#and then- AND THEN THEY'D BE LIKE 'my patience can only run so long/thin with you sweet girl' AGRERGWERG PLSSSSSS | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pttwice · 10 months

Note

hi joon :) was wondering if I cld req middle!mina having a bad day and getting into big arguments with the cgs at the dorm but getting so upset that she ends up regressing further to babyspace for the first time ever, and how they would handle mina after they start to notice.

once again thank u for taking the time to write these! hope ur staying well <3

-🐯

hiya 🐯 anon!! :) oh absolutely! we all know middle!mina can be angsty & a lil bit rebellious

minari not a baby

|| middle!mina, cg!momo, cg!jihyo ||

"Mina, I need you to help me put the babies’ shoes on, please." Momo let out a long sigh as she got the diaper bag packed while Jihyo ran back to the littles' room to get their winter jackets.

Momo and Jihyo were running late to a work party and the last thing they needed right now was Mina's attitude. They had been arguing with the middle all morning. Mina claimed she needed more independence because she was in an older headspace.

Mina argued that having to sleep with the babies when she was a middle wasn't fair and that she should be able to sleep in her own room at the dorm instead.

The argument started out small over breakfast and Momo told her they'd talk about it later. Mina hesitantly agreed, but as she tried to bring it up throughout the day, she kept getting cut off or pushed to the side.

Each time Mina tried to ask her mamas about sleeping in her own room, they had to take care of the babies. It was always about the babies and never about Mina.

Mina tried bringing it up at lunch, but they just had to spill their food all over themselves. She tried bringing it up while the babies were napping, but they just had to cry and wake up in the middle of their nap. She even tried to bring it up before Momo put them in the bath, but Chaeyoung distracted Momo by trying to eat one of the rubber bath toys.

When later finally came, Mina had even more of an attitude and was even more upset about it. She was tired of not being heard and she was tired of getting interrupted by the babies.

"I'll help you but only if you say I can sleep in my own room." Mina crossed her arms, not willing to budge at the end of the couch.

Momo let out another long sigh and shook her head. She picked Chaeyoung and Tzuyu up, setting them down on the ground to put their shoes on. "We talked about it this morning, angel. You can't-"

"No!" Mina whined, getting up off the couch. "Don't call me that! I'm not a baby!"

Momo's eyes widened at the defensive stance the middle had taken. She rushed to finish putting Tzuyu's second shoe on before she sat the babies back down on the couch.

"Mina, please don't raise your voice at me." Momo tried to stay calm, but her patience was very quickly growing thin. She didn't want to keep arguing with the middle on this, but she could tell that Mina wasn't going to stop asking about it.

"I can yell if I want to because you're not being fair!"

As soon as Jihyo heard Mina yell again, she jogged back out of the littles' room. She set the winter jackets down on the other end of the couch and stood beside Momo, arms crossed over her chest.

"Do you want to tell me why you're yelling right now, Mina?" Jihyo's tone was stern, but she was more worried than anything right now. It was rare that Mina acted out, but it seemed like today tipped the middle overboard.

"Mommy's not being fair! She won't let me sleep in my own room, but I'm big enough to do it. I don't want to be with the babies!"

Jihyo raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Mina, we've talked about this before. You can't sleep in your own room. The last time you slept in your own room you had nightmares for a week."

"Yeah, but that's not when I'm feeling bigger. That's only when I'm feeling like a baby!" Mina shouted again, her face starting to get red from how upset she was. All she wanted was one simple thing and her mamas wouldn't even let her do that, but they'd do whatever the babies wanted. It wasn't fair at all.

"I understand that angel, but mommy and I want to be safe. It's also easier to take care of you three if you're sleeping in the same room." Jihyo tried to keep her voice calm, but it was proving to be a challenge. She wanted to put an end to the argument and get to the party they were already extremely late for.

"NO! Don't call me that!"

Jihyo's jaw dropped as did Momo's. They had never heard Mina yell that loudly in their life and it had certainly never been directed at them before.

Mina had never been so loud before, and she wasn't sure she liked it. Instead of making her feel good by letting her frustration out, all it did was make her brain get all fuzzy. Which was not a good sign right now. She absolutely did not want to regress, because that would defeat the whole point of her being independent.

It took Jihyo a second to get her bearings, but once she did, she was a little pissed. She stormed back into the littles' room with their winter jackets and hung them back up in the closet. When she came back out, she stood right in front of the middle. "None of us are going to the work party now. While mommy, the babies, and I watch a movie, you are going to sit in your room and think about the way you just acted."

Mina's lip quivered a little out of fear and a little out of the growing frustration that had been building up all day. She huffed and stomped her foot, shaking her head. "No! I don't wanna go to my room!"

Jihyo gritted her teeth, clenching and unclenching her jaw as she rubbed her fingers into her temples. "Mina I'm going to give you one more chance to either say sorry to your mommy and I, or I'm going to put you in your room myself."

Mina huffed again and sat down on the couch, aggressively kicking the edge of it with the heel of her foot.

"Myoui Mina. Stop that right now." Momo took a few steps forward, only willing to give the middle one warning. She had never seen Mina act out like this and she didn't want to be dealing with it.

Mina stopped kicking the couch, but she angrily swung her legs back and forth. The fuzzy feeling was growing stronger by the second. She closed her eyes and took a deep shaky breath. As she exhaled, she could feel her chest start to tighten and that familiar lump form in her throat.

"Mina, are you going to apologize to me and mama, or is mama going to have to put you in timeout?" Momo's voice was a little gentler but still firm.

Usually, Momo's voice was soothing to Mina's ears, but right now all she could focus on was the fuzzy feeling. It had never been like this, and she could barely understand what Momo had just said to her. Tears were starting to well up in her eyes and she was starting to panic a little.

Mentally, Mina had never felt so small. She didn't know what to do. She was still so frustrated, but her brain wouldn't let her stay big. It kept making her smaller and smaller.

"Not gonna 'pologize." Mina pouted, barely able to get any words out as she forced her tears back.

Both caregivers missed the slight change in Mina's speech as they both sighed and shook their heads. At least she wasn't yelling anymore.

Jihyo knelt down beside Mina and ran a hand through her hair before she looked at the middle. "Mina, mommy and I aren't trying to be mean or take the babies’ side. We just want you to be safe and we don't want you to have any scary dreams."

The more her mamas talked and tried to get her to understand anything, the worse Mina felt and the less she could understand. She just wanted her head to stop feeling so fuzzy and she wanted her mamas to understand what she wanted.

After a few more seconds, Mina started to cry. She furiously wiped at the steady stream of tears running down her cheeks, unable to do anything else but mumble out broken sentences.

"M-mama. No wanna be with babies. J-jus' wanna be myself."

As Mina hiccupped and cried, managing to choke out a few more broken sentences, both caregivers started to see that Mina was slipping and fast.

Jihyo's heart ached and guilt went straight to her gut. She felt awful that her baby had gotten so frustrated and upset that she was regressing even further.

Jihyo reached a gentle hand out and placed it on Mina's thigh, hoping it would calm her down. Unfortunately, this did the exact opposite. Mina couldn't take it anymore and her mama's soft hand tipped her over the edge.

Mina started sobbing and wrapped her arms around her mama's neck. Quickly, Jihyo slid onto the couch and pulled Mina into her lap, rocking them back and forth.

Mina's sobs were barely muffled as she tucked her face into Jihyo's shoulder, soaking her shirt. She didn't know what was happening and her mama made her feel safe, but she felt so icky at the same time.

Momo put the babies in front of the TV so she and Jihyo could focus on Mina. Once the middle had finally calmed down enough to where she wasn't gasping for air, Jihyo gently pulled her away from her shoulder.

"I'm sorry mommy and I got you so upset, Mina. We didn't mean to make you feel so bad."

Mina could barely understand what her mama was saying to her. Her mama's voice was soothing though and helped her small whimpers slow down. She had never felt so small before and she wasn't sure what to do so she just reached her hands out, opening and closing them to try and signal that she wanted her mommy to sit with her as well.

Momo understood and sat beside Jihyo, placing a gentle kiss to Mina's forehead. "Do you want to tell mommy what you're feeling right now?"

Mina waited for a few seconds and nodded. Once she started talking, everything made sense in her head, but out loud she was just babbling the same way Chaeyoung and Tzuyu were at the TV.

Jihyo and Momo quickly spared each other a surprised glance, finally realizing that Mina had slipped into a baby headspace. They had never seen her so small and as cute as it was, it only made them feel more guilty. They had worked their poor baby up enough that she was feeling extra tiny.

To test out the waters and make sure she was hearing what she thought she was hearing, Momo ran a gentle thumb over Mina's cheek. "Sweet pea, can you show mommy and mama how old you're feeling right now?"

Mina stopped her babbling and tilted her head in confusion. How old did she feel? She looked down at her hands, unsure how many fingers she was supposed to put up. After a few seconds, Mina knitted her eyebrows together in concentration and held up both of her hands. She was that many years old, she guessed.

Jihyo let out a small chuckle and shook her head. She kissed the crown of Mina's head and put her baby's hands down. "It looks like someone's feeling extra tiny right now, huh?"

Maybe her mama was right. Her head was feeling extra fuzzy, and she wasn't really sure what they were saying to her, but their voices sounded even more inviting than usual.

Mina let out a small huff and whined, scrunching up her face. She wished they understood what she was feeling, but it was getting so exhausting trying to make sense of everything anymore. All she wanted was to curl up in her mama's lap and sleep.

"Is it okay if mama changes you into your jammies, angel?" Jihyo gently brushed her fingers through Mina's hair.

Mina wanted to say no, but something in her was telling her to let go. Something told her that jammies would be warm, and she wouldn't have to be upset anymore.

Jihyo took Mina's silence and her small yawn as a yes. She lifted her baby up and carried her to her room. She picked out her favorite penguin and polar bear jammies, laying her down on the bed so she could put a diaper on her. It was a first for Mina to need a diaper, but if she was half as tiny as Chaeyoung and Tzuyu were right now, she would need it.

Jihyo finished securing the tapes and quickly swapped her baby's clothes, handing her Iggy, her most favorite penguin stuffy. Mina held Iggy close to her chest as Jihyo walked them back into the living room.

Jihyo sat down beside Momo on the couch and sat Mina in between them. Once Mina looked over and saw that her mommy was right beside her as well, she turned and buried her face into her mommy's side.

Momo let out a small laugh and wrapped her arm around her baby, patting her bottom gently. She looked up to Jihyo and pointed to her bottom, whispering, "Diaper?"

Jihyo nodded and pointed to Chaeyoung and Tzuyu who had been glued to the TV the entire time. "If she's even remotely as small as they are, I'd rather have her in a diaper than risk an accident."

Momo nodded in agreement and turned her attention to her baby tucked into her side. Mina's breathing was starting to go back to normal as she rubbed one of Iggy's flippers against her face. She hadn't even noticed that her mama grabbed a pacifier from her drawer, but the second she felt it against her lips, she opened her mouth, sucking gently.

Mina had never felt so little before, but it didn't feel terrible. She was still a little upset with her mamas, but she was quickly letting her body relax and her thoughts slow down. She had her mommy's arm wrapped around her, Iggy in her arms, and her mama gently patting her bottom. She could worry about being a big girl a different time.

#twice agere #twice fanfic #twice fic #middle!mina #caregiver!momo #caregiver!jihyo #sfw #sfw interaction only #sfw agere

46 notes · View notes

odder-oddish · 2 months

Text

Bond Chapter 3

Ace fills in some details that Felix missed about summoning - both the ritual and who he summoned. The two get off on the wrong foot, but perhaps that's putting it a bit too lightly.

Do demons ever make good allies? Well, in theory they might, as cunning, viscous predators, they'd be powerful weapons in a fight. However, they all have one trait in common that prevents them from working with humans: their pride. Demons see humans as pitiful, inferior creatures. An allied human is in almost every case like working with an inferior species. We see this in demon deals; demons are ruthless negotiators who don't give humans an inch when it comes to signing a pact. The best that a human can hope for is finding a demon who has an even larger rivalry with another demon, in which they can temporarily team up to defeat the common foe. However, the human had best get out of the demon's path once the enemy has been destroyed, lest they be annihilated next. -Unknown, circa 1856

There's a long pause in the room, the silence stretching between Ace and the hunter, Felix. The human seems to be lost in thought, sitting at the desk with his head in his hands. It's only now that the anger sets in as Ace begins to realize that instead of carousing and enjoying his time in Vegas, he's now got to deal with a single, grouchy human. Not only that, but he has to work with him to survive. It's rather off-putting, and his patience is running thin. "Well come on, I'm sure you've got questions," he snaps.

"Right, right. So, the summoning, are you familiar with the spell?" Felix asks. "She was the one who set up the spell, and I don't know the specifics."

"Sure, so it felt like a typical summoning," Ace begins. "Though I don't experience those regularly enough to be sure. I saw the sigil, and everything looked right from first glance."

"What do you think went wrong?" Felix asks.

"That's the thing that's got me confused too," Ace admits. He scratches his forehead, just beneath the base of his horn. "If something is wrong with the set up or the verbal components, the summoning just fails; I wouldn't have been forced here at all. But here I am."

"So you're not sure?" Felix asks. Ace is about to say something snarky like 'no shit, that's what I just said,' but he looks up and sees that Felix looks dead serious. He's pulled out a journal and is writing down what Ace says, so he lets it slide with a simple eye roll.

"If you let me take a look at the set up, maybe I could figure it out," he says.

Felix shakes his head. "If Elodie sees you, she'll kill you."

"Couldn't you just explain that it'll kill you too?"

Felix's face drops. "We have a pact. If one of us notices that the other is possessed or corrupted by demons, and the normal tactics don't work, we go for the kill, no matter what."

Ace winces. "That's intense."

"Yes, but we don't want to let a demon get away and hurt other innocents. So Elodie would definitely attack you, no matter the cost."

It makes sense, but Ace still feels uneasy. "So why don't you have that same promise to yourself? End us both right now?" If they're willing to end the other's life to kill a demon, why wouldn't they do it themselves given the opportunity.

Felix takes a deep breath. He can't meet Ace's gaze. "Because I want to believe that you're right. That you don't actually hurt people, and if I let you go, I won't regret it." His voice gets small. "And, I don't want to die." Ace nods, understanding where Felix is coming from as the man continues. "But we can't go out there, or Elodie will see."

Now, Ace grins. "Not if I don't let her." When Felix tilts his head in confusion, he adds, "I still have a few of my demonic abilities, you know. I can make myself invisible from anyone I don't want seeing my. They can't hear me either. Except you, of course, but that's because of the bond."

"Really?"

"Really. You think, what's her name, Elodie? You think she would have come in here and not noticed naked demon on the desk?"

"I guess not. Let's go then."

Ace follows him through a short hallway, taking quick note of the house's layout. He didn't pay attention to it in the dark. There is a second bedroom next door to Felix's, and the two seem to share a bathroom. Ace guesses that the closed door on the other side of the staircase is a master bedroom. Downstairs is wide open with designated spots for a kitchen, dining area, and sitting room. The sitting room is covered in bookshelves and has a doorway on the other side which leads to a dedicated library, which hosts the summoning sigil.

Felix leads them into the library where Ace kneels to the ground and gets a good look at the set up. It's a little bit awkward, handling the slack of the chain, as he has to yank it to get Felix's attention when he needs to move a little bit farther away. However, it doesn't take long to find the problem. The simplistic sigil makes the error easy to spot. One of the lines cutting through the center of the sigil stops about a quarter of an inch before it reaches the outside border. There's a gap in between the lines, enough to ruin the sigil.

"Your friend missed a spot," he says, getting back on his feet. "Didn't close the sigil all the way."

"And sigils need to be closed, otherwise, there's nothing to anchor the ritual to, right?" asked Felix.

"Exactly, but everything else was perfect, so the ritual still happened, but it needed another source to anchor to. By chance, were you standing closer to the sigil than Elodie?"

"I was," Felix says softly. Understanding hits them both at the same time. When the ritual didn't have a sigil to connect to, it chose Felix as the anchor point. "I still don't understand why you can't be exorcised."

"Because technically, because I'm bound to you. An exorcism fails because it would separate me from that bond." Felix still looks confused, so Ace adds. "Like, this is some freaky strong magic that overrides other spells that try to pull me away from you."

Felix gives a low whistle as he scribbles more notes into his journal. "Powerful ritual then."

Felix doesn't know the half of it. It's such a strong ritual, and Ace is leaving so much out, like how it shields him from being seen by other demons, how Felix could force him to use his powers as he pleased. But Felix doesn't question him further about the bond, much to Ace's relief.

"Well then, I wonder if this library would have any information on how to separate a summoning bond to a person," Felix says.

"You mean does the library created by demon nerds say anything about demons?" asks Ace in a mocking tone.

Felix ignores him and begins to skim the library shelves selecting a handful of tomes that look helpful. As he's lead around the room, Ace pulls back on the chain a few times, stopping Felix in his tracks, just to show that he can. Felix doesn't react, much to Ace's disappointment.

"So, how did you become a demon hunter?" asked Ace. He'd heard stories about humans who when toe-to-toe with demons, but had never met one himself.

"Someone close to me died," said Felix. "And I didn't want other people to meet the same fate." It's an answer that makes sense; Ace can't see why anyone else would want to get involved in this life, but he wants to know more. Felix moves on to the next shelf, but Ace makes a note to pry at that story later.

"How come I burned when you bit me?" asked Ace, looking down at the wound on his hand.

At that question, Felix actually looks smug. He bares his teeth to Ace, running his tongue along one of his top incisors, which is a different color than the rest of his teeth. "I lost a tooth fighting a demon a few years ago. When I got an implant, I found a specialist who made it out of silver."

"Have you ever actually needed it before today?"

"Once." Strange. The man had been injured and his first thought had been to turn his own body into a weapon. That was some dedication.

Eventually, Felix turns to go back up the stairs with a large stack of books in hand. Ace follows him, not sure what else to do. Felix closes the door behind him before picking up one of the books and sitting at the desk to read. Ace sits himself on the bed and watches him for a moment before asking, "Any more questions? About anything. Demons, me, the best sex positions?"

Felix scoffs before leaning back in the chair, thinking. "What kind of demon are you?"

"Isn't it obvious? I'm an incubus, darling," says Ace. "Thought someone as smart as you would've figured it out by now."

"I was trying not to stereotype. I didn't want to assume anything despite you being-" he gestures vaguely at Ace. "you being you. Anyway, what do you need while we're bound together?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've not studied day to day habits of demons. Do you need to eat, sleep, stuff like that?"

"Demons don't need sleep, but I gotta say, personally, I do enjoy a good nap every few days. I don't have to eat food…" Ace grins as he continues. "But I will have to feed occasionally."

Ace can all but see the wheels turning in Felix's mind as he tries to comprehend Ace's statement. He can pinpoint the exact moment Felix puts it together, as his face goes pale and he looks at the floor, then Ace, then back at the floor. "Does that- Does that mean what I think it is?"

"And what is it that you think it means?" asks Ace. He pretends to examine his nails and curls his tail around his leg. Felix doesn't answer, seemingly content to stare at the carpet until he drills a hole through it with his eyes. It's electrifying, watching him try and fail to stay stoic. "Haven't got a guess? Well it means that eventually, I'm going to seduce you, and then you and I are gonna-"

"Enough, Ace. I get the picture," Felix snaps, and Ace has to hold back a laugh at his reaction.

"Oh, don't be such a prude, Darling. Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I won't need to feed again for a few days, so we've got time to get to know each other before I need your… assistance." Felix sits down at the desk and begins opening a book. Ace comes up behind him and puts both his hands on his shoulders. He leans in next to Felix and whispers into his ear. "Or, maybe that'll be enough encouragement for you to figure out how to end this before I get hungry."

Felix tries to shake Ace's hands off, but Ace tightens his grip for a few more seconds, just to remind the human who's in charge before he backs off, flopping down on the bed. "Well, happy reading."

"You're not going to help?"

"Oh, certainly not. I find research dreadfully boring, and you got us into this mess, so you can figure out how to get us out of it."

Felix mutters something under his breath, but opens the book and begins reading. Ace leans back and shuts his eyes. He'll miss Vegas, but bothering the human is fun. Maybe he'll just call it a mini-vacation.

#felix richter #ace visconti #dead by daylight #dead by daylight fanfic #Felix has summoned an Incubus #And is not prepared for the consequences #riconti

5 notes · View notes

ghirahimbo · 2 years

Text

Fictober 2022 Day 12: "You're making my head hurt."

Word count warning: this is about 2800 words long. I don't know why ;-;

Genfic, post-BotW. No warnings apply. The Champions have moved on after Calamity Ganon's defeat—or so everyone thought.

[ao3 link]

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in—

"You're making my head hurt," Purah muttered.

Dimly, Link thought he knew the feeling. He could feel the dull, undeniable signs of a headache pulsing to life just at the base of his eyes, exacerbated by the heavy scent of incense hanging in the air. Still, he tried to let it all float unexamined through his mind as he'd been instructed—Purah, the headache, the incense, and his own increasingly dour thoughts.

Breathe in. Breathe—

"Now you know how the rest of us feel on a regular basis," Impa murmured dryly, though not without patience. Link suspected that waiting for a hundred years for a swordsman in a cave to wake up had wrung out whatever impatience she'd once possessed. "Perhaps you have been six for too long if you can no longer sit with your own thoughts for even as short a time as that."

Link’s brow furrowed, and he attempted to block them out. Another few moments passed, and then—

"What is this supposed to accomplish, anyway?"

"This is for Link’s benefit," Impa reminded Purah softly. "Not yours."

"It's not working," Link muttered, his eyes flying open abruptly. The incense was too heavy in his nose now to float anywhere, and he could feel the warm, wooden panels of Impa's home pressing in on him. "Sorry. It's nobody's fault, I just—I need some air."

He limped a bit standing up, his leg gone numb from sitting for so long. The Sheikah must have had some special way of meditating on those thin cushions for hours at a time, but Link still didn't have the trick of it down.

Not looking to see who, if anyone, followed after him, Link made a beeline for the large, wooden doors of Impa's home, pulling them open roughly. The cool, mountain air on his face brought instant relief, as did the open blue sky above—but he didn't stop, taking the stairs down two at a time and pulling the hood of his cloak up to avoid the curious stares of villagers about their daily tasks. Fresh air was good, but he needed to be unobserved. Unexamined.

Only when Link reached the top of the hill where the shrine sat overlooking Kakariko Village did he finally slow down, collapsing against the grass at the foot of an apple tree. His heart was still pounding faster than the climb up the hill could account for, so Link closed his eyes, breathing in deeply to slow it down—long, natural breaths rather than the strangely forced, timed method that Impa had demonstrated.

As he started to calm down, shame rose up inside him. Why had he reacted like that to something as simple as sitting still and breathing, no matter how unnatural it felt? The incense hadn't been that strong, really. Not when they'd first started out.

Did he want to find out the truth, or was this just his way of running from—

"There you are."

Opening his eyes, Link craned his neck to look but otherwise made no move, sprawled limp as a doll across the ground.

Zelda had followed him after all, panting a bit herself as she ascended the final few steps up the hill. Her pale hair, cut short now for convenience's sake, had begun escaping in strands along her hairline from the braids that kept it back, framing her look of concern in a wispy blonde halo as she stood over him.

Link closed his eyes again, the shame curling in deeper.

For a long moment, the soft cluck of a cucco scratching in the dirt nearby was the only sound he could hear. Then the thin grass rustled as Zelda sank to her knees beside him.

"Do you want me to ask Purah to leave?" she tried tentatively. "I'm certain she wouldn't mind at this point. She's probably just... curious to see if something happens."

"She's fine," Link sighed. "I really just need a minute to..."

He faded off, not really sure what he needed. There was something calculating in Zelda's silence this time as she hesitated.

"Link," she started carefully, and it was all he could do not to flinch. "Whatever it is that's happening... you know it's not your fault, right?"

Link squinted his eyes open again to stare ruefully up at her. Whatever was happening wasn't on purpose. That didn't mean it wasn't his fault.

"We don't even know that this is a bad thing yet, necessarily, " Zelda continued matter-of-factly. "There are any number of explanations for what happened. For example... maybe it's only their gifts that have lingered, and not the Champions themselves."

Link wanted to believe that. When Calamity Ganon had been defeated all those weeks before and the Champions' spirits had vanished from atop their Divine Beasts, the gifts they'd given Link—their Grace, Protection, Fury, and Gale—had vanished along with them. They had been pieces of the Champions' spirits, after all, so it made sense for them to withdraw when the greater part of their spirit moved on. He was sure he had felt them leave.

...Sure, that is, until a few days earlier, when a wild horse had caught his head with its hoof in a freak accident as he'd attempted to mount it from behind. One moment he'd been flying backwards, the ringing in his ears chasing out consciousness; the next, he'd felt the familiar flow of Mipha's Grace through his aching head, soothing the pain away.

He knew he should have been grateful for it, and he was. He was also terrified of the implications.

"What if their spirits are trying to move on, and I'm the one who won't let them?" he whispered, giving voice at last to his deepest fear. "What if I'm trapping them here because I can't let go?"

"That is another possibility," Zelda admitted. "But only one of many. We can't know anything for sure until we find out more."

Which was why Purah and Impa had been consulted in the first place. Purah had suggested a number of tests to attempt to quantity whatever presence might reside inside Link, all of which had come out inconclusive. Impa, on the other hand, had recommended a more spiritual approach.

Neither had worked so far, but it was all he had to go on.

"I'm ready to try again," Link said at last, not feeling ready at all. With a grunt, he pushed himself up to sitting, already dreading that dark room and its cloying incense—and stopped when Zelda held up a hand.

"Actually, let's... try something different," she suggested. "Impa is incredibly well-practiced in the Sheikah way of meditating, of course, but there are others. I should know," she added dryly, and Link realized that she must have tried nearly all of them in the hopes of unlocking her ancestral powers.

Head tilted, he awaited her assessment. He'd be more than happy to try anything else.

"For you..." Zelda considered him for a moment, her finger tapping absently at her chin. "I think sitting right here under this tree might make a world of difference, actually... somewhere outside, yet secluded. You might consider using a focus, as well. It can be easier starting out to have something to point your mind to that isn't just your breath. Does that… make sense?"

"Maybe," Link said slowly. "I... used to stare into the fire for hours. Not really thinking, just... staring. Do you mean something like that?"

"Exactly like that," Zelda said, smiling encouragingly. "It can be a physical thing like a fire, or a short phrase, or even a repeated movement." She paused. "Considering what you're hoping to achieve, maybe something that reminds you of the Champions? That might help you unlock..."

She spread her hands helplessly. Neither of them were exactly sure what Impa thought he might discover in his own head, but if the Champions' gifts (or goddess forbid, their spirits) were nestled somewhere inside him, it only made sense that he should be able to connect to them somehow.

Link cast around in his mind for something that might work, his eyes wandering across their pastoral surroundings—and stopped as he caught the faintest hint of blue nestled in the grass beside him. Reaching out a hand, he unearthed a small, crumpled feather, blue with a reddish tip—a cucco feather, he realized, examining it more closely. Its shade of blue didn't quite match his memory of Revali's feathers, but...

"This," he said, holding it out for Zelda to see. Examining it, she bit her lip.

"A... cucco feather," she said, her voice quivering strangely. He thought she was suppressing a laugh. "For, um... for Revali, I suppose? Don't you think... I mean, Mipha is the one whose gift you used, right? Maybe—maybe if you tried to connect with her instead—?"

"Let's try this," Link decided, shifting around beneath the tree in an effort to get comfortable. "If this doesn't work, we can go fishing later."

"Oh." Zelda's hand was covering her mouth now, her voice more strained than ever. "That... is a more literal interpretation than I intended, I think? But yes, let's—you might as well try this first."

Link nodded and sat back, his breathing evening out already without effort. Maybe it was a subconscious result of one hundred years spent enclosed inside a shrine, but ever since awakening, he'd always felt most comfortable outside. Was that so apparent that Zelda had seen it in him, too?

"Remember how it felt to sit by the fire." Smoothed of its laughing edge, Zelda’s voice became gentle, and calm. Link's breathing evened further as he settled in to listen. "Look at the feather, and let your mind... drift. Notice its color and curled shape. Pay attention to how it feels between your fingers. If you should find that your attention has wandered, simply guide it back to the feather. No pressure, no judgment. Just look at the feather, and let your mind..."

She was good at this, Link thought absently, his eyes half-lidded as he twisted the feather slowly between his fingers. Impa was, too, to be fair, but she hadn't had the mountain breeze or the smell of grass, or dappled light from the leaves above in her favor like Zelda did now.

Breathing in, he did as he was told, and focused on the feather.

Link still didn't remember Revali very well, though he was no less sharp in Link's memories because of it. All of the Champions were like that now—impressed sparsely in Link's mind, but deeply. The gifts they had given him had only strengthened those impressions each time he used them, offering a glimpse inside that tiny piece of their spirit that brought an intimacy Link sometimes feared he hadn't earned.

Revali… he was proud. And abrasive. And wistful, filled with a melancholy longing that hurt Link to examine too closely.

And stubborn. If any of the Champions' spirits would need coaxing out of hiding, Link knew it would be Revali, which was part of why he'd chosen the cucco's feather in the first place. Proud, stubborn Revali would never let such a comparison slide without telling Link exactly what he thought of it.

Smart boy.

Oh, please. You give him too much credit.

Breathing out, he focused on the feather.

Mipha, if she was in there somewhere, could probably be brought out more easily. She had already reached out herself, protecting Link with her Grace, and her spirit had very nearly quivered with the desire to help whenever he used it. Was she really in there somewhere? Was Link keeping her there?

His calm wavered. Breathing in, he focused on the feather.

Keep going, Link, you're almost there! You're doing wonderfully.

'Wonderfully,' really? When it's taken him this long to even notice us?

Come on, give the kid a break, will ya? Good going, Link!

Daruk's spirit had always felt the most encouraging to Link—strong and good-natured, which matched his memories of the Goron Champion exactly. Urbosa… well, there was a reason her gift was named Fury. She had been encouraging, too, in a ruthless sort of way. Urbosa had wanted to see Calamity Ganon suffer.

Then again, so had Link. He breathed out, thought of the feather, and felt the crisp burn of lightning on his tongue.

He is awakening. Are you ready?

Nooo, I think I'd rather hang around unseen for another few months, wouldn't you?

Revali, so help me—

But he had let them go! He had let all of them go… hadn't he?

Link’s face twisted, and he forgot that he was supposed to breathe in and out. Forgot about the feather. None of the Champions had deserved their fate—a fate that Link himself had so narrowly avoided. Still, there was nothing Link could do to change it… but did a part of him still think he could? Was some distant part of himself, without even realizing it, still trying to save them?

Come on, little buddy, open your eyes!

Wake up, Link!

He took in a deep, shuddering breath, the feather clenched in his fist. Link almost thought he could feel them now, their memory so clear and vivid in his mind he could practically put words in their mouth—

Link stopped, going rigid with realization. His eyes snapped open.

The sun had moved in the sky since he'd first sat down with Zelda, though he couldn't say by just how much. Zelda herself was still seated cross-legged in front of him, eyes closed, murmuring instructions in a soft, droning voice that had long since faded from his notice—and beside her, pale green and flickering with flame, Mipha sat in a similar position, watching Link with weary encouragement.

His eyes wandered slowly. Urbosa stood tall just behind Zelda, one hand resting unnoticed on her shoulder. Daruk, big as a boulder, was laid out across the trail like a translucent green roadblock—and Revali, leaned up against another apple tree and watching Link closely, was the first to catch his eye.

He grinned sardonically at Link’s stunned expression.

"And there it is."

"Link?" Perking up at once, Mipha leaned in close, examining his face. "Can you… does he hear us now?"

"More than just hear us, I think," Urbosa said dryly, giving Zelda's shoulder a squeeze that went unnoticed. "Excellent work, little bird."

"Hey, Link’s back!" Daruk cheered, rolling to his feet and pumping a fist in the air. "Good to finally have you with us."

Link's eyes darted from Champion to ghostly Champion, joy and fear warring in a strange mix inside him that even Link couldn't begin to decipher. His mouth fell open as if he might say something, though he had no idea what. He'd never expected to even hear their voices again, much less see or speak to them… but they shouldn't be here. Why were they here?

"You can drop the feather now, by the way," Revali said, more than a bit snippily. "I think it's done its job, don't you?"

Blinking, Link looked down at the ragged blue feather still clutched in his fist. He'd forgotten all about it.

"I don't know, Revali. I think Link should keep it as a momento," Urbosa murmured, her green eyes alight with mischief. "Maybe tie it in his hair to remember you by?"

Revali puffed up angrily.

"Excuse you! I don't go around degrading Gerudo customs, do I?"

"It's okay, Link," Mipha said, reaching a tentative hand out to cover his. It felt cool somehow, like the brush of a stream. "It's all going to be okay."

Staring at her hand, Link cleared his throat.

"Zelda?" He knew his voice sounded strange. Zelda’s eyes fluttered open, and she gasped as if coming out of a trance herself.

"Link! Did you—" She cut off, watching him closely—one of five sets of eyes doing the same. "You look so pale. Did you… feel anything?"

Nodding dumbly, Link’s eyes wandered across the assembled group that only he could see before landing on Zelda once more.

"I… found them. All of them."

Zelda gasped again, a hand covering her mouth.

"Link, that's… that's good, right?" she said eagerly, unaware of Revali's sarcastic 'I should say so' spoken right on top of her. "You found their gifts, or…?"

"More than their gifts." Link's voice cracked, and he licked his lips. Words were never his strong point, even if they came more easily to him now than they had before. "Um… Revali says hi, I think?"

"I said nothing of the sort!" Revali snapped, and Link bit his lip.

"Sorry… I guess I was wrong. He doesn't."

#botw #fictober 2022 #my writing #*jazz hands*#another story to consider continuing... eventually...#because i don't have enough of those

51 notes · View notes

mutable-manifestation · 2 years

Text

Part 2 of The Gotham Puddle Boy: Danny Fenton

Danny wasn't too concerned about getting in a car with a stranger in what may well be the crime capital of the world.

If he got weirdo - or Dash-like - vibes he could just slip out of sight and vanish into the wind. Being half ghost made a lot of human dangers less so.

Plus, perks of being a Fenton: riding in the car with a stranger wouldn't make him nervous about their driving. No one in the world was worse at it than his dad.

So a few minutes of trading jokes and a promise of video games was all it really took to get Danny to say "sure" to going back to Tim's house.

The car was nice, at least, and they bantered over music even as they left city limits, which Danny chose to ignore for the time being.

Around 10 minutes later they turned to approach the gates of a veritable mansion that unfortunately brought forth the memory of his first time approaching Vlad's house.

He was silent as Tim buzzed them in, and as they crawled slowly up the driveway he took the opportunity to ask.

"You live here?”

“Yep! Bruce Wayne is my adoptive father. Welcome to Wayne Manor!"

Not long after the building’s front door was opening before they could touch the handle, with an older man in a suit greeting them. "Master Tim, welcome home. I see you've brought a guest."

A hand clapped down on his shoulder as he was introduced, "Danny this is Alfred, Alfred this is Danny. We'll be in my room playing Damned."

"It is a pleasure to meet a friend of Tim, Mister Danny."

"Ah, you too. And just Danny is fine, Mister Alfred."

Alfred smiled and secured a promise that they'd be down to at least stretch their legs and eat something after an hour had passed before Tim was ushering them through the building to his room.

Sam was a good person, but also openly hated rich people despite technically being one. Her parents, however, were a nightmare hidden behind a thin facade of civility when in public. Vlad was also a nightmare. Axion labs had been run by some tycoon and they killed their innocent dogs. Lex Luthor openly hated Superman - which would be totally understandable if it were because he never so much as glanced at Amity Park’s issues instead of because of his incredibly Xenophobic stance on any and all non-humans. All told, Danny didn’t have a good track record with -illionaires - not the adults, at least.

'...Okay, maybe I should just avoid Bruce,' he thought, settling on the floor at the foot of the bed in the enormous room they'd entered to face the gloriously massive TV while Tim booted it up.

An hour later, Alfred was knocking on the door to herd them to the dining room where he'd prepared "refreshments." It was nice to enjoy homemade food that didn't fight back for once - he hadn't eaten at Sam or Tucker's house in a while and takeout wasn't quite the same. Even if they were unfortunately healthy snacks - the strange slices he'd learned were apricot were surprisingly good.

Alfred had them stretch their legs again two hours later - this time snackless - and Tim decided to give him a tour. The house was immaculate and the kitchen would have made the Lunch Lady greener than normal with envy.

It was also empty.

"Don't you have a bunch of siblings?" he asked on the way back to the room.

"Yeah, but they're all out doing their own things until lunch." He stopped just after closing the door behind him to grin at him. "Speaking of which. Can you stay for lunch?"

Danny blinked at the sudden manic energy starkly contrasting with the incredibly normal question.

"Uh, I don't have to be back at the hotel until like 5, so, sure?"

"How do you feel about playing a little prank?"

Danny grinned, "What did you have in mind?"

---------------------------------

POV Jason

Jason’s patience was running incredibly thin. He had been looking at tubes of water for hours while Bruce kept asking variations of the same question. His only consolation was that Duke took up half of the attention or he might have punched him by now.

The only reason he even showed up was that he’d been told there was potential Lazarus water in Gotham - or something similar. But after hours upon hours of tests by the computer and him and Duke staring at it he was certain; that was water. Bruce had lost it.

Just as he braced himself to try and knock some sense into Bruce, Alfred came to fetch them to lunch.

‘Finally,’ he thought, power-walking to the exit.

“I’ll be up in a minute, I want to set up one more scan to run while we’re eating,” Bruce threw after them.

“It had better only be a minute.” He paused to glower ominously over his shoulder, simmering with rage at all of the wasted time - and using that to smother the concern trying to bubble up.

“Finally,” Duke said once they were out of the batcave. “I thought we were going to be in there forever!”

Jason ignored him as he fished out his phone.

“Oh hey, group text from Tim; he has a guest that fits the family theme so he’s going to try and prank Bruce to see if he’s actually ‘lost the plot.’”

Jason grimaced, “Great, so instead of a productive lunch we’ll be playing house plus ‘guest that definitely isn’t the former Jason Todd, just a very similarly looking friend of the family’ for an hour.” He ran a hand down his face, sighing in frustration. “Count me ou-”

He froze in place, every muscle flinching to a stop.

“Uh, Jason?”

“Quiet.” He hissed, eyes darting to the stairs as voices began to drift their way.

Every hair stood on end as he stood there, something in his blood echoing dissonant signals of danger-run-hide-flee-don’t move-stay still-stop-stop-stop even as his conscious mind demanded he confront the problem head-on. But he couldn’t move - frozen as surely as if he’d been hit by one of Freeze’s ice rays.

As the stranger came into view his mind gave up on the danger signals, finally settling on don’t move don’t move don’t move even as near-unbearable levels of anxiety bubbled up in his gut. He barely registered Tim standing next to the guy as his head turned to stare him down, Jason’s eyes widening and shoulders hunching now that this… person’s full attention was on him.

The person hesitated a moment at the top of the stairs before smiling.

“Hi! I’m Danny, you must be Tim’s brothers?” he chirped, voice friendly enough that the anxiety uncurled just a bit. Just enough for Jason to register Tim staring at him oddly and Duke looking between the two of them.

Tim descended the stairs, done waiting for “Danny” to take the initiative, perhaps, while Duke took his silence as a cue to give the guy his cover story.

“Just me, actually,” he said. “The name’s Duke. J here is a friend of the family.”

“Oh, uh, nice to meet you both anyway. Sorry for crashing you guys’ lunch,” he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly before following Tim down to their level, still smiling calmly. “My parents are in town for some engineering convention and Tim kind of rescued me from dying of boredom.”

Abruptly, Jason found himself completely calm - relaxed, even. Suspiciously so; all of the rage and frustration he’d felt ever since emerging from the Lazarus Pit was suddenly swapped out for a level of relaxation he could nearly call “Zen.”

He would nearly suspect a meta had broken Bruce’s rules, but he was the only one to react. Tim and Duke were clearly unaffected and the guy was either one hell of an actor or had genuinely only noticed him when he saw him.

Meaning this was potentially Lazarus related - and even that thought could not cut through the sheer tranquility he was feeling to cause panic. His thoughts, at least, were unaffected.

Also, he kind of just wanted to enjoy not being angry for the first time in ages. Sue him.

So he plastered on a Wayne-family PR smile and ended the second awkward silence of the day.

“Don’t worry about it; any friend of Tim’s is a friend of ours, at any rate. We have maybe two more minutes before Alfred actually manages to wrangle Bruce out of his study, why don’t you fill me in on this prank.”

#I guess there will be a part 3 too #Not me rapidly spiraling out of control #and writing way more than intended #oop #Also not me just stealing various headcannons I've seen other people post for the crossover for myself #Danny's one braincell is dedicated to suspecting rich people of doing something fishy #The Justice League doesn't know about Amity bc the first message got dismissed as a prank #And the GIW suppressed info after that #up until Amity tech upgraded in a weird & self-isolating manner bc of changes made to avoid being hacked by Technus #They don’t assume he’s a meta bc Batman tracks all the registered metas #or something #he has a system #and he has a no metas in Gotham rule and fought Superman once so people tend to respect that #Also they’re all incredibly sleep deprived at this point so #Jason is liminal not a halfa #but like if he were a halfa he’d only be strong enough to turn into a blob ghost #Yes I gave Jason blob ghost instincts #very small therefore very angry at everything ever #(I know the feeling)#also very scared of stronger ghosts (read: all of them)#until proven friendly #because then hey free friend/safety #ghosts eat other ghosts but only when hostilely territorial/power hunger not bc they actually need to eat au #but blob ghosts don't have lairs so they tend to wander/be more at risk until a ghost with a layer adopts them #at which point they're kind of like guard blobs #intruder alert system blob ghosts #anyway #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom au #dp x dc crossovers are my only source of knowledge on dcu characters outside of like

110 notes · View notes

bi-bard · 2 years

Text

five seconds flat - Lizzy McAlpine (Writing Challenge)

Hello!

I am back to do yet another writing challenge! This time, I'll be focusing on "five seconds flat", the brand-new album by Lizzy McAlpine.

I love this album so much and have already had so many ideas for it. I hope you all enjoy this!

Masterlist for this Writing Challenge:

1. doomsday

I Feel More Free Than I Have in Years Six Feet in the Ground Lonnie Machin X Reader Lonnie had played a big game. Tough and chaotic. However, those closest to you can learn how to look through your mask, especially after you've hurt them.

2. an ego thing

It's Not That I Hate You; I Hate That it Hurt Andrew Garfield X Reader After voicing a real problem, (Y/n) couldn't have anticipated the response they would get from Andrew. Unfortunately, (Y/n) can play the same game as him.

3. erase me

Him and His Aftershave Hit like a Drug Dean Winchester X Reader A rebound may not always be healthy, but coping is coping. It's a shame that something as simple as guilt can ruin someone's plans. Sometimes it can be for the best.

4. called you again

You're Better off on Your Own Kara Danvers X Reader Things fall apart. Not everything can last forever. (Y/n) knew they'd have to accept that eventually. That doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt like a bitch.

5. all my ghosts

They Know All of My Habits, but They Don't Know About You Jack Kline X Reader For unknown reasons, (Y/n) finds themself back in Lebanon. However, it's not as miserable as they remember it being, mostly thanks to a new resident that goes by Jack. All (Y/n) can hope is that those unknown reasons don't ruin things going forward.

6. reckless driving

And One Day It Will Kill Us if I Don't Let Go Sam Winchester X Reader Sam finally acknowledged his feelings but refuses to act on them. (Y/n) thought that they could accept that, but while working with Sam and seeing all of the risks he takes, their patience runs thin.

7. weird

And Now I'm in a Maze Chuck Shurley X Reader (Y/n) started noticing something strange about the world surrounding them. However, the person that vowed to protect them does not like how much (Y/n) is poking around.

8. ceilings

And it Feels Like the Start of a Movie I've Seen Before Castiel X Reader (Y/n) had been haunted by vivid dreams and memories that they can't place. After being isolated for so long, they assume that it's just their brain trying to cope. Unfortunately, the answer is far more heartbreaking.

9. what a shame (Part 2)

I Don't Wanna Take My Mind Off You Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner X Reader Things with Hotch and Hailey had been rocky. The strain on the relationship helps to encourage Hotch to overstep some boundaries in his work life.

10. firearm

What a Shame That I Put Up with You Ed Nygma X Reader Ed's choices drive (Y/n) to reconsider how far one person can go for love. How long can something go on before a boundary is seriously crossed?

11. hate to be lame

Hate to be Lame but I Might Love You Nora Darhk X Reader A sad side effect of her childhood is that Nora doesn't have the best skills in communicating. So, when she tries to take a big step with (Y/n), things hit a small bump.

12. nobody likes a secret

Nobody Likes a Secret, and I Was Always Yours Tommy Merlyn X Reader Tommy learns a very important lesson after he royally screws up. You can't treat people like crap and expect it to never get thrown back in your face.

13. chemtrails

I Miss It, I Miss You Rory Gilmore X Reader Rory never thought about the possibility of losing (Y/n). She should've known that people will only wait so long before they get tired. How long can one person go unwanted before they decide they deserve better?

14. orange show speedway

Riding on the Line Between Acceptable and Angering Your Girlfriend Allison Cameron X Reader (Y/n) never really enjoyed Chase's company. Not just because they loved his girlfriend, but also because he was a terrible person. Sometimes, (Y/n) walked a very thin line between being very close friends and moving toward something very different. And Chase felt it was necessary to take action.

---------------------------------

Masterlist

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

folklore/evermore Writing Challenge (and Masterlist)

Maisie Peters - “You Signed Up for This” Writing Challenge Masterlist

25 notes · View notes

manikas-whims · 3 years

Text

A Tantalizing Surprise

[Read on AO3]

for Kanej Week (@kanejweek) Day 5: Love (domesticity)

It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up..

• Friend 1: write Inej in a silk dress and some sexy Kanej moment Friend 2: No! Write injured Kaz being patched up by Inej Me: *an unbiased friend* mixes both requests into this fic ~♥ • I headcanon Liddies being a gang run by women :)

Kaz Brekker utterly despised private parleys. Majority of the time they were a farce. Excuses crafted in order to get him alone and put an end to his reign forever. Everytime a haughty barrel boss offered him a drink or a condescending mercher invited him for dinner, it wasn't for the sake of striking amiable business deals with him. But to drive a knife through his rotten heart or shoot a bullet into that scheming head of his.

And yet he had agreed to meet the leader of the Liddies in a small coffee house on the bustling streets of the East Stave. They were stirring up too much ruckus and if left unchecked any longer, they'd embolden every other gang to go against the Dregs. Dirtyhands couldn't let that happen, now could he?

As suspected, no pleasantries were exchanged. The door was jammed shut immediately upon his arrival.

Their lieutenant, a burly, middle-aged brunette, attacked first. She tried smashing her wooden bat into his face but thankfully Anika blocked in time with a crowbar. Two other females followed, swinging rustic metal pipes at him which he managed to counter with his cane. Roeder was struggling on the other side, engaged in a one-on-one with their spider.

"This ends tonight, Brekker." Their leader howled from her perch atop a stool. "Barrel needs a queen."

"Barrel already has one." He responded calmly.

"The little whore? The one who's barely in this city?" she grinned sharply, getting up.

"Careful." His gaze turned steely and his gloved fingers flexed tensely onto the crow head of his cane. "I can gut you and your ladies for insulting my Wraith."

"I'd like to see you try." She sneered, madly lunging at him with her bare hands.

He sighed. This was going to be a long night.

The fight lasted for an hour. Liddies finally ran off when more Dregs arrived on the scene and broke down the coffee house's door.

Kaz dictated his gang to double the security around the Crow Club and his other establishments just in case. He then dug his fingers into his right leg in hopes of quelling a little of the ache there as he dragged himself back to his place. Not the slat anymore but a luxurious mansion on the Geldstraat. He had purchased it under a pseudonym after Councilman Hoede had passed away three years ago.

Blame Wylan for making him waste his kruge on a deadman's house. Though the dark wood walls and coffered ceilings looked amazing upon his first visit, he did get a few things renovated. Such as converting the dilapidated Grisha workshop into an ordinary shed and the addition of wild geraniums to the vast variety of flowering plants in the gardens.

Despite his habits, he pulled out a key that he kept within the hidden pocket on the left side of his coat and swiftly unlocked the large, black, entrance gates. The next few minutes of the long walk through the front stone pavement didn't feel regal, atleast not to his leg. He retrieved another key upon reaching the main doors. It was an odd experience every time— to enter a house this big without utilizing his skills in lock-picking.

He didn't stop to admire the blown glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling or the stolen DeKappel displayed mockingly on the opposite end of the hall. He simply braced himself for the walk up the long staircase leading towards the more private quarters of the mansion.

His steps came to a halt only when he reached the master bedroom. And that too, not because it had been his destination all along but because he felt her presence.

He shook his head in disbelief. Maybe six months of being apart were taking a toll on him, playing tricks with his senses. Or maybe it was just an effect of blood loss due to the cut he'd taken during the fight with the Liddies.

He turned the knob and entered, the room same as ever. A bookshelf tucked in the left corner from the door, a vanity table with a full-length mirror right next to it; a door leading to the balcony and another door to the bathroom on the other end. And of course, the king-size bed atop which his eyes found her tantalizing form, aglow under the golden flame of the dimly burning lone candle.

Kaz regarded her silently. Her lithe frame was covered in a purple, silk nightgown that left barely anything to his imagination. Or rather, it was exactly the sight he envisioned every night. An ideal reverie where he pulled her onto his lap and kissed down the delicious curve of her neck. A fantasy where he relished in her whispers of his name. A fantasy where they did all the unholy things they're capable of now. A fantasy he had been yearning for yet kept locked in the darkest recesses of his twisted mind.

But this was different. This woman in his bed had longer hair and was far more breathtaking than any imagery he could will his mind to conjure. This was real. She was real.

"Saints!" She slid off the bed. "Kaz, what happened?"

Yes, she was real.

And she had chosen an interesting outfit for their reunion.

But it was unusual of her to dock in Ketterdam and not send a runner to let him know. Not to mention, she had somehow managed to sneak into their mansion without any keys.

"You're hurt!"

He scoffed at her concern and proceeded to discard his coat. After all the times they've fought and bled together, she should be used to witnessing him a little roughed up.

He peeled off his gloves with methodical ease and tossed them onto the table. Then he tentatively reached for one of her hands, his thumb stroking along the pulse in her wrist. There was no harm in confirming she was real and alive.

"Welcome back, Wraith."

She freed her wrist, completely ignoring his greeting, and placed her palms over his stubbled cheeks. Fortunately, no waves lapped up his skin. So he let her turn his face this way and that to check for any signs of injuries. When she found none, she smiled in relief and pulled his face down so their lips could meet. His arms immediately snaked around her waist. And he was glad her only reaction was a soft sound of contentment, not tensing or vanishing in his hold. It took around eight years and a lot of mutual support to achieve this level of intimacy. But he was glad they never gave up and worked together to get accustomed to one another's touch.

The contact overwhelmed him everytime, in a good way of course. It was exhilarating to be able to brush his lips against hers. A common gesture for most couples but a very big accomplishment for them. Just like everything else.

Everytime they shed a piece of their armor, touched longer, touched more, they counted it as a new milestone. He was thankful to their patience and to whichever of Inej's saints had blessed them for their persistent efforts.

The kiss deepened with every passing moment, all those months of separation provoking their dormant desires. But as soon as his tongue slid past her mouth, he felt a twinge of pain in his abdomen and broke away. "Fuck! What the hell, Wraith!?"

In trailing her hands along his torso, she had accidentally discovered the cut wound on the left side of his lower abdomen. She glared down at the small dot of blood staining his clothes. "You have absolutely no sense of self-preservation!"

He laughed at the furrow of her brows as she pushed him back until he was seated in a chair. "Takes one to know one."

He heard her huff before she disappeared inside the bathroom and returned seconds later with a roll of bandage, cotton swabs, and a disinfectant.

The blade of the knife had torn past both his vest and shirt but fortunately, barely grazed his skin. The cut wasn't deep or life-threatening, only seeping slow trickles of blood. However, that didn't stop his fiercely gentle partner from worrying. She began undoing the buttons on his vest and in the heat of the moment, he joked. "Someone is eager."

This time she glared at him directly and resumed her task. She was cautious in shrugging off the vest. Even more whilst removing his sweaty shirt.

As soon as the disinfectant-soaked cotton pad grazed his wound, he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Care to explain why I wasn't informed of your arrival?" He gritted out through the light haze of pain. He wasn't mad. But had he known, he would've cleared his schedule for her. Denied that parlay altogether and avoided being injured.

Her hands hesitated in cleaning the blood. "I wanted to surprise you."

Now his brows quirked.

"And was this part of the surprise?" He stared at the thin slip of nightdress snug on the curves of her beautiful body. His voice lowered an octave. "You put this on for me?"

She chewed on her bottom lip, a small action he had noticed her doing when in contemplation. "My intention was to doll-up for the King of the Barrel."

He shook his head, tugging on the hem of her dress. "Seems to me the Queen of the Seas was intent on arousing me with her alluring silks."

She punched his shoulder lightly. "You're bruised and bleeding and this is what you think?"

"Inej," He spoke earnestly, his ardent gaze focused on her as she continued bandaging him, "I always think about you."

"Aside from when I'm out there making money." He added as an afterthought.

She giggled.

He waited until she was done tying the last knot of the bandage to stand up. His fingers disappeared beneath her dress, glided tenderly over the flesh of her thighs in the moment he lifted her up. Her legs naturally came to wrap around his waist and she looked at him. "Kaz?"

He responded with a soft, lingering kiss before pulling back, his breath fanning her lips. "Still in the mood to surprise me?"

She nodded, her eyes averted shyly for once as he carried her towards the shower.

#kanej #kanej week 2021 #kanej fanfiction #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #six of crows #day 5 #love #domesticity

132 notes · View notes

honeyoongiah · 4 years

Text

114 days

Pairings: Jungkook x reader

Genre: Idol! Jungkook, drabble, fluff, smut

Words: 2k

Warnings: explicit sex

Summary: Jungkook AU drabble

1. I love you, I hope you know that

7. I like it when you say my name

13. You're so much fun to touch

16. No I am supposed to make you feel good

A/N: I'm sorry that you had to wait a little longer 👉🏻👈🏻 but at least the drabble got a little longer than expected! I hope you enjoy it!💕

It's been about 4 months since you've seen your boyfriend the last time. He was on tour and that meant he wasn't even in the same country as you. Even though you tried talking on the phone and texted as much as you could, it was difficult.

The different time zones made it hard to text and talk much on the phone, additional to that Jungkook was obviously very busy and when he wasn't he was dead tired and needed lots of sleep.

You lost count of how often he fell asleep while facetiming with you or how often you didn't even come that far because he fell asleep as soon as his body met the hotelbed.

You tried being understanding and supportive, it was his dream and you loved how his eyes shined when he told you about the concerts. His voice was angelic and you knew he belongs on the stage, but having a stable relationship was hard.

You had your own responsibilities so you couldn't just go with him, even though you'd love to.

It's been 114 days already since you've kissed him goodbye, you counted every day and got more and more frustrated.

It was already 11pm, you were on your couch eating a last bowl of cereals before going to bed. It's been yet another Friday other people went on dates with their significant other but you spent it alone.

First you thought it must be someone breaking into your apartment when you heard the door. You grabbed the first thing in reach to defend yourself, a half full bottle of water, and walked towards your hall. When you realized who stood in front of you, your hand let go of the bottle that hit the floor with a loud boom.

Jungkook smiled bright when he saw your shocked face. "Hello my love. I'm sorry that I didn't tell you, but I wanted to surprise you." You immediately ran into his arms, clinging onto him as if he'd disappear any second. Tears ran down your face when he wrapped his arms around you tightly. You couldn't believe that he was finally back at home, finally standing here and kissing your face while whispering how much he missed you.

You sobbed softly, stroking his cheeks and his neck, running your hands through his hair and back to his cheeks. "Your hair grew so much.", you said with a soft smile, you loved how cute he looked with those long curls. "Mhm they wanted to cut it but I told them that they'd have to fight you then so they shouldn't try."

A sigh left your body, you were finally at peace again. Your boyfriend was back. "Let's not stand in our hall all night hm? I prefer to sit down.", he grinned, kissing your lips softly and guiding you to the living room. He pulled you on his lap, placing soft kisses all over your face that tickled your skin. "Don't cry anymore hm? I'm here."

You nodded, but your tears didn't plan to stop for now. You were just so overwhelmed to have him here that you didn't know what to do first. "Ah Jungkook.", you whispered softly, not able to form any other sentence for now.

"I like it when you say my name.", he answered with a loving expression. You felt his hand stroking your hair behind your ear and you almost forgot how much his touch affected you. Every single time he made you relax with his presence.

"I-I missed you so much it was so horrible to be without you.", it blurred out of you. You didn't plan on telling him, because you knew he'd feel bad for making you sad, but you couldn't help it. "I hated every single day without you, I couldn't get distracted I missed you so so much it never stopped."

His gaze changed from happy to guilty. "I'm so sorry that I left for so long, I didn't have a choice. You know I want to be with you every minute.", he apologized, but you shook your head. "I know that, kook, I really do. I'm just so happy that you're back."

Jungkook stroked your back and leaned his forehead against yours. "I love you. I hope you know that.", he whispered to you. You slightly nodded. "I love you too. You make me feel loved and you make me so happy."

He stroked your cheek and leaned in for a long slow kiss. You missed how warm and soft his lips were, how good they felt on yours as if they were made for each other. "Why are you even here? I thought it would be another 2 or 3 weeks."

"I honestly couldn't handle being separated from you anymore and I managed to get them to let us go earlier.",he said honestly and began kissing you again. God, you loved him so much. Suddenly all your worries about how stable your relationship really was were gone, you only felt the deep love for him inside of you.

Your soft kisses turned to a wilder make out session when Jungkook pushed his hands under your shirt. "I missed your skin, I missed being close to you.", he whispered and pulled your shirt over your head. You weren't going to complain, the nights without him left you needy and even though you tried helping each other out on the phone, it just wasn't the same.

"Me too Jungkook please touch me.", you pleaded, pulling up his shirt too and wasting no time to open his pants. He grinned at you while he watched how you struggled with the button. He opened it for you when you whined in frustration and grabbed your hips to lay you down on the couch.

Jungkook hovered over your body, kissing your neck and touching every spot he could reach. His skilled fingers opened your bra within seconds that he threw away carelessly. "God you're so beautiful."

He began kissing down from your neck to your chest, leaving soft marks on your skin until he reached your breasts.

His big hands cupped and massaged them, making you moan softly. His eyes were glued to your face, watching your expression when he used his tongue on your nipples. "J-Jungkook please don't tease me." - "I'm not teasing you, I need time to enjoy every detail of you after such a long time."

You felt his lips kissing down your belly as he opened your pants and pulled them down together with your panties. For a moment he just stared at you, appreciating every detail of your body under him. You felt like his hands were everywhere at the same time, stroking your thighs and massaging your breasts but also teasing you between your legs.

You whined when he touched your clit gently, moving your hips in hope you'd get more friction. Jungkook smirked at how needy you were for him. "You're so much fun to touch." - "God please give me more I can't wait any longer."

He began to kiss your leg until he reached your clit, wrapping his arms around your thighs and placing kisses everywhere. His tongue stroked over you gently and you whined again, moaning his name and hoping he'd get the message.

What you didn't expect was his fingers teasing your entrance now, wasting not much time to enter you slowly. You moaned louder now, grabbing his hair and pushing his face deeper into you. You had no patience to wait until he'd stop with teasing.

Jungkook just chuckled softly in response, moving his fingers inside of you and starting to lick you. "I missed your taste baby.", he groaned while he moved faster. You held onto the couch, your eyes already rolling back in pleasure and you knew you wouldn't need much to reach your high.

"J-jungkook please don't stop I need to cum.", you pleaded and hoped he felt generous today. You knew your boyfriend loved to bring you to your limit, he loved edging you and making you beg but this time he just wanted to make you feel good.

"You can cum anytime babygirl I want to taste it.", he answered, picking up the pace and going harder now. His fingers hit your g-spot perfectly and you bit your lip, you knew the walls were thin and your neighbors didn't like listening to you two but there was no way that you could stay silent tonight. " Ohgod yes Jungkook fuck!"

You digged your nails into his shoulders now and he groaned in response. He loved that. "You turn me on so much. You can't imagine how much I wanted to do this every single night.", he admitted. "I thought about your moans and how you feel all the time it drove me crazy."

You wanted to answer him, to tell him that you felt the same way, but his words made you get closer to your orgasm and your brain wasn't in control of your words anymore. "Oh God ah close!"

Jungkook moved his tongue the way he knew you loved the most and brought you over the edge. Your body shook under him while you moaned his name loudly.

He helped you riding out your orgasm and licked his lips once he was done with you. You breathed heavily and felt like you needed a minute to calm down, but you didn't want to wait until then. Much to his surprise you got up and pushed him down, pulling his boxers away and revealing his already hard dick.

There was nothing that turned him on more than seeing you in pleasure. You wrapped your lips around his tip and pumped the rest of his dick with your hand. He groaned and watched how you took more and more in your mouth until he disappeared completely. "Fuck, you still take me like a good girl."

You looked up and nodded, a smirk on your face when you started bopping your head slowly. You scratched his abs and thighs with your nails and massaged his balls while you moved faster. His eyes were still on you as he grabbed your hair and guided your head. You let your jaw relax so he could fuck into your mouth easily.

His hips started thrusting up and he started to moan deeply as you felt yourself getting wet again. You loved how Jungkook used you and that was no secret. He noticed fast how turned on you got and pushed your body up to him. "Ride me."

"No, I am supposed to make you feel good.", you pouted. "There's nothing that feels better than to be inside of you babygirl I need that."

There was no way he had to tell you twice. You couldn't wait to finally feel him inside of you, to feel how he stretched you out and hit all the right spots to make you see stars. You sat on his lap and positioned his dick so you could slide down slowly. Both of you moaned again and you bit your lip.

He was big and you weren't used to it anymore, but it didn't take long until you rolled your hips and scratched his chest. "Fuck you're so hot.", he kept complimenting you and you blushed, it made you feel so good, so loved and cherished when he told you how beautiful you were on top of him.

You began to move faster and harder, you couldn't keep yourself silent even though you tried. Jungkook kept touching you on your most sensitive spots and you clenched around him every time. "Baby I'm close.", he moaned into your ear when he sat up to guide your hips.

"Cum inside of me please fill me.", you whined, scratching his back and marking his neck. You loved to leave your love bites everywhere, he was yours and you wanted people to know. "I'm close too."

Jungkook grabbed your neck and pulled you close for a long passionate kiss as you both came hard. Your body was shaking again but he held you close until your hips stopped moving. "I love you so much.", he said lovingly, kissing your neck and stroking your back, leaving goosebumps on your skin. "I love you too. I'm so glad I have you back with me."

259 notes · View notes

emachinescat · 4 years

Text

The Day that Camelot Forgot

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 24 - memory loss

Summary: A vengeful Morgana casts a powerful curse on Camelot on the day Merlin is named Court Sorcerer, making everyone in the citadel forget that Merlin – and his impact on their lives – exists. She can only maintain the spell for one day, but twenty-four hours is more than enough time for the warlock to get himself into some serious trouble.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, the knights, Gaius, Morgana is mentioned

Words: 6,444

TW: anxiety attacks, burning at the stake, main character near-death

Note: This story is a bit late, as it was meant to be published on day 24 of Febuwhump, but I got sick, and missed a few days. I did post the first half of it on Tumblr on the 24th, but this is the finished product. I am seriously considering writing a sequel, because there are definitely a lot of ramifications that I gloss over here, a lot of angsty, whumpy stuff that I could (and most likely will) expand upon in another story. But I'll let you read the story for yourself, and see if you're interested in a sequel!

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, and re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Merlin woke up to a broom head hitting him in the face, which was not how he expected his first day as Court Sorcerer to start.

An indignant squawk escaped him as he rolled off of his bed in an effort to escape the assault. He already had an insult for Arthur on his lips when his bleary eyes cleared and he realized that it had not been the king at all who had woken him in such a manner. It was Gaius, and he was poised to strike again.

"Gaius!" Merlin stammered, scrambling to his feet and dodging another blow from the broom. "What the hell are you doing that for?"

Gaius didn't answer. Instead, looking as mean and ornery as Merlin had ever seen him, the old physician demanded, "How did you get in here?"

Merlin cocked his head to one side, completely nonplussed. "I… live here? I remember turning Arthur's offer for new chambers down so I could stay and care for you – OW!"

Gaius had hit him again. "Who are you?" he all but growled.

Merlin blinked. "Gaius, you know me," he insisted, his heart hammering out his uncertainty at the pulse point in his neck. Something was wrong; Gaius might be cantankerous for his old age, and he might have enjoyed the odd joke at Merlin's expense, but never something like this.

Merlin tried again. "Gaius, it's me… Merlin." When Gaius only glared at him distrustfully from beneath two gnarled eyebrows, he added hopefully, "You know… Hunith's son?"

To his relief, recognition lit in his mentor's eyes at the mention of Merlin's mother, but distrust immediately replaced it. "I have known Hunith all of her life," Gaius said, voice low and measured, broom still held at the ready. "But she has no son."

Real fear exploded in Merlin's chest – fear for Gaius, not for himself. There was only so much Gaius could do with a broom, but if he was forgetting Merlin so suddenly and so completely…

"Ah, I'm sorry," Merlin said as calmly as possible, raising his hands in front of him to show he meant no harm. "My mistake. I'll … get out of your hair."

He darted out of his room, across the physician's main chamber, and out the door, leaving a confused and agitated Gaius in his wake. Merlin prayed that the old physician wouldn't get himself into too much trouble while he was gone, and then darted for Arthur's chambers.

***

He ran into Gwaine on the way – literally, he ran headfirst into the knight, so distracted by Gaius's sudden and dramatic loss of memory. At first he wasn't sure whose ridiculously muscular torso he'd bumped into, and despite his worry, he couldn't help but grin when he saw the bearded face glaring down at him in surprise.

Wait…

Glaring?

Merlin stumbled back.

"Watch where you're going, friend," Gwaine said in response. The way he spoke sent a wave of wrongness down Merlin's spine. He had called Merlin friend, but it was a vague, generalized term. When Gwaine normally called Merlin his friend, the word was saturated with warmth and shone with the light of a dozen charming grins. Now, it meant nothing. And when Merlin looked up into his friend's dark eyes, there was no recognition there. No smile that Merlin had come to understand as reserved especially for the knight's closest friends. Gwaine's eyes landed on him, flashed in brief annoyance, and then skirted off of him almost nearly as quickly.

"Gwaine?" Merlin asked, irritated at the uncertainty in his own voice.

Gwaine, who had already started sauntering away, turned back with a puzzled expression. For just a moment, Merlin was sure that kind, mischievous face was going to open up in an eyes-to-mouth smile like it always did upon seeing him, but then the brow furrowed, and Gwaine asked, "Do I know you?"

Merlin opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He stood there, gaping like a fool, his whole body coiled as if ready to spring into action, limbs numb, fingers trembling, fear wrapping its constricting tendrils around his chest.

Gwaine gave Merlin an odd look, then shrugged. "Maybe we drank together once."

Merlin nodded weakly, remembering not just once, but many times he and the man before him had gone to the tavern together, often with the rest of the knights, sometimes even the king, in tow. He thought of laughter, and promises of friendship and loyalty, and tavern songs and Gwaine standing on top of a table doing a clumsy jig. He thought of the first time they'd gone to the tavern after learning of Merlin's magic, how Gwaine had asked him a million questions that had gotten more idiotic with every drink. ("No, Gwaine, I have never tried to transplant my nose into the center of a rose to see if flowers can smell themselves.")

By the time he had resurfaced from the barrage of memories that Gwaine had forgotten and that Merlin now clung to with a new ferocity, the knight had gone.

Feeling distinctly sick, Merlin resumed his trek to Arthur's chambers, noticing with fresh terror that every person he passed either didn't acknowledge him at all, or gave him a second, bewildered glance like they'd never seen him before, like he had no right being where he was – being in his home.

***

Arthur didn't remember him, either.

Merlin was so near panic when he got to the king and queen's chambers that he almost forgot to knock. Knocking was never something Merlin had been particularly adept at remembering to do, especially when it came to his duties to Arthur, but since the king had married Gwen, Merlin had made sure to amend his habits. There were some things that Merlin absolutely did not want to walk in on, and besides, he respected Gwen too much to risk barging in on her unannounced.

It was Arthur who answered the door, and Merlin was so flustered that he didn't wait for an invitation to enter (when did he ever, though?), and he squeezed his way into the room past the king. Gwen was nowhere to be seen.

"Thank the gods you're here, Arthur," Merlin huffed as he bustled in. "Something very weird is going on. Gaius and Gwaine are acting like they don't know me, like they've never seen me in their lives!"

He turned around to face his friend. To his surprise, Arthur's hand was on the hilt of his sword at his hip, and suspicion rolled off of him in waves. "Who the hell are you?" he asked flatly, blue eyes flashing with an intensity reserved for those who wished to do him, his kingdom, or his loved ones harm.

Merlin had been expecting a joke like this. Arthur was never one to pass up an opportunity to tease his former servant, soon-to-be Court Sorcerer. The dry retort, "Very funny, Sire," died before it could escape his mouth, though, because when he looked at his king, his best friend, he saw no glimmer of recognition. No familiarity. No kindness or warmth or irritated indulgence. Arthur's face was that of a man who had just had a complete stranger barge into his room and started talking to him like they were old acquaintances – which, Merlin was beginning to realize, was exactly what had happened from the king's point of view.

Merlin swallowed heavily and entreated, "Arthur … King Arthur. Please tell me that you know me." Desperation clawed at his throat and infected his next plea. "Please."

Arthur didn't speak, didn't relax his grip on his sword hilt, but he didn't draw the weapon either, which Merlin thought had to be a good sign. Finally, after several long, tense moments, Arthur responded in a slow, cautious tone, "I'm sorry. I have never seen you before in my life. What business do you have with me?"

Merlin's world, everything he knew and understood and loved, crumbled around him in that moment. He staggered back, managed to stay upright by pure strength of will alone. What the hell was going on? The familiar sting of tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he only managed to keep himself from crying by sheer stubbornness. He took a deep, steadying breath, made a conscious effort to look as non-threatening as possible, and tried very hard not to panic.

"Okay," he said, and his voice shook, so he tried again. "Okay." This time, his voice was steadier. Arthur's glare pounded into him from across the room, and knew that the king's already thin patience was running out. "Something very wrong is happening in Camelot," the sorcerer began.

Arthur interrupted him. "I agree," he said pedantically. "There's a strange man in my chambers."

"I'm not – I am, or I was, your servant."

"My servant's name is George."

Merlin couldn't help it. He groaned. "George? The one who makes jokes about brass? He's your servant in this hellish version of Camelot?"

Arthur sent Merlin a look that was almost pitying. "You are obviously very confused," he said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "But I am king of Camelot, and you have no right to be in my personal chambers. Go now, and I will think nothing more of this intrusion. If you do not, then I will have to treat you as a threat, and call the guards."

Merlin shook his head, unwilling to let this go. In the span of a single morning, his entire reality, the world he and Arthur had worked so hard to build and the future that they were about to step into, his new position as Court Sorcerer, his friendship with Arthur, everything, had been ripped away from him. He had to figure out what could have caused this to happen. He didn't have to think long – who was out there with enough power to make what seemed like the entire citadel forget he existed? Who was angry and envious and vindictive enough to take away everyone he loved on the very day that the culmination of his and Arthur's dreams were finally taking shape?

Even as Arthur stepped forward, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword, preparing to draw it, Merlin blurted, "It has to be Morgana!"

All the color drained out of Arthur's face in an instant. He stood there, frozen, a horrible expression of pain manifesting in his eyes. "How dare you speak of my sister," the king growled, and Merlin actually backed up a few steps, bumping into the end table that he'd polished more times than he could count.

"I know she's a difficult subject to talk about," Merlin managed, striving to keep his voice steady as the grief in Arthur's eyes turned to fury. "But it's the only explanation. Morgana must have cast a curse on the citadel – you have to let me go find her, please, and I can stop this, and the world can go back to normal."

Arthur drew his sword now, and Merlin had no more room to retreat. He stood before his king, his closest friend, his muscles aching from the tension gripping his body, his heart pumping so fast and hard he could feel the flutter in his chest. "Arthur, please–"

"I am your king!" the man who had Arthur's face but spoke like his father spat. "You will address me as such! And how dare you insinuate that the Lady Morgana was a sorceress! What vile game are you playing?"

Merlin's head spun; he had no idea what was going on, how Arthur was currently seeing the world, but he did know for certain now that Morgana was behind it. The reverence and love with which the king said his half-sister's name could only come from a delusion the sorceress in question had placed there. Then something Arthur had said hit home. "What do you mean 'was'?"

The expression on the king's face was faintly nauseated, as if he were being forced to remember something that he had hidden away deep inside, or as if he were actively fighting the urge to cut Merlin down on the spot. Either scenario felt entirely wrong and filled Merlin with a sense of dread. "My sister is dead," Arthur said flatly. "She who would have been queen – should have been queen." Oh, yes, Morgana was definitely behind this, Merlin thought wryly. It was bad enough she had these sick delusions in the first place, but to force everyone in Camelot to play a part in them was equally terrifying and sad. "Struck down by a sorcerer in cold blood."

Merlin flinched at the way Arthur spat the word sorcerer. It had been years since he had heard the title said with such hatred and derision, and never had he heard this level of malevolence for magic-users come from Arthur's mouth. After everything they had been through together, after the joy of watching their prophesied destiny unfold before his very eyes, after hearing Arthur accept his magic and plan to officially declare him Court Sorcerer, hearing the title that Arthur had so often spoken of with pride slide out of that same mouth slicked with hatred hurt. But Merlin reminded himself of the truth – this wasn't Arthur, not really; somehow he was being fed false memories – and he squared his shoulders and looked his king right in the eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said solemnly. Arthur's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Merlin hoped it was a good sign. "But Arthur – your highness – I need you to listen to me, please. I can explain everything. I can try, at least. But your memories aren't what you think they are. Morgana is alive and… very well, considering the power of this enchantment."

"My sister was murdered by magic, and yet you still insist that she is the evil enchantress!" Arthur fumed, and Merlin felt like he was talking to a stone wall, or even more deaf and unyielding, Uther Pendragon. He very seriously considered knocking Arthur out with magic and tucking him away safely in a wardrobe somewhere while he himself went to deal with the sorceress who had caused all this trouble. But Merlin could sense Arthur, the real Arthur, somewhere beneath the surface of those familiar-but-foreign eyes, and he was sure he could break the spell without having to go to the source. Merlin was Arthur's dearest friend, the king had said this himself (and yes, it still counted even if Arthur had been incredibly drunk after a night in the tavern with Gwaine when he said it). And Merlin knew Arthur better than anyone else, save the queen.

I can reach him, he reassured himself. Arthur is still in there, somewhere. I just have to find him. And once he's back to himself, I can deal with Morgana.

"Please, sire," Merlin said, putting every bit of sincerity he could muster into his words. "Just… let me tell you my side of the story. Let me remind you of who I am, and who you truly are. I am your friend, Arthur, and you have said yourself that I am the most stupidly loyal man you have ever had the displeasure to meet." A desperate chuckle lilted his last few words.

"You have two minutes."

"Um, there's a lot to cover, actually," Merlin responded. "Can I have a bit longer, because I don't think–"

"One and half minutes."

"Okay, okay, I'll stick to the basics!" And so Merlin gave Arthur the quickest and most condensed version of their friendship and history he could cobble together in less time than it usually took to exchange greetings with his king in the morning.

He ended with, "And so you see, it makes sense that Morgana would want to sabotage this occasion, because it marks the beginning of a new era that she desperately wants to be a part of but is too bitter and proud to humble herself and change for. She wants to tear us apart, wants you to do something that you'll later regret. But I know you're stronger than this, Arthur. I know that you remember me, deep down. The life you're living isn't yours. Your memories aren't yours. They belong to Morgana, but your mind does not." A strange, almost trance-like mask had descended over Arthur's face while Merlin spoke, and hope started budding in the warlock's chest – he was so close to breaking through, he could feel it.

"So," Merlin prompted, when Arthur did not immediately respond. "Do you remember? Have you realized the truth, sire?"

Slowly, Arthur nodded, and the dazed quality to his eyes cleared up in an instant. "Yes," he murmured. Merlin allowed his eyes to close momentarily in relief; his body sagged against the table at his back. Thank the gods, the nightmare was over. Now all that was left was to find Morgana and make sure nothing like this ever happened again.

But Arthur wasn't finished speaking, and the hardness had steeled his gaze once more, his lips set in a straight line and his jaw clenched and held high. "I have realized that I was a fool to think that you were a harmless vagrant with delusions of grandeur who wandered into the wrong part of the castle. I should never have opened the door for you."

"Arthur–"

"I am your KING!" Merlin snapped his mouth shut, tears once again prickling at the corner of his eyes. The injustice of the situation weighed as heavily on him as his destiny once had. "You are a sorcerer, an enemy of Camelot, here in an attempt to take down Camelot from the inside. But your spells and tricks and poisoned words will not work on me."

"But–"

"Guards!"

"You don't understand, I–"

"Guards!"

***

Elyan and Percival were the knights who dragged Merlin to the dungeons and threw him roughly into a cell. Then Percival clasped his wrists in shackles, which were chained to the floor. The door slammed shut with a metallic clang.

"Percival – Elyan!" Merlin called out as the knights that had only a week ago pledged their acceptance and loyalty to him as the soon-to-be Court Sorcerer and chief advisor to the king. "Please, you know me!"

"You'll die for your treachery, sorcerer," Elyan spat.

The left, and Merlin sank to the cold, damp stone floor, chains clinking. He drew his knees up to his chest, rested his aching head on them, and did his best to remember how to breathe.

***

Merlin wasn't sure how long he had been in the dungeon, but it had to have been a couple of hours at least. He hadn't eaten breakfast because the old man who usually prepared it for him had instead attacked him with a broom. Now, he was certain he had missed lunch too. His stomach growled at him in protest, but the hunger pangs meant nothing to Merlin. Even if the guards dropped off a meal fit for a king, he wouldn't be able to eat a bite. Everything had gone so wrong.

And now Merlin was at a loss of what to do. He could escape the dungeons easily, he knew, and go searching for Morgana. But there were so many uncertainties, a litany of what ifs that railed against him whenever he thought about breaking out of his chains and sending the cell door crashing into the guards holding a silent but hostile vigil on the other side. If indeed he could find Morgana and discover a way to reverse the curse, then it would, of course, be an easy fix. Merlin's failure to connect with Arthur and break the spell himself had planted a seed of self-doubt deeply within the soil of his mind, however, and now what he had been so sure of before he'd tried to fix things himself – that he would be able to hunt down Morgana and stop this madness with magic – seemed like a distant, unrealistic goal.

And if he did fail? If he could not find Morgana, or if she had managed to employ a magic far more powerful or strange than he currently knew how to counter? If he was unable to break the curse? Then Arthur would go on believing Merlin was the enemy, and Merlin would have forfeited any chance of reaching his friend by flouting the king's edict, attacking the guards, and breaking out of the castle.

Merlin had only been able to get through to Arthur in his other life, his real life, by showing the king over a period of years that magic was not something to be inherently feared, not something evil in and of itself. He had had to show the king through his own life and actions the truth about magic, so that when Arthur had at last learned of his secret, it was from Merlin's own lips and with nearly a decade of loyalty and friendship to back up Merlin's assurances that he had only ever used his gifts to protect Arthur and Camelot. Sure, Arthur had been angry at first, and hurt that Merlin hadn't trusted him, but he had come to an acceptance of Merlin's magic much more quickly than the warlock had imagined. King and servant had grown even closer in the wake of the truth, and soon after, Arthur had started drafting plans for making magic legal and had proposed the idea of Melin's being officially named Court Sorcerer.

But if Merlin was forced to start from scratch, to rebuild his relationship with the king – a possibility that pained him deeply but that he was more than willing to do, if it was the only way to get Arthur back and get their destiny on track – then it would not be wise to start that relationship off with a jailbreak. Then again, he argued against himself, neither was blurting out his secret to an Arthur who had already shown great disdain for magic and who held no memory of or loyalty toward Merlin at all. At this rate, maybe it was better to just take the risk and escape, because how in the name of the Triple Goddess was he supposed to convince Arthur of his loyalty if the king most likely planned to execute him for treason?

He almost made his escape then, but something stopped him. At first, he couldn't identity exactly what it was, just a feeling, an uncomfortable squirming in his gut that could have been the voice of destiny, or instinct, or, quite possibly, hunger. But either way, it bothered him enough that he held off on his plans to break out and examined the feeling more closely. Eventually, he realized – if he left Arthur now, especially in the state he was in, alone and unprotected and with Morgana out there somewhere with her eyes feasting hungrily on the citadel she so earnestly believed should be hers, he could be putting the king in more danger. If Merlin wasn't able to find Morgana in time, and she used his absence to ease her way into the citadel and onto the throne, which Arthur would readily give up to her in his current state.. With him under her influence, she could do whatever she wanted to him – kill him, imprison him, break his mind forever… and Merlin wouldn't be there to stop her.

With this thought, he decided to wait it out, and to see how events would unfold. He would not use his magic to defy Arthur or make his escape unless absolutely necessary. After all, he tried to assure himself, there was the very real possibility that Morgana would not be able to hold this powerful of a spell for long. She might be a priestess of the Old Religion, but even she had her limits. Perhaps her plan was to lure Merlin out to find her and then to use his absence to take Camelot for herself, but it was entirely possible that she only had a limited window of time to achieve her goal and that she was counting on Merlin to act on his emotions and search her out immediately.

Or maybe her plan was just to simply wreak havoc in Merlin's life for as long as she could. Either way, Merlin reasoned, her hold over the entirety of Camelot could not last forever. Sooner or later, her grip would weaken and Arthur and the rest of the citadel would wrest their way out of her control.

Merlin just had to survive until then.

***

He was unsure of how much time had passed when they came for him again. No one had brought him food, or water, and no one had come to visit him during his imprisonment, either. Merlin thought it was highly likely that Arthur had ordered any curious parties to stay away; the king had made it abundantly clear that he considered Merlin a dangerous threat. The fact that he had not been given even a hunk of stale bread or a flagon of water sent warning bells off in Merlin's mind – if this strange Arthur was anything like Uther had been, then he knew that he would be executed swiftly and without trial, and there was no need to feed a dead man.

Gwaine and Leon came to collect him. Leon unlocked the shackles and shoved him at Gwaine, who spat at his feet. "And to think I was kind to you this morning," he growled, and Merlin fought the urge to remind him that he hadn't exactly been kind, more indifferent. Gwaine roughly spun Merlin around, wrenched his hands behind his back so hard that pain sliced through his shoulder blades. Merlin felt his hands being bound tightly, expertly behind his back with course, thick rope. He reached into himself and felt his magic, alive, pulsing, ready to rise to his defense, and he took solace in it, but kept it at bay.

Not yet, he told himself.

But he was getting scared, and he was running out of options.

***

They shoved him to his knees before Arthur, who sat unyielding and terrible on his throne, a mirror image of his father. Merlin realized with a start that there was only one throne.

"Where's Gwen?" he asked. Now that he thought about it, the servant-turned-queen hadn't come up when Merlin had told his story to Arthur earlier, and the king had made no mention of his wife. In fact, he recalled with a start, none of Gwen's more domestic touches had been in Arthur's chamber.

Arthur stood, striding forward and looming over his prisoner. "You should have gagged him," he groused. "He doesn't know how to shut up." For a split second, Merlin thought that maybe the real Arthur was beginning to resurface – that was exactly something that he would say! Then he crossed his arms over his chest and asked irritably, "Who is Gwen? Your accomplice?"

"No, no," Merlin quickly assured him, not wanting to cause any trouble for Gwen, wherever she was. It was odd, he thought: Most elements of Camelot had stayed the same in Morgana's living nightmare, like the knights – even the non-noble ones, even Elyan, Gwen's brother, had remained as they were. But Arthur, in this version of reality, had never married Gwen. It made sense if he thought about it, though. Gwen had occupied the role that Morgana had believed was hers, had, in the witch's eyes, betrayed her trust and left her for the man that represented everything Morgana hated. Of course, Gwen wouldn't have her happy ending, her marriage to Arthur, with Morgana in charge. She was being punished as well. Merlin wondered if Gwen had been left with her memories of the real world like he had been, or if she was somewhere in Camelot, living and thinking as a maid when she really was a queen.

To Merlin's relief, Arthur didn't pursue the line of questioning any further. "I have talked this matter over with my council and advisors," he said in a measured voice. A burst of bitterness howled inside of Merlin – he had been named Arthur's chief advisor! He had been a part of the original council, the Knights of the Round Table, when Arthur had first brought them together! And now this illusion of Morgana's had stolen that away from him, too.

Not yet, he reminded his magic, as it raged and boiled and frothed inside of him. Be patient.

He might have been able to control his magic, but he could not keep his sarcasm completely in check: "And I am sure that in your discussion with the council, you all came to a completely fair and totally unbiased decision based on facts and not the unfounded prejudices of your father's rule."

He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly was not Arthur's face flushing an angry red, nor the back of his hand smashing full-force into Merlin's cheek, snapping his head to the side violently. He felt one of the king's rings split the skin on his cheekbone, and thought for a breathless moment that the entire left side of his face had caved in.

He couldn't keep back the lone tear that crawled from the corner of his eye. It didn't come from pain or even shock – but a sense of gut-wrenching betrayal that he could not reason his way out of, even knowing that Arthur was not himself. Even in the state that Arthur was in, even knowing that the king would make plans to execute him, Merlin never anticipated Arthur himself becoming physically violent with him. Somehow, Arthur's hitting him was so much more of a betrayal than a death sentence.

Just. Wait. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep his magic from rising to his defense.

"You will learn your place, sorcerer," Arthur hissed. "When you burn. Take him; we light the pyre at first dawn."

***

Fear screamed through Merlin's body like a whirlwind, and coherent thought fled in the wake of his worst nightmares manifesting before him. He had been sure that Arthur would have chosen hanging or even the chopping block, but a pyre –

Merlin had grown up terrified of fires, horrified at the possibility of dying a brutal, torturous death, swallowed and ravaged by flames, all because he was born with magic. Because of who he was.

No one had been burnt at the stake in years in Camelot. Certainly not after Arthur became king. It was a barbaric practice, and even the worst war criminals and traitors were given a swift, merciful death. He had assumed that Arthur would continue that tradition.

But no, when he was dragged out into the courtyard – the sky was dark, but the air chilly and damp, heralding the approaching dawn – a great pyre had been constructed, and the rest of the knights – his friends – had gathered around, their faces lit eerily by the flickering flames of the torches they held at the ready. At least Gaius wasn't there.

You're not actually going to die, Merlin tried to remind himself, dragging desperately for air through his nose, his mouth blocked by his neckerchief that they'd dragged over his mouth in a bid to keep him from talking, or screaming, or just out of pure spite, Merlin didn't know. You can escape. You will escape, and find Morgana, and stop this. You can't delay any longer.

He drew himself up as tall as he could between Leon and Gwaine, calling his magic to his aid and –

He wasn't sure what happened, or how his friends-turned-enemies had guessed that he was about to try something – maybe he had given himself away somehow, maybe they had noticed the change in his stance or a shift in his energy, or maybe Morgana was interfering even now, ensuring that he would not escape his fate so easily. Whatever the reason, just as Merlin drew upon his magic, something blunt – a sword hilt? – crashed into the back of his skull, and everything was pain.

Agony ripped through his head, his neck, and crackled down his spine. Any grip Merlin had on his magic slipped through his fingers, and he fell forward, held semi-upright only by the knights escorting him to his death. He didn't lose consciousness, but he did lose all sense of control over his body and his magic, and the only thing that existed was pain. His stomach churned in time with the throbbing of his head, and his eyes were driven shut instinctively by the light of the torches before him.

The next few minutes passed in a state of distanced terror and pain. Merlin was acutely aware of the heaviness and agony of his head and the nausea in his gut. He also felt every spike of fear, every bit of helplessness, every scream that wanted to rise up from the most primal part of his being. And yet, at the same time, it was as if it was happening to someone else, and he could do nothing about it. Everything hurt and he was going to die and Arthur was going to burn him alive, his friends were going to light the pyre, and he would die in agony, and not even his magic could stop it, because he couldn't feel it, couldn't find it – he was magic itself, and yet it eluded his grasp, all that existed was pain and confusion and his head swam –

He felt, as if from a great distance, himself be hoisted onto the pyre. He felt the rough wood of the stake rub blisters into his tied hands as he was shoved against it, head lolling uselessly as if it belonged to someone else. He felt rope wrap around his torso, his legs, securing him to the pyre, and he tried to lift his head, which rested on his chest, tried to find his magic, but all he uncovered was fear and despair and pain.

He vaguely heard Arthur speaking from somewhere close by – or maybe it was from miles away. He did not understand the words but knew them to be a list of the supposed crimes Merlin had committed – being born with magic the chief of those. And then, far too soon, Arthur stopped talking, and Merlin sensed through his partially closed eyes the knights approaching with their torches, and he felt the warmth of the fire as those torches were lowered to the wood.

Merlin forced his eyes open, thrust his head up and looked at his friends, then beyond them, at Arthur. He maintained eye contact with his king, his brother, his best friend, even as the knights lit the pyre and he felt the heat begin to spread. Merlin didn't know if Arthur could hear him from this distance, if his words would be loud enough, strong enough, or if they would be caught up and consumed in the rising flames. It took every ounce of strength and concentration to push past the pain and call out, as loudly as he could, "I forgive you, Arthur."

And then, as the flames began licking at his feet, his boots, his clothes, something popped. I was as if the world itself had been out of joint, like a dislocated shoulder, and in that moment, the painful but satisfying second of release, it had snapped back into place. The air shifted, the world stopped spinning for the briefest of moments, and then, it clicked back into its rightful place.

The spell had been broken; Merlin could feel it in every fiber of his being – his magic cried out in relief, and it was only then that he realized that it hadn't been his head injury that had prevented him from fighting back, from escaping – it had been a last, desperate attempt by Morgana to get her revenge, to hide his magic away from him just long enough for him to die.

But she had failed. Her power, her hold and control, had finally given out on her, and Merlin felt his magic bubble back to the surface, and despite the pain and the fear, he summoned rain from a cloudless sky as the sun continued its golden ascent and put out the flames.

Around him, he heard yells, and cries, and his name was shouted from all directions, from the mouths of those he loved and trusted and who had very nearly killed him. But his head pounded, and he was so weak, and the fire was out. He slumped in his bonds, eyes fluttering shut, head dropping to his chest.

He didn't even feel the hands untie him. He didn't feel the knights gently lift his too-warm body from the pyre, didn't feel himself being carried into the castle and placed on a bed, didn't feel Arthur's tears of mingled guilt and relief splash onto his face.

He did, however, somehow, amidst the quiet and dark of unconsciousness, hear Arthur's voice cut through the silence, strong and familiar and real. "Gods, I – I'm so sorry, Merlin. My dearest friend, I–"

When he woke, Merlin would embrace his king, reassure him that no lasting harm had been done. He would smile at his friends, clasp hands with the knights and hug Gaius, find Gwen and make sure she hadn't suffered the same disorienting day that he had. He would answer all questions asked of him, and he would assure Arthur and the knights as many times as it took that he did not blame them, would explain Morgana's dark role in everything. He would find Morgana, and make sure that nothing like this would happen again.

When he woke, the world would be right. It wouldn't be normal – after everything that had been done to him, after all the betrayals, even though he didn't blame his friends, it would take a while for normal to come back around. But Merlin would persist, and he would have his friends – his real friends, with their real memories – to help him through it. As he would help them through the ramifications of their own pain, guilt, and regret.

And when he woke, he would be named the official Court Sorcerer of Camelot. He would be given a robe fine enough for a king, but he wouldn't care about that. All that would matter would be him, at Arthur's side, protecting him and fulfilling their destiny. That was how it had always been, and Merlin, when he woke, would look forward to a bright future of peace and hope.

But for now, he gratefully, peacefully slept, knowing that when he next opened his eyes, Camelot would remember.

30 notes · View notes

strongsassysexysloane · 4 years

Text

Twelfth day of Twelve - A Finale Worth Waiting For.

A/N - well. I made it. >.< Thank you for all the likes and love. I really did enjoy writing these no matter how tired I have been ( I just slept 11hrs) I hope you enjoy it as much I just did writing it.

Happy Holidays! However you celebrate it or not 😊

Click below for previous days

Gif by @regal-roni

. . . .

The day had finally come and to say you'd woken up with a bounce in your step was an understatement. Regrettably and something you wouldn't share with anyone if they asked was that you ran to your front door when your eyes popped open at 0710.

Nothing was there of course but a thin layer of snow dusting your front porch. You'd even gone to your regular coffee shop this morning just in case they dropped it off there or ordered you something but Sharon didn't have anything for you but a knowing smile. So you order a cup to go and a freshly baked muffin to fill you up.

You'd stayed home all day other than the coffee run, never mind the things you needed at the shops you wanted to catch the person of they dropped something off. It was day 12, finale, so where was the surprise?

All your hopes and prayers were on it being Jacqueline, to no one's surprise, but there was massive doubt that it was actually her. She had an outstanding poker face, spending so much time with her last night, she gave nothing away even when you hinted towards it and there was no way she could be pulled it off unless she had help. Help in the form of the team and no one was that good at hiding secrets other than Gibbs. There was no way he would be in on it.

You thought about all the gifts, all the time it took for this person to go to so much effort, not just to get them, but to plan and organise it all so it was a secret.

It was getting late, the hope for the twelfth day was fading as the sun went down bit you pottered around your place, tidying up at bit as.youd neglected your home from working so much.

There was a sound that came from your front door and you sprung to check but there was nothing. Only footprints on the snow of a bird landing there and taking off again. You'd checked your front door more times than you'd like to admit today. Even Ellie had messaged twice, once at lunch and then an hour ago even though you assured her you would let her know when you found out. Your gut was telling you she knew something and was busting at the seems to tell you. If today was a work day you knew the secret would be out by now.

The sun was almost gone on another chilly December day and you were thinking about dinner. There was hardly anything in the fridge or pantry, you really shouldve done a quick shop while you were out for coffee. The only thing left that resembled some kind of dinner was a frozen cheese pizza so you turned on your oven, not wanting to go out for takeout and not wanting to spend the money on delivery. The snow had started to fall about an hour ago and you knew delivery would take longer, patience was lost around 0900 this morning.

You were about to unwrap the plastic from the pizza when the door bell rang. Your stomach dropped but your heartrate tripled and you couldn't move. The thought that it was just another delivery with no clue had crossed your mind but would the person be that sneakily cruel?

Yes.

They'd clearly been close enough the past 12 days to hear one or more of your conversations so...There was that hope again.

The knocker thumped three more times and your legs managed to skip to the front door in a calm manor unlike the pace of your heart right now. Taking a deep breath, you plastered a on smile your very nervous face and twisted the door handle.

The door cracked open a few inches and there was silence. A million things running through your mind all stilled when you finally got your answer.

"I was going to get Ellie to rock up and video your reaction but I thought, best not." She waited for you to say something, do something but you were searching for the right words. "Well, you going to let me in?" She shivered, looking around nervously as the snow started to pour down again.

You were shocked. The moment you'd been waiting for for twelve days was here and you had no words. Well, you had one. "Why?"

"Why should you let me in? Well the food is getting cold as I got your favourite from the little Italian place across town and it's been a traffic filled drive because no one in DC knows how to drive in snow so I took some back streets to get to your place so-"

"No, Jack. Why?" You were gripping onto your solid wooden door for life. She was nervous too, you could tell by her avoidance of eye contact and rambling. You couldn't tell if her cheeks were pink because of the chill or the situation.

Covering her mouth and clearing her throat, she looked up at you then. The first actual solid eye contact since you opened the door. "As good as I am at reading people and figuring out what to say at work. When it comes to this-" She gestured with her spare hand between you both. "- I fall awfully short." She paused, looking down again and you opened the door. "Thank you." She smiled, walking past you but you grabbed her hand to stop her in the doorway.

"You didn't need to buy me gifts to tell me you..." You didn't know how to finish that sentence. To date you? lo- no.

"I've always enjoyed buying gifts for people and receiving them, of course, but seeing your face, albeit frustrated sometimes, it was worth the surprise tonight." She shook off the cold and some snow fell to the floor.

"Jack!" You tugged her, closing the door and grabbing the bag of takeout from her and putting it on your small entry table. You laced your fingers together and brought your other hand up to cup her face, her eyes finally meeting yours. "Please."

She smiled, a soft curve to her lips and the best gift of happened, she was kissing you. Your eyes took a second to fall shut at the sudden soft contact. You melted into each other, her hand gripping your waist, grounding you while the soft kiss turned heated.

She pulled apart just far enough to catch her breath, your laced hands falling away as you picked up the takeout and lead her into your lounge room. The kiss had ignited something in you, you felt invincible and the nerves suddenly vanished. Nothing was said while you unpacked the meals she brought, you were about you hop up to get cutlery because the wooden ones they'd given you just wouldn't do but her hand squeezed your thigh stopping you in your tracks.

Your heart rate picked up again, not from nerves but from her touch. You hadn't looked at her since the kiss, although you felt like you could do anything right now, you couldn't look at her and see regret in her eyes. Unsure why you suddenly felt that way was a shock but -

"Y/n.." She breathed, her hand moving in soft circles over your thigh.

The low tone, almost a whisper, made you swallow hard. Her hand came up to cup your cheek and guide you this time to look into her eyes.

"Y/n -"

"Jack, please stop saying my name like that. I need dinner before I can do the things that that voice makes me want to do..." You rolled your eyes at how bad that sounded but relief came when her lips curved into a sultry smirk. Your avoidance of emotions wasn't lost on her but for now it would have to do.

"Fine. Dinner then dessert."

"Oh my god you didn't bring dessert did you?" She kissed you instead of replying, the answer on her tongue as she explored your mouth once more. "Right.. Shut up." You poked your tongue at her cheeky expression before turning back to dinner.

Surprisingly you managed to eat all the dinner before the make out session returned. At this point you were unsure if the dinner or her was the twelfth gift.

"What are you laughing at?" Her hand came up to cup the side of your face as her other ran down the side of your body, slipping under your shirt, again.

You were both stretched out on your sofa, Jack slipped in between you and the back of the sofa. You couldn't stop looking at her. "I wasn't laughing."

Her lips came down and ghosted over yours. "Your eyes were." She murmured before kissing you hard and fast.

You swallowed when she broke free, such a tease. "Was wondering what my day 12 gift actually was?" You smirked and squirmed under her ticklish feather light touch. You'd get her back for it later.

"In other words me or the dinner?" She said with a raised brow.

This time you did laugh.

"Think I got the best gift..." It was almost a whisper and you immediately stopped laughing and saw how serious she was.

You rolled onto you side so you were face to face. Your fingers tucking a few strands of hair that had fallen over her face, behind her ear. "Think we have different opinions there." You bumped your nose against hers, lightening the mood.

You were rewarded with a cute curve to her lips. "Don't fight me on this. You'll lose."

"I'm sure to lose many things that will come up in the next few months but my feelings for you. You can't win." You heart picked up, the feelings you just have away were much more than you planned in revealing.

She brushed her nose against yours, placing a gentle kiss to your lips which you tried so hard to extend but you pushed back with a laugh. "As much as I want to kiss you til the sun comes back up on Monday morning. I need to say something."

"Of course you do." You smirked at the light shove you got but you didn't care what she did to you. Right now Jacqueline Sloane was on your couch, in the middle of make out sessions. If you died tomorrow you'd be a happiest person in the world.

"I'm definitely going to win all the arguments over the next many years."

With that there was nothing else to say, the past twelve days had been fun and exciting with all the gifts you'd received but nothing compared to day twelve.

. . . .

I tried so hard. SO hard to not make who the gift giver was so obvious but like... You all know what stories I write. If Jack Sloane isn't the centre of the story then why am I writing it??

Drop a comment, I'd love to hear from all of you :)

#ncis reader insert #ncis christmas #ncis x reader #ncis 12 days of christmas #jack sloane #jack sloane x reader

37 notes · View notes

uriduriragwaenchana · 6 years

Text

All of your attention pt1 || Wong Yukhei (f)

a/n: a very cute anon requested this a while ago. I'm sorry it took so long I was trying to make sure I had enough information on the subject to write about it😅thank you for bearing with me

genre: fluff! cafe!au Its a little dramatic but so am I so..

words: approx. 2.6k

summary: Why would he think ignoring him was something anyone could do on purpose?

☕

"I brought you help," He smiled with all of his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he tossed a look back to where he'd left the stranger, the new boy, petting the animals. That was exactly how it started.

Johnny had worked at the puppy cafe for quite a while before you'd been hired and he'd done a number when it came to marketing and advertising the small place, tucked away on the far end of a busy shopping district.

His face helped, he wasn't bad looking; he was actually quite stunning and he was even more charming and friendly once you got over thinking how people really weren't allowed to look like that-- coupled with the visual of his tall frame feeding and caring for small animals and making frappecionos with a towel over his shoulder-- well, you can imagine why there were always people in the store and a small line down the street.

Aside from that he made a mean cup of coffee and kept little cute flyers with him so that even when he was approached randomly or met someone at a supermarket or elsewhere, he'd hand it to them and smile and then they'd come running through the door the first chance they got.

He was sociable and easy to talk to and sometimes he invited his friends to watch him work, which usually consisted of them ignoring him and spending the afternoon playing with cute pups. They were wellmannered and just as goodlooking and made easy conversation with you when they weren't giving their undivided attention to the animals or when you tended to their glasses for refills.

The days when Johnny was off were noticably more quiet and easy going, which you preferred. Sure, you enjoyed his company but when it was busy, it was hard for you to concentrate and stay focused, and most of all it was hard to make out what any one of the customers were saying when there was soft music from the speakers, puppies barking and growling and chatter, with 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' directed almost always toward Johnny.

Oh and the puppies.

Today was no different, save for a few middle schoolers sipping distractedly on iced coffee with two, mild mannered labs sat on the seat next to them, eager for any sort of attention.

You didn't expect Johnny to come in today because he'd called in earlier about his practice running a little late and you most certainly did not expect for him to bring friends. Luckily you were facing the door, cleaning up after Yuki; the toffee coloured shitzu, otherwise you'd have missed the little bell on the door ding and Johnny coming in, followed into the store by another giant boy with the biggest, most endearing eyes and an oversized blue sweater and messy, soft brown hair.

The puppies went straight for the stranger like they'd been waiting for his return (even if you were sure you'd never seen him before) and started licking and wagging excitedly as he ran his hands over them, eyes alight in jovial delight.

☕

Ever since then, the tiny, fairly profitable puppy cafe had had a new addition to its staff. Lucas-- who reminded you so much of Sushi, the doe-eyed beagle mix that always found the strangest assortment of accessories from god knows where around the store and dropped them at your feet-- wasn't much older than you were and probably half as capable. He was a clutz and a little bit of a ditz and you suspected that it was that naïve charm about him that was so endearing to the customers. They never seemed to get mad or impatient with him when he mixed up an order or put a little too much sugar in the drinks and he drew the younger kids in by the boatload. The coffeemaker was his nemesis and the trio of pugs that were brought in by one of the usual customers-- a high school boy with soft smiling eyes and beautiful lashes--named Blondie, Raven And Carmine respectively, always made his life miserable.

You would admit, however that Lucas was kind of cute. His hair was always a fluffy storm, like he'd ran his hands through it too many times in one second. His hands dwarfed the puppies and most of the kitchen appliances and utensils. His mannerisms were also kind of adorable; he mumbled a lot to himself--which you found out when he was training, and only because you'd been looking at him directly. He was asked to make a basic iced coffee and when he moved behind the counter to begin, immediately started the inner and sometimes outer conversation with the appliances. You could read his lips but at some point you'd decided there were multiple languages involved and you wouldn't try to decipher that.

Overall, very cute.

He wasn't however, as articulate or friendly as Johnny; who now spent more time out of the store now that Lucas had begun his shifts more regularly. He'd been a recurring staff member for a little over two months now and during that time, Lucas hadn't tried speaking to you unless he had to and tended to side step you altogether. You hadn't minded at first, you were a little shy about certain things about yourself and it was fine, if only a little hurtful but you weren't going to make trouble unless he was being rude.

You were perfectly content to remain cordial colleges; you each had your routine duties-- he took out the trash and cleaned the dog's sleeping area, you cleaned and stacked chairs on close up and took care of the counter and kitchen area. You both fed and cared for the animals and washed the dishes in peaceful silence-- and you were comfortable enough in his presence to get through the day without major upset. Until one day he broke part of the coffee machine and you'd decided to make the executive decision, after calling Johnny and talking about it for five minutes; to close up shop about an hour early, put the pups away to their little room in the back wih sufficient food and toys to entertain them, and try to fix the machine since it only seemed like the lever had detatched itself in Lucas' all-encompassing grip.

"What do we do?" his hands found their way into his hair as he turned to you when you'd came back, shoving the phone into your apron.

"We can try to fix it, no biggie," You assured the little big baby standing and staring, absolutely distraught. He was truly adorable.

It in fact, was a biggie and before the minute of faux repairing was up, there were more loose parts than you knew what to do with and very little idea of what to do next. You did not want to call Johnny with this information. You wanted to believe you were more than capable of doing this on your own. You were not inept; the coffee machine was Lucas' enemy, not yours.

☕

Some time during the next half hour, Lucas had managed to find a toolbox in the storage room, the cafe had been closed for much longer than you'd have liked and both of you were still no closer to fixing the machine than you'd been when you started. Your patience with the contraption was starting to wear a bit thin and Lucas was visibly agitated-- kind of the first truly negative emotion you'd seen him express.

"This isn't working," you didn't hear the metal wrench clank against the tile countertops, but you did see Lucas plop down into the plushy seat Johnny had purchased at a flea market and stuck behind the counter for 'atmosphere', his full lips pulling together in an exaggerated pout. "Oh geez, its all my fault too."

"Not really." Yes really... "You've actually been doing really great so far," You were not entirely sure what prompted you to respond, honestly. He wasn't speaking to you, but you'd managed to make out what he said and he looked like very much like a wounded puppy. You wanted to at least lessen whatever he was feeling and your heart may have lurched a little when he looked up at you from his seat, eyes wide and a little bit of a smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.

"I mean you put a little too much effort in sometimes but... " you rushed, letting the sentence hang and turning away as your face began to sear, back to your task at hand. If you looked him in the eye again you were sure you would crumble and right now, you wanted nothing more than to fix the stupid machine and get back to work.

There was a beat before you felt movement at your back and spun, immediately met face to chest with Lucas' mass of body.

"You're doing it again," he said crowding your space like it wasn't even yours to begin with. Everything was a blur and before you realised what had happened, your lower back was met with a lever on the machine and you were sandwhiched between the two, confused and flustered. Your most innate reaction was to try to put some space between the two of you. He was much too close; you could practically feel his body through his clothes and your brain was starting to dissasociate with this personal space nonsense. You forced your hands up though, and angled your body away as best you could without impaling yourself further on the now, broken coffee maker.

"Doing what?" you sputtered, trying to keep eye contact with him somehow so you could try to pick up what he was saying but also trying to regain some of your composure. Lucas wasn't having any of it though, completely oblivious to your struggle as he tilted his head to look down at you.

"You're ignoring me. You've been doing it since I got here; I try to talk to you or ask you questions like when we do dishes and stuff because I'm really trying and this is really hard, but you keep ignoring me and I'm kind of hurt and annoyed." His eyebrows furrowed and he was pouting again. You were very hyper aware of all his facial details and not the not so subtle changes in his expression; the unreal process of a frown glossing over his features was kind of mesmerising.

Why was he so... pretty?

He was too close.

Your breath got stuck in your throat and you froze as the implications of what he had said dawned on you. Of course Johnny hadn't told him; he was too kind, too Johnny. He would want your business to be your business. He would let you confide in Lucas on your own like you'd done with him. A very small part of you kind of wished he had told him so you wouldn't have to go through this again now, but you realized that potentially would have been worse than his entrappment. Apart from this being the most he's ever said to you-- well now you knew that probably wasn't true-- you had a good few of reasons to be taken aback.

Why would he think ignoring him was something anyone could do on purpose? Surely he was aware of how large he was; physically and personality-wise as well? This did seem to explain his occasional mild standoffishness and you thought back to all the times your back must have been turned to him and he'd probably tried to say something to you.

Poor kid; he was trying his best and struggling and he was just trying to talk to you or make a friend. You wanted to facepalm but your hands were keeping you alive so you settled for groaning softly. Would apologising even help?

Not if you weren't going to tell him.

You swallowed another groan and attempted again to put some space between you. This time Lucas got the message and took one tentative step back. That did nothing, but it was enough for you to bring a hand up to brush some of your short hair behind your ear, revealing the tan aid you had in today. You didn't usually wear them, but you were kind of glad you did because now you didn't have to focus on explaining, just keeping the anxiety and embarrassment from showing on your face. People very rarely cared, most did however and decided against any type of relationship with you because of it.

"I don't ignore you on purpose," was all you could get past your lips at this point.

Lucas retook the space he'd just barely given you, reaching a hand up and out to you. You held your breath; your first instinct again, to move. Move and then panic although the latter seemed to sprint ahead first. What if he was trying to touch it? You were not an animal. And you were going to muster some annoyance to tell him off or at the very least move away, but his hand stopped short, grazing your skin, stroking your cheek ever so lightly before he pulled back half second later. He was staring and all that served to do was make your skin hot and your knees waver in and out of stability. This was a very bad idea and he needed to stop looking at you like you were... normal. He wasn't staring at it, although he had briefly glanced, but rather he was staring at you, his eyes settling on yours.

"What?" you tried to keep the anticipation out of your voice. This was killing you. His eyes ran over your face endlessly, what he was looking for you weren't exactly sure. What you were sure of however, was how ridiculously easy it would be to stare at his eyes forever without wanting for anything else. They were so pretty and bare and screamed of his harmlessness. He could probably kill you if he hugged you too tightly and the damage he had made to coffee maker was minimal, but even if he looked like a threat to most inanimate objects and short people, you knew he was harmless. He probably just didn't know his own strength.

"So... you just weren't hearing me?"

You winced and dropped your gaze. This was so embarrassing and talking about it so casually was just making you want to crawl inside yourself. You weren't embarrassed to be hard of hearing, nor were you embarrassed of the aids; you'd needed them since you were very young, and you knew you weren't an anomoly-- there were tons of people like you and you liked yourself because of it, not in spite of it. These conversations were always uncomfortable though because you never knew what type of reaction you would get. You finally grew some balls and slid out from practically under Lucas, sliding across the edge of the counter. Now you could almost breathe again, although now there a was a familiar, Lucas-sized indent in your memory and on your body.

"Yea," you didnt elaborate or offer any types of explanation. Anything that would prolong this conversation was not something you wanted to do right now.

"Oh my god?" you and Lucas jolted, spinning around to where the voice of pure distress had come from. Johnny's large frame shimmied between the beaded curtain seperating the puppy room from the main cafe, his hair hanging low in his eyes and coated in sweat like he'd ran all the way from practice. He wasnt panting, but he was breathing raggedy as he stared between you both, who looked like you'd kick the shit out of the coffee maker and won. Secretly, you were ecstatic that'd he'd come despite you begging him to just let you deal with it. Even without knowing, he was saving your behind. "I thought you said it was just a lever?!"

5 notes · View notes