#they sound like bells i think! jingling. is it a greeting or a warning? depends on circumstance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bangtanlalaland · 4 years

Text

around the way girl | knj (m.)

synopsis ↳namjoon kim was the man you’d fallen in love with in college, while existing in a society where ambw relationships are rare.

→part of the bring it back collection!

— 1990’s!au; strangers to lovers!au

→pairing: underground rapper!kim namjoon x beauty supply store worker!black female reader

→genre: fluff, smut

→word count: 4.7k+

→contents ⨯ warnings: that beautiful, interracial love (AMBW) [if you’re racist, fuck off my page!] some major fluff action here, joon is so soft, (I stg he’s a dom but also a hopeless romantic. the DUALITY. agsgsjlldlejd), rapper joon makes an appearance, sweet love making, name calling (cute shit, I promise), also the use of DADDY, lots of kissing and caressing, body worshiping, oral (f receiving), protected sex (no glove, no love baby), fingering, over-stimulation, namjoon is so inspired by hip hop culture, y’all I tried really hard to sprinkle some 90′s vibes in there so bare with me ok,

a/n: heyyyy loves! I wanted to do something different, considering that I hardly come across any fics (specifically BTS) with a woc or simply a black reader. so here’s one to all of my beautiful, black queens out there! much love to you all & I want you to know I am here & stand with you.

song rec: “around the way girl” by ll cool j

☞ disclaimer: If any of the warnings listed above offends you in any way, please do not read. It is not my intention to start any sort of debate/argument in regards to racism, culture appropriation, etc. Therefore if any characters, settings, and/or facts/statements are incorrect, please disregard. However, this body of text is for entertainment purposes only. All characters, settings, scenarios, and dialogue are fictitious. Any similarity to events or persons, whether living or dead, is coincidental.

It was like a movie, from start to finish. Growing up, times were hard and challenges never ceased to fade. But, you pushed through — the good, the bad, and the ugly. Lost ones along the way, realized you couldn’t trust everyone, but you grew. As an independent, young, black woman living in America. And then something happened, that changed everything.

The year of 1998, when fall semester classes at your college just ended, which called for finding a seasonal job for the time being. And that’s how you ended up working at Queen Beauty Supply about two blocks from your place. You grew up knowing Mr. Park (who is the owner and now your boss) all your life. As you were a child, your mother supported his business, always stocking up on flexi rods, Just for Me relaxers, Goody brushes, and all. Even the endless amounts of barrette balls of every color you could think of, she made sure you had. And seeing that you blossomed, Mr. Park was more than honored to hire you for a seasonal gig. You loved him as if he was your family, just as well as he loved you.

It all started that one evening when you worked the register, fancy-ing some Poetic Justice-style braids, showcasing your figure with a halter top and mom jeans. A small stereo behind you blared the latest hits on the radio, Jon B currently on play. You flipped through the latest issue of Word Up! Magazine, admiring the new spread that featured Mya, Monica, and Brandy — your two in. acrylic, nails dragging across the pages. The sound of the bell jingles over the door, indicating the arrival of a customer. Your gaze turns up to greet said customer, and your eyes meet with the fellow that entered.

And damn were you blown away for a hot sec. He was cute, really cute. You hadn’t even realized he asked you something, while standing in front of you on the opposite side of the counter. He’s Asian, obviously. His eyes having told it all. They were different, not shaped like yours, but beautiful. Which was intriguing. But him simple being here in a beauty supply store was interesting, Yes, it’s ironic. The owner himself being Asian, but the intended audience is your fellow black folks. You could tell he’s obviously inspired by your culture since he sported a bucket hat and a loose, white tee that may have been just two sizes too big for him — which is rare nowadays to find on an Asian man. But, you don’t question it. Of course, you’re well aware people of all races are influenced by hip hop culture so in a way, it doesn’t surprise you as much. Okay, maybe a little. But still.

“Can I help you?” His eyes did a weird thing, but it was cute. He was cute.

“Do you have du-rags here?” Your eyebrows raise and head cocks to the side, having abandoned the magazine you were just reading.

“What do you want with a du-rag?” You question, knowing well the texture of his hair can’t form into waves, so you suppose it’s for a fashion statement. He starts blushing, his eyes shut and beautiful pearly whites on display. Damn, did he have you hooked on the spot and you didn’t even know his name yet. You had to hurry up and get him out of here for your own sake, so you took the lead. A few beats passed before he realized you were leading the way to what he needed. He stumbled a little.

“It’s uh- For my performance,” He slips, trailing behind you while passing by the rows of hair-care products, leading towards the back of the store.

“Performance? You dance?” You question, while strutting down the row of where the brushes, combs, barrettes and the jewelry wall was displayed — purposely swaying your hips back and forth just a tad too much for dramatic effect. He definitely noticed, his eyes glued to your form and wondering how your jeans could mold those curves so perfectly.

He blushes at the thought but replies, “I’m a rapper,” And that’s when you stop in your tracks, flipping your braids behind your back and placing your hand on your hip, giving him the same expression that you gave at the counter.

“A rapper?” You ask, while taking him in from head to toe. You notice his white Air Force Ones.

Damn, he is so fine.

He has style, you’ll admit that. But an Asian rapper? That’s unheard of, at least in your neighborhood.

“Do you, boo.” You shrug, while gesturing toward the wall on your left, that displayed various colors of du-rags. You step away to return to the register and then he speaks again.

“What about Blue Magic?” As if he hadn’t surprised you enough, you cross your arms, facing him.

“Well…. it depends on what you want.” You pause, and roll on your heels to walk again, he follows behind you.

“We have coconut oil, but the hair food is out of stock right now. The hair and scalp treatment is limited quantity, but we do have Castor Oil and Super Sure Gro.” You arrive at the row of hair care products, with numerous brands of oils, treatments, and more that cover the shelves. After leaving him there, you admired the way his eyes were shot wide, and you knew damn well he was not 100% sure of what he was looking at — as he searched for the product that piqued his interest.

And so it became a regular occurrence. He’d come in at least once every two weeks, buying the same thing. A du-rag and Super Sure Gro. Some days you’d even be a little extra to “up” your appearance, in hopes he’d notice or in some fantasy world, he’d compliment you. Maybe even ask about you or your day. Or if you’d like to go watch a movie with him or even hit up a spot for some good food. You ponder if he’d be into trying soul food someday. Your mom always did say that a way into a man’s heart is through his stomach. Well, more-so implying that you should know how to get down and dirty in the kitchen.

—

The bell jingles again, while you’re out on the floor stocking up the shelves with bottles of Luster’s Pink Oil Formula. Reaching below into the box to grab a few more bottles, you hadn’t noticed he was towering above you. You jumped slightly when you meet eyes with him, nearly dropping the contents you held onto.

“Don’t you know not to run up on a black woman like that? I may be little, but I can kick your ass!” You both break out into a contagious laugh. He stuffs his hands into his baggy jeans of his, that gorgeous smile spreads across his face. He clears his throat,

“I- Uh- I’m- I’m sorry, I-”

You shake it off, “You’re fine, boo.” Your hand finds its way into his shoulder, a light rub as you brush past him to head for the register. He hesitates, trailing behind you as he fights for the right words to say.

“I-I just, I-” You reach the front of the counter and turn to make eye contact with him. Your eyebrows raise slightly, taking in how he’s struggling to piece his words together. You place your hand on his shoulder again and note how he gazes at you with those same wide eyes you’d grown familiar with over the past few weeks. His lips parted slightly as if he was going to say something but didn’t.

“It’s okay-” You trail off, in hopes he’d catch on.

“Oh, right. N-namjoon. My name is Namjoon.”

You smile in response, lightly rubbing his arm with your palm.

“Is there…. Something you want to say? I promise, I don’t bite,” You state with a soft smile. You notice his shoulders easing themselves down. Part of you wonders what he was so tense for.

“You should come to my performance-” He says rapidly then pauses, looking down and then back up to you, “I would like it- I mean I think that you- You would like my performance.” He internally hates himself for being shy around you, his cheeks so tight and raised from smiling hard, and you could have literally melt in that moment. You thought it was cute to see him that way. To know you made him feel all flustered.

There was a grand amount of effort he’d built to approach you. The very, first day he arrived at the store, he wanted to say something then. He went home that night rehearsing how he’d spark up a conversation with you. He even recalls one time he’d seen you at a bus stop sucking on a lollipop, and how tempted he was to say something then. But he couldn’t. He was afraid of rejection, and he wasn’t sure how to approach you. So when he’d visit the beaut store and see your face, he’d grow warm on the inside. And when you would make eye contact with him, his heart would stop. When you would speak to him with that sweet voice of yours, he’d freeze.

So when you said yes you would be there, he cried afterwards. Not in front of you of course, but on the bus back to his place. He couldn’t believe that you didn’t reject him. Throughout the weeks, he’d contemplated because he didn’t know how you felt about people of his race. He didn’t know how your race felt about people like him in general. Although, it never mattered to him. Because he believed that love is love. As long as you’re happy with that person, that is all what truly matters. He believed everyone deserves to have that kind of love. Little did he know, you felt the same way.

And then things advanced between the two of you.

It was the night he invited you to an underground party, and it was live. Music thumped with never-ending bass, people danced and smoked, and the space felt warm and cluttered, courtesy of body heat. You gradually ease your way through the space, attempting to find some kind of “safe haven” amongst the grinding, moving bodies within the cramped atmosphere. The music settles down, which causes you to look ahead, realizing you’re in front of the stage where the DJ is posted up on the left.

“Alright, y’all! You already know what time it is.” The DJ blatantly announces through his microphone. The crowd somewhat reacts, but not to his liking you assume.

“I said… Y’all already know what time it is!” Everyone goes wild, screaming, chanting and whistling.

“Tonight, I wanna welcome y’all my boy. From the East side, he’s an up and coming rapper- Y’all check this,” He pauses for a moment, “He is a Korean rapper! Y’all feel me? What y’all know about a Korean rapper, aight?” He shakes his head throwing his hands up.

“Imma let y’all have this one, but I’m tellin’ y’all! You don’t know nothing bout this!” You smile uncontrollably, aware of who he’s talking about. Also somewhat anxious to see what the hype is about, your nerves making your stomach churn just a little too much while you’re out in public.

“Give it up for my boy, RM!” The DJ, swivels the record on his turntable back and forth. And there Namjoon was, appearing from the side of the stage, with his du-rag and bucket hat, loose tee, baggy jeans, and those familiar Air Force Ones you’d grown to recognize. You also peep the Cuban chain that adorns his neck.

And then the beat kicks in. Which was also familiar, you note that it’s the beat for “I Need Love.” Everyone starts bobbing their heads, including him. Including you.

He throws his hand up, shoving gestures to go along with the rhythm of the music, while using his other hand to firmly hold onto his mic.

“I’d like to introduce myself, The name is RM, Let’s rewind and take you back to when it first started, Very first time that I walked in the shop, I was startled and I swear I had felt my heart drop, You made me wanna get down on my knees, Begging, please, Coulda told you I was sprung the moment I seen ya,”

He makes eye contact with you and points directly in your direction. He’s talking about you, right? He’s got to be. There’s no way he isn’t. You continue bobbing your head to the beat, and you can’t fight the smile in return.

“Dang baby, how’d you fit in those jeans? Hips got a brother feeling like he’s in a dream, Couldn’t even keep my head straight, Yeah I’m Asian but damn, Somethin’ must have went left and messed up my fam, Sittin’, thinkin’, contemplatin’, and wonderin’, How could I get this fine lil shawty to blushin’? Hopin’ that you’ll say yes and lemme steal you from the scene, Treat you like a queen and show you what a real man can be,”

He stares at you for a moment too long, yet you’ve already grown too hot for the jean jacket you’re wearing over your tube top.

“I need love,” he adds before dropping the mic; everyone suddenly is hype, continuously cheering him on and giving him props for his performance.

“I told y’all! Give it up for my boy, RM!” The DJ adds, patting him on the back while smiling from ear to ear. But, his eyes are focused on you, and only you — who just can’t seem to shake off the bright smile plastered on your face, you attentively graze your bottom lip with your teeth to attempt stopping yourself from smiling so much. But, you fail. And he takes note of that, returning a smile to you. You could tell he’s blushing, his dimples appearing before he dips his head low.

So shy, yet so damn fine. How is that even possible?

—

That same week, he surprised you at work, stumbling in to rap a few verses about how beautiful you are to him, and he pulled a bouquet of roses he hid from behind his back. You remembered that day so clearly. You remembered kissing him, hugging him, holding his hand, smelling the flowers. You also remembered Mr. Park interrupting your little PDA session to scold you about: “No kissing and no sex on the clock!”

But, Namjoon loved you more than you could think. And he didn’t care who in the world thought it was wrong for you two to fall in love. Because the night you two had arrived at his apartment, lips intertwined with one another, and hands roaming each others bodies, was when everything became so clear.

You both stumble inside, too wrapped up in locking lips with one another. Namjoon guides you toward his bedroom; and being the klutz he is, he stubs his shoe on the baseboard leading to his bedroom. You both break the kiss, and you can’t help but chuckle at his clumsy ways.

“Why you laughing at me, huh?” He lifts you up and you can’t help the half gasp/half giggle that escapes your lips, immediately wrapping your legs around his waist as he carries you to his bed. He gently lies you down on your back and hovers above you. You unexpectedly snatch his bucket hat off, tossing it somewhere on the floor — his faded, white-blonde and dark brown strands on display.

“Did you have to do my Kangol like that?” He whines with furrowed brows. You tap his bottom lip, dragging your finger across the plump flesh.

“Shut up and kiss me.” His gold Cuban link chain hangs from his neck, prompting your fingers to tug it down, and you do so, his lips smashing with yours yet again. Your fingers lace themselves within his hair, admiring the feel of his oiled scalp. His lips massage yours in a way that’s beyond comforting, and you make sure to inform him how nostalgic kissing feels. Drawn-out moans spew from you, and you can’t help but wonder how in the hell could you be in this time and moment with him. Piece by piece all of your garments end up lost on the ground, along with his clothing. He had you caged in to his bed and kept himself hovered over you, planting kisses along your neck trailing down to your collarbone.

“Mmm, Joon.” You follow his lead, kissing his blush-colored lips, snaking through his silky strands. His hands travel behind your back to remove your lace bra, revealing your breasts that illuminate from the moonlight peeking through the blinds of his window, your chocolate nipples hardened and desperate for attention. His eyes are blown wide, cherishing every dip and curve of your body.

“Wow,” He admits, his erection growing behind his undergarment. He holds a few moments to etch this view of you within his memory, appreciating every trait of your being in this form. His hands find placement on your hips, pulling you to his body completely — the soft, plushness of your breasts pushed against his chest. He rubs the outline of your face, slowly dragging his index finger along your jawline.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world. You know that?” You let out a small giggle, feeling vulnerable in this state. He kisses you, being sure to suck your bottom lip, pulling and tugging softly with his teeth. His hands roam down your back and land on your ass cheeks, gripping with force. Your breath hitches, and you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, in hopes to ease him in just a little more. Even though physically it isn’t possible. He teases your bottom lip with a swipe of his tongue, asking for entrance.

And you let him in, sucking and licking him back in response, both of yours saliva mixing with each others, and not a care in the world — too consumed in each other. He gropes your ass, causing a moan to slip from you. His large palms kneading the cushion-y flesh, and damn is he grateful for this moment in time with you. He pulls from your lips with an audible smack, and you relish in the sight of his thick lips all swollen and damp.

“I love you, ____” He admits with those delightful irises.

“I love you too, Namjoon.” He guides you to lie down on your back, hovering above you as he places kisses along your jawline, leading down your neck, taking his time to cherish every part of you. His hands roam along your sides, caressing the curves of your body. He kisses the area between your breasts and stops suddenly, eyeing you for approval. As if understanding, you nod. His tongue peeks out and circles your right nipple, he wraps his lips around the bud and sucks with tenderness, making sure to release with a pop each time while his other hand massages your left breast.

Your core aches as a result, needing to feel him so the void inside your walls can be filled. He repeats this with your other tit, sucking your nipple while massaging the other, pinching and rolling the bud between his fingers. Your core throbs with an intense pleasure, soaking your now soiled panties. He eases down further, planting kisses down your tummy and moving along the inner thighs of your mocha skin, praising the smooth, supple, flesh. His fingers tug the band of your lace panties, and he eyes you again for approval.

“Please,” You plead, and it was all he needed to hear to remove the garment and reveal yourself to him, treasuring the sight of your lips dripping from arousal. He wastes no time, as you feel his warm, wet muscle gliding along your folds, his nose nuzzling your clit in the process. Your fingers snake into his hair and hips buck upwards to move along the rhythmic motions of his tongue, while he devours you whole as if he’d become a man starved.

“Joon!” You praise, panting for air, Your gaze follows between your legs, cherishing the man that continues to eat you out. He watches your expressions, glaring deeply into your eyes as he does so. His fingers ease toward your folds, rubbing his digits along your drenched pussy, coating them with your wet. He watches you still, not wanting to leave your gaze as he enters a finger inside you. You moan his name in response. His finger delves deep within you, your walls sucking him in perfectly.

“So good for me,” He lashes his tongue out to lick your clit in a circular motion. The sight of him between your thighs makes your heart quiver. He deliberately adds a second finger, his lengthy digits curling themselves upwards and dragging along the walls of your womanhood. His nails dig along the flesh of your thighs, keeping you settled and under his grip, his lips suck on your clit til no end. His obscene noises send a shockwave of pleasure through you, and your toes curl at the sensation. He pulls his fingers from out of you and tastes your arousal that clings to him.

“Tastes so good,” He moans, and you can’t help your thighs from rubbing together to ease the tension that has built. Then, he blushes at the view of you, all horny and ready for him. Only him. How can he be so cute and so fine at the same time? You ask yourself this everyday. Your legs move on their own accord, struggling to draw him back in. He chuckles at your actions.

“You want more, baby?” He questions in that deep, sexy voice of his.

You nod in reply, “Yes, Joon. Please, daddy?” His famous dimples reappear, and those mesmerizing, pearly whites appear. He dives back down, trailing kisses along your tummy, leading to your mound. He worships your body as he had wanted to do since the day he met you, gripping and rubbing along your skin. He moans against you, admiring the feel of you under his fingertips. His lips encase around your clit again, and your body jerks from the sudden feeling. His tongue slides along your folds, sucking and slurping, making the most lewd noises.

His fingernails drag along your thighs, adding an odd tingle within you. You follow his motions and graze your nails on top of his hand, when an unexpected bliss washes over you — causing you to writhe underneath him. He continues sucking your clitoris until you can’t take anymore, your legs gliding up an down along his back, back arching off the mattress, eyebrows furrowing and you simply drowning in euphoria with trembling thighs as your nails drag along his scalp and your cries echo within his eardrums.

“Joon, daddy!” Your nails dig further into his hand, and fingers tug harshly onto his strands. Your core now sensitive to the touch, something you’d never experienced before. He moves his head back and forth, delving deeper and not wanting to let go. You scratch his back, now in hopes he’d give up. You’re nearly convinced he’s going to kill you with that tongue of his, and then out of nowhere, he pushes two fingers inside you. Your toes curl for what feels like the millionth time, and you whimper his name repeatedly.

He thrusts his digits into you, a loud squelching noise filling up the space. And you feel those plush lips wrap around your clit again. He ruts against the bed, wanting to feed the tension within his groin. Your feet now having fought the sheets you lay upon, twisting and turning due to the over-sensitivity. But in some strange sentiment, there’s another wave. And here you are having your second orgasm of the night.

“Fuck, Ungh- I’m cumming again!” Your body shakes violently, not having control over the orgasm that’s overtaken you. An uncontrollable scream slips out and you shove Namjoon away from you with a strained push, his chin now glistening with you. He wipes the residue from his face with the back of his hand, grinning at you fucked out and waiting on his bed. He pulls a condom from somewhere in his drawer and wraps himself up.

He was so thick, thicker than you thought. You lay flat on your tummy and Namjoon sets himself on top of you, caging you in again. He notes the glow upon your ebony skin as he coats his protected member with your drenched self, adding a line of his own saliva and finally diving into you with every inch he has, at a slow, steady pace. But the places he reaches leave you wondering what you’d done to deserve this kind of dick.

Magnificent.

“Beautiful, black queen,” he slips in between breaths, rocking his hips against yours. The position granting him a much deeper access. You gasp at his remark, clenching your walls tighter around him, he hisses in response. His warm breath fans the right side of your face, and he presses a kiss along your earlobe while adding,

“All mine. You’re my black queen, understand? Can’t nobody take that away from me.”

“Yes Namjoon,” You reply. “I’m all yours.”

His cock twitches at the sound of his name slipping from your lips within this state — having you underneath him like this, needy, desperate, and only craving him. He inches to meet your lips with his. His kisses are filled with want and desire, full of love. That sweet, sweet love.

“Give it to me daddy,” You say under your breath but audible enough for him to hear, and he takes heed to continue thrusting himself into you, his delicate, golden skin glimmering with perspiration. The sound of your bodies clapping against each other resonate throughout his apartment, as soft whimpers and moans fall from you, and he utilizes every millisecond of this moment to drown himself in your presence.

“So tight, so wet. So beautiful.” His hips buck in a gentle, yet stern manner, causing your body to jerk upward and eyes to shut close in response — his balls slapping your ass with each thrust of his hips, he continuously hits that sweet spot over and over again, your eyes rolling back due to the nostalgia. He eases his fingers in between your legs to rub circles into your clit simultaneously, and it doesn’t take long for your walls to contract for the third time that night.

“Fuck baby,” He coos with followed moans and groans, spilling himself while still buried in you. You shudder underneath him with nails dragging along the sheets, and muffled moans from burying your face, as you call out his name like it was the only function your brain could process.

He eases himself out of you, and you can’t help the low gasp that emits from you — having been so full of him and sensitive at the same time. A few moments later, and the slight shift of the bed indicates he vanished to discard the condom. You simply lay there, slowly processing that he’d given you the best sex you’ve ever had, being that his main focus was pleasuring you.

But it was in those final moments when Namjoon cuddled you afterwards, bodies attached together by sweat, gasping for air and basking himself in the warm, vanilla, sugar aroma of your essence — that he knew he was in love with you. And there was nothing anyone could ever say to change his feelings.

You break the silence having thought of Namjoon’s words you recall from his performance.

“Think you’ve found it?” He watches your form with raised eyebrows.

“Found what?” You trace circles along his chest, gazing upon his abdomen.

“Love,” You state, and a silence falls that makes your body warm up in a flash.

He shakes his head in a “no” gesture, “I don’t think I have.” The sudden pause of his sentence makes your heart drop.

“I know I have.” He kisses your forehead and draws you closer to him, holding onto you for dear life — like he’s afraid he’d lose you. You beam at his gesture, curling up into his figure. His heart thumps from the immense affection between the two of you. Your now closed eyes like an irreplaceable gift to him.

“My around the way girl,” He whispers to himself, while petting your hair and drifting off into slumber.

#houseofddaeng #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bangtanhq #btsgoldnet #mikrogalaxynet #namjoon fluff #namjoon smut #rm fluff #rm smut #bts fluff #bts smut #kim namjoon #ambw #bts ambw #bangtanlalaland

303 notes · View notes

thranduilland · 4 years

Text

The Nectar of the Gods

(So many things I’m supposed to be doing instead of this, but I wrote this instead. I am still in Barduil hell... this was supposed to be like a cute little thing and it became this, oops.) The first time Bard visits Mirkwood, Thranduil doesn’t honestly expect anything to be different. Bard is not a morning person and, as far as Thranduil can tell, has never been one, but once he’s eaten his breakfast and gotten himself ready for the day, he’s normally pleasant to be around once again.

Not so the first time he visits Mirkwood.

“Good morning, meleth.” Thranduil greets, a happy smile on his face as he listens to the forest waking up outside his window. Bard grumbles and buries his head under his pillow, Thranduil simply laughs and leaves him to it, rolling himself out of bed to go and get ready to face the day.

Only, he meets back up with Bard for breakfast, the two of them sitting in the Great Hall, Thranduil’s people happily chattering all around them, but Bard is grumpier than Thranduil thinks he’s ever seen him. His head resting on the table in front of him and his food untouched beside him.

“Bard?” Thranduil queries, something a little like worry nagging in the back of his mind. His only response is a groan. “What’s wrong?”

“Coffee!” Bard mumbles into the wood of the table, Thranduil frowns in confusion.

“Coffee?” Thranduil queries, sounding out the unfamiliar word, trying to determine if he’s ever heard it before. Beside him, Bard’s entire body goes still.

“Please tell me you know what coffee is?” Bard pleads, the first time Thranduil has ever heard him beg for anything.

“Describe it.” Thranduil demands, deciding that whatever this coffee thing is, it’s obviously important.

“Little brown beans that you get from a plant. You roast and then ground the beans and put the powder in hot water and it makes the nectar of the gods!” Bard describes, Thranduil blinks at him in confusion and Bard whimpers.

“I do not know this bean.” Thranduil finally says, wincing when Bard let’s out a sad little noise. “Is it important?”

“It is, honestly, the only reason I get out of bed in the morning.” Bard replies, still talking to the table and apparently not ready to change that any time soon.

“I’m sorry we don’t have any, Bard.” Thranduil consoles, wondering what is so wonderful about this ‘coffee’ that it leaves Bard in tears at its absence. For, he’s absolutely certain that he can see tears in the corner of Bard’s closed eye.

“Do you have tea? You have to have tea, right?” Bard asks, something a little like cautious hope and dejection in his voice.

“Of course, we have tea!” Thranduil exclaims, mildly offended. “What kind of place do you think I am keeping here?”

“Well, forgive me, your greatest majesty, but you don’t have coffee, how was I supposed to know you think tea is important?” Bard snarks at him, all without lifting his head from the table. “Where is the tea?”

“In the Healing Halls, of course. It’s medicine.” Thranduil replies, exasperated and still mildly concerned when Bard moans into the table. “Bard, I am very concerned for you.”

“I’m going back to bed.” Bard mutters, pushing himself up from the table and stumbling out of the room. Thranduil following after him, his concern growing with every step.

“Bard? Are you sick? Do you need to see a healer?” Thranduil queries, keeping his voice low, when he notes how the human keeps flinching away from the bright lights that line the halls, and the sudden laughter of Thranduil’s people as they go about their morning. He’s more than just a little worried now.

“’m fine.” Bard mumbles, pressing a hand to his head. “Go enjoy your day.” The human grumbles, disappearing into Thranduil’s room, Thranduil frowns and follows him through the door, finds the human has collapsed face down on the bed, his arms tucked against his sides.

“I’ll send for one of the healers.” Thranduil decides, turning on his heel.

“’m fine.” Bard insists, even though he hasn’t moved an inch when Thranduil turns to look. “Jus’ nee’ coffee.” He mumbles, snuggling his face against the pillows. “Mmm, coffee.” He mutters and Thranduil is astounded to watch the human fall asleep within moments.

He sends the healer in, anyway.

“I don’t really know what to tell you, aran.” Head healer Lindariel states, looking at the sleeping human before them. “He doesn’t have a fever, or a cough, and he’s not been injured. I don’t know much of human illnesses, but perhaps he caught something before he arrived here?”

“He was complaining about coffee, before. Have you heard of it?” Thranduil asks, looking down at his human lover with open concern. “I’m very worried for him.”

“I’ve not heard of this coffee. What is it?” Lindariel queries, cocking her head to the side in curiosity.

“It’s apparently a bean grown from a plant, the humans roast it and grind it into powder, that they mix with hot water and it apparently makes some sort of ‘divine’ beverage.” Thranduil replies, turning to his healer to see if she has any knowledge, but the curiosity on her face doesn’t diminish.

“I’ve not heard of this. I will investigate.”

“He also asked about tea? Could we give him some?” Thranduil queries, resisting the temptation to bite on his lower lip.

“I will prepare some for him.” Lindariel decides, before moving off to do so, already lost in thoughts about where she might find information about ‘coffee’.

Thranduil sighs, looks once more at Bard, then turns to go and do his kingly duties for the day, he’s already put them off long enough.

Bard appears at lunch; he’s clutching a teapot and a mug like they are the most precious things on the earth when Thranduil sinks down beside him at the table.

“You’re looking a lot better.” Thranduil says, feeling better for it.

“Tea really is a wonderful medicine.” Bard replies, smiling at Thranduil, though it looks a little crazed and now that Thranduil’s sitting beside him, he can see that Bard’s hands are shaking.

“Bard, how much tea have you had today?” Thranduil queries, suddenly concerned for a whole different reason.

“I think this is my eighth cup.” The human replies, frowning at him. “Why?”

“I think you shouldn’t have anymore.” Thranduil says gently, reaching forward to try and take the teapot away, but Bard just grips it tighter.

“No, I need it.”

“Bard-“

“You don’t have coffee!” Bard exclaims, lifting the mug to his lips and downing the contents in one go. “This is the only alternative, so I’m drinking it.”

“If I can find some coffee for you, will you stop drinking the tea?” Thranduil asks, resting his hand over Bard’s, when the man tries to pour himself another mug full.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I will try to get some coffee for you, in the meantime, maybe you should eat lunch and then go and rest? You’re probably still tired from yesterday.” Thranduil coaxes, pushing just a little of his power into his words, sees the fog that forms in Bard’s eyes.

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” The Dragonslayer agrees, putting down both the teapot and the mug and reaching for his plate instead. Thranduil watches him eat, picking at his own food as he does so. Then, when the bell rings to signify the end of the meal, Thranduil walks Bard back to bed. Then, he goes and sends someone to Dale, to find out about ‘coffee’ and bring some back, if at all possible.

Bard doesn’t meet him for dinner.

Thranduil is woken in the very early hours of the morning, or the very late hours of the night, depending on your point of view, by Galion. He looks at his sleeping human, before quietly rolling out of bed and going to meet his friend in the living space outside his room.

“What’s happened?” Thranduil asks, wrapping his gown around him in the slight chill.

“Meludir returned with coffee.” Galion explains, an amused smile on his face. “Apparently, humanity runs on coffee.”

“I’m sorry?” Thranduil exclaims, blinking at his oldest friend, who just laughs.

“The people of Dale would like you to know that they consider it an act of war to withhold coffee from them. They will forgive you for this offense against their king in this instance, but they warn you that you are on thin ice.” Galion dutifully imparts the message while Thranduil just stares at him in stupefaction.

“But what is it?”

“I don’t rightly know. Did you want to go and try some? Meludir has been crowing about it since he came back. He and the off-shift guards are in the wine cellar trying it out since the humans showed him how to make it.”

“Let’s go!”

Descending the stairs down into the dungeons, they both pause, closing their eyes and inhaling a rich and nutty aroma. Thranduil vaguely remembers having smelt this at various times throughout his dealings with men, but he’s never figured out what caused the smell. Obviously, it’s whatever this ‘coffee’ is.

He and Galion continue to follow the smell, to find the off-shift home guard all gathered around a pot resting on the table, the aroma wafting from it. He shares a look with Galion, before they both cross to peer into the pot, staring into a black liquid within.

“Is it… safe to drink?” Thranduil asks, perplexed as to how the drink can smell so lovely and look so unappetising.

“It is very safe to drink, so long as you do not drink in excess.” Meludir helpfully replies, though Thranduil notes his legs are jingling up and down, like he cannot keep them still.

“How much have you had to drink Meludir?” Thranduil queries, reminded of Bard at the lunch table.

“Four cups so far!” Meludir helpfully tells him, a giant smile on his face. “It’s very, very yummy!”

“Why did we send the lightweight to fetch the mystery beverage?” Thranduil queries the room at large, no one has an answer for him, so he sighs and turns his eyes back to the liquid in the pot. “Very well, since Meludir has already attested that the drink is not poison, someone pour me a mug.” Feren is the one who moves, grabbing down a mug and placing filter paper over the top, then pouring the liquid in. They all stare at the black grounds left on the filter paper, that Feren carefully takes from the mug. Feren slides the mug across to Thranduil and joins the others in looking at him with expectant eyes.

“Mellon nin, are you sure?” Galion queries, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “Perhaps I should-“ but his oldest friend doesn’t get to finish his statement, before Thranduil is lifting the mug to his lips and sipping it. He can’t quite help the face he makes at the bitterness, but there’s a rich earthy taste to it that he thinks he might like.

“Hmm.” Is the only audible reaction he gives to his audience, before taking a few more mouthfuls of the drink, debating its taste, still undecided after those few mouthfuls. “I don’t feel different.”

“Just wait!” Meludir helpfully exclaims, smiling at him. “I feel like I’ve spent the entire day eating sugary treats!”

“Oh, good. We definitely wanted to be drinking this while we’re supposed to be sleeping!” Thranduil huffs, but it doesn’t stop him from taking another sip. They all patiently watch him drink his coffee, he wonders if this is how the poison tester feels and decides that should he ever need another poison tester, he will ensure they are well cared for.

It’s about ten minutes after drinking the cup that he feels the tingling in his fingers and feels the exhaustion from the day falling away from him, until he’s smiling with wide eyed excitement, feeling like he’s just had a long, refreshing nap.

“Oh.” He exclaims, looking into the pot, from which the others haven’t been brave enough to try any yet. “I’m not getting any further sleep tonight.” He announces to no one in particular and goes to sit beside Meludir, watching the others with expectant eyes. “Well, go on then! Try it!”

None of them make it to bed that night.

“Bard! Wake up! Bard!” Thranduil exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he tries to rouse his human from slumber. He hasn’t felt this light on his feet since he was at most Legolas’ age. His heart is racing in his chest, so fast he thinks it might be unhealthy, but he hasn’t had the presence of mind to focus on it, because he’s too busy feeling like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin. “Bard!” His human grumbles and rolls over in bed. “I found your coffee!” Thranduil excitedly tells him, doesn’t expect Bard to shoot up from the bed and stumble towards him on unsteady legs.

“Coffee?”

“Yes, coffee!” Thranduil agrees, grinning wide. “Come!” he snags Bard’s wrist and drags the human to the door, but the moment it’s open, Bard is off running, following the heavenly smell that’s wafting through the halls. Thranduil laughs behind him, the sound so delighted to his own ears, the way his laughter hasn’t been for many, many thousands of years now. He chases after his lover through the halls, his laughter drifting off the walls as his people stop in shock to watch them go. He doesn’t care that he’s being undignified. He doesn’t care that he’s running through his halls, laughing with wild abandon the way his people here have never seen him.

All that he cares about is ensuring his Bard finds the coffee because Bard is right. It is nectar of the gods and he can’t believe no one has told him about it before!

“How much coffee have you had?” Bard asks, sounding a lot more awake and happier than he has since he went to bed the night he arrived.

“The Off-shift and I spent the night and most of the morning drinking it.” Thranduil answers, his eyes closed as he happily sways back and forward on his stool down in the wine cellar. He wonders if this is how humans feel when they’re drunk, it’s an experience he’s never actually had in his life, because it’s so hard for elves to get drunk. They’re more likely to grow bored of drinking than to ever drink enough for the beverage to really affect them more than a tingling in their fingers and an extreme feeling of tiredness. “I think I’ve had maybe ten cups!”

“Don’t drink anymore.” Bard warns, Thranduil frowns, opening one eye to look at the human. “Overdose can be fatal.”

“Mmm, alright.” Thranduil agrees, letting his eye slip closed again as he resumes his swaying.

“Coffee makes elves drunk. That’s interesting.” Bard mutters, Thranduil just hums back at him. If this is what it feels like to be drunk, he likes it. It’s blissful.

“I’m not being a king today.” He announces to Bard, like it’s some great secret, he hears Bard chuckle but doesn’t open his eyes.

“No, I don’t think that would go well for anyone if you tried.” Bard agrees, Thranduil hums happily. “We should probably get you to bed, before you get to the emotional portion of intoxication.”

“Oh?”

“When did you have your last cup?” Bard queries, Thranduil hears him setting down his mug on the table, but still doesn’t open his eyes.

“Before I came and got you.” He answers, though his words seem to slur together and he frowns in surprise.

“Alright, let’s go put an elf-king to bed.” Bard coaxes, Thranduil jumps a little when he feels hands on his arms. “It’s just me.” Bard soothes and Thranduil collapses against him, suddenly feeling boneless and weightless, like he could just float up and join the stars in the sky.

“What is happening?” he asks, but he knows the words don’t come out sounding how he thinks they should. “Bard?”

“You’re drunk.” Bard explains, grunting as he scoops Thranduil up into his arms. Thranduil hasn’t been carried like this, when he hasn’t been injured, since he was an elfling. He’s not sure if he likes this drunk feeling anymore.

“Bard?”

“It’s alright. You’ll be fine in a few hours, I promise.” Bard soothes him, as he carries him back through the halls. In the back of his mind, Thranduil realizes that his people will be watching this too, but he doesn’t have the focus to care, snuggling against Bard and letting his head loll. The world seems to spin, but he’s certain he hasn’t opened his eyes in a while so he doesn’t know how the world could possibly be spinning when he can’t see it doing it.

“Bard?”

“I’m still here.” Bard assures him, his voice gentle and far away, Thranduil relaxes at the sound of it.

“I love you.” He says, his mouth now apparently having a mind of its own. “I know you doubt that sometimes, but I really, really, really love you, lots and lots and lots.” He promises, feeling a little like a child as he says the words, but his childhood was some of the happiest years of his life, so he doesn’t mind. Luthien had been there, his beautiful and bubbly cousin, who fell in love with a mortal. He hadn’t seen what all the rage was about with Beren, but Luthien had promised him he’d love a mortal someday, too, and then he’d understand. He’d laughed when she’d said that but look at him now.

“I love you, too.” Bard replies, pressing a kiss to his forehead, then Thranduil feels himself being laid down on something soft and Bard’s pulling away.

“No!” Thranduil exclaims, blindly reaching for his human, his eyes refusing to open, even as his questing hands find Bard’s wrist and hold tight. “No, no, don’t leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Thranduil. I’m just getting you a glass of water.” Bard promises, but all Thranduil knows is that his heart is suddenly beating too quickly in his ears and he feels a fear so great he thinks he might be sick of it. “Hey, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

“Everyone always leaves and then it’s just me.” He mumbles, deciding that he very much hates this being drunk thing, doesn’t like it at all and would prefer never to feel this way again. “They make me love them and then they just… poof… gone. I don’t want you to go, too, but you will, because you’re human, like Beren and I don’t know if I’m strong like Luthien. She was so strong. The strongest.” His strong cousin, his first friend in the world, his lovely cousin and she’s gone, gone, gone, gone, gone.

“You’re the strongest person I know, Thranduil.”

“Even if I am strong like her, I can’t be mortal. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.” he repeats over and over again, his mind stuck on the words.

“No one is asking you to be mortal.” Bard’s voice cuts through the litany and he gasps in startled surprise, Bard takes the moment to free his arm, but before Thranduil can react, he finds his human’s warmth pressed up against him, his arms around Thranduil and pulling him close, holding him tight. “No one is asking you to be anything more or less than who and what you are.”

“You’re gonna leave me.”

“One day, yes.”

“I don’t want you to go.” He exclaims, turning in Bard’s arms and clinging tight to his clothing, tucking his face into Bard’s neck as his breaths shake over his lips, the tears burning in his eyes. “I love you. Don’t leave me. Don’t go.”

“I’ll stay as long as I can, I promise.”

“Don’t go.” His voice cracks and the sobs are quick and so encompassing, the fear and grief he feels so overwhelming he can’t do anything but give in, sobbing and pleading and clinging to Bard like he is the only thing in this world that matters. He feels his energy fleeing him all to quickly and with one last desperate plea, falls into a thick and heavy darkness.

The world is too bright and too loud and too obnoxiously happy when Thranduil wakes in the morning. His head feels like an entire mountain of dwarves have moved in and are trying to chip open his skull. He moans and rolls over, so his face is in the mattress, as he pulls the pillow up over the back of his head. He hears a familiar chuckle beside him and moans again.

“Come on, you need to drink some water and eat something.” Bard coaxes, but Thranduil just groans at him. “Are you really going to let a hangover be what defeats you?” the human teases, Thranduil snarls and pushes himself up to sit and glare at his lover, who holds out a glass of water, unfazed with a stupid grin on his face. Thranduil snatches the glass from his hand and gulps it down in one go. “Good, now you can have some Hair of the Dog.” Bard tells him, Thranduil just blinks at him stupidly, but his human doesn’t seem inclined to explain.

“What is that?” he finally demands, glaring again. Bard smirks, and takes the empty glass from him, turning to place it on the bedside table on Bard’s side, before grabbing a mug of a familiar smelling substance. Thranduil pulls away a little but Bard just laughs.

“It’s Hair of the Dog. You drink more of what you had the night before, to ease the hangover.” Bard explains, holding out the mug again. Thranduil glares at it. “The hangover being the headache and all the other wonderful things happening to you right now.”

“Fine.” Thranduil grumbles, grabbing the mug and downing the coffee. It doesn’t take too long before he starts to feel a little better. “Now what?”

“Now you spend the day drinking water and eating.” Bard answers, grinning and climbing from the bed. “Come along, love! You put off being a king yesterday, you don’t get to put off being a king today, even if you’d like to. This is what you put me through every single damn time you kept giving me wine before and after the BOFA. This is payback.” Bard cheerfully announces, laughing when Thranduil lobs a pillow at him.

“Being drunk is horrible!” Thranduil whines, before forcing himself to get out of bed, even though he doesn’t want to. “Never drinking coffee again!” he promises himself, not realizing the lie he has just uttered.

Bard does not speak of any of what Thranduil said while under the influence that night, and Thranduil never remembers saying any of it.

Thus, Mirkwood becomes the first Elven Realm to discover just how stupid they can be while under the influence. They are not the last.

#Barduil #Bard #Thranduil #Lotr #the Hobbit #Coffee addiction #coffee withdrawal #coffee makes elves drunk #idk what to tag this as #hahah #drunk elves #Bard is exhibit A of my mum and me when we haven't had coffee in the morning #Thran is exhibit A of me when I'm drunk... whoops

25 notes · View notes

themadamelibrarian · 5 years

Text

Something for Muffin

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Sam Wesson/You, Reader/Sam Wesson Characters: Sam Wesson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Reader-Insert, Reader Insert, Shyness, Socially Awkward Reader, First Meetings, Awkward Flirting, Fluff Summary: The Reader is a successful woman who owns her own business, so talking was really a problem, until he walked into her bakery. Now she can't seem to find the words to say ask for what she really wants.

NOTE: This fic is dedicated to @helvonasche. She is the best macron of them all.

Share this story and show support for the creator!

Tagging: @copperseraphim; @thenanahunter; @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell; @idabbleincrazy; @truxblooded;

LINK TO AO3

It was a day like any other. A Monday to be specific and one of the busiest for your shop. All the surrounding offices provided a steady stream of customers wanting their morning pastries or afternoon quiche with enough coffee to fill an Olympic swimming pool. You had gotten used to the ebb and flow after several years in this particular location. Working harder to be where you were today and being one of the lucky few who could say that you loved the job.

Your favorite part, other than thinking up creative ways to put tasty fillings in the dough, was meeting new people and making them smile. Never having any problem chatting with the patrons, be it a little kid smearing fingerprints on the glass while making a decision or the little old man from the next block who came all the way just for his weekly treat. At least that’s what you thought until that morning.

You had just finished putting a tray of fresh macarons that took the weekend to make when he walked in. A tall figure with medium length hair in a yellow shirt that he filled out quite well. He was handsome. More than anyone you’d seen come in before and it set your pulse racing. When you went to greet him as you did to anyone else you found that your voice wouldn’t work. You swallowed and mentally screamed at yourself. This hadn’t happened since High School when your crush had finally said hello. It was a damned ridiculous reaction but here you were working your mouth like a fish as the power of speech escaped like an unleashed pet.

“Hi,” the guy finally said with a polite smile, “Um… do you have any cinnamon bagels?”

You nodded mutely and pointed at the end of the case.

He nodded his thanks and walked down to take a look. After a few seconds, he pointed at the bagels and said that he wanted a dozen. You sprang into action and cheered to silently that you still remembered what a dozen meant. One packed box and a steaming cup on the counter, you squeaked out the total owed and he handed over exact change, stuffing a couple of dollars into the jar.

Once the bell had rung, signaling his departure, your tongue unfroze and a stream of unspoken thoughts came pouring out, “Hi! Thank you for coming to All or Muffin, how can I service you.” When you’d finished you groaned and dropped your head down on the counter, “You moron! You passed up a perfectly good chance to chat up a cute guy.”

There wasn't a lot of time to stew in embarrassment before the next customer came in, kicking off a brisk early mornings’ business.

Every day that week, the tall man who you had come to nickname Moose so she could have something to call him in her head, came in and picked out a few items to go with his morning coffee. His orders weren’t as large as the first and you figured that it was a one-off for his office or friends. Not caring, either way, all you wanted to be able to do was say more than two words to him. At least you'd worked your way up to saying “Hi” and “Thank You” in addition to what he owed for his order. Each time he came in, you felt more smitten with him than the last, which was ridiculous because you didn’t even know his name. It was juvenile and not at all like an adult woman with a business of her own should act. And that’s exactly what you told your friend, Harper, at lunch that Saturday.

“You mean to tell me that a good looking guy has been coming into your store every day for a week and you haven’t asked his name?” Harper asked incredulously as she leaned back in her chair, “Jesus! Have you been snorting too much caster sugar or what?”

“I’m telling you, Harp, this guy is beyond ‘good looking’. He’s-He’s gorgeous. With the dimples and hair and voice. I’m broken. That’s it. Broken.”

“Well you better put on some big girl panties soon and talk to the guy before he starts to think that you’re missing brain cells,” Harper said.

“Hi! Sorry, I’m a dork. Let's fuck?” You snorted, picking up a fork and stabbing at the pasta on her plate.

Harper laughed, gently shoving your shoulder, “That’s the spirit. Although I’d ask him for a date first.”

You shrugged with a little smirk of her own, “I don’t know. Climbing him like a tree sounds good right about now. Five years is a long time without getting some.”

“I knew you started a convent and not a bakery,” Harper teased, picking up her glass to drink.

“You should see the cobwebs.”

“I’ll take that as a rhetorical request and not an invitation,” Harper said, “So, are you going to find your tongue and talk to ‘The Moose’ next time he comes in?”

“Eventually,” you said before stuffing a bit into your mouth, effectively ending that part of the conversation.

.oOo.

‘Eventually’ turned into weeks of half sentences when he came in. It was irritating that you still hadn’t worked up the courage to speak to him. Your friends were almost as frustrated as you were because they’d spent countless hours listening to you bemoan her lack of wit in his presence, and it would seem that the Fates were tired of it as well.

It was late on Wednesday afternoon and The Moose hadn’t come in. You tried to tell herself that it was fine. People miss days all the time. That didn’t explain why you felt so down about it. It wasn’t like they had a deep meaningful relationship. He was a customer and she was a Baker. Instead of feeling bad for yourself, you busied herself with planning out next week's special confectionaries. Halfway through the menu notes the little brass bell above the door jingled. Keeping your back to the door, you called over your shoulder, “Be with you in just one sec.”

“Good. So you can talk,” a deep voice rumbled.

You froze with the pen poised above the page as a flush lighted up your cheeks. “Oh god!” you groaned before turning around to face him.

“Now there’s something I’ve not been called before. The name is Sam,” he said with a bright smile, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“N-no,” you answered nervously, gripping the pen tightly.

Sam, formerly ‘The Moose’, leaned on the counter and said, “I’ve seen you talk to other customers and you’re almost bubbly, but with me you’re laconic. What gives? Do I smell funny or do you just hate me?”

“W-what?” you stammered out as thoughts started racing around about how he thought you didn’t like him and that you'd dug herself a nice hole so you might as well go lay down in it.

“Monosyllabic it is,” Sam said and straightened back up, “Yes or no. Do you not want me to come in here?”

You swallowed around the lump in her throat, mustering up the courage to do what Harper advised to do from the beginning. “No, I mean yes, I want you to come in.”

Sam brightened up and shoved his hands in his pockets, curling his shoulders to make himself less intimidating, “Then why the mime-time when I come in? I can’t be that bad to talk to.”

“I-I didn’t know what to say because of what I wanted to say."

“And what was that?” Sam asked, “Because there’s been something I’ve wanted to say too.”

You shook her head and blushed a bit harder as the various things you wanted to say over the weeks flitted back into memory, “It’s dorky. At least I think it is. What did you wanna say?”

Sam stepped close to the counter and looked directly into your eyes, “Would you like to go to dinner with me?”

At that moment, as soon as the words left his mouth, you could have been knocked over by a gentle breeze. Of all the things this man that you'd been mooning over could have said, that was not what was expected. “You want to go out to dinner? With me?” you asked, trying to process the events in her mind.

“I don’t see anyone else in the room,” He said looking around for anyone else, “but it all depends on two things.”

“And what are the conditions of your date invitation.”

Sam leaned forward and dropped his voice low, “You saying yes and telling me your name,”

Your heart sped up with excitement. This was it. This was the moment you'd been fantasizing about even if the roles were reversed. Smiling at Sam for the first time, you said, “My name is Y/N and I like Italian.”

#My Writing #Supernatural #Fanfiction #spn fanfic #Reader Insert #Sam Wesson (Winchester)#Sam/Reader

1 note · View note

verdigrisprowl · 5 years

Text

April 29 Dancitron Movie Night - Stranger Than Fiction

Watching a character with a voice in his head dictating what he was going to do was very uncomfortable. But Prowl endured.

And got more cuddly than normal with temporarily-xenomorphed Soundwave.

Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 7:47 PM Don't mind the thing that looks like a mechanical xenomorph sitting curled up on the couch. It's supposed to be there. Mainly because it's Soundwave. So, you know. No need to worry about getting plastered to a wall, or dragged underground, or killed, or anything like that.

...Actually, he might plaster troublemakers to the wall. You probably shouldn't test that. Just get drinks and snacks and get comfortable. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:01 PM Prowl is absolutely going to get comfortable, right next to the mechanical xenomorph. Would said xenomorph like to relocate his curl to Prowl's lap? Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:04 PM Oh, yes. Yes, he would. He is absolutely going to move to get his entire front half settled on Prowl's thighs and lean up against his stomach in exactly the way he would never, ever get away with doing were he in his normal frame.

Ahhhhh. So that's what this is like. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:05 PM ... Prowl wonders if he can pet Soundwave. Hmm. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:07 PM Soundwave wonders if Prowl thinks the answer to that would be a no even in his regular frame. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:08 PM In his regular form, he kind of assumes it's a no. In THIS form, he's trying it out to see what happens. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:12 PM Well, it might be a no if Prowl hits the wrong spot on his regular frame, but honestly? Repetitive motion is soothing. He'd probably relax so deeply he fell asleep if Prowl sat next to him and idly stroked one of those ironing board shoulders with a thumb long enough.

Anyway, the point is, he just vents once in obvious contentment and waits for others to show up. He's sure this will stop as soon as one of them does. ((i'm gonna start in three minutes, still finishing my rice--get what y'all need)) Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:13 PM It was only a matter of time. The supervision couldn't last forever. Swoop, despite being far scrawnier than the others, was still a Dinobot and Dinobots are endurance fighters. In comes Swoop, chaperone free, with his ankle bells jingling but no one to hold onto the leash Grimlock had thoroughly fastened to him. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:14 PM ...Oh dear. SpecsToday at 8:16 PM The dragon enters next, with all the usual snacks. "Hello, Sound-." Um. Hm. That's new. "-wave." Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:17 PM "....Bird?" he chirps. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:17 PM Lazy tail flick serving as a greeting in the dragon's direction. He's not moving these hands. These hands are right where they should be. As are Prowl's, if you ask him.

[[Greetings. And Laserbeak will be down in a moment.]] Still trying to convince her that she won't die if she watches him be curled up like this. Stubborn thing. Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:18 PM Swoop cocks his head at the not-Soundwave Soundwave. Carefully (for a Dinobot) he slinks over to investigate. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:19 PM The petting stops when he sees an unleashed Dinobot come in. Oh boy. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:19 PM ((MOVIE'S STARTING i hope y'all got what you needed. warnings are in the rabbit-side chat since i figured they wouldn't get lost there)) SpecsToday at 8:19 PM She's not going to expect Soundwave to do anything tonight. Except be patted by Prowl, apparently. She'll handle putting the snacks where they belong herself. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:20 PM Damn it. He knew that was going to happen.

[[No touching, Swoop. He means it.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:21 PM He quietly drapes a hand around Soundwave. Prowl doesn't quite trust Soundwave to not murder Swoop if Swoop starts acting up, in Soundwave's current state of mind. Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:21 PM Don't mind Blaster coming to a halt once he enters the room. Well, this was new... Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:21 PM [[...He would offer to have Laserbeak help you, but he thinks most of your snacks would not make it to the counter.]]

Oh, that's good too. He'll get proper comfortable. Stretch out across the couch, some. Primus, but it's good to have an excuse. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:22 PM Ooh, a man of numbers and calculations. And look at his HUD! Counting everything! Prowl likes this character. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:22 PM Speak of the devil. Here comes the bluebird of hell herself. {{Hello~}} Pointedly said to everyone in turn except Prowl and the Boss. Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:22 PM Swoop crouches down in a manner not unlike how Soundwave's currently moving about. His neck is outstretched and his optics are bright and alert. He's not reaching to touch, but is very interested. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:23 PM [[...Can he help you.]] Tiny lip curl. Prowl's probably right to keep an arm on him. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:23 PM So regimented! So scheduled! So precise! Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:25 PM Swoop shook his head no but remained focused. ((The Stanley Parable got a movie? :open_mouth: )) Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:26 PM [[Are--]] He tapped a finger. What is an Earth word. Get the alien language packs, look for some human versions. [[Toothbrushes, common targets for spy devices?]] ((idk what the stanley parable is?)) SpecsToday at 8:26 PM Perhaps it's rude to have a small laugh at someone else's expense, but the dragon chuffs anyways. "Don't worry, I can handle it." It's not like Soundwave is wrong. Of course, snacks are meant to be eaten... Just perhaps by more than one person. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:27 PM Depending on the point of view of the person in question, at least. Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:27 PM ((Ahh you'd like it. It's a game where the narrator sasses you, Stanley, as you walk through your office, either obeying the narrator or going rogue.)) Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:27 PM ((also i'm sorry for the mild audio glitching, it seemed ok when i tested it earlier)) [[As long as you are all right, then, dragon. Thank you for your diligent supplying.]] Glance up to Prowl. [[Do others ask you to do that?]] SpecsToday at 8:28 PM Compliments about her cooking are this dragon's entire motivation. "You're always welcome!" Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:28 PM Wow, this is a real horror movie. Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:29 PM Swoop finally noticed Laserbeak and perked up, armor flaring a touch with excitement as a smile spread across his face, before a thought occurred to him. He leaned back a touch, armor laying flat as he blinked up at her. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:29 PM ...All right, now he's getting a little nervous of the intense foc--oh, good. A distraction.

{{What you blink for?}} [[He likes her.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:32 PM "Her protest is ineffective and nonsensical." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:32 PM [[Rather. But amusing, and meaning well.]] Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:33 PM Swoop shrugged, then gave a full body squirm that ended in a laugh. "Me Swoop, um, Us.. kehhe. Us not hang out, you know. Since." He nodded at Soundwave. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:34 PM "If twenty-two percent of your taxes go toward things you don't like, and you don't pay them, it doesn't work out that 100% of what you paid goes to the causes you like and 0% goes to what you don't." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:34 PM {{Oh. Us hang out now, then!}} And she plops herself right onto his crest for sits. Soundwave briefly looks toward the dragon. ... Pat edge of tail blade against the couch. Would she like to sit up there? There's plenty of room, despite his sprawl. And as long as she doesn't get too close to Prowl, she probably won't trigger any protection instinct.

[[Even if she sent them a letter? Telling them where to put the percent.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:35 PM "Practically speaking, it's merely 22% less all around, including to the causes she DOES like." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:36 PM {{Puh. It not at peace. It just not emotion.}} Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:37 PM "Money compiled into a mass treasury fund isn't going to come with notes stuffed in with the shanix." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:38 PM Soundwave looks up at him. That's... a good point. They really ought to keep files to accompany the treasury for just such an occasion. But that doesn't seem like a thing any government he's ever seen would do.

He nods. Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:38 PM Swoop chirps happily, sliding down to sit on his butt to see if this movie was any fun. "Um. Keheh. UM! Him Soundwave. What. Me Swoop have to do what Bird says now?" He will regardless. He's just unclear how this works now. Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:38 PM Just gonna...sit somewhere now. He'd zoned out for a bit there. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:39 PM {{Who said you Swoop do that? Bird not said.}} [[Ugh.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:42 PM "... That unfortunate man." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:42 PM [[Unenviable position.]] Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:42 PM "No one say... But. Him Soundwave beat up. And Swoop supposed to listen. And, um, Me Swoop dunno how-- what that do... for Bird." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:43 PM {{Bird beat up Swoop?}} SpecsToday at 8:43 PM The dragon would indeed like to sit up there! She trusts Soundwave, and she's not inclined to interfere with the cuddling. She'll stay right on the arm of the couch and loaf. Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:43 PM "Noo! Kehehehh! No no. You Bird do stuff, stick with Soundwave." ((edna??)) Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:44 PM {{If Bird not beat, Swoop do what Swoop want.}} Pause. {{...But Bird LIKE when Swoop do what Bird said. Neheh.}} ((lol)) Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 8:44 PM ((pfff))\ Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:45 PM "Kay," he said with a little head bobble. "Kehee. Me Swoop want You Bird to happy. Me love you!" Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:45 PM [[He wonders what a narration of his life would be.]] A glance up to Prowl. [[Or your life. He does not know what stories they tell about]] DON'T SAY IT [[enforcers.]] She pats Swoop with a feeler. {{Yes, yes. Shhh.}} Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:47 PM ((this movie wins points for being the only one in history to slap the "schizophrenia??" label on a set of self-reported symptoms that ACTUALLY line up with schizophrenia.)) Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:47 PM ((honestly)) He rests his head on his hands and contemplates the hypothetical narrator of his life. What would they say? He'd give it a crack: "Soundwave found himself too comfortable to move, and yet, he knew that he had no choice. Dribbling a mouthful of webbing on the couch would probably result in being forced to relocate, which was far worse than a few minutes of shaping a small object with his hands."

...Right, so he'd just. Do that, then. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:51 PM "... You don't know stories about enforcers? We've seen cop movies." Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:52 PM Swoop is just delighted by the pats. "Where You Bird been? Me Swoop not see You in forever." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:52 PM Amused grunt. Poor Harold.

[[Yes. True. About ones like you, then. Not the 'loose cannons'.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:53 PM Look at this man. He calculates the odds of making a fool of himself. Prowl likes this man immensely. He doesn't deserve to have an intruder in his head. Nobody deserves that. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:53 PM {{Bird been busy. Us work lots always.}} Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:54 PM "Everyone always busy busy" Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:54 PM He pauses in the shaping to fidget in concern. He could answer some of these questions.

Not the clandestine floorboard troll kingdom one. That was ridiculous. Anyway, there was only one member of royalty here, and it wasn't him. {{It cause us adults. That what adult do.}} Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 8:55 PM "Why?" Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:55 PM [[So much for his narrator.]] Or not. Hm. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 8:57 PM "... Can you assassinate a tax auditor? What's the minimum threshold for assassination? It IS possible to kill a tax auditor with a political motive." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 8:59 PM [[If he is politically important, it is assassination. If he is not, it is murder.]] He'll set this roughly shaped car up on the arm of the couch to dry and go back to crossing his arms under his head. [[Are tax auditors important?]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:00 PM "I think so, but I don't think my opinion is popular." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:01 PM [[You choose how to enforce the rules, so he will say that makes it assassination.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:01 PM "... I intensely dislike that answer." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:03 PM He looks up. [[If you are describing the activity involved in the charge, it is up to you. You said you think they are important. So they are, in this report.]] And he returns his attention to the screen, listening to her story. Better to do what makes one happy, he supposes. [[...He could be assassinated, then. He's important.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:05 PM "That implies that whoever's handling the case can arbitrarily decide what is and isn't assassination, which implies a legal system based upon individual enforcers' personal opinions rather than a firm universally agreed-upon set of standards." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:07 PM [[Oh. He did not realize there were established standards for assassination.]] Pushing up onto his elbows. He's interested now. [[What are they? On your Cybertron. Who counts, legally?]] ((whoop i missed swoop's why question)) Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:08 PM "He's in the right to refuse the gift. Even if she didn't mean it that way, it would have been inappropriate for him to accept it and she's out of line for acting like it's a personal affront." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:08 PM {{Bird not know. That what us do. It always that way. You too when old. Neheh. Old Swoop. Fly with cane.}} Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 9:10 PM Swoop slid slowly onto his belly and giggled at the image. "Old Swoop... that a weird thing keheheh!" Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:11 PM STARTLE. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:12 PM "And that's what I'm saying—I'm not sure if a tax auditor counts under the current criteria. It's ambiguous enough that--" Startle. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:13 PM ...All right, so he's replacing the couch in front of them next week. Nobody's going to want to sit on a sofa with a giant acid hole in it.

He'll just. Get settled again. Ahem.

[[Oh. Then perhaps we should find a judge and ask. It is their duty to interpret ambiguity, is it not?]] {{You Swoop a weird thing.}} She cackles and pats him again. Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 9:14 PM Swoop laughs with her and relaxes sprawled out on the floor. "You BIrd like a old Swoop?" Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:14 PM "Hm. Maybe." He's going to start petting Soundwave again. SpecsToday at 9:15 PM Well, the dragon's not unpoofing anytime soon. Eek. Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:15 PM ......well then Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:15 PM That human seems far too glib about the Harold human's upcoming death. How ru-- mmmm. Soothing. He'll apologize to the dragon as soon as he's not soaking in bliss.

{{Dunno. Never seen old Swoop.}} Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 9:16 PM :V "Maybe no?" Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:17 PM "He's being narrated again. He's moving in the wrong direction." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:19 PM Hm? Saying something? Narration and the wrong direction. Right. Think. Focus. [[The direction tried to find him. It probably doesn't matter.]] [[...Are you all right, dragon?]] {{Dunno. How you Swoop know you like old Bird?}} Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:19 PM "It didn't narrate when his apartment was destroyed." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:20 PM {{This accurate. It like him Rumble.}} Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 9:20 PM "Cause You already old Bird kehehhehhe!" SpecsToday at 9:21 PM The dragon looks at the couch. The dragon looks back at Soundwave. "...I'll be fine." Just. Give her a moment to stop freaking out internally. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:21 PM He's stopped counting things. That's so sad. He's losing things that make him himself. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:22 PM [[He would not want his apartment destroyed every day.]]

Soundwave follows the dragon's line of sight to the couch, and then to himself, as much as that's possible. [[...He did not mean to scare you.]] Probably unbelievable in this shape, but true. [[FLOURS.]] That's a great pun. What a brilliant joke. It reminds him of some of the absolutely awful but hilarious wordplay he and Prowl have pulled off. ... What a marvelous mech, his--amica. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:23 PM He's grimacing horribly at the entire progress this is taking. SpecsToday at 9:25 PM "I know. If you wanted to scare me, I'd have died of a myocardial infarction." Don't worry, Soundwave, she's a very trusting dragon and has great faith in your abilities to be utterly terrifying. "Acid spitting is not something I'm used to, that's all." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:25 PM [[...He isn't used to it either.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:25 PM Anybody who started offering inappropriate gifts and flaunting auditor-auditee protocol around HIM would be immediately stricken off the list of potential suitors. It shows a lack of basic--basic decency, basic respect for the other person and your unequal position of power with them, basic ability to respect boundaries... "... You can spit acid? I thought it was only blood." He clearly didn't pay enough attention to the movies. "Ugh." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:28 PM [[It is that too. He tested. But, yes. Apparently.]] Soundwave leans into Prowl again. [[You can too. He remembers.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:28 PM "How soon is he going to die." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:28 PM Harold's story is obviously a bad human romance story. They've watched enough of those to know. [[Humans always die shortly after interfacing, in movies. Unless they are in an action story. Then they have to stop their foe.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:31 PM "It's a little late now." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:32 PM A nod. They don't even have a threatening political foe yet. {{Bird not old! Bird young. You hush beak.}} Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:33 PM "Well, maybe they won't have a chance to again." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:34 PM [[Does it matter? She wrote i-- why isn't he dead. She wrote it.]] Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 9:36 PM ((why oh why didn't he just say he's with the irs?)) Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:36 PM ((intelligence 10, wisdom 3)) Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 9:36 PM ((lololol)) Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:36 PM This seeeeeeeeeems less than legal. To him. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:36 PM "Maybe it has to play out in real time in real life even if she's already written the scene." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:37 PM ...But, life or death emergency. He supposes it can be allowed.

[[Hm. He should move faster.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:38 PM "... What's his novel about from HER perspective? From HIS perspective all of his actions are being driven by the fact that he can hear a narrator." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:39 PM [[Perhaps only the relevant portions matter?]] He's. He's not really sure, now that Prowl asks. [[He thought she was writing it as if the character was talking to her in the book. Evidently not.]] Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:40 PM Well. This should be fun to watch. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:41 PM ...He wonders if this is what happened the first time someone located Primus. Or--no, what about... [[This reminds him of the Covenant.]] ...That's a disturbing thought. He's going to need a minute to stare into nothing and dwell on that. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:43 PM "... The assistant's handling this well." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:43 PM {{It her job to handle.}} Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:44 PM "Did he just toss it aside? A man's life is on the line." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:45 PM [[He does not think he likes the professor.]] Minor bristle and tense. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:46 PM "... I don't think I do either. As if her career—a piece of fiction—is more important than his life." Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:48 PM "....he's not really helping Harold much." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:48 PM Good. Prowl agrees. Satisfying. He would still dislike this fleshling, but this makes him more comfortable in that loathing. [[Most deaths aren't. Let him be happy.]] [[No. He isn't.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:50 PM "... Are they just letting him stay on the bus overnight?" Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:50 PM {{Maybe them not see him.}} Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 9:50 PM "Him not Mirage keheheh" Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:51 PM "See, SHE can appreciate the weight of her actions." Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:51 PM "Yeah..." SpecsToday at 9:53 PM ((SOMEONE just threw up so I'm signing off)) Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:53 PM ((oh nooooooo take care of them (and you )) Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 9:53 PM ((oh damn good luck Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 9:53 PM ((yehhh D: )) Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:53 PM This is a terrible ending. Soundwave doesn't like it. Personally, he'd threaten any narrator who thought they could kill him, if he got one and they pulled that on him. Upstairs, Frenzy notices something scratching around in the lounge wall and making one of the panels move. He kicks it. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:55 PM It ends with more nonsense with this completely unlikeable couple, so he's not terribly fond of it. Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 9:56 PM [[Nothing wrong with the counting.]] Irritated huff. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 9:59 PM "Nothing at all." "She changed it?" Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:00 PM Soundwave sits up partway. She did? She did! Maybe. Does he die in the hospital? What if that's what she did. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:01 PM "Good for her." "... The watch is the character who died." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:02 PM [[A noble ending.]] Although now he's sad to see the watch go. They never even found out who it was. Blaster (boomtanknotboombox)Today at 10:03 PM "Well, that's nice. Things get to work out well in the end." Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 10:04 PM "That a lame die. No fight at all." Prowl (verdigrisprowl)Today at 10:06 PM "Well. That was... hellish." Soundwave (Slenderwave)Today at 10:06 PM {{It no die at all. Pfft.}}

[[Hellish?]] Not an argument. Just a request for elaboration. Swoop (medicalmurdersaurus)Today at 10:06 PM "Us go watch SAW movie? kehehehh!" Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 {{Noooo. That not tonight. Maybe Frenzy night.}} realityendshere8904/29/2019 "Awww. Kay." Swoop glanced around. "Us can... still hangout? Maybe?" Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/29/2019 "Having someone else inserted in your head at all times that you can't claw out? Yes. Absolutely." "... I mean, of course you also get— But they're not so much IN your head as passing through your head. You could get out of range of other minds. As opposed to having one INSIDE you." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 {{Yes! What you Swoop want do?}} realityendshere8904/29/2019 "Me Swoop want to anything with You Bird. Cause You the best." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 [[Oh. Yes, that.]] He thought Prowl meant something else. He's... actually somewhat surprised Prowl got through that without leaving the avatar on pause. At least, he doesn't think Prowl did that. He didn't feel a difference. [[He has to go far to avoid hearing anyone. Very far. But he understands. He still can.]] {{You Swoop smartest. Come on! Us go chase boltbats. Them fly outside this hour.}} realityendshere8904/29/2019 "YAHH! Us go!" Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/29/2019 He's been practicing. Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 [[Even that kind doesn't look pleasant. He tried narrating himself during the movie. It was irritating.]] Though he did make a nice something out of it. [[It would be much worse if someone else did the commenting. For many reasons. He sees what you meant.]] Laserbeak points the way. She'll fly when they get outside, and no sooner. {{Charge!}} Chaoit04/29/2019 Right. He's going home now. "G'night. Thanks for the movie." realityendshere8904/29/2019 Swoop is a-okay with being her ride and scampers away for the door. Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 A nod. Blaster's welcome.

((and i'll continue tagging in morning)) Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/29/2019 "I barely even like producing dialogue. I can't narrate." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 Oh, good. Everyone's gone. He can love on and admire his Queen without worrying about making any mistakes while he talks.

If Prowl will let him, he'll take a hand in both of his and inspect it. Make sure nothing's gone wrong with the avatar while he was away.

[[What is this? Us here, now. In your own head, to yourself--what you see.]] He's not entirely sure how to ask for things when he doesn't know whether or not those things are what Prowl is using. [[You showed him other equations once. He's curious.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/29/2019 The hand is Soundwave's. He's not sure why it's being inspected, but it's Soundwave's now.

He's also not quite sure what Soundwave's asking; and so, absolutely baffled, he gives the only answer he can think of that makes immediate sense to him. "... It's a hand." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 He's in the process of giving one of the finger seams a solid up-close eyeballing when Prowl replies. He stays still in that exact position for a long second, confused by how the two of them sitting curled up on the couch at a movie night with only one normal frame in play resembles a hand (and worse, unable to work out what a hand stands for in the world of mathematics).

Then it clicks and he huffs into the palm before turning it over to look at the back.

[[Not your hand. What you are thinking. What math are you doing right now? How do you classify this]] waving the tail back and forth [[difference if it is still him? Is this a decimal point? Subcategory.]] The bits that come from the alien's mind keep telling him he should KNOW those things already--Queens are supposed to be able to talk the way he does, to speak inside the heads of those who serve them--but Prowl can't do that. Only he can, and he doesn't invade Prowl's head that way. Not even when he's his usual self. So he has to ask. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/29/2019 "Oh. It's—you're still you. You're the same number, as you were when you changed your paint color."

Trying to answer what math he was doing would be like trying to simultaneously describe every single bit of motion and transfer of energy going on in his body at that exact moment; so instead he gave Soundwave the feed to his HUD. Along with his usual perpetual motion-tracking, there were dozens of minute measurements being made across the surface of Soundwave's armor, as each 2D visual shot was being used to compile a precise 3D model of Soundwave's new body. A complex formula measured and predicted the motion of his waving tail, variables changing rapidly as he moved. Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 [[Unexpected. Intriguing. But he does not share the number with his alternates. That is correct?]]

To say he lit up when he received the feed would not be an exercise in creative writing. The few biolights still visible on his frame turned a much brighter red in response to the gift, peeping out from between silvery-black plates like the optics of a nosy mech watching his neighbors through a set of blinds.

That was right, he could be spoken to through a HUD feed. How brilliant his Queen was, finding this alternative. How positively stunning. What he wouldn't do to prove himself worthy, even when he wasn't modified and high on the giddiness of a drone given individual attention. (Well. His normal self might do a BIT less.)

He continued waving the tail in new patterns to watch the formula and prediction change in real time, awed as ever. He wondered, had Prowl already figured out how the transformation sequence worked, going from root to alt with this shape? What would he do with the 3D model once he had it--run simulations of some kind?

[[You never cease to amaze.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/29/2019 "There's a number for Soundwaves as a category, and a number for you individually."

The lit-up biolights were registered, marked, and had calculations run on them as well. On one the side of his HUD he started running a probably incomprehensible formula designed to determine how turned on Soundwave probably was.

When Prowl realized that Soundwave was deliberately controlling his tail's motions instead of letting it swing naturally, the in-progress calculations vanished and were replaced with different ones, predicated on the assumption that each vertebrae was being controlled independently rather than merely swinging freely in a sort of flexible pendulum. "Give me time. But thank you." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 [[What WOULD make his number change? If anything. Do you like the number, or is that of no consequence?]] He lifted a hand as if to point before remembering that he'd made the feed an inside view only. A moment to fix that, and he tapped the new formula that had popped up after his biolights activated. [[What is this?]]

Prowl could even see a difference in the movement? Soundwave knew when Ravage was controlling his own tail and when he wasn't, but that was mostly through exposure and experience. Fascinating. Did that have some kind of special use in the interrogation room? Practiced motion versus natural motion? Or did that fall into the category of things Prowl had difficulties interpreting sometimes? Oh, he had so many, many questions! And so little time to ask them.

[[Hm. He does not think that is true. But if it is, you will still be to him then what you are now.]] Pause. [[That is his thought. Not an alien's.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/29/2019 "Brain damage. I like it NOW; but it was only a number I hadn't used yet until it was yours."

Prowl jerked his head back slightly as Soundwave pointed in the air at the formula. No one had ever done that before. Very few had ever been given such an opportunity, but Soundwave was the only one who had taken it. It was kind of... kind of thrilling. His HUD gazed at the world; the world didn't gaze at his HUD. Thrilling, but also somehow left him feeling exposed.

"Oh, I was—trying to—deduce probable changes in your arousal levels as indicated by biolight fluctuations." The sentence descended into a mumble.

"I think it's true; not because I don't think I'm adequately fascinating, but because given long enough familiarity over a long enough time frame, anything would cease to be 'amazing' and merely become... understood and appreciated. And—my hope is that we'll have such a long time frame. But thank you." Does alien Soundwave still like bunts, even with his head a different shape? He bunted Prowl's leg earlier, so maybe. He leans down to offer one. Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 [[Ah. He does not plan to have any, so that is good. He would like you to keep being able to use his number. He likes it, too.]]

He didn't so much like making Prowl jerk back. Did he commit a breach of etiquette? He turned pieces of his own HUD to the outside often enough; it'd never occurred to him that someone else might not be comfortable seeing him react to theirs. It made sense. Not everyone was comfortable hearing their own voice played back to them either.

[[He should have asked before pointing. And he hadn't--he didn't think you would want to know if he was aroused. This is not his usual shape. He would not blame you if you didn't. But he was. Is. Mostly. Part of him was just--happy, to be given that. The rest of him is very much--]] You know what? He's being awkward. He's just. Going to reset his vocalizer and try to stop making a fool of himself. [[He is.]]

[[And understood and appreciated is not 'merely'. It is big, and important, and he--wants that. For you, and him. Both of us. The long time frame as well. And you are welcome.]]

Yes, he still likes bunts. The head shape doesn't matter, beyond what it happens to be hiding that his back no longer does. It will never matter. If anything, it means he can amuse himself giving a bigger one than usual. So, he completes it. ((for the record that's an "i'm a little surprised and off-guard and did not expect that" didn't think you would want to know, not a "i am trying to hide it from you")) Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/29/2019 "My brain damage, I meant. If YOU'RE brain damaged, you still keep your number."

He'd worried Soundwave. He gave him an apologetic ping. "It's fine, it's just—never happened before. I'm used to how I see the world being invisible to everyone else." At least Soundwave was awkward now too; they weren't alone in it. "I don't mind knowing. ... And you're not very good at hiding it, anyway." Humor ping.

Bunt. "Well—'merely' only in comparison to the emotional scale of 'amazement.' But you're right, it is important." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/29/2019 [[That is not something he would like to see either. He would deal with it however you request, but it is not ideal. Let us try to avoid either situation.]]

That felt weird. An apology from Prowl. That was... probably more common than he realized, now that he thought about it, but it confused the instincts. Queens didn't apologize. Well, those instincts would just have to put up with it. Prowl was just Prowl, and he did when he felt it necessary, so there.

[[It is a good view. He would like to see it more often, when you feel like sharing. ...And there's usually no reason to hide that from you. If he did, you wouldn't know, and that is the opposite of what he'd want.]] Humor ping back.

[[And of course he is right.]] Settle. Comfortable. Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/30/2019 "Agreed. I'd prefer both our brains in their current states."

Prowl nodded. He'd keep that in mind. It wasn't something he usually just casually showed people, unless they requested it—but, maybe he ought to make a point of it with Soundwave?

He huffed. "No, we wouldn't get very far if you were hiding it," he said dryly. "... You don't need to hide it now, either. The new frame is unusual, certainly, but—it doesn't bother me. If that's what you were concerned about." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/30/2019 It would be up to Prowl. Soundwave wouldn't push the issue. If he got to see, he would ask a half million questions and be thrilled, but if he didn't, he'd survive. He'd like being around Prowl either way.

[[...Oh.]] It might've been. And he still wasn't sure he was reading the statement right. That didn't stop him from de-settling out of interest. [[Did you--?]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/30/2019 "Did I...?" He had a handful of half-formed guesses about what Soundwave was trying to ask, but none firm enough to act upon. Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/30/2019 [[Wish to keep our usual post-movie schedule?]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/30/2019 Prowl hesitated before replying. "I'm... concerned about accidentally taking advantage of the present power imbalance." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/30/2019 [[Then let us stay here. He trusts that you would not err, but he'd also prefer you to be comfortable. And he enjoys being in your company as much as anything else. It has been some time since we simply... were.]] Prowl (verdigrisprowl)04/30/2019 Prowl leaned down to bunt Soundwave again. "All right. I like the sound of that." Soundwave (Slenderwave)04/30/2019 Bunt. He'd give a kiss, but he'd rather not seal Prowl's avatar's mouth shut. [[Good. So does he.]]

And he'll curl up half on Prowl's lap again, just basking in his amica's/Queen's presence, up until such time as he falls asleep.

#chat

2 notes · View notes