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ddaenggtan · 5 years

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amae | jhs | preview

amae - japanese. the way you act when you want to depend on another person. relying on someone’s goodwill and love to help you. frequently thought of as wanting to be loved and taken care of.

when someone new moves in next door, you don’t expect to become friends. everyone on your block was friendly, yes, but none of you gave more than a courteous wave when you spotted each other in passing. that changes with jung hoseok; a literature professor with sunlight gleaming out of every pore, who enjoys complex lectures, random coffee trips, and...sleeping in your hammock? curiosity gets the better of you as you befriend him, but just what could have this man sleeping in your garden hammock every night?

pairing | jung hoseok x reader

genre/warnings | neighbor!hobi, writer!reader, pure cotton candy fluff, this may actually rot your teeth

word count | 2.7k | will be cross posted to ao3

a/n | this is still in its editing process, so it may change some from this vs the final version, but have a sneak peek!! i’m hoping it’s going to be as long as give and take was, but because there probably won’t be smut in this, it’ll probably be shorter (sorry hobi T_T)

The moving van in front of the neighbor's house shocks you when you get up that morning. There had been a For Sale sign hanging in the yard for upwards of a year, and you've watched with mild amusement as the price dropped lower and lower, coming up with creative reasons the realtor was increasingly more desperate to sell the house. Your favorite so far was that the adorable plump woman had to sell it soon, or her wife would run off with their girlfriend in the night, not to be seen again until the realtor did sell the place, upon which her wife and girlfriend would return.

Minri was really very nice, and you probably shouldn't be entertaining such thoughts about her. She'd sold you your own house, a lovely little three-bedroom in a nice neighborhood, with a decent enough yard that you only really used when you dogsit for your friends. Minri had even helped you get the place at a great price, and though she had strangely emphasized the cleanliness of the place and the nearby churches, you really did owe her.

Well not really, she got a very nice commission from the sale, but it's the principle of the thing.

You scavenge one of the dry erase markers from the drawer and make a note on your fridge to bake her cookies sometime soon. Your mother would have a fit if she saw you writing straight on your fridge, but it was erasable and easy and you are if nothing if not a simple girl.

You pull yourself from your musings and make another note to call your mother before she could get huffy that you haven't in a while, tossing the marker back into the drawer when you're done. You direct your attention back at the moving van, unsurprised when a gaggle of young-looking boys emerges from the neighboring house to start unloading. Well, it wouldn't be extremely fair to call them a gaggle, as there are only three of them, but the point stands. They seem to be very close, judging by the way they tease and play, and it makes you smile a little. It was long past time the neighborhood got some life in it. The closest people to your age are the couple three doors down, in their 50s and always willing to talk about their seven children and four grandchildren. It got tiring.

With a soft sigh, you turn from the window at your sink and dismiss the flash of bright pink you see in the mirroring window from next door. None of the three you saw had pink hair, but you could have missed one. You slide your hand along the spine of your cat, Tuna, and smile as she wraps her tail around your wrist briefly before chirping and jumping down from the counter. She follows as you make your way to your office, tucked into the seat of the bedrooms because it gets the best light, and settle at your desk to return to your work. Novels don't write themselves, after all.

You aren’t sure which of the boys lives next door, but it becomes quickly apparent that it’s only one of them. Several are over at all hours of the day, but by the time the sun goes down, there’s usually only one or two there. You only know a single person lives there because of the way the complaints about an uncomfortable couch drift over to you as you pick up your morning paper.

They’re a very respectful bunch, keeping things quiet after the sun falls past the horizon, and waiting for a reasonable hour before doing whatever exercises they did in the backyard with their music floating through the air. The fence that separates your yard from his reaches your shoulder, a white-picket thing that surrounds each of the yards in the neighborhood, and it keeps you from seeing anything of import as you tend your garden. Still, you catch snippets of conversation, bits of stories that you never get a conclusion to, jokes with a punchline that’s carried off by the wind.

Mostly, though, you catch names; Jungkook, Jimin, Seokjin, different variants of each, but the one you hear most often is Hobi. His name rings out constantly, gliding through the air on notes of both mirth and vitriol. It’s usually accompanied by a laugh that makes your heart warm in your chest, or some form of inhuman screech, though you’re not really sure why. You’ve never seen enough to understand what happens at the house next door, nor have you actually met any of the people that come and go like leaves in the fall.

Still, you can’t deny your curiousity, and you tell yourself that if the opportunity presents itself, you’ll introduce yourself. Despite that decision, the opportunity never does seem to present itself. Weeks pass, and you find that you feel nervous at the thought of going and introducing yourself now. The windows has passed, it would be too strange now, he would think you odd. So you keep to your own house, tending your flowers and your trees, writing your novel, and doing your level best to keep Tuna off of the manuscripts and letters sitting around that you have yet to organize. You’ve resigned yourself to the sad truth that you simply won’t get to know your neighbor, won’t be able to have that adorable friendship you’ve dreamed of, won’t even know which one it is that lives there.

The universe has always worked rather strangely for you, though, and it’s not long after your acceptance of this face that you come out of your back door, gardening gloves in hand and already reaching for the misting hose, to find someone swaying in your hammock.

You’re not really mad, you don’t use it very often anyway and someone should. Mostly you’re curious - you always have been, and always will be, most likely. Curious as to why someone is in your hammock when most everyone on the block has their own lawn furniture, who that someone is, how they got into your yard. The bolt on the gate was nearly impossible to unlatch from the outside; you know, from the many times that you’ve locked yourself out and had to James Bond your way into your own house through the back window.

You set your gloves on your patio table - a white bistro set your mother gave you when you moved out - and make your way over to the stranger. He’s good-looking; feather-soft brown hair and oddly clear skin, drowning in a sweatshirt that was at least two sizes too big, snoring lightly as the wind rocked him.

“Hey,” You say. He doesn’t respond, and you frown. “Hey, dude, what are you doing?” Still no response. You huff and turn, eyeing the yard for something to help. You don’t want to just shake him awake, that could prove dangerous if he swings out at you. Your eyes light up as they land on the hose, forgotten amongst the grass. You tromp over and pick it up, dragging it back over to where the hammock sways among the tree branches.

“I’m gonna spray you awake,” You say. You receive no reaction, not that you expected any, and shrug. With one pulse, a fine mist of water settles on him. The guy does, indeed, flail, swinging wildly in a futile attempt to fight the water raining down him. He sputters and wipes at his face, and you watch as he does.

“What the hell, who the fuck just sprays someone with water?” He asks, shaking out his now damp hair.

“In my defense, I told you I was going to do it. You were the one that was asleep and didn’t hear.” The man freezes at the sound of your voice, looking around your yard as if seeing it for the first time. He gives you a hesitant and apologetic grin, and the sun seems to grow brighter on his face.

“I’m so sorry, I did not mean to fall asleep in your yard, I swear. There was just...it’s a long story, but it really was an accident.” He flips himself gracefully off the hammock, with practiced ease that makes you slightly jealous. You should learn to do that.

“It’s fine, you can sleep in the hammock. I just want to know how you got in my yard.”

“I vaulted the fence,” He says as if it was obvious. You look from him to the fence, and back again. “What? It’s not difficult.” You turn back to the fence, measuring it with your eyes. If he was able to vault it without much difficulty, how fast would he have to be going? He would surely need a good deal of momentum, of course, to be able to launch himself five feet up in the air. The only thing in your brain is that ‘ten foot vertical leap’ meme, and you curse your best friend for sending you every meme he ever thinks is remotely amusing.

The sound of your name brings you back to the present, and you focus on the man once more. “That’s you, I’m assuming?” The man says. You nod and point to him, belatedly realizing that you still have the hose in your hand when he flinches.

“Which one are you?” You ask him. He gives you a confused look. “There are a number of people next door most of the time, which one are you? Jungkook, Jimin, Taehyung, or Hobi?”

“Hobi,” He says after a second, beaming at you as he does. Something in your chest starts to unfurl itself, and the sensation is strangely comforting. “But my name is actually Hoseok, they just call me Hobi. You’re welcome to as well, most do.”

“Right.” You watch him for a few more seconds as he shakes out his sweatshirt, water dusting the grass below him. “I have gardening. Please let me know the next time you want to sleep in the hammock.” You turn back to the flowers closest the fence, satisfied now that you’ve answered so many of your questions about your neighbor.

“You aren’t going to ask why I’m here?” His voice calls from behind you. You shrug, kneeling beside your white camellias and checking their soil and sprouts. They were just beginning to bloom and you needed to be careful to make sure they weren’t soaking up too much water. “So I can seriously sleep here whenever. I just have to tell you first?”

“That’s what I said,” You reply. You pause, thinking for a second, and turn to look at him. “Does this make us friends?” The beaming smile he wears is nearly blinding, and you find it very endearing that he is so wildly happy at such a small thing.

“I think it absolutely makes us friends,” He tells you. You return the smile, albeit yours is much less sunshine-y than his. He starts to walk toward the fence and you laugh under your breath.

“Hoseok, you can just use the gate,” You tell him. He stops and looks between the gate and the fence for a second before laughing embarrassedly at himself. “Please refrain from vaulting the fence in the future, as well. You’re welcome to just use the gate from now on.”

Hoseok just grins and waves as he jogs out the gate and to his own home. You don’t relax until you hear the click of his door shut. A soft mrow from your left has you moving to pet Tuna once more, and you beam at her.

“It’s been a long time since I had a friend, hasn’t it?”

You don't expect to see or hear much from Hoseok after your brief interaction. You've met several people over the years who you're friendly with, and whom always reassure you that you are indeed friends, only to disappear the second things require an effort from their part. You're fairly accustomed to such things, and people have their own lives, so you really aren't that upset about it, either.

You're so used to being forgotten, however, that it surprises you when Hoseok waves at you one morning as you are both getting mail. Another day he's playing football with a couple friends and shouts a quick greeting over the fence as you dip down to do your gardening. One memorable evening, you turn from shooing a raccoon away from your trash with a feather duster and ladle to see Hoseok watching from his driveway. You give him a polite smile and he shoots you a proud, yet puzzled, grin, and the next day when he sees you putting out small feeders near the back part of your yard for the raccoon, he just chuckles softly.

Not to mention that you still come outside most mornings to find him snoozing in your hammock, rocking gently in the breeze and comfortable as can be. He's never given you any explanation, though to be fair, you also don't pry.

It's a struggle; you want, so badly to know why he doesn't just sleep in his house that sits not ten feet away from yours. You don't want to push him, though, too scared of breaking this tentative friendship you've built over something so small.

Things only start to change the afternoon he knocks on your back door while you're getting lunch ready for Tuna. She yells as you set the food down in front of her - a special blend designed to help her hearing and her eyesight, since she was predisposed to troubles with both - but she quiets soon enough. You step around her to open the door, and you're shocked at the expression on Hoseok's face.

For a second, he had looked afraid.

Your name drops from his lips in a tone that tells you he didn't expect you to answer. "I was just wondering, do you, um…" He trails off and you wait patiently for him to finish the thought. "Do you want to get lunch? Coffee? Anything? I just need to get out of the house for a while."

"Sure," You reply easily. "Let me get my wallet."

#fic: amae #bts #bts fanfic #hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #hobi x reader #jhope x reader #neighbor!hobi #neighbor hobi #neighbor hoseok #neighbor jhope #kpop fanfiction #reader insert #ddaenggtan #here is a preview!!!!#i hope you all like it #it should be ready within the week if everything goes well!!!!

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nebulastep · 7 years

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The Boy in the Mansion

Inspired and created for the Bendy and the Ink Machine AU @lampblackcity . I hope you enjoy!

(I have edited this story to add a few details, though most of the story has been kept intact)

There is a mansion outside of Lampblack, about 40 minutes from the edge of town, and just on the outskirts of the suburbs. Its large and ornate, like you would expect a mansion to be. Its been there for generations, owned by the same line of the same family. And like old mansions of this type, there are ghost stories attached. Old relatives out for revenge and lost souls tied to the land due to grief. These stories are absolute nonsense. Most of them anyway.

A family used to live in that house. The father was an illustrator for advertisements, and designed several well known ones, some of which are still used to this day. The mother (who was the heir to the fortune and the land) was an amazing hostess, and was extremely well spoken, if a little too religious. They had two young children. One was a daughter of age 7, an excitable girl who had a thirst to learn, and read whatever she could get her hands on The other was a son of age 5,who seemed to have some of his father's artistic inclination. Its not like he didn’t mind reading, insofar as he could read fantasy stories. His hair was in a bowl cut, because he liked having a good length of hair.

They were a happy family.

However, the son died young after being struck by lightning while climbing a tree. The family was heartbroken.

It is said that at some point after that the daughter claimed her brother was with her, and that only she could see him. She would draw herself hanging out with him. She described him having control over electricity, and causing whatever electrical issues that the house was having. He could fly. He could go through walls. She said that he played hide and seek with her, and that while he was a good seeker, he was the best at hiding since he did not make any noise. She would talk about how he was able to change the room itself into whatever they wanted, allowing them to play make believe in whatever way they wanted.

Her parents did nothing to stop her. She seemed so happy. In fact, based on her description, the father drew several pictures of her “brother”. One of the drawings ended up becoming somewhat well known.

After a while, she was told he was not real. That he was imaginary. That she needed to leave him behind. She became restless.

One day while exploring the library in the city, she came across a book on the history of witchcraft that detailed several rituals. From this, she got an idea.

For a long while after this event, things around the house started to go missing, or just appear out of nowhere. The lights flickered even more then usual and devices sometimes acted strangely. People working in the house left claiming they saw a ghost. The mother became convinced the house was possessed by a vengeful spirit. The father found the notion ridiculous.

Eventually, the daughter burst into the dining room, where her father and mother were waiting for her. Her parents were about to reprimand her for being late for dinner when she interrupted, saying she had a surprise for them.

The lights flickered. The room seemed to shift in appearance slightly. And, out of nowhere, appeared a young boy, with a bowl cut and no mouth, in black and white monochrome, seemingly peering shyly from behind his bangs. She started rambling about now they know of his existence, and that the strange ink she stole from her father's office made it possible. She took the picture that her father drew and redrew it in the ink. She was so happy they could see him. She spent so long making sure others could see his effects, and to make sure he was everything she said he was. She was nervous to show them because she didn't know how they would respond, but she finally decided to tell them because her brother is home isn't that great?

The parents didn't respond. There was a blur of movement and sound as the the mother shrieked and started praying to god for protection, as the father grabbed the daughter, as the parents screamed at the boy to stay away, as they left.

Several priests have come to try to get rid of the spirit, but nothing has done the trick. If anyone entered, they later claimed to have trouble finding their way back outside, since doors would disappear and rooms would change.

The family hasn’t returned much since then. The parents have returned to retrieve various possessions, though the parents refuse to enter themselves. The family has not lived their in years.

Sometimes people still enter the house. Scavengers. Thrill seekers. People have even come claiming to be interested in buying the place from the family and developing it. Some claim to see the lights flicking and electronics turning on, even though the electricity has long been shut off. Some claim to have trouble leaving, or see objects appear and disappear randomly. Rarely, some claim to see a child.

Author’s Notes and Explanation Below:

Thank you for reading! In case you are interested, the boy is not really her brother in the purest sense. He is the representation of her brother that she created to be her playmate, so he is a full toon, and not her brother actually back to life. I just wanted to make this clear, because that is important.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim #lampblack city #oc #short story

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randamhajile · 7 years

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@malpaislegate AM I WRONG!!! and YES the flag still kills me too...... I was just.... putting together shit in photoshop based on some old Deseret flags and I made the edit with the gun in the claw and zoomed out and just. lost my fucking shit. showed it to emily. we both lost it. had to keep it.

AS FOR THE 12 SURVIVORS OF VAULT 70.......... here’s their entry on our timeline:

May 22nd, 2140: The 12 ghoul survivors of Vault 70 emerge just outside of the ruins of SLC, including amongst them Byrum Pratt and Bert Gunnarsson

May 22nd, 2150: After a decade of prayerful discernment in isolation in the main temple in SLC, the 12 depart the ruins of the city and seek out civilization, running into scavengers heading north, whom they accompany to Ogden, finding a small but stable rag-tag group of Mormon survivors living there

Late 2150: The Mormon Church is officially reformed with the 12's guidance, especially driven by Byrum, and Ogden is renamed New Canaan. The 12 then part ways to find other Mormon settlements to re-integrate into the new church

Basically, the canon lore for Vault 70 is that it was located just outside SLC and populated almost entirely with devout Mormons, and then the vault suit extruders were set to break after six months so they eventually wouldn’t have proper clothing LOL. Where our AU kicks in is establishing that after a while two factions emerged in the vault: those desperate for clothes and those who said fuck it, and essentially became devout nudists. The first generation in the vault see the problem get worse when the clothed half attempt to fix the suit extruders and eventually find some success, except the clothing they make is irradiated, but they wear it anyway because they think it’s better to be sick and pure than healthy and immodest. the nudists naturally reject this and become more devout in response to prove they aren’t sinners. The breaking point comes when the clothed faction had accidentally rendered themselves sterile thanks to the suits, and out of desperation tried to fix the extruders again only to unleash a newer, more intense wave of radiation that kills almost everyone in the vault except for 12 of the nudists who are flash-irradiated and ghoulified.

Lordy I’m putting this under a cut because it’s getting long ofc

They survive and cling to their faith after the disaster, leaving the vault to find an empty, dead, irradiated world. Because they’re ghouls, they can survive the radiation just fine, and head north to SLC, which is still empty thanks to lingering radiation. The big main temple and churches are miraculously intact even though they’re surrounded by craters from the bombs lol. In the Survivalist’s logs it’s mentioned there are 13 nukes that hit the SLC area, which I have to believe is intentional because like, Jesus + 12 apostles..... (later on the craters are named for the Holy Son and each apostle.... we have them drawn on our map. did we mention we have a google map with all our AU stuff on it? because we DO). Anyway like it says up there, they help firmly re-establish the church in the region and provide guidance for the Mormons who survived in Utah.

Bert Gunnarsson, who you can meet in game at the Aerotech Office Park and who canonically is an Elder from New Canaan, is one of them. The OC we made who’s the crux of the group, however, is Byrum Pratt, and he’s just. The Best. Despite losing his family and everyone else in the vault, his faith guided him and he still remains hopeful, being an extremely jovial person with an infectious personality, always ready with a joke or a long-winded story at hand. As one of the nudists, while most of the time these days he’s clothed, he still likes to remind people of his origins and so you never know if you’re gonna see a naked ghoul sunbathing near the temple on a nice day LOL.... a lot of people still find this pretty unacceptable but also like. Everyone loves him and he’s one of the 12 so what are you gonna do??? lmao.

His whole deal and what he preaches is that 12 were spared by God to help guide the Mormons left in Utah, as well as serving as a reminder for their own sins--not ones of immodesty, but the spiritual and communal negligence of the clothed faction who spurned them, and who they in return spurned as well in bitterness. They are now stricken with the same condition they scoffed at them for--sterility. But the lesson remains, the clothed ones were so obsessed with trivial details of their faith like modesty that they were willing to give up something, far, far more important--their fertility, and ultimately, their lives.

Under him and the 12, the church gets a little more lax on certain details of the faith, as they stress the importance of really keeping God in your heart and that God, family, and community come above all else, and not to lose sight of this by falling into performative routines that lead to a false, sinful sense of superiority.

When Lex forms the Latter Day Nephites, he’s super on board with the idea, being declared their leader in a figurehead capacity. He commands a lot of loyalty and helps wrangle a lot of folk to help the effort, and later is crucial in the establishment of New Deseret.

He’s also the one that FINALLY gets Joshua to help the resistance.... by personally asking him to come, and well, Joshua can’t say no to BYRUM.... but that’s ANOTHER long explanation, hehe.

#it's always sunny in the mojave #byrum pratt #replies for jexis

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