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heich0e · 7 months

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THE WITCH'S SONG - part two knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood/gore, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact. crossposted to ao3 MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you have always risen with the sun.

It’s a habit so deeply constitutional that you've never bothered to question that part of your own nature—the breaking light cresting over the horizon each day, perfectly in time with the first flutter of your eyelids.

Your bedsheets are gentle against your skin as you rouse from your slumber. They're buttery soft, perfectly worn-in from the many nights of rest you’ve found under their cover, and the scent of fresh air still clings to them from an afternoon spent hanging on your clothesline a few days prior. You nestle your cheek into the downy embrace of your pillow, breathing in deeply to savour those lingering notes of summer breeze. You let the breath fill every corner of your chest as you inhale, feeling the way your ribs rise to make room for it, and then you let it out again in a warm rush. You repeat the cycle a few times more, and slowly take in the first moments of your day as your eyes adjust to the early morning light.

With your your arm crooked at your elbow, your hand sweeps lazily around beneath your pillow. You search blindly for a moment, unhurried but sure, and then your fingers brush against something solid and cool hidden away under the feathery mass. You wrap your fingers around the object and draw it out, holding it up above your face to appraise it.

It’s a pair of silver scissors, with a sprig of dried lavender fastened to them beneath a thrice-knotted length of thin white twine.

Outside your window, the milky indigo sky provides very little light. The distant sun is still only a sliver of light peeking out over the eastward sea, but what little glow the new dawn provides catches in the scissors's polished silver surface. You see the distorted image of your own eye, just a glimpse reflected along the narrow blade, staring back.

Sleep does not come to you peacefully, and it hasn’t for a long time. It seems to fight you, tooth and nail, each night, but the battle is ever-changing. Sometimes sleep evades you completely, leaving you to toss and turn restlessly until the moon disappears and the day starts anew. Other nights, slumber overtakes you quickly, but its true violence strikes when you’re left at your most vulnerable—nightmares whose claws sink themselves so deep into you, you can still feel their phantom pain long after you tear yourself awake in a cold, trembling sweat.

Your fingers tighten around the scissors in your grip—still cool to the touch, as though your body heat cannot warm them.

The scissors are a simple charm to keep away terrors that might creep in while you sleep. Just like them, the collection of carefully crafted and curated trinkets that surround your room—dried flowers, jagged crystals, hand drawn sigils inked upon slips of silk and parchment—are all kept in an effort to rest peacefully. To ward away anything that may prevent it.

You didn’t always have so many.

You didn’t always need them.

These items are tacked to your walls, line your windowsills, and hang from the tall posters of your bed—each and every one a remedy originating from a carefully documented entry in your mother’s grimoire. The massive tome rests presently at the foot of your bed, tangled in your quilt. You often fall asleep—as you had the night prior—poring over the parchment pages, bound in strong leather tanned a deep midnight blue, filled with a familiar sloping script that makes your heart ache. Her life’s work and story, her own magic and every piece of knowledge ever shared with her, is contained within those precious pages.

It’s one of the last parts of her that remains.

Thankfully your mother's charms served you well throughout the night, as you feel relatively well rested as you rise from your bed—pulling a housecoat on atop your poplin nightdress and stretching your arms up over your head to welcome the day. You tug your quilt up to meet your pillows, tucking it in neatly at the corners, and then you close the heavy cover of the grimoire that rests at the mattress’s edge. You let your fingers trace lightly over the embossing on the cover as you appreciate it, and then you slip it safely into the trunk at the end of your bed where it belongs.

You’re a little surprised that your visitor from the night before hadn’t caused more of a disturbance to your sleep, already so capricious, particularly given the terrible sense of foreboding that had been hanging over your cottage in the days leading up to his arrival—like a heavy, briny fog rolls in from the sea. You choose not to question good fortune, at least not so early in the day—shaking your head as if willing the unwelcome thought away—and you set about your usual morning routine as though nothing in the width of the world is different than it has been any day prior.

You wash, prepare a light meal, and dress yourself in simple attire suitable for a day’s labour, all before the sun has fully risen from the cradle of the horizon. You plan to work in the garden again today, tending to your plants with the meticulous care they require. You aim to start early in hopes of completing the task before the hottest part of the day makes the work less pleasant—the air at dusk the night before had smelled so sweet, a faithful harbinger of a sunny day ahead.

The grass still glimmers with dew as you step outside your cottage, breathing in the clean, crisp air. Across your property, the sun is just about to creep up over the sea, though there’s a lilac brume that cloaks it—a gentle shroud that lets you see her shape without straining your eyes. You keep your feet bare as you tread towards the garden, listening to distant birdsong, and the blades of dew-damp grass kiss against your soles with every step.

You pause at the break in the wall that surrounds your cottage, the threshold between your garden and your home, and take a deep breath in. The wind kisses your cheek as a breeze rushes past, and the plants rustle around you as if bidding you good morning. On your exhale, you breathe the greeting back.

The light continues to rise in the sky as you labour, soon burning off the gossamer mist that tends to linger early in the morning until the day is bright and warm and fully underway. You shuck the knitted sweater you’d worn out at dawn as the temperature climbs with the sun, and eventually cuff your trousers at the ankles too, but you pay little attention to the heat of the day as you go about making sure your plants are watered, pruned, and any that require special attention are given what they need.

You sing softly while you work.

Witches have long sung songs while they toiled, or gathered together, or just as a means to pass the time. It's a cherished tradition among your kind, and you were taught when you were very young that a witch’s song is a sacred, honoured thing—her voice a gift and a powerful tool.

You don’t sing as much as you ought to, nor as loudly. Perhaps, not least of all, because there’s no one there for you to sing to save for your budding rows of plants. Some of y our earliest memories, the ones hazy at the edges as they’ve been eaten away by time, are of your mother singing in her own garden at the house that you were born in.

Why do you sing to them, mother?

On the edge of a northern breeze, you can hear your own voice—higher, lighter, happier than what it grew to be. You squint up into the midday sun as you reflect.

So they can remember us, Button.

Button.

She called you that because you were always losing yours when you were young; returning to the little cabin you called home at the end of the day with dirty knees, pockets full of shiny rocks, a handful of berries to share with her before dinner, and with one less button on your dress than you’d set off into the woods with that morning.

You remember her impossibly soft hands patting over your head, your arms, your legs, as she appraised you for any bumps or bruises. You remember her breathy laugh as you told her your scrapes and nettle stings didn’t even hurt. You remember her gentle eyes, always sparkling like she was telling you a secret.

Don’t you like when I sing to you? Doesn’t it make you happy?

Your little ribbon-haired head couldn’t have been quicker to nod if you’d tried—your answer to her question came immediate and fervent. Your mother's voice was your most favourite thing.

Well, it makes the plants happy, too—and that happiness will help them grow. Their roots will dig down deep into the earth, and they’ll take all our stories that I sing to them there, too.

You recall the childhood fantasy of each word of your mother’s song spelled out in sprawling, knobbly roots, hidden underground, being kept safe by the earth.

Your eyes flutter shut, blocking out the sun and trapping in the fleeting memory.

The songs she sang to you, the stories that she told, the grimoire in the truck at the end of your bed. Those are all that you have left of her now. You keep them safe just like the soil covered up the roots.

Since time immemorial, song has been used to pass tradition from one generation of witches to the next��the legends of your people, the same ones you recite now as you snip the reedy leaves away from your precious plants, were all taught to you in verse and chorus.

Men flock to the melody of the witch’s song like moth to flame. To hear it is to be bewitched by it. Your mother warned you of such a thing, in the same way all young witches are, and of what might happen should your song be overheard.

The history of man calls the witches temptresses, because of their own weakness to their song. Sirens. Man-eaters. That’s how they choose to remember it in their own egocentric folklore; the witch's song is a weapon used to ensnare them, and nothing more. They hide their own antecedent failings by laying blame, and burning any testament that remembers it otherwise.

You've known one truth as long as you've known anything: men are gluttonous, self-serving beasts. They see the world solely as it relates to themselves. They'll take anything in which they see beauty. And they'll immortalize their story, inked in your kind's blood, only as seen through their own eyes.

But the witch’s song was never meant for man.

You pause, your eyes still tightly closed, with your face turned up towards the sun.

Miya Osamu is standing at the forest’s edge.

You know he’s there even without opening your eyes, but when you eventually do, your sight immediately catches on the glint of the polished sword hilt at his waist.

He’s come armed today.

It’s noon on the day following his unceremonious arrival—the one where you had warned him, at risk of his own life, not ever to return. You know it’s noon, or very near to it, because the sun sits at its highest point in the clear midday sky as he emerges from the thicket of the wild, towering woods at the edge of your property.

For a moment upon seeing him, you wonder if you ought to flee—if you should seek shelter on the other side of the little rock wall you know he cannot cross. Instead, you hold your ground, still resting in the dirt of your garden—the knees of your twill pants stained with grass and soil, with grime caked beneath your fingernails.

You will not run from him.

He approaches you slowly, with careful steps as not to tread upon any one of your still-budding plants. You don’t bother watching him draw nearer.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to come back.” You sink your spade into the earth at the base of a plant that’s showing signs of rot. Its your final task in the garden for the day: you plan to cut it out at the root, take it back into the greenhouse, and try and salvage at least a few slips for propagation.

Your only hope now is that any affliction hasn’t spread beneath the soil.

“I’m not here to prove my nerve,” he says to you, pausing a few paces away between a patch of rosemary and another of oregano. His voice is clear and sure like the blue sky overhead. “I’m here to help Atsumu.”

You place the uprooted plant into a small tin pail beside you, prodding into the soft edges of the hole you’ve dug to excavate it for any signs of further blight. You see none, thankfully.

But rot’s a tricky thing. Sometimes it's in plain sight, and others it hides where the light can't reach it.

“I don’t care why you’re here,” you tell him, setting aside your spade and meeting his eyes as you drag the back of your wrist against your perspiring brow. “And I don’t care about your brother.”

The knight looks worse than he had the day before when he showed up in your workshed, but you’re not surprised by that fact. He spent the night in the woods, that much you’re certain of—not least of all because the nearest village is too far for him to have travelled their and back by midday. His hair is unkempt, his clothing rumpled like it’s been slept in, and the shadows under his eyes are darker, more severe than they had been the night prior—though perhaps their stark contrast is just more evident in the light of day.

At his waist, Osamu’s hand rests lightly upon on the hilt of his sword, but it seems more instinctive than threatening given the way his fingers are slack. There’s a frustrated furrow in his brow that deepens in the wake of your words, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yer the only one who can help him.”

“No, I’m the only witch your king hasn’t culled,” you parry. “There’s a difference.”

Osamu’s lips pull into a thin line. “So you admit it.”

You blink.

You suppose this is the first time you’ve confirmed his accusation. The first time you’ve admitted to your truth. It wasn't so much a slip of the tongue as it was an inevitability.

“It does me little good to say anything otherwise,” you respond, unshaken by his observation. “You need me to be a witch. As you’ve made clear: your brother’s fate relies on it. The help you hope for me to provide to you is all that’s keeping that sword in its sheath.”

The knight’s fingers curl loosely around the hilt of his weapon at your mention of it, as though becoming conscious for the first time of its weight against his hip.

But it’s not strictly true, what you’ve said, and you both know it.

There’s one other option Osamu has available to him—one other cure to heal what ails his beloved brother—and it very much requires the use of his sword.

Witches have been driven to near extinction now—every coven you’ve ever known to inhabit this kingdom wiped out in their entirety—with little more to prove they ever existed but your own fleeting memory of them.

The only pieces of them worth saving were their hearts.

There’s a reason why witches have forever been hunted for them—a reason why the king’s knights would cleave them out before their bodies were burned. The hearts of your kind have long been coveted by men for the residual magic that they hold. Even when a witch dies, her heart will keep beating, though only for a short while, and to possess a witch’s heart while it still beats—however faintly—will bring luck to the one who possesses it. It can cure any ailment, or end any drought, or even turn the tides of a battle.

Those hearts and the promises that they assured were worth more to glory hungry men than the lives of the witches they rightfully belonged to.

You feel a white hot flash of anger roll through the pit of your stomach like a violent tide at the thought of it, digging your fingers deep into the soil below you to find comfort. You stare up at the man above you, no different from any of the rest of them, and your eyes narrow resentfully. You clutch dirt by the fistful.

“All the hearts the crown has ripped from witches over the past two hundred odd years, and to what end?” you ask him, disdain dripping thick and venomous from every word. “The fortune of a trophied heart is fleeting, their power fades with every passing beat until eventually the pulse stops altogether. Your king knew that, and he chose to pillage them regardless. That old bastard was born with the world in his hand, yet he hoarded those spoils for himself—wasted them—only to die, like all mortal men do, and leave the rest of you behind to suffer for it.”

“Hold yer tongue,” Osamu warns you sharply, his lip curling in time with his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword in a white-knuckled grip. “How dare ya speak ill of the late king.”

“Why defend a man who left his country in ruins?” you goad him further, twisting the knife you’ve managed to wedge between the plates of his composure’s already straining armour. “A man who stripped his kingdom of its greatest resource—of the lives dedicated to the keeping of this land—and left his infant son to take a throne he drove into the ground with his greed. A son I’m sure has grown into just as pitiful a ruler as his father.”

The knight’s sword glints in the sunlight as it’s quickly drawn. The sound of the finely honed blade scraping against the sheath is almost pleasant; surprisingly delicate in its own way, even in its violence.

You kneel beneath Osamu in the glare of the all-seeing sun, the point of his blade held level at your throat.

“Don’t say another word against King Shinsuke,” the man hisses, and much like the first time you mentioned his brother by name, it seems you’ve struck a tender nerve.

You don’t flinch, but your eyes do flicker down towards the garden beds.

A tense moment passes with his steady sword resting just beneath your chin.

“You’re stepping on my spearmint.”

Osamu’s gaze follows yours down to his feet in surprise, to where his left boot treads upon a small mint plant. He inches his foot back slightly, almost without thinking, after you point it out. Some of the outer leaves are bruised, but you’re fairly certain the plant will still survive.

A breeze rolls in from the east, rushing through the blades of grass and rows of plants until it lifts the sleeve of your shirt as it passes like a kiss from the sea. You find it comforting. Reassuring.

Osamu speaks again.

“I could just take it, y’know.”

You don’t need him to clarify what it he speaks of.

What’s strange to you isn't the threat he utters, but rather that the words were spoken so quietly they were very nearly lost in the passing breeze. Part of you can’t help but wonder if he knows he uttered them aloud at all, or if they were merely one final fervent encouragement to steel his own resolve. You look up at him, and see his eyes are burning with insistence—wild in their hopelessness.

His expression is grave, remorseful almost. “I’ve got no other choice.”

Ah.

The final fraying morality of a desperate man.

“Good luck,” you say to him. You still meet his gaze without flinching. His sword is still pointed at your throat. “You’ll have to find it first.”

Confusion flashes behind those frantic grey eyes, and then creeps in the horrified realization.

At the tree line in the distance, a raven takes off from the highest bough of an old oak tree with a piercing caw.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, but his voice is tight and unconvincing—almost like you can hear the bile creeping up his throat. You wonder if he’s saying it in hopes of persuading you or himself.

You lift your shoulders in a dispassionate shrug, reaching up towards the neckline of your blouse. “Would you like to check?”

It’s quiet for a moment as you wait for a reply you know will never come.

Behind the knight’s own rigid shoulders, the soaring raven swoops down into the treetops out of sight.

“You cut it out yourself,” he finally breathes, your finger pausing where it’s looped underneath your collar. His expression clearly conveys the disgust he feels at the very premise.

You drop your hand, swiping your dirty fingers on the thighs of your trousers in a lazy attempt to clean them.

“I thought I ought to beat a man like you to it.”

The knight before you looks like he might be physically ill, a sallow hue overtaking his skin that wasn’t there a moment prior. You’re not sure you entirely blame him for the revulsion, considering what he must be thinking—considering the vile things he must be picturing in his mind. The image of you harvesting your heart from the cavern of your chest; the idea of you holding it—beating and bloody and hot to the touch—in your own hand.

Your gaze hardens with renewed contempt.

“I watched my people be massacred for their hearts," you tell him. "I watched knights just like you drag them in front of crowds, tie them onto stakes, and burn them for a spectacle. An immolation that the king—the one whose precious memory you stand here and defend with that sword—presided over like a jubilee,” your voice threatens to waver, but you keep it even as you stand. Osamu’s blade follows you as you lift yourself up to your feet—but his wrist is limper now than it was when he first drew it. Weakened. You swallow back the bitter taste creeping up your throat. “If not for my mother, I would undoubtedly have been among those lost, and I swore to myself that if it was the last thing I did—the only thing I ever did—I would never let my own heart suffer the same fate.”

Osamu lowers his arm to his side, his blade withdrawn.

You meet each other, eye to eye, but there’s no doubt now who stands as victor.

“Kill me if you want to,—” you tell him, your tone indifferent to the very challenge you make on your own life.

From deep in the forest, you hear the raven’s caw once more—the shrill cry of a predator catching its prey. The knight’s head turns slightly towards the sound, just the subtlest tilt of his face in the direction, but yours doesn't.

Your eyes don’t leave his.

“—What’s one more dead witch atop the grave of hundreds?”

He considers you for a moment in silence, and then slowly he sheaths his lowered weapon.

He turns his back to you, and your eyes trace the broad lines of his shoulders as he retreats in the direction of the forest from whence he’d appeared.

“I will not help you, no matter how many times you seek me here. If your brother's days are numbered as you say, save your efforts and return to him.”

Osamu pauses, a few furrows away from you in the lush green of your garden.

He's unnervingly still for a moment, still facing towards the forest, but then he turns to you once more.

His eyes are supplicating—no trace of the anger or the malice they’d held moments before. His voice is soft when he speaks again.

“I’ll give ya anythin’ you ask in exchange for yer help. Anythin’.”

You laugh, but the sound is acerbic like the taste clinging to your tongue. The chill in your voice stands in stark juxtaposition to the gentle warmth of the early summer day surrounding you.

“There’s nothing on earth that you could give me that could ever make up for the things your kingdom took away.”

Osamu’s face falls, but he nods almost imperceptibly. It catches you by surprise, that seeming resignation—acceptance—to the only answer you offer him.

Wordlessly, the knight turns and continues towards the trees.

He doesn’t tread on any of your sprouting crops as he departs.

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #hq fic #hq writing #writing #tws

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meanlesbean · 3 months

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Here, have 1,400 words of Majora's Mask angst. inspired by a conversation with @gintrinsic-writing about Link having to pick and choose who to help on the final cycle. I'll put this on my ao3 in a few days when I think of a title. (Edit: better ao3 version up now)

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On the afternoon of the final day, the Milk Bar is empty.

Madame Aroma won’t arrive for another few hours. In twenty minutes, one of the members of the town guard will show up, but he won’t stay long. He’ll order one of the special drinks that Mister Barten won’t let Link try, chug it all in one big gulp, and then lay his head down on the counter to weep quietly for four and a half minutes. When he’s finished crying, he’ll ask for a shot of something off the top shelf—surprise him, just this once. Then, after his last drink, he’ll shake Mister Barten’s hand, put his helmet back on, and leave.

Unlike some of the other guards, he won’t abandon his post. When the moon falls and swallows the world, he’ll bear witness to the end from his station at the town entrance.

Right now, it’s just Link and Tatl at the counter. Mister Barten is sweeping up on the stage, and he’s got the phonograph playing some soft piano music instead of the usual Indigo-Go’s songs, which Link is grateful for. Mister Barten isn’t as talkative as he usually is, but Link hasn’t been able to figure out if it’s because it’s the final day or if it’s because Link won’t talk himself. Either way, it’s quiet. The nice kind of quiet too, unlike the Stock Pot Inn, which gets creepy after Anju and her family evacuate. Even with everyone gone, the floorboards don’t stop creaking.

It’s a good place for thinking and planning. That’s the most important thing left for him to do.

Or at least, that’s what Link thinks. Tatl has other ideas.

“Are you going to squeeze in an afternoon nap or what?” She buzzes around him like an insect. Link’s adrenaline from the battle against Twinmold had worn off by the time they got back to Clock Town, but Tatl always takes longer to settle after a fight. She lands on the counter to take a small sip of her Chateau Romani, kindly poured into the smallest shot glass in the bar by Mister Barten, and then flies a few more laps around his head. “If you don’t go to bed soon, you won’t be rested before the reset, and I know you’ll stay up with Romani instead of sleeping the next night. I don’t want to be rescuing my brother while you’re in one of your moods.”

Link waves a hand out to get her to stop circling. He gives her a pointed look and then taps the end of his pencil against his open bomber's notebook twice. It’s a portion of his records of the first day, near illegible now with how much information he’s crammed onto the pages. That’s why he’s got a few clean sheets of paper ripped out and put to the side. If this is really the final reset, he can’t afford to waste time with indecision.

“Huh?” Tatl says. She floats over the notebook to examine it, washing out the pages in her golden light. She flutters and makes an annoyed chiming noise. “What are you getting at now? There can’t be anything else to add on here. You’ve stalked everyone in Termina long enough already.”

Link shakes his head and holds out his hand. Tatl lands on his palm, her magic tickling at his skin like the sparks from a light arrow, and he lifts her up to his shoulder. His posture relaxes as soon as she sits, the warm buzz of her magic trickling down through his chest and back. An ache he hadn’t noticed in his upper back disappears. It still feels a little weird sometimes, having her nestled in the crook of his neck. The first time her wing had brushed against his neck, he’d almost hit her on reflex, and she didn’t talk to him for the whole day after. Navi had always preferred to perch on top of his head.

On one of the clean pages, Link lists out all the hours, from six o’clock to five o’clock the next morning. He repeats this for the next page. For the last one, he adds an extra hour at the end and draws the moon and its hungry maw. Next, he circles Romani’s name in his notebook. On his new timetable, he writes her name between the hours of two and five in the morning.

He knows that Tatl understands because he feels her go still, then huddle closer to him. Still, he flips through the notes he’s taken, over two dozen pages, for emphasis. Some of his notes are about the temples—he hadn’t made it through the Snowhead or Great Bay temples on his first attempts—but even excluding those, there’s too much.

Tatl doesn’t speak. In his notebook, Link sees Pamela’s name, and he circles it like he’d done for Romani. When he looks at his timetable though, he pauses. He and Tatl have restored the flow of the Ikana creek and healed Pamela’s father three times: once very late into the night of the second day, once in the morning of the first day, and once more in the evening of the first day. From what Link can tell, Pamela doesn’t sleep well when her father is cursed, and that means Link can free her father at any time.

Pamela needs her father. He knows that, even if he doesn’t fully understand it. She’s young and scared and alone, and Link shouldn’t make her wait. When he looks at the blank time slots of the first day though, all he can see is dozens of other things he needs to do. If he’s going to reunite Anju and Kafei, he needs to spend the afternoon in Clock Town so can talk to Anju. And while he’s in town, it only makes sense for him to help the Great Fairy and go solve the argument in the mayor’s office. He should free at least one of the Giants on that first day too—he can make his way through the temples pretty quickly now, but he couldn’t rush the battles against the beasts holding the Giants captive. Potions and fairies don't work as well when he doesn't sleep. He’d learned the hard way that one little mistake in those battles could take him hours to recuperate from.

His hand holding the pencil is frozen above the paper. Link stares at the blank pages.

He feels Tatl release a tiny, quivering breath. Her wings flicker against him a few times as she leans forward. “Okay. We’re not going back to the Stone Tower on the first day. I need a break from that horrible place, and you need to get at least some sleep before going there again. You can take a nap in Romani’s bed, or in Epona’s stall since you’re a little freak, after we defend the ranch. We’ll go to Ikana and free Pamela’s dad and the Giant afterwards. Got it?”

Link nods and picks up the pencil. He gives himself two hours to sleep, then blocks off the rest of the morning for fixing Ikana. Tatl lets out a little ringing noise in approval, then says, “So, we’re going through the whole ordeal of getting Anju and Kafei back together, right?” He nods again. “Okay, then write Anju’s name in the two and eleven thirty times slots.” He does. “We need to go to the ranch and talk to Romani at some point during the day. Let’s do that at five so we can stay for dinner. We can go to the cucoo shack before eating too. Helping Grog always makes you smile.”

Link puts down the pencil. Before Tatl can scold him, he brings his hand up to where she's perched, and he closes his eyes and presses her closer against him. Tatl shifts a bit, and then she wraps both her small arms around his hand. He trembles, and she doesn’t say anything.

She lets him hold her like that for a minute before she starts pushing him away. “Move your hand, would ya? I can’t read anything like this.”

Link pulls away from her and picks up the pencil again. Tatl pats his shoulder. It feels like raindrops. “Okay, let’s finish filling in the first day. You ready?”

When Link nods, it's the truth.

“Good. We’ve got this.”

Link believes her.

#majora's mask #loz fanfic #legend of zelda #legend of zelda fanfiction #loz fic #my fic

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hazmatazz · 1 year

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domestic byler headcanons?

i unfortunately don't know the definition of a headcanon but i'll try 👍

some of these will be when mike and will live togeth some will be miwi shit everything's everywhere

they have a bunny for a few years. they both spoil the thing rotten and are sooo soft towards it

while the party doesn't live as close together as when they were younger they still live near enough to hang out sometimes. the party does continue playing d&d but because they all can't meet up always sometimes mike and will just fantasize. maybe it's an adventure or maybe they just make their characters chill just like they're doing

speaking of their d&d characters: they're always together or getting together. the party rolls their eyes at this but will and mike kinda just flirt through it

they have at least one set of matching stuffed animals like this

uhmm will paints on the parties clothes (as i've talked about before) but do you know how much painted things mike has? like if something of his disapears one day he just assumes will has taken it to customize. he loves every single one no matter how many things he has

when they get their bunny one of them cooes over it and the other finds both of them adorable (this happens a bunch of times)

el gets rlly into beaded bracelet making at one point and mike and will ofc have matching bracelets

said this before but before they get together they are: normal au best friends. cleradin companions. cowboy au partners

mike works at a fancy diner at one point. he hates it but i promise you he looks so pretty in whatever outfit they give him (will def agrees) (also i think both him and max should work at a place where they have rollar skates. even if i don't think they're the best on rollar skates just imagine)

matching tattoos (will made)

the kids in whatever area they live in adore them (i just love the idea they repeat the cycle of the older st kids and are there for some kids in their town. i mean nothing bad happens but like y'know? :) )

mike ofc gets into fencing

mike got an old record player from a thrift store and they sometimes dance to random records (not always slow dance songs)

you don't understand how many love letters will has gotten. even randomly mike just thinks about will to hard and scrambles to get it all down on paper

if they have a backyard they have to have a swingset

they have a set procedure for what to do when the other is having a nightmare. it works everytime

mike figdets with will's hands

while "me and michael" isn't typically will's style iirc he cries to it the first time he hears it (not out of sadness but relief)

fuckers would love legend of zelda

mike would flirt in puns and will would find it cute (while the party groans each time)

miwi time

you know i think tiny mike would be hyperfixated on dinos <3 (and dustin w robots)

will always hated the game tag (me fr)

miwi always hid away from the other children on the playground at recess

will got reallyyy into planetariums and bugs as a kid. but he also afraid to touch bugs so he got mike to do it

will got into origami for just a bit (mike just made hexaflexagons). he still knows how to make a dragon after yearssss

mike always rested his head on will's shoulder/head when they were looking at the same thing

yeah there's some :)!

#stranger things #byler #byler headcanon #asks #jo yo tag

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johnnydlux · 9 months

Text

I was tagged by @paaopalpoerepr33 for four albums I've listened to recently! I'm going to pick ones I've frequented in the last year, since I usually just cycle through my favorite tracks by various artists! this blog is still somewhat fresh so i don't have a TON of mutuals atm, but i'll tag a couple silly goofies i know @hotshotshitshow @21ozofpiss @thebrightestlodge

LOVE- Foetus

Hands down has become one of my favorite albums of all time. In general Foetus has become one of my favorite artists within the last year, but this album is the bestest in my opinion. Foetus has been a catalyst for me better understanding what exactly I enjoy most in my favorite music and why, especially this album. I love most of the songs and some are prone to making me tear up. Sometimes its the sheer emotions tied to the music, other times its the beauty of the instrumentals. For people who are unfamiliar with JG Thirwell's stuff, Love serves as a good introduction to his sound as well as showcases all the fun little places he likes to take his music to (one of my favorite things about Foetus in general). Its unfortunately one of those albums where the lyrics to all my favorite songs exist nowhere on the internet.

COMMUNION- Septicflesh

Got really into Septicflesh last year when I was in my winterly souslborne fugue state. Artistically I don't think they're that groundbreaking. As a symphonic metal band they walk a very thin line, but the fact that they are a symphonic DEATH metal band has kept them from going overboard with their concepts and dooming themselves to the depths of egregious corniness. I like what they've been trying to do and have a massive appreciation for their technical skills! Their orchestral tunes are very theatrical in a way that makes my skin vibrate violently with excitement! This album in particular became an instant fave. It's concept is very clear and concise and shows just how talented the band members are as musicians but also as COMPOSERS. All the songs flow together naturally. Its one of the very few albums I will sit and listen to from beginning to end on repeat. They are Greek and as someone who is trying to learn the language, that's a plus, but it seems that they utilize Greek less and less as time goes on.

THE GREAT ANNIHILATOR- Swans

The emotional intensity of the album is what gets me, which I suppose is pretty typical for Swans lol. But the past year has been a ever-turning sphere of vicious emotions for me and somewhat of a year of understanding. For me there is a feeling of bitter longing that lingers when I listen to this album. This album often gives me clear and emotionally complex visuals to wrap up in each song. Not something that I'd like to describe as "relatable", but maybe that is the case.

AS HARD AS YOU CAN- LustSickPuppy

An aggressive EP. If you like MachineGirl you'll probably like LustSickPuppy (he produces for LustSick sometimes). Honestly I come back mostly for the songs that were originally released as singles. To put it simply, its a good one to revisit when you're angry or feeling like being bad to the bone haha

#i forgot people still did these!#p #careful i will ramble about my music opinions and will not hold back.... lol

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kojiscorner · 2 months

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tag people you'd like to know better !

favorite color(s) : darker shades of blue (particularly sapphire blue), deep reds (particularly crimson and ruby), purples (particularly royal purple) golden yellow, black

favorite flavor(s) : give me cherry anything and I'm in

favorite music : My tastes are kinda all over the place I like to say I haven't found a genre I don't like something in. Most recently I've had this EPIC: THE MUSICAL on repeat, which is this work in progress series of concept albums revolving around a musical re-imagining of Homer's The Odyssey. If you haven't heard, all the currently released sagas are on Spotify and Youtube rn, highly recommend

favorite movie(s) : Batman: Mask of the Phantasm, the John Wick movies, Remember the Titans, a few others I'm sure I'm blanking on rn

favorite series : Dimension 20: Fantasy High Junior Year ,The Brothers Sun, The Blacklist, The Bear, Castlevania/Castlevania Nocture, The Dragon Prince

favorite book(s) : The Last Days of Krypton by Kevin J. Anderson, the Cirque Du Freak series and the Demonata series by Darren Shan, The Inheritance Cycle by Christopher Paolini

last song : One of the songs from EPIC. I have them on repeat so often that I can't _quite_ remember which one specifically was the last, but Wouldn't You Like is probably a safe bet.

last series : Completed? The Brothers Sun. Just like watched an episode of? Probably workin my way through last week's D20 episode.

last movie : Completed? I think Batman: Mask of the Phantasm in a server I'm in. Just watched in general? I started Extraction 2 on Netflix.

currently reading : Haven't ready a novel in ages, but I do read comics sometimes. I"ve got a massive list that I'm not gonna dump all of here, but most recently I caught up on the current Thor ongoing, and I'm keeping an eye on the new Ultimate Universe stuff.

currently watching : X-Men: The Animated Series (doing a watch before '97 drops), Bojack Horseman (I've been putting this one off for years), Dimension 20: Fantasy High Junior Year

currently working on : Running two DND campaigns and takin care of some medical stuff I"ve put off for too long

tagged :@quietresistance tagging : anyone who wants to!

#ooc

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thebibliosphere · 3 years

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I had a question.

So, just an hour or two ago, I was going through some sort of “manic high”, sorta like how somebody with bipolar disorder would have (I don’t have BPD). It felt like a bullet train at max speed and completely derailing, and it was incredibly draining. It also got me wondering.

Do people with severe enough ADHD deal with ADHD episodes like this? My search attempts are often futile because all of it is just talking about how to differentiate between BPD and ADHD and BPD manic episodes, but nobody ever mentions ADHD episodes; the only time I’ve seen it mentioned ever was when somebody made a clip of crankgameplays to show what an ADHD episode looked like.

Do they even exist? I’ve got no idea, so I was just wondering if you knew.

Hey! Sorry, I saw your other ask a while ago, but I wanted to talk to my ADHD specialist before I answered because I’d never heard of the term “episode” being used to describe ADHD. I’m also going to splice both questions together here and answer them in segments in the hope it helps :)

So like I said, I’d never heard of the term “episode” with ADHD, and neither has my specialist. Part of ADHD is having a natural ebb and flow between inattention and hyperactivity, sometimes skewed toward one or the other, depending on your ADHD type. (What are the different types of ADHD?)

Your type of ADHD may also fluctuate because of other factors, such as stress, changes in medication, hormonal fluctuations, lack of sleep, overstimulation, or even under-stimulation, to name a few. Another overlooked part of ADHD is emotional dysregulation, which may cause rapid cycling emotions that may look like an “episode” to someone unfamiliar with what that actually qualifies. The way my therapist explained it and using your example of bipolar disorder, “episode” is used in diagnostic criteria to categorize manic or depressive episodes that last X amount of time, are usually severe, potentially requiring hospitalization, and are accompanied by other symptoms not found in ADHD.

Our “bursts” of energy or lack thereof typically don’t last long enough to be considered episodes. This isn’t to say they are not severe or debilitating, especially if you suffer from things like anxiety or depression that ADHD can feed into. Merely that “episode” is not used as part of the language used to discuss ADHD, which is likely why you’re not finding anything.

So, do ADHDers experience intense bursts of energy that are draining afterward? Yeah, we can do, especially if we lean more toward hyperactive than inattentive. (And again, it's normal to fluctuate and also for things to be affected or worsened by secondary factors.)

And I'm going to put the rest under the cut because this is hella long.

I’ve seen some people think that all hyperactivity has to come with fixation, but that’s not how ADHD works. It’s true if something gets us excited or gives us a dopamine boost, we might be more prone to becoming hyperfixated and burn all our energy up on that. But you don’t need something to fixate on to experience hyperactivity. Some of us are just wired to the moon sometimes, and yes, it can be very draining when it ends. Some people find medication helpful in regulating their hyperactivity/preventing it from coming in such big swings and dips.

Speaking personally, when I'm hyper and nothing is grabbing my attention, the world and people around me can feel painfully slow. It's like I'm going a mile a minute doing everything but achieving nothing. The crash that comes after can also be particularly bad, as I also have dysthymia, which can tip over into a major depressive episode depending on other factors in my life at that time. For years I was misdiagnosed as having "probably Bipolar Type II" by a doctor who didn't believe teenage girls could "get" ADHD* and convinced my parents I needed psychoactive drugs. The drugs I was on didn't help, in fact, they made me worse so I was taken off them.

It wasn't until I found an ADHD specialist as an adult a few years ago that I made any real progress. And I'll be honest, I was shocked when she diagnosed me with ADHD, I really didn't think I had it. Right up until we started doing the work and slowly but surely my mental health began to improve and my understanding of myself with it.

Sometimes there are days when I will be wired to the moon and it will derail my entire day because I can't focus on a single thing/I'll focus too much on a single thing. Other times, like when I am closer to my menstrual cycle, I'll crash into inattentiveness and depression because of how my hormones affect my various different conditions, including my ADHD. Medication would likely help with this, but due to medical reasons, that's currently not an option for me so I do the best I can.

That said, if you’re experiencing something more than hyperactivity but it's not mania, you may be experiencing a form of hypomania and you should talk to a doctor about your concerns.

Hypomania typically occurs in Bipolar Type II disorder, which is less severe than the manic episodes in Bipolar I. I’ve experienced both manic and hypomanic episodes in my life due to medication interactions, and they felt very different from ADHD hyperactivity. It's not just derailing mile-a-minute thoughts, it's something usually completely mood-altering and out of control feeling followed by devastating crashes.

If you're on any medications and are worried you are experiencing something like this, you need to talk to your doctor. You might just need a dosage tweak, or you might be better off on a different medication altogether. Also, make a thorough check of any and all medications you are taking to check for any interactions.

I'm on a cocktail of meds for my MCAS, which if I were to combine them with the SSRI one of my doctors wants me to try, would result in serotonin syndrome. The doctor didn't notice this, but the pharmacist sure as shit did!

Some people (ask me how I know) even develop mild hypomania from overusing the sunlamps used to treat SAD (link), which is why brands like Verilux now include warnings in their leaflets about not using the lamps for more than X amount of time a day. Thankfully it goes away once you stop overusing the lamps.

Which actually brings me to something you asked last time about being unable to sleep at night. Insomnia and delayed sleep phase cycles are not uncommon in ADHD. This is likely because our circadian rhythm is thought to be out of whack (link).

You also mentioned having racing thoughts at night too, which is not uncommon either with hyperactivity. I find if I get overstimulated before trying to sleep, I’ll end up lying there awake with what I like to call “radio ADHD” playing in my head. It can range from snippets of songs stuck on repeat, conversations, things I’ve watched on TV, arguments, or if something is happening the next day, fixating on not being late for it. Hence, I end up getting no sleep because you can’t accidentally sleep in if you don’t sleep. *jazz hands of despair.*

Sometimes I find Radio ADHD soothing if it’s fixating on something chill, but it can get annoying fast and even distressing if I’m tired and can’t “change the station.” (I’d say “shut it off,” but as of yet, I’ve never been able to do that. Medication helps some people with this, as can looking into “sleep hygiene” if you haven’t already.) Conversely, if I’m bored or something is too stressful, I will 100% fall asleep because my brain would literally rather just turn off than do something I don’t want to do or is a low dopamine reward task.

Brains are fun.

Anyway, I uh, I am not sure if any of this is useful to you, but I hope it helps. Mostly I'm just repeating back what my specialist said when I asked her about it lol. Good luck, and I hope you figure things out.

----

*NB: It's important to note that ADHD and Bipolar Disorder can be comorbid. It's not a one or the other situation. I’m just throwing it out there in case hearing that helps someone else pursue the proper diagnosis!

#adhd #not a doctor #just a sick person with lots of lived experience

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jeongvision · 4 years

Text

make a wish

synopsis. jaehyun loves you very much; so much that he came over to your place at midnight to wish you a happy birthday. meanwhile, you also love jaehyun very much; so much that you think that he deserves a very special present from you even on your birthday.

pairing. boyfriend! jeong jaehyun ✗ fem! reader

genre. smut, fluff if you squint a little, established relationship au

word count. 2.9k

warnings. cursing, sexual themes (marking, fingering, choking, grinding, dirty talking, degradation, cum play, power play), some religious analogies

author’s note. make a wish english ver. is making me feel some type of way and jaehyun looking expensive in the mv is not helping me so i had to let it out somehow, so enjoy this thirsty work of art lmao

Today is your birthday, and all Jaehyun planned was to come over to your apartment at midnight with cake and sing you a happy birthday. After that, he’s all yours for the day. You’re free to do whatever you want, whenever you want with him for 24 hours. He was thinking maybe all you wanted to do is just stay in and cuddle while binge watching some netflix shows. Maybe order takeout if you’re feeling a little lazy to cook, and perhaps a few makeout sessions together here and there if you were feeling it. He could tell from your voice how exhausted you were from your work schedule based on the past couple phone calls.

What he did not expect however, is for you to be straddling his hips as you mark his neck up with purples and blues right after you blew out the candles.

And neither did you.

But that’s what makes it all fun, right?

You arrived at your apartment earlier close to 11 at night. work was tiring today. You work as a full-time cashier at a huge department store down the street. It was decent pay, enough to pay for your expenses and live life a little. You didn’t mind how demanding it could be sometimes, how customers can go from being exceptionally patient with your work to customers being absurdly rude to you for just breathing.

However, some of your coworkers called out for a week due to ‘personal reasons’, whatever that may be. Because of that, your manager has been scheduling everyone to work more to make up for all the missing shifts, including you.

You honestly didn’t mind it.

The only time you do is when it doesn’t allow you enough time to regenerate your social battery that you’ve been draining every night for the past two weeks. And every night before your shift ends, without fail, you always think to yourself how much you can’t wait to go home, take a nice, warm bath, and drift off to sleep, only for you to repeat the cycle again the next day. Oh, and maybe call up your boyfriend, if he was still awake, and talk about each other’s day for a bit.

But today is a little different— you finally get a day off to yourself.

You did your nightly after-work ritual: dinner, shower, bath, doze off a little, rinse, dry up, all that good stuff. But once you got dressed and finished blow-drying your hair, your doorbell rang exactly at midnight. You weren’t expecting any visitors this late, so it was reasonable that you were suspicious.

Who the hell? You were on high alert when you walked over to your front door, a wooden baseball in hand. When you went to take a look through the peephole, there was nothing but confusion all over your face. Why is Jaehyun here? As you pondered on, you noticed he held a beige box in both of his hands. As you peered closer you caught glimpse of the familiar label on its right side: it was from none other than your favorite bakery shop.

And that’s when it hit you.

It’s midnight.

You boyfriend is standing right outside your door, holding a box from your favorite bakery shop.

It’s your freaking birthday today.

You didn’t expect Jaehyun to be at your doorstep with a box of cake in his hands. In fact, you didn’t expect to see him at all on your birthday. You remembered him mentioning he had to work on your birthday. He felt bad that he couldn’t spend time with you. There’s always another day, love, you said to him.

And here you two are in the present: the candles have already been lit, birthday song have been sang, and the tiny smoke from the candles wafts through the air after you blew them out. Jaehyun told you that he called off work to spend the day with you and you were free to do whatever you wanted to do with him. You initially thought that spending the whole day inside lazing around would be the most perfect idea ever after all those strenuous hours at work.

But you had another idea in mind, an idea that stayed in the back of your mind after he sent you a scandalous text last week, stating all the things he wanted to do with you behind closed doors, away from public’s view. Of course he had to conveniently send it during your work shift and your nosy coworker just happened to peer over your shoulder reading the contents. It was all pure jest, my love, he said to you.

A joke it may be, but there’s no harm in making them come true, right?

Your arms are circled around his neck, legs stationed on either side of his legs with your ass planted firmly on his lap. You’re both sat on your living room couch, bodies pressed against each other with the cake long forgotten on your coffee table behind you. His hands are tucked underneath your shirt, caressing your soft skin.

As you continue to nip all over his neck, marking him up, he maneuvers his hands down to your rear, giving them a light squeeze. You sigh at his touch.

“Baby girl,” he grunts, “just what do you think you’re doing?”

You nip at a particular spot on his neck and he groans out loud. God, just the sound of him is enough for you to wet your panties. After licking down on his skin, you pull away from his neck and look down at your creation— there are blue and purple galaxies all over his throat, his lips are red and had a little swell to them from your sloppy makeout session earlier, and the eyes he looks at you with are filled with nothing but carnal lust for you.

You can’t help but feel pride burst in your chest because you did that. You made him, Jung Jaehyun, your boyfriend, look like that.

You gave him a lopsided grin, and he thinks to himself how he can’t wait to wreck you apart inside and out. “What does it look like I’m doing?” you cooed. You can feel his clothed erection poke at your thigh, pulsating underneath, so you grind on it teasingly, watching as his eyes roll back with his mouth open. “I’m just doing what my boyfriend wished for me to do through our text messages the other day. I wanted to show how appreciative I am that he came over and wished me a happy birthday.”

You face moves closer to his, your lips a breath away from his own. You lower your voice down to a whisper, “Is that wrong for me to do?”

He releases a throaty groan. You can feel him bucking up to gain some friction on his dick but you lifted your hips up a little from his lap. “Fuck,” he grunts.

You giggle softly at his reaction. You were never the one to take charge in bed. Jaehyun was always the one to initiate something and follow through with it. You didn’t mind it. In fact, you loved it. but the power you felt over him now was But you feel drunk on the feeling; you savored it, you felt intoxicated, and you wanted more.

Fuck it, screw those text messages. Let’s change it up a little, shall we? How about you take charge for the night?

But little did you know, that is exactly the opposite of what he was going to give you. It may be your birthday, but there’s no way in hell that you’re going to top tonight. You already mentioned those text messages he forgot about, and there’s no way he’s going to make you turn your words back on it.

Before you could even register anything, his right hand that was planted on your ass moves to your front where he cupped your clothed sex. You gasp, eyes blown out, hands now gripping onto his shoulders.

“O-oh!” you mewl.

And so, the reins have been handed over to him. As it should, he thinks. He smirks a little. His fingers rubs against your core at an agonizingly slow pace just to tease you a bit. He could feel the heat radiating off your body and wanted nothing more than to bask in it.

Just as he was about to move his hand away, you grab his wrist to hold it in place.

“Mm.. more..” you quiver.

He clicks his tongue. “Dirty little whore.”

After feeling how your thin shorts were starting to get drenched, he pulls his hand away from your grasp and shoves them inside your panties. Immediately, he can feel you dripping, his fingers and palm collecting all of your essence. His fingers deftly circle your clit before gliding them back and forth on your soaked folds.

Your mind is in a spiral.

“Holy fuck!” And holy, his fingers are, especially when he inserts two fingers inside your pussy. “O-oh my god, Jaehyun-n!”

He sadistically thrusts in and out of your entrance, his thumb stimulating your nub, your moans getting more fervent. “Acting all spoiled just because I’m letting you do whatever you want with me for your birthday. Just who do you think you are? Should I remind you who’s the one in charge here?” he growls.

You whimper at his words, shamelessly grinding yourself onto his hand as his other wraps snugly around the back of your neck.

He grins, face dangerously close to you now. “Now look at you, all fucked out from only my fingers. This pussy just can’t wait for me to fuck you nice and deep, huh? Is that what you want?”

You didn’t answer him, your mind too preoccupied from the bliss his fingers are giving to you. The sweat forming on your skin created a glistening sheen on your exposed collarbone, and all he wants to do is to just ravage it.

And he just might.

His hand wrapped around your neck tightens a little, sending more pleasure through your body and core.

“Answer me, slut.”

You cry out a little, “Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

You fail to swallow back your moans. “I-I want you to.. fuck me nice and- oh!”

His fingers hit that delicious spot inside you, your body jerking in response.

“Fuck you nice and what?”

Your sighs come out shakily, “Nice a-and.. deep, with your c-cock- oh my god!”

“God can’t save you now, fucking slut.”

He feels you tightening around his fingers, sending him to fasten his pace. Your grip on his shoulder intensifies, enough to painfully indent his skin. After a few more thrusts from his fingers, a coil inside you snaps, stars blurring your vision as a shockwave overtakes you. You did nothing to suppress your screams as your juices flowed out your core. His fingers continue to thrust in and out of you throughout your orgasm but finally stops as he sees you start to calm down.

Your breathing is erratic, trying to catch up after that earth-shattering orgasm you just experienced. After he feels you relax in his embrace, he lets go of your neck and rests it on your waist. He pulls his fingers out of your pussy and you shuddered at the loss of contact. Your cum slowly drips out of you onto your panties and shorts, some of it gliding onto your thighs where he can visibly see it.

God, does he want to have a taste. You’re definitely going to need some new shorts and undies now. With your half-opened eyes in a complete daze and your breathing evened out, he brings his fingers to your lips, staring dauntingly at your orbs.

“Suck.”

And you obliged. He pushes his fingers past your mouth and you suck on his fingers, tasting yourself. Your tongue swirls around his digits, all while maintaining eye contact with him.

He gravely groans at the sight. “So naughty..” He pulls his fingers away and takes hold of your chin, ravenously capturing your lips with his own, tasting a little bit of you in the process. Your tongue glides past his as he dominates your mouth whole. Your arms wrap around his neck once more, pulling him closer to your soul. His lips are always soft, and yet he kisses you as if he wants to devour you up until your knees buckled.

He breaks away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting the two of you, and he maneuvers his way down to your throat.

Now it was his turn to paint your neck pretty.

“So fucking naughty for me,” he moans. As he assaults your neck, you rack your nails through his hair, gently pulling on its ends. You could feel him sigh onto your neck as a result of it. He honestly loves it when you pull onto his hair, almost a little too much.

After he was satisfied with his artwork, he looks back up to you and delicately pecks your lips. The corner of his mouth lifts, his dimples now on full display. “Happy birthday, baby.”

You tiredly giggle at the complete change in his demeanor. You were so in love with this man, and you would do anything to make him happy.

“Thank you, my love.”

He grins at you. And he was so in love with you, he would do anything to keep you happy.

He kisses you once again, this time with much more passion and purpose. He held onto your waist as you held onto his neck, enjoying each other’s presence. Afterr staying in each other’s embrace for some time, foreheads touching, a thought popped in Jaehyun’s head.

“You know, you never told me what you wished for.”

Oh, but what is there to wish for when your present is right in front of you?

You shrug your shoulders, “It’s nothing really.”

He tsks out loud, “Baby, we both know that’s a lie.” He moves away from you and leans forward to the side of your face. And all of the sudden, you feel him nibbling your earlobe, kitten licks in between.

You bite down on your lip, struggling to keep your composure together. Surely, you were still recovering from your last orgasm— the attention he was giving to you got you feeling aroused for him again.

He snickers gravely.

Oh how fucking sinful the sound of that is.

“Come on, baby girl. Just tell me. Maybe I can make your wish come true.”

The moan you just released was lecherous to him.

“Answer me, then you shall receive.”

The devil works hard, but Jaehyun works harder.

You quiver at his command. No matter how many times you were intimate with each other, you could never get used to all the dirty talk. Jaehyun was always clear-cut about his wants and needs, but you never were. Mot until you’re pushed on the spot like now.

You swallow down your embarrassment and meekly respond. “I-I.... suck you..”

He stops his teasing and backs up to look at you. “Hm? What was that?” His smirk returns. “I didn’t quite catch that. Speak up, baby. Use your words.”

You refuse to answer, but he pays no mind. You’ll eventually cave in, you always do.

“Baby, I’m waiting.”

You close your eyes and let out a sigh. “I didn’t wish for anything.”

“And why is that?”

You eyes opened up but you look away from his gaze, humiliation all over. Hou stammer over your words, “B-Because.. you’re my birthday wish.”

He lazily grins, bringing his left hand to cup your cheek. That’s when you decided to look up into his eyes. “And what do you wish to do with me?”

You gulp. “I want to.. suck you.”

“Suck where exactly?”

Fucking hell. He’s enjoying this way more than you are. Just who is getting their birthday present here? You groan out in a frustrated manner. To hell with this.

“Your cock. I want your cock in my mouth. O want your fucking dick in my mouth and I want you to use my mouth and fuck it like your own personal toy.” After realizing that you just said, you gasp and covered your mouth with both of your hands. You’re now embarrassed out of your mind, completely wanting the ground to just swallow you up.

You just said that to him, but Jaehyun found it quite adorable that you were capable of saying such things.

And so, he removes your hand from your face, grips on your wrist, and kisses you, a loud smooch throughout the room. After that, he places one of your hands onto his prominent bulge, painstakingly waiting for you attention this entire time. “Baby, you don’t have to say it twice.”

And you couldn’t have been quicker. You step off of him, assuming position with your knees on the floor. He hastily stands up from your couch and works on unzipping his jeans with your help. After pulling his dick out, your mouth waters. Veins aligned along its sides, red at the tip with precum leaking out.

He chuckles at you. “Aren’t you an eager little whore?”

Your eyes shoot up to his, eyes sinfully taking you in. “Just can’t wait to have my cock in your mouth, huh? Greedy little whore. zi bet all you want is my cum in your mouth.” He clicks his tongue.

With one hand on his member and the other holding onto the back of your head, you look down at his shaft. You feel him guiding your head towards him. With your mouth wide open, tongue splayed out for him, you could hear the grin in his voice.

“Happy birthday, baby girl. Now make a wish and blow.”

#jaehyun #nct jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun smut #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun x oc #nct #nct 127 #nct imagines #nct smut #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 smut #jung jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct scenarios

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1plus1kiyoomi · 4 years

Text

Chapter 21: Kia, I Am Your Father

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[masterlist] [kia’s slambook]

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6 months have passed and having 2 kids both under the age of 4 is not as challenging as you expected to be. The main reason is because both of of your daughters are the easiest to handle. Mina barely cries unlike other babies, and she sleeps well through the night. But because she is still a baby, she needs a lot of watching and attention, way too much for Kia’s liking.

Kia likes being an older sister. She holds Mina’s feeding bottle when it’s time for eating. She knows when it’s time for Mina to nap. She watches over her little sister when you’re showering or cooking. She’s doing an excellent job as a big sister.

You and Kiyoomi thought Kia just loves Mina, the reason why she’s very doting towards her. But Kia does all that to get approval and praise from you and Kiyoomi. Kia hates that she’s not getting as much attention as before. She hates that it’s always about Mina and just sometimes Kia.

“It’s because of you!” Kia screams all of a sudden while you are cooking at the kitchen and Kiyoomi is showering. You both trust Kia that much. You run to your daughters and see Mina on the foamed floor of the living room instead of her bassinet.

“Kia, what’s wrong?” You try to ask her calmly, picking Mina up from the ground. She doesn’t answer you, but storms off to the nursery. You follow her, Mina still in your arms. “Kia!”

“It’s because of Mina! You and papa don’t love me anymore!” She cries, grabbing a baby bottle from one of Mina’s drawers. Kia throws it to the ground, shocking you.

“Kia, don’t do that!” You scold her. She rummages through the drawers and throws Mina’s clothes and diapers out. You try to stop her but then she throws a teether at you, hitting you on your forehead. Worse, it bounced to Mina. The baby cries.

“Sakusa Kia!” Kiyoomi shouts from the doorway. He witnessed everything.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Kia continues to throw things at you and you turn to protect Mina.

Kiyoomi quickly goes to Kia and grabs her by her arm. He sits her down on her bed, her cries worsening. “Say sorry to your mama!” Kiyoomi demands, but Kia firmly shakes her head. “Do it. Now.”

“No! I hate her! I hate you, too!” Kia responds, throwing a pillow at him. His patience running thin, Kiyoomi slams his hand on the bedside table, a loud smacking sound echoing through the whole room. Kia’s cries are exchanged with shivering.

“Is it good to throw things at other people?” Kiyoomi scolds her, his hand hitting the wooden surface once again. “Answer me!” Kia doesn’t answer him so he smacks the table one more time, her shaking getting more intense.

“Kiyoomi, that’s enough. I think she understands now,” you tell him, a hand on his arm.

“No! She clearly doesn’t understand! She won’t throw things like this if she understands! She’s being an unreasonable brat right now!” Kiyoomi shouts. You knead the muscle on his arm, trying to calm him down.

“Omi, Kia’s trembling,” you whisper to him and he takes a look at Kia carefully. She is trembling. He wants to apologize for scaring her, but he won’t. Not after she threw that tantrum. “I’ll go talk to her. Take Mina and prepare the dinner.”

“Fine,” Kiyoomi complies, taking Mina from your arms. “She doesn’t leave this room until she cleans up the mess she made.” He doesn’t spare another glance at Kia as he leaves the room with Mina. Hearing the door shut close, Kia starts wailing. You wrap your arms around her, taking her into your arms.

“Kia, baby, tell me what’s wrong.” She still doesn’t answer. “Is it because you think mama and papa don’t love you anymore because of the new baby?” She nods, her sobs not quietening down. “I’m sorry if we made you feel that way. Mama and papa love you so much. Next time, if you’re upset, you tell us instead of getting angry and throwing things.”

“I’m sorry, mama,” Kia apologizes, wrapping her arms around your neck and burying her face on your shoulder.

“It’s okay baby. Just promise not to do that again.” You hear Kia mutter a quiet ‘yes’ so you kiss the side of her head. “Let’s go out and apologize to Mina and your papa, okay?”

“No! I hate Mina and Kyo! Kyo hates Kia, too,” Kia refuses.

Despite Kia’s protests, you carry her out to the kitchen. You sit her down at her highchair but she doesn’t look at her father who is in front of her. Kiyoomi glares at her, so you sigh. Kia quickly eats her food then leaves the table to go back to her room. You give a look of disappointment to Kiyoomi but he just shrugs.

“She’s really mad at you,” you start. “She called you Kyo.” His heart breaks into a million pieces from what you said.

“It’ll pass. She’ll be fine tomorrow.” He tries to convince himself. He cleans the table, memories flashing back in his mind. You notice the sudden change mood on your face so you get an idea.

“Omi, what do you think about letting Atsumu take care of Mina for a few hours next Sunday? I mean his wife is pregnant, right? They might need some practice,” you tell him, but he doesn’t seem like he’s listening. You continue to speak, “Then we can take Kia out for a little date just to spend more time with her. She thinks we don’t love her anymore.”

“I’ll talk to her after I wash the dishes. Go take Mina to sleep,” Kiyoomi responds. You stand up from your seat and wrap you arms around him from behind.

“Stop overthinking, baby.” You tip toe to kiss him on the cheek then leave to bring Mina to bed.

After doing the dishes, Kiyoomi goes to Kia’s room. He leans on the doorway frame, watching Kia arrange the bottles and diapers she threw a while ago. He knocks on the door, startling Kia. She turns and sees him going to her so she dashes to her bed.

Kiyoomi sighs before sitting on the edge of her bed. “Kia,” he calls her as she covers her face with her blanket. “Do you wanna sleep beside mama and papa?”

No response.

“Do you wanna watch Transformers with me?”

Again, no response.

“Do you want to go to Mu-chan’s?” Kia lowers her blanket, then examines at Kiyoomi’s face. She shakes her head then goes back under the blanket. “Okay, then. Good night.”

Kiyoomi heads back to your room and you’re already asleep. He checks on Mina’s crib then sees that she’s still awake. She reaches her arms out to him and he chuckles. “You’re like your sister, too, huh?” He picks Mina up from the crib and he goes to the living room with her.

He sits down on the couch, and sits Mina on his lap, his legs bent up to support the baby’s back. “You know, your sister is mad at me,” Kiyoomi tells Mina. “She thinks we don’t love her because you’re around. But it’s not your fault, sweetie. It’s also not your sister’s fault. I mean, I do think I don’t spend much time with her.”

Mina lets out a random cry, and he acts as if he understands her. Kiyoomi sighs, “I did. I talked to Kia, but she doesn’t want to talk to. What should I do?”

“Kya!” Mina giggles, hearing her sister’s name, but Kiyoomi registers it as another babble.

“Mina, I didn’t understand that. I’m sorry.” Kiyoomi admits. Mina babbles but with more force this time. “Are you angry at me also?” She stops squirming and looks at Kiyoomi nonchalantly. “You are?”

They continue to ‘talk’ until Kiyoomi falls asleep on the couch with Mina on his chest. The sun rises, waking Mina up. Instead of crying, she just stays there on his chest. A door opens so she looks at that direction.

“Mina...” Kia says as she sees her little sister awake. She stares at her in a daze, then remembers hitting Mina the day before. “Tell mama and Kyo I went out, okay? I will come back.”

Kia runs to her room then grabs a backpack. She puts her little panda bank in it then goes to the front door. She puts her shoes on and manages to unlock the door with her little hands. She slowly closes the door, afraid that she’ll wake her father up.

Kia walks down the cemented slope, looking around from time to time. She hums a song as she excitedly walks to her destination. She sees a flight of stairs, so she takes a deep breath in before taking one step down.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

“Four.”

“Six.”

“Five.”

“Ten.”

That cycle repeats until she’s finally done with the steps. She continues to walk for a few more minutes until she finally sees her destined location. The flower field.

Kia squeals then runs around the field first before she goes to the flower stall. “Good morning, grandma!” She greets the owner.

“Hello, Kia. Where’s your father?” The owner asks her, looking around for any signs of her father. “Did you go here on your own?”

“He’s sleeping,” Kia answers, worrying the owner. “Can I buy flowers for my baby sister? I hurt her yesterday so I will buy flowers for her so she’ll forgive me.”

“Ah, yes, of course!” The owner smiles at her. “Do you want to help me make it?”

“Yes!” Kia cheers then runs to her behind the counter of the stall.

The owner picks her phone up and calls a certain someone. “Hey. Your friend’s child is here. I think she went here on her own with her parents knowing. Can you come pick her up? Okay, thank you.”

The two of them continue to make the bouquet, the lady doing it slower than usual to kill some time. She’s afraid that if they finish, Kia will dash out and return home on her own.

“Kia...” A familiar voice calls her, exciting her. She jumps off the chair she’s standing on and runs to the owner of the voice.

“Shin-chan!” The said man picks her up, her giving him a kiss on the cheek in the process.

“Let me get you home,” Kita tells her. She nods at his statement.

“Mina’s flowers and I have to pay!” She takes out the little bank in her bag then gives it to the store owner. “I got that money from helping mama at home!”

“If you give this to me then you will not have money anymore,” the owner says to her and Kia saddens a bit.

“It’s okay! Mina will be happy!” She smiles at the shopkeeper. The lady pretends to take out something from her bank then gives it back to her as ‘change.’ “Thank you, grandma! I’ll see you soon!”

Kia and Kita goes to his parked truck and when he opens the door, a white small dog is sitting on the front seat, wagging its tail excitedly. Kia’s eyes widen in happiness.

“A puppy!” Kia squeals, Kita settling her on the seat. He puts the seatbelt on her before he puts on his. “What’s his name?”

“Rice,” Kita responds. The dog barks, so Kia lets out a small ‘woof.’ The said dog licks her face, making her giggle. “Rice, sit. Stop moving.”

He finally starts the engine of his car and heads to your house with Kia’s directions. “Why did you leave home?”

“I bought gift for my little sister!” She shows off the flower.

“Next time, don’t leave the house without your parents. What if you got lost? You’ll never see your papa again,” Kita scolds her, eyes on the road.

“It’s okay. Kyo hates me,” Kia responds, a hint of sadness in her voice. Kita places a hand on her head, petting her.

“Don’t say that. Your papa loves you so much.”

They arrive in front of your house, so Kita carries Kia to the front door. He knocks on the door, hoping they’re at the right house.

Inside the house, Mina hears the knocks. She hits Kiyoomi on the face, waking him up. “Kya! Kya!”

“Huh?” Kiyoomi is still in a daze. He hears the knocks, so he places Mina back in the bassinet and he dashes out to the front door. Who could be knocking at his door so early in the morning? He checks the monitor and sees Kita and Kia?

Kiyoomi opens the door quickly, confused as hell. “Good morning, Sakusa-san.” Kita bows to him so he bows as well. Kia squirms off Kita and enters the house quickly to look for Mina. “Kia went out to the flower fields on her own today.”

“She did?” Kiyoomi’s sleepiness has vanished upon his words.

“Yes. And I think she might be a little upset with you,” Kita tells him.

“Ah, yes, she is. Can I know what she told you?” Sakusa awkwardly asks.

“She said you don’t love her,” Kita answers nonchalantly.

“Is that so?” Sakusa frowns. “Thank you so much for bringing her home. Thank you.” He bows multiple of times as Kita heads to his car.

Kiyoomi returns inside and sees Kia presenting the flowers to Mina. “I’m sorry for hurting you yesterday, Mina. Neechan promises not to do it again.” She plants a kiss on her forehead and the baby giggles.

“Kia,” Kiyoomi calls out and she nervously faces him. He squats down to be on the same level as her. His heart is still aching from the reason why Kia is acting like this towards him. He can’t get mad at her. “Don’t leave the house without me or your mama, okay?” She nods. “Give me a kiss.” Kia ignores him and heads to her room instead.

You get out of your room, just woken up. You see the flowers on the floor and ask Kiyoomi where it’s from. He explains to you and you get worried. “We should change the door knob.”

Kia comes out of her room with papers and a box of crayon. She sets it on the coffee table of the living room and starts scribling.

You and Kiyoomi are on the couch, just watching her. Mina is wide awake, watching her sister draw. Kia shows her a drawing. “Look, Mina! It’s me, you, and mama!”

“How about me?” Kiyoomi pouts.

“Here.” Kia points at a dot in another piece of paper. You chuckle, Kia’s response is just way too funny.

“But Kia, I am your father. I should be on the same paper,” he whines.

“No, Kyo isn’t my papa.” Kia continues to draw. Kiyoomi huffs then an idea pops in his mind. He stands up from the couch and heads to his room. A minute later, he comes back out with his training duffel bag.

“You are so petty,” you tell him and he just shrugs. Kia is his daughter and he knows how to push her button. If she’s still not crying after him this, then, maybe he isn’t her father after all.

You take out your phone and start recording. “I’m going to practice now,” Kiyoomi says loudly. Kia continues to draw, but the grip on the crayon is much tighter.

“Have fun,” you tell him, going along with him. He goes to you and kisses you all over your face. Kia eyes you, her head hung low. She mentally counts the kisses Kiyoomi is giving you.

‘That’s a lot of tomorrow.’ Kia thinks, her scribbles getting uneasy. She sees Kiyoomi go to Mina who is settled beside her. He kisses Mina a lot of times as well. ‘That’s already more than ten tomorrows!’

Kia waits for Kiyoomi to kiss her, but he just passes by her. You record the pain in Kia’s eyes as she looks up to his figure in disbelief. Kia storms off the room and goes to yours. She comes back with a face mask on hand.

“Have fun,” Kia deadpans at Kiyoomi, handing him the face mask. He looks defeated. You stiffle in your laughter, not wanting to rub salt on deep open wound.

“I will,” Kiyoomi scoffs. He won’t lose to this battle of pride against his daughter. He turns his heels to head to the front door, his footsteps loud and painfully slow in Kia’s ears.

Kiyoomi finally turns the knob of the door and Kia starts wailing. She runs to the entryway and wraps her arms around his knee.

“Don’t leave,” Kia cries. Kiyoomi picks her up, a successful smile plastered on his face. “Papa, please don’t leave!”

“Papa?” Kiyoomi cocks an eyebrow at her. “I thought I’m not your papa.”

“You’re my papa. You’re Kia’s papa,” Kia says in between sobs. She tightly hugs him, her face buried in her shoulder, leaving a wet patch on his shirt.

“Then do you love me?” Kiyoomi asks her.

“Yes. I love papa so much!” Kia claims, then cups his cheeks. She plants a kiss on his forehead, then he smiles at her.

“I love you so much more.” He nuzzles his nose against hers, her cries turning into giggles.

Kiyoomi finally sighs in relief, his worries leaving his body. He doesn’t want history to repeat itself. He wants Kia to feel loved by him because he promised her. He doesn’t want Kia to slip off his fingers even if he’s holding her tightly already. He doesn’t care if his daughters are full of snot and germs, he wants to hold them as much as he can because he knows that one day he won’t be able to do that.

He silently chuckles. He can’t believe he used to hate children. He just can’t see that self of his anymore. He thinks that if you never returned and he didn’t meet Kia, his life would be a void. He can’t think of anything that he’ll be doing now if he doesn’t have you and his daughters.

Sakusa Kiyoomi finally admits it. He loves children, especially his children.

As you watch the two of them, you feel something curl in your stomach. You quickly get off the couch and run to your bathroom. You throw up in the toilet, holding your hair away from your face. The familiar feeling hitting you like a truck.

“No fucking way,” you curse under your breath. You get up from the floor and wash your face, gargling before you get out with a tight feeling on your chest.

You see the three or them cuddling on the couch, as the Transformer movie plays. Kia under Kiyoomi’s arm while Mina is lying on his chest. You smile at the sight, but then you remember your problem.

“Omi,” you call him but he doesn’t respond, since his eyes are glued to the screen as well. “Sakusa Kiyoomi.” His head literally whips to your direction as he hears his full name come out of your mouth.

“Yes, angel?” He tries to act calm, wondering why you’re sounding so serious. You keep quiet.

You remember leaving him because he didn’t want kids. You remember how he hated Kia so much but then got wrapped around her little finger. You don’t feel great joy seeing him and your two daughters cuddling so comfortably on the couch. You’re thankful that they’re getting along and Kiyoomi came along halfway and embraced parenthood.

But you don’t know how he’ll react to your announcement seeing how happy and contented he is now with his two daughters at the moment. You’re not sure if he’ll want to have an addition this early.

“Baby, are you okay?” Kiyoomi snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Ah, yes, sorry.” You settle between his legs, your head on his stomach, just below Mina’s small feet.

“What were you going to tell me?” Kiyoomi reminds you.

“I forgot,” you giggle, hiding your nervousness.

“Are you sure?” Kiyoomi asks and you nod. He doesn’t push the topic. He places a on your head, massaging your scalp. “I suddenly thought of something.”

“What is it?” You sit up, and you see a look of discomfort on his face.

“Atsumu’s wife is pregnant with sons, right? Which means that his children will be on the same age group as our Mina. What if his sons fall in love with our Mina and then she will be stuck in a love triangle with them! Then she will eventually choose one of them and she will become a Miya! Which means I will be haunted by Atsumu forever!”

You giggle at his rambles, wondering where it came from. “I don’t think you should be worrying about Mina. I think it’s our other child who’ll be in a love triangle with Atsumu’s sons.”

“Huh?” Kiyoomi sits up, his full attention on you. “What are you trying to say? Don’t beat around the bush.”

“I think I’m pregnant again.”

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Facts:

Kiyoomi has finally gotten the son he asked for and he’s with Atsumu’s sons future love interest.

They’re named Sakusa Kin and Sakusa Mira

ha ha ha jokes on you all, this is not the last chapter

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#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #sakusa smau #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu sakusa #haikyuu series #sakusa imagines

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pink-flame · 3 years

Note

14 and 69 for Juke 😊

So I’m pretty sure I was only supposed to describe how I would write these combinations but where’s the fun in that? So I just went ahead and wrote it. Also someone else requested one that includes the bodyguard prompt so there will be a part 2 soonish. Enjoy! 💜

Bodyguard AU + Flirting under fire

Julie sighed for the third time in the last two minutes.

“Can you stop that?”

The exasperated voice expressing annoyance with her impatience was her best friend/assistant Alex. They’d been best friends since middle school and when Julie’s music career started to take off everyone had tried to convince them that working together was a disaster waiting to happen. She had worked herself up over how her being his boss would ruin everything until she finally told him how worried she was.

“Won’t you feel, I don’t know demeaned, being my assistant?”

“Jules, I’ll be assisting you to survive which you’ll never do without me. Stop overthinking.”

And five years later she was a lot better at that. She was a 22 year old successful musician, her second album and first national tour right around the corner. Unlike when they were 17 she had learned her best results always came when she was able to listen to her instincts and go with the flow.

Unless she was waiting in the lobby of her label waiting for her new bodyguard to show up. A bodyguard who was officially late, a fact that she didn’t hesitate to inform Alex of.

“By like 2 minutes, chill,” He insisted, tapping away on his phone probably arranging the rest of her day as his thumbs flew over the screen.

“Alex, if my bodyguard is late I could end up dead,” She reminded him.

“Someone’s feeling dramatic today,” Alex looked up and nodded toward the other side of the lobby. “Maybe that’s him.”

Julie turned to look and instantly shook her head.

“No way. There’s no such thing as a cute bodyguard.”

Alex raised an eyebrow at her confident statement.

“I’m pretty sure that’s just a harmful bodyguard stereotype.”

Julie wasn’t so sure. In her experience bodyguards tended to be stoic, middle aged men built like linebackers. This guy on the other hand was young, probably within a year or two of her, with shaggy hair and a bouncy energy visible even from across the room. It was true that even through his vintage band tee she could see that he was kind of ridiculously muscular but so was her personal trainer and she wouldn’t want Dante standing between her and a crazed stalker.

She stood by her first assessment though. He was definitely cute.

He was also looking around the room, his eyes landing on her and a perfect smile stretching across his face.

“You’re uh, not bodyguard is heading this way,” Alex observed.

Julie could see that.

“Are you Julie Molina?” He asked as he came to a stop directly in front of her. “I’m Luke, your new bodyguard. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re my new bodyguard?” She repeated incredulously. “And you’re not sure who I am?”

Luke shrugged, his smile seemingly unaffected by her borderline rude response.

“I was pretty sure. And your label wanted to hire someone who could blend in more easily, offer you some protection without ruining your image as approachable.”

“Oh,” Julie turned to Alex who was watching the exchange with interest. “Did you know about this?”

Her best friend smirked.

“They may have mentioned something.”

Julie was starting to feel as though she had been set up. She turned back to Luke who was still rocking slightly on his heels, standing still not seeming to be his thing. He really did not seem like the type who could intimidate an attacker but he did seem like the type who would be really distracting to have standing around if he was going to keep smiling at her like that.

So she was in trouble in multiple ways.

She did her best to keep her face neutral when she spoke again.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Luke. Everyone on my team is hired on a trial basis, so we’ll see how it goes ok?”

Luke reached up to salute.

“Ok, boss. Where we headed?”

Julie definitely did not find his insistence on being casual paired with that hard to place accent attractive. Definitely not.

Lucky for her, his attractiveness was soon offset by his ability to drive her absolutely crazy. Other than Alex he was by her side more than anyone over the next few months. He followed her to recording sessions, he followed her to music video shoots, and he followed her to fan meet and greets. But he was expected to follow her on personal excursions too and he seemed incapable of doing so silently. He made running commentary on the groceries she bought (always late at night to lower the chances of being recognized). He gave her unsolicited tips on what weights she should be lifting while she worked out. And worst of all was his insistence on giving her unasked for feedback on her music.

He wasn’t familiar with her work at all, or at least he never showed a hint of recognition when she brought up her previous songs or album. But he had a lot of opinions on what she was working on now.

“You know if you added some echoes in the chorus that song could be sick,” He remarked one day as he escorted her home after a long studio session.

Julie groaned and let her head flop back on the seat of the car they were currently being driven in.

“And you know your job is to keep me alive, not actually to critique my musical choices, right?”

He shrugged.

“I’m a good multitasker.”

And the most annoying part was he was always right. At least about the music. He seemed to always sense when she was stuck and somehow pipe up with the exact thing she needed to hear to get the music flowing again. Suggesting a tweak to a lyric or humming a guitar riff he thought she should try. It got to the point where she sometimes sought out his opinion before he could offer it on his own. He was clearly a musician as well as the world’s most unorthodox bodyguard.

He made her a better writer and if the way he grinned when he particularly liked one of her ideas was any indication, she thought she might make him better too.

She wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of saying that out loud though.

So they went on like that for a few more months. Julie never brought up his trial period again and he continued to both annoy and intrigue her daily. So far he hadn’t actually had to do much protecting though. He had helped her escape a few overly excited twelve year olds once but that was about it.

Until it wasn’t.

Julie had heard plenty of stories about celebrities whose over enthusiastic fans had crossed the line to full on stalking. She just never thought it would happen to her. She always felt so close to her fans, so connected by the music she made for them. But when she came home one day and found the door to her condo ajar she realized she may have been a little naive.

She knew she should wait for Luke, he had been held up in the lobby checking in with the building security but he should be right behind her. He always did a sweep before leaving her for the evening. But it wouldn’t be the first time she had neglected to lock her own door when she left. She had so much on her mind right now. Maybe...maybe she had left it open?

She had the whole top floor of the building to herself, you needed a special key to even get up here in the elevator. It was hard to believe someone else had managed that.

Julie eased through the slightly open door and hesitated a few steps inside. Everything seemed normal maybe…

Then she heard it. Someone was in her bedroom and it sounded like they were going through her drawers. Her stomach sank. Should she run for the door? Or would that alert whoever was in there and send them after her?

Suddenly there was a presence behind her and Julie was just on the brink of letting out an involuntary yell when a familiar hand came down to grip her shoulder.

“Shhh,” Luke whispered directly into her ear. “Come on.”

He guided her backwards to one of her closets and pulled them inside quickly, somehow managing to pull the door closed behind them soundlessly. Julie’s heart thumped wildly in her chest as she tried to keep her breathing silent. Luke positioned himself between her and the closet door, keeping one hand on her shoulder and the other resting over his belt.

Did he have a knife hidden under that band tee? A gun? Why had she never asked any questions about how exactly he was prepared to protect her before?

Still. She had to admit she felt as safe with him as she would with anyone. All of the characteristic movement she associated with Luke had drained out of him, leaving him incredibly still but still thrumming with focused energy. He was listening at the door and she could see his brain cycling through calculations of what he would do next. She had a sudden fear of him leaving her, even if it was in an attempt to defend her.

She reached out without thinking and grabbed for his hand that had been resting on her shoulder and wrapped it in hers, holding on for dear life.

He glanced back at their linked hands and then up to her face offering her a soft smile that felt more like the Luke she knew. Somehow just that was enough to let her breaths come a little easier.

“You’re ok,” He whispered.

She nodded but didn’t drop his hand.

“Did you see them? Are they armed?”

He nodded once and Julie swallowed hard.

“Just stay put for a second,” Luke whispered again. “Backup is on the way and I’ve got you.”

Julie nodded. She believed him.

She focused on keeping her breathing steady and quiet. Soon she had calmed down enough to realize just how close they were to each other. It was a small closet just meant to toss a coat or two into when you walked in the door. Julie considered herself lucky that she hadn’t gotten around to putting anything in this particular closet or she would have been smothered by fabric right now. As it stood she was seated on the ground pressed directly up against Luke where he crouched against the door, their bodies touching in just about every way they could be.

This was not the time to be thinking about how big his eyes looked from this close or how those little bits of his hair that flipped up were tickling her cheek or how he smelled really, really good.

It wasn’t the time but that didn’t stop her from thinking about all of it.

Fear did strange things to people, ok?

Only it wasn’t just the fear because she had definitely noticed all of those things before. They just hadn’t been quite so in her face. Literally.

“Thanks,” He whispered, amusement clear in his hushed tone.

Julie snapped back to reality.

“For what?” She whispered back.

“You said I smell good. Really, really good,” He replied leaning in even closer so he could say it directly into her ear.

Julie froze in mortification.

“I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“No, that didn’t happen.”

He leaned back as far as he could go which wasn’t far and smiled before reaching up with his free hand to push a curl away from her face.

“Whatever you say, boss,” He said with his most annoying smirk.

Only she wasn’t annoyed. At all.

Trouble.

She had known he would be trouble.

Suddenly a floorboard creaked directly in front of the closet and Julie dropped his hand so she could slap her own over her mouth and muffle the whimper that tried to escape.

Luke was suddenly all business again, raising his finger to shush her before reaching for the door handle. Before she could react he had yanked the door open and was leaping out.

Julie thought she might have screamed but she wasn’t sure. She heard a scuffle but kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, afraid to open them and see Luke hurt and her stalker coming straight for her.

A few long seconds later she heard the sound of the police arriving at the same time that a hand landed softly on her arm. She flinched slightly and opened her eyes to see Luke staring down at her, thoroughly out of breath but seemingly unscathed.

“You ok?” He asked.

She nodded and allowed him to pull her to her feet and lead her out of the closet. Thankfully the police had already hauled away whoever had been in her apartment but there were a couple of officers taking notes and speaking into their radios.

One approached them where Luke was keeping her upright with an arm around her shoulder.

“You’re a very lucky lady, Miss Molina. He was unarmed and your boyfriend had him in a heck of a headlock when we got here.”

Julie blushed.

“He’s not my...wait. The guy was unarmed?”

She looked up at Luke with a look that clearly demanded answers.

“He had a pen,” He shrugged as though the significance should have been obvious.

It was not.

“A pen?” She repeated. “You made me think he had a gun!”

“Hey, do you know how many ways someone can kill you with a pen?” Luke insisted. “Spoiler alert, it’s a lot.”

The cop looked back and forth between them with confused amusement.

“Well, we’ll leave you to it. We’ll check in with your building security and try to figure out how he got in. In the meantime you might want to look into hiring some protection.”

Julie felt Luke bristle next to her and couldn’t help but smile smugly.

“You’re right, I might.”

Then they were alone and Luke was moving through each room, checking for himself to see that everything was as it should be.

Eventually on his third check, Julie grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop.

“Thank you, Luke. For everything. As much as it pains me to say it...you were amazing today.”

He grinned, and suddenly he was the Luke who followed her around and annoyed her with how right he was about everything again.

“Yeah, well, you’re amazing everyday, Boss. So I guess we’re even.”

Julie could feel herself blushing again.

Trouble.

She was in so much trouble.

#trope prompt game #fanfiction #juke #jatp #my fics

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 3 years

Text

Jin: “I just hope anyone who likes me is happy”

When you’re trying to speak candidly with someone, it’s not always easy to be pleasant and considerate at the same time. Jin is all those things. “Butter” is staying on top of the Billboard Hot 100. How does it feel? Jin: I can’t really get a feel for what kind of response it’s getting since I can only go to and from work right now. Since all the awards shows are done remotely/have moved online, too, we can’t accept any awards in person or feel the vibe in person or anything. And I don’t use the Internet much, really. Consequently, I ended up feeling less pressure and I could enjoy the promotional period itself a little better. I’m just glad we’re doing well in the meantime.

In your last interview with Weverse Magazine, you talked about the pressure you felt after “Dynamite” topped the Billboard Hot 100, but it seems like you’re mostly over that. Jin: You could say that I cleared my mind, or that I worked through some things. I’m pretty sure I am doing better than then. I’m keeping a pretty regular routine now that I’m getting accustomed to commuting life, even though my schedule is sometimes a bit erratic. When I had to keep working without a single day off, I was sometimes really tired because I had things of my own to do after work before going to bed, but now after cycling through this routine for a while I’m a little healthier and I’m getting a little more sleep, too.

Before “Butter” came out, you released a solo song, “Abyss.” You were very forthcoming about the psychological difficulties you revealed in the lyrics and what you wrote about the song. What effect did releasing “Abyss” have on you? Jin: I felt a kind of relief. I want my fans to picture me as being happy and I don’t actually want them to know that I feel that way, but now and then I feel the need to talk about what’s inside me. It’s been a few years since I expressed it in a song or explained anything about it so I feel a tiny bit relieved.

Part of the lyrics say, “I want to know more about you today.” That overlaps with the line, “I hold my breath and enter my ocean,” to make a song that’s like you’re meeting your own inner self. Jin: Even I don’t know myself very well, and I was also depressed at the time, and that’s how I chose to face that part of myself. I never had a chance to meet myself, and I just feel like I was submerged in my own ocean and came back up to walk on the beach.

It’s not a perfect solution, but just the act itself of trying to go deep into the place with the answer appears to have had a positive influence on you. Jin: I’m trying. I thought that sort of exercise was right for me, but if this doesn’t resolve anything, I’ll try something else, and then something else. If I’m having a hard time, I can ask the label for some time off to do something else. I feel like just being able to do that, even, is a little bit helpful itself.

Is your style of singing in that song related to the message you wanted to convey? You tried to reveal the problems you had in a frank manner and solve them in some way, and the song disclosed your emotions as straightforwardly as the lyrics did. Jin: I handled the overall direction and composition of the song with Kye Bumzoo, one of the producers, and Pdogg, the other producer, directed while I recorded the vocals. We decided I would just go with my gut and not try to make it sound pretty or anything. That goes for the lyrics, too. I prefer songs that convey emotion in a calm, straightforward manner, both when I sing and when I’m listening to music.

Then what about “Butter”? Although it’s also straightforward like “Abyss,” the feelings it expresses are more pleasant. Jin: Seriously, sometimes I think how great it’d be if I could sing this kind of song exclusively—other than the chorus. (laughs) I mean, every song we sing is so high-pitched. If you take out the chorus of this song, I thought I could do this song live pretty comfortably, no matter how hard the dance moves are.

You sing the “Butter” chorus in a light, high pitch. You must have given a lot of thought about how to express yourself for that part. Jin: I felt pressure because the notes in the chorus are particularly high, so I put all my power into singing it, but I actually ended up putting too much power into my vocals, so I kept thinking I have to ease up and chill. When we were doing the first performance in particular, I forgot all of that and put power behind my vocals. I get nervous for every performance, but some make me especially nervous. I feel it sometimes whenever I do those performances. Inside I’m like, Right—Seokjin, you said you would ease up, remember? Anyway, it’s also nice that I get to show off a lot in “Butter.” You know I’m handsome, right? (laughs) It makes me happy that I can show off my handsome face to my heart’s content and show you everything I’m capable of. I wanted to show all of this off in a performance as quickly as possible.

“Butter” opens with you making gestures with your hands while looking cheerfully into the camera. I imagine you had a lot of fun preparing for the performance. Jin: Practice is honestly a burden, though. Usually when we practice, I’m slow at learning the moves. So I’m not very good at it. [And] when I practiced with [performance director Son] Sung Deuk, he was really worried at first. This is tough—can he pull it off? He worried a lot, right up until we got up for our first performance, but when he saw me again after two or three weeks of doing “Butter,” he said to me, Whoa, is this Seokjin, the guy getting all that hot feedback lately? (laughs) He said I was dancing great. At first I hadn’t seen the response, so I asked him if he was teasing me, but he said, “No, everybody’s saying you’re dancing great.” If that’s really true, it’s all thanks to him. (laughs)

In the “ARMY Corner Store” video uploaded to YouTube for FESTA 2021 in celebration of the eighth anniversary of your debut, you said you put a lot of effort into following the songs and dances. Aren’t you satisfied with how “Butter” turned out? I feel like the song was more enjoyable thanks to the character you’ve built up over time. Jin: Well, the song where I’m most satisfied with myself is “Butter,” because I’ve been honing my skills for a long time at this point, and “Butter” is our latest release. As time goes by and we come out with more songs, and if I improve more, my favorite song will be whatever is newest, and then “Butter” might not be as satisfying to me anymore. But it’s the most satisfying one for now.

In what ways have you gotten better? Jin: When I first started this job, I practiced according to the staff’s directions, and even now in the case of dancing I’m still striving to follow along, but it takes me less time to adjust than it used to. When I review after practice, I can see how it’s going and what I need to do. It takes a little less time to line myself up with the beat than before, and I think I’ve become able to refine it a bit better. I was also happy this time around when Hobi told me my dancing really improved.

How was performing for “Permission to Dance”? Jin: I really like the song, but when we perform it, I wish I’d had more time to prepare. We had a comeback in May with “Butter” and then a fan meeting concert in June, so we got ready for “Permission to Dance” at the same time we were filming performances of “Butter.” We didn’t have anything else we had to work on before “Butter” so we had plenty of time to practice it, but we had to practice “Permission to Dance” and get ready for the fan meeting simultaneously. Time’s always tight, but I think I could’ve done even better if I could’ve taken a little more time. I wish I had had more time to put a little more effort in.

The more time you spend practicing, the better the outcome, and the more ambitious you end up becoming. Jin: So, I’m not good at memorizing lyrics, for instance. I think some of the other members can catch on real quick, but it’s not like that for me. So if we do something like a new song or a special one at a fan meeting, I have to spend more time preparing than the others. When a new song’s coming out, I have to practice for at least 4-5 days to get the hang of it.

You performed the rap in “Daechwita” for BTS 2021 MUSTER SOWOOZOO, but it’s really rare to see you rapping. I imagine the process you went through to practice was intense. Jin: It was so hard. I had to do “Daechwita” and “Chicken Noodle Soup,” but it was only about a month before the concert when the set list was decided. During that time, I’d come home after finishing work, turn on the music for “Daechwita” and practice it for 15 minutes, then do “Chicken Noodle Soup” after that, and then go straight to sleep. The next day I’d wake up, go to work, come home and do another 15 minutes of “Daechwita” and more “Chicken Noodle Soup.” I kept repeating that for a really long time. I’m terrible at memorizing lyrics so that kind of took a while.

That’s a lot of time to keep practicing constantly like that. Your work-life balance must also be important, too. It’s difficult to practice beyond a certain amount of time every day without having some time to relax. Jin: Exactly. Like I said, my skills are lacking when it comes to memorizing lyrics, but I think I have other abilities that cover up for what I lack. In fact, I enjoy constantly memorizing things like that. My gift is my ability to enjoy practicing repeatedly, so if I somehow succeed before the deadline, I give myself praise. (laughs) Practicing takes me a long time, so I just decided to treat it as one big project. The way I do it is, when I say it’s time for a break, it’s time for a break, and I rest to my heart’s content.

You seemed to be talking about the importance of time spent outside working hours in “ARMY Corner Store” when you said the measure of your satisfaction is the degree to which you can pass your day meaninglessly. As a member of BTS, you must not have that much time to spend as you please. Jin: Koreans my age have no choice but to self-improve these days. You have to improve your qualifications, learn things, and people even tell you your hobbies have to be productive, even though they’re hobbies. After being taught that way since I was young, I think I need to follow through on that somehow. I feel like I have to do something productive, even when I’m trying to take a break. But if I don’t do a single thing and just loaf around in bed, or do some unproductive, unnecessary activity, I actually end up feeling satisfied. Go from sleeping to waking up, waking up to eating, eating to sleeping again. Wake up from sleep and suddenly want to watch TV, and go watch it. If there’s nothing good on TV, play a game, then look at the clock, and if it’s late, sleep. I think everyone needs days like this.

That time must become all the more important when you’re busy being a member of BTS, since you don’t have much time to spend that way. Jin: When I’m not working, all I really want to do is something I enjoy for myself. In that case, people might wonder why you’re doing things that won’t help you in life, but I think that time’s important for everyone. Society is always seeking out the things that are useful. And that’s good, too, but for our own sake, I think we require time to find stability in our own minds, even if it looks useless in the eyes of others.

Speaking of which, you posted a picture of yourself eating with Bang Si-hyuk, the producer, on Weverse. It’s amazing that two people with so much influence and things to do can take the time to relax together. Jin: People around the office might feel he is unapproachable, but I don’t find him to be like that. (laughs) So I asked him in passing to have a drink and he suddenly said, “Okay, when are you free?” Most of the time, though, I only meet like that on a spur of the moment, so I said, “Uh, I’m busy right now. This day’s all booked up, too, and so’s this day.” (laughs) “Then just give me a rough time and I’ll make time when you’re done.” We talked back and forth like that and he came to see me the next day for dinner when I was all finished with work. And he said he’d cook for me and buy wine, too. Anyway, it was a nice meal.

You couldn’t have felt that comfortable with him before your debut (laughs) but as time passed, many things have changed. Everyone became so successful, too. Jin: You could say that I was in a position where I was looking for a job when I was a trainee. At the time, I thought people who got chosen seemed really cool, but by contrast I had no confidence. I don’t think it would’ve actually happened this way, but I thought if I talked to someone who found work, they would give me the cold shoulder, sort of. So I didn’t feel very confident.

I think you showed that you have confidence with the joke you told on tvN’s You Quiz on the Block about your older brother calling you Mr. Seokjin lately, or when you talked about the mood when an older relative gave you money for Korean New Years on V LIVE. That you can easily accept anyone no matter how they handle you. Jin: Right. If I don’t behave that way, everyone else has a harder time. People I know will say “the superstar is here” as a joke. If I say, “Superstar? What are you talking about? Don’t say that,” and give them a serious look, they’ll have no idea what to call me next time or what to talk about. Honestly, if someone who’s meeting me for the first time or doesn’t see me that often responds in that kind of somewhat exaggerated way, they might think it’s fun. I’m sure that’s the way I’d react if I met a really famous person. So if someone says, “Aha, the superstar is here,” I say, “the superstar has come!” too. As long as I don’t respond in a serious way so everyone can tell it’s a joke, the ice is broken.

Now that you’re a superstar for real—not a joke—is there anything you’d tell the old, unconfident Jin from the past if you could meet him? Jin: I don’t know what I would tell him. I want to tell him to keep his head up (laughs) but if I gave my old self too much to think about, he might end up feeling exhausted after practice and give up. I think it would be enough just to tell him to work hard.

Where do you find the ambition to keep working hard, even now? Jin: From ARMY’s reactions, of course. I’d say I’m trying harder and trying to do well without exhausting myself so I can see people on Twitter or Weverse saying I’ve improved or that I’m doing a good job. And these days we have to do the performances on film, and we shoot them in advance for the sake of quality. Because of that, we usually record the performances long before the songs get released, which means we have to change our looks for the recording. It’s hard to go public with my new look until anything’s officially released for that reason, or else there could be spoilers. That makes me all the more eager to show off the best parts of myself in our performances. If it weren’t for the current situation, I could instantly see our fans’ reactions, so it’s a shame they can’t see me working this hard.

What would you like to say to ARMY? Jin: I hope our fans don’t lose their laughter. I’m not really good at saying those kinds of cheesy things. It’s not in my personality. I feel embarrassed and cringey when I talk like that and I can’t take myself seriously, so I try to keep it to a minimum. But fans watch us as a hobby, you know? Hobbies are all about enjoying yourself and being able to laugh, so I want to look happy for them, not exhausted. I go out of my way to make funny posts or leave funny replies on Weverse to make them happier. I just hope anyone who likes me is happy. And I don’t want them to see anything bad. That’s how I feel about my work.

#bangtan #jin #m:weverse magazine #210728

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vickyskpopkingdom · 3 years

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Baekhyun :: working blues

request: Hii! Im rlly into baekhyun's new album rn and i was hoping u could write a fluff where ur just having a rough day and he sings u to sleep pls!! Rlly like ur fluff writes btw 💕💕

thank you so much for your kind words! i haven't written about exo in a long, long time but i hope that you still like what i came up with!

warnings: overworking, stress

1.8k words, gn reader

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Sometimes you felt like the world was collapsing on you. The weight on your shoulders got too heavy at times and you were just tired. So tired, so tired. Today was one of those days.

The work you had to do didn't seem to end. At this point you couldn't even count how many e-mails you had answered, how many texts you have read, how many calls you made and how many words you have written. Your eyes were so tired they started to water at the sight of the bright screen of your laptop in front of you. When had it become so dark around you? Hasn't it been noon just a few minutes ago?

A quick glance through your bedroom window and towards the clock on your wall told you something different. It was already eight p.m., the streetlamp outside your window was the only source of light right now other than your laptop. With a sigh you leaned back into your chair and tried stretching your arms as well as your neck and legs. Every joint in your body seemed to make a protesting cracking noise and as you tried to massage your neck, your muscles burned with protest.

You sighed again. Maybe you really should invest in one of those fancy office chairs that claimed to be a blessing for your whole body. At the thought of the price however you shook that thought out of your head.

Standing up you got through another round of stretching your whole body and decided to check out the kitchen for food. It only hit you as the dim light of the fridge illuminated your face that you were supposed to go grocery shopping today. Empty shelves greeted you back and your stomach grumbled angrily.

You tried hard not to scream out of frustation. Nothing wanted to work your way these days and you were honestly so tired of it. For some time you were able to tell yourself that everything would work out and that you would find your working blues again but that was yet to happen. Quietly you closed the fridge door again, sliding down against it to the floor.

The project you had been assigned at the start of last week was way more complicated than you had anticipated, the sources you were thinking of using turned out to be a scam. Adding to that the promotion you had been so sure of getting had been given to someone else and while you could understand that they deserved it, you were sure that you would have deserved it as well. Not only was your fridge emtpty but you had been neglecting your healthy eating habits for quite some time now, which only frustated you more.

And today all of these things seemed to add up all at once, crushing you under their weight.

When was the last time you really had a good nights sleep? You had worked late and gotten up early, eating only bits and pieces of instant food, sitting at your desk all day and falling into bed only to repeat the same cycle over and over again. Right now you were fighting to keep the tears at bay but the merry-go-round in your head kept spinning, piling up more and more worries.

When was the last time you had seen your friends? When was the last time you even properly talked to them? You were always telling them that you were busy with work when they asked to hang out. They never pressured you to still come with them but you knew that they would love to see you again even for a few hours. Yet you still could not get yourself to take their invitations, the thought of your unfinished project sitting in the back of your head constantly.

When was the last time your boyfriend--?

Just as the tears started flowing down your face the doorbell rang. Its sound surprised you so much that you jumped up, your heart beating fast. The clock in your kitchen read nine p.m. One hour went by while you were staring holes in the walls and drowned in your thoughts.

You couldn't really think of a reason why someone would visit you this late, on a weekday nonetheless. But not answering the door wasn't an option either, you would just start to worry about 'what-ifs'. So you decided to take a peak through the peephole in your door.

Your heart picked up its pace at you saw a familiar face illuminated by the light of a smartphone-screen, lookin worried and confused. Fumbling with your keys you opened the door and the person looked up from their phone.

"Hey Bambi, are you okay?"

Baekhyuns voice filled your ears as soon as he looked into your face. He eyed you up and down, making sure you were alright. "I texted and tried to call you for at least two hours now. There was no reaction from you whatsoever."

As you allowed him to step into your home, you sighed. "Sorry, I threw my phone across the room at one point and didn't pick it up again."

Your boyfriend chuckled as he got rid of his shoes and coat, placing both neatly onto their usual spots in the entrance of your flat. Just the sight of him, doing everyday things, smiling, talking was an instant boost for your mood. Now that he was here you fully realized just how much you had missed his presence.

"Why would you throw your phone?", Baekhyun questioned.

You made a dismissive move with your hand, not wanting to talk about the infuriating call you had to make a few hours ago. "I was frustrated", you only said.

Together you and Baekhyun made your way towards your bedroom. Just as you stepped into the room and turned on the lights you remembered the state you left your working place in. But it was too late to make him turn around now. Quickly you tried to tidy up the place a little bit, hiding the traces of your overworking as Baekhyun cleared his throat to gain your attention.

"Are you drowning yourself in work again?"

You stopped dead in your tracks. This wasn't the first time he had seen you piling up work on your shoulders and ending up being unable to do anything else. Back then you had promised him to take better care of yourself or at least take real breaks once in a while to catch a breath.

"Maybe...."

Now it was Baekhyuns turn to sigh. "Did you eat today? And before you answer i mean 'eat a proper meal'."

Picking up your phone from the floor you sat yourself down on the bed. "No, not really. It's just this project..."

Baekhyun shook his head at you, but you still noticed the small smile on his face. "You are such a hard-working person. But you need to allow yourself some time to breathe, you know?"

His voice was calm, sounding like music to your ears. Even after all this time you had been in a relationship with him you were still surprised by how easily he could make you relax.

"Yes, I know."

"And since I am such a caring and awesome boyfriend", he said, rustling with a plastic bag you only now noticed in his hands, "I brought you some food."

As you looked into his smiling face you couldn't help but ask yourself how you got so lucky.

The meal was good, it was your favorite and having Baekhyun by your side made you feel even more grounded. It almost felt like you gained new energy after a week of complete exhaustion and constant worrying. While you were eating the both of you talked about everything and nothing, catching up, telling stories and sharing your newest netflix suggestions.

The evening proceeded and your eyes landed on the clock again. It was late, if you were still caught up in your workaholic-lifestyle you would have already been asleep right now. However surprisingly you currently were not even close to worrying about getting up the next morning. What bothered you most right now was that this evening would end and eventually you would have to go to sleep an wake up in the morning, getting back to your work.

Baekhyun seemed to notice the frown on your face sooner than you could hide it again. "What's wrong?"

You shrugged. "This is nice, simply being together with you. But you probably have to leave soon and then tomorrow I have to work on this stupid project again."

"I can stay the night, if you want me to of course."

"I didn't want to pressure you into--"

"You didn't", he interrupted you, before you could end the sentence and feel like you made him stay against his will, "I actually wanted to ask if I could stay anyways. Tomorrow is one of my free days. I could even keep you company while you work."

Your chest felt warm at his words. "I would love that."

Soon you two found yourselves back in your bed, bodies entangled with each other, quiet breaths sounding through the room. You could feel your eyelids growing heavy, but as soon as you closed your eyes all you could think of was the next morning, the project, the unanswered emails, the calls.

"Still can't calm down, Bambi?", Baekhyun whispered in your ear, while slowly stroking your hair.

With closed eyes you shook your head. "I can't take my mind off of work."

The next thing you heard was quiet humming coming from Baekhyun. You could feel the vibration of his vocal chords against your own body. His voice really was a blessing for everyones ears, he could carry emotions through singing that you weren't even able to put into words. His songs made you happy, they made you cry occasionally, they made you feel calm or made you miss something you didn't even knew existed. It was a gift.

His humming transformed into words, calmly sang into the otherwise dark and quiet room.

It's a night filled with a single stream of light

You're my timely rain, Bambi

I don't want to waste even a second of this night just

being the two of us

As you listened to his singing, you could finally feel your muscles relaxing, your brain calming down and your whole body drifting towards sleep. There were no worrysome thoughts turning your mind upside down anymore, there was only Baekhyun and his voice filling your head with images of your favorite places, your favorite memories and him. The warmth of his body under the blankets made you feel safe, at home. This was were you belonged.

And while Baekhyun continued with the song you fell into a deep sleep, one that you deserved after all the work you had done. You already knew that you found your blues again. Everything would work out again, just like you had always thought yourself. And all you had needed was just a small push in the right direction from the right person.

I don't want to wake up from this dream, keep this tempo

I hope the sun doesn't rise while I keep my eyes closed

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I really hope you enjoyed this one! It was nice to write something again but I do feel like i am a little bit out of training i guess haha

and also if you feel like the reader in this scenario, please remember that there will be better days & that life is more than working day to day! take a break, make some tea, get some fresh air and get back to your work with a fresh mind; you can do it!!

#baekhyun #byun baekhyun #bbh #baekyhun imagine #baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fluff #x reader #baekhyun x reader #gn reader #exo #baekhyun bambi #exo scenario #exo imagine #exo x reader #baekhyun fic

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goofygomez · 3 years

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Moonlit Wishes - A Rayllum Fanfic

Hey everyone, long time no see! I've been on hiatus for a very long time, and it's very quite good for my mental health. Recently I binged The Dragon Prince on Netflix (highly recommend it) and decided to do as I do and write a fic for it.

This one in particular is inspired by @raayllum's amazing Hiatus Hoedown. This time I'm taking a crack at Day 1: Talking to the moon. Hope you guys enjoy it.

Here's a link to the Ao3 story, if you'd prefer to read it on there.

Description: Callum and Rayla discuss the differences in their cultures' way of wishing upon celestial bodies, fluff ensues.

Wordcount: 3386

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Callum had always loved the moon, even as a child. It had always looked to him as a watchful eye, surveying the world beneath it. His mother would take him on nightly strolls along the castle to go see it, and she knew the secret passages to the highest towers without alerting the Crownsguard. She called them ‘their little adventures’. Of course, she was the Queen, so they did not really need to sneak around, but Callum found their nighttime wanderings something… magical.

They would stare up at the moon and tell each other about their days, sometimes sharing a jelly tart from the town baker until eventually, he’d fall asleep on her lap. He never did get to tell his mother how much those nights meant to him before it was too late. Nearly ten years later, that void in his heart still ached every time he looked up at that beautiful silver moon.

“What’ya thinking about?” came the voice of Rayla from behind him. He turned to see his girlfriend tilting her head at him.

“Nothing, just… thinking,” he said.

“Oh, that’s specific,” teased the elf.

Callum rolled his eyes and took her hand in his, four fingers against five. Her silver hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, a small braid poking its way through it on her left side. Her lilac eyes, bright and alert as ever, looked into his green ones, and a goofy grin spread across her lips.

“Just thinking about you… and how beautiful you are,” he said, trying his best at sounding smooth. It was partially downplayed by his voice cracking, but she giggled nonetheless.

“Shut up, you dummy.” She punched him playfully on the shoulder.

“C’mon, I wanna show you this place,” he said, gesturing behind him.

They were on the outskirts of the Katolian Capital’s forest, walking down a partially obscured path. Large, ancient trees stood like sentries on either side of them, their tops barely obscuring the silver rays of moonlight seeping through the branches, casting odd, elongated shadows over the packed dirt. Dead leaves and pine needles were strewn about haphazardly, almost deliberately to accentuate their footfalls.

Callum thought of the last time he came to this particular spot with his brother and step-father. It seemed an eternity ago that they’d played ‘I spy’ on this very path. Now, their father was dead and Ezran, newly crowned King of Katolis, had spent the first few months of his rule advocating for the union of the human kingdoms with the Xadian population, with Callum at his side. It had not been easy so far, as some wounds were still fresh in the other rulers’ minds, but Ezran had still not lost hope.

Rayla had been with them most of the time, trying her best to be an ambassador for the young king, though her status with the Moonshadow elves was still under review. Callum assured her that they would eventually be forced to lift her banishment, but some of the elder elves were… stubborn in their thinking. He just hoped they would listen to them when they arrived there next month.

After a few minutes of silent pacing, punctuated solely by their soft footsteps and the occasional chirping of crickets, they arrived at a large clearing. Just ahead of them, a small lake shimmered under the moonlight. The packed dirt on the path gave way to lush green grass, illuminated both by the starry sky and fireflies. The bank closest to them was filled with small boulders, eroded by millennia of contact with the eerily still waters.

Callum stepped back to let Rayla see the whole picture and grinned.

“So? What do you think?”

The elf glanced around the clearing with awe and wonder in her eyes. Callum did not fail to notice her disgruntled expression directed at the peaceful water.

“Don’t worry, we’re not going into the lake,” he assured her, chuckling when Rayla sighed dramatically.

“Thank the Moon,” she said, nodding. “If you had brought me to a nighttime swim, I would probably break up with you.”

“Duly noted.” He took her hand again and led her to one of the boulders, careful not to steer her too close to the water’s edge. “I just thought it would be fun to just… hang out here.”

They sat on the rock and spread out, stretching their legs slightly after a half-hour walk down the forest.

“It does seem peaceful,” she conceded, laying her head on his shoulder. “Been a while since we were able to do this.”

Callum sighed. “I know.” Between assisting his brother and Rayla’s constant trips to and from Xadia, they had not had much time to themselves as a couple. “I promise to make a little more time when you’re here.”

“At least it’s for a good cause, right?” said Rayla. “I mean, Ez needs all the help he can get. Plus, we’ve got a lot of time to… catch up once things settle down.” She looked up at him with a fond smile.

Callum thought of all the times, even before they got together, that they just sat on a patch of dirt or some rock, looking at the sky and wondering when their mission would be over; wondering if they’d ever see their homes again, or would live to tell the tale.

“I just want to know when that is. Even just an estimate would be nice,” he said half-heartedly, letting out a deep breath and leaning forward to place a caste kiss on her lips. “But this is worth the wait.”

“Look who’s all sappy all of a sudden,” she said with a grin and kissed him again. “I love you, dummy.”

“I love you, too.”

They sat there, enjoying each other’s presence for what felt like forever, but could only have been ten minutes. A soft breeze had picked up from the east, creating ripples on the otherwise still surface of the lake; distorting the reflection from the crescent moon above. He looked up once more, wondering if his mother was out there somewhere, overjoyed that her sons were following in her and Harrow’s footsteps.

Just as he scanned the sky for whatever signs she would send him, something incredible happened. Almost as if called upon by his thoughts, a shooting star streaked across the star-strewn sky, bright and beautiful. As fast as it had come, it vanished.

“Look, did you see that?” he exclaimed excitedly, pointing at the spot where it had just been.

“Uh, what am I looking at?” asked Rayla, confused.

“The shooting star, right there.” He closed his eyes and muttered under his breath. He could feel Rayla staring at him, and after a few seconds, opened his eyes to see her wide-eyed and thoroughly confused.

“Wha- What just happened?” she said, glancing between him and the sky.

“It’s a shooting star,” he said matter-of-factly. “When you see one, you make a wish. Don’t elves do that?”

“Wait, humans wish upon shooting stars?” she asked incredulously. “Why?”

Callum shrugged. “I don’t know, we just do. It’s a tradition or something.”

“Humans are weird.”

“Sure, what do you guys wish upon? The moon?” he said with a smirk, enjoying a little too much how pink her cheeks got.

Rayla scoffed. “As a matter of fact, we do,” she said, trying and failing to sound indignant.

“But the moon is there every night,” he said, glancing up at the sky and frowning. “That’s a lot of wishes.”

“We only wish on a New Moon, dummy,” she explained patiently.

“Why only the New Moon?” Callum asked, genuinely curious. It seemed logical enough that they wouldn’t wish on the moon every single night, but any insight into his girlfriend’s culture was something he did not take lightly.

“Well, the idea is that a New Moon signals the beginning of another cycle. The halfway point between two Full Moons, which is when we’re at our strongest. The Moon Arcanum supposedly… blesses us when we’re at our weakest.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Callum said pensively. “More sense than whatever humans came up for shooting stars, at least.”

“So… what did you wish for just now?”

“I can’t say.”

“Why? Is it embarrassing?” teased Rayla, poking him in the ribs. He chuckled but shook his head.

“No, because if I tell you, it won’t come true.”

“Well that’s no fun,” she said with a pout.

Callum shrugged and scooted closer to Rayla, taking her right hand in his and squeezing gently. They both sighed contently, almost as if they knew what the other was thinking; could sense the peacefulness and the stillness of the air around them.

“Tell you what, if it comes true, I’ll let you know,” he said, kissing the top of her head, careful to avoid her horns.

“Sounds good,” she said. “So what were you muttering before? I have good hearing but it barely sounded like words.”

“It’s like a little song you say before you make your wish?”

Rayla studied him curiously, nodding along as he spoke. She seemed to be thinking about something, debating with herself. She blinked once and looked into his eyes.

“Would you teach me?” she asked softly.

“You wanna make a wish?” he said. When she nodded, he sat up straight, facing her. He took her hands in his and grinned. “Repeat after me. Star bright, star light.”

She nodded and followed his instructions. She closed her eyes and sighed before saying, “Star bright, star light.”

“First star I see tonight.” He thought it might not count, as she had not done it before, but it was the thought that counted, right?

She repeated the phrase and her lips curved ever so slightly upwards.

“Wish I may, wish I might,” he continued

“Wish I may, wish I might.”

“Have the wish I wish tonight,” he concluded, opening his eyes and seeing her mouthing the end of the song, nodding almost solemnly. Her eyes fluttered slowly open and landed on him.

Callum heard the rustling of leaves above them, possibly from a squirrel scrutinizing them or a songbird perching on a branch. He thought of all the time they’d have as a couple, especially after their help was not as imperative in the running of Katolis, to just… be happy together. How long had he refrained from letting himself be truly content with his life? And now, being with Rayla, he couldn’t even imagine anything or anyone else for him.

He leaned forward and kissed her ever so gently. Her lips tasted of moonberries, and her violet eyes, almost glowing in the dark, closed as she melted into the kiss and he felt her hand on his scarf, not quite pulling him in but not pushing him either. When they broke apart, he was grinning.

“My wish did come true,” he said, cheekily.

“Mine too,” she replied.

Rayla’s footsteps were light and gentle on the soft ground; years of training to be an assassin still ingrained in her every move. Even eight years after meeting who she now knew was the love of her life, there still was a part of her that kind of missed those times when life was so… straightforward. Even so, as she looked back at Callum – now a few inches taller than he’d been when they met, and growing what could only be described as the faintest shadow of a beard – she knew in her bones that that little part of her was wrong.

He looked impressive with his fur overcoat, his immaculately woven violet undershirt (which he claimed matched her eyes) and his leather boots. He had opted not to wear his signature red scarf tonight, which she suspected was just so he could more prominently showcase his facial hair, which he was weirdly proud of.

Callum stood a little ways away from Rayla, looking up at the moon with closed eyes and a sort of… wistful expression on his face. Her mind instantly brought the memory of one of their first dates to this magical clearing in Katolis, where she’d taught him the strange human tradition of wishing upon shooting stars. Moon and Stars, Ethari had burst out laughing when she had told him. Humans were weird.

Now, her weird human was stoically standing with his hands on his hips. She cleared her throat, leaning against a nearby tree. Callum shook his head as though he hadn’t realized she was there, and grinned.

“Hey, sorry, did I space out?” he said.

“Yeah, it was daytime when you stopped there,” she replied, arching an eyebrow.

He snorted and held out his hand, which she gratefully took. “I’m sure it was less than a minute.”

They resumed their stroll down the familiar path, pine needles crunching merrily under Callum’s less graceful steps. She only rolled her eyes in response and lay her head on his shoulder, doing her very best not to impale him with one of her horns, which had also grown considerably as she reached adulthood. She knew humans had a rather short life expectancy; at least shorter than the oldest elves she knew back in Xadia, but at least their early years of development were more or less even.

She wondered in silence just how much of a difference their physiology would make down the road. Would she outlive him by decades? Would the rest of her human friends do the same…? She shook her head and pushed away those thoughts, choosing instead to bask in the moment; being here with Callum was all that mattered.

Eventually, the trees thinned, thick trunks giving way to mere shrubbery as the clearing they’d been seeking opened up in front of them. A beautiful, albeit terrifying lake, loomed ahead of them, its unnervingly calm waters barely rippling in the autumn breeze. She could see the reflection of the stars in it, flashing intermittently like little candles flickering in the night.

Wordlessly, Callum and Rayla kept following the path until they reached their favourite spot: a large boulder, far enough away from the shore that her skin didn’t prickle with anxiety every time a particularly strong current grazed the edges. Callum had attempted to help her through her fear multiple times, but the best he’d ever gotten her to do was get on a boat without getting extremely seasick.

It wasn’t as though sea travel was a major obstacle between the human kingdoms and Xadia. Most if not all the roads to and from her ancestral home were entirely land-based, so she hadn’t had to brave the murderous ocean ever since their stint with Captain Villads, which she still claimed was one of the worst experiences of her life.

“You alright?” she heard Callum say beside her, as they sat atop the boulder and looked out toward the lake. “You look a little pale.”

“Just a little… cold,” she lied, shrugging. It wasn’t a complete lie, of course. The breeze had picked up considerably in the last half hour they’d been walking, but she was pretty used to the cold when living in Katolis.

Ever the gentleman, Callum took off his overcoat and draped it over her shoulders, ignoring her protests. She grinned sheepishly at him and cuddled closer to him, the warmth of the coat enveloping her only slightly more than her closeness to him.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice soft. He moved around for a second before settling in against the rock and wrapping an arm around her.

“Anything for you,” he said. She felt her cheeks heat up, almost childishly. He had complimented her thousands of times over the years, but it still didn’t mean she was used to it.

“Y’know, there was an actual reason I brought us here tonight,” he added after a few minutes of silence.

“Oh?” she said, looking up at him curiously.

“Well, I just wanted to, uh, tell you how much I love you, and how much better you’ve made not only my life, but everyone’s,” he said, clearly fumbling for words, as though he had rehearsed this and did not want to get a single thing wrong. “You’re beautiful and kind, and strong, and…” he trailed off, looking down at her apologetically. “I’m very bad at this.”

She chuckled and sat up straight, facing him as she had all those years ago under a crescent moon. “No, go on,” she said. “I like when you get all flustered.”

“Oh, then this should be a joyride for you,” he said, assuming her same posture. “I just… wanted to show you just how much I love you. Ever since you tried to kill me that night…” He looked at her with a smirk, and it was her turn to flush. “You changed my life, and I wouldn’t trade these last 8 years for the world. You make me feel whole, even in my worst days, or when I’m frustrated by a new spell, or a council meeting gone wrong. You’re always there for me. So…”

He turned slightly to the side and shoved his hand into his pocket, struggling against what she assumed were nerves. She was extremely curious as to where this was going, but her suspicions were rising. Eventually, he pulled out what seemed to be a rather small box. It was violet, like his undershirt and her eyes.

“Rayla,” Callum said, sucking in a breath and looking at her with those big green eyes of his sparkling in the starlight. He opened the small box and Rayla could finally see that it was a silver ring. It was adorned with two tiny amethysts, glinting brightly up at her, flanking what she recognized at once as a Moon Opal. Her breath caught in her throat, tears threatening to break surface with her eyes.

“Will you marry me?” she heard him say, almost hazily; as though in a dream.

She took several long looks at him, then back at the ring, then finally landed on his face, contorted with an awkwardness only Callum could pull off as cute instead of downright constipated. She let out a small laugh and nodded slowly, watching as his emerald green eyes widened, as though he couldn’t quite believe them.

“Yes,” she said softly. “Yes, I’ll marry you, you big dummy.” She launched herself at him and enveloped him in a rather strong hug, tears now flowing freely from her eyes, because who would even judge her for it? After a few seconds – or it might have been an hour – or several moonlit nights – they broke apart. She kissed him deeply and he grabbed the ring from the box, taking her left hand with his own.

“Uh…” he hesitated, looking from her hand to her face. “Which hand do elves wear wedding rings on?”

Rayla couldn’t help but giggle. In any other circumstance, she would have rolled her eyes and playfully punched him in the shoulder. This time, however, she just shrugged. “This one.” She pointed to her fourth finger, smiling.

A little more confidently, he took her hand and gingerly placed the ring on it. She heard him breathe a sigh of relief and chuckled.

“You were really nervous, weren’t ya?” she teased, admiring the ring on her hand. “You knew I was gonna say yes regardless, so why worry?”

“I did, but it still doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking,” he said, shrugging. “You like it?”

“I love it, it’s beautiful,” she said, leaning in to kiss him again.

They lay back against the boulder, looking up at the sky, their hands clasped and breathing deep. The New Moon stood sentry in the sky, grey and muted against the starry night, yet oddly imposing. She could feel the pull of it in her bones; the characteristic surge of energy that nighttime gave her kind. She pondered this as a thought occurred to her.

“Was that what you were doing before?” she asked tentatively, glancing up at her boyfriend. No, not her boyfriend… her fiancé.

“Yeah, I remembered that time you showed me how you guys wish on the New Moon,” he explained, laying his head on the top of hers. “I guess I wanted to be extra lucky tonight.”

“You’re a dork,” she said, matter-of-factly.

“But I’m your dork,” he retorted.

Yes, he was her dork, and she was his. Forever.

#the dragon prince #tdp #callum #rayla #rayllum #hiatus hoedown #raayllum #ttm is not canon here

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rosesupposes · 4 years

Text

Navy Eyes Dark Enough

Or, five times Geralt didn't realize Jaskier was a witcher and one time he did.

Inspired by this post. Read on AO3 here.

Most witchers move among humans with some difficulty. People want them around for their skills but they’re hardly considered good company. Their swords, their eyes, their medallions all give them away for what they are and inspire fear in the humans around them. Jaskier passes much more easily as a human than any other witcher he’s met. A pretty face and prettier words go a long way for a witcher and he’s been blessed with both. He’d been called a pretty boy since his earliest days at Gorthur Gvaed and the mutations had been kind to his looks, leaving him baby faced into adulthood and granting him navy eyes dark enough to hide the shape of his pupils from anyone who didn’t look too closely. His teachers hadn’t necessarily approved of his interest in poetry and prose but they didn’t mind him tearing apart the library for all the fiction he could find, so long as he was reading the nonfiction as well. He’s unafraid to leverage this advantage while on the Path. He gains a town’s trust faster than his brothers and is rarely underpaid because of it. He’s never found himself short of romantic partners. He’d talked himself into Oxenfurt because it sounded like fun. He spends his time as a traveling bard, taking contracts only when he’s low on funds or his brothers ask it of him. It hurts, sometimes, to keep his twisted Viper medallion hidden under his clothes but it makes it easier to hide in plain sight. For all he leverages the way he blends in with humans, Jaskier had never expected another witcher not to recognize him.

1. 1240 Jaskier has traveled alone for most of his time on the Path. There was the string of contracts almost two decades back when he’d helped Letho and Auckes but that was before he’d left Nilfgard and the South behind almost entirely. After a week of traveling with Geralt, he’s starting to realize that he’s missed it. Traveling the Path with someone else is different than the traveling Jaskier does in caravans as a bard. Despite their unfamiliarity with traveling together, they fall into an unexpectedly easy routine when it comes to setting up camp. Geralt, a Wolf to the core, insists on doing the “hard work” of it all and Jaskier isn’t going to complain about leisurely picking berries and filling their waterskins. By the time Jaskier makes it back to camp with their waterskins full, Geralt is usually finishing setting up their fire after having set a few traps nearby. He lights it with Igni, of course, like any witcher worth his Signs would. It isn’t until their second week of traveling together that Jaskier beats Geralt back to their camp. The area they’re in, despite being filled with berries and freshwater, was suspiciously devoid of game. Jaskier had suspected magic at first but his medallion is too silent for the kind of magic that would require. If it’s a monster though, it’s leaving them suspiciously alone. He debates the likelihood of various possible monsters while he builds their small fire. He’s not nearly as skilled at the technical aspects of fire building as Geralt but a Sign can level a playing field and he has it started in no time. Geralt enters their small clearing only a moment later. “That was fast,” he grunts as he moves past Jaskier. Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve always been better than my brothers at it,” he explains, moving his hand in a general approximation of the Sign. He’d always preferred his magic lessons to swordplay at Gorthur Gvaed and he’s a bit jealous at the way he’s seen Geralt so easily use his Signs while he fights. The double shortsword style of Jaskier’s school did not lend well to Sign usage while fighting. Geralt gives the fire what Jaskier supposes is a thoughtful look and then grunts, moving away to set up a small tent. 2. 1244 It is not often that Jaskier finds himself caught up in the habits ingrained in him during his training. He’s decades removed from his trials and, for the most part, he has kicked the habits that Ivar and the other Viper Masters beat into him. His posture is a wreck. He doesn’t keep a journal in the way a witcher should. He takes his medallion off more often than most witchers would deem advisable. Perhaps most egregious to other members of his school is his chosen weapons. He still dual wields while fighting but these days he favors daggers to the traditional Viper shortswords. They’re much easier to hide. He keeps a stiletto in each boot and two in his lute case. One habit he cannot break is the way he cleans and sharpens his daggers after every use. He has two silver and two steel because he is a witcher, even if he’s a witcher who rarely takes contracts. They rarely need cleaning, especially when he travels with Geralt, but when they do, Jaskier is almost religious about it. His latest kill is a pack of drowners outside Murivel, as he’s lazily making his way through Redania and towards Ard Carraigh after completing his obligations at Oxenfurt. He finds no contract for them in town, which is frustrating after he ruined this season’s traveling clothes in the fight, but he gets some decent prices for some of the alchemy supplies he was able to harvest. When he makes it to an inn, it’s a bit before the midday meal, just enough time for him to clean himself and his daggers before he sings for his supper and his room. The innkeep is gracious enough to give him the room first, because he remembers Jaskier and knows he’ll be good for business. He lays his daggers out in a corner of the room and sits on the floor in front of them with a small bowl of water and a cloth. It isn’t long before he loses himself to the familiar motions. Clean the blade. Sharpen the blade. Polish the blade. Unwrap the leather. Oil the leather. Rewrap the leather. Repeat. It doesn’t take very long, given how much smaller the blades are than his old shortswords but he takes longer than most men would bother with. A blade ill-treated is unlikely to treat you well in moments of need.

He goes downstairs to sing a bit for the midday meal. He’s debating the merit of playing through Geralt’s song cycle without Geralt himself present when the door swings open and the witcher himself enters. He nods at Jaskier when he sees him and then goes to speak to the innkeep. Jaskier finishes his song and wanders over to Geralt as he plucks at the strings of his lute, playing but not singing.

“He’ll join me, my good man,” Jaskier declares after he hears the innkeep tell Geralt there’s no available rooms. The inkeep shrugs and shows Geralt to Jaskier’s room while Jaskier continues to play.

It’s another hour before he joins Geralt, who is making notes in his journal. Jaskier brings two bowls of broth and some bread with him and they share a pleasant meal after spending almost half a year apart.

“You’ve bought more daggers,” Geralt says as they’re finishing, gesturing to where Jaskier had left his blades out after their rather thorough cleaning.

“Not new,” Jaskier clarifies, “just clean. They were a little too useful on the way here.”

Geralt snorts.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks him, with no real heat.

“What use would you have for a dagger, other than the one you carry on your belt sometimes?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes and gathers the bowls, immune to Geralt’s teasing for the most part. It is just like the other man, to consider the fighting style of another school inferior to his own. “Not all of us are trying to compensate for something with our gigantic swords.”

3. 1247

Jaskier manages to get his pants tied and his doublet buttoned as he runs back to the inn he and Geralt are staying at. He finds Geralt whetting his silver sword by the fire.

“Hello, Geralt,” he says, as casually as he can manage. “If you wouldn’t mind departing just a bit early, I think now’s a wonderful time to leave.”

Geralt grunts. “The room is paid until tomorrow.”

“Yes,” Jaskier says, moving quickly towards the table he’s been using as a desk to pack the papers he’s spread across it. “I’m afraid I’ll have to lose out on that coin. C’mon. Chop, chop. Pack your things.” Jaskier moves onto his small pack of clothes in the corner.

“Don’t forget your weird necklace,” Geralt grunts, shoving Jaskier’s Viper medallion into his hand and Jaskier remembers taking it off before going looking for a lay for tonight, trusting Geralt with it before trusting a random lay wouldn’t steal it.

Jaskier pauses for a second, offended. The Viper medallions aren’t the same heavy stamped discs the rest of the schools use- they were forged individually into various twisting shapes before they’d been enchanted. Jaskier finds them more attractive than the other schools’ medallions and more practical, easier to hide. “Excuse me, as if yours is better.”

“Let’s go, Jaskier.”

Jaskier shuts his mouth and returns to packing for a moment before he’s forced to retaliate. “Fine but don’t think we’re not discussing your terrible taste in jewelry later.”

4. 1251

Geralt’s White Honey is absolute shit and Jaskier knows firsthand because he’s borrowed it before. He’d replaced it after, of course, and he could tell when Geralt used the one Jaskier had brewed because it flushed the toxins much faster than Geralt’s usual swill.

Ivar would be very disappointed if he knew how long it takes Jaskier to figure out why Geralt’s White Honey is so poor in comparison to his own. As it turns out, Geralt is preparing both the honeysuckle and the white myrtle petals incorrectly. He’s managed to flip their preparations, crushing the myrtle petals and chopping the honeysuckle, when it should be the other way around. Jaskier thinks maybe it’s a Wolf thing but he’s not sure it matters because watching Geralt butcher his potions every time is getting old.

Jaskier doesn’t bother to keep his potions stocked beyond a few that are easy to keep in his packs but he helps Geralt when the other allows him to. Mostly he prepares ingredients as Geralt directs but given how sick he is of watching the other witcher butcher his potions, when Geralt asks him to crush some white myrtle petals he takes the knife from Geralt’s hand and chops them instead. “Just give me that,” he says, reaching for the honeysuckle Geralt had been about to chop. “You always do this wrong. You’re supposed to cut the white myrtle and crush the honeysuckle.”

It doesn’t take very long for Jaskier to finish preparing the potion, though he stops short of the final mix lest Geralt actually murder him. He wipes his hands and picks up his lute, idly strumming.

“Where did you learn that?” Geralt asks as he takes the ingredients Jaskier has prepared to finish mixing them.

Jaskier rolls his eyes because White Honey, for all it’s helpful properties, is a recipe shared almost exclusively among witchers. “Oxenfurt, Geralt,” he answers with a hefty amount of sarcasm in his voice.

“Hmmmm.”

And doesn’t that pique Jaskier’s interest. That’s Geralt’s genuinely confused hum, not his ‘Jaskier, shut up, you’re not that funny’ hum.

“Where else would I have learned it?” he prods. “I am a Master of the seven liberal arts, as you know.”

“Didn’t know they taught White Honey at Oxenfurt,” is all Geralt says as Jaskier strums lazily at his lute. Geralt is being serious, Jaskier realizes- he believes he learned how to make White Honey at Oxenfurt.

White Honey is not taught at Oxenfurt. White Honey, per rather extensive experimentation by the Viper School, is mostly useless to anyone without a witcher’s mutations. While Jaskier is sure someone out there has the recipe who is not a witcher, it is certainly not taught at Oxenfurt. Jaskier is sure Geralt knows this but the other witcher is taking Jaskier’s joke seriously.

Oh.

Geralt, somehow, just over ten years into their friendship, does not know Jaskier is a witcher. It takes effort to keep himself from crowing with laughter. This is just- Jaskier would be hurt if he didn’t find it so funny.

Oh, this is incredible. Jaskier is going to milk this for all of its worth.

5. 1251

Jaskier continues to insinuate in every possible way that he can think that he is a witcher without actually saying it. Geralt does not catch on. It is simultaneously amusing and frustrating though it gives Jaskier a lot of perspective on certain aspects of their relationship.

Geralt is always surprised when Jaskier lights a fire quickly because he hasn’t considered that Jaskier is using Igni. Geralt insists that Jaskier’s hidden daggers are for show because he doesn’t quite believe that Jaskier knows how to use them. Geralt dismisses Jaskier’s Viper medallion as an odd piece of jewelry because he doesn’t remember that not all the schools use the same stamped metal the Wolves do for their medallions.

Jaskier’s current favorite game is trying to find the subject of his knowledge that will eventually push Geralt over the edge because he can’t accept that Jaskier learned it at Oxenfurt. He hasn’t found it yet.

He’s trying the Wild Hunt today because there hasn’t been a reliable sighting in nearly thirty years and he knows very few humans who actually study the subject. All witchers know about it, of course, but the Vipers are most familiar. They were founded to study it, after all, and Jaskier’s knowledge on the subject is both broad and deep.

“They’re elves, you know. Not the typical kind, mind you, but they speak an off dialect of Elder. Some of my teachers think they’re from some other world. There’s unicorns there, apparently,” he says as they walk beside Roach. It’s a not-quite-bastardization of the various facts and theories but Jaskier’s not aiming for the truth, he’s aiming to confuse Geralt.

Geralt just grunts. It’s not quite as satisfying a response as Jaskier had hoped but he thinks maybe Geralt is confused.

“I think the unicorns are a little far-fetched, personally,” he continues. “It’s a nice thought, though.”

“The Wild Hunt is not a nice thought,” Geralt says seriously. Which, well, is true.

“I’m well aware, Geralt. I’ve read an entire library on the subject. The Continent’s biggest, in fact.”

“The biggest library on the Wild Hunt was at Gorthur Gvaed. It’s been destroyed.”

“Yes. Well.”

The painful reminder stops Jaskier short. He normally doesn’t have much trouble separating his memories of Gorthur Gvaed from its destruction. He wasn’t there and if he doesn’t think about the raid he missed, it’s easy to pretend it never happened; that the keep, with its hidden passageways and winding rivers, is still standing in the mountains of Nilfgard; that his teachers are still there tending to the library; that his brothers are still out there and they’re narrowly missing each other as they travel their own winding Paths. The mention of its destruction brings his idealized fantasy crashing down. Gorthur Gvaed is nothing but ruins and he has maybe five brothers left.

Guilt wells up in the pit of his stomach and he decides the Wild Hunt is not the topic that’s going to make Geralt realize he’s a witcher.

+1. 1251

Geralt feels hazy and slow as he wakes. There’s the dull ache of a pain in his leg and his blood burns. His vision comes slowly and when it does he takes stock.

He’s trapped under a pile of rocks. The tunnel. The kikimores. The cave-in. The pain in his legs and his ribs is dull, due to his potions, but he thinks his leg might be broken and his ribs at least bruised. He has a concussion but he doesn’t think he was out for very long. There are potions burning through his system, one for the dark, at least, but with his head pounding, he’s not sure what else.

He’s in a fairly large section of the tunnel system, with a small stream running through. There are four entrances to the cavern. He was caught as the fifth tunnel gave way and caved in.

He can see where his sword had landed and he might have enough time to clear enough of the rock to reach for it. He doesn’t like his chances of getting out of the cave on his own but there should only be one injured kikimore left and if it comes to him, he might be able to take it out. Jaskier will come looking for him once he’s been gone long enough and as long as the kikimore is dead before Jaskier enters the tunnels, the foolish bard should be safe.

Geralt closes his eyes, trying to listen for the kikimore, trying to gauge where it is and how much time he has. Not much, he realizes, after a moment of listening to the echoes of it’s skittering legs, but he can do it if he works fast.

His legs are still mostly pinned under the cave-in when the kikimore enters the cavern from one of the tunnels opposite Geralt.

Fuck.

He’s free enough to reach for the sword, stretching his body as far as it will go and exacerbating the pain in his leg, still pinned, as he does. His movement attracts the attention of the kikimore. It’s beady eyes turn toward Geralt. It’s a smaller specimen, a worker probably, but pinned as he is, Geralt knows it has the upperhand. He braces himself, trying to find the position that will give him the most power. If he can time this right, he might be able to behead the kikimore before it pierces his chest.

Suddenly, there’s another body in the cavern, a blur of blue putting itself between Geralt and the kikimore, a dagger in either hand. The kikimore stops, eyes focusing on the new arrival.

“Jaskier, get the fuck out of here.”

“Can’t do that, my dear.” Jaskier lunges at the kikimore, leading with his blades.

Geralt stops breathing. His only goal after the cave-in- to kill the kikimore before Jaskier came looking for him- is now impossible. He hasn’t been fast enough for the bard’s impatience and now the fool is going to die trying to fight a monster some young witchers struggle with.

Jaskier lands the first blow, a lucky hit against one of the kikimores legs. It’s not deep but it’s enough to put the kikimore off balance. It strikes at Jaskier who dodges and pulls away. He puts some space between himself and the kikimore and pulls a small vial from his pocket. It’s one from Geralt’s own stores, though he can’t tell which. It doesn’t matter. It would kill any human. It will kill Jaskier.

“Don’t!”

Almost faster than Geralt can see, Jaskier throws his dagger into the kikimore’s eye with deadly accuracy, stunning it for a moment. In almost the same moment, he downs the potion and pulls another dagger from his boot in one fluid motion. He dives back in to slash at the kikimore’s throat, digging into it with both of his daggers. The kikimore chokes on its own blood, a sick wet, gurgling sound, and then suddenly it is on top of Jaskier, stabbing down and obscuring the bard’s body from Geralt. Geralt can barely see any of it but the sick sound of flesh being pierced overwhelms his ears. Instead of trying to watch, he returns to freeing himself from the cave-in.

It isn’t long before the sound has stopped and the kikimore is moving toward Geralt again. He can sit up fully now but twisting away from his legs to look at the scene behind him pulls at his ribs. Jaskier’s body is motionless on the ground and Geralt is furious. The idiot bard.

He manages to free the rest of his legs as the kikimore approaches. It takes massive effort to kneel up, ready to strike, but he manages. He still does not expect to make it out of the cave system but the least he can do is bring the kikimore down with him in honor of his friend.

Just as Geralt is preparing to swing at the approaching kikimore, it sinks to the ground. Standing over its lifeless body, is Jaskier, once again holding his daggers. His eyes are completely black and the veins surrounding them are dark beneath his pale skin. The toxicity of the potion hasn’t killed him. It’s swirling through his system. Geralt knows his face looks much the same.

“Fuck.”

“Eleven years, Geralt,” Jaskier crows as he helps Geralt back to the clearing where Roach is waiting for them. “How does it feel to have traveled with another witcher for eleven years and never once known? While holding his medallion in your hand and drinking the potions he’s prepared for you? Hmmm, Geralt? How does it feel?”

“Jaskier.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #witcher!jaskier #witcher jaskier #witcher fic #the witcher fic #abb writes

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the-odd-job · 3 years

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Close Your Eyes to This Disaster Chapter 3: Now I’m a Bird...

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use, Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers G1 Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Bluestreak, Tracks, Mirage, Ratchet, Ironhide, Megatron, Soundwave Additional Tags: Dubcon, Sticky, Abusive Relationships, Mind Games, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Canon-Typical Violence Words: 3593

( Previous )

Once their recharge cycles ended at the time they had assigned, they found Bluestreak already awake but still in their berth, watching as their systems onlined fully. He knew well enough to stay still and quiet during the process, lest their reflexes kick in effect before conscious thought caught up and resulted in injuries. He was a brave enough mech to risk that every time, but as most times, nothing bad happened. The twins merely woke up as they should have and turned their helms to meet Bluestreak’s optics.

He smiled at them. “’Charge well?”

“Ayup,” Sideswipe nodded, a smile already beginning to creep onto his face. He barely ever seemed to get rid of it. “What about you? How you feeling?”

“Good.” Bluestreak answered, seemingly honestly. “Thanks for letting me stay the night. I don’t want to be a bother but it’s always so helpful when I don’t need to be alone and I didn’t want to disturb Prowl because he already barely recharges enough despite Jazz always trying to get him to take proper care of himself– Oh! You have a patrol, do you need to go?”

“About now to get my morning stuff done, yeah,” Sideswipe said. They were somewhat glad he didn’t need to interrupt the talkative gunner when Bluestreak did it himself, this time.

But true to what they said, the twins pushed themselves to sitting, Bluestreak following suit. He was the first to get up, offering both of his servos to pull them up—one for Sideswipe, one for Sunstreaker. Both of the brothers took the smaller mech’s offer, and up they were. “What do you need to do before your patrol?” Bluestreak asked.

“Get in on Smoky’s bet for one,” Sideswipe told him, stretching his arms above his helm to some pleasant strain of stiff parts, and a few cracks. “Then hit the washracks so I’ll be all pretty and shiny in case we run into any Decepticons. Gotta look my best when kicking aft!”

Bluestreak laughed lightly and they all headed for the door, twins to see if Smokescreen wasn’t in the rec room, and Bluestreak to… Whatever he was going to do wherever. “Have a safe patrol without any ‘Cons showing up!” the gunner wished them in parting. Both of the twins gave him a wave of goodbye before they continued in the opposite direction down the offensively orange corridor.

Smokescreen was indeed in the rec room already, and Sideswipe wasn’t the only one who wanted to bet. His contribution was accepted with a wide grin from the Praxian and a, “You know you won’t win, right?”

Sideswipe just laughed. “Talk like that and a mech will start to think you don’t want anyone to bet. Nah, one of these days someone is gonna up Jazz. He’s not all-knowin’. I think.”

Smokescreen chuckled too. “Your loss, my profit.”

Their funds successfully reduced, the twins continued their way to the washracks. They weren’t the only occupants this time of the morning, but they ignored Tracks and Ironhide and merely claimed free showerheads for their own use.

“Don’t ya two have a patrol comin’ up?” Ironhide asked them, frowning in mild bewilderment at their somewhat unreasonable behavior.

Sideswipe had more giggles on offer. “Patrol’s no excuse to not be pretty!”

“…Riiiight,” was all Ironhide said to that, glancing from them to Tracks—likely with the thought that he was presently surrounded by some vain ass mecha and would find no understanding for his far more pragmatic approach to his looks. The old mech left soon after, clean but not particularly shiny. Sunstreaker shook his helm in disapproval before they focused back on the task at hand, resolutely ignoring Tracks as Tracks was ignoring them. Now maybe wasn’t the best time to get into a tussle. They wouldn’t have the time to fix themselves back up from all the scuffs and scratches that would result in.

Plating clean, they shined themselves up, finishing their work just in time for their damned patrol. Time to go undo everything they just did. Sigh.

They transformed at the Ark’s entrance and peeled off with speed Prowl would have disapproved of, but what was the point of following the ridiculous human rules when they weren’t humans? The inherently inferior organics may not have been able of safely driving at the speeds a Cybertronian could handle easily with their superior senses and reaction times, but that wasn’t exactly their problem, was it? They wouldn’t crash into anyone, so no harm done.

All that in mind, they barely slowed down when they reached the populated roads, weaving through the human traffic and earning themselves countless of blaring horns. It was quite aggravating, and more often than not Sunstreaker was returning the same sound with far more aggression. And the humans thought they knew what road rage looked like… Give him enough reason and he’d show them.

But it was a long patrol they were on and eventually it took them back to more remote areas where they didn’t really see any of the fleshbags. Things went from exciting to relaxing as they drifted around curves in the road with screeching tires, leaving black marks behind as they controlled their bodies just perfectly enough that they didn’t go shooting straight off the asphalt. Prowl would have still given them slag for it, but he wasn’t here to see and the tactician wasn’t prone to act without actual proof of misconduct.

Which he usually had, but not in this.

Sideswipe’s singing of some random Earth song was mostly drowned out by the rev and roar of their engines, but Sunstreaker still tuned in on that sound to enjoy it. If nothing else, Earth was relatively worry-free for low ranking soldiers like them, that didn’t have any too heavy responsibilities and mostly just needed to follow orders. Some might have considered the fact the war was still ongoing and they very much at frontlines of it quite stressful all on its own, but those were the kind of details that didn’t bother the twins all that much. War and battles gave them something to do and let them live according to their nature, and it wasn’t as if they feared pain and injuries—or death, even if the goal was to stay alive.

Speaking of staying alive, though… The ping on their scanners was entirely unexpected when patrols were often completely uneventful, but there it was and they couldn’t deny it when both of their frames registered. And not just that, but there were two pings once they looked closer.

And they could recognize them. The desire to not suffer a painful death had them hitting their brakes and coming to a halt to hesitate in peace, because Megatron was a mech even they weren’t good enough to take on—and Soundwave wasn’t that much less dangerous, in all honesty.

What the pit were they doing here, though? There was nothing here, as far as the twins knew. Besides, it was just Megatron and Soundwave—and possibly his symbiotes—and no one else, unless someone was masking their signature.

::Sideswipe to Ark.::

::Bumblebee listening. What’s up?::

::I’ve got Megatron and Soundwave on my scanners at these coordinates.::

There was barely a pause before Bumblebee was already redirecting them to Prowl.

::Fall back and do not engage,:: came the clearly spoken order. This was the Prime’s business and the twins were to do no more than turn their pretty afts around and return to the Ark before anyone got the idea to attack them. If they were close enough to the Decepticon leader and his Third to sense them, then Decepticons were certainly also aware of the twins’ presence. Going all stealthy and trying to figure out what they were doing here wasn’t much of an option, especially so because the twins weren’t particularly trained in or built for stealth to begin with.

Sideswipe pouted, but… They were outmatched, and possibly outnumbered too. Engaging would be little short of a suicide. For those reasons, ::Copy that,:: was all Sideswipe said and they indeed followed the SIC’s instruction, turned around, and drove back for someone more suitable for the task to take their place and maybe learn what had brought Megatron to the area.

—————————————

But then that incident repeated. The twins would be away from the Ark, either patrolling or just otherwise enjoying their free time, and three more times they came close enough to Megatron and Soundwave that they could sense them. Each time they contacted the Ark, and each time they followed the orders to leave without engaging the Decepticons. It became just too much to be a mere coincidence, especially when it happened to no one else, but the twins were as confused over it as the command was when they were questioned on if they knew any possible reason for the odd behavior.

It did become a cause for some extra caution on their side, because despite what things sometimes looked like and what some thought, they didn’t have a rampant death wish. Or really any level of death wish. They would rather continue living, and the chances were good they weren’t going to do that if they took on Megatron and Soundwave with no backup—especially because there were the symbiotes to take into consideration, too. They were exceptionally good at beating the odds, but in this instance the odds were a little too much against them for even their own comfort. Just what were the chances they’d manage to off Megatron and end the war?

Slim. So slim.

Despite their increased awareness of their surroundings whenever they were further from the Ark, though…

It was just a joyride to burn off some of their restless energy. Sparring and fragging were all well and good too, but sometimes you just wanted to feel the road beneath your tires and the wind whipping over your hood. Some strangely acting warlord wasn’t going to take this away from them, and there was nothing in their scanners or other sensors any step of the way. They knew Teletraan was monitoring the situation as well, trying to compile enough data for Prowl to figure out what the rhyme and reason to Megatron’s behavior was when the only connecting element seemed to be the twins’ presence.

So they were pretty sure they were safe in the moment. That was, up until they took a sharp turn out of the forest to arrive to flat fields, and there he was in all of his towering glory, silver plating glinting in the bright sunlight.

The brothers transformed at once, skidding into a stop on their pedes. It didn’t take a genius to realize Megatron had opted to mask his signature this time around when he hadn’t done it the previous times.

For whatever reason.

And Soundwave was there too, of course, and when they tried to contact the Ark to let them know there was a bit of a situation happening, they found they were entirely blocked, likely by the telepath.

Sunstreaker growled, his optics snapping from the blue mech to Megatron, meeting the red gaze boring into him. Megatron’s focus was beyond intense in a way that Sunstreaker had certainly never experienced before courtesy of the tyrant, having not even been in his proximity before their unfortunate Earth landing.

And then Megatron moved. Sunstreaker jerked out of the way, Sideswipe into the opposite direction only to be accosted by Soundwave, but Megatron spun in place with surprising grace and then he was already an arm’s reach away from the golden twin—a bit closer than Sunstreaker would have liked him.

Well, slag that. With a rev of his engine Sunstreaker went on the offensive because playing some fragging game of evasion just wasn’t his style. He pulled his thermal sword from his subspace, which predictably had Megatron respond by extending the sword from his arm. What was more surprising was the fact Sunstreaker got the first attack in, as if Megatron was almost waiting on him.

But that aside, things progressed as expected—for a while. Megatron matched the harmful intent of Sunstreaker’s attacks and they both gained some injuries because dammit, Sunstreaker was good enough to provide even some opposition despite Megatron’s own power.

But it was his own skill and experience that, before long, alerted him to something being a bit off. How Megatron aimed his attacks… He had the opportunities to try for serious injuries, the kinds that would have left Sunstreaker open to the very real possibility of death were they successful, and that was what he would have expected the warlord would do.

Yet, he didn’t. Oh, Megatron was out to injure him, there was no doubt about that, but his aim seemed to be to cripple him just enough that Sunstreaker couldn’t have fought back anymore, instead of going for the kill directly.

It was a valid strategy, but one that seemed rather unnecessary right now. There was no doubt Megatron was the better fighter of them. Sunstreaker could hold his own, but only so for so long. Even now it was him that had more injuries on him, although none of them severe, and it was rather obvious he was the one who had to work harder to avoid greater damage.

He was confused, and Sideswipe’s situation didn’t clear matters any, because it looked a hell of a lot like Soundwave’s aim was the same: put him out of the fight, but not kill. Soundwave wasn’t a warrior of Megatron’s caliber so Sideswipe was having a bit more success on his end, but not so much he could have helped attack Megatron with Sunstreaker.

But out to kill or not, the brothers didn’t exactly fancy losing either. Who knew what Megatron had in store for them in that event—that, unfortunately, looked a bit inevitable as things stood. They were outmatched, simple as that.

Soon, though, not outnumbered. The roar of two familiar engines heralded the unusually welcome arrival of backup moments before Tracks and Mirage revved onto the scene from the forest. Ugh, saved by Tracks… But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Rather that than learning what exactly Megatron’s intent for them was, when there was no fucking way it was anything good.

As soon as they’d transformed, Mirage and Tracks already had weapons in hand, ready to assist, and that was where things deviated from what they would have expected, again. Instead of trying to slag the lot of them like Megatron very well may have been able to do, he… Retreated. As did Soundwave.

As in, they left the scene entirely. Both transformed, Megatron into a jet around Soundwave’s small boombox mode–

And then he was gone. Sunstreaker couldn’t do more than stare after the quickly disappearing triplechanger, befuddled.

“Are you alright?” Mirage asked, stepping up to him. Sunstreaker glanced at the spy, took stock of his damage reports, then nodded.

“Nothing major,” he grunted, turning back to the now rather destroyed road. Tracks was standing a few paces away with his arms crossed over his chassis, looking a little too smug. “Shove it,” Sunstreaker growled at him, jabbing a digit in his direction. “You try fighting that unmaker.”

Tracks only shrugged, not overtly impressed.

“How did you know to come? We couldn’t contact anyone,” Sideswipe asked, walking to the rest of them. Sunstreaker turned his attention back to Mirage at that, too.

“You fell off the radar entirely,” was the answer they were given. “We were redirected from our patrol to see why.”

“Good timing,” Sunstreaker conceded, earning a small smile from Mirage.

“I can still transform,” Sideswipe spoke up, inspecting his limbs. A little worse for wear, but still in one piece. “And probably drive too.”

Sunstreaker nodded that that held true for him as well and Mirage returned the gesture at the both of them. “If you don’t need Skyfire, we can drive back. We were given permission to not finish our patrol.”

They were getting an escort now, too?

Ugh.

———————————————

Again the command had so fragging many questions for them, most of which the twins had no answers for. No one had the answers. It was becoming clear Megatron was targeting them specifically and changing his methods to succeed in cornering them, but why?

No one had any good suggestions, especially after that day’s show. If it wasn’t to kill the twins and strip the Autobots of two of their best frontliners, then what the pit was it all for?

“I heard what happened,” Bluestreak said as a way of announcing himself, seconds before he sat down opposite from the twins at the rec room table they had claimed. “It’s really, really weird… Are you worried at all? It’s Megatron and he’s always bad news, and I’m worried ‘cause I don’t want anything to happen to you, you know?”

He was going to say something more too, but Sideswipe beat him to it before their friend could get going all proper and make it all the harder to get a word in. “Gotta admit it’s a little… Disconcerting?” his brother said, then leaned back in his seat and huffed, “But slag me if he’s gonna get to me.”

They had no idea how to take care of the whole situation, but their desire to not let Megatron do whatever the pit he wanted with them was very, very real. One way or another, they would find a solution, or pit, maybe Megatron would just get it out of his system and leave them alone despite taking such a sudden interest in them the moment they ended up on the same battlefields.

Bluestreak perhaps had a bit too much trust in them and their abilities, because he seemed satisfied with that answer—as if it really was as simple of a matter as ‘I don’t wanna’. The change in topic that followed when Bluestreak moved onto other subjects was at least welcome, and they spent another two hours listening to the gunner talk, sometimes squeezing in a comment of their own. Bluestreak was the one who excused himself first, having the late shift in monitor duty—he made a face when they told them that much and Sideswipe laughed—and the brothers left with him to return to their quarters. It was undeniably late.

But as it happened, Ratchet and Ironhide were standing right outside Ironhide’s door on the twins’ path, and completely heedless to the conversation he was interrupting, Sideswipe bounced right on over and wrapped his arms around the both of them. He got matching growls from the two old timers, and true to form, ignored that too. He still pulled back when Ironhide firmly patted his waist, grinning at the medic and the veteran warrior.

“So. Megatron?” Ironhide asked gruffly, crossing his arms as soon as he had enough room to do so and glaring at the brothers.

Those were the type of glares that meant Ironhide was worried, not that they hadn’t already known as much. Ratchet was too, after the earful and suspicious shortage of wrenches they had gotten during their repairs. The medic’s scowl also spoke of his concern.

“Sure is,” Sideswipe said chipperly, rocking back on his heels.

“Yer not worried over the whole… Thing?”

“I mean…” What to say, what to say. The two would just worry twice as hard if the twins admitted to harboring their own concerns, because the twins weren’t really smart enough to worry about most things—if they did, something had to be wrong. So, Sideswipe just shrugged after their pause of quick thought. “Not gonna gain anything by worrying over it.” That wasn’t a lie.

“You better be careful,” Ratchet growled at them. “I don’t want you in my medbay again because of this.”

“Yer damn bad at the fear business, and I ain’t saying you shouldn’t be, but I’d suggest still usin’ yer heads some,” Ironhide said. “You ain’t a match to him and you both know it.”

Sideswipe tilted his helm back and cast his optics to the ceiling with an exaggerated sigh. “Thanks for the lecture, dad. Totally already forgot how dangerous ol’ Megs is.”

Ironhide grunted, opened his mouth to say something–

And like quicksilver Sideswipe changed his own mood and demeanor to something salacious. He slithered back up to the older red mech, brushing his servo along Ironhide’s low back with that kind of grin. “Wanna come to my quarters an’ take my mind off things a little?”

“Oh for frag’s sake–“ the veteran started in a huff, but Sideswipe interrupted him right away.

“Exactly. ‘Less you’re busy?”

His brother’s optics shifted to Ratchet as well, but the medic put his hands up. “Don’t look at me, I’m not joining this time.”

Sunstreaker snorted. “Your loss.”

“Absolutely,” Ratchet deadpanned at him, but Ironhide took the turn to slip his servo to Sideswipe’s aft. The red twin squeaked when he gave it a squeeze.

“Alright, you have my interest,” Ironhide confirmed his intent and Sideswipe’s grin widened all the more.

“Sweet~ Come on, the night’s getting as old as you. No time like the present!” After a caress across Ironhide’s codpiece, Sideswipe skipped down the hall with such a bouncy step.

Ironhide rolled his optics after him with a, “Brat,” but nevertheless followed, as did Sunstreaker.

“Now’s your chance to frag that out of him,” Sunstreaker smirked.

“Damn well will, too,” Ironhide promised, earning himself a laugh from the golden twin.

Right along with Sideswipe’s hollered, “I heard that!”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #ratchet #megatron #soundwave #ironhide #bluestreak #tracks #mirage #fic #2021 #disaster

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