#and the way he always asks permission before publishing cases | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

offtorivendell · 7 months ago

Text

Why is Azriel so "different"?On Dusk, Hel and the Valg...

This post was written for @azrielappreciationweek Days 1, 2 and 3: Cool Quiet, Scarred and Belonging

Disclaimer: the following is only a theory which, as usual, makes no claim of being canon. It's LONG, even though I've almost certainly forgotten to add some thoughts I've misplaced. I'm sorry, but by the time I realised how stupidly long it would be I cbf splitting it up into smaller posts, so... no offence taken if this gets chucked into the too-hard basket.

My thanks, as always, go out to the lovely @wingedblooms, @ladynightcourt3 (the queen of quotes), @silverlinedeyes, @psychologynerd, @elrieldreamer, @cassianfanclub @shitwillnotbegiven, and anyone else who has helped me process my thoughts along the way. 💜

Spoilers: the entire Maasverse is referenced, reader beware.

One theory that seems to be (mostly lol) accepted across the fandom is that Azriel, the shadowsinger of Prythian's Night Court, may be more than simply Illyrian. Back in 2021, before reading the Crescent City series, I had wondered whether he might be descended from the Dusk Court (here, here and here), but after HOSAB was published - and then HOFAS especially - I had other thoughts. This post is just incredibly fucking belated.

Firstly, what evidence do we have to suggest that Azriel is different?

Quite a bit, in my opinion. From the moment Feyre met Azriel back in ACOMAF, there have been hints that, even beyond his seven siphons, he is not your average Illyrian warrior. That he may, in fact, be significantly different even to Rhys and Cassian.

As we can see, Feyre felt his otherness right from the start.

But the second male, the more classically beautiful of the two … Even the light shied from the elegant planes of his face. With good reason. Beautiful, but near-unreadable. He’d be the one to look out for—the knife in the dark. Indeed, an obsidian-hilted hunting knife was sheathed at his thigh, its dark scabbard embossed with a line of silver runes I’d never seen before. Rhys said, “This is Azriel—my spymaster.” Not surprising. Some buried instinct had me checking that my mental shields were intact. Just in case. - ACOMAF, chapter 16

Now, there's a lot to unpack in that brief passage - and I aim to do so over the course of this post - but let's begin with Feyre's instinct to ward against Azriel; a reaction that was unique to him. This was followed by further suggestions that Azriel is not purely Illyrian throughout the rest of the series, some of which are quite blatant.

Cassian finished his laughing. “Illyrians are certainly not High Fae. And glad of it.” He hooked his black hair behind an ear—rounded; as mine had once been. “And we’re not lesser faeries, though some try to call us that. We’re just—Illyrians. Considered expendable aerial cavalry for the Night Court at the best of times, mindless soldier grunts at the worst.” “Which is most of the time,” Azriel clarified. I didn’t dare ask if those shadows were a part of being Illyrian, too. - ACOMAF, chapter 16

"You'll get used to it—the wording," he said. Clinging to him so tightly, I couldn't see his face. I watched the light shift inside the sapphire Siphon instead, as if it were the great eye of some half-slumbering beast from a frozen wasteland. "I don't really know where I fit in any- more," I admitted, perhaps only because the wind was screeching around us and Rhys had already winnowed ahead to where Cassian's dark form flew-beyond the wall. "I've been alive almost five and a half centuries, and I'm not sure of that, either," Azriel said. - ACOMAF, chapter 22

Azriel just shook his head. "I'll go. The Prison sentries know me—what I am." - ACOWAR, chapter 16

I was rasping for breath, sweat sliding down my spine, by the time he said, "Good." He cleared his throat. "I know you're not Illyrian, but amongst their kind, it is considered inappropriate to touch someone's wings without permission. Especially females." Their kind. Not his. - ACOWAR, chapter 19

One glance at Azriel’s unreadable face and I added, “Don’t bother to answer that.” A corner of Azriel’s mouth curled up, the shadows about him sliding over his neck like living tattoos, twins to the Illyrian ones marked beneath his leathers. Shadows different from anything my powers summoned, spoke to. Born in a lightless, airless prison meant to break him. Instead, he had learned its language. Though the cobalt Siphons were proof that his Illyrian heritage ran true, even the rich lore of that warrior-people, my warrior-people, did not have an explanation for where the shadowsinger gifts came from. They certainly weren’t connected to the Siphons, to the raw killing power most Illyrians possessed and channeled through the stones to keep from destroying everything in its path. The bearer included. - ACOFAS, chapter 7

"Azriel can winnow all the time, though." "Az is different. In a lot of ways." His tone didn't invite further questioning. - ACOSF, chapter 16

He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. - ACOSF, Azriel's Bonus Chapter

There was even a hint or two about Azriel's possible Starborn heritage in HOFAS, thanks to Bryce.

“What have you done?” Azriel rasped, and Bryce twisted to find him on his feet, wings tucked in, Nesta leaning against him as if wounded, Ataraxia dangling from her grip. The male now held the Starsword at the ready, Truth-Teller gripped in his other hand. He must have had some sort of Starborn blood in him, then—a distant ancestor, maybe. Or maybe his possession of the knife somehow allowed him to also bear the Starsword. - HOFAS, chapter 24

Obviously Azriel is still Illyrian, I don't know anybody who disputes that in a non-crack theory manner, but it seems likely to me that he's also something more¹. All of the above hints about his shadowsinging powers, his own feelings of otherness to his people, and - potentially² - his ability to smell the Elucien bond as Lanthys did Nessian, the fact that we have yet to meet his mother? Is it simple coincidence, or intentional hints?

I could definitely be wrong, but I'm choosing the latter.

¹ "More" as in quantity, not quality. This is by no means a diss at Cassian or Rhys.

² To be fair, the true mate theory could also explain this; by the point in ACOSF that Nesta and Cassian met Lanthys they'd already been intimate, even if their bond was not yet "accepted."

The Dusk Court

As mentioned above - here, here, and here - I've been wondering for a long while if Azriel could be connected to the Dusk Court (or what remains of it). I think this could be both through his likely Starborn heritage as well as descending from the Hewn City specifically.

She found nothing but open curiosity on Nesta’s face. Nesta said, “The scar your light comes from … it’s shaped like an eight-pointed star. Why?” Bryce peered at where the light was muffled by her T-shirt. “It’s the symbol of the Starborn, I think.” “And the magic marked you in this way?” “Yes. When I … revealed who I was, what I am, to the world, I drew the star out of my chest. It left that scar in its wake.” She glanced to Azriel. “Like a burn.” - HOFAS, chapter 12

I'd even started a meta on it, one of many that I lost track of and then never got around to finishing because my magpie brain latched onto other shiny theories or books, but the gist of it was that Azriel's mother (or, more likely imo, a distant female relative, such as his grandmother) hailed from Dusk. Given I thought the Hewn City/Court of Nightmares was the Dusk Court acting as a sub court to the Night Court, I had written an entire spiel about how one of Lord Thanatos' troublesome daughters may have been this female ancestor who fell in love and had a child with an Illyrian warrior who died prematurely, leaving her with nothing (not even a family who would take her back, because Hewn City bullshit amiright? Especially if she was unable to have further children after birthing a winged child), and that we hadn't met Azriel's mother yet because she might have spoilery traits like small/different wings or her own shadows. I went a lot deeper - funnily enough, my thoughts actually mirrored a bit of Hunt's mother's relationship with the father he never met (HOFAS, chapter 61) - and even wondered if this was partly why the Darkbringers and Illyrian soldiers disliked each other in ACOWAR... but those are the basics.

HOSAB then gave a different sort of importance to Lord Thanatos, but I don't think it necessarily precludes my original theory being right somehow, especially as "daughter" might be used as loosely as "son" was by Apollion in HOFAS, to mean that some power was donated for their creation. Even now, I still suspect Azriel may have hidden - or even corrupted - Starborn powers, which should indicate some minimum level of Dusk-based heritage.

While we now know the Made blades can be wielded by the Starborn - descendants of the Dusk Court - in addition to Made faeries such as Elain Archeron, I always suspected that Truth-Teller was much more important than we knew from the start (and I know I'm not the only one intrigued by the blade). After reading Crescent City, the parallels between Azriel's and Ruhn's almost guardianship of their respective magical blades until a female character³ came along to activate their power seemed to be significant (though of course with Elain it's still hypothetical, as we haven't had her POV yet).

³ Bryce may have been Theia's magical heir (though I suspect it may be through Ember rather than Einar), but she lives on Midgard - an entirely different planet. While the Archeron sisters may (or may not) spring from more humble beginnings than Fae royalty, imo they do share some notable parallels with Bryce and Theia herself. I discussed those in this post after HOSAB came out; since reading HOFAS, I suspect the Archeron sisters will grow to, as a unit, replace the Starborn magic that Bryce took, leaving Prythian unguarded. The power of three will set the land free, so to speak.

But back to Azriel. We know that Ruhn Danaan - the shadowy male who claimed the Starsword/Gwydion until a female associated with light came along and was able to activate its magic... sounds familiar, huh - is a Starborn prince who can wield shadows, and has some powers that appear similar to Az (shadow walking and mind speaking), though imo it may have been suggested that his light - aka Pelias' light - might be considered corrupt by Rigelus (while posing as Aidas).

Is Azriel's light magic corrupted as well?

“You knew the last Starborn Queen?” Ruhn asked. Starlight glinted among Ruhn’s shadows, shimmering down the length of his sword. Aidas’s eyes now flared with a strange sort of rage as he looked upon the Fae Prince. “I did. And I knew the sniveling prince whose light you bear.” A ripple of stunned silence went through the room. [...] “Theia was dead by that point,” Aidas said flatly. “Pelias slew her.” He nodded to the Starsword in Ruhn’s hand. “And stole her blade when he’d finished.” He snarled. “That sword belongs to Theia’s female heir. Not the male offspring who corrupted her line.” - HOSAB, chapter 15

Morven’s shadows gathered at his fingers, his shoulders. Wild, angry shadows that Ruhn’s own balked to meet. They seemed corrupted somehow, like those Seamus and Duncan wielded mentally. “You are Starborn. You have an obligation to our people.” - HOFAS, chapter 51

Further, Cormac and Morven Donnall are both Starborn and Avallen faeries, with "wild" shadows that seem to more closely mirror Azriel's own.

“How the hell did you manage to survive this long without anyone killing you?” Cassian tipped back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House. Azriel’s brows flicked up with approval as the shadows seemed to wrap tighter around him. As if he were the dark hive from which they flew and returned. - ACOMAF, chapter 16

Azriel nodded his agreement, his shadows twining around him. Most of the camp women had ducked into their homes when he’d appeared. - ACOWAR, chapter 18

She set down her teacup. “Is that a threat, Shadowsinger?” Cassian took a long drink from his own tea. Drained it to the dregs. Azriel said coolly, “I don’t need to resort to threats.” The shadows coiled around him, snakes ready to strike. - ACOSF, chapter 8

Azriel nodded his agreement, his shadows twining around him. Most of the camp women had ducked into their homes when he’d appeared. - ACOFAS, chapter 26

The thought was … not comforting. But neither were the shadows that curled like snakes around the king, wild and twining. A coiled crown of them sat atop Morven’s dark head, blacker than the Pit. - HOFAS, chapter 47

Without delving into the "why" of their wildness - was it the magical imbalance of the chained land that led to their wilder shadows, their prolonged proximity to an incredibly strong thin place (the obsidian or mists), was their line intentionally corrupted by a high power as Prythian's Cauldron was, or do they potentially have ties to demons, or the princes of Hel themselves? - it's not implausible to suggest that Azriel could also hail from the Starborn Fae of the Dusk Court, same as Rhys.

That being said, I think Hel will also play a part...

Prince of Hel

As I suggested in this reblog of @nikethestatue's post from way back when, I've been eyeing off one Lord Thanatos of the Hewn City (and his wayward, troublesome daughters) for a while. So when SJM dropped the bomb in HOSAB that the Prince of the Ravine, the soul eater, was called Thanatos, I was basically shaking my feet and screaming internally.

Because it had to be the same being, right? Right?!

I know I'm not the only one who noted the use of Thanatos' name, as others across the fandom have since suggested that Azriel may be related to the princes of Hel, or even be one himself... and as I've said before, I would not be surprised if this was the case (actually, at this point I would be shocked if Azriel wasn't related to the Hel Princes in some way, especially after what we learnt of Hunt's ancestry in HOFAS).

“Fine,” Hunt cut in. “Great, we’re protected.” He eyed the Prince of the Pit. His very bones shook, but he forced himself past his fear, his dread. “What the fuck did you mean by calling me son?” Thanatos scoffed. “You are no son of his.” He yanked off his war helmet, cradling it under an arm. “If anything, you are mine.” Hunt’s knees buckled. “What?” [...] “Because the Princes of Hel cannot be contained by the black crowns. The Asteri learned that—it was their downfall. As you were made by Hel’s princes, it should not be able to hold you.” Made by them? By these fuckers? - HOFAS, chapter 59

“Can we please rewind for a moment?” Bryce cut in. “You guys made the thunderbirds to complement my power—in case I never got the sword and knife, and if I ever needed a boost to open the Rift. But when they were hunted down, you … made Hunt, and then I was born …” “Athalar was already enslaved by then,” Aidas said, “but we kept a close watch.” Apollion nodded to Hunt. “Why do you think you’re so adept at hunting demons? It’s in your blood—part of me is in your blood.” Nausea clawed its way up Hunt’s throat. The thought of owing anything at all to the Prince of the Pit … “Just as he gave over some of his essence for the kristallos,” Thanatos said, “so he gave something to me for you. His Helfire.” “Helfire?” Bryce demanded. “The lightning,” Thanatos said, waving an irritated hand. “Capable of killing almost anything. Even an Asteri.” “That’s how you killed Sirius?” Bryce asked. “With your … Helfire?” “Yes,” Apollion said, then added to Hunt, “Your name was a nod to that, whispered in your mother’s ear as you were born. Orion … master of Sirius.” “Clever,” Hunt snapped, then demanded, “Wait—my lightning can kill the Asteri?” Hope bloomed, bright and beautiful in his chest. “No,” Apollion said. “It is … diluted from my own. It could harm them, but not kill them. I believe your mother’s angelic blood tempered my power.” - HOFAS, chapter 61

“Your father knew your mother briefly,” Aidas said. “And he knew having a partner would help lift her from her poverty. He had every intention of staying. Of leaving behind his life and raising you in secret.” Hunt could barely ask, “What happened?” “The mystics told Rigelus of your father’s connection to us. They didn’t discover everything—nothing about you or your mother. Only that he had been speaking to us. Rigelus had him brought in, tortured, and executed.” Hunt’s heart stalled. “He didn’t break,” Apollion said with something like kindness. “He never mentioned your mother, or her pregnancy. The Asteri never knew you were tied to him in any way.” - HOFAS, chapter 61

Bryce squeezed his knee, her hand so warm—or was he unnaturally cold? “Okay, so Hunt was made to be a backup battery for me—” “Can I do the same for Ruhn, then?” Hunt interrupted. “No,” Thanatos said. “The prince’s light, his affinity for these thin places, isn’t strong enough. Not like hers.” Hunt gripped Bryce’s hand atop his knee. “Is it in my DNA that Bryce and I are mates? Was that engineered, too?” “No,” Aidas said quickly, “that was never intended. I think that was left to higher powers. Whatever they may be.” Hunt turned to Bryce and found nothing but love in her eyes. He couldn’t stand it. Horror cracked through him, as chilled as hoarfrost. He’d been created by these males to give and to suffer, and where the fuck did that leave him? Who the fuck did that make him? “Okay,” Bryce said, “Helfire and starfire: a potent combination. But Helena left all this shit to help end this conflict. It sounds like you guys just want me to open a gods-damned door for you to come in and save the day instead.” - HOFAS, chapter 61

Thanatos used some of Apollion's helfire (lightning) to create Hunt as a weapon for Bryce, so it stands to reason that he may have done something similar in the Hewn City/Court of Nightmares that eventually resulted in Azriel, possibly with a different Prince of Hel - was it Koschei, or even himself - leaving "poisoned honey" on Prythian in case the Daglan/Asteri ever regained power? Feyre once referred to Azriel as a "dark hive," and we now know that he often helped Cassian to hunt down monstrous creatures like Blue Annis... could this be why? Does he have a natural talent for it, like Hunt? Was Az also created for a specific purpose?

I've been on the "Azriel and Elain are carranam" train from the time I joined the fandom, and since then I really do think that the three brothers and three sisters will act as paired conduits to save their world, as I mentioned in my third note above. In addition to the parallels I've noted between the Archeron sisters and Bryce (and Theia), Elain and Az shared a "charged" glance in ACOSF.

Nesta shook her head slowly, not understanding. Elain just linked her arm through Nesta’s and led her toward the family room, where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it. “I was just checking on dessert,” Elain explained as they approached the doorway and Azriel. Nesta met the shadowsinger’s stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room. - ACOSF, chapter 58

The very first book of the ACOTAR series confirmed that magic can appear as a charge in Prythian...

I opened my mouth to again ask him for his name, but a growl of annoyance rippled out of him. I didn’t have a chance to struggle, to fight back, when a charged, metallic tang stung my nose. Exhaustion slammed down upon me and blackness swallowed me whole. [...] I awoke with a jolt atop the horse, secured by invisible bonds. The sun was already high. Magic—that’s what the tang had been, what was keeping my limbs tucked in tight, preventing me from going for my knife. - ACOTAR, chapter 5

And then HOFAS gave us this - Azriel learning that he can charge up a Starborn Fae. A point that was so important to make that SJM ignored - or had reasons we are yet to learn - the fact that Azriel could have winnowed the three of them across the gap himself. Curious, given how she made doubly sure we knew how "different" Az was in ACOSF.

But Bryce frowned deeply at Azriel. “Do you ever use that power to, uh, charge people up?” “Charge?” “Fuel. Um. Give your power to someone else to help their power.” “Are you implying that I could do such a thing to you?” “I’m pretty sure the concept of a battery won’t have much meaning here, but yeah. My magic can be amplified by someone else’s power.” The other untranslatable word—battery—lay heavy on her tongue. But Nesta looked her over. “For what purpose?” “So I can teleport.” Another word that didn’t translate. “Winnow.” She pointed to the other side of the divide. “I could winnow us over there.” - HOFAS, chapter 16

Obviously there's always the possibility that SJM simply wrote that Azriel didn't winnow because A) he didn't want to expose any further facets of his magic unnecessarily to a Fae he had no reason to trust, or B) he wanted to see what Bryce could do, but what if it was C) that he lacked the strength to winnow at the time, as @ladynightcourt3 has so brilliantly thought? Because potentially, if light can blind an Oracle - one who may or may not use the murky realm of the Void to See - then there's a possibility that their growing proximity to the power chained deep in the land, or even Vesperus herself, may have made Azriel less able to see where he was going with his shadows to safely winnow them. Or was it that, similarly to whatever bond that exists between Elain and Lucien becoming too much for Azriel to bear, maybe the singing between Gwydion and Truth-Teller was distracting him?

As an aside, furthering the parallel between Hunt and Bryce that I noted earlier, I think the following passages support the idea that Azriel may be able to charge Elain, or that Elain can charge him as well, in addition to suggesting that he may be able to sense minds, or enter some that are more susceptible.

And what Hybern would do to Elain, might already be doing— From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.” - ACOWAR, chapter 64

Azriel slid back the curtain— Elain was in her nightgown. Gagged, wrists wrapped in steel that glowed violet. Her eyes went wide as she saw us—Azriel and me— I shifted my face back into my own, raising a hand to my lips as Azriel knelt before her. I kept up my litany of praying, beseeching the Cauldron to make my womb fruitful, on and on— Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head. “Hurry,” I whispered, then resumed my prayer. We had until it ran out. - ACOWAR, chapter 65

Azriel’s power gave out on the outskirts of our camp. The girl, despite the burns and lashings on her moon-white skin, was able to walk. The gray light of morning had broken over the world, mist clinging to our ankles as we headed into that camp, Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. Contained only by the patches of power he’d slapped on it. Help—he needed a healer immediately. - ACOWAR, chapter 65

Azriel didn’t give Rhys a chance to reconsider. Didn’t say good-bye to any of us. He shot into the sky, those still-healing wings beating hard as they carried him toward the scrambling northern flank. - ACOWAR, chapter 71

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.” He offered her a smile back. "I wasn't sure if I should give you your present." He left the rest unspoken. Because her mate was here, sleeping a level up. Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much. Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days. - ACOSF, Azriel's bonus chapter

We know that Elain likely shares that strong affinity for thin places, as may Az. Feyre mentioned the gray light of morning, mist around their ankles. Does this make them the ideal conduits for each other, as Hunt and Bryce were? As Feyre and Rhys - and, I suspect, Nesta and Cassian - are? Are they all meant to be "weapons" against a long, deeply sleeping foe?

Finally, let's revisit the first passage I mentioned at the top of this post, when Feyre first met Azriel:

Hunt stilled. There was only one being whose name was not uttered in Midgard. The Prince of the Pit. Apollion. His blood chilled. This was a fucked-up, weird-ass dream, no doubt caused by Quinlan literally blowing his mind into smithereens— “It is no dream.” The seventh and most lethal of the demon princes of Hel was in his mind— “I am not in your mind, though your thoughts ripple toward me like your world’s radio waves. You and I are in a place between our worlds. A pocket-realm, as it were.” “What do you want?” Hunt’s voice held steady, but—fuck. He needed to get out of here, to find some way back to Bryce. If the Prince of the Pit could get into Hunt’s mind, then— “If I went into her mind, my brother would be very angry with me. Again.” Hunt could have sworn he heard a smile in the prince’s voice. “You certainly worry a great deal about a female who is far safer than you at the moment.” - HOSAB, chapter 21

“During my time with Theia, Helena was a quiet girl, but she always listened.” “You spoke too much,” Thanatos snapped. Aidas ignored him. “Helena learned black salt would allow her to commune with us while protecting her mind and her soul.” - HOFAS, chapter 59

Given the princes of Hel were fathered by the Void - Apollion, the Prince of the Pit, said he resides in true darkness and has the ability to enter minds - and mothered by Chaos (who is possibly Wyrd?⁴), that they are attracted by obsidian (the material from which Truth-Teller's hilt is made), who may or may not use wyrdmarks that might match the runes on Truth-Teller's hilt (post on this to come), who appear to be able to use a black salt-induced dream state to communicate across worlds with their minds... it seems a little more than coincidental to me that Feyre would think to protect her mind from Azriel.

⁴ A personal crack theory that I'd love to be true - I think the eight pointed star may be Urd/Wyrd's or Chaos' symbol: a Chaos star. @wingedblooms has discussed Wyrd and Chaos here and here.

I once noted Azriel's similarities to Koschei, who can send his whispers on the wind, twisting distant minds to do his bidding. If Koschei is a prince of Hel - the sixth prince, of the Abyss? - could he have contributed towards Azriel's creation, either directly, or through the making of a female ancestor? Azriel has the ability to speak the language of shadow, wind and stone, which could plausibly tie in with Koschei as a hell prince: void, wind and obsidian. Or if it was Thanatos - the eater of souls - does this affect Azriel's ability to sense others around him, as Rhys once suggested? We know he's capable of using his shadows to read people. Was Azriel's existence, intentional or not, a secret like Hunt's?

Or to be completely cracked, is Azriel actually the heir to a currently empty throne in Hel?

Elide asked Lorcan, “Do you—do you feel any different?” The lack of the gods who’d watched over them. Lorcan peered up at the trees overhead, as if reading the answer in their entangled branches. As if searching for Hellas there. “No,” he admitted. “What does it mean,” Gavriel mused, the first rays of sun beginning to gild his golden hair, “for them to be gone? Is there a hell-realm whose throne now sits vacant?” “It’s too early for that sort of philosophical bullshit,” Fenrys said... - KOA, chapter 101

Whatever is going on here, please consider me still all aboard the Azriel is related to the Princes of Hel train until told otherwise by SJM. Choo Choo!

The Valg

Moving on from the princes of Hel, many of the fandom - myself included - are desperate to know exactly how Aidas and his brothers may be related to the Valg, a race of demons we met in SJM's 'Throne of Glass' series. Are they the same as, or simply related to each other? Did Hel's princes - or possibly Void and Chaos - create the Valg as well, or did the Valg just evolve naturally on the planet that is Hel, eventually turning it cold and barren? I know some in the fandom have drawn parallels between Rhys and Maeve, and theorised that he may be partly Valg, which would be such a twist if true! I'd love it.

But more than all of that, I want to know what Azriel may have to do with the Valg. Because in addition to my suspicions that the King of Hybern may have been infected by a Valg/Valg-type being (and that Elain assassinating him with a sunlight charged Truth-Teller was akin to Yrene healing Erawan out of existence), I have been wondering about Azriel and his shadows for years. I know I've suggested that Koschei could be a prince of Hel, but I also think there's a chance he could be Valg. I outlined in this post, where I wondered if Koschei was once known as Fionn - yes, I can see there's a pattern forming here, thanks 😂 - if he had once loaned magic to the King of Hybern, who had "hateful black eyes" and a "galaxy" in his palm, in order for Hybern to be powerful enough to orchestrate a scenario that Koschei was unable to himself, given he's trapped at his lake; considering this possibility in the context of the Valg existing in Prythian, and that Koschei may be one of them, it could mean that Koschei himself, or a loyal Valg prince, was possessing Hybern's king; a pawn until he was no longer required.

As I mentioned earlier, there are significant parallels between Azriel and Koschei that should not be ignored, especially if Koschei ends up being his magical ancestor in some way. In addition to this, Azriel's history and habits are intriguing when laid out next to what we know of the Valg as a species. Although, given the similarities between the Princes of Hel and the Valg, much of the following could indicate some sort of link to either species (that's assuming they're actually different, of course).

The Valg's true form involves a smokey, shadowy aura, while Azriel is a shadowsinger, described as a "dark hive" from where his shadows originated.

Cassian tipped back his head and laughed, a full, rich sound that bounced off the ruddy stones of the House. Azriel’s brows flicked up with approval as the shadows seemed to wrap tighter around him. As if he were the dark hive from which they flew and returned. I tried not to shudder and faced Rhys, hoping for an explanation about his spymaster’s dark gifts. Rhys’s face was blank, but his eyes were wary. Assessing. I almost demanded what the hell he was looking at, until Mor breezed onto the balcony with, “If Cassian’s howling, I hope it means Feyre told him to shut his fat mouth.” - ACOMAF, chapter 16

While a Valg's possession of someone's body is often confirmed through their unnaturally black eyes, it's interesting that Erilea's witches - who are half Valg and half fae - are increasingly prized the more golden their eyes are. Though Azriel's eyes are naturally hazel, a colour which often contains flecks of gold, they have notably glowed golden before. @psychologynerd and I have both discussed the possibility that Azriel could be a witch; this could be another indication of his hypothetical Valg ancestry. Edit: I just found this brilliant post, by @sak2605 which included a passage where Valg described Manon's gold eyes as the eyes of their masters!

“Hello, princeling,” she said, her voice bedroom-soft and full of glorious death. “Hello, witchling,” he said. And the words were his own. For a moment he was so stunned that he blinked. He blinked. The demon inside of him recoiled, clawing at the walls of his mind. Eyes of the Valg kings, eyes of our masters, it shrieked. Do not touch that one! - QOS, chapter 58

We know the Valg fear fire so much they attempted to wipe out Aelin's entire flame-wielding family.

Credit for the observation goes to @ladynightcourt3 but Azriel's brothers burnt his hands. Furthering the possibility we have discussed before, that his horrible half brothers were pouring oil onto some sort of Starborn flame that he may have unwittingly exhibited, could said Starborn magic have sparked in the first place because it was trying to purify itself from a dark, shadowy infestation taking root in the lightless dungeon? Imagine if the pain of the burns only fuelled the Valg attempting to hijack young Az! Bryce even looked at Azriel when discussing the scary her star left and, while Nesta thought Azriel was lying when he said his shadows don't like the flames so much because he's sat in front of the fireplace "plenty," we do know they tend to avoid the light of a different sort of flame: the sun.

I didn’t doubt his claim. And the other Illyrian … “Azriel—his hands. The scars, I mean,” I said. “Where did they come from?” Rhys was quiet a moment. Then he said too softly, “His father had two legitimate sons, both older than Azriel. Both cruel and spoiled. They learned it from their mother, the lord’s wife. For the eleven years that Azriel lived in his father’s keep, she saw to it he was kept in a cell with no window, no light. They let him out for an hour every day—let him see his mother for an hour once a week. He wasn’t permitted to train, or fly, or any of the things his Illyrian instincts roared at him to do. When he was eight, his brothers decided it’d be fun to see what happened when you mixed an Illyrian’s quick healing gifts with oil—and fire. The warriors heard Azriel’s screaming. But not quick enough to save his hands.” - ACOMAF, chapter 18

Azriel lingered near the door, quiet enough that when Feyre and Mor began talking about some of her paintings, Nesta went over to him. “Why don’t you sit?” She leaned against the doorway beside the shadowsinger. “My shadows don’t like the flames so much.” A pretty lie. She’d seen Azriel before the fire plenty. But she looked at who sat close to it and knew the answer. - ACOSF, chapter 58

The Valg use rings and necklaces of wyrdstone, an obsidian material, to infect a host, and in addition to Truth-Teller's hilt being made from obsidian - I've wondered before whether it could be a wyrdkey, or even possessed - Azriel was once described as not having shadows at his ear, or darkness ringing his fingers when around Elain. Does this mean that his shadows - which we now know are concentrated magic - could be infected by a Valg-type being such that they can influence his mind, and maybe even control his body? Could he become a "mindless" soldier grunt?

Cassian’s dark brows narrowed. I dragged a hand over my face before going to Elain and touching her too-bony shoulder. “Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. - ACOWAR, chapter 30

The Valg princes can feed on pain and nightmares; in the ACOTAR, shadows are frequently associated with - and can even darken with - pain. Azriel was once described as having shadows and terrors over his shoulder, and there are many examples of his shadows gaining strength when he is uncomfortable or hurting, and lightening when he is happy or content. Is this because his nightmares/negative emotions are less potent and so stop fuelling the Valg he is - hypothetically - carrying around?

I saw the painting in my mind: the lovely fawn, blooming spring vibrant behind her. Standing before Death, shadows and terrors lurking over his shoulder. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection … that knife. - ACOWAR, chapter 69

“Can’t sleep?” Cassian took up a fighting stance. A shadow curled around Azriel’s neck, the only one brave enough to face the sunlight. “Something like that,” he said, and settled into his own stance across from Cassian. Cassian let it drop, knowing Az would have told him already if he’d wanted to share what had been hounding him enough to exercise at night, rather than in the morning with them. - ACOSF, chapter 23

Speaking of, what is going on with this newly brave shadow? If Azriel or his shadows are hosts in some way for Valg-type being/s, is something causing them to gain on him? Is it his notably intensified depression from ACOSF, or the fact that he was standing above the House of Wind, the heart of which might be connected in some way to Hel? Alternatively, is it a positively denoted response to his new proximity to the Archeron sisters and their (hypothetical) different forms of Starborn light?

Could Azriel's shadows/magic simply be possessed, or are they actually a swarm of Valg in their own right, either wholly or in part, and attempting to use Azriel and Truth-Teller as a thin place to cross into Prythian? This behaviour fits with what we know of them as a species, though of course we don't know if they have the ability to do this specifically. But if Azriel does harbour some sort of Valg infestation, it becomes very interesting that his shadows respond by brightening around Feyre, who is a powerful healer, Mor - whose power is Truth (Damaris, the sword of Truth, was used in Erawan's death), and Elain⁵ (of whom many have wondered if she contains pure life or rebirth from the Cauldron, which could potentially allow her to heal - especially given the frequent use of "dawn" to describe her, another parallel with Yrene, the Torre Cesme, and even the Dawn Court in Prythian).

⁵ I'm including this information in the discussion not because of any shipping preference, but due to its relevance if Azriel really is infected by a Valg-type being.

Could this phenomenon extend beyond the fact that they, like the rest of his found family, all make Azriel feel comfortable within himself, and mirror what we learnt about Yrene⁶ and her powers? Otherwise, it would be incredibly coincidental that Elain is the sister who loves to nurture the cycle of life by gardening, who is so often described with imagery pertaining to warmth and the sun (especially at dawn), who has wielded Truth-Teller in such a way that may indicate she activated its powers and weakened a possible Valg prince, who has been strongly linked to hope, who has a different sort of strength, who has even brought a king to his knees...

⁶ @wingedblooms has previously discussed Elain's parallels with Yrene here and here; as always I suggest reading her brilliant posts!

Erawan panted as he approached. “Healer,” he breathed, his unholy power emanating from him like a black aura. She backed away a step, closer to the balcony rail. The dark king followed her, a predator closing in on long-awaited prey. “Do you know how long I have looked for you?” The wind tossed his golden hair. “Do you even know what you can do?” She hesitated, slamming into the balcony rail behind her, the drop so hideously endless. “How do you think we took the keys in the first place?” A hateful, horrible smile. “In my world, your kind exists, too. Not healers to us, but executioners. Death-maidens. Capable of healing—but also unhealing. Unbinding the very fabric of life. Of worlds.” Erawan smirked. “So we took your kind. Used them to unbind the Wyrdgate. To rip the three pieces of it from its very essence. Maeve never learned it—and never shall.” His jagged breathing deepened as he savored each word, each step closer. “It took all of them to hew the keys from the gate—every one of the healers amongst my kind. But you, with your gifts—it would only take you to do it again. And with the keys now returned to the gate …” Another smile. “Maeve thinks I left to kill you, destroy you. Your little fire-queen thought so, too. She could not conceive that I wanted to find you. Before Maeve. Before any harm could come to you. And now that I have … What fun you and I shall have, Yrene Towers.” - KOA, chapter 113

Erawan’s power swelled, but Yrene was already glowing, bright as the far-off dawn. - KOA, chapter 113

Erawan didn’t seem to know where to look. Not as Dorian sent out a punch of his healing light that knocked him off balance. Not as Lysandra leaped upon the dark king, pinning him to the stones. Not as Elide, Damaris in her hands, plunged the blade deep through Erawan’s gut, and between the stones below. Erawan screamed. But the sound was nothing compared to what came out of him as Yrene reached him, hands like burning stars, and slammed them upon his chest. The world slowed and warped. Yet Yrene was not afraid. - KOA, chapter 113

He arched, shrieking, but Damaris held him down, that ancient blade unwavering. His dark power rose, a wave to devour the world. Yrene did not let it touch her. Touch any of them. Hope. It was hope that Chaol had said she carried with her. Hope that now grew in her womb. For a better future. For a free world. - KOA, chapter 113

The gods might have been gone, Silba with them, but Yrene could have sworn she felt those warm, gentle hands guiding her. Pushing upon Erawan’s chest as he thrashed, the force of a thousand dark suns trying to rip her apart. Her power tore through them all. Tore and shredded and ripped into him, into the writhing worm that lay inside. The parasite. The infection that fed on life, on strength, on joy. Distantly, far away, Yrene knew she was incandescent with light, brighter than a noontime sun. Knew that the dark king beneath her was nothing more than a writhing pit of snakes, biting at her, trying to poison her light. - KOA, chapter 113

A thought and Yrene’s power flared brighter. Erawan screamed. The power of creation and destruction. That’s what lay within her. Life-Giver. World-Maker. Bit by bit, she burned him up. Starting at his limbs, working inward. And when her magic began to slow, Yrene held out a hand. She didn’t feel the sting of her palm cutting open. Barely felt the pressure of the callused hand that linked with hers. But when Dorian Havilliard’s raw magic barreled into her, Yrene gasped. Gasped and turned into starlight, into warmth and strength and joy. - KOA, chapter 113

Yrene’s power was life itself. Pure, undiluted life. It nearly brought Dorian to his knees as it met with his own. As he handed over his power to her, willingly and gladly, Erawan prostrate before them. Impaled. The demon king screamed. - KOA, chapter 113

I could be wrong of course! But it just seems too coincidental to me that we have all of these parallels between one of the Archeron sisters⁷ and the unassuming healer who - together with her friends - executed a Valg king in Erilea when I have suspected for a while that Azriel's shadows had been hijacked or corrupted in some manner.

⁷ I once posted, ages ago, that Azriel's shadows do not recoil from Elain Archeron, and even though I just outlined why I think she might be able to heal/purify them (assuming they're corrupted, of course), I stand by the theory. It is the corruption that would be vanishing/weakening around her and not the concentrated magic itself. And it would be an interesting tie in to the "purity language" (not my term) that SJM has used between them. That's the only shippy note I'll make here, and only because it would otherwise appear like I was contradicting my earlier self.

Anyway! If you've read this far then well done you, I'm sorry I didn't break this up into more manageable sized posts. I hope it all made sense, I did leave a bit out to try to salvage some of its atrocious length, so if I realise I forgot to tie something back around I may come back and fix it. But to sum up once more, I do think - and others have also noted - that there are many parallels between Azriel and the Starborn/Dusk Court Fae, the princes of Hel and the Valg (though one could argue that the latter two parallels extend to any void-based or demonic beings in general - which tracks if I'm correct that Illyrians can trace at least some of their origins to Hel), all of which make me question Azriel's shadows/magic in general, and how they've been used throughout the Maasverse. Has Azriel's magic been corrupted - is this why he appears to have missed so much he should have caught - and does it need purification? I need answers!

Thank you for reading! 💜

81 notes · View notes

rin-fukuroi · 2 years ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 [𝐀𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢]

Part 1

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

The originals of my works can be read here

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: yandere!Argenti x fem!reader

Warnings: yandere, abduction, mention of suicide.

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

I didn't think that I would ever write a sequel and thought that the last work with Argenti was complete, but here I am (¬‿¬ )

art: @oririnxx(Twitter)

Argenti's heart is bursting with guilt and shame. Even in the short time that mutual understanding and love reigned between you, he managed to establish himself as a person who can really be trusted. His feelings and thoughts were always so pure, almost transparent, and you were never in doubt for a moment. Even when he decided on such a desperate act.

You know his house is your house, right? Probably so, since you without hesitation, although sighing heavily, but agreed to go to him, without even asking what exactly he wanted from you. You can always find warmth, care and understanding here, if necessary.

But this time you will find here only the remains of Argenti's conscience. He feels the rot getting deeper into his unscrupulous heart with each new second of waiting. How could everything have gone so far? How could his unconditional adoration and desire to make you happy be perverted to such an extent that he really decided to make you love him?

No, no. You have already loved him before, which means he does not force you, Argenti only… He is trying to awaken in you the old feelings, the seeds of which, he is sure, are still able to bloom again with velvet roses, the fragrance of which will immerse you in the same blissful haze as his.

Oh, you should know how he is tormented. Even when you are already standing on the threshold of his house, he just wants to take you in his arms and never let go, but he plays his role of a heartbroken person who now needs your support. But does he play? You really broke Argenti's heart, but he reassembled every tiny fragment so that the vessel would be filled again with awe and tenderness addressed only to you.

You, of course, can't leave him in this state, even if you caused it yourself. It's so mean to play on your guilt, but what choice does he have? You no longer look at him the way you did in the days when you both didn't mind being in this isolated bubble of love from the rest of the world, focused only on each other. You no longer touch his hand with tenderness, now your fingers are anxiously clenched around Argenti's palm to comfort. You no longer run your tiny fingers through his soft hair, letting the man's head rest on your lap, no longer smile at him with a sincere, really saturated with absolute happiness smile.

Why is that?

If you were happy, why is that no longer the case?

Argenti can't even admit the idea that there is even the slightest bit of your fault in what happened. Of course, it's his fault, so he's ready to sacrifice his own conscience, ready to disregard principles, and all this for you.

The knight seems to be looking at his own reflection in a mirror, in which he sees all the vices that have always been hidden so imperceptibly in the depths of his soul. He only has to touch such a disgusting Argenti reflection of the desires of his own heart, and there will be no turning back.

"For you… just for you…"

For your sake, he is ready to let the darkness completely take over his mind and body.

You are so naively kind, agreeing to stay at his house for the night. You probably haven't had time to enter into a relationship with someone else yet, which Argenti so vehemently prevented, and, he believes, it really paid off.

Yes, that's it, look at him, stay with him, share this bitterness with him, so that together you can drown it out with the sweet taste of reunion, which you also want.

Surely you do, because otherwise you wouldn't have come to him, wouldn't have followed the call of your heart when he needed you so much. You're still worried about Argenti, you still don't want to see him so broken, you're still gentle with him even when you let your relationship turn to dust. Oh, no matter how hard it was for him to admit it, you crushed them yourself. Argenti still doesn't understand what made you commit this unforgivable crime.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

The knight will ban any doors for you, whether it's the doors to the outside world from your new bubble or the doors to a new life in which he has no place. He is ready to accept your tears, ready to accept the words that wound him like a thousand blades that cut his heart. Now he is defamed, spoiled and deserved punishment for what he did. But it was the only way he could put everything back in its place.

What are you going to do, cornered? Oh, of course you're angry.

You curse him, beg him, cry, even lie about what you love. Argenti understands why you're acting like this and won't blame you. You are connected, of course, connected. The darkness that has taken root in the purity of his feelings has affected you, but together you will be able to share this burden. It may take days, weeks, or even years for you to accept what has become of you, but Argenti believes that in the end you will understand that this test is presented from above to both of you in order to strengthen your love.

✧ ✧ ✧

It hurts him to look at how nothing has changed after weeks.

It was stupid to think that you would be able to understand him so soon, but Argenti does not lose hope.

Although, something has changed… He no longer hears your screams, you are no longer banging on the door, desperately trying to get out, no longer crying. Now you look like an empty shell, devoid of any feelings. It scares Argenti so much, but he understands that this is how it should be. You have to get rid of what prevents you from loving him again. Anger, disgust, contempt, hatred — that's what the Knight fights day by day, steadfastly withstanding your attacks, and finally he got rid of most of the obstacles.

— Y/N, forgive me…

"You're not really sorry"

— I'm doing this for you…

"No, you're doing it for yourself"

— I'd do anything for you.

"Then just kill me"

— I love you…

"And I hate you"

Now you're silent when Argenti tries to talk to you. His perfect face, which makes you sick, is always distorted in remorse, and it seems that he really believes that he is sorry. But you know very well that this is not the case.

Most of all, you hate the moments when Argenti insists on helping you take a bath. Bile rises in your throat every time his hands touch your body, but you endure, swallowing the nauseating lump again and again, realizing that you have no choice. You always take one look at him while he gently soaps your skin, noticing how his lips are stretched in a smile, and turn away again, not wanting to see how your disgust for some reason brings him pleasure.

You trusted Argenti.

You always believed that his feelings were really sincere, so he would be able to understand and let you go, but now you were able to look behind the exquisite screen of love, hiding the slippery, stinking and rotting obsession that the man you once loved succumbed to.

Now you feel sorry for Argenti.

Really sorry.

If it weren't for the hatred that dulls all other feelings, you would want to grab his hand and lead him away from the wrong path that he chose, mistakenly believing that it would lead him to happiness. But, to your great regret, he dragged you after him. No matter how much he tries to cleanse your body, your soul rots along with his, soaked in the disgusting fumes of his mutilated care and tenderness, with which he tries to regain something that will never regain its former form.

✧ ✧ ✧

— Y/N, you haven't eaten all day… I brought your portion of dinner.

Argenti is standing in the doorway of your luxurious room, which he has filled with everything he knows you love, believing that it will make you stop hating this place. You don't want to meet his eyes, and you press your knees even harder to your chest, huddling in a corner on your soft bed.

The knight feels his heart constrict in his chest. It happens every day, every time you turn away from him. He wants so much to see your eyes looking into his for once, he wants to hear your voice, but he must be patient.

You hear footsteps approaching and already know what will happen next. Argenti will put the plate on the bedside table and leave you alone, as he does every day. No matter how much you want to stop it, sometimes your stomach is so unbearably twisted with hunger that you can't resist the instinct of self-preservation and force yourself to eat a little. But not today.

— Y/N… — this is something new. You feel it touching your shoulder, sending a sickening shiver under your skin. — I know you don't want to be here, but can you… at least have dinner with me tonight? I promise, if we sit down at the same table, like… — he wanted to say "like before", but suddenly stopped. — Your appetite will return if you share a meal with someone.

How annoying he is. Is he really that naive, or is it just a mask to lull your vigilance. You don't know anymore. You have long ceased to recognize in Argenti the one you once loved.

But you know for sure that the sooner you fulfill his request, the sooner he will leave you alone. At least until tomorrow.

That's why you let him wash you, let him dress you in beautiful outfits that he likes. Not you.

You nod reluctantly, still not moving from your seat, and you hear Argenti exhale softly in relief. If you had dared to look at him, his soft lips would surely have been stretched into a satisfied smile when he received an answer from you.

You wait for the nausea from his touch to finally recede along with the feeling of his hand on your shoulder, and you get out of bed in a doomed way, hearing Argenti take the plate from the table and go to the kitchen.

No matter how much you wandered through the corridors of his luxurious house like a living corpse, it always seemed to you that the walls were about to crush you, but, unfortunately, this never happened, so after tasting a new portion of disappointment, you stop at the kitchen door, noticing a candle on the table, whose dim light drives away the darkness rooms, two glasses of wine and two plates, displayed on exquisite snow-white napkins. Argenti stands waiting, pulling out a chair for you. Your gaze stops for a moment on his hands clutching the back, and the body again gets chilling goosebumps when memories of those hands touching your body pop up in your head.

He really did his best to make this dinner look like a fucking date. It's so disgusting that it almost makes you laugh.

You reluctantly accept Argenti's help, sitting down uncertainly and allowing him to pull your chair closer to the table designed for two.

The meat on the plate is still steaming slightly, as are the shiny grilled vegetables. The food looks delicious, but … for some reason, bile rises to your throat again when you take a fork and knife with trembling hands, preparing to pierce and cut off a juicy piece of your dinner.

Argenti watches with curiosity how you do not dare to try your portion without starting to eat before you do. To be honest, the Knight loses his appetite when he sees you so depressed, not trusting him so much that you are even afraid to eat in his presence. Do you really think he means you harm? Can't you see how hard he's trying for you? Even so, he's glad to finally see you taking even tiny steps towards him.

It's all so much like hunting. Argenti has created an atmosphere of security in your bubble, but has set traps here and there, patiently waiting for you to finally take the bait. He knows you can't hate him forever. Sooner or later you'll have to give up, you'll have to get used to a new life with him.

You hesitantly pierce the meat with a fork, watching the soft fibers displace the juices flowing onto the plate before nervously swallowing and starting to cut. Thoughts immediately flash through your head about how convenient it would be to use this knife to slit your stomach or cut your throat… Yes, it would certainly be better than opening your veins, because then Argenti could still have time to save you. You can see your own blood trickling down the shiny silver metal, instead of the cloudy pinkish liquid oozing out of the steak as you slowly separate a tiny piece from it.

These thoughts… really discourage your appetite, but that's all you can think about while you're here. What's the point of satisfying your hunger if you just want to get it over with? But you also have to play your part, you have to be smarter than Argenti, you have to set your traps, so you touch the meat with your tongue, feeling a slight taste of spices, before sinking your teeth into the juicy fibers and chewing, hurriedly sending a piece down the esophagus.

Argenti is delighted.

Although the corner of your lips twitched when you swallowed a piece of your dinner, he is pleased to see that you are finally eating a warm meal prepared for you with love and care. Usually you just wait for the food to cool down, stubbornly denying hunger before it finally gets the better of you. Argenti has always been frustrated by how you exhaust yourself day by day, but it would be too much to force food cooked by him into you, right?

The knight was finally able to relax, and happily started his own meal, doing the same thing with his piece of steak as you. After tasting the meat cooked for you, Argenti smiles gently.

— Is it delicious? — the man asks, but then with a quiet clink puts the dishes on the plate, seeming to think about something for a second. Of course you won't answer. — I hope I was able to please you a little, Y/N.

He was about to continue his meal, gently wrapping his long fingers around the stem of a wine glass, when suddenly his gaze caught on your frozen figure. Your gaze is focused on the next piece of meat. The silence in the kitchen is broken only by the soft sounds of pinkish drops of juice dripping onto your plate before your lips are pursed, but then hurriedly open when you finally lift your head for the first time in several weeks and look straight into Argenti's emerald eyes. Your piercing gaze seems to have pinned the Knight to the chair, and he watches with bated breath as you take air into your lungs. Your chest heaves slightly with a light breath, and the man's heart shudders.

— Yes… very tasty, thank you.

To hear your voice… oh, you're just killing poor Argenti. During your imprisonment in his house, you managed to teach him to enjoy such little things that he did not attach any importance to before. Your views on him have always seemed to the Knight something as ordinary as the sound of your voice caressing his ears every day spent with you. But now he was so happy to hear even the words you barely uttered.

Argenti will even turn a blind eye to the fact that you did it just to distract his attention.

Did you really think that he didn't notice how you stole a knife from the table with a skill that the best of thieves would envy? Well… he won't scold you for it. You don't know what's best for you, only he knows, so Argenti will definitely protect you from any threats.

But later.

For now, just let him enjoy this moment. Even if it's an illusion, even if it's a lie, even if he invented it all himself, Argenti wants to believe that you took a small step towards him, and this…

Damn. Now his patience is trembling, being held suspended by the thinnest thread that is about to break.

You won't hate him even more if his retaliatory step completely erases the distance separating you from each other, will you?

#hsr #headcanons #hsr x reader #honkai:star rail #honkai:star rail x reader #argenti #argenti x reader #yandere argenti #yandere #genshin drabbles

271 notes · View notes

nekoannie-chan · 1 year ago

Text

What did I forget?

Pairing: Brock Rumlow X Reader

Word count: 483 words.

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Does Brock forgot a special date?

Major Tags: Doubts.

Additional tags: This is my gift to @saiyanprincessswanie. HAPPY BIRTHDAY BESTIE!

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission for my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighss @marvelatthisone @caplanbuckybarnes @sapphire-rogers @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989 @somegirlfromasgard @rogersbarber

Brock stretched lazily, then looked for you with his hand, turned around when he didn't find you, and then looked at the time. It was still early; why were you up?

He remembered that the night before, he seemed to have noticed you upset about something, although you didn't say anything. Maybe there was the slightest possibility that he had forgotten an important date.

He was sure it hadn't been your anniversary, nor had it been an outing. At that moment, he wanted to hit himself with your birthday. He checked the calendar, and of course, it had been the day before. How could he be such an idiot to have forgotten the date?

He had to plan something immediately, something worthwhile and laborious; maybe that way he could make up for not having remembered by using the excuse that not everything had been ready on time.

He remembered the teepee they had bought for who knows what; they had birthday decorations in a box. He just had to go to the shop and buy a cake, a present, and some food, and he could improvise a sort of camping evening without the problem of the bugs you hated so much.

The first stop was the mall. He picked out a couple of things to put in a box next to the stuffed animal he had bought. The gift was ready, so he put it in the boot of the car. The next stop was the supermarket to buy the ingredients to cook your favorite dish.

He was sure that if he gave you your favorite things, you would easily forgive him.

The last stop was the bakery; he asked them to write "Happy Birthday, Y/N.".

Just in case, he also bought some chocolates that they sold there.

He quickly set about tidying up the whole place; you could be there any minute, and everything should be ready by the time you showed up at home.

“Happy birthday! “he shouted as the door opened, and at the same time, he threw streamers at you.

“Thank you," you said in confusion. But Brock, it's not my birthday today?"

“I know it was yesterday; they didn't get the present in time."

Brock tried to excuse himself.

“My birthday was last month," you interrupted him, and he gave you a confused look. "We went to my favorite restaurant, remember?"

“Yesterday you were angry, and I thought I had forgotten a date, the calendar..."

That's when he realized that he hadn't changed the page of the calendar; he had seen the wrong page.

“You left your dirty clothes in the bathroom again instead of in the laundry basket," you commented.

Brock rolled his eyes. He felt stupid, and now he didn't know what to do.

“But I don't mind celebrating my birthday again either, so what's the next surprise?"

Brock immediately went for what he had cooked.

#Missy's birthday!#Happy birthday Missy!#brock rumlow x reader

48 notes · View notes

dubraskaramos · 4 months ago

Text

THE LITTLE GIRL WHO LIVES DOWN THE LANE 👱🏻‍♀️🔪👦🏻

Synopsis:

Rynn, a thirteen-year-old girl, lives alone with her father in a house at the end of a lane in rural Long Island. With her father absent most of the time, she has become an independent and feisty girl, making use of the great prodigious intelligence with which she was blessed.

However, a little girl being alone most of the time is the best way to attract deviant and foolish people...

Hi, and welcome to my first review. In this case, I will be talking about “The Little Girl Who Lives Down the Lane”—an unnecessarily long title, but enchanting enough—published in 1974 by the writer Laird Koenig. This book also has a film adaptation, but in this article, I will only discuss the book.

In this review, I will be looking at the most notable characters in the book. You can skip any of the characters I am going to talk about, but if you read them in order, it will be easier to connect the dots.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I do :)

I. The beginning (Chapters 1-6).

At the very beginning of the story, Rynn, our protagonist, is preparing to celebrate her 13th birthday. Despite getting to celebrate her birthday alone—since, apparently, her father is too busy to pay attention to her— she seems to be happy with the solitude that's around this special date: October 31st.

Her birthday ritual is interrupted when a man comes to the door, coming into the house without permission, when Rynn opens the door.

The story goes slowly. It takes time to develop itself through the pages, especially at the beginning. You get to know Rynn, her daily lifestyle, her environment, her desires, and the people that are around her. You don't know what's exactly wrong when you start reading and follow the story through the lines, but there's that peak of interest—even if the reading starts to get too slow for the sake of your concentration capacity—that keeps you going even when you want to stop just for a minute.

The first 5 chapters, I would say, go slowly without a hurry, and it's within those chapters where you start to get a little bit of consciousness and say, “There's something wrong with this little girl.”.

It's obvious that her father's nowhere to be seen. He's not inside the house, and Rynn doesn't want anyone to enter her solitude and peaceful life. She just wants to live her life alone in that comfortable house, take care of all the responsibilities that come with it, and stay like that without further interruptions.

The first time we see her interacting with someone else is, precisely, on her birthday, October 31st. A knock on the door resonates around the house, making her turn off the music and take a cigarette to fill the room with its smoke. She opens the door and sees him, a man standing right before her eyes: Frank Hallet.

There's something uncomfortable and weird about the fact that there's a man inside the house that's not her family or friend, an adult alone in the living room talking to a little girl with such “confidence.”. You feel like you're standing next to Rynn, wondering what to do and how to feel, where to run, and how to affront a situation in which you are so small and helpless.

We'll talk about this man later on because there's so much tea to spill about him.

He insisted several times on getting to meet her father, asking questions such as, “Where is your father?” and, “Why are you celebrating your birthday alone?”. She always replied the same thing, “My dad's a poet,” and, “I can't disturb him while he's working.”. During this first chapter, we get to know about her muse named “Gordon.”.

Although the situation remained calm—even if it was uncomfortably weird—things were going smoothly until the man decided it was a good idea to spank the girl, but not before making some rather weird comments. Rynn, furiously, turned around to face the man. He leaves the house without any regrets but rather laughs at the fury in the girl's eyes! Seeing the man walking down the lane, the girl closed the door and locked it.

And from this moment, we get to know Mrs. Hallet, Frank's mother, and Miglioriti, the fond policeman.

II. Miglioriti

Miglioriti is one of the first characters we meet in the book, if not one of the most charismatic and important. He's a grown-up policeman who shows up at her door right before chapter 6.

The purpose of introducing him right before the first plot twist is simple: you know there's someone who could find out what she's doing, and at the same time, it fills you with that uneasy feeling of expecting the worst-case scenario now that you know that the authority is rounding her house.

I'll be honest: I was hoping for him to get more protagonism in the plot of the book, but at the same time I think it was a genius idea to make him leave the town just in time. He's not just another selfish adult who doesn't care for Rynn; he is there for her and everything she needs him for, and he's the only adult who was able to go through that ice heart of hers. He won her heart and her trust even if she wasn't ever really honest with him at all.

Even if I think his character was able to be and do more, I think he's a neat character. Its purpose is clear; you know he's a threat, but you still can't help but feel comfortable and uncomfortable at the same time in his presence. He is charitable and kind to Rynn, providing her with intellectual, gentle, and, to a certain extent, brotherly company.

I wouldn't say that the relationship between Miglioriti and Rynn was paternal. I feel that if that had been the case, Miglioriti would have been more present in Rynn's life, and things might have even gone a lot more awry in the plot. Instead, Miglioriti appeared at the right moments, offering support and calm to Rynn, who was too smart for her own good and the good of others. He knew she was smart and clever, too clever, and he didn't look down on her like other adults did. They were on the same level without neglecting Rynn's childlike position.

Miglioriti's presence was a constant that I expected as the pages turned. I wanted him to appear, even though I knew that his presence would be anything but good for the plan that Rynn and Mario were trying to sustain.

By the time he confesses to Rynn that he's leaving town, I felt like my whole world was falling apart. Rynn would now be alone, and she coughed at not being able to confess the truth to Miglioriti because she simply couldn't. It wasn't a viable option to tell him all the things she'd done, nor was it an option to let him know that she'd dragged Mario into her crimes as well. She couldn't complain or refuse; she didn't have the power to refuse.

Miglioriti is a supporting character, you could say. He represents an understandable obstacle but also a helping hand; a contradictory world that draws you in.

I am grateful that Miglioriti did not end up dead.

III. Hallet

Here I am going to touch on the subject of the Hallets, both Frank Hallet and Mrs. Hallet. What can I say about these characters? They are hateful, and they pretend to be so from the beginning.

Both Frank and Mrs. Hallet are recurring characters in the plot, mostly because of the feeling of being stalked by them. On the one hand, Mrs. Hallet detests foreigners, anyone who has not been born and raised—by family lineage—there, and above all, she repudiates Rynn. As for Frank Hallet... he is a deviant.

While the fact that Frank Hallet is a deviant makes it all the more twisted, I was fascinated by the way the author managed to make you feel small and helpless in front of authority figures, especially Frank Hallet. When Frank enters Rynn's house without permission while she is with Mario, I feel genuine dread of the situation. Every move, word, and sound the character made me feel like I was just another little girl standing in that room, knowing that at any moment this man could lose control of himself. There is one part in particular that I loved precisely for this reason: when Frank Hallet throws Gordon, Rynn's mouse, into the fire, the only thing that connected her to her completely lonely past that no longer existed.

At that point in the book, I felt, as I mentioned, like another little girl standing in the corner of the room with Rynn and Mario, watching their every move in horror. I felt helpless and powerless; I couldn't imagine what must be going through Rynn's head.

Both of them—Mrs. Hallet and Frank Hallet—are antagonists who don't need to be overly dramatic to work. They prove that to be a good antagonist in a story, all you need to have, in my opinion, is the following: a purpose, a questionable ideal/moral/ethics, and a personality of your own beyond the circumstances.

The main problem I see in today's series and books is the need to make the antagonists exaggeratedly tragic, with convoluted backstories, as if they wanted to tell the viewer that the antagonist of their project is valid because he has very strong reasons behind him. Humans, if we are honest with ourselves, are very simple. We function according to our belief systems, and that is more than enough to make someone a perfect antagonist.

Frank Hallet only needed his weird attitude, his deviance, and his personality to disturb us. Mrs. Hallet only needed her great hatred towards foreigners and towards Rynn to drive us to despair.

I found both of them to be excellent antagonists. They served their purpose.

IV. Mario

Mario is my favorite character, along with Rynn. From the very beginning, he is presented to us as an intelligent and charismatic boy who manages to bring out the more childish and humorous side of Rynn, a girl from whom we had barely seen a small smile.

From the beginning, Mario's intelligence is clear. He was able to deduce, just by looking at Mrs. Hallet's red car, that Rynn was hiding something. That little clue was more than enough for him to decide that he wanted to know and discover the secrets that Rynn kept inside her house.

Mario was not only a very intelligent boy, but he was also cunning and very perceptive. He had such a strong will that he could play along with Rynn, with whom he fell deeply in love.

Mario is my favorite character because he represents this deep love that would do anything for the one he loves. Despite being in love with Rynn, he is able to put that aside and think clearly when the situation calls for it. His magic tricks not only serve to make Rynn laugh but are also his most useful weapon.

Mario was a well-used character from the middle of the book onwards, but he started to fall off the wagon towards the end. Personally, I feel like there could have been better ways to remove him from Rynn's scenario the way Miglioriti did. As the book ends, Rynn becomes more and more alone, losing all the important connections she had—Gordon, Mario, and Miglioriti. The way Mario goes off the rails is through pneumonia. Maybe it makes sense that he would end up there given the overall scenario, but for some reason, him ending up in the hospital felt like a bit of a disjointed development.

Objectively, I think Mario could have been better used in the finale. And if I put my sense of objectivity aside, Mario is the best character, period.

V. Rynn Jacobs

Let's talk about Rynn, our protagonist. Rynn is a girl who was left living alone with her father in that house at the end of the lane, where she tries to live a serene and quiet life, but above all, a lonely one. From the beginning she has had no interest in having relationships with other people; she lives for and by herself, she does things by herself, she goes to the bank alone, to the hardware store alone, to the market alone…

At first, Rynn is cold and strategic. She thinks through each and every step with precision, even if it takes time to find solutions to the chaos she ends up in. She knows how to handle herself in a world full of adults who want to look down on her.

From the beginning you could already tell that things were not going well with Rynn, her situation, and her house. The event that occurs with Mrs. Hallet will end up confirming everything, and even then you are left wondering if Mrs. Hallet was just exaggerating or if the girl was really hiding something in the basement. Rynn, who almost never shares her thoughts with us, ends up creating an aura of suspense around her, a veil of perpetual uncertainty.

At first we mistrust this girl. Despite being the protagonist, we remain on the sidelines of the things that happen in her head and what happened in the past. We know nothing or very little about her, who she was, and her life beyond her daily routine from which we begin to make assumptions. Chaotic, cold, and ingenious, Rynn manages to captivate us with that brilliant brain of hers.

As the chapters go by and Rynn is forced to let Miglioriti and Mario into her life, the heart of this girl becomes weaker and weaker, to the point where she allows Mario to be part of this lonely world that she so desperately needed to maintain. But why would Rynn, being so calculating and strategic, let a policeman and a child enter this world of hers and her father's? I thought about this question for a while.

Let's start with Miglioriti. Miglioriti is a policeman, which means that Rynn's secret was in imminent danger if only this man was in the vicinity of her house. Despite this, she made a very clever, albeit risky, move: she allowed him to enter her house, as if she had nothing to hide, and offered him a cup of tea. I suppose that at first Rynn just wanted to make Miglioriti understand that there was nothing to fear, that her father was at work and that she was not alone. The shot was twofold, because Miglioriti turned out to be a suitable companion, the very thing she had been looking for for so long without realizing it. Rynn constantly looked down on those who were her age, thinking that they had nothing interesting to share with her, no important thoughts, no poetry, no literature, and no knowledge. Miglioriti was an older figure of authority who was able to see her for what she really was: a person, not just a child, as if her entire being depended only on an empty label on which all the older adults placed the word "ignorance."

Now, Mario. Mario the magician. Why would Rynn let him into her life in the intimate, personal way that she did? I could say there are several reasons, but I think the main one is this: Not only did Mario see her for who she really was, but in addition to being pleasant and somewhat intellectually challenging company, Mario was able to not ask questions and help her get Mrs. Hallet's car to a place where she couldn't be incriminated. By inviting him into her home and spending an afternoon with him, sharing thoughts and experiences, Rynn tried tooth and nail to defend the secret world she had kept in the basement, but Mario, shrewd and stubborn, continued to ask questions. Rynn knew that anything could happen if she opened the basement door and let Mario see the things she was capable of when fear and anger got the better of her, and she knew that if there were two in the basement, there could be three depending on his reaction. Still, she let him down. That was a leap of faith.

A leap of faith that came, in my opinion, from a great need in her to be able to trust someone, anyone, whoever. She wanted to know that she could trust someone, not be alone forever. At that moment when Mario came down, I could only imagine Rynn clinging to all her hopes as tightly as possible, afraid that he would slip from her hands and she would be forced to abandon that dream of not being alone, at least not that alone.

Now let's take a deeper look at why Rynn committed murder.

Rynn grew up under the tutelage of her father, a man who, we can assume, was very kind and gentle, for Rynn remembered him with a certain neutrality but also protected his words with decorum. Leslie Jacobs was a poet who passed on his passion for literature and knowledge to Rynn. Rynn's mother, we might say, was not to be trusted. The woman cared nothing for her daughter, and both she and her father knew it. Before her father went away, as far away as he could, in the face of his illness, he asked Rynn to promise that she would keep herself safe in this life, that she would never let others walk all over her, and that she would try to carry on no matter what.

Rynn took her father's words very seriously. Rynn saw no other way out than to poison her mother. We would think that it is an absurd thing to do, to kill someone! An action that would undoubtedly lead to the deprivation of your freedom, that freedom that you so sought. Rynn, however, and I want us to remember well, is still a child. When her mother came to the house to claim her as her own, Rynn would be 12 years old, and she was alone, without her father. The life that her father wanted her to maintain for as long as possible was threatened by a woman who had never been of any importance to her, nothing more than a woman who did not love her or care for her. As Rynn said, it is surprising how much information you find in a library; Rynn's brain was a library of knowledge, perhaps questionable.

Rynn eventually became fond of Miglioriti, fell in love with Mario, and they both left her at almost the same time. She was left alone again, just that this time she did care. This time it hurt her.

In the end we see the story repeat itself: Rynn alone, with someone at home who intends to stay there with her forever. Rynn alone, with no one to trust. Rynn and the buns.

Conclusion and Review

I consider this book a classic, one that everyone should read at least once in their life. The aura of mystery and suspense that the novel carries—especially in the first 6 chapters—makes you immerse yourself in its pages and in that engaging narrative. Laird Koenig, in my opinion, did a good job of establishing the tone of suspense throughout the book.

One aspect that I think could have been better executed is also found in the first 6 chapters. While it is not a heavy read, at first it feels like it moves very slowly. I don't think it is a problem, but rather an aspect to note. These first 6 chapters work wonderfully to feel the immersive environment that the author tried to create.

I think the characters are very well executed. Although I feel that Mario could have been developed better, all the characters fulfill their purpose. No character is superfluous or missing.

Now, as for the ending... I don't consider it to be a bad ending; maybe the way I try to describe it is that I expected more. I expected a lot more from the ending. I can't say that the ending is bad because it continues with the tone of the novel; it's an ending that isn't predictable, and also, it feels like a genuine consequence of Rynn's somewhat careless actions since she starts to fall in love with Mario. When I think about the muffins, I feel a little better knowing that Rynn is, after all, smarter than she seems. The ending seems adequate to me given the circumstances and the tone that the novel had been taking; I just expected more.

The relationship between Rynn and Mario captivated me. I can only imagine what would have happened if my 13-year-old self had read that: I would have exploded with love. While I don't think their relationship needed to be romanticized that much—at the end of the day, Rynn is a murderer, and Mario became her accomplice—I do understand the point of it: they both needed a safe place and found it in each other. Sometimes people who commit bad actions aren't necessarily bad.

Rynn is a killer. Throughout the book we grow fond of her and hope that her secret won't be discovered, even if we know it's wrong. I think part of that is because we know what kind of people the murdered people were, since we know what kind of people Rynn and Mario are.

Finally, I would like to say that the book does its job. It is very good; it kept me hooked page after page, making it difficult for me to put it down to go to class since I read it during my long 4-hour breaks right before my class started... And I can only say that the ending left me stunned.

★★★★☆

4/5

#the little girl who lives down the lane #rynn jacobs #leslie jacobs #miglioriti #escribir #escritora #escritores #escritos #escrituras #writers on tumblr #writing #books #libros #childe #book review #review #literature #books & libraries

5 notes · View notes

letsdrawvideogames · 8 months ago

Text

I thought I'd briefly pull the proverbial dusty tarp off this defunct tumblr briefly to address some of the incoming traffic that I expect to see this week now that NCHProductions has publicly credited me for my artwork that their video is based on. I'd like to preface this by saying that we reached an agreement in private and I have accepted NCHProductions' apology, and that I do not condone or tolerate any harassment of NCHProductions on my behalf. This post is not meant to relitigate things or stir up drama. But with what happened, I thought this would be a good opportunity to open the floor to discussion on how the internet treats ownership of fanart and derivative work. I'm just one artist and my opinions are my own, but I've been at it a long time and it's not the first time someone else has used my fanart as a basis for something else. Here are three examples:

In 2018, Jonathan Nesbitt made a coding project as an entry for an informal contest run by the website Standard Code. His entry (properly viewable here) was based on a Metroid piece I had made in 2014 and he credited me in his entry. Although he never reached out to me to my knowledge, I thought this was fine given the time contraints and the fact that no money changed hands (the grand prize was an Amazon Echo someone had lying around). I think Jonathan's piece is very cute and I'm happy to have inspired someone this way. I might not have considered the artistic value of a simple HTML page otherwise.

In 2016, tumblr user @cyriusli messaged me about getting a Bulbasaur I drew in 2015 as a tattoo. He reached out to me directly and asked for permission before doing so and credited me as the artist when he shared a photo of the finished tattoo. Even though an artist in another medium was paid money to recreate my work in this case, I considered this to be entirely above board, and I'm sure the artist who actually inked it was happy to know that their client had explicit permission to use my piece. Knowing that someone has to look at my Bulbasaur every day until they die might be the height of flattery for me. This isn't the only tattoo of my work that's been done, and I'm always happy to see it so long as you ask permission.

Lastly, just a few weeks ago, I had to submit a takedown request on Displate against graphic designer SS Art, who was selling a poster that used a slightly edited version of a Shadow of the Colossus piece I drew in 2013. This is probably the most offended I've ever been as an artist. I doubt this seller made much money off of it and to their credit, Displate took it down very quickly, but it bothers me that it was allowed to go up in the first place. The ease with which merchandising platforms allow their users to publish anything without verifying its origin has made it ironically difficult to support the artists that I love: I've been looking for a new case for my Kindle on Etsy lately and found it extremely difficult to verify whether a seller's art was original or stolen. In one case, I found a seller selling a case with a Keith Haring print on it. I consider Haring's Unfinished Painting to be one of the most moving artworks of the last century, and here was his work being sold by some random Etsy store as "abstract cartoon funny dance pattern." I find this a deeply saddening, troubling phenomenon.

As the internet continues to shrink down to a handful of social platforms, it's been fascinating to see how the concept of fandom has shaped and been shaped by those same platforms. Fanart, memes, remixes, mashups, and other new forms of art that make copyright lawyers heads' ache have emerged as we all pile onto each other online. Overall I don't think this is necessarily a bad thing. When I was first online twenty years ago, it's likely that I never would have seen art from many overseas artists on the English-speaking web, but it's been very heartening to see how the explosion of fanart surrounding interpretations like ErinArtista's distinctly Brazilian take on Hatsune Miku or Ayyk92's Bowsette character can bring an audience to artists that many of us wouldn't have known about otherwise. I think there is room for such a thing as fanart of fanart, I just urge artists of all stripes to think critically about how we use other people's ideas. I am not a lawyer, and I cannot tell you where the line is or isn't drawn in regards to work based on copyrighted material, or what your rights as an artist are if you make fanart and aren't the copyright holder. I've definitely made some decisions in the past that I now regret about monetizing derivative work, but I wouldn't feel right about enforcing any standards I might adopt onto others. The internet has, in a way, become one giant game of telephone, and I don't like how difficult it can be to be certain of the origin of something. For now, going forward, I think it would be nice to see more normalization of hunting down sources to the best of a person's ability coupled with acting in good faith when new information comes to light. This tumblr is dead, and I likely won't be responding to any comments directly, but I'm very interested in hearing what you all have to say.

And just for absolute transparency, I ran this by my friend Ixo and borrowed some of his phrasing in the conclusion. He can be found at https://ixo.neocities.org/

5 notes · View notes

goodboyaudios · 1 year ago

Note

i’m evil like that muahaha~ also!!!!! congratulations on 40k!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m sure you’ll be getting way more recognition in the future:D

since you gave permission:

you said you’re finishing off uni, did you always know what you wanted to study? i’m at the (depressing) stage in life where i’m fully realizing how many curve balls life throws at you:) the path to success usually isn’t linear, so i’m curious about your journey!

it seems like you’re always asking for feedback or addressing issues, etc. do you have any feedback for us (as in, the community)? most people i’ve interacted with are pretty chill, but idk maybe there’s we could improve on?

this one might be a bit personal, so feel free to ignore! do your friends or family know about your channel/work? i’d imagine it’d be nice to have someone you could bounce ideas off of before publishing stuff! if not, how do you manage to hide all that stuff hahah~. you’ve built an entirely different universe, so i refuse to believe a sane man can keep all of that in his head and live a normal life simultaneously:p

if you could befriend any oc of yours, who would it be and why?

i’m not sure how to word this question properly, but are there any endings/plot points that you had initially envisioned differently? like, did you think a story was going one way and changed your mind half ways through?

you don’t have to answer all of these! you did ask for it, but i hope i’m not overwhelming you haha~

Absolutely not. School didn't do anything to prepare me for the world. My college has done less than nothing in preparing me to get a job in my field, YOUTUBE HAS DONE MORE FOR ME THAN COLLEGE AT THIS POINT and if I'm completely honest with you? That's fuckin sad. No, I had no idea what I wanted to do and I wish I was that kind of person who knew right out the gate. (lucky bastards) Okay, I'm done with my rant lol

I didn't know what field I wanted to study in, so I took a chance and jumped into something I knew I had some knowledge in and hoped for the best. Really that's all you can do. I have learned that, when you get out of highschool and you don't know what to do, do everything until something sticks. Trial and error. It's not the most efficient, but it works!

Any feedback to GIVE to the community? Let me think. Honestly, the community has been very wonderful to me. Occasionally something pops up, but it's usually squashed. The discord server is full of wonderful and creative and talented people who have always had my back and support the work I do. I hear all the time about drama in fellow creator servers and toxic behavior in the communities, etc...but my end of things has always been super nice! (that might have something to do with my lack of NSFW content) But yeah! No notes really! Everything good in our little neighborhood!

My family is aware AND so is my extended family lol! They are supportive, but they don't really give me ideas to bounce off. I have other fellow writers and creatives or that! And I do write everything down and go back to it in case I forget something. But typically speaking its all in my head, yep! I just...don't know how to do other things! Like...dress fashionably or...function in a normal society...you know useless stuff like that!

Zed. He needs a friend lol

Only with Bastard Warrior actually! Every story, I envision how I want it to end first, but with Bastard Warrior, I had thoughts of changing it because it was supposed to be enemies to lovers, yet the canon ending isn't Albus getting with Faith. So, I made 3 endings to appease everyone lol

Hope I got all of the them lol!

#good boy audios #goodboyaudios #youtube #asmr roleplay #asmr boyfriend

12 notes · View notes

studentinpursuitofclouds · 2 years ago

Note

hello! o/

not sure if you're still taking requests, but if so, i'd love to req. the bachelors with an artist s/o!

thank you for your time either way!<3

Finally! My reblog of that anon summoning post actually work- I mean hi, anon! 👋 Yes, I'm still taking requests ☺️

I hope you don't mind if I write about SVE bachelors too. If you don't know about SVE mod, don't worry, I'll separate the bachelors' answer to vanilla game and Stardew valley expanded mod so you don't confuse them.

Thanks for the ask! Enjoy!

Stardew Valley Bachelors with artist!Farmer s/o:

Alex:

Alex knows that his partner is incredibly talented, so he wasn't surprised when he found out that the Farmer turned out to be a great artist. Another fact about Alex's partner, he will tell everyone and brag about how good his s/o is.

Sometimes he will joke that the Farmer pays so much attention to the object of drawing that he can even become jealous.

Alex doesn't hesitate to flex in front of the Farmer, showing his muscles and giving them a reason to draw him in all his glory.

Despite his pride, he blushes a little when he sees how beautifully his s/o drew Alex. Comment from s/o that in reality Alex will always be prettier anyway will turn the athlete into a tomato.

He really likes your summer seascapes.

It still remains a mystery to him how s/o manages to combine farming and painting at the same time.

Alex always supports your hobby, even if he doesn't understand some types of art like abstractionism.

Sam:

Wow, he didn't know that they draw so well, it's so cool!

Constantly asks for permission to look at the Farmer's sketchbook, if they don't mind of course.

Sam will be delighted with how beautifully and in detail his s/o draws the characters of his favorite comics and video games.

Sometimes Sam will ask Farmer to draw something funny on his hand. It looks like a beautiful tattoo. Jodi politely asks the Farmer to stop drawing in her eldest son's arms, as Sam refuses to wash his hands before eating, afraid to wipe the drawing off his skin.

He will hang all their drawings on the wall to admire during relaxation or musical rehearsal.

Some drawings he will keep in a special box as a treasure.

Please don't show him food and drink still lifes - their s/o paints food so beautifully and believably that he immediately wants to eat something. He laughs at Farmer's joke when they warn Sam not to inadvertently eat the painting itself.

Sebastian:

Cool

His s/o is full of mysteries and talents, isn't it?

Sebby will be interested to hear how and when exactly the Farmer began to get involved in drawing.

He'll be pleasantly surprised if his s/o shows him a science fiction comic they've drawn. If the Farmer wants to publish the comic and concept art on the Internet, then Sebastian will create a dedicated site for their publication.

His entire monitor is plastered with stickers drawn by his s/o in the form of cute frogs. No matter how many times Abigail and Sam tease him about it, he will not remove the stickers.

If the Farmer draws digital arts, Sebastian will always put them on the desktop of his computer.

For their s/o birthday, Sebby will give them a nice electronic sketchbook.

Sebastian sometimes gets nervous when Robin comes into his room, because he is afraid that his mother will accidentally throw out one of his s/o drawings. Robin seems to know that the drawing on Sebastian's desk should not be touched, but Sebby still sometimes hides them in the table, just in case.

Elliott:

Marvelous! Wonderful! Elliott didn't expect to meet another creative soul. The valley is indeed full of talented people!

Even the most ordinary sketch, which, according to his own s/o, is unremarkable, Elliott keeps as the apple of the Eye.

He will be happy if the Farmer offers to draw illustrations for his new novel he's writing.

While he is touring for his another book signing, Elliott will search for handmade sketchbooks and expensive paint sets as gifts for his precious s/o.

Elliott loves how beautifully they portray the landscape of their farm. He will hang this picture in a beautiful frame on the wall in the most prominent place in the house.

One day, after a few strong drinks, he will jokingly offer s/o to draw him half-naked. The poor writer will immediately blush if the Farmer seriously agrees to this idea. The portrait came out beautiful, but they both decided to keep the painting a secret. There are some paintings that are not created for prying eyes.

Elliott will put up a new closet in his room for all his s/o paintings, drawings, and creative figures.

Harvey:

Harvey isn't surprised when Farmer says they can draw. They are talented in everything they undertake.

Harvey is used to their doodles on his workbook and notes. The Farmer in the clinic is a frequent visitor, and sometimes they cannot restrain their creative impulse. Harvey doesn't mind, but please don't draw in his documents!

Every time s/o fills Harvey's lunch box for him at work, they leaves notes with cute and motivating drawings. Today is a note with a pun, tomorrow it is a painted kitten in a cup that wish Harvey a good day. Harvey smiles warmly every time at the sight of such small messages from his loved one, which set him up in a good mood.

He constantly massages his s/o hands when they starts to ache from frequent drawings and farm work. No hard work today, doctor's order!

Was very surprised when he found a whole stack of papers with sketches of his portrait. The Farmer says that Harvey is his main muse, so there is nothing to be surprised about.

He is amazed at how accurately they draw model aircraft.

A little embarrassed when his s/o asks him to pose for a portrait. The Farmer tells him to just be himself the way the Farmer loves him, and Harvey relaxes, once again noting how talented his s/o is.

Shane:

Heh, neat.

"Can you draw a dick on the wall at Joja Market?"

Shane please

He constantly smiles when his s/o shows him a book of sketches. Shane could listen to them forever.

Shane himself is not a fan of great art, but will listen with interest to the Farmer about different styles of drawing.

Stickers and funny pictures with farm animals are his favorites. He especially likes how they drew cute chickens.

What, this chicken sticker was inspired by Shane's favorite Charlie? Shane is about to die of happiness.

His s/o sat with Jas on more than one occasion and helped her with posters for contests and events. + into the piggy bank of good memories for Shane.

The Farmer always asks Shane for fresh sketch ideas. Shane usually says he's untalented when it comes to imagination, but he always comes up with a funny and crazy idea for new s/o drawings.

"So, you haven't changed your mind yet about drawing on the Joja wall di-?"

SHANE NO-

Stardew Valley Expanded Bachelors with artist!Farmer s/o:

Vicror:

There is a whole book with Victor's portrait. And they are all so beautiful, why did his s/o hide it from him?!

Well, they didn't hide it, but Victor would like to know that his partner is the next Leonardo da Vinci!

Victor does not hesitate to give you a huge set of high-quality expensive paints, colored pencils and sketchbooks.

He is very glad that the Farmer and his mother have a common interest. Olivia and Victor's partner often arrange private drawing lessons at home, remembering to constantly call Victor and show him the paintings on the canvas. Great family time!

Although Victor is more knowledgeable in design and drafting himself, he doesn't mind getting some advice from his s/o.

He jokes and wipes the Farmer's hands and face if they don't notice they're covered in paint.

Usually, Victor is a little shy about asking the Farmer to draw something specific, such as landscape with a bridge. But his s/o seems to read Victor's thoughts and in a week gives Victor a beautiful picture with famous bridges. Victor will be surprised more than once how good and accurately they draw.

He also often shares his drawings of bridge designs with them and asks for their opinion.

Magnus:

Not to say that he is a fan of art, but the way s/o draws natural landscapes is very mesmerizing. The painting is like a window to another world!

With permission from his s/o, he casts a quick cleaning spell on them, as the Farmer always manages to stain themself and their clothes with paint.

Magnus and his s/o often go to the forest, where they find a beautiful scenic spot. The Wizard sits in the lotus position to meditate, and the Farmer sits nearby and quietly draws a new picture. It may seem unremarkable to some, but Magnus appreciates such calm moments more than anything.

"Can you pose for me please?" Wait, what? They want to draw him? Why not.

Magnus comments that he looks better on canvas than in reality. For which he receives an angry look from the Farmer and the answer that on the canvas they are unlikely to ever depict their favorite wizard as beautiful as he is in reality.

Merciful Yoba, Farmer, why are you so perfect in everything?

Lance:

Farmer, adventurer and artist... My my, their s/o is an incredible person.

He repeatedly notices how they buried their noses in the diary and make notes about adventures with beautiful illustrations.

A little jealous of his s/o time management: the Farmer has time to do farm work, protect the valley, and paint at the same time!

Nevertheless, he suggests at least sometimes to rest and not to overestimate their strength. Tired hands will affect the ability to hold a weapon firmly, which can end badly in a fight with monsters.

Lance is hard to embarrass, but when their s/o shows him sketches of Lance himself, the brave adventurer's cheeks turn a little pink. They painted him like an Olympic god.

"You are like an Olympic god, I could not miss such beauty and not draw you" Thank you very much, now Lance's cheeks are now rosier than his hair.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew valley expanded #sve #sdv headcanons #sve headcanons #sdv alex #sdv sam #sdv sebastian #sdv elliott #sdv harvey #sdv shane #sve victor #sve lance #sve magnus #sdv wizard #sdv rasmodius

297 notes · View notes

no-droids · 5 years ago

Text

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt. You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours. But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to. You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did. Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints. Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does. Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it. But truthfully, you didn’t want to. You were worried about him—still are, actually. But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on. He’s been through way worse, and you know it. You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers. He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening. Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure. All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation. After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield. It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips. The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards. To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster. “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you. “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code. My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound. “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment. “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it? You blink. No, it doesn’t. You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name. You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever. “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not. “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show. Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here. Something could’ve happened. Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it. Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina. Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot. “They’re fodder. Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.” He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass. “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions. Tied specifically to Guild contracts.” Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare. “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties. Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him. “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace. “Not sure I’d care too much if you did. It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit. Shit. What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed. Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company. He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied. Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence. Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy. It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this. Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve. Karga is a nice guy, right? He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando. And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too. How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder? You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?” You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?” He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice. Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly. You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way. You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity. “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it. “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you. If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice. If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it. You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal. “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head. “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out. “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold. It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to. It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando. You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave. You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides. He said he wants to help you? This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?” He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head. The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?” You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours. “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously. “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances. You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment. “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away. He helped you out, you’re halfway through this. Now comes the exchange. Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you. “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far. Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late? He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face. “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table. There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task. “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…” Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it. This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here. He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it. “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you. “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay. Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much. Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again. Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.” You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you. “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay. Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly…

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it. Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck. It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward. You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?” You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs. “Of course you don’t. Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit. This is not at all how you expected any of this would go. You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request. There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary. Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum. “You said you’re here on his behalf. You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh. Oh, no. This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits. It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table. You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here. It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!” He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good. Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t. You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you. You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach. He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him? Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried. Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before. Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp. The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him. “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend. The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air. Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now. You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe. “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer. It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet. Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense. You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him. You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!” A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab. Right in fucking front of him. “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck. Great. Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t. You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out. Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now. You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it. Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

***

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried. You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual. You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing. Was there a confrontation, you wonder? Is he okay? He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though. As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you. Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view. The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace. He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?” He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down. “Are you alright? Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say. How are you going to tell him? He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say? You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh… I-I’m sorry, I just…” But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him. “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?” He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him. “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out. His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him. If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands. “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you. Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess. “It’s okay. You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak. He’s lying for your benefit, he must be. When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—” You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…” His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?” You have to think about it. Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already? You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility. “Um… no? I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?” He asks, taking a small step forward. “You don’t know? Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes. You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now. It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…” Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him. “I don’t know, I’m not like you. I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better. I think he was probably just being normal. He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb. This is what’s bothering him? Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work? It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played. He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them. How are you supposed to take that? Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning? You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?” You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest. It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason. He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you. Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly. Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him. “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.” His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention. “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?” You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm. In another weirdly stupid, primitive way. You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it. Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode. Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before. You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now. He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of. “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. “Maybe. He could’ve just been trying to be friendly. What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit. “Did he scare you?”

“For me?” You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards. Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless. “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?” Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze. “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds. The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid. Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you. Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you. You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours. You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now. Achy. Hot. Needy. Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?” He asks you after a prolonged silence. His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained. Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you. “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice. Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards. He wants to do this here? Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word. Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?” You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck. You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought. Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to. It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker. You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it. Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long. You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you. You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?” Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner. You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him. He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss. Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this? Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?” Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you. Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull. Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment. You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you. “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet. This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest. Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling. “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need. Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point. You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?” Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him. You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing. Nothing. You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing. Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time. Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability. You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better. His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again. You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view. Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass. The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time. His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open. You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit. His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you. The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here. If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body. You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it. You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort. Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most. Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this. You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too. It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too. Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place. You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace. Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance. You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him. He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you. Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can. It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning. You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer. His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting. Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?” He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it. “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could. He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle. You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to. You could struggle. If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it. You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time. Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him. You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more. It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too. Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t. Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock. Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him. There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin. You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you. You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears. Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways. You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb. Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off. You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up. The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours. Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works. Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too. At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly. You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal. You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face. “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do. Easy. He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed. Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body. You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep. He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal. The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again. You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation. Come on, work. Move forward. Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly. Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled. Ran over by a truck. Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful. This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart. The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones. You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs. It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever. It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it. “Hey. Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know? You figured you’d be way ahead of him. You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here. The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over. You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point. It’s easy, you like it. Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back. Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway. It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin. Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine. He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin. His bar of soap, not yours. They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize. How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone. The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not. Hot water, not freezing cold. Standing upright and supporting you. Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue. You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again. Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this. Skin to skin contact. Someone to hold. Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar. Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest. You want to tell him not to leave. Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay. You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed. You don’t know. But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know. You know. From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection. But you know him. You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return. You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you. Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary. Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to. It wasn’t said so he could say it back. It just is. Some things don’t need explanations, they just are. You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it. You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word. It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels. There’s something hidden underneath. You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired. You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless. He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber. “I’m… not allowed to ask. I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense. Was that a translation? Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest. It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it. You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows. “You can.”

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin #fanfic #reader-insert #rough day #no-droids #smut

6K notes · View notes

fangirlshrieks · 4 years ago

Text

Trying

a/n: Feeling dominant and breedable. Yes this is a lot self indulgent. I don't need to explain myself. 😌

Word count: 4,047

Parings: Neville Longbottom x wife!reader

Warnings: dom!reader, sub!Neville, softdom!, mommy! kink , chastity cage 🔐, collar kink, leash kink, breeding kink, ice, pregnancy

Summary: Y/N and Neville have been married for a few years and are now ready to expand their family. They begin to try for a baby. Neville thinks they are going to try the old fashion way and leave their usual sub and dom dynamic out of the equation. Boy was he wrong!

You and Neville had decided it was time to finally add a new member of the family a few weeks ago. You couldn't be more happy about your decision to start a little family of your own. When you and Neville had decided to become pregnant you had figured it would be a good time to bring in something new to the bedroom to help your chances at becoming pregnant.

A chastity cage.

The cage was just a precaution of course. It would prevent him from masturbating, which was known to lower speed count. And you were going to need all the sperm you could get out of Neville. Not a single drop was to go to waste.

Yes, Neville was your very good boy and would never touch himself without your permission but the excitement that ran through your veins at the thought of locking up what was yours was all the more reason to go through with it.

You and Neville had been trying for a baby for the past week as you were ovulating that week. When the week was up you checked multiple pregnancy tests, which all came back negative. You and Neville knew it could take months to get pregnant but the disappointment still hurt. But there was always a chance the next time round.

The next day after you had taken your pregnancy test you went out to buy a chastity cage for Neville. You wanted to be absolutely sure that he didn't touch himself for the next few weeks until you were ovulating. You bought a steel cage for his size. It was perfect.

You wrapped it up in a present box for Neville when he got home from work. As an auror he worked long hours and would come home very late sometimes. But today he arrived home about the same time you came home from work.

"Hello Darling." You kissed him on the cheek as he came in the front door. "How was work?"

"Stressful as always." He kissed the top of your head. "How about you?"

"Writing papers as always." You gestured to the pile of interviews and articles on your desk waiting to be revised and published.

The two of you headed to the kitchen where you had his favorite meal prepared. The table was already set up and you had even lit a few candles to set the mood. You were definitely trying to butter him up to the idea you were about to propose.

"What's all this for?" He asked bemused.

"We're trying to make a baby remember?" You said, giving a little wink in his direction.

He laughed at your response. "I appreciate what you've done but you honestly didn't have to do all this for me. You're the one who's going to be the mother of my child. I should be the one doing all this."

"Yes but I just want to spoil my good boy while I still can. You know… before our lives are changed forever." You walked up to him and wrapped your arms around his middle and reached up to kiss his lips. He returned your kiss with a smile on his face.

"Changed in a good way though." He confirmed.

"Of course in a good way." You smiled back at him. "Now let's eat."

Over dinner the two of you talked about your day. Neville mostly talked about this case that he had been working on for about a month. You talked about how you had met with one of the wizarding world's most famous musicians for an interview that day. Neville was more interested in what you had to say than his work as his job made him stressed.

By the end of the night you had summoned the gift on the table and placed it in front of him.

"What's this for?" He chuckled. He was sure you were trying to seduce him for another night of fun.

"Want to find out?" You said playfully. "Open it."

You watched as he untied the ribbon that neatly tied into a bow at the top of the box. His smile never left his face as he opened the top of the box. In the box was the gift wrapped in colored tissue paper. He quickly unfolded the tissue paper to reveal the chastity cage.

At first he had no idea what he was looking at and even turned the box at different angles to try and make out what it was. Then his eyes went wide and you knew he had figured out what it was.

"Oh my god." He swallowed hard and unbuttoned the top of his collared shirt for some air. You had mentioned previously about wanting to use a chastity cage and he had admitted to liking the idea but he never imagined you would go through with it, let alone right now when you two were trying to get pregnant.

You loved the effect you had on him even after all these years. His face hadn't become so red in a very long time. You missed the shade on him.

"I thought you were trying to get me to sleep with you tonight." He admitted. "And why now? I thought we were trying for a baby."

"We are trying for a baby but only when I'm ovulating "you reassured him. "This is just so you won't masturbate. You have to keep your sperm count up. And this… " you said, reaching to grab the cage from the box and displaying it in your hand. "This guarantees me that you won't be able to cum."

"I…" he was at a loss of words.

"Come on, let's get ready for bed and get you cleaned before I lock you up." You said getting up and heading towards your bathroom.

That surprised Neville. "Wait, you want to start now!? As in right this second?" He quickly followed you.

"Yes" You said, taking your clothes off and hopping in the shower. "Take your clothes off and join me.

Neville reluctantly joined you in the shower but was all more focused on not being able to cum for who knows how long.

"How long do I have to keep it on?"

You thought about it for a while and then decided. "Until the next time I ovulate, which is about a month away." You spoke casually.

"What!"

"Neville it's not that long." You smirked at him.

"A month without sex. How does that make any sense? We're trying to have a kid."

"Well I'm more likely to get pregnant when I'm ovulating. And who said we can't have sex?" You cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh I just thought. Well you said I have to keep it on for a month." He stated a little confused.

"You do. We can still have sex other ways." You smiled mischievously.

Neville knew this was going to be a very long month. But he also knew that there was no getting out of this. To make matters worse, your casual way of talking about him being locked up in a cage turned him on. He had no way of releasing himself before you put him away for the next month.

After the shower you had Neville lay on the bed. This made his erection worse as he waited for you. You had gone down to the kitchen to get something. He pondered on whether or not he could jerk off as fast as he could to get one final release before you came back. But before he could even get the courage to move his hand towards himself you returned with a bowl of ice. You sat next to him on the bed near his crotch.

"You won't fit in your cage if you're already hard." You said.

His heart was racing at your words. Then you grabbed an ice cube from the bowl and started to rub the ice cube on his dick. He made a hissing noise as the cold came in contact with his hardened dick. After a few ice cubes he was now soft and numb. He was whining now and a few tears fell from his eyes.

"Mommy… " he cried. "Please don't lock me away." He gave you the biggest puppy eyes he could muster.

You rubbed his stomach all the way to his thigh to sooth him. "Shh… It will only be for a little while."

He nodded and watched as you slipped the chastity cage on him. It was a bit snug and cold to the touch. He watched as you locked it with a gold padlock. You casted a spell so that only the key that you wore around your neck in a chain necklace could open it. No "alohomora" could save him now.

"There" you said, giving his balls a little pat. Now you can't touch what's mine." He twitched at your words.

Feeling was returning to his nether regions. He was still horny from before but couldn't get hard. The pain from not being able to get hard or even relieve himself was bearable but annoying.

But your words had aroused him even more. He was your property. He belonged to you. You owned him. And what you owned you kept safely locked away.

That night the two of you slept nude. Well, you slept peacefully. Neville hardly got any sleep. You would tease him with your body and he couldn't do anything about it but whine. You gave him a firm warning when his whining became too loud for you to sleep and he was quiet the rest of the night.

-------

The first day at work Neville was a complete mess. He became embarrassed more easily and refused to look anyone directly in the eye. He felt like everyone knew his secret. Being an auror he could never let anyone know about his secret. That's why he made sure that no one was in the restroom stalls when he used it. He also made sure to lock the door so no one could walk in when he used the urinal. Yes, Neville had matured and became the confident Gryffindor he always was on the inside but you had him tightly wrapped around your finger. And he would do anything you asked of him.

About 2 weeks in he became more used to the idea of chastity. At work he kept his composure as best he could but once he arrived home he was going mad. His balls were always swollen and he was always aroused. Just thinking about you all the time made him burn for you.

You were spoiling him more often as he couldn't get any release (you made sure of that as he wasn't allowed to shower alone). You would cook him his favorite meals, draw him bubble baths, massage his back, let him be the little spoon, and as a special reward for being such a good boy you would let him eat you out. You'd even let him hump your leg like a puppy because you knew it wouldn't help his situation.

You noticed that Neville was more compliant these past few weeks and was obviously more sensitive. Just the lightest touch from you and he was leaking through the cage. Seeing him needy and begging turned you on more and he was always eager to lend a helping hand.

When your period came Neville was more than happy. That meant that he would be free soon and would be allowed to fuck you. That week, Neville was needier than ever. He wanted to be around you more often and called you frequently at work just to talk about mundane things. It was honestly really sweet. He had been such a good boy for the past month that you thought he deserved a reward.

-------

The day had finally come for when Neville would be released from his chastity cage. You waited until he came home that day to tell him. You had worn the key to his cage around your neck to tease him. You had set a leather collar in front of his plate on the kitchen table and a matching leash in front of yours.

When Neville arrived home he was welcomed with kisses all over his face. He was surprised to see the key hanging just above your breasts. Then a wave of excitement rushed over him. He picked you up and kissed you on the lips.

"Today?" He asked, with a little desperation in his voice.

You brought him down to kiss the top of his forehead. "Don't get too excited, we still have to make food and eat dinner."

"Forget dinner." He tried to persuade you. "Please… I need you." He hugged you tightly, then dropped to his knees. He hugged your legs with all his might so you wouldn't move.

You loved how desperate he was for you. You decide to skip making dinner and go straight to dessert.

"Since you've been such a good boy I guess we can skip dinner." You said brushing your fingers through his hair. He sighed with relief and at the feeling of being touched. "But we still have to go to the kitchen." You instructed him to stand by lifting his chin to look up at you. He quickly stood up and followed you into the kitchen.

You took a seat in front of the leash and directed him to sit in front of the collar. As he sat down he could feel the pain in his balls from being blocked from having an erection.

"I'll meet you in the bedroom in 10 minutes." You said looking him directly in the eye. "When I get there I want you in nothing but this collar around your neck and the chastity cage of course. You'll wait for me on your knees at the foot of the bed. Got it."

Neville swallowed hard at your words. "Yes mommy." He replied.

"And a few more things." You smiled devilishly.

His cock twitched in his pants.

"I'm giving you permission to cum whenever you want. But you are only allowed to cum inside me. You still have to tell me when you're cumming but you have my permission to cum when you feel like it. Under no circumstances are you allowed to hold it in. Do you understand?"

He tightened his grip on his thighs and his breath got caught in his throat. You never let him cum without permission before and he was almost always edged. He was very excited.

"I said, do you understand?" You raised a warning eyebrow at him.

"Yes! I do… I do mommy." He was so caught up in his thoughts he forgot to answer you.

"That's my darling boy." You got and grabbed the leather leash and went to get ready. "I'll be waiting."

As soon as you left upstairs to the bedroom, Neville practically tore his own clothes off of himself. He quickly threw his clothes into the hamper and washed up as much as he could. His hands were shaking as he tried putting on the collar. He cock twitched in his cage as it strained against the metal.

He quickly ran upstairs to the bedroom and closed the door behind him. He got on his knees and waited for you to get out of the master bathroom. His heart was racing as he waited in anticipation.

You walked out in a sheer bra and panties with the key hanging around your neck. Saliva was practically falling from the side of his mouth as he watched you sit on the edge of the bed with the leash in your hand. You clipped the leash to the collar and wrapped the end on the leash around your hand.

"Your mine." You pulled the leash harshly towards you and hovered your lips above his.

"I'm yours." Neville whispered back leaning closer to you.

Then you grabbed a fist full of hair and pulled him into a wet kiss. He opened his mouth to allow you entrance and your tongue licked the top row of his teeth. He moved closer to you and touched your calves. He twitched in his cage and his tip began to leak as you scratched his nape with your nails. You moved his lips to your neck and he began to suck, kiss, and lick everywhere. He sucked lightly at your collar bone until a light hickey appeared. He wanted to take off your bra and panties but knew better than to act like he was in control. All that you were letting him get away with right now was touching your calf.

He didn't have to wait long before you took off your bra. You pulled the leash so he was pulled off of you and you quickly unclipped your bra from the front.

He whined at the sight. All he wanted was to touch you anyway you let him.

"Suck" You command as you pulled on the leash.

He brought his mouth to your tits and wrapped his lips around your nipple and closed his eyes in delight. He moaned as he sucked on your nipple and you continued to scratch the back of his head.

"Mommy…" he moaned against your breast.

"What is it baby?" You cooed.

"Mommy please" he rested his head against you.

"Please what. Use your words." You gently grabbed his chin and lifted his face to yours.

"Mommy it...it hurts. Please unlock me." He begged.

"Since you asked so nicely." You cooed into his ear.

You took the necklace off and grabbed the key. He eagerly watched as you placed your attention on his locked cock. First you grabbed his balls and gave them a light squeeze.

"Ahhh…" he moaned at the pain and a blush appeared on his cheeks.

Then you fiddled with the padlock. You inserted the key into the lock and unlocked it. You took the padlock off and gently took the chastity cage off of him.

A sigh of relief escaped his lips as you set the cage on the side of the bed. He rested his head on your chest as you caressed his cock. His chest was heaving as his dick became hard. You felt him grow in your hand, which made you wet with pleasure.

"There, there." You whispered in his ear. "You're doing such a good job. I'm so proud of you. Such a good boy." You said kissing his ear lobe and sucking lightly.

He mewled against you and squirmed under your touch. He wanted to be inside you already.

"Good boys get rewards." Your tone was as seductive as possible.

He twitched in your hand as you spoke. Then you let go of him, making him cry at the loss of contact. You stood up in front of him so that he faced your panties.

"Take these off me." You instructed, gesturing to your panties. He gently pulled your underwear down to your ankles and you stepped out of them. He leaned in to kiss your front.

"Ahhh…" you moaned at his sweet kiss. But you quickly pulled him away.

"Get up." You ordered.

He quickly got off his knees and stood on his feet.

You pulled on the leash so he was mere inches away from you. "I want you to put a baby inside me."

"Yes, please…. Please let me." Neville begged.

You pulled on the leash and kissed him harshly. Neville rested his hands on your hips and pulled you close to him. He started to rub up against you.

You pulled back from the kiss and turned to get on the bed. Neville waited for instructions as you didn't pull on the leash for him to join you. He watched as you landed down on your stomach and lifted your ass up into the air with your knees. You kept your head up as you rested on your elbows. It was always a real treat when you let Neville hit it from behind. When you waited long enough for him to stare straight into your pussy you pulled on the leash hard and he fell onto the bed. He got up to adjust himself just above your vagina but didn't enter you.

"Can I touch you, please?" He begged.

"Yes" your breathing became more ragged.

As he placed his hands on your ass you moaned in delight. He massaged your ass gently and a shiver went down your spine.

"Fucking breed this pussy!" You said turning your head to face him. Your voice was commanding and urgent as you pulled on the leash.

Neville instantly started fucking you. His pace was irregular but desperate. He was like a bunny fucking it's mate, fast and wanting. You pulled on the leash so his body draped over you. His hands pushed your hips up more so he could get a better angle and be deeper inside you.

"Mommy…" he cried into your ear. He kissed your shoulder as he fucked into you.

"You're doing so good." You cooed. "So good." You moaned as he hit your g spot.

"Mommy… I'm… I'm gonna cum" He said, shaking above you.

"Already… well I did say you could cum whenever you needed to. Go ahead, it's alright baby." You reassured him.

You felt the warmth of his seamen fill you as he continued fucking himself in you. Neville kissed across from your left shoulder to your right shoulder as he let all of his cum leak into you. You wiggled your ass and moaned at the feeling of him twitching inside you.

You pulled the leash so he was pushed farther up into you. Then you turned your head back to look at him.

"I'm not done with you." You said pulling the leash until his face was close to yours and kissed him passionately.

"Your gonna fuck me until I tell your to stop." You whispered against his lips.

He shivered above you when you licked his lips. "Yes mommy."

"Now start fucking this pussy." You said through gritted teeth. "And don't forget to make me cum."

He fucked deep into your pussy over and over. He was already so sensitive but continued his desperate pace. With his hand wrapped around your waist he reached his hand down between your thighs and circled your clit with his fingers teasingly. He sucked on your shoulder lightly until a light bruise formed.

"Ahh… you're doing such a good job baby boy." you praise him.

Neville played with your clit until your walls clenched around his throbbing cock and you came hard all over his cock. This sent Neville over the edge again and he came a second time. You had him fuck you until he had came 5 times and you then some before you stopped him and turned to lay on your back.

"Don't forget to clean your mess." You taunted him with your legs spread wide.

He obediently lowered his head and used his tongue to lick away his own cum that gushed out of you.

After he had cleaned his mess (and the mess you had just made on his face while cleaning you) he rested his head on your stomach and hugged you tightly. You combed your fingers through his hair as he whispered "thank yous" He curled up against you as much as possible and rubbed your belly like it was the most precious thing in the world. You took the time to take the collar off of him and gently massaged the areas where they had left small indents in his skin.

"You're going to be a mommy." He whispered to your belly with eyelids half closed and a dopey grin on his face.

You smiled down at him. "And you're going to be a daddy."

He hugged you tighter around your waist. " Thank you."

Of course you had no idea if you were pregnant or not then. You would have to wait to take the test and see. But even if you weren't pregnant this time there was always the next month and the next month and the next month. You and Neville were going to be busy for a while. 😉

#Neville Longbottom #neville longbottom fanfiction #neville longbottom smut #neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom x reader smut #neville longbottom x y/n #neville longbottom x you #harry potter #Harry Potter Smut #neville longbottom imagine #sub neville #sub neville longbottom #dom reader #sub! neville #dom! reader #neville longbottom oneshot

809 notes · View notes

thedanoriddler · 3 years ago

Note

Hello!! I love you and your writing sm <33 do you think you could possibly write something abt Eddie being super supportive of you and your passions and interests outside if your relationship? Like being super supportive of your writing and career. Thank you!! thank you!! thank you!!

Oh my GOD, yES?!?

I’ve kind of gone with the writing idea you mentioned but I’m happy to do headcanons about his interest in other hobbies/things you guys love!

✍️ Edward Nashton x writer!reader headcanons ✍️

First of all, when you first meet and you tell him you’re a writer, Eddie is so intrigued and immediately starts asking what you write, what genre etc., showing so much interest in it

It’s almost a little overwhelming, how interested he is in your work, because no one has been this interested in your writing before - but it’s in a good way

He’s extremely interested in whatever you write, whether it’s a book, a script, a play… whatever it is, he’s so interested and always wants to hear about it - he doesn’t just ask and then not listen to the answer, he genuinely is interested in what you tell him

When you get frustrated or down with writers block, he makes you tea or coffee and gets you a slice of your favourite cake or pie (or whatever snack you like!), and he urges you to take a small break because maybe stepping away from it will help

He’s also happy to hear you talk out ideas with him, he doesn’t know how you write as amazingly as you do, but he’s happy to listen as you run ideas by him

With your permission, he avidly reads every draft, every page, every single word of what you’ve written, sometimes multiple times, because he loves your writing style and it’s like he can hear you and your voice through the words

He offers some feedback but honestly most of the time he’s just like “omg this is amazing 🥹”

Your biggest fan is obviously Edward Nashton, let’s be fucking honest

I’m so sorry but if you’re the kind of person who writes fiction or whatever about serial killers, like a book about a fictional serial killer, I’m just imagining him happily offering you details about murder/death etc so that your writing is completely accurate, to the point where anyone who reads your work is like “… ummm????”

When the Riddler killings start, the GCPD actually call you in for questioning because some of the details are eerily similar to what’s going on in the Riddler case (not that you tell them anything - you would never)

Eddie would be so proud of you when you publish a book, like he’s unable to stop himself from repeatedly telling you how amazing and talented and incredible you are, I wasn’t kidding when I said he was your biggest fan

The man is first in line to buy a copy of your book, even though you already have a copy of it and he’s also already read it because ofc you let him read all the drafts, he wants his own copy and to be able to proudly say his partner/significant other wrote this

He’d find a way to slip a recommendation of your book into his stream - obviously he doesn’t say on stream that his SO wrote it, Riddler can’t exactly announce “my girlfriend (Y/N) wrote this” because then it would be too easy to trace him, but he finds a way of recommending it to his followers

Your book sells out of all the Gotham bookstores the very next morning because Riddler’s followers are mass buying it

Honestly Eddie is just such a proud boyfriend/partner and shows it 24/7 🥹

#the batman #the riddler #edward nashton #paul dano #edward nashton x reader #the riddler x reader #asks #danonation #paul dano x reader #the riddler imagine

105 notes · View notes

babyboiboyega · 4 years ago

Text

I can explain (Shangqi x f!reader)

Shangqi x f!reader

Prompt: “When everything’s going wrong, the mere thought of you makes it right.” + never wanting to pull away kiss

Content: a little angst, but more fluff

Word Count: 1.6k

Babyboiboyega’s Marvel Masterlist

A/N: this is my first ever time writing for Shangqi (or Shang-Chi), and I already have a lot of other ideas for this incredibly loveable character.

I hope you all enjoyed this!

A heavy sigh left Y/N’s mouth as she unceremoniously dropped onto her couch. The feeling of her limbs relaxing into the cushions almost prompted a moan of relief to follow the heavy sigh. It did, however, make her eyes flutter closed as she leaned her head back.

Y/N had been thinking of this moment the entire day. The moment when her week ended and her weekend began; a weekend of not having to deal with rude, angry-at-the-world customers who decide to yell at her because a privately owned publishing warehouse doesn’t print the book that they want. Or the customers who don’t check their emails for their tracking information and then get mad at her, for some absurd reason.

Another sigh leaves her mouth, and this time with the sigh goes her thoughts of work, entering the empty air for the weekend.

But being off on the weekend didn’t exactly mean being absolved of texts and calls from fellow coworkers, ranting about customers, or even management. So when her phone’s ringer went off, signaling a new incoming text, she simply kept her eyes closed. She certainly had enough time to read and reply...but maybe later.

The text had already migrated to the back of her mind in the span of a few seconds...and then her phone went off again. This time, two quick “dings” sounded through her apartment.

Her eyes opened before she slowly sat up, her phone coming into view. Before she could spare another though about her phone and it’s notifications, her hand quickly reached for the remote and pressed the power button.

She managed to flip through a few channels before her phone rang once more, and this time it was accompanied by a few knocks on her door.

Completely disregarding the fact that it was almost 11 at night and she hadn’t been expecting anyone, and being fueled by her now very obvious annoyance, it only took her a few strides to reach her door. In all honesty, she’d had no idea what she was going to say to whoever was on the other side of her door; but whatever had been ready to leave her lips died as soon as she opened the door.

“Shaun?”

She hadn’t been able to control the volume and surprise in her voice, and she saw his grimace in response. She couldn’t find it in herself to care if he didn’t like the volume in her voice; the very next emotions she felt surge through her body was...well, it was a cross between worry and anger.

“Y/N...hey.” He had a sheepish smile on his face; one that showed off his dimple. One that she had to restrain from returning. But then she remembered the last time she had seen that same smile and the last time she had even heard from him. Her eyebrows raised incredulously.

“‘Hey?’ ‘Hey’?? That’s all...that’s all you have to say to me after being gone for...a month? And some weeks?”

She could hear the hurt in her own voice, and it made her want to cringe at herself.

‘He could have been doing more important things than worrying about you’ is all that went through her mind.

Her arms crossed self-consciously in front of her.

“Please, let me explain. It’s… it’s actually crazier than you think.”

The hesitance on her part came from her nagging thoughts that flipped between “he was genuinely busy” and “he’s about to make up some absurd excuse for why he hasn’t spoken to you while also letting you down gently”.

“May I come in?” His eyebrows were raised as he gently asked for her permission. Y/N quickly nodded and stepped to the side before her thoughts could scare her too much.

His eyes stayed on her as he stepped past her, entering her apartment. She took a second to take a deep breath before closing the door behind him.

She briefly wondered how her face looked as she turned to face him. Did she look as hurt and worried as she felt? Could he see her feelings on her face?

“I’m sorry for disappearing for...as long as I did. And I’m sorry for not reaching out at all during that time. But I can explain why.”

His eyes followed her figure as she walked slowly around her kitchen counter. He made no effort to hide the pleading look in his eyes, and he only began talking when Y/N raised her eyebrows from across the counter.

“Okay. Just...bare with me.” Y/N’s eyes narrowed and more questions filled her mind as she watched him take a breath as if he were bracing himself.

Y/N hadn’t known what to expect when he had started talking, but she definitely wasn’t expecting a story filled with martial arts, trained assassins, ancient organizations, soul-sucking demons, and dragons.

Even after he had explained everything, his eyes watching and waiting for her reaction, she still couldn’t find the words to express herself.

Her body was frozen in its same position, and her eyes were wide and staring right at him. As the silence stretched between them, he couldn’t help grimacing slightly once again.

“Also, my name isn’t really Shaun. It’s Shangqi.”

That last piece of information seemed to finally shake Y/N out of her stupor, as she blinked quickly and let out a quick breath.

“I...I don’t know what to say.” In all honesty, all of this was kind of making her head spin, and it was evident in the way her breathing picked in just the slightest.

“W-What exactly do you say to someone who’s just saved the world? ‘Thank you’? ‘I owe you my life’- because, I guess, technically, I do owe you my life. Because of you, I still have my life- or my soul.”

At her rambling, Shangqi’s expression shifted from one of wariness to relief to a little worried. It had only just crossed his mind that he was worried that she wouldn’t believe him, and not worried about how she would receive the information.

She believed every word that had just come from his mouth, simply because she knew that he wouldn’t lie about something like this. She knew that he wouldn’t lie to her… at least she hoped he wouldn’t.

“You don’t have to say anything. I...I just needed you to know why I was gone. The thought of letting you go one more second thinking I just...left you was driving me crazy.”

A humorless laugh forced its way through Y/N’s lips.

“Yeah, thinking I had driven you away was driving me crazy too.”

Before she could even regret her words, her eyes were drawn to Shangqi, whose head was shaking quickly. In a few steps, he had walked around the counter, coming to a stop a few feet from her.

“That was never the case, I swear. You could never drive me away, not even if you tried.”

At the minuscule smile that appeared on her face, he risked taking another step forward.

From where he stood, he could smell faint traces of her favorite perfume that had slowly worn off during her day. Her favorite perfume had quickly become his favorite scent, simply because it reminded him of her.

From where she stood, she could easily see the faint signs of exhaustion on his face. No doubt from the strains of the last month and a half. It made her want to reach out to him.

“Every second, from the moment we left, all I could think about was coming back to you. Even while staring into the face of a-”

“A mega soul-sucking demon?”

The quiet laugh that left his mouth seemed to weigh on her body, but not with pressure. Instead, all she felt was warmth, and it coursed through her veins with the power of 11 suns.

“Yes,” there was laughter in his voice as he responded, “even while staring into the face of a mega soul-sucking demon.”

As he spoke, he had gradually moved forward until taking a deep breath would easily have their chests brushing against each other.

Y/N couldn’t keep the tremor out of her voice as she spoke, her eyes flickering between Shangqi’s.

“You...you really thought of me when you were saving the world?”

Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand raised and gently cupped her cheek. Soon after, she felt pressure from his forehead connecting with hers. Without hesitation, her own hands lifted, coming to grasp at his sides, desperate to pull him closer.

His breath fanned across her face as he spoke, and it made her hands tighten.

“When everything’s going wrong, the mere thought of you always makes it right.”

His words were quickly swallowed by Y/N’s lips pressing against his with fervor. The hand that was on her cheek gently titled her head back as he kissed her back with just as much passion, while his other hand wound around her waist. They both pulled at the other, as if they couldn’t get close enough.

The warmth that had been coursing through her veins quickly turned into leg-numbing electricity the longer their lips were connected. Her eyes were closed, and so were his, but they could both see the other’s face behind their lids, surrounded by the stars their presence created.

The only thing that could pull them apart was the need for air, and even then, as their foreheads connected and their lips stayed hovering over each other’s, they breathed the same air.

Shangqi’s words were shaky as he spoke, his thumb rubbing circles into her skin.

“You make everything right.”

**********

Once again, I hope you all enjoyed this! I would take requests for this character, but I still have a ton of requests for LOK....

But maybe sometime in the near future!

In the meantime, I would appreciate it if y’all would interact in any way with this! Comments, criticism, questions, etc would be amazing, as would reblogs, but even just liking this helps!

Stay safe, y’all!

#shangqi #shangqi x reader #shang chi x reader #shang chi #shang-chi imagines #shang-chi fanfic #shang-chi drabble #shang-chi oneshot #shangqi imagine #shangqi oneshot #shangqi drabble

381 notes · View notes

nekoannie-chan · 2 years ago

Text

Traitor?

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Agent of HYDRA!Reader.

Word count: 765 words.

Summary: You are trying to help Steve after HYDRA uprising.

Warnings: Canon divergent, HYDRA won.

A/N: This my entry to @late-to-the-party-81’s Jen’s 1K Challenge Yourself Challenge with the prompts:

Trope idea: Enemies to lovers.

Style idea: angst.

AU idea: Canon divergent.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

You held your breath; no one could find out what had happened; after all, in a way, you were betraying HYDRA with what you had done before, and if now they found out what had happened... you didn't even want to think about it.

You could avoid the subject, since outside of the little big incident, which had happened, no one suspected you, and at the end of the day, what mattered was that "you proved your loyalty to HYDRA."

You turned around, carefully observing the surroundings, to make sure that no one had followed you and entered the password; no one was supposed to know about that place, and it was supposed to stay that way.

Even so, you had to come up with a plan to know what to do; Steve could not stay hidden there for eternity.

When Steve heard the sound of the door, he cautiously peered out; he knew he was in a safe place, but he had to make sure, in case something had happened to you.

"It's me; I'm bringing food," you said when you saw him. He smiled and left the shield leaning against the wall.

You usually told him about the situation while you were eating; the situation was critical, but you still couldn't find everyone, among other things.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Steve asked.

"Yes, Steve, everything is fine, but you lied.

"We should run," Steve suggested, and you put down the spoon you were holding.

"You know that's impossible; HYDRA has everything under surveillance. With the simple fact that someone says they thought they saw you, they send all available teams to capture you," you answered without looking away from him. The order they had been given was very clear; they were looking for anyone related to S.H.I.E.L.D., but especially Steve.

"I can't allow Hydra to..."

"I know, but Steve, he's already won. This morning... " You interrupted him; he gave you a dirty look. "This morning they caught Bucky; they have him again in their possession, the soldier said. "You practically whispered the last word.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME BEFORE?! " Steve blurted out.

"I couldn't escape before; in case you hadn't noticed, they have me under surveillance too; every time I come to bring you food or see you, I'm risking my life," you answered grumpily.

"I have to get him out of there somehow," Steve mumbled. You knew perfectly well what I wanted to do; however, it was impossible unless...

"I think I have an idea; it's too risky, but maybe it could work; I'm not completely sure, but maybe it's worth a try," you said.

With that simple sentence, you completely captured Steve's attention. In his head, he couldn't stop thinking about how to go and save Bucky, but probably your plan was better since all the ones he had thought of had an exaggeratedly high probability of ending badly, very badly.

"What's your plan?" Steve was extremely interested.

"You will enter HYDRA's facilities, not on the sly, but through the front door, and we will gain everyone's trust."

"I don't understand; obviously, as soon as they see me, they're going to try to kill me," Steve interrupted.

"Some time ago, something happened, and they came to believe that I was a traitor...

"You're HYDRA..."

Steve, shut up and let me talk. It's not because I wanted to; all of us, all the mutants who were kids when the Sentinels caught us and sent us to Garland, ended up in HYDRA; it wasn't by our own choice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know," Steve apologized; he had never had the gentleness to ask you how you ended up there.

"It doesn't matter; well, we can say that you found a way to contact me and that you want to join HYDRA because... well, we'll think of an excuse, and from there it would be easier to find Bucky. I don't know; it's still not perfect, but it's the only thing I could think of in less than ten minutes. I'm not entirely sure if it will work or what consequences it might have," you said.

Steve was silent for a few minutes. He was thinking about what you proposed; it sounded really good. Maybe it would be hard to convince some people, but it would also serve to defeat Hydra from the inside, or at least try.

You began to plan the details quickly. Steve was going to try as hard as necessary to make it go the right way; this time he wasn't going to let the enemies win.

#jen's 1k challenge #jen's 1k follower celebration #challenge yourself #steve rogers x reader #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fic

55 notes · View notes

lily-drake · 4 years ago

Text

Gifts

Any holiday or day where gifts were given was taken with utmost seriousness in the Wayne household. Or in other words, it was a competition to one up each other’s gifts. It all started when Jason came to the house and Dick had come back to visit for the holidays. Marinette hadn’t really understood what was happening when she happily opened Dick’s present, which was a new knitting kit with so many different materials. She ran over to him and hugged him tightly as Alfred took photos. Dick had glanced over at Jason and smirked at him, but Jay-Jay only rolled his eyes with his arms crossed. She still hadn’t opened his after all, and he was around her more now than Dick was, which meant he had a higher advantage of knowing her new interests and endeavors. So he watched as she pulled out a thick book of fashion design and her own embroidery set. Her eyes practically glowed as stared at the set. Jason hadn’t even seen her move because next thing he knew strong arms were wrapped around him. The 7-year-old had definitely been taught by Dick on how to hug people.

Bruce gazed lovingly at his children, but he knew about their competition, and he would not be outdone by his sons.

“Daddy, Daddy, look what Birdy and Jay-Jay gave me! They’re so nice! Feel the material Birdy got me, I can make so many things now!”

“That sounds amazing, Bluebell.”

Marinette smiled brightly as she showed Bruce the gifts that she got.

“Do you want to see what I got you?”

He asked amusedly. Marinette began to hop on her toes in excitement, because daddy’s always had the best gifts!

“Yes please!”

Bruce smiled and pointed out a small, thin, rectangular box under the tree. She leaped over to it and when she opened it her mouth dropped open and she squealed.

“You got me tickets to Sophie Theallet’s fashion show?!”

She was jumping with joy as she stared at the five tickets in her hand. Bruce looked over at and smirked at the boys. He won, again. They groaned and sulked in annoyance. Why did he always win?

________

Marinette was 9 when she finally figured out what her family was doing, and she knew that she would be the one to give the absolute best gifts to her family! Her family deserved something super special, so she went to work. Her Birdy was part of the circus and they had a lot of equipment he often used. But what could she do that would be super special and make her win the competition? Then it hit her, she knew exactly what she would do! She would need to ask Alfred for help, but it would be worth it!

Next was Jay-Jay. She didn’t know much about his past as he always told her that she had to wait till she was older, but she knew about him now. Jay-Jay loved to read and would often read to her, he really liked hoodies and comfy things, and he liked to bake with Alfred and her. So maybe…….yea! She would do that, it shouldn’t be that hard to do.

Daddy always got her such nice gifts, how could she ever beat him? There had to be something she could do to outdo him. He was Batman, he worked with the Justice League, he loved all of them, and sometimes if he finished his work early would watch movies with them! But he was always so good and knew exactly what to get. She would try though, she had an idea and she hoped it would work.

Alfred, he deserved the best gift because of everything he did for them! She already knew the perfect gift for her grandpa Alffie!

________

Christmas arrived and she stared out the window as the snowflakes fell onto the covered yard. Maybe they could go sledding today, that would be so much fun! She was so transfixed in the snow, and thinking of how pretty a dress would be with the same color and different designs, that she hadn’t noticed her brothers sneaking up on her. A squeal left her lips as she was lifted into the air and twirled around wrapped in the warm embrace of her Birdy. She giggled as he spun and squeaked as she was gently thrown into the air, only to land on the couch.

“Good morning Blueberry.”

Dick chirped happily. She giggled again and leaned into Jay-Jay’s hand as he ruffled her hair.

“Morning Pixie-pop. Sleep well?”

“Morning Birdy and Jay-Jay. I slept great, thank you. Did either of you?”

Jason shrugged with a small smirk,

“I slept fine, though I wouldn’t have minded sleeping a little longer. You missed Dick’s hallway caroling this morning.”

“I sounded amazing, thank you very much. And I was too excited to fully sleep. I’m going to win this year.”

Dick said pridefully.

“No way, I’m totally going to beat you.”

Jason deffied puffing out his chest slightly. Marinette giggled and called out,

“No, I’m going to beat all of you! I will be the champion gift giver this year.”

They looked at her and smirked.

“Only in your dreams Pix.”

“You’ll see,”

She replied, crossing her arms and lifting her nose in the air like she had seen some of the people at the galas do.

“Then you’ll have to agree with me!”

They all gave each other sceptical looks before laughing and continued to talk until daddy came down. When he finally did, the competition commenced. The first person to open presents was her, obviously, as she was the youngest. Dick had given her a really nice and fancy art kit, and she loved it! Jay-Jay had given her tickets and backstage passes to the theater for The Nutcracker, she had been wanting to see it for a while now. Alfred had told her that he would teach her how to make a super secret recipe, and she would be able to help him with dinner today too! Daddy, he was too clever, too cunning. He had given her a pet hamster, and it was beautiful! She couldn’t beat him now, her gift was nothing compared to-to this! She tries though, and maybe she could win second? Yea, she would be ok with second, if she got this adorable baby creature. She couldn’t even be mad or disappointed, because look at its cute little feet and adorable eyes!

Next was Jay-Jay. The others had given him some really nice things, but she felt that hers was the best! So when he opened it and his eyes shined, she knew she made the right thing! It had taken her hours to find it, and she had to ask Dad if she could get it since she wasn’t allowed to use the card without permission. It was one of the first books of Pride and Prejudice ever published, she even got him a fancy ink and quill set so he could better embrace his Harry Potter nerdom.

“This is amazing, thank you Pixie, I guess I do owe you an apology, this is amazing.”

She smiled up at him while gently petting the top of her new hamster's head as it laid on her lap.

“Told you!”

For Dick she had knitted him a collection of stuffed animals that he talked about from the circus. Alfred had helped her find the material and helped her when she made a mistake or needed help on a particularly tricky part. She thought she saw Dick’s eyes water for a second. The next thing she knew she was being tightly hugged, but he left enough room to not squish her furry child.

“Thank you Blueberry, it’s amazing.”

“Of course it is, I made them!”

He chuckled as he pulled away and ruffled her already messed up hair.

She had made Daddy a picture book and had decorated it with black and yellow glitter, bats, and different birds. Throughout the book were all of the pictures that she was able to get her hands on dated and labeled in order from oldest photo to most recent. He had a soft smile as he looked through the book and when he finally looked back up to his slightly nervous daughter he pulled her into a hug and kissed her forehead.

“I think you won this year.”

“Nuh ah! You gave me a hamster! There’s no way I could have won!”

“Well, I think all the others would agree that you thought of and made some very amazing gifts.”

She turned to look at the others as they gave gentle nods and thumbs up. Her cheeks felt really warm and she smiled at them all.

“Thank you. Now Grandpa Alffie needs to open his presents!”

Alfred smiled at the small child and opened the gifts he had received from the others. Marinette had made and embroidered a new handkerchief for him. He seemed to like it as he immediately placed it in his pocket. She was the victor of this year's Christmas gift exchange, but she still felt that Daddy beat her.

________

As years passed and her family grew so did the competition. Sadly, it would be harder to her her family their most desired gifts as she had decided to study abroad in Paris that year, but she would be da*ed if she didn’t try her hardest. She had gotten better with her skills for making things over the years, and so much had happened. Jason had died and come back, that was the hardest time of her life. They had new people adopted into the family, and she even had a little brother! She was going to meet him this year when she went to visit for the winter break. She would have the glasses with her at all times in case there was an attack so she could quickly come back here and take care of it.

When she arrived at the Gotham Airport and saw her large family standing and holding a sign as they looked for her she ran up to them as quickly as she could.

“Pixie!”

Jason called out, catching the small girl and twirling her around. She laughed and when she was put down created the rest of her family just as happily. When she finally came face to face with her little brother she held out her hand. Her family said he was more formal and was very against physical touch that he did not agree to or initiate. He eyed her hand suspiciously before shaking it and giving her a nod.

“Damian Al Ghul-Wayne.”

“Marinette Wayne. It’s nice to finally meet you Damian.”

They both let go after a firm shake. She already had a gift for him, and Kagami helped her find the perfect one. It was a nice blade, the blade was completely black, but had a red tint to it and red gains that delicately ran through it. The hilt was of fine golden metal and a strong leather grip. She had made the sheath for the blade. With strong leather and an inner layer of Kevlar so the sword would be protected. She had carved in Arabic symbols to spell out “Son of Bat” and had sewn a few almost unnoticeable small robins along the bottom and top of the inky black material.

For Tim, she had gotten him the best coffee beans in all of Paris and she had made him new lounge clothes that identified with his hero persona of Red Robin that had many hidden pockets and two large to-go coffee cups, one on each sleeve.

For Jason she had made him a new leather Jacket with book quotes embroidered all over the inside of the inner material. There were lots of different pockets, and a few tailor made to fit his guns. She had put a few Jagged Stone concert tickets in one of the pockets too.

For Stephanie, she had made purple silk pajamas that had waffles all over it. She had even made sure that there was a hood connected to the pj shirt.

For Cass, just like Jason had done for her, gotten tickets for The Nutcracker. She had also gotten her ballerina shoes, the best one and most highly recommended ones from the Paris Ballet.

For Dick she had made him an elephant onesie. Why you may ask, well because for her birthday he had given her a mouse one. So was it spite for being called short, or was it her trying to match, nobody needs to know.

She had made Alfred a new apron with the words “Don’t try anything, I already know.” Neatly sewed in cursive into it.

She had gotten Babs a new eskrima stick infused with a bit of her luck in it so no one would underestimate her in battle as she would always have luck on her side giving her the upper hand. She may be disabled, but that doesn’t stop her from kicking butt.

Finally, her gift for her dad. This one was hard, because she wasn’t around to know what had caught his eye this year, and her siblings refused to tell her. It was fine though, because she would figure it out. And she did, or at least she had tried. She ended up making him a bee suit jacket with everybody’s names sewed into the inner lining, multiple pockets for convenience, and black bats that would only be shown in the right lighting. She would win this year, she would! Sadly, Dick had won last year, but she would regain her crown again this year! She would be the best gift giver of her whole family!!!

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess

#Maribat #BDMWM2021 #bio!dad bruce wayne #marinette dupain cheng #marinette wayne #sibling au #sibling timinette #sibling dickinette #sibling jasonette #sibling daminette #gift giving is serious #to give or be given #mlb x dc #mlb x batman #dc x mlb #day 7 #fluff #maribat

200 notes · View notes