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soobadnoonecanstopher · 1 year

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Can I Stay? (A Baekhyun Story) Part 8.

Pairing: You x Baekhyun

Rating: M (SMUT - Mature Content) (Don't read this at work or in public or at church or in class)

Word Count: 6.6k

Warnings: Here today for your consideration is some graphic smut. Idk anymore. Agonizing smut. Edging. Power Play. PWP. We don't need to live like this, but this is how this chapter happened, someone told me to make it long so here we fuckin are guys. Anyway don't forget to drink water and clench as you read this.

A romance between two adults with an unspecified age difference between them, an English story that uses the word Noona for lack of another word in English that carries the same feeling, if you don’t like this, then don’t read this story.

Author‘s note: remember all those years ago I said I’d write a Baekhyun x Noona fic? This is that fic.

Inspired by the Ray LaMontagne songs Can I Stay

Thank you @his-mochi-cheeks for making the story poster featuring Baekhyun’s outfit in this chapter. Additional Tag for @andimoon

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

‘When can I see you again?’

‘I need to see you again”

With a slow and deliberate agonizing pull of his dark eyes, he ran them up the entire length of your body before setting them down devastatingly deep inside of your eyes and there was no longer any breath left in your body that could fight the dizziness you felt under his gaze.

Inside of his eyes a flame was ablaze and you, and you, and every single bit of you, was burning.

Baekhyun was at your doorway with a hand in his pocket; looking absolutely nothing like your prim and proper Personal Assistant usually did. Gone was the professional suit and tie and here he stood in front of you looking more casual than you had ever seen him. This was day-off Byun Baekhyun. He leaned against the doorframe with colorful sneakers on his feet and on his lower half wearing a pair of well fitted jeans with what had to be very trendy holes ripped right through the knees. The holes were large and dramatic. You could make out the soft flesh of his inner knee and on the right leg, you even saw some of his soft upper thigh. What were these jeans?

Your eyes seemed to act on their own accord as you took him in, pausing your journey just about thigh level to let out an appreciative exhale because of simply how good this man’s thighs looked in these jeans. On his broad chest he wore a soft and well-worn red hoodie. He looked younger like this. His face was already very youthful for his age but dressed like this? He could pass for a college student in this sweater and in these jeans.

You tried. You really tried not to let your eyes linger for too long over the middle zipper section of him. But the man was wearing a belt — the accent in the middle kind of caught your eyes and despite all of your mental gymnastics to get your eyes to move up into his face right now, you knew that the belt was black. You knew that he had the buckle fastened through the third hole in the leather and you knew that the buckle was silver and had a brushed metal texture to it. You had lingered here for too long. My god, you could identify it in a police lineup if you had to. The belt as well as the bulge of fabric; the well filled out denim below the belt. The parts of him that occupied far more of your mind than you’d ever admit outloud to anyone. You had intimate knowledge of the power he held over you. You’d slept with him exactly twice; both times in the well concealed darkness of your bedroom and still, still knew the man and every single but of him was gorgeous.

You were positive that you were ogling him for too long but if he had any thoughts about the way you took him in he certainly wasn’t speaking on it.

When you finally made it through, when the breath that seemed to be stuck halfway through your windpipe finally made its way out and your eyes finally touched on the edges of his face enough for you to catch the tip of his tongue that moistened his bottom lip a half second before his teeth bit down on that wet lip. It was such a brief action but your mind flashed a memory of those teeth biting down hard on to the soft skin of your neck. Those teeth that brought just a bit of pain and that mouth that sucked hard enough to bruise your flesh.

This mark remained on you at this very moment and it took every bit of strength left inside of you not to lift a hand and touch the spot with your fingertips.

You shouldn’t do such a thing. You were being watched.

His eyes watched you. You’d made it this far. You’d reached his eyes and when you pulled your own into his there was a shift in his pupils to finally have your focus, to finally be looking into his face instead of feasting all over his crotch like you had been doing.

Were you caught?

He had a smile on his face and you could see a narrowing of his eyelids, a microscopic tick of a single eyebrow over one of his eyes and his smile pulled just a tiny bit wider.

You probably should do something.

“Hi,” you managed weakly and his smile pulled brighter, showing his teeth for a moment.

“Hi,” his lips parted with his whispered response. His head tilted toward the door frame he was leaning on. That one word; just a repetition of your own inadequate greeting but somehow in his voice and said so softly it seemed to jostle every bit of the fondness you had for him and it sent a burst of sweet bubbles to your surface. The sweet feelings and tiny gestures and the delicate kisses and the sleepy whispers, they all floated up and one by one each made a tiny pop, pop, pop, breaking whatever excuse for surface tension you had tricked yourself into believing you could still hold on to.

What did normal people do when they had a visitor?

You stepped aside; your legs teetering just a little unsteadily, holding the door open for him to enter and also for your own balance and at last his weight shifted off of the doorframe and he took a quiet step inside.

You could breathe at last. He was finally aiming his eyes at something other than you as he looked down at his feet to push his shoes off.

You could feel the newness of this making your nerves misbehave.

Your brand new out-of-the-box boyfriend had suddenly stopped by your house and it was getting dark outside. As far as you knew he was supposed to have been busy all day. The boys’ music class and then dinner with his parents and then… he would have been tired after his day. He would maybe want to go home and rest.

Your mind reached back to his text message. You’d been longing for his company again back when you read it but now your nerves had a hold of you and his messages’ crystal clear meaning from before his arrival was beginning to cloud over just a bit. What if you had been wrong?

What if he actually had some other reason why he had to see you.

What if something had changed or what if something happened with the dinner with his parents? What if that dinner had turned into a business discussion about his future in the company and how he couldn’t waste away his precious days working as your assistant. What if this was a farewell visit; or worse a break up visit?

Were you jumping to conclusions about the reason for his sudden visit and assuming he wanted what you also wanted? What you knew for a fact right now is that you were definitely overthinking this.

The uncertainty had you crossing your arms over your chest and looking down the length of your bare legs. You pointed a freshly painted toe nail forward and absentmindedly tapped against the kitchen island beside the entryway of your home.

“So what did you need to see me about?” The question sounded innocent enough in your head but when it came out of your own mouth you could hear the confrontational tone. It made you wince. You hadn’t meant to sound this way. Out of habit, to recover just a little bit of your own pride, you straightened your shoulders and lifted your chin. It was an act of self preservation. You were a mess of a mix between a hopeful girlfriend and a nagging team manager and something told you the later one was not what you were supposed to be acting like right now.

Your stupid question was out though and there was no putting it back in. You held your breath and you braced for the answer.

Baekhyun had been making his way into your kitchen and his forward progress stalled when he heard your question. Did he feel your nerves through your words or had your business-like tone taken front and center stage?

He didn’t answer quickly and instead took a few more steps past where you stood your ground and you saw the tiny head shake as he looked back at you with his lips parted.

“Oh, uhh...” his voice began to speak but he stopped again, “I uhhh…” The man didn’t usually struggle with his words. Had you somehow infected him with your nerves? Was it the crossed arms and the manager’s tone of voice? You felt a flash of guilt for it.

Baekhyun exhaled and his eyes closed up.

“I sat outside for thirty minutes and I couldn’t come up with an excuse for being here.” His lips pulled into a wince and he peaked one eye open to look at you.

“I should be at home right now, but my car seemed to drive me here.” Your own smile betrayed you and when he saw it his other eye pulled open. He was adorable. His quiet confession made your heart leap.

“Nothing? No ‘My cell service is out and I had to deliver this important message’ or ‘We have this important client meeting tomorrow and you need to be aware of this detail that only I know.’ You couldn't come up with one little thing?” You simply could not help the teasing now. This was just too much fun. He was adorable.

You hadn’t read his messages wrong. All at once you felt the nerves burst and vanish and he smiled wider as he shook his head.

“I am definitely not here for work, Noona.” He stood just out of reach in that bright red hoodie wearing those jeans and he slipped a hand into his front pocket again, fidgeting with his keys or his phone or whatever it was he did when he was just a little bit anxious.

“So what are you here for then, Baekhyun?” You’d long since dropped your arms and they hung at your side.

His easy smile flattened out, vanishing from his face and he looked into your eyes, watching the shift in your face and recognizing the change in your tone easily.

Something different was brewing inside of your chest that had replaced the silly anxiousness you felt earlier. It had you taking the smallest step closer to him when you asked your brazen question.

This new feeling, a mirror of that which fueled your fingers to text him to tell him to come over, it had you lifting your eyes up from his lips where you’d just watched the nervous way his tongue darted out, your eyebrow bounced over your eye to see it, and when you’d pulled your eyes back up you did it slowly enough that there was zero doubt between the two of you that he had seen it.

This man, this beautiful, glorious, amazingly competent-in-all-ways man, was watching your face with his lips parted and with his words caught up inside his mouth. This man looked nervous right now, inside your home with you looking into his eyes waiting very patiently for his explanations for why he had to see you so urgently tonight.

So far he had none that he dared speak out loud.

You knew this might not be completely fair but it sure was fun watching the man who always had something to say about everything ever, finally at a loss for words.

What would it take to pull those words out of him.

You reached for the top button of the shirt you wore. It was a loose and flowy top and you knew it would only take one button for the shoulder to fall off. You knew the bruise he’d made with his mouth would be visible. You knew the lacy bra you wore would also not be very well concealed and just one more button would bring the view of the soft mounds of your breasts before him. You were on a roll with one button and you were unstoppable with the second button.

Of course his eyes touched below your neck, of course he saw the mark and of course his eyes looked down to the glimpse of your exposed bra. With his eyes having a look he bit down in his lip and you heard the rough exhale through his nose.

And he was in motion. His hand lifted to rub through his hair and another hand lifted to rub over his face and he physically reeled standing right here just out of your reach and with about as much pent up energy inside of his body as you felt inside of your own.

“You,” he lifted a lazy hand in your general direction, waving his slim fingers at you, “I — did not only come here for that. I also wanted to make sure you were okay after yesterday, I swear.”

He spilled the words out quickly and pulled his lips in between his teeth as he lifted an oh so innocent hand to lay over his chest as he did his very best to convince you of his noble intentions for coming here tonight. It made you grin. You couldn’t stop it.

The smile on your face was knowing. While you appreciated his concern you were very clearly just fine. And that wasn’t the part you wanted to get to the bottom of. You raised an eyebrow and dropped your voice an octave and you slowly asked your next question.

“You didn’t only come here for what, Baekhyun?”

You whispered in response, needing him to use the words himself out loud before you exploded right here in the space between your entryway and your kitchen. You wanted him to speak openly and honestly with you. You needed to know if he wanted to use you tonight as badly as you wanted to use him tonight.

His eyes were steady on you and you looked at him, mustering all of your experience from your most intense professional negotiations. You steeled your mouth shut and lifted your eyebrows in his direction with a tiny raise of your chin.

He watched your face. His breathing seemed to grow heavier and he seemed to war with himself inside his own head for a few breaths if it.

After a moment his head ticked upward and the look in his eyes grew darker.

“Okay,” he said and his lips hung open after the word came out. A decision it seemed had been reached.

“Okay, fine.” He took a step, it was a big one and you miraculously stood your ground as he moved in.

You did have to close your eyes for a second as he closed in on you. You’d asked for this. And when you felt the warmth of his breath against your face he was so close to you now that even with your eyes open, the pretty features of his face were a blur.

More than his hot breath on you, his hands had come too, those slim fingers ran a path along your neck, slipping his slow moving fingertips over the bruise. You knew his eyes would be feasting on the sight of where he had marked you as his own.

“You want to know why I came?” His hand moved now and you gasped to feel that hand slip around your chin and grip your face tightly. He pulled, making your face turn away from his so that his lips touched up against your ear. He held your face with a surprising strength and your breaths raged in and out, unable to conceal how affected you felt for him to be touching you this roughly.

You felt his soft lips at your ear a moment before you heard the lowly growled words that came from deep within his chest.

”l came because I want to fuck you.” You closed your eyes and your mouth was open as short breaths pushed out of your lungs. You had asked for this but had nowhere prepared for the impact of it. Oh this felt better than you had expected.

“Is this what you want to hear, My Love” You felt overwhelmed by his words, by his hands, by the way he pressed his firm body up against you and the way the edge of the hard countertop dug into your back. The pain of it made you feel somehow still connected to your body right now despite the otherworldly arousal that coursed through you.

“I came because you feel so hot and so wet and so good around my dick that all I can think about is fucking you over and over again.”

His hand moved your chin to face him again and he pulled his face back just enough for you to be able to make out the dark brown of his eyes. His pupils were so dark and all consuming they looked like black holes ready to devour you completely.

“You have no idea how desperate I am for you. If you asked me to get on my knees and beg, I would drop — I would drop to my knees, again, for you.”

“But what you have no fucking idea about, is how It goes so much deeper than that.” Your mind was too jumbled to make sense of what he meant. You did not have any space to translate — deeper than what?

His thumb moved then and you felt pressure as he pressed over it your bottom lip, his wild eyes watching the way your mouth opened slightly as he did it.

Every bit of resistance you may have had in you was gone. You easily molded under his hands, feeling the effects of him in more than just your mouth, the heat spread all over your body, dropping into your stomach, pooling in between your legs.

“More,” he said darkly as if this one word had punctuated the shift into a very different Baekhyun and you let your lips fall open more. His thumb pushed in, hooked around your bottom teeth and pulled you forward into his open mouth. You felt the hot wetness of his tongue when he pushed it inside of your mouth. This darkness in his voice sounded familiar; like the same Baekhyun that bit you. This must be him, when he’d lost the carefully curated control, this was him.

You felt inundated. Blindsided by the way your body reacted to it. You sucked on his tongue that he’d pushed into your mouth and you heard a low throaty groan from him as he slowly pulled it back out, leaving you shaking and trembling to watch his face twist into pleasure. His eyes had rolled closed and with him pressed up against your body this way you could feel the rigid heat between his legs pressed up against you.

His hands were trembling and he took them off of your face. He was retreating. It took you a few seconds to realize this and you missed his hands touching you when he’d pulled them away. He stumbled back, landing on one of your kitchen stools.

You watched him breathe through it all the while desperately trying to catch your own breath. When he spoke next he sounded worked up and agitated.

“I am fucking wrecked by you. I feel insane. I feel completely destroyed,” When his eyes pulled open he was back; whispering softly through parted lips and trembling hands that he fisted at his waist.

“But, I also know how lopsided this is. I know that I’m the one who fell too hard — too fast. I think you know it too — teasing me like that. Making me lose control, making me want to lose control —”

You’d done something awful. You’d introduced some doubt inside of his mind and you felt the need to undo all of that this very instant. Was that really why? Did he really have so much confusion about your intentions?

“You must know that I would do anything. I know I should hold back — I need to hold back with you, but…”

You took a step into him, leaned forward and pulled his bottom lip in between your lips and you kissed him, interrupting his false beliefs about how much you felt for him with a kiss.

He responded to your kiss right away with a need and incredible want. That he didn’t know the signs — that he didn’t recognize just how strong of a hold he had on you was a failure on your part — this couldn’t be the only reason. You wondered if it was something you’d missed.

His lips kissed you with such an intensity that you had to place both of your hands on his cheeks to pull him back, just so you could breathe, just so you could speak to the truth of how you felt about him; how you had been feeling about him all day. You had things to say to him.

”I worship you —” Your labored exhale painted over his wet lips, “Baekhyun.” Your chest constricted when you heard your own voice utter those scary words. You’d never before told someone something like this and still deep inside your chest you knew how true it was.

With your small declaration you saw his eyes roll and he bit down on his bottom lip. He inhaled through his nose, his teeth bit down hard on that lip. A small whimper came from the back of his throat.

But you weren’t done. You had so much to tell him and you mustered up the courage to speak.

“You occupy my mind and my heart so completely. I even considered going to bed early tonight just so I could hurry up and see you tomorrow morning.

“If I’ve given you any impression that I don’t want you, that I didn’t want you here; I am sorry. And I’m sorry about the way I greeted you earlier. I was — just nervous. I don’t want you to hold back with me.”

His face ticked back and forth, you felt it happen within your hands.

“I’ve never seen you nervous.” Baekhyun said matter of factly with his pink lips hung open after he spoke.

“I am very good at hiding it.” You let go of his face, trusting that he might stay put and you waved both of your hands over your own chest. “It happens all on the inside. My stomach is a wreck.”

“But you, texting me like that, and standing there at my door looking like this…” you waved a hand over the length of him and his eyes followed your waving fingers to look down at himself with a slowly growing smile that he tried to conceal on his face. His fingertips reached out and he touched your shirt, rubbing the fabric between his thumb and index finger.

“You make me very nervous. I thought for sure I was the one who liked you more.” Your confessions had been tumbling out of you quite freely now. It seemed you’d cleared the clog. “I think we have a lot to learn about each other.”

He watched your face as you spoke. You said all you could think of to say and the small tugs he made on your shirt were distracting, they made you lose whatever else you might have had to say. You reached a hand forward to tug at one of the red strings that hung out of his hood.

His fingers released the bit of your shirt he was holding. He’d been absent minded with it but when he reached out again he lightly gripped the next closed button on your top. There were only two left that held this thing together. His focus was light on that button he held between his index finger and his thumb and you felt a small tug as a third finger came into play, pushing the button through the hole; exposing more of your skin.

He was making you dizzy again. You felt his light touch along your stomach just below the front clasp of your bra and your own small gasps were the only sound in this quiet space when he lightly traced the lace edge of your bra, his fingertip running up the soft flesh of your breast. He followed up the strap and you felt him rub the pad of his fingertip on your shoulder, over the bruise there.

Baekhyun leaned. You felt the movement in him moments before you felt his hair tickling lightly over your skin. You felt the puff of breath from his mouth moments before you felt his soft lips on you and when his lips landed over that same exact spot you had to place your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself from falling over. You braced for it, you could feel it coming when you felt the parting of his lips, the wetness of his tongue and the hardness of his teeth and he bit you again, harder this time in the exact same spot as before. It took your breath away and you had to open your mouth; a small hiss and a quiet moan.

“Do I really make you nervous?” He asked in a low whisper into the space beside your neck. You felt goosebumps all over your skin. His hands were moving and you felt a tiny click. He had figured out the front clasp of your bra. You felt his mouth on you again, this time his lips and his tongue all over. You might have nodded your head. You weren't very much in control of your body anymore.

But his hands, those hands, they were moving again. His slim fingertips had slipped into the space between your goosebumped skin and the waistband of your shorts and he pushed with his hands, leaving only your lace underwear behind. He was undressing you. In the kitchen with all of your lights on and your hands rubbed over the soft red hoodie he still wore, lamenting over the lack of warm skin you felt. He was still completely clothed when gravity took your shorts.

“Do you really want me to not hold back?” His next question was spoken into your open mouth. You gasped, inhaling the sweet smelling air from inside his lungs when his hands reached around and gripped your ass and you were being lifted, with his mouth still connected to your own and his eyes wide open as he looked into your face between the kisses.

He had so many clothes on. You felt the roughness of the denim through the thin lace panties that you still wore and against the bare skin of your thighs that wrapped around his thin waist. You felt your own wetness that soaked the fabric press against you as you were lifted and you were carried; he was moving now.

You were in a different room. You inhaled a shocked breath when you were tossed, your back meeting a soft bed and you were entirely too naked for how many clothes he wore as he climbed over you on the bed, his bare knee and its warm skin a stark contrast to the scratchy jeans, you felt him push that knee roughly against your legs, making you open tor him.

“Baek — clothes,” you managed only a few nouns. He understood and you heard a quiet chuckle from the back of his throat, only it didn’t quite sound like humor. It sounded like something else. A little boy playing roughly and carelessly with a toy, perhaps.

He caged you in with his arms pinning you down on either side and his bare knee pressed up high between your parted legs. You were certain he could feel your wetness on his knee.

“I’ll keep them on for now, because you like them.” His balance shifted then and he moved, propping up on one elbow so he could trace down the curve of your body with his fingertips. He was moving very slowly and you squirmed below the uncomfortable tickle you felt when he reached your hip bones. He was moving lower and his knee was gone, replaced by his wandering hand.

“God, you are wet. I can feel you worshiping me, right here,” his fingertips pressed over your panties and the purposeful drag of his fingers over your swollen center had you gasping. He did it again and again and you responded desperately with every touch and when he pushed the fabric aside and slipped two slim fingers inside of your wetness you could feel yourself losing this game he was playing.

Just with the build up before you got into this room, you were already in bad shape, but now with his fingers touching; you felt yourself too close. He was guiding you there. You knew he could tell too. His movements were deliberate and he was watching your face closely as he did it. You could feel on the edge of it, you were so close to it, your breathing was ragged and desperate and he watched with a quiet and calm expression on his face as he brought you there. You squirmed below him, you touched just along the edge of it with a whimper when all at once he pulled his hand away abruptly, slipping well outside of your wetness and far away from the release you had been so close to. That hand, that hand was gone, his fingers and the feeling all of it was gone. The denial felt like a splash of cold water against your hot skin.

“Do want me to fuck you, Miss Manager?” He spoke out your work title in a hushed whisper and the surprise of hearing that title — right here with you in the state you were in, it pulled your eyes open to look into his face. When he caught your attention you saw a slight narrowing of his dark eyes. It was a challenge. You wondered right then about the fantasies this man must have had at work. You wondered how you would be able to move forward tomorrow knowing what you now knew from his one question he had just asked you.

“You know you just have to ask me nicely,” he said with a shrug of his face. He lifted his hand, still wet from you, up to his lips and you watched his lips part and the tip of his tongue emerged to lick up the wetness before he stuck both of his fingers inside of his mouth, pulling them out of his mouth slowly as he looked into your eyes.

This was too much. You hadn’t been prepared for this kind of behavior from him and the most shocking thing was just how much you were turned on by every single thing he did to you.

Yes, you did want him to fuck you. You were feeling entirely too desperate for it and he was completely and utterly in control of every single thought you had coursing through your brain.

“B-Baek—take off your clothes—”

“Uh-uh,” he interrupted firmly when you had started to speak. “I don’t think that’s the proper way to ask your assistant for a favor. Really, you are more professional than that. At least say please.” This was definitely a game he was playing now.

You felt all of it, all at once. The sting of being so close to a finish and being denied it. The sting of him denying you even for a few seconds what you had so clearly wanted from him. You felt the arousal still overtaking every single one of your senses and still so very affected by his goddamned audacity to be so clearly having so much fun with you right now.

It made you feel insane. All of it was too much.

You weren't speaking right away for sheer loss of words. You felt like you’d lost them along with your sanity and all you could do was reach your hand out and tug lightly at his red sweater. You were greeted with a small slap at the back of your hand for that and he was inhaling to speak again with about as much mischief in his eyes as you had ever seen.

“Répète après moi,” he began in French for no reason you could make any sense of, not that you could make any sense of anything that was happening to you right now.

He spoke clearly and slowly as if you were a naughty student in need of reprimanding — with a finger pointed at his mouth, touching on his bottom lip. This was the finger that had just been inside of you.

“Assistant Byun…will you please” he said with a pointed pause and he watched you and he waited.

It was your turn to repeat after him.

“Assistant Byun, will you please take off your clothes and fuck me?” It was always best to rip the bandaid off, you said it in a single breath. The seconds after the words came out of your lips though, you felt their massive impact.

Every single day, and all day long at work, you started dozens of sentences to him exactly like this. This was the most dangerous game you could have played with him.

His eyes were watching you darkly as you said it and you caught the slow roll of his eyes into the back of his head as he threw his face back and away from you, feeling the very real impact of that sentence you had just said to him.

No doubt, committing it to memory so that every single time you started with those words at work, this very moment would return to his mind — and to yours as well.

He didn't respond right away with words but he was moving before you heard him whisper the quiet, “Yes ma’am,” that he always used as a response at the office.

He quickly pulled the red sweater up over his head and tossed it onto the floor behind him. He’d grabbed the white shirt along with the sweater, removing everything at once. You saw the clear firmness of his skin at last. You could smell the clean, expensive fragrance that he wore. You felt the bed move and you heard the telltale sounds of a belt buckle, a zipper, the swish of jeans and he was back to you all heat and skin and the overwhelmingly amazing way he smelled and he was back; he was back.

You felt ready to snap. You felt wound so tight; the anticipation alone might have done you in, but he was back. You’d abandoned the panties. They were soaked anyway.

He was above you; coating you entirely. The heavy weight of his body covered you, you felt restricted in your breathing and he was here. He was yours; you had him at last. He was in between your legs, he was on top of you and his arms wrapped below your shoulders as he pulled your body into his own, a tangle here without any distance at all between the skin of your bodies and between your faces. You felt him there too, right between your legs, so perfectly lined up. You’d wrapped your tense legs around his waist to pull him in closer to you.

He was looking into your eyes and when he pushed inside it was all at once; in one fluid motion. Your mouth opened to gasp and his mouth opened over your mouth, pushing his tongue between your lips and biting down with his teeth with a matching rhythm; the same motion that his hips moved inside of you, until the gasping from his own lungs grew to be too much for him to take.

You touched him everywhere, needing to feel that smooth skin from his abdomen to his chest to his neck to his face and as you passed your fingers over his lips you gasped when turned his head, catching a finger between his teeth and biting down hard. You wondered how many marks he had made on you now.

You were dizzy. You were overcome. He was sitting up and watching the space where your bodies connected; where he disappeared inside of you again and again and you were lost.

You were lost. His pace was affected by the feeling of your tremors, by the tightening of all of your muscles and you were lost. You heard the growling curses that flew from his lips and the whining sounds that came from his mouth.

His actions were a blur. You were too consumed by this man. You know that you came undone before he did, you felt his strong grip as his hand dug hard into your inner thigh and you felt the slight pain as he pushed inside of you roughly. It brought a sound to your lips and you cried out again when his thumb between your bodies colliding did-you-in again and he was shaking. He was trembling on top of you with a noisy grunt in your ear and a shuttering that you could feel inside of you he was shaking.

The comedown was lengthy. A thousand thoughts came rushing into your mind the second it cleared enough to allow for any little bit of rational thinking. This man…this man was surprising in every single way he could be. He was a marathon and a marvel. He was a hurricane and a deluge and you felt almost too spent to even move, but you knew you must. You reached for something on the bed, finding the panties and deeming them good enough for this mess and his breathing had finally settled enough for a small moan to come from his chest.

Despite the relief you felt, despite the sex being what you needed from him you still longed to touch him. You were sore and you were spent and still you reached for his warmth as if you would never be free of this desire for him. You found him easily. He wrapped himself around you and you only half paid attention to any of those thoughts racing through your mind. Concerns and worries for how you might resist him at work, now that you had these ideas presented in such a tempting way. Worries for what the future with him might actually hold. Worries about how deeply you had fallen for him and how desperately you felt this desire to be with him all of the time.

“Where did you park?” You finally spoke after a long spell of silent breathing.

“Secure lot,” he said over your head and he tightened the grip of his arms around your shoulders and laid a heavy leg over your hip.

You saw him arrive at your home empty handed and he definitely didn’t bring a suit for work tomorrow hidden in his pockets, but the hold he had on you was tight and it was warm and his breathing was beginning to even out as the sounds of nighttime insects began to chirp outside of your closed window and you decided that all of those pesky little details and worries and concerns could wait definitely until tomorrow.

[To be Continued]

Links: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

#exo #exo fanfiction #exo smut #baekhyun #exo fic #exo scenario #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun series #byun baekhyun #baekhyun fic

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simm-mouse · 2 years

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Alright part 2 of my theory on hidden Nervous. I'll have part 1 linked if you haven't read it yet. I suggest reading that one first before this one

Alright, you know the section where I theorized that psp and hidden Nerv being the same clone? Forgot about that part, I no longer believe in that theory(if you personally believe this however that's fine, I'm just changing my views on it.). If you look on the wiki, there are a total of 5 versions of Nervous Subject. We already have two in Sims 2, but he also appears in 3 and 4. But the one in Sims 3 isn't going to be talked about cuz it's just him as a toddler, which doesn't really make any sense because mostly the adults and elders in 2, are children or have not yet been born, not even Glarn and Kitty appear, but Glarn's parents Notso and Zo appear not even as teenagers yet. If we go with the more common theory for the sims timeline that each game adds 25 years later besides 3, which is supposed to be a prequel, then Nervous would be an elder or dead. Which doesn't make sense (I know it's more the fact that the developers didn't really focus on the timeline from the other two games when adding premades from other games, but still it's confusing).

So we're gonna focus on hidden, psp, and 4 Nervous. All three are clones of Nervous. All three are different from the original as the Sims 2 shows copies of some Sims and they're not identical to the original. I mean look at Pleasantview and strangetown's Bella Goths, their appearances are different. Even though all four look different, one thing's the same. All four smell of trauma and cat piss

Hidden would actually not be seen outside of the house as he never got to explore out into the world before his death(which fits more with the name hidden Nervous). He still ages into an elder by the Beaker's experiment. But they didn't have enough elixir of life to age him back, so he didn't get age down right away. So after they torture him he goes up to the roof to look at the sky. Just like with the friday the 13th video, He dies by getting struck by a meteorite.

For psp Nervous, he looks the most normal out of all versions of Nervous. It's pretty known why he's like that, but I like to think that he's the most genetically accurate. He'll have Olive's, and Grim's biological genetics before his death. So he'll be almost completely different, other than having the same clothes, it's hard to tell that he's even a clone. So it's very easy for him to walk around town and not be mistaken as the original Nervous. He would still say that he's just working for the Beakers as a way to hide the truth from others. He probably was caught after they found him trying to sneak out, and that's when It was impossible for him to escape and had more painful experiments done on him. His body just couldn't take it anymore, and that's when he was shocked to death by one of the machines used on him. Well shit, two clones are dead, hopefully the next one doesn't die

The current clone they have is the Nervous from the sims 4. Even though that game is an alternate universe or some dumb shit that messes with the timeline, he's a Nervous so he's gonna be talked about. This Nervous is trapped with now four Beakers. Yes, Atom and Ceres also torment this man. They'd even put the blame on him for the trouble they caused. He has yet to go out and explore the world, so right now he's stuck in the house.

Does Nervous know that he has clones? Probably, he figures that the Beakers would clone him if they haven't put in the effort to get him back since he ran off to live with the Curious brothers. Has he ever met the psp Nerv since he's the only clone that went outside? No, if so they would've been fist fighting

#my bullshit #my art #fanart #the sims 2 #ts2 #strangetown #nervous subject #Hidden Nervous #ts2 psp #ts4 #the sims 4 #You may be wondering #Why the hell do you keep keep calling Nervous a cat piss smellin bastard?#Well I imagine Nervous would have one of those scents that are so disgusting that it hurts your stomach and you feel like gagging #Shit smeller needs a shower #Scent so bad it stings your nose #Ew bro

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adoribullpavus · 2 years

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well now that it's been a couple days since i watched the teen wolf movie and i've sufficiently forgotten 90% of it, i think it's time i told you all what i liked/disliked about it

1. jackson whittemore

he was just so fucking funny, like why was he even there?? did they give colton a script or did they just give him a recap of everything he missed in the show before simply throwing him on set and going "good luck."

i loved him though. it really feels like he's more comfortable in himself now. when he came back in s6, he wasn't as bitter but he still felt quite stiff. now he's comfortable in his sexuality and his place in the world, and he's no longer trying too hard. love that for him. his friendship with lydia also means a lot to me. i originally thought they were gonna put them back together, but i adore them as snarky besties.

also i'm glad they didn't break him and ethan up. we got our lgbtq+ scraps, guys!!

2. peter hale

hasn't changed a bit and i love it. his entrance was iconic and so fitting for his character. the tension between him and chris was obvious (perhaps because of melissa?) and i love how they still have an air of mystery when it comes to him. no one truly knows if he's on the good side or the bad.

also i can confidently say that peter crawling on the floor in human form, sniffing, was the absolute highlight of the movie.

3. eli hale

he was a great addition to the cast. i loved his relationship with derek, but him as a character really refreshed the film and gave us some wholesome but funny moments.

also we all know he's basically a stiles mini-me, so it was nice to have someone there to fill what the film would've been missing because of stiles' absense without full-out replacing him.

4. jr borne

his acting in the movie was absolutely outstanding. i was in shock. he was already amazing in the show but he's outdone himself. i really felt his emotions through the screen. literal chills. what a powerful performance!

5. the hellhound

i'm so glad they gave parrish an important role in the film. the hellhound was one of my favourite supernatural creatures from the show, so it was great to see ryan kelley shine once more.

6. coach finstock

he also has not changed a single bit and it's really refreshing to see. they didn't try to shoehorn him into the story too much. he simply played the part he always has, and made us laugh doing it.

7. the jeep

when they said the jeep would be featured in the film, i didn't think they meant they would try and stick it in every scene possible. i love it.

as a sterek shipper, i love the idea of eli nicking the jeep because he knows derek has some complicated feelings towards it. i won't do a sterek section on this list because i don't know whether i'm happy or mad about it, but this was an interesting addition to the film.

8. melissa had a crossbow

she had a crossbow. it's about fucking time.

now what i disliked:

1. the misuse of key characters

why were liam and mason used as side characters?? why did they barely speak, they're best friends?? why did they introduce hikari and not bother actually giving her a personality outside of being a kitsune?? i have too many thoughts on all of this, but it pissed me off.

2. just general confusion

they didn't specify if melissa and chris were still together or not. no explanation on why scott and malia split up. how did parrish and malia get together? who is eli's mum? why did liam have the nogitsune? why did scott and allison adopt eli?

also where has all the chemistry between the cast gone?? shelley especially felt so awkward with everyone. it's like they're not friends anymore, which i know isn't true.

3. the nudity and swearing

i could've gone my whole life without seeing allison, parrish and malia's bare asses. also the swearing was great, but they all felt like year 7's when they did it.

4. the returns

as someone who didn't really care for allison, her return was just annoying. out of all the characters they could've brought back, allison is the one they definitely should've left alone. hers was a major death in the show, and the start of a lot of character development for scott and chris. they should've come up with a different story not involving allison or the nogitsune. you know they only brought her back so that scallison fans can have their endgame.

and adrian harris?? what?? why?? he didn't even do anything of purpose in the film. what was the actual point in bringing him back??

5. derek's death

i'm not even gonna touch this. but i'm fuming.

#teen wolf #the teen wolf movie #teen wolf movie #derek hale #sterek #scott mccall #eli hale #allison argent #chris argent #liam dunbar #stiles stilinski #jackson whittemore #lydia martin #i'm not tagging everyone #this list was rushed cause i'm lazy

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m1ckeyb3rry · 2 months

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LMAOO im also chronically online this is a safe space for the chronically online dw (i also respond at chronically online speeds sooo) but FR THE UNHOLY TRINITY LMAOO if we add Raichi it’s the four horsemen of the apocalypse (bro has never played anything other than defense though and we like. NEVER see him touch the ball basically so uh sorry bro no sexy soccer time yet)

Honestly I don’t know why more people can’t just let people exist?? Like fr just leave them alone and live your life why make it so miserable for everyone sheesh…also please those twelve year olds on tiktok can’t even tie their shoe laces nor should they be on tiktok learning “potty mouth phrases” LMAO I think they need a reality check DESPERATELY

Never apologize for writing too much Karasu.

But LMAOO OK IM GLAD HAHA so real for that I can’t do what Reo or Barou do for him like I will not be the Anri to your Ego!!! Please put your socks in the laundry!!!! But this isn’t irl so he’ll still be a squishy bear to me

LMAO REALLL side character supremacy >>> Honestly I didn’t hate the animation either although I did notice some funky scenes it wasn’t nearly as bad as everyone made it seem…I’m glad to hear that they’re putting their eightbitussy into it though

He’s so captain it’s literally insane (quick we gotta talk more about this and manifest Karasu captain for u20 World Cup) Aiku honestly a good option too (I wanna see my man in action though) if it’s Isagi I’ll lowk riot

BESIDES AN EROTIC LEFT LEG GOODBYE that made me snort as I read this

I LOVE READING THE REFERENCES LMAOOO if they fit into the story keep them coming!!! (KARASU DROWNING SHDGSHSH IM NOT READY)

Ok yeah I also kinda ballparked that amount in my mind LMAO I forgot to mention this more in my last response but the ON SALE THING >>>> I laughed it was so goofy too like she caught him red handed THE NEXT DAY like bro those were NOT on sale…$50 for advice boy you’re not slick

Chefs kiss mc written wonderfully WITHOUT the typical overly used cliches as much as I love a stupid mc sometimes it’s quite an overused trope I feel where it’s the teehee dummy reader so again, this was refreshing LOL (I always love how you give your y/ns substance as characters and like humans..?? Like they all feel like actual people and aren’t your just your average w*ttp*d UwU MCs…I mean writers have to start somewhere so maybe I should stop bashing them like this but uh)

Honestly it’s such an interesting language which is why it takes me a bit to translate/transcribe sometimes because I can’t capture the underlying meanings or emotions as well in English LMAOO (the first time I tried was the hiori light novel and finding the correct phrasing was definitely a learning curve LOL) but omg slay you’re outperforming people living in the motherland!! That’s honestly really impressive, do you get to speak it frequently?

Snuffy’s backstory is actually so sad I can’t :(( also the SONG CHOICE??? Bye. But this is why I can’t even say “no one dies in soccer anymore” man

NO FR you know it’s bad when I’m impressed by a healthy family in bllk shdshhs HAHA FAIR TRADE INDEED o7 I have chapter 2 ready it was longer than I expected but I sped up the process using dictation as I read it LMAOAO so again if you catch any typos or weird punctuation lmk LOL (when I tell you I almost died dictating this I LAUGHED and reacted like omfg and it caught me saying that and wrote it down but ANGWAYS I’m not sure anything is beating this chapter) I know I said summary earlier but I don’t think I’m capable of doing that LMAOA so this is basically just the entire chapter I just reformatted it in a kinda summary like format because I don’t wanna keep pausing to type so many quotation marks HAHAHA anyways enjoy! I’ll come back to discuss after you read it so I don’t spoil anything yet hehe

Signing off early so it doesn’t weirdly attach to the end of the LN section LOL

-Karasu anon

2-Honor Student:

In elementary school, Kenyu was an honor student. Although he was a little cowardly, he was first and foremost, a kind, hard-working kid. he always did his homework and happily greeted everyone. Got along well with his peers and never fought. He was someone that both his classmates and teachers could rely on. When it was time to choose class president, Tomoda nominated him, and everyone joined in agreeing to nominating Kenyu. But after half a year, something shocking had occurred.

Little by little Kenyu had become better friends with his seatmate Tomoda, frequently going to his house after school. Tomoda had a kind sister three years their senior. She would often give them candy and play games with them. One day, Kenyu had gone over to play with Tomoda, to be told by his older sister that he hadn’t gotten home yet and was possibly taking a detour. She told Kenyu to go ahead and wait upstairs for him, but he wondered if maybe he was meeting with other friends in the park. He wondered if he too should go to the park, but it’d be troublesome if he had assumed incorrectly. While he was lost in his thoughts, Tomoda’s sister suddenly came up to him and brushed away his bangs. His hair had always been soft, and his mom had always helped him style it, so the Tomoda’s sister had always complemented him, saying his hair made him look so handsome like a model. It wasn’t unusual for her to touch his hair, but that wasn’t all that happened that day. In addition, she kissed his forehead. His eyes widened as his brain was left short-circuiting. “Huh?”

“My beloved Kenyu, let’s play together” she had said with sparkling eyes. Kenyu could feel his heart racing. “…I’ve gotta go to the park..!” His face turned bright red and he ran out. He didn’t end up, going to the park, but instead of ran back home to his room, waiting for his racing heart to still.

“My beloved Kenyu” He had repeated her words in his mind. he didn’t really understand it all, but he was happy that she said she liked him. He was a bit embarrassed, though that she had kissed him. He thought himself, “I’m never telling anyone about this.”

The handsome class president and honor student. By the time he became a second year, he had grown taller, adding to his versatility in giving him athletic potential. as he continued growing, he came to be one of the tallest in his grade. He was fast at running, and he was always the last one left in dodgeball. Then, of course, came Sports Day. After comparing all the times in their PE Class, Kenyu’s high ranking had gotten him chosen for the relay race. Everyone was in agreement. He was tall, fast and the perfect fit for the job. He was to be the anchor for the relay race. Was it really all right for him to play such an important role? he felt a bit uneasy, but he would give his best once again for the people relying on him. Until the day of the sports festival, Kenyu would run every day. He’d wake up early to run and practice dashes on the field after school. Every Sunday, he’d have his father time him. Finally, it was time for the class relay. Under the clear sky, the fastest runners would compete while the cheer squads cheered them on. Kenyu’s class, 2-1, however, would compete in vain. After each grouping, members of his team would slip down the ranks. By the time Kenyu got the baton he was in last place. There is a huge gap between him and the top, all the people running in front of him are the fastest in their class after all. But Kenyu had to try his best. Everyone had chosen him as anchor after all. He steadily started accelerating, passing by another player in just a quick moment. With his large physique moving vigorously and his feet firmly stomping against the ground, he gradually closed the gap between the other runners. His classmates all cheered for him, and as they continued supporting him, he continued gaining speed. Even the announcer from the broadcasting club got caught up in the excitement. With the loud cheers under the blue sky, Kenyu passed the final goal, bursting past the four other racers and finishing first. It’s the first time he’d ever run so fiercely. His chest heaved as he caught his breath. Kenyu had finished first for the sixth graders. His classmates had showered him with praise, wearing a big smiles on their faces as they crowded around him. Kenyu thanked them for their support, feeling that their cheers had powered him on. Kenyu was honest and sincere. He didn’t know he could run that fast. It’s because everyone had believed in him that he was able to discover a new part of him. To Kenyu, it was an incredibly joyous moment. A few days after that, when he got home, a shiny soccer ball was waiting for him in the doorway. Kenyu was surprised and had wondered what it was for. His parents had thought it would be good for him to give soccer a try, seeing how he was so fast. It would make him more popular too. After seeing that their child had such amazing speed they suggested that he try out a sport and bought him a soccer ball. Of course his mother also wanted to see him popular. Immediately, Kenyu went outside and tried kicking the ball. As he ran with the ball, he found that he couldn’t stop. He’d kick it forward and chase after it continuing on. “This is fun!”, he thought to himself. In all honesty, being able to dribble without losing speed is a technique that’s difficult for beginners, but Kenyu, blessed with incredible athletic ability, was able to do it from the start. That’s how Kenyu “met” soccer, his parents had blessed him with the opportunity. As if it was fate, Kenyu found himself absorbed in soccer.

i wonder what sexy soccer even is 😭 like what does it entail yk…HAHA chronically only gang rise 🤩 tumblr truly is the site for people of our kind i love it

the craziest to me is when they freak out about non-teenagers watching shows and writing fics meanwhile they are openly thirsting for old ass characters?? why are you at fourteen writing paragraphs abt every position you want to fuck toji and nanami in 😭😭😭 look i’m not going to judge too harshly because wtvr i get it but also like some of them need to realize that those in glass houses should not be throwing stones

the karasu tabito tag is basically mine atp DJSKDK i think every karasu fan has probably seen at LEAST one or two of my posts (whether it’s a fic or just one of my karasu shitposts)

EXACTLYYYY YOU WILL NEVER CATCH ME BEING AN ANRI there’s only room for one high maintenance person per relationship and that role is fulfilled by me 👆🏻 that’s why my other favs are karasu barou and reo…you know those kings are NOT letting their partners suffer 😫 however in fiction nagi is my squishy cuddly fluffy dog bf so he is still number one in my heart 😩

if it’s isagi i’ll be mad because he doesn’t even feel like he has any interest in being captain 😓 i think aiku could work but agreed we def have to see more of him plus i don’t think he’d be made captain as he’s not an og blue locker yk?? OMG but if the trend continues we should be able to manifest karasu as captain…holding a prayer circle now 🕯️🕯️🕯️ (lowkey it would be funny if ego made like kurona or niko captain just because they’re the only ones that aren’t batshit insane and typically keep their speeches and vocab relatively normal 😭)

the way eita didn’t think she’d check if they were actually on sale too is so funny like she’s been dying to go there did you think she wouldn’t go and ask if the sale was still going on?! SO not slick omg i love him though…but $50 FJKSKS idek where he got that type of money from

i do enjoy writing a good old dumb/oblivious reader every now and again but i do think they have to be done right to feel believable!! personally all of my y/ns and mcs are based off of aspects of my own personality — some closer to my actual self than others ofc — which i think makes it easier to flesh them out because it’s just like “okay what would i do in that situation” LMAOO most of my side character ocs are based off of people i know too which again makes it easier to make them feel complex because it’s like “right so how would ___ react to that happening to them”…sometimes they end up not even being that similar (tullia in pomegranate ink is NOTHING like my irl best friend that she’s “based off of”) but just thinking of them as real people helps me treat them as such in the narrative!!

haha yes everyone does start somewhere so i never try to hate to their faces but i think it’s okay to acknowledge a general trend/pattern!! like there’s a difference between saying “your specific fic sucks i hate how you wrote your main character” versus being like “i think a lot of fics in x fandom have this problem with characterization”!! to me it’s not hate because people can decide whether that applies to them or not yk?? and yeah the wattpad uwu mcs are truly smth…or the ones that are meant to be “badass” but are really just loud/rude/make overly sexual jokes and swear a lot 😭 a lot of the times at first it’s easy to make characters as stereotypes/caricatures of themselves or have them composed of cliches but i do think most people grow out of it i quickly!! just a phase we must all go through i suppose…i will be the first to say i was cringe when i started writing that’s why half of my old works are private now 😩

HAHA OUTPERFORMING INDEED it’s so funny whenever i visit india my relatives tell me it looks like my voice is being dubbed over because i speak such good hindi but i’m very pale by indian standards so i look like a foreigner 😭 which omg ik that’s such a stereotypical thing to be saying like “no i don’t look like my race” when you very obviously do but just this last january i visited india for the first time in six years and people IN INDIA (including literally people i’m related to) thought i was either irani, afghani, or from spain 😓 they’d get jumpscared when i’d speak to them in hindi KSDJKSAN their lives would flash before their eyes as they tried to remember if they had talked shit abt me 😩 i speak it a bit at home and with all of my extended family that’s kind of the only language they know so when i call them i speak it!! i also just have a really really good memory (hence the lack of studying) so i don’t forget things which helps me pick up languages rlly quickly

SNUFFY’S BACKSTORY KILLS ME it’s so sad yet also realistic??? like it really feels like smth that could’ve happened irl yk (idk if it’s based off of smth or not) but on the other hand yuki’s is so normal i love it 😍 the fact that he got into soccer in such an average and chill way too LMAOAOAO my unproblematic goat!! although the sister thing is so funny…i’m assuming this is a different friend’s older sister than the one he fell in love with at age 10 because according to egoist bible she was 16 😭 and this girl is only three years older than him so they must be diff?? lowkey crazy as hell omg even in elementary school yuki was pulling 😰 i always interpreted those two facts (his first love was his friend’s 16 year old sister and his first confession was when his friend’s sister kissed him on the forehead) as being abt the same person and it being like the 16 year old sister was just kissing him because he was a cute little kid and he misinterpreted it/got embarrassed because he had a crush on her if that makes sense?? but ig they’re different people entirely!!

#answered asks #best friend’s brother fic #karasu anon translations

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lordisitmine · 5 months

Text

TTNBD BLOG PART FIVE

Covers chapters five and six of Though the Night Be Dark

These two chapters were originally supposed to be one, but I split them so I could keep the posting going faster and because the scenes shook out into two neater separate sections. But I’m doing the commentary together because my brain still has them linked.

CHAPTER FIVE: HOMECOMING

Back at it again with the Abberline POV. I started using his perspective for situational observations in TTEOE and got a little addicted to it tbh… I love a good outsider POV. Something about a character who has no idea the true gravity of the situation seeing bits and pieces of the main character’s story- delicious.

Nice day for a funeral. I’ve actually never been to a funeral in the wintertime, but Abberline’s observations about death seeming more natural during the colder months are in line with my own thoughts. When the earth is slumbering, and the trees are feigning death until spring, death itself seems less absurd, if not any less saddening.

I had a ball writing Francis Midford in this scene. As we know, she’s usually very calm, bordering on cold- a level-headed somewhat stern woman who isn’t at all prone to wild displays of emotion. However, all bets are off when one has lost a child. They say it’s the worst kind of grief a person can experience. I think that warrants an outburst or two.

Of course, it’s not Abberline’s fault, what happened to Edward- and Francis knows that too- but anger is natural, of course, and I just like a good shocking slap across the face moment. Too bad it was at Abberline’s expense. He blames himself, even though he shouldn’t, and Francis’s whole freak-out certainly hasn’t helped. Thankfully, Lizzy is much more reasonable. Probably because she knows a little bit more about the situation than her mother does, though she’s not ready to share that information with anyone just yet- except maybe Sybil.

Poor Abberline will have to remain in the dark for a little while longer, it seems.

Back to the boys- coming ‘home’. It’s not really home anymore. I don’t think Ciel ever had a home, at least not one that was a place. He thinks it himself- that Sebastian is more of a home to him than anyone or anywhere or anything else. They’re two halves of a whole.

Sebastian reverting back to butler mode and taking care of everything when he can sense that Ciel is uncomfortable or overwhelmed has been checked off the sebaciel bingo- I have a running mental list of tropes and lines that I want to write for them, and this was one of them.

I’ve read some really great fics where their dynamic is so much more hostile and yet equally as romantic- I might try my hand at it some day. I know the way I write Sebastian and Ciel may seem out of character to some, but I really can’t stop, and I won’t apologise for it! I trust my gut and if I can hear the words in the character’s voice, I’ll write them. I can’t resist the idea that Sebastian is only really capable of genuine love and tenderness when it comes to Ciel and no one else 🥹

Time for my favourite scene in this chapter! It’s Benjamin the paper boy! Have you ever seen Newsies? The Disney musical about newsboys in 1890’s New York? You should, it’s a cute little story about kids unionizing to fight the corporate man and get better pay for their work *insert long rambling talk about socialism and how I love it so much*. ANYWAY, I needed a minor character for plot reasons, and a newsboy seemed like a perfect fit. And it gave me an excuse to write Sebastian and Ciel interacting with a kid, which I love, for some reason.

(source)

I had to learn about how money worked in Victorian England. Well, I didn’t have to, I could have just bullshitted the few lines about them bribing the kid, but I wanted to have a tangible sense of how much money was actually worth and how the pound breaks down into shillings, sovereigns and guineas etc. I hope all the values work out and make sense because Holy Shit is this the most insane way to break down money. It hurt my head just thinking about it. Not to sound American (I’m not even American) but I’ll stick the good old 21st century 100 cent dollar, thank you very much 🤣

More cutesy stuff in the hotel- I’m writing this in April, four months after the chapter was written, and reading it back for the first time in quite a while is fun. I was giggling at my own writing lol. I love these two so much. It’s a problem.

Poor Lizzy!!! Thinking Ciel died for nothing when he didn’t actually die at all. Imagine basing your entire grieving process on a lie. Oof. It’s gonna be one Hell of a shock for her when she finds out she’s spent the last four years operating on false assumptions.

Thankfully, she has Sybil, who has some secrets and false assumptions of her own.

And last but not least, the meeting of the Evil Dudes. These scenes are so hard to write because I don’t want to describe characters too vividly or put names to any of them, it’s like building a model plane or something, you have to be very intentional and delicate about what pieces (words) you use and where you put them. All of writing is like that, to an extent, except for those moments when it flows super smoothly, but even then you have to be deliberate with your editing. Writing is hard work! I love it so much, though.

CHAPTER SIX: DESPERATE TIMES

Let’s talk briefly about Frederick Abberline!

A portrait of Frederick Abberline, 1885. (Wikipedia)

Fredderick Abberline, as you may or may not have known, was a real historical figure! He was born in 1843, which would make him about fifty-seven at the time of TTNBD. That’s not how I picture him at all, of course, because in the Kuroshitsuji anime he’s depicted as a much younger man than he would have been at the time, as he often is in film and television shows.

I choose to keep a slightly aged version of the anime Abberline in mind when writing, but I like to think of him as having some variation of the facial hair that he does in the picture above- such an undeniably Victorian mustache. And I think with his promotion he wouldn’t want people to think of him as being so young, and he has such a little boy face without it 😌😆

Abberline is of course most famous for his work as the lead detective on the Jack the Ripper case, which is why he’s usually featured as a character in television shows/movies about the Ripper. Though the Ripper was never caught, Abberline was known to have many theories in his time on the case, including the idea that the killer might actually be a woman. *side-eyes Madame Red* 👀

The real Fredderick Abberline was married twice in his lifetime- he married his first wife, Martha Mackness, in March of 1868, though she died of tuberculosis two months after the wedding. Then, in 1876, he married Emma Beament. They were married for over fifty years until his death in 1929 at age 86. Emma died three months after he did, and was buried with him at Wimborne Road Cemetery, in Bournemouth, England. They never had any children.

His grave is marked by a headstone erected in 2007, and I think it’d be neat to visit his grave some day, if I ever get the chance to go to the United Kingdom (it’s at the top of my list of places I want to go).

I’ve referenced Abberline’s personal life a couple of times- he mentioned Emma in his diary entry back in chapter one, and it’s walked about how he likes to spend mornings with her on the weekend. Obviously, not much is known about the details of the real man’s personal relationships, but I like to think he and his wife loved each other very much, because there’s no evidence to the contrary and it hurts no one for me to believe that. Abberline works hard and he’s a good guy, he deserves happiness.

Quite rude, then, for someone to make him get up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday to solve a murder. Even worse, Alois and Claude are here! So we get some more wonderful outsider observations from Abberline, and he of course can’t help but compare their dynamic to Ciel and Sebastian’s, which means I get to vicariously get to wax poetic about my thoughts on the matter.

Meanwhile, Sebastian and Ciel are perched on a rooftop, quite literally eavesdropping. Imagine their surprise when a young lord shows up- with his demon butler in tow.

Ciel: That bitch stole our look!

Sebastian: We wore it better.

😂😆

Unfortunately, Ciel decided he was going to follow Claude and Alois around- but he isn’t as good at staying hidden as Sebastian is- he doesn’t have the experience, and I personally think he doesn’t have the same affinity with the shadows that Sebastian does- so Claude catches his scent rather quickly.

And Claude is a thirsty hoe. It makes my skin crawl, writing the things he thinks about Ciel. But that will make his inevitable demise all the more satisfying, I hope. I took his obsession with Ciel straight from the anime and just cranked it up to ten. I don’t know if everyone reading this story has seen season two- I know a lot of people don’t like the liberties it took with canon. Alois and Claude are characters completely made for the anime, and I think that makes them perfect to muck around with. There’s so much less established canon for them, I can just chop and screw and remix it however I want. It’s a fic writer’s dream.

After finishing To the End of Everything, and describing Ciel’s grave, I realised that as a member of the nobility, it’s more likely he would have been buried in a mausoleum, a stone building with niches in the walls for the caskets of the dead, where members of one family are interred. But I had the idea for Ciel’s tombstone and the engraving on it from the time I first decided to write TTEOE, so I wouldn’t change it even if I could.

And maybe an in-universe reason for it was that Ciel had decided to do things differently, maybe putting in his will for him to be buried like that was a final act of rebellion. And in the end, there was no body there anyway. Humans and they death rituals, putting markers on empty graves. I find it fascinating.

Changing topics: one thing that I hade to get used to was Sebastian calling Ciel by his first name. you’ll notice he doesn’t do it super often. He can’t call Ciel my lord or sir anymore. I mean he could, but that would be worse in my mind. He’s not really Ciel’s servant anymore. But I have Sebastian use Ciel’s name sparingly. Partially because it still feels a little weird and because I find it WAY more likely that Sebastian would be hitting Ciel with the terms of endearment, which you’ll notice I have him to constantly. A: because he loves Ciel and is stupid about it and B: because even though Ciel is used to it, and even likes it, it probably does still annoy him Just A Little, and that’s also too tempting for Sebastian to pass up.

Sebastian is no stranger to committing crimes in service of Ciel’s investigations- now he’s going around stealing records from the government, which is probably the least of his illegal actions. The Public Record Office is a real place, and in 1900 it was indeed located in Chancery Lane, in London. It was established in 1838 to house and catalogue all kinds of court/government archives, documents, things like that. I don’t think it had any archive specifically for newspapers, but let’s just all collectively pretend it did.

“I can’t believe I married a criminal” will forever be one of my favourite lines to ever have written. Ciel’s romantic side is very suppressed, but it’s there, so the times when I get to make him verbally reference Sebastian as his lover, husband, mate- those are particularly sweet to me. Even if he does immediately follow up by calling Sebastian a dog and a scoundrel, which, to be fair, are also accurate things to call him.

Writing a sex scene is the most intensive part of the craft for me. The thing I spoke about earlier, about being surgical and methodical in word choice and grammar- that’s dialled up to eleven when I’m writing a sex scene. So sometimes I fade to black. Although, that can be nice too- leaving things to the imagination. Also, it means I have the option to come back some day and write them out huehuehue 😏😌😉

I have never attended a séance. I was raised in a rather conservative Christian household (and look at me now) and I was always taught never to mess with that stuff, that it might invite evil into one’s life. Due to personal experiences among other things, I still have a belief in the spiritual aspect of existence- maybe not demons and ghosts per se (though I do have stories of ghost encounters in my past), but that there is such a thing as the soul, and life beyond death, and forces beyond what we humans can fully comprehend or control.

Though I’ve left behind almost all the beliefs I was raised with, at least one remains: I don’t fuck with séances or Ouija boards or anything that could accidentally bring something bad into my space. You would never catch me in a horror movie scenario, is what I’m saying 😆

However, the realm of fiction is fair game. Especially for the sake of the narrative.

Séances in film always seem to be done slightly differently- usually there’s a table, and a candle or something- I kind of just set up my own scenario.

Someone asked me why Lizzy and Sybil didn’t just try to summon Edward’s spirit right away- to be completely honest, it’s mostly because it didn’t occur to me 😅. But I also think that Lizzy wasn’t ready to confront whatever truths he might have to tell her- or that the grief was still so fresh, she wouldn’t have been able to bear seeing him- or not seeing him, if it hadn’t have worked for whatever reason.

Instead, I chose to tug on a different heartstring entirely and chose to have them summon Tanaka. Tanaka is beyond old, and I think after Ciel died and the manor burnt down, he finally allowed himself to put down the burden of being a steward to the house of Phantomhive. He deserved a rest. I think his death would have been painless- he probably went in his sleep. The Midfords would have taken good care of him.

And of course, he would be against what Lizzy is doing. Not angry with her, but worried- he would want her to move on, to put everything behind her and live a normal, happy life. But she doesn’t really have a choice at this juncture- desperate times and desperate measures and all that. I knew from the beginning that Tanaka wasn’t going to be alive in this story, but I still wanted to give him a cameo, however bittersweet it may have been.

I do hope the séance scene was sufficiently eerie- I don’t really write horror, or anything that’s meant to be all that scary, but I did try to give this scene a little bit of a spook factor. One of the ways I try to do that is by limiting descriptions of things until the moment after they happen, and

Paragraph

Breaks

As a way to control the pace and rhythm of the scene. Prose is like a rollercoaster, or a run on a treadmill. You must have moments when your heart rate spikes and in between periods to cool off. I try to do that- I’m not sure how well I always achieve it, but that’s the idea.

One of my favourite things I like reading in readers’ comments are the reactions to the revelation of new information, i.e. that Sybil’s mother was a witch. The burden of being the writer is knowing things ahead of time, and not getting to discover them at the same moment your audience does. Coming up with the idea and executing it is its own reward, but sometimes I wish I could read my own writing like it was something I’d never seen before. That would be so cool. So know that as a reader, the best thing you can do is comment your reactions on stuff because it’s the closest that authors can come to that feeling!

Lizzy and Sybil trying to summon Ciel and not being able to because he isn’t dead was another idea I had right from the inception of this story. Since Ciel is a demon, however, and is therefore connected somehow to hell, or the afterlife, or the supernatural world in general, I imagine the séance would have some sort of pull on him, which is why the interjection of him waking up in bed feeling like someone was calling his name.

Lizzy and Sybil complete each other- they have the idea of summoning Sebastian at the same moment, and even if they hadn’t, one of them will always end up enabling the other. Heaven help anyone who gets in their way, they just won’t be stopped 😆 😆 Even if it does eventually get them in over their heads. But that’s another chapter for another blog.

See you next time!

#ttnbd #fanfiction #commentary #black butler #kuroshitsuji #sebaciel #about writing #lord speaks

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chronurgy · 7 months

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commentary ask game! From your most recent fic which I loved: The tailor had done nothing to soothe his shaken nerves. Celia and her assistants had been on them the instant they stepped through the doorway, faster than a swarm of gremishkas on an abandoned spellbook. The whole visit had been nothing but a whirlwind of activity, with Celia and her innumerable assistants rushing back and forth carrying stacks of clothing and bolts of cloth, calling out questions and numbers and suggestions of all sorts to one another. Wyll could see why this establishment was considered one of the best in Baldur’s Gate – even the assistants had a good eye for colors and patterns, and with their assistance he’d quickly found a lovely ensemble. The cuts and cloths were beautiful, to be sure, and the fashions not so dissimilar to what he had worn before – before everything. But for all the nostalgia the experience had plied him with, it was not the same. He was not the same. The part of himself that he had cultivated over his years of adventure, the part that ran the sums again and again, the part that knew the price of a day’s bread, a room at a shabby inn, a farmer’s tools that would need replacing after being broken in a monster’s attack – it whispered to him about all the useful and practical things that might be bought with this sum, of all the good that might be done with it, this chunk of Gortash’s blood money. The rents that could be paid on just his share alone. But they’d be among the upper echelons of the Gate’s society at this ball and, as his father (for all his distain at such fripperies) had always said, appearances were as important there as was armor in battle. It rankled him still to politely take such princely gifts that were so clearly stained with blood, all for the purpose of playing politics. Politics – the practice of shaking hands with monsters, which was exactly what he would be doing in these beautiful, bloodstained rags. How he longed instead to slay them instead of playing nice.

Thanks for the ask!

So first things first, this was actually my second go at the tailor scene. I threw out the original version about 2 minutes after I finished writing it because I realized it was far too long and pulled way too far out of the flow of the fic without enhancing the themes. I was sad to toss it, but it was the right choice because this is much better

"Faster than a swarm of gremishkas on an abandoned spellbook" - I did a little research for this line because Wyll was a monster hunter and I wanted him to use expressions involving monsters to showcase that part of his life. When I found out that gremishkas swarm and are attracted to magic items I knew they'd work perfectly for this

"the fashions not so dissimilar to what he had worn before – before everything" - for all wyll's poise, his exile is still hard for him. It's something that pains him a great deal to this day, and that's why he can't even say the words here

As for where this section fits into the whole - Wyll is kinda living through the back half of a coming of age story in act 3. He's coming home after his heroic acts and looking around and realizing that his time away has fundamentally changed him. He's different now and he can't look at things the same way anymore. Wyll's struggle with returning home is the second major conflict in the piece and it's on show here (the first being his conflict over Vesper's loyalties). He's facing it here from an internal source when he can't stop thinking about the cost of his clothes. As a child he loved balls, loved dancing, and must have loved the beautiful outfits. But he isn't a child any longer, and he can't live in a sheltered child's world where pretty clothes just happen. His love for balls is now tempered with the cold reality of the world he lives in. It's changed, he's changed, and it can never ever go back to the way it was. There's also hints of what I'll call a minor conflict, which is Wyll the aristocrat vs Wyll the man of the people (which is more hinted at than elaborated on but it's worth mentioning).

I also just figured that wyll's a pretty caring person, of course when he went put into the world and saw how the other half lived he'd feel for them. How could he not? Especially if he struggled with money himself for awhile after his exile, which I assume he had to. He was making his living as a monster hunter, and that wouldn't necessarily be lucrative

Also Wyll had to cite his father here. So much of his interpretation of the Gate's society has to come through the lens of his father. His father (who is only ever referred to as his father in this piece) is this looming presence through the story, integral to everything that's happening even in his absence.

"Politics – the practice of shaking hands with monsters, which was exactly what he would be doing in these beautiful, bloodstained rags. How he longed instead to slay them instead of playing nice" - this was inspired by Wyll's "but a Duke shakes hands with more monsters than he slays" which has been running through my head nonstop since he said it. Duke is a political job! The monsters that the Duke is shaking hands with are people! So from that I pulled that Wyll must have an intense hatred of politics - and that feeds into some of his feelings here (that same line also comes into play with the way Wyll talks about gortash elsewhere in this piece)

#Thanks again for the ask this was lots of fun!#my writing

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earthayan · 5 months

Text

Hallucination. UnderTenSouls side story.

*Time line before page 65

*Bad English with help by Chat GPT

At the outpost closest to the ruins, Sans stared at the incomplete milk puzzle in front of him. He noticed his skull is stuck in his presence putting down the puzzle pieces and leaning back in the chair. The wooden seat, slightly tilted backward, was promptly pulled back into an upright position as the weight shifted, courtesy of the creature lurking nearby.

Sans realized he couldn't shake off his grin anymore. When the humans were fell in to the ruins, the astute former scientist understood that this was related to his memories.

K's abilities could indeed interfere with everything he had built. Although K wasn't entirely toying with him, there was some conscience in K, and their fusion was skillfully maintained below 30% by both parties. At least K didn't mind the lack of limbs.

Kind wasn't a bad kid, but he wasn't normal either. He wasn't composed of emotions, love, or sympathy. He might even just be an inanimate object with inexplicable sensations. Nonetheless, he had a conscience, albeit with poor methods. Regardless, he was much better than that determined talking flower.

The skeleton at the outpost chuckled, seemingly amused by some clever pun, then lowered its eye sockets again.

Sans knew he couldn't truly hate K, but those sudden memories surfacing made him feel nauseous. They must have come from other timelines. He could see the old lady being slain, witness himself getting slashed in the judgment hall. Countless times he saw a flash of a red scarf before it turned to ash.

K's persuasion in his own way was indeed effective. Simultaneously, Sans found some puzzle pieces that fit together. He completed a small section but wasn't sure where it belonged. He gave up resistance; humans could reset everything as they pleased, so what was the point of stopping them? Sans tapped the puzzle pieces he couldn't place, troubled.

Moreover, if a human chose mercy halfway, it meant their goodness hadn't vanished. Then, he couldn't truly begin punishment for their sins. A true judge would consider the execution points, LOVE, and Marcy. Only considering the former two wasn't fair at all. (Yes this text is referenced from Deeper Down)

Justice, ever since K awakened with that damn resolve, Sans hadn't seen any yellow representing justice in his eyes. His gaze was now only disrupted by faint red and blue. His power might have increased because of it, possibly even detectable by Al's machines.

But the judge chose to continue in the old ways. At least he was himself, some memories now and then. He might have wanted to stop others, even contemplated taking human LOVE for himself, killing everyone.

Sans felt as though ashes of the creature had flown into his mouth. The acrid bitterness almost made him want to pull off his hoodle in disgust. He could only cough lightly and be careful not to disturb the puzzle pieces on the table.

He still had some time of freedom left. If it lasted a bit longer, K's soul state might start becoming unstable. He just wanted to finish his puzzle before everything began, to escape for a moment. But the hurried sound of boots on snow interrupted this brief moment of tranquility. Pages 65

#undertensouls #my writing #doodle

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dreamwritesimagines · 1 year

Note

it’s CMA-

I realized I should start noting which section I’m commenting on so my comments are less confusing lol, which i could’ve been doing for a while, I’m just lazy (which also means that I might give up doing this extra thing after this ask lmaooo we will see)

Prologue-

Eloise had once told him that all artists chased heartbreak in a rather clichéd way and even though he had disagreed back then, he was beginning to see his sister’s point.

I love how everyone is telling Ben from the very beginning, even before clover tells him, that he’s… I don’t want to say destined because that sounds mean, but sort of destined to chase heartbreak.

It such a perfect match because clover’s entire life is basically one giant heartbreak after the other.

It’s also a really interesting note because when it gets brought up initially, it seems very surface level: Ben chases after clover who rejects him; it’s a very simple interpretation of the phrase.

But then as the story progresses, and suddenly Ben isn’t chasing someone who’s going to try and break his heart, but someone who they themselves are being broken. It’s so much deeper than the rejection from someone you hardly know.

He’s pursuing someone who will break his heart through him learning about her trauma. It’s not simple anymore- it’s still having his heart broken by virtue of loving someone, but it’s no longer through any fault of his/their own.

It’s chasing down the pain that comes with knowing someone so closely. He’s basically not embracing the pain, but embracing the feeling of being close to someone and loving them and having their struggles become your own. He’s chasing emotional intimacy despite the pain, not necessarily because of it.

HOLY FUCK HOLY FUCK I HAVE TO SEND THIS IN RIGHT NOW BECAUSE I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING

BEN IS CHASING CLOVER. CLOVER IS BEN’S HEART. HER TRAUMA IS BREAKING HER. BEN IS STILL CHASING A BROKEN HEART BY CHASING A BROKEN CLOVER.

Okay back to my incoherent rambling lmao:

He’s not chasing heartbreak so much as he’s come to terms with the risks of loving someone and accepting them wholeheartedly. It’s the thing that we see clover struggle with throughout the entire story.

I know I’ve talked about the differences between them when they start off- how clover is working the entire story to even come close to where Ben already is, but there’s something so absolutely fascinating about it all.

It’s the idea of something that is whole is fervently pursuing something that is broken. That the thing that he has grown away from is the thing he so desperately is seeking out. (idk if that makes sense)

There’s an interesting quote that I can’t quite recall who it’s by or the quote perfectly, but it’s something that goes along the lines of ‘we search for someone whose brokenness matches ours’. That’s kind of the kicker, isn’t it?

Like Ben appears by every measure to be successful and whole and complete, but if anything, this makes him feel his missing pieces even more desperately. It’s the idea that nothing makes you want to fix something more than when it’s almost finished, when the complete work can be seen, when you know what needs to be done. But importantly, he’s still not finished, still a work in progress.

On the opposite end, we have clover, who is missing so many pieces that she doesn’t even know where to start. It’s overwhelming and scary so she doesn’t even bother trying to put the pieces together.

And it’s not just that Ben sees her and that they can put their broken pieces together, which is true, because that analogy doesn’t fit as perfectly as I would like, and it insinuates a lot about what clover brings to the table, and fuels the incorrect notion that she needs to be fixed in a certain way to be lovable.

But it’s about Ben who doesn’t try to fix clover, and he doesn’t try to force her to fit in a certain way, but he looks at all these broken pieces and loves them the way they are, regardless of the work that needs to be done.

Idk I just have so many feelings about people who choose to love others and things regardless of the imperfections. The things and people that everyone has given up on, that have been abandoned because it’s easier to throw them away than to try and love them the way they are. The hard, “unlovable” things.

Not to get too sappy in the middle of the night, but there’s a lot to be said about putting in the work for something that has been discarded, and I will always have a special place in my heart for all the people who decide to take chances even when things seem hard, who love and try and care despite the risks and pain that come with it.

Okay I need to stop this is literally all analysis about one line, the second line in the entire story to be exact.

BEFORE I START, LET ME JUST SAY-

This is literally me rn;

I am speechless but will it stop me from analysing every part of this nope it will not-

Fangirling over your analysis under the cut😍

So first of all YES! ❤️ Like, everyone around Ben was so convinced he would get his heart broken, especially the moment he laid eyes on Clover😈 And considering Clover's reputation among the ton from the moment she stepped into the court for her debut, Anthony was probably tearing his hair out as soon as he heard about his interest in Clover, because of course she would break his heart, that's what she does, that's what every single suitor around her says so ❤️

But like you said, Clover herself is a very broken person so in a way, what she's doing is a defense mechanism ❤️ So Benedict's heartbreak doesn't come from Clover herself, it comes from how much he loves her 🥰

BEN IS CHASING CLOVER.

CLOVER IS BEN'S HEART

And I'm over here crying over just how perfect this analogy is YES! 😍😍

"Ben appears every measure to be successful and whole and complete" I think that's also why Clover was so against the idea of even liking him! Like, they're the complete opposites yes, but also Clover was so convinced that he could never even come close to understanding her because it felt impossible, because how could Benedict, who grew up in a rich loving home with perfect parents, who is on his way to become a famous artist, who never really tried something and ended up not successful, would think they could be a good couple? ❤️

And I think one of the reasons why Clover warmed up to him faster than she warmed up to any other suitor really, was the fact that Benedict never tried to force her to fit in a certain way like you said! ❤️ He sneaks around with her, he lets her come and go as she wishes, he gets her the tuberoses, he doesn't listen to what society expects them to do but what Clover wants ❤️🥰

And I feel like that's one of the reasons why their love will be incredibly strong, because they complete each other in a very unexpected way! ❤️

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OMG MY LOVE, YOU'RE AWESOMEEEEE! ❤️❤️❤️

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bookwyrminspiration · 2 years

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When I was little, I got an American girl doll as a gift. It was originally my aunts, but she'd grown out of it and I had been begging my mom for a doll like it for months, but it was too expensive. Recently, I found it in an old box under the art desk. I used to love her so much, and she looked just like me from when I got her. our names were similar too. When I found her, her hair was matted and halfway in a ponytail, and she was wearing a pajama shirt as a skirt. Of course she was. I did that often growing up. I took out her ponytail. i didn't have a brush or comb with me, especially not one fit for a doll, so i sat down on a nearby stool and got to work on her matts with just my fingers. Midway through, I changed her clothes. her shirt looked really scratchy and little me would've hated wearing it, so i figured the doll would too. she was just this little baby doll. I didn't feel bad for forgetting about her per se, I've come to accept that it's a normal and good thing to outgrow old stuff. it was so odd, though. It's been years since I looked like that doll, but we used to be identical. I knew it even back then and when I look at old pictures it's obvious. you know that feeling when you wish you could just give your past self the biggest hug? and little forehead kisses like a mother to her child? I just did. I sat mini-me on my lap and held her still and brushed her hair. I used to carry that doll around with me everywhere, and she used to be half my height. and that girl before was half my age. Now they're both just little babies to me. That feels important. When you're little, you fit your clothes perfectly, but when you've grown and learned and changed, you see your old clothes from before and become utterly flabbergasted because you just can't believe how you could've possibly been such a small sweet little human being. i got called down to dinner before i could finish with her hair completely, but it was smooth enough for her to go back outside and get back to making her weird 7 year old potions in the woods like she used to do. (writing shit!)

This is a lovely reflection, Nonsie, so I don't want to distract from it too much with my own thoughts and reactions. I was never a doll kid, but I think one of the closest experiences I have are all the stories I've outgrown, the characters I've left behind and the worlds I once knew so well.

I don't own them anymore, but sometimes I'll pass through the kids' section in my bookstore and I'll glimpse the cover of a story that used to mean so much to me. And I'll flip it over and laugh at how huge the font is, how short the sentences. These characters and the troubles they face, remembering how much they consumed me when I was there age. And now I can't imagine being even a fraction as invested in those stories. But I know how much little me treasured them, how much she adored them and wanted to be a part of them. Just like you used to be identical to your doll, I was identical to these characters, even if I wasn't saving Fairyland.

But just like you said, it's not that I feel bad about forgetting these stories and outgrowing them, it's more of...a remembrance. I know those stories are non longer meant for me, and I don't regret moving on from them. But some part of me will always recognize those covers and light up inside, some part of me will still feel like I need to take them home, even though if I took them they wouldn't be home.

I may not be enjoying those stories anymore, but the little me in my memories is, and the little kids I see wide-eyed in the aisles of the bookstore can, and that's enough.

Thank you for sharing this experience and memory with me, it's truly very touching to reminisce on :)

#quil's queries #nonsie #others' writing #nostalgia #childhood #did I have a specific childhood series in mind when I wrote this? yeah #but also it's the feeling!!#i'm not little me I'm more than her but she's also a complete person who's enough all on her own #and she loved so many things I've left behind but her love for it will always echo in me #even if I can't hear it anymore #one of the books came with a necklace. a necklace I still wear #i wore it today actually #so it's still with me. little me's still there. just for me #long post

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sanmisui · 1 year

Text

Venting and rambling about writing:

Maybe my fanfic would be better off without all those smutty implications that I’m adding.

Seriously,,,,, the story would work either way. It’s just my stupid brain not understanding that it ain’t necessary for a fanfic to have these things. But also everything sort of sucks. My writing is painfully mid. The story is long and it’s been dragging me down and I have no idea what I’m doing anymore,,,, ughhh.

I have lotsa drafts,,,, but nothing fits into the current story. So I will make more stories once the current one is done,,,, but I know that the ending will suck. My brain is bad.

Nothing really matters, I’m just writing nonsense. I’m gonna take it out and just end the day and write something else n get back to the mid section later.

My writing isn’t linear. I start somewhere n add a break n go to the next section and then I go back to fill the blanks and connect the plots together.

Sometimes I need to shove things back or take them out entirely. That’s just how the creative progress works,,,, it is what it is,,,,

I wish somebody would give me clearer instructions on what to add and what to leave out. I mean,,,, who the fuck wants to read about washing the dishes? On multiple occasions?? It adds some minor detail and it makes the story longer… ooooooh the story is so goddamn long I think it’s almost at 100k words???? How did I even do that? It’s been 6 months. Is that good or bad? I don’t read that many stories. Or only short ones. But they get everything done and sorted easy peasy,,,,, my story is filled with convoluted garbage and it’s just a retelling of the goddamn anime for the most of it,,,, with a few extras and boiiiii is it boring? I’m bored. Not sure if that’s just me cuz I know what my brain is cooking up and boi did it add too much sugar to the alphabet soup,,,, who the fuck adds sugar to their soup anyways?????

I avoid conflict. But I need conflict. I gotta write about the goddamn conflict. How do I write? Hell, I haven’t got a clue as to what I’m even doing with this story. It’s an x Reader Story, there won’t be that many people craving for it’s conclusion… I think I hate the story cuz I put too much of myself into the personality of the mc. Yeahhh maybe that is it?

I also suck at writing the dude who we r romancing. Maybe it’s all just too much of a mess?

But I still need to finish it!!!! I can’t just drop it? It’s almost done! Just… uh… a few more chapters?

Maybe 2 or 3? I could end it rather quickly if I end it on a sour note. Would people hate me for that? Probably. It might be for the best. I am not really vibing with this story anymore. I already ruined it for myself. N I put too much pressure on my mushy brain. It’s gonna be over soon… hopefully. Maybe I’d be more hyped about it, if people gave me better feedback? There isn’t much of a reason for me to keep writing. But I would hate for it to end without a proper ending. So I’ll write an ending and get it done and then I will start with something new.

Maybe I’m merely sad cuz I didn’t get as much interaction as I would’ve liked? My confidence is frail. If people don’t give me input on how things are for them, I’ll assume that they hate everything that I came up with. But once it’s done and released, it’d be blasphemous to go back and rewrite it…

Heck the story doesn’t even have a proper title. It pops up when u search for the character… which is bad!! Cuz the story is rated M but there don’t seem to be any hindrances for accessing it??? It’s just up on Google and anyone can click on it??? If you search for it on quotev, u gotta turn on adult content to see it but what’s the point if Google smacks it right in your face???

It prolly doesn’t fall under mature content… I haven’t written a whole lot of heehoo stuff cuz I’m too much of a coward. Godddd I should’ve put it on ao3 instead… but it’s too late for that and also… I like quotev. U can add pictures lolol. It’s more befitting of a beginner such as myself. But I should’ve tagged it better? Honestly, I’ve never written a serious story before. No idea what to tag outside of the characters. Hell. I don’t even know where the story is going or what’s going to happen next, cuz I write as I think and I think as I go and I’m not doing a whole lot of planning ahead.

I’m rambling so goddamn much on this post here cuz I don’t have any friends or confidants. No way of asking for directions. It’s always just me talking to myself for hours and my mental health is shredded like discarded papers.

Ughhhhhhhhh. I hate being creative. I think I’ll get something to drink and then I’ll just lay here for a bit.

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redheadsinmybed · 3 years

Text

Slipping

Little reader, caregiver/little story

Wanda x Natasha x Reader

Summary: Reader hasn’t dropped in a while. What happens when reader finally drops???

Notes: Sorry this took so long, hehe my bad. Hope you enjoy! :)

You hadn’t dropped in a while. Like a few months, you just couldn't seem to get in the mindset no matter how hard you tried. Wanda and Natasha have been worried about you since the second week. Natasha and Wanda had tried everything they could to get you to drop, from calling you ‘baby girl’ to trying to get you to play with Steve,Tony, and Clint when they were little. They even brought you to every kids section in every store they could find. But you just weren’t feeling it.

Currently you were in your room feeling down, wanting so badly to be in your little state, but not being able to.

“Hey baby,” Natasha comes in and sits down on the bed next to you.

“Wanda is in the kitchen baby, you want to go meet her?”

“Yeah, I guess,” You say with no enthusiasm. Natasha gets up and holds her hand out for you. You grab it and make your way to the kitchen where Wanda is waiting for you.

“Hi baby!” Wanda says happily. You smile at her before your attention is drawn to something else. You spot a baby bottle sitting on the counter.

Suddenly your mind goes fuzzy.

“Ma-ma” You say sucking on your thumb.

“Hi baby girl,” Wanda says smiling at Natasha. You make grabby hands at Natasha, and when she doesn’t immediately pick you up you start to cry.

“Baby don’t cry, it’s okay i’ve got you.” Natasha says as she picks you up. Natasha cups your face, using the pad of her thumb she wipes your tears away. You lay your head on her chest as you continue to suck on your thumb. Wanda looks at Natasha puzzled, you usually didn’t suck on your thumb unless you were really sleepy or weren’t feeling okay.

“Baby girl, are you feeling okay,” Wanda asks as she brushes the hair out of your eyes.

“Pe-pe,” You say back shyly. Seconds later Natasha feels wetness on her arm where she is holding you.

“Baby girl?” Natasha says, your cheeks get a rosy red. You hide your head in her chest and whine.

“Okay baby, let’s go get you cleaned up,” Natasha says you don’t lift your head out of your hiding spot. Natasha gives Wanda a worried look. You’ve only ever done that when you were really scared. Wanda calls Pepper, her having been a caregiver way longer than her.

“Hey Pepper it’s Wanda, I need help with something.” Wanda says over the phone while Natasha washes you off.

“Yeah so Y/N finally dropped,” Wanda waits as Pepper speaks to her on the other end.

“Yeah it’s really great, except something is different, she’s not acting like she usually does. She had an accident and has been sucking her thumb, the only words she has said have been ‘Mama’ and ‘pepe’.”

“Oh, really?”

“Okay perfect, thank you so much,” Wanda says hanging up seconds later.

“Okay so Pepper said that Y/N might be in a littler head space than she usually is in because she hasn’t dropped in so long. She said by the way she hasn’t talked much that she’s about 8 months old, or around there.” You just sit there sucking your thumb. You make grabby hands at Natasha wanting her to hold you again.

“So she’s just a baby now?” Natasha asks as she picks you up.

“Yeah, I guess she didn’t say how long it would last, but she guessed it would take a while at least for her to change back into her normal little state.”

“Do you think we should get some supplies? We aren’t really prepared for a baby-baby,” Natasha says.

“Yeah you want to go to the store?” Wanda says.

“Yeah, should we leave her here?” Wanda suggests. looking at you.

“Baby do you want to go with Mama and I or stay here?”

“Ma-ma” You say happily.

“I guess she’s going,” Natasha says. You three make your way down to the car while Wanda makes a list of stuff you’ll need.

“Okay so I have dippers, a pacifier, and baby food. Anything else I'm missing?” Wanda asks.

“No I think that’s good,” Natasha says.

“Baby girl you’re gonna have to have Mama hold you,” Natasha says

“Ma-ma,” Is all you say in response. Natasha hands you over to Wanda and you two get in the back seat. Wanda knows it isn’t safe but she doesn’t want to upset you, so you sit on top of her facing her.

“We’re here baby,” Wanda says.

“Ma-me” You say back wanting to be back in her arms. Natasha picks you up and off from Wanda and into her. Walking up to the store Wanda grabs a cart.

“Okay baby girl, Mommy is going to set you in her okay?” Natasha asks. You look up at her with big eyes when she sets you in the cart. You sit there just staring at her before you deem that it’s okay. You get to look at Mommy and Mama while they shop and roll you around, and you're just fine with that.

Wanda and Natasha wander down some isles looking for the various items they need. They get the diapers and the baby food. You absolutely hate green beans with a passion so they avoided getting that for you.

When you arrived in the baby toys and activities section they stopped so you were right in front of the pacifiers. You take a second to take it all in. There was every color you could ever think of, and some of them had animals on them.

Wanda and Natasha pick out some that they think you might like.

“Hey baby girl look, this one has a koala on it,” Wanda says holding up the koala pacifier so you can see. You pout and look around.

“Bun-bun?” You ask.

“Baby girl Bunny is at home,” Wanda says to you. You stop looking around and your eyes start to fill with tears.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay baby girl. I got her right here.” Natasha says as she takes out your stuffed koala from her bag.

“Bun-bun!” You say happily. Hugging her tightly to your chest.

“I brought it just in case.”

“Aren’t you mother of the day?” Wanda says with a smile.

“Well I just thought she might want it.”

“Well you thought right.” You spot a lime green pacifier as they talk to each other. You make grabby hands at it and whine when you can’t reach it. Natasha and Wanda finally look over. Wanda seeing you trying to grab a green pacifier.

“You like this one baby?” She says as she hands it to you. Your eyes widen instantly.

“I think we found a winner,” Natasha chuckles.

“Are you ready to go home baby?” Wanda asks. Still infatuated with your new pacifier you nod your head.

When you get to the check out lane Wanda has to take the pacifier from you so the check out lady can scan it. Wanda tries to take the pacifier until you yelp at her.

“Baby girl, Mama needs that for a minute, then i'll give it right back okay?” Wanda says as she takes the pacifier out of your hands. Your bottom lip wobbles and you start to cry. You cry and cry, and then finally the screams come. High pitched screams that could make people's ears bleed.

“Wanda. Give. It. Back.” Natasha says with worry and fear.

“Hey baby, here look.” Wanda tries to calm you down and give you your pacifier back, but it doesn't work and you scream louder. Natasha wheels you out of the store and Wanda follows behind.

Natasha thinks back to something she read.

When a baby is having a fit, they most likely just want someone to comfort them.

Natasha picks up your screaming flailing body and holds you tight to her in a Thor hug.

“Shhhh baby, it’s okay. Mommy’s right here.” You fight against her for a while until you can’t anymore. You finally relax against her breathing heavily with tears still streaming down your face.

“That’s it baby, Mama and Mommy are right here,” Natasha coos at you. Finally you’re just a big mess of sniffles. Wanda puts all the things into the car and brings the pacifier and Bunny into the back seat with her. Natasha put you in the back with Wanda and you snuggled up into her holding Bunny.

“Here baby, you want this?” Wanda says opening the package and getting the green pacifier out. You nod sleepily and she puts the pacifier up to your lips. You take it into your mouth taking a timid suck. You decide that it’s good and continue sucking on it. Snuggled into Mama with Bunny you feel warm and safe. Closing your eyes you fall asleep.

When you wake up you're still in your little baby state and you're hungry. Wanda is holding you, but she’s asleep.

“Ma-ma?”

“Ma-ma, ma-ma” Finally she starts to wake up.

“Well hi baby girl,” She says with a sleepy smile. She hears your stomach growl back at her.

“You hungry baby?” Again your stomach answers her.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” She says with a chuckle. She gets out of bed and picks you up. Wanda carries you downstairs where the bottle from earlier is still sitting on the counter. You point to it and look back up at Wanda. Wanda picks up the bottle and sits down on the couch with you. She was just going to give you the bottle when she remembered that you were a 8 month year old instead of your usually 3 year old.

Wanda holds the bottle up to your mouth and you wrap your hand around it. Taking into your mouth you suck on it eagerly. You look up at Mama to see her smiling down at you. She brushes the hair out of your face. You smile back up to her through the nipple of the bottle. You empty the bottle in less than 5 minutes. You see Tasha come in and she sits next to you. Wanda gets up and refills the bottle for you. When she comes back she sees that Natasha has taken her place.

“Here you go,” She says, handing the bottle to Nat. Mommy feeds you and after your done you sit up.

“I love you,” you say, surprising both of them.

“Baby girl?” Natasha asks.

“Hi Mommy.”

#little reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x natasha x reader #wanda maximoff x you #natasha x you #natasha x reader #wanda x natasha #loving a little #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #female reader #caregiver #little space

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Note

#9 “Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me.” with Obi-Wan & Jango & Satine? (... or Obi-Wan/Jango/Satine, I'm not picky)

Hurt/Comfort Dialogue Prompts

Oh, I'm going to make this deeply stupid and AU because I got struck by a plot bunny and I'm taking it out on a prompt.

Satine hates the man named Jango Fett.

They've met before, once or twice. He'd known her father, before the latter's assassination. She'd met Jango when she was a child, before he'd lost his people at Galidraan, before she'd lost her sister to a terrorist group and her father to a blaster shot. She'd thought him gruff but kind, at the time, and very sad.

Now, she just wants him to trip on a pipe and brain himself on one of the many rusted, broken beams around them. She won't strangle him herself, won't turn her back on her oaths and commit violence, but she's not too proud to hope for an accident.

"Pick up the pace, princess."

"I am a Duchess," she snaps, lifting her skirts to step delicately over something that might have been machinery at one point.

The only light they have is from his helmet, and the only reason she hasn't fallen from the fabric catching on some matter or other is that he has a sense for when she gets caught.

He'd suggested that she pull the skirts up to gird her loins, and then found that the numerous layers made it impossible. He'd offered to cut the skirt down to something more manageable, without depriving her of the coverage she still needed in the cold of these darks, dank ruins. He'd then found that the vibroblade did nothing against the skirts.

(She was a pacifist, not stupid. Of course her clothing was reinforced.)

"I don't care," he says back through grit teeth. She's not sure why he hasn't just left her for dead, but she's not going to complain. Much. "Just move."

They've been making their way through the ruins for hours. They still don't know how they got here. They have no way to find out.

They just head up, and hope it gets them somewhere.

(Signs litter the walls, all in a script unfamiliar to them. Archaic, or simply foreign, they don't know.)

"Wait."

She freezes.

Fett moves behind her, light shifting with the noise of his beskar, and then he says, "I'm going to turn out the light for a second. Give us a minute to adjust to the dark after I do. I think I saw something glowing, but I can't tell with the flash on."

She nods, sure that he can see it, and they are engulfed in the dark again.

It's not for long, because the glow that Fett described is real. Faint, far off down the hallway and a pale blue that winks in and out in multiple spots at once, but there.

"We'll need the light to make it there without you getting rust sickness," Fett mutters. He flicks the headlight back on. "Might get some kinda hint out of it, whatever it is."

"You'd risk it?"

"Don't have any other choice," Fett tells her. "Move out, Princess."

----

They reach the blue glow, entering a large, cavernous atrium, just as dark as the rest of the ruins so far, but much less cramped than the previous hallways.

It is mostly floating motes of something, and the something in question makes Satine's skin crawl. She has no idea what it is. She doesn't think Fett does either, but he's a little busy trying to get a scan of the room around them. Satine can just barely see the floor from the blue light, and she steps closer carefully. Part of her screams about deep sea fish and wild space ancients, creatures that use light to hunt, but they've had nothing else yet. No hints.

This place feels ancient. Perhaps the spirits that linger are even older.

"Kryze!"

"I'm fine," she calls back, deliberately refusing to understand the man's worry. She just... reaches out.

And one of the blue lights comes to her.

Fett swears and comes closer, but Satine pulls her hands to her chest, cradling the little light to herself. It's larger than she'd expected, perhaps the size of a Chandrila plum. It's warm, too.

"You're going to get yourself killed," Fett snaps.

"It's friendly," she says. "I think."

"You think," Fett hisses, the noise crackling through the vocoder. He puts a hand on her shoulder. "Listen--"

The lights coalesce. They are, for the moment, blinding, and Satine flinches away.

Fett has a blaster out before Satine can even open her eyes again. She knows the noise better than she'd like. She can identify which blaster it is by the click of the safety alone.

Any Mandalorian her age can.

"Oh dear," an unfamiliar voice says. "I'm afraid that--well, yes, Mando, hello there. I'm afraid that the blaster won't do much to me. I'm already long dead, you understand."

When Satine manages to blink the spots out of her vision, it's to see a glowing, slightly blue-tinged human figure in clothing that is distinctly Jedi, if very... very outdated.

The man--she thinks it's a man, beards usually indicate such--smiles and waves at her. "I apologize for the light show. It's been quite some time since I've had reason to take a solid form."

"I can imagine," Satine says, her voice weak even to her own ears. The man isn't much older than her, or at least wasn't when he... died? Or perhaps he was elderly when he died, and just rolled his age back as this spirit for some reason.

He smiles kindly, and then looks past her shoulder to Fett. He rolls his eyes, and smirks, and says, "Su cuy'gar, Mand'alor."

"I am not Mand'alor," Fett growls out. "I don't hold that title anymore."

"You do in spirit," the figure claims. "None other can say the same, not yet."

Before Fett can argue further, the man smiles pleasantly, and says, "I don't suppose you could remove yourselves from my shrine? Just a few steps back, thank you."

Satine looks down. She notices the raised platform and carved sigils and the stone column she hadn't seen in the earlier darkness, and flushes. She steps back and down, and Fett does the same.

"Now," the figure says. "As I was saying--"

"What are you?" Fett demands. "Ghost of a Jedi?"

"Something like that," the figure allows. "I was not just a Jedi, but... yes, I'm something you could call a ghost. I'd prefer simply a spirit."

"Like the ka'ra," Satine mutters, and grunts in disagreement.

"Those, Duchess, are only Mandalorians."

"Then I suppose it is fitting that I am both," the spirit says, and his form shifts.

Armor. It does not cover all of him--his pelvis and head are distinctly bare--but the shapes are distinctly Mandalorian. The colors aren't quite exact, with the blue glow he carries about him, but she's fairly certain she's seeing blue, green, and black. Reliability, duty, and justice.

Fitting, for a Jedi. The symbol for the Order is on his pauldron, even, and the hilt of his saber hangs easy at his side.

The gasp that comes through Fett's vocoder is harsh. She can't imagine he likes this.

"You--" he cuts himself off, takes a breath audible even past the helmet, and tries again. "There is no way you are Tarre Vizsla."

"No, I'm afraid not."

"So you must be Obi-Wan Kenobi."

The man smiles and tucks his hands into his sleeves, the swinging of the fabric allowing them the glimpse of vambraces beneath. He ducks his head in a shallow nod. "I am indeed."

Satine feels how empty of blood her own face is. She can't imagine Fett is doing much better.

"This is the Kar'ta-yaim be talyc rang," Fett mutters, horrified in a way that Satine feels her own self echoing. "You..."

"Well, we certainly never called it that," Kenobi says, head tilting faintly. "But I imagine that after the siege... Yes, Temple of Bloodied Ash would certainly reflect our final days."

It was one of the few stories that didn't pit Jedi and Mandalorians against each other, in the histories.

It had been the first attempt to coexist, the warriors of the saber and the warriors of iron. None managed to wed the two philosophies the way Kenobi had, but that hadn't mattered. They'd lived together, in peace. The reports had been clear enough, that there hadn't been weapons storage. There hadn't even been real defensive measures, barring the force fields. The Jedi had refused to let war reach this building, even whilst the Sith still raged across the galaxy. The other temples could handle the atrocities afar. The children, the elderly, the infirm, they were all to find a home here. The only weaponry were the sabers and whatever metals the Mando'ade carried in their armor.

Just a place of peace, a home to research, to children, to hospitals, all slaughtered to the last man, and set ablaze after. Nobody had ever tried such an attempt at peace between Mandalore and Jedi since. The location has been lost for longer than anyone remembers, but...

"Why are we here?" Satine asks.

"I wonder," Kenobi says, seeming far too pleased for the revelations of the last minute. He strokes at his beard, and then turns and sweeps an arm across the air. As he does, a whirring noise surrounds them, stuttered and heavy, but growing in power. Bit by bit, the sections of the wall that he'd gestured at begin to glow.

There are lights set into the wall like circuitry, warm and bright. The generators, which much be centuries old, at the least, continue to run.

"They draw energy from the river in the mountain," Kenobi says, before either of them thinks to ask. "Come along, my dears."

Satine hesitates. So does Fett.

Kenobi turns, presumably noting that their footsteps aren't following him. He smiles, and the corners of his eyes crinkle.

Satine can't remember how old he supposedly was, at his death. His eyes are much older, but...

"I assure you, it's perfectly safe," he tells them. "The building won't hurt you."

"The building?" Fett asks, sounding perhaps a little more dubious than the situation warranted. They were already talking to a figure of legend.

"Yes, the building," Kenobi repeats, indulgent in a way that Satine would have found irritating if aimed at her, but rather approved of like this. "The walls are already straightening out, I feel. And the droids are going to be clearing out the debris soon enough. The rust will be a little difficult to manage, of course, but..."

"What do you mean the walls are going to straighten out?" Satine asks. "And how... this place has been dead for centuries, hasn't it? How did you wake it?"

"Duchess Kryze, I didn't wake the Temple," Kenobi tells her. She doesn't know how he got her name. "You did."

She doesn't know what to say in response. She stays quiet, and waits for him to elaborate.

"Is it because she woke you up?" Fett asks, clearly unwilling to play a waiting game. "You're a... guardian? The keyholder to the power?"

"Mand'alor," Kenobi says, with a smile playing on his lips behind the carefully-groomed beard, "I am the Temple."

What.

He smiles and starts walking backwards, gliding in a way that makes it clear he doesn't need to step, really, because his feet don't stay planted where he puts them. They have to follow, now, or risk losing him. "My consciousness, my very self, is woven into every bit of this building. I have no flesh, not anymore, but while my sense of self stays coherent in the Force... the Temple is my body."

"How?" Satine demands, hurrying to keep up. She tries to ignore the way the flagstones shift and settle ahead of her, still and level by the time she steps forward. She tries to ignore the grinding of metal, as it's pulled into the walls like it's soup instead of stone. She tries to ignore the creaking of the foundation about them, and stays focused on the pleasant smile of one of the only two Mandalorian Jedi in history that maintained the balance.

"Do your history books carry the name of my apprentice?" Kenobi asks.

"Skywalker," Fett says immediately. "And... Tano, I think, before she changed it. She escaped, didn't she?"

"Yes, she was away at the time," Kenobi says, voice distant for but a moment. Somewhere far off among the tunnels, there is a mighty crash. "I'd fought until I couldn't any more. My armor, what I had of it, protected me from the flames. I'd worn a helmet during the siege, and it filtered the smoke, even as I lay dying from other wounds... between that and the Force, I lasted long enough that Anakin found me. The others had all died of smoke inhalation, if they hadn't succumbed to their injuries or the flames themselves by that point."

"The fire didn't reach you?" Fett questions.

"Mm, no, the alcove I was in was all stone, and there wasn't anything flammable enough nearby to reach," Kenobi says, sounding distant again. "In any case, Anakin found me. He was... distraught. Desperate. Not entirely sane, I think, but with what he walked into, I can't find it in myself to fault him."

"Master Kenobi," Satine finds herself saying. "What did he do?"

Kenobi's smile is sad. She'd call it resigned, really. He's lived--sort of--with this situation for centuries now. It makes sense. "He took my mind, my soul in the Force, and 'saved' it in a way that would leave me tied to the world past my death. It was ingenious, but... I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. I don't think Anakin realized what he was doing until long after he'd already succeeded at the impossible."

"He cursed you," Fett declares.

Kenobi shrugs. "I think he expected the temple to be cleaned and re-inhabited again soon enough. It wasn't, as you can see. The generators have been gathering power for centuries, but the fire destroyed most of them, and we didn't have anything in reserve with how much we poured into the shields during the battle. I couldn't fix the ruins, and with the horrors that had occurred, nobody was coming back. Anakin said he would, he promised, but... he disappeared. He visited, and he spoke with me, but a few years in he was simply... lost. I had a connection to his ship's signal, and it winked out in the blink of an eye, and never came back."

Oh. Terrifying.

"For all that I am the Temple, now, there are still secrets here that I don't yet understand," Kenobi tells them. "Your arrival, for one thing. The sediment carried up the mountain has slowly buried the temple over the centuries. There isn't a way in, save for two tunnels leading to the river, both of which I know are untouched."

"We just woke up here," Satine admits.

"Yes," Kenobi says. "You did. And part of me knows why."

"...part?" Fett asks.

It's a fair question to ask of a man who happens to have a brain that is also an entire building, somehow.

"Areas are cut off from my awareness," Kenobi admits freely. "Cave-ins and the like, mostly. There are one or two that I think I cut deliberately, due to what lay within."

Also terrifying, thank you.

"But I do believe I know what happened," he says, with that same damnably soft smile. "You two are the leaders of your people, yes? Tradition on one side, and peace on the other."

Satine shares a glance with Fett, and then turns to Kenobi and nods.

"Then I do believe it's simply the right time," he tells them. "You'll need to work together."

"I don't think so," Satine immediately denies.

"The Force works in mysterious ways," Kenobi tells her. "And if it brought you here--and you couldn't have arrived otherwise, I promise you that--then it was for a reason. Two leaders, the same people, with ideologies that I do believe are possible to bring together into, if not mixing, then at least coexistence."

"Impossible," Fett says. "The New Mandalorians are cowards, Kenobi. To share a culture with them--"

"Is as unlikely as Jedi and the old Mandalorians?" Kenobi asks, smiling so very politely that Satine wonders at how they aren't frozen stiff at the sight of it.

The sigil of the Order gleams mockingly from his pauldron.

Kenobi huffs out a breath, just a shadow of a laugh the slightest duck of his head, and then he turns and waves open a door.

Beyond him, sitting clean and pretty and entirely free of dust on its ancient stand, rests the Darksaber.

Satine stares.

She's sure Fett does, too.

"That can't be real," she says, her mouth moving before she can control it. "The Darksaber is lost, but it's popped up in history too recently to have been here since the fires."

"I saw it in Tor Vizsla's hands less than a years ago," Fett confirms. The vocoder cuts emotion from his voice, but not enough. "This place has been locked tight for centuries. The saber can't be here."

"The same could be said of the two of you," Kenobi points out.

It's true.

Satine steps forward, when it becomes clear that Fett won't. She picks up the weapon, holds it like the antique it is, square and unwieldy, but so very, very old that she cannot deny its importance. Weapon or not, it is her people's history.

She lights it.

The blade burns black.

"Turn it off," Fett rasps, and she does.

Satine looks back at him, and then to Kenobi. She turns fully, and steps forward, and holds it out to Fett.

He looks at her, uncomprehending.

"If you'd like to check for yourself," she says, and her voice is too quiet, but she can't help it. Something is happening, something heavy and broken, and she can't ignore the pressure of the future in this moment.

Fett takes the saber. He looks at it in his hands, and she thinks he is shaking.

"Your people need you, Mand'alor," Kenobi says, and there is no room for question. "They also need the Duchess."

"Why you?" Fett asks, voice strained and shattered in a way Satine can't even begin to pick apart.

"It was either me or Tarre, really," Kenobi says, with an idle shrug unfitting of the situation. "And I'm a little more... accessible, shall we say, to those who aren't sensitive to the Force."

Kenobi steps forward and rests an immaterial hand on Fett's shoulder.

"I already failed my people once," Fett says, barely audible.

"And now you shall save them," Kenobi says. His voice is firm. It is as if there is no question, to him, about whether or not Fett will succeed. "You won't be alone, either."

Satine shifts her weight, refusing to meet Kenobi's eyes. Her hands fist in her dress, and her mind races.

"What do you need of me?" Fett manages.

"...Mand'alor?"

"What do you need of me, Master Kenobi?"

Satine looks up.

Fett... Fett removes his helmet, and looks at Kenobi with an expression that is more desperation than deference.

"To cooperate with those who would follow a different creed," Kenobi says, so low it's practically a murmur. His hand, still intangible, reaches out to cup Fett's jaw. Fett leans into it. "To protect those who cannot do so for themselves. Our people are warriors, Mand'alor, but to refuse violence for violence's sake, after the wars that have killed our home and rendered it little more than glass, that is its own bravery."

"Master--"

"Listen to me," Kenobi says, and Fett falls silent. "You will need to protect them. The Duchess may have the funds and the support to bring forth education, agriculture, childcare, and so on, but there are many who would take advantage of that peace. She provides the home for tradespeople, but you are the shield that keeps them safe."

It could be a balance, Satine tries to tell herself. Maybe.

Kenobi seems so certain of it, and Satine may hate violence, but she is far from unaware of the pirates and warlords that nip at their borders.

"The foundlings need homes," Kenobi continues. "The stories need to be told. The culture is fading, Mand'alor. Bring it back."

His eyes flick to Satine, and she looks away.

(Her pressure was only ever on violence. Her advisors had pressed at the erasure of the rest, but if it meant children grew up without the worry of their parents dying in pointless battle, then wasn't it worth bending?)

(Couldn't she look the other way as they tightened restrictions on even symbolic vambraces, if it meant few too-small bodies in the streets?)

(Her planet was a wasteland. What did culture mean in the face of so many dead?)

(She knows Fett doesn't see it that way, but she is the only governing New Mandalorian with any blood on their hands. She knows the weight of violence, of lives taken by her actions.)

(She knows it, and she rejects it knowingly.)

Fett breathes harshly, and Satine closes her eyes.

"I agree to try," she says. "If we can get out of these ruins and back to our people... I will try. I cannot speak for my people on this, but to instate the old Mandalorians as a planetary guard... it may be doable."

"Little steps, my dear," Kenobi says. He looks down at Fett, who's... not well, it seems. "The Mand'alor needs some help, I think. I'm no trained mind healer, but I imagine I can help. More than most, maybe. There are few who know what it is to be a sole survivor."

He smirks, just a little, at the joke that he is not, in fact, a man who survived.

It's not very funny.

"I'll stay," Fett says. "I'll... I'll learn. Master Kenobi, you... Tell me to stay and I will be here for as long as you’ll have me."

"As a student?" Kenobi asks, catching on to just the same thing as Satine has. "Not in the Force, surely, but... you truly wish to stay?"

"There are none left alive that I would trust to show me the way," Fett says. Beseeching, he reaches for Kenobi, and his hands pass through. There's a pain in him that Satine can't quite comprehend, and Fett falls to his knees. "Please."

"You need only ask," Kenobi says. "The Duchess will look after our people until the King takes his throne, and then you will rule together."

They'll have to, Satine tells herself, and steps forward. She puts a hand on Fett's shoulder, and pulls him to his feet.

"Where do we begin?" she asks.

#satine kryze #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #ghosts #massacre mention #is this vaguely inspired by GLaDOS and Castle Heterodyne? ...yes #but less murdery overall #star wars #the clone wars #Phoenix Answers Memes #supernatural au #kinda #one shot #death mention #child death mention #horror au #also kinda

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bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher · 3 years

Text

Subtext, by Calvin Klein

happy birthday @stinastar!!! I know it’s not the prompt you wanted, but I’ll write that too. :) Thank you so much for being awesome and so so sweet!

Legally Blonde au - modern - fluffy pre-getting together

depending on the comments I get on this, I might post a second part

tw: Geralt’s tragic backstory (foster care mention)

---

Geralt approached Jaskier slowly and kept his hands firmly in the pockets of his loose-fitting jeans. “What’s up-” he noticed the bunny ears poking up from Jaskier’s fluffy brown hair and added “-doc?”

The young law student looked up at Geralt through teary black lashes and let out another soft sniffle, his lips wobbling unattractively. Geralt hurried to drape his zip-up hoodie over Jaskier’s bare shoulders and take a seat on the wooden bench beside him.

The worried teacher’s assistant rubbed his hands up and down Jaskier’s arms through the material, trying to warm him up a little better. “Why are you dressed as a Playboy bunny, sitting on a bench in the middle of the night in this terrible New England weather?”

“I made a terrible mistake in coming here.”

“What?”

Geralt had never heard Jaskier sound so utterly defeated. Usually the student was bright and bubbly, congenial to a fault even when he made mistakes or answered incorrectly during class discussions. The charming brunette seemed to pull bucket after bucket from a nearly endless well of positivity; until now, apparently.

As he sat beside Geralt on the worn wooden bench, wearing the tight pink leotard and little wrist cuffs, practically glowing in the yellow-tinged lamplight, he seemed too ethereal to be real. Even as he shivered and sniffled, Jaskier looked too gorgeous to be human. Seeing him in such a distressed state was a little unnerving, like bumping into an old teacher outside of school or accidentally seeing your neighbors kissing through a window. It felt wrong.

“I followed the love of my life to this stupid fucking university and now he’s going to marry some fancy, well-bred blonde woman like his parents wanted and I’m going to flunk out of these classes with nothing to show for my time here and my parents are going to-”

“Hey,” Geralt interrupted, taking one hand from his pocket to place on Jaskier’s trembling knee. “It’s going to be okay. Breathe, Jaskier.”

“Right. Breathing. Yeah.”

“Are you… okay?”

Jaskier looked at him again and Geralt flinched away from the obvious hurt in his watery blue eyes. Of course he’s not okay, he’s sobbing alone on a cold bench in the middle of Halloween night.

“Jaskier, I’m sorry. I’m not good with words but- Wait... are you saying you came to school because of a man?”

“Y-Yeah. You could put it that way, I guess.”

Geralt yanked his hand away from the younger man’s knee and scooted backwards, away from the man he’d just been admiring. “Oh my god, that has to be the absolute stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. You came all the way to Oxenfurt University’s prestigious and award-winning Law School to hunt down a husband?!”

Jaskier looks taken aback. Startled and bewildered and sad, like a much smaller child rather than an adult man with a degree and a half. “Are you mad at me!?”

“A little bit, yeah,” Geralt laughed humorlessly. He shook his head, swiping one hand over his face on his way to tuck in a stray strand of white hair. “I worked two jobs to get myself through college. I was doing full-time classes and pulling sixty hour weeks at the bar and the grocery store; I don’t think I’ve had a full night’s sleep since I graduated high school. I certainly don’t know the meaning of the word vacation anymore... and you came here to follow some- some guy that you liked?”

“We’d been together for three years before he suddenly dropped me to pursue a degree in fucking bitter looking women, to be completely fair. And I managed to get a good enough LSAT score to qualify for admittance, so it’s not like I’m totally incompetent.”

“No,” Geralt nodded, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess that’s true.”

“No guessing involved,” Jaskier spat, tired and angry and flustered. “It is the truth, plain and simple. I deserve to be here and I will be successful.”

“Hmm.”

“Well why are you here, then, Mr. Grouchy T.A.?”

“I grew up in foster care and let me tell you, from experience, that the system is shit. If I had been forced to remain a foster child for any longer than I was, I probably would have become a match-happy little delinquent like my youngest brother, Lambert. Luckily my third foster parent, Vesemir, adopted me legally and made me his son. He already had one adopted son, my older brother, Eskel, and after me there was Lambert.”

Jaskier took a moment to contemplate Geralt’s story, pulling the sweatshirt closer around his shoulders and burrowing down into the neckline in a way that sent butterflies swirling through Geralt’s stomach rather unexpectedly. Then the younger man smiled at him, pearly teeth glinting in the light of the streetlamp. “That’s… that’s a little sad and a little sweet. It makes sense.”

“What makes sense?”

“The sadness and the sweetness,” Jaskier repeated, grinning a little more shyly than before. Geralt wasn’t sure, since it was so dark and he was so skeptical, but it almost looked like Jaskier was blushing. “Like you. Sweet, kind, caring, but a little melancholy. Anyway, I should be getting back to my dorm. I need to study.”

“I want my sweatshirt back,” Geralt said, standing and offering Jaskier a hand up. He wobbled to his feet, still wearing a pair of dangerously high black stilettos. Geralt knew this outfit would haunt his dreams for the next few weeks and cursed Hugh Heffner’s lingering spirit.

“If you’re lucky,” Jaskier replied, and click-click-clicked his way into the darkness.

Geralt honestly wasn’t sure he’d mind if Jaskier decided to keep it… maybe someday he’d wear it to class. And didn’t the thought of that send something odd and new and terrifying swirling in Geralt’s gut.

---

“Where are we going, exactly?” Geralt asked, eyeing the giddy brunette before him. Jaskier batted his long eyelashes at the grumpy T.A. and gave his sweetest pout.

“You trust me, don’t you?”

“Hmm,” Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”

“Well then don’t stop now!”

The excitable young law student laced his fingers with Geralt’s and pulled him through the large glass doors and into the mall. When at last his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the shopping center he asked: “What is this place?”

Jaskier grinned, taking a deep, dramatic breath. “A department store.”

Geralt rolled his eyes and took his own deep breath, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “What is that smell?”

“Love,” Jaskier replied.

“What!?”

“Love,” the student repeated, pointing at a sign with his free hand. It was large and pink and read LOVE, BY CHANEL in black block-letters. “There’s Love in the air.”

“Terrible joke, really,” Geralt teased. “But really, Jaskier, why are we here? You have plenty of clothes for court; I know because I’ve been in your closet and seen them firsthand.”

“We’re not here for me,” Jaskier elbowed his mentor and study partner gently in the side. Their hands were still interlaced in a way that made Geralt’s heart thunder dangerously against his ribs; love really was in the air, it seemed. Jaskier continued breezily, unaware of the older man’s roiling internal conflict. “I’m taking you shopping so that you have the proper outfit to wear when accepting Stregobor’s partnership offer.”

They had reached the men’s business section and the brunette released Geralt’s hand in order to dig through the racks of clothing. He was elbow deep in Calvin Klein and Kenneth Cole, hunting for jackets in Geralt’s size. “Jaskier, I can’t afford this kind of-”

“Hush,” Jaskier replied, waving his hand dismissively in his direction, letting it go limp at the wrist. “It’s a gift. No! Not a gift, a repayment.”

“I didn’t give you anything…”

Jaskier looked up from the selection of suits he’d been inspecting and shot Geralt a dangerous glare. “You most certainly did give me something, Geralt Roger Eric du-Haute Bellegarde! You looked past my bubbliness and my pink blazer and my previous degree and treated me like a person. You supported me and encouraged me without asking for anything in return so this is what I’m giving you.”

Geralt took a step towards him and sneezed. “What is that smell?”

An attendant appeared as if from thin air, a little glass bottle clutched in her hand. “It’s Subtext, by Calvin Klein!”

“It’s not really my thing,” Geralt frowned, closing the distance between himeslf and Jaskier as he made his apologies, “But thank you, regardless.”

“Let me know if you gentlemen need anything!”

Geralt stepped close enough to feel the heat of Jaskier’s body, still not brave enough to initiate touch. “Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Jaskier grinned again.

Geralt considered the feelings that were stirring in his heart, driving through his veins, branching out through his mind so that all he could focus on was Jaskier...

It might be a problem, he thought, allowing himself to enjoy the moment. But it can be dealt with another time.

#legally blonde #legally blonde au #geraskier #geraskier ficlet #happy birthday stina #pre slash #legally blonde the musical #geraskier fluff #preslash #pre getting tgoether #getting together #bouncey's endless au collection

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