk it; Ned just couldn’t risk the excitement that rushed through him becoming anguish and devastation. Ned Kendall would be staying in this New Year’s Eve. He didn’t even want to stay up to welcome in the New Year.

***

Soulmates - wasn’t that everyone’s dream? To find the one person they were destined to be with. You had always found the prospect to be exciting whenever you’d heard talk of it. Every time those interviews came up on TV - you believed in the idea of pre-destined partners and kindred spirits… two halves of a whole, before you’d become aware that you had your own. And you still believed in that notion even for people that didn’t have visions like yours. Afterall, didn’t most people end up with that one person. How could that not have hinted at something meant to be? Yours was just a little clearer than everyone else’s. You knew who that person would be. Even if you didn’t know the how, or the when, or the where… or even the why you? At first you hadn’t even really put two and two together, his was simply a face that had occurred to you in dreams. But one that you had latched onto and interested you. Intelligent, mischievous blue eyes, a little smirk that hinted at exactly what he was thinking, dark curls that you just wanted to run your fingers through, his cheek bones were accented but he wasn’t overly skinny. He had one of those faces that told a story, and every so often when you’d get flashes of him you could see all those troubled emotions. He must have been a fan of dark colours; at least, that’s always what he was wearing… but you liked that, because it just brought out the blue in his eyes even more. And that was what you focused on most when you drew him. Your apartment and your artist’s studio were covered in drawings, paintings, sketches of pieces of a man you’d never known. And you really meant pieces; sometimes you would just get his hands, the kind of motions as if he were explaining something to you (and he was left-handed, by the way he held a pen) you might get nothing else, but you knew they belonged to him. At first he was simply a muse, and your best friend used to laugh - when you said you had no idea how he popped into your head - that you must have just been drawing your perfect man. You couldn’t say she was that far off, but you could have done something similar without the need for his image in your head… and it was the emotional depth of the pieces that had you wondering exactly who he was. Maybe he was a face you knew, maybe he lived around here or you’d seen him on your travels to work - and yet when you started actively looking for him, he was still nowhere to be found. You weren’t one to dare to hope to believe in him being your Soulmate. Your clientele always asked about the works, but none were for sale. Sometimes you thought you’d put them up in the hope that someone would recognise him, and tell you who he was. Or that he might just up and walk in here one day: like he truly had just walked out of your dreams. But you always liked having the familiarity of his presence around, and drawing him just came so naturally to you. There was a particular centre piece - almost life-size - of him sitting at a desk. A vision; with the light pouring through the window behind him and hitting all his features just right. He was adsorbed in the papers in front of him, all handwritten; you wondered if they were letters - perhaps love letters. You liked to imagine that they were. That either he was writing them, or reading those words from the heart of the person who loved him the most. You got visions of him pouring over paper like this often, and he always looked so relaxed… it was when he looked his best to you. When you thought he most looked like himself; if you even knew what that meant. How could you know? Even when you felt like you did. Whenever clients asked who he was, and why he was so special (after you’d told them the piece wasn’t for sale) you would always give a bashful laugh and look to the painting: “Oh, I… I don’t know. I just dream about him. He comes to me in dreams…” Almost all of them got wide-eyed and then turned to you - knowing the stories everyone was becoming obsessed with - “A Soulmate!?” You would always shrug, because you simply didn’t know. “Well, perhaps. But I don’t think so.” Besides, you knew as well as they all did - you had to more than just envision your Soulmate. You should be able to feel them, to know their touch, to hear their voice. This man had been coming to you in dreams day and night, and you’d never got anything physical from him - just his body. Whether in still images or kinetic energy. Perhaps it wasn’t the right time for anything more, or maybe you were just insane for believing that something so rare could really happen to you.

As this year started to trail off, things began to change. And it made you too excited - you made him your every waking thought - because somehow that heightened the experience. And sometimes you weren’t all that sure these dreams were dreams; waking up surrounded by sketching paper and drawings you hadn’t ever remembered doing yourself. All of this guy… and sometimes a little more risqué than you’d ever display. Sitting there trying to recall the why - were you having sex dreams about him now? You knew sometimes you felt him pinning your wrists back, how he’d bite his lip and the distinctive way he called you a ‘good girl’. You knew how it felt to entwine your fingers with his now, and the warmth of his body as he embraced you. Sometimes you would get his distinct scent and you’d spent far more time than you’d ever care to admit in department stores trying to find whatever brand of cologne he used, to no avail. His voice really got you though, that beautiful Australian twang had just a touch of way out there - not a natural city boy. You realised you were quickly falling in love with him. And you hoped against hope that this wasn’t just your mind overthinking it, or playing tricks on you. That this was the real deal. That whoever this man was, he was really your Soulmate. And perhaps, with New Year fast approaching - this would be the year you met him. Still, sitting over a cup of coffee with your friend, in front of yet another painting you were mid-way through, you voiced your concerns. She only rolled her eyes, “Girl! Have you seen your face-! LOOK how happy you are!” “But, shit-! What if they’ve all been right?! What if he is my Soulmate!? Am I crazy, tell me I’m crazy!?” “Girl. He’s EVERYWHERE in all your artwork. No, you aren’t. We gotta FIND this guy.” “But what if I’m wrong!?” There was something scary about the whole thing too, and how foolish you’d feel if you were so sure that you’d find him, and it turned out this wasn’t what you felt it was. “Stop thinking you’re wrong, and start thinking about HOW you’re going to find him. It’s all New Year’s right!? You gotta be out there looking! You’ve gotta take fate into your own hands.” She pulled out her phone, “I’m going to find out where all the big parties are - with the way you draw him, I’m sure he’d be up for getting into some trouble at one of those.” She had a point, he didn’t exactly look like the stay at home with a cup of tea type. Maybe he’d stay at home for other reasons though… You felt a gentle heat stir in your stomach on that thought alone and had to curse yourself. “...What if he doesn’t like me? Or… I don’t like him.” “You’re worrying again!” She looked up from her phone when you didn’t respond; you were starting to look a little disheartened as you stared at the floor, fingertips tapping your knees. She wasn’t about to let you spiral on something that was so exciting, and so important. New Year was just around the corner and she was determined to make sure that you got the opportunity to meet this guy, and have the best night of your life. “He’s a looker, I’ll give him that…” She raised her eyes back to your painting and then around the room, making you turn back, smile on your face at how right she was, “but if this Soulmate of yours doesn’t treat you right after all this, I’m gonna kick his ASS!”

***

It was the week of New Year and you almost couldn’t sleep these days. You’d spent most of the holiday with your family, but you just couldn’t ever get comfortable. Couldn’t ever shake the feeling that something huge was coming. This felt bigger than just your brain playing tricks on you though, it felt like your body and soul were being dragged towards a force that you had no way of resisting. And there was no way you even wanted to fight it, you just let it carry you. Heck, you knew that you’d spent most of your time distracted, and were glad that everyone else was so relaxed and you didn’t have a client deadline to adhere to, because if you thought you were being driven crazy by him before… When you were able to quiet everything for just a moment and slow the world down to concentrate, you began to formulate a plan. No-one had ever been specific enough on whether it was New Year’s Eve, New Year’s Day, or that funny moment of Midnight when a New Year officially came. Your friend had the good idea of scouring New Year’s parties - if it was meant to happen you weren’t going to find him cooped up in your house, that was for sure. And you had the little list she’d painstakingly laid out with a walking route, so you caught all the bars in the most populous area of town. But you still had no real idea of how this was going to work; would it be like a chance encounter? Would neither of you have any idea until you finally beheld each other for the first time? So your aimless wandering would still lead you to him - just like fate? Or would this feeling inside you that kept building just guide you straight to him - like a homing beacon that only got stronger as you got nearer? You didn’t know. And you wondered how he was feeling, wherever he was in the world right now. Was he just across town? Was he elsewhere in the same country? Was he halfway around the world..? The only thing you hoped, was that he was just as excited as you were to finally meet. To finally find the person you belonged with. You’d got it wrong plenty of times before… so you had to admit, you were ready to get it right.

***

It was gone 11pm on December 31st and Ned Kendall was still sitting at home slow sipping a drink, finding it surprisingly easy to ignore that nagging feeling in the back of his head. Whoever she was, she wouldn’t meet him tonight and - in his opinion - she’d be a lot better for it. Why the hell had whatever it was that decided to allocate people Soulmates, decided to stick this poor woman with him. ‘She musta done something really wrong somewhere along the line!’ Ned took another sip. If she was out there looking for him, she would be disappointed, Ned knew; but she could move on. In fact he wasn’t even sure how that worked… had anyone ever ignored this call before? Did the bond just break if he did? No-one had ever talked about that… His phone buzzed, and at first Ned thought it was an ignorable text, but it was a call. And it was from his editor. He’d finished his master draft by now, and he’d let his editor know he was ready to hand it in, but Ned had said there was no rush and he’d simply drop it in next time he passed the office. Besides, it wasn’t due until mid-January, so he was ahead of schedule. ‘What the hell…?’ Knowing he couldn’t exactly not pick up, Ned answered. “Hello?” “Yo. Ned, I’m in town! Get the fuck down to Campari’s now, and give me your draft.” Ned glanced at the clock again, sounding a little incensed; “On New Year’s Eve?!” “YES. NOW.” “But-” “No buts, except yours, get it down here, N O W.” “Are you fucking-” What was the rush? There was surely no need for this? Okay, so his editor wanted the manuscript in person, fine, but it was New Year. Everyone had better things to be doing than worrying about work! Ned sighed, knowing that arguing would get him nowhere, given how persistent his editor was; “Okay…” “Okay! See you soon!” Ned groaned as he hung up and ran his hands through his hair; looked like he wasn’t about to get away with staying in all night after all. He stood and picked up his manuscript. How likely was it this thing was about to get lost in a bar somewhere-!? At least he had copies. Ned was determined to keep his eyes on nothing and no-one for too long; just drop the draft with his editor and get out of there. No loitering. No chance for this Soulmate thing to come off. Although the second he stepped out of his apartment the uneasy feeling he’d been able to keep at bay up until now hit him full force. “Aw man…” Ned shuddered, as if some invisible presence was watching him. He could do this… He could do this and still save this poor woman from the fate of him. He rushed to the bar, and although it was crowded, his editor was looking for him and waved him over. Ned didn’t trail his eyeline anywhere else and almost immediately dumped the manuscript on the bar. “Couldn’t you have waited like 2 days!?” “Nah, I was in town, thought it’d be easier to get a head start on all the deadlines in case of revisions.” “Man, I dunno, Mike… In the middle of a bar on New Year’s Eve?!” “It’s okay!” Mike produced a case from beside him and tapped it, “I promise it’ll be safe; I’m not even drinking a lot.” “Well on your head be it, I have copies!” “It’s safe!” Ned held his hands up – whatever - and backed away from the bar, ready to take his leave. “Uh, no! Ned, stay, have a drink it’s almost midnight!” He was painfully aware of this fact and didn’t need reminding. “I’d rather not-” Mike yanked him back to a bar stool, flagging the bar tender down for Ned’s favourite brand of whisky; “What are you so desperate to leave for?! What else is there to do in the city tonight? You got someone waiting at home or something?” “Not exactly.” Ned kept his eyes on his drink as he sipped, disgruntled. The uneasy feeling was pushing down on him like a ton of bricks and he wished he’d told Mike to fuck off and stayed back at home where he felt safe from this. Or made up any lie really; that he was celebrating with Sally somewhere… Why didn’t he think about that!? The countdown to midnight came and went, and Ned felt this one was just as unimportant as all the others. He didn’t even count the numbers as everyone else yelled them. But as the clock struck 12 Ned downed the rest of his drink, placing it decisively on the bar as everyone cheered. He turned to Mike as everything began to lull into friends hugging and lovers kissing: “Can I go now?” Mike huffed, arms folded. “Wow. You’re a real kill joy, I thought you loved a good party?” “Yeah, New Year never really stuck. Thanks, though. Enjoy reading!” “Thanks Ned, I will! Happy New Year!” Ned smiled but didn’t really mean it, just glad to be leaving. He scooted out of the bar and into the street, where everyone now seemed to be spilling. ‘Thank god I can go home and breathe now. What a waste of time.’ It wasn’t so easy to hurry home, however, as the crowds of people outside were mostly still - either watching the fireworks now adorning the sky, or couples sharing their New Year’s kisses, or groups going from bar to bar… and those who, just like him, were heading home. And - as much as he despised having to be out - Ned was politely navigating these people. As he looked at them now, he couldn’t help but shake his head. What was so great about New Year anyway? In his experience he’d never had one that particularly stood out against any of the others. It was all just days blending into days. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and kept walking slowly through the crowds of people, smiling to himself at the ridiculousness of it all. But it wasn’t until far too late that he realised the uneasy feeling had left him completely. So really Ned should have been jumping about in the street for joy that he was finally rid of it, only this time as he looked up to dodge around some more people watching the bright colours crackle across the sky, he froze. Standing on the other side of the square, one eye on the fireworks and every so often looking around herself, was the woman from inside his head. Someone yelled a New Year’s greeting at her, and she became distracted by them, laughing and calling back with a sweet smile. Ned wanted to make a break for it, but he couldn’t, almost like he was rooted to the spot: his mouth went dry and his heart began racing. He felt a million things; unbridled joy the likes of which he didn’t think he’d ever felt in his life, he felt sick, fearful, that dread from before panged in him for just a minute at the knowledge that any second she was bound to look his way and her life would be over… She turned back to the fireworks, via sweeping the crowd once more and Ned knew she’d spotted him by the way she immediately froze as he had. But she’d missed him because she was looking at the sky by the time this happened. He watched her swallow hard, and say something to herself. Ned wondered if she was feeling all this emotion as he was; and he definitely saw the fear cross her face as for a moment she turned sheet white, before she blinked and turned herself slowly back to him. When his eyes locked with yours Ned Kendall felt his breath leave him - and he struggled to take a new one. He thought he knew what love felt like; he’d fallen in it before. But that feeling suddenly ran through his body multiplied exponentially. Your lips parted, and you smiled gently. How long had you been waiting for this moment? Even before you’d figured out he was your Soulmate… you’d been waiting for the man who was staring at you from across the square to walk into your life since you’d first brought him to life on paper. And suddenly there he was. Real.

***

Ned blinked hard to snap himself out of the trance before, looking both ways to check he wasn’t about to crash into anyone, he took a deep breath (that it hurt slightly to take) and crossed to you. He was taller than you’d expected, though you didn’t really have that much comparison or frame of reference. Built exactly like you saw him in your head, and - apparently as customary - his shirt was very dark navy, top few buttons undone; as if he wasn’t already pretty easy on the eye. And you realised that you were about to find the answer to the biggest mystery of all: what his name was.

He stopped just in front of you, not exactly sure how close he should get. If you were both having the same sort of visions, then there was already a comfortable level of familiarity you should have with each other. And yet, this was the first time you were meeting. Which was the most appropriate? He immediately laughed, scratching the back of his head and then running a hand through those curls. You paid attention to this, to how large his hands really were; you’d not really got a good idea of that in images either. How your hands were going to look so tiny in his. “I guess you’re her… The girl of my dreams.” And you weren’t sure if he meant that literally or, just because he’d been dreaming about you the way you had him. You blushed gently, but he smiled sincerely, “Oh. Well. I’m Ned Kendall and this is really awkward-!” You giggled a little, responding in kind, “I’m Y/N. This is amazing - you’re… you’re real!” Ned too chuckled, and his eyes traced your body, damn near respectfully, as if he was checking that you were every bit as faultless as he remembered you. This was beyond something like a fantasy come to life: “You are too… I’ve written you for so long and you’re standing right here.” You gasped gently, “Oh, you’re a writer?!” Clearly you’d never heard of him. Ned wasn’t sure he wasn’t actually glad of that, now he could guide your reading a little! Introduce you to his best work first. His nod was fairly confident, although his smile was a little bashful, “Yeah. And you…?” You rummaged around in your bag for a moment, and produced a fairly small sketchbook. It wasn’t that you thought you’d forget what he looked like, but almost that you could prove to him this was meant to be. You flicked through the pages to one of your favourites, even with how quick it was and turned it around to him. “I’m an artist.” He held his hand out, blue eyes wide and curious, “May I?” You nodded, relinquishing it to him, and Ned began to scroll through your work. Drawings they might have been, but it was just like looking in a mirror. “Wow… I’m as in your head as you’re in mine, huh?” “If you’d ever set foot in my gallery then…” You trailed off, “Wait, if you write - about me - then?” “Oh, yeah, you’re- you’re out there on bookshelves right now.” He shut your sketchbook and handed it back over, “You’re… an incredible artist.” You immediately blushed, “I mean I wish I’d have read your work before now. So then I could return the compliment. But now my visions make sense. You’re not… looking at love letters, you’re writing… novels.” He nodded slowly, but grinned, “Love letters is romantic though - and I could do that. If that’s what you wanted!” You laughed, that sound he’d heard so often but now got to experience in real life, “I’m… somewhat of an idealistic romantic. And I guess you can tell that by the way I’ve been looking for you all evening.” Ned didn’t dare tell you that his notion was the exact opposite, “Well. We found each other. Exactly like they say in all those interviews.” “Yes!” Then your eyes widened too, “YES! Oh my goodness, it’s just- it’s just like they say-! That’s crazy-! This is really happening and… it’s all true!” That excitement was back on your face, and Ned found it unbelievably adorable. His head tilted, and you caught that mischievous glint in his eyes: the one you liked so much. You wondered what was coming. His teeth sank into his bottom lip for a second as he mulled his question over, eyes flicking to your lips; “Well I feel like this could be too soon, but if we’re Soulmates then… I don’t know about you but, I kinda… I feel like I know you.” You nodded, absolutely knowing exactly what he was feeling; in fact, you were literally the only person in the world who knew precisely what he was talking about right now. “And I’d like to kiss?” Ned watched your expression change to intrigue, from fairly soft to sly, your eyes narrowed and you almost gave him a smirk. “Well, I’m glad one of us voiced it first.” Ned was curious, that wasn’t an expression he’d ever seen from you in his dreams, you were always happy sure, but this smile was new to him. Even when his visions were at their sexiest this wasn’t a look on your face. He realised there was still so much to learn; but with the rush that almost-smirk made him feel, he knew he was looking forward to learning. Ned didn’t move particularly slow, but he supposed you’d both been waiting for this for roughly the same amount of time, arms sliding around your waist he pulled your body into his, leaning down and closing his eyes to capture your lips. He already knew what you looked like: now he wanted to experience you for the first time. The taste of your kiss was exquisite and he didn’t even notice liquor; heck you really had been out here trying to find him all night. There was the faint hint of something - but he thought that might just be your lip balm. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling through his curls and both of you made the same hum. Synergy, perhaps? He wasn’t exactly sure if there was a *click* and the world stopped spinning and this weird feeling went away - why did the people on TV never talk about the important things? He wondered if the kiss was so good because you were his Soulmate, or because in reality he really had been waiting so long for this. Ned’s tongue ran yours teasingly and you weren’t about to let him be the only playful one here; drawing him closer and carding your nails over his scalp; Ned shivered. And all he could think for a moment was kissing you like this with you beneath him in the sheets - where he could trail these kisses all over your body. To hear more than just a gentle hum out of you. The kiss was certainly confident - and you supposed neither of you had to hold back; there was no need to ask where this was going. You knew exactly where this was going - to the end of the world. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t a keen rush of excitement through you. This was beyond finally finding someone; this was finding the someone. But his lips were soft, and he was gentle even when he was playful. You wondered what Ned Kendall was thinking; and you wondered a lot of other things too - you’d certainly need to pick up a novel or two of his… You wanted to know him. You wanted him to know you, better than you knew yourself. There was no thought in your head of slowing down. You didn’t have to think like that anymore. You both pulled back, taking deep breaths. The fireworks were still going, and the illuminated colours on his face highlighted all those smooth lines and those cheekbones that you loved drawing so much. Much better in person… You bit your lips together, savouring the feeling of his still on them. You were a little flushed, but your eyes were bright as you looked back at him - loving that confident little smile on his face. Ned had been the first one to voice the kiss, and you wondered if he would mind you voicing taking this further than that. What he might think of you for doing so. As if you were moving too fast? There was only one way to find out, and you mirrored the smile you saw; “Whaaat if we did more than just kiss?” Then, to make sure you explained why you’d be the kind of person to jump into bed with a man you’d just met (because you certainly weren’t that type and didn’t want to give that impression.) - “Ned, I feel like I already know you better than if we’d been on a bunch of dates.” Your eyes were almost pleading him, “I would never normally do this but… this isn’t normal. Is it? I just- Of course this feels right, but it feels so right. I have never felt like this and even though I know why… I want to follow what I feel. And I… I want you.” There were a few seconds pause as his bright blue eyes looked between yours, but there was absolutely no hesitation in his gaze. He was perfectly happy with following your suggestion. In fact, Ned chuckled a little as he nodded; “Ha, funnily enough I was just heading home. And we would literally only have to walk.” He waved in a vague direction. You couldn’t help but grin, so he had been in the city all along, “Sounds perfect!” Ned held his hand out for yours and you couldn’t help but eagerly take it, then wrap yourself around his arm. This seemed a little crazy and reckless, even if he was The One. But it was a New Year, that old ‘new beginnings’ cliche. And you’d found yours - why not get a little reckless? Ned couldn’t help but look at you as he began walking you back to his apartment, he liked you already. After all the worrying he’d done to Sally, Ned saw he’d needn’t have done any of it. But part of him couldn’t believe that you were up for this already. As you walked plenty of people also heading home from their New Year’s parties wished you a good night, and yelled holiday greetings. From couples who looked seriously loved up, to groups of drunk friends spilling all over the street, to couples who looks a little nervous to be together - Ned would reckon they were as new as you. And yet, also realised that it was highly unlikely any of them were what the two of you were - and certainly didn’t realise what they were witnessing. There was no neon sign. No giant arrow to say ‘They’re Soulmates!’, not another person on earth knew you’d met up tonight - even if you’d both talked about each other before… Ned held your hand a little tighter; no-one was taking you from him now - that only made you snuggle a little more into his arm. Suddenly he smirked in realisation; ‘Holy shit, this is going to be a normal New Year’s for me… A normal night out!’ His eyes flicked to you, ‘I’m gonna end up with a gorgeous woman in my bed, only this one is destined to stay.’

***

As you entered the lobby of his apartment building your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest. You’d never felt desire like this before, but you also felt so nervous. There were still so many ‘what ifs’ and you were supposed to spend the rest of your lives together. What if Ned didn’t like what he saw, what if you didn’t? What if when you told him all about you, he pushed you away… What if he had so many secrets, one that matched the haunted look on his face you saw once too often in your dreams. You shook the thought away - you couldn’t think like that. One step at a time. You could worry about your forever in the morning, right now you kinda wanted him to shove you against the back of the lift; to hell with making it to his bed. He weaved you through those leaving the penthouse parties, carrying their heels and half-finished bottles of champagne. Shaking his head as he pushed the elevator button. “Typical New Year, huh?” “I guess not for us.” He laughed, watching them shriek as they stumbled over each other. “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed to making this a typical New Year.” You giggled, “Me either. But hopefully I won’t only find you at midnight next year.” His eyes flicked to yours, “Whatever’s meant to be.” You both laughed at the shared joke as the elevator pinged and more leavers spilled out. Ned dragged you in and pressed the button to his floor. The doors slid closed and, as the lift began moving, you were left in the quiet at last. He closed the gap between you; grabbing your chin between his thumb and his index finger Ned kissed you again. This one far harsher than the first, and you squeaked in surprise as he did push you against the wall. Oh, okay, this was going to go just the way you wanted it. And be far better than any fantasy. Ned’s hands roamed your body, and up into your hair as the kisses became hot, passionate, teasing. Every so often his touch caused you to groan into it, and you could feel him smirk - at least that gave you a good gauge of what he might like. Mind you, you were probably helping him on that front also. By the time the elevator slowed to a stop at his floor you were already halfway through the buttons on his shirt. He was reluctant to release you, and yet eager to get you back to his place, and lacing his fingers with yours once more, Ned ran you down the corridor. You couldn’t help but laugh - this felt so teenage romance, the same rush, the same quick whirlwind of no patience. Of wanting everything to happen right then and there. A little too excited Ned had to fumble with the keys a few times to actually get in, but once the door was open it was closed just as fast. His shirt didn’t take long to find the floor as once again his lips found yours. You ran your fingers over his warm, supple skin and received a few delightful hums of your own to keep. Your clothes didn’t take long to find the floor either, as he guided you back towards the bedroom, and you both left a trail. Your body threaded with his - and dare you say perfectly? - and your nervousness wore off. Only excitement remained, and the feeling that this could only be right. This was fate. It had pulled you together, and now you were getting your first opportunity to be one. Ned entwined your fingers, head tilted, he searched your face. He had all the time in the world to get to know you, to get to know your body, to be so in tune with you that all he could ever give you was pleasure. That might take a little bit of time - but it started tonight. And skin to skin, your body beneath his, Ned already knew you were gorgeous, and he was going to get lost in you. You’d found your ideal weight - that old joke of ‘him on top of you’ - but as you let your eyes glide down his body you noticed his chest was awash with freckles, and you wanted to kiss every single one of them before the night was through. Ned’s exploration of your form didn’t last too long, right now he only wanted to be inside you - and the desperation of it was his only thought. He had time, he’d apologise and he’d do you right, just not right now. He was compelled otherwise, and you didn’t seem to mind that - possibly because you were feeling the same thing. Damn Soulmates... Ned nearly chuckled, but was happy he could at least pull delightfully sinful sighs and moans from you as he tested that you were ready for him. As he pushed into you Ned realised that he was still looking into your eyes. Normally by now he’d have turned his bed mate over. But you… you he wanted to see, wanted to watch your emotional responses as they crossed your face. It’d never been like this… not with any girl. But here he was, and Ned actually wanted to look into your eyes… If he wasn’t careful, he’d be spilling I Love You’s before he was ready.

***

Ned woke naturally to the sunlight streaming through the window. Glancing at the clock, he was glad it wasn’t really that late in the day. His arm was still around your bare waist and he pulled you closer to him, you moaned gently still not awake and cuddled yourself into his warmth as he kissed your shoulder. With his free hand Ned moved locks of hair out of your face and lay there quietly admiring you. How many times had you had sex last night? It all felt like a weird (magically induced) blur. So, he’d just call it innumerable, with a smug little smirk. Eventually you stirred, and you appreciated how much you were going to enjoy this when you woke up looking into his pretty blue eyes and realised that he wasn’t just a dream. Ned would never be just a vision in your head ever again. You couldn’t help but pull him into a delicate morning kiss. Sighing blissfully, you stretched your body out, propping yourself up on the pillows and smiling at him, your body ached a little - but it was a sweet ache and you didn’t mind too much at all. You spoke softly, almost dreamily, as you continued to stare into those beautiful eyes: “I know you’re made for me. And that I would feel like this no matter what, but… I’m glad he’s you. In my wildest dreams I didn’t ever think he’d be like you.” Somehow he was not only your Soulmate - the person you really had no choice but to be with; and you wouldn’t have thought that would happen if you weren’t at least compatible - Ned was still ticking all your boxes. And you could threaten easily that you loved him for it. Ned bit his lips together, even though he’d been smiling. He still needed to confess to you, he wasn’t sure he could put you through this without beginning on the right foot. Even if it took a while to confide the whole truth, you had to know. He sighed gently, fingertips stroking down your back; “Look I’m not perfect, and you have a lot to learn and I kinda want to apologise in advance… if we’re really meant to be Soulmates. If this is really… THAT.” You tilted your head slightly, but all you did was smile mysteriously; “Well… so do you. But we’ll get though it together. We’re meant to, right?” You took his other hand, and kissed all his knuckles, and then his fingertips, “You’re not going to scare me away, Ned Kendall.” Besides, you’d seen what your future held. You wondered how much you should keep to yourself… you wondered how much he’d seen himself. How much Ned already knew without realising… diamonds and wearing white… You chose to believe these things could come true. Your time together could still only be measured in hours, but you already wanted these things with him. He chuckled, running his thumb over your lips, “I guess. But I do have one request. Unlike all those other Soulmates out there that share our fate… Can we please not go public with this thing?” At the look on your face Ned changed his track, “Not yet. I’m kinda ‘A Big Deal’.” You found that understandable, as a writer people knew his name and his work. You weren’t sure you wanted the world to know that you were part of the New Year’s Day Phenomena either. But it would be a little hard not to tell some people about it - your best friend already knew. And if your clientele saw him kicking around your gallery… You nodded in agreement, “Well Mr. Big Deal, I can’t wait to read... about me.” Ned continued to stroke his fingers down your back, with a smirk, as he rolled onto his side pressing his lips to yours, you accepted his kiss and stole another: “Well, I want to see how you draw me… and maybe I could pose for you. Like Rose and Jack.” You couldn’t help but scoff, before cackling, “Holy shit, a Titanic reference? I can’t believe you’d do that-!” “Terrible, I know. You’ll have to get used to this.” He grinned, affording you another kiss. “Mmm.” You hummed in agreement, “That doesn’t sound so bad to me.” You looped your arms around his neck and let Ned pull you back on top of him, tangling your bodies together once more as you continued to deepen your kisses.

Right now it might only have been hours, but you could both see your future, soon it would be days, months, years… And maybe eventually you’d tell the world, and join all the Soulmates that came before you. Or perhaps you’d stay quiet, and just smirk at each other knowingly every time you stood and watched the New Year’s fireworks, or as another couple made the announcement on TV. Whatever it would be, it would be a joint decision. Once you were both ready. For now, you had the whole world in front of you. And you had to learn each other’s. But you couldn’t wait to explore together. Good and bad; and perhaps there was a lot in both your pasts… but you were Soulmates and now bound together by a force bigger than both of you. You would make it through. You weren’t sure you were going to give Ned Kendall the choice either way. And he certainly wouldn’t be giving you one. You belonged to each other now.

---

Thank you!!! Thank you for reading the final fic of 2020! Here’s to 2021! 🎉

#Ned Kendall #Ned Kendall x Reader #Beautiful Kate #Ben Mendelsohn #206 #Linzi Writes #Smol Bean Drabbles #Soulmate!AU #First AU fic!#Woo hoo! That's worth a celebration-!#A giffffffft #I can't take this with Jessika or even AU!Jessika because she doesn't look like her in my head. so that is that on that!

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losing-victor · 3 years

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The Red Strings of Fates – Solangelo Your Name AU ficlet

This story is inspired by the anime, Your Name which is a movie that depicts how the red string of fate ties the two protagonists. This story will adopt some scenes from the movie but formed to fit the storyline better. Like in Your Name, they also switch places with their bodies, at first thinking it was a dream. But after some getting used to, they manage to live with their switched lives laying down some ground rules, the ones they figured out when they learned to communicate. But there’s a greater purpose for the switch, a greater purpose in which they only realize later on. In Your Name, everything was bound to be forgotten like a dream because the switch came with a cost: a sacrifice. In this story? I do not know yet.

Maybe I’ll upload on ao3 once I’ve finished uploading all the parts in tumblr, but for now: here is the prologue (or premise Idk really) of “Red Strings of Fates”:

“According to Greek mythology, humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.”

When he woke up, it was disorientating. The drab room painted in gray spun around while his vision tried so desperately to stay awake. The gust of wind outside is what woke him, making him shiver. In his head, Niccolò thinks, Bianca must’ve forgotten to close the windows again. He turns to look at the side of his cot, trying to reach for a mother that was never there. His arm relaxes and instead looks for his sister.

“You’re awake,” Her sister strode into the room, strands of hair peeking out from the laced cloth that covered the crown of her head. The loosely tied fabric was hastily done as if she had done it by herself because usually it would be done by mamma. She tightens the belt that cinches her waist and for a moment, Niccolò sees a look of conflict on her face as she glances at him.

Niccolò did not know what to make of it.

“Get dressed,” Her voice was sharp but it was forced, seeing how it quickly cracked at the end. “Your robes are already in bagno, while your hat is in the living room.” Her gaze softened when he finally stood up and looked up to meet her gaze. “Sbrigati, per piacere,” And Bianca was gone.

Niccolò looked outside of the window, his eyes glazing over the dead town. A town they would probably have to leave without knowing why. But mamma knows, Niccolò has crept up in the living room on nights he couldn’t sleep because he craved for warmth his mother so often could not give as their country is on the brink of a war. No, he corrects himself, there is war. But for some reason, they do not receive the hellfire of it. That is probably why mamma prays to God, why they go to church to pray the rosary every 6 am. Niccolò might be safe, but there’s something that makes him feel restless as he watches every reason to stay become meaningless. At 9 years old, Niccolò might have the privilege to not participate in a war, but feels like a victim.

There was the cold wind again, Niccolò tiptoed to shut the window and headed to the bathroom.

He stood before the sink of the running cold water and splashed his face. He looks in the mirror and almost slips when he sees his eyes. The bagno was thankfully small because it was the wall that his back slams against that prevented the fall. Niccolò blinks, his eyes were black again. But he could’ve sworn they were blue. He shakily straightens his body and takes the quickest shower under the cold water that for a second makes his skin feel like it was on fire. He jumps a foot in the air but for the second he wills himself to stay put.

He closes his eyes and sees blue.

Niccolò rushes out, hair dripping and his cloth belt hastily put on that the creases of his robe were certain to not appeal to his mother’s. Bianca meets him from outside holding out a hat in one hand, a brush in the other. She hands him the hat, which he takes and hugs close to his chest. Tenderly, she brushes his hair, carding her fingers through the wet mess of his unevenly trimmed locks that looked like spaghettini. She then puts her attention to the belt, fixes the crease with little to no effort at all. He wonders how she can put that much effort into him but not apply that same to her own.

“Grazie,” He says, a little ashamed.

Bianca tilts his chin in order for them to meet gazes. “You’re welcome,” She squeezes his shoulder, “You should introduce me to Anatolio, when we get to the church,” Niccolò’s eyes widened. He had male friends?

Niccolò bit his lip, how did he not remember that? Mamma said that younger boys like him if stuck around older boys, would be teased but he knew what really meant. (It meant torture.) It was why his mother says to stick around a girl. A girl he likes while Bianca had to choose a man to befriend. He doesn’t quite understand but he tries to anyway.

“Niccolò, Bianca,” the voice of his mother made him shake off the hold his sister had on him as he skips over to her, clutching on her dress as if on instinct. The palm on the back of his head was comforting. He looks up and sees her smile. “Let us go,”

They go out of the door and they keep huddled together with heads down. He wonders if from here he could still hear the shouts and screams of the tortured. He takes a glance to his side and looks down once more. He sucks a breath and wonders why he feels like he is suffocating. Then he remembers it’s the 1920s in Italy.

Everyone was holding their breath for some miracle to come, and Niccolò was no different.

“You’re up early,” Naomi Solace watches her son, illuminated by the dim light emanating from the open refrigerator door, freeze while getting a carton of milk when he hears her voice . The sun had barely risen but it already gave its position away, peeking from the clouds.She wrapped the cardigan closer to her body.

“Sorry, mom,” Will’s shoulders sagged, and put the carton of milk back before he gets a glass of water instead and drinks.

Naomi raised an eyebrow, her look directed at him filled with concern. Why was his son sorry for drinking milk? But it goes unnoticed by the 9-year-old boy who was now sitting at the stool bar of their kitchen island.

“I’m always telling ya to wake up early,” She walks over to him and ruffles his blond hair. “Why are ya sorry for, huh?” He doesn’t speak and only stares at the empty glass. It’s when she gets really concerned and sits at the stool beside his. “Okay, maybe I didn’t mean early as in quarter to 6 but I won’t get angry at ya, what’s wrong?”

“Bad dream,” is what he only gives. Naomi’s eyes widened at that and gave him a hug of which was warmly welcomed by her son. She could not imagine the day she loses him, Not yet, too young, she prays, “It’s so real, mom,” He sniffles in his cardigan. “And you weren’t there,”

Naomi did not understand, but she knew she had to begin to ease him into this world, a crazy world and so she sits back down the stool, the wood screeching a little when she drags it just a tad to let her be closer to her son. Naomi wipes the tears from his face with a swipe of her thumb and began,

"Honey, how much do you know about Greek Mythology?"

Will shook his head, "Not much, just these gods and they're many."

Naomi smiles, "Many indeed, how about a fun story?" She offers and he perks up significantly. She runs a hand through his shortened blond curls, and her palm rests on the side of his cheek to which he leans. She takes that as an invitation, "In Greek Mythology, there are soulmates…"

Will Solace listened intently to every word as if he was keeping it close to his heart. At 9 years old, without the knowledge of his mother, Will Solace dares to dream to find his own soulmate.

(Will will hold his breath for then until then.)

Okay folks, search for Your Name Nandemonaiya English Version by Akane Sasu Sora and you'll see why I had inspiration for this fic and mind you I think I'll have major plotholes and man, I'm gonna fuck this up, but yeah if you bear with bad writing I swear I have a point.

Actually can you just watch Your Name? Without the language barrier, it'd be oscar nominated, it's that good. Anyway, the twist in that was heart-wrenching. Okay bye, this fic is found in #RSF part whatever so yeah. Let me know if you wanna be tagged for the next one!

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wanderingcas · 4 years

Note

Weekly screaming session over Ascend, incoming! I’ve got multiple things to say, so buckle in, bud:

1) If you ever need to take a break, don’t feel guilty about it. It’s hard out here for everyone and what you’re doing takes a lot. I’m sure I can speak for most (if not all) of your readers when I say we’re okay with waiting for chapters as long as you’re alright and you produce something you’re confident in. (Well, as confident as writers ever get about our work... but I digress.)

2) I was crying the ENTIRE time while reading the new update. Holy SHIT.

3) When Dean asked Cas if he regretted loving him, I swear to god, I had to put my phone down. It’s so Dean. Sometimes, you read a line in something and it resonates deeply. Maybe it strikes a nerve you didn’t even know existed. Maybe it perfectly encapsulates a character so clearly that it takes your breath away. Maybe it’s just too real. Maybe it’s all of the above! All I know is, I re-read that line MULTIPLE times and had to hide away for a sec.

4) The fact that you flipped the script on Cas’ confession to make Dean’s was AAAAAUUUUUUGGGGHHHHHHHH! The moment he said, “I know how you see yourself.” I lost it. That damn scene has been on everyone’s dashboard again today and to see it flipped towards Cas from Dean was a beautiful bit of symmetry I appreciated.

5) You’re a great writer. You’re a damn great writer. And I know that no matter how many times people may say that, it’s hard to accept and it may even be in your nature to just kinda shrug it off (or maybe that’s just me projecting, in which case, from the bottom of my heart, my bad), but it’s rare to read something written by someone that makes you literally count down the days for an update. It’s not just because it’s Dean and Cas and we’re all searching for something to soothe the wounds 15x19 and 15x20 left us with. That may be but a small part of it. In reality, people are sticking around with Ascend because of you. Because of your knack for story telling. Because you describe the Empty so clearly that someone can close their eyes and picture it. It’s the Empty. There should be no way to describe it with words and, yet, you did. Because you understand the characters you’re writing. Because they have clear personalities and agency and your writing helps us understand them more. Someone can have a good premise and compelling characters, but if their writing isn’t captivating or expressive enough yet, the story will fall flat and people will not read along. That’s not the case with you.

6) I actually REALLY liked this style for this chapter. It was jarring (in a good way), like when the director in a movie changes the camera angle or something to get the audience to feel uneasy about something before they know what they’re supposed to feel uneasy about (does that make sense?) I think it fit the tone of the fic pretty well because of its difference from the previous chapters. It makes it clear this was a veering point, ya know?

Anyway, this has gotten extremely long and embarrassingly gushing but I think credit should be given when it’s due and the world has wayyyyy too many people second guessing themselves and their work because of imposter syndrome. I know this comment won’t take away that feeling. But seriously. You’re a great writer. The fic is so good. I can’t waittttttttt to see what happens next and to see everyone get the goddamn happy ending they deserve. And I’m glad you’re writing this fic.

Hope you’re doing well and if you’ve gotta take a break, take a break. Pretty sure we’ll all still be here waiting. :P

ok i can't even.... reply or process this. it's just. i got this ask on sunday and i'm STILL in awe. like... you sat down and wrote this whole beautiful thing for my fiC and now i get to stare at it and weep over it whenever i need a confidence boost. like holy shit anon. this just eased my writing issues and insecurities by about 60%. holy crap. i wish i had a more coherent reply except for simply saying... thank you. so much. i wish i could properly express how much this ask means to me. i'm working hard on the next chapter so i can hopefully put it out in a week because i can't wait for you to read it<3

#anon ask #answered ask #ascend fic #ascend spoilers #i am just #jaw on the floor #but i wanted to reply to this so i showed you how much this comment meant to me #even though i'm not properly showing it lol #ily anon

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writingfortoomanyfandoms · 4 years

Text

Holding Up The Universe

Pairing: Gwilym Lee!Brian May x Reader

Summary: She worked in an animal shelter and sometimes it felt a bit too much like she was holding up the universe

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: I’ve been talking about this fic for so long but for Day Three of my 4K Write Fest I actually finished it!! I hope you guys enjoy reading it, I loved writing it. As always, please remember to let me know what you thought - comment, reblog, send an ask, anything! I love hearing from you guys!!!

And if you wanna check out the other things that will be coming out for the Write Fest click here: 4K Write Fest

The woman at the desk in the lobby of the animal shelter was reading a book.

Brian couldn’t help but stare at her as he paused in the doorway, the door being propped open by a chair to let in the warm summer breeze.

If it weren’t for the heavy cardboard box in his hands, the contents of which had just begun to move a little, the tiny animal inside seemingly having just woken up, he wondered whether or not he would have admired the woman for a little longer.

“Hi - sorry to bother you,” Brian spoke up instead, gaining the attention of the woman, whose head snapped up, wide eyed in surprise at her sudden company.

A smile quickly formed on her face as she bookmarked her page, shaking her head at him.

“Hey, sorry about that. Wasn’t expecting it to be busy today,” she assured him, placing her book down and standing up from behind the desk. “How can I help you?”

“I found a hedgehog in my garden earlier today,” Brian explained awkwardly and she gestured for him to bring the box over and set it down on the table.

“Was she injured at all?” The woman inquired, opening the cardboard box.

“Yeah, I think so. Sorry - I wasn’t sure where else to bring him,” Brian told her apologetically. The woman gave him a dazzling smile, shrugging her shoulders at his concerned tone.

“It’s alright - we mainly just do rescue animals like dogs, cats, rabbits and such but we’d never turn away a hedgehog in need,” she assured him, winking. That simple action went straight to his heart and had him beaming back at her.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Brian said, for lack of a witty response on his part.

“So he was just in your garden?”

“Yeah, just chilling there.” Brian confirmed.

“Aw, well, we’ll definitely get her checked out, make sure she’s okay and we’ll see what happens,” the woman said with a bright smile that lit up her eyes.

“Thanks!” Brian said. “Do you want me to move the box for you? It’s pretty heavy,” he offered.

“Um, yeah, sure if you’re offering - we’re low staffed today because it’s been so empty lately and one of my coworkers called in sick this morning anyway,” the woman laughed, pushing open the door behind the desk, which presumably led to where the animals currently being cared for in the rescue centre were kept.

“So how many are in today?”

“Just me and another girl,” she shrugged. “But I think she’s out in the back. She’s new so we don’t talk much,” Brian joined in with her laughter.

“I’m Brian, by the way,” the woman gestured for him to put down the box on the table in the back room, where there were pens filled with sawdust and little habitats, holes in the wall where the animals were able to go through into the garden outside the back of the rescue centre.

Brian presumed that this was where they would keep the nocturnal wild animals before they were able to be safely re-released into their natural habitats.

The woman held out her hand to Brian once he had placed the box containing the hedgehog onto the table she indicated to him.

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you,” Brian said as he took her hand, thrilled at having learnt her name.

“You too! Thanks for bringing the little guy in - a lot of people wouldn’t have,” Y/N said, letting go of Brian’s hand and opening the cardboard box to look at the hedgehog, which had nestled itself comfortably into the towels which Brian had put in the bottom of the box, unsure of the best course of action of how to care for the small animal on his trip over to the rescue shelter.

“Thanks for looking after him,” Brian shrugged in response, taking the chance as Y/N was examining the hedgehog to allow his eyes to trace over her features, drinking her in in a way that he knew would probably make her uncomfortable if she caught him doing it, but he couldn’t help it.

Brian thought she was beautiful.

///

Brian hated himself for how much he found himself visiting the rescue centre that Y/N worked at.

The first few times he came after coming in the first time to drop off the hedgehog, he had done so under the premise that he was checking up on the little animal that he had brought in, wanting to check up on it’s progress and make sure that it was healing from the broken leg it had - Y/N had explained the extent of the hedgehog’s injuries to him the second time he had come in, eager to let him know the progress of the animal he had saved.

By this point, three weeks after having originally met her, Brian didn’t even attempt to pretend that he was at the rescue centre for any reason other than to see Y/N.

Y/N didn’t seem to mind, though.

She never failed to greet him with a wide smile, her eyes sparkling with pure joy. Something which he would sometimes make fun of her for, claiming that he must be the best part of her day judging by how happy she seemed every time that he entered into the centre.

Y/N claimed that her happiness came as a result of the coffee which Brian had taken to buying her on his way over.

Everytime that he would pay her a visit, Y/N would take him to see the animals currently residing in the shelter under her care. Brian loved those moments, to be able to see Y/N completely in her element, walking around the shelter with such confidence, knowing exactly what she needed to do to ensure the safety and well-being of the animals.

“Back again?” Y/N teased when Brian walked into the rescue shelter. He raised his eyebrows at her and tilted his head back towards the door.

“I can go, if you want - I’m sure one of the guys would happily take this coffee if you don’t want it?”

“Let's not be rash now,” Y/N protested, making Brian laugh, taking the coffee over and placing it into her outstretched hand. “How’s it going with the guys anyway? Any advances on the record?”

It hadn’t taken long for Y/N to recognise Brian as being the guitarist in Queen, she was a fan of theirs and the second time Brian had come in she had been straight-up and asked him whether or not it was actually him.

Brian had been wary about agreeing, unsure of what her reaction would be. But she had jumped to apologise about ambushing him with the question, assuring him that she had no malicious intent against him through placing his identity.

Brian had trusted her immediately and confirmed her suspicions, laughing when she recounted her story to him about going to see them play at their last London show.

“Slowly,” Brian admitted with a sigh - he had taken to offloading his worries about the albums onto her, knowing that she wouldn’t spread his concerns any further than just between the two of them, thankful to now have a confidant. It went two ways, though, of course, he was often the person who Y/N would go to to vent about her coworkers and how stressed she felt with how understaffed they actually were at the shelter.

“Still no inspiration?” Y/N asked sympathetically as Brian dragged up a chair to sit opposite the desk she was sat behind.

“No - and the few songs we have managed to write we can’t agree on,” he added.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Roger hates everything Freddie’s written, Freddie hates everything I’ve written, I hate everything Deaky’s written and he hates everything that Roger’s written. It all goes around in circles but it means that we can’t agree on any songs that all of us actually like,” Brian grumbled.

“Sounds like fun,” Brian released a quiet huff of laughter, shaking his head.

“I’m pretty close to just breaking my guitar over my head if I’m honest,” he stated, revelling in the sound of laughter it brought from her.

“How long are you there for?” Brian glanced at the clock on the desk and let out a sigh.

“I’m meant to be there in half an hour and we probably won’t leave until midnight, when Fred quite literally passes out,” Y/N pouted at him sympathetically. “How long are you working for?”

“I was meant to be getting off in an hour and a half but Jess called in sick-”

“Again?”

“My sentiments exactly,” Y/N agreed grimly. “So I’m staying late again.”

“You’re not working tomorrow though, are you?” Brian asked, trying to hide the hope in his voice but Y/N appeared to pick up on it regardless, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously.

“Not yet, but you never really know with this job,” Y/N confirmed. “What’s going on?”

“I just… I was wondering if you’d maybe want to get some coffee together,” Brian proposed. Y/N lifted her cup at him.

“What did you think we were doing right now?�� She asked but when Brian looked at her he saw the mischievous twinkle in her eye and let out a sigh, rolling his eyes.

“You’re really gonna make me ask it?”

“How else will I know that we’re on the same page?”

“God you’re annoying.”

“Do you want to get coffee together or not?” Brian smiled at her expression.

“Y/N Y/L/N, if you could spare the time from your incredibly busy schedule, tomorrow would you like to go on a date with me?”

///

“You seem nervous,” Brian commented when he opened the door to his apartment to see his girlfriend on the other side, a bottle of wine in her hand and a nervous smile on her face.

“Probably because I am,” Y/N retorted, rolling her eyes. Brian stepped to the side to allow Y/N into the hallway, chuckling at her words.

“I don’t know why,” he said, pecking her lips quickly.

“Oh yeah, can’t imagine,” Y/N scoffed, rolling her eyes at his nonchalant attitude. “Not like I’m about to meet your best friends, nevermind the other members of Queen.”

“Trust me, they’re all tossers,” Brian assured her. “Nothing to worry about,” he added, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Easy for you to say,” Y/N muttered. “You’ve already met them.”

Brian laughed again, placing his hands on her shoulders and steering her further into his apartment, kicking the front door closed behind them.

“You’d hope I had wouldn’t you - considering that we’re in a band together and all,” Brian mused.

“Is that her, darling?” Freddie called from the kitchen, where he was standing with John, who was uncapping two bottles of beer.

“Yeah! This is Y/N,” he confirmed.

“Nice to meet you, darling, Bri has talked non-stop about you,” Freddie was swift to move over towards her, a charming smile on his face as he held his hand out towards her.

“N-nice to meet you too,” Brian squeezed Y/N’s shoulder affectionately.

“She’s a bit nervous. She’s a fan,” Brian informed Freddie, whose eyes lit up in response. John was watching the interaction with amusement dancing across his face. All the guys loved seeing people interacting with and talking to Freedie for the first time, especially people who were fans of the band as they never really knew what to expect from the singer.

“Oh that’s wonderful!” Freddie enthused, taking Y/N’s hand and shaking it, despite her not having offered it to him. “We’re also big fans - Deaky here is actually my biggest fan.”

John looked at him, expressionless other than a slightly raised eyebrow. He turned his eyes onto Y/N and said, completely deadpan: “I’ve never loved anyone more than I love Freddie.”

“Good to know,” a woman’s voice stated from behind Brian and Y/N.

“Y/N - this is Deaky’s girlfriend, Veronica. Veronica, this is Y/N.”

“Of course you are!” Veronica smiled, holding out her hand for Y/N to take. “We’ve all heard so much about you.”

“That seems to be the theme of the evening, yeah.” Y/N chuckled, looking at Brian in amusement. “How much do you talk about me, exactly?”

“Oh it’s fucking endless, honestly - hedgehog girl this, hedgehog girl that. Makes me consider taking a drumstick and shoving it through my own eye.” Roger grumbled.

“It’s nice to meet you too.”

///

“Shit - Y/N? What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

Y/N had gotten three steps into Brian’s apartment and started to cry.

Brian had rushed out of the kitchen, where he was preparing dinner for the two of them, at the sound of her sobs, his heart clenching with worry as he observed her.

“Fuck - come here,” Brian pulled her into his arms, hugging her as close as he could manage, dropping his chin on top of her head and rocking them both backwards and forwards gently.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N sobbed into his chest. Brian rubbed his hands up and down her arm in his best attempt at comforting her.

“You don’t need to be sorry, Angel,” Brian soothed, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Come on, let's get you sat down somewhere more comfortable, yeah?” He suggested and Y/N nodded with a little sniffle, pulling away and wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper.

Y/N allowed Brian to lead her into his living room, where he pushed her gently down onto the sofa, grabbing the blanket from its back and draping it over her, watching as she sunk into the pillows, the personification of exhaustion when her eyes fell closed, a few more tears slipping down her cheeks from under her now-closed eyelids.

“Where are you going?” Y/N whimpered, her eyes opening when Brian began to move away from the sofa.

“Just gonna turn the dinner off - don’t want it getting burnt, sweetheart,” Brian soothed her, kissing her forehead again before straightening up. “I’ll be back in two minutes,” he promised.

When he returned he brought with him two mugs of tea and a pack of biscuits, knowing by now in their relationship the best way to calm her down when she was upset.

Y/N wordlessly held her arms out for him, though, and Brian sat on the sofa next to her, pulling her into his grip as she began to cry a little again.

“You wanna talk about it, Angel?” Brian probed gently once Y/N’s tears seemed to subside, little sniffles and the occasional tear left in their wake.

“I’m just so stressed, Bri,” she admitted, nestling herself closer to him, a mournful expression on her face.

“Shelter stuff?” Brian asked sympathetically, kissing the top of her head.

“Yeah I just… it feels like I’m the only one working there, you know? And it’s just so stressful and I hate the people I work with and I love the animals - I do! I love that I can help them and everything but it just all feels so far out of my control so much of the time and I don’t… I just feel so alone there, like everyone and everything is relying solely on me,” the words tumbled quickly from her lips, as though she had been holding them inside of herself for so long that they were relieved to finally be able to burst free.

Brian’s arms tightened around her.

“I’m sorry, Angel.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Brian conceded before shrugging a little helplessly. “But I’m still sorry that you feel like this.”

“Does it make me a bad person?” Y/N questioned after a couple of minutes of silence filling the room.

“No - you’re human, Y/N/N. And you do practically run that shelter alone half the time with how understaffed you are and the amount of times people call in sick. Of course you’re tired and stressed, anyone can see how much you love the animals and how good you are at looking after them. You’re not a bad person for needing a break, okay, Angel?”

“Okay.”

“You feeling better?” Brian asked and Y/N lent forwards to pick up her mug of tea before nestling back into Brian’s side.

“Much - sorry about that.”

“Stop apologising, sweetheart, I’m just glad I could help.”

#Brian May #brian may fanfiction #brian may imagine #brian may x reader #brian may fanfic #brian may fic #brian may fan #brian may fluff #brian may imagines #brian may x y/n #gwilym lee!brian may #bohemian rhapsody #queen #courts 4K Write Fest #courts writings

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