#i have a toaster oven i use instead of the big oven | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sophiasharp · 10 months

Text

Man I don’t think we talk enough about the fact that in the wildly accepted fanon, the ghouls were like. Creatures pulled out of a primitive society full of bloodshed and danger. These guys were just chilling in hell, fighting for their lives every day like you do, and now they’re on Earth, expected to figure out Earth manners and technology and how the fuck anything works. I’ve been thinking about it, though. Let me walk you through my thoughts

THE GHOULS TRANSITIONING TO LIFE ON EARTH

Aether

- Bull in a China shop

- Big man has gotten very good at controlling his strength over the years. That control was NOT there at first.

- Bumped into fucking everything too. Dude’s used to being in the wide open abyss the quintessence ghouls occupy. Suddenly having to learn special awareness was. A hurdle of his.

- He broke a lot of tables. And chairs. And plates. Mugs. One Sibling’s arm. He got there eventually but Omega had to walk him through how fragile everything on Earth is compared to their ghoulish strength.

- Part of his habit of jumping up and down also comes from how different Earth is to his home environment. You mean you can go up and then you’ll come down again? Automatically? What a concept! Gravity is so much fun!

- Still gets some sense of novelty out of electric lighting. Being able to just. Make the dark go away? Whenever? Amazing.

- He keeps a night light on in his room. The last person to make fun of him for it mysteriously ended up with 3rd degree burns.

Dewdrop:

- Skittish little fucker

- Kinda like that one video of those weird crabs reacting to the diver

- Dew, poking at a toaster: Friend? Friend? Friend? Big noise! Scared! Scared! Scared! Scared! … Friend? Friend?

- Fucking LOVED blankets and coats and jackets and robes and honestly just anything that will keep him warm. He was used to the cold, sure, but if he had a choice between that and being cuddled under 5 different comforters, possibly with another ghoul for extra body heat? It wasn’t even a competition.

- Still had to often be reminded to wear clothes. “We’re in a hellish commune, does anyone really care about one ghoul being naked?” “It’s not so much the nakedness as much as the being out and about without your uniform.”

- Warm food blew his Fucking mind. Coming from the frigid arctic, whatever warmth you’d get from your food’s internal temperature was short lived. Microwaves? Ovens? Tea Kettles? Marvelous. Truly a gift from the Dark One

- Got REALLY into cooking. Dude is a wizard in the kitchen. Watched so many kitchen shows once he figured out how TV’s worked and started replicating the really fancy meals they were creating on screen with whatever he could find around the Abbey and what the kitchen staff were willing to give him. Now, whenever there’s a big occasion, he’s the one asked to oversee the food.

Mountain:

- weirdly calm and placid about everything despite not knowing how literally anything worked.

- Just casually curious about everything. Was always asking questions. Not in an annoying way, but just politely inquisitive.

- There was like a 50/50 chance he was actually listening to you at any given point in time. I mean, there are so many new sights, sounds, smells to experience! Can’t expect him to be 100% there when there’s still so much new splendor all around!

- If ever he was confronted with something new but no one was around to explain what it was, he would instead try to just. Figure it out on his own using his best judgement.

- This is how he once ended up straight up eating someone’s phone. This was very early on, mind you, but it was so smooth and shiny! And the precious metals inside were so tasty! He knows better now, of course. But there are some days where he’s tempted to give his ministry-issued smartphone a nibble…

- Figured out his love of gardening pretty damn fast considering that’s what he was originally summoned for. However, aside from tending to Primo’s garden, he found himself still going out to tend to the plants even in his free time. It’s calming to him, reminds him of home. When things get overwhelming, the plants are there to let him channel his worry into something producing.

- His first personal plant was a small pot of rosemary. He kept it in the window of his room and took *such* good care of it. It’s still there to this day, nestled among the other plants he’s accumulated of the years.

Swiss

- he is so excited about everything!!!!

- He has to be touching all the new things all the time! What does it do? How is it made?? Can he eat it??? A lot of things that were small enough went straight into his mouth. Copia needed to keep a spray bottle on him at all times to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

- Of course, when he was around the other ghouls, he played it cool. Have to make a good impression on his new (and hopefully permanent) packmates after all. He reeeaaaally didn’t want get sent back to the pit so getting in good with the rest of the band was TOP priority!

- In fact that need to be liked was bordering on unhealthy and sort of sabotaged himself a bit. Acting all suave and cocksure when the entire rest of the band was on high alert does that.

- Most of the ghouls regarded him with a hefty amount of distrust at first- being the first summon of the new boss came with a LOT of baggage -but Cumulus saw straight through him. He was just a silly little guy! She became his first real friend amongst the pack.

- The two became menaces together, exploring the abbey and messing with shit they probably shouldn’t have. Primo’s garden was a favorite of theirs, much to Mountain’s chagrin.

- Was just SOOOO fascinated by this new body he’s been put in. Unlike most the other ghouls, he didn’t have a physical body he inhabited back in hell, only being given one when he was summoned to the surface. Flesh! If feels funny! What does this thing down here do-

Cumulus:

- was honestly kinda scared at first, what with the whole mood of the pack being out of wack.

- Apparently their new boss might have killed someone? That’s the guy that summoned them? Uh oh!

- Stayed glued to Cirrus in the beginning. Being summoned together meant having a strong built-in bond with each other, always having access to what the other is feeling. Being together offered a much-needed sense of comfort to Cumulus. Getting to spend time with a really pretty girl wasn’t bad either.

- Swiss was the one to bring her out of her shell, imbuing her with confidence through his own fake bravado. They came to rely on each other in that sense. When Cumulus was scared to do the things she wanted, Swiss would convince her of her capability. When Swiss was anxious and felt like a fraud, Cumulus would remind him of his sincerity.

- Was very curious about how her magic worked on the surface versus how it did in the pit. Back home, she was used to having to beat against the constant winds of the first layer of hell. Now that she’s on Earth, her powers are much more powerful than she ever expected them to be!

- LOVED textiles. She surrounded herself in all things soft and fluffy. Her bedroom (and most nights Cirrus’s as well) is just so Fucking cozy. Blankets and pillows everywhere. Her stuffed animal collection is unmatched. Will cry if even one of them ends up on the floor.

- Dew was the one to help her start her collection. To this day they are each other’s #1 cuddle buddies.

Cirrus:

- Stone cold badass front to hide how nervous she was.

- VERY protective of Cumulus in the beginning. She could feel how scared she was and felt the need to step up and protect the both of them from any threat this new environment may have… even if the perceived threat is a bit stupid.

- She once kicked in the washing machine cause it made a sound once it was done and it startled her. Not her proudest moment.

- Was almost OVERPROTECTIVE of Cumulus at first, even, doing even the simplest of tasks for her to prevent risk of injury. That was until she watched her kick a sibling straight in the nuts for making snide remarks about Cirrus in front of her. Cirrus had never fallen in love faster.

- Took a LONG while to warm up to the others. Constantly felt like she had something to prove, like she needed to show that she wouldn’t buckle under pressure. Everyone (but Cumulus) was a threat.

- Adores weather on Earth and how it isn’t just WIND 24/7. She loves all the different shapes of the clouds, how dark they get with moisture, the gentle snowfall or the needle-like rain. Really puts her at peace to be out on a rainy day

Rain:

- S C A R E D

- Everything is new and bright and cold and heavy and loud and- and- and-

- Yeah he barely left his room for a week, didn’t talk to anyone for anything. Not shy, necessarily, but just freaked the fuck OUT. They were starting to think he was nonverbal cause man refused to use his voice. In his defense, talking outside the water feels very different when you’re used to your vocal cords wiggling in water all your life.

- In my brain the first time he did speak was to Copia after he did his lil oopsie with the rest of the pack. It’s like a day later and Copia’s tryna plan how he’s gonna make it up to the ghouls when rain cornered him in a dark hallway, made direct eye contact, and in the softest voice went “I wouldn’t go near the lake if I were you. It’s hard to hear screaming underwater.” He then left a completely stunned and freaked tf out Copia standing alone in the hall like it never happened.

- He kinda regrets letting his first words on Earth be a threat now but the rest of the pack is flattered, although they do still sometimes tease him for it.

- Really started coming out of his shell when Dew made dinner for him. Dew was in the same shoes as him once and, although his relationship with the new water ghoul was complicated, he still felt obligated to help his new packmate adjust to life on Earth.

- Bro went through the trouble of showing Rain what every little thing in the kitchen did so he wouldn’t be scared to make his own food anymore, all while making him some grade A gourmet dining. Dew didn’t know it at the time but that’s when the heart-eyes started.

632 notes · View notes

mochidoie · 5 months

Text

CO-

kim doyoung x reader wc - 8.7k genre - very slow burn, frenemy to lovers (light banter), coworkers!au, roomates!au warnings - a small kiss scene

You and Doyoung coexist in two specific ways: cohabitation and as coworkers. However, your friendship, if you can call it that, is far from besties and more on being cordial with one another. Nonetheless, in this dreary corporate world, he is the only one who just gets you and despite his coldness, he feels the same about you.

Doyoung annoyingly types on his keyboard in the cubicle next to you, completely disrupting your concentration and general workflow. Groaning, you hope that it was enough to signify how irritated you were. However, instead of the obnoxious typing coming to a halt, it intensifies tenfold and catches the attention of everyone else who sits on this floor.

Embarrassment washes over your body as you forcibly stand up and peer over the short wall that divides both of your desks. “Knock it off.” You gently smack the back of Doyoung’s head and he winces forward, looking up at you immediately with a glare.

“I’m seriously going to report you to HR one day.” He whispers, his threat just barely sounds legitimate. Doyoung is the greatest at bluffing and empty threats.

“Well today won’t be the day. You’re typing so loud that it could be a noise complaint.” Rolling your eyes, you drop back down into your seat. Smoothly swiveling your chair back to the intimidating project blown full screen on your monitor, you dread every minute of being here. Your day is full of reports, documentations, and boring project meetings.

You’ll have small talk about the weather in the break room over some watered down coffee made by a machine and happy hours on random days of the week at the nearby upscale restaurant.

You’ll run into someone from another department on the elevators and feel awkward for several floors until one of you finally gets out. Hiding in the bathroom is the only escape from the depressing gray carpet and fluorescent indoor lighting.

“You could make this a more enjoyable workplace if you didn’t sigh every three minutes.” Doyoung walks around to your cubicle, crossing his arms like the prick he always is.

“I’m sighing because you keep typing for all of the world to hear you.” You turn in your chair, facing him once again with your lips in a line. “Get out of my space.”

“I’m not in your space.” You watch as he slyly backs up from the wall, the tips of his shoes barely skimming the invisible line that crosses into your cubicle. “What is the bad mood for today?” Doyoung raises an eyebrow.

You despise when someone points out your attitude, it just feels completely unnecessary to bring up in conversation. However, you are normally less mean to him and Doyoung was a sensitive individual. “Rough start this morning, my bread got jammed in the toaster and flat tire on my way to work.”

“This is why I tell you to use the oven and to carpool with me. The carbon footprint we could minimize by just using one car is astronomical.” He shoves his hands into his pressed pants pockets, “I guess this is why I didn’t see your car in the lot this morning.”

“It’s in the shop. I’m out of a car for about two weeks because they found something wrong with the engine or something.”

“Just your luck.”

You groan, “are you just going to nag and pity me, or are you going to offer me a ride home?”

Doyoung puts his hands up in the air, as he often speaks with his hands. “You’re always welcome to ride with me. You just normally refuse.”

“Yeah, because it looks weird if we got into the same car together.”

He shrugs, “people already know we live together. What’s the big deal about it?”

“It’ll look like we’re … you know… Together.” You keep your voice down to a whisper, afraid for any nosy ears listening into business they aren’t a part of. Doyoung nearly throws himself forward laughing at your shifty eyes and your sheepish statement.

“Seriously? I think people can tell we’re far from ever being together.” Ouch. Not that you had any romantic interest in this vile man, but it was a bigger blow to your ego if anything.

It’s also the way Doyoung says it. It’s pure mockery, a joke that you even though there was a slim chance at the consideration of you two being together.

You shrug him off, ignoring how snobby he is being. “People make rumors. Someone who isn’t close to us can see me getting into your car and get the wrong idea.” Turning around, Doyoung takes the signal that he probably pissed you off more than he intended to.

He sighs and walks up behind your chair. Placing two hands on your shoulders, you slightly flinch at the sudden physical contact. Doyoung leans down to whisper gently into your ear, “let them think what they want.” It sends a shiver down your spine and you don’t have a snarky comment to say back to him.

The sound of his shuffling disappears as he returns back to his side and resumes his typing. You aren’t excited to tackle the task in front of you, if anything, you wish Doyoung annoyed you for a bit longer.

The suffocating dullness of the office wrings any ounce of creativity out of you. You’re like a wet towel that was left too long out in the sun and now you’re all dry and crunchy.

A swoosh notification catches your eye, a new email from your manager in your inbox for you to worry about. Letting out another sigh of the day, you’re wondering what minuscule thing she needs now. The subject line already has you rolling your eyes and did you really want to open it? Not really.

FROM PATRICIA A.

HALLOWEEN CELEBRATION: HH AT 127 BAR AND RESTAURANT

Hello Team,

I hope you’re all having a productive day so far. Our VPs have organized a company happy hour for all to attend. Please refer to the infographic attached to this email for information in regards to the Halloween happy hour event that is being held next week at the 127 Bar and Restaurant.

RSVP through here by the EOD on Friday. Your attendance is highly encouraged as this will be a chance for everyone to network and chat with our VPs. Appropriate Halloween costumes are mandatory for attendance to be considered. Hope to see you all there.

Best, Patricia A. Regional Manager

“Costumes, are you fucking kidding me?” You hear Doyoung over your wall, followed by a ferocious clicking noise.

“Don’t worry, Kim. You won’t need one, you’re already scary looking as is.” Jumping up, you place your elbows on the counter of his wall and peer over him. Doyoung rolls his eyes and stands to level the eye contact.

“You might want to get one, don’t want our VPs to get too scared seeing your face.” His eyebrow raises as he watches your face contour in disgust. He scoffs, closing his laptop and putting his monitor on sleep mode. He makes his way out to the hallway.

“Where are you going?” Your nosiness gets the best of you, not that you actually cared much about Doyoung’s whereabouts.

“On my way to ask our pretty receptionist what costume she’s going in.” He smirks, making a direct line toward the elevators. Slumping back into your chair, you hover your cursor over the RSVP link. Another damn happy hour.

Doyoung whistles his way out of the elevator as it dings on the lobby level of the office. Around the corner, he is met with the office receptionist with her hair neatly framing her face and red lips curving into a smile as she greets him.

“Good afternoon Daisy, how are you today?” He rummages through the candy bowl full of mints and dental gum, despite never really caring for sweet cavity inducing treats.

Daisy leans forward on her desk with her sweet smile never leaving her pretty face. “I’m good, how are you?” She knows Doyoung as the man that would often stop by at random hours of the day for small talk and a mint. Not entirely knowing that he was mostly there to see her, she indulges in the light conversation with the nice man.

“Happy that it’s Thursday, as usual.” Doyoung tears the mint wrapper with his teeth. His forearm is placed comfortably on the counter of the desk as he leans forward chatting with Daisy.

“Friday is so close.” Daisy says excitedly, clapping her hands together in a cheery youthful manner. “Any weekend plans?”

“Probably going to see the new movie in theaters with a friend.” Truthfully, Doyoung never really has weekend plans set. He spends his weekends indoors and locked behind his door. A true mystery as to what he does behind it. “Not sure though, I’ll see how I’m feeling in the morning.”

“Yeah, I get that. I try to get out of my house during the weekend so that I’m still productive, even though all I want is to relax in bed.” She chuckles and instantly, Doyoung smiles at her relatability and honesty. Her energy is contagious, he always feels a burst whenever he speaks to her.

“Hey, I mean to ask, do you have a costume in mind for the happy hour next week?” Doyoung suckles the spicy peppermint, rocking it back and forth between each cheek. Daisy ponders for a second and he finds an opportunity to make a very bad joke. “Anything to do with flowers perhaps? Because you’re Daisy.” He laughs at his own joke and she lightly gives in to such a corny question.

“That would be funny,” she laughs, “but I’m not sure if I can attend. I let Patricia know that I’ll be attending my boyfriend’s sister’s engagement party that night.” What a glass shattering moment as Doyoung was not aware that Daisy had a boyfriend. Then again, a woman like her wouldn’t be stuck being single and moping about her sad love life like his own cubicle roommate coworker, y/n.

“Darn, we’ll miss you there then.” Doyoung finds a way to exit the conversation, knowing his heart is already breaking thinking about Daisy spending her weekends out and about with another man. The fantasy of her is ruined.

“Aw, thank you Doyoung.” Daisy reaches underneath her desk and pulls out a familiar looking earbud case, “also, are you able to hand this back to y/n? They dropped this on their way in, but they were already rushing into an elevator before I could catch them. You two are dating, right?”

Doyoung’s lips part open in shock, hearing those words come from Daisy’s mouth entice a strange feeling. His initial reaction is to deny it, clearly, but she looks at him with such awe that he doesn't know what to say. “Where did you hear that?”

“Oh, I overheard a few people chatting about you two. I think people said you two moved in with each other after 5 months of dating.” Daisy innocently explains. “My boyfriend and I could never move in together, at least, not yet. I feel like we have to hit that two year mark before deciding to do so.”

He chuckles awkwardly, unsure what he is more surprised about: Daisy’s boyfriend or the fact that there are actual rumors that he and y/n are dating. “We’re not dating, just roommates. We’re not even really close.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I really thought you two were dating. Please don’t tell them I said anything.” Daisy covers her mouth and Doyoung accepts the earbuds.

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” He forces a smile, bidding a small see you later to Daisy before heading back upstairs to his boring job. The dating rumor invades every part of his thoughts as he tosses the case back and forth between his hands. He is going to murder whoever spread such a heinous lie.

“Maybe we should stagger when we leave. I’ll go first and start my car, then you come down ten minutes later, walk around the lot and then get into my car.” Doyoung nibbles on his granola bar, leaning against the sink counter. Drying your tupperware, you stare at him in confusion.

“Why such an elaborate plan to just go home?” You question.

Doyoung shakes his head at you, as if you don’t think about the potential risks lying ahead. “Like you said, people start rumors so we should be careful.”

Halting all your actions completely, you blink blankly at a nervous Doyoung. “You heard something, didn’t you?”

“When did I–”

“Doyoung, I will rip that granola bar out of your hand. What was it?”

He neatly places the wrapper back on, setting it down and crossing his arms. “There are rumors of us dating and that we moved in with each other after five months of dating, which in itself is already ridiculous. Obviously, I would wait longer than that to move in with my partner because you never really know if you’d last with that person and then, you’re stuck in an awkward living situation if you ever break up.” Doyoung huffs and puffs.

Your facial expression doesn’t change, remaining completely unamused and blank as you listen to this man aimlessly derail from the main point. “Thanks for that.” Your tongue clicks and sarcasm laces your words. “I told you, didn’t I?”

“You have to be right all the time, don’t you?” He scoffs, annoyed and grows impatient with your lack of reaction.

“Uh, with you? Most definitely.” You laugh, which Doyoung does not expect. “People are so bored here that they’ll make up the weirdest out of pocket thing about someone else. Us interacting is enough ammo for them to shoot some made up scenario.”

“How are you so unphased by this?”

You pack up your lunch boxes into your bag, “because I know none of it is true. I can barely stand you.” Pausing, you turn to face Doyoung fully. Your hand lightly pats his chest and he watches your every movement, the distance between the two of you closing in. “Like you said, let them think what they want.”

Now, it is Doyoung’s turn to remain speechless at the statement. He should really listen to his own advice.

When you were desperate for a place to live, it did come to your surprise that Doyoung came to your rescue. You two are very distant friends from college, a more accurate title would be acquaintances. Being in the same few clubs made him a familiar figure, but never anyone you personally got close to or spoke much with.

However, there was no harm in networking post-grad. If anything, it became an advantage to come from a big club with so many people aligned in the same field to gain insight into different companies, internships, and potential job offers. You landed your current adult job with the help of a few connections and chats at career fairs.

Nonetheless, the offer to move into Doyoung’s apartment was conditional. He had been laid off of his previous work and had to find a new job as soon as he could. Doyoung was able to land the job at your current company through your referral and you were approved to be a co-signer on the lease of the apartment. It felt fated to be and everything fell into its place perfectly, if only you two were compatible.

The thing with Doyoung is that he always gave off a vibe that he was stuck up and prude. You also had an impression he didn’t like you during college due to you sleeping with his friend, Jaehyun, and breaking his heart when you didn’t want a relationship with him. When you first moved in, you gave Doyoung a lot of leeway but he always treated you coldly. At some point, you had enough of it and decided that he should get a taste of his own attitude.

Nevertheless, your friendship worked better this way. You’re not entirely sure of the psychology behind it, but Doyoung seemed to communicate with you easier when you were at each other’s throats. All those enemies to lovers tropes you would read growing up were finally making sense to you.

You two did grow closer when living together, but definitely not to the point where you two were best friends. Doyoung still kept you at arm's reach and so did you. There are a lot of things about him that you didn’t know about, it was quite actually last month that you learned that Doyoung had an older brother. It was only because he had stopped by to drop off some food for him from his mom.

Doyoung is not the type to warm up to someone quickly, resembling a locked cabinet and a key that is lost somewhere. He is just waiting for the right person to find it. Due to this, you two live very separately at home. Doyoung is quick to rush into his own room and you’re often the one to wander around the living space before finding your way back to yours.

So on this random weekend, you’re wondering why there is a soft knock at your door. Kicking the blankets off of your body, you rush over to open your closed bedroom door to reveal a messy bed hair Doyoung in his bunny pajama pants.

“Hey, good….” Doyoung checks the time on his phone to be sure, lifting one eyebrow at your sleepy expression. “Evening.”

“What do you want?” You groan, ready to let the door hit him in the face. “I get enough of you at work.” You rub your eyes to rid any junk stuck on your lashes.

“Since your car is in the shop, I was wondering if you needed a ride to run any errands or to grab food. You haven’t left your room the whole day, so you must be hungry.” His eyes dart left and right, avoiding eye contact as best as he can. Doyoung looks so sheepish, like a deer caught in headlights.

You can’t help, but laugh. “Aw, are you caring for me right now?”

His face contours into complete disgust. “Not really. I just don’t want to find your dead body in the apartment and potentially get sued for negligence.”

“Well, I’m not hungry.” In that moment, your body couldn’t have had better timing. Your stomach rumbles loudly and Doyoung just blinks at you until it passes.

You both break out into laughter, “fine, what are you getting for dinner?”

“There’s a new place in town that I’ve been eyeing. A bit upscale, if you’re down.” Doyoung starts walking toward his room, eyebrow raised and waiting for your confirmation.

“You’re paying.” You close the door before he could protest. You and Doyoung have shared a few meals together, but nothing consistent. It’s not awkwardness that stops the both of you, but that there really isn’t much to chat about over a plate of food. Besides work, you two don’t share any of the same interests or the same circle of friends.

On top of that, Doyoung would never open up over a sirloin steak. He barely opens up with a bottle of wine. You’ve given up trying to interrogate him with endless questions about his personal life, he never really asks about yours anyways.

Though, meals with Doyoung aren’t entirely dreadful. His refined palate and hefty paycheck allows for you a delicious culinary experience. You’d never admit it, but eating with him was much better than eating alone.

Dressing for the occasion, you step out in an entirely new and refreshed vibe. Doyoung nearly chokes at the sight of you, not used to seeing you all dolled up and well, nicely dressed. Unintentionally, the accents of your colors match and Doyoung takes note of it, not throwing much of a fit as he usually would.

“Matching is not a bad thing.” Doyoung clears his throat, hands slipping into his pressed pants and obvious aversion to eye contact.

“Matching with you it might be.” You snicker, but loved your attire too much to change into something else for the night. Both of you head out for dinner and you catch a whiff of something vibrant as Doyoung follows into his car.

“New cologne?” The strap of the seat belt rustles in the quiet vehicle. Doyoung doesn’t say anything, turning on the engine and pulling out of the parking space with ease.

There is a long moment of silence, at this point you’ve concluded that he probably completely ignored your question. However, after a few blocks, Doyoung follows up with his own inquiry, “you like it?”

Raising a brow, you’re finding his behavior quite peculiar tonight. It’s a bit unsettling and rather confusing. “I prefer your usual clean scent. This citrus doesn’t match you.”

Without a word of protest, Doyoung grins to himself at your words. Though, you’re too busy scrolling on your phone and participating in the usual silent atmosphere of the car ride.

“Have you thought of your Halloween costume for the happy hour?” Doyoung delicately cuts into his flank, twirling the piece of meat in the brown gravy that was neatly swirled on the plate.

You shrug, popping the broccolini into your mouth. There hasn’t been much thought about that email since it dropped in your inbox. If anything, you hadn’t even considered the fact that it was already October. It felt like just yesterday you were on a rooftop bar in the warm summer sunset.

“Any ideas?” You pat your hands on the cloth napkin on your lap, eyebrow raised toward Doyoung. Not that this man would give you any good ideas, you’re already settling on your last ditch effort costume you always went as during your college years.

The restaurant is incredibly fancy, way more than you had been anticipating when he had mentioned it being a little upscale. It is moderately loud inside, but nothing above light chatter and the jazz music still audible over the voices. You two had been seated right away, the hostess having starry eyes the moment she saw Doyoung walk in.

The waiters referred to you with proper titles and offered the wine of the night, placing it in its own separate small table. Anyone could have mistaken you and Doyoung for being a couple on a date, perhaps celebrating an anniversary or a nice date night.

While at any other occasion you would make it incredibly obvious that isn’t the case, the food is too immaculate for you to care. The tenderness of your meat is melt worthy and the taste of garlic butter hits your palette lovingly. You were too busy indulging in the meal before Doyoung had spoken.

“Maybe something with a mask.” Doyoung responds after a rather long thoughtful silence.

Your face deadpans, rolling your eyes at how silly it was to even ask him for a serious suggestion. “Ha! So funny.” Your sarcasm bites at his skin.

He flinches slightly at your tone, but places his fork and knife on the white table cloth. He wipes his lips with his napkin, “I’m not saying it to be mean. I meant it as a masquerade.”

“Why would I wear a mask the whole night in front of our VPs?”

Doyoung shrugs in return, “isn’t the point of Halloween pretending to be someone you’re not? Or trying to hide behind a facade?”

“That’s too philosophical. Halloween is about tricks, treats and pumpkins.” He laughs at your explanation, bringing the rim of his wine glass to his lips.

“That’s one way to view it.” He unbuttons his cufflinks and rolls his sleeves up to his elbows. Your eyes wander before your mind could remind you it's Doyoung you’re gawking at. “I might go with a mask, like a masked prince of some kind.”

You laugh, “yeah, I’m sure Daisy will swoon over that.”

Doyoung doesn’t smile, instead he clears his throat uncomfortably. “She has a boyfriend and she’s not going.”

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that your work crush has been diminished.” You pout, quite insincerely and mockingly. Doyoung scoffs at your statement, rolling his eyes at how he’s willing to entertain this.

“It was never going to work out anyways. She thought you and I were together.” The statement nearly causes you to choke on your wine. He raises an eyebrow at the slight break in your careless reactions.

“Wow, it traveled all the way to our receptionist. That’s how you know the whole office practically knows about it.” However, he read it all wrong as you began to speak. Your nonchalant answers bring Doyoung no reassurance as he watches with a quizzical look as you eat your mashed potatoes.

“Maybe you like the thought of us being together.” Doyoung snickers. He doesn’t mean it, but he did want to shake up the atmosphere to see how playful he can get with you.

You kick his shin under the table and he lightly jumps, “calm down, prince. Don’t want the commoners to know how much of a narcissist you are.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you grumble. The mashed potato now tasted a bit sour from Doyoung’s jokes.

“C’mon, seriously? Do you actually think that I’m a narcissist?” Doyoung places a hand on his chest, as if you could be referring to anyone else. He is so dramatic, you think to yourself as you see him tap away a fake tear.

So you decide to be truthful and slightly hurtful, simply because he asked for it. “Yes, I genuinely do at times.” Your powerful tone in your words shocked Doyoung a bit, his head shaking a bit from the actual truth.

“Oh,” He clears his throat awkwardly, halting his playful demeanor. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to come off that way.” This is the first time you’ve seen him completely vulnerable in his apology. It is a sharp difference compared to his usual snarky “my bad” or “oops”.

The hurt on his face is evident, pursing his lips on the rim of his wine glass and the thoughts flooding his heavy head. A part of you feels guilty, wondering if a line had been drawn.

“Unfortunately, you’re still a likable person as people say.” You clear your throat and shift nervously in your seat. Doyoung looks up through hood eyes at your compliment, but holds back the grin that itches to form on his lips.

Something about his gaze almost makes you falter, “why did you choose such a fancy place for dinner?”

“Because I genuinely wanted to see what this place was all about. I’ve been hearing Greg from Finance brag about how he’s eaten here for the past two weekends.” Doyoung lightly taps the table with his index finger, like a habit he couldn’t grow out of.

“You let Greg of all people talk you into a $200 bill?” You can’t hold the laugh back because of how ridiculously easy Doyoung can be swayed by someone else’s opinions. “And what do you think about dinner tonight?

Doyoung may have mistaken the implication in your question — if there even was one. He halts his rhythmic tapping, sitting up to straight out his wrinkled shirt and gazing upon you right in front of him.

“Dinner was…” The bill lands on the edge of the table and Doyoung flips open the book with one flick. He breaks focus from you for a quick second to look at the final grand number on the thin piece of paper. You barely get a glimpse, as he places his card down and shuts it swiftly.

His eyes back fully on you, “most definitely worth it.” The smile on Doyoung’s face isn’t menacing or mockery, you’re completely convinced that it’s a smile meant for you. And, you’re unsure how to interpret the butterflies that flutter at the pit of your stomach.

As if the day couldn’t get any worse, you walk into work with everyone in some bizarre work appropriate costume and staring at you as if you’re the odd one out. Your costume is in your bag, which Doyoung so graciously let you leave in the trunk of his car before coming in. However, you��re wondering if it's too late to dash back outside to grab it so you fit in with everyone else.

“Good morning, y/n!” Daisy, a very chirpy and red painted smile, greets you routinely. Cute flower clips line her hair perfectly and the all green attire can only mean one thing: she is a flower. “What’s your costume?”

Laughing nervously, you’re finding a way out of this small talk. “It’s a surprise! You’ll see when we all leave for happy hour tonight.”

“I might be going before then, but please stop by if you have the time to get it on earlier.” She happily smiles, bidding you a small “have a good day!” before returning her focus back to her screen.

The elevator stops on your floor and it’s as if Jack Skellington came overnight and vomited Halloween all over the cubicles. There always has to be that one coworker who is obsessed with the holiday and they lovingly decorated the office before everyone came in. Including yours and Doyoung’s cubicle.

You’re awkwardly shuffling past your coworkers, saying small good mornings and getting weird looks. However, you’re trying very hard to not draw attention to being the only one not dressed up. A tiny baby pumpkin sits in front of your monitor and a neatly wrapped ghost cookie with your name written on a post it note awaits you.

“Good morning!” Your coworker’s head pops from over the wall and incites a startled scream from you. Of course, she’s laughing giddily at successfully scaring the living out of you.

“Hey Mariel, good morning. Did you make these?” There is no second guessing who else would be this enthusiastic about Halloween than Mariel is. She talked your ear off the day it hit October 1st about ghouls, goblins, and ghosts.

She even had a spooky countdown calendar of the days until the 31st. On top of that, she was the only one overly excited about the Halloween happy hour the moment the email hit everyone’s inbox.

“Of course. I do a baking side gig, I had to bring in a few spooky friendly treats for everyone in office!” She rests her chin on her palm and squints her eyes at you, “where’s your costume?”

Your palms immediately get sweaty. It’s like disappointing a kid on Christmas by telling them that Santa isn’t real or your mom buying you a nice and modest dress for graduation, but you accidentally stain it. The nervousness to answer creeps up your throat and before you can speak, a voice answers for you.

“Isn’t it classic of y/n to dress up as an office worker?” Doyoung stands up in his cubicle to interject himself in the conversation.

Mariel nearly loses a lung from how hard she laughs at Doyoung’s corny attempt at a joke. “It’s actually classic of the both of you to not wear your costumes to work.” She adds, wiping the tears from her crinkled eyes. “What’s next? Matching costumes?”

“Mariel, it’s a surprise.” Doyoung plays it off smoothly.

“Let me guess, Barbie and Ken?” She taps the counter, like a buzzer on a game show to lock in her answer. You’re already shaking your head and Mariel frowns.

Doyoung sighs loudly and dramatically, “I know, Mar. I’d be such a good Barbie, but y/n didn’t want to give that to me.” Oh god, he’s good.

You laugh along, stiffly. “Well, that was the end of our potential matching costumes. We went our separate ways and you’ll see mine later today.” It is enough to get Mariel off of your back about not dressing up at work. Hurrying to settle your things, Doyoung walks around to your side.

“Did you see how beautiful Daisy looked?” He muses, daydreaming about the whimsical fantasy of the office receptionist. “Must be a lucky guy.”

“She looks like a true flower.” You’re mindlessly unloading your essentials from your work bag and only half listening to Doyoung ramble. “Damn it, I left my coffee in your car.” Throwing your hands up in frustration, you’re already running late for your first meeting of the day with your supervisor.

Doyoung doesn’t wait a second to push you back into your seat, thinking you could make a quick sprint if he had handed you his keys. “I’ll get it for you. Patricia already asked about your whereabouts.” He smoothly reaches over your shoulder to grab your laptop, the usual scent of his clean cologne brushes your nostrils lightly as the distance between you closes briefly.

Your heart is pounding in your ears at the proximity, looking up at Doyoung’s long exposed neckline with his collarbones barely peeking out from his linen shirt. Under this dreary fluorescent office lighting, Doyoung looks rather dreamy.

Nonetheless, you shake off this sudden and weird daydream when he hands you your laptop and makes his merry way to get you your coffee. You’ve got to be losing your mind, the mundane suffocating atmosphere of an office space is causing you to seek any thrills. You’re being delusional. You could never have feelings for Doyoung, of all the people, never Doyoung.

You come back from your meeting to your coffee neatly placed next to your monitor on a coaster and your bag with your costume in your chair. Silently, you grab your tote and rush off to the bathroom to change before anyone could notice your appearance and sudden disappearance.

It wasn’t an extravagant costume and it was most definitely not the store bought ones from a pop-up Spirit shop. A black cat has been your go-to DIY last minute costume since college for those rendezvous frat parties or a drunk Halloween night out with your friends. Since it had to be work appropriate, a sexy black cat is out of the picture.

Smoothing the strands of your hair to adjust the cat ear headband, you give yourself small whiskers with your black eyeliner. “Here’s to Halloween.” A small grumble to yourself, you’re out of the bathroom and briskly walking between cubicles in your slightly form fitting all black attire.

Your head down and laying low, hoping that Mariel doesn’t notice your costume before you get to your own corner. Making it down the runway, Doyoung’s back is turned and completely working his life away. Somehow, your presence behind him causes a breakaway and he’s spinning around before you could hide back into your cubicle.

“Thanks, Doyoung.” A small murmur escapes, but Doyoung hears you loud and clear. He doesn’t say anything, instead, his eyes rapidly take in your figure and change of attire. The cat ears on your head cause him to blush, something he didn’t know you could do to him so easily.

“A recurring costume, I’ll admit it’s better than my mask idea.” He gestures, awkwardly clearing his throat at the weird tension that rose from his obvious gawking.

You’re puzzled, “I can’t recall a time you would’ve seen me like this.” It’s true, you two never spent a Halloween together since you had moved in with him and perhaps, those drunk college nights are too hazy for you to be too sure of yourself.

Doyoung chuckles to himself, peering down at his hands as he delightfully remembers the vivid memory of him catching a glimpse of you for the first time. “Halloween, third year. It was at the NCT yearly ‘Monster Mash’ party. I saw you briefly in the kitchen, looking through the empty bottles of liquor for a drink.”

Then it hits you! That was the night that you had arrived late to the party and almost ditched when there was no more booze left, but you encountered Jaehyun.

“That was so long ago! Wow,” your finger resting on your chin and looking back on the good ole times, “I can’t believe you remembered something like that.” Your voice grows smaller at the end of your sentence, full realization hitting you that Doyoung has known you before you had known him. He kept that memory to himself all these years.

Doyoung, also equally as shocked, feels caught in headlights. Nonetheless, something in his heart wants to open up to you and this feels like an open door opportunity. However, he isn’t sure if he is ready to ruin the dynamic the two of you share. What if he opens more than you’d take? One foot in the door, he can’t imagine this fleeting feeling would come again.

“I couldn’t get you out of my head that night.” He wholeheartedly admits and a heavy tug pulls at your heart. Your jaw drops slightly at his confession and your thoughts are running at godspeed. Doyoung’s heart is pounding in his ears.

Before you could say anything, Mariel is walking back to her cubicle and is quick to address your costume. You’re half hearing her, mind still stuck on Doyoung’s words and wondering how differently your lives would have been if Doyoung had approached you that night instead of Jaehyun. What could have been?

Rustic wooden panels cover the walls of The 127 Bar and Restaurant, giving it that upscale cabin/lodge-feel. Cobwebs lined with plastic spiders and pumpkins with ghoul expressions litter the corners of the counters. Festive Halloween music is muffled by the loud ambiance of chatter. You’re already counting down the hour of when it's socially acceptable for you to leave.

Coworkers dressed in costumes is a silly concept to you, mainly because you don’t associate anything fun with work and you definitely don’t want to see your coworkers in anything else besides their slacks and button ups. Doyoung, however, beats that exception as he walks in with a black velvet cape and fake blood dribble down his chin. His suit vest is surely something straight out of his own wardrobe and there is way too much hair gel slicked in his hair.

“A vampire fits you much better than a masked prince.” Whether it is meant as an insult or a compliment, Doyoung smiles at your comment.

“A black cat and a vampire, can we be any more cheery?” Doyoung says sarcastically, earning a small laugh as you look upon your very dark attires for the night.

Shrugging, you lightly pat his shoulder to guide him toward the VPs. “We all can’t be Daisy. She takes the cake for having optimism in this cruel corporate world. Now, let’s go get our attendance points so we can leave earlier.”

“A black cat mind reader? That elevates your costume a bit.” Doyoung smirks, leading the way to a doomful 15 minute conversation with important people.

Doyoung surprises you by how social he can get. You two normally attend the usual happy hours that your coworkers like to have after work, but that is mostly among a few that sit on your floor. This mixer included every department and Doyoung jumps conversation to the next with ease and speed, you could hardly keep up.

“Okay, social butterfly. I haven’t heard you talk so much since college club meetings.” Raising an eyebrow, you’re stopping Doyoung from approaching another coworker dressed as a skeleton.

“I haven’t seen you this quiet in a while. What’s wrong? Cat’s got your tongue?” He blinks at you with a dull expression.

Suddenly, you’re feeling self-conscious at how he noticed your silence. “Corporate happy hours aren’t my thing. I don’t particularly have interests with any of these people.”

Doyoung purses his lips, “yet you seem to talk endlessly with me and we have nothing in common.”

Clearing your throat, you’re unsure of this strange feeling in your chest. You and Doyoung have commonality in background – school, clubs, mutuals, profession – but interests seem to be way far out of scope for the two of you. While the few dinners you two would share are rather silent, it doesn’t eat you alive the same way corporate social events do. Despite the forced close proximity, you don’t know if you and Doyoung would actually be friends with each other.

“Right, but it’s different for us.” Trying to save the sinking ship seems harder to do as you rack your brain for an argument.

Doyoung tilts his head slightly, “different? How is it different?” In that moment, there is a shift in his demeanor as he tucks his hands into his pants pockets and leans back slightly on his heels. A hooded stare, eyebrow raised, and a smug smirk waits to hear how your relationship with Kim Doyoung is so different compared to your other coworkers.

Feeling small under his gaze, you’re wondering why a heat travels across your cheeks. The Halloween music and robust atmosphere are completely tuned out at this point. “We have common things to talk about besides work, like mutuals! I don’t know– you just get me. Lately, I feel like you’ve been opening up a bit more.”

Doyoung nearly beams hearing the last part of your ramble because he feels exactly the same. You just get him, despite always being at each other’s throats. He knows that this banter would not work with anyone else, it had to be you.

It’s like with each interaction, you get closer to the key in unlocking everything about him. Without your knowledge, he so badly wishes you to be the one to find it.

“Hey you two!” Greg from Finance wraps his arms around Doyoung’s shoulders, appearing rather abruptly and startling the both of you. “How was your date at Bodega 127?”

Your eyeballs nearly fall out of your socket at the word date being thrown carelessly when referring to you and Doyoung. Doyoung reacts quite nervously and is shocked as well at the odd choice of wording Greg decided to use.

“I wouldn’t call it a date...” Doyoung chuckles, exchanging anxious glances with you.

“Yeah, we’re not together.” You jump in with Doyoung at denying such a bold accusation.

“Oh, come on! There’s no need to feel embarrassed. The whole office knows already, what’s the point in trying to hide it?” Greg continues to poke the bear.

“I can see how it might come off that way, but Doyoung and I aren’t into each other like that.” Your eyes bounce between a skittish Doyoung and an overly-pushy Greg. “Right, Doyoung, you don’t like me that way?” You’re begging him with your stare, but for some reason, Doyoung hesitates long enough for you to notice.

“Uh yeah. We’re just coworkers.” He averts making eye contact with you and you’re thrown off your tracks at how off-putting he is being. You’re trying to hold back the confusion from showing on your face, but Greg takes the bait.

“Okay, I’ll stop berating you two about your relationship. But when Doyoung told me he brought you there, I will say I thought it was for a date night y’all were having. It’s that type of restaurant experience, y’know?” Greg lightly pats Doyoung on the back before walking off to chat with another group of coworkers.

You’re standing still next to Doyoung and wondering why the fuck he hesitated when you asked him such an easy question. He doesn’t look your way, gaze remains glued to the floor.

“I think we should leave now.” He says, dashing toward Patricia to let her know of your exits. A sigh escapes your body, completely confused and lost at every feeling roaming in your chest.

The drive back home is completely silent. The elephant in the room becomes bigger at every stoplight. Most of the trip is you staring out the window, trying to process the last few scenes at the happy hour. Doyoung remains focused on the drive, so much that he forgets to put music on to distract from the stiffness in the air.

When you two finally make it back up to the apartment, you’re the first to break the awkward silence. “Hey, uh– thanks for driving me around these past few days. The car shop told me that my car is ready tomorrow, so I won’t need to carpool with you anymore.”

He nods, despite the long sinking feeling of his heart reaching the bottom of his stomach. He has had so much fun with you lately being around him, he isn’t sure if he’s ready to go back to how things were — living so separately in the same place.

“Sorry about Greg.” Doyoung rubs the back of his neck, “I didn’t know he would say something like that.” He gently wipes off the dried fake blood on his chin.

“We’re used to it, right?” The airy, lightness in your tone puzzles Doyoung. “At least he was courageous enough to actually address it to our faces instead of contributing to the gossip in the office.”

“He’s just a big idiot.” Doyoung unties his cape and tosses it over the couch. “I shouldn’t have told him we went together.”

It somewhat offended you, “what? You don’t want to be seen with me or something?” You toss your headband onto the dining room table, fixing your hair back to its normal state.

However, Doyoung perks up at the evident tone in your voice and the scorn in your expression. “It’s not that.”

“You know, Doyoung, you have been really confusing lately.” There is a pause before you continue, wondering how you should word this without sounding so rash.

“First, you’re knocking on my door and asking me to dinner. Then, you’re getting me my coffee from the car. And, you hesitated back there when I said you didn’t like me and our conversations recently have been different, so open ended.”

Doyoung leans against the couch, arms crossed and intently listening to your speech. “Are you implying that I have feelings for you?”

He sounds so snarky that it causes your skin to crawl, frustration fuels your soul at how delusional he is making you seem. “I’m just stating the facts.”

Doyoung scoffs, arms falling back to his sides. A minute passes, but it feels nearly like forever given the silence in the room and how his eyes are glued to the ground, full of contemplation. However, not just any careless amount of contemplation, but real and genuine assessment on how he has felt over the past two weeks with you.

He opens his mouth to speak, but falls short of formulating a coherent sentence and feels a bit choked up and confused by himself. Though, you’ve been standing there and waiting for him and the silence has made you incredibly uncomfortable. “It’s a reach. There’s no possible way for you to harbor any feelings for me. We made that really clear to each other.”

You’re turning to hide back into your room, but Doyoung quickly stands at your door frame, alert and before you. “It’s not entirely a reach….” He mumbles, “I can’t say confidently that I have true and full romantic feelings toward you, but I have been seeing you in a romantic light.”

“I don’t fully understand what you mean.” Your eyebrows knit together, finding that his speech sounds too much like a riddle.

He takes a deep breath in, exhaling to calm the waking nerves in his throat. “I’m beginning to understand that some of what I feel towards you is romantic, like I don’t want to stop being around you or I want to go out of my way to do things that make your life easier.” He smirks coyly to himself, breaking the intense exchange of dialogue between the both of you briefly, “I’m an acts of service kind of guy.”

“Look, I’m saying that yes, I think I’m starting to have feelings for you. It wasn’t until recently did I feel like we’ve really gotten to spend time together after you’ve moved in.” His shoulders drop, “and I don’t know, I just– like you said, you just get me.”

This moment between the both of you is so real. There are no gimmicks, no foul play, no teasing and banter. Doyoung means every word he is saying. While a part of you wants to joke around and say something snarky, the other part of you feels serious and rather shocked at this confession.

Never in your mind did the potential of Doyung catering feelings toward you exist. And now, even more than ever, you’re actually reflecting on your own thoughts toward him. Doyoung is the first person you want to go to in a crowded room, it’s like you’re searching for him without realizing it. He’s the one you want to rely on, knowing how capable and responsible he is. Doyoung, given the chance, can really brighten up the room.

If there was anyone in this world he chose to open up to, you wanted it to be you.

“Can I kiss you?” Doyoung almost stopped himself from saying it, but he had to know. Your eyes are beyond huge at his request, the sound of thumping in your chest growing in your ears.

“What?” You croak, taken aback by this random out-of-character question. Doyoung’s cheeks are as bright red as a tomato, but he doesn’t break his intense eye contact.

“Kiss me, I want to know if my feelings are real.” He steps a bit closer with lips parted slightly, rosy cheeks, and dilated pupils. Your shaky hands slowly reach to cup his face and there the beating of your heart quickens, fast enough to where you think you could faint.

“If we kiss and neither of us feel anything, we’ll pretend it never happened.” You’re trying to cushion any chance at rejection, so that it wouldn’t end in complete disappointment from either one of you. It’s to soften the blow.

Nevertheless, Doyoung nods in your hot hands and brings your chin close with the pull of his finger. Your lips pucker and land gently on his, your eyes still wide open and you’re in utter shock that Kim Doyoung, the man you thought you’d never kiss, is now kissing you.

It’s as if fuel added to a flame, the fire in your stomach grows violently at this connection. Doyoung swears he could feel a sudden spark in his tight chest, electricity running in veins.

He pulls away and the contact between you two breaks as quick as it connected. He simply blinks at you, with a cute doe-eyed expression and red cheeks. You’re blinking back, heart in your throat and a desire to kiss him again.

“Are your feelings real?” You ask him a question you’re scared to know the answer to, worried that he didn’t feel that same fire as you did from that kiss and he’d ask to pretend it never happened.

“Real, absolutely real.” Doyoung confirms with a breathy speech. He can’t pinpoint how long these feelings have been locked away and how long he has ignored them. Nonetheless, that kiss proves so much to himself, one being that he is way more head over heels for you than he thought.

And the next course of action he chooses may ruin your current dynamic completely, but he fully and utterly wants to commit to you. He doesn’t tell you, worried that it may scare you off when he only wishes to hold you close.

The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a brief moment of silence with tensions high and hearts beating fast. Both are unaware of how to proceed without making things awkward or shifting too greatly from your banterful friendship.

So, Doyoung eases in with a request so telling, but gentle enough for the two of you to agree upon. “Let me drive you to work from now on.”

Your eyes glimmer with a shine, clearing your throat before you speak. “Is this about our carbon footprint or something else?”

He chuckles, “we’re saving the Earth while I also get to spend more time getting to know you, it sounds like a win - win situation to me.”

“And the rumors?”

Doyoung leans down to whisper gently into your ear, “let them think what they want.” The same shivers that ran through your body before had returned, but accompanied with butterflies dancing lovingly in your stomach.

Strange how two weeks ago, you thought that the possibility of romantically being with Doyoung was close to none and the best way to describe the two of you was that you just coexisted together. But, here you two are: standing in the middle of your shared living room with sparkling eyes for each other and a newfound excitement for a new relationship, more than just coexisting.

#nct scenarios #doyoung scenarios #doyoung scenario #nct scenario #nct doyoung #nct 127 scenarios #nct fluff #kim doyoung #nct x reader #doyoung imagines #doyoung x reader

356 notes · View notes

in1-nutshell · 4 months

Note

Hello again! If its okay to request TFA, a continuation of Triple changer Buddy?

Blitzwing react/interact to Triple changer Buddy and their personas.

When Triple changer meets Triple changer, what do you think happens?

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Triple changer meets Blitzwing

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFA

They met each other in the park.

Blitzwing had heard from around that there was a huge babysitter bot in the city.

He thought that the bot would be perfect for spare parts. If the bot was as big as the rumors were, then it could easily be scrapped and used for inventions or the med bay.

So, he went flying to look for the bot.

After an hour of flying around the triple changer found nothing.

Taking a break, he went to one of the parks and walked around.

“Why are we here again? The bot is nowhere here!”—Hot head

“But these daisies are!”--Random

“We are taking a break before we resume our search.”--Icy

“Why can’t we blast this place!”—Hot head

“No! Look at the pretty little birds! Look how they fly—”--Random

THUNK!

“Hey watch were you’re going!”—Hot head

“You watch—”--Guardian

Buddy and Blitzwing stare at each other.

“Great…”—Buddy and Blitzwing

All Buddy wanted to do was take the kids to the park for bird watching.

Now they had to deal with this Decepticon.

And on such a perfect day too!

It had taken so much time and patience to get permission slips from the parents to let the kids go out on a field trip to the park. They did manage to sort everything out better once some of the parents became chaperones for the trip.

The two triple changers met face to face.

…

And the two screamed.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”--Buddy

“AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”--Blitzwing

Buddy and Blitzwing falling backwards.

Blitzwing quickly snaps out of it and stands up with his canons raised.

“Servos where I can see them Autobot!”—Hot head

Buddy is still in shock seeing the Decepticon.

A rock hits Hot head in the chin.

“Leave them alone!”--Johnny

A twig hits his pede.

“Beat it you big meanie!”--Suzzy

Ms. Jones pulling out a rather large taser from her purse.

“You stay away from them you heartless little—”—Ms. Jones

Guardian quickly standing up and putting themselves in front of the group before looking down concerningly at the long taser

“Ms. Jones why do you even have that big of a taser in your purse?!”--Guardian

“That doesn’t matter right now sweety.”—Ms. Jones

“I feel like it should matter. That thing is the size of a cattle prod! How did that even fit?!”--Guardian

“I got it at a local flea market a few years back. Rebecca said it was some sort of hazard or something. Back to what I was saying, get your over-sized toaster oven butt out of here!”—Ms. Jones

The two triple changers are ready to throw down.

But they don’t, instead they take the time to size each other up.

Guardian and Hothead are ready to fight.

But then Hot head changes to Icy, surprising the other bot.

“Well, this was unexpected.”--Icy

Guardian changing to Carrier.

“That makes two of us then. And you are?”--Carrier

“Blitzwing.”--Blitzwing

“And…”--Carrier

“Oh? I… no one really asks that… I am Icy, one of my counter parts you met was Hot head.”--Icy

“Fitting name. Fiery personality.”--Carrier

Icy suddenly switched to Random.

“And I’m Random! Who are you? We haven’t met another Triple changer in decacycles!”--Random

Carrier switching to Jester who grabs Random’s servo and shakes it vigorously.

“Crazy! We’ve never met a Triple changer before! This is our first time! Oops! Where are my manners! The first one was Guardian, the second one was Carrier and last but certainly not least… ME! I’m Jester! Hero to humor and slayer of boredom!”--Jester

“OOOOOOHHHHH! I like you! I like you a lot! I—”--Random

Random turns back to Icy and Jester turns back to Carrier, both holding their helms a bit.

“What just happened?”--Johnny

“I have no idea…”--Suzzy

“Maybe Buddy found a new friend.”--Johnny

“Well, I don’t trust him.”—Ms. Jones

Icy and Carrier come back looking a bit embarrassed and both share a look.

They knew the slight pain it was to have all the personalities in order.

Especially keeping the more… eccentric ones at bay.

“Random was right about us not seeing another Triple changer in decacycles… would you, by any chance, be open to taking a walk with us.”--Icy

“A walk?”—Carrier

“Yes.”--Icy

“And the war? I don’t have anything to do with that now.”--Carrier

“Nothing about the war. Just Triple changer to Triple changer.”--Icy

Carrier hesitated, remembering the kids and their parents.

The kids and parents looked at their bot and then to the Con.

They didn’t like the idea of their friend going on a walk with someone like him.

But they also knew Buddy was curious about the Triple Changer.

They… they needed this.

“It’s okay Buddy. You can go.”—Ms. Jones

“Ms. Jones? Are… are you sure? What about the kids and—”--Buddy

“Let us worry about them, they are our kids after all.”—Ms. Jones

“And what it looks like, you need this.”—Ms. Smith

“I…”--Buddy

“Its okay Buddy! We’ll see each other tomorrow!”--Johnny

Yeah! Then we can play hide and seek!”--Suzzy

“And color!”--Kyle

“You heard them, Buddy. Go on now don’t be shy.”—Ms. Smith

“I… Thank you.”--Buddy

“No problem! But if the toaster over there gives you any trouble—”—Ms. Jones

“I’ll call Prime.”--Buddy

“That’s the Buddy we know. Have fun!”—Ms. Jones

Once the last of the humans left Buddy turned to Blitzwing and the two began their walk.

It was a nice walk.

Both comparing notes about how they manage their personalities and some funny stories here and there.

“Wait are you serious?!”--Jester

“Yes! Then Lugnut came in, with the button out, only to have a rock press it and BOOM!”—Hot head

HAHAHAHA!”--Jester

“Okay now you’re turn!”--Random

“Well, there was this time Timmy stuck a crayon up his nose and didn’t tell me until he was sneezing green snot!”--Jester

“EEWWWHAHAHAHA!”--Random

Never once talking about the others fraction.

This was something personal.

They both needed this.

Finally, it was time for Blitzwing to head back to base.

“This was fun!”--Jester

“Absolutely!”--Random

Jester changing to Carrier and Random to Icy.

“We should do this again. This was nice.”--Carrier

“Agreed, we should schedule later on.”--Icy

“Yes!”--Carrier

“Then it is settled.”--Icy

“Then until meet again Blitzwing!”--Buddy

“Until then Buddy!”--Blitzwing

“Fly safe!”--Jester

“Watch out for snow geese!”—Guardian

Blitzwing flies off.

Buddy sighing.

“You can all come out now.”--Buddy

“…”

“I know you all were watching us… thank you for having my back, even though I didn’t need it.”--Buddy

“You’re welcome!”--Johnny

“Shh!”--Suzzy

“They know we’re here already!”--Timmy

“Well, now they do!”--Tyler

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfa #tfa blitzwing #tfa x platonic reader #tfa x reader #tfa blitzwing x platonic reader

100 notes · View notes

cecilysass · 2 months

Text

Shine On (11/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 11: The Snow

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 23, 2015 7:45 am

Jackson can’t seem to sit still. He’s pacing all around the kitchen in meandering circles. Scully has managed to piece together from his brief, cryptic answers to her questions that he now knows his thoughts aren’t completely private. The news apparently hasn’t been well received.

Scully sits at the table, her chin in her hand, watching him seriously. There’s something else going on here, too—something more—and she hasn’t pinned it down yet. For one, Mulder disappeared upstairs in a cloud of anxiety, something big clearly on his mind.

“Was Mulder … worried about something?” she attempts.

Jackson just lifts his shoulders in a jerky shrug. “Probably.” He doesn’t add more details.

“Are you all right?” Scully says after another pause.

He’s moving again, walking back and forth. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m okay. Just really freaked out.”

“Now—”

“Don’t say it,” Jackson cuts her off, pointing at her suddenly. “I know, I know. Now I know what it feels like to have my thoughts spied on. I’m a hypocrite for being upset about it, right?”

Scully says nothing right away, but fixes him with what she hopes is an open and honest gaze. “Is that what I am thinking, Jackson?”

“No,” he says, finally still. “You’re not.”

She nods slowly. “Right. Now. Did Mulder happen to make coffee?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says, turning slowly to regard the coffee maker. “And … I made scrambled eggs.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Jackson walks to the stove and lifts the lid off the pan. “They’re still warm. You want some?”

“Yes, I do.” Scully stands up to get out plates. “Let’s eat. Should we make toast?”

Just as they are loading bread in the ancient toaster oven, Mulder’s footsteps on the stairs cause them both to look up. Jackson takes a wary step back.

“You’re going for a run, Mulder?” Scully can’t hide her skepticism as she walks across the floor to speak to him. He’s dressed for exercise—sweatpants, a long-sleeve tee, his running shoes—but his grim expression tells another story.

“Yeah,” he says. He eyes Jackson for a moment, looking as if he wants to say something, then turns and walks to the house’s front window, the one that faces the porch. He peers out cautiously. “Sort of.”

“What’s going on?” she asks sharply, lowering her voice.

“He’s been keeping something from us,” Mulder says quietly, his eyes darting behind her to Jackson in the kitchen. They both know that keeping his voice down is pointless, but he does it anyway. “Something … important. I need to check around outside again.”

“I should come with you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “Stay here, Scully. I think I upset him, and I think you should … just stay here with him.”

Scully nods slowly, feeling a thrum of anxiety. For the umpteenth time since yesterday, she attempts to mute her feelings.

“Try not to worry,” Mulder says, flashing her a small smile. “Hopefully this isn't a big deal. Go have breakfast.”

“Be careful,” Scully whispers urgently. “Take the stiletto.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

For a moment he looks like he might kiss her cheek—he seems to bend down just a little—but he doesn’t, biting his lower lip instead.

“I’ll save you some coffee,” she says uncomfortably, a nod to a routine they had for years in what feels like another lifetime.

“Sure you will,” he says. “I won’t hold my breath. I know your caffeine habits.”

The words he’s speaking are playful, but he sounds distracted. He glances out the window again, and it scares her, the look of intense worry etched across his features. Her mind explodes into fearful questions—what is Jackson is keeping from them? why does it involve Mulder checking outside?—but she quiets these quickly.

“Hopefully no big deal, right?” she whispers.

“Right,” he says quickly. Another reassuring smile.

***

There are swirling eddies of snow flurries visible through the kitchen windows as Scully and Jackson eat their eggs and toast.

“Snow,” she remarks, her voice sounding small. “I wonder if it’s supposed to accumulate.”

Jackson’s eyes track the direction of her stare. “Yeah, it looks like it might.” He looks back at her, seeming to remember something. He takes a big forkful of eggs. “Happy birthday. Today’s your actual birthday, right?”

“Yes,” she says. She takes a bite, too, trying not to watch him too closely.

“You’re… 51?”

She nods, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.

“So you were 37 when you had me?”

Again she nods, studying his reaction.

“Did you want to have kids?”

She hesitates only a second. “Very, very much.”

When he looks up at her, she knows he is using his shine on her, testing out the veracity of her claim. She can practically feel it.

“I was thinking about it,” Jackson says, shoving another bite in his mouth. “I think I might understand why my shine is so much stronger with you than with anyone else. Or at least I have a guess.”

Scully scowls and sips her coffee. “Oh? What’s your guess?”

“You’re a doctor, right?” Jackson says. “So you know that in mammals, there’s an evolutionary advantage to maternal-infant bonding.”

Her eyes widen at his language choice. Her chin goes up and down wordlessly.

“And that baby mammals learn to recognize their mom’s smell and sound, and learn how to, like, be in tune with her behavior so that they have a better chance of survival.”

She sets her cup down, slightly stunned.

“So if you think about my shine being one of my senses, like smelling or hearing, it’s logical that when I was an infant, still living with you, it developed to be… in sync with you. So I could know what you were thinking and feeling. And maybe once it developed in my brain or whatever, it stayed wired that way, even after all these years. It’s biology, right?”

“I had wondered… something along those lines myself,” Scully says, keeping her voice steady. “You’re very knowledgeable about biology.”

“I read a lot of articles,” Jackson says modestly.

Articles about what, Scully wonders? About maternal-neonate bonding? Is he worried about what he has missed out on by being adopted?

“Maybe a little,” Jackson says, looking down, and it takes her a moment to realize he is answering the question she was thinking. He then meets her eyes, and there is something unguarded there that reminds her of Mulder when she met him, Mulder the youngest she ever knew him, Mulder in Bellefleur, telling her his story. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” she says. “Anything.”

“Why’d you do it? Why did you decide to give me up?” He looks so earnest, so sincerely curious and vaguely hurt that it makes Scully want to weep. “I can feel how much you didn’t want to. How sad it made you. And when you did it, I wasn’t brand-new either, was I? I lived with you a while. You knew me. You have all these memories of me. And you were still with Mulder, weren’t you? It just seems like… I don’t know. I guess I don’t understand.”

“You really can’t see any reason why? Or… feel why?” she whispers.

“Not really,” he says. “It’s confusing to make sense of everything that goes on inside of you when you think about this.”

“Yes. I imagine.” She rises from her seat to pick up the coffee carafe, refilling her cup carefully. She uses the opportunity to take a deep breath, too. “I thought they would take you,” she continues, her voice eerily calm. “I was on my own. Mulder was gone.” She sits down again, clutching her cup tightly with both hands. “And I was just … absolutely terrified that I couldn’t protect you. Someone had already tried to take you once. I was so scared.” Her eyes fall to her coffee. “The adoption agency told me they’d find someone normal, loving, and far away. That you would be able to live a happy life.”

“A closed adoption,” Jackson says, and his jaw muscle twitches, just like Mulder’s does—which tells her that this is the most painful part. That this concealing of her identity is something that has upset him, stung him.

“It had to be,” she says. “Or I would still be a danger to you. To your new family.” Her voice breaks. “But apparently Mulder and I were a danger to you and your family anyway. I’m so sorry about that, Jackson. So sorry. I tried to keep you safe. I tried … so hard. By far the hardest thing I have ever…” She’s crying, and she can’t do anything to stop it.

Jackson watches her tears, looking perplexed. “I know,” he says. He tips his head, as if trying to see her better. “It isn’t your fault. I don’t really think they came after my parents because of you and Mulder. Probably it didn’t matter … whose kid I was in the end. It was me. It was just the fact that I existed at all.”

Scully sniffs, nodding, trying to take charge of her feelings again.

“I never wanted my children to be in danger just by the fact that they existed,” she manages. “I wanted you safe. I wanted your life to be normal.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say my life was exactly normal,” he says, lifting his eyebrows. “It was never going to be normal.”

“As close as possible to normal then.”

“Yeah.” He nods thoughtfully. “I guess that’s what it was.”

There is a pause. Jackson taps the rim of his plate lightly with his finger.

“So there’s another one?” he asks.

“Another what?”

“You said you didn’t want your children to be in danger for the fact they existed,” Jackson says. “Not your child. You said children, like, more than one. Like plural.”

“Oh,” she says. She hadn’t realized this slip. “Yes. There was another child.” She pushes the remains of eggs around on her plate with her fork. “Once. She died long ago, before you were born.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson says. He seems to be seriously thinking that over.

“I’ll tell you about her some time,” Scully says. “It’s not an entirely happy story, but I’ll tell you if you want.” She sets her fork down and steels herself to look at him. “The thing is, Jackson, is that I have lots I probably should tell you. And lots I could tell you, if you want to know. I’d like to do that. I’d like to … be part of your life, if you want. However that might look.”

Jackson’s eyes drift over to the window, which is busy white static. “Yeah,” he says softly, inscrutably.

“I think that’s something Mulder wants, too.”

“Yeah,” he repeats in the same tone. “He… actually wants me to live here with him and run track for the local high school. He’s thought about it. Going on runs with me and stuff.”

“Is that right?” The idea makes Scully smile. It’s just so Mulder. Not the Mulder of eighteen months ago, who was trapped in inertia, lying on a couch in frightening, stagnant darkness. But apparently the Mulder of now, who was ready to daydream about going on runs with his teen son.

“Well, he did daydream about that,” Jackson says, apparently shining her. His tone changes. “He might not be into that idea any more. We had a disagreement. He might feel different.”

Scully shakes her head in disbelief. She has no idea how to explain to Jackson how badly he has misunderstood Mulder. What are the words that could communicate this to a 13-year old, she wonders?

But then, she realizes, she doesn’t have to use words. Not with Jackson.

She closes her eyes and concentrates on a memory—a sequence of memories, really—from years ago.

Summer, just a few weeks after they first went on the run. A decrepit motel in rural Alabama. Waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the shower running, the faintest undertone of Mulder’s sobs. Steam hitting her face as she drew back the curtain and stretched her arms out for him. My fault, Scully. You know I never really can protect anyone I love. You should get far away from me.

Jackson’s face twitches as he takes her memory in. “He was upset about me?”

“He was grieving.” She remembers how the water soaked her pajamas as she held his sobbing body, as she joined him in tears. “He hardly got a chance to be your father, and he didn’t get to say goodbye.” She clears her throat. “I don’t think he would ever stop being happy to get to spend time with you now, Jackson.”

Jackson looks down at his plate, quiet for a moment. “Why do you think Mulder can use his shine on me?”

“I don’t know,” Scully says. “My best guess is… he probably had a latent ability already, from what happened to him years ago. Maybe you somehow wake it up because of your own abilities. Maybe he’s been using it, subconsciously, to try to reach you.” She’s suddenly sad, thinking about it. “Maybe … he’s been doing it all along. For years. Without knowing.”

“And this is the first time he’s been close enough to me for it to work,” Jackson adds softly.

He stands up from the table, walking over to the window to look out at the falling snow. Scully’s eyes land on the back of his head, studying the familiar shape of his crown of brown hair. She imagines how much he will look like Mulder when he is fully grown.

“Your other child,” Jackson says in a voice of curiosity and wonder, pressing his palm on the window. “What was her name?”

***

It starts to snow almost immediately after Mulder steps outside. He puts up a pretense of going for a jog up and down Wallace Road, all the time actively scanning the horizon. No cars. No signs of anyone else out and about. Just gray sky and fluttering snowflakes.

He gives up on his fake run after about fifteen minutes and decides to come back and search the property again. It’s cold, and he’s underdressed, but he is also feeling a deep, primal pull: a compulsion to protect that he hasn’t felt in years.

The trouble is that he doesn’t quite know what this feeling means. Maybe it’s some phantom father instinct long buried in his psyche, juiced up by a painful history of losing sisters and sons.

Or maybe it’s … something else. This shine he apparently still has. Telling him to do something important for real reasons.

Regardless, something is telling him to stay out here in the snow—to keep looking.

The wind picks up, sending snowflakes spinning manically around him, an icy cyclone. Mulder spins himself around, too, looking everywhere he can see for any sign of something out of the ordinary.

His eyes land on a little cluster of trees about a hundred feet from the house. He has a sudden compulsion to go peek inside.

It’s so quiet out. Almost unnaturally so.

Snowflakes continue to whirl, winding and fluttering in a steady helix around his path. The morning light is pale and eerie. Mulder has the strange feeling he’s in a fairy tale. Like all the many snow creatures of myths and legends he has ever read about could be perched right behind any tree.

He thinks fleetingly of the Ijiraq, an Inuit shapeshifter who, according to the stories, lives in the snow and steals children. A person never actually lays eyes directly on an Ijiraq. He’s only supposed to appear in the very corner of one’s line of sight.

A nightmare, there in an instant, who takes a beloved child away forever.

On impulse Mulder turns around to look back at the house. Snow is already beginning to accumulate on the roof in stark, white veins.

Shivering a little, he turns back and walks up to the tight clutch of trees. Snowflakes have begun to melt in his hair. He’s going to be uncomfortably damp and cold.

He steps into the dark and dim cover of the overhanging branches. To his surprise, he sees a small hooded female figure standing alone there, facing away from him.

When she turns, his heart stops.

“Scully?” he whispers.

Because she is Scully.

Not Scully now, not the fiftysomething Scully inside the house he knows and loves, the Scully who has been at his side for years.

She’s Scully as he first met her: fresh faced and freckled and unblemished, the Scully who extended her hand in the basement of the Hoover building, the earnest and serious new partner who wanted to prove herself.

She is, impossibly, Scully in her twenties, standing before him in a dark wood, surrounded by a few errant snowflakes falling unhurriedly over her from the tree cover above.

Maybe this is a fairy tale. Maybe I have been bewitched.

“No. That’s not who I am.” Her voice sounds exactly like Scully of the past, too. High and precise, clear and authoritative. I’ve been assigned to work with you.

But as she steps forward, the light hitting her features more directly, he can see that what she says is correct. She’s not Scully. Just someone who looks incredibly, unbelievably like her, dressed in a sleek black coat.

“Who are you?” he demands.

Even as he speaks, he begins to realize, to remember. And as he does, he sees that this is no fairy tale at all.

“My name is Rose.”

“Rose.” He steps towards her, his legs beginning to shake.

“Yes.”

“Rose ... isn’t your real name,” he says. He’s having trouble getting words out, but his mind is racing. “I saw the song lyrics Jackson had—”

“Yes,” she says. “You’re right. But that name you’re remembering—that’s not my name anymore.”

There was no body in the coffin.

He should have thought more about it at the time. He always should have considered the possibility. Why didn’t he, even once, all these years? He had only seen the body’s disappearance as a final insult to Scully’s grief, a cruel denial of any answers or closure, but he had never asked or thought further about implications.

“How…” Mulder feels light-headed. He hasn’t had breakfast, which probably was a mistake. He doesn’t know what to start asking questions about first. He looks up, as if searching for the words around him in the trees arching above him.

“You know what it is that I am?” Rose takes a careful step away from him, looking up at the top of the maple tree. “That I’m not… entirely human?”

“Yeah.” His mouth is dry. “I think I do.”

“You knew all along, didn’t you?” She throws a look back at him, alert and curious. “Even when we met before, when she attempted the adoption—you knew what I was.”

“I had an idea,” he says, “but …we never entirely knew what was going on back then.”

“You would have let her adopt me anyway?”

Mulder can’t help a melancholy smile. “Nothing could have stopped her,” he says. “But yes. Of course. It wasn’t your fault.”

She nods, absorbing this. Then she turns to him with her incisive, Scully-like stare. “From your work, you must know I wasn’t the only one. That I wasn’t the only product of the hybrid experiments,” she says.

“Yeah,” Mulder says. He watches a single snowflake flutter downwards and lets it land on his palm, watching it melt into a speck of water. “We knew that. About other hybrids. But we also thought the hybrid program was eliminated. After the Syndicate was eliminated, in 2000 or so.”

“No. There were still some of us left,” she says. “Hybrids of different ages and purposes. Not as many as there used to be—we were reduced in number. But when I was still a kid, a group decided to band together. To form a collective for safety. There were about fifty of us left then. Mostly those you called the Kurt Crawfords, although they don’t go by that name any more either.” She picks up an icy-veined dead leaf and studies it. “There were other kids, like me. Some products of experiments like I was. Some agricultural clones.”

Mulder feels like he needs to lean against something, like the world is spinning too fast.

“They called our group the Walled Garden. At first the purpose was to take care of one another, protect ourselves. Protect those of us who were younger. We had a group of safe houses. But we’re very smart, you know. We have… gifts, some of us more than others. We were able to make investments. Buy a large amount of land in Maryland. Build laboratories. Work on projects of interest to society.”

“What kind of … projects?”

“Stopping an invasion, for one,” Rose says evenly. “We did that rather successfully. And without any violence or undue attention. Even attention from you, Agent Mulder, and you were waiting for it.”

Mulder’s mouth opens and closes in shock. “You stopped the invasion in 2012? How?”

“I’m loyal … to the Walled Garden,” Rose says, looking away. “I’m not going to share all our secrets.”

“Okay. Okay. Why are you sharing this information at all?”

“There is always disagreement about how much more we should do,” Rose replies carefully. “There are some of us who would prefer we remain scientists and engineers. There are others who would like to see us… in more powerful positions in society. They say we deserve it, because of our natural gifts and strengths.” Her mouth twists. “Some in the latter group felt like we should be protecting ourselves better, taking care of loose ends left over from the Syndicate. Jackson’s name came up as one loose end. Because, see, he’s not one of us, but he … has some of our gifts. That’s perceived as a threat.”

“So you were sent to Wyoming to stop him?” Mulder’s voice is sharp. “To kill his parents?”

Rose’s face falls, and she looks so much younger. “No.” Her big eyes are limpid and haunted, exactly like Scully’s. “No. You’re misunderstanding me. Someone was sent for that job, but not me. I went on my own—to protect him. To bring him to you. Because I knew you and Dana would take care of him.”

Suddenly Mulder remembers so clearly what she was like when he last saw her, how small and vulnerable she was, how utterly alone.

And he remembers viscerally how much Scully wanted her. How he and Scully would have taken care of her. He is flooded with a sickening sorrow, thinking about what the little girl’s life must have been like after that. After they were fooled into giving up on her.

Emily, can’t you see? There’s nothing you can do. There’s loving everywhere, but none for you.

“Most of the other hybrids,” Rose says, her voice cracking slightly, “don’t have living family. They never really did, or their mothers died. They don’t understand. But I’ve always known that I had Dana. I have always watched out for her. And for Jackson, once he was born.”

“You must have still been really young when he was born,” Mulder observes.

“I knew when he was born,” she says. “I just did. And even when I was little, I knew I could keep him safe. And when I got older, and you and Dana didn’t know where he was? I knew. I always knew.”

Mulder feels tears pool in his eyes. “Please,” he says. “Please, I beg you, Rose. Please stay here and let me go get Scully. Please let her talk to you.”

Rose digs her hands in her coat pockets, turning abruptly away.

“We thought you were dead,” he says simply. “You don’t know how the loss was for her, back then. She was … never exactly the same after that. Please let me get her. Let her see you.”

“You know, Agent Mulder,” she says, “if I were really unselfish, if I really cared about Dana or Jackson, I wouldn’t ever be in contact with any of you. Every time I do it’s a danger to everyone.”

“Why?” Mulder pushes. “Are you being watched?” He takes a cautious step towards her. “I could get her right now, and we could talk right here under the trees out of sight. It would take only a few minutes.”

“No,” Rose says, turning back to meet his eyes. There is something in her tone that stops him from arguing further. “No.”

He glances over his shoulder towards the house, his heart sinking, thinking of Scully so close inside. He thinks of her drained, gray face on the flight back from California all those years ago. The way she sat in the airplane seat with her palms subtly facing upwards, like something had just been taken from her hands.

“Maybe we can talk again,” Rose adds. Her softened, moved expression makes him wonder if she is using a shine on him, too. “There may be a way for us to meet safely. All of us. Just let me… think about it, Agent Mulder. All right?”

“Of course. You promise?”

“I do.”

“You keep calling me Agent Mulder,” Mulder says. “You do know that that isn’t my name any more either.”

“But it will be again,” Rose says. “I hear that you and Dana will be back with the F.B.I. very soon.”

He scrunches up his forehead. “How did you hear that?”

She doesn’t answer the question. Instead, she smiles a closed lip smile that looks incredibly, unsettlingly like Scully.

“You probably would have been a really good father, you know,” she says. Her voice sounds quiet and high, like a whisper. Her cheeks are pink in the cold. “You seem like it.”

“Thanks, but I don’t know about that,” Mulder says ruefully. “I’ll try to do right by him now, but I really don’t know how good I would have been at raising him. I make a lot of mistakes in every important relationship in my life.”

“I didn’t … I actually wasn’t thinking about Jackson in this case.”

“Oh.” Again he is overwhelmed by a wash of sadness. “Well.” He shivers involuntarily. “I would have done my best, Rose. We both would have.” It sounds so futile, all these empty words about time now gone, he thinks. “I wish we could have tried.”

“It wasn’t meant to be,” she says matter-of-factly, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. “There’s nothing we can do now.”

And that makes Mulder think what he has always thought when faced with that notion. When a sister or partner has disappeared. When he has lost his life’s work. When a woman he loves has been infected with a virus and spirited away to Antarctica.

There is always something you can do. There is always something else to be done.

Which is what makes Mulder begin to believe he might finally, actually be starting to get better.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #x files revival

56 notes · View notes

credince--writes · 2 years

Text

Tabasco

AO3

Something Jitters noticed, albeit slowly, was that it seemed Ghost never seemed to leave.

Unless it was on a mission of course.

Sometimes she would forget that he was there, only to have the life scared out of her when he rounded a corner and almost bumped into her.

A lot of the time it made sense.

The first time, Gaz, Price, and Soap would be going somewhere to do something to the tone of undercover work.

It's hard to be undercover with a skull mask on your face.

So, it left the two of them alone in the base.

The first day, she avoided him. Maybe not intentionally, but she had no real way to know how to feel about him. He was, in essence, a big scary fucker with a skull mask who killed people for his occupation.

She would still be providing some very basic assistance to the team from afar, making sure nothing had come in through the enemy communications that would signal for the mission being compromised.

Usually, it starts out with little things.

Additional punctuation in messages can signal for something is wrong.

She didn't know how- but Gaz had managed to pick up a bag of bagels. Even told her to eat as many as she wanted while he was gone, no use in letting them get moldy was his reasoning.

So she happily obliged, while yea, she was hesitant at first, she decided to take him up on his offer. Cutting the bread and then placing it in the toaster oven she quickly returned to her office corner and keep checking up on the communications.

A particular snippet of a phone call caught her attention, and she began to slip down the rabbit hole of analyzing the messages around it.

By the time she had looked up from the screen, a plate with a bagel was set at the end of her desk. She looked around, not realizing Ghost must've brought it in when she was working.

Heat crept up onto her face, he must think she was an idiot- or at least reaffirm the premise of it being so. Forgetting it in the toaster oven, walking off, and getting busy.

At least it didn't catch fire.

But, she couldn't help but notice the butter carefully spread across the surface of each piece.

She should remember to thank him later.

...

Wandering through the halls, she stopped to find herself walking into the training room to hunt down the source of noise- hopefully assuming it to be Ghost and not an intruder.

To which, she was grateful for him being the large but familiar man even if he was brooding in the corner.

"Hey." She spoke, trying to catch his attention.

He stopped beating on a punching bag (the poor object) to turn and look at her, still wearing the skull-clad mask. However, instead of the normal long sleeve and gear he wore, he wore a simple black T-shirt.

Didn't know he had any tattoos.

She assumed his eye contact was the only kind of acknowledgment or greeting she would get.

"Thanks for saving the bagel, earlier." She started. His lack of verbal acknowledgment only added to the awkwardness of her conversation.

"Didn't want to have to deal with a fire, now would we?" He responded.

A hint of something twirled around in his voice,

amusement maybe.

"Yea..." She laughed a little, feeling the heat rise back up to her face. She reached her arm back to rub the back of her neck. "I got kinda caught up. You know?"

He nodded simply.

"So..." She tried to continue.

"Do you need something, Jitters?" He asks.

"No." She sighs. Faltering slightly, "Sorry." Before turning and leaving him alone in the training room.

She'd never been left alone with him for a full day if it could even be called being left with him.

But, she would admit the man was full of surprises.

She wasn't expecting to walk into the kitchen after finishing work for dinner to be finished and out on the table, even if it was just a singular serving for her.

He was nowhere to be seen, but it started a game of sorts to catch the man in the act of doing something so domestic.

He seemed to have a routine, wake up, lumber around for a while before going to the shooting range, coming back, finding a bagel in the toaster oven that Jitters forgot, and then when she would come to apologize (again) about her forgetfulness he would be doing something in the training room.

"Apologies don't count when you make a habit of it." He simply said to her.

"Sorry." She sighed, looking at her shoes. "So, do you always work out. Every day?" She asks.

"When I am not injured or on a mission, yes." He said bluntly, continuing to do pullups on a bar.

"You ever get bored?"

"No."

"I'd get bored."

"Hm."

"It ever get hard to breathe in that thing?" She asked.

"No."

"Am I testing your patience?"

"How'd you know?" He sighed out, dropping from the bar and turning to her. "Are you bored?" He asked.

"Incredibly." Jittered sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "Nothing interesting is coming through the comms."

"I am not your babysitter." He said plainly.

"Never said you were." She shot back.

"Bit defensive are we?" He questions, moving across the room to put away a weight he had been using earlier.

She grumbled a little, crossing her arms. "I didn't mean to. I just am starting to dislike being regarded as a baby."

He turned, looking at her. "Then do something about it."

She groaned. "Like what?"

"Don't know, I'm not a baby."

"God, you're an ass."

"Hm."

He moved about, and she found herself sitting against a wall in his company.

"Didn't know you had tattoos." She comments.

"Is that what they are?" He sarcastically asks.

"I thought you'd be more of the guy to get a tribal tattoo and nipple piercings, personally." She jokes.

"This was just the cover-up, you missed those." He held up his arm, keeping his back to her as she moved about.

She stood, making her way as quietly as she could up behind him, getting about ten feet away from him before he lifted his head.

"You're shit at sneaking around." He comments without turning his head.

She groans, before crumbling to the ground. "How?"

"You're not as quiet as you think."

"I think you got shark mirrors in that damn mask." She grumbles.

He stands, turning before walking up to her and poking her with the tip of his boot. "Get up."

She stands, begrudgingly, before following him to the center of the room onto a mat.

"Hit me." He stated.

A look of shock momentarily took over her features.

"Huh?"

"You heard me." He says.

She stands up straighter, adjusting her shoulders before throwing a punch into his chest.

As soon as she throws the punch his hand jerks out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her body forward, kicking her legs out from under her, sending her topping onto the mat below him.

Jitters groaned, looking up at him as he slightly leaned forward to look at her.

"What'd you do wrong?"

"Walked into the fuckin' room." She grumbles.

"Wrong."

"Threw a punch at the man literally named Ghost."

"Yes, and no. What did you do wrong with your punch?"

"I leaned too far forward so I was already off balance. Not that would've mattered with you manhandling me."

He nodded a bit. "So what should you do next time?"

"Bring a gun." She grumbled, rolling over onto her hands and knees to stand.

He let out a huff, something close to a laugh she could only assume.

"You and Johnny have been practicing, have you not?" He asked.

"No." She sighed, finally standing back up. "We've been dickin' around with the containers."

As soon as she stood, he stuck an arm out against her shoulders throwing her chest backward, leg swinging out and filing her back at the knees, sending her toppling back to the floor.

"Oh my God." She groaned, rolling over again. "No fair."

"You left yourself open." He responded back simply.

"Cold hard bastard." She laughs a little. Springing up suddenly she lunged forward, trying to grab hold of his waist and push him back.

Except it was like coming into contact with a wall.

"That's not going to work." He stated.

"Fuck this." She huffs, turning around. "No fair, no fun."

"Life isn't fair." Ghost shoots back at her.

As soon as he said that, she was running at him, leaping into the air and trying again, wrapping her arms and legs around his torso in another attempt to knock him off balance.

They were met in awkward silence, safe for Jitters huffing for breath under him. "This was gonna work better in my head."

"I can see that." He bluntly responds.

His body began to shift, before he completely toppled forward on top of her, dead weighting on her.

Thats when she really began to scramble about like a cat, wheezing out

'can't'

'bre-'

'heeathe...'

'hnnng'

'help'

'hunnnnng-

'unlc'

'uncle' she wheezes out.

With that, he stiffens his body back up, standing quickly and looking down at her.

She lay on her back gasping for breath.

....

A few days later, she finally caught him in the act.

Peeking her head in through the doorway, she watched as he cut an onion on the cutting board, potatoes boiling behind him.

His head didn't even lift before he called into the room. "Staring is rude."

She nearly fell dead on the floor at that moment, awkwardly standing and walking into the room with a face plastered with the look of 'shameful, but only because I was caught'

"It's just weird." She says, walking up and sitting down at one of the chairs at the dining table.

"What." He states.

"To see you cooking?" She asks aloud. "Just never saw you for someone to do that."

"Hm."

"Not that, like, you can't cook. All of the dinners, and food, in general, have been great." She adds quickly.

He doesn't respond, just continuing to cut.

"It's just weird to see you doing something so domestic?" She asks again. "But it's nice. You know."

"I don't." He replies.

"It's just a reminder that the big bad Ghost is human." She jokes, shooting him a grin. "Don't worry, I won't tell the others you're a better cook than Soap. Secret's safe with me." She laughs a little.

He remained silent, still.

"Do you need any help?" She asked.

"No." He responded.

She sighed, crossed her arms, and sat back in the chair.

By the time he had finished cooking, he stood with his plate, aiming to walk to whoever he enjoyed his meals in peace.

Leaving her alone at the dinner table once again.

...

The second time they were left alone together was only for a day, following up on previous leads had left the two together, she didn't even know he was in the building until she had stepped out to look at the sky and saw the man leaning up against the building, mask pulled up over his chin and to his nose smoking a cigarette.

"You know those are bad for you." She comments.

"So is getting shot." He mumbled, putting his light back in his pocket.

Maybe it was a threat?

She didn't want to find out necessarily.

The team ended up calling in, they'd be back in the morning, the weather had gotten nasty rather quickly and Price said he'd rather not be in another heli crash.

Ghosts word resonated with her to a degree, 'do something about it'

She might not be able to beat Ghost in a fight, but she could still take care of her body- to which she realized she hadn't been doing that well of a job as of late.

She had walked into the training room, finding it empty.

Call her a wimp, but she didn't directly see the appeal of lifting weights. They also didn't have weights that would work in the 'Jitters' category. Unless she felt like dragging around a fifty-pound kettlebell for the 'gains' there wasn't much there in the room for her.

The body stores trauma in physical ways.

So, she found herself on the mat in the center of the room stretching her legs, back, arms, anything she could remember from the old yoga poses she'd do in the kitchy classes she took in college.

The familiar feeling of the burning stretch in her legs, and in her back. All providing some relief. It felt as if she was physically releasing tension from her body as she did it. Taking deep breaths in and allowing the pain to flow out while she exhaled.

She'd be cackling at herself if she wasn't desperately trying to combat the pit in the bottom of her gut eating away at her.

She was homesick.

But not of her home,

she missed her old life.

She missed her bed.

Her hometown's weather.

Birds.

The look of the grass.

Nothing was the same here.

Maybe if she closed her eyes sometimes, like when she was in the shower with her head pressed up against the tile she could act as if she was home.

Maybe even a hotel.

Anywhere that wasn't a military base.

When she approached the kitchen she saw Ghost, in a semi-familiar position of cooking at the stove. A picture of muddled domesticity.

It worked roughly the same, this time him finishing up, making his plate and turning to leave.

"Ghost." She asked.

He stopped, and turned to look at her.

"Could you..." She grasped at the sleeve of her shirt. "Could you eat with me?" She asks him, shooting him a near-desperate glance.

He didn't respond at first. Almost mulling it over.

"I... I don't wanna eat alone." She explains.

He made his way over to the table, setting the plate down, and leaving, returning a short bit later with a single bottle of tabasco sauce, and a glass with an amber liquid inside of it. Sitting it down on the table, he pulled his mask up and ate with her in a comfortable silence.

She watched as he grabbed the bottle, splashing it onto his food for what seemed to be the fifth time.

"You like that stuff?" She asks.

He gives her a simple nod.

She laughs a little, "You just have one in your room?"

"Johnny would drink it if he found it." He says in between bites.

"The hot sauce or whatever is in your glass?"

"Both."

"What's in the glass?" She asks.

"Bourbon."

She nods and continues to eat.

...

The third time, the team had been released for a week. Return home, do as you like, visit the wife, the likes.

So, she had opted to sleep in- true teenager style. By the time she crawled out of bed, it was already two in the afternoon. And boy, did she feel great.

She wandered the building, not like she had a home to return to.

But Jitters soon noticed, she wasn't alone. the scent of a freshly smoked cigarette hung in the air. The ding of the toaster when she was in another room, the faucet dripping after being used.

But she couldn't corner him.

She tried, she really did, he really was living up to his name, he was a Ghost.

So, she assumed he didn't want to be bothered, so she went along with it.

And it stayed that way, for a few days.

She'd find dinner, she'd eat alone, and she'd continue on with her night.

She lay in bed that night, staring blankly at the wall before sighing and getting up. Pulling a jacket on over her shirt, she left her room and wandered around the base. Walking out to the garage and up a flight of the metal stairs to reach the access door to the roof.

When she reached the top of the building, she walked across the roof for a moment before settling at a spot that looked near perfect for a seat.

The sky was clear, but these weren't the stars she had grown up looking at.

She sniffled a bit, staring up at the sky feeling the cold prickle her nose.

Tears slipped down her cheek as she sat there, not paying attention to the time passing as she stared up at the sky.

Catching the sound of the door quietly opening and shutting her eyes snapped out over to see Ghost's large figure walking across the rooftop in the darkness. He stopped, eyes settling on her for a moment. He looked back at the door, almost contemplating on if he should leave or not.

However, he didn't decide to leave, rather walking forward and leaning up against the wall next to her.

"You're in my spot." He says, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it.

He wasn't wearing the skull mask, however. It was a simple black mask. The bridge of his nose was exposed, eyes showing through more. He lacked the black paint smudged around his eyes emphasizing the void his graze would drag you into.

It was Jitter's turn to give silence as a response.

"Why aren't you home?" Jitters asks, exhaling and watching her breath appear as steam and dissipate into the sky.

"I assume the same reason you aren't there either." He responds, taking a long drag on his cigarette.

They come to a silent agreement. It was as if they had seen eye to eye on something, they had a bit more in common than they'd like to agree.

This place was their home, like it or not.

"You're missing your face." Jitters says, shooting him a glance.

"Thought I was having a smoke, the kind where I'm alone." He replies. There was no dig in his response, just as if it was an explanation.

They sit together, a while longer looking up at the sky.

"You ever think about gettin' old?" She looks at him, watching as he takes a drag on his cig, exhaling it out into the cold night air.

"Sometimes." He adds after a moment.

She pulls her knees to her chest, resting her chin on the tops of her knees.

"It's weird to think about." She mumbles.

He doesn't respond.

"This place feels like my coffin, in a way." She glances up at him, meeting his gaze. "That I'll never get the opportunity to be anything else than just, Jitters."

"Hm."

"It's just, rather lonely I suppose."

She couldn't help but feel the searing feeling on the side of her head from his eyes.

"Do you ever get scared, you know, of dying?" She asked.

"No." He responds, flicking his cigarette down onto the metal roof.

"Only the good die young." He adds.

"That's not comforting." She sighs. "I want to be good."

"Who are you to judge the difference between good and evil?" He asks her.

She didn't know what to expect from the conversation.

But not that.

Who are you to judge the difference between good and evil?

"Do you ever miss it?" She asks.

He looks at her and nods a bit before flicking the ash off of the end of his cigarette.

"Sometimes." He finally responds.

"Would you ever go back to it?"

"There's nothing left to go back to." He says.

Home.

"I guess that's something we have in common." She mumbles.

#Jitters Au #john soap mactavish #john price #soap x reader #cod mwii #Simon Riley #simon ghost riley #gaz garrick x reader #gaz garrick

178 notes · View notes

supremetrinibaddie · 3 months

Text

Am I a baker now ?

Recently I started making pastries. I’m not able to make my dough from scratch as of yet since I don’t have the counter space. So for now I’m using store bought puff pastry, there is nothing wrong with that quite handy for a beginner like myself. I was eager to start and didn’t have all the ingredients for danishes so I made peach turnovers. Compared to the danishes I made this morning the turnovers were larger than life lol. Triangular shaped and huge. They came out amazing for my first time. The right about of seasoning/sauce, the only thing I would say was messed it was the ratio of fruit to pastry. With just these two large pieces I could’ve used a whole peach instead of half. Today I make three kinds of danishes Strawberry, Peach, and Guava. I wasn’t a big fan of the guava, idk it was like mildly sweet and tart. This was my second time making a guava danish. The first time (two days ago) I felt like there was too much guava paste so it didn’t have a chance to warm and melt completely. Today I used thinner slices and it worked out much better. Each danish consist of the fruit mixture and the cream cheese mixture. The strawberry just needs some sugar and cornstarch, where as the peaches can be by choice or the basic cinnamon, brown sugar, and lemon juice. Once the pastries are assembled and sealed you want to make some slits on top, they don’t need to be deep just enough to vent. Brush with egg wash before popping them in the oven. Baking for under 20m I had some delicious fruit danishes. I have yet to accomplish how to make like a glaze. I want to make something like the glaze of a donut but more with the consistency of the toaster strudel glaze. I’ll be working on perfecting a glaze that I can drizzle over the pastries

I’m excited to try other desserts and pastries. I’ve made box cakes I’m not a big cake person so I rarely make them now. I do love making brownies. But I feel like these are kinda basic, traditional if you will. I want to explore and push my limits. I’m not afraid of failing and having to try multiple times. I’m afraid of wasting the groceries lol and then throwing them out *clutches chest* Scary thought lol

#puff pastry #love for cooking #cooking #fruit #first timer #baking

7 notes · View notes

eipisims · 2 years

Photo

Selection Kitchen

This kitchen set consists of 56 objects, details under the cut:

Baking tray (decor) - 1654 polys

Blender (decor) - 225 polys

Wall Cabinet (not modular) - 164 polys

Tall Cabinet (without glass doors) - 302 polys

Tall Cabinet (with glass doors) - 426 polys

Cloth Towel (decor, slots into wall rack) - 226 polys

Containers of ingredients (beans, rice, coffee, and flour) - 142 polys

Counters (modular, available in wood and marble or colors and marble combination) - around 150 polys each model

Counter islands (modular, available in wood and marble or colors and marble combination) - around 150-200 polys each model

Cutting board (decor, with slots) - 266 polys

Pair of standing cutting boards (decor) - 330 polys

Dish drying rack (decor) - 4513 polys

Fruit peeler (decor, slots into wall rack) - 1084 polys

Frying pan (decor, stackable) - 1146 polys

Electric Kettle (three options: decor, teapot, and coffee maker) - 1395 polys

Measuring cups/spoons (decor, slots into wall rack) - 637 polys

Electric mixer (two options, decor, or cupcake maker, see notes) - 707 polys

Mortar and Pestle (decor) - 1500 polys

Mug (decor, slots into wall rack) - 738 polys

Mugs stacked (decor) - 1396 polys

Oranges bowl (decor) - 2688 polys

Countertop oven (requires DHD, EA's recolor) - 484 polys

Pizza cutter (decor, slots into wall rack) - 852 polys

Plate (decor, stackable) - 468 polys

Stacked Plates (decor, stackable) - 3334 polys

Cooking pot (decor, two options, open and closed lid) - 1142 polys

Potato masher (decor, slots into wall rack) - 1337

Rolling pin (decor)- 770 polys

Salt & Pepper shakers (decor) - 562 polys

Saucepan (decor) - 892 polys

Shelves (many slots, two options: wood and colors and marble) - 948 polys

Single shelf (many slots, two options: wood and colors and marble) - 490 polys

Slotted spoon (decor, slots into wall rack) - 945 polys

Spatula (decor, slots into wall rack) - 592 polys

Stacked bowls (decor) - 1666 polys

Stovetop (requires DHD) - 2400 polys

Toaster (decor) - 2828 polys

Tongs (decor, slots into wall rack) - 790 polys

Trash bin (functional, see notes) - 923 polys

Tupperware (decor, two options: open and closed stackable) - 1030 polys

Utensils cup (decor) - 1539 polys

Utensil wall rack (long, fits 7 utensils) - 302 polys

Utensil wall rack (short, fits 5 utensils) - 246 polys

Whisk (decor, slots into wall rack) - 1264 polys

Notes:

You can find these items in the catalogue by typing " selection"

Items are BGC, have all LOD, no occluders, etc.

Everything is BGC except for the oven and stovetop which require Dream Home Decorator.

The functional mixer uses Ravasheen 's custom tuning which allows for an object to act as an anchor in order for the sim to start baking cupcakes. With this item you don't need the big EA's cupcake maker, jut click on the mixer and the cupcake options will appear. Please read RVSN's detailed explanation of how this works.

The cabinets are not modular, meaning they work as regular shelving units (one goes against the wall and the other on the floor). I recommend you using the alt key to place them well (or MOO cheat which is always recommended for decor purposes). Also if you have a light source coming from only one side of the room then half of the object will look darker. This is not something that I can change or know how, shadows in The Sims act strangely.

The trash bin is functional, but there's no BGC trash with an animation for opening the lid (and I don't know how to animate objects). Therefore, when throwing away the trash you can see it going through the lid. Personally I don't mind it and I really wanted to have a trashcan with a lid to cover the odors. When it's full/overflowing instead of pilling up trash on the top it appears all around it.

The wall rack will only be useful when used with the utensils made for it, and likewise. This is because I made the utensils fit perfectly onto each hook. I did this so you could pick and choose which objects to display, and also their individual swatches (and even size up/down each one). Here's a gif displaying it:

Thanks to:

@peacemaker-ic for the wood textures

@ravasheencc for her custom tuning

T.O.U:

You are free to do anything you want with these items, just don't put behind perma-paywalls, always give back to the community! Early access is OK.

Early Access now at my Patreon~

Public Release: 29/06/2022

@maxismatchccworld

#CC #MYCC #cc creator #the sims cc #ccfinds #the sims #simmer #sims #TheSims #sims 4 #TS4 #ts4cc #ts4 cc #custom content #ts4 custom content #sims 4 custom content #s4customcontent #kitchen #eipisims

210 notes · View notes

lavender-annd-lilac · 1 year

Text

🎁 Holiday Gifting Guide 🎁

(Fic Rec Edition!!)

Do you put the "PRO" in procrastination? Are you reading this on today, December 24, 2022 instead of scrambling to get all the gifts you haven't got yet?

Well you made the right choice, because I have the PERFECT gifting recommendations for you!

From the bottom of the heart that I may or may not have, please enjoy 🖤

See the rest of my fic recs HERE

I have linked each fic with my comments attached, but I also put a warning (?) if you might want to skip the commentary

Little White Lies

By @cockslutpadalecki

Pairing: Dark!Catfish!Ransom x Reader

Skip over my comments if: you don’t like Rick Astley

Who it’s for:

The "practical" gift giver

This kind of person gives you...A new toaster oven because you wrecked yours in the sink when your bagels started burning! A new humidifier bc your house is dry af! A new set of tableware bc you break everything and now just eat soup out of the can with a straw!

Not the most thrilling unboxing experience, but honestly, it’s shit that you actually need but probably would never have made time to get for yourself bc you are too busy reading fics on Tumblr.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

This gift will let them know you are very aware that that people have it worse out there. You’re basically saying, "I appreciate this family size pack of 3-ply toilet paper, because even though my disappointment was through the roof when I opened this big ass present I thought was going to be something epic, at least I’m not stuck in a hotel bc I got catfished over 3 months by some trust fund prick". A sentiment that truly encapsulates everything about the holiday season, and the gratitude you feel towards human kind.

The time Brock Rumlow broke a rule *

(drabble from the ongoing “Penthouse” series)

By @kinanabinks

Pairing: sex worker!fem!reader x multiple characters (*not a Brock x Reader fic)

Skip over my comments if: you hate hot dogs 🌭

Who it’s for:

The last minute gift giver

You know that person that gives you things they obviously bought at the gas station on the way home? Like, a selection of snacks, beef jerky, candy, and a couple lottery tickets?

Well, if you think about it, this forgetful person is the other side of the coin with has your procrastinating face on the front! They may only have remembered at the last possible moment, but they still cared enough to give you a random assortment of items packaged together as a cohesive “present” even though you both know what really happened. But still! They were willing to endure the shame and ridicule you surely put them through afterwards, and basically give you this leverage to hold over them in the future.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

It’s also about someone coming through and being there when you need them. Plus, if they don’t like it (cut them out of your life if they don’t like this fic tbh), you can always bring up the fact that their present was shit, so they have no business complaining about this wonderful work of fiction.

Stained like Georgia Clay

(ongoing series)

By @georgiapeach30513

Pairing: Cole Turner x Reader

Skip over my comments if: you are a cop

Who it’s for:

The nostalgic gift giver

A game boy colour from the 1990’s. Those roller skates with 4 wheels that I feel like people don’t really skate with. A lava lamp. This is for the person who loves the way things used to be - the person who always carries a quarter or two to use a phone booth “just for fun” bc you never know when they will vanish.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

Why not indulge them with some of the same nostalgia by introducing them to this delightful series steeped in old fashioned small town charm, with a hint of excitement for the future. Wow, that's so on point!! You really are the best gift giver!!

Ranking biggest and baddest

(HC from ongoing series “All That Ultraviolence”)

By @the-iceni-bitch

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x gf!law student reader, plus a LOT of other CE/SS characters, and a partridge in a pear tree Henry Cavil one

Skip over my comments if: you're a coward that doesn't want a peak inside my brain

Who it’s for:

Yourself!!

That’s right! Treat yo self this holiday season bc you deserve it!!! And you can quote me on that!! Show this to your boss/overbearing parent/pain in the butt child/anyone else that is giving you a hard time! If they have any questions, my ask box is open.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

We’ve all seen that tumblr post at some point - the one that’s like “I read too many stories as a kid and now I’m emotionally burnt out so I can only read about the same 2 idiots falling in love over and over again”.

Well, if you are one of those burnouts, this is for you. I mean it’s not technically a fic, but at a time where we choose to believe in immaculate conception, flying reindeer, and benevolent home invaders, let’s not fuss about it.

If you love reading about two people falling in love ad nauseam, what about 9+ variations of 3 actors characters with varying degrees of affection for YOU. Plus, each with their own distinct personality, relationship dynamic, and and dick size! All described in detail for your reading pleasure! (you can find that last one for yourself in the author’s masterlist, like an Easter egg hunt!)

Keep Running Back

By @slyyywriting

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Skip over my comments if: you don’t reduce, reuse, and recycle

Who it’s for:

The regifter

This person give you things that have obviously been regifted. A “worlds best boss” mug from your relative you see 3 times a year at most? Men’s basketball shorts that don’t fit you with the logo of a sports team you don’t know about? An item that still has a card attached with the original person’s name on it bc they forgot to remove it before re-gifting?

Why it’s the perfect gift:

It’s about things coming back into your life unexpectedly, and how it can be super disruptive and fuck up your routine. But also since it’s Xmas, it has smut and kind of a happy ending. So there, you aren’t being entirely petty (unlike the person that gave you a box of chocolates that expired last year).

The Way Home

By @delaber

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Skip over my comments if: you believe in the curse of “The Scottish Play” (Macb*th)

Who it’s for:

The gift card giver

Steam gift cards, Sephora gift cards, gift cards you can use at like 18 different restaurants or 16 different stores own by the same giant business conglomerate, whatever is vaguely in your interest, there's a gift card for it!!

Now, some people may think this is a boring gift. But it’s basically cash money, so if you find that boring, feel free to send me all your boring currency.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

The person that gives you gift cards is doing you a solid. It's not something you have to worry about returning, or bringing out of storage each time this person visits your house so you can pretend you don't hate it. It's basically unconditional love, just like the reader in the fic has for Bucky.

If Only

By @littlelioncub43

Pairing: Best friend!Jake Jensen x Female!Reader, Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Skip over my comments if: you think Orpheus should suffer for eternity bc he took a teeny tiny little peak behind him

Who it’s for:

The person that already has everything

Can’t get them ANYTHING bc they have it all? Man, if only you were super wealthy maybe you could afford to give them an expensive gift, like some Gucci loafers, or a ticket to Taylor Swift's upcoming tour … oh wait, they already have all that shit.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

Since you are such a considerate person, you want to give them something money can’t buy... an ~experience. And not just any experience, no, you’re going to treat them to something completely new, something they’ve never felt before

So go ahead, gift them this fic and watch their world crumble as they experience angst and despair. You can even emphasis your point by including a festive card with the following season's greetings: This is how it feels when you can't get what you want in life!! When the object of your desires lies just beyond your reach!! This is how us ordinary people feel when we don’t have enough change to afford a little Starbucks treat at the end of the day.

Unsolicited

(ongoing series)

By @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Reader

Skip over my comments if: you are Emily Blunt. I just feel like what I wrote might give you the impression that I’m obsessed with you or something, when really I’m just like your biggest fan.

Who it’s for:

The person that insists on not receiving presents

This is for the smug asshole who thinks they are above material items. The, “I’m just thankful to be healthy and happy” person. The person who acts like there is a special VIP lounge in heaven, with a table reserved just for them, and unlimited bottle service. The person that might actually just be genuinely satisfied with their life... but still, they shouldn't rub it in your face with their radiant happiness and cheerful disposition SMH. Just take the damn gift I didn't want to get you anyway, and give a half-hearted "thanks, I love it" like every other normal unhappy person on autopilot during this time of year.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

"Thankful to be healthy and happy”?? Well, not for much longer dude, bc this isn’t a present. It’s a clever little series that will worm its way into your soul like a Katy Perry pop song, and make you question what you find appealing or attractive in other people. Happy and healthy? More like deeply confused and aroused. Get ready to fight the demons of desire that lurk deep within you.

The Magic Box

By @rustytricycle

Pairing: Dark!Terry the Terrific x Reader

Skip over my comments if: you don’t believe in magic, or you don’t want to find out how David Copperfield does that one trick where he "teleports" like a dozen audience members to Hawaii in 5 minutes

Who it’s for:

The smartass that always manages to guess what the present is before unwrapping it

Why do they insist on doing this shit? MK Ultra has been shut down dude, remote viewing isn't a marketable asset anymore. No one is impressed. No ones enjoys watching you shake, smell, and squint at the box for 10 minutes when we all just want to get this family gathering over with so we can go home and watch Netflix.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

Whether they are actually gifted with ESPN powers, x-ray powers, or being a nosy bitch powers, this magical gift is sure to surprise them. They will never see it coming. Just like the reader in this fic hahaha!

Teacher’s Pet

By @whateveriwant

Pairing: Professor!Bucky Barnes x Student!Reader

Skip over my comments if: you are a university professor who thinks it is reasonable to make your students literally wait WEEKS to get their exams graded, when the grading process is just running those fill in the bubble sheets through a computer

Who it’s for:

The person that gives the gift of “a donation to [insert charity of THEIR choice here ]”

Wow. Maybe this is the relative who has never forgiven you for not going to church anymore after you discovered you had more important things to do with your time, so she gives you a receipt for some missionary project that seems a bit sketchy. Or maybe it's the relative always posting misinformation of facebook, who makes a donation to a political party/politician you do not support in your name. Whatever it is, this is a “charity” or “cause” you would rather not be associated with.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

This isn’t actually a petty move. It’s giving them a sign from the universe (via you), that what they are doing is not cool. I mean, of course you could always confront them directly and have a discussion about it, but that’s not really a gift. Who wants “a conversation” as a holiday gift? No, you are going to send them this delightfully unhinged fic from a burner an email with the subject line: I KNOW WHAT YOU DID. If you want to write anything in the email, it should preferably be in comic sans for the extra touch of je ne sais pas.

And they won’t know what’s happening either! If they respond with ????, don’t answer. Let them wonder if [email protected] sent it to the wrong person, if [email protected] really knows anything incriminating, or if there is an evil doppelgänger out there ruining their reputation.

Candy canes and hot cocoa

(from her “Make it a December to Remember” Christmas series*)

By @imyourbratzdoll

Pairing: Elf!Ransom x Reader

Skip over my comments if: your name starts with “J” and ends with “esus Christ”. Some of my private and confidential communication with my boy Baphomet is included here, and that’s none of your business tbh.

* these are all cute af and you need to read every single one… my other fav elves are Steve and Lee

Who it’s for:

The person that gives the gift of “a donation to [insert charity of YOUR choice here ]”

While your first reaction might be disappointment bc you really wanted that Chanel purse or Valentino gown, after thinking about it, this gift is actually really sweet!!

This person not only knows you well, but they are also helping you curb your addiction to material items. AND they are basically being generous in your name so you don’t have to do it yourself. Wow, they are really racking up those karma points for you!!

Why it’s the perfect gift:

This person deserves the cutest goddamn Christmas fic I have ever had the courage to openly admit I enjoyed (just don’t tell anyone I said that). In fact, your gift might even be better than what they got for you! So don’t forget to tell them that it’s ok, and you appreciate their effort.

On read

By @straywords

Pairing: Stalker! Bucky Barnes x Reader

Skip over my comments if: you are one of those guys who tries to get onlyfans content for free

Who it’s for:

The distant but wealthy family member that always sends a card with a reasonable amount of money inside

Although… I feel like they haven’t really considered the inflated cost of living these days. So maybe it’s time to adjust for that? I mean, get with the times, right? They should consider how your purchasing power could be affected here.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

This one gets kind of spicy but tbh if they are a distant family member it should be ok. Plus they might appreciate it and give you more money next year. Who knows. Or they might come back at you asking for more fic recs and then you can charge a finders fee.

Starting Gate

By @navybrat817brat817

Pairing: Motocross!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Skip over my comments if: you don’t love that I love Nat

Who it’s for:

The generous, well intentioned gift giver that unfortunately gets it wrong, like, every damn time

This is the kind aunt who gets you a nice pair of pearl earrings for your un pierced ears, a cute designer iPhone case for your android (tbh that’s on u for choosing the wrong phone tho… lol jk), a lifetime bark box subscription for your cat, or even a new car with stick shift, when you can only drive an automatic.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

Show them what a thoughtful person (Nat) would really do for their friend. Like, hint hint, next year I expect you to introduce me to my future soulmate, ok??

John the Baptist

By: definitely not me lol who even suggested that get outta here u lying liar

Pairing: Priest!Bucky x no one bc he’s a man of God you fucking perverts

Skip over my comments if: I didn't leave any comments bc I feel like this drabble speaks for itself tbh

Who it’s for:

The “joke” gift giver

We all have (or had) this friend. The one that gives you a family size package of adult diapers, or an enormous bottle of denture cleaning solution, or anything else that is funny when it happens to other people, but not cool when it's your turn to enjoy life - i.e. it sucks that you got them a nice sweater while they got you a package of XS condoms and a bottle of cranberry juice.

Why it’s the perfect gift:

Why not turn the tables this year! Fight humour with humour. Spread the joy! And ok, am I recommending my own “fic”? For the last time, NO! Omg… like seriously who said that? I would NEVER self promote on this most humble of holidays.

For an actual joke of a piece of writing tho, (that was published on a legit platform btw) check out this review of Seb Stan in Picnic from the Hollywood Reporter

Skip over my comments if: you wrote that article and stand by your statements regarding abdominal muscles

Slow Hands

By @heli0s-writes

Pairing: Steve Rogers x his hands x his imagination?

DON’T skip these comments if: you work for the Onion News. Seriously guys, I think I would be at least an average level employed to add to your team.

Who it’s for:

The selfish romantic partner that gets themselves a gift, and then tries to pass it off as a “couples/bonding experience” like you wouldn’t immediately see through that shit

“Babe, I got us tickets to see that sports team I know you couldn’t care less about!! You know, the one that I always ditch you for when they have a game that I want to watch with the guys, even though we already made reservations at a restaurant that’s not Olive Garden for once! This is going to be so much fun for us!! Oh ya, don’t forget to dress hot in case they show us on the kiss cam”

Why it’s the perfect gift:

Now if you’re familiar with this fic I already know what you’re going to say,

“But this is a beautiful masterpiece!!! Why would I allow my inconsiderate jerk of a partner the privilege of reading it??”

Well, first of all, “beautiful masterpiece”? I mean… that’s just YOUR opinion man. (Lol jk it is truly a work of art)

But listen, in the xmas spirit, I think you can find it within yourself to turn the other cheek, and show that even though they might not give a damn about what you enjoy, you’re still going to be gracious, thoughtful, and kind.

Plus your partner will probably need some cheering up after you dump their ass live on national tv when they propose to you with a dollar store ring pop* on the kiss cam. 😘

*lol jk. Nothing against ringpops tbh. I’d take one of those solid lumps of corn syrup and food colouring over a blood diamond any day. In fact, I’d take one over a regular diamond bc engagement rings are one of the biggest marketing scams ever, created by a Machiavellian cartel (*cough* De Beers *cough*) with a monopoly on the market, who purposely restricts supply and creates a false sense of scarcity in order to justify massively inflating the price of these inherently worthless chunks of compressed carbon to ensure profit and distract you from the fact that diamonds are a depreciating asset backed by arbitrary claims of “investment value” that come from the same greedy, lying, fatcats that have poured millions of advertising dollars to convince you that you’re a failure in life if you don’t have or can’t afford to buy a common rock (that’s right, common, plentiful, more numerous in quantity than tickets to the latest TSwift tour) the size of an grotesquely enlarged, genetically modified blueberry.

Thanks for reading! And thanks to all the authors!

& ty @firefly-graphics for the dividers!!

(Except whoever wrote that shitty John the Baptist drabble)

If for whatever reason you feel uncomfortable with having your fic included in this, the holy grail of gift guides, send me a DM along with $300 worth of doge coin haha kidding y’all, I only accept cash.

LOL JK, send me a DM and I will replace the title of your fic AND your @username with 3 emojis of my choice.

#fic recs #personally curated fic recs

50 notes · View notes