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mumms-the-word · 1 year ago

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Songs and Lyrics

Day 16 of the BG3 Fic February Challenge

This was not a good prompt to rush, alas, because this had so much potential to be cool or romantic or exciting or lovely. I didn't want to keep writing all Dani scenes (especially because the next one is a Dani scene) so I hammered out some scenes for Ardynn and Invi too.

The lyrics link out to the songs they are part of (one is I guess not an "official" song), so enjoy some musical-esque music if you like.

Check out my masterlist of BG3 fics!

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15. Write something inspired by book/poem/song

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Ardynn

You light the world for me, You live life fearlessly, Braver than the bravest of us do. You trust, you hope, you dare, You choose to feel and care, I thought that I was strong, ’til I bumped into you.

Halsin lay quietly, watching Ardynn sleep on in his arms, her breathing deep and even, her lashes dark against her freckled cheeks. In the months since he’d joined her and her companions, he’d watched her face impossible odds, defeating foe after terrifying foe, while at the same time never dwindling in her kindness for others or her tenderness toward her friends. Even recently, when he joined her in the fight against Gortash, against Orin, against Cazador and Viconia and others, struggling with the despair that threatened to crush them both as the city and those who controlled it continued to show them every horrible secret and dark reality it possessed, even then she remained steadfast. She came away every time with her head held high and her shoulders set with determination to do some kind of good in this wretched place.

She was a better person than he was, truly. He would have left the city behind days ago, left it to its fate. But she remained.

And tomorrow, they fought the elder brain.

It could be their last night together. They both knew that. Halsin had drawn her away from the others to a separate room and had spent the better part of a few hours worshiping her body until she lay, smiling and spent, all tension gone from her body. She’d fallen asleep almost instantly in his arms, no hint of any dreams disturbing her rest.

He could stare at her for hours, content to count the freckles on her skin to pass the time. He reached out and wound a lock of her hair around his finger, careful not to wake her, though she seemed well past the point of light slumber. He brought the lock of hair, the color of rich red clay shot through with bright sunset tones of red and orange, up to his lips and kissed the strands gently.

She was perfection, in body and spirit. He adored everything about her, from her spring-green eyes to the scar on her lip, from the freckles that scattered across her shoulders to the shape of her legs, every subtle curve, every tense muscle, every soft touch. He felt he could live another hundred years exploring her body, her mind, and still find new things to love and appreciate. He wished he could wake her, kiss her, lavish even more affection on her, but she needed to sleep. She needed all the rest she could get in order to succeed in their battle tomorrow.

So he contented himself to watch, turning over thoughts about her slowly in his mind. Admiring how, even the day before a seemingly impossible fight, she had still worked to help those in need in the city. She was the best of them, he felt, meeting every challenge with fearless determination while never sacrificing her tender-hearted feelings. She hurt for those who were hurting and reached out a hand to those who needed aid, and she never once shied away from a fight that needed fighting.

She was dappled sunlight, a gentle radiance from above that filtered through the leaves and offered nourishment to the seedlings below. She was a summer rainstorm, too, destructive and powerful and unwilling to let up until those that would do harm were nullified, destroyed. She was a daisy flower, fresh as springtime, sweet, simple, appearing and flourishing in unexpected places. And she was a strong oak, stretching out her boughs to provide shelter and shade for her loved ones underneath, unwavering in the face of turmoil.

She was stronger than him, for all that strength was worth. At times, more than once, he felt that if he had been the one in her place, he would have buckled, given up, given in. She never did. Never once.

He gathered her close in his arms, gentle so as not to wake her, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Tomorrow would decide their fates, and the fate of the city she had worked so hard to protect. But tonight, tonight she was his. He would share her with the world tomorrow, step back and watch her share her light, her courage, her kindness, her care, with all those who needed it, but tonight he would be selfish, gather her in his arms, and believe for a brief moment that she was only his to love and adore.

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Dani

Every other night, Dani would walk to a far edge of camp, by the river’s edge, and practice her music on her fiddle. It had become a routine, one that was as comfortably part of their camp life as eating dinner or keeping the fire burning. Sometimes her music was cheery, winding down to lullabies to lull everyone to sleep. Sometimes it was contemplative, played entirely for herself, her own thoughts, her own moods.

Gale had grown to love her music, regardless of what it was. In his home in Waterdeep, he had enchanted his piano to play music almost constantly while he studied and read. Especially in his isolation, he had grown to hate the pressure of a silent room. Though the air outside in their camp was far from silent, filled with the noise of other people in the camp, the crickets, the birds in the morning, the wind through the trees and the burble of the river, Dani’s music was just one more welcome addition that cut through the quiet.

But something about tonight was different. Her song, as it wafted over the camp, seemed…sad. Melancholy. Dani had a gift for conveying emotion in her song, when she herself felt the weight of it within her. Listening to the long notes and gentle turns of the melody, Gale felt a strange longing in his chest. He rubbed his hand over his chest absently, pondering the music as he lay in his tent, wondering what was on Dani’s mind.

Not that he ought to be thinking too long on her. He had to maintain his distance, lest he fall to her charms and…

But who was he fooling? He’d already fallen for her charms. He’d already fallen for her golden eyes and ready wit, already found himself waking each morning a little happier knowing she’d flash him that quick smile across the camp, already found himself watching her whenever she unraveled and combed through her braids, as though such a simple act were as fascinating as studying arcane secrets inside a magical tome.

But that was dangerous. For both of them. If he gave in to his school-boy longing for her, or worse, allowed himself to follow that crush and let it develop into deeper desires, then he was just goading the orb in his chest to react to his elevated emotions. Already he’d felt the flare of pain when something Dani had said, some teasing, flirtatious remark, had set his heart racing. The orb was quick to remind him that it was there too, nestled right beside his traitorous heart.

But still, Dani’s song called to him, and his curiosity got the better of him. He finally got up, putting on his shoes, and stepped out of his tent, following the sound of the music to where he knew he’d find her playing.

She stood, out there in the moonlight, cradling the fiddle against her jaw and shoulder, gliding the bow across the strings with a light, practiced touch. He paused to watch her for a moment, not wanting to interrupt, until at last the song came to an end.

“Beautiful melody,” he said, folding his hands behind his back. She turned, looking only a little surprised to find him standing nearby. “It’s not one that I recognize. Does it have a name?”

“A Fair Rose,” she said. “That’s the short name, anyway. It’s an old folk ballad, of sorts.”

“I see. Well, it’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

There it was again. That awkwardness between them that came up every now again, made by one or the other’s interested approach, maintained by the other’s wary distance. He recalled the way she’d looked at him as he taught her how to manipulate the threads of the Weave, recalled the image she had shared with him, of her taking his face in her hands and bringing him down for a kiss.

Oh, if only he could.

He cleared his throat, trying to find something else to say. “Does it have lyrics? Perhaps you could sing it. If you’re comfortable, that is. You have a beautiful voice.”

Yes, this was going so smoothly...

She tilted her head, one of her braids slipping over one shoulder. She was looking at him curiously, but he hoped she wouldn’t inquire further. He was just making conversation, mostly. He hoped.

“Sure,” she said after a moment. She turned to face him more fully and readied her fiddle again, closing her eyes.

Her bow hovered over the strings a moment before at last she coaxed it into the first notes of the song. With her eyes closed, Gale had full freedom to watch her without embarrassment, admiring the moonlight hue on her skin, the grace with which she moved as she swayed to the melody, her expression shifting incrementally, eyebrows drawing together and then relaxing as she went through the notes. She was beautiful. Mesmerizing, even, especially when she played, her body moving in fluid, elegant motion. He could watch her for hours.

“I’d a-pluck a fair rose for my love,” she sang. “I’d a-pluck a red rose blowin’…Love’s in my heart, I’m tryin’ so to prove, what your heart’s knowin’…”

His little smile faded as the words washed over him, his mind registering their message slowly. These were not the words he had been expecting out of an old folk ballad. He began to understand, began to worry that he had opened the door for something he couldn’t yet face, and yet, she played on without him.

“I’d a-pluck a finger on a thorn, I’d a-pluck a finger bleedin’. Red is my heart, a-wounded and forlorn, and your heart needin’.”

Her expression shifted, almost looking pained as she dragged the bow across the strings, the melody taking over without her voice. The music seemed almost to pine itself, gentle and yet full of longing. Gale was speechless, watching her, an ache in his chest that he didn’t want yet to acknowledge.

“I’d a-hold a finger to my tongue,” she sang, and the image came vividly to Gale’s mind, her sole audience. “I’d a-hold a finger waitin’. My heart is sore, until it joins in song…with your heart matin’. My heart is sore, until it joins in song…”

She opened her eyes on the last line, her gold, glowing gaze meeting his. “With your heart matin’.”

He swallowed, the weight of her words settling over him as she closed out the song with another several notes on the violin, until at last the final note hung, lingering, in the air. She never took her eyes off him, but she didn’t seem flirty or expectant either. She simply watched, her face a mask, slowly lowering fiddle and bow so that they hung inert at her sides.

“Well,” Gale said softly. “I…that was beautiful. As always. You have a gift for music, Dani…as you already know.”

He paused, trying to find more words to say, but he felt they had already been said. Or sung, rather. Dani had revealed her thoughts, her longings to him, and he had nothing to give in return. Not yet. Not while the orb still remained unstable.

“Thank you,” he said. “I should, ah…leave you to your practice.”

He turned to go, wishing he’d never ventured over, only for her voice to stop him.

“It’s just a song, Gale,” she said. He turned to find her unmoved, her instrument at her side. “It doesn’t have to be anything more than a song.”

“No,” he breathed, shaking his head. “No, it was much more than that.”

He wanted to say more, so much more. He wanted to bridge the gap, cross the distance between them, take her face in his hands and explain everything, try to get her to see why he was being so overly cautious. But what it would amount to? Under the steadiness of her watchful gaze, waiting for him to say more, he mentally retreated back to safety.

“Thank you,” he said again. “You’ve given me much to think on.”

“Gale…”

“Soon, Dani. Not tonight, but…soon, I hope. Sleep well.”

He left her on the riverbank, retreating back to his tent, his mind replaying the song and its words almost without his bidding. Though she’d said it was just a song, he knew it was more than that. And while not exactly a confession, he knew he’d be a fool to ignore her feelings any longer, whatever they were. He had to stop pretending that the moments they’d shared, the moment with the Weave, the minutes together at the tiefling party, the little glances since, that they would all amount to nothing. He was falling for her, as sure as the sun rose every morning and the moon lit up the sky every night.

Perhaps it was time to entertain the notion, as impossible as it may seem to him, that she was falling for him too.

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Invi

Only we know what we’ve both been through If I save you, will you save me too?

Invi stood outside the stone walls of Bhaal’s temple, her newly restored memories warring with the fear in her chest. This was her home. This was her worst nightmare. This had been her church, her temple. It could very soon be her tomb. She saw herself in her mind’s eye, laid out on the stone altar, Orin’s blade sunk deep in her throat. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Black began to cloud her vision.

“My love.”

Astarion’s voice came quietly to her ears, breaking through the roar of blood that pounded in her head. She turned, blindly, to face him, finding him watching her with concern.

Ever since Cazador’s death, he’d been quieter. More contemplative. He hadn’t lost any of his wit or sharp humor or thorny comments, but with her, when they were alone, something had settled in him. When he watched her struggle with her dark urges, watched her struggle to fall into a restful meditation each night, he didn’t tease her as much. Instead, he’d held her hand and spoken softly to her. Not comforting words, not always, but some kind of conversation to distract her.

But did she need distraction right now? She was one step away from facing her sister. The blood-drunk, erratic, mad woman that was Orin, daughter and granddaughter of Sarevok. Invi had spent the last several months wondering about her family, only to be met with the realization that the only family she could lay claim to were incestuous monsters who sought to bleed and shred and feast on flesh.

Like her.

“Orin is behind that door,” she whispered, finally acknowledging Astarion’s quiet concern. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue. She took a shaky breath. “Would you think less of me if I said I was terrified?”

Surely he understood. She’d watched the way he spent half of his nights raining acidic vitriol down on Cazador’s name, eager to wrap his hands around the vampire master’s throat, and the other half pacing, his face tight with thinly veiled anxiety as he tried to plot the impossible, a way into Cazador’s ritual, with nothing to go on. She remembered the fear that had sometimes crept into his eyes when he recalled the power that Cazador could wield, and what power Cazador threatened to wield should he succeed in ascending, only to try and forcefully replace that brief fear with brazen confidence and a lust for power. He’d almost convinced her, too, that he was no longer afraid, until at last she sat with him on the floor of Cazador’s dungeon as he sobbed, his body releasing all the pent-up fear and loathing and sorrow that it had been ignoring for two hundred years.

Now when he looked at her, trembling before the temple of Bhaal, there was a kind of recognition in his eyes. An understanding. He seemed almost sad for her, though she tried not to dwell too much on that idea.

“She wants a duel, just the two of us,” Invi said. “Am I strong enough?”

“Oh, my love,” Astarion said, his lips forming a familiar, confident smirk, all traces of worry or pity gone. “Of course you are. Think of all the other, more powerful people you’ve killed before reaching this point.”

“With you at my side,” she said, unswayed by his confidence. “With you and everyone else there. Astarion.” She faced him fully, wanting to reach for his hands but stopping herself. She knew it was all a trick of her mind, but she felt as though the blood of all her victims were drip, drip, dripping down the ends of her fingers and she didn’t want to sully his clothing. “Were you scared before facing Cazador?”

He didn’t answer immediately, perhaps sensing his answer was important to her. She waited, barely breathing, until at last, he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek, his tough feather-light.

“Of course,” he whispered. “You were there. You saw how I was.”

She could only remember disdain, anger, and a complex despair once he saw his own victims caged in the dungeon. But then she remembered how they’d finally entered the inner sanctum, and how his body had trembled as he stood next to her, watching Cazador prepare the ritual with six branded spawn, and a seventh space opened for him.

“But we defeated Cazador,” he said. “And you will defeat Orin, my love.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You can. You saved me from Cazador’s ritual and faced off against the most powerful vampire in the city. Believe me, my love, Orin will be nothing in comparison.”

Still she struggled to believe him. She needed his promise, though of what she didn’t know. As she tried to figure out her next words, she took one of his hands in both of her own, holding it between their hearts. She was only distantly surprised to see that her hands were clean.

“You say that I saved you,” she said. “If I fall to Orin, if she wins…Astarion, will you save me, too?”

His expression softened in an instant, softer than perhaps she had ever seen him. Her heart beat a war drum rhythm of terror in her chest, but as he stroked her cheek with his fingers, she found herself calming under his touch.

“Of course, my love,” he murmured. “I’d go to the hells and back for you. And I’d make sure that Orin suffered for every tiny little cut she had the nerve to blemish your perfect body with.”

Invi couldn’t help but smile, that dark urge within her reveling in the idea even as the rest of her grew calm at his words. She let her eyes flutter closed as he leaned in to kiss her, his lips soft against hers. When he drew back, he wore his usual smirk.

“But I won’t have to intervene at all,” he said, still smiling. “Because you will have ground Orin to a paste before I can so much as step forward. And I look forward to seeing you do so, my dear.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. Orin had to die, just as Cazador had to die. And if Astarion could swallow his fears to face his tormentor of two hundred years, then Invi could face her Bhaalist sister.

“Go on, then, my darling,” he said, letting go of her hands. “Kill her, extra bloody, just for me. I’ll be watching.”

Watching, just a short distance away, ready to jump in if she needed him. It was the last bit of confidence she needed. She stole one last kiss from his lips before turning back to face the doors to the temple of Bhaal.

It was time to end this.

#bg3 #bg3 fic #bg3ficfeb #my fic #oc #ardynn #ardynn harrow #halsin #meridan zavrai #dani #gale #gale dekarios #invi #astarion #hoooo boy these were RUSHED

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elizabethplaid · 8 months ago

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evening notes - oct 15, 2024

I slept for about 3 hours this afternoon. Kinda forgot when I had last slept before that. I DO know that I was in the bath at 2:30 and out around 6am. I'm not sure how much I remember from dinner and earlier. My memory is bad, and I was clearly awake for more than 24 hours.

Since I didn't get my lab sample today, I'm going to wait til next week. The doc is only there 2 days a week, and he wanted to see the results and call me asap. *shrug*

Oh and because of sleeping, I didn't go to the library, like I had planned. Is that a bad thing? No. The "mania" of staying up all night and then continuing to do things meant that I had grand, unrealistic plans.

On the bright side, I slept with clothes on! Even socks! And I've been wearing them all evening, including the hooded sweater I thrifted back in May. I've had also been writhing, overwhelmed by my sense of touch. Mostly good, just intense.

Talk about nail polish failure is below the cut.

I used the blue Rimmel polish tonight, and it seemed to dry okay. But when I layered the sheer "fairy tale" polish over it, it seemed to melt. Like, I could wipe off the majority of it with a paper towel. So I did, alas. I cleaned it up the big chunks with non-acetone nail polish remover, then hit the details with acetone. (Gotta use up the non-acetone somehow.)

Since it took me so long to do my nails and then undo them, I've left them blank for now. Also, that sheer shimmer has left specks everywhere. I'll try to redo it tomorrow, perhaps with the "miami spirit" shade, maybe without the sheer stuff.

Why not just skip the sheer stuff and retry the Rimmel? The base-top coat is the same brand. If it's a chemical reaction from that, I worry that it'll happen again when I reapply the clear coat. Plus, the Rimmel is one of my older ones and was really cheap. If I reattempt it ever again, I'll buy some Rimmel-branded base-top coat, just to be safe.

I swear, I have a ton of nail polish, and I just never used it over the years. I'd keep buying bottles, wear it a couple times, then forget about it. ======

Briefly talked about sleep hygiene with my dad, and how bad my sleep habits are. Very likely a result of hanging out in bed all day, along with playing with my phone and laptop in bed.

I'm relying on very old coping mechanisms lately, because of my sense of touch being overloaded. I think I stopped hiding in my room all the time in 2011ish? That's when I'd have my laptop at the kitchen table. After mom passed, I had it in the living room. (Really, I stayed in my room to avoid her.)

Truly, the sooner I can at least hang out in the living room during the day, the better my sleep will get.

#daily notes

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smindersonfan · 1 year ago

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The Night before the night before Christmas by Rose Mary Barlow in December 1966

‘Twas the night before etcetera…and all through the house

One creature was stirring, and that was NO mouse.

‘Twas Mama, with no kerchief, but an eye full of gloom

While the turkey was thawing all over the room.

Papa was asleep, and the children were dreaming

Of tomorrow night’s joys from the sky to come streaming.

Even Santa, away at the top of the earth,

Was pounding HIS ear in his own downy berth.

Meanwhile Mama slaved away 'til the morn

On last minute wrapping ere the great Day was born.

Now where did she hide those darn gifts for the kids

Bought way last October and put under lids?

From the top of the house to the bottom again

Mama raced to and fro and then into the den.

“Now Dasher, now Prancer, now Donder and Blitzen”,

She mutters and fumes as she marks 'Hers’ or 'His'n’.

The scotch tape breaks off and the bows fall apart,

While the paper won’t stretch…a new roll she must start!

The tree lights won’t work and blow all the fuses.

Pine needles clog the sweeper, which also confuses.

The coffee pot perks for at least one more cup

While Mama eases her back by just standing straight up.

A couple of aspirin soon remedy this

And she hangs up the mistletoe with a sibilant hiss.

The camera now…Are there flash bulbs? How many?

Does it have any film? But, of course, there’s not any.

No matter how long she works through the night

There’ll be plenty to do when tomorrow turns bright.

The moon does NOT shine on the new fallen snow.

The darn stuff won’t fall this year, Christmas or no!

Sleds and ice skates will be poorly received

And the children by sleigh bells will NOT be deceived.

“Alas! Is THIS Christmas?”, she cries out in despair.

'Tis enough to turn white poor Mother’s dark hair!

But at last she gives up with a shake of her head

And, still in her clothes, she falls into bed.

Tomorrow will be Christmas Eve, and she’ll say

“Merry Christmas to all”, for there’s always SOME way!

#christmas poem #family #family tradition #christmas tradition #christmas

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blink-echo · 12 days ago

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New cloudward ho tomorrow, alas lads it’s not out til at midnight here so actually new cloudward ho on Thursday but ah boyos, you’ll never believe, a prior engagement on thursday night buck up buck up cloudward ho as a Friday night treat although! not this Friday my babes we’re out and about but!! Fret ye not, it will be there on Saturday. Cloudward ho on Saturday everyone!! get hyped.

new cloudward ho tomorrow. did you guys know did you guys hear new cloudward ho tomorrow new cloudward ho tomorrow. idk if you guys heard but it’s happening again this week they’re putting out another cloudward ho there’ll be a new one tomorrow. new cloudward ho tomorrow

#cloudward ho #the real marshmallow test is avoiding the tags #having a little peak at tunblr but with squinty eyes #so I can respectfully look before I see anything #the second secret yet more difficult marshmallow test #is avoiding the fic #god speed soldiers #we’ll need it

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faerunscursed · 11 months ago

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Isobel sensed something off, though she couldn't put her finger on what it was. Her feet were bare as she moved through the grand hall of Moonrise towers. Walls as white as the moon, the beautiful stonework of the moon maiden engraved into the walls and symbolic images of the moon or stars all around. Stain glass windows held different imagery, some of flowers, others of the crescent moon, of brilliant white deer and more. And the sun shimmered through as it was setting offering up a kaleidoscope of colors. She reached her hand up and allowed it to dance in the colors with a chuckle on her lips before heading up the stairs.

The brief moment of joy faded, still concerned. Where had her father been all day? In fact, he had been gone for two days and not a soul had seen him. She had asked around, the cook, the maids, yet none of them had seen where he had gone. The throne room was empty, a few of the residents confused as they wanted to ask his advice but were turned away with word that he would be back hopefully tomorrow. Even Aylin seemed baffled by were the governor of Reithwin had gone, but she had told Isobel not to worry, that he no doubt had business to attend to that require his vital attention.

Still, there was this inkling of a twist that something was wrong with her father. A feeling like a creeping vine, twisting like a weed that threatened to kill of the moon flowers. She picked up her dress, and made her way to her father's chambers, where she paused in front of a bust. The silver gray stone held her mother's features so perfectly as she brushed her hand up against it. "Ma, I miss you… so much. If you were here, you would know what to do," Isobel took a breath and settled down at a desk. The minutes droned on to hours and she had dozed off. It wasn't until nightfall the the door opened up and Isobel jumped up and the chair fell backwards.

There, finally, was her father, though he looked as weary as a overworked horse. "Dad, what…. are you okay?" She questioned, as she shifted on her feet til she was closer and could get a good look at his features. Her elf ears flicked a little bit, showing her concern for him.

There was something to be said about those who had the ability to change the course of someones life. To make them question everything they had ever known and force them to begin anew. Melodia had been that, for the Elven man, whose family had long followed the guidelines that had been set by Shar. He had never questioned it, even when it was Shar who arranged that they would meet. "Go to Selune's most faithful, join with her and when it is the perfect time to strike, corrupt her and come back to me." Shar had said, only it hadn't quite worked out that way. For as soon as he set eyes on Melodia, she had stoked a fire in his heart like an aphrodisiac.

That love had led to the creation of something he never imagined he would have, a daughter, whom had so quickly become their everything. Under the light of Selune, he had found a new purpose, one not forged in loss, but love and warmth. With them at his side, he could accomplish anything. He could spread joy across the Reithwin. But alas, tragedy, it seemed, would always find him. His decision to turn his back on Shar's command came back to haunt him as his wife had become ill. Ketheric, for his part, had done everything he could to help his precious Melodia better, but not even the holiest of magics could save her from the throes of death.

Despair had overtaken him as many nights since, he struggled with his faith in Selune. He couldn't even enter the chambers that had been mutually shared by him and his beloved without feeling the ache of pain that accompanied him with her loss. Isobel would never know of this pain, either, and for her he put on a brave face. The face of the father she had known and the man broken pieces of a man that he was underneath the surface. One night he found himself returning, then, to the one place he had not dare to venture forth to since his union with Melodia. The temple of Shar. "Selune never cared about you, Ketheric. Why else would she take away your beloved Melodia?" Shar whispered in his ear, her voice loud in contrast to the silence of the dead around him. "Come back to me and I can make you strong again. You and your daughter could have a purpose, you could save your daughter from the same fate."

"My Isobel... I would never let that happen. She is all I have left of my beloved. I will protect her and keep her save." Ketheric said with a hint of determination as he glanced at her statue. "But, much like her mother, she can not be swayed. Nor can I leave her."

Many words were left unsaid as he departed, but he could feel Shar's disapproving judgement. Unbeknowst to him what role she would truly play in times to come. Yet, he had spent hours there, in Shar's presence, weeping the loss of his love. His face was sore from the tears he could not contain, and so by the time he returned to moonrise, he was all but spent. Then to see Isobel his chambers, his heart ached at her concern and at the clear evidence that she, too, was still grieving.

"Isobel, it is late. What are you still doing awake?" Ketheric could not get himself to look his daughter in the eyes as the pain hit his chest. "You should be in your bed, I am sure Aylin misses your company, does she not?" There was a pang of jealousy in that, too, knowing that he lost his love, and that Aylin was still there to hold Isobel in the way he could not. A lovers touch was different from a father's after all. "I've noticed she has comforted you, I am glad. I suppose apart of me is envious,but I promise I will be fine."

#ferinehuntress #; test muse | Ketheric ;#{ Ketheric and Isobel thread }#{ whatever the inquiry; know that you may come to me | ask response }

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bakuvantea · 4 years ago

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GOOD MORNING (or wherever you are) I CAME UP WITH SOMETHING

HOW ABOUT HEADCANONS ABOUT SJW WITH A FEM S/O THAT DOESNT TRUST HIM BECAUSE SHE CAUGHT HIM KISSING CHA HAE-IN

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE BUT REMEMBER TO HAVE A MEAL, DRINK WATER AND RELAX

- 😎

recreant

- synopsis: sung jin-woo with a fem!s/o that has doubts after seeing him kiss hunter cha hae-in

- warnings: i like angst so,,,

- audience: yep, its fem!s/o my loves, i also made them into a co-manager of jin-ho!

- a/n: hello hello dear 😎-anon, i hope you'll like it! stay healthy n drink lotsa water! eat lots too! <333 i also made a drabble, hope ya don't mind!

-•-

> after having witnessed what happened you felt numb, it hurts but you did always have your doubts after seeing them always being with each other's company, along with your time with jin-woo slowly decreasing due to him cancelling every dates and movie nights

> it was inevitable, you try to convince yourself

> she was better, had everything you didn't

> back then you had one thing that she did not have, but alas she have also taken it now huh?

> jin-woo would embrace you, telling you it was the alcohol and nothing else

> was it really? the audacity of them both to do it inside your shared apartment

> it hurts, really

> after giving him all your heart can offer, he just decides to fck it up

> you'd see tears well up in his eyes. big bad s-rank hunter now on his knees trying to talk you into staying with him

> so, would you?

-•-

it was a slow day in the agency, you and jin-ho had already finished up the reports and other necessary documents to be sent to the hunter's association, while soo-hyun filed a day-off due to her shoots.

"(name), i am bored out of my mind," jin-ho said while slumping down his chair

you sigh, "wanna play uno 'til woo comes back?"

jin-ho then perks up, eyes gleaming with mischief, he dashed over to your cubicle all while saying, "why don't we wait for him outside the dungeon? a 'lil surprise won't hurt!"

"i mean, i guess? well then i'll clean up while you text jin-ho that we're gonna meet up with him."

"no no! we're gonna surprise him okay? come on, we can clean up tomorrow, let's hurry up or we won't be able to catch the boss!"

you chuckle at his antics, "okay, fine mr. manager."

and so with nothing to do, you both decided to drop by the dungeon jin-woo was currently in. the gate was an a-rank, fairly easy for someone of woo's caliber, you thought as you drove you both to the location, all while listening to jin-ho ramble about how strong his hyung is.

finally reaching your destination, you both hop off your car, no one was in sight, lest for the few kids gawking at how big the gate is.

you walk over to them, "hey there kiddos, it's real dangerous here. why don't you guys go home in exchange for these candies i have?" already taking out some lollipops from your pocket you stop when you hear one of them speak out, "there's nothing to worry about! hunter sung and hunter cha were together in that dungeon!"

you still for a moment, hunter cha was also in the gate?

"hey, took you long enough hyung!"

you turn and see jin-woo stepping out alone. you look at the kid again and ask, "are you sure you also saw hunter cha?"

the kid beams, wildly nodding his head, "yeah! they were really darn sweet too! i think they're a couple, right mi-ho? although she did leave early, dunno why tho" the other kid nods and says, "they even kissed right before entering!"

kissed? who? jin-ho and hunter cha?

you were pulled out of your thoughts after feeling two strong pair of arms wrap around your middle, holding your form close to theirs

"hey there love," you heard jin-woo say, voice just above a whisper

the kids stared at you with clear confusion on their faces, you try to smile and you stutter out a, "this will be our little secret okay boys? better get home now huh 'lil lads? go on now, here's your candy as promised! take care okay?" the kids thanked you after taking their sweets and then dashed off to who knows where, leaving you with jin-woo and jin-ho

"strange, why did those kids look like they just saw a ghost?" jin-woo says, a pout evident with the tone he used

"maybe you're just that scary hyung!"

"oh, shut it jinho"

your mind was a mess, did jin-woo really..

"hey, let's go to that newly opened bar right across the street! my friends gave it high reviews," jin-ho says, dragging you and jin-woo with him

"are you alright, love?"

love? what did he call hunter cha then..

you smile, saying, "never been better woo."

-•-

it's been weeks since that encounter with the kids, and you have noticed too many things that you normally would have considered… well, normal

you have begun to doubt jin-woo

and his 'love' for you

each 'i love you' felt so foreign

each embrace felt so cold

why did it come to this

jin-woo always had somewhere to go to in the evenings, all of a sudden hunter cha would always visit the ahjin guild and would always talk to jin-woo alone in his office

he had canceled so many of your dates

you sigh, you were out with your friends the whole day. you stare at your phone and look at the time, it's just 8:20 pm, the party was until dawn but you left early since your feet were starting to hurt from all the dancing and the loud music really started to make your head throb. taking the keys of you and woo's shared apartment, you stumble into the house muttering a slurred, "i'm back early."

you were so tired, really

the lights in the kitchen were the only lights open, assuming jin-woo was cooking something up you then walk to that direction

"hey, woo-"

you stopped

what was that? there were silent whispers, breathy voices

from whom?

you hide in the corner and peak at where the noises came from

nothing could have prepared you for what you saw

you boyfriend was kissing hunter cha

their tongues sliding into each other's caverns, small whimpers escaping hae-in

you stare at them blankly

you head was throbbing, your feet feel like giving up

you then walk in without a care, heading to the fridge to get water

the two were shocked, scrambling out of each other's embrace with jin-woo pushing hunter cha away from him

"(name)! it's not what you think! i was-"

"let's discuss this tomorrow, i'm tired woo." you stare at them both after having poured yourself a cup of ice cold water, you lift your cup up and ask, "would you like some hunter cha?"

you then stare back at jin-woo, "how about you, cheater?"

-•-

- a/n: TO BE CONTINUED!! 😎-anon please drop in the asks lmaosoaos do you want this to end up badly or to have 'em make up? your choice bubba <333 the actual headcanons will be in the next 'chapter'

you may consider leaving me a tip here :> its a big help since i'll be going to college!! - paypal.me/mariletmg (im using my moms paypal acc hdbshbds)

#sung jin woo x reader #sung jin woo #solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #manhwa #jin woo #jinwoo #sung jinwoo #winamikobabbles #sung jinwoo x reader #winamikowrites

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maythewidowtakeusall · 4 years ago

Text

SUN-KISSED Pt. 2

Part 1 | Part 2

Read on AO3

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Wordcount: 2894

Warnings: alcohol

Summary: An argument with your boyfriend Steve Rogers is the perfect incentive to go out drinking with Natasha.

It's sunset again, Natasha notices, but she pushes the thought down as your fingers tangle with hers. You tug on her arm and she follows you silently, pathetically at your whim at all times, even when she knows she should tell you it's a bad idea. Because it is. She doesn't trust herself sober around you, and she's scared of what a few drinks will do.

But you're adamant, your mascara smudged under your eyes from crying earlier. She hates it, she hates Steve for making you feel so bad about yourself, about your work. You're fucking amazing, and though she respects the old man, she's not going to let him do this to you. He can stick his second world war virtues up his ass.

Despite the considerable force you're pulling her along with, she stops you, spins you around, curls an arm around your waist tightly to hold you close. She can't help but smirk as your eyes widen.

She probably enjoys this too much. But it was you who called her.

You watch with confusion as Natasha licks her thumb and swipes it across your cheeks gently, wiping away the last telltale signs of your argument with Steve. Your eyes shine more brightly than they usually do, but otherwise you look perfect again, even with your tousled hair and carelessly thrown on leather jacket.

"There."

"It was the mascara, right? I forgot about that," you say with a sheepish smile that soon drops, the feeling of your cheeks heating up deepening your embarrassment. It's the proximity of another human being, or the two shots of tequila you had back at the Avengers Tower, or the fact that at least she genuinely seems to give a shit about you. At any rate, it feels soothing after all the jarring words you and Steve threw around earlier. You need a girls' night out, you need to be told not to overthink things, to let loose.

And the moment you stormed out of Steve's room, you knew who you had to turn to. You knew it was only Natasha you wanted around and no one else.

She didn't protest. In fact, she dropped her plans at a moment's notice to go out with you. She promised to take you to a dive bar, one she knows like the back of her hand that has good drinks and even better prices. It's close to her place, and you will crash there afterwards. She said will, not can. She's not letting you go back to Steve in the state you are in, the state he's put you in.

And you are perfectly alright with that plan.

The Coyote is a small but handsome place, with soft blues rock whining in the background, furnished with tables and bar stools from a bygone era. There's a pool table in the back, a woman in her fifties tending the bar with a frown as one of the patrons knocks his drink over. You stand in awe for a minute as the bartender - who also happens to be the owner of this particular dive - berates the man in front of her for spilling his beer. "You think I want to clean up after you all night, Larry?" she throws him a disdainful look before muttering under her breath as she fetches a rag to mop up the beer that bleeds down the wooden surface just like your mascara ran down your cheeks not so long ago. "Fucking lightweight."

"Well, what do you think?" Natasha smiles, pleased to see enthusiasm stealing behind your eyes.

"I love it. It's so..."

"Vintage?" she helps. She knows you love old things in the most adorable way. You love everything that is vintage, everything that takes you back to times you never lived in - buildings, furniture, streets, monuments, museums... People. Old people too, she reminds herself bitterly.

"Yeah," you smile.

She matches your smile, knowing eyes drinking in your improving mood greedily. "Wait til you've tried their drinks. Holly prides herself on only keeping the best of the best."

The night is a lot slower and more mellow than what you expected. You wanted wild, you wanted to force the thoughts out of your mind, you wanted to be exhausted, maybe even blackout and start over fresh tomorrow. But you're just tipsy, the alcohol filling your body with a gentle buzz that's not at all unpleasant. You and Nat have paced yourselves, and you talk, and fill the booth you took for just the two of you with genuine laughter and ease. She matches your teasing tone when you joke, indulges you when you steer the conversation to deeper waters. However, you've been tiptoeing around Steve, and the argument, but Natasha unravels you, and she listens to what you have to say, and it's fucking difficult to admit, but she seems to understand you more than Steve ever did - so you cave in when she puts a hand on your forearm. It feels right, too right, but her question distracts you.

"So... Should we address the elephant in the room or is this the point where we pick up the pace a little?"

Your shoulders sag when you realise you don't really want to get drunk. You don't want wild. Or reckless. Lights out, with the bittersweet relief of not remembering a god damn thing about tonight. You just want this moment, even if it is difficult to open up to her. "I don't know what to say."

"I do," she quips. "Steve's a moron."

You laugh, despite everything, and it makes her tighten her grip on your arm encouragingly for a second. "He's not a moron. But he did act rather moronic today."

"I think you did well on the mission," Nat declares, leaning back and lifting her glass of beer to her lips.

"I was reckless."

"Those are his words, not yours."

"Yeah... The thing is, I don't feel guilty about what I've done at all. I calculated the risks, and I trusted my abilities to see me through the job. Mission accomplished - even if my tactics were questionable from a strictly military perspective."

Nat nods, and a silence settles over the two of you as she draws patterns on the cold wet glass in her hands. It's comfortable, and her wordless agreement wraps around you like a warm blanket. Your gaze meets the attentive green emeralds of her eyes, and you swallow thickly. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's your loneliness, but she looks so fucking beautiful in the dim light of the bar, green military style jacket slipping down on one shoulder to reveal her black tank top. You shouldn't, you shouldn't, and you can't help it, and she frowns softly, trying to read your thoughts. And you worry, you worry she can read you easily, you worry she can open you up and trace the lines of your attraction to her with her fingertips.

Because that's what this is, you realise. Attraction. No matter how fucked up it is, no matter how angry it makes you at yourself. Steve's back at the Avengers Tower dissecting the argument in his head while worrying about where you've slipped off to. But you know he doesn't approve, not even his guilt can make him see that you shouldn't have to justify your every move on missions. You're far from helpless, and yet he treats you like a damsel in distress. Like you're less than him in a way, just because you weren't injected with the super soldier serum.

You want to be treated as an equal. In the team, in your relationships, during your missions. You want to be seen for who you are - a capable person, an effective agent, a force to be reckoned with, a mind that can easily keep up with the rest of the Avengers. Alas none of them really see you that way, and Steve is no exception.

But Natasha is.

The cab ride is quiet, you two sit in the back, eyes somehow glued to each other, Steve forced to the back of your mind as an unpleasant thought by what you feel for Nat in this very moment. You wonder if this feeling has always been in you, hidden, denied, labelled impossible and maybe even shameful. She reaches across and gently places her hand in yours.

And for whatever reason, you don't pull it back.

You've never seen her flat before, but it's everything you've expected. Laid back yet angular, stylish yet chaotic, inviting yet intimidating. It's an effervescent mixture, just like she is, and she pulls you inside without a second thought, exposing her hideout as if you came here every other day, as if letting you in her most private corner of the world was absolutely normal.

The thought of it makes your insides burn with a feeling you know you shouldn't allow to even exist.

It's late, but you're both hungry, and you make sandwiches in the small kitchen while joking and keeping the conversation light, amicably bumping your shoulders together. It hurts, for the both of you, to see the what ifs, the what could bes, the life you can't have but suddenly seem to crave. She accidentally smudges some pesto on her finger and licks it off. You lose your mind. You eat. Hunched over the tiny kitchen table, you feel yourself sober up completely. You're exhausted, but you don't want this night to end. Neither of you have done or said anything inappropriate, nothing has happened here for which you should apologise to Steve on the next day. And yet it's the most comfortable and loved you've felt in a long time.

You feel self-conscious when you wipe your makeup off in the quiet seclusion of her bathroom, a pair of her sweatpants and an old band t-shirt waiting for you, neatly folded, on top of the laundry basket. You expose the dark circles underneath your eyes, along with all the imperfections of your skin, and your lower lips trembles at the thought of having to bare yourself in front of her. Your body is shapeless after you've changed into your makeshift pyjamas (you try not to think too hard on wearing her clothes). Your hair, released from the tight updo you've forced it into is messy and loose now. To be fair, it was messy before too, but it's not really helping your confidence right now. You will have to leave eventually, and face her, and you're terrified of not seeing the same light and warmth in her eyes when she looks at you, the same smile she always wears on her lips whenever you're around.

She smiles even wider than usual when you emerge. The simple explanation would be that you're beautiful - it's the truth, without any embellishments whatsoever. The more complicated one she doesn't allow herself to dwell on, so she nods towards the bedroom and you follow her, even if a little forlorn.

"I don't often get guests," she smiles, sitting in the edge of the bed. The room smells of clean sheets and her perfume. "And even when I do, it's Clint, and I'm making him sleep on the sofa. But I'm willing to make an exception for you."

"Oh, you shouldn't," you protest as she stands. "The sofa is perfectly fine for me."

"It's alright, I don't mind-"

"Please-"

"It's no fuss-"

"This bed is big enough for the two of us anyways."

A small, awkward silence settles on you as you stare back at one another. If Natasha feels as bewildered as you do, she hides it well. Her head lolls to one side in thought, eyes assessing you. She seems content with whatever she's found in your gaze as she shrugs and sinks back down on the bed.

"Don't even think about hogging my blanket."

You regain your composure and grin, unable to feel uncomfortable around her any longer. You plop down on your belly unceremoniously and starfish on the mattress, and you can almost see her roll her eyes at you even through your closed eyes. You sigh as the firm mattress rises to meet your tired bones. "Ooh, I'm never leaving this bed."

"Move," Natasha nudges you, and you oblige her as you roll on your back. She lays next to you, and you stare up at the ceiling, glow in the dark stars blinking back at you in the dim light.

"I used to have those on my bedroom ceiling as a kid," you smile fondly.

"I didn't exactly have a conventional childhood. Figured I had some ground to cover on that front," she murmurs softly, lost for a moment in her memories. Your quiet laugh draws her back to the present and she's so very grateful for that. So very grateful for you.

"Well then, this is a good addition too, our little sleepover."

"Oh, yeah?" she grins, rolling on her side as she props her head up on a hand. "What do you want to do then to make it memorable? Gush about our crushes? Have a pillow fight? Play spin the bottle? Truth or dare? Get drunk? I have a bottle of wine, we could do that."

Your eyes land on her soft lips and you imagine daring her to kiss you. You imagine what it would be like to draw her in, to give in to the feelings inside you, to deepen the kiss, blame it on being drunk, trail your lips down the length of her neck...

But you could never do that to Steve.

"I think I've had enough excitement for tonight."

"Suit yourself, love."

Does she look disappointed? You don't have enough time to ponder as she nods and pulls back the covers to wrap them around the both of you. She then reaches to switch the lamp off on the bedside table and settles down beside you. You're still facing each other, and in the darkness you can see the outlines of her smile when your eyes adjust. She puts a hand on your shoulder, gives it a little squeeze. She's upset, she really is, she was so close to reeling you in, trapping you, telling you all she's been wanting to say for months now. But she's proud of you. For being loyal, for not breaking the trust Steve put in you even though you could do it without consequences. She'd never tell on you. But somehow, your silent refusal has made you even a better person in her eyes than if you would have given in to the kiss you've both obviously wanted.

But this all must be very confusing for you. Your week was an emotional rollercoaster, and she just wants you to be okay. "Wake me if you need anything."

You nod, and satisfied, Natasha turns to her other side. It's difficult, being so torn, wanting love but not knowing where you're supposed to get it. Overwhelmed by everything, you seem to spiral into mild panic. You don't know this place, and Steve is a stubborn asshole, and you just want to feel safe and sheltered for a single night, is that too much to ask for?

You scoot closer to Natasha, letting her feel your warmth first before you tentatively snuggle up to her from behind. She lets you, deathly still as if any movement on her part would scare you away. You slide your hand on her waist, afraid to go too far.

She takes it and wraps it around her midsection.

You don't talk about it in the morning. The sun shines brightly as you sit together in the kitchen. Coffee. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Slipping slices of tangerine to one another. A long hug before you leave.

And somehow you both feel a little less when you're apart.

You have much to think on, you both do. You don't avoid Steve when you get back. You go straight to him and you ask him for a break. He deals with his heartbreak as he soldiers though every hardship in his life - lips pressed together, emotions repressed, stiff nod straining his neck, regret shining in his blue eyes. But you need this. You need this, because he deserves better than to be lied to. Than to be led on. So does she.

Weeks pass. Missions come and go, all successful. You work together professionally, there's nothing forced. Tony remarks on the sudden drop of temperature in the room during a mission briefing where you and Steve sit in opposite ends of the room, but Natasha steps in and whacks him on the back of the head with the file in her hand and that's that.

You go to the top floor of the tower one evening, the staggering height's isolation comforting you now more than scaring you. You sit there for a while, watching the sunset, when you remember Italy, 3 months ago, stopping to marvel at the sunset, Natasha by your side.

And then you know. You just do. You need more time to accept it, of course. Probably even more time to act on it. But in the meantime, you can't stop thinking about her feeding tangerine to you in the morning, fingers brushing against yours as she passes the slices to you.

Tag list: @fayhar

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #black widow x you #natasha romanoff fanfiction #marvel mcu #mcu fanfiction #natasha romanoff #black widow

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baelonthebrave · 2 years ago

Note

well i loved your stories but i won’t subscribe you anymore because of how you behave when someone doesn’t praise your fic to the sky. so what YOU think that just because YOU write your fics are the best? luckily among all of those people who write fics about aemond there are many people who don’t behave like children whining about someone not loving it. they are more self aware than you and don’t think they are the greatest writer ever just because they published 1 story. well as someone who were in many fandoms and wrote a couple of fics let me enlighten you how it is like when you public something on AO3 or here on Tumblr. there will always be those who don’t like it and by saying some nonsense you just prove you are an immature person whose arrogance clouded her vision. do you have any idea how many times people try to public their writings how hard it is for those more ambitious who want to have their writings published? how many times for example Rowling was told no? and even when the book isn’t as popular as Harry Potter or Game of Thrones success is through the hard work and showing it to others and they will tell what you do right and wrong. and you think just because you public on the internet you are the best and every word which isn’t praise is wrong? as i said i took you for better person i misjudged you and it turned out you are just immature person who isn’t ready to public on internet because every critic word you take as child who lost his favourite toy. But as someone wise said if you want to know a person character observe how they behave when someone doesn’t agree with them. we all love to hear only praise it feeds our ego but world is not a place where everyone will like you and your fics. i could only hope you will learn that not the hardest way but unfortunately for you no one likes arrogant people who expect only praise. i am sorry i took you for far better human being i won’t repeat that mistake anymore.

dkdjfjdjf cool no problem 🫡 as I have said multiple times, I’m very grateful for people who give me constructive criticism. that’s part of why I love fanfic: because you get to take advice and ideas AS you’re writing, improving the story as you go. It’s a collaborative effort with your readers and it has helped me grow so much as a writer and I am very grateful for every last person who gives me thoughtful, constructive feedback.

but if all these anons have been the same person (which I think they have) then the one calling the story bland and saying it collapsed was just… mean-spirited and unhelpful?? It doesn’t read like you want to help me be a better writer, it reads like you are angry the story didn’t go the way YOU wanted it to and my character didn’t fit YOUR very narrow definition of what a “strong woman” should be. It reeked of entitlement to my time and energy for something you get for free. If someone sent me a message saying ‘hey I thought the setup of the story was great but I think you could work on how to pull things together, this is how I would do it…’ that’s one thing, and I fucking WISH someone would send me an ask like that because I WANT to get better. Writing is a skill that I’m in the infancy of learning. But “I thought it sucked and it was boring” isn’t constructive criticism. I don’t know what lessons you want me to take away from that. I also don’t know what qualifications you have to tell me how to be a better writer. if you came off anon and I could read some of YOUR writing, I’d have a better idea of whether you’re worth listening to. If I got handed a list of revisions tomorrow by JKR or GRRM or tumblr users whose writing I really enjoy (aemonds-sapphire or aemonds-war-crime would be 2 good examples) I would fucking drop everything and study it ‘til I’d learned from every word. but alas that’s unlikely to happen anytime soon!

and that one last night was just deeply offensive. I have people I love who have struggled to have children, have had emergency c-sections, have lost children, suffered miscarriages etc. so yeh it did touch the bone when you suggested that women who can’t have a big brood of children are “weak” or somehow less than. Again, I don’t understand what writing lessons I’m supposed to take from that and I will NOT be changing my values or my belief that there is no one RIGHT way to be a woman anytime soon.

so yeh, if you’re a writer yourself, please by all means send me a list of how you would have pulled the themes, characters, plot points together better. Or honestly please write it yourself and send me a link, I’d love to read it and see a different ending to the story.

#tqc #long post

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dreamydarkblue · 4 years ago

Text

warm hands brushing the hot tea cup

| randomscenarios |

rating: T

warnings: depression, death mention

word count: 700

tagging: @lasswithumor @ravenadottir @bubblelaureno @ariendiel @mistyeyedbi @gin-o-clock @offtopicoverload

notes: i truly think the loneliest moment in life is staring at the sunrise. alone and awake. knowing you should have slept through the night, but feeling like tomorrow won't be different. music suggestion, sorrow by sleeping at last.

I never had anyone to wake up with.

It sounds silly and, it is probably, but i always rubbed my eyes alone.

Lifted my blanket off my legs and stretched alone.

It gets boring quickly.

Maybe that's why i started staying up til the sunrise.

The colours look so pretty, and it feels like the day greets me.

It feels like i am welcomed, and everything will be alright.

I don't feel so alone then, just for a second.

After that comes the hurt of not being able to share this moment and feeling with someone.

I am sad and the blues at the top of the sky make it worse.

And as i go down i see it withering away to white, just before mixing with yellow, and it reminds me of sorrow.

The taste of it very sour, like homemade lemonade i used to make in middle school.

And then it turns into orange, the deeper i go the deeper i feel.

I talked to my therapist the other day and she says depression can make you see the world through the lens of sadness and hopelessness.

I guess she is kinda right about that.

Even the moments that were once so precious to me, that used to bring me comfort, now hurts more than i could have expected.

Everything feels too complicated, i just wish growing up wasn't this difficult.

Because i don't want to see the world through my eyes anymore, it's all so tiring.

And i am sorry but i did kind of lie about getting up and stretching, because even that feels like a chore now.

I used to be so scared of my mom finding my cousin and i staying up and trying to make the best of our limited time together.

Talking about anything and everything in between, doing the silliest things i couldn't imagine doing with someone else.

And i remember us seeing the moon disappearing and the sun going up, laughing it off and eventually going to sleep.

The warmth of the sun on our tired faces and the colours of the sky hugging us like we were newborns.

Maybe that's why i stay up now, i just want to feel that way again.

I was always too nostalgic for my own good, caught up in the past and begging the time to let me stay there.

Alas the days go by, i can't differentiate them anymore but i just know it has been a week or so since i have been staying in my room and lying in my bed all day.

It feels weird being unnecessary.

Like i said the days go by, nothing or no one needs me, i don't need me.

Well... i guess i do look through that lens towards the world.

The worst part is i do know how to fix things but i can't do them.

Or maybe i don't know, maybe i am trying to make myself believe i am still of use to myself.

I guess by the time the sunset is here and all the colours are back, i will still be in my bed.

It makes me stop though, makes me stop and look outside for a moment and feel the day ending.

It's always about the endings with me, huh?

I think i am scared of endings, that's why i try to normalize them in my head so much.

Even beyond that, add some meaning to it so i can think that i still mean something.

Like how when the day ends, the night starts and even in the dark somethings stay alive.

I am afraid, i have always been.

Just hoping and holding onto the precious memory of someone wanting my hand.

I am scared of endings, i am scared of being forgotten and not being needed.

I am scared i will become needy and only seek out people that will help me, hear me out.

I am sorry i am just rambling, i know you have some stuff going on as well.

Tell me about it please, i promise i will try to not think about it for a while.

Would you like some tea?

#warm hands brushing the hot tea cup #randomscenarios #thank you so much for reading #let me know what you thought if you want to!#AAAHHHHH another new month another burst of inspiration #sjjsjxjx honestly i am not even sure this is good #but it felt like i needed to let it out and here it is #hope you like it!!! ❤

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pluto-art · 4 years ago

Text

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

Type: Hurt/Comfort Rating: PG Summary: Baby Brain has known little but pain and misery in an unloving world, but when he gets paired up with a new lab student things change in a way he didn’t expect.

This started out as a mini story in a Discord server and got... a little out of hand. What you see here is how much I typed out in the server.

He hadn't been there long. Two... maybe three weeks? The cold metal had finally become familiar beneath his feet, and the strange blocks, though generally tasteless, kept him alive. There wasn't much that made his new living quarters interesting; there was only so much one could do in a pile of aspen shavings day after day. Occasionally, they would hook up to his cage some sort of liquid that wasn't his usual watery fair. He could never decipher or make heads or tails of the words on the sides of the bottles, saying things like D-D-T or S-N-I-P-P-L-E. The only distinguishing feature to him was that sometimes they tasted terrible, sometimes quite flavorful, and sometimes they tasted like nothing at all. Almost all of them turned his stomach. Driven to thirst, however, he'd play their cruel game. Choice was not something that existed in this crisp, sterile world; at least, not from a personal standpoint. When it did exist it meant the difference between a shock and a treat; a yellow light or a red light; a warm room or a cold one. Choice was manufactured.

He still cried almost every night. He tried to quiet the tears, but they didn't always listen. The others heard him. One or two laughed cynically. Most said nothing; they'd shed their own fair share and would again sooner than later. A single kind soul, a mother rat some doors down from him, occasionally whispered to him a lullaby or two when everyone else but them were asleep. They were songs she sang to her own children to quiet their tears, and she had no less compassion for this unfortunate soul, who was even worse off than her own brood -- he didn't even have any parents to nuzzle up to. Had she her way, she would have mutilated every last living human being in the facility. It was bad enough that they were tested on mercilessly as adults. To do so to children was simply insidious. Alas, she was simply a rat, and so could only dream of days when she wasn't.

Not that BR-41N (that's what they called him; no one had real names here) hadn't tried to be friendly with his captures. Aside from a particularly nasty poke from some long, thin, prickly object inserted into his thigh the first day (it had stung; oh, it had stung...) the proceeding couple of days had consisted of simple maze runs and treadmill exercises. Nothing too elaborate. As a child, he'd been used to running around a lot in the field, and sifting through the labyrinths reminded him of the long grass he'd play hide-and-seek in back home, except at the end of them was a tasty prize: a piece of cheese. He liked cheese. In the wild, it was hard to come by, but here they gave it to him generously, provided he finished the courses, which he always did. The fourth day followed in much the same way, but the fifth day brought something different: a sudden shock and a broken tail. That had changed his view of things. Perhaps the harsh awakening wouldn't have been so terrible had it not been followed by other unspeakable things -- poisoned food; friends made that, the next day, would never be seen again; more shocks given as punishment for choosing an incorrect panel; injections that made him see things he'd never seen, monsters and strange colors and other scary things that kept him awake at night; loud noises that came out of nowhere; and often, quite often, the terrifying echo of squeaks, barks, and meows that made up the daily music of Acme Laboratories. He hated it. He hated all of it. More than anything, he wanted to go home. He missed the warmth; the love; the soft whisper of the wind that traveled through his ivory fur. He wanted all of it back. But life? She was a harsh mistress. And no amount of crying, screaming, or pleading, seemed to ever make her turn an ear.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks... months, more than just a tail was broken. Trust was broken. Hope was broken. Spirit... was broken. If there was any love, if there was any future, it wasn't here. Kindness had proved unfruitful, and patience had run its course. He didn't find reason to be willing, nor show charity, towards those who made his life a living hell. What reason was there? What profit was in it? Time had told him, quite bluntly, there wasn't. It had taken him a full month to admit defeat, but admit it he did, and cynical he became, 'til every hand that reached in to grab him was ripe to be bitten, every shot that punctured his stomach was the unwelcome norm, and every newcomer that tried to strike up a friendship was easily ignored. The latter-most was simply wasting their time. He could read the colors on the cages now. He knew that a red mark meant "death". He only wondered why he, as of yet, had never been given one himself. It was as if life itself was laughing at him -- keeping him as witness to the horrors that went on inside the dragon's cave, yet never giving him the satisfaction of death.

And so the third month dawned, chilly and barren, or so the scientists said. Autumn had come. Not that any of the residents within the thick, cemented walls could see it. But the laboratory personnel spoke of it -- gold and crimson leaves, hot chocolate, dried wheat fields. He could almost smell the corn; could almost feel the breeze.... Days passed. For the first time, they gave him a cage mate. E8-WN, they called him. He was kind, but BR-41N had little love left to give. Besides, he had the red tag. It seemed they had only placed him here temporarily due to a lack of space. The next day he was taken to the back. The tiniest shred of pity nipped at BR-41N as he watched the little peach-furred mouse be carried into the surgical room, a curious look on his face. Another emotion was also present within him: jealousy. On the 17th day of September, a new thing happened -- a thing that, for the first time in a while, made the little mouse turn his head.

The school year had started, and, as such, fresh meat was welcomed into the laboratory in the form of fourteen college students looking to continue pursuits in medical science. They were all very quiet during the tour, one or two of them occasionally lifting a hand to ask a question about course materials or contact information. They were each, it seemed, to be given a subject: an animal from the laboratory to study, train, and conduct experiments on. Rats, mice, and hamsters had already been picked out for them, and each was given a black-coated subject or a brown-furred captive to take charge of. Each student's rodent was to be kept in the lab at all times, and specific instructions were given them as to the proper handling of the creatures. At least two experiments were to be conducted on them daily, three if possible. They could spend as much time with their charge as they wished, so long as they got their homework done. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents. Four months to finish their work. Simple.

As it stood, however, there had been a miscalculation. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents.... No. Not fourteen. Only thirteen. There'd been an error. They'd forgotten to set aside an extra subject. The unfortunate student without a charge was a college girl named Rachel. All other rodents were going through tests conducted by various personnel in the lab, set aside specifically for said conductions that couldn't currently be tampered with. All except one....

"So, um, Rachel," their teacher said, checking his student list. "You may have to share with... Peterson.... You know what? We might... actually have an extra for you. Hold on. Let me ask...."

And he departed into another room, calling for a "Jackson".

"Jackson! Can she use BR-41N? I don't think he's going through any rigorous testing.... Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that would work out perfectly. Thanks."

He turned back to his brood, many of whom looked quite eager to jump in to these intriguing studies, others looking downright bored.

"Okay. We have one for you. His code name is BR-41N. He's not going through any major testing, and he's generally given the usual works -- labyrinths, shock treatment, all that. But, um... he bites. Really bad. So... you'll have to watch it, all right?"

"Okay," Rachel nodded, looking a little nervous.

"All right. Umm.... Good. Yes. So, let's head back to the main campus, and... we'll start your work tomorrow."

And they left.

BR-41N had only heard part of all this, and had understood none of it. He shivered in his cage, taking a moment to drink some water out of the bottle that hung there. While the arrival of such a large group intrigued him, especially since it consisted of a much younger set than normal, it also made him nervous. Was it a sign of good things to come... or bad? Or just more of the usual fair? One could only wonder. For now, he was simply grateful that the cheese they'd given him today was, for once, not laced with drugs.

She came by on a Tuesday.

It was an hour after a cosmetics test that he heard a knock on the table. His skin still burned. He was cowering in a far corner, and looked back over his shoulder hesitantly.

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." He stared at her, nonplussed. "I guess you're my charge. You gonna say hello?"

And she opened up the door of his cage.

He shuffled back further. He knew all too well by this point that the opening of a door meant one of two things: food or torture. Considering the fact that she didn't smell of food, he had to assume it was the latter.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Well, hopefully not...."

Although he didn't understand a word of what she said, her tone was calm; soothing. No one in the lab ever talked to him like this. He couldn't help but stare curiously.

She held her hand up to the entrance and made a soft, squeak-like sound with her mouth. He frowned at her. As if that was going to convince him. He turned away.

"No? I don't blame you," she replied, taking a look at his clipboard. "BR-41N. What kind of a freak name is that? Mind if I call you Brain? Or Brian?"

No response.

"We'll go with Brian. Brain sounds kinda weird."

Brian it was.

She kept the door open, and he braced himself. Any moment now, gloved hands would be protruding into his enclosure to wrap themselves firmly about him, not tight enough to choke him, but secure enough that he couldn't escape. But the hand didn't come. If anything, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested her arms upon the table on which his cage sat. She was... giving him a choice? He stared at her, unsure how to react.

"Come on, sweet heart," she cooed, rubbing her fingers together encouragingly.

But he wouldn't budge. If this was some new trick, it wasn't going to work. He wished she'd just grab him and get it over with. Sooner or later, she'd have to. It was only a matter of time. And so he waited....

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, trying her best to get him to come over, but he refused to budge, and so she gave up. As expected, she still ran him through a maze, but instead of reaching in to grab him, she found a clear tube and scooped him up in it, covering both ends before depositing him into the run as such. It was... odd, but less invasive than what he was used to. He rather wished the others would do it that way.

Via the same method she returned him to his cage at the end of the test. As usual, he took to the corner, assuming his usual cowardly pose, but he turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry about that. Nice job, though. See you tomorrow."

And so went the next day... and the next, always with the same introduction: She'd open his door, pull up a chair, and offer her hand to him. After twenty minutes of nothing, she'd scoop him up in the tube, deposit him in the maze or whatever other test he was to perform that day, and return him in the same manner. This went on for four whole weeks, always with a kind word, never coupled with a harsh prod or poking of his skin. He came to somewhat look forward to her almost daily visits, not because he trusted her (the one time she had tried touching him [with gloves on, of course], he'd given her a fair warning in the form of a bite), but because it was the only two hours during the day in which he knew he wouldn't be fed poison, given a shot, or made to inhale cigarette smoke. The other students joked with her. By far, she had the unfriendliest mouse out of all of them, and they found her kind advances a waste of time.

"Just pick him up!" a tall boy said.

Most of them had no problem with handling their subjects by the tail; at least, the boys generally didn't. The girls were kinder, but even they didn't take the time to get to know their animals intimately. They also were given the harder tests to conduct on their critters and so tried not to get attached.

Whereas most of the rats, mice, and hamsters given to the students would eventually be killed in some way or other at the end of the semester, via through vivisection, gassing, cancer, or some other method, BR-41N, or... Brian, as Rachel now called him, was not scheduled to be offed anytime soon and so could not undergo such rigorous experiments. As such, she got both the easy job of conducting very simple tests on him, and also the hard job of trying to work with the most hostile mouse in the entire facility.

"He's never gonna warm up to you," one of the other students said.

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

But Brian was proving to be a much tougher can than expected. By the sixth week, he still hadn't even bothered to venture near the cage entrance when she sat near it, even with tasty treats in hand. He simply didn't trust anyone. Not anymore....

October came and went, to be replaced with a frosty November. Whenever Brian saw Rachel now she had a cup of tea in hand, the better to ward off the coming winter chill. Still she tried; still he refused to relent. Until the 9th....

It was late. She hadn't been able to get to the lab until 8:00 PM due to unfortunate series of events that involved a fender bender, two appointments, and a last minute essay. When she got to the lab she was tired... and not at all in the mood to deal with Brian's B.S., and he knew it.

"'Sup?" she asked him wearily, setting down her things in a huff. Only a handful of other people were still in the facility at this hour, none of them students. Fine by her. She preferred the quiet anyway. "We're gonna do something a little different today, bud."

Indeed.... He perked his ears up at her exhausted tone and the fact that, for once, she didn't open the cage door. But she did still slide the chair up to his table.

On the opposite side of the room was a television on a rolling stand. Normally, this was used for surgeries and other experiments. Once in a blue moon, however, someone would use it for recreational purposes -- to watch the local news when there was time to kill. Most fortunately for Rachel, it also came with a VHS player. Into it she popped a tape, before sitting down in the chair and grabbing her hot cup of peppermint tea. Despite himself, Brian took a whiff of the tea, whose scent had wafted into his cage and tickled his nose. It smelled good.

The film began to play. Brian didn't know the name of it, but whatever it was it was made up of very pretty pictures and featured a lot of dogs... and snow (at least at the beginning). It was rather soothing. Still, he didn't move from his spot, save to grab a lab block at one point to munch on, more to pass the time than anything. His stomach was still a little unsettled from earlier. Privately, he was a bit ticked off at the girl. Had she been a bit earlier he might have avoided the shock treatments. Not that they would have withheld them regardless.

It wasn't until the second song that his attention was at last caught.

"La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...."

Sweetly did the animated woman sing her little song, and Brian, captivated, perked his ears. He looked up at the television. She was still singing. He stepped forward, bit by bit, until he was right up to the closed door, two little paws coming up to grasp at the bars of his cage as he stared, entranced, at the screen.

"La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper, La la lu, La la lu, La la luuuuu."

And so it ended, all within the span of a minute, if that, but something had stirred with him -- a remembrance of home, and warmth, and what it was like to be loved.

He was still clutching at the bars when he noticed that Rachel was smiling at him, and he promptly sped back to his corner, embarrassed.

"Atta boy," she whispered, still grinning softly at him.

He refused to look at her. He wasn't touched by it or anything. He wasn't....

"It's okay. Don't be embarrassed," said the girl. "I like that song, too."

Brian stayed in his corner the rest of the movie, but the song never left his mind.

---

The next day proceeded as normal. Once again, Rachel sat by his cage. Once again, she had brought a treat, albeit one he'd never seen before, nor smelled, for that matter. It was small... and white... and fluffy, and it smelled sugary and sweet. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so very badly. But nothing that ever came from the fingers of a scientist, even a soft-spoken one, was innocent. And so he refused, his back turned to her.

"Stubborn butt," said Rachel, and by her tone alone Brian could tell that it was a snide comment. He ignored her.

"Here."

As had occurred many times before, she left the treat in his cage near the entrance, closed the door, and sat to watch him. His eyes shifted towards the treat. It sat there, staring at him, mocking him. Eat me, it said. No, he thought. Oh, but it smelled so good....

Rachel sighed. So did Brian. She rested her head in her arms, exasperated. Maybe it really wasn't worth it....

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

He took a step forward. Rachel remained where she was, head in her arms, not looking at him. He moved another step. She was still as a stone. Patter patter patter patter patter... GRAB. He swooped back to his corner as fast as possible, marshmallow in his mouth. Rachel looked up... and chuckled. Brian dug into the treat, enjoying every second of it as teeth sunk into the savory delight. He'd never tasted anything this good before. It was better than mother's milk; much better than lab pellets; better than cheese....

"Silly little thing," Rachel giggled, smiling as he filled his cheeks with pleasantness. "Wait 'til you see what I bring you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, he was to find out, brought a piece of a doughnut, and the day after that a waffle. He'd never been this darn spoiled before. On the fourth occasion, he was, for once, already at the door, waiting to see what she'd bring. Lady and the Tramp and sugar, it turned out, were the keys to his heart, although he still wouldn't let her touch him. If her hand so much as brushed his fur he was back to his corner in a rush, although, this time, he didn't try to bite her first.

Rachel laughed when she saw the two little paws clutching at the gated entrance.

"You like 'em that much, huh? Here ya' go."

He stepped back to allow her access to the gate, and watched carefully as she placed something savory and smelling of salt inside. He sniffed, investigating as she closed the door. He took a tentative bite. Mmmmm. Yes, this was acceptable. Grabbing it, he rushed back to his usual corner and chowed down.

"Good. A fellow bacon appreciator," Rachel nodded, satisfied.

He ate the entire piece, licking his lips and proceeding to clean himself afterwards. That had been a bit messy. Good, but messy. If there was something he still valued, it was cleanliness. He could at least retain some form of dignity. The state of his fur was one of the few things he still had control over. Unlike some of the other unfortunate chaps, he'd never had to endure surgery or a shaved stomach.

Two little pink ears perked up as his cage door was opened yet again. More treats? No. Just Rachel, hand offered to him once more. Brian sighed. She just wouldn't give up, would she?

A second glance made him aware that she did, in fact, have something in her hand -- another marshmallow. Hmph. Sneaky. And yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it....

"It's okay, little one," Rachel cooed, hand still outstretched, that plump marshmallow beckoning ever so tantalizingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Brian sighed. He looked down at the floor, then over at her hand.

Rachel's eyes widened a touch, but she otherwise didn't reveal her surprise as Brian moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, towards her hand....

He stopped at the entrance, debating. Dare he...? It was a risk. He'd never willing done this, not since he'd been captured. It was a stupid decision. Stupid. And yet....

Her hand shifted a touch, and Brian shifted nervously with it. Rachel waited with bated breath.

He stepped forward....

In a flash, he'd grabbed the 'mallow from her hand and retreated to the back of his cage, not daring to even think about what he'd just done. It was foolish. It was dangerous. And yet, she hadn't tried to grab him, or even pet him. She'd just... given him a choice. And he'd taken it. Somehow, for some reason, he'd taken it.

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

Perhaps it was the mere fact, the tantalizing realization, that he had a choice in the first place, that drew him back, but over the course of the next few weeks, things changed.

It had started slow at first. A light brush of the whiskers here; a sniff of the hand there. But, eventually, Brian, of his own accord, stepped into her hand. And she didn't close her fingers about him harshly, or strangle him, or pick him up by the tail. She simply... let him be. It was kind. It was unobtrusive. It was respectful. And he appreciated it.

No longer did the other students make fun, or joke that she'd never gain his trust. If anything, they questioned her.

"How the heck did you do it?" they'd ask, curious.

Even more confused were the scientists themselves. Not that anyone had tried very hard to gain the little mouse's trust. He was, in their opinion, not worth the time.

But he was to Rachel.

December came, and with it a complete turn-around in Brian's behavior, albeit towards one particular individual.

He eagerly rushed into her hand now. No need for the transportation tube. She could carry him on her shoulder to the maze area and pick him up with her bare hands as she placed him in the labyrinth, although she still made sure to let him take the first step and would, more often than not, simply offer a hand instead of plucking him from her shoulder. He still appreciated this.

Every weekday was now a day to look forward to. Sure, he was still tormented by the main personnel, but for two or three hours, two or three sweet hours, he didn't have to worry about anything. On the days he suffered from a stomach-ache, she'd hold him close to her chest and do her best to rub the pain away, offering him tea to ease his suffering, and if he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up, shaking, from a bad dream, she'd rock him back and forth, singing "La La Lu" to him until the nightmares went away. On those rare nights, when she could only work late and no one was around, she'd bottle feed him. He'd been hesitant (and a little embarrassed) at first, but any reminder of home was difficult to ignore, and so he ended up embracing each form of love and affection with open paws, clutching tightly to her chest some days, as if this hug would be his last. For all he knew, it could be. He'd gotten used to her visits, but what if she left and never came back? He didn't want that love to leave....

December 14th.

The end of the semester was approaching. Rachel had told him, time and again, that she was leaving soon; that she would miss him; that she'd try to come back for the next semester. Brian understood none of this. He was a mouse, after all. Human language was foreign to him. The most he could understand was the occasional word -- his name, Brian, and various names of foods and tests -- and basic inflections that he knew signified concern, happiness, or contentment. But he didn't understand "leave", or "semester", or "miss". He could tell something was wrong, that she was sad, but as to why, he did not know.

A week from the last day of the semester, she brought a surprise: a movie. It had something to do with a rat, and food. He liked it for those things. He wished he could understand the words. It seemed interesting. He sat on Rachel's shoulder the entire time, at least until the end of the film, during which Rachel offered her hand to him. He accepted. She brought him up to her chest, nuzzling him close.

"I'm going away for a while, but... I'll try to be back next semester."

She petted him gently. He stared up at her, curious and concerned. Why was she so sad?

"I'm going to miss you...," she whispered. And, for the first time, she kissed him on his fuzzy white head. "I love you...."

He didn't understand the words, but he understood what they meant; how they felt.

Slowly, gently, he nuzzled close to her... and licked her fingers. It was the first time he'd shown genuine affection outside of nuzzling since he'd been captured. I love you, too....

He didn't understand it, but... there was something in the air that told him something big was coming. Something new. Something was going to be different....

December 18th came just like any other day. The semester was coming to a close. Many students had already finished their courses and gone home for the holidays. The occasional class still lingered on, including the medical science class. Most all had completed training and experimentation on their subjects for the season and were simply spending the next few days filing reports and filling out last minute essays. Some of the rodents wouldn't live to see the new year. Others had already been subjected to vivisection by their handlers and were far from the lab by this point. Subject BR-41N was one of the few who'd been given the same sheet on their clipboard day after day, week after week: a run of the mill of the usual, simple, non-invasive tests, along with an injection or two. But today was different.

As Rachel stepped up to Brian's cage, sipping at a hot cup of tea and smiling as her charge ran up to the bars to greet her, she frowned as she pulled up the clip board. His tag was yellow. Not the usual blue, but... yellow. She set down her cup, ignoring Brian's squeaky pleas to be let out as she looked over the sheet carefully.

Subject Reserved for Project B.R.A.I.N. // Invasive Study -- Cognitive Psychology, Neuroscience Psychology // 4:00 PM - Dec. 20

There was a pause, in which the dip in Rachel's brow furrowed ever deeper, her eyes roaming about the page scrutinizingly, before she slipped the paper out of its holder and headed back out the way she'd came, Brian looking curiously after her.

She marched all the way to a back office, in which sat one of the laboratory heads: Jackson. He looked up over his square-rimmed glasses as she knocked upon the exposed inner door frame.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Hey. Um.... I think you gave my subject the wrong paper."

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

She stretched out her arm, offering the paper as proof, but he didn't take it. Instead, he looked up at her, fingers meeting at their tips, and said:

"No, I gave you the right paper. That's for BR-41N. His procedure is in two days."

His tone was flat and laced with a thin layer of poison, as if her daring to question him was a challenge.

"But... I thought he was just doing mainly labyrinth tests."

"Ms. Field, I thought you were told...?"

"Told what...?"

"He's been scheduled for this procedure for months. We wanted him fresh and so have eschewed more invasive tests until now. Frankly, you've been spending a little too much time with that mouse. He's gotten too friendly. We're not in the business of developing attachment here."

He said all this with a straight face, completely emotionless. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Sir, I've... been going over this test. It's... very dangerous."

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

Rachel simply stared at him, uncertain of what to say next. He wasn't working with her here....

"Look.... What did you expect? You're studying medical science, correct?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well," he continued, a small chuckle of sarcasm escaping his lips as he said it. "Y-You have to realize that... this is a laboratory. We can't keep every subject. And these tests come with a lot of risks."

"Could you possibly do the test on another subject...?" Rachel asked, choosing her words carefully. "Brian is still kind of young, and..."

"Brian?"

Shoot.

"Sorry, I mean... BR-41N."

"You can't start... naming them, Miss Field. That's when you start getting attached. Understand?"

"I know...," Rachel mumbled, cheeks reddening as she looked down at her shoes.

"And the whole point of using him at this age is because his mind is younger. He's fresh."

"But he's just a baby..."

"Yes? And? A lot of the other students are working with infants."

"This one is...," Rachel began, than stopped. Already she'd said too much.

"Miss Field, if you don't prepare him for the procedure, someone else will. Now, you can either do your assignment or lose your credits. It's your choice."

Rachel sighed. Still holding the paper, she let her arm fall dramatically to her side.

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel replied, after a hefty pause, and headed back to her charge.

---

Brian didn't understand why Rachel was so quiet that day, nor why she cuddled him so much. She whispered to him something about "breaking out" and "night", but he didn't understand what those things meant, although he heard the urgency in her voice. As a result, he was a little more uptight the rest of the afternoon.

Before leaving, Rachel kissed the top of his head again, before setting him back down in the cage and hooking the door. Her good-byes were all but gibberish to him, although he recognized the word "tomorrow". So he'd be seeing her tomorrow. That was good. At least he had a time frame. He was naive to the rest....

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

She hadn't shown up today. Strange. "Tomorrow". She's said "tomorrow". Today was tomorrow. Why hadn't she come?

To his left, in a far corner of the room, someone sneezed in their cage. Brian frowned sadly. It was that hamster again. Whatever they'd given him had put him into a sneezing fit for an hour. Now and then he relapsed.

He yawned, stretched, and made for the food dispenser, when he suddenly heard a sharp click of a door being opened and abruptly snapped shut. He turned in the direction of the door. A light flicked on. Brian smiled.

Rachel's feet slid across the floor in haste. Instead of her usual student lab coat, she was decked out in her normal clothes, complete with backpack. Her hoodie was up, obscuring her hair, save for a few strands that stuck out here and there, as well as part of her face. She moved with purpose, albeit a little covertly, looking over her shoulder every now and then, as if expecting someone to grab her at any minute.

Set in a wall above the entrance to the room, a camera followed her. Rachel's eyes shifted at the sound as she moved towards Brian's cage. She knew she only had five, maybe ten, minutes at best.

Opening the cage door, she held her hand out for Brian to step onto. He hesitated. Something didn't smell right....

"Come on. We're busting you out of here, dude," Rachel whispered.

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

"Listen, they're going to put your through that splicer if we don't get you out of here, so come on."

There was an urgency in her voice that, despite his misgivings, compelled him to move forward. He trusted her too much by this point.

"Atta boy," she praised him, tucking him in her shirt pocket.

He peeked out, paws clutching at the edges of the pocket interestedly.

"Let's go," Rachel whispered, turning back to the door and stopping as she realized that someone was already standing there....

Framed in the metal doorway was a woman, thirty-five... maybe forty-something in age. Her arms were crossed, and the expression on her face seemed as taught and firm as the scrunchie tightening her poofy auburn hair. Her long lab coat was still settling; she must have only just gotten there. Rachel recognized this woman. Lana, her name was -- she was one of the head managers at the facility. Jackson had obviously tipped her off.

"Fancied a night stroll?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rachel remained frozen in place, a hand subconsciously cupping her shirt pocket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You know you're risking a lot for this. That's all your credits down the drain."

"He's worth it," Rachel answered, resolute.

"He's not. You take him and they'll just get another subject."

"At least I'll have saved this one."

"We'd still rather you not take an asset that's been reserved for months for this procedure," Lana nipped, taking a step forward.

Rachel took a step back. Her eyes shifted to a door to her left. It led to several other testing rooms and then back out into the main hallway. Some of the doors had security locks. It was the long way around, but if she was fast enough....

"Rachel...," Lana spoke, tone threatening as she advanced. "Put him down."

With each step Lana took towards her, Rachel moved two back. She could feel herself starting to perspire. Gosh, this was a stupid idea....

"Rachel...."

With a hand cupped over her shirt pocket, Rachel darted in the direction of the door, opening it up in a flash and slamming it shut behind her. Already she was racing for the opposite end of the room, where another door stood.

Brian jumped as an alarm went off, followed by red lights that flashed all throughout the facility. Rachel was already in the next room, her heart racing. She could hear the panicked footsteps behind her, mimicking her own, and hoped upon hope that she was faster than her pursuer.

Rachel picked up her pace as she entered the next room. This one, she knew, required an employee badge to open. All of the students had been given security badges, of course, primarily for general access to the entrance and main rooms. They worked on some doors in the facility. Some, but not all. She'd never been in these rooms. Privately, she prayed that they'd open for her.

Slamming her badge up against a wall panel, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet nervously.

"Come on. Come oooon! Take it!!"

It did. The door unlocked, and she swung it open in haste to make for the next locked door, which also granted her entrance.

She was faster than Lana, but it didn't mean the woman wasn't hot on her heels. Brian shut his eyes tightly, huddling against Rachel's chest on the inside of her pocket as she darted about, her hand still cupping him securely. He knew, somehow, that this was about him. His ears rotated this way and that at the duo of clicking feet racing down the linoleum flooring. Who would win? Who was he most valuable to?

It wasn't until the fourth room that Rachel started to panic. Yet again, she'd reached a door asking for proof of access, except this time... her badge was not accepted. She shook the door handle feebly, knowing it wouldn't open; knowing this was the end of the line. Despite himself, Brian peeked out of the shirt pocket, just in time to see Lana as Rachel swiftly turned around to face the woman, who stood at the opposite end of the room, hair askew and chest heaving as she glared at Rachel and her tiny charge.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Lana huffed.

"Why do you need him?! Just let me take him and get another subject!" Rachel bit.

"We let you get away with it and you'll set a precedent! You know that!" Lana snapped right back. "And we don't want to waste any more time. We've spent too much money on this project."

"He's just a baby!"

"All of them are meant to be expendable! Hand him over!"

"No!"

Brian's ears flicked. Rachel held her breath. Was it just them, or did they hear... more footsteps?

"You won't have a choice," Lana said flatly, expressionless as she was joined by not one, not two, but five other lab hands, one of the them Jackson, all of them full-time personnel.

"Rachel.... Hand him over," Jackson said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Rachel glared daggers at him, even though she was fully aware of the impossibility of the situation. Like the mouse she was trying so hard to protect, she was trapped, her back against the wall, literally. They were going to take him. They were going to take him and there was nothing she could do about it....

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Jackson continued.

"Please...," Rachel pleaded, breathing heavily. "Please, let me take care of him. I'll train another in his place as compensation, I swear. Just... don't hurt him."

"And then you'll grow attached to that one and try and kidnap it. We've seen it before. You're not the first," Jackson reprimanded.

"Good," said Rachel. "I'm glad I'm not."

Privately, she wondered why she'd ever signed up for this in the first place. She wanted the degree. She wanted it badly. She also loved animals, and knew that following her passion came with sacrifices. What she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be to accept that. It wasn't feasible, she realized. In fact, it was darn near impossible.

She looked down at the infant trembling in her pocket -- at this little creature that had captured her heart and locked it away, far away from any hopes and dreams of graduating in the medical field of her choosing. "He's not worth it," Lana had said. Was he not? Brian looked up at her, those glossy little eyes staring at her expectantly, trustingly. She smiled sadly at him and, for the last time, cuddled him close, before looking up at the troop across from her.

"If you want him, come and get him," she challenged. They weren't getting him without a fight.

And they rushed at her.

She tried to escape. Oh, she tried... and failed. They grabbed her by the arms as she wrestled against them, cheering Brian on as he somehow managed to escape from her pocket and slip underneath one of the shelving units in the room. But Lana caught him, Brian squeaking as his tail snagged between the beaker and the small metal panel she'd captured him with. He stared at Rachel, his desperate, panicked expression the last thing she saw before being knocked out.

-------

- Two Years Later -

The plan had failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add....

It was the first time in Brain's memory he could ever recall being caught red-handed by any of the personnel at Acme Labs. It was a miracle he and Pinky had managed to escape, but, despite his best attempts, they'd been separated in the process.

He made for a facility some yards away from the main laboratory, sweating as he squeezed under its front door and immediately hid under a cabinet to his right. Lights flashed now and again beyond the windows, desperate voices accompanying them as the scientists searched here and their for the escapees. Brain silently prayed that Pinky had somehow found a suitable hiding spot.

In his position under the cabinet, he backed up against the wall and slid down it, a paw clutching at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he gulped, sniffed, and buried his face in his knees. Stupid. Stupid.... He'd jeopardized their whole mission. What if they'd captured Pinky? What would they do to him? And even if they did escape, where would they go? He'd ruined everything. Everything....

In his haste to remain undetected, he'd neglected to realize that this room... was not entirely devoid of life. It was a small area -- a security office, to be exact. Numerous monitors took up space on a desk, at which someone sat. They slid out of their chair and stepped over to Brain's hiding place. He noticed... and shivered.

Whatever, whomever, it was got down on their knees to peer at him from just outside the dresser.

"Hello...," they said.

It was a woman. Her voice was soft, and kind, but Brain turned his head away from her prying eyes. Typical. In an effort to not get caught he'd inevitably been ratted out. He immediately considered making a run for it, but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't.

"Hey.... Shh. Shh. It's okay, little one. It's okay," cooed the woman. "You wanna come on out...?"

And she held out a hand to him. She didn't try to grab him, or scare him out. She simply... gave him a choice.

But it had been too long. He didn't recognize her, neither she him... until she noticed the tail. Then she knew.

"Brian...?" she breathed, eyes growing wide.

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

"Brian, it's me. Rachel," she beckoned, her hand still in place. But he didn't move. If anything, he frowned at her. "Brian"?

And she tried everything -- talking to him soothingly; offering him a treat from her pocket. Nothing worked. Brain simply hid his face once more, willing her to go away; to leave him be; to, hopefully, not report him to the authorities if they came to call.

Rachel sighed. She sat up for a moment, thinking, and blinked. Struck with a sudden idea, she rested her hands on her lap... and began to sing....

“La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...“

Brain blinked... and lifted his head, ever so slowly....

“La la lu, La la lu, Little soft fluffy sleeper, Here comes a pink cloud for you...“

He stood up... and walked forward, right to the edge of the cabinet. She was still singing.

“La la lu, La la lu, Little wandering angel, Fold up your wings, Close your eyes...”

His mouth was fully open now, his round eyes glossy and getting ever shinier. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her face.

“La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper...

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

Rachel stared at him, smiling. He had completely stepped out from under the cabinet by now, his little body trembling slightly.

"Hello, little star sweeper," Rachel whispered to him.

Breath hitching, Brain ran onto her lap, up her shirt, and clutched tightly to her chest, only a second or two going by before he felt those familiar hands hold him gently, securely.

"Oh, Brian...," she choked, kissing his head. He didn't even flinch.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asked, unable to hold back his tears.

"I couldn't," she answered honestly. "But I was able to keep an eye on you from here."

He sniffed and pulled back a little to look around the room. It was, indeed, a security office, and a fairly high end one at that, decked out with all the works.

"I'm an artist now, but in my part time I take the night shift. They at least let me come back for that, probably 'cause Jackson and Lana are gone now," she chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time...."

Brain looked up at her, suddenly understanding. All that time they'd never been caught; never been reported. All those months and years that the camera had simply turned a blind eye to their antics. He thought it was simply negligence. Now he knew why.

"Thank you...," Brain whispered. "And it's... Brain now."

"I know," she smiled. “I still watch tv, ya' know. I just still remember you as my 'Brian'. I'm sorry, Brain."

He couldn't help but smile. All this time....

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

"Back to my place. I'll hide you. You can have the guest room, if you'd like."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, and she quickly ran to her desk, Brain in her hands. She lifted him up and under the desk.

"There's a hidden panel in the roof! Get in it!" she whispered to him urgently.

He found it, albeit with a little difficulty. He pushed at a little area that looked as if it had been cut into... and down shifted a small cubby in which she kept an assortment of odd bits and bobs that were probably not supposed to be in her possession -- special looking keys and badges, among other things. He slipped into it, and Rachel pushed it closed before walking over to answer the door....

Another barrage of bangs thundered at the entrance as Rachel opened it, a hand on her hip as she held the door ajar, doing her best to look as ticked off as possible.

"Sheesh! Gimme a minute to finish pouring my tea! Gosh...."

Outside stood two gentlemen, both in lab coats, looking frantic.

"Have you seen a mouse?" one of them said. He was taller and appeared to be the leader. "White. Large cranium. He was with a companion."

Rachel shrugged.

"Is that what you guys have been looking for?"

"You haven't seen them on your cameras?" the second man asked, panting a little.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

"We'd better search the place, just to make sure," the leader said, and without further ado they barged in and began searching every nook, cranny, drawer, and trash can they could. They failed to find the hidden cubby, however. "Can we ask you to roll back the footage?"

"Sure, but you're not gonna find anything," Rachel shrugged again.

They did as permitted, scrutinizing every bit of film captured within the last ten minutes. Although they managed to catch one or two glimpses of the mice leaving the lab, as expected, they couldn't find hair no hide of them on any other roll. Behind their backs, Rachel smirked. Smart little guy. Even on the run, he'd purposely made sure not to walk in the path of the cameras.

After several more minutes of scrutiny, they finally gave up, heading for the door in a huff.

"Sorry for your time. Report to us if you find anything," said the leader.

"No problem," Rachel said, shutting the door with a snap behind them and sighing deeply. Yeah, right..., she thought.

Going back to her desk, she pushed open the hidden cubby. It lowered down and Brain immediately jumped into her hand, breathing rather heavily.

"Sorry, little one," Rachel apologized. I can imagine it's pretty stuffy in there...."

He gave her a look, albeit not a very harsh one. He had no reason to complain.

She raised her hand, allowing him to jump up onto her shoulder.

"They'll be back later to go over more footage," Rachel warned, sitting down at her desk and leaning back in her chair.

"I know," Brain said, licking at his paws and smoothing out his frazzled fur.

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

"Heh. I forgot you guys talk now...."

"Is that a problem...?" Brain asked, a little nervously.

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

She reached out a hand to scratch at a spot behind his ears.

"What are you...? Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho...," Brain melted, reeling a little at first before giving way to a goofy smile and a thumping foot as he pressed into the touch.

"Still got that little sensitive spot, huh?" Rachel chuckled, her scratches evolving into a head massage.

Brain practically fell off her shoulder, Rachel catching him in her hands and raising him up to eye level, the better to get a good look at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. How demoralizing.... But Rachel simply beamed at him.

"You know... I really missed you."

"I... wish I could say the same...," Brain confessed, shuffling a foot. He imagined he had thought of her often, as an infant, but over time the memories simply... faded.

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

"I understand. It's okay. I still love you."

"I...," Brain began, then stopped. No. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Even with Pinky he couldn't ever admit such a thing, and he loved Pinky most of all.

"You don't have to say it. I know you do in your heart," Rachel said, and she kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

His ears flattened as she did it, and he almost immediately smoothed out the area where she'd kissed him, but he couldn't hide the blush tickling his cheeks and ears. Her behavior was cheesy as all get out, but privately he knew she was right. He did care, even if he'd never admit it.

Just then, something, or... someone, slipped underneath the door. A white-furred, lanky somebody.

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

Brain leapt off of Rachel in a flash, landing hard on the floor and limping a little as he ran into Pinky's outstretched arms.

"Brain!!" Pinky shouted right back. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!!"

He twirled him around in a circle or two before Brain became aware of what he was doing and promptly pushed himself out of Pinky's grasp, clearing his throat, once again embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, well.... I'm... glad you're safe, Pinky," Brain replied awkwardly, patting his companion on the head.

"Ohhh! Who's this, Brain?" Pinky asked, pointing up at Rachel, who still sat in her computer chair, smiling down at them both.

"Umm.... Pinky, this is Rachel. She's... an old friend."

"Nice to meet you, Pinky! I've heard a lot about you. Well, maybe not heard, but... I've seen you guys on the tv a lot!" Rachel said, beaming.

"You have?!" Pinky gasped, clasping two paws to his face in surprise. "Did you hear that, Brain? We're famous!!"

"Pinky, we've been famous many times, all of them never lasting as long as I'd like...," Brain recollected.

"Well, yes, Brain, but never to a friend!"

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

"For both of us? Is that legal, Brain?" Pinky whispered to his cage mate, looking concerned, to which Brain facepalmed.

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Well, that's different then, isn't it?" Pinky said, nodding eagerly to Rachel.

"How would you guys like to come room at my place? Just for as long as you need until you can get off your feet."

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

"Well...," Brain pondered, hesitating. The offer, though generous, made him feel rather... helpless and awkward, as if he was intruding.

"You're welcome to any of the food and stuff. I've got havarti," she smirked.

Pinky gasped again.

"Oh, please, please, please, please, pleeeeaaaaase, Brain?!?" Pinky pleaded again.

"You're... sure you wouldn't mind?" Brain asked. "I'd hate to intrude...."

"My house is yours," Rachel said genuinely. "And it comes with a pool table," she added, winking at Pinky.

Pinky was doing his utmost to contain a squeal, biting his lip and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Brain rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right...," he relented.

"YAAAAAY!!" exclaimed Pinky, jumping into Rachel's outstretched hand, followed by Brain, as she lifted them up onto her shoulder.

"You'll have to hide in my backpack on the way to the car," she said. "The next guy is about to swap out with me."

And she pulled her backpack up from off the floor and plopped it onto the desk, opening it up. Pinky sprung off her shoulder as if it was a diving board, plunging into the depths of the backpack, which, by all accounts, wasn't very deep. Pinky didn't seem to mind, though. He had fun "swimming" around amongst the snacks, car keys, pencils, wallet, and little sketchpad all the same. Brain simply shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. What an idiot.

Rachel was as good as her word. They were given the guest bedroom, along with access to the rest of the house, food included. Provided they didn't draw too much attention to themselves, they were allowed to tinker and plan all they liked within the safety of the back room, and lie low they did, for Acme Labs was on the hunt for a good number of weeks before they gave up on finding them entirely.

Pinky was quite fond of the seemingly unlimited amount of cheese available in the fridge, along with the plethora of movies Rachel had at her disposal. He was often to be found in front of the television, and if he wasn't there he was by Brain's side almost constantly. Brain was most grateful for the space in which to concoct experiments and conjure up plans for world domination, although he had to improvise more often than not, seeing as he didn't have all of the lab's equipment at his beck and call anymore. It was something he sorely missed, but he couldn't say he minded the warm bed and good food that came with their new living quarters either. It was... nice.

Once in a blue moon (which ended up being once a month), Pinky would request Lady and the Tramp for movie night, not just because he liked it, but because of Brain's unusual reaction to it. He liked to watch him subconsciously lean up against Rachel as they sat next to her, eventually breaking down into a fit of silent tears as "La La Lu" danced around the room. Sometimes Rachel would pick him up, holding him close and massaging his head as he calmed against her chest. Oftentimes, Pinky would join them, cuddling up next to Brain as they nuzzled together in Rachel's warm hands.

"I love you, Brain," Pinky would mumble sweetly, giving him an extra squeeze.

"I love you, little one," whispered Rachel, petting him softly.

I love you, too, said Brain in his own little way, holding them both just a tiny bit tighter, a smile creeping its way up onto his face. It was nice, being loved....

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

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

The ending of this is meant to be sort of an alternate to Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain. What if they'd ended up there after running away from Acme instead of at Elmyra's?

I didn’t realize until after writing this that it makes no sense for Rachel to be cool with Brain talking one minute, only to be surprised by it the next. It’s a glaring error on my part, but I left it in as a reminder to myself that I need to be more careful. Lol.

Technically, this whole thing is a self-insert, although the name of the girl is not my real name. It’s actually the cognomen of my very first rat. Ha-ha. But the personality of the character is me -- how I talk; act around animals; and most likely what I’d do if put into this situation. The exception is the chase scene. I don’t think I’d act that... panicked? Who knows, though....

This is kind of a way I show compassion for Brain, seeing as I cannot, of course, give him an actual hug. I love Brain more than any other fictional character I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching on screen. It’s not a romantic love or anything. Certainly not. It’s more... maternal. The desire to love and protect is strong. That combination of: individual with a tragic backstory + laboratory setting + main character who happens to be a mouse = the perfect concoction to turn my heart to mush. I owned rats for many years and have a great love for animals, and tend to get attached to certain fictional characters, so here you have the result. He’d be as averse as ever to physical affection, but if I could hold Brain in my hands, plant a kiss on his head, and tell him he’s loved. I would. Thank God for Pinky.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

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smindersonfan · 6 months ago

Text

The Night before the night before Christmas by Rose Mary Barlow in December 1966

‘Twas the night before etcetera…and all through the house

One creature was stirring, and that was NO mouse.

‘Twas Mama, with no kerchief, but an eye full of gloom

While the turkey was thawing all over the room.

Papa was asleep, and the children were dreaming

Of tomorrow night’s joys from the sky to come streaming.

Even Santa, away at the top of the earth,

Was pounding HIS ear in his own downy berth.

Meanwhile Mama slaved away 'til the morn

On last minute wrapping ere the great Day was born.

Now where did she hide those darn gifts for the kids

Bought way last October and put under lids?

From the top of the house to the bottom again

Mama raced to and fro and then into the den.

“Now Dasher, now Prancer, now Donder and Blitzen”,

She mutters and fumes as she marks 'Hers’ or 'His'n’.

The scotch tape breaks off and the bows fall apart,

While the paper won’t stretch…a new roll she must start!

The tree lights won’t work and blow all the fuses.

Pine needles clog the sweeper, which also confuses.

The coffee pot perks for at least one more cup

While Mama eases her back by just standing straight up.

A couple of aspirin soon remedy this

And she hangs up the mistletoe with a sibilant hiss.

The camera now…Are there flash bulbs? How many?

Does it have any film? But, of course, there’s not any.

No matter how long she works through the night

There’ll be plenty to do when tomorrow turns bright.

The moon does NOT shine on the new fallen snow.

The darn stuff won’t fall this year, Christmas or no!

Sleds and ice skates will be poorly received

And the children by sleigh bells will NOT be deceived.

“Alas! Is THIS Christmas?”, she cries out in despair.

'Tis enough to turn white poor Mother’s dark hair!

But at last she gives up with a shake of her head

And, still in her clothes, she falls into bed.

Tomorrow will be Christmas Eve, and she’ll say

“Merry Christmas to all”, for there’s always SOME way!

#christmas #family tradition #christmas eve eve poem #christmas poem #family #christmas tradition

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

Text

When The Lights Go Out - Director Keller x Reader (Captain Marvel)

Gif credit @crawlingmist 🙏💙 for sending me this one in particular for this fic, bless you ❤️

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: 🤷‍♀️ So, Keller has actually nicked music from himself because this is the song that I was going to use for his first time with his space girl. ALAS! I turned the tables and still thought the song was perfect. It’s just clearly the Keller smut song. And here we are-!

All this is just conversations with @mandy23b - spending a little too much time focusing on his belt buckle and tie... and it just escalated... and this was born! I decided “Shoot! I gotta write this!” and then the amazing Joss (@Crawlingmist) told me “Oh, I was going to GIF him on the floor but-” And I insisted “But nothing - I will beg you for it!”

When The Lights Go Out - Jason Aldean It’s a real mood setter don’t you dare skip it!

Disclaimer: Captain Marvel characters not mine / GIF was a gift and a blessing and I can’t stop staring at it / lyrics not mine seriously listen to the damn song!

Premise: It’s not often that Director Keller lets you turn the tables on him, so when he does, you have to take every advantage of it...

Words: 6220

Warnings: Sinday/Sunday Smut / swearing / Sub-Dom tones (Dom!Reader)

______

I gotta get to you baby, I gotta get to you now Without you I'm going crazy, without you girl I'm going wild The only thing that I wanna do is fall into you

Baby, when the lights go out I wanna hear that want you sound On your lips when I lay you down (down down down) I wanna love you 'til there's nothing left All night until the sky turns red Do everything that we ain't done yet But we been thinkin' about Baby, when the lights go out Baby, when the lights go out

A day can feel like forever, baby when you're not around Yeah, when we ain't together, you're all I dream about I'm turning corners I'm driving, over to your house

The only thing that I wanna do, is fall into you

---

Your breaths were short and shaky, sweat danced on your skin, your bodies were close and yet you needed him closer. Being one with him wasn’t enough. It was never enough. He trembled beneath you, nails digging into your hips, heartbeat erratic but sighs blissful. A mess. You’d made him a vulnerable mess. You dipped to kiss him again, and this time he moaned gently against your lips – nails scrapping your skin. Those little red marks they would surely leave making you smirk. To see the S.H.I.E.L.D Director pinned under you and completely at your mercy was a rare event. One you weren’t about to waste in a hurry. But he’d been begging you for hours, and now you were ready for him. “Tell me darling…” You whispered gently, “Tell me what you want.” Keller’s body shook again; this time at merely the sound of your voice. Your teasing only making him worse. “You…” the voice was almost a whimper, “You… Y/N… Please…” You took his hands in yours, moving them up over your form as you aligned yourself with him, allowing your body to slowly sink onto him. Keller’s body immediately arched up into yours in reaction, and those nails came back with a vengeance – making you hiss softly. “S-Sorry…” You shook your head, rolling your hips over his, just to let him know who was in charge – and listening to the gorgeous way his breath hitched. “Now, now, Director, don’t apologise just yet.” You laced your hands with his, kissing his fingertips; “Let me see those gorgeous eyes of yours.” He opened them slowly, that pretty blue burning more intense than you’d ever seen it, a nice accompaniment to the hard blush across his cheeks. As Keller traced his eyes down your body he swallowed hard, and try as he might, you could still hear that groan rise in his chest. “Baby…” You breathed, resting his hands back on your hips – he could guide you, but not control you. That was as much as you’d be giving him tonight. “You may begin.” *** You would be lying if you said you didn’t see this coming. That this man hadn’t brought this upon himself. Keller was not a selfish lover; he wasn’t a dominant one either. He was a good man, in every sense of the word. Whatever he had to do in the line of ‘duty’ was not something Keller ever allowed to define himself. You’d known for a long time that although you were dating a man that could be firm, and very nearly ruthless if he had to be, Keller was a sweetheart. There was simply no other word. With all this in mind, he was still very much a traditionalist. Keller was in control of the relationship because that’s how things were. He was older than you, and he was a Southern Gentlemen. So you would expect nothing less. But sometimes Keller would let you be in control. Sometimes he wanted you to be in control. He’d never say it – maybe a little too proud for that – but he gave off far too many signals. Sitting picture perfect in his office in your favourite suit, when he’d spent so much effort this morning getting ready, and asking you to pick out a tie for him – was one of these. Keller would ask you to pick out ties often this was true, but this morning it was: “Y/N, how do I look?” “Y/N, what about this one?” “Y/N, would you help me with this?” Part of you didn’t see the point in him asking you to knot his tie if he was only going to beg you to take it off him later. But you played the game, because he was requesting your attention, and you would dutifully give it. You’d spent a lot of time un-subtly flirting with him today – and he got continuously hot under the collar. Aiding your confidence was only going to help him get what he wanted most, after all. But now the work day was done, and he was sitting in his home office finishing up. He looked beyond gorgeous; you’d have to give him that. It was a shame that you’d be spending so much time messing that suit up. You gave him just enough time to sort his filing before you entered, barely even bothering to knock. “Jonathan.” You leant against the door frame, very nearly nonchalantly, and he knew what was coming from the way he swallowed and looked up to you. “Yes?” “Don’t you think you’ve been working long enough..?” Now was time to spend all your attention on him, and you wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. “Well, I’m not sure a Director’s job is ever done!” Keller studied you carefully as you walked across the room to him, pushing his chair out from his desk. Those blue eyes very nearly innocent. “I disagree. I think now is a very good time for your job to be done.” He barely gave the paper on his desk a second glance as he threw his pen down and stood, “And, as my partner, you’re probably right.” “Good boy.” You knew by now that it was never too early to start. As soon as you had his agreement in the direction of the evening, why not initiate the shiver inducing pleasure? You watched Keller’s eyes widen a little, in surprise that you would consider beginning such a phrase this early – then the shake that subtly ran his spine, as you expected. He looked back to you, blinking slow, but you weren’t even going to give him the opportunity to answer you back. Running your eyes down his suit again you couldn’t help but bite your lip. If one thing was for sure, you were about to take your sweet time. You wanted him aching for you, down on his hands and knees begging for you – nothing less would do. And your smirk told him as such. You ran your hands up his body from his stomach to his chest, sliding them underneath his jacket to push it from his shoulders. At the pressure of your fingertips Keller tensed, breathing already deep – you could hear that yourself, but the rise and fall of his chest certainly helped affirm it. Keller was too focused on you, on what he wanted you to do to him. His jacket slipped down his arms and pooled to the floor – but his eyes remained focused on you. You let your eyes sweep him again, shaking your head, “Damn, why do you look so good?” “I try my hardest,” His voice was quiet as your fingertips traced him again, “especially for you.” You grinned, “Mmhm…” it was the right answer, and you traced all the way to his belt buckle. You wondered if it was that big on purpose. Large and square, in polished silver, it was in stark contrast against his dark suit; you couldn’t miss it even if you’d wanted to. Instead of undoing his belt – you latched your fingers around it, pulling him to you. “I hope you’re ready for this, Director.” Instead of even telling you yes, Keller merely nodded, submitted to what he knew his evening would entail as you continued to pull him with you, walking backwards in confidently large steps towards your bedroom. He followed you obediently, keeping his hands to himself. This was all about your hands on him. Both of you already knew that. This man wasn’t just a top S.H.I.E.L.D Agent, he was the top S.H.I.E.L.D agent. You were well aware he could take control at any moment; he could tell you no or pin you against the wall – or do just about anything else. Hell, this man could kill you – kind and gentle though he was. The power behind his submissiveness wasn’t to be underestimated, just as the control he’d allow you every so often wasn’t to be abused. Jonathan Richard Keller would only be this vulnerable with you, he was only willing to do this with you – because the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D trusted you more than anything or anyone else. Tomorrow you’ll both have got what you wanted and your sweet Southern Gentleman would stare at you over breakfast like he’d never seen anything so beautiful. Then spend the rest of the day ordering you around at work. Tonight, the ordering was yours to do – and he didn’t want you to waste one second of it. With the bedroom door closed and his hips against yours, you ran back up his chest again, to the top button of his waist coat. Your voice was slow and smooth, just the right side of a sexy whisper, and you’d hold it at that tone for the majority of the evening: “There’s just something so sexy about a man in a three-piece suit…” You undid the top button and leant up – lips ghosting his skin. Keller trembled at the almost contact, swallowing hard. You trailed down his neck in a series of barely there kisses. “Talk about so hot you’re hurting my feelings…” “Y/N-” You only undid the second button at the tone of his voice, sinful delight in your ear at the gentle shake he was aiming to keep out of it. “That’s it, just like that.” You moved your hips against his, and he gasped �� short, as if it was a sound Keller didn’t want to let out. There was movement in his arms and his fingertips twitched as he tipped his head back, inviting further kisses. “Director, you know that touching me will only make me go slower, don’t you?” “Yes,” Keller sighed again, restrained, “I’m sorry.” Three down. “Good boy.” “Mmm.” That was a different kind of vocalisation, and this time his hips jerked into yours. With how good that felt to you, you weren’t about to punish him for it. “Careful, Director.” Your voice was sugar sweet as you finished with his waistcoat – this time grazing those almost kisses along his jawline. Not satisfied with his head being tipped in a way that meant you couldn’t see the blush you knew would be covering Keller’s face by now, you yanked him back to you by his tie. Keller wasn’t expecting the movement, and the tug was sharp, causing him to steady himself against your body. You looked at both his hands before meeting his eyes, blush across his face more than obvious, now bleeding into his neck; “Director.” “Y-You can’t be serious!” “Oh, darlin’,” you tsk’d, “rules are rules.” You pulled the knot of his tie to loosen it, but didn’t remove it, grinding yourself up between his thighs a little harder this time. “Y-Y/N! P-Please-!” Keller was more than likely asking you to stop; he’d got himself into this. “Oh no, baby boy…” You were working through his shirt buttons now, keeping your eye on his, now your teasing kisses refused to connect with his lips. So close and yet so far. “…you’re going to wait for me, do you understand?” “Yes.” “Good. You will only get what you want when I’m good and ready to give it.” As you worked his remaining buttons undone you took your sweet teasing time. Every so often you would let your fingertips or your nails graze against his bare skin. And that contact was driving him crazy. You had to stop yourself from giving him too much just to hear him moan like that again. “God, baby, you sound so beautiful.” You winked, smile and tone encouraging, “Let me hear you.” You didn’t need to ask now; Keller was working himself up as much as you’d already been doing. And you hadn’t even properly undressed him yet. You had barely even started with him, and you hoped he realised that. Or Keller was in for one hell of a wicked ride. Buttons run though and tie slacked you could feel the beat of his heart as you ran your hands over his skin; fingers splayed to give him as much skin to skin contact as he deserved. Keller wanted more than anything else in the world to pull you in and kiss you; all he wanted was your lips on his. Overpowering you would be easy - too easy, but that had never been the aim here. And he refused to call this a game. This wasn’t anything more than one part of your relationship. You deserved this, every bit as much as he wanted this. You hooked your fingers around his tie and pulled his body back to yours, arching into the curve of his. Whilst he wasn’t getting skin to skin contact yet, the feel of you pressed against him was enough to get him begging. With your lips inches from his you still weren’t affording him real kisses. And now, looking into your eyes, that was all Keller wanted. “Y/N… Please, please…” “Please what?” You teased, keeping him in place by his tie, but still teasingly running your fingers over his skin, “What is it darling?” “Kiss me, please!” “Oh, sweet thing,” You purred, with one short chaste kiss, “is that what you want?” Keller’s lips parted, but it took him a second, “…Y/N.” His voice was so close to a whine, so close, and you were ready to celebrate that, “Please.” You couldn’t help your teasing smile, but instead of kissing his lips you opted to plant them on his cheeks, his jawline, his temples and forehead. His eyes fluttered closed, but you knew it wasn’t even close to enough for him. He looked so desperate – but to keep that look on Keller’s face your only option was teasing him. When his eyes opened again you realised that there wasn’t anything in his body language that wasn’t begging you for this. “Please.” Keller took a breath, “Kiss me.” You unfurled his tie expertly with a swift pull and smirked gently, running your hands up his chest to push his shirt further back off his chest and with enough pressure to feel him tense under you, the erratic beat of his heart, and scraped your nails over his skin. His body gave a delightful shake and his eyes closed again; not for lack of trying. Probably just for focus. “Seen as you asked so nicely, Director.” This time you yanked him to your lips by his collar, hands through his hair as you pulled him flush to you. Keller’s hands stayed loose by his sides obediently but you knew he was itching to wind them around you. Even though you were still in charge, you allowed him to kiss you exactly how he wanted, and you opened your mouth invitingly for him. This was just a taste – and he didn’t know it yet, but it was still a tease. Your hands left his bare skin and you retracted that belt buckle, this time pushing the leather through the silver, knowing his sigh against your lips was just for the sound of the metal ringing through as it let go of the fastenings. His body shivered again as it rang clear; and yet, just like his clothing, you didn’t completely relieve him of it. Keller was having other problems of his own, however; you could feel him growing hard against you, even though every sound he made was an attempt to control that. You wanted to tell him not to – but you were sure in the end that would make things worse. Pulling back from him and away from the kiss he whined; exhale breathless as you ran your hands through his hair again. You were pretty sure Keller wasn’t about to turn a natural colour for at least the next few hours. “You look so good when you’re flustered,” You purred; and this time your hands teasingly ghosted his skin, “fuck, baby, you sound incredible when you whine like that.” Keller wasn’t impressed – and the blush across his cheeks this time was more annoyed embarrassment that he was letting you do this to him. Truth was, he still enjoyed it, and it wasn’t going outside of this room – let alone this house. This secret was your own; and it was an incredible one to keep. He expected you to grab him into another fiery kiss, grabbing fistfuls of his clothing before undressing him, maybe you’d keep kissing him then, push him back onto the bed – grind him slowly whilst you undressed yourself. Yes, that’d feel so good. Then, and only then, you’d let him touch you. But he’d more than make up for what you’d put him through. Instead of living out Keller’s fantasy the way it usually played out, this time you stepped back from him. His eyebrow raised in the confusion of something he didn’t expect and you held his gaze. You blinked slowly, and only once, before in dead seriousness you spoke. “Get on your knees.” Keller stood in silence for a moment like it hadn’t computed, making you reach out for him, caressing his cheek gently before holding his chin between your thumb and index finger – voice more commanding as you forced him into looking at you. "Get down on your knees like a good boy." He didn’t hesitate. Even though he was far from understanding of why you would ask such a thing his tall frame sank slowly down to the floor. Watching him look up at you like that was enough to drive you feral; the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the look he was giving you was more than just vulnerable. Like he was perhaps even a little afraid of what you might do to him whilst he was here. Keller had no advantage anymore – you’d just taken his height from him too. But the Director’s eyes were pleading with you to put him out of his misery - if only he knew it was about to get a lot worse before it got better. Thinking that he might actually obey you and sit still, you took further steps back from him, hands running to the buttons of your own shirt, you’d barely undone the first one before his eyes widened. Your Director couldn’t help himself; he was aching for you and you were about to deny him everything and be out of his reach?! Keller’s impulses had him ignoring everything you’d said and his hand shot out; “No!” You dropped your hands and regarded him with a shake of your head, and a tsk. “Now, now, Director, that’s not how a good boy behaves.” “I-!” “Hush, baby.” He dropped back, sitting back on his heels, hands resting on his thighs – although you could tell he was reigning in all his self-control by the white in his knuckles - at least Keller looked a little apologetic. You still weren’t about to let him get away with it; and your steely gaze let him know as such. “Hands and knees.” “Y/N-!” “One more word from you and I’ll have you turn around.” His entire face screamed protest at how unfair this was, and for half a second you thought he could well be capable of crying in frustration. But it didn’t happen. “Jonathan.” It was that use of his first name that made him submissive. Hands sliding down his suit pants to touch the floor, Keller’s head bent forwards. This time when you used the words good boy you watched the shudder of delight draw its way up its spine, and he couldn’t hold back his vocalisation. You ran your hands back to your shirt buttons and undid them as slowly as you had his own. Keller kept his eyes glued to the floor, and you wondered how much more agony this would be if the first thing you’d relieved him of would have been his glasses. His eyes didn’t wander – and he kept them almost too respectfully to the floor; you wondered if he thought you might punish him further if they did – but you were hardly going to be the one to deny that you wanted Keller’s eyes on you, even if he couldn’t touch you. It was the unzipping of your pants that got him, the sound made him squirm – eyes squeezing tightly shut again, you didn’t miss the rock of his hips as you shimmied out of your pants. This was as much agony for you, even if it was in a completely different way. You couldn’t wait for his hands to be all over you, Keller was sweet and gentle sure, but he knew exactly what he was doing – and damn if he wasn’t in tune with your body. Just thinking about that had you a little hot and bothered yourself. But you cooled down with a calm exhale. And you had nothing on the man on his knees, shaking in front of you. “Baby,” Your voice hit him like a sugar rush, “look at me.” His shoulders heaved and you almost thought that he’d ruin the fun by refusing. But Keller couldn’t - no matter that he knew that you would not allow him to touch you. Those gorgeous blue eyes raised to you as he pushed himself back up to kneeling. It took effort, and he was breathing a little too heavily. “Don’t worry, darling, if you’re a good boy I’ll be all yours soon enough.” “Mmm…” You weren’t sure that was an agreement. But you pulled your shirt from your shoulders to pool with your pants. Moving to stand in a way that perfectly flaunted your body as you pushed your bra straps from your shoulders, your occasional glances back to his eyes were both fleeting and teasing. Keller’s were – unsurprisingly – glued to your body. You bit your lip hard as you reached back and watched the way he swallowed hard at the snap. But you waited, just long enough for his eyes to desperately flick back to yours before you let that fall too. Giving him enough time to become even more painfully turned on by having to kneel on the other side of the bedroom to watch you do this. You were nearly surprised that his vocalisations didn’t sound as pained as Keller looked. You were sure it would happen before this night was through. You hooked your fingers underneath your panties and waited again. Keller’s body tensed, fingers digging into his legs as he leant forward – you were sure his reactions at this point were all involuntary. You pushed them slowly down over your hips before you stopped. A little but not nearly enough. This time when he whined it did sound desperate; and the tremble made itself known in his voice. “Y-Y/N…” In fact now you didn’t think desperate was a fair word. That man was going to hurt himself – and it was going to start with making his lip bleed if Keller bit it any harder. “Baby,” You very nearly whispered it, voice soft and yet still sinful, “you’re being an awful good boy,” Keller didn’t even dare nod, but even his breathing was uneven. The Director was losing control. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?” He did nod this time, but he wasn’t meeting your eyes, his own vision downcast. “Good boy…” You smirked, beckoning, “Come here, it seems I need a little assistance.” Keller moved across the bedroom floor surprisingly gracefully but kept his body low, as on his knees as it was possible to be, until he was at your feet. He swallowed so hard it was audible, and as he raised his hands to touch your skin they visibly shook. Poor, sweet, baby boy… You very nearly pitied him, but if you showed that he’d immediately take as much control as he could from you. You weren’t about to allow that. He ran his hands from your calves up your thighs, fingers apart to touch as much of you as possible – the gentle pressure he applied as his brushed them over your skin allowed Keller a map of your structure. You wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your body off by heart, but committing you to his memory wasn’t good enough for the Director. You had to be a part of his soul too. He was delicate; as if getting to be this close to you – let alone touch you – was the highest honour. His hands paused just over where you’d left your underwear; framing your hips and he stilled – this was as much about your pleasure as his, after all, and Keller knew that an agonizingly slow pace would drive you wild. His fingertips exerted further pressure as he began dragging them back down your legs, catching the soft fabric he slid them down with relative ease. Keller was trying not to make noises this time, but you could feel how sporadic his hot breaths against your skin were and you smirked again, watching him pulled them all the way to the floor. Where he once again kept his eyes. You reached out, running your hand through his hair you caught his groan, before you grasped his chin between your thumb and forefinger and forced him to look back into your eyes. His intake of breath was sharp and he once again steadied himself. “You’re such a good boy,” You ran your thumb delicately over his lips and they parted for you, “prove it to me… beg for me.” His eyes flashed dark, and he knelt up, extending his height before placing his hands on your hips again, thumbs grazing your stomach. Keller’s gaze was locked with yours, and it didn’t leave. “Please, baby, please, let me touch you… You know I would do anything for you.” You ran your hand back to his hair, “Anything?” “Anything.” He affirmed, and there was something in his voice the touched your heart. This exchange had nothing to do with the situation you found yourselves in. You let him go, and Keller bit his lip once more; eager to please, but willing to wait for your go ahead. You gave him a wink, before you began smirking, “Touch me, Director, but do exactly as I say…” Keller gave a nod, and unironically thanked you. Because of the height Keller had placed himself at you knew that touching you wasn’t the only thing he was going to do. You’d permit him to do what he wanted – why shouldn’t you allow yourself such a pleasure? His kisses grazed your hips and your stomach, slow and gentle Keller worshiped your body. You ran you fingers back into his hair, and the scrape of your nails against his scalp was enough to have him sighing against your skin, shiver once again visible. As his kisses began to run lower his hands slipped from your hips to join them; your pull on his hair was simply a warning - not too fast, or I’ll stop you. Keller’s eyes raised back to yours before he pressed his lips to your skin one last time, fingers sliding tentatively into your folds he tested you. But he was the one out of the two of your groaning – you bit your lip if only to stop yourself from smirking so hard. Giving you pleasure gave him pleasure, and yet both of you were getting off on you being in control. His fingertips brushed your clit, and then you did sigh; “Good boy. Right there.” Although he didn’t leave them there very long, running them back Keller teased your entrance and as he did so, brought his tongue into play. You weren’t about to deny yourself the shudder of pleasure, or him the knowledge that what he was doing felt incredible as your nails dug into him; “Oh… Oh… that’s my good boy… yes, baby, just like that…” The tip of Keller’s tongue teased your clit in slow circles, enough for you to push your hips forward, craving more attention. Your hand rested on his shoulder, but your grip on him said you were still very much dominant. His fingers remained idle, and by now you were craving him. “Baby, give me more! And don’t you dare stop.” As he pushed his fingers slowly into you, your body responded immediately, muscles tightening around him. Keller very nearly lost it – his vocalised whine was really something else and it was enough to make you gasp. Was he about to cry over this? It certainly sounded like it. “Hush…” was as much comfort as you offered him, before groaning again as he moved his fingers slowly within you, “Yes baby…! More…!” Keller wasn’t sure what more he could possibly offer you, the taste of you was driving him insane. His body was doing all his screaming for him and if he was completely honest with himself, he just wanted you to grab him and fuck him in whatever way you deemed necessary (and it would certainly be you doing such a thing, he knew his place tonight). He wanted to beg you to do that, he wanted to beg to be inside you, and his pleasure and frustration all came out in the form of tears. Keller got reckless and emotional. Pulling his fingers from you – with a sharp gasp from you at the loss of him - Keller pushed your thighs wider, tongue moving to taste as much of you as he could. Fuck! He just felt so good – and you let him have his moment of complete abandon for that reason alone. But he wasn’t playing by the rules, and that meant teaching him another lesson. No matter how much your body wanted him. You yanked him roughly back by his tie – still strategically around his neck – and held him there. You weren’t sure that you could describe the look on his face as anything other than feral; changing very quickly to surprised. “What did I say?” “Y/N!” His exclamation of your name was painful – and suddenly you realised that there really were tears glistening on his cheeks, “Please! Baby, I’m begging you…! I need you so bad… I just need you so bad-! Please, do whatever you want with me, I-” He didn’t have time to finish his sentence as you pulled him to standing, but Keller was pretty incapable and staggered, supported only by your body as you kissed him – rough and merciless as his tie and waistcoat hit the floor, followed by his shirt and belt, you pulled his hips to yours as you ran through his button and zipper, but you did not let his lips leave yours. As his pants hit the floor you shoved him hard and Keller hit the sheets, breathless. Even more so as you clambered onto him to remove the final item. This was slower and move delicate, taking Keller’s glasses from his face you folded them and placed them on his bedside table, leaning in to kiss him a little gentler. “I love you, you know that, right?” His face was flushed once more, immediately submissive to whatever you would do you him next, as you straightened holding him underneath you. “Y-Yes, I know…” “Good boy.” You rolled your hips over his and his body immediately lurched in response, arching up to touch yours, his cry of pure ecstasy music to your ears. You smirked again, weight covering him to push him further into the bed, but dipped to continue your fiery trail of kisses; “Such a good boy…” *** His first movement was slow, but about all Keller could take, given the choked cry he let out. You placed your hands over his and rolled your hips again; “It’s okay, baby I’m here.” You continued your motions as his grip on you became stronger, “That’s it, good boy.” And Keller eventually held you to a nice rhythm that he responded to. “Y/N-” His body shuddered again, you tilted your head, “Say it, baby say it.” “Please, please I want more….” “You what? You want more?” “Just this once,” His breaths were shaky and his voice wavered enough for only half the words to be properly spoken, “let me say it… please!” You ground your hips into him harder and Keller elicited something between a groan and a growl, tipping his head back. Usually want would be followed up with a tease that want was not the word you wanted to hear… ‘want’ would get him nowhere, except stalling what Keller was desperate for. Tonight he was losing control and if you stopped, he might not want you to continue. So you only continued to get rougher – and each time you did you buried him a little deeper inside of you, until he was hitting your sweet spot. “OH… baby…” This time you allowed yourself to truly vocalise your pleasure, “You feel so good.” “Mhm-!” That nod wasn’t in agreement, but solidarity. You did too – but your significant other was finding words a little difficult right now. The dig of his fingers into your skin likely to leave bruises – yet you couldn’t help but think about how good Keller’s hands felt on your either. You could feel every twitch and vibration of his body as you rode him and you were enjoying every second. If you could somehow make this last all night, that probably wouldn’t even have been enough. “Baby-!” Your breathing was aligned with his; the same panting – maybe not as heavy – your grind a little rougher this time had him reaching the very deepest part of you and your intake of breath was sharp; “Do you know what a good boy you are?” you panted again, “You deserve a reward, you deserve the biggest reward.” Keller only stared up at you obediently – all things considered he would think this was his reward. So whatever you were going to say would only be a bonus. “Cum for me, baby please… I need you to.” His lips parted again – and the Oh of realisation was lost in the OH! of intense pleasure as you managed to find another notch to push yourselves into. Keller’s vision was blurring and all he was aware of was blinding white light, the way you felt, and your voice. The searing heat that suddenly came to him was intense. “Y/N-!” “Yes-! Yes, that’s my good boy. That’s it-! OH-!!” His body arched and his hands pulled your body into his, needing desperately to feel all of you all over him. That skin to skin contact finally pushed him completely over the edge and you rode him out over his climax. Keller’s panting - everything from his breathing to his voice - sharp and he squeezed his eyes shut tight as he let you climax with a beautiful call of his name. He shook gently again as your heat mixed with his and your body trembled against his. You knew exactly what he needed right now, but you would leave him hanging for just a little while longer; you removed your body from his gently so as not to hurt him, but still sat across his hips, placing your hands over his chest to feel the beat of his heart. Keller placed his hands over yours, smile soft, blue eyes holding galaxies. “I love you.” You said it again, “Baby, did you enjoy that?” Keller nodded, and you loved how high his voice sounded, “Yeah…” “Yeah?” Your voice was soft, and you kissed his forehead gently, “Good boy.” It'd wear off, and by tomorrow morning your significant other would be your boss again, by this time next week he’d have probably put you back in your place because make no mistake, Keller was still the boss. Even if he was gentle and vanilla 90% of the time you weren’t doing this with him. You stretched your body out over his and drew him into your arms, kissing his cheek, nose and brow, before settling on the taste of his lips. You would hold him until he calmed down, until he asked you not to. But Keller wouldn’t, and you already knew that before his arms wound around you. “I love you too.” “Hmm?” “I love you… too…” His body shivered slightly in aftershocks, causing him to moan softly again before he yawned and settled his body into yours. You ran your fingers through his hair and smiled to yourself, “I heard you the first time,” then you grinned, “I just wanted to hear you say it twice.” He chuckled, closing his eyes, “Why, are there two of you I should be saying it to?” “Hmmm… maybe one day. We’re not ready for that conversation yet.” Though perhaps it was an exciting thought. “Oh.” His realisation was a little out, but you’d let Keller off considering what you’d just put him through. “…Yeah. A good conversation, for another time.” You kissed him once more, “Keller?” “Yes?” “Thank you.” His eyes opened slowly, and his eyebrow raised, “The pleasure is all mine. And, you’re the one looking after me.” “I know. But, you should know that I’m grateful for such opportunities.” “Silly girl…” He chuckled, pulling your body closer and running a hand through your hair, “Of course I do.” “I would do anything for you too.” “Shhh…” Although he smiled as he kissed your skin, “Now that’s just dangerous information.”

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Thank you for reading! 😉😏✌

#Sinday/Sunday #Director Keller #Ben Mendelsohn #Captain Marvel #Keller x Reader #A Good Boy #(Not quite the Goodest Boy)#185 #Agent!Reader series #People: Call Keller Daddy In Tags Me: Writes This #99.9% I've never seen this gif anywhere else so it really IS a blessing from Joss #I'm indebted to both of you for this one!#Sub/Dom tones #Dom!Reader #Aint Nobody Gonna Love You Better Than This Southern Gentleman #There we're giving Keller his own tag now-!

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