#godless: the diner story

[kk-k-kk]

GODLESS (18+ MDNI)

Chapter 1: The Diner Story

Summary: The thriving streets with booming businesses have come to a stand still. Curfews and police raids every few hours to seize any whiff of narcotics terrorised every person, regardless of involvement. The Upper Side lies unfaltering in their picket fences. In this induced borderline dystopia, in your cardboard box apartment you have found a strange joy in watching the actions of a tangerine-stealing thug.

Part Warnings: murder, gore, indulgence of illegal activities, violence

Pairing: suga/yoongi/agust d x fem!reader

May'27

"But I have two degrees!"

You rushed to take the files out of your bags to shove it into his face because clearly he missed it. You pulled at the zipper of your faded grey tote and the zip came right off. 

"Hah! So what? I have two as well and I also have three diplomas. So what?"

Broken zip in hand, you stared blankly as the grocery store clerk shouted at you. He held a shiny duster in front of him as if he would dust you off in case you stepped closer. 

"But-"

"No buts, madam. You didn't get the job. That is it. If you continue creating a ruckus like this, you will be forcibly removed and your chance, if any, of being possibly recruited in the future, will also be crossed."

"Why the fuck would I wait for the future to get a job in a grocery store?"

The man sighed. He was frustrated and you were numb. The heat outside was spilling through the glass windows of the store. You couldn't believe that you were being rejected from working part time at a grocery store. You had two degrees! 

"Look around you," you did, "half of the crowd here is of workers themselves. We are already exceeding employee capacity. Half of these employees are with degrees, diplomas and what nots, moreover they have experience too. Maybe you should try in a few years."

"But, this is just a grocery store," the broken zip in your hand felt very heavy. 

"Yes. And it's 2027," the man pushed the glass door open for you. You couldn't argue your case anymore. 

—

"And they rejected me! Like I care! It's just a useless grocery store," the melting popsicle was posing a problem to your venting so you rushed to finish it in one go.

"Maybe you should open an ice cream store?" the old ice cream seller was indulging in a popsicle too. You eyed him, wondering if his eyes showed mirth behind those sunglasses. 

You lived a funny life. A big room with a three by two bathroom is what you called your home. You slept every night smelling the onions and garlic peels left in the kitchen sink which was a 10 feet distance from your bed, no wall in between. Apparently the builder was very focused on open spaces. You would really like to meet the man someday. The only good thing about it was the tiny balcony, big enough to have no space for a third adult to stand. Watching the night market with something to drink made your terrible days, a little better. 

You worked as a babysitter for a decently rich family but you caught the rich housewife fucking the househelp. You were fired for neglecting the child on the same day. Ever since, unemployed and exhausted you have walked shop to shop in hope for even a part time job. Your two degrees were just laminated tissue papers, you were sure, or something of the same cost. 

"I'll just sleep it off, I guess, again."

"Yes. Do that. Again," the old man tapped the price card and you sighed, taking out the loose change in your pockets. What was so cool about money anyway?

—

You felt like you would faint if you took another step so you leaned against the alley wall, basking in the shadows of the shabby looking diners and bars. Another block down and you would be home. The disgustingly small and dilapidated room was all that you needed after a horrible day. So you mentally made a count, deciding that you would start walking right after. 

1… A deep inhale. 

2… Holding your breath. 

3… A deep exhale that poured out not only carbon dioxide but a bit of your exhaustion and sorrow too. 

4… Another deep inhale. 

5… Holding your breath again. 

6… A deep exhale-

A shriek of terror rang in your ears that got immediately muffled with the sound of something heavy dropping to the ground. You couldn't recall at what point your eyes shot open and you were sprinting to help the man who was slowly beginning to get drenched, lying in a pool of blood. 

The man was fairly large and well built but his eyes faded in and out of focus as he coughed out more blood. Your hands frantically searched for your phone in your bag as you kneeled on the ground next to him. You only realised you were screaming for help when you heard the emergency services on the other side of the call. 

You had just told them the location and hung up when you finally noticed the knife stabbed into his stomach. It didn't go in very deep but the wound was bleeding profusely. The man groaned in pain and reached towards the wound. 

"Wait, don't touch it," you looked around for anything that you could help him with but there was nothing and no one. 

You stumbled back on your feet and ran towards the end of the alley to ask for help. It looked like the man would bleed out before help got there. You sprinted ahead but before you could exit the alley, you heard sirens blare. With a sigh of relief, you turned towards the siren only to be met with a gun to your head. 

"Don't move. Get in the car."

"What? What is going on-"

"You are under arrest on the suspicion of murder or bodily harm. You have the right to remain-"

"Remain exactly the fuck where I am. What are you doing? I called you people. What insanity is this?"

—

"Look. I called you guys. I was the one who called for help. I found him in the alley bleeding."

The inspector scrolled his screen and you weren't sure if he was listening to you at all. 

"Excuse me-"

"Shut up."

You gaped at the man who just asked you to shut up. It wasn't the inspector, no. It was the guy who was handcuffed to the next chair. His eyes were closed as he relaxed on the chair. It didn't really look like he was bothered about being handcuffed and possibly being thrown in jail. But all thoughts aside, all your senses came to one agreement: he was unarguably a sight for sore eyes.

Nonetheless, a pretty face couldn't be excused for being disrespectful to you. So you cleared your throat and turned properly to face him, "Excuse me?"

"Stop whining. They can't hold you here for long without evidence, anyway," his voice was gravelly like he just woke up from a nap. 

"They shouldn't hold me here at all because I didn't do anything," you glared at the inspector as you spoke, taking care to be extra loud during the latter part. 

The man chuckled under his breath and you could feel something turn in your stomach. The laughter felt condescending and it made the flutter in your stomach turn into annoyance. 

"What? What's so funny?"

You watched him raise his cuffed hands as much as he could and stretch with a yawn. It was very disappointing that such a sight turned out to be an asshole. You waited for him to put words to his condescension so you could do something about the growing anger in you. 

But when he finally opened his eyes, he didn't spare you a glance. He tapped on the desk before him and the inspector on the other side sighed and gave him a look. You almost screamed out loud when the man was uncuffed with a nod and a grim, "Don't get caught again."

"Wait what? Excuse me? Hello?"

You tapped on the desk before you too. It has to be a magic key or something to be let go because how was the man just uncuffed without any exchanges? 

The old inspector before you sighed and finally looked at you with a sudden urgency. You took it as your chance and began explaining, "Sir, I was just on the scene and I saw the guy bloodied and-"

"Do you know how to open an Instagram account?"

—

You have lived in the LBs since forever. When your parents were alive it was the upper LBs. After their passing, working all these part time jobs, your residence changed to worse. But never have you ever been handcuffed with a criminal charge. You had no idea how people got out of situations like this but from the movies and the dramas, it had to be networking. But you had no networks. You knew no one. Even then, you had just walked out of a police station as a free woman after you opened a fake Instagram account for the investigator. 

"Are you sure?" You had asked. 

"Go on," the investigator nodded, going back to scrolling reels on his phone in an obnoxiously loud volume. 

You had thought for a minute that maybe this would come back to bite you in the ass later but then you remembered how that man had walked free just like that. 

So there you were, exiting the damp air of the police station, with an ominous feeling lingering in your guts. 

"Gave him a blowjob?"

It was the same guy who had walked out a while before you. His wavy hair fell on his face as he leaned against the wall. They looked so soft and luminous and for a moment, you even thought he almost looked familiar. But your thoughts abruptly halted when you finally processed what he just said to you. 

"Why? Is that what you do to get out?"

He laughed. He laughed so hard that his whole body shook with each fit of it. You had no idea why it made you feel proud of your comeback. Your smugness urged a smirk on your lips too. 

"You win this time," his laughter slowly came reduced to a smile that felt awfully gentle. It made you feel weird so you begged your head to focus on something else. 

"I always do," you almost never but he doesn't need to know that. 

He nodded, finally standing up to his full height to face you. He was taller, you noticed, only slightly though. You didn't like the way he looked at you. It wasn't condescension. It wasn't violating. It just felt like he was looking at you, really looking. It had been ages since you felt seen and not an unnoticed spec of dust in the grand scheme of things. 

So when he extended a hand filled with bruises and busted knuckles, you took it. That's how you came to know him although that exhausting afternoon, you had no idea what was to come. 

—

August '27

Although you walked out of the police station together, cursed the government together and parted ways abruptly when you couldn't find your phone, you regretted not getting his name. You had sprinted back to the police station and he said you'd probably see him around. Since that day, you neither found your phone nor him in the streets. 

In the days after, your life remained exactly the same. Till evenings you'd toil the market in front of your building. On some days, you worked in the diner beside your building and on others, as assistants to the vendors in front of it. It was enough to barely get by. It was enough. 

"Sang-ho has brought in so many men today. Are you sure you want to be here today?"

You shrugged at Hee-jin. She permanently worked at the diner and didn't find your existence disgusting. You weren't friends, you supposed, both of you tolerated each other. 

"Rumor has it that he has brought in billions. He probably got a new deal. But with all the men he has called, there might be problems. I hope we don't get raided," Hee-jin placed the last dish in the sink just as you finished tying your apron. 

But your interest was caught. Sang-ho was a regular at the diner but Hee-jin insisted that he was only regular on the day that you were working. He didn't bother you nor did he ever speak to you. You couldn't say the same about his men. You almost stopped coming to the diner after one of them had been extra touchy-feely while asking for chopsticks. But the pay was good and beggars couldn''t be choosers. 

"Even if they get raided, what is it to us? With all that money, I doubt they pay rent every month," sharing a laugh with Hee-jin, you stretched your shoulders. You had a feeling that it was going to be a long day. 

The day turned out to be slower than usual. Sang-ho's men occasionally went up and down the stairs but they didn't stop to eat. It was exceptionally hot for a day in August. Once in a while you'd spot Hee-jin standing in front of the fan and scurry when your eyes awkwardly met. You wouldn't tell on her. She wouldn't trust you and well, neither would you. 

Once there were enough dishes that you could see the pile from the counters, you'd start washing again, you decided. It wouldn't hurt to sit near the cool air once in a while. The kitchen was so humid that you could feel sweat trickling inside your bra and as much as you wanted to scratch the itch, you stayed still. 

There was a couple sitting exactly in your line of vision. They were talking softly, giggling periodically. It was annoying how long the guy was stirring the soup with his chopsticks. The red of the chopsticks went round and round. You realised you were zoned out staring at someone's food but you didn't have it in yourself to care about it. 

The sound of murmuring and hustle bustle from the market was growing louder, you observed at one point, until all of a sudden it went quiet. That's when your eyes returned to focus, falling on the familiar figure that was now entering the diner like he owned the place. His eyes met yours once, not even wandering, like he knew exactly where you would be. Before you could react, he was taking the red chopsticks you were staring so keenly at and running up the stairs. 

Havoc was being wrecked upstairs while people downstairs pretended that it was alright. You would too, generally. Turf wars have grown to be a frequent sight and even if Sang-ho was being raided upstairs, you never cared. But it was different the moment he entered. It was different that out of all those shouts and groans upstairs, one voice could be his. 

You despised people in horror movies who would venture into the darkness just to feed their curiosity but there you were, ignoring Hee-jin's wide eyed glare and the silence of the stilled cutleries as you walked up the stairs. 

There were men still fighting when you reached the top stair. The first body lying still in the corridor was that of a man; chopsticks sticking out of his eyes and you almost threw up right there. But the man was familiar and so were the chopsticks, both of the two that had once made you want to quit. You didn't like the blooming feeling of victory you could feel in yourself. So you gulped it down. 

As you looked forward, you could see that familiar figure sift through the bulky men trying to plough each other. Narrowly avoiding being thrown or punched, you stayed by the wall flinching when a broken glass somehow scraped past your arm. You almost missed the mop of black hair disappear into a room and sprinted to follow it except just when you were about to touch the door, a hand pulled you back by the shoulders, twisting you around and pushing you up against the wall. 

Staring you down was the man himself, breathing heavily with blood splattered on his face. He had a smile adorning his lips as he stepped closer crowding your bubble until all your eyes could see were his dark ones. You didn't even know that you wanted to see them up close this bad. His breath was mingling with yours, mixing with the stench of blood. You could smell the nicotine and something more musky you couldn't quite put a finger on. 

A cold hand gripped the base of your throat and you could feel your heart dropping at the way he lowered his face to your level. You held your breath as he stayed like that, teasingly running his eyes up and down your features before returning to your face, "You, again?"

His hand didn't move from your throat, his digits began pressing deeper to the point where your gulping made him follow the column of your throat again with his dark eyes as his smile widened. What could you say? Would he understand if you told him that your feet just brought you here, to him and now your hands wanted to reach up and your fingers wanted to entangle in his curls and- No. You probably couldn't tell him that. So you did what you did best. You lied. 

You spoke with a steady voice, "Someone called the cops, you should get what you need and escape."

"What makes you think I need something? Maybe I just came here to get in trouble, what do you know?"

His voice was deeper than you remembered consciously and the gravelly vibrations traveled to your core with the way he was pressed against you. You were already breathless with his presence when there was a crash beside your head. It was a man with a knife sticking out of his side. Your vision became blurry for a moment and by the time it returned to normal your view of the bloody man was blocked by the grinning man in front of you. Of course, to block the view like the gentleman that he was, he would have to step even closer. 

"You could have just fought with your men there then. I saw you move ahead of them like you had intention-"

Your words stuttered to a stop when he was off you in a second, taking out a small knife from heaven knows where and stabbing a man twice his size some ten times in five seconds. The man fell to the floor and he smiled back at you again, "you were saying?"

Eyes stuck on the man bleeding out on the floor, you pushed your back against the wall to not let your feet give away, "I saw you run forward as if you-"

"Uh huh?"

"As if you-"

He was laughing. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of fear; only a tinge when you should have screamed bloody murder and sprinted miles away. But at the same time you could feel the coils in your stomach tighten and something in you not wanting to leave. 

"As if what?"

"As if you need something from here. Get it done and go."

He smiled, sending you a mock salute before pushing open a heavy looking door while you stood against the wall, breathless and panting. You could hear the blood rushing to your head over the sounds of the fighting. Never in your entire life had you felt such a rollercoaster of emotions. There was something strange about him and you knew it, it was as obvious as global warming that you shouldn't play Dora the Explorer with this guy of all people. But you watched as he emerged out of the room, a big leather bag in hand. 

The corridor had become more chaotic than before. You assumed that both sides had called in more people. As you stared at the people fighting to death, you tried to process what exactly was happening. But you failed. So when a sticky hand grabbed yours and prompted you to move forward, you let it. His wavy hair bounced as he ducked random blows, spinning you around, moving you back and forth while moving forward and out of the narrow, bloodied corridor. Just before the last step before the stairs, he dropped your hand. 

You hadn't realised that you were staring at your joined hands until he let go. When your eyes traveled up to his face, it had more blood than before and his light coloured shirt was barely half of the shade it used to be. He was still smiling at you, you realised. 

"I never found you on the streets."

Your lips were moving so you knew it was you talking. But what was that weak, breathless voice? 

"Did you want to?"

He asked it so nonchalantly as if he was around and you just hadn't spotted him. 

"Yes. I mean-", you barely recognised your voice and your train of thoughts. You wondered where all your years of being tough and tactical went. 

"Then you will."

And he was gone. 

—

Sirens. Multiple cars. 12 deaths. A huge number of injured people. 

The closed diner was dark, lit up by the red and blue and echoing the haunting sirens. The police officers had stopped to ask a few questions and Hee-jin answered them all. You watched her lie through her teeth that you, who stood like a pinned doll, were too shaken up with the incident so you couldn't speak to them at all. They said they understood and gave you a look of pity. You felt nauseous. 

When you had walked downstairs and splashed water in your face a good fifteen times, the police were already there. You sent a prayer hoping he was gone far away by then and then to erase the guilt of sending such a prayer, you splashed water in your face again. Hee-jin didn't ask anything. Nobody asked or even glanced at you. It was as if you hadn't just associated yourself with someone who raided one of the biggest turfs of the LBs. Were they ignorant? Were they afraid? 

The owner of the diner appeared once in front of you two to mention in a rather bored tone that the diner would be closed the following day and left. Hee-jin looked at you strangely and left. You were thankful that she even looked at you and you left. 

When you were home and you could hear the familiar tune of old school kpop playing in the apartment right below yours, you bawled like a baby. You didn't know why. You just cried and cried until the turning of your guts stopped and you were sane enough to question yourself. There were feelings in you that had not been stirred for years and there was a tingling in the back of your heart, a craving almost. But it was a different kind of craving, the ones that made you want to have a pair of strong arms wrapped around you. You wondered where all of this was coming from. But you knew the answer. You just didn't want it to be the answer.

The steaming mug of coffee was grounding you to reality as you looked over at the night market. The night market saw two types of customers, one that bought the usual edibles up front and the other, that bought tightly sealed packets from the shadows. It was almost funny sometimes. The old lady of stall 5 got mad at anyone who tried to bargain. She was just constantly in a bad mood and while you understood and related to her, it was not nice to always hear people being shouted upon. When watching the night market became your muse, it took you all of a week to believe that the same old lady probably sold the most narcotics. Her customers in the shadows even queued to get it. 

The coffee had cooled down comparatively when you took your first sip. There was a small commotion in the market but you couldn't see it. The old lady was closed, you realised. That was very strange. It was a clear night and it almost made you forget the kind of day you had. A good night's sleep would prepare you for a tough next day and with the kind of heatwave that was shaking the city, you would need all the preparation. 

Your eyes were out of focus and you zoned in and out. The image of an intriguing pair of chocolate brown eyes flashed in the back of your mind. It was so vivid. You could see the smirk that formed on his lips and it subconsciously made you grip the cup tighter. His eyes stared at you unblinking until the smirk got bigger and he sent a wink your way. 

That's when you broke out of your trance. Groaning in disbelief, you rubbed your eyes and sighed. But when you opened them, they met the chocolate brown pools again. 

"What the-"

There he was. Not in your vision but walking in all glory out of the night market, smiling at you. In a polythene by his side, something orange swung with each step. Tangerines? 

As he took a turn and disappeared out of sight, you placed a hand on your heart, which felt like it would pop out of your throat. What had just happened? He was gone as fast as he came. You almost confirmed in your mind that he was not real. You were hallucinating and you'd have to break your savings to go see a doctor. 

As if he was hearing your thoughts, the alley where he disappeared, he walked back out of it. This time he walked straight to your building. Stumbling to reach the railings, you peered down at him. 

"What are you doing here?"

You wondered if he heard you over the noise of the market. But he was looking straight up at you. 

"Tomorrow. Lake Plaza at 5."

And again with a mock salute, he walked off. You fumbled, stuttered and almost bit your tongue in the urgency to reply but by the time you were about to utter, "What?" He was gone. 

—

He got a deal. A deal so good he liked to call it a steal deal. Four tangerines for no money. Normally he would celebrate his steal deal with some more steal deals but he was somewhat in a hurry. 

The men behind him had knives, he was sure. But he had left his own set of beautiful knives at his home. Now he had a backup tucked in his shoe but he was slightly concerned. Five grown men might pose a little trouble for a pocket knife. 

He whistled as he walked, a small smile playing on his busted lips. The way you fumbled every time you saw him but how you were ready with comebacks every time he got too comfortable, it made him curious. It made him wonder what kind of life you had lived, what kind of life you lived. There was a hollow pit in his stomach that was making him question whether you would show up where he asked you. After all, it would be a miracle if you did but for some reason, he thought you were a miracle. Something in him could tell that you were. So he wanted to push his luck. 

The men tailing him had stopped being subtle. Their footsteps were closer and peripherally he could see something shiny in the occasional lights from nearby buildings and the rarely unbroken lamp posts. 

'No,' he thought. If you were to show up, he would need his face to be unscathed. 

"Alright guys," the men abruptly stopped when he turned around to face them, their mouth open in surprise. 

He took his time cracking his neck and stretching his arms before finally nodding at them, "Let's get this over with."

[howlingmidnightmoonlight]

Memories so long ago...

So far gone sir, don't remember the last time I saw the world so bright

Cold winter running in my veins tonight, I haven't slept in years, don't you understand

Standing on the corner don't do no good, its pouring down rain, hand me a light

Catch the train the pain is reeling off the years, stealing my soul tonight

Come round for a story I can tell the world is a poor imitation of heaven tonight

Don't you worry about tomorrow, no one knows what we have been dealt here

Avenue neon, flames licking the eyes, as the world sighs as the red light beams

Record machine round another groove, quarter for your thoughts as the memories boil

The spoon gleans in the glimmer of moonlight in the dark, I thought I saw an angel

Now I know I am dreaming again soon, the nightmares will come screaming through

Rolling time through the years I still see her face painting darkness across the skies

A score out and a score down too many years missing

On the beat the saxophone moans the city comes alive in the twilight hours

Ghost haunting main street, no one remembers who they were when youth played on

Counting out the dead, the devils on the lamppost selling toasted starlight

Years swirling down the drain, come to find the ghostly strain

You understand when the fire won't boil dreams

The missing screams between the windows tonight

When the years are mistaken for tears, when the memories are coasting off the rails

Hear the radio call, flip, reverse the track now your lacking the truth again

Running the reels back between in the trunk, the years since you first saw the night

Come alive in winters hands, swollen and standing godless on the screaming stars

Moonlight tortured your eyes the world couldn't believe you're still here

Silver screen burning in your eyes a play across the stage a traffic two hours old

Now you're a young man, sold man disappearing, man they made you a mark

In the park the dreams ran out on the merry go round the golden ring lost its sheen

The gilded age began as the tears ran out with the dawn she smiled as the door closed

The angels on the coast writing letters for the toast the diner is closed now sir

You are written in gray the faded black and white of another age

[godlesshorrors]

𝗟𝗜𝗠𝗜𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗡𝗘𝗗 𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗣𝗜𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗠𝗘 𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗣 𝗢𝗡 𝗚𝗢𝗗𝗟𝗘𝗦𝗦!!! Never say never in 2023! There are 15 signed (by me) print copies of Call Me Hoop on Godless right now. Let's start of 2023 by trying out something new. Please only buy in the US. I don't know how smoothly this will go so... sorry to everyone else. 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧! https://godless.com/products/call-me-hoop-season-one-signed-print _______________ CALL ME HOOP The Devil Knows Your Name. Learn his. Earth has become a playground for the "Big Man Downstairs" to shell out punishment to the most disgusting and vile scumbags of our society. A racist cop, a murderous Karen, and a psychotic rapist are just three of the “touched by malevolence" targets on the devil’s personal damnation list.   Call Me Hoop is a totally unique form of horror narrative where eight different authors bring you twelve entwined stories that will change everything you know about heaven… and hell!    Always one step ahead of you, when Sonny Hooper asks you to call him Hoop, the trap is already set. Be prepared to pay for your sins.   Call Me Hoop features the unpublished finale "The Diner" by Drew Stepek. Book 1: "A Little Bit County" by Drew Stepek Book 2: "The Skid Row Slugger" by Drew Stepek Book 3: "The Poser" by Drew Stepek Book 4: "Karen" by Lucy Leitner Book 5: "Skin Deep" by Lucas Milliron Book 6: "Pink" by John Shupeck, Jr. Book 7: "Hell Week" by Lewis Kelly Book 8: "Freak Fuck" by Peter Caffrey Book 9: "The Scratching Post" by Dani Brown Halloween Special: "The Trap House" by Drew Stepek Book 10: "The Profile" by Ryan Harding Epilogue: "The Diner" by Drew Stepek 𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗬 𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧! https://godless.com/products/call-me-hoop-season-one-signed-print _______________ #godless #godlessapp #godlesshorror #godlesshorrrors #horror #horrorbooks #horrorbookstagram #indiehorror #indiebooks #indiebookstagram #supportindie #godless2023 (at Los Angeles, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm7ZkfHyMFV/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[hljournal]

Today’s author is kiddle / @bluejeanlouis ! Don’t forget to give the fics kudos and leave a comment!

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He's gotta have one somewhere...

Half a Million Strong (50k)

Louis Tomlinson is a young writer for a relatively new-on-the-scene rock magazine called Rolling Stone. His assignment is to fly across the country to cover the highly anticipated Woodstock Music and Art Festival. Armed with a notebook, audio recorder, and a camera, Louis just needs one big interview. Harry Styles. A new name in rock music and a future name in rock history. His first album sold tens of thousands and his interviews attract audiences across the country. He has the poetry of Jim Morrison and the stage presence of Mick Jagger. And after seeing him perform at the festival, Louis is willing to jump through hoops to put Harry on the cover of Rolling Stone.

Gather No Moss (50k)

Music journalist Louis Tomlinson will do just about anything to get a story he’s passionate about. Including spending a week on tour with the hard-to-manage rockstar-in-the-making Harry Styles. In the late ‘60s, every long-haired kid thinks they can make it in music, and Louis’ job is to figure out what exactly makes Harry so special. That is if he can get him to put down the bottles and guitars to answer a question truthfully.

What Happened to ‘Never Say Die’? (28k)

Or, a coming of age American AU inspired by classic ‘80s movies like The Goonies and Stand By Me where everyone has a secret and no one wants to get caught.

The Inevitability of Life (The Fuck-It List) (62k)

Or, Harry wants to remember what it's like to feel alive again, and Louis has just the adventurous spirit he's looking for.

Born on Third Base (115k)

All his life Harry figured the recipe for success was to work hard, follow the rules, and have a plan. In school he always had the top marks in his class. He knew what university he wanted to get into, and he knew what he wanted to study. What was not part of his plan was getting accepted for a scholarship to the most elite private boarding school in the country. So, deciding that the opportunity best not go to waste, Harry shows up for his first and last year at Rockcrest Academy for Boys. There, he meets his roommate, Louis, who is seemingly popular, rich, rebellious, on the football team, and has a thing for movies from the 80s and 90s. They shouldn't be friends. They come from two different worlds. But with help from a secret off-campus car, and a determination to break the rules, they hit it off. And somehow along the way, they show each other the parts of life they're each missing out on.  

All You Get Is Sound (51k)

A month ago, Harry kissed his best friend. He didn't think it through at the time. His girlfriend just cheated on him, he was drunk and vulnerable, and Louis was telling him everything he needed to hear. Now he can't stop thinking about how much he wants it to happen again.

Louis is not in love with his best friend. There's no way it could ever work out, he tells himself over and over. Besides, Harry probably doesn't even remember the kiss happened. It shouldn't have happened. He can't lose Harry because of it.

As competition season comes to an end, the pair are about to leave on their school's year-end band trip- the final one they'll be attending before heading off to university. Spending that much constant time together can create a lot of tension, both negative and otherwise.

Can’t Slow Down (18k)

Harry is a drug dealer who's bad at his job and Louis is a waiter at a late-night diner who's just trying to make it through university. After a bad first impression and an accidental bag switch, the two are forced to spend the whole night together trying to finish the deal and get Louis his textbooks back. As well as his half of the profit, of course.

Long Way Down (4k)

After a devastating break-up, Louis remembers some of the best and worst moments he and Harry shared from the day it started to the night it all went down in flames.

[annaalexiswrites]

Hello! I was tagged by @reyes-liley , @lone-mezzo-of-the-mezzorealm and @millionsoftea !

Reyes-Liley questions:

1. When did you realise you wanted to be a writer?

When I was about eight and wrote a story about evil librarians that attacked the people who returned books late.

2. Who are your main OC’s? Are they based off of anyone?

Winn, Rosa and Clara are the original main OC’s, but Marianne and Addie are becoming increasingly more important. Winn and Rosa were originally based off of Whitey and Louise from Godless, but, honestly, they’ve changed so much, they’re not really the same as them at all.

3. What is your current WIP about?

If you want the full description, you can go to my WIP page, but that’s kinda long, so I’ll shorten it to: A girl runs away from her abusive father to a small New England town and makes friends and gets a boyfriend and the boyfriend has a best friend who’s in love with him and has a dad that abandoned her when she was a baby and is now back in her life and all three of them work at a diner owned by a woman who’s bisexual and her gay best friend who’s in love with her and everyone gets a happy ending, I swear.

4. Best and worst writing advice?

Best: Just keep writing, even if you think it’s shit.

Worst: No sentence can start with and or but, or said is dead.

5. Last line that your wrote?

“And, for the record, if you want more than one friend, I’m here, too. And I don’t like to toot my own horn, but I’m a pretty awesome friend.”  - Clara to Rosa.

6. Badly describe your OC’s personality

Winn: Heart of gold, overly romantic, respectfully can’t take no for an answer.

Clara: Hides behind a smile, Cartier version of Effy Stonem, raging daddy issues.

Rosa: Teenage runaway in her 20′s, cold and closed off but really emotional, better than you.

7. How often do you write? How do you find time to write?

Now that I’m getting into it again, I try to write at least every other day. I get up early and am on my computer a lot, and I don’t have a job or school or anything, so it’s pretty easy for me to find time to write.

8. What is your favourite genre to write?

Anything involving found families.

9. What is your least favourite genre?

Probably Young Adult Romance, which is weird because that’s what I’m writing, but a lot of it is meant to be romance and comes off as creepy, so I don’t really like it.

10. Are you looking for beta readers?

Yes! I don’t have any money, so I can’t pay you, but I would love a beta reader!

Millionsoftea’s questions:

1. Who is your OTP out of your OCs?

Romantically: Rosa and Winn or Marianne and Addie.

Platonically: Clara and Winn or Rosa and Clara. Or Clara and Addie. Or Winn and Marianne. I just really love friendships, okay?

2. What part of your WIP has been your favourite so far?

Well, it’s still in the early stages, I’ve barely written anything, but I really like cute and funny moments between Winn and Clara and Clara and Rosa, just kids being kids and having fun.

3. What genre do you like to write?

Anything with found family.

4. Do you listen to music when you write?

Almost every time.

5. How do you mainly get inspiration?

Reading researching posts on Tumblr, watching TV or movies, reading books, people watching, listening to music, really anything!

Lone-Mezzo-Of-The-Mezzo-Realm’s questions:

1) When did you decide that you wanted to start writing?

When I was about eight and wrote a story about evil librarians that attacked the people who returned books late.

2) How many WIPs do you have and what genre are they?

Only one at the moment, which is a Romantic Drama.

3) What’s a topic you’d never write on?

Probably rape or racism through someone who’s not white eyes.

4) Which character would you never kill, under any circumstances?

Rosa, Clara, Winn, Marianne or Addie. Frank, Rosa’s father and Clara’s father can especially go fuck themselves.

5) What authors did you dislike at first but then grew to appreciate later?

Jane Austen.

6) Have you ever gotten readers block?

Yes!

7) Do you think someone could be a writer if they don’t experience emotions strongly?

I think you could, but it might be more difficult.

8) Does writing energize you or exhaust you?

Both! It depends on what I’m writing and how long I’m writing for.

9) How many unfinished WIPs do you have?

None that I’m actively working on, but around two or three WIP’s that I started for NaNo and never finished.

10) What was an early experience where you learned that language has power?

When I first wrote a poem when I was about ten.

I don’t know who to tag, so anyone who wants to do this, just answer any of the questions I answered!