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tiredmamaissy · 2 years ago

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Moment of Truth

Neteyam’s First Rut: Chapter VII

Read Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Chapter V & Chapter VI

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (21) x Avatar Reader (21)

Warnings: nsfw, ANGSTANGSTANGST, pregnancy, blood, reader cries way too much, a sliver of smut (in comparison), make up/pregnant sex creampie, oral sex (f receiving)

Word Count: 8.5k [I have no excuse]

Requested: Yes || No || Kinda

Author’s Note: why am I so dramatic lol. the amount of angst in this is sickening, but it’s okay there’s a happy ending, I promise.

Synopsis: You’ve been keeping a big secret from your mate, Neteyam. It’s time to come clean, but when finally you decide to... something happens.

Previously:

“Ma’ yawne. You had me worried. Ta’sun is in good hands, okay? Let us go home.” he reassures you, not even considering how being away for long would make you feel. He rubs your back whilst coming out the water. “How do you feel... otherwise?” he asks, a sliver of relief in his voice.

“I’m okay. I just want to go home, please.” you mumble, already feeling the guilt of lying about something so big.

The ride home is quiet. You cling to your mate, running an array of scenarios through your head. Scenarios of you sitting him down, and telling him the truth. Only for him to respond to you with a cold shoulder, or worse – anger and disappointment. You can already hear it:

“y/n, how could you be so careless? If you knew, why did you not say anything? I asked you, multiple times!”

Because the truth is, you knew. You knew from the moment you sat in between his legs on Seze, feeling the influence of his pheromones. You knew, deep down, that your heat was creeping up on you, yet you still reassured him that you wanted this – wanted him. You knew that when you did accept the truth, that it was too late.

Your eyes remain shut, tears still silently running down your cheeks, hurting from words he never spoke.

“Shh... my love. We are almost there. Ta’sun is going to be so excited to see his sa’nu [mummy], that he will not even look his sempu [daddy].” he chuckles, a warm hand holding you close to him.

His words only make you bawl more, dimples forming in your chin as it quivers. The thought of your baby jumping about excited to see you makes your heart sink even more, because you know you could have another budding in your womb, excited to meet you too.

----

Three weeks have passed since Neteyam’s rut. Each day felt torturous, carrying the burden of such a heavy secret in your heart. There were countless moments where you yearned to sit down and tell him the truth – to tell him you may be pregnant. But there were also moments where you tried, where it came out more as a light-hearted joke, rather than a confession. The moments where he made it clear that it not something he wanted.

“You look like you want a baby tsmukan [brother] or tsmuke [sister] to protect, ma’ Ta’sun. Look at you getting so big.” you coo, watching your son crawl to you.

Neteyam chuckles behind you, watching his son try his best to make quick strides back to his sa’nu. “None, right ma’ Ta’sun? You are still a baby yourself, too young and sweet to have that responsibility.” Neteyam speaks from his own experience, being the bigger brother – the protector, all his life.

Just like that, a few more stones in your heart.

It hurt you. To know the father of your child wouldn’t be excited to hear he was having another. It only made you retreat even further into your shell, denying yourself your own excitement of possibly having another Ta’sun in your womb. You tried your best to turn a blind eye to your blatant symptoms, that you began to experience in only a week.

Just the sight of steamed bladder polyps made you gag, and if the smell ever wafts past your nose, you’d to run out of the tent to heave into the shrubs. The craving for Yovo fruit has come back ten-fold, now being the only thing that you can keep down. There was a new heaviness in your womb, much like the heaviness in your heart. A heaviness that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t deny.

Your breasts became tender and sore. Each time he latched white-hot pain seared through your breast, making you jolt in your skin. You endured it regardless; you’d do anything for your son. But Ta’sun weaned overnight, out the blue – another thing that kept you from sleeping soundly.

“Teyam, he keeps biting me.” you cry, frustrated and worn out. “It hurts, I-I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what is happening.” you lie once more, already knowing it’s because your milk doesn’t taste the same due to the new hormones in your body.

“Ah, my love.” he rests his hands on your shoulders, only for you to shrug him away. “It is alright. It is time now that he weans.” he tries to reassure you, stepping back to give you the space you want.

“You are not listening to me... I wish you listened to me.” you hiccup, talking about something completely different.

His brows pinch together, pity plastered on his face. “Oh, ma’ yawne. I know you are frustrated.” a hand hovers over your shoulder for a split second, “I am sorry.” he apologizes, retreating his hand, feeling like he could be a better mate – a better father.

You felt terrible. You knew your attitude hurt Neteyam, lashing out on him when you were upset.

Neteyam could tell something was off about you, but he chalked it up to something that happened that day – something that he did wrong. There was unspoken, unpleasant tension between the two of you. You remained in your shell, trying to hide all the symptoms of the budding babe in your womb. But it only came off as detachment. He tried to make it up to you daily with numerous gestures of love, all of which you brushed off because of the guilt bubbling deep in your chest. You felt that you didn’t deserve his love, keeping a lie this big from him – and he felt that he deserved your cold, distant treatment.

“Ma’ txe’lan [heart]. I made your favourite. Are you hungry?” he smiled wide, bringing you a bowl of steamed bladder polyps with Ta’sun strapped to his chest.

Your face screwed, stomach turning at the smell wafting past your nose. Eyes slamming shut, you exhale harshly, trying to get the smell out your system. A fire sets in your lungs as they beg for air. You shake your head, and run outside, leaving him there alone – his smile drooping into a frown.

He waited patiently for you to come around, giving you as much time as you needed. At times, he confided in his mother, wishing to get clarity – to gain some sort of understanding. He thought, perhaps it was something deeper, something that women experience after having a baby. There would be moments where he would try to talk to you, or just cherish you in his arms. The moments where he would lightly tug at your queue, silently asking to feel connected with you.

Neteyam presses his body against yours, yearning for his mates’ soft, soothing touch. He misses you, yet you’re lying right in front of him. Not wanting to pressure you into anything, he never took it father that just this. But tonight, his heart weighs extra heavy, despite it being empty.

“Y/n.” he whispers, lips brushing against your neck. “I miss you.” his voice cracks, riddled with anguish.

The words are like a dagger to your heart, piercing it enough for the stones to tumble out. You miss him, too. Yet you lay there as silent as a yerik [hexapede], putting on yet another sleeping façade. Desperate fingertips brush the length of your queue. He knows that you’re awake, he could hear your thumping heart.

“I love you, y/n.” he whispers once more, knowing you’re listening. “I see you. For life.” his way of telling you that he’ll wait for however long you need him to.

You cry, and cry, and cry, scooting back into his arms as you tugged your queue from his fingertips, holding it tight to your bosom. “I love you.” you spit the words, breath hitching from your sobs.

You couldn’t believe yourself, being such a hypocrite. You were so upset with Neteyam when he lied to you about going on the hunting trip with his father so he could just spend his rut alone. A lie that was for your benefit.

It all became unbearable. Your symptoms became unbearable – indubitable. It was eating you alive, you had to know for sure... to come clean. But you didn’t know how. To simply say “I think I am pregnant” seemed too easy – too simple. How could you say such a thing after weeks of mistreatment? After weeks of being a horrid mate? You needed advice. Who better to give that to you than your best friend?

Kiri.

----

“Neteyam. Kiri wanted to talk to me. Sounds important. You okay with Ta’sun for a while?” the lie slips off your tongue too easily.

“Of course, ma’ yawne. Don’t you want to eat before you go? You have not eaten all day.” he smiles slightly, glancing at the bladder polyps.

“Uh – no. But thank you, Nete. I’m gonna get going before the eclipse starts, okay?” you say, backing out of the tent. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Oh, okay. I love-” his voice strains, quickening to catch you before you... slip out the door. “...you.” he finishes his sentence, a sinking feeling in his chest makes his ears lay flat. He looks down at his son, perched in his lap.

“What did sempu [daddy] do wrong?” he croaks, tucking Ta’sun’s growing hair behind his ears. Ta’sun babbles at his father in return, staring up at him with a wide-eyed goggle and a gummy smile.

----

Too deep in thought, you were already at Kiri’s tent, standing at her door focused on your feet. The emotional overload is overwhelming. You were... everything, all at once. Angry. Sad. Disappointed. Anxious... In denial – heavy denial. Kiri being his sister didn’t make it any better. How would you tell her? How could you tell her? You’d been mistreating her brother for weeks. Surely, she wouldn’t be happy to hear that, even if you’re her best friend – her sister. Body going into fight or flight, you turn around, ready to flee.

“Y/n?” Kiri’s hushed voice makes to spin around, surprised. “Why are you here?” a look of puzzlement on her face, she peeks behind you, looking for Neteyam and Ta’sun before focusing back on you. Her expression softens, taking in the sight of her sister’s puffy eyes, and tear-stained cheeks. “...what happened? Come.” she asks through a gasp, dragging you in her tent.

She sits you next to her on her cot, waiting patiently for you to speak on your own. All you can do is bury your face into your hands and cry silent tears. Snaking her arm around your shoulder, she pulls you in, swaying you both side to side.

“Tsmuke [sister].” her tongue clicks, “tell me what’s the matter, hm?” she hums, rubbing your arm.

Breath skipping uncontrollably, you try to tell her what happened, only for it to come out as gibberish. All except for the words “you’re going to be mad at me.”

“Y/n. Take a breath. You’re okay. You’re safe. I won’t be upset with you, okay?” she calms you, holding you in front of her firmly by the arms. “Okay?” she repeats slowly.

You nod quickly, wiping away your tears. “I think that I am pregnant.”

Kiri searches your eyes, a look of puzzlement washing over her once more. “I don’t understand. Isn’t this a good thing? A blessing, yes? And why would I be upset with you about that?”

“B-because. I-I have been hiding it from Neteyam. I’ve been a horrid mate. I didn’t know my heat would come. I’ve been so cold and distant from him. And – and he doesn’t understand why! I try my best to hide my symptoms, but I just end up avoiding him. Lashing out on h-him. He – he thinks it’s his fault. That he did something wrong. I want to tell him, but... I don’t know how.” you blubber on and on, eventually looking up at Kiri’s even more puzzled face. “He’s going to be upset with me, Kiri.” you voice hushes down into a hoarse whisper, bottom lip trembling.

“Y/n.” she huffs out as a sigh. “Why would he be upset? Was he upset when you found out about Ta’sun? No. He loves being a father. Why would he be... upset?” she repeats her question, grimacing at the word. She knows her brother puts his mate and child over anything – anyone.

“He said it himself. H-he thanked Eywa... that he didn’t get me pregnant. He thinks it’s too soon – too soon for Ta’sun to have a younger sibling. He’s been like this since we first mated, Kiri. He told me once that I was lucky I didn’t get pregnant on my first heat. I just, I know he will be upset with-” your blubber is cut short by Kiri holding your face.

“Tell. Him.” she states firmly, pursing her lips slightly. She pulls you in, wrapping her arms around you. “Tell him, y/n. Trust me.” she hums, tightening her warm embrace. “And we need to go see grandmother. Today. Like, now.” she pulls back, raising her brows as she looks at you, as if to say ‘got it?’.

You try to smile, biting your bottom lip. Hearing Kiri’s comforting words and feeling her soothing touch lightened the weight in your heart. But it’s quickly filled with something else, something that quickened the thud of your heart. Fear.

Kiri picked up on it straight away, a gift from Eywa if you will. “Do not fret. It will be okay, no matter what she says. I am here for you. Everyone is here for you.” she says her words slowly, drilling them in your head.

Will Neteyam be here for me? You ponder.

----

“You are with child.” Mo’at grins, placing her wooden pick back into its casing. She kneels behind you, humming as she presses her palm firmly against your back. “seykxel sì nitram [congratulations], a girl child.” her grin grows wider, “Ta’sun will have tsmuke [sister].”

A baby girl.

For the first in three weeks, you feel nothing but happiness. It’s like a moment of silence in all the noise, all the buzz that’s been ringing non-stop in your head. All the voices finally hush, leaving your heart warm, and light. A moment of euphoria.

A moment.

A silent gasp parts Mo’at’s lips. Eyes rolling back into her head, she mutters under her breath – something you can’t quite make out. “Grandmother?” Kiri squeaks quietly, afraid to disturb the elder in trance. Mo’at’s grin falls quickly.

“Kiri?” you reach your hand out to find her. She holds your hand, giving it a quick squeeze, reminding you of her words ‘It will be okay, no matter what she says.’

“My child. Your distress has affected your unborn. You must rest. Go. Tell your mate.” she states, slowly backing away from you.

A moment.

Waves of anxiety and guilt crash into you so hard they wind you, leaving you breathless. Not only had you been a terrible mate, but a terrible mother, ignoring your unborn – denying her existence. The heaviness of your heart returns, ten-fold, leaving no space for the happiness that was just there.

It didn’t feel real.

Is there really a baby in here? You rest a gentle hand on your abdomen.

Kiri embraces you once more, snapping you out of your daze. “Tell him, y/n. Tell him now.”

“Okay.” you mutter, getting up to walk out the healer’s tent. Kiri walks next to you, linking her arm with yours. “I got it, Kiri. Thank you.” you say monotonously, trying to feel nothing for the sake of your... baby.

“Are you sure?” she asks, slowly unlinking her arm from yours.

“Yeah. I’m sure. I’m going to take my time anyways... to think some more.” your words are flat, lifeless – much like how you feel.

“Alright, y/n. The eclipse is starting, so don’t take too long. Okay?” she hesitates, reluctant to leave you alone.

“Yeah. Okay.” you say, keeping your eyes on your feet.

“Everything will be alright. Get plenty of rest.” she tries to comfort you, only to be met with your blank stare.

Parting ways, you begin the trek home. It wasn’t too far, unfortunately. You really wanted some more time to think about what you were going to say and how you were going to say it. Not only did you have to tell him that you are pregnant, but that your stress and dishonesty have been affecting the baby, too. At this point, you don’t know howhe’ll react.

How could you even say this? ‘Neteyam. I’m pregnant. A baby girl, but she’s at risk because of my careless actions’ or, how about ‘I was a piece of shit mate to you for three weeks and have been hiding my pregnancy – denying the existence of our unborn daughter, who is suffering because of it.’

Nothing you came up with was good enough. Nothing sounded right. The more you thought about it, the more it registered how badly you fucked up. Your eyes remain locked on your feet, watching each toe grip the flora beneath you, step after step. You watch as the freckles on your skin glow as the eclipse occurs. You didn’t even realize that you’d been walking aimlessly this entire time. So deep in thought, you veered off the path to your tent.

Finally looking up into the darkness, you see the bioluminescence of the panoprya, anemonids and kentens [flying fan lizard] light up the forest. “Shit.” you mutter, becoming aware of the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. Doing a quick 360, it dawns on you.

You’re lost.

“Shit. Shit. How far out am I? I don’t even know where I am.” you think out loud. Without giving it a second thought, you pick a direction and walk. Unbeknownst to you, you were just venturing deeper into the forest. The sounds of the fauna frightened you, keeping you on edge, only making you walk faster, and faster. Before you know it, you’re racing towards a finish line that didn’t exist.

Winded, you stop to catch your breath, leaning against a thick tree trunk. In the distance, you spot a heavily damaged link shack. You had heard of it before, Jake told the story about his final battle with Quaritch at family dinner. But you had never seen it in person. The sight makes you dizzy. Heart thumping violently between your ribs, you press the button on your throat microphone with a shaky hand.

“Ma’ tìyawn [love].” you sniffle.

----

With the eclipse occurring, Neteyam only becomes more and more worried about you. “Ta’sun, where is your sa’nu [mummy]?” he coos quietly, looking down at his sleeping babe in his arms. “I think we should go check on her. What do you think?” he whispers.

With Ta’sun strapped tightly to his chest, he gears up with his bow and arrows and makes the quick journey to Kiri’s tent.

“Kiri!” he whispers with a harsh voice, babe still sleeping nuzzled into his chest. With no response, he calls out again. “Kiri! Y/n!”.

Silence.

Bursting through the door, Neteyam sees Kiri sound asleep. Furrowed brows raise, beaded eyes widen, pursed lips part – a shocked expression contorts his face. His legs take a second to long to respond to his commands to move. But when they do, he bolts towards Kiri, shaking her awake. Practically jumping out of her own skin, she stands in front of her brother, groggy and confused.

“Kiri. Kiri. Where is y/n? She told me she was coming here, to talk to you. Where is she?” he asks frantically, grip tightening on his sister’s upper arm.

“She – she went home! We went to see Mo’at and then she went home. Didn’t she tell you?” Kiri hand snaps to her forehead as she stares blearily at her brother.

Ta’sun stirs against his father’s chest. Neteyam bounces reflexively, hushing his voice to a harsh whisper. “No! Tell me what? Why did you go to see Mo’at? Where is y/n?”

A crackle of static comes through Neteyam’s earpiece.

“Ma’ tìyawn [love].” you sniffle.

Neteyam’s heart skips a beat. He hasn’t heard you call him that in weeks. It sounds as if you’re crying, voice hushed, yet harsh. He could hear the whooping and cackling of nocturnal creatures in the background and your heavy breaths.

“Ma’ yawne... Where are you?” he chokes out, unwrapping the prrsmung [carrier] from his chest, signalling with his eyes that Kiri take the baby.

“If I tell you, you’re going to be mad, my ‘teyam.” you murmur.

Kiri takes the baby gently, so not to wake him. Neteyam fixes his bow to his chest, hurrying out of Kiri’s tent. “I won’t be mad. Just tell me, love.” he tries not to sound panicked, as he makes his way towards the forest.

“I – I don’t know.” you squeak, fear evident in your voice. “I think I’m at the old shack... the forbidden one.”

Oh, shit.

“Okay. Okay. Stay there. Do not move, understand? It is forbidden for a reason. I am coming now, just – please.” his own fear shook his voice, too.

“O-okay, my Nete. I... need to tell you s-something.” your breath hitches.

“Tell me when I get there, okay? I’m coming now. Just stay there.” he hums, trying to calm you down. By the way you were speaking it sounded as if you were trying to mutter your last words to him, and that terrified him.

“No, i-it can’t wait. It’s important. I don’t even know how to stay it, Nete. I’m just so sorry. I really am. I love you, so much. And I miss you. I miss Ta’sun.” you blabber, tears freely flowing down your cheeks.

“Y/n. Please. You are scaring me now. What is going on?” his voice bounces as he weaves through the panoprya and jutting tree branches. He has not heard you speak like this in weeks.

“I need to tell you... the truth. All of it. I’m pr – ” a sudden gasp, then static.

“Y/n? Y/n?” he repeats, thuds becoming louder as his heels strike the ground harder – faster. “y/n?!”

---- [repetition of words incoming]

The eclipse is in full bloom, only the bioluminescence around you can be seen – leaving you with few senses to rely on. Ethereal sounds of the forest echo in your ears, the scaly bark of the tree scrapes the skin on your back, wafting the scent of your own blood by your nose. A terrible feeling wrings your gut, making you queasy. Or perhaps that was the budding babe in your womb. It’s an eerie feeling – right dead in the pit of your stomach. It frightens you... terrifies you. It feels as if...

...someone is watching you.

You huddle further into the tree, closing your eyes to concentrate on your mates’ voice. “Okay. Okay. Stay there. Do not move, understand? It is forbidden for a reason. I am coming now, just – please.” Neteyam’s shaky voice comes through your earpiece.

Snap. No other than the sound of a twig breaking in two. How cliché.

You squeeze your eyes tighter, hoping that if you don’t look, it’ll go away. A hand flies to your mouth – your poor attempt at keeping the sounds of your heavy breaths to a minimum. The last time you were this petrified was when Auzo assaulted you in broad day light. What if that day repeats? What if something... someone, is watching you?

You had to tell him, now.

“O-okay, my Nete. I... need to tell you s-something.” you whisper into your hand, breath hitching.

“Tell me when I get there, okay? I’m coming now. Just stay there.” he tries to soothe his shaky voice.

Your eyes fly open to the rustle of the lush foliage above you.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I want to go home to my mate. To Ta’sun. You let go a breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

“No, i-it can’t wait. It’s important. I don’t even know how to stay it, Nete. I’m just so sorry. I really am. I love you, so much. And I miss you. I miss Ta’sun.” you blabber out a little too loudly, tears stinging your face.

“Y/n. Please. You are scaring me now. What is going on?” his bouncing voice is panic-stricken.

The rustling intensifies.

You gulp down a wad of spit. The hand covering your mouth trembles, droplets of tears falling on its luminescent freckles. “I need to tell you... the truth. All of it. I’m pr – ”

You gasp suddenly, hitting the floor with a thud. Something – someone is on top of you, pinning you face down. The earpiece falls out your ear, cutting off Neteyam shouting your name. It all happens so quick. In a moment, he has your hands tied behind your back, and a knife to your throat.

“Up.” A chilling voice sends a shiver down your spine. “Now!” he booms, jerking you up by the base of your queue. A deafening whimper parts your lips as you stand on the tips of your toes, trying your best to make space between your jugular and the knife’s blade.

He looks quickly at your fingers, counting ten in total. “Colonel. It’s Zhang. We got a half-breed. Site 26. Over.” he pages Quaritch.

Zhang? Colonel? As in... Colonel Quaritch?

Your belly ached at the words, twisting, and turning into a tight knot. Heart thumping violently against your ribs, your hold your breath, afraid of the blade a millimetre away from your throat.

“You’re coming with us, buttercup. Care to explain how you got ten fingers?” he snarls, pressing himself against you.

“’m not your fucking buttercup.” you squeeze out of clenched teeth, surprised by your own words.

Zhang chuckles deeply, tightening his grip on your queue, earning a high-pitched squeal from you. “Got a lil’ fight in ya’. Sit still, pretty. We got ways to make ya’ talk.”

“Two clicks out. Over.” a faint voice comes through his earpiece.

The magnitude of the situation quickly dawns on you. If you didn’t do something – if you didn’t get out now, you’d be kidnapped and tortured. An image of Ta’sun crying for his sa’nu [mama] in Neteyam’s arms flashes before you, igniting a roaring flame in your heart – incinerating the heaviness in it. Dagger pressed firmly to your throat, hand gripping your queue, binds on your wrists – the only thing free was your mouth.

----

Neteyam cautiously approaches the prohibited area, old link shack in sight. Hearing your high-pitched squeal, he quickly camouflages himself in the tall flora. Peeking through the slivers of the leaves, he catches the sight of what seems to be a Na’vi male pressing against you, holding a knife to your throat. He inhales sharply, blood bubbling under his skin, lips curling over his teeth.

Repositioning his stance, he loads his bow in an instant, ready to make his first kill. Hot air huffing through his nostrils, fury blurs his vision. He holds his breath, attempting to still his shaky hand as he pulls the fatal arrow back against his cheek. Heart galloping like a direhorse, he exhales slowly, aiming the pointed arrowhead at his prey.

“I have a baby... at home waiting for me... he’s – he’s almost five months old.” you speak slowly as tears stream down your face. Neteyam’s ears perk up at the sound of your small voice.

“Shut it, buttercup.” Zhang snaps at you, leaving a warning on your throat.

“He... needs his mama.” you choke out between hitched breaths, tears mixing with the blood trickling down your chest. Neteyam grimaces at your words, struggling to get a clear shot.

“Shut it!” He shouts, twisting the base of your queue.

“Mmmn!” you muffle out a cry, body tensing – eyes squeezing shut. “Please.” you breathe.

“Fuck!” Zhang yells angrily, spinning you around to face his towering frame. “Didn’t I tell you to fucking shut it?” he yanks your head back, positioning the tip of his dagger to your jugular.

You could tell from the look in his eyes that your words were getting to him, triggering him. It was as if he didn’t want to hear that you were a real person, with a life, a family – a baby in your belly. Not only did you have a baby at home, but you had one here with you, inside your womb. Your heart skips a beat as you prepare yourself to utter the words – to face the truth.

“I’m pregnant.” you mouth, words catching in your throat. Top lip twitching from rage, he withdraws his dagger, ready to make the lethal cut. “No. No! I’m pregnant! P-please.” you cry out, words dislodging abruptly – loudly. Your words echo in your ears, fuelling the menacing fire in your heart to incinerate whatever denial or doubt you had remaining.

Neteyam’s heart throbs in his chest, a surge of adrenaline rushing through him. His eyes widen, his focus becoming clear and sharp. His mate needs him – his mate who carries his unborn. Zhang’s grip loosens ever so slightly, predatory leer softening for a millisecond, providing Neteyam with a clear shot.

His releases his arrow of death, bowstring snapping against his forearm, impaling his prey through his back. You witness his body jolt, eyes dilate and constrict before they dim completely. His lifeless body slumps to the ground, arrow protruding out of his back as blood pools at your feet. Your eyes snap up, to see Neteyam’s wide stance, chest heaving violently from making his first kill. Your eyes lock with his, riddled with worry and anger.

“Neteyam!” you sob loudly, watching him bolt towards you.

“Did he touch you?!” he raises his voice, gripping your arms to move you back to examine your condition.

“N-no!” you stutter, in absolute shock.

Pulling you into his arms, he holds you tightly, one hand on the back of your head and the other fiddling with the tie on your wrists. “Mawey. Mawey [calm]. I am here. You’re safe.” he pants shakily, adrenaline still coursing viciously through his veins. “You’re safe.” he repeats breathily, finally freeing you from your restraints.

He steps back, eyes trailing your body thoroughly, narrowing slightly as they pass the wound on your throat. They make their way down your chest, watching at the red beads of blood and tears drip down your stomach. His gaze lingers at your abdomen, taking in the sight of the small bump left by Ta’sun – now filled by his unborn. Eyes snapping back up to yours, he swallows thickly.

“Is it true? Are you pregnant?” he asks breathlessly, a hand slipping from your arm to rest on your womb.

You nod weakly, tears welling up in your eyes once more. “Yes, Nete.” you catch your breath. “I am. I’m pregnant. I’m s-so sorry.” You bawl, salty tears stinging the wound on your neck.

Tears threaten to fall from his glossy eyes as he smiles wobbly, his hand cupping your cheek. “You’re pregnant. Oh, ma’ yawne, you are pregnant.” he breathes, putting the pieces of the puzzle together.

“I – I didn’t know my heat would come. I understand why you’re upset, that you’re not ready for another. I’m so sorry, Nete. I should’ve known, and I – I’m sorry I’ve been so distant, so terrible to you. And Mo’at says she is stressed, all because of me, and-” you sob hysterically, Neteyam cutting you off to embrace you closely.

“She? A girl?” he asks quickly, pulling you closer into his chest. “We’re having a baby girl?” his tears overflow, rolling down his cheeks.

You nod into his chest, sobbing loudly. He shushes you, swaying you from side to side, rubbing the dip of your back. “Shh, my love. You have made me the happiest man alive, bringing life to our family once more. Do not fret, ma’ yawne. It is going to be okay. She will be okay.” He hums, planting a kiss on your head.

The whirring of a kunsip [scorpion gunship/helicopter] can be heard in the distance, throwing Neteyam back into the thick of his protective urges. “Come. Come. We must go. Quickly.” he whispers, grabbing your hand and running through the forest back to hometree.

----

Neteyam barges into his sleeping grandmother’s tent, rousing her out of her sleep. “Grandmother!”

The elder sits up groggily, used to her sleep being disturbed as Tsahik. “What is it, Neteyam?” she croaks.

“It is y/n. Please, check her.” he huffs, out of breath from the trek. He ended up carrying you back home half way, not wanting the baby to be under any more stress.

“Put me down, my Nete. Grandmother, I’m fine really, it is just a scratch.” you reassure the elder.

“What happened, my child? How did you get such a wound?” she goes for her concoction of herbs, smearing it over the deep cut. Neteyam explains briefly, as Mo’at makes her way around to your back, placing her cold palm flush against your spine.

“Baby is strong.” She hums, a surprised expression washing over her face. “What have you done since I last saw you?”

You smile weakly, glancing at Neteyam. He takes his hand in yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “I told my mate.”

Mo’at’s eyes flicker between the two of you, her puzzled expression relaxing into one of happiness. “I see.” she states, corners of her lips curling upwards. “Everything is good. Get dome rest. Both of you.”

“Thank you, grandmother.” you shoot her a smile, thankful for her help. Neteyam sweeps three fingers from his forehead, also thanking his grandmother.

He turns to you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Kiri has Ta’sun. Shall we go?”

You nod hastily, a smile plastered on your face. Oh, how you longed to see your son after such an ordeal.

Arriving at Kiri’s tent, Neteyam quietly enters to see Kiri pacing back and forth. “Neteyam! Y/n!” she whispers loudly. She sees your banged up condition, scanning your body frantically. She hugs you tightly, full of guilt for not walking you home. “I’m so sorry, y/n. I should have taken you home.” she pulls away from the hug. “Are you okay? What happened?”.

You explain the night’s events to Kiri, letting her know that it wasn’t her fault and she shouldn’t be sorry.

“I’m just glad you’re okay now. My brother does a good job at protecting you. Doesn’t he?” Kiri shoots a smile at her brother before glancing back to you. “I’m also happy to hear your baby is doing better. Speaking of, Ta’sun is fast asleep.” Kiri gestures to the sleeping babe in her cot. “Just got him down, too. So I hope you’re not thinking of taking my prrnen [baby] from me.” She smiles, knowing you two could use a good nights rest.

Neteyam and you share a quick glance, wondering if you should take her up on her offer.

“Go. You guys need the rest, look at you both.” she giggles quietly, rolling her eyes.

“Thank you, Kiri” you whisper, nose scrunching the wider your smile grows.

“Sister.” Neteyam smirks, thanking her silently with his eyes. You both walk out of Kiri’s tent towards yours, hand in hand.

----

Neteyam holds your hand tightly, relishing in the first form of intimacy he’s had from you in weeks. He’s careful not to take it any further than that, not wanting to pressure you into doing something you weren’t ready for. He’d wait on you for as long as you need him to. Anything for his beloved.

“My love. You must be exhausted.” he hums, opening the door of your tent, helping you step under the flap. “Let us get you into bed, yes?” He coos, as if you were Ta’sun that he were putting to sleep. He walks you over to the cot, trying to get you to lay down.

“Neteyam.” You whisper, fighting his gentle pushes to stay on your feet.

He stops, turning his head and quickly untwining his fingers from yours to take a step back, thinking he’s upset you again.

“Ma’ teyam.” you whisper once more, two fingers brushing the underside of his chin to have him face you.

His head follows the soft tug of your digits, glossy amber eyes staring deeply into yours. Wetting your bottom lip with a quick swipe of your tongue, you lessen the space between your bodies, dropping your gaze down to his lips. He stays still, body rigid, jaw clenched as he returns his gaze to your glistening lips. His stomach flutters as he watches you tilt your chin upwards, eyelids growing heavy.

Brushing your top lip against his, you linger there, open-mouthed, sharing the same breath. He closes his eyes, savouring your closeness, your warmth. Breaths turn raggedy as the tension buds in your chests. Your eyes close, hand smoothing over his jaw, up the nape of his neck. You pull him closer, noses brushing against one another, foreheads pressing firmly together.

“Kiss me” you pant.

His lips softly press against yours, lingering for a second too long to take in your silken skin. He pulls away, catching his breath. Your eyes pop open, gaze now boring into his half-lidded eyes, searching them for an answer.

“Kiss me.” you breathe needily, fingers interlacing with the braids at the back of his head.

Chest heaving against yours, his lustful eyes explore yours for a moment before dropping down to your flushed lips. He swallows thickly, crashing his lips into yours once more, eager for your touch – your love. Kisses so rough, so hungry that they bruise yours. Being starved for so long he has his fill greedily, crushing the suppleness of your lips with his, gently nipping at your skin.

He pulls away to catch his breath before diving back in with his tongue. His hands quickly move up to your cheeks, cupping them firmly, pulling you into his needy kisses as if you could even get any closer. He breaks the kiss, panting raggedy breaths into your open mouth, snapping his eyes open to look deeply into yours once more.

“I missed you” he pants quickly, before his tongue briefly swipes your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. You reciprocate the hunger as the ache in your lungs worsen from the words you inhaled. Your tongues roll over one another, tasting the desperation pooling in each other’s cheeks. Eager hands explore his body, brushing over his pulsing neck down to his hot chest, swiping around to his broad back as they tickle their way down to the band of his loincloth.

“’m sorry, ma’ muntxatan [husband].” you breathe into his mouth, slipping your trembling fingers under the purple cloth, only for a hand to stop you. He pulls away once more.

“ma’ muntxate [wife].” he whispers, forehead pushing into yours, “I’m sorry. I have left you alone in this.” he brings your hand to your belly, cupping it with his. “I have made you feel like you cannot be honest with me... Like I would be... upset, about you carrying my child. I am so sorry.” he grimaces, choking back his tears as he places another hand on your stomach. “You are my most cherished... most prized possession. Everything you do brings light to my life. A sense of purpose.” he blubbers, teardrops crashing onto his cheeks. “I-I love you, ma’ txe’lan”

“Oh, Nete.” you squeeze out a closing throat, “I love you, my sweet Nete. I have been so cold.” you cry quietly, untwining your fingers from his hair to gently caress his queue. “I have denied you of my love... my touch.” your hand strokes the length of his queue, bringing it over his shoulder – making his tail wrap around your waist.

“I have lied to you.” you squeak, not wanting to say the words. “I do not deserve you.” you weep quietly.

“Shh. Shh, my love.” he hums low in his chest, meeting the softness of your lips once again. A hand leaves your stomach, sliding up your back to gently graze your queue. “I want you. I need you.” a soft, needy moan parts your lips, “Please” he brings your queue over your shoulder, silently asking for tsaheylu.

You nod hastily, smiling so hard that your front teeth click harshly against his. You both look down, witnessing your tendrils dance excitedly with one another before melting together to become one. A gasp catches in both your throats as your breath syncs together. You snap your gaze up to witness his pupils blackening his eyes, leaving nothing but a thin amber ring.

“I see you.” you gasp in unison, rubbing your faces against one another.

Sore lips crash into each other, desperate for an even deeper connection. Muddled thoughts race through your minds, as you try to express your immense adoration and love you have for one another. He hurriedly lowers you onto the cot, moving his feverish kisses down your throat, being careful not to graze your wound. Little, sweet moans escape your open mouth, head sinking back into the cushiony bedding as he settles between your legs. Wet kisses leave a trail of saliva down to your chest, where he takes your stiff nipple into his warm mouth, suckling gently. Your soft moans quickly morph into whimpers, thighs rubbing together to satiate the budding heat of your sex.

“Neteyam!” you whine lowly, hand snaking up his back to grip his hair once more.

He pops off your breast, staring up at you with love in his eyes. “Call me your tìyawn” he mumbles, kissing the dip between your breasts, making his way down to your stomach.

“Ma’ tìyawn...” you moan breathily, screwing your eyes shut at the sensation of his tongue trailing down your stomach.

“Yes? oeyä sevin [my pretty] ... mother of my children” he hums, planting wet kisses on your lower stomach.

“Ma’ tìyawn! I... I miss – Oh!” you gasp, eyes flying open as you feel his kisses move quickly to the soddened cloth covering the soft flesh between your glossy thighs.

“I miss you, too.” he mumbles through a smile before untying the flimsy knot on your loincloth with his teeth. He stares longingly at your plump, glistening slit, only glancing up at you briefly to make sure you’re okay with what he’s doing. “Can I?” he asks, breath hitching from his pounding heart. Another hasty nod grants him permission.

Wasting not another second, he presses his nose between your folds, taking in a deep breath to savour the scent of your arousal. He forgot how good you smelled pregnant. It only riles him up more, his fingers digging into your thighs to pin them to the bed. He opens his mouth, wide, and laps up your sweet nectar dipping slowly from your opening, all the way up to the sensitive nub at the top of your cunt. His single swipe of his tongue makes your body jolt, a hand fly to his head to shove him closer. Thighs trying to break free of their restraints, you look down to see his half-lidded eyes full of lust staring up at you intently as the flat of his tongue plays with your clit.

You taste so good pregnant, y/n. His words echo in your mind as he holds eye contact with you. Cum in my mouth, let me taste more of you.

Your little mewls weren’t so little anymore, they morph into loud, wanton, drawn out moans. The heat pooling in your chest trickles down your spine into your already-full womb, making your legs shake even more.

“Teyam! Oh - Ugh! Please, teyam!” you beg loudly, for what - you’re not sure.

He gives it to you though, knowing exactly what to do to tip you over the edge. Two digits prod at your sopping entrance, wiggling around to burrow their way into your heat. Your moans lodge in your throat once his lengthy fingers bottom out in your cunt, and they dislodge once his fingers furl into your sweet spot. Head snapping forward, an arm propping up your torso, you spread your legs as wide as they can go and push your pelvis harder into his relentless licks.

That’s it, mama. Cum for daddy. He thinks loudly, his own hips snapping to grind his painfully hard cock into the foot of the cot.

“Ugh! Oh f-fuck! Yesyesyesyes!” you release silent cries, violently humping his face as you chase your climax.

The bond makes it so that he feels it too, that heat pooling deep in your pelvis... that hot coil ready to snap into two. His hips grind harder into the cot, desperate to find relief for his aching, throbbing cock. He can’t help but grunt into your pussy, feeling his own coil about to snap.

“m’ gonna – m’ gonna fucking cum! I – Oh! I’m cumming – cumming!” you cry out, head dipping back as you give his face two forceful thrusts, pussy walls fluttering wildly around his fingers. He yanks them out in a hurry, cupping your quivering hole with his mouth to get his fill of your thick, sweetened nectar.

“Mm – mhmm” He lets loose throaty, broken groans into your cunt, a quick pause for every gulp of your cum he swallows. His cock only grinds harder against the cot as he feels the warmth of your cum trickle down his throat. He pulls away with a *pwah*, gasping for air. Quickly sucking his fingers dry, he crawls towards you.

“Fuck. I missed having my fill of you when you’re pregnant.” he moans breathily, smoothing his palm over your belly as he lines his jumping, veiny cock with your slit.

The words make your already flushed cheeks heat up even more, ridding any remanence of doubt you had left in your heart. “Please, ma’ yawnetu [love].” your lungs tremble.

“Tell me, mama. Tell me what you need.” he moans breathily, rubbing his already-wet cockhead between your plump folds, beads of precum oozing onto your throbbing clit.

“Mmm – I need you... h-here” you pant, shoving your hand between your sticky pelvises to shift his tip to your entrance.

“Yeah?” he smiles, crouching over you to pant hot breaths into the shell of your ear. “And then what?” he whispers shakily into your ear, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

“And then this.” you utter under a whisper, wrapping your wobbly legs around his hips, sinking him slowly inside of you. A quick hand tilts your chin to meet your chest, making you watch as his your heat swallows his cock, inch by inch. The deeper he goes, the louder your strained whines grow.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” he hums, watching himself bottom out in your pussy.

“I love you.” It slips out, just as his tip presses against your cervix. His eyes snap back up to meet yours, to see they’ve glossed over with tears.

“I love you.” he utters breathily, kissing you gently as he sets a languid pace with his hips.

He’s already so, so close, all from a few slow thrusts. Your walls clamp around him, still recovering from the orgasm that rippled through your entire being. Feeling your intense arousal through tsaheylu only amplified his, sending his hips into a frenzy – spasming slow and deep inside of your pussy. The bump of his throbbing cockhead brushes repeatedly against your sweet spot, the sensation pulsing through your queue only makes him rut into it even more. He unwraps your leg from his waist, hoisting it up over his shoulder, and leans into you so deep that your knee presses against your cheek.

“Ah! Ngh... t-teyam” you yelp out, his pelvis so flush against yours that his pelvic bone grinds against your clit.

“Too deep?” he groans, pulling out of you slightly.

“No, no. It’s so good... ‘s so good” you mumble as you wrap your arms around his neck and focus on the immense pleasure radiating through your entire body.

“Good.” he breathes, lazily thrusting into you, massaging your sweet spot with the swollen tip of his cock. “Ma’ yawnetu. You feel so good.” he bites back a moan, trying his best to restrain himself from being too rough with you.

“Do it, tìyawn.” you moan, feeling his resistance through tsaheylu. “Fuck me. Faster... Harder, please.” you breath into his mouth, tightening the leg that’s wrapped around him.

“Don’t wanna hurt you, or the baby.” he grunts, burying his face into the nook of your neck.

“Shh... do it, my teyam. I want it. I want you. I need you. I love you.” you blubber out, rutting your hips into his, chasing the feeling budding in the pit of your stomach.

“Oh – oh fuck, y/n.” he groans, looking down at you buck your hips into him.

“Please!” you cry out, feeling the swell of your sweet spot again.

He gives into his mate’s wishes, picking up the speed of his hips, working sweet squelching noises out of your cunt with his fast, insistent strokes. Your quiet, hoarse moans pierce his eardrums, the more he pounds into you, his heavy, swollen balls slapping noisily against the curve of your bottom.

“Oh – oh y/n. You... ngh, you’re so fucking wet. I – I’m gonna – hgnh- ” he grunts lowly into your neck before lifting his head up to look into your eyes. His open mouth brushes against yours, panting in and out your shared air.

“M-me too, my teyam. Faster! Faster!” you huff loudly into his mouth, tears trickling down your cheeks as the knot in your stomach quickly unravels. You can feel his cock twitch inside you, begging to release it’s essence inside of your hot cunt. “Cum i-inside me.” you pant into his mouth, wanting your cunt and his cock to flutter at the same time.

“Mmn. Fuck!” he growls deeply, forcing your leg further back against your face.

“Holy fuck! Cumming!” you squeal, sinking your teeth into his shoulder to muffle your cries of pleasure.

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh –” a guttural, loud groan evades his throat as he dips his head back from the sensation of your fluttering pussy walls and the sting of your bite. He gives you two, hard thrusts – his spasming cock emptying its heavy, thick load inside your cunt. He pulls out of you quickly, resting his hung, twitching cock on your thigh as he rocks into it, riding out the last lap of his high.

“I love you, Neteyam.” the trembling words slip out once more, before you close your heavy lidded eyes.

“I love you, y/n.” he coos, nuzzling into your neck to cherish the moment.

Tags:@jakexneytiri @sweethoneycn @deadgirl02 @keijis-wifey @pandorxx @swiftielivvie @teyamfangirl @avatar-lover @sooebear @vanillawhale @bxnnywriting @athenachu @trashboat-the-raccoon @avaixe @qweq-6802 @rodeosayu @girlpostingsposts @erinloversworld @agelsully @zetey @raaaaainn @eywascall @yawneneteyam @weirdomcu @pandxrastars @eichenhouseproperty @camgod78 @kibiscribbles @bedofpearls @kurtsworld096 @audrinawf @otukirey @deexdeez @c78r @bby-bo @neteyamsmate4life @wheniseeyouigogonutz @sullymenrhot @jakescumdump @erenjaegerwifee @eywaheardyou @saturnheartz @lovekeeho @afro-hispwriter @lovemyavatar @rainbowsocks @eddiesluvt @etherialblackrose @sleepilysworld @fezandashgirlfriend @kahlowy @babyymeme @lovekeeho @ilove444sworld @kaixiio @becksimagination @ameliestsblog @theycallmesia @boooogieman @fanboyluvr @boohoobaby @that-one-lightskin @st-cass @jakesully-sbabygirl @urfavgirlmakenna @zaddyskye69 @iikatsukii @netemoon @lu-the-ghost-reader

THIS IS FUCKING GIF I MADE IT SUCKS WHY IS IT SO FUCKING SMALL HELP ME

creds to my baby bubble anon for the gif ilysm

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xzinbdg · 1 year ago

Text

oh dad? idk

synopsis: yn as a single mother never really wanted to look for the father it was just a one time thing at a party and she was doing alright by herself but ever since her daughter turned four she started asking questions that even she doesn't know the answer to.

pairing: sunghoon x mother! fem reader

genre: smau, crack, strangers to lovers, parents au

warinings: swearing, might be a bit suggestive english is not my first language so there might be some grammar errors, i might use photos for the reader but it's mostly if i want to show her with someone else, i will definitely use photos for the child, if there are more specific warnings i will put them at the beginning of a chapter

featuring: enhypen, yunjin of le sserafim, wonyoung of ive, keeho and soul of p1harmony

playlist: here!

status: completed!

taglist: CLOSED!

main masterlist

mother's side / father's side

weird ass dream

i would cry too

u ready stinky?

/srs or /jk

going crazy

alexa play deja vu

mom to many

i'm scared

we made a pretty kid

hello

co-parenting

dad core

she hates me

found love

oh dad? sunghoon!

tbc....

author's note: hi!! it's my first work so pls be kind!! i will try to post as much as i can but i can't promise anything bcs life 🥹🥹🥹 if you want to be on the tag list pls send me an ask or just comment here! bye bye!! 🥰

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alessiamalfoyzabini · 1 year ago

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𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱

Pairing | Yandere Jungkook x Reader

Word Count | 2,220

Warnings | +18, Taehyung gives bad advice, Jungkook obsessed and manipulative, the protagonist increasingly confused with herself

This does not reflect my way of thinking or living at all, it is just a work of fiction, it is like watching a horror movie, many of us love horror movies, but we would never dream of what we see in those movies happening in reality as well.

Simply put, this story was written for entertainment purposes, it should not be seen as a reflection of my values, opinions or morals. I absolutely do not condone such acts.

⤷ Summary | If she had paid attention earlier to the sin that dwelt behind those obsidian irises, she would never have trusted it.

If she had noticed earlier the devouring love that dwelled in his corrupt heart, she probably would have fled.

She had done none of that, and now she had to come to terms with her new reality.

➢ Author's Note | Hi, guys! Have fun with this sixth chapter, let me know what do you think! 🥰

Taglist: @katherine-kookie, @douknowbts, @aiiselle90210, @fewercascade , @mageprincess7, @m00njinnie

Taglist is open!

Chapter List - I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII - VIII / The End

For several days Y/N could not sit properly, to her shame she had the constant need for help from Jungkook, which each time led her to clam up. The boy applied ointment to her every night to heal her wounds, which, shortly after that abrupt sexual intercourse of theirs, had appeared even more painful than the spanking itself, Jungkook avoided externalizing his happiness every time he touched her, encircling her soft buttocks in his hands gently, because on the other hand he saw the girl's detachment and felt guilty. Y/N could not forget the pain of that punishment, just as she could not forget the sticky feeling of his cum on her face, as well as in her mouth, had been shocking and regrettable. But what really humbled the girl deep down was the fact that she had felt constant pleasure in every action of his, even the most vulgar and obscene. The moments before her orgasm replayed in her head, she had longed for it, unable to think of anything else, and god-sometimes even dreamed of it. What was happening to her? It was not normal to react like this, he was her captor and he had punished her, like some kind of rude child, she burned at reliving each moment, this forced her to distance herself even more from the young man.

On the other hand, Jungkook watched her pacing around the house like a soul in pain, and wondered if he had been right to punish her in that way. He saw the distance that, if possible, had increased since that night.

He did not feel good about her in that condition; he wanted to make it up to her, but he did not know how. He swallowed, coming to the conclusion that they had to talk somehow.

He headed to her room with that thought, knocking gently on her door.

He did not like the fact that they were still sleeping apart, but on that Y/N had been adamant. "Y/N? Can we talk for a moment?" he asked, hoping to hear her voice.

Unfortunately, the girl decided to play the silent game once again, Jungkook inhaled, "Y/N, I'm coming in," he warned her, before throwing the door wide open and crossing the threshold of the room. He aimed his gaze at the bed, there where a small bundle was pretending to sleep under the covers. He walked toward that spot, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I shouldn't have treated you that way," he said, regretfully. Yeah, he should never have treated her that way, but between his anger and lust, he had understood nothing more, hadn't masturbated since that time in the old Y/N house, having her that way had sent his self-control to the dogs. "I was angry, and you very indisposed ... I think it was a mix of everything," he whispered, embarrassed, "And you were so beautiful that ... fuck, you really don't know what you do to me," he chuckled unenthusiastically, the girl opened her eyes slightly, remaining well buried. "I'd like to apologize, promising that I won't let anger make me lose my mind anymore, not with you."

Y/N felt a strange grip around her heart; she knew what it was and gritted her teeth. She could not let herself be swayed by the part that still loved him, despite everything he had done to her. She was an incurable romantic in love with her professor, her psychopathic professor who had kidnapped her and declared eternal love for her. He was sick and she could not give in, even though her body, heart, and part of her mind convinced her that he really only wanted her good. She felt a caress on her shoulder; it was a light, quick touch, like the beating of a tiny hummingbird's wings. She said nothing and Jungkook did not dare to add anything else, just left the room in complete and heavy silence. He had failed again.

From then on things were strange, when she got up she would already find breakfast, lunch and dinner still steaming on the table, but no sign of the man. It was strange to eat alone, she was no longer used to solitude, by then it had become the norm to have another human being around the house, ready to look after her at all times. So, unknowingly she began to look for him whenever she could, around the apartment. And always with disappointment, she found that Jungkook was not there. Feeling damn lonely, she began to curse the boy. Hadn't he been the one to tell her that he would never leave her? That he was there for her? Sure, he would not leave her to starve, but Y/N felt hungry for more, it was a deeper, more intimate hunger, one that bound one person to another. A sense of forbidden need that she tried to silence, but could not.

Jungkook was not faring any better, with dark circles to rival a panda's, he threw himself headlong into his work. And he was not behind a desk in that case. He finished just then violently severing a man's carotid artery, blood splattered on his clothes and face, watched with a frown as the man's body trembled and slumped to the ground in mute pain, threw the knife next to the body and shouted angrily inside the warehouse. "You've doubled the load of your work and now you're risking an alarming nervous breakdown, what the hell is wrong with you, 'Kook?" the young man turned sharply toward his friend, Taehyung stared in disgust at the corpse on the ground, "Why are you looking at me like that? Namjoon had said 'clean job,' this looks like a massacre to me." Jungkook grabbed a towel from the cabinet in the corner of the room, dabbing the sweat and blood from his face, "He deserved it, do you know how many girls in our brothel he killed for his disgusting sex games?"

"I know, I analyzed the investigation request Namjoon sent us, but that doesn't take away from the fact that reducing it like this was not in the plans, now how do we pass off the murder of a wealthy Hispanic arms dealer as an accident?" he ironized, Jungkook in response kicked the corpse, as if to emphasize the fact that he couldn't give a damn. "You have piranhas yourself, don't you? Solution found," he tossed his now unusable shirt into a black envelope; he could not go home in that condition, it would definitely break down the precarious relationship that bound him to Y/N. Fortunately there was also a shower in that warehouse, he really could not risk coming back like that, he looked like something out of a splatter movie and the girl did not know his second - and definitely more illegal - job. "Things aren't going well with the girlfriend, huh?" his friend taunted him, earning a dirty look.

"More like they just don't go," he sat wearily on the ground, hiding his head in his arms as he did as a child.

Taehyung immediately regretted mentioning the topic, "Hey, Jungkook...it just takes time, each one has a different way of reacting," he tried to explain, although he could not say he understood it one hundred percent, his girlfriend already loved him before she started a serious relationship with him, he had not experienced the same wars as Seokjin and Jungkook, or worse, Jimin. He recalled with a shudder the girl who was now talking carefree with them, had discovered Jimin's arsenal and had taken the opportunity to stab him on the back and escape. Where Jimin had found the strength to chase and tackle her, Taehyung still could not explain. "It's different Taehyung, I don't have what you call an 'iron fist' with her, if she rejects me I suffer and feel bad, I feel like I'm going crazy." "Then you reject her!" exclaimed the other harshly, "You live together and you are practically the only human she can relate to, if you stop talking to her, paying attention to her or seeing her, she will wonder why, and she will come after you!" He stared at Taehyung with a strange expression, mulling over those words. Perhaps his friend was right, perhaps he had been too helpful and this had been taken as a sign of weakness on the girl's part. He nodded, already knowing what to do.

Y/N heard keys turn in the keyhole and the front door open, she widened her eyes to see that Jungkook had finally come home on time. She had not seen him for days and was beginning to worry. Yes, she was worrying about him. And it was absurd, how unnatural, but it was indeed so. Y/N got up from the couch, that same couch where that painful punishment had been carried out, followed shortly after by the sinful act, and went to meet the boy. She reached him in time to see him take off his jacket, his distraught face leaving her interjected for a moment. "Jungkook!" she said, watching him minutely. His wavy hair was damp and let free to go where it pleased, a thick sweatshirt covered his statuesque physique, and a jumpsuit and boots completed the outfit. For the umpteenth time Y/N actually felt small in front of the man, especially when his gaze fluttered over her briefly, without answering her. He passed her in two strides, locking himself in his room without saying a single word.

This made the girl freeze on the spot, and she did not understand the reason behind his actions. Jungkook had gotten angry a few times, but he was almost always sunny and sweet in her presence; that coldness was something new, something the girl did not want to get used to. She walked slowly in the direction of the boy's bedroom, knocked shyly twice, but received no answer. Her arm fell back along her side, she felt lonely. She felt even more lonely when, at dinner, Jungkook remained with his eyes glued to his smartphone, she swallowed a bitter pill when, trying to engage in a discussion, she asked him, "How are things going at the university? You've been working a lot lately..." and Jungkook replied with a quick shrug. She lost what little appetite she had left, but forced herself to finish, fearfully remembering rule number two, which is to finish her meals like a good girl. She finished her dinner sadly, Jungkook silently picked up the plates and cutlery, putting them to wash in the dishwasher, then without another word he locked himself in his room. He still did everyday things, but with a strange and cold attitude. It went on like this for two weeks, Jungkook always leaving before she woke up, and although present in the house, there seemed to be no one to talk to. Y/N was going crazy.

She wanted Jungkook's attention, she wanted the boy to come back for her, but she did not know how to tell him without making a bad impression. She felt so lonely, and she had to admit it, the boy's love-struck side of herself was bleeding, with moist eyes she continued to watch the television, venting those tears she otherwise would have tried not to shed out of shame. She missed Jungkook. What she did not know was that the situation was generating not one but two victims. Jungkook missed Y/N, he missed her like fresh morning air or like the wind in his hair, everything about Jungkook wanted to push him to give in, to come back to her with a thousand and more kisses to give her and demand for himself, but Taehyung's words were firmly rooted in Jungkook's head. The girl had to understand the importance of having him around, otherwise the dynamics between them would never change. She would continue to see him as a jailer, he as an untouchable girl. It wasn't fair; he wanted a relationship, not a constant tug of war. So he kept coming home later and later, of course leaving her meals to eat, that would never change, but he wanted her to finally decide to run into his arms.

Two days later, Y/N lying in her bed could not get to sleep. Jungkook still had not returned and she wondered what he was doing and who he was with, especially that last question was nagging her. There had to be a valid reason behind his detachment so suddenly, and the thought of another woman had made its way into her mind several times already, the more time passed, the more the thought grew, until it had made it impossible for her to rest well at night for some time now. A strange feeling was roaring in her chest, one she had never felt before, never had a reason to feel it, and now it was disturbing her like few things in the world. Jealousy. Yes, she was rotten jealous. The image of Jungkook kissing or fucking a woman who was not her was corroding her from the inside out. She would have given every pittance to know the truth, but then what would she have done? Would she have survived such pain? She pulled up her nose and only then, in complete silence, did she hear the door open and footsteps make their way through the house.

#bts #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts x reader #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook x reader #yandere jungkook #bts yandere smut #yandere bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #yandere #yandere jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook x reader

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evans23 · 5 months ago

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Daughter of mine II

Pairing : Judge Turpin x Daughter OC

Summary : The great judge Turpin tries to adapt to his new role as a father. Awkward, he doesn't realise that his daughter doesn't find her place in this new world.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : A bit of angst I guess. Mention of prostitution and death. Awkward father. If I forget something, please mention it to me !

A/N: Hello dear 😁 Here the next part of Daughter of mine. Enjoy !

Part I - Part III - Part IV - Part V

Also read on AO3

The first days were awkward, to say the least. Catherine was intimidated by her new surroundings and Turpin didn't know how to be a father. He didn't really try either. He didn't have any good paternal figure when he was a kid, his father being the kind violent. Besides, he couldn't stop thinking it would have been easier if he had been in the child's life from the beginning.

Not only did he have to catch up with six years of his daughter's life, almost seven, which was utterly impossible, but also, he wasn't sure how to impose his authority on his daughter. His daughter... Even this word sounded strange to him.

It had only been two weeks since the girl had moved in with him, in his mansion. The servants were totally enamoured with the child, who was reserved and overly polite. She never asked for anything and ate everything that was served to her, even when it was obvious she didn't like what was on her plate. Fortunately, her governess could read the little girl far more easily than her dad, and each time she noticed an imperceptible grimace of disgust, she warned the cook not to prepare this food for the child anymore.

True to his words, two days after her arrival, Catherine got a tutor. In fact, more than one. One of the teachers had for a mission was to teach her how to write, read, and speak properly, like a well-mannered lady should do. Another one was there to teach her to speak French and Italian and another one to provide some music and drawing skills.

She probably should learn how to dance, sew, and many other things a mother would judge necessary for his daughter to know, but Turpin wasn't a mother, scarcely a father, and those trivial competencies weren't what mattered the most for Turpin. He wanted a well-educated daughter, with knowledge in his head and not just an empty brain as too much lady of his acquaintance. Turpin was a conservator, yes, but he knew how important it was to be able to think by itself, even for a girl, even more for his daughter !

The triviality would be learned later, when he decided it was time to introduce her to the high society, in a timely manner. For the moment, there was no place for any leisure. Anyway, the hectic schedule of Catherine didn't leave any room for that. She had a tiring day like she had never experienced before.

She had to wake up at seven o'clock, half past six sometimes, and be ready with the help of her maid before eight. She had a light breakfast before the start of her courses, which only stopped once at noon to let her the time to have lunch and then at half past four in the afternoon. From half past four to five, she had some time to play on her own but she had to be quite imaginative, for there were no toys for her. Not because Turpin was too stingy but because it hadn't crossed his mind that the girl could need more than pretty dresses and coats.

However, Catherine was so happy with those beautiful clothes that she wore them with unconcealed joy as she had never had new clothes before, even less expensive and elegant dresses like these one but only the old ones of her mother who took up it as best as she could, that she didn't dare ask for more.

In addition, she had three meals a day, water at will, tea in the morning, and even orange juice and snacks during the day if she wished to. But what delighted her the most was the hot cocoa her governess brought her every night before sleep. A beverage her mother couldn't afford at all. Also, and for her biggest relief, she was allowed to keep her candles lit all night to make the terrifying shadows of her past disappear. And she knew how expensive was a candle, her mother told her so each time she asked to keep one alight for the night when she was alone and so afraid.

Unfortunately, despite all the affluence she was surrounded with, she felt alone. Terribly alone. She had no friends, wasn't allowed to go out, except for the backyard of the mansion, but anyway, it was too cold to play outside, but more than everything else, she missed her mom. She was also secretly longing for a father. But Richard didn't seem to appeal to the idea or at least, it was what she thought.

Richard was never home. He left an hour before her waking time and came back far after her bedtime. He worked every day, including on Saturday morning, and during the afternoon, he was locked up in his office. The only room she was forbidden to enter in. Should she have been bolder, she would probably intruded into his sanctuary of peace to have the privilege of his company, but the natural severity emanating from the man was enough to keep her on track.

Sunday was the only day during which she had breakfast with him, but he wasn't very talkative and she didn't know what to say to the man who, inevitably, dismissed her in her room or in the garden with her maid to let her have some clear air while he was, yet again, in his office, working on court cases or attempting some business with The Beadle.

And because she couldn't have a piece of Richard, not necessarily his heart, not even his affection, even though she was in desperate need of a bit of that more than the beautiful dresses and the palatable food, she started to become sad. Sadder than she was when her mom died or when they were living in the paucity on the outskirts of London. Sadder than when she had lost her little cat, dead because he was starving and her mom couldn't buy enough food for the three of them, sadder than when she had been sent to the orphanage.

In fact, she felt deceived by the man she had thought would be more than just his savior. The moment she had understood who he was, she had thought he would be his father, the one she had wished for on every birthday, and also for Christmas. She had begun to feel the need to fill in the hole in her heart with the presence of the man she had dreamt of. Moreover, the death of Elena, her dear mommy, had enlarged that hole, and the instant she had acknowledged Richard for who he was, she had wrongly thought he would embrace his role as a father. How stupid she had been. How a man who had left her mother with a broken heart could have loved her ?

The governess and the maids had already understood what the child was longing for. She needed her father's love to heal. However, Richard wasn't mean on purpose. He just didn't know how to step into the life of the child, how to take up his place as a father. Of course, he knew he just had to be himself, but the truth was that he was afraid to act like his father. Never could he forgive himself if his daughter was as afraid of him as he was of his own father when he was a child and even a young teenager.

He had promised to himself, the day she arrived home, that never ever he would beat her, no matter her wrongdoings. Never she would hear the sound of a whip on her back and even less the feel of it. Nevertheless, he was a firm believer in the fact that a kid needed a sprinkle of authority. Even more than a sprinkle.

Yet, he had to admit that she was easy to manage. She didn't run amok around the house and apparently, she didn't inherit the malicious and devious traits of the Turpin. Also, she never answered back, something Richard had done many times at the same age, which had owed him many slaps in the face. And surprisingly, he found himself wishing she would answer back because it would mean she was talking with him. In his presence, she was always silent and he didn't know if it was because she was impressed by him or just because she didn't adapt well to her new environment, but it was bothering him.

"Sir, may I enquire how is doing the daughter of yours ?" asked The Beadle, that morning in the court office.

Richard looked down at him suspiciously. He didn't appreciate the attention Beadle thought necessary to have towards his daughter. He knew the man too well and didn't have any difficulties to figure out his intentions. He would be cold in his grave before a man like him could consider being betrothed to Catherine. The girl wouldn't have any suitor before her twenty-five. Or before his death. And he was able to defy God's authority on that matter just to be sure she wouldn't fall for a miserable like Beadle. A depraved man like him. In fact, after consideration, a man at all !

He dismissed The Beadle with a frown which said far more than his mouth. For God's sake, he thought, never come the day she would find man interesting. Not that they were all that bad, but Catherine's legacy would be substantial. Indeed, he had already found enough loopholes in the law to prevent his manor and all his wealth from being entailed to a stranger cousin he hadn't met in his life. All he knew about that man was that he was living in Australia with his wife and a son of sixteen named Elliott.

"How is she ?" he asked as usual when he came back from the court to the maid.

"Asleep," answered merely the woman.

She was the oldest maid of the manor, also the one who was able with Richard diplomatically enough to bring him around the right decision.

"Did she eat ?"

If the answer was no, which happened sometimes, he always made sure she had a heavy breakfast in the morning, one she had to eat entirely if she wanted to have a break after her last course of the day. It only happened once that she was deprived of her playtime. Turpin knew it wasn't a solution to punish the girl when she didn't feel like eating, but she was so thin, even after two weeks of the best food that he was afraid to see her fall sick. Eating wasn't a pleasure, it was vital.

"Yes."

The quietness of the maid made him suspicious.

"What's the matter, Anne ?" he asked roughly.

The old woman wasn't impressed at all by the man. She wasn't afraid to stand up to him, even if she had already threatened to fire her or worse, to send her to a colony in the middle of nowhere in the upside-down. Perhaps the fact she had been his governess when she was a child had something to do with it. And even if she was grateful for the man to have hired her after her husband's death when he was still a young man, barely established as a young lawyer thanks to the influence of his family.

"The girl is depressed," she stated frankly.

"Depressed ? We are not depressed at her age. She didn't know anything about the hardness of life," he prompted harshly.

"As you didn't know anything about it at the same age, I guess ?" Anne uttered perfidiously.

The look Richard gave her would have made anyone else shriek with fear, but the woman didn't flinch under his stringent gaze.

"She is not mistreated here," he growled, his tone a dangerous warning.

"No, but she is alone. No friends, no toys, only studying the whole day."

And no father, she added for herself.

"I've no acquaintance with child of her age," stated Turpin, "and for the toy, I'll leave money on the buffet tomorrow morning. Go into town and buy what you think is fit for her."

Anne shook her head with disapprobation.

"What ? Woman, do you want to live on the street ? It's where you would be if it hadn't been for my great kindness," groaned Richard, his patience thinner and thinner at each rolling eyes of the maid.

"The gift would have more valor if it came from her father," she simply pointed out.

Richard, whose eyes were flashing with all his anger, hurried away to lock himself in his bedroom, slamming the door violently to let everybody know how angry he was in the whole house, but more peculiarly Anne, how displeased he was tonight.

The next morning, there was no money on the buffet, which made the maid smile. She was sure her words had reached Richard.

The day seemed to drag on for poor Catherine. She was too distracted to focus on her lesson, which annoyed her teacher who scolded her, promising her to give a report to her father about her bad behaviour. Catherine didn't say anything, even though she found it quite unfair as she just let her mind roam around. It wasn't as if she had disrupted the class by chattering incessantly. Anyway, except for the servants, there was no one to speak with.

The second teacher was far more lenient with her, asking her why she was so lost on him. She shrugged her shoulders, but the man, who had three daughters and eight grandchildren, wasn't dupe. There was a heaviness in the heart of the little girl. He tried to incite her to open up, without success. He didn't insist as he didn't want to frustrate her. He understood that she was like her father : she didn't give her trust easily and the old man wasn't keen to damage the bond he had started to create with her.

At the Court of Justice, Turpin wasn't more focused than his daughter. He had adjourned the Court, even though he had found some pleasure in not temper justice with mercy. Anne's straightforward honesty had kept him up all night. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to hurt the child, yet he knew he would if he was too involved in her life. He hadn't had any good role model and it wasn't as if he wasn't providing the child with everything she needed. But deep down, he knew it wasn't what she really needed. He had been a child too and back in time, he would have traded everything he had, money, wealth, high education, and the best tutors for the love of his parents. Or at least their care.

Her mother didn't have any maternal instinct. She had been married by force to a cruel man. She had given him an heir, then another one, who had died at the age of fifteen. His younger brother, more sensitive, more fragile, had made the terrible choice to stop breathing by hanging himself to the attic load-bearing beam. Richard was already studying in London when it happened. It's the butler who had found his brother and the boy had been buried in the highest discretion. No one knew the truth, except for the Turpin's family. Richard would never forget the belt lashes of his father when he had made him swear to never reveal the real causes of his father's dead. The truth would have disgraced the family.

Catherine deserved better than the heavy Turpin's legacy. She deserved to be happy. And because he had been raised by the worst parents, he could be better. He knew everything he mustn't do. He knew how he could destroy her, therefore he knew how not to.

He left the Court earlier than usual and well-decided to have supper with his daughter. Yet, when he arrived he found the manor too calm, almost as if everybody was already asleep. It was only five, so the venue should have been alive with servants accomplishing their duties, not with the distant cries of a little girl.

Turpin strode up the stairs, worried that something had happened to Catherine when he stumbled upon Anne.

"What's happening here ?" he asked roughly, "while Catherine is crying and where is everybody ?"

"It has been a tough day for the little mistress. Her classes didn't go well. Mister Wosley, her morning teacher had been quite hard with her. He wrote a rapport about her bad behavior, but the governess was with them and she assured me the little girl was quiet as usual, she was just not focusing on her lesson."

"And she's crying for a rapport about her behavior?" asked Turpin bewildered.

"She's afraid you don't want her anymore. The paper is quite severe."

"Because you read it ?" asked Richard, his eyebrows arched, the slightest annoyance on his face.

"No. She did and then she read it to me because she couldn't understand some words. I explained them to her in a more... soft way. I also assure her that you won't send her away because of the angriness of a teacher."

"You did well," said Richard absent-mindedly.

He pretended to go to his office to read the note, but the maid retained him by clearing her throat. He turned around to face her, a questioning look on his features.

"What else ?" he asked, annoyed at his highest.

"This afternoon, she went out with Mister Brandon. He wanted a change of scenery to cheer up Catherine and..."

The maid hesitated, biting her lower lip.

"Anne, I'm tired, my daughter is crying which, I have to admit despite my disgust at doing it, distraught me, and I'm terribly hungry, which only add to my annoyance. If there is more, then speak without any diversion," he chided, his square shoulders and his stern eyes leaving no room for argument.

"Well, they found a strayed kitten and Catherine had brought it back. Mister Brandon didn't see the harm in it. But once he left, Harry, the stableman, told her that you didn't like animals and that you would probably throw the little pet against a wall to kill it if she didn't get rid of it before your return. She and her governess were trying to find an appropriate hideout for the little cat when she heard you arrived. Yet again, we tried with her governess to tell her you wouldn't do that, but she didn't believe us and now she's afraid Harry told you about her new companion while she didn't find anywhere to hide it."

Richard sighed heavily. The weariness and tiredness put a strain on him.

"Thank you for telling me, Anne. Ask the butler to thank Harry with no money and reference. The boy doesn't work in my stable anymore,' and with that being said, and the package in his hands, he headed towards Catherine's room.

The governess froze when, after having closed the door, she turned around, almost bumping into Richard.

"My lord," she said with a curtesy.

"How is she ?" he asked, ignoring her terrifying eyes on him.

"I managed to calm her down, but she is very afraid that you scold her or worse for what Mister Wosley wrote about her. She swears it's not true. And also..."

The woman wasn't sure she should keep quiet. She knew everything she had to about Turpin's bad temper and she had been here for only two weeks, also she didn't know if he could kill or not an innocent kitten.

"What about the cat ?" asked Richard harshly.

If he hadn't been so concerned about the well-being of his child, he would probably have found the expression of the governess hilarious. Her eyes were wide, she was gawking at him.

"Well ?" he insisted, "did you find an appropriate hideout for it ?"

"Indeed," answered the governess with embarrassment.

"Well, let's see if I can find it."

And with that being said, Richard knocked on the door, then entered without waiting for any answer, as he was sure the girl wouldn't have given permission to anyone to come in.

"Catherine," thundered Turpin's voice, making the little girl shiver.

Her sad eyes looked upon his. He opened his mouth, but he didn't have time to utter any words that the little girls rushed into his arms. Flabbergasted, Turpin didn't know what to do and stayed stunned while Catherine flooded his golden waistcoat with her tears.

"Come on, come on, calm down," said Richard softly, "let's sit down, yes ?"

He led her towards the huge bed on which were laying Merlin and many other plush animals.

"There's a whole zoo on your bed. Are you aware of that ?" asked playfully Turpin, hoping to ease a bit of the distress of his daughter.

It seemed to work as she giggled discretely.

"Where do all those animals come from ?" asked curiously Richard.

"The servants," whispered the girl.

Of course, they were all so fond of their little mistress, and apparently, they knew her better than him as everybody but he knew her love for animals, that they had spent some of their pay into expensive kids' stuff.

"Do they all have a name ?"

Catherine nodded, introducing him to each of her unanimated friends with enthusiasm, her previous outburst forgotten. Even though Richard was happy to see the mood of the child liven up, he needed to clear up the events of the day. He cursed himself for bringing up the topic when she started to cry with violent sobbing.

"Hush, hush. I'm not scolding you, am I ?" he said, bothered to not know how to talk without causing anguish to his child.

He, eventually, took his little hand in his, frowning at how thin her little arm was. He could see her bones protruding from her neckline and her shoulders and he was sure that during bath time, her maid could notice the same things with her ribs and knees.

"You're not angry ?" she asked bashfully.

"No," said Richard.

And it was true. He knew quite well the teacher and how harsh he could be with his pupils. Yet, he was one of the best in his profession and Turpin wanted nothing but the cream of the top for her. He would have a word with him tomorrow, asking him to be more indulgent with the girl. He wouldn't have to ask twice for the man restrained his sternness because no one could match up to the anger of The High Judge Turpin. The Death's Judge.

"Yet, I would like to be acquainted with someone else," uttered Richard.

Catherine still, understood he was talking about her cat.

"I put him out," she declared too quickly.

Her alarmed eyes wandered a second too long towards her wardrobe. Richard stood up in a flourish and walked briskly to the piece of furniture.

"NO !" shouted the girl.

"Hush !" prompted Richard.

He sharply opened the door and a little ball of fur ran through the room to find refuge inside a cardboard box that the butler had given to Catherine for her new companion.

"Well, it seems to already feel at home," stated Richard.

"Please, father, do not kill him," begged Catherine, bursting into tears.

Richard felt his blood ran cold through his whole body. It was the first time she had called him father. And if he was honest with himself, it had made his heart beat faster.

"Never would I do something like that, Catherine," he said genuinely concerned she could believe him able to do something like that.

Actually, if Richard was totally honest, he could do that without any qualms to blackmail someone or to torture an enemy. But never would he do that to this girl who had become so precious for him in such a short time. Also, for Richard, animals were the sheerest and most beautiful of God's creation. Nothing to do with the mongrel he had to deal with in his day-to-day life.

"But Harry said..."

"Do not listen to this idiot. Anyway, he doesn't work anymore for us. Rather than being gullible and believing everything everyone's telling you, you should learn to trust me."

She looked down embarrassed but Richard forced her to look at him by lifting her head with the help of one finger under his chin.

"What's the name of this little opportunist ?" he asked, looking with an amused look at the pet tearing apart the old blanket Anne had put into the box.

"Arthur," answered Catherine with a bright smile.

"Arthur ?" questioned Turpin.

"Like the King !"

Obviously. Merlin, Mordred, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan were the names of her plush and now Arthur, thought Richard, suppressing a laugh.

"Well, Arthur is more than welcome in this house. As long as he doesn't dare come through my office and he doesn't scratch the sofas of the parlor."

Catherine nodded vigorously, her smile and the happiness flickering in her eyes a reward for Richard's tortured soul.

"I've also a present for you. I'm sorry it's not another beast for your zoo."

With that, he handed her the box he had put down on the nightstand. Catherine looked at the box with surprise before opening it with the enthusiasm of a child who wasn't used to getting a gift. Inside was laying the most beautiful doll she had ever seen. A porcelain doll with curly brown hair and the same green eyes as hers, like the one she shared with her mother. The doll's dress was made of real cashmere and embroidered with golden threads.

"Are you happy ?" asked Turpin with trepidation as he didn't know how to interpret the child's silence.

"I've never had something as beautiful before," whispered Catherine, not daring to take the doll out of her box, too afraid to damage it.

Richard did it for her, placing the doll among the animals.

"She will soon have her own house. I'm sure Anne and your governess would be more than delighted to help you to install her in her new lodgings. Perhaps you may ask Anne to teach you how to sew so that you could create a whole wardrobe for your doll. I will provide you with all the pieces of furniture you could need for this new entertainment."

The little girl, overwhelmed with joy, didn't know what to say and Richard, as introverted as his daughter on the field of sharing his feelings, told her he would meet her for supper. But while he was ready to leave the room, he heard Catherine's hurried steps running towards him. He didn't have time to turn around when a mass of brown curls threw itself into his arms.

He gently stroked her back with one hand, the other one caressing with as much love as he could dispense her hair. She finally stepped back, diving her green eyes in his hazel one without quivering at the natural toughness his face was constantly bearing.

"Thank you, father," she whispered quietly, almost as if she was afraid of his reaction, afraid to lose the little affection he seemed disposed to give her.

Richard's face softened, his heart swelling with a feeling he hadn't felt for long. The last time, it was when Elena, his beloved Elena, was in his arms after he had made love to her. Elena had betrayed him when she had left him with no explanation. And now she was no longer of this world. But Catherine, the fruit of their love was there and she wanted nothing more than to love him unconditionally. It was at this moment, when he saw all the gratefulness of his daughter for a mere doll and his permission to let her keep the kitten, that a thought struck him. A man could lose a woman, but never a father could lose his child if he was able to be a good parent for the said child. So, Richard silently swore to himself he would be the best father a girl could hope for. From now on and until death comes to take him away from this world.

"You're welcome, daughter of mine," he said with a smile matching his daughter's one. A Turpin's smile.

#alan rickman x reader #alan rickman #judge turpin x reader #judge turpin #sweeney todd #evans23

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billiethepumpkin · 10 months ago

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heyo billie!! i absolutely love love love LOVE your posts so much!! your writing is amazing and i find myself being super immersed in them! if you don’t mind me asking, could i request shinsou comforting the reader after a terrible fight with their parents and they have no else to rely on so they end up just venting EVERYTHING to him??? long story short ive been struggling with that situation and it’s been hard for me :( thank you for your works and i wish you a happy day!!

Feel Small: Hitoshi Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: Rated R. This content is intended for those ages 18 years and older. If you are a minor, pleas do not interact.

Contains: GN!reader. Parental issues. Crossed boundaries. Comfort.

Author's Note: All characters are portrayed to be ages 18 years or older because I'm an old fuck :)

You'd been away at university. It had been winter break, though, and you had gone home to visit your parents. You ate the same dinners as when you were a child; you slept in your childhood bedroom; and you had the same conversations you'd always had. You weren't even sure how it had spiraled into the screaming match between you and your mother, but here you were, pacing back and forth with your hand on your chest, trying to come back down to earth. All you wanted to do was go home.

You paced the floor in your room, waiting for a solution to appear in front of your face. You were an adult, damnit! Sure, they were your parents, but they didn't have any right to speak to you that way. You took deep breaths, but your chest didn't get any better.

But you were home. Right? You were in the place where you had grown up. You were sleeping in the bed where you had always slept. You were eating the foods you always ate, at the same table you had always eaten at. But somehow, this time, the house felt so... small. You felt so closed in and stuck, and you just wanted to get out.

Where were you supposed to go, though? It was late. Like, really late. Normal people would have been in bed, not contemplating driving all the way back to school.

Not everyone, though.

You sent a text to Shinsou. "Are you awake?" you asked. He was roughly an hour away, closer to the school you were attending, but he was all you had right now.

"What do you think?" he texted back quickly. You couldn't help but laugh as you read it in that sarcastic, snarky tone that he always had, even with you, his partner. Shinsou was always awake.

Eventually, you ended up packing all of the things you had brought to your childhood home and driving to Shinsou's apartment just barely off campus. He opened the door to let you in, and before he could even close the door, you found yourself burying your face in his shoulder. "Hi," he muttered before kissing the side of your head. He pulled you in and softly closed the door behind you before pulling you deeper into his grip. One hand held your back, the other caressing the back of your head, and he gently shushed you as you cried into him.

Hitoshi was so gentle, so delicate. He brought you to the couch and rubbed your back as the tears rolled down your face. He didn't ask what was wrong. He didn't tell you to calm down. Shinsou just held you there in comfortable silence, waiting for you to be ready to talk.

Once your breathing steadied again, he turned to you and simply asked, "What happened?"

And when you answered, boy, did the floodgates open. You let it all out. The way you felt trapped in that house now that you've been in the real world. The way you remembered their disrespect and emotional neglect from when you were a child. The way they continued to belittle you now, to speak to you as if you were still small. They made you feel small. You couldn't handle it anymore, and you weren't sure how to move forward. Because you loved your parents, right? You always thought you had. But now, ever since they shouted at you the way they did, now that they had pushed your boundaries and disrespected you from the moment you walked into their house, you were lost.

And he just listened. Shinsou, the angel that he was, just sat there next to you and listened to you vent. He rubbed your back, tracing delicate patterns over your skin, and listened until you had gotten everything out of your system. "I'm not really sure what you need right now," he said. "I still haven't really figured out how to fix the issued with my family either."

You sighed and held your face in your hands. Both of you paused for a moment while he figured out what to say. "What I do know, though, is that you are very loved," he finally continued. "I love you to death. And I know that they love you to death, too. If you need time and space, that is okay. If you need help figuring out how to set boundaries, we'll figure that out. I am here to help you, whatever that looks like right now."

Now you started crying for a different reason. "Well, fuck, Toshi," you teased, wiping your own tears with the backs of your hands. You both giggled a little bit. "I love you a whole lot," you said, falling back onto his chest, the golden light of the only lamp in the room shrouding you in shadow and creating a halo around Shinsou's head.

Hitoshi kissed your forehead and rubbed your back some more. He held you close, trying to press all the love he could into your flesh. As long as you needed him, he'd be there, whatever that meant.

#mha #bnha #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha comfort #bnha comfort #mha shinsou #bnha shinsou #mha hitoshi #bnha hitoshi #shinsou x reader #hitoshi x reader #shinsou comfort #hitoshi comfort

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kvrokasaa · 11 months ago

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karasu comforting overachiever!reader with a lot of anxiety?

my exams are around, ive cried 6x and had a mental breakdown in 3 days. and im a good student at heart but not on paper. im trying😭

take care! love❤️

I can relate to this sm, I promise myself that I’ll study but then it gets late n all I wanna do is sleep lmfao. But I hope you’re doing alright, love. Remember to drink lots of water and eat lots of food! And take breaks when studying so you don’t get headaches!

Sorry I posted this so late, but here it is.

Cw: crying, fluff, comfort, friends to lovers, cursing, not proofread. lmk if i missed any!

Wc: 1.1k

Overachiever!

Karasu is like your best friend, he’s always been there for you and promises he always will. Even when he left for a program called Blue Lock, he still managed to talk to you. Especially when you were going through a nasty breakup with your ex. He has always been there for you.

Something Karasu noticed over the years of being your friend; you’re an overachiever and a perfectionist. You have to get good grades, it’s like it was hard-wired in your brain since you were a child. If you didn’t get a good grade, even on a test that was optional or didn’t have any impact on your overall grade, you would feel so ashamed and full of anxiety. You were afraid of your teachers hating you, honestly, you’re just afraid of authority figures. You would always try to hide your feelings behind a fake smile, and sometimes it worked. But this time it didn’t.

You were in your room studying, all day long. No matter how many times people tried to pester you, or ask you to take a break, you would decline and go back to studying. You needed to get a good grade. You had stayed up all night long studying and going over the crucial information that would be on the final.

So why? Why do you have an 84% on your final? Why isn’t it at 100? Other people congratulated you, saying that the test was really hard. But you know that Mia, the top student, got the perfect score without even trying.

You tried this year, you really did. You made a resolution that you would try your hardest this year; that you wouldn’t give up so easily like last year. And you know that bad habits die hard, but you were doing so well. Even though this isn’t your last year, you feel like you failed at school.

‘Take a deep breath. Failure is the one pathway to success.’ Karasu’s words came floating into your mind. But you could still feel the onslaught of the tears and the tightness of the pain in your chest. You tried to take a deep breath but it wasn’t enough, it felt like all the oxygen in the world just vanished.

You don’t know how you got home, all the memories of the people saying ‘Good job’ and ‘Don’t beat yourself up, you did better than me’ are the only ones you can remember. All you want to do is crawl into your bed and cuddle your stuffed bear while you cry. But you have to study more; you have to study for your next classes. You can’t just give up because of one class. Oh but how badly you want to.

A sudden knock on your door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in.” You cringed at the crack in your voice, quickly you straightened your posture and pretended to be okay.

But all of that faux hope and happiness faded away when you saw the unmistakable blue eyes. The tears came rushing back, along with the shaky breaths.

Karasu walked over to your desk and smiled down at you. “Hey, just wanted to stop by,” his hand raised, revealing a bag with your favorite restaurant name. “I brought your favorite.” His voice died down, almost to a whisper when he saw your tears.

You quickly wiped them, but the red streaks were still there. He sighed and sat down on your bed. “It’s okay, Y/n. Stuff like this happens, don’t worry about it too much.” You shook your head. “No, I should worry about it,” he raised a brow. “Why?”

You felt a little agitated because he couldn’t understand. Of course he couldn’t, he’s always been the type of person to get good grades without even trying. Knowing him, he probably slept through most of his classes and still got a 95 or higher on his final. Typical Karasu.

“Because who would I be if I don’t have good grades? I know that grades don’t matter much in the world, but I’m the one who feels the shame. I’m the one who has to remember what it feels like to try your hardest and still fail.” You felt like pulling your hair out, breaking things, just something to ease your mind. To ease the pain.

He brings his hands up to your cheeks, squishing them a little which brings a smile to his face. “Remember what I always tell you. ‘Failure is a pathway to-’ ” “To success. I know that, but still,” You move your head, making him release his grip. “I don’t want to fail, I don’t want people to remember me as the person who always failed.” Your voice was almost higher than a whisper, but he still heard you loud and clear. Karasu could hear and feel the pain from your voice.

“You-” you release a shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

‘Ironic’ he thinks, you’re the one who’s not understanding. A simple grade doesn’t define who you are as a person.

“Y/n look at me.” He grabs your face, “You are doing your best, you’re trying your fucking hardest and I’m so proud of you for that. You’re way smarter than what people give you credit for.” You try to shake your head, but his grip on your jaw tightens. “No. I don’t want to hear you deny anything. You need to understand that it’s okay to fail, it’s okay to feel helpless after a bad grade. But it’s not okay to beat yourself up. Don’t worry too much about how this grade, which is a passing grade, will affect your future.”

Karasu pulls you in for a hug. You close your eyes and bury your face in his chest. “You’re in the present right now, not the future. And I’m sure the future you are a CEO; trust me I can see it.”

You both laugh at his words. You sniffle and look up at him, “thank you, I really needed that.” He nods his head; his eyes looking from your eyes to your lips. “Anytime, I mean it.”

This is what you expected, a lecture and comfort from Karasu. It’s what you wanted. But what you didn’t expect was his lips on yours. Before you could enjoy the moment, he pulled back and smiled down at you. “Safe to say that I think you return my feelings,” your eyes darting everywhere but his and your little nod was a good enough answer for him. “And as much as I want to kiss you again. Our food is getting cold.” He pulled you down onto the bed along with the bag of food. “Let’s eat.”

#bllk x reader #bllk #bllk x you #blue lock #bllk karasu #karasu tabito x reader #karasu tabito #bllk fluff #bllk comfort #tabito karasu x reader #tabito karasu #tabito x reader

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baldwin2001 · 10 months ago

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WARNING. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. SORRY FOR THE MISTAKES.

"Let go of me!"

"Silence, you shameless woman" said the gentleman without letting go of her arm while his other companion held her by the other arm.

"You will never silence me!" - she said with a hateful look. - "Let me go!"

Suri was being taken to King Baldwin IV after it was discovered that the red-haired Templar knight was actually a lady, and the other knights did not hesitate to take her to the king to have her head cut off, it was disrespectful for a woman to dress up as a man and fight with them.

"Your Majesty" - spoke a Templar in a loud voice.- "We bring you a shameless woman who has pretended to be a Templar knight."

"A woman?" asked the king.

"That's right, yes, your majesty."

The highest ranks of Jerusalem and the Knights Templar were together with King Baldwin IV, who was in the center of the place. They were meeting to discuss the assaults on the Muslim caravans near the city, which had been worrying everyone for a few weeks.

Upon arriving at the place both knights threw her to the ground, in front of the king, leaving her exotic red knight in sight.

Instantly Baldwin recognized her, he sighed stressed.

It was Suri, his beloved.

Despite the great love he had for her, he could not deny how reckless she could be.

"Lady Suri Sahar, the most stubborn and foolish woman I know" said Tiberius, noticing that this was the young red-haired girl he had known since she was a naughty little girl.

"Lord Tiberius, you know I am a great warrior, please. Let me stay with the Knights Templar and go fight against Saladin" begged the red-haired woman in front of the king's confidant.

"Arrogant woman!" The man who brought her was furious at her words, and was about to silence her with a blow, until the king himself spoke.

"Stop."

And the room fell silent, all looked to him; the leprous king. Wise and loyal before God and the people of Jerusalem, but damaged by leprosy since he was a child, that did not prevent him from being a great ruler.

"Lady Suri, you are permanently out of the Knights Templar" the monarch spoke firmly.

"But your majesty...!"

"Nothing!"- exclaimed Baldwin without a hint of kindness.- "Many of us in this room know of your skills with your back, they are magnificent. But to dress as a man and go to a showdown in Egypt is delicate."

"I am very sorry, your majesty. I will accept your punishment, even if this is banishment from Jerusalem or.... Death" Suri said trying to sound sure of her words, but at the end you could hear the fear in her voice.

Baldwin thought about it for a moment, she used to be rebellious and stubborn, he thought she was just going to apologize but banishment? Even...? Death? It was unthinkable, she would never do such a thing to her crimson flower.

"Tiberius, take her to my chambers, there I will tell her what her sentence will be."

Murmurs began to be heard throughout the room because of the king's words, but no one dared to raise his voice against the king, except for one.

"Your majesty, how can you say such a thing" -spoke Reinald of Chatillon with indignation- "She committed a grave act, she must be punished by death, the most faithful knights want her head."

"Silence!" -Baldwin rose from his throne, and spoke loudly.- "I am the king of Jerusalem, the highest authority. You nor any knight will choose your punishment or when, only I. Understood?"

"Yes, my king."

There was fear in his voice but also hatred, hatred of being humiliated again and again by a leper like him.

The meeting was adjourned. The monarch turned and left. Tiberios took Suri by the arm and they both followed the king. He looked angry because of his way of walking, quick and precise steps. He did not deign to look at her.

"My lord, I am sorry. I know I played with your trust..." a shout was heard in the corridor.

"You don't know anything" at last he looked at her, she was stunned.

She was stupefied.

He had never yelled at her. He always did silly things and sometimes made her hair stand on end from stress, and only got a few scoldings from her. He was always the serious and responsible part of the relationship, but this time it was different.

"Come" -he took her by the arm and led her to her room, without first giving Tiberios a glance- "No one is to enter."

"Yes, my lord."

He slammed the door shut, and began to walk around the room. Although I couldn't see his face, his blue eyes said it all, he was angry.

"Baldwin, I'm sorry" the redhead muttered.

Baldwin completely ignored her comment and walked over to her and grabbed her shoulders.

"Do you know what you just did? Do you even know?"

"I went to Egypt to fight like the warrior I am, I was very helpful." - The young woman spoke firmly before the king.

"You could have died, Suri" Baldwin said angrily.

"I know, my king."

"Are you aware of all the damage you would have caused me if that happened?" -he asked, sighed for a moment and then looked at her with concern. -. "When I saw you being brought by the knights like that I knew something was wrong."

"The last thing I want to do is to worry you" she commented sincerely.

On this occasion she was speaking the truth. Many times she liked to have fun with Baldwin, being a bit naughty. But this was not one of those, she had been of help in Egypt, because in addition to knowing how to handle the sword, she was good with medicine and first aid, managing to help many knights so that they did not go even with God.

The young monarch took her by the cheeks, staring at her through his mask, his blue eyes crystalline because of everything that had happened.

"I love you, Suri" - he whispered close to her lips - "I don't want to lose you."

"That's not going to happen, Baldwin. I swear" - she moved even closer to him, leaning her head on his chest, managing to listen to his heartbeat- "I love you too, how you have no idea."

"Promise you won't go to war."

"But Baldwin..." she blurted out, a little bit complaining about what her lover had said.

"Promise me" - she said almost in supplication.-"I just want you to be safe."

"I promise" she said resigned to his words.

"Thank you" she murmured close to his ear before giving him a soft kiss on his unruly hair.

#edward norton #baldwin iv #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv x oc #baldwin iv x reader #the leper king #leper king #kingdom of heaven

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drakaripykiros130ac · 9 months ago

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So few people realize that this Dance and the usurpation of Rhaenyra’s throne, kind of puts a dent in the idea of an absolute monarchy.

Think about it for a moment. What is an absolute monarchy? It is a system of government where you have one ruler who has complete authority over state and government.

In simpler terms: the monarch can do whatever he wants (while also in accordance to written laws).

Since there was no succession law at the time, King Viserys could choose whoever he wanted as his heir. And he chose his eldest child, Rhaenyra. The King’s word is law in an absolute monarchy, so to deny Rhaenyra her right to sit the throne goes against the imposed system, just because certain lords don’t like it or are too ambitious for their own good.

Take Aegon IV for example. He legitimized all of his bastards before he died. It was a cruel and shitty move, yes. But it was perfectly legal. The monarch has the power to legitimize bastards, and that’s exactly what he did. Once again, people didn’t like it and continued to refer to Daemon Blackfyre, Bittersteel, Bloodraven, Shiera Seastar etc. as bastards.

So, I don’t even get why Westeros continues to “function” under an absolute monarchy, when no one actually obeys the system.

There will always be sneaky and overly ambitious lords who plot at every turn *cough* Hightowers *cough*, but if people bothered to obey the system, these upstarts wouldn’t stand a chance.

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shishuri · 2 months ago

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Ive been rewatching Vision of Escaflowne (because youtube algorithm compelled me to).. ohh boy.. watching the anime with adult brain you realize a lot of things you probably missed when you watched it when you were a child

Ex.

Allen was 21 in the anime, and Millerna and Hitomi were 15.. it gave me big ick whenever one of those two flirts with him. And every time he kiss one of them i keep saying "15, Allen, get away).

When i was a kid i did wonder about the Dilandau/Celena situation, specially what goes on down under.. i mean Dilandau is suppose to be male so does Celena grows the matching parts too.. I realize now that Dilandau is probably a split personality for Celena to cope with whatever experiments were done to her, the experiments probably just enhanced Dilandau's presence. Because at the end Jajuka told Celena that its ok to turn back to the gentle Celena. And that is way sadder than what i thought when i was a kid and also what the hell was i thinking 😂

Dilandau was a major jerk, i never thought of it before but he was so abusive with his subordinates and now i wonder why those guys are so loyal to him.

Duke Freid is based af, he is the father who stepped up. He knew, he fucking knew that Chid wasnt his but he acknowledged him, loved him, took care of him and even trusted the future of the Duchy to him. He didn't care about Marlene's former lover, and the fact that she still chose him in the end, I am 100% sure this man is a green flag.

Chid was swole at 5 yrs old. This little man was able to carry a huge ass sword twice his size to present to the zaibach empire for their treaty. Either that shit was not as heavy as it looks, there is magic shenanigans involved or Chid was swole af. Also, for a 5 yr old he speaks like he's 10. Either he is a genius or children in Gaea age faster or the author never met a 5 yr old.

To this day i am still upset that Van and Hitomi never really got together in any media made (manga, anime, movie), Hitomi will always end up going home, now i am more upset that Allen got to kiss Hitomi and Van only got a goddamn hug at the end.. I want my farewell kiss at the very least.

Since Van is a king he may still need to be married to have heirs to continue the Fanel bloodline. However, if he was responsible enough and realized that he shouldn't have kids to avoid the Draconian bloodline to be passed on and possibly repeat the same problem he had with Escaflowne. I know he wanted Escaflowne to never be used again, but shit can still happen and may inevitably be needed to be used again. If who inherits the throne is not very strict in Fanelia, this should be fine.

What the actual hell was Asturia's power hierarchy. The king had 3 daughters, supposedly, the first born should be the heir, but he sent her off to marry into the Duchy of Freid, but the duchy doesn't seem to be part of Asturia, so it's probably a duchy of another country. The next in line should be Eries, but when the king couldn't do his job after Zaibach attacked Asturia, Dryden was in-charge and he married the Mallerna the 3rd princess, and even before that Dryden assumes or maybe told that he will be king when he marries Mallerna. Even in a 90s anime there was a middle child syndrome. I didn't care about this when I was a kid, but somehow it bothered me now. Justice for Eries (the forgotten middle child).

Dryden was actually a green flag.. i think when i was a child I didn't like him for whatever reason. But now I realize that he isn't so bad. Aside from marrying a 15 yr old (he was 21, according to wiki), but that's Royal marriage for you, unfortunately. Besides the ick when he flirts with Mallerna. He bought a mermaid to set it free, paid the repairs for Escaflowne (the price of his main ship), helped Asturia during the war, and he wanted to wait for Mallerna to choose him.

Escaflowne has a "click here to call the Repair guy" mechanism in it. Literally, they can call the Ispano and they'll come right away whenever, wherever if they need it repaired 😂. Top notch Customer Support service. Nowadays, if you call the repair guy it might take 5-7 business days.. that's being generous.

I still dont understand Folken's motive to destroy Fanelia.. he is literally the first born of the king of Fanelia, he can open Escaflowne, he could have just returned with a dragenergist and claim his right to the throne to get Escaflowne before Van's coronation. But instead he let Van claim Escaflowne and had Fanelia destroyed. It could be argued that Van needed to take Escaflowne. But at the start the target was just "the dragon" Escaflowne, not Van.

I also still dont understand why Zaibach needed to wage war and it was necessary for the Zone of Absolute Fortune. Of course everyone's wishes will be tainted with their thoughts of war, that was the last thing they were doing, their adrenaline is still working overtime. They haven't sat to think what is going on so of course they would unintentionally wish for the fight to continue, they were still on survival mode.. i think they would have a different result if the Zone was activated when everything was peaceful. Did they need the situation to be dire?

Dornkirk is Isaac Newton. Lol

By the way, the way Dornkirk described what happened when he arrived in the Zaibach Empire.. bro was having a major god complex, "sent there to save these people" like sir.. you end up there cause you wished hard enough.

I kinda missed animes having a bit meta in it with their opening and ending songs.. ex. The opening song for Vision of Escaflowne is the tune in Marlene's music box.

#growing up sucks #i really never cared or noticed it when i was a kid but all i saw was cute guy and cute girl fated lovers #vision of escaflowne #escaflowne #visione of escaflowne anime #escaflowne anime

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danaewrites · 11 months ago

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Helmet Over Heels

part i: the winter of our discontent

din djarin x reader // read it on AO3

word count: 3.8k

summary: When your path literally collides with a beskar-covered Mandalorian one night, neither of you expect how that meeting will irreversibly change the trajectory of your lives.

You’re pulled into his powerful orbit, agreeing to take care of his son in exchange for adventure and freedom– when he’s not off hunting bounties and inadvertently saving villages in need, that is. It’s the perfect plan. Or it would be, if only your quiet crush on the man would stop growing into something more with every hour you spend together. There’s no way he’d ever feel the same, right?

And Din? Well, he’s been trying (and failing) to convince himself that he’s not completely helmet over heels for you since day one. But a Mandalorian can only repress his emotions for so long…

(This fic takes place sometime after Season 2. Din’s back on his bounty-hunting business with a Razor Crest that was never destroyed and an adorable green sidekick who won’t stop chewing on its wires.)

tags: strangers to friends to lovers, slow-ish burn, nicknames, touch-starved din djarin and fem!reader, canon-compliant through season 2 and then Jesus takes the wheel :P

author's notes:

hello and welcome to my first ever mando fic!! i binged the entirety of the first two seasons in a week to get me through tedious internship work and accidentally fell in love with our favorite space dad and his cute green child along the way. oops (i regret nothing)

with the outline i currently have for this fic, it’ll be around 11-12 chapters, although that’s likely to grow as we get deeper into the story. the posting schedule might be anywhere from once a week to once a month, but this wip *will* be finished.

the second chapter's scheduled to upload next week as a little treat for y'all, so if you want to catch it then hit that follow button or ask to be added to my taglist! ;)

read it all here: part i, part ii, part iii, part iv, part v coming soon!

You watched the last of tonight’s drunken patrons stumble out of the cantina and into the bitter Nath night with a relieved sigh. Wiping your hands on the stained apron tied around your waist, you fished a set of bronze keys out of a tiny pocket and began your nightly walk around the perimeter of the bar, locking doors and pulling down rusty shutters as you went. The cantina was silent aside from your quiet shuffling– a welcome reprieve from its usual crowded bustle and chatter so hectic you could barely hear your own thoughts.

You hummed softly as you adjusted booths back to their original positions and swept crumbs off of battered tabletops, wishing that the small holospeaker at the edge of the room hadn’t been broken in a recent bar fight. Swaying to its pre-Imperial oldies throughout your long, exhausting shifts had been one of the only perks of working in this run-down cantina, but without the soothing ambience of music, a chill threatened to sink into your bones and paralyze you with the deep depression this side of the planet seemed to have succumbed to.

You never planned to stay here for as long as you had. No one really did, except for criminals who knew that no one would willingly come here to search for them and locals who had never known anything else. Nath might have been charming, once– all soft snowflakes and peaceful walks under sepia-toned streetlights– but that was before the Empire had destroyed every semblance of comfort and culture and replaced them with brutalist brick structures that were already crumbling under the weight of their makers’ crimes. The fear lingered long after the Imps had finally left the post, reflected in the sad eyes of the fishmongers’ children and the way one would be hard-pressed to find a factory worker who didn’t spend his nights nursing a bottle and the ghosts of blaster scars across his back.

You had your own scars, of course, but you still held out hope that things would change and you’d make it out of here– although that hope was gradually diminishing as off-world shuttles visited less and less frequently and the permanent winter worsened. Five years ago, you’d been unceremoniously dropped off at the town’s dingy port, forced to land after your shuttle to Corellia was damaged by an unexpected detour through an asteroid field. You’d taken the cantina job thinking you’d only stay long enough to pay for passage on an outgoing ship, but soon learned that any shuttle risking the terrible weather to land here would also charge an exorbitant boarding price– one that would take you years to afford with the meager pay you received. And your tentative plan of stowing away on a spice freighter and sneaking off once it arrived at its destination (you weren’t picky about where, so long as it wasn’t Nath) was tempered by the increasingly likelihood that you’d get blown to pieces the minute you entered space by one of the pirate gangs that ruled the atmosphere these days. So– you were stuck here, at least for now.

The smell of something burning in the back of the cantina drew you out of your thoughts. Cursing, you raced to the kitchen, where your dinner was quickly blackening on the stove. Kriff. You shut off the burner, staring at the charred mess before you for a few seconds before dejectedly scraping it into an almost-overflowing trash bin. Well, there went your plan to eat quickly and head to your tiny flat before the storm outside worsened. Your rental pod had barely enough space for your bed and a miniscule bathroom, so you had to use the cantina kitchen if you wanted to stay fed– but the stove here was so old, it took half an hour longer than usual to cook anything. You resigned yourself to another night sleeping in a booth, since the flurry outside would prevent you from navigating your way home safely.

You sliced up a few vegetables and set them to simmer in a pot with the last of the herbed broth and sandseed noodles from today’s lunch special, glancing at the bin next to you. It was probably a good idea to take out the foul-smelling waste before you were sealed in next to it all night. Wrinkling your nose at the unappealing scraps of food threatening to fall off the top of the pile, you hefted the bin up and maneuvered it through the back door of the cantina, being careful not to stain your apron any more than it already was. The harsh winds nipped at every sliver of exposed skin and dusted your hair with a pearlescent sheen of snow, making you wish you’d thought to slip on something warmer than your thin blouse and trousers before leaving the protection of the kitchen.

You navigated through the blizzard to the end of the dark alleyway behind the cantina, your path lit only by two buzzing lamps at each end of the narrow corridor. You scrunched your face up against the cold, willing yourself to keep walking despite your extremely limited night vision. Just a few more steps, and then you’d be free of your compostable burden for the night. You turned the corner, stepping to the left where you knew the trash compactor was, and immediately collided with a giant hunk of metal.

Said hunk of metal cursed loudly as it stumbled head-first over the garbage bin you’d dropped in shock after the impact, falling forward into the snow. “Dank ferrik!”

Your eyes grew wide as the glow of the flickering streetlights illuminated the very-much-alive Mandalorian lying in front of you. It was just your luck that you’d managed to potentially injure the kind of warrior you’d only heard about in hushed rumors, or at least someone who was wearing the armor of one. Okay, injure was a strong word, but all that cold, hard beskar couldn’t be very comfortable to fall on despite the protection it offered.

“Stars, I’m so sorry, let me–”

You reached forward, stretching out a hand to help the Mandalorian up when a small green head suddenly popped up out of a tawny bag slung across their side. You yelped in surprise, losing your balance on the icy road and toppling forward. You winced, bracing yourself and preparing for the inevitable impact– except right as you were about to hit the ground, one steel-clad arm shot out to grab your wrist while the other steadied your hips. You gasped at the warmth of the unexpected contact, pulse quickening as you stared at the–man? person?–beneath you, the only thing preventing you from a nasty collection of bruises appearing across your side tomorrow.

A deep baritone sounded from the helmet– likely modulated, from the slightly grainy tone. “Are you alright?”

Definitely a man, then. You pointedly ignored the butterflies that stirred to life in your stomach at the sound of his voice, praying that he would attribute your shiver to the cold and nothing more. Stars, this was getting more embarrassing by the minute. You tucked away the thought, making a note to do some serious soul-searching later on about the depth of your touch-starvation and its potential impact on your mental state.

You gave a quick nod, muttering your thanks and carefully rolling to the side as you dusted clumps of snow off of your trousers. You looked up at him to see him gently picking up the little green creature you’d been so startled by earlier and tucking it back into the bag, pulling his cloak over its head to shield it from the chill. That was… rather cute, actually. You thought Mandalorians were supposed to be scary fighters, dedicated to nothing but their Creed, but this one was clearly fond of the small thing clinging to him. You couldn’t blame him; the green creature’s big ears and bug eyes were adorably endearing.

The cold winds picked up pace, and you wondered why anyone would be out here during such a storm as you got to your feet. Anyone local would have sought shelter hours ago, and no freighter would dare to land in such conditions.

“Are you... lost?” You tentatively asked. “Can I help you find someone?”

The Mandalorian remained silent for several long seconds, helmet tilted slightly. Whatever he saw in your face seemed to have settled well with him, and he released a quiet huff through the modulator.

“I need to get food. For my son,” he eventually admitted, gesturing to the baby peeking up at you.

“Oh!” You brightened up considerably as you remembered the flavorful soup you’d started earlier. “Well– I work in a cantina back there,” you said, pointing behind you at the rusted door that led to the kitchen.

“We’re technically closed right now, but I’m sure I can work something out.” You winked at the curious child, smiling as he let out a happy babble.

The Mandalorian’s helmet hadn’t moved from its focus in your direction, and you suddenly felt nervous. Which seemed stupid, because–yeah, it felt intense, but was he even looking at you from behind the dark visor of his helmet? For all you knew, he was making the most ridiculous expression at you behind all that beskar and you’d never know. The absurd thought made you snicker softly. If no one could see your face, you’d definitely act goofy at people all the time.

The Mandalorian’s head tilted slightly, and whoops, he’d definitely noticed your little moment now if he hadn’t been paying attention before. Your face reddened and you quickly gestured for him to follow you as you unlocked the door to the kitchen, relieved when you heard the soft clink of his armor come through the doorway behind you.

You placed your hands on your hips, surveying the dimly lit cantina and deciding to lead the duo to a worn table close to the bar. It looked unassuming, but the chairs were the comfiest in the cantina and you figured the baby would appreciate something softer than the coarse bag he’d been in.

Once they’d gotten settled in, you set about finding a mug of blue milk for the kid and some water for the Mandalorian. You brought the drinks over to the pair, hiding a smile at how eagerly the little green baby reached for his.

“You’re pretty thirsty, huh?” You observed as the baby slurped up the cerulean beverage. Shooting the tall, beskar-clad man a glance out of the corner of your eye, you continued, “Must have been quite the trip. Most people don’t usually travel to this side of the galaxy for vacation.”

To your disappointment, the Mandalorian remained as still and stoic as ever. Well, that just wouldn’t do. He was your first visitor in years from anywhere outside of Nath, and you were absolutely not letting him leave without getting a bit of juicy detail on life outside of your current drudgery. You decided to go for another angle.

“You know, kids need good role models in their lives. Ones that show them how to socialize with others and communicate. Display generosity of the loquacious sort, even.” You shrugged innocently in your best attempt to mimic the overly casual air the old women at the tea shop always used before passive-aggressively attempting to set you up with their stay-at-home-nephews. “Never too late to start.”

You got the distinct feeling that he was laughing at you under that helmet. Rude. Huffing, you sat down across the table from him and crossed your arms, trying to guess where under his visor his eyes were. Once you were half-confident that you’d found the spot, you stared intensely at it with your most intimidating expression. Which wasn’t saying much, seeing as you had the firepower of a soggy Lothkitten and probably came off as more desperate than anything.

“Isn’t there some sort of honor code for Mandalorians? One that includes being noble to strangers and whatnot?”

No response. Argh.

“Well, I’d consider it pretty noble to provide a lonely soul such as myself with a bit of storytelling entertainment on this frigid evenin–”

Your final attempt at prying some information out of the armored man was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen timer beeping increasingly louder and louder until you were sure the whole cantina was vibrating with the tinny noise.

“KRIFF, not again!”

You bolted out of your seat towards the kitchen, but not before you heard a thinly disguised huff of amusement coming out of the modulator. Okay, he was definitely laughing at you.

Once you’d successfully saved the soup from imminent destruction-via-cursed-stove and somewhat regained your pride, you finally made your way back to the table with three steaming bowls of noodles. You placed the smallest one in front of the child, who cooed happily and immediately began plopping his hands in the bowl. The Mandalorian huffed in exasperation and began prying little green fingers out of the bowl. “Hey. Quit that, we talked about this,” he grumbled. You winced as broth sloshed out of the bowl, landing dangerously close to the baby’s tunic. The kid’s lower lip started to tremble, a blaring warning sign that a tantrum was going to occur in approximately ten seconds if he wasn’t distracted from his current petulant state.

“Oh– hey, bug, don’t do that,” you said as both father and son turned to look at you. You leaned closer to the wide-eyed baby and pointed to his bowl. “That’s pretty hard to scoop up, yeah? Look, there are easier ways to eat it,” you explained as you brought the bowl up to your lips and raised an eyebrow, hoping that he would do the same. The kid blinked up at you for several long seconds before turning to his father with outstretched hands. The Mandalorian sighed, but held up the dish as requested. You hid a smile behind your bowl at the sight.

“Good job! Okay, now we’re going to try something fun–” You mimed slurping up the soup with a silly face at the baby, who burbled something incomprehensible in response but finally followed your example and focused on his food.

When you were sure that the baby’s clothes were no longer in danger of being drenched by broth– and by extension, frozen stiff whenever the pair headed back into the storm–you quietly tucked into your own meal, closing your eyes at the warm memories the comforting flavours brought. Not for the first time, you missed the earthy smell and placid weather of your homeworld, a stark contrast to this icy prison of a planet.

“You are… good with him.”

Your eyes darted up to find the Mandalorian’s helmet angled directly at you. Your face heated at the observation and you gave a small laugh, willing yourself to resist fidgeting under his gaze.

“I– thank you, I’ve always liked kids. Used to volunteer in the nursery back home, actually, before the Empire stole every resource from it they could.”

Your eyes widened with sudden realization. “You’re not Imperial, are you?”

The Mandalorian scoffed vehemently, the most emotion he’d displayed since he’d fallen back in the alley. “No.”

Well, that answered a few questions at least. You were prepared to move on from the conversation when he hesitantly spoke, “My ship ran into a few… asteroids. Is there a mechanic nearby?”

You set down your spoon, thinking. The closest asteroid field was four solar systems away and almost entirely inaccessible if one was traveling through hyperspace, so the likelihood that he’d truly run into one was small. In that case, he probably had damage from some kind of fight— seeing as the average pacifist wouldn’t need that much armor— and would want someone reliable who wasn’t going to ask questions about laser-sized holes in his ship’s hull.

He hadn’t tried to kill or rob you yet, so you figured his personal tussles were none of your business and decided to give him an honest recommendation. You directed him to a small mechanical hub close to the ice huts where there were few ships and even fewer nosy citizens. “The owner, Sanna, is the best in town,” you admitted. “I haven’t had the chance to visit her personally, but she’s known for being very discreet.”

He nodded, entering the coordinates you’d given him into some sort of device on his wrist. You tried to contain your pleased expression at correctly guessing his reason for being on Nath. And it had only taken you… well, four tries, but that was better than nothing!

“What is your price?”

You blinked, confused. “My price?”

There was that increasingly frequent head tilt again. His helmet tipped forward, scanning you. “For the food. And information.” He clarified slowly.

“Oh,” you spoke, surprised. “It’s okay, I was making dinner for myself anyway. And you’d have found out the location of the mechanic from someone else eventually,” you shrugged.

You couldn’t see his face, but from the disbelieving tone of his voice you imagined his eyebrows to be raised. “Not many people would turn down credits.”

You winced, reminded of your costly dream to get off-world, but there was no way you’d accept this stranger’s money for such a small favor when he had a kid he needed to provide for. “Yeah, well. Guess I’m not most people,” you laughed sheepishly.

The Mandalorian muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like no, you definitely are not. You squinted at him accusingly.

“Hey, you better not be making fun of my interrogation tactics, metal man.” You leaned forward to poke his soup bowl emphatically. Hm, that was strange– he hadn’t so much as touched it. Did Mandalorians follow some kind of special diet? You resolved to look that up the next time you had access to a datapad.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing that to a lonely soul like yourself.” He responded dryly.

You gasped in mock offense, forgetting your previous train of thought and internally groaning that he’d remembered that part of your disastrous attempt to weasel information out of him. Yeesh. Not your most eloquent moment. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared,” you shot back in the most syrupy-sweet tone you could muster.

The kid grinned up at you with sharp teeth and blew a soupy bubble towards your face in response. You smiled down at him, adding, “But if you really want to repay me, then bring me back a good story about this little guy the next time you crash land through a— what did you call it? Asteroid field.” You highly doubted the duo would ever willingly return, but if making a deal gave this man peace of mind to know his imaginary debt was settled in some future way then so be it.

The lights in the cantina began to flicker and you got up with a frown, walking over to the electrical box behind the bar. The dull grey display, crammed with incomprehensibly labelled switches and flashing lights that would give anyone a headache, alerted you that the main generator had been depleted of power. You scrambled over to a window, prying open the shutters a crack only to be met with a dark swirl of snow that completely obscured your view of the street. Stars, the storm had worsened quickly— there was absolutely no chance you were making it home tonight. You slammed the shutter closed and turned around with a grimace that didn’t go unnoticed by the Mandalorian.

“What is it?” He questioned, modulated voice growing wary at the expression on your face.

“We’re running out of power, the main generator’s down from the storm so these lights are going to have to shut off soon. I think there’s enough in the emergency generator to heat the cantina through the night, though.” You hesitated, not sure how to break the bad news. “Unfortunately, the weather is— unmanageable. You’re not making it out of here to the mechanic’s until the blizzard lets up.”

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, so you continued talking. “I was.. planning on sleeping here tonight.” You muttered, trying to think of a plan. You glanced at the sleepy child resting on the Mandalorian’s beskar chest plate. “I usually keep a couple blankets here for that reason— pretty sure there’s enough to cover the baby, but you might need to be okay with sharing.”

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, searching your memory for where the emergency supplies were kept. Kriff. How were you supposed to know that you’d be snowed in, and with guests no less? Your grumpy boss really should have put instructions for this type of situation in the closing shift directions instead of the usual “sweep the floors” or your personal favorite: “if the customer creates a corpse, they gotta clean it up themselves”.

The Mandalorian interrupted your musings with a firm, “No need,” gesturing to the charcoal cloak fastened around his pauldrons. You eyed it dubiously, but supposed that the material looked thick enough. That was probably to your benefit, anyway, since you were something of a notorious blanket hog and didn’t think he’d take kindly to having his sheets ripped off him in the dead of night. That seemed like a quick way to wake up with more bruises than you went to sleep with.

“Well— alright then,” you sighed at last, tossing the smaller of your blankets to the man and tucking the other into the side of a nearby booth. “I’ll shut off the lights in a moment. Refresher’s that way, if you need it,” you pointed to the end of a dimly lit hall. The Mandalorian nodded once, then returned his attention to carefully cocooning the child in his lap. You set to work fluffing up your own makeshift bed, folding the cleanest dishtowel you could find into a pillow before trudging over to the light switch and enveloping the room in darkness.

Quietly feeling your way back to your booth, your eyes adjusted to the pitch-black little by little. You pulled your hair out of its messy updo and curled up on the seat, body slowly relaxing. It was strange, hearing the muffled rhythm of breaths coming from lungs that weren’t your own, but oddly soothing in its own way.

“G’night,” you mumbled, half-asleep already, consciousness swirled down the psychological drain by the overpowering storm raging outside. The lull-and-hitch of the baby’s soft snores echoing off of solid beskar set you drifting off to sleep faster than you had as a child, so lost to the world that you were sure you dreamed the quiet, belated whisper that sounded back to you.

taglist: @magpiencrow @that-kid143 @lilly-aliyah @itmustbegreattobecalledtheitgirl

comment if you'd like to be tagged for any of my works/fandoms in the future! :)

read on: part ii

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divineintervention-comics · 3 months ago

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Hiya, I binged your blog last night lol, loving the premise and tidbits of Cupbearers So, I got a question. What's Hebe's relationship with her parents like? Best I got is that it's probably not healthy considering the posts I read here but I'm curious. If it's too spoilery, lmk

thank you so much!!

Hebe's relationship with her parents is complicated. shes closest with Hera and is Hera's favorite child because shes the youngest and is the most similar to her when she was a godling. Hera has a tendency to think of Hebe as an extension of herself and she wants Hebe to grow up to become a traditional woman like herself. their relationship is pretty codependent tbh but not unrealistic for a lot of people's experiences.

Hebe's relationship with Zeus is more strained, she wants his approval and for him to care for her the way that he cares about his other children. thats the reason she took up the job of cupbearer (even though Hera DID NOT approve of Hebe entering the workforce since its unbecoming for a girl of her class). Hebe wants to be loved, she wants to be appreciated, she is always working so hard to be seen. thats why she was so upset by Ganymede entering her place of work and taking the attention away from her. for the majority of the story, she assumed that Ganymede was taken to replace her as a child for Zeus to love like his own (she was wrong, she was terribly wrong).

ive talked about it more in the server i made for this comic but Zeus isnt so much a character in the story as he is a looming presence. he is a character with motivation and depth but he is primarily there to represent a figure with supreme authority and how that can breed violence and exploitation. even being so large and imposing he cant even fit on the pages.

thanks for asking, i could talk about Cupbearers forever. i love getting questions like this bc it helps me form more of my worldbuilding

#cupbearers comic #hebe #divine intervention comic #hera #zeus

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astonmartinii · 8 months ago

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F1 ASKS!

i saw this tag floating around and wanted to let yall get to know me better since i’ve been doing this a while and have only really spoken in the form of authors notes! also im not going to tag anyone so just do it if you wanna!

who is your favourite driver?

i think for anyone who has read anything i’ve ever written it’s probably a bit obvious but max verstappen! what can i say little me was told we’re supporting red bull and here was this little charmer (emphasis on little who let that child get into an F1 car)

do you have other favourite drivers?

also based on my writing you can probably tell that my top three are max, charles and oscar! however, i will also say that alex is a close fourth for me (he’s also very nice irl). also as for retired drivers i think the mamma mia series is a bit of a spoiler but i love jenson, seb and kimi

who is your least favourite driver?

i used to say i didn’t dislike anyone on the grid - that was a lie. i’ll still write for anyone within reason but you can also probably tell with how in detail the back and forth is on certain pieces that i am really not a fan of sainz, actually people who get yelled at while i write them would argue it’s more than “not really being a fan of” but i am fake and i have maintained that if i meet him at silverstone (which i very nearly did last year) ill tell him im his biggest fan! also not the biggest fan of like pierre he’s just kinda there for me and a wee bit too cringey ALSO what you may not be able to guess from how i write him… im not really a fan of lando! ive really, really tried especially after his win but he just kinda rubs me the wrong way (i was immediately proven right with the trump comments lol). people say i should pull for him cause he’s from bristol which is where i live but he’s from glastonbury babe - also ive done a few swimming competitions at the school he went to a WOAH baby has so much money.

do you pull for drivers or do you like teams as well?

i mostly pull for drivers but like i guess i like red bull? well i did. i love max so i would follow him everywhere but i did like red bull as well as a team (i like alex, danny and checo so that also helps) but this whole protection of christian horner shtick is really disappointing so id say im a driver person.

if you like teams, who do you pull for?

like i said red bull were the team id pick if i HAD to follow a team - i support chelsea so i cant handle even more disappointment if i followed ferrari and also i only like charles there and they’re the source of all of his misfortune so …

how long have you been into F1?

so my family has always been into F1, my cousin karts and my uncle is a mechanic and makes karts on the side but i had always been more into football cause i could actually go to that with my dad - and also for young me who didn’t know what the fuck a strategy was it seemed kinda boring. but i’d say from maybe 2016ish i started watching it more regularly (hence the max stanship). my mum loves it and her first love in the sport was mark webber which is why we like red bull. but yeah i remember watching max’s first win and was like MUM I WANT THAT ONE (and i have technically met him? idk we made eye contact when his taxi nearly ran over my foot)

what got you into F1?

my mum! i love her and she’s just as much a passionate fan (and hater when appropriate) so it’s a nice thing to do together - especially because me and my dad are season ticket holders at chelsea so spend a lot of time together doing that so this is like my sport time with my mum (along with the olympics that’s our shit we’re very excited for the swimming). so i guess it was being around her watching it and listening to her and my dad argue about it! my mum is an ardent seb supporter and my dad is like a twitter account away from being in teamLH so canada 2018 (2019?) was VERY entertaining. also my uncle loves it so he likes that im proper into it (like have a sports journalism degree) and so we always chat about it - he’s trying to recruit me into motogp next

do you enjoy fanfic/RPF?

i mean i’ve written so much i must love it. lol jokes i do enjoy it and i feel like it helps me like people more (case in point: when i was trying to make myself enjoy the lando win i just read my own fics of him LOL)

but also its something fun to do that’s also creative and has helped me make new friends from all over

how do you view new fans?

ugh i hate the hate new fans get like not everyone can be born into loving a sport? if anything the more people that watch and love the sport the more money it’ll make? idk this whole superiority complex some fans have is just so unneeded for the sport and we all know why is majorly directed at girls. i do fear that some of the new fan behaviours could border on worrying - waiting outside hotels and ambushing drivers is stalking actually!

but overall im always happy to have new people in a sport - a bigger community is always good and new fans bring new perspectives which is good as older fans may just be desensitised to “normal” things in the sport but new eyes can remind them - hey halos are the best thing to happen to F1 and red flags in heavy rain are necessary.

if you could take over as any team principal for any team who would it be and why?

i know i previously dunked on ferrari but there needs to be an intervention because my girly max already has three championships and i need charles to get at least one so i can die happy - then ill move to mclaren, kick zak brown up the ass get a piastri championship and bounce (honourary race with willams or whatever team alex is with cause i need all three 2019 rookies to be race winners)

are your friends and family into F1 as well?

i feel like my other answers answered this but yeah! i also recently reconnected with an old primary school friend who is also really into it. i went to a sports uni so basically everyone there liked it as well (which means me and a friend did trek to the F1 arcade at 4am to watch aus 23 where she had a public meltdown over sainz (i enjoyed it)). also ive made a couple friends through working at races!

are you open to talking to other fans/making friends?

i always am! i am a year out of uni and working from home with all my home friends still at uni after taking gap years so i am big time lonely so always feel free to slide into my messages!

#f1 imagine #max verstappen #charles leclerc #oscar piastri #alex albon #ferrari #f1 #formula one #formula1 #tag

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ms-scarletwings · 1 year ago

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A Messy, Sedulous Necropsy of Zib Membrane

That’s what we call him right? Not Invader Zib? Hell if I know, we’ll let the tags decide.

Whatever he is christened by his author, enemies, or fans, this titular villain of the Zimvoid is such a mind blaster to me. I wish we had more time with him within the comics. I wish he had been a concept explored in the show. I wish he had a movie. I am having fun with a little hyperbole here, but I truly do find him just as interesting and potentially pivotal of an antagonist as Tak was, if not even more.

Both, of course, were so badly underutilized for sake of the series status quo. To that, Zib was a much bigger threat than Tak, and especially to that of the comics’ own. He potentially changes everything, and somehow absolutely nothing by the end. The TV show always had a more overt tone of cruelty and the macabre floating about its themes. These print issues? I don’t dislike them. It’s still recognizably invader Zim, and the more the merrier, content-wise, but longtime fans can feel that there was this change of essence in the transition. More obviously, in the art, but more subtly, there was an audible softening of that bluntly darker, cynical tone the show was made iconic for. To put it very generally, they lean a little more into the whackiness of this world, there’s a lot more dark comedy to be found in what I’ve seen so far rather than in your face darkness, and in the absence of the ost and voice acting the show accustomed us to, the comics leave a lot more room to be read as you wile. To me, they’re goofier and more episodic in spirit.

This all is not a critique or rating on the comics.. It’s purely, I feel, why Zib stuck out to me all the more jarringly in his context. His reveal was a genuine twist that brought forth stakes higher than arguably any other threat in the entire franchise. He represents a plausible while horrifying prophecy of our main characters if only they made worse decisions. The most interesting of all, for every piece of amazing information he fed to us, he bred dozens more questions about everything than he answered, from Irken machinations, to his ambivalent backstory, to the secrets hidden by the sum of his parts.

Though he was left evidently alive at the end of his story, I don’t see any chance for him making a return, so he is memorialized as another defeated one-off the writers have brisked past and left behind for good. Therefore, I’m here today to take what we got and present it on the metaphorical autopsy table. I want to really pull apart why this character alone pulled me back into the TV series, really just flay open the bits I can’t get out of my own head and dig harder until we find something or we run out of threads to tug at. Starting with the one already hanging out of my mouth, but

• B.E.F

“Bad End Friend” is a term I learned the meaning of within the last 12 hours or so of writing this, and I’m exuberant over that discovery. It’s a niche trope i didn’t know ive been a giant fan of since I was a child. Summed up, fictional characters from beloved media, typically, animated child protagonists… given the worst case scenario treatment. Their “bad ending”, whether that means a corruption arc, demonic possession, a lovecraftIan tragedy… usually something that’s anywhere along the lines of a fate worse than death to a full villainous turnover. As a treat. The concept is strongly associated with fanworks and AUs of popular media, but just as often this is something that becomes explored in the source material as well. A couple great examples I know would probably be Ice Prince Finn from Adventure Time or what happens in Undertale when you decide you want to run the most depraved playthrough possible. From a more mature story, “Evil” Morty is another validly arguable sample.

Besides a bit of a fondness I got going for certain dark or spooky themes in general, what I REALLY love about canonical BEFs the most is their utility as characterization tools. They’re the “having your cake and eating it too” option! The perfect way for an author to explore certain things about any character without actually committing to well… a bad ending.

Almost always, they are necessarily hypothetical or reversible. If they’re not reversible, they go often hand-in-hand with a little universe tampering to make happen. Sometimes, this means the story goes the way of time travel and branching off butterfly effects. Sometimes it means confirming multiverse theory, which can be the same thing depending on your semantical position.

And Zib crossed off the BEF qualifications by far and away. His implications are extremely dark given any pause think about them, and he’s a living, disturbing tragedy in aftermath. If you want to view a rigamarole about that aspect of his characterization as he appeared in the comics, someone else long beat me to that and I’m enthusiastically recommending a peek at their own work. I’m thrilled to do so and build a little upon that with those extended what-if-wonders.

• Lessons From a Lost Episode

Elephant in the room I haven’t seen someone ask yet, uh..

By show rules, isn’t Zib supposed to be a clear case of the writers committing the sin of retcon? By show I’m including the unaired scripts, including “10 Minutes to Doom”. In that one we had what looked like the potential setup for a Zib case, and it was deconstructed across the whole episode.

In short recap, Dib learned the hard and reckless way about the true nature of what Irken PAKs actually are. This is not an inventory bag, it is not “gear”. It’s the actual Irken entity- at least, the primary component.

Detaching it from the organic shell essentially caused a temporary split into two instances of Zim, desperately trying to connect back together under threat of obliteration.

Like let me be very clear about this,

The PAK is an autonomous instance of Zim’s consciousness, and it’s the main one. We’ve seen it act to save his life when his body has been out cold or flatlined, and he doesn’t appear the least bit disoriented or confused once “he” wakes and jumps back into the action. There’s no known separate computer assistant AI or security autopilot in there. That code, that program, IS Zim. As Long as the PAK is active, he is capable of staying fully conscious and able to react to what’s happening around him, and that’s what we’ve been seeing, his own actions.

Zim proved me right when Virooz tried to replace him and detached the PAK. Take note of his phrasing after the chair event™.

“I” activated the protocol. Immediately after Virooz ran off with my shell.

“I” Voluntarily chose to do so.

I don’t remember it playing out like that in “10 Minutes to Doom”.

Attaching to a new host wasn’t the first reflex. Dib was not the least bit aware that that he has literally holding the actual Zim captive in sense, and the latter was fighting like a cornered animal to escape him. Failing that, alongside the distance between him and his original body growing fast, he made a last desperate gambit, and he willingly connected himself into Dib’s body.

I can see why he thought this was better than nothing, no matter how repulsive the notion might have been. If he couldn’t fend Dib off physically, he could incapacitate him in some fashion by trying to overtake his will. Maybe give the shell a better chance to catch up, maybe in the longshot hope of being able to pilot dib in order to become whole with the correct host again. And you can say he succeeded, at least in dominating bodily control away from Dib, but at the cost of his already tenuously held sanity. This could be because of the interference of Dib’s own mind still resisting to fully submit, or malfunctions because of the biological incompatibility; however, the thing that Dib mentally becomes is only the basic idea of what “Zim” is. Instead of remembering it needs to reunite with its shell ASAP, the PAK mistakes Dib’s body for its own and goes through the manic motions of following the Invader mission. And it does this, weirdly enough, with almost no regard for blowing its cover.

When things are set right again, Zim’s later words near the episode ending revealed that he knew that was an unsustainable state.

Such a risk was not just accounted for, he was actually banking on it if that clock had hit zero. If Zim had truly lost, if he was really doomed to meet his end on this nasty rock in the middle of Nowhere, Space, then by every damned circuit in his being, he was going to take down this insolent fool boy and as many other humans possible with him. A dying act of vengeful rage.

• The Exceptional… Exception

Now, wouldn’t all of this be the definitive reason for Zib’s existence to be an aberrant impossibility? Yes, but actually no. Fun thing about multiverses is if something doesn’t work in one setting, you can just tweak a few dials and suddenly you have a world where the impossible becomes possible. But that’s a pretty cheap answer, isn’t it? So, what exactly was that crucial difference?

What happened in Zib’s timeline that went down so, so divergently from the events of 10 Minutes to Doom?

Because the only one who was in any position to explain it for us was Zib himself, and he’s proven to be one of the most unreliable of narrators. It’s as @dana-chan-the-control-brain already spared no effort to demonstrate, when he does tell us something about his past, his story is pocked with contradicting half-truths or outright lies. Ergo it helps to break down each recount of events to pick out the real facts.

Version 1: This is an alternate version of dib who defeated his complementing Zim (logically sensible) and went on to achieve all of the success and respect he sought after in his timeline (absolute bullshit). He kind of gestures and only implies about what has happened to his body while explaining that he came to his current understanding of Irken technology by studying it through Zim’s lab (a partial truth). He lets slip in passing that he has in fact fused with the PAK in order to learn how to alter and reprogram its coding, lessons he has applied to Number 2 in order to have a brainwashed pawn (also apparently true).

Version 2, when cornered and red handed: This is an alternate version of Dib who managed to specifically stop Zim's mission (Again, makes sense) but somehow could not convince the world of his findings or his warnings about the Irken Armada (*VERY eyebrow raising). Frustrated with the people’s lack of cooperation, he decides he has no choice but to physically merge with Zim’s PAK post-mortem (concerning and evidently mostly accurate), dominate the Earth himself, and enslave humans to help him in his efforts (highly troubling and probably true). The construction of his EMP super-weapon is successful, but ultimately led to the creation of the Zimvoid when the device was field tested (self evident, absolutely horrifying).

You know what I noticed was missing from both of these accounts? Exactly how his Zim was defeated. Which honestly could have been some beyond useful wisdom to pass along to the main Dib??? More than anything else? I’m not going to fault our boy for not pressing that matter better under the awing circumstance; however, there’s an implication I’ve been reading between lines.

When Zib mentions “defeating” his own Zim, he’s talking about something different than ours.

When our Dib has always talked about “defeating” Zim, he’s meant incapacitation and capture. Throughout the show he explicitly wants to present Zim before an audience alive and whole. Yeah, he fantasizes about other people torturing or disassembling him for study, but HIS role was supposed to be reaping the fame for an undeniable, ground-breaking discovery. Conspiracies and cryptids are all this kid breathes and lives by! And as long as pop culture has always been fascinated with the paranormal, and he has to know this full well, people keep bringing forward hoax after hoax after scam. I mean there’s a freaking current one or few still going IRL about this exact topic. Dib would want no room left for being dismissed as another one of those con artists.

Nonetheless, I actually doubt this is the reason Zib couldn’t get through to the scientific community. A genuine alien lifeform, even a dead one, could still be confirmed by any basic medical examination. The world thinks Dib is too crazy to listen to, but his father is still Professor Membrane. In "10 Minutes to Doom" OUR Dib got as close as having Membrane literally analyzing a PAK, or at worst, preparing to. “Ultimate Dib” gets his hands on the same thing and pulls a move I’d expect from an HP Lovecraft Protagonist instead.

We’re assuming way too much to what these two Dibs have in common, because this ^^^ is really what made the Zimvoid an outlier in the multiverse. That world didn’t only have a very different, more threatening Zim from the main timeline, it had the Dib who proved even more formidable, cunning, and ruthless, even before the fusion.

He didn’t obtain that PAK ala the “10 minutes to Doom” accident, it’s a personal trophy. This is extra strange remembering that capturing an Irken is realistically more easy than killing one. They’re seriously more tenacious than kudzu and will even fight back in PAK form alone. I’m convinced that whatever sort of final showdown made the Ultimate Dib the victor, there are two optional endings on the table.

Option 1: There was not a body even left intact enough to bring in to research. Maybe Dib’s fault, maybe an accident, maybe even Zim’s own luck running out and his incompetent antics finally swallowed him (and possibly GIR). This theory assumes that the PAK was the only sort of remains to come into Dib’s recovery/possession.

Option 2: Curiosity Killed the cat,

but satisfaction brought it back.

Or, the one I personally headcanon. Dib… all Dibs, I assume, don’t just hate the Irken species. They are mesmerized by them, and all that they represent from his perspective. Firstly, the epic villain he gets to roleplay nemesis to in order to feel his own worth and importance. Secondly, an unknown wonder from beyond the boundaries of the cosmos. He’s not really a ghost buster or a Men In Black agent at heart, but a scientist, like his father. Underneath his contempt for Zim’s plans to destroy the world is a genuine and appropriately childish awe for alien presence, especially for Zim’s technology. His silent, dopey smile when Tak’s ship ended up in his backyard said more than words ever will..

Earlier in the show, a great deal of Dib’s time and effort was spent on trying to infiltrate the lower levels of Zim’s base. Sneaking into the house was hard enough, but the computer security can’t be bypassed like the gnomes. Not even by Zim himself unless he really is all himself. Perhaps you’re starting to sniff where I’m going with this one when I refer back to “Bolognius Maximus”. I’ve another reference that’s a little more on the nose, and a lot more… dark.

Were an expired Irken husk before you, you too might take your victory and cash in then. Still, who knows what sudden impulse may run through the head of a less humble version of yourself, one some could call greedier, obsessive to a fault, a screw or two loose, yet, a hell of a smart cookie. Smart enough to see it for what it actually was, the keys to a whole world of discovery that went so many layers deeper than they could ever imagine. It’s possible the Ultimate Dib already learned beforehand the same hard lessons about the PAKs that our own did, and took that understanding toward not repeating the same mistake this time. What happened to Zim? I think he was murdered in cold blood, body, and entity. “10 Minutes to Doom” showed us a fight between 2 brains clinging to one body, struggling until one overpowered another, but that’s not what this is. Through whatever means of science were available to him, this Dib has probably tried to “disarm” the technology by either erasing Zim’s consciousness out of it altogether, or by forcing the autonomous code into a kind of dormancy. His intentions were to render it back to its basic hardware without losing its precious knowledge and usefulness, something like the brain-filled tank that was wired into Skrang’s head. Zim’s PAK doesn’t cling onto his body like a parasitic teratoma this time; it’s merged in a literal sense with his nervous and circulatory system. As well, he has fooled the device’s ability to detect and reject a foreign host shell, the exact same way he deceived the the base’s security AI. If an Irken biology is what these measures authorize to command them and their secrets, then he had the tools on hand to give them just that- in an atrocity I like to call

the darker harvest.

Within this theory, there is not as much room to wonder exactly what became of Zim’s organic remains.

But where Dib fucked up was, for the second time, in his ignorance to the true nature of what he was even playing with. That was a mistake that even the mighty Elder Brains of Judgementia lost themselves to; How much more vulnerable was the weak, human mind? Though Zim can be devoured, he can never be digested. In that fact was born this aberration against nature, sanity, and humanity alike.

"Have you ever heard of insect politics? Neither have I. Insects… don't have politics. They're very… brutal. No compassion, no compromise. We can't trust the insect. I'd like to become the first… insect politician. Y'see, I'd like to, but… I'm afraid, uh… I'm saying… I'm saying I - I'm an insect who dreamt he was a man and loved it. But now the dream is over… and the insect is awake." - Seth Brundle, The Fly, 1986

By fusing what is half-mad and what is utterly mad, neither being was cured, only assimilated into the birth of a new madness. The madness of the creature that snickers behind the curtain in the Zimvoid. I rightfully fear that lonesome thing, but not I think as much as I pity him.

• Dejavu, or Re:Plagarism

One more thing about the Zimvoid arc I find curious is the way it makes you question more and more just how much of the aberration is actually still Dib, and how much of it is Zim's infection haunting him. He does nothing with all of his intellect, his resources, and his time in the void doing anything but surrounding himself in everything he claims he despises. He decries alien tyranny in one breath while lording over a homemade, cruel dictatorship in another. He calls for eradication of the very race who's technology and physiology he has thoroughly appropriated. He laments feeling unable to protect the Earth from the Armada alone, yet sneers literally through Irken teeth to insult humans as inferior and of no value to him any longer. Our Dib spent the whole damn show longing for the support of other people, but Zib pushes away potential allies in his arrogance. His broken timeline never became a Dibvoid instead because while only half of his mind can't stand Irkens, both of the souls inside him remember that they loathe and look down upon a Dib, deep inside.

The corruption goes as far as even subverting his own creativity. None of Zib's plans are wholly original. His anti-Irken weapon was already a concept blueprinted inside of that PAK before the merge. Our Dib has several times shown a propensity for some DIY ingenuity, sometimes dipping a toe into the supernatural. Zib entirely calls upon, scavenges and regurgitates Irken designs with a few modifications or upgrades. The Dib Virus, I think is his most uninspired creation yet, for it's original form was always something inside of Zim, even if the latter himself was not aware of the fact. Like all else, it is a weapon he has plundered, customized, and turned around on everyone else for his own selfish ends. This brief point I will end on one more reflection. The one kind of help Zim ever allowed at his side were the likes of GIR and his own creations. Unable to connect and cooperate with his peers and own kind, his ego preferred to be around those defective machines he related to- drones to be owned by him and always loyally at his beck and call. A slave to admire him unconditionally is the only companionship he's ever been willing to admit to desiring.

And what was Number 2's purpose again? What role exactly were the arena combatants auditioning for, when you think about it?

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