#I’ll probably start eating rocks or something idk

[spineless-lobster]

My brain has betrayed me and I have had another thought:

What if the Captain cries in series 5? Then what, huh? Then what? What will you do?

[baby-yongbok]

Fixation

Hwang Hyunjin x Afab!Reader

✮ Genre - Explicit (non-idol) - Punk!Hyunjin x Punk!Reader ✮ WC: 3.8k ✧ Masterlist ✧

✮ Summary: Hyunjin is obsessed with your mouth.

✮ CW: Alcohol usage [By both reader and Hyunjin.], Mention of marijuana [For like 10 seconds in the very beginning], Spit play? [Kinda? You'll see] , Public affection (I think that's all)

✮ A/N: This look on Hyunjin is my absolute favorite from the comeback and it kinda gives me punk rock vibes? So I tried that out and idk if I aced it but I did it so boom. I hope that you enjoy! + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

“Who the fuck is throwing this party anyway?” Hyunjin ashes the weak blunt that you got from god knows where as you’re rummaging through his closet. “Does it matter?”

You pull out the top you were searching for and throw it on his bed next to where he’s laid out. You strip your shirt, leaving you in your flimsy bra as you pick the new shirt off of the hanger. Hyunjin isn’t phased by this one bit, you’ve been friends for long enough for him to have seen your tits a million times. 

“Nah, just curious.” He sits up at the head of his bed with one leg hanging off the edge and watches as you try to make his top work with the skin tight skirt you have on. “You’re going out with Seungmin, right?” 

“Yeah, gonna hit some party that Amelia told him about.” 

“Is she gonna be there?” You shrug, grabbing your bag and rummaging through it. “Cause you know that he’ll leave you if she’s there. He’s down bad for her.”

“Everybody fucking knows that.” You finally find your lip gloss and quickly unscrew the top and lean towards the mirror. Hyunjin watches as you apply it. It’s tinted red and shiny and it makes his cock twitch in his pants. 

He doesn’t know when it started but he’s been obsessed with your mouth for awhile. He can’t help but to stare at your lips when you’re talking, eating, sipping some of his drink or anything in between. 

It’s like his brain short circuits every time that he glances down at them but it’s even worse when you have on lipstick or lip gloss. That alone gets him as hard as damn rock. “They’ll probably fuck in the bathroom or something.” You pop your lips together to distribute the gloss and clean up the corners. 

“Shit.” You glance at the time on your phone when you go to put your lip gloss away. “I gotta go, he called me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You grab your stuff and start towards the door of Hyunjin’s tiny apartment. 

“Call me if you need me.” He yells from his spot on the bed. He would’ve walked you out but then you’d see that he's completely bricked up. He takes a deep breath once the door shuts and stares up at the ceiling. It’s become a routine for him to touch himself once you leave his place. He’s always so pent up from watching you that he has to get it all out. 

He could tell you about this. He could just kiss you and indulge in every dirty desire he has but he just hasn’t yet. Your friend group is a bit unique. Very few of you are in official relationships and those of you who aren’t will often kiss or sleep with each other with no strings attached. 

He knows that you’ve kissed and even fucked Seungmin. You’ve kissed his friend Felix plenty of times and he’s positive that you and Minho have a recurring situationship going on. Those are all the things that come to mind right away but he knows that there’s more to your history and he won't even get started on his.

He gets up to lock his door and heads back over to his bed as he palms himself. He wishes that he’d just tell you, he’s sure that you wouldn’t mind helping him out. Hell, you’d probably enjoy it. 

He’s crawling back onto his bed when something catches his eye at the end of it. He stares at it for a second before reaching forward and picking it up. It’s your lip gloss. You must’ve missed the pocket when you went to put it back in your bag. 

Hyunjin takes the tube between his fingers and stares at it. This is the exact gloss that you have on right now. Your pretty lips are red and shiny and he wants them so badly. 

He doesn’t know when he started twisting the cap off but the fuzzy applicator wand is in his hand and on his lips when he snaps back to reality. He moans as he brushes the gloss onto his bottom lip, he sits on his knees in the middle of his bed with his eyes closed. He imagines you putting it on him. He imagines that you let him use it after you and he’s moaning again. 

He fully applies it and rubs his lips together before closing the tube and letting it fall to the sheets below him as he falls back against his pillows, eyes still closed as he quickly unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down his thighs. He groans as he slides his hand down his body, feeling the slick gloss on his lips and imagining that you’re next to him, watching him.

He gasps when his hand wraps around his cock. He rubs his lips together to get a better feel of the gloss and brings his hand up to his face just as he thinks you would. “Baby, please.” He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, smearing the sticky pigment a bit and groaning into the air when his palm runs over his tip. 

“You’re mouth, I wan’ your mouth.” He runs his middle finger over the sticky mess he’s created and slips it into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around the digit sloppily before adding his pointer finger to the mix. He imagines that this is what your lips would feel like wrapped around his cock. He imagines your pretty lip gloss staining his shirt and his sheets and his skin. 

He moans around his fingers while his other hand works his leaking cock. He’s moving too fast to savor the feeling, each stroke of his fist gets him closer to the edge and has him whimpering. He doesn’t want this to end, he doesn’t want to open his eyes and let you go. He doesn’t want to cum yet but your mouth, you’re fucking mouth would feel so good that he can’t help it.

His mouth falls open in a loud moan and he slides his spit slick fingers out and down to join his other hand around his cock. “Like that, like that, baby.” He humps up into his fists with his jaw clenched tight and he’s spilling his cum over his knuckles before he can even say a word.

 His grip loosens as he attempts to catch his breath. The image of you vanishes from behind his eyes and he reluctantly allows them to flutter open. He looks down at the mess he’s made and groans at the sight of his cum running over the red ring of gloss staining his fingers. “Shit.” 

He throws his head back and stares. He can’t keep imagining this, he needs to tell you. He needs to do something.  

Hyunjin repeats yesterday's actions the next morning. He slathered on the shiny gloss and fucked his fleshlight while kissing his own hand and pretending it was you. The red stains are still faintly on the back of his hand when he arrives at the party later that night. He doesn’t know who the fuck is throwing it but he can say that it’s an absolute rager. The walls are graffitied and the loud rock music floating through the air is loud enough to ensure that he’ll need a hearing aid by age thirty. 

The couches are littered with people he’s never met before making out with people he’s never seen in his life. He heads to the kitchen to grab a drink of whatever looks good and then heads back into the crowd in search of you and the rest of his friends. 

He finds you all in the far corner, huddled together with some of you laughing and some of you making out. He pushes past Felix who’s currently in a threeway lip lock with Changbin and his girlfriend to get to you. You’re sitting on Seungmin’s lap with a drink in your hand. He smiles up at you as you laugh loudly at something he just whispered and Hyunjin’s eyes go right to your lips. He needs to make a move tonight.

He sits on the arm of the couch next to the two of you and takes a peek into your drink. “How many has she had?” He asks Seungmin as you smile back at him. “I've lost count.”

“Hyunjinnie!” You tilt your head back to see him better and pucker your lips towards him. Hyunjin freezes, staring down at your lips behind his red tinted glasses. “No kiss?”

You've never kissed him before. Ever. You've never offered him a kiss until today, it must be the alcohol.

“Since when do you kiss me?” He tries to sound playful. He tries to smile at your upside-down pout but he's struggling. He should've kissed you. 

“Since today.” Seungmin sits you up before You can pucker your lips towards Hyunjin again. “Sit fucking still, whore.”

You scoff, yelling something at Seungmin that makes him smile as he sips from your cup.

While you're fussing at your friend Hyunjin’s unfocused gaze is darting around the crowded space. He stares over at Felix who's now in a heated lip lock with some girl who's name he can never remember and then to Jisung and his girlfriend who look like they’re one step away from fucking in front of everyone. 

His eyes darted from person to person, kissing, laughing, sipping. He sees them all but he's thinking about you. He wants you. 

“Hyunjin.” His gaze snaps over to Seungmin as the sound of a glass bottle crashing against the wall echoes through the air. Typical shit. “Take her for a bit? I gotta do something.” 

Seungmin stands with you in his arms and Hyunjin slips into his spot on the couch. The younger sits you in Hyunjin’s lap before rushing off into the crowd of gyrating bodies. 

Hyunjin squints beyond his glasses and finds the reason for Seungmin’s sudden departure. Amelia is here, he's gonna be gone for more than a bit.

“Hyuneeee.” You whine at him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “I want another drink.”

“I don't think you should have another drink, darling.” He stares up at you from where he's slouched into the worn cushions. Your legs are draped over his, your ass is on his thigh and his arm is wrapped around you. 

You look good tonight. Your leather tube top and tattered jeans are a masterpiece that he'd proudly strip from you if he could work up the courage. 

Even with you looking this good. Even with you sitting on him like this he can't pull his gaze away from your lips. They're black tonight. Shiny with a mix of midnight lipstick and some sparkly gloss. Your tongue peeks between them, adding a bit of pink to the mix and he swears that he could take you right here. He could risk it all right now. 

“I just want one more drink.” You pout, pushing your bottom lip out at him. “Tequila or Hennessey, just one more.”

He shakes his head, earning a whine from you. “You're wasted.” He squeezes the exposed skin of your waist as he holds you tighter in case you decide to try to escape. 

“Here.” Minho's voice breaks through your conversation from beside you. He offers you his cup filled halfway with something that Hyunjin can smell from his spot beneath you. 

“What the hell is that?” Minho smiles down at Hyunjin then over at you. “It's called a Hell Bomb. Jeongin made it. I don't like Henny though.”

“Yes you do.” You smile up at him, staring at him upside-down like you did to Hyunjin earlier. “Not as much as you like it.” 

Minho leans in and kisses your chin. Hyunjin holds his breath as he watches you giggle at the exchange. He silently prays that he doesn't kiss you. Please don't. 

“I like tasting it off of you though, so bottoms up, kitty.” You hold eye contact with Minho as you lift the cup to your lips, some of the drink spills down the slope of your throat and Hyunjin watches it as it travels down to the valley of your breasts. Oh, what he'd do to clean you up. “That’s my girl. You better watch her, Hyunjin. She'll be gone after this.”

With a pat on the shoulder and a suggestive glance to the both of you Minho slips into the crowd and disappears. 

You're still drinking when he leaves and Hyunjin has to pry the cup from your hand to get you to slow down. He mixes your drink with his Vodka that he grabbed earlier and throws your cup on the floor by his feet. “Hey!”

“You're not drinking that by yourself. We'll share it.” He takes a couple of gulps from the cocktail with a furrowed brow as it burns on the way down. This shit really is hell. “You'll be ghost if you do this alone.”

“But you'll take care of me, won't you, Hyunjinnie?” You move into him, resting your head on his shoulder. 

“I got you.” He mumbles back as he takes another hit of the drink. He's gonna need a lot of this to get through the night. 

They just kept coming. Once Chan arrived thirty minutes ago with three cases of the most expensive soju he could blow his paycheck on Hyunjin knew he was fucked. 

He let you have one bottle before he cut you off for good. Your neck became jelly after the third swig and you've been mumbling in his ear ever since. 

He took that bottle from you and finished it. Then he had two more right after to distract himself from the way that your lips brushing against his neck makes his cock chub up. Now he's on his fourth bottle of soju and you're on your second bottle of water. 

“Your lips are pretty.” You mumble as you sit up and stare down at his mouth. “Your lip gloss looks like mine.”

“Does It?” He rubs his lips together, evening out the red tint. “Yeah but I lost it.”

“Mm that sucks. It looked pretty on you.” You try your best to sit up and shift yourself in his lap but your coordination is shot. Hyunjin helps you move in his lap, he supports you until you end up how you wanted. You're straddling his waist, your legs are on either side of him and your core is over his cock. He takes another sip of soju once you settle. 

“You like my lips too?” He should lie, right? “I think yours are so pretty.” Fuck. 

You smile, it's lazy and tainted with alcohol but it's fucking dizzying. Your fingers sneak up to Hyunjin's face to steal his glasses and he lets you. You slip them on and stare down at him. 

“They look better on you.” He coos, his hands creep up your thighs and plant themselves on your hips and you move involuntarily into the touch. You grind over his chubbed up cock and he sighs into the cloudy air to try and control himself. “Drink more water, baby.”

“Gimme.” He grabs the bottle next to him, unscrewing the top and handing it to you but you refuse it. “Pour it.” 

You tip your head back with parted lips and your tongue sticking out. Your eyes are closed and Hyunjin moans. He fucking moans at the sight your your mouth open for him and he wishes that he was filling it up with something different. 

He places a finger under your chin to keep you steady and waterfalls into your mouth. You swallow as he pours and he watches the way that your throat moves. You'd swallow his load so well, you'd take his cock like a fucking pro. 

A bit of water runs over your bottom lip and down your neck as he pulls away. He’s fighting his demons again as he watches the water trail down your skin, it takes everything in him not to clean it up for you. He stopped himself but he won't be so lucky next time. 

“Thank you.” You bat your lashes at him, staring down over his shades. “Your turn?”

“My turn?” You hum, picking up his bottle of Soju from the table next to you. “Lemme feed it to you.”

“Are you tryna get me fucked up?” He smirks up at you and you down at him. 

 “Head back.” He parts his lips slightly and you place a finger under his chin like he did to you. His eyes stay on yours the entire. Studying every move you make.

“Open.” Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, smearing his - your - red gloss onto his chin. He opens his mouth slowly, sticking the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip just a bit. 

“Mhm” You bring his bottle up to your lips and sip at the clear liquid until you're content with what’s in your mouth. Hyunjin is about to protest when you bring the bottle up to your lips but he gets lost in the way that your black gloss stains the cloudy glass. 

You set the glass back onto the table and lean up on your knees to line your mouth up with his. His dark eyes bore into yours as he realizes what's about to happen. His hands slip up and down the curve of your waist then press into the flesh when you allow the sweet liquid to waterfall into his open mouth. 

His eyes flutter shut with a whimper as his mouth fills with what you're giving him. He hooks his thumbs into your belt loops and pulls you forward so that you're hovering right over his half hard cock. His self control is fading as the stream from your mouth to his ends. 

As it tapers off a bit of soju misses his mouth and runs down his cheek. It doesn’t get far before you're licking it up, trailing it back up to his mouth and slipping your tongue against his in one swift motion.   

Hyunjin gasps against you before a more primal sound follows. You reciprocate it, sinking back down onto his lap and rocking yourself over him. 

He’s swallowing hard and drinking in every ounce of you that you're offering. He feels dizzy with how hard his lips are pressing to yours. It’s a messy exchange of teeth and tongue that has you both exhaling hard through your noses. It's more intoxicating than anything he's had tonight. It tastes better than the most expensive soju he could think of.

“You -'' Hyunjin breathes out strangled syllables between sloppy drags of your tongue. He welcomes every searing lick into his mouth, prioritizing tasting you over speaking. “Wait.”

He pushes you back, forcing your lips off of his with a sloppy smack that draws Felix's attention from the other couch. “You're fucking wasted.” 

“I know what I'm doing.” You push his red sweater back off of his shoulders, exposing the bare skin underneath and he lets you. “I know what I want and it's you.”

“You're wasted, I'm fuckin wasted we can't - ‘m not gonna fuck you like this.”

You push his sweater down to his elbows and run your hands back up the newly exposed skin. Your hands travel down his stomach, running over the ribbed texture of his tank top before slipping underneath the fabric. 

“Aye, I'm not gonna -” 

“You don't have to.” You cut him off, rocking over him again to get him to calm down. “You don't have to fuck me tonight. Don't even have to kiss me again.”

Your nails scratch over his stomach, it's toned and soft to the touch. You run your hands over his chest, slowing your touch when you brush over his nipples. He squirms beneath you, his hands holding onto your forearms in a half minded attempt to stop you. 

“Just let me mark you up, yeah?” You lean into his neck, keeping your hands on his stomach under his top. “Let me claim you for later, is that okay, Hyunjinnie?”

He's nodding before he can even comprehend it. He's mumbling confirmations while the soju in his system seemingly evaporates under your touch. How could he say no? Your practically promising to fuck him later. 

“Hold still.” Your lips press to his neck right over his pulse. You can feel it pick up as you leave The sticky black mark behind. You place another kiss right under that one and then another and another. You trail marks over the side of his neck and down his shoulder. You make out with his bicep as you squeeze his sides under his shirt. 

“I can't - fuck, baby. I really like you kissin’ on me like that” You sit up, smiling at him with smeared black lipstick down your chin and smudging onto your cheeks. Hyunjin doesn't look Any better. His mouth is smudged in a mess of glossy red and black and his skin is stained with the color of you. 

“Your mouth is so pretty like that.” Hyunjin's hand cups the side of your face and smears more of the dark pigment over your cheeks. “I wanna take you right here. I wanna get you on your knees so badly.”

“You wanna fuck me right here?” You trail kisses down his wrist, pushing his sleeve up his arm to give you more canvas space. 

“Fuck, yes.” He kicks his head back in a moan. “Wanna see those pretty lips stretch over my cock.” 

“You think I can fit it all in my mouth?” You press down into him. “You feel so big.”

“You can take it, baby.” Your lips start marking up the other side of his neck now, pressing smudged kisses into his clean flesh. “I know you'll take it like such a good fucking girl, won't you? Gonna let me fuck this throat later? Gonna come over tomorrow and let me do everything I want to you.”

“I'll be a good girl for you. The best fuck you ever had.” His hand runs up the back of your neck, lacing in your hair and scratching at your scalp as you mark him. Kissing him dangerously close to his mouth and testing the ounce of self control he has left. 

“Oh, you will be. I know you will be, I've thought about you so much. I've thought about those lips and that cunt and just fucking ruining you.” Hyunjin is rambling. His deepest secret is spilling over the corners of his lips and soaking into you, you milk it all from him with a smile. 

It looks like leaving your lip gloss at his place worked after all. 

Please Like, Reblog or Comment to let me know how you liked it! It makes my day! 💕

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[nqify]

Ok sooooo crazy idea but I got it off wattpad😭🤚 what if reader was a Na’vi but not just and Na’vi Jake’s and Neytiri’s daughter, but Quaritch and reader meet and start sneaking around or something like that. It can be a short story or hc which ever you wanna do. Idk I feel like that would be interesting.

YOUR ONTO SOMETHING!!!! yall what if i made this a whole fic?? its so hot YUM!!

sneaking around.— miles quaritch ☆

pairing. na’vi!miles quaritch. sully!reader

warnings. girl everything.

note. okay so this idea is so hot I love it, I am really thinking about making this a fic what do yall think??

now sneaking out with miles is probably one of the bravest things you have ever done. Good job girl.

the first time yall ever met was when your dad, Jake caught him stealing his equipment. Of course that didn’t end well and he tied him up to a tree, thinking he’ll deal with him later. 

But oh, wasn’t he lucky. 

Struggling to get out of the rope, he had saw you, up in the trees staring down at him. and oh did he love it.

“why won’t you come down here pretty girl” he shouted up at you, smirking ear to ear. Girly I know you’re kicking your feet right now.

you stayed quiet to his demand, but oh was it tempting. His dark eyes and strong build caught your eye. Like yes dad I know he’s bad, but he’s so FINE!!! 

you slowly came down, feet hitting the ground. “Quaritch is it?” You spoke, coming close to the na’vi. “Spot on princess, aren’t you a smart thing” just for you daddy;)

Okay now you’re blushing fr like stop!!! “Need help?” You mocked. He nodded his head, “if you help me, I’ll give u something sweet” 

Now your back is arched, tail wrapped around his slutty waist and his hands are gripping to your hips - bucking into you. “Yeah you like that baby?” Miles groaned into your ear, leaning his body against your back. 

“f-fuck yes, yes!!” You cry out, grabbing the soil from the ground. Miles caught this and chuckled, what a bitch!!!! “Aren’t I so lucky baby? Helping a hopeless man like me and now letting me fuck your tight pussy” you only whined, face shoved into the wet grass. 

“fuck you love this don’t you? You love that anyone could see us, see you, all spread out for me? isn’t that right slut?” He grabbed your tail, pushing you further down on his cock. you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing but cries left your tongue. 

Miles had gripped your hair, pushing your body up and against his chest, “Cmon baby, tell me, tell me you love daddy fucking you like this” he growled in your ear. 

Your hand reached to his cheek, your eyes finally meeting, “f-fuck love it when you fuck me like this” HOT ASFF!!

after many times of him stuffing you, you couldn’t just stop seeing him?? Like girl, he’s BIG asf can’t let him go. 

There been multiple times were his in your room, eating your pretty pussy!! “mmm, fuck mama, look at this pussy, so wet for me” and you’d just cry out for him!!!

Or when you’d have to be quiet because your whole family was asleep. His big hand would be covering your mouth and OH FUCK!!! SIZE KINK!!!!

he’s rocking your shit, cock deep inside your pussy, making you roll your eyes back. “uh uh baby, you gotta be quiet for daddy yeah? Can you do that for me mama? keep that pretty mouth shut while I fuck your pussy mm?” yes daddy of course!!

or or when you say to dad your going to train out in the woods for a bit but instead ride quaritch like there is no tomorrow.

He’d be sitting against a tree while you were bouncing on top of him. His hands would be gripping your hips, slowly bucking into you. “Fuck, your so nasty baby, letting me fuck you like this while you lie to your dad” pussy is WET!! “shit what if he saw this, seeing me fuck his daughters tight little pussy huh? cmon baby, ride faster for me” SCREAMING!!! 

OROROORO when you NEARLY got caught!! It was night time, quaritch had snuck into your room and begged for a fuck. Like why so no? 

You were both under the covers, his body on top of yours, kissing you oh so slowly!! he was INTO IT this time!!! he was being soososos very gentle with you. Sliding his cock in and out of you whilst making eye contact….girl he’s in love. 

And fuck DID U LOVE IT!! “fuck fuck, baby, feels so good” you moaned, forgetting your whole family is HOME!!! then you heard a knock at your door; “babygirl, you alright?” Jake spoke. Fuck.

“Yes yes I’m fine dad, just started my period” you tried to play it off, “okay sweetheart, get some rest we’ve got a big day tomorrow” GIRL!!!

You looked at quaritch, “you’ve already got something big today” he chuckled. yeah girl he is HUNG!!

requests are open loves!!

[typewritingyip]

First! Get better soon you awesomesauce typewriting fellar!! treat yourself with some warm tea and some rest!

also for the Q/A thingie i got a few question if it doesnt bother u much!

what inspired you to start writing and how did you get here? (as in writing bangers for the TF fandom we love you man)

For arcturus: do you have like an ending or story in mind? do you have scrapped ideas for the ending? (and may we peek??)

On the Arcturus 3 snippet we got the confimation that no texaid is taking place, however do you have other ships planned/ what are the pairings within arcturus? looking at u with googly eyes rn 🥺

ty for reading :3

Thank you so much!

Okay, let’s go in order!

What inspired me to start writing and how did I get here?

I started writing in middle school, not long after I had a major surgery and was in a dire need of an outlet. I mean back then I was writing on my index cards for class and just trying to escape the hell I was living in.

As for how I got here, I graduated from college back in May and sorta realized I hadn’t posted fanfiction in years, I have a few old pieces up on this blog but certainly nothing like Arcturus. I needed an outlet again cause I was spending 99% of my time studying for the LSAT. I never gave up writing, just gave up on posting it for whatever reason. So when this AU came along my sister and I were talking about it, then I started to write things down before it became my beloved Arcturus. If it weren’t for @keferon I probably wouldn’t have posted for another few months cause at the time I was working on a 10 chapter TFA Rock Star AU, which I’ll get back to at some point. This just was so inspiring.

For Arcturus: Do I have an ending or story in mind? Do I have scrapped ideas for the ending?

So, yes, I have an ending in mind. I’ve had this ending in mind for a bit honestly and love it so much, I just hope you all do too. As for scrapped ideas, well.. originally I wanted Red Alert to be human, then forgot and had him show up. I went back to my outline and just about cried. But it’s fine, I’ve made adjustments.

(As for peeking, mayhaps… I do a lot of stuff that I alter to a document in my commonplace book with other characters/my OC to get the ideas moving so maybe.)

Do I have other ships planned/what are my pairs in Arcturus?

Alright, I actually do have TexAid in this. So, the crew of Arcturus One does not know that First Aid is piloting suit 11, and the Arcturus universe of this AU, they’ve taken to calling that suit Vortex just cause he was such a famous pilot and they all know something isn’t quiet normal with that suit or those first generation pilots (they’d all be in their late 40’s early 50’s rn, so Swindle is maybe 46?). First Aid is pilot 3113, he was originally in Arcee’s spot for Arcturus 3 but I personally think that the eating the alien episode happened right before the announcement and things were moved around while he gets a psych evaluation done and the suit is cleaned. TexAid is canon to this AU even if I don’t know the characters well, I hope to understand them more by the time I write stuff for Arcturus 5.

Other ships? Now that’s where I’m having a blast. The obvious ones are Mirage/Hound, Knockout/Breakdown, Jazz/Prowl (they already are dating, just don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable), and Sunstreaker/Bluestreak for sure (maybe Sideswipe too but I’m still debating on how I want to do that/handle that.. idk yet.) We have background MegOp because it’s just a favorite of mine.

Then, we have Arcturus 3, Ratchet/Drift is just, *chefs kiss* to me, so that is happening but at the moment Deadlock is heavily pinning and Ratchet is oblivious. Honestly, most of Arcturus 3 is completely oblivious and I love that for them.

I plan to have other ships, but I think I’m going to hold those cards to my chest, for now.

Thank you so much for your questions! 💜

[stinkypeanutbutter]

silly Aiden headcanons because I have no impulse

i probably already done these before in other headcanon posts I made but ermm I’ll do it again 😹

small TW for scars at the end 🗣🗣

AIDEN :

Aiden has the most unhinged playlist ever like oh my giggly goodness we got metal we got rock we got classic we got indie we got pop we got vocaloid Idfk whatever you can think of ( same 😹 )

totally had an immense phase of just everything . Creepy pasta , animation , FNAF , idk any other phases from 2016 help

Probably dated like once or twice , but they weren’t serious at ALL and mostly online . He just said yes because he wanted to be nice since he never really had friends ofc , so why hurt someone you barley know if it means getting a friend ? ( I’m gonna explode 😭 )

I’m not sure when this was actually invented , but he’d probably try and convince everyone to make battery acid candy drinks . ( they all say no 😔 )

Sorta sad headcanon they if no matter how hard to tries to solve a difficult puzzle , and he fails , he just starts silently bawling his eyes out . Cause you know he’s really good at them right ? He can solve them pretty quickly ? So if he’s like absolutely pressured by a bunch of people watching expecting him to win ( or like his friends cause yk they believe in him !!!! ) and he can’t solve the puzzle he’ll be like “ why can’t I solve this why is this hard why am I failing “ or something and then start crying ig ( Yeouchers angst 😿 )

Bro is the heaviest napper ever you can stack things on him for HOURS but the moment he actually sleeps most things can wake him ( if he’s not comfortable at least . He’ll sleep pretty well at sleepovers )

I can’t figure out an art style for him but I updated it so ignore that last drawing it’s grody anyway he sometimes draws people but prefers just random splotches of color . He has extremely stylized art but yk , it’s just ‘ weird ’ according to some people since it’s really . . graphic . Not in a BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD way but very mixed ( if you get what I mean )

Hugs everything when he sleeps you can’t tell me otherwise like you seen his old bed ?? He had NOTHIN so absolutely is he gonna cuddle everything near him

Hates competing . ( idk if he did it before but we’ll see ) like he doesn’t like doing puzzle competitions anymore that much , he just got bored of it and was really kinda forced to do it when he was younger . BUT if it’s in a game against his friends , he’ll probably do it just to help them out cause they always get stuck if Logan can’t figure it out either .

Does that thing with music where If it absolutely hits he just starts spazzing out and dances to it

that one thing where he walks around in a circle talking to himself if he’s really deep in thought ( he could go on for hours so someone has to pull him out to drink water at least )

TONS of posters in his room

Him and Taylor binge shows together , often ask the others to join when they aren’t busy . They totally watch anime ( Tyler calls it childish then gets really invested in uhhhh let’s say full metal alchemist and sport animes like haikyuu or something I can’t think of any he’d like . But I’m gonna make them all watch Ghost stories because it’s funny )

Aidlyn cuddling is mostly done at Aidens house cause his parents rarely go up to check on him ( 😅💥 ) and also he had a ton of blankets for Ashlyn to wrap herself in . He got her a heavy weighted blanket for her birthday one time so when that’s not around she just uses Aiden as a blanket if she’s feeling affectionate ( he’s warm in the winter time and pretty light believe it or not )

Has a medium spice tolerance , eats more then what he can handle like a stinky loser

doesn’t like anyone pointing out his growing hair roots so just don’t talk about it much 😅😅

steals chopsticks from restaurants cause who needs to buy any ??? They’re free if you don’t get caught / hj

sometimes just locks himself up in his room and lays in his bed thinking about life

LOVES drawing his friends ( especially Ash ) in his free time because he rarely draws in front of people , and will make an airplane out of it to throw it over to them . But he has that mentality where “ Everyrhing I make kinda sucks “ so expect to find doodles in the trash or hidden in his room

IPad kid , can’t tel me otherwise .

Loves hover boarding but he kinda sucks at it so he just 🧍🕺☠️ ( falls )

Will ram into everyone in bumper cars , almost sent someone flying ( Lilly , he bought her candy as a sorry )

rarely catches cavities because he actually has really strong teeth and willingly bites down on hard candies ( I do the same thing because I’m impatient 😹 )

Does all his school work at home cause school has too many distractions ( real )

Buys like body foundation to smear onto his legs and arms . He doesn’t want anyone to point out them out , and if they do he just tells them their from skateboarding . It can come off after a few days if he doesn’t reapply , but it’s fine since he does it again in between and would have to reapply anyway . Idk how it works 😿

Anyway who shall I do next ????? Put your answers in the comment section below subscribe like and support my Patreon see you in the next video 😹😹😹☝️☝️💥💥

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

╰┈➤ i won’t sleep till you’re safe inside.

Pairing: Pavitr Prabhakar x Sister!Reader (platonic obviously)

Type: Fanfic - Fluff -> Angst

Word count: 8.5k (🫢🤯)

Warnings: NOT CANON-COMPLIANT! (I’ll make a list of everything that’s probably not canon but is for this fic) colour-coordinated dialogues to make it easier to understand who’s talking, starts out fluffy but evolves into angst, cussing, reader is desi, usage of Hindi (translations given, except for the Sheila Ki Jawani song), hahaha culturedumping & projection go hand in hand 😭

Some Goldenmodel (is that their official ship name??) too! (pls they’re literally so cute 🫠🫠)

A/N: Basically where Pavi loses his sister instead of Gayathri :D

The numbers at the top of every section indicate Pavitr and the reader’s age respectively (reader is older than Pavi) :)

Andddd the Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar hc continues 😁

Probably (Definitely) Non-Canon List:

-reader’s existence basically since she’s the daughter of Maya Aunty and Uncle Bhim (so she’s not technically his sister she’s his cousin but close enough!)

-I actually have NO idea how Pavi’s parents died or anything abt them so I’m basically making stuff up hehe

-Reader also gets the scholarship to Mumbattan that Pavitr got, but for a different subject

-kinda waffling on Bhim’s death since I’ve never actually read the comic where he died so idk much of anything

-Reader helps Pavi make his webshooters (kinda)

-Pav may be a teensy bit ooc I apologize for that

-there’s probably a lot more but none I can pinpoint specifically right now

(this is the song that Pav sings btw)

title inspo:

Will you call me to tell me you’re alright?

Cause I worry about you the whole night

Don’t repeat my mistakes

I won’t sleep till you’re safe inside

(Safe Inside, James Arthur)

——— ———

4 & 6.

“Didi!”

You stifled a giggle, peeking out from behind the tree you were hiding behind to see the tiny boy scrambling over rocks and protruding tree roots, his eyes squinted in concentration as he searched for you.

“Come out, come out wherever you- ai!” He cut himself off with a sharp squeal of surprise, stumbling backwards as you leaped out and bared your teeth like the demonic rakshasas that seem to lunge right off the pages of your mother’s - Pavitr’s aunt’s - mythology books.

“Not fair,” Pavitr complained, glaring up at you and crossing his arms. His nose scrunched at the injustice and you laughed, sticking your tongue out at him and ruffling his hair.

“Totally fair.”

“Nahin! Pura cheating! Didi, tum hamesha dhokha deti ho!” (No! Fully cheating! You always cheat!)

“Oy, Pavi, main kaise dhokha de rahi hai? What nonsense you’re talking.” (How am I cheating?)

“I’m telling Maya Aunty that you’re being mean to me.”

“Wait-”

“Arrey, both of you stop squabbling and come up here,” Maya Aunty’s voice carried down into the lawn from the veranda as she poked her head out of the kitchen. “I made gajar ka halwa. Come eat before Bhim gets back and finishes everything.”

Pavitr’s eyes lit up at the mention of the carrot dessert, all earlier frustrations forgotten for the moment. “Race you!” He turned and darted across the lawn, his hair bobbing as he kicked up clouds of dirt under his shoes.

“Pavi, how is this fair?!”

——— ———

6 & 8.

“Didi! Checkmate! I win!”

“Ai, Pavi, that’s not… chess doesn’t work like…” He turned to you with big, shining eyes, grinning from ear to ear because he thought he had won. You trailed off with a resigned sigh, not having the heart to tell him that he had just got his own king killed.

“Wow, Pavi, you’re getting so good at this! You’re a natural!” You ruffled his hair affectionately, despite his protests and attempts to fight you off.

“Y/N! Yahaan aao!” (Come here)

You immediately perked up, eyebrows drawing together as you heard your mother’s voice, only… something was off. She sounded like she was holding back tears, the beginnings of a raw sob lingering in her throat.

“Haan, Amma? Kya hua?” (Yes? What happened?) (Amma/Maa just means mother)

She sat hunched next to the balcony, a phone in her slack grip. Your father - Pavitr’s Uncle Bhim - knelt with his back to you, holding her and rubbing her shoulders comfortingly. Tears fell from her eyes and the only sounds that split the air were her jagged heaves between soft sniffles.

“Amma? Papa, what happened to Amma?” Unease twisted in your stomach, knitting your eyebrows closer together as you moved forward and grasped your mother’s hand.

Your father turned to look at you and you inhaled sharply.

That was the first time you had ever seen your father cry.

“Pavitr’s parents were involved in an accident,” He struggled to keep his tone even for you.

“An accident? You mean…”

“Yes, beta. They’re… they’re gone.”

Your breath hitched and you backed away slightly, steadying yourself against the wall behind you.

You didn’t know much about what happened - and it would probably stay like that since you were ‘too young to bother yourself with the worries of the adult world - but you knew one thing for sure.

This is going to break Pavi.

I can’t let that happen.

You heard soft patters of bare feet on the marble floors and looked up just as Pavitr’s dark hair disappeared to the side of the doorframe.

Not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down mid-speech, you got up and left without a word, patting your mother’s hand sympathetically on the way.

You found Pavitr sitting against the tree you used to play hide and seek around. He pulled his knees to his chest, resting his forehead on his kneecaps and raising his head when you approached. “What happened, Didi?”

You grasped at words that would help convey it, but to no avail. How could you tell a 6 year old - one who was essentially a brother to you now - that his parents had died?

You had two ways out.

…I should tell him.

“Pavi… Maya Aunty will explain, but… basically, you’re going to be spending a lot more time with us - with me. How does that sound?”

Pavitr grinned, his eyes shining - and of course he had to look like a trusting puppy. Of course it had to make you feel guilty the moment those words, a romanticized version of the truth, left your lips.

“That sounds awesome,” He said happily, half-turning to wrap his arms snugly around your waist in a hug. “We’ll have so much fun! You can finally teach me how to play kancha and lagori like you’ve been wanting to! Right, Didi?”

“…yeah. You’re right.” You leaned down to kiss the top of his head as he nestled comfortably against your side, the strands of hair tickling your chin as you rested your head on his. You felt tears starting to well up as the depth of the situation hit you at full force.

Kaayar. Coward.

——— ———

9 & 11.

“Didi!”

You looked up from your schoolwork as Pavitr burst into your room. “What’s going on?”

“Maya Aunty said there’s some sort of… scholarship? They said we have to go to Mumbattan!” Your eyes shot wide open and you pushed your chair back from your desk to follow him into the kitchen. What scholarship? Mumbattan?

Maya Aunty had told you both that she had submitted samples of your writing and a few of Pavitr’s blueprints for futuristic designs he had come up with for various robotics competitions, but… you never thought the entry would ever amount to anything.

“Amma, Papa, yeh sach hai? Did we get a scholarship to Mumbattan?” (Is this true?)

“Haan, beta.” Your mother looked slightly tired, weary - but ultimately happy. The happiest you had seen her in quite a while. Your father patted your head affectionately, a large smile on his face. “Well done, both of you. Mere champions.” (My champions)

The moment dissipated like it was never there in the first place when Maya Aunty’s eyebrows scrunched together with worry once more as she turned to Uncle Bhim. “Arrey, Bhim. Hum kaise kharch uthayenge? Mumbattan mei, woh kiraaya-” (How will we afford this? The rent in Mumbattan-)

The moment you heard those words, you let out a soft exhale and took Pavitr’s hand, gently tugging on it and leading him away from the ‘adult’ conversation. By now, you were almost conditioned to do your best to avoid conversations that always got your parents stressed out and sometimes led to frustrated breakdowns which simmered into tearful apologies and doubtful plans.

“Let’s go play kancha, Pavi. I’ll even let you start this time.”

You ran out onto the lawn with him, your hand holding onto his smaller one tightly as if you could protect him from all the harm and sadness and worry that the world had to offer.

——— ———

11 & 13.

“Didi!”

“Don’t didi me. You agreed to this, remember? You brought this upon yourself,” You said between giggles that got increasingly louder at how ridiculous he looked.

Maya Aunty and Bhim Uncle were both out buying groceries, and Pavitr was so bored that he accepted your challenge to see who could balance more than five stones on their forehead. And if he lost, you would get to do his hair and makeup.

That was why he was currently sitting in front of you, bright pink eyeshadow on both his eyelids and wearing the brightest red lipstick you could find. He winced in pain, loudly protesting every two seconds as you tried to put his wavy hair into a Dutch braid. He had let it grow out over the past few months, and at the rate he was going, if he left it for even a little while more it’d be longer than yours.

“You need a haircut, Pavi. I think you might be getting split ends…” You couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression of pure horror that crossed his face at your words, which quickly turned to annoyance. “Shut up, you’re just saying that because you’re jealous- ow!”

“Whoops.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“Did not.” You looped a rubber band onto the ends of the braid, finally finishing and tilting your head to critically examine your handiwork. “There, you’re all done.”

Pavitr glanced at his reflection in the compact mirror you offered him. “Wait, I don’t look that bad. I can pull this off pretty well, actually.”

“Sure you can, sweetie. Let’s do your nails now.”

“You’re the absolute worst.”

——— ———

12 & 14.

“Didi! Rise and shine!”

You groaned softly, turning over onto your side. “Get out.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet and definitely not a prime example of you being mean to your younger brother. Seriously though, we have to get going soon for school.” He expertly dodged the spare pillow you threw at him, deciding to kneel by your bedside and stare you in the eyes like some psychotic cat.

“Not everyone’s a morning person, Pavi. Besides, it’s 6 in the damn morning. Come back in another hour.”

Pavitr didn’t respond, just started humming a tune and tapping out a familiar beat on your bedside table, using two pencils from your desk’s mug of stationery as makeshift drumsticks.

“I know you want it but you’re never gonna get it, tere haath kabhi na aani…”

Your eyes shot open as you recognized the song. “No, Pavi, I swear to God-”

“Maane na maane koi duniya yeh saari, mere ishq ki hai deewani…” Stifling laughter, he backed out of range before you could smack some sense into him with another pillow.

“Pavitr! Stop!” You chucked a pillow at him, sitting up and staring at him in utter astonishment at his song choices.

“Kisi aur ki mujhko zaroorat kya, main toh khud se pyaar jataun! What’s my name, what’s my name, what’s my name…?”

“Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar, if you don’t stop singing that song right now-” You lunged forward, trying to grab him and muffle the lyrics of the Bollywood song he was singing - granted, he wasn’t a terrible singer, and in fact he could sing in Hindi quite well, but out of every song he could’ve chosen… this? “By the way, you missed a few lines, but that’s not the point! Stop it!”

“My name is Sheila! Sheila ki jawani! I’m too sexy for you, mei tere hath na aani-”

Chaos ensued in the next few seconds. Pavitr, who had been running around your room doing whatever choreography he could remember from the scene with that particular song in the movie you had both watched, tripped on the fallen pillow and fell flat on his face.

You had been chasing him around and tripped over him, rolling over and landing beside him. Luckily, you managed to break your fall with your palms.

“How’d the ground taste, hmm?” You asked, offering a hand to help him up.

“You’re mean,” Pavitr complained, taking your hand and pulling himself up. You fixed his slightly ruffled hair, a little surprised at how soft it was. Was he already going through the phase of being obsessed with how he looked?

“Yeah, well. You’re in my room at 6 am singing one of the sluttiest Bollywood songs you know, so… you’ll live, buttercup.” You gave his head a rough pat, turning to reluctantly make your bed - might as well, since you were already awake - as he hovered over your shoulder with a grin.

“But hey, it did get you up, didn’t it?”

——— ———

13 & 15.

��Didi! Where are you? I need to tell you something!”

“…I don’t understand. What are you saying?” You felt so paralyzed that you didn’t even register your brother’s voice. Instead you stared at the person you thought was your boyfriend, dangerously quiet. The calm before the storm. He shifted uncomfortably, fiddling with his sleeve and clearing his throat.

“Um, I think we should break up. I’ve kind of been… seeing another girl. Shreya.”

You were careful to keep your expression neutral, crossing your arms to prevent you from worrying at your nails. “For how long?”

“Uh, I-”

“How. Long. It’s a simple question.”

“Five months.”

“Son of a bitch.” You kept your voice low, sweeping a hand towards the door. “The exit’s there. Leave.”

“Listen, I’m really-”

“Get out. I’m serious. Get the fuck out of here before I make you do so.”

He stopped and stared at you for a few seconds, realizing just how angry you were.

“Okay. Well, it was… good seeing you, I guess. I hope you-”

“Didi?”

This time you heard Pavitr call you, soft hesitancy in his voice that carried into the room from the other side of the door. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, Pavi, I’m fine. You can come in.” You covered the cracks in the screens of overly pleasant tones that you layered over your voice so as to make sure he didn’t worry.

He quickly entered your room, and from the way he glared daggers at your now-ex-boyfriend you assumed he had heard everything - or at least, a large chunk of the conversation.

“Hey there, buddy.”

He had the nerve to smile and hold his knuckles out for a fist bump. Truth be told, you felt a sort of bitter satisfaction when Pavitr just glared up at him and didn’t bother lifting his hand to return it.

“Fuck off.”

“What?”

His eyes widened slightly and traveled from the harsh scowl fixed on Pavitr’s face to your dangerously calm demeanour.

“You heard him, didn’t you?”

“I… yeah. I’m going. See you around.”

You followed him with your eyes as he inched toward the door, shutting it behind him.

The moment he left, your unbothered façade cracked and splintered into pieces. You moved yourself to sit on your bed, slipping the covers over your legs. “Thank you,” You murmured to Pavitr, closing your eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears threatening to spill. He came over to sit beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“Mat rouoh didi. Hum ek movie dekhenge?” (Don’t cry didi. Wanna watch a movie?)

“Haan, please. As long as it’s not Tees Maar Khan, I am not watching that again with you. I’ve had enough of that Sheila ki Jawani. Wait, Pavi, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

“…that’s not important right now, don’t worry about it.”

You didn’t notice him anxiously trying to peel off the edge of the blanket that was stubbornly sticking to the pads of fingers.

——— ———

A week later.

It had happened so suddenly. No one seemed to know anything.

Well, except the fact that your father had died somehow.

I know we fought a lot more in… in the end, but I love you. I always have and I always will, Papa. You made me who I am today, you taught me to know my own worth and accept no less. Believe me, I think about it every day. If you were here I’d tell you.

You wished you could say that out loud, to offer everyone present a window into your thoughts to prove you weren’t just an angsty teenager - or a family disappointment, which a few aunties seemed to believe by the way they were whispering and shooting overly sympathetic looks your way which were quickly followed up by hushed giggles.

But instead you kept your head down and used what little energy you could muster to give a nod of acknowledgement every time a distant relative - even ones you hadn’t seen since you were a baby - popped up in your face to console you.

“Where’s Pavitr? Did he come to the antyesti?” You jumped; you hadn’t noticed your mother hovering beside you until she laid a light hand on your shoulder. She seemed to move around like a spectre; dressed completely in a simple white salwaar kameez with a long white shawl wrapped around her in such a way that it obscured both her arms and her hair, along with part of her face.

“No, I don’t think so - at least, I haven’t seen him.” You looked over her shoulder at the priests starting to get everything prepared for the ceremony and searched the crowds of vaguely familiar people.

Where the hell is he?

Getting the priests to agree to Pavitr - who wasn’t exactly Bhim’s son but the closest thing to it - leading the rituals was hard enough. But then again, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice, did they? You couldn’t exactly do it - the rituals of an antyesti were to be performed by the eldest son. Or the priests themselves, if he couldn’t do it for any reason. Never a woman.

You and Maya Aunty weren’t allowed to do anything except watch and pray.

And now if Pavitr didn’t show up in time-

Thwip! Thwip!

You frowned and shook your head slightly, wondering what the source of that noise was. Oh, well, probably just a pesky mosquito buzzing in your ear.

“Didi, Maya Aunty, I am so, so sorry that I’m late. Did they start already?” You jumped again in surprise - what was it with people sneaking up behind you today? You took in Pavitr’s crisp white dhoti and neatly styled hair, and for a second you couldn’t decide whether to hug him or punch him in the face.

“I’ll tell you everything later, didi. Pinky promise,” Pavitr murmured to you, offering his pinky to you. You linked your little finger with his, looking into his eyes as concern bubbled up to mix with the hurricane of emotions already clamouring for attention in your brain.

He had horrible bags under his eyes, like he hadn’t slept properly in a week. And when you gently squeezed his pinky, his breath hitched as if he was in pain and he drew his hand back after a few seconds. You blinked in confusion, getting a brief glimpse of painful-looking faint purple splotches all along his hand and the underside of his arm. They looked like bruises that had been poorly covered up by foundation that was almost three shades too light for his skin, but before you could say anything he turned to make his way through the crowd.

“Pavi-” You started to ask what was going on, what happened, what was wrong, but he just shook his head, angling his chin toward the priests waiting patiently for him.

“Badh mein, didi. Antyesti ke badh.” (Later. After the antyesti)

——— ———

After the ceremony.

“Pavitr Prabhakar, if you don’t tell me what’s going on-” You came face-to-face with one of your more distant aunties, who immediately lit up excitedly in a way that was probably not suited for a cremation ceremony as soon as she recognized you.

“Arrey, beta! You’ve grown so much! How old are you now? You still sing, no? Kya aapne college ke bare socha hain?” (Have you thought/started thinking about college?)

“Haha… hi, aunty… no, aunty… no, I haven’t thought about college yet… have you seen Pavitr anywhere? I need to find him and it’s really urgent but… oh, uh… yes, of course, I would love to catch up over chai sometime. Sure, we should plan that - oh, sorry, bye! Tell my mother that I’ve gone to look for Pavitr, okay? Thank you!”

Seizing the opportunity that presented itself in the form of another aunty who came waddling over to greet the first one, you squeezed through the crowd of people in sarees and dupattas, some milling about and some dispersing, all accompanied by the almost suffocating smell of jasmine. God, did everyone use the same horrible perfume?

Luckily for you, the antyesti was held fairly close to your house - on a large terrace that was only about a 15 minute walk away.

You got to the front door and fumbled with the set of keys in your pocket for a second, your fingers shaking slightly as the shock and grief began to set in. Adrenaline could only take you so far, it seemed.

“Pavi? Pavi, I’m home, where-”

You opened the door to your room and inhaled sharply at the sight that lay before you. Pavitr leaned against your bed, sitting on the floor with his knees hugged close to his chest, chin resting on his kneecaps. His eyes were squeezed shut, eyelashes fluttering as tears slipped out one after another from underneath them.

“Pavi…? Oh, Pavi, mera chhoti bhai, kya hua? Kisi ne… tumhein chot pahunchaee?” (My little brother, what happened? Did… someone hurt you?) You scooted closer to Pavitr, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and drawing him into your side. He buried his face in your shoulder, tears soaking through the thin fabric of the kurta you were wearing.

“Shh. Sab theek ho jayega. Mujhe batao, Pavi. Kya hua?” (Everything’s okay. Tell me, what happened?)

“I’m Spider-Man.”

You blinked in surprise. Out of all the possible explanations he could have offered you, that was certainly not on your list. “Spider-Man? Matlab… the superhero?” (Matlab means meaning)

The hero had emerged only a week ago. Wearing an intricately patterned mask that left his wavy hair loose at the top, a blue-and-red spandex suit and blue dhoti pants on top of them, he was basically impossible to ignore. You had seen some key similarities between Spider-Man and Pav’s hair, but you had always just assumed it was related to how boys cut their hair like their idols sometimes.

“Chacha died because of Spider-Man. Because of me. He got caught in the crossfire and I couldn’t reach him in time and-” Pavitr’s words spilled together in a panicked haze, blurring each syllable and tripping over letters in an attempt to get them out before he could break again. (Chacha is another word for uncle)

You shifted to face him, wrapping him in a tight hug. “Shaant ho jao. Main yahaan hoon. Main kaheen nahin ja raha hoon.” (Calm down. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere)

“I can’t-” His breath quickened as his whole body started to heave with dry sobs. “Please just… just listen to me. This is what I wanted to tell you last week. I’m Spider-Man.”

He mistook your silence as a sign of disbelief and carried on speaking, trying to convince you. “There were these bullies I was running from, and I tripped and fell into a tree hollow and there was this yogi who said he’d give me the powers of a spider to fight the evil in this world, and I didn’t know it would turn out like this so I accepted and-”

“I believe you.”

That caught him off guard. He pulled back to look at you, his eyes wide. “You do?”

“Of course. You think I haven’t noticed you sticking to everything? You almost ripped the couch’s upholstery clean off because you weren’t paying attention.” You gently swiped your thumb near the corner of his eye, wiping away the tear that was at risk of spilling out. “It’s okay, Pavi. Let’s.. talk about something else for the moment.”

As much as you wanted answers - how exactly had your father died? Which sick, twisted, psychotic ‘villain’ killed him? - you knew when to stop pushing Pavitr and now was definitely that time. Tears still shone in the corners of his brown eyes, not quite ready to fall but not small enough to be blinked away.

“Spiderwebs!”

“What?”

“You need spiderwebs, naa? So you can swing like a spider instead of leaping around and relying on sticking to whatever surface you can reach. Ooh, it’d be so cool if you could shoot them from your hands and lasso bad guys and when they fight back you go dishoom dishoom.” (dishoom is basically just a sound effect for beating someone up 😭 usually punching someone)

“… you mean webshooters?” Pavitr watched your emphatic display of just what dishoom dishoom meant to you with a mildly concerned look on his face before he took a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket and smoothed it out. It was filled with designs for some sort of gadget, the sharp, jagged pencil lines highlighting every feature and listing possible building processes.

“I’ve done some research and I’ve got everything, so I know how to make it. But I need something that can contract if I wrap a web around it… kind of like a yo-yo? But it also has to fit on my wrist so that it’s easy for me to angle where I want the web to go.” He absentmindedly tapped the pencil against the silver bangle you were wearing. The soft clinks gave you an idea and you quickly got up, going to your dresser and rummaging around in the drawers.

“Wait, I think I might have something that’ll work…”

Your fingers closed around what you were looking for and you fished it out. You held two large golden cuffs in your hands, but they weren’t regular heavy cuffs. The top and bottom were actually two separate pieces, joined together in the middle by a stretchy piece of white nylon that went all the way around.

Just looking at it made your heart ache a little as all the memories associated with the simple accessory came flooding back.

Your father had given it to you a few Diwalis ago, when you were throwing a tantrum about having to wear the large bangles to go to with the itchy salwar you had on - against your wishes, of course. But your mother warned you that her mother was a stickler for traditions and insisted on everyone wearing the most colourful ethnic wear you all had, including Pavi.

Your father had slid one of the cuffs onto your right wrist, laughing gently at your surprise look when you discovered how light they were, a stark contrast to the gold bangles that weighed down your other wrist.

“Compromise paaya, hain na?” (We’ve found a compromise, right?)

“Haan, papa.”

Now, more than eight years later, you held one of the last things you had left to keep your father’s memory alive.

And what better way to honour him than to use his kaadas to fight evil and protect the city?

“Use these.”

Pavitr looked up and immediately shook his head, gently pushing away your outstretched hands. “No, didi, I can’t- this is what Uncle gave you-”

“I know. He gave them to me as a gift. And now I’m passing them down to you. Please, Pavi. Take them.” You took his hands, pressing the kaadas into his palms and closing his fingers over them.

Something in your tone made him search your gaze for a few seconds before giving in and bringing the cuffs up to his eyes, testing out the nylon middle. “Wait, this is perfect. If I can just…”

He reached into the depths of one of your drawers and pulled out a small device that looked like it had some sort of fluid sloshing around in its… fuel container, maybe? You furrowed your brow in surprise. “Has that always been there? In my cupboard?”

“Well, yeah. Can’t have Maya Aunty accidentally pulling it out of mine, can we?” He gave you a grin. “Besides, you have so many things stuffed into that one drawer that it’s basically impossible to find.”

He attached the device to the inside of the cuff with a small click and slipped it onto his wrist.

Thwip! Thwip!

With two tiny flicks of his wrist, he had shot two webs to the ceiling and was now hanging upside down, a satisfied grin on his face.

“Well, this is working pretty well-”

Thud.

“Don’t you dare,” Pavitr warned you as he winced and rubbed the spot where he had fallen on his backside.

“I will not laugh. I will not laugh. I will not-”

You couldn’t help but burst into giggles at his mildly pathetic sad-puppy expression as he sat dejectedly on the floor after falling from the ceiling.

“So, uh… the web strength may need some work.”

“Everybody, this is Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar, Mumbattan’s Spider-Man.” You pretend to speak into an imaginary microphone, gesturing animatedly towards Pav as he lay on the floor.

“Oh, sure, announce it to the whole world, why don’t you,” He grumbled, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet.

You gave him an overly sweet smile, leaning over to mess up his hair. “Never. I’m gonna take this secret with me to my grave.”

——— ———

14 & 16.

6 months really went by quickly.

6 months of monthly poojas to honour your deceased father. 6 months of Pavitr being Spider-Man. And also…

“Didi! Why isn’t my hair staying down?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because that bad guy threw you into an electricity tower? Pavi, why are you dressing up all of a sudden anyway?” You sat on the floor of your room as you skeptically watched him brush out his hair. He had insisted that your mirror was big enough and ‘had the best lighting’.

He stayed silent, though you could see him scrunch his nose a little in embarrassment. The realization hit you and you let out a loud - maybe overly dramatic - gasp.

“Oh my god! You have a date!”

“…maybe. So?”

“So that means I get to meet and terrorize them! You know, sibling stuff!”

Pavitr froze for a split second, a small smile starting to form in the corner of his mouth at the last part. Siblings. In all honesty, didn’t that word describe the bond you both shared almost perfectly? Siblings - not by blood, but by something so much bigger than either of you could’ve imagined.

“Absolutely not. Gayatri’s-”

“Gayatri? Is she Punjabi? Ooh, is she pretty? Is she really badass and cool and-”

“She’s a model,” Pavitr interrupted, smoothing down his hair and glaring at you. “And this isn’t my first date with her. Just for the record.”

“Wow, and she’s your age? Damn, Pavi, you managed to pull a model! I’m so proud of you right now.”

“I will strangle you if you don’t stop talking,” Pavitr grumbled, punching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not saying anything bad!”

“Sure you ar-” Pavitr stopped mid-sentence and stiffened, craning his neck and glancing out the window over his shoulder like a cat that had heard something strange. “Wait, someone’s here. Gotta go!”

He dashed into the bathroom and came out two seconds later, fully decked out in his spider suit and mask.

“Don’t get your ass kicked!” You called out as he nose-dived out the window.

“Ha, ha! Very funny!”

——— ———

10 minutes later.

“Pavitr, what the hell?!” You leaped backwards as a strange sort of alien materialized in your room for a split second before they disappeared into a black hole-like void, followed by a… Spider-Man? Not Pav. This one was taller and his suit was red and black, and oh God, was he bleeding from his armpits?

You were tempted to offer him a few cotton wipes and something to clean the wound but he disappeared in after the weird teleporting alien before you could ask.

Pavitr came crashing in through your window, landing on the floor and glancing around. “What? I thought they came here-”

“Really?! Now you show up? I’ve just had some sort of cow-man and a new Spider-Man teleport into my room through a pit and-” You stopped short as another Spider-Man landed on the floor. Except… Spider-Woman? She wore a suit in the shape of a white-and-black ballet leotard and had a hood with web designs on the inside.

“Pavitr, is… this Gayatri?” You tried to wrap your head around the fact that there were three different types of Spider-People and a cow on the wrong side of evolution who had just phased through your house. “Oh, hi, Gayatri, I’ve heard so much about you. Pavi thinks you’re really classy and cool and you’re the prettiest girl alive and-”

Pavitr webbed a pillow and swung it into your face before you could finish, temporarily shutting you up. “Didi, this… this isn’t Gayatri.” Despite his face being covered by his mask, you could tell from his tone that he was embarrassed out of his wits. “This is, uh… this is Gwen. She’s a Spider-Woman. Look, it’s hard to explain, but they’re all from different universes and I think the New Guy’s in love with Gwen, so we gotta go save their romance before it shatters. Bye!”

He leaped out the window again, followed by Gwen - who was stuttering and tripping over her words trying to form a plausible denial for his last statement.

Never a dull day in Mumbattan, I guess.

——— ———

5 minutes after that ordeal.

“Arrey, your chai is getting cold. Drink fast, no?”

“Haan, Amma. Ek second.” (One second) You moved away from where you were hovering near the window. As much as Pavitr reassured you that he was okay, that being Spider-Man was easy now - you still remembered having to disinfect wounds and ice bruises and watch him hiss and crinkle his face up in pain every time you wiped a tissue soaked in Dettol along his cuts.

Maybe those were only fairly harmless flesh wounds, but what kept you up at night was the worry that one day it might turn into something worse.

“I’m drinking it,” You said defensively and sat down as Maya Aunty lifted an eyebrow at you over her own mug. Just as you sat down the whole ground seemed to shake, a horrible din filling the air, screams and the sound of rubble falling mingling together in the cacophony.

“Oh, someone blew down Alchemax,” said Maya Aunty once the noise died down. With a small shake of her head, she casually returned to her chai as if this sort of thing happened almost every day.

“What an idiot.” You glanced out the window, squinting into the distance and widening your eyes as your eyes snagged on a flash of vibrant fabric flying through the air, just barely visible through the pieces of flying rubble.

Oh, fuck, that’s my idiot.

——— ———

You figured the easiest and fastest way to get near Alchemax was to take the bus. After all, those bus drivers had basically decided long ago that they were above the rules of the traffic. They honestly didn’t give a damn about the speed limits and you respected that.

“Hi, Y/N!” You turned at your name, tilting your head curiously because you didn’t recognise the voice.

You found yourself looking at someone who looked oddly familiar, you just couldn’t place it - until you glanced briefly out the window and saw a Zomato billboard. Of course if had to be her, how else would she know your name?

“Oh, are you Gayatri? Hi! It’s so nice to meet you, I’ve heard so much about you from Pavi.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, and likewi-“

The bus swerved sharply and you, Gayatri and more than half of the people who weren’t holding onto the railings were slammed against the back window before the bus started to tilt forward. You blinked away stars for a few seconds as the wind was knocked out of you.

When you regained your vision you let out a yelp of surprise. Someone yelled “Fuck!” right next to you, followed by a string of unrepeatable Marathi cusswords - while also listing out gods and praying to them that they’d make it out alive - and you could understand why.

Some dumbass - or maybe a large piece of rubble - had ripped a hole in the middle of the fucking Mumbattan Bridge. The whole bus was falling right into that hole, and unfortunately the bus driver’s magical ability to fly straight over potholes seemed to have evaded him right now, judging by the fact that he was currently contributing to the chorus of terrified screams.

“Hold on!” Gayatri caught your forearm right as your grip on the flimsy side railing was loosening and pulled you up to latch onto the railing at the back. Good lord, was this girl strong. You decided right then and there that you definitely liked her.

You saw Pavitr stop mid-swing and turn around, his mask’s eyes widening as he saw both of you pounding relentlessly on the back bus window in the hopes that it would break in time.

He shot a web that stuck to the back of the bus, tipping it almost vertically as he held onto one of the bridge supports. His eyes narrowed with effort as he struggled to hold onto the deceptively delicate-looking silky tendrils.

You silently thanked whatever higher power existed for the time when Pavitr fell from the ceiling 6 months ago. If that hadn’t happened, you and the other people on this bus would’ve been flattened on the ground by now. Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look down.

Pavitr glanced behind him, his shoulders falling slightly in shock. The web holding onto the bus stretched and dipped, threatening to snap any second. He wrapped the silken web around the support, trying to bring it up.

You and Gayatri were just barely hanging on, your entire bodies dangling down with gravity as you held onto the railing for dear life.

Suddenly something changed. Another web attached itself to the bus and pulled you onto the bridge. Another Spider-Man, possibly?

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding as the bus levelled itself on solid ground again. Gayatri gave you a weak smile, grasping your hand and pulling you straight into the throng of people rushing to exit the bus.

The moment she stepped outside Pavitr wrapped her in a hug, eliciting a surprised squeak from Gayatri.

“Are you okay? I was so worried-” He realized his mistake mid-sentence, drawing back from her and patting her shoulders with both hands, unsure whether to cross his arms or rest them on his hips. “Uh, you seem like a nice young woman who I do not know…”

Gayatri chuckled softly and looked past him. “Papa!”

“Gayatri!”

She ran at him and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Seeing their bond warmed your heart but also made it ache slightly with the acceptance that that could never happen to you with your own father.

“Real smooth, Pavi,” You grinned at your brother, who grumbled something under his breath and closed the distance to crush you in a hug.

“Shush, didi. I just saved your ass.”

“Yeah, I suppose you did.” You ruffled his hair affectionately and pulled back, smiling at the growing shouts of ‘dhanyavadh, makhdi-bhaiya!’. (Thank you, Spider-Guy!)

“Amma’s going to kill you, by the way. She thinks you snuck out to go to some p-”

You let out a soft mmph as you collided with possibly the boniest person you had ever had the misfortune of bumping into. You were pretty sure you had just got stabbed in seven different places by various joints.

“Sorry, I didn’t-” You paused as you looked up, taking in spikes, a leather vest, pins, a guitar, and mask eyes which looked like running mascara.

“Holy shit, you’re really cool.”

The Spider-Man variant blinked in surprise and let out a laugh. “Why, thank you, poppet. I try. Pisses the fascists off so much that they call me Spider-Punk.”

You heard the twang of a well-known (almost infamous, at least in Mumbattan) accent and glanced at Pavitr. “He’s British,” He confirmed, giving Hobie a high-five.

“Well, I don’t care. He looks awesome.”

“Oi, Pav, I like this one.” He gave you an appreciative fist-bump, and you lifted your eyebrows at the sheer size difference between both of your hands.

“That’s my sister.”

“Makes sense. But you know I didn’t mean it like that. She seems cool is all.”

“Wait. If you’re British, can you do us a favour and steal back the Kohinoor? Please?”

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t make any promises. Fuckin’ Sweeney*, I doubt they even know where it’s kept.” (*Sweeney/Sweeney Todd - Cockney rhyming slang for Flying Squad [the police])

You nodded along politely with a smile like you actually understood even one word of that sentence. “Well, okay, in that case-”

You turned and almost burst out laughing. Pavitr looked like he was on the losing end of a staring contest, his hand almost engulfed in Inspector Singh’s much bigger one. Gayatri stood behind him, looking between them in awe. “I’ve never seen him so emotional.”

“Excellent job.”

Your bother just gave a nod, but knowing Pavitr he was internally over the moon and would hold that simple statement close to his heart, insisting that his girlfriend’s dad “loved him”.

“Man-like Miles, my guy!” Hobie grabbed the red and black Spider-Man - Miles’ - shoulders and shook him excitedly, punching him lightly as the people of Mumbattan started cheering.

You were about to join in when something happened. Well, not happened, really, but… something felt off somehow. You had read something once that said a person’s hair stands on end as a warning when lightning’s about to strike. You imagined that’d feel like you you were feeling right now. And you could hear whistling… was that sound just your ears being weird?

The cheers died down suddenly and you turned around too late. One of those portal-holes, slicing through the air like a deadly frisbee, slammed into you and knocked you inside in such a way that you got teleported straight off the side of the bridge. You scrabbled for the supports, but to no avail as you sailed right past them.

You heard Pavitr’s panicked yell, the sounds of confused and worried chatter bubbling among the ground, and the air rushing around in your ears as you free-fell.

You can’t save me, you realized as you saw Pavitr dive off the bridge, reaching out his wrist in preparation of shooting a web. You won’t get here in time. You focused on mouthing the next few words that came to your mind, because if you were going to die and leave your brother you would do so by reminding him that he was - and always would be - loved. Pavi, I’m sorry. I love you. I always will.

Your stomach dropped and your head spun - but by some mercy you didn’t feel the final impact.

——— ———

Pavitr’s POV.

“No, no no no- please, please no-”

Pavi, I’m sorry.

I love you.

Six words. Six words which shouldn’t be used in the same sentence. Those two sets separately, sure, but in very different scenarios.

Those would not be the last words you said to him. They couldn’t be.

Time seemed to slow down, making his movements sluggish and hazy. He stretched his wrist out till it ached, silk erupting from his - no, your - kaada. Come on, come on…

The silk shot toward you and for a second he thought it would reach in time.

Then he heard a crash and watched you fall straight through the flimsy tin roof of an abandoned warehouse. “No!”

He landed after you, shooting a web at a street lamp and pulling up to break the built-up momentum at the last second. Kicking down the warehouse door, he rushed over to your limp form, sprawled across a few empty crates in the dimly lit space.

“Nonono you have to stay with me, please don’t go, I can’t-” Pavitr swallowed hard as he picked you up and set you down with your back against the wall, holding up your jaw so your head didn’t fall forward. He snapped his fingers in front of your face two, three times - no response.

He could feel his vision starting to blur, heart practically causing an earthquake as he shakily put his finger to the pulse point on your neck.

Nothing.

“No,” He whispered into the still air, as if that would be able to revive someone who was so much more than just a cousin. You were his sister, his closest and most annoying friend, his anchor. You were supposed to be a constant in his life. If you were gone… what would go next?

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, cradling your lifeless body in his arms. But after a little while Hobie dropped in through the hole in the ceiling, and Miles and Gwen came in through the door. He didn’t understand anything they were saying. Pavitr felt like he was underwater, the cold, murky silence filling his ears and bleeding into his brain.

Someone else, much bigger than him tried to drag him away. Someone wearing a beige police uniform and a turban. He kicked and fought, screaming at them that they didn’t understand, he couldn’t leave you, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end. That you were going to wake up soon. You were only unconscious, after all. You had to wake up sometime.

You had to, right?

Pavitr watched as you were placed on a stretcher, a white cloth laid over your body. He slumped in the hands of whoever was struggling to drag him away as all his hopes of you waking up splintered into a million pieces. Pieces that he would step on and trip over and they would cut his skin a billion times. Little tiny paper cuts. Paper cut after paper cut, till he bled out.

Through whatever shocked haze his brain was forcing itself into, he knew that something inside him had broken. Duct tape could fix it. Duct tape could fix anything. Was this metaphor for something? His brain really needed to slow down, he couldn’t keep up with what was and what wasn’t fixable with a single roll of duct tape.

He pictured his heart, the muscles and blood vessels torn clean through in the centre, forming a hole in the shape of you. Did it stop beating? It felt like it stopped beating. Was there a way to check if he was still alive? He hoped he was. Though there didn’t feel like much reason to be. Not anymore, at least.

Oh. Maya Aunty. Someone would have to tell Maya Aunty. No, he would have to tell Maya Aunty.

Two funerals in the span of 6 months. Two core members of the family gone.

Twin flames burning warm and bright, always lighting up the entire place with their own unique luminosities, until they couldn’t anymore. The wicks were extinguished and the candles melted into stumps before their time.

The Spot knew exactly what he was doing, Pavitr realized. Because he might as well have set fire to his entire home.

——— ———

15 & still 16.

Pavitr Bhim Prabhakar was many things.

He was Mumbattan’s Spider-Man. He was Maya Aunty’s nephew. He was Gayatri’s boyfriend. He honoured his dead parents with his last name. He carried the legacy of his dead uncle with his middle name alone.

Most of all, he carried the memory of his sister in every scar that he got that day.

Suddenly every moment you had spent with him seemed too little. Even just one of your hugs would take away some of the pain.

Keep them in your heart, they’re watching over you. Recall the memories you made with them.

What did that even mean in this case? You had gone too soon. Dead, cremated at 16. You weren’t even an adult. And what hurt the most was that everything - from your room to your belongings - was exactly how you left it.

It had been almost 3 months and he still hadn’t let anyone change anything in your room. The messy duvet could stay messy. And the pillow that was thrown at the foot of the bed had taken up permanent residence there.

The room smelled like vanilla and honeycomb. And it would stay that way for as long as he could help it. If someone rearranged anything, would that part of you disappear from this house? He didn’t want to find out.

Everything that made this room yours would stay there, it had to. The way you meticulously arranged every makeup and hair product by height, colour and serial order on your chest of drawers. The way your cupboards always smelled of cotton candy because of an essence diffuser your friend had given you.

Gayatri, Miles, Gwen and Hobie had all tried their best to help him, and Margo had even dropped in a few times and offered to play video games with him. And admittedly, he was in a much better frame of mind than how he was only a little while ago.

He sat on the floor, hugging his legs loosely to his chest and clutching a mug of chai in one hand. Pavitr couldn’t say anything even if he wanted to; the altogether lack of the owner of this room made the silence even more oppressive and suffocating.

He stretched his legs out slowly, refusing to let his mind wander. Focus on the wallpaper. Focus on the sound of traffic. Focus on the chai. Focus on anything except the posters, the pillows, the way that it felt like time itself was holding its breath inside this room.

Pavitr’s leg brushed something hidden underneath the rug in front of him. Frowning slightly in confusion, he leaned forward to peer underneath the fuzzy square of fabric - finding nothing but a small notebook and a pen.

He pulled it out and, upon recognizing it, drew in a surprised inhale. The leather-bound cover was dusty and worn out. The label that read Bhim Prabhakar in neatly printed handwriting had been scratched out, jagged words cutting across the paper like tiny knife strokes. His heart squeezed when he read the word written in the second handwriting.

Y/N.

Of course he remembered this book, how could he not? On days when you had noticed he felt sad, you tore out two lined pages of paper and made him write down what was bothering him in a letter.

“Here, Pavi. Write it to anyone you want, and fill it out with everything bad that happened today. You don’t have to send it to them, don’t worry. I’ll even do it with you.”

He still remembered the first time he had done that activity with you. You both sat back-to-back, scribbling down all the ‘yucky feelings’, as you had put it once. Pavitr had finished his letter and surprised you by addressing it to you, twisting around to hand you the folded piece of paper.

You hadn’t addressed your letter yet, so you wrote his name on the top in big block letters.

To: Pavitr Prabhakar.

Because it was a very official document, you had explained solemnly.

And when you took a look at how he had mentioned you, you had lunged forward and trapped him in a bone-crushing hug.

To: The Best Didi In The World.

He felt tears well up slightly as he recalled the amount of times he went and wordlessly sat at the edge of your bed, pointing to the leather journal. And you would pull out two pages, hand him a pen, and sit back-to-back on the floor. Every time, without fail.

Pavitr opened the book, running a hand along the pages of handwritten letters that were unevenly glued or stapled in. Some were tearing at the edges, others had chai-stains or ink splotches.

He carefully pulled out a page - only one this time - and picked up a pen from the mug of stationery on your bedside table.

Pausing to think for a second, he tested the pen on the bottom of the page. Then moved the tip to the first line.

Dear Y/N,

Pavitr stopped and narrowed his eyes at that. It felt strange, almost alien for some reason. A foreign word on these pages.

He tapped his pen on the page as he got an idea. He scratched out the two words he had written, addressing it to someone with a different yet more familiar title, at least to him.

To: The Best Didi In The World.

I know very little about the antyesti process so if anything’s wrong don’t hesitate to correct me! <3

Glossary:

Antyesti - Antyesti literally means "last sacrifice" or "final auspicious ceremony", and refers to the funeral rites for the dead in Hinduism, which usually involves cremation of the body. This rite of passage is the last samskara in a series of traditional life cycle samskaras that start from conception in Hindu tradition.

Saree/Sari - A saree is a garment consisting of a length of cotton or silk elaborately draped around the body, traditionally worn by women from South Asia. It is usually worn with a blouse that exposes part of the midriff, but blouse styles can vary.

Dupatta - A length of material worn arranged in one or two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez or a kurta, worn by women from South Asia. (Srry guys u have to look up those two definitions if ur curious,, it’s better to see how it looks rather than read a description anyway)

Kancha - Kancha is played by using marbles. It is popular in small Indian cities and villages, among small boys only as a gully sport. It is rarely played by girls. The participant has to hit the marble kept in a circle. If he hits the target properly, he wins. The winner gets the kancha (maybe kanche is the plural form? idk) of the other participant boys.

Lagori/Pithoo/Seven Stones - Lagori is a traditional game from the Indian subcontinent. It involves a pile of stones and a ball.

A member of one team (the seekers) throws a ball at a pile of stones to knock them over. The seekers then try to restore the pile of stones while staying safe from the opposing team's (the hitters’) throws. The hitters' objective is to hit the seekers with the ball before they can reconstruct the stone pile. If the ball touches a seeker, that seeker is out and the team which the seeker came from continues, without the seeker. A seeker can always safeguard themselves by touching an opposite team member before the ball hits the seeker.

@hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099 @vhstown

[asterias-record-shop]

12 fits so well with the virgin prompt r u kidding me 😩😩 he’d sit inside u for a second to let u adjust, waiting for ur go ahead when he distracts u with marks. ud look down all our a breath and see the marks when it hits u that people who know. he’d chuckle against ur stomach and place his chin on ur body as he looks up at u ok OK IM GETTING OFF TRACK SORRY 🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️ HE JUST DOES THINGS TO ME IDK

—𓆩[i’ll be gentle]𓆪—

𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[updated bingo card!]𓆪 𓆩[bingo masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[join the bingo taglist!]𓆪

𓆩♡𓆪 CHARACTER - Finnick Odair x Fem! Virgin! Reader

𓆩♡𓆪 TYPE - fluff, smut

𓆩♡𓆪 WORD COUNT - 2.9K

𓆩♡𓆪 SUMMARY - You were the first person Finnick actually fell in love with, his best friend. A survivor of one of the games after he was called into his own, winning by your skill of trapping and running, you were quickly a fan favorite and everyone had their eyes on you, even though your more ‘innocent’ mindset was still intact after the games. With everyone in District 13 eyeing you, including Gale, Finnick decides he has to show everyone who you belong to.

𓆩♡𓆪 STORY WARNINGS - CORRUPTION KINK CORRUPTION KINK CORRUPTION KINK- || Finnick loves you so fucking much omg || Gale is an asshole fuck him (maybe literally, just because his dick looks big but y’know) || Finnick definitely has a possession kink || cursing || hickies hickies hickies || scratching || virginity loss || he’s so gentle omg || I love finnick || oral || fingering || spit || cum eating || multiple orgasms ||

Some people thought you were lucky to not have gone to the Quarter Quell. As soon as your name was drawn, you started to step forward before Mags raised her hand.

“What?” You had whispered, quickly looking at her, a smile on her face as she pulled you back with a gentle hand.

Just like Finnick, she had been your mentor, and you turned to the person who drew your name, shaking your head. “No. No, no! Mags, no!”

The Peacekeepers dragged you back, Finnick closing his eyes at the sound of your screams and pleads. Mags was being sent to her death, no matter how much Finnick would try to protect her, there were twenty-two other tributes and cruel Game Masters that wouldn’t let this happen.

“Who’s that?” Katniss asks as she stares at the TV, remote in hand as her eyes follow your form.

“That is our peacock’s fiancée,” Haymitch said, staring at the TV. “Won her game by rolling with the Careers before trapping them in a net and running. The net was rigged to the edge of the arena, so as soon as she threw a rock at it, she shocked all the Careers to death.”

“Then the rest must’ve been easy.” Peeta says, making Haymitch laugh.

“For her traps? Easier than everything that exists, her father worked with another tribute, Beetee.” Haymitch goes to change the channel before Katniss takes away the remote, skipping it back to where you were being dragged away by Peacekeepers.

“She’s sad.”

“I’d say more in distress.”

“Because someone else is going to the games instead of her? Why?” Katniss was confused, the thought of someone being sad that someone took her place?

“Well, Mags was her mentor. Mags sacrificing herself for her is a mercy on her end, but torture on Y/N’s.”

Maybe that’s when Katniss saw you as somewhat of an equal, and even with Peeta missing, she came up and introduced herself to you. It wasn’t something unusual, you knew who Katniss Everdeen was. “It’s nice to meet you, Katniss, I’m Y/N L/N.”

She nods slightly as Finnick starts walking over, Katniss quickly turning around. “He’s very interesting. Finnick.”

You giggle. “I know.”

“Y/N, darling, are you hungry? I brought you some food.”

You smiled, nodding. “Yes, please. Excuse me, Katniss, I will see you later.”

He takes your hand, dragging you along behind him as you wave at her. You squeezed his hand with a giggle, sitting down next to him as he sat down with you at the tables. “Got you what you like. Know you probably won’t eat anything else.”

You giggled, leaning into his chest. “I just uhm… I’m a little… I feel like someone’s watching me. I feel off.”

He looks around, quickly finding blue eyes staring back at him. Gale quickly looks away, covering his mouth making Finnick scoff. “Yeah, someone’s watching all right.”

You look back, letting out a laugh when you find him glaring at Gale. “Gale? Really, Fin? Everyone knows I’m yours, Finnick, you might as well show them.”

Finnick didn’t think that you knew how much impact your words had on him, especially when Gale was staring at you during training. You weren’t really good at physical fighting, but you were able to hide basically anywhere and climb almost anything. He watched you hold the rope in both hands, just a bit thicker than his cocky that you’d never seen.

He always wanted to see you drool over it, your wide innocent eyes staring at his length, wondering what you would do if you could see him.

The training suit was tight in your body, fitting your form as you pulled yourself up the rope to the rafters. Gale was staring too and he hated it, glaring at the other man as you quickly made it to the top and hid in the rafters.

Finnick smiled, looking around, trying to search for you before he felt a soft tap on his shoulder. Quickly, he turns around to see you standing there with a pretty smile on your beautiful face, giggling. “Got ya?”

He smiled, reaching to hold your hips and pulling you closer. “Yeah, darling, you did.”

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. “You alright, Fin? You seem a little… off.”

He shook his head, quickly grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the training room.

“Hey! Hey, wait!”

You pause, but Finnick keeps dragging you along as Gale chases after you both. “Wait! Y/N!”

“Finnick, Gale is calling me,” you say quickly, Finnick ignoring your words. “Finnick, what’s wrong?”

“You think I don’t know how he looks at you, my darling? He looks at you like you’re fresh meat,” he basically growled as he got to your shared room, quickly opening the door and pulling you inside. “You want me to show everyone you’re mine, darling? Let’s show everyone.”

You gasp as he slowly pushes you back, your hands quickly moving to his hair with a soft whimper. “F-Finnick? I’ve never… I’ve never done this before.”

He smiled, lifting you up easily, holding you against his waist before slowly leaving you back on the bed. He supports himself with his elbows as he pulls your face to his, pressing firm kisses to your lips. “I won’t do it if you don’t want me to. If you let me though, I’ll make sure that you feel better than you’ve ever felt.”

“Y-You don’t understand, Fin, I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve never touched myself, I’ve never…” you inhaled shakily as he stared at you, golden eyes darkening at the thought of you being untouched even by your own hands. “Finnick?”

“Oh darling,” he says, laughing slightly. “You’ve never touched yourself?”

You gasped as his hand pushed down your chest, easily unbuttoning your training suit to stroke against your plush tummy. His hand pressed against your tits, over the cups of your bra and flicking against your nipple. It makes you gasp, your legs squeezing together as you quickly hold his head. “F-Fin!”

“Let me fuck you baby, I’ll be gentle. I’ll be so good to you, you know I will. I’ll fill you up, I’ll fill you up so much darling, and I won’t stop until you’ve become addicted to my cock. Does that sound good, baby? You want that?” He mumbles against your skin, gasping as his hand cupped your clenching pussy.

“F-Finnick, promise you’ll be gentle?”

He grinned up at you, nodding as he started to pull off your clothes. “I promise baby, you know I’d never lie to you. I’ll stretch you out nice and good, alright, and then I’ll let you put it in on your own, okay? Does that sound good?”

You smiled, nodding as he slowly pulled away to press soft kisses to your waistline. He was ecstatic, even the thought of taking your virginity made his fingers shake in excitement as he started to sit up. He slowly pulled on your suit, taking off your first layer of clothes before taking his fingers and softly rubbing down your tummy.

It makes you squirm, heat flooding down to your cunt as your hands push into his shirt. “C-Can you take this off?”

He nods, humming as he pulls off his shirt before tugging on your pretty panties. He groaned as he took a lewd whiff, a squeal falling from your lips as his lips claimed your clit, groaning loudly. You let out a loud gasp, the feeling foreign as he sucks on the sensitive bud with his hot mouth.

“F-Finnick! Finn, Finn it feels weird.”

He hummed, the feeling making your back arch as wetness pools underneath where you were laying. His fingers stroke your slit, quickly gathering your wetness with ease. “Does it honey? It seems like it feels good.”

“F-Feels good, but weird. Your mouth… your mouth and your fingers feel good. I-It feels a little weird, but good,” you whimpered softly, gasping as the pads of his fingers pushed against your clit before teasing your entrance. “F-Finnick, your nails. Th-They hurt.”

He hummed. “I’m sorry, honey, I’ll fix it okay?”

He pulled his fingers out, licking them before carefully pushing back in. You gasped, the one finger making your back arch and your eyes squeezed closed in slight discomfort. “F-Finn, feels weird!”

“Just give it a minute baby, I got you,” he whispered, using his thumb to rub against the rim of your tight entrance, his tongue flicking against your clit. Your eyes roll back, shivers of pleasure making your thighs shake and try to squeeze shut. “Hey honey, don’t forget I’m still down here.”

You whimper as he grinned up at you, his lips shiny with your lewd juices before his tongue flattens against your clit and your legs go over his shoulders. He groaned loudly, the taste of you on his tongue quickly becoming addictive as he sucked on your clit. Your eyes rolled back as he started to thrust his finger, his middle digit long and pressing into that sensitive spot over and over again.

You whine loudly as he lets his spit collect on your clit, sucking and nibbling before he pulls away to pull his spit down to your entrance with the tip of his tongue. He could feel you clench around him, twisting his fingers just a bit to push another finger into you without scratching you with his nails.

You whined loudly, gasping. “F-Finn, it’s too much!”

He shakes his head, pushing his tongue around your cunt. “No baby, my cock is a little less than three fingers thick, gotta make sure that you’re all stretched out so I don’t hurt you.”

You groaned, nodding as you pushed your hands down to hold his head. “C-Can you lick me more? I like it.”

He hummed, nodding as he pushed his tongue in with his fingers, loud whines leaving your lips as he attempted to suck on your cunt, tongue pushing in and out. You clenched around him, whining loudly as you started to roll your hips. He pulled away, gasping. “There we go baby, feel good?”

You nodded, reaching up to cover your mouth. “Y-Yes. Yes, so so good.”

He smiled, pushing another finger into you, watching your body writhe and hips roll into his fingers. “You like it, darling? Feel good?”

You nod your head, whimpering. “F-Finn, my tummy… my tummy feels weird.”

He hummed. “Feel tight? Twisty, darling?”

“Y-Yeah! Yeah, I feel good, I feel… I feel s-so good, so fucking good.”

“I’m making you feel good, aren’t I darling? My fingers and my mouth?” He sucked in your clit, watching you whine as you buck your hips.

“Yes! Yes, Finn, I-I feel so good! Fuck!” You scream out, gasping as your stomach tightens, hips bucking as he groaned, sucking on your pussy before popping his lips against your clit. His tip was leaking with precum, your mind hazy and blurry from your first orgasm ever, eyes rolling back as you let out a loud groan.

“You ready for my cock, darling?”

You gasped, nodding as he slowly pulled away to pull down his pants and underwear, his click slapping against his lower stomach as he slowly sit back against the headboard, gasping as you quickly moved to straddle his hips. “L-Like this?”

“Not yet darling, you need to make sure it doesn't hurt you. You need to… put your mouth on my cock, darling.” He watches as you nod eagerly, quickly moving lower as you take his cock.

“Finnick, baby, you’re so pretty. Your cock is so pretty, can barely fit it in my hand,” you whined, squeezing making his eyes squeeze shut. “Wh-What do I do, Finnick? What do you like?”

Finnick knew whatever he did, he’d love it. Touches have always repulsed him, but with you, with you he loved it. “You just do what you think is right, baby.”

You whined. “C-Can I try to put it all in my mouth?”

“Yes, darling, I’d love that.”

You open your mouth wide, taking a large inhale before sinking your mouth down onto his cock, a gasp falling from his lips. He groaned loudly as you bobbed your head, jaw slack and throat relaxed. Your teeth grazed his length making him hold back a gasp, your slight roughness making his eyes squeeze shut.

He was addicted to it, though, holding the back of your head as you gagged around his cock and bobbed your head. You choked softly as you push your head down so your nose pressed against his pelvis and you gagged. He groaned loudly, gasping as you pulled away with a loud breath for air, your spit and his precum sliding down his cock and connecting your lips with his tips in large gloops.

“D-Do I keep going? Did I do good?”

He shakes his head, humming. “No baby, I can see your cunt leaking for me. Why don’t you fuck me?”

You nodded your head, whimpering as you hovered over his cock and held it with his large hand. “Will you help me, Finnick?”

He nodded, wrapping his loose hand around your waist and leaning forward to press kisses along your torso and abdomen. “I will, baby.”

You whined as you sunk down on him, hands holding his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. You threw your head back as he started to press his lips harder into your skin. He sucked, biting and groaning against your skin as you whimpered. “F-Finnick, I don’t think I can… I don’t think it’s going to fit!”

“It will fit, darling, I promise. It’ll be a lot, but I know you can take it, you’re doing so good. Just focus on my mouth, it’ll feel good. Oh, my darling girl, I have to mark you — I need to show everyone who you belong to. Especially that fucking asshole.”

You whined as he sucked hickies into your skin, finally sinking fully onto his cock as you groaned into his ear. “Finnick, I’m so full, I don’t know if I c-can move anymore!”

“You want me to fuck you baby? I can fuck you so good, darling, so so good.” He groaned as you tried to bounce, whining loudly as you shook your head.

“I-I can’t… please, please, will you fuck me?” You asked as he held your hips, easily placing you on your back.

He wasted no time, ramming his hips into you, fucking you like a jackhammer. Your eyes rolled back, body bouncing with his thrusts as your moans filled the room, his cock hitting all of the right places as his name fell from your lips. “Finnick! Finnick, Finnick you feel so good, Finnick Finnick Finnick!”

He couldn’t stop, not when your cunt was wrapped so tightly around him, your pussy clenching as he groaned loudly into your neck. “Fuck, Y/N, darling, your pussy is so good for me. Never want to pull out baby, never want to stop fucking you darling, do I have to stop?”

You shake your head, your thighs shaking as you whine into his chest. “Finnick, I’ve never felt so good, please don’t stop.”

He groaned loudly, slamming his hips into you just to feel your entire cunt clench around his shaft and a strangled groan leave his mouth. You dig your nails into his back, groaning loudly as he pulls his face away as he pressed a firm kiss to your lips. “Let’s take a break, I don’t want to break you.”

“W-Will you clean me up?”

“Of course I will, darling, I will do anything you want baby.”

He quickly cleans you up, efficiently of course as he laid back, watching as you laid on top of his body. You were sitting on his cock as he kissed against your skin, humming. “Did I make you feel good?”

“So, so good, Finnick. You did so well.”

He smirks as he pulls you in for another kiss. “Well, you want me to do it again?”

You laugh, nodding. “Yeah I do.”

He pauses, pulling you in for another kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Finnick.”

omg, I love fulfilling requests ♡ keep them coming for Bingo!!

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© asterias-record-shop

[aidtale-of]

Aidtale: Origins-Chapter 3

The same morning begins down in the Underground. Papyrus knocks on Sans’s door, calling to him.

“Sans? Sans, are you awake?”

No answer. Papyrus knocks until he’s sure Sans has woken.

“Sans!”

“What?” Sans grumbles, rolling over in bed, glancing at his clock and noting that it’s only 6 am.

“Sans, you have to get ready right now.”

“Why? It’s barely morning.”

“Because we have to be the first ones there. I heard from tv that some humans are nocturnal, so one probably fell at night. Plus, I’ve got some new puzzles I want to try out!”

Sans sits up in bed. “Alright, I’ll be out in a few.”

“Great!”

Footsteps recede from Sans’s door, followed by a door closing. Sans goes to head downstairs. He holds his foot out over the first stair, then teleports into the kitchen. He opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of ketchup from his side, ignoring the sense of deja vu. He goes to sit on his couch, taking a moment to feed his pet rock. Still tired, Sans settles further into the couch. Papyrus comes out of his room to see Sans already napping on the couch. He stands over him in a huff.

“Sans! You lazybones! Are you sleeping again?”

“Nah, just resting my eyes.”

Papyrus picks up Sans and places him on his feet. “Nice try, but I’m not falling for that one again. Have you eaten?”

“Yep.”

“Great! Let’s go!”

They leave their home. As Sans goes to lock the door, Papyrus pats his non-existent pockets.

“Oops! I forgot something!” Papyrus runs back into the house, leaving Sans outside to wait. He comes back out with a box of bones. “Ok, now we can go.”

They walk through Snowdin, saying hi to everyone as they go. They walk all the way through Snowdin forest to Sans’s station.

“Alrighty Sans, don’t forget to recalibrate your puzzles. We don’t need anything failing if the human arrives.”

“I’ll get right to it.”

Papyrus, satisfied, walks away with his box of bones. Once he’s far enough away, Sans sits at his post, pulling a hot dog from underneath. As he eats, he gets a notification on his phone. He looks, and sees that it’s a text from Alphys.

“Hey Sans, I need you to look at this.”

She then sends a photo accompanied by some text.

“I was checking on some things regarding our research, and all of this just appeared out of nowhere.”

The picture is one of her computer screen. There are diverting lines going all over the place.

“u already sent me this” Sans texts back.

“W-what? What are you talking about? This is the first time I’ve seen this. There’s no way that i’ve sent this before. Though, now that you mention it, it does seem familiar.”

“ah, its probably just deja vu or smth. why do they stop like that though?”

“Uh, well, my theory is that there’s something powerful enough to simply stop time and restart everything.”

“kinda like flowey was doing?”

“. . . .Yes? But this looks wayyy different.” She sends a video accompanied by text. “Watch.”

The video shows Alphys scrolling through the timelines. Sans watches as the timelines start to lose variation, turning from varying lengths to the same, consistent, cut-off line, then disappearing entirely, leaving a number where a timeline should’ve gone. The count stops at 570, with the 570th one showing as in progress. 

Huh, that’s weird. Sans rewatches the video in curiosity.

“where are the other ones?”

“Idk. Like I said, i’ve never seen this before.”

“hmm. maybe you accidentally deleted it”

“Maybe… I’ll check. What are you up to rn?”

“working”

“:( ok good luck.”

Sans puts his phone away and leans back in his chair. He closes his eyes to sleep, then dodges a pellet thrown at him from Flowey. He opens an eye.

“Y’know, if you wanna kill me, you gotta try harder than that.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, just seeing if you were awake.”

“Why? Are you looking for Papyrus? Cause, uh, he isn’t here.”

“I don’t need him. I was looking for you because…” He grumbles.

“..why? Because it looks like you’re about to say something you might regret.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Depends.”

“...I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I need your help.”

Sans is taken aback. “Uh..is this some kind of joke? Cause it ain’t particularly funny.”

“Trust me, you were the last person I’d ever even want to talk to,” he sighs, “But, unfortunately, you’re the one with both the knowledge and strength I need.”

“What for?”

…

“In about an hour or so, a human’s going to fall into the Underground-”

“Cool, thanks for the heads up.”

“No! Not cool! They’re going to kill everyone. And I mean everyone! And the only way we can stop them is if someone takes their soul for good.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah. Sure.” Sans pulls his hood over his head. Flowey looks at him, displeased.

“You don’t believe me?”

“Well, I could, but even if I did,” he peeks from under his hood, “why would I help you?”

“You don’t want to see everyone die, do you? This does include you and Papyrus, y’know.”

“..Funny. I coulda sworn that that’s happened before. Though, that wasn’t because of a human, now was it?”

Flowey’s face scrunches, seething. “I thought your job was to help people.”

“My job is to watch for humans, not help weeds I don’t trust.”

…

“Fine. Don’t believe me.” Flowey scorns, his voice full of venom. “But when everyone you know and love starts to die and you wonder what you could’ve done, I hope you think about this moment and cry.” Flowey burrows into the snow, disappearing from view. Sans scoffs and pulls his hood further down. “By the way,” Flowey calls out from farther away, “at the very least, go see Papyrus before packing your things.” Flowey leaves again. Sans is left alone, so he goes to sleep.

Sans wakes up later to the sound of the door to the ruins closing. He takes a look, but can’t make out the person that just walked out, so he teleports closer. Taking a closer look, he sees it’s a human, just like Flowey said. Sans gives the same introduction and they go through the same old routine, telling the human to keep pretending to be one, then teleporting away. The day goes about as well as one could expect with trying to get a murderous child to participate in puzzles and japes. Soon, Sans finds himself in Snowdin Town, once again helping the monsters evacuate. He goes to his home and is about to pack his and Papyrus’s things, but pauses for a moment, thinking about what Flowey said earlier. Sans backs slowly from the front door and instead heads for where Papyrus was going to fight the human. Fog clouds the area. Sans can barely make out the shape of something disintegrating into the snow. He walks closer, the fog disappearing. The human walks away into Waterfall, stepping in Papyrus’s dust as they go. Sans’s mind runs a million miles a minute. How could this happen so quickly? How strong is this kid? This thing?...Why does this feel so familiar?

His phone starts to ring. Sans stares at his pocket for a moment, letting the phone ring, before he picks it up. Alphys is on the other end, yelling.

“Sans? Sans, help! I-I can’t find them! I can’t find the human!”

“They just entered Waterfall. Look near the entrance,” Sans tells her, his voice monotone.

“R-really?! Oh my gosh, they’re moving so fast! W-what about you and Papyrus? Are you two..Have you made it out?”

“No, we haven’t.”

“Where are you? Where’s Papyrus?”

“. . .”

“..Sans?”

“..He’s dead.”

“Oh. Oh god. I..I’m so sorry..”

Sans shakes his head, “It’s fine. We should focus on evacuations.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok. Get here as soon as possible.”

“I will. See ya.” Sans hangs up, staring at the pile of dust.

“Bet you believe me now.” Flowey’s voice pipes up from behind. Sans slowly puts his phone away.

“Yeah. Sure. I believe you.” Bones rise out of the ground around Flowey and lift him into the air, taking the dirt along with him. Sans turns to face him. “So tell me, if you knew what was going on, why are you helping them?”

“Ha..helping them? What do you mean?” Flowey’s voice tremors a little. 

“Don’t play dumb. Papyrus…all of his puzzles and traps are covered in vines, and last I checked, the kid’s not made of plants.”

Flowey shifts around, uncomfortable. “I was making things go faster. This timeline’s already screwed, and you weren’t going to help, so might as well let the human reset and try again.”

“Reset, huh?”

Flowey nods. “That human..they have..way more determination than I could ever hope for. That’s how they’re able to come back every time and kill everyone. If I remember correctly, they’ve reset about 570 times already.” Sans thinks for a second, then pulls out his phone as Flowey continues. “And the worst part is that no one else remembers. No one can remember. All of you just spout off the same stupid lines about ‘deja vu’ and…what are you doing?”

“Just checkin’ something.” He turns back to Flowey. “Ok, so, question. If you knew all of this was happening, why didn’t you try getting help before..oh, I don’t know, 100 runs? Or even 10?”

Flowey pauses for a moment in reminiscence. “I..thought they were…,” he shakes his head, “It doesn’t matter. I’m trying to stop it now, isn’t that enough?”

“Maybe.”

Sans looks back at his phone. The video Alphys sent earlier with the timeline list finishes playing, stopping at 570.

Flowey tries to look Sans in the eyes. “So? Are you helping or what?”

“Heh,” Sans puts his phone away, “sure. I’ll try to help… in the next run.” He starts to walk away. 

“What? Why the next run?”

“Well, it’s like you said. This timeline’s screwed, so why bother?”

“You’ll forget everything in the reset though.”

Sans thinks for a moment, then smiles wider. “Oh yeah, you’re right. Luckily, I have a solution for this. A passcode. One that only I know. I usually save it, just in case I come across a time traveler. So, next time, just pop by my window or something, tell me the code, then fill me in on everything, capiche?”

“Ok, what’s the code?”

Sans gets closer, gesturing for Flowey to do the same. He whispers the code to him. Flowey reels back.

“I’M NOT SAYING THAT! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?”

“Well, that’s the code I have.”

“You gotta have something else.”

“Can’t. If I change it now, you’ll use the wrong code and I won’t know.”

Flowey grumbles, “You jerk, fine!”

“Cool.”

Sans recalls the bones, sending the chunk of dirt crashing back into the ground. He begins to walk off when Flowey calls out after him.

“That’s what they’re looking for, by the way.”

Sans takes a look back. Flowey continues.

“A change. That’s what the human’s looking for. So try to act normal.”

“That won’t be a problem.”

Flowey disappears into the dirt. Sans stares for a bit, then teleports into Alphys’s lab.

“‘Sup Al.”

“AH!” Alphys flinches at Sans’s sudden appearance. She readjusts her glasses. “Sans! I-I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I didn’t either, whatcha up to?”

“I, uh..I came up with a plan.”

“K. What is it?”

“Uh, well, I-I called..well, I didn’t call her, Mettaton did, b-but we called Undyne a-and told her what’s going on. So she’s going to help evacuate Waterfall and maybe, hopefully stop the human. And if..if she…if she can’t..then..uh..” Alphys readjusts her glasses, “S-sorry.”

“It’s alright. What happens if she can’t?”

“..If she can’t, then I’m supposed to call Asgore and t-tell him to absorb the human souls so m-maybe he can defeat them.”

“Ok. Where will the escaped monsters go?”

“Well, we could take them to less populated areas, or harder to access places. I-if we really need to, we could take them to places that have already been affected, considering that it’s unlikely the human would look there again.”

“Ok. Are we going to help?”

“I need to put out the notice to the other areas, and after that I’m going to help with Hotland.”

“Alright. I’ll go move some monsters in Waterfall.”

With that, Sans teleports into Waterfall. The day goes just as last time, and soon, Sans finds himself back to dying in the judgment hall, telling the human where he’s going and asking if Papyrus wants anything before dissolving into dust.

Next---https://www.tumblr.com/ask-aidtale/723938110179803136/aidtale-origins-chapter-4?source=share

Previous---https://www.tumblr.com/ask-aidtale/723937991398162432/aidtale-origins-chapter-2?source=share

[lumiereandcogsworth]

tagged by @thavron thank you my dear :)

1. are you named after anyone? yes! my great-grandma lydia. we share a birthday AND she died on her birthday exactly one year before i was born. a very fun and slightly spooky anecdote

2. when was the last time you cried? last night, i got a very angsty fic idea and as usual i somehow manage to put myself into the character’s shoes so easily and i was crying a character’s tears. last time i cried my own tears was the night before i think, or something like that. idk, i cry a lot lmao.

3. do you have kids? no but my build-a-bear stitch IS my son

4. what sports do you play / have you played? i played basketball from ages 6-17 and it was basically my entire personality. haven’t done any sports since then and probably won’t, though i’m trying to find some kind of exercise that could actually be fun :/ i loved rock climbing in college but there’s no wall near where i live. but anyway i’ll figure it out

5. do you use sarcasm? noOooOoo i would Neverrrrrrrr

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people? i genuinely have no idea, i don’t really look at people. maybe their voice/the way they speak? or their shoes cuz that’s where i be looking lmao

7. what’s your eye color? i don’t knoowww. blue green grey. depends on what i’m wearing, sometimes the blue really pops. but sometimes it doesn’t look like my eyes are blue at all so. i think they’re mostly grey.

8. scary movies or happy endings? once again this question makes no sense because a lot of scary movies (most?? nearly all????) HAVE happy endings. but anyway to quote the fairy fauna from sleeping beauty, i just LOVE happy endings :”)

9. any talents? well i like to think i’m an alright writer! i actually Know i’m a good writer at least when it comes to school essays because that was always where i got the most praise. but i think my fics are pretty good too!! writing’s just always come naturally to me. other than that idk, i’m pretty good at memorizing stuff when i want to.

10. where were you born? pacific northwest babey!!!! (northwestern united states)

11. what are your hobbies? writing and day dreaming are like, my two staples. i’m striving to make 2024 the year i start being more crafty though. i have a couple projects brewing and i have a batb 2017 coloring book that i just bought some markers for to start coloring more. in the future i’d like to try crochet and embroidery but i don’t wanna overwhelm myself. one step at a time

12. do you have any pets? no :( i’m just an auntie to a lot of pets. the one i see most often is my brother’s shiba inu, mishka. he’s my little baby nephew and i wanna eat his face off. but anyway i’d like a cat or two some day! probably whenever i move out of my parents’ house. (which i’m not in a big rush to do, i like it here :3)

13. how tall are you? somewhere between 5’5 and 5’6. but with shoes definitely 5’6

14. favorite subject in school? elementary to high school it was probably english/creative writing, since i’ve always had a knack for it. in college it was my two majors, comparative ethnic studies and history. my favorite CES classes were “race and racism in pop culture” and “blackness in film.” my favorite history classes were “history of the late middle ages” (shout out to my girl joan of arc!) and “history of ancient greece” which was my absolute favorite course in all four years of university. it was actually one i happened to take in the quarantine year (my junior year of college) but it still slapped even despite being over zoom. that professor was awesome and i was so obsessed with the material, i kept most of the books and even asked him for more recommendations. (haven’t read them all yet, but i like seeing them on my bookshelf lol)

15. dream job? whatever ends up supporting my desires in life, and brings me at least some semblance of joy. the job i have right now is actually really awesome. it has a couple downsides but overall i’m extremely happy with my job and it feels great :)

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[obsidiancreates]

Born This Way (Because Of Negligence Towards Basic Scientific Safety)

(IDK how far apart the Fenton kids are in age, so Jazz is an Undetermined Age Where She's A Toddler But Also Very Verbal. Maybe it's the Genius Genes letting her learn faster. Let's go with that.)

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Maddie coughs, spitting out another glob of ectoplasm. "Well, at least know it's not an issues with the cooling system."

Jack sneezes out the ectoplasm stuck in his nose, and then grins and stands triumphantly. "Still a step towards success!"

Jazz frowns from where she's playing with her doll, safe within a Fenton Anti-Ghost Toddler Chamber. "Mommy, you should cover your mouth." She points at her own mouth. "Mr. Wummy on TV says dat getting weird stuff in your mouth is bad."

"Mr. Wummy is a cartoon, dear. We're seasoned scientists, we know what we're doing." She wipes herself off, and sits down. "If there were any side-effects to accidental ecoplasmic consumption, we'd know."

"But what if Danny doesn't like it?" Jazz point at her mother's belly.

Maddie pats her belly. "The baby is still just a fetus, sweetie. It can't tell what it does and doesn't like yet. And why are you so sure it'll be a boy?"

"Because I'm your baby girl. So now you need a baby boy!"

Maddie tilts her head and smiles lovingly at her daughter. "Oh, you're adorable." Nothing cuter than Child Logic.

Maddie stands back up, and puts her hands on the workbench. "Now, let's see about that firing mechanism..."

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Maddie brushes her teeth, sighing when her toothbrush comes away glowing green. "We really messed up a lot of experiments today. I think I swallowed a whole ghost's worth."

Jack spits a similarly colored mouthful of toothpaste foam out. "At least it doesn't taste as bad as it smells."

Maddie puts her hands on her belly, the bump now quite obvious. "II hope we're right about it not having side effects."

Jack's expression softens. He gently pulls his wife into a comforting hug. "The doctors all say he's as healthy as can be, Mads. You don't need to worry."

"I still worry anyway, though."

"Of course you do. You're his mom! But we'll worry together, and if you ever need me to, I'll do the worrying for us both! While you relax and give him more tips on how to avoid ghosts once he learns to walk."

Maddie giggles, and sighs. It'll all be fine... nothing to worry about.

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Jazz has her arms crossed, a teddy bear hanging from one hand. "Five times!"

"Yes, and did we mention we're so proud that you can count so we-"

"Five times!" She shouts again, waving her little sticky toddler hand at them. "I saw you eat the bad green stuff five times!"

"We didn't eat it," Maddie says patiently, "It got into our mouths by accident."

"You swallowed it!"

"Only a tiny bit, only on accident, dear."

Jazz puts her hand on her mom's belly. "Danny is gonna be here soon and he's gonna be mad!"

"He won't even know it happened, sweetheart."

"Yes he will! He'll be the smartest ever, just like me and like you and like daddy! And he'll be so upset and never stop crying!"

"Babies do that anyway, sweetie." Maddie rubs her belly. It's true, Danny is due any day now. And yes... there's been some extra Ectoplasm Incidents lately. Maddie just can't stay awake sometimes, and... well. That's not exactly good when working on ghost hunting machines.

"Your baby brother will be perfectly fine," Maddie assures. "He's a healthy baby boy, and he'll be just as healthy when you meet him."

Jazz lights up at the mention of meeting him. She can't wait!

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Jazz bounces excitedly in her dad's arms. She gets to meet her baby brother! Finally! She's going to read him bedtime stories, and protect him from closet monsters, and show him how to throw a tea party!

Jack chuckles. "Calm down, sweetie, you don't get to play with him quite yet! He's still very fragile."

"But he's okay?"

"Yes, he and Mommy are both okay. Better than okay."

Jack knocks on the hospital room door, and they enter.

Maddie is holding Danny, and it looks like she fell asleep. Jazz gasps, even though all she can see so far is the blanket bundle.

"He's tiny!"

"Very." Again. Ah well. Jack had always hoped one of his kids would groww up to be taller than him, but maybe it'll have to be a grandkid.

He walks over, and smiles at his sleeping wife. "Okay, let's be quiet," he whispers. "We don't want to wake mommy."

Jazz nods seriously.

Jack sets her on the bed, and Jazz carefully crawls closer to Danny. She moves the blanket to get a good look at his face, grinning widly-!

She frowns. "Where is he?"

"What?!" Jack hurriedly picks up the bundle, making Maddie startle awake. "Holy-"

"Jack? Honey? What is it?!" Maddie's tone becomes increasingly panicked.

Jack, looking a bit pale, hands the bundle back to her. She gasps.

It's empty, and freezing!

"Where- where is-"

And then suddenly. He's there.

Fast asleep, wrapped up snug and tight. His little face still red from being brand-new to the world, his tiny tongue sticking out of his mouth slightly as he snoozes.

He disappears again.

Maddie thinks she's about to pass out.

Finally, Jazz breaks the horrified silence. "I told you to cover your mouths!"

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Danny sleeps all the way home, and all the way up to his room. Jazz is waiting by the bassinet, and peeks in as soon as he's placed down. She frowns. "Mommy, his hair is white. He's not old."

Maddie sighs. "No, he's not. Apparently it just... does that, sometimes."

Danny yawns, and opens his little eyes. Jazz's own eyes widen as well. "He's glowing!"

"Yes... that happens too."

Danny screws up his face, and starts crying. Maddie picks him up and rocks him. "Poor baby... he's so cold."

"Why?" Jazz tilts her head.

Maddie sighs. "Well... your father and I... we think he's half-ghost."

"How?"

"... Probably... the ectoplasm," Shame burns in Maddie's veins.

Jazz, wide-eyed, reaches to to try and touch Danny. "Is he dead?" She doesn't sound sad, because it looks to her like even if he is dead, he's still alive.

"No!" Maddie shuts the idea right down. "He is a very healthy, living boy! But he's... different."

"Are you gonna trap him?"

"Wh- Jasmine, why would you ask that!"

"He's a ghost."

"No! No, we never treat him like any other ghost. And he's only partly ghost, so it barely counts. Now, Mommy has to feed him so he can go back to sleep. How about you go pick a movie for tonight?"

Jazz nods. She takes that job very seriously. There's a science to picking movies.

She heads off, and Maddie looks at Danny's sniffling little face. His eyes are back too baby blue, but his hair isn't quite black yet.

At least he's still visible.

At least the side effects seem mild.

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It's about 6 am when Jack bolts up too use the bathroom. On his way back, he decides to check on the kids.

Jazz is asleep, cuddling a stuffed animal. Jack smiles.

Danny is also asleep, wrapped up in a cute little onesie and floating above the bassinet FLOATING ABOVE THE BASSINET?!?!

Jack runs over and grabs Danny from the air, pulling out a Fenton Ghost-Whapping Baton!

And then he looks at Danny, who's whining, and sees sleepy glowing green eyes looking at him.

"Oh. Um, sorry, son." He puts away the baton. "I thought a ghost was stealing you."

Danny yawns. Jack sees a cold breath puff out of his son's mouth, despite the room being temperature-controlled to keep him toasty during the nights.

Jack puts Danny back into the bassinet. He leaves, and comes back a little bit later with some equipment.

He sets up a rudimentary ghost-shield to keep Danny from floating away during the night, but won't trap him. He can still float a little, if need be.

"The scariest ghost we've faced yet," Jack mumbles. He kisses Danny's forehead, and sits there until Danny falls asleep. By then, Danny is human again.

Jack leaves, and in the morning he and Maddie begin working on some upgrades for Danny's room.

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Danny babbles happily as Jazz plays peek-a-boo with him.

"Boo!"

Laughter.

"Boo!"

More laughter!

"A-boo! A-boo!" Jazz can't stop grinning. She's a great older sister! Look at her go!

She takes Danny's hands, and moves them over his face. "Now, where's Danny? ... Here he is! Oh."

Danny isn't there. But his clothes are, and something's inside of them. And Jazz is still holding two chubby baby arms, even if they're cold and invisible.

Jazz stares for a second, and then speaks. "... Peek-a-boo?"

Danny reappears, and squeals with laughter!

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Maddie sits down to give Danny his bottle. She's brought him out shopping with her so she can grab some replacement parts that fried in their latest invention, the Fenton Ecto-Extractor!

Jazz had thrown a fit when she'd heard the name, and it startled Jack so bad he'd turned it on too early and it completely collapsed on itself! It took half an hour to convince Jazz that they weren't trying to use it to make Danny normal, just using it for themselves now that they know it can cause... strange things, to happen.

Danny drinks the bottle with no issue, and burps as soon as she starts his back. Really, he's a pretty easy baby. Except for the ghost part.

Maddie is getting him back in the stroller when Danny's face screws up. She watches a cold, visible breath leave his mouth, and then he starts to scream. Sobbing, wailing baby screams, attracting the concerned and/or annoyed attention of most people around them.

"He's just tired," she assures loudly. His breath is still puff out in cold clouds, even though it's perfectly warm in the mall.

Maddie quickly picks him back up and hugs him, bouching and singing to try and calm him down.

Danny starts to quiet down. She puts him back in the stroller, but as soon as she does (as soon as he looks behind her with those bright, bright green eyes) he starts crying again.

She sighs and picks him up, hurrying back to the car. She'll just come back for the parts later. Clearly, something is upsetting him.

Something that she just can't see.

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Jazz leans away from Danny, grinning. "There!"

Danny is propped up on her bed. Maddie and Jack needed to quickly decontaminate themselves, and so Jazz had to watch Danny for just a minute.

And in that minute, she's does some redesigning.

Danny's fluffy white hair has a little bow in it, and she's put some of her kiddie makeup on him.

Danny disappears for a second, and the bow falls. When he reappears, it's not on his head anymore. He looks at Jazz blankly.

Jazz crosses her arms. "No fair! I was making you pretty!"

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Maddie stumbles into Danny's room. She flicks on the light, and turns off the Fenton Ghost-Shielding Hanging Mobile. She reaches in and pulls the crying Danny out of the bassinet, shushing and rocking him.

Danny's eyes are bright green again, and Maddie can see his breath. "Oh, you always get so worked up when this happens," she says softly. "Is the cold upsetting you?"

Danny doesn't answer, just cries more.

Maddie takes him to her and Jack's room, and lays down with him on her chest. Jack rolls over in his sleep and puts his arms around her, cradling both of them.

Danny falls back asleep soon, and Maddie sighs. She can still see his breath, but at least he's calm now.

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Jazz holds up her drawing, and shakes her head. She goes back to scribbling, and moves closer to Danny. "This is black," she says to him, pointing at the crayon she's using. She picks up another color. "And this one is red."

Danny stares as Jazz keeps scribbling. Jazz assumes that means he's learning.

"I'm going to let Mom and Dad know I saw this in my closet," she says seriously. "I think people know you're special and want to steal you!"

Danny blows a spit bubble by accident, and laughs when it pops.

Jazz's eyes hold more determination than ever. She scribbles with the fury of a million warriors. "You're very valuable." She learned that word yesterday. "So you need lots of protecting."

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"Do you think this will make her feel better?" Maddie asks as she closes the panel.

Jack lifts his soldering mask and nods. "If one thing can make a person feel safe, it's fifty anti-ghost devices hidden in their walls!"

"I just worry about that doodle. What if something really got in?"

"Mads, you personally handcrafted every single sensor put up in the kids's rooms! If a ghost had gotten in, we'd know! To get past then they'd need deep knowledge of exactly how our deigns work and how they detect ghost energy, and no ghost has that!"

"You're right, you're right. Still, I hate to think she might be having nightmares about something like that. It looked like it had devil horns."

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"Peek-a-boo!" Jazz grins at Danny. "Peek-a-boo!"

It never gets old for him! No matter how many times they play, Danny loves it!

"Peek... a-boo!" Jazz does little jazz-hands.

Danny disappears, and Jazz grins. "Where's Danny? Where'd he go?"

Danny reappears, and-

"B-b-boo!"

Jack and Maddie dart into the room! Maddie swoops Danny up, eyes wide!

Danny giggles, and says it again. "Boo!"

Maddie and Jackie both tear up. In unison they shout, "HIS FIRST WORD!"

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Danny gnaws on the toy with his little baby gums.

"I can't believe it. Already teething," Maddie sighs, holding him. "Seems like only yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital."

Jack wipes his eyes. "He's growing into a young man already."

"Oh, Jack, stop it, he's not nearly a young man."

"But he will be before we know it!"

Maddie pats her husband on the back comfortingly as he begins to blubber.

Maddie closes her eyes, thinking about those early months with Danny, figuring out how to prepare for his floating and invisibility, learning to not panic when his eyes and hair changed color, learning that sometimes when they do his clothes change color as well...

She's startled out of her thought by something warm and wet on her lap.

She looks down to see the teething toy on her thigh... and a whole lot of nothing where Danny's head should be.

Then it' back when she blinks, and he's beginning to whine for his toy.

She quickly picks him up off her laps and retrieves it, giving it back to him.

So... the ghost abilities are still developing, then. She'll have to let Jack know about this later.

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"Daniel Fenton," Jack says, the most serious Jazz has ever seen him, "You're in big trouble this time, mister. I don't know how you did this-"

Jack shakes the empty tube of baby snacks, safe for teething babies.

"But I will get to the bottom of it!"

"Look like he already did," Maddie jokes, setting Jazz's breakfast down for her.

Jazz laughs, because it sounds like a Smart Adult Joke and she thinks those are funny, even when she doesn't understand them.

Danny babbles, smacking his chair's food tray.

"Oh no you don't, mister! You're getting regular baby food this morning and that's all!" Jack grabs the jar of food, and holds up the spoon. "Now, here comes the Fenton Ghost-Tracking Copter!"

He puts the spoon up to Danny's mouth-

-and right through his head.

He gasps and pulls back, and Danny's head reappears. He babbles, smacking the tray again.

Maddie drops her fork. "I can't believe I forgot! That's what I was going to tell you about!"

Jazz looks at her parents. "You didn't know he does this?"

They both gawk at her. "You did?!"

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Danny reaches up and grabs Jazz's nose. Jazz wrinkles it, and he laughs.

Jazz sticks out her tongue and crosses her eyes, and Danny laughs even harder!

Jazz looks at her parents as they finish setting up the picnic blanket. "I'm the funniest big sister ever!"

"You sure are, sweetie!" Maddie scoops Jazz up and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "You get it from me."

Jack laughs. "It's true! Your mother could get the whole Ghost Hunting Club laughing out HAZMAT suits off all day long back in the day! ... 'Course it was just the three of us, but still, three's a crowd!"

"May as well have been doing stand-up," Maddie says, setting Jazz down on the blanket.

They enjoy the little outing, the sun shining but not beating down, the cool breeze just enough to crispen the air but not freeze.

And then Jazz looks at Danny. She sees glowing eyes, and a puff of breath come out of his mouth. "Uh-oh. Mommy! He's gonna cry!"

Maddie picks Danny up right as he starts to wail. She hugs him, and is shocked. He doesn't feel cold this time!

Is he just cold inside?

Or is there some other problem?

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Jack rubs his ears. "That child wails like a Banshee!"

"He could very well be doing exactly that," Maddie points out. "We still don't know what other abilities he'll develop as he ages!"

"Or how well he'll be able to control them. ... Mads... should we homeschool him?"

"It's a little early to worry about that, Jack."

"I know that tone, you're worrying about it too."

"... We can't just keep him isolated from the rest of the world, Jack. It'll be unhealthy for him. And what if it makes him lean into his ghost side too much?"

"So you think we should let him go to school."

"Yes. ... But not pre-school. We'll teach him to not use his abilities around other kids, and then send him to Kindergarten."

"... Alright, Mads. If you think that's what's best, then that's what's best!"

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"Come on, that's it! Yes, yes, WHOO!" Maddie picks Danny up as soon as he walks over. "Who's a strong little Fenton? Who's the best little boy at walking in the whole wide world?"

"Danny!" Jazz cheers from the couch.

"Danny!" Maddie and Jack both cheer at once.

Danny laughs and squeals, kicking his legs and flapping his arms. His first proper Walk! Not just a step or two and then crawling, that was real walking!

Jack takes Danny, holding him aloft. "You're a real butt-kicker in the making, son! You'll be as strong as your old man someda-"

Jack feels something bump him, hard.

He shouts as he goes down! Danny going with him!

But as Jack meets the floor, he feels Danny's weight disappear from his hands!

He lands with an "oof", and looks up to see Danny floating above him, surrounded by a faint white aura. Danny looks down and babbles, sucking his thumb. Then... he moves.

He's only ever floated in place before. But as he looks down at his dad, he kicks his little legs and moves! Moving right across the room!

And then he looks behind his dad, and his breath comes out in puffs. He starts crying and wailing hysterically.

Jazz peers at where Danny is looking. "Mommy, hit the air with the stick!"

Maddie gently grabs Danny. "Why, sweetie?"

"Danny is scared! So we have to protect him!"

Maddie grabs her Fenton Baton, and gives the area Danny was looking at a good thwack. She expects it to go right through the empty air.

Instead there's a loud zap! There's a cry of pain! And then a semi-transparent form zooming out of their house!

Maddie's jaw drops. Jack scrambles to his feet and grabs every ghost weapon in radius, forming a protective circle around the family with them!

Maddie looks at Danny, who's now calm.

And his breath isn't visible.

Hmm...

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"We're just seeing if my hypothesis is right," Maddie assures.

Jazz sobs, clinging onto her leg. "NOOOO! HE'LL GET HURT! OR STOLED!"

"Stolen, sweetie. And Mommy and Daddy would never let that happen."

Jazz scream-sobs again.

"What if we can promise you the ghost will be in a big, big box?"

Jazz looks at her mom with watery eyes. "Like around Danny's crib?"

"Yes, like that."

"But-but he's so little."

"It'll just be a second, sweetheart."

Jazz sniffles again. "... Can I hold the stick?"

Maddie smiles softly. "Yes, sweetie, you can hold the stick."

A couple hours later, Jack and Maddie return home with a ghost in a box. It's yelling something, but the box is soundproof.

Jack sets the box down, and goes to grab Danny. He comes back, and holds Danny firmly while walking towards the ghost. Danny's eyes are covered by a too-big hood on his little shirt. He can't see, or hear, that there's a ghost nearby.

Danny's breath comes out a visible puff about two feet away from the ghost, and he starts crying. Jack steps back a ways, and Danny's breaths become normal again. He settles down.

Jack walks closer. Puff of breath, and crying.

Jack steps back. Normal breath, calm Danny.

"He can sense ghost's," Maddie says, looking in awe at her baby boy. Her face breaks into a grin. "He's his own portable ghost detector! He'll never be caught unawares, he'll be able to always defend himself!"

She runs up to Jack and hugs them both, kissing Danny's little forehead. Danny babbles.

"He'll never be caught unawares," Maddie says again in relief. "Oh, this makes me feel so much better."

"Mommy? ... Does that mean we're haunted all the time?"

Maddie's relief hardens and breaks in her chest.

All those times Danny's Ghost Sense has gone off inside! All those times!

She pulls away. "Jack, we're upping our security!"

Jack nods. "Time for FentonWorks 2.0!"

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Danny giggles as his dad chases him around the house. He phases through doors and turns invisible in hiding places, always giving himself away with laughter.

Jack grabs Danny just before he phases through the next door. “Gotcha!”

Danny laughs, happy little kid squeals that you can hear through the whole house. Jack puts Danny on his shoulders and heads into the kitchen. “He’s getting pretty good at running! Say, whatcha making, Mads?”

“Meatloaf. Would you mind helping?”

Jack sets Danny down at the table and helps Maddie make dinner, while Danny eyes something on the counter.

“Cookie.”

Maddie looks over. Danny is staring at the cookie jar. “No sweetie, no cookies yet.”

“Cookie!” 

“Not yet.”

Danny starts to cry. “Cookie!”

Maddie walks over, and gives Danny his binkie. Danny refuses it af first, but once he has it he calms down fast.

He looks at the cookie jar still, though.

And, slowly, he lifts out of his chair. He kicks his little legs, pushing himself forward. He plops down on the counter, and reaches into the jar with an intangible hand. 

He pulls out not one, but two cookies!

He gets so excited that he starts waving his arms, making happy noises.

Jack looks over. “What? Maddie, he’s gotten into the cookie jar!”

“I’ve got it!” Maddie walks over and scoops Danny up in his old Anti-Ghost-Phasing Blanket. Soft, warm, and totally ghost-proof.

Danny whines. “Cookie!”

“I said not yet, honey.” Maddie grabs the cookies and puts them on the counter. She safety pins the blanket around Danny like a little cape, except it takes away his powers.

Danny sits in his chair, throwing a fit! But to no avail. Eventually he just sits there, tear-faced and angry.

And then Jazz walks in. She looks over at the cookies, and then at Danny.

She walks over and snatches them off the counter as quick as she can! She casually walks over to the table, and hands them to Danny.

Danny brightens up. He shoves one cookie in his mouth, and gives the other back to Jazz. His original intention.

Jazz smiles, and scarfs the cookie down just before Maddie turns around.

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“Why?” Danny looks at his mom with wide, innocent eyes.

Maddie’s heart aches. “People might get scared.”

Danny frowns. “Scawy?”

“No, no, you aren’t scary. But the... idea of ghosts, for a lot of people, can be scary.”

Danny thinks, and then walks over to the fridge. “Scawy.”

Maddie looks at the drawing Danny is pointing at. It’s Jazz’s drawing of The Ghost.

The one that’s been haunting them for months.

Black horns, it looks like. Red eyes. Deathly blue skin. It makes Maddie shiver, knowing it had direct access to her children for so long. 

Danny starts to cry. “I scawy!”

Maddie scoops him up. “No, no sweetie! You are nothing like that monster, nothing like it at all! And you never will be, I promise!” Maddie hugs him tightly. “Oh, my poor baby... how about we take a break? Do you want to help Jazz paint something?”

Danny sniffles, and nods. They head upstairs, leaving the talk for another day.

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“Kindergarten, Jack,” Maddie says, packing the little lunch box. “He’s already in Kindergarten!”

Jack is already openly sobbing as he makes Jazz a sandwich.

“Do you think he understands what he needs to do?” Maddie asks no-one in particular, just worrying.

“He understands perfectly!”

Maddie jumps a little, and turns around to see Jazz smiling proudly. Danny stands right next to her, a shyer smile on his face. Maddie tears up at the sight of him with his little backpack and school outfit on. 

Jazz looks at Danny. “Go ahead! Show them what we practiced!”

Danny puffs out his chest to look strong. “I won’t go through anything, turn invi-invisi- um, turn not-seeing-me, I won’t fly, and, um... and if I feel another ghost, I’ll use this!” He pulls his little Fenton Emergency Pager out of his pocket.

Maddie wipes her eyes. “Perfect, honey,” she says, letting the pride seep into her voice. “Oh, my baby boy! Growing up so fast!” She picks him up and kisses his face. Danny wraps his arms around her neck.

“Do I have to go, mommy? They’ll think I’m scary.”

“Oh, honey. You aren’t scary, I promise.”

“... What if I need to be scary?”

“Mommy will come be scary for you.”

“She very good at it,” Jack chimes in, shivering a little as he remembers the time a ghost attacked while Maddie was buying Danny’s first pair of little shoes. By the time it was over, Jack almost pitied the thing.

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Maddie gives Danny one last hug. “Remember, calls u anytime you need us, okay?”

He nods. “I love you, Mommy. I love you, Daddy. I love you, Jazz.”

“You’re just going to school, not saying bye forever.” Even as Jazz says it, her lip wobbles and her voice cracks.

Danny floats up to the car window give her a hug, before being quickly held up by Maddie to cover the power use.

“That’s the only time today you’ll do that,” she reminds him. 

Danny nods.

Eventually... the goodbyes are done being dragged out. Danny’s family drives away as the teacher leads him inside.

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Danny sits on a swing by himself, not sure what to do.

Usually at home he plays using his powers. He doesn’t know how to be good at tag without making it so people can’t touch him, or how to play hide-and-seek without turning invisible.

He kicks the sand. This is stupid. He misses Jazz. He can play with her.

“Hi.”

Danny looks up. Another young boy is standing in front of him, holding some kind of electronic. The boy holds out his hand. “I’m Tucker.”

Danny shakes his hand, focusing very hard on keeping it a real hand. “I’m Danny.”

Tucker shows him the electronic. “Want to play my game?"

Danny looks at it. It’s a coloring game. He nods.

They pass it back and forth between each other for a while, both coloring in different parts of the same picture. 

Eventually it’s time to back in. Danny and Tucker ask if they can sit closer together.

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“So, how was it?” Maddie asks, gripping the steering wheel tightly as she picks Danny up. “Have fun?”

“I made a friend!” Danny yells! “His name is Tucker and he’s really nice!”

Maddie relaxes. “Oh? How did you meet?”

“He let me play his coloring game!”

“That’s wonderful!”

“We made a tower out of blocks and it was the strongest ever! And I never used my powers!”

“I’m so proud of you, sweetie!”

Maybe Maddie can stop worrying now. ... Probably not.

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“What if we gave it big scary horns?” Danny says as he doodled something in crayon. “Like the thing that watches my window.”

Tucker looks at him with wide eyes. “A monster watches you?”

“My parents don’t let it touch me. They hunt ghosts.”

“Oh. Do you hunt ghosts?”

Danny shakes his head. “I’m too little.”

“Oh. Me too.”

“You should give it bat wings.”

They both look up. The quiet girl who usually sits in the back is standing in front of them, her hair pulled back in a tight black braid and her clothes perfectly pressed. 

Danny looks at the drawing, and nods. He adds the wings. “We’re drawing the monster from that story we heard today.”

The girl sits down. “I bet it had claws. And could breathe black fire!”

Danny adds them on. “You’re really smart!”

The girl nods. “I am.”

“I’m Danny.”

“I’m Tucker!”

The girl grins. “I’m Samatha.”

“Wow... that’s a long name,” Danny says, eyes wide. “My sister has a long name too. Do all girls have long names?”

Samantha thinks. “I dunno. I haven’t met all girls.”

“Oh. We don’t know all boys, either.”

They spend the rest of free time coloring. Once it’s over, Samantha moves to sit with them.

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“So, how was today, sweetie?”

“I made another friend! She’s really good, and her parents make her have long hair but she wants it short, and we made this with her!” He shows Maddie the drawing.

Maddie grimaces a little, but turns it into a smile. “It’s lovely, dear. Looks... a little like Jazz’s picture.”

Danny nods.”The monster in the story lived in the window. So does this ghost.”

“... What?”

“He lives by my window. But he can’t come inside, so I make faces at him and make him mad.”

Maddie speeds up a little. “Danny, we’re going to be altering your windows when we get home. Okay?”

“Okay.”

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

Danny leads Sam and Tucker to his room with his tiny arms full of snacks. He brings them inside, and proudly stands in the middle. “This is my room!”

"Cool!” Tucker exclaims. “Whoa, you have a computer?”

Danny shakes his head. “That’s to keep ghosts out. Ghosts hate us.”

“You’ve seen some?” Samantha asks, eyes wide.

Danny grins. “So many!”

“Can we see some?”

“Sure, I can even-”

They hear a gasp in the doorway. Turning to look, they see Jazz. “Danny, you didn’t let me meet your friends!”

Danny looks horrified. “Oh no!” He runs over and pulls Jazz into the room. “This is my big sister Jazz! She’s the coolest big sister!”

“I’m Tucker!”

“I’m Sam!”

Jazz grins. “Guess what I learned yesterday?” She points out of the room. “How to use the remote!”

The trio of toddler’s eyes sparkle. They cheer for Jazz as all of them descend, ready to Take Control Of The TV!

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

“-and this is The Box Ghost,” Danny says, showing his friends the doodle him and Jazz made at home. “He’s silly. He wants to be scary, but he isn’t.”

Tucker and Samantha nods like it the most important thing they’ll ever learn.

Danny pulls out the next drawing. “This is Scary, the ghost from my window.” It’s a new drawing, a little more detailed thanks to Jazz being better at drawing now. And Danny having seen the face so, so many times. “I don’t see him anymore. Mom and Dad kicked him out of the window.”

“He’s ugly,” Samantha says, wrinkling her nose. 

“He looks stinky,” Tucker agrees.

Danny looks over at the window. “Shhhh! He’s here!”

Tucker and Samantha look at the window. They see nothing.

They look back at Danny. They see little puffs coming out of his mouth, and his eyes are the wrong color.

Danny pulls his pager out. “It’s okay. Mommy will come scare him away.”

“We can’t see him,” Samantha says.

Danny nods. “He’s hard to see.”

“Do you have to have glowy eyes like yours?” Tucker asks. “I have to have glasses. Are your eyes like Ghost Glasses?”

Danny thinks, and then nods. “I guess so. ... OH NO!” He covers his eyes. “You aren’t supposed to see that!”

“Why not?”

“Mommy said it’s a secret! You’ll think I’m scary!”

“But it’s not scary.”

Danny tilts his head, still covering his eyes. “It’s not?”

“No, it’s cool!”

He slowly uncovers his eyes. “... Do... you think this is scary?” He holds out his arm, and makes it invisible.

Tucker and Samantha gasp! Danny pulls his arm back, about to cry. They think he’s scary, they won’t be his friends anymore-

“That’s so cool,” Samantha says.

“I wanna do that!” Tucker exclaims.

Danny can’t believe it for a second. And then he grins. “I can do more stuff too! I’ll show you at my house!”

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

Maddie paces the floor while Danny sits on the couch, his little face burning with shame.

Jazz sits next to him, arms crossed. Jack stands in front of him, Maddie pacing beside her husband.

“You told your friends?” Maddie asks again.

Danny nods, keeping his head low. “I didn’t mean to. I saw Scary, and my eyes turned green, and I can’t fix that.”

Maddie sighs. “I know, sweetie, but you showed them more after! We caught you flying them around your room! How can you even carry both of them at once?!”

“It’s easy when I’m a ghost,” he says, still keeping his head low. “Everything’s easy when I’m a ghost.”

Maddie stops pacing. “Oh, sweetie... I know it must be strange for you to suddenly have to hide it.”

Danny nods. He sniffles a little.

“It’s for your own safety, son,” Jack says. “You understand that, right? We just want you to be safe.”

“Other kids can be mean, Danny,” Jazz says. “I’m smart, and some kids are mean to me for that.”

“But Samantha and Tucker aren’t mean!”

“No, they aren’t,” Maddie concedes. “... I guess what’s done is done. Danny?” She kneels down in front of him and gently lifts his head up, wiping his tears away. “We aren’t mad. We’re worried. They’re your friends, but they also don’t understand this the way we do.”

“... Can you make them understand?”

Maddie nods. “We’ll absolutely have a talk with them. You can go get them from your room right now, even. But Danny? No-one else. Okay? These two kids are the only kids you will ever tell. Promise?”

Danny nods, still sniffling. “Promise.”

Maddie puts on her HAZMAT glove and holds out her pinkie. “Fenton promise?”

Danny links her pinkie with his, letting it go ghostly. “Fenton promise, Mommy.”

“Okay. You can send your friends down now.”

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

Danny waits for his mom to come pick him up, Samantha and Tucker sitting next to him.

Samantha looks up suddenly. “I don’t like my name.”

Danny and Tucker look at her.

She stands up. “From now on, my name is... is Sam!”

Danny and Tucker clap, because they learned that’s the polite thing to do when someone has a dramatic moment like this. They learned it from watching the older kids do a play.

Sam sits back down. “I’m Sam,” she says happily. “Sam.”

“Sam is a good name,” Danny says. 

“Easier to write,” Tucker says. 

“Yeah.” Sam is very proud of her new name.

They wait a bit longer, and a long black car pulls up. Sam stands up, but her parents don’t step out.

A tall, white-haired man does, one none of them have ever met before. He smiles down at them. “Hello, Danny. Hello, Danny’s friends.”

“Who are you?” 

“I’m a friend of Danny’s parents,” he says, giving a slight bow (or maybe just bending over to hear them better since they’re so much shorter than him). 

“I don’t know you,” Danny says, accusatory. “Mrs. Emma told us about people like you!”

The Man shakes his head. “I’m not a stranger, I promise. Your parents and I are very close.”

“I don’t know you,” Danny says again. He steps between The Man and his friends. “I’m gonna tell Mrs. Emma on you.”

“Danny, really, your mother called and asked me to pick you up.”

“You liar! She always picks me up!”

“She’s fighting a ghost right now.”

“She leaves fights to come get me!”

The Man sighs. He grabs Danny’s arm. “Stubborn like your parents. Come on, I promise you’ll be fine.”

“NO!” Danny yanks his arm, trying to get away. “LET GO OF ME!”

“Stop making a scene!”

“LET GO! YOU-”

Danny gaps, a puff of breath coming out and his eyes turning green.

“S-Scary,” he whimpers. “SCARY! MOMMY! MOMMMYYYY! SCARY HAS ME!!! HELP!!!”

Danny yanks again, Tucker and Sam finally running inside to get Mrs. Emma! 

The Man scowls. “I’m trying to help you, little badger!”

“YOU’RE THE SCARY IN THE WINDOW!” Danny looks at him with bright eyes, tearful and afraid. “GET AWAY!!!”

Danny’s little hand glows green, and suddenly The Man is clutching his stomach instead of Danny’s arm. Danny runs inside, right into Mrs. Emma’s arms. He sobs to her as she frantically calls the police, trying to read the plate of the car speeding off into the distance.

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

Maddie hands Jazz a Baton. “This is in case this ‘Scary’ come after you,” Maddie says, still shaking a bit. “Okay?”

Jazz nods. 

“Danny, this is for you.” Maddie hands him a black-and-white suit. “This is to keep other ghosts from sensing you, okay? So wear it under your clothes.”

Danny nods, still crying.

Maddie looks at Sam and Tucker. Their parents were late picking them up, but with the attempted kidnapping it was decided that they’ll stay with The Fentons for a few hours until their parents could get them.

“You two get these.” She hands them Fenton Pagers, and Fenton Fun-Sized Ghost Stunners. “They can hurt people too, so only use them on ghosts. Or if someone tries to do... what you saw today, ever again.”

Sam and Tucker nod.

“And Danny? From now on, wait with Mrs. Emma until we come inside to get you.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“And when I get my hands on this ‘Scary’, I promise you’ll never have to worry about him again.”

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

Danny looks around to see if anyone is watching. He, Tucker, and Sam are crouched under a desk in the classroom while everyone else is out at recess. 

He holds out his hand to the stack of paper, and closes his eyes. For a second, nothing happens.

And then it glows green, and a small beam shoots from his hand! Tucker and Sam gasp!

“You’re like a superhero!” Tucker exclaims, standing up. 

“A ghost superhero!” Sam says, standing up too. “You need a superhero name!”

Danny shoots up, smiling widely. “What should it be?”

They all think for a long, long time.

Sam perks up. “I know!”

She grabs a book from the corner. The book is a Halloween one, mostly for pictures with just a few words. She flips to a page, and points to it. “This word! It means Ghost!”

Danny and Tucker peer at it. “How do you say it?” Tucker asks.

Sam grins. “Phantom!”

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

“Phantom?” Maddie says, looking at the doodle.

Jack nods. “Apparently Sam came up with it! Our boy wants to be a ghost hunter after all!”

“Superhero, this says.”

“Same thing!”

“Jack, what’re you making there?”

Jack holds up the suit, one of the prototype Anti-Ghost-Detection suits for Danny. “I got out my old needlepointing stuff and am making him a superhero costume! See, it’s a P!”

Maddie squints, trying to get a better look at the outline. “It looks like a D.”

Jack looks at it. “Hmm. I guess from some angles. But it’s a P! Or, DP! Danny Phantom!”

Maddie’s expression goes soft. “Awww! Okay, you keep making that, and I’ll hang this doodle on the fridge! But no actual ghost fighting until he’s at least fourteen, right?”

“Absolutely!”

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

Danny steps into the school “Halloween Party” with his hands on his hips and a bright grin, looking like a mini-version of his dad behind him.

“Aww, and what are you dressed as, Danny?” Mrs. Emma asks.

“A superhero ghosthunter!” Danny says proudly. “My parents made this for me!”

“It’s great,” Mrs. Emma says genuinely. “Alright, go mingle! We’re going to make paper jack-o-lanterns later so now is the time to trade candies!”

Danny walks over to his friends, still striking the pose. Tucker, dressed as a robot made out of cardboard boxes, pouts in slight jealousy as Danny comes over. Sam, dressed as a vampire, grins. “P for Phantom!” she yells.

Danny runs over faster. “Yeah! My dad put the logo on!” He shows it off proudly. “I’m gonna be the best ghosthunter ever!”

“You can work from the inside!” Tucker says, getting over his jealousy thankfully quick. “Make them think you wanna haunt stuff too!”

“Yeah!” Danny strikes another pose. “But I’m actually going to catch them all, because I’m Danny Phantom!”

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

Danny and Jazz are playing with dolls in the living room. “Pow! Take that!” Danny shouts, making his doll punch Jazz’s.

“Nooo!” Jazz cries out in a husky voice. “But how? I’m The Scary! Nothing can not fear me!”

“I don’t fear you!” Danny waves the hand of his doll, making laser noises. Jazz shakes her doll around, making dying noises. “I’m Danny Phantom, the strongest ghost boy ever!”

“Nooooo!”

Maddie chuckles, watching them. “That Scary better watch out for more than just us.”

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

“Where are we going?” Danny asks again.

“It’s a surprise!” Jack says again, still as excited as when the road trip started. 

Danny huffs, looking out the window again. “Why couldn’t Sam and Tucker come?”

“Because they’re spending Summer visiting their families,” Maddie says. “And so are we, sort of.”

“I though Auntie lived in Spittoon,” Jazz says.

“She does! This is different.”

After hours (years in the minds of the kids), they pull up to a mansion. All fo the boredom washes away instantly, Jazz and Danny cramming into the window to see it!

“Are we rich?” Jazz demands to know. 

“We’re well-off, but not quite. Welcome to your honorary Uncle Vlad’s house!” Maddie cheers.

“Vlad was out best friend in college!” Jack says, grinning. “He got back in contact with us a few years ago and we’ve been thick as thieves since! He asked us too come over this weekend, and we thought we’d surprise him and let him meet your two at the same time!”

Danny and Jazz cheer! THEY GET TO STAY IN A MANSION!

The family piles out of the car, and stand in front of the door! Maddie and Jack make sure Jazz and Danny look extra nice, and ring the doorbell!

It takes a long minute, so they ring it again!

Finally, a man opens it up! “Oh, Maddie, Jack, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear-”

Danny shrieks. His eyes are glowing bright as they can, his breaths giant puffs! He holds up his hand and send a little beam right into Vlad’s side!

Vlad falls back with an “Oof!”

“Danny!” Maddie scoops him up. “What on earth has gotten into you? Oh, Danny!”

Danny is sobbing pointing at Vlad. “It-it’s him! The-The Scary! He-he tried to take me!”

Maddie and Jack freeze. Slowly, they both look at Vlad. Jazz pulls out her Baton.

“Vlad?” Maddie says coldly.

“Didn’t I only invite you two?” Vlad wheezes.

Jack points a ghost detector at Vlad. It goes off.

“Now, now, I can explai- AGCK!”

Jazz starts happening him with the Baton before he can finish his sentence. Maddie hands Danny to Jack. “Sweetie, close the door and take Danny back to the truck. I need to have a word with Vlad.”

Jack does as told, holding Danny in his lap and soothing him.

“He-he tried to take me,” Danny sobs again.

“Don’t worry, son.” Jack hugs him tightly. “No-one’s ever going to be able to do that. We’ll always keep you safe. We promise.”

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

“And what do we always wear while testing new devices?” Maddie asks, handing Danny a Fenton Ghost-Zapper that would use Danny’s own ghost energy to work.

Danny grins, and puts it on. “Face mask!”

“Because?”

“Because lab safety is very important!”

Maddie grins. “That’s right! And who do we thank for reminding us of that every time we’re in the lab?”

Danny points. “Jazz! Thank you, Jazz!”

Jazz grins proudly. 

[ragingbookdragon]

She's A Bird! She's A Plane! She's...Spiderwoman?

Justice League x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: IDK where this came from but I was watching ITSV, so...there's that. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“This is your fault,” Barry griped, hacking away at the glowing fauna with the makeshift machete—in reality it was just a really big stick that had a really sharp rock tied to the end. “I told you our trajectory was off and what did you do? You said, ‘I’m Hal Jordan, the greatest pilot in the world. Watch my big head crash us on an alien planet where our central battery gets displaced during the impromptu crash land and thrown miles from our position’.”

“Do you want some cheese with all that whine, Bar?” Hal asked, an unimpressed scowl on his face as he illuminated their footpath. “It’s not my fault the orbital windspeeds were faster than the sensors picked up on. Blame the tech, not me.”

“That sounds like you’re just trying to pass off the blame,” he shot back, swiping down at another vine that wriggled like a dying snake and spat out fluorescent blue liquid on the broken end. “Y’know? Like you do best?”

“Seriously, find a better thing to do than complain, Flash. We’ve got bigger fish to fry than blaming each other.”

“Each other? I didn’t do anything! This was all you!” Barry spun on Hal and glared at him.

They glowered at each other when a clicking sound echoed above them and they both jumped a foot in the air, spinning back-to-back as they looked around in every direction, up and down and side to side.

“What the hell was that?” Hal worried.

“I don’t know,” Barry replied, just as concerned. “It sounded like clacking.”

“That did not sound like a chicken.”

“Clacking, Hal, not clucking.”

“Same thing,” he retorted, lifting his arm in the air, shining a bright green light amongst the glowing red treetops. A bunch of branches, neon red leaves and purple flowers, a darting limb—a darting limb?

Hal shifted the light back, jolting Barry’s shoulder in the process. “What is it?”

“There’s something above us,” he whispered, watching with cautious eyes as something shifted on the main branch of the tree, the outline of a dark head coming out, just enough to catch the edge of their bright gold eye. “It’s watching us.”

The something shifted back into cover, the clacking sounding once more, then the treetop ruffled, dropping red and purple fauna on the two men as it jumped to another tree. Hal tried to follow it, but it was too fast for his eyes; the only thing it left behind though was a string of long white webbing, hanging down from the blue tree branch. And Hal being the idiot he was, decided to touch it to see if he could figure out what it was, and only managed to get it all over his hands.

He pouted, trying to pull apart his hands. “It’s sticky.”

Barry let out a long and heavy sigh, placing one hand at the small of his best friend’s back, the other holding the machete. “Come on, dumb-dumb. Let’s go find that thing again.”

“Isn’t that the opposite of how the survivors live? I know we’re white, but I didn’t think we were that white.” He was half tempted to see if he could gnaw the webbing with his teeth. “This shit isn’t coming off.”

“Here,” Barry said, vibrating his hand as fast as he could and to Hal’s surprise, the webbing cut, falling to the ground.

“Thanks!” he chirped, holding his arm out again to shine his ring. “What do you think that thing was?”

“Alien lifeform.”

“No shit, Sherlock. What gave it away? The alien world?”

“I’ve just about had it with you,” Barry growled, cutting through another rough patch of vines. As the path cleared, they stepped out of the heavily forested area to see one older tree in the center of the circle. It rested atop what looked like an ancient cave, the rocks crumbling around the front.

“I’m not going in there,” Hal immediately stated. “You couldn’t pay me all the money the US owes in debt to go in there. Fuck that.”

“You’re such a big baby,” Barry chuckled, walking up to the entrance; it was about the twelve feet high and ten feet wide, big enough for the two of them to walk in. “Come on. It went in here.”

“Barry, please! Why aren’t you more worried about this?” Hal begged. “You should be more worried!”

“Hal, if it wanted to hurt us, it would’ve done so already.”

“Or maybe it’s luring us to our deaths!” he countered, even though he was following Barry into the cave.

There was more webbing along the walls of the cave, swirling around patterns of purple and blue. The farther they walked the stickier it got, and at one point, they were struggling to lift their feet off the cave floor to take the next step.

“Christ, what is this stuff?” Hal asked and Barry bent down, poking at the webbing.

“It’s like spider webbing, but stickier and stronger.” He vibrated his hand to dislodge it from the strings, then did it around Hal’s feet. “You might wanna float for now. I’ll vibrate my feet to keep from sticking.”

“Good idea,” Hal agreed, lifting a few inches off the ground. “Do you think the lifeform is intelligent?”

“Intelligent us or just intelligent?”

“Intelligent us.”

“Anything’s possible. It seemed sentient so I believe it’s probably intelligent.”

“What do you define as intelligent, Barry?” Hal questioned and the forensic scientist hummed.

“If it’s capable of calculus it’s intelligent.”

“Really? If it can do math homework you think it’s worthy?”

“Calculus is a difficult skill. You need the ability to think and to calculate in order to solve and understand it. That requires sentience and intellige—oh shit!” Barry’s words tipped into a yelp as the ground gave way beneath him and he sunk down, shouting all the way.

Hal’s eyes shot wide, and he flew down the hole. “Barry!” he yelled. “Barry where are—oof!” he collided with more of the webbing, this time enough that the entire left side of his body was stuck to it.

“Hal! You okay!”

He looked over, seeing Barry stuck on his back. “I’m okay? You!”

Barry nodded. “I’ve been better. What is this?” they looked around the best they could. Spiral upon spiral of iridescent webbings surrounded them, stuck to the walls for support, them in the center.

Hal’s eyes narrowed and he glowered at Barry. “I fucking told you it was luring us here.”

“Shut u—”

The clacking sounded above them and with panic, they both turned their eyes to the ceiling, watching as the alien lowered down near them. It looked like a human, two arms and two legs, no extra limbs at all. Hell, it didn’t even look like an alien spider; it just looked like a normal human, gazing down at them with two normal eyes. That was until it opened all six of its golden eyes and stared down at them with it’s mouth open, two one-inch fangs protruding from where the canines were.

“Ohshitohshitohshit,” Hal whispered, about to shit himself in terror.

The alien reached for Barry, and he watched as his friend sunk back into the webbing from the outstretched hand. Except he couldn’t go any farther and turned his head to the side, quietly whimpering as the long black claws touched his cheek.

“Barry!” Hal hissed and blue eyes met his, then,

“Friends!” the alien shouted. “New friends for Rhiezheveir to have!”

Their expressions pinched in confusion as the being started to twirl in the air, one hand holding to the webbing they’d lowered down on, the other elegantly flowing in the air.

“You can understand us?” Barry wondered and they looked down.

“Yes!” leaning down, they got in his face, and he saw the rather feminine looking features. “Rhiezheveir saw the ship come in the sky and land! I waited until you left it to search! The ship’s memory functions in this language!” she seemed rather excited. “Rhiezheveir found the core you were looking for! I did not know how to get you here to return it!”

She climbed up the webbing, disappearing quickly only to reappear with the ship’s core under her free arm. “Here it is! Rhiezheveir brought it back!”

“Why do you keep saying that?” Hal inquired and she lowered down next to his face, hers right in front of his.

“Saying what?”

“Rhieza-something-reservoir?”

“Rhiezheveir?” she offered, and he nodded.

“Yeah, that.”

“Rhiezheveir is my name! I am named after the brightest star in the Kosialaran sky!”

“In the what sky?” Barry asked.

“Kosialaran!” she answered. “This planet’s name! My planet!”

“Are there more of you?” Hal questioned. “You’re the only intelligent life we’ve seen besides bloodthirsty beats trying to eat us.”

“Yes, I saw you fight with the Erqurcus. They are not nice lizards. They like to bite Rhiezheveir when she tries to feed them.”

“Why do you refer to yourself in the third person?” Barry piped up. “Sometimes you use first too.”

“In Aissaveed culture, we commonly refer to ourselves in the third, though I learned from watching, that humans use first. Rhiezheveir is learning to mix them.” She smiled and the clacking sounded again.

Hal tried to look at her. “What is that noise?”

Bending down to his face again, she flashed her fangs. “They click when I get excited!”

Barry cleared his throat. “Um, Rhiezheveir, are there more of your kind in the area?”

“Not here. On the other side of the planet there is. Rhiezheveir has travelled far to get away from her people’s hunters. They do not like me.”

“How come?”

“Rhiezheveir broke tradition. Refused to be royal consort. Fled and hid here.” She let the tips of her toes touch the delicate silk webbing and then crouched, the web bouncing lightly with the weight. “Rhiezheveir is not welcome amongst her people anymore. I am alone now.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Barry murmured, even empathetical of the alien. “You’re here all alone?”

“Yes! Though not anymore!” she patted both Hal and Barry’s thighs. “New friends!”

Hal wiggled. “I hate to break it to you, Reservoir, but—”

“Rhiezheveir,” she corrected, and he sighed.

“Rhiezheveir. But we have to get back to our own planet. We have responsibilities.”

Barry nodded. “We need to get back to our ship.” he tugged against the webbing. “Can you help us get out of this? We’re stuck.”

“Of course!” she chirped, starting to snip the webbing with her claws.

“Wait a second!” Hal exclaimed. “There’s nothing underneath meAHHHHH!” the last thread snapped, and Hal tumbled down the dark and dimly lit cavern.

“Rhiezheveir!” Barry yelled. “What are you doing!”

She held up a finger in a wait motion, then a wet plop sounded, followed by, “NEVERMIND! I’M OKAY! THIS WATER SMELLS FUNNY THOUGH!”

The Speedster sighed. “Oh, there’s water down there.”

She looked at Barry oddly. “Rhiezheveir would not try to kill her new friends. That is not nice.” Snipping the lines around him, she held on as he fell and she let out a squeal as they dropped, though as Barry hit the water, she merely held on to the web in her hand, just above the body.

Barry broke the water and spit out the remaining in his mouth. “Water tastes funny too.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “Rhiezheveir, how do we get out of here?”

She smiled. “Follow me!” she shot out her free hand and another string of webbing left her hand, attaching to the roof of the cavern; letting go with her other hand, she swung like a monkey on a vine, then repeated the process, alternating her hands. And boy she was fast. Barry and Hal had to freehand like they were in the Olympics to keep up, and even then, it wasn’t fast enough.

***

By the time they made it back to the ship, their hair and clothes had dried off. They noticed that she didn’t like to be on the ground and crawled along the tree limbs above them. Bioluminescent flower petals shook from the branches every time she moved, creating an aura of beautiful red and purple around them.

Barry took the battery from her and slot it back into place, watching as they ship powered back to life; he walked over to Hal who was sitting in the first seat. “Everything good?”

Hal nodded. “A few nicks here and there, but the engine and all other vital systems are good.” He looked up. “We should be good to go once the power levels reach operational.”

The Speedster smiled and turned to her. “Well, Rhiezheveir, this is goodbye.”

She merely blinked. “What do you mean goodbye? I am coming with you.”

“There’s not enough room,” Hal said, and she smiled, those fangs clacking as she raised her arms.

“I will make myself small!” her dark body illuminated in a bright gold, then the shape began to shrink and shift, eight long legs appearing out of the main shape that had evolved into two orb like shapes. When the glow dispersed, she raised her front legs and waved, then skittered up Barry’s leg and body to his head.

“I have a spider on my head.” He said dumbly. “I have an alien spider nuzzling my hair.” Barry looked at Hal. “There’s a spider in my hair.”

Hal shrugged. “So long as it stays on you, we’re good.” He peered at her. “Rhiezheveir, can you understand us in there?”

She waved her front legs as Barry climbed into the ship, sitting on his seat; she scurried down his head to his shoulder and sat there, perfectly balanced, her beady golden eyes occasionally blinking.

“That’s a big ass spider,” Hal noted.

“She reminds me of a Goliath birdeater.”

“A what now?”

“Goliath birdeater. It’s the biggest spider on earth.” He examined her. “But her legs are so long…like a huntsman spiders’. I wonder if she’s got the abilities of different species?”

Barry reached up, holding out his hand and she climbed on it, letting him lower her to his lap. “Can you sit there while we take off, Rhiezheveir? Once were out of atmosphere, you can wander around the cockpit.”

All she merely did was raise her front legs and wave them once more before settling on his thighs, curling her legs in contently; he smiled down at her, then the realization of what bringing her meant and he blurted out, “I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to the others.”

“What do you mean?” Hal questioned.

Barry looked at him. “The crash land will be easy—you’re an idiot.” He ignored Hal’s outcry of offense and gestured to her. “How do we explain we picked up a shapeshifting spider…lady?”

Hal shrugged. “Hostile environment navigated by a peaceful intelligent lifeform who managed to be a stowaway?”

“I like the first half up until ‘who’.” Barry met his gaze. “She was threatened by her own people and begged to help her flee?”

The pilot pursed his lips. “We’ll need to use her reasoning for leaving. The whole royal consort business.”

“Sounds good.” Barry glanced down at her. “Rhiezheveir, does that sound—oh…I think she’s asleep.”

Hal looked down to Barry’s lap and sure enough, the hand-sized spider wasn’t moving on his legs other than the occasional leg twitch. “Sure she didn’t die?”

“Hal!” Barry hissed. “Don’t be mean!” he gently scratched her the top of her abdomen with his pointer finger.

“You’ve pack-bonded with a spider,” Hal noted. “Nice job, buddy.”

“Oh, come on. Like you don’t find her friendly.”

“She’s a spider.”

“She’s an alien who turns into a spider.” He watched the planet get smaller and smaller as they exited the orbit and into the stars. “Bruce isn’t going to be happy that we brought an alien back.”

“I think the pressing matter is that we have no idea what she eats.”

“Bugs?”

“You said she was an alien who turns into a spider, Bar. What’s she going to eat when she’s human…like?”

“Meat?” Barry wiggled his fingers in Hal’s side. “Man-flesh.”

Hal choked on a laugh, batting at the hand against his ribs. “Stop that.” He steered the ship through a debrief field with ease. “We’d better figure out or she’ll eat somebody in the middle of a fight.”

“In a fight?” Barry asked.

Hal shot him a look. “We didn’t take this Lady Spider with us just to get her off her home-world. She’s gonna help out somewhere.” He shrugged. “Might as well stick her in the Justice League.”

Barry’s lips pulled satisfactory. “That’s…actually a good idea.” He smiled. “I can’t wait to show her to Bruce. You know he doesn’t like spiders?”

“He’s scared of spiders?”

“I didn’t say he was scared of them, Hal. He just doesn’t like them. I think creepy crawlies make his skin crawl.”

Hal shoved him in the arm. “Don’t call her creepy crawly. She’s a pretty spider.”

“What happened to making fun of her?” Barry smirked. “You pack-bonded with the pretty alien spider lady, didn’t you?”

“Shut up,” Hal griped, going still when she shifted and crawled up the dash of the ship and stared out the window; she turned, waving her front legs. “Yeah Rhiezheveir? What is it?”

She pointed to the stars, drawing her front legs in downward arcs as if to say, “Wow!”

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Barry murmured and she did it again; he looked curiously at her. “Hey Rhiezheveir, you can understand us, right?”

She waved.

“Okay. Since you can’t talk to us until we get back, how about this—front legs up is ‘yes’ and front legs down is ‘no’. Do you understand?”

She lifted her legs up and he grinned.

“Good. Now, do you like warm places?”

Her legs went up, then down.

“Sort of?”

Up.

“You like warm and cool weather?”

Up.

“We’re going back to our world. There’re many habitats there. Some really hot and really cold. Others are in the middle.” He explained, watching her almost nod. “We’ll be meeting the group Hal and I work with on another ship. You’ll have to stay there for the time being. Is that okay?”

She lifted her legs up.

Hal leaned over. “Rhiezheveir, are you a spider that sometimes turns into a lady?”

Her legs stayed down.

“So, you’re a lady that sometimes turns into a spider?”

Up.

“Nice. Can you fight?”

Up and waving wildly.

Barry looked at Hal then back to her. “You said you refused the position of royal consort. Were you chosen because you could fight?”

Up.

“So, you escaped because you didn’t want to be forced into that position?”

Still up.

Barry nodded solemnly. “Rest assured, Rhiezheveir, you won’t be forced into anything like that on Earth. You’ll be free and able to live openly and not in hiding.”

Her legs stilled in the air, then the curled and Hal muttered, “I think you overwhelmed her emotionally.”

The Speedster cupped the spider in his hands, letting her crawl back into his lap. “Sorry, Rhiezheveir. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

She merely snuggled into his lap and stayed there.

“Rhiezheveir,” Hal started. “Your name is really complicated for humans to say. While I think it would be a good identity for a superhero life, I think you should find an easier name for people to use.”

She waved a single leg, signaling she was listening.

“How about (Y/N)?”

Barry smiled. “Ooo, I like (Y/N). That’s a pretty name.”

She raised her front legs and waved them excitedly.

“I think Rhiezheveir likes it too.” He scratched her torso. “Welcome to the Justice League (Y/N). You’re gonna fit in perfectly.”

(Y/N) waved her front legs, rearing up on her back.

“HOLY FUCK LOOK AT THE SIZE OF HER FANGS!” Hal shouted.

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results). 

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be. 

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children. 

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy 

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim. 

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do. 

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point! 

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus. 

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping. 

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex. 

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him. 

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red. 

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!! 

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling. 

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!” 

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out. 

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you. 

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage. 

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her. 

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement. 

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.” 

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos​ - @fairywriter-oracle​ - @tsukishimawh0re​ - @ofstarsanddreams​ - @bbecc-a​ - @annshit​ - @leahh19​ - @letsloveimagines​ - @bellomi-clarke​ - @wineandionysus​ - @guiltydols​ - @onephootinfrontoftheother​ - @liamakorn​ - @thirstyfangirl​ - @lilysdaydreams​ - @pan-ini​ - @mxqicshxp​ - @tanchosanke​ - @yoshinorecommends​ - @flightsandfantasy​ - @liljennyx3​ - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible​ - @sinister-sleep​ - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat​ - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit​ - @unstableye​ - @simonsbluee​ - @shinyshimaagain​ - @ppopty​ - @siriuslystupid​ - @crapimahuman​ - @ofthedewthesunlight​ - @mythicalamphitrite​ - @artsyally​ - @corpsesimpp​ - @corpsewhitetee​ - @corpse-husbandsimp​ - @hyp-oh-critical​ - @roses-and-grasses​ - @rhyrhy462​ - @sparklylandflaplawyer​ - @charbkgo​ - @airwaveee​ - @creativedogs​ - @kaitlyn2907​ - @loxbbg​ - @afuckingunicornn​ - @fleurmoon​ - @yeolliedokai​

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[f1nalboys]

Peacemaker S1 Ep5 Monkey Dory (last episode for the night 🙏) @tinalbion

-giggles :3

-ugh him drinking the eggs

-worst trope ever

-eagley :((( he’s so worried abt chris

-he looks so fucking pathetic uhm…. guys…. 😼 SORRY

-NOOOOOOO eagley brought him a squirrel to eat to feel better :(

-noooo this episode is gonna be so sad i can feel it

-ADRIANANNNN

-sorry

-“they go in through the butt??” JFJEIDNDJD

-superman w the poop fetish 😭😭

-now that we know murn is a butterfly im confused as to why the rest of them don’t know

-but i get it

-NO RHE EXPLOSION IN THE POWERPONTISIDJSIJD economous is so me

-HIM NAMING ALL THE PEOPLEKDJWINDJSBX

-“the fucking cunts from riverdale”

-ADRIAN ANSWERING THR RHETORICAL QUESTIDONCKSNX

-“fargos on tonight” ofc he watches fargo

-he’s so baby girl!!!

-“nice penmanship asshole and fargos not on till tomorrow night you fucking nerd” followed by adrian’s laughter JFJSJDJDJ

-larry is sexy

-ugh. i hate his dad

-leota defending economous <3

-“i didn’t care bc i don’t have emotions like other people do” when he clearly has shown multiple emotions like ok

-“i got bullied too” “how” “by the other kids calling me a bully all the time, saying i was abusive” SHIT UPPPPPP

-they’re finger printing what’s his face

-can they just lie and say he did it anyways

-also fuck larry is. sorry i just love a good silver fox dad bod man

-hehe i love that he loves glam rocks

-they’re bondinggggg :3

-me starting a show: i jsut want everyone to be friends :D

-has he been a butterfly this whole time? like even when he was back doing whatever?

-“evan you fucking pussy!” JFNSODNISHD

-“i finger bang you, i’m not using my pinky” IFNWOFNISD good point king!

-“i forgot women had fingers” IFKOWNCSIND

-stop this shows humor is nailing it for me tbh

-“UGH FUCK i’m never ever gonna kill someone with a chainsaw it’s so not fair” adrian u can kill me w the chainsaw. ok???

-chris and leota r my fave friendship actuslly like idk why but they bounce off of each other really rlly well

-JFNWONFJD

-LEOTA SHOOTING EACH PERSON AGTER CHRIS KILLS RHEM SHES JUST LIKE ME

-ok i’m eating breakfast so who knows how much i’ll type as i watch

-show me some fighting 🗣️🗣️

-why didn’t they just blow this place up

-YESSS BUTTERFLY FIGHTING LETS GO

-who the hell is charlie

-is that the like major guy that’s giving them the stuff

-OH EHAT THE FUCK

-“idk i invented it this morning” he’s smart

-EAT PEACE MOTHER FUCKERS

-poor economous just having to watch :(

-THE GORILLA

-HDJSJCKSKJDS

-IM LAUDHISICIWBDIS

-all of them fucking this gorilla up together <3 teamwork babey

-YESSS

-ENONOMOUS CAME IN W THE CHAINSAW LETS GOOO

-ALL OF THRN HAVING FUN TOGETHER IN THE CARTRRT

-🥹 they just mean a lot to me guys

-all of them dancing 🥹🥹

-WAHHHH HARCOURT TAKING A PIC OF THEN :,)

-HEHEHHEHEEH

-the guy who agreed to help murn is making sure chris’ dad stays in jail 🙏🙏

- ew not him trying to gaslight my queen 🙄🙄

-go get larry and get his ass

-“so we can assume butterflies can use any life form as a host” “chihuahua? :D” “probably wouldn’t fit” “would be cool tho!! :3” adrian chase. i have feelings for you. major ones.

-everyone being mean to adrian he’s just silly guys!!!

-he’s not a thimble

-“we can trust him” “what’s his name” “judy” “JUDGE JUDY???”

1

-“we can trust him!” “so you’ve said” “and plus he’s my uncle” “😳” Hhehehehehe

-WAHHHHH

-HARVOURT MAdE A GC FOR THEM

-NAMED 11TH STREET KIDS

-IM SOBBINGGGGGG

-there’s 11 minutes left in sad

-adrian using the merman emoji hehehe

-“he says it means happy sad and everything in between” WAHHHHH

-:,) he wants to hang out w JFNWKNFKWNFJD

-sorry he wants to hang w leota and she goes “are you trying to fuck me but claiming ur dicks a lesbian or something” JDNSKNFJS

-he framed his first newspaper article about himself.

-guys i’m crying now.

-ok had to pause to send a video crying abt this to tati i don’t wanna play it i don’t want them to be sad

-her almost throwinf the drink up HFJSIJDJRJRJ

-they’re having a beer together :3

-LEOTA HELPING HIM W HARCOURTJSIFNIE

-oh i’m giggling

-“don’t talk about her tits or her pussy” “yeah but…what abt when we’re fucking” STOP ITTTT

-john cena plays christopher smith so we’ll it pisses me off

-“you really aren’t a bad guy. you just use being s fuck as a way to push people away, but if you would just take second and just drop that and be Chris Smith, i think people actuslly might like you” WAHHHHHH

-THEYRE BESTIESSSSSS

-“i just never had this before” “what?” “this, you, you know, giving me advice and having my back” SHES HIS FIRST FRIEND GUYS WAHHH

-I JUST WANT EVERYONE TO BE HAPPY IM SO SCARED

-him crying :(

-leota still planting his diary :(

-NOOOOOOO

-her voicemail to her wife :(

-OH NO

-oh no

-FUCK. she’s using chris’ helmet and she’s gonna see that he’s a fucking butterfly FUCKKKKK

-LEOTA IM SO SCARED FKR HER

-NO

-LEOTA GET THE FUCK OUT GHERE

-OH MO OH NO OH NO

- THATS HOW THE EPISODE ENDS

-WHAT THE GUVK

-i was gonna stop after this episode but i have to start the next one i jsut have to

-end credits

-THE NAME DROPPSSSS STJDISJDNKWNFKS

-silly end credits

OK THOUGHTS ON THID EPISODE: holy fuck! just!!!! OMGGGGG i love leota and i love her bonding w chris (even tho she still put his journal there :/) but FUCK I KNOW SHE DOESNT DIE BC ID BE PISSED BUT NOW I HAVE TO WATCH EP6 TOO

its 6 am so i’m a little tired but my god ALSO harcourt has officially grown on me see i just needed her to get away from that ‘strong girl doesn’t like girl stuff or other people’ thing, strong women r allowed to have friendships and close bonds and stuff !!! and now i lowkey ship her and chris -_- annoying i know hehe

anyways episode 6 time

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Fool

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | six

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: It all spills over.

Word count: 8.8k~

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: SMUT (WE MADE IT FOLKS), thigh riding, fingering/hand job, very brief breathplay/choking, cum eating¿? Angst/emo shit (I'm so sorry i have no self control)

Notes: HI FRIENDS, wow it's been a minute. Sorry for the massive delay. For anyone wishing to start KOC, now would be the perfectly spicy chapter to do so! This chapter was Herculean. idk why. Love you guys, enjoy! x (gif credit : @djarinsgf)

“Maker,” you bemoan, shielding your face from the heavy beat of the suns.

You’ve known warmth—you were raised in warmth. This is beyond it.

It’s not just warm, it’s sweltering. The heat is oppressive, congealing the air to mist; you can barely see through it what with the sweat running into your eyes. Tall, craggy dunes line the valley of desert, trapping the planet’s hot pulse within their walls. Your steps crunch along the dry, pebbled earth as you swat at the gnats buzzing in ribbons around your head.

A muffled gurgle sounds from behind you and you slow to a halt, boots gritting into the cracked top soil.

“You doing alright back there, Munch?” you ask, craning your head to the child nestled into the carrier fashioned onto your back. A green ear pokes free from the top, and you can see the jewel of his black eyes peering at you through the gauzy cloth you draped over it. He grunts, and you give a small shrug—shifting the pack by the straps, eliciting a giggle out of him. “We can always turn back, okay? I’m not going to be mad.” Another noise, a happy coo this time, and you shimmy your shoulders again, jostling the bag playfully.

“Well, you just let me know.”

Your conversations usually unfold this way. They leave much to be desired, but you’d like to think you understand one another—in fact, you probably understand the kid more than you understand his dad.

You’ve grown close with him, you’ll be the first to admit it. You’re attached to each other. The little one has been your constant companion for these months and in some ways, you suppose he takes care of you just the same as you take care of him. The chamber of space can be lonely; it’s cold and unkindly reflective, stranding you to the echoed chain of your thoughts—but when he tugs at your hair or slobbers spittle down the front of him or crawls up into your lap to nestle into your tunic, it feels like you belong there—there on the Crest, streaming through the galaxy.

And maybe, simply, it feels good to do right by a child—as if you could make up for it somehow, within yourself. To do better than you were given.

Squinting, you raise your wrist to check the coordinates on your comm and shade a hand over the screen, blocking the glare cast onto the display. “Almost there,” you mumble, resuming your stride as you begin the last leg of the trek to the settlement you and Mando discussed that morning.

“What?” he asked, planted some paces away from you.

You hummed a curious note, glancing to him.

“What is it?”

You were trying to be small all morning—shrunken and shy, avoiding the thought and avoiding him all together. You quieted yourself, as if to not take up space, but the attempt was fruitless; of course he picked up on it – you get good at reading people on the job, he’d said – and of course he called you out on your behavior. You took a big gulp of your caf, gaze flickering down—increasingly more and more invested in the scuffs marked into the table you sat at.

“Dala,” he said pointedly, arms folding over the breadth of his chest.

Shit. Who did you think you were fooling? Playing possum with a Mandalorian?

Worrying your lip, you stood. You couldn’t bear to look up at him, just looming there across the table from you, so you paced around the deck as you rambled. “Okay, so you know how I’m still connected to the RRM channels? Well, I’ve been checking the message boards and I—there’s a settlement here out in the Wastes. It’s small and new and they’re looking for volunteers and—”

You whistled in a breath. Fuck it.

“And I want to help.”

Like the toggle of a switch, you went from having a career—having a purpose—to having nothing. And all your gratitude for the transport he’s offering couldn’t fill that empty lull that’s settled inside you.

“Would you be comfortable with letting me take the kid? I know I’m probably asking a lot—and I will fully respect whatever you decide—but I can keep him by me the whole time, I swear, I just—” You shook your head, pinching your eyes shut before sighing, “I need to be doing something. Anything.”

There was a long pause. You scratched at the torn skin around your cuticle, nervously searching the pitch of his wordless visor. He didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even twitch.

“That’s fine,” he finally remarked, graveled.

You blinked, taken aback at his agreement, and all at once your fidgeting ceased and a bright grin broke out over your features in its place.

It nearly brought him to his knees.

“Wait, seriously?” you asked, bouncing on the balls of your feet and he nodded, a subtle tilt to his helm. “Maker, thank you,” you exclaimed, and without thinking you flew towards him, flinging your arms around his neck and sealing yourself to his armored frame. His arms escaped out from his chest in surprise, suspended and stiff, before falling measuredly to his sides. You could’ve been imagining it, but you swore you heard the distinct grit of his teeth grinding together under his helmet.

“Really Mando,” you beamed, pulling back to lay your eyes on him, to let him see the earnest there: you have no idea how much this means to me. “Thank you.”

You gave his shoulders a squeeze, thumbs brushing along the scratchy fabric of his cape before tearing yourself away. Swiping up your mug of caf, you wound down the corridor - airy, buoyant - back to your makeshift quarters to prepare for your outing. It took him another minute just to get his damn feet to move from the spot on the durasteel you welded him to.

Din told you to be safe.

You smiled, and promised you would.

You left the Crest before him and it was strange, surreal. For the first time, you stood in each other’s shoes, leaving Din there on his own while you set off into the world. He watched you go—you and his boy—watched you walk away into some great unknown without him.

And he didn’t like it.

He soured, somewhere in the deep of him—within that pit he called a gut, he twisted sick.

Your feet hit the ramp, dull and tinny, and it sounded like goodbye—it sounded like you leaving. It’s what it will look like when time and fate touch, and inevitability catches up with him. It’s what it will look like when he takes you home. You’ll walk out of his life, down that same ramp, and your steps will echo those same beats. You won’t look back.

And Din, with all his strength, all his unshakeable resolve—Din will let you go.

///

The encampment is settled into the shadow of a cliffside, seeking respite there from the blazing suns, the taupe of the canvas shanties camouflaging into the arid landscape. Some crawl their gaze up as you enter the village, and you offer them smiles they do not return. Others do not acknowledge your presence at all— unstirred as your footsteps sound past, their heads bound heavy towards the earth. It’s not long before a decisive voice cuts through the hush that’s claimed the settlement.

“Are you with the RRM?”

You turn and are greeted by a woman ducking out of a tent—the grey of her woven tunic browned with sand, heat collecting in her black, coiled hair.

“Yes, I’m with the Movement.” It’s not a total lie. Sure, you’re on leave, but that doesn’t discount you completely. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

With a sharp exhale like a prayer of relief, she makes her way towards you. “Where’s the rest of your division?” Her eyes narrow discerningly, flitting behind you as if expecting to spot the rear of your party trickling in.

“It’s, uh—it’s just me,” you confess, pressing your lips together in a thin smile.

She rakes a hand over her hair, over her face. The skin around her knuckles is split, the beds of her nails chalked with days of unwashed grime. “Alright,” she concedes begrudgingly, without any better option presented. “And who is this?” She nods to the child, emerging from the pack and staring curiously at her.

“This is—” You take a moment to consider it—consider the secrecy around the child, the bounties, the life on the lam. Less is more, you decide. Again, it’s not a total lie. “I’m babysitting.”

The kid grunts an emphatic patu.

You both share a look—a quirk of her dark brow, an apologetic heft of your shoulder—and she sighs. “Well, I’ll take all the help I can get,” she quips dryly with a wave of her hand, leading you into the settlement.

///

She’s coarse, this woman—Arlaani, she told you—matronly and effective. She has a calculating gaze and powerful shoulders that she holds steady as she shows you through the camp. There are lines around her eyes, carved into the curves of her mouth. She knows what you know—what all women learn: sometimes you must be hard in order to keep others soft.

You walk shoulder to shoulder, matching her long strides with your own.

“The Black Sun has taken the southern hemisphere; their numbers have only grown since the Battle of Yavin. Pirates, mercenaries, spice runners—they’ve ransacked one half of the planet and have the officials of the other half in their pocket,” she scowls. “They have stolen our land, our homes—we’re moisture farmers, mechanics, mothers and fathers. We are simple people and we have been forgotten by our government—by those who vowed to represent us, protect us.” Arlaani draws in a long breath. “We’re on our own out here in the Wastes.”

You survey the area; the lifeless ocean of rock and sand, the few scattered trees that have died on their feet—roots withering bone dry in the suns. “Why settle here if it’s so uninhabitable?”

She huffs a humorless laugh. “Because, it’s uninhabitable,” Arlaani explains. “No one robs a beggar. There is nothing in the Wastes the Black Sun wants.”

There are no buildings, no structures; the whole area is undeveloped and raw. Tents are dotted sporadically in clusters, crates of supplies and water canteens stationed every other one. Children dawdle idly, tired and overheated, leaning against boxes and posts—their bellies distended and skin parched taut. Flies land on their shins, on their cheeks. They do not go to shoo them away.

“The Movement supplied those for us when we landed,” she comments, nodding to the crates. “That was two months ago.”

“No one has come back to check on you since?” you ask, brows notching together.

She shakes her head solemnly, jaw set rigid. “Our little ones go hungry, our elders are sick with red fever. We will run out of water before the week is through,” Arlaani says before she turns to you, holding your gaze—the seriousness evident in the stone of her eyes. “I thank the gods you are here.” She presses a palm to your shoulder. You feel the weight of it, the weight of her—of the lives she carries on her back.

“I thank the gods.”

///

You stop by each tent delivering what little food and medicine you brought with you from the Crest, and after each encounter—the people so grateful, so weary—your mind strays further and further to Mando.

Din, you scold yourself. Not Mando, Din. Din Djarin.

You still can’t bring yourself to say it.

He spent that whole fateful day nearly two weeks ago bristling at the very sight of you, going out of his way to limp to the other side of the ship just to ignore you better, only to do you in for one final head spin and give you his name.

Two weeks, and you still haven’t said it. There’s no other excuse: plainly - pitifully - you’re scared. You’re scared he regrets it.

Because how horrible of a truth would it be? To be offered something out of carelessness or guilt; to be the product of pity, or even worse, a mistake that cannot be unmade, cannot be rectified. He can’t take his name back, can’t unspeak it any more than you can unhear it, and this fear, picking at you like an old scab—it’s so painfully human, so terribly universal:

what if I’m not worth it?

And isn’t it easier to neglect the answer, then it is to ask the question.

So you’ve buried his name for both of your sakes, keeping it somewhere secret and private, there to garner dust in the quiet of your mind.

You’re brushing through the draped entrance of a tent when you spot him: a small boy hiding behind a supply crate, the top of his dusted head poking out over the ledge. You catch him peering at you, and he ducks down shyly. A honeyed grin blooms across your face.

“I think we’re being watched Munch,” you coo. The little ball of robes blinks up at you from your arms, earning his nickname tenfold as he crams his mouth with a flakey cracker. “You want to say hi?” He hums in response and you crouch, letting him wiggle free from you to toddle over to the other child. With small steps, he eventually makes it over to the other and immediately, without hesitation or provocation, extends one of his crackers to him.

Your heart swells until it bursts, proud and beautiful in your chest.

Munch leads him out from behind the box, the two boys shuffling slowly through the dirt back to you. He can’t quite meet your eyes—his gaze lands somewhere around your chin, your collarbone, and you fold forward, bent at the knees to meet his height.

“Do you have a name, sweetheart?” you ask kindly.

He nods, nibbling quietly on the cracker, and you breathe out a chuckle. “Not much of a talker, huh? I can respect that,” you say, eyes crinkling fondly with a smile. “Well if you want to tell me, you can—or not. That’s okay, too.”

He nods again, and you fish out more salty treats from the sleeve in your pack, gently handing them to the other—a gesture he nervously accepts, dirty fingers trembling as he plucks them from your open palm. This boy is precious—sweet faced and cherubic, he must not be a cycle over the age of seven.

And the realization comes so suddenly that it blindsides you—struck by it, there between your lungs: Din was his age when it happened—when life happened to him. When this could have happened to him.

You can’t help but think of it—think of him and everything he told you that night he came bleeding through the Razor Crest. You can’t stop imagining him; Din as a little boy tucked away, his people—his parents—decimated overhead. He is a Mandalorian by proxy. Displaced from his home, from his past, saved by a sect with an affinity for orphans—to protect those who cannot protect themselves. The irony of it all is not lost on you:

Din is a refugee too.

You see him in this boy, and in all the faces here—in every set of eyes, young and old alike. Each are individual - idiosyncratic - but they each wear the same qualifiers. The same exhaustion. They each fight the same tired battle, leaving them with identical sets of marks.

Does Din? If you were to see him, truly see him, would you find them there? You’ve seen the scars he’s earned from being a Mandalorian.

You wonder if he has any from simply being a man.

Pushing yourself to stand upright, you cradle Munch back into your chest, his teensy claws riddling your shirt, and offer the boy your hand—outstretched in front of you.

He’s cautious. Too cautious for a boy so young, for a child who should know nothing but abundant love and fearless imagination. He shouldn’t have had to learn this lesson: that some hands should not be taken, that some people should not be trusted. He studies you, hesitant but hopeful, and you smile softly—cycles of hard-won patience and empathy curving the corners of your lips.

He lays his small hand in your own. You walk on together.

///

The day blows by like hot desert wind, chafing at your skin. Minutes have ripened to hours—morning has crawled to midday.

The three of you finish your rounds— distributing rations throughout the camp, pitching tents, taking stock of the dwindling supplies for you to relay to the Movement once you return to the Crest and have access to your holopad.

It’s then that you notice Arlaani again. She’s speaking in hushed tones with another man, the both of them hunched over a large carton. You see the concern ticked clearly along the man’s jaw, the dread grooved into her brow, her crossed arms. With a frown, you plop the child down onto a nearby petrified log and the other boy joins, hopping up next to him, all too happy to get off his feet. You tell them not to wander off— a kiss to Munch’s forehead, a ruffle of the boy’s hair— before making your way to the couple.

“Hey,” you call, jogging over. “Is everything alright?”

Arlaani wheels around as you approach. It hasn’t been long since you’ve seen her, but somehow she looks older. Hollowed, drained— like there’s less and less in her. “It’s the water,” she grits out, “sand mites have gotten to the crates, to the canteens.” She tosses you one of the flasks. It’s littered with holes, porous and leaking— the remnants of water splashing out of the orifices bitten into the sides.

Arlaani dives through the crate, rifling through the supplies. She’s tense, upset, her voice is rife with it. “They’re all like this. Ruined, fucking—” She heaves out a hissed exhale and props herself up on the edge of the box, neck bowed between her shoulder blades. “This was the last of it, and now—now…”

The man tries his best - how do you comfort marble? - as he places an arm around her, his thumb drawing patterns there, reassuring and calm but she wants nothing of it; she gruffly shrugs it off as if stung, weaseling out of his hold. “I can’t— I need to think,” Arlaani bristles, as she paces away from the settlement, receding deeper into the Wastes.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I have- I have to—” His eyes follow her shrinking form, worry apparent in the shape of them. It’s so obvious. He’s terrified of that woman—probably loves her, too.

“Go,” you say, and with a knowing expression, he turns and trots after her.

Heavy footed, heavy hearted, you trudge back to find the children exactly where you left them. Once there, you collapse to the hard ground, dust and dirt puffing up as you recline onto the log. Your palms run over the earth—scooping up sand and rock and letting it slip through the cracks of your fingers, gaze trained out onto the encampment—the people milling about, the miasma of helplessness stifling the air.

This isn’t enough. You’re not doing enough— these impermanent little nothings, your measly good deeds. It’s not going to matter. They’ll be bones by the time the next wave of volunteers rolls through. They’ll be grain.

You need to do something that lasts, that outlives you when you leave.

You glance over to the kid and his new friend, their little legs swinging off the edge of the trunk, heels thumping against the old wood. They look to you, two pairs of big eyes—crackers in their tiny fists.

“You boys ever dig a well?”

///|||///

The suns roast into his beskar, blistering him from the inside out.

The day has been long and it’s only half over. It took him longer than it should have to gather himself— his fob, his rifle, his fucking head—and depart the Crest. Longer than it should have to hunt the bounty here—some marauder scum who’s number is up and luck has run out. Longer than it should have to set up his sniper’s nest, sculpted into the mountainside.

Din is distracted, has been all day— has been since you left.

He can’t stop feeling you. Your warmth pushing against his chest, your arms looping around his neck, the heat of your palms searing through his flight suit. Din can smell you on him still— like citrus and moss, you cling to his cowl from where you buried your head.

It’s intolerable. It feels like an infection with how it’s been building, how this has spread— slowly but surely rearing to an unignorable head. Serpentine and insidious as it crept through him, this growing affliction— this morbid curiosity that spoiled like rotting stonefruit into infatuation— slipping along his bones and organs, blemishing Din in faint little licks— imperceptible to the naked eye but there all the same.

How did this happen? How did he become this?

You’ve been more relaxed now, bolder in some ways. Transparent. Sometimes, you’ll touch his arm as you walk by him or sweep your hair from your neck when you sit by his side in the cockpit, star shine on your jaw. You’re quick with a laugh, lips pulling back into a pretty grin. He’s even caught you staring at him, there out of the corner of his eye—from where he steals those same glances under the safety of his helm.

He spied you once, just a glimpse of your backside, padding quietly away from the shower with only your underwear on, drops of water tracking down your spine. It was brief, you were fast—you must have forgotten your shirt in your bunk—but he had to lock himself in his quarters and fuck his hand before he could even think about piloting the Crest into the stratosphere.

Din is a lot of things, but he isn’t daft. A part of him knows. A part of him is aware that you are two very human people with very human needs—and that you’ve been ignoring these primal aches with premeditated dereliction for months now.

And you can only dance around each other so long before one of you snaps.

And Maker, he’s so desperate to be rid of you—to get you out of his fucking system; to let him sleep without dreaming of you, to let him wake without plunging into his briefs and jerking himself off. You are everywhere. In his ship, in his galley, in his thoughts. He has no privacy, he has no sanctity— he has no idea how you have managed to worm yourself so deep into every living part of him. Others have tried and they have failed, and you— you did it in your sleep. From that very first fucking night, curled up in his chair, gore and ash stained tunic rising with your slumbered breathing. You snored.

You fucking snored.

And now you’re killing him— just as the suns above, you are blistering him from the inside out.

His level-headedness has all but evaporated. He’s peeved. Not only is Din distracted, but he's angry— has been since he plodded up this damn hill, waiting for his quarry to pass through the ravine between the valley of mountains—because instead of performing his job, he’s consumed with you. All of you.

He kneels, flattening himself against the rocky sand— your hands, so small and soft against him— and unclips the rifle from the strap on his back—how good you’d feel on his skin—he aligns his sights— the weight of your breasts in his palms—

His helmeted head clunks to the ground and he loses his aim, a frustrated growl emanating out from him. Focus, Mando. Fucking focus.

Din reorients his crosshair, training it on the gang of pirates in the gorge below. They lean haphazardly over their speeders, their cargo nets packed full with different wares and spices, jeering loudly and chugging from the jugs of spotchka they undoubtedly looted earlier that afternoon. He inspects the rabble, searching for his target and—those pretty lips that smile so easy for him, stretched around his length.

Fuck. He pinches his eyes shut.

You whispering husky into his ear as you ride him, you bent over the pilot’s chair begging for his cock, you sprawled out over the deck while he laps at your sweet cunt.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck— he can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this. You’re everywhere everywhere everywhere— you buffer his vision, his senses, his sight. He’s blinded with you. You’re blinding him.

With an infuriated heave he shoves himself off the ridge of the dune, bounty-less, and reverses his course back to the Crest—heart beating furious and bloody against his ribs.

///

The settlers surround the trench, peering down at you as you work. Hours ago, when you originally proposed this idea to Arlaani, they insisted on helping— to which of course, you insisted they didn’t. And so they watch— the refugees, Din’s foundling, the nameless boy— mangling their hands restlessly, animated with an inkling of that all too lethal substance long sought after by those of all species and creeds: hope.

You sink the shovel into the dry earth and your muscles burn with the effort—the skin on your palms stings from the rough grate of the wooden dowel and the yawn of your back strains as you pitch forward.

You’ve missed this.

You’ve been so distracted. You’ve grown comfortable in your routines, you’ve let yourself go listless—living in blissful ignorance—all because of a metal man in his metal ship with the most impossible and darling child you’ve ever known. All because your body reacts at the very sight of him, all because your belly flips when he speaks, that modulated purr rumbling loose from his beskar, all because, because—

You like him.

You wish you didn’t—you hardly know why you do—but you’ve soaked your fingers enough times in your rack to realize that this thing residing within you burns.

You can’t even see his face, and you don’t have to. His presence alone— that raw, vacuous energy that surges from him—it’s addicting. It's engulfing. It makes you whimper into the night, massaging your pearled clit as your other hand muffles your moans and you come over and over and over again, chasing after the fantasy you so dangerously harbor for this man. The man who’s piloting you back to Coruscant—the man who sleeps just down the hall.

But that isn’t real. That’s not real life— that’s not your life. This is real—the fuchsia of the setting suns blazing through the horizon, the sweat on your brow. You’ve missed this— Maker, you need this. Working with your hands, making an impact. You’re wanted here and kriff, does that not feel so unabashedly right. To be wanted. To be important.

Your back groans, the sinew woven over your spine aching in protest and you know, without a doubt, you’ll feel this for the next week. Half of you dreads it—being cooped up and sore, lactic acid compacting your joints— while the other excites at the prospect; the memory of a good deed lasting long after it’s finished. That reminder always there, always present: see, there’s still hope in the galaxy. We can still do good. There’s goodness where you look for it.

You fling dirt over your shoulder as you burrow lower and lower. With each shove, the soil changes hue, changes density—the striations darker, more definitive. It’s less dry now, thicker too—turning from sand to clay the deeper you dig. Again, you drive the spade into the sod with a taxed grunt, when you hear a distinct, wet squish.

You pause, stilling your shovel in the dirt. Everything - everyone - freezes.

Adrenaline thrums through you as you drop to your knees, using your hands to brush away loose silt piled atop the loamy floor, excavating what lies beneath.

Prayers and hollers erupt above you and you lurch your focus up to the sound, a feverish grin plastered to your face. The little boy jostles the child excitedly, and his green talons rumple the other’s tattered tunic. Your head falls back, cushioned by the dirt wall and you laugh - gargled, relieved - as water begins to seep through the tired ground.

Bubbling up, bubbling up—unearthing.

///

The promise of ridding yourself of your soiled clothes was the singular thought that fueled your trek back to the Crest. Every inch of you was filthy, caked in dried mud and gritty sand and you wanted nothing more than to strip from those dirty layers and melt into your bedroll. The kid, that lucky little bugger, had passed right out; sun drunk from his long day, he’d slept the entirety of the return trip—stirring only once when you placed him in the hover pram and sealed it shut.

Your bones are worn. Your tissue, your tendons— every little scrap that keeps you stitched together craves sleep. You reckon you should feel miserable, what with the tell-tale stiffness already burdening your spine and the fresh callus from the shovel’s handle reddening your palm.

But you’re not miserable, not even close. No, you’re happy—you’re glowing; fulfilled and serene, humming as you wash your pants in the basin, kneading at the sopping fabric. You wring out the article, shaking free the excess droplets before draping it on a metal rung overhead. You peel off your shirt and bra band next, leaving you only in your underwear as you plop them into the bowl and begin to scrub at the stains, concentrating on a particularly dirty patch at the sleeve.

The grating mechanics of the Crest’s great jaw unhinging sends your stomach bounding frantic to your lungs.

Kriff—shit shit shit, he’s back early.

Clutching onto your modesty, you cover your breasts and scramble to your quarters, quickly shimming a loose tunic over your head. Its hem barely covers the curve of your ass and you tug long at the cloth before peeking cautiously from the doorway and tiptoeing out of your room.

“Hey,” you warble, rounding a corner as solid feet pound up the ramp—you can feel their reverberations in the floor under your own. You pad into the galley, pulling at your shirt as you go, to tidy up the washing you left unattended. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so—”

You falter.

He’s there at the mouth of the ship, the ramp drawing slowly up behind him and he’s fuming; you can practically see the steam lifting from his armor and his breathing is labored—chest rising, plummeting violently. You both stand immobilized on opposite sides of the hull—you, bare-legged and exposed and Din, all but anonymous under the steeled fury of his armor. Finally, the sound dampens, ship shuddering as she seals shut—sealing you in—and the leather of his fist creaks in the silence hanging dense like smoke around you.

“Mando...?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response. Instead he begins to stalk forward, stripping weapon after weapon from himself with every thundering step—rifle, blaster, vibroblade—he sloughs it all, metal clanging against metal as they clatter to the deck.

“Hey, what’s wrong-”

He’s not stopping. Fuck, he’s getting closer and closer and instinctually you back up—staggering until you’re pressed against the bulkhead—his broad frame crowding you until all you see is the silver polish of his beskar. You jolt when his hands fly up and slam into the wall behind you, framing either side of your head, fencing you between his forearms. Your lips part, wide-eyed and confused, and you gulp around the nervous lump threatening your voice.

“Do you have any idea,” he seethes, “what you do to me?”

“W-What-” Your stammering is cut short as he slots his thigh between your legs and you have to tilt your chin to meet his visor, a gasp finding itself on your tongue.

“Strutting around my ship, putting your hands on me, that kriffing smile…” Din ruts his knee into your heat, and you’re practically hoisted onto your toes. Your core pulses against the blunt pressure, blood racing to the throb at your center.

Maker, you could fucking faint.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this—about you?” His voice is tar black—smooth like obsidian—and you succumb to it. You can’t speak; any and all language evaporating from the forefront of your mind, because he’s everywhere. He’s inescapable and smothering and his scent floods over you, intoxicatingly wild—like iron and sand and something dangerous. Something heady, carnal.

“Is this what you want?” he hisses.

You’ve gone dumb. You’ve imagined this, you’ve dreamt of this, but now it’s actually happening—here, in the flesh, it’s finally happening and you’re trembling with the reality of it. All you can muster is a shaky nod, tongue darting out over your lip.

“Tell me,” he orders, scanning your face behind the guise of his helm. You feel his gaze rove over your eyes, your cheek—fanning across your lips.

Your breath hitches.

“Yes,” you whisper, “yes I want this.“

It’s all it takes.

Din is rougher than he means to be. He wears this as he wears his armor, plating the soft parts of himself he doesn’t want anyone touching. He doesn’t know anything else. He doesn’t know how to be anyone else but this.

He grabs a handful of your waist, rooting you still as he rolls his thigh against you. You inhale an airy noise, grappling onto his other arm stationed by your head and you bite your lip, sucking it into your mouth. Your cunt spasms for him as he presses up into your mound, fightless against the groan that seeps through you.

“You like that?” he pants. ”You like fucking my thigh?”

Din manhandles your hips, his hold on you vicious as he rocks you back and forth on his plated leg, your clit catching on the cold edge of his thigh guard with each motion. It sends hot sparks down your spine and you trap a moan behind your teeth, letting the sound rumble there before you swallow it. His hand weaves up from your waist, the drag of his glove setting fire to your skin as he passes over the swell of your clothed breast, and you arch into his palm as he swipes a thumb over a nipple. “You want more?”

He splays his large hand, groping at your plump flesh, and pinches your nipple hard until it pebbles through your shirt. With each sharp twist, his intention becomes clearer: it won’t be enough to skate by on moans alone.

“I asked you a question.”

Din slides his other hand to the small of your back, drawing you flush to his front, and you can feel him— the outline of his firm length twitching under his flight suit against your hip. He cranes over you, intimidating and menacing and achingly devious. The panel of his visor has never looked darker.

“Use your words, dala,” he husks.

You should be embarrassed by this—by your need made evident through the soaked lining of your underwear—but you aren’t. The heat that stipples your cheeks isn’t born from shame, it’s sprung from lust—pure and primal—and you can’t afford to give it any further consideration because all there is is this man wrenching sounds from you like an animal— and he’s scarcely even touched you yet.

“Your fingers,” you whimper, “I want your hands."

He learned this lesson within those first weeks—relearns it every fucking day. You could ask him for anything - everything - and he would oblige.

He can’t say no to you.

He shifts out from between you, hooking into the elastic of your panties and tears them down your thighs to rest just above your knees, the spread of your legs keeping them from dropping to your ankles.

Patiently - tortuously - he scrapes up your legs, leaving embers in his wake as he trails higher  higher  higher to where you need him most. You’re shivering—nerve endings fried and frayed—and every atom inside you hums with anticipation, with unbridled impulse.

The orange tips of his gloves dimple your inner thighs - squeezing, massaging - before he tilts his helmet, angling himself to see you better, and paws your swollen lips apart.

Your pussy is drooling for him.

He moans something indecipherable— a curse in Mando’a—at the sight of you glistening for him under the dimmed lights like this, and immediately you buck your pelvis to him, hungry for his touch—and the pathetic noises babbling out of you prove too much for him to bear.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, ripping a glove off and tossing it aside, “I need to feel you.”

Your eyes have dilated with want, blackened as you watch Din retrace his bare hand—that gorgeous thing you’ve never seen, only ever fantasized about—back to your heat and slowly - so fucking slowly - pass a finger through your slit.

You throw your head back, knocking against the durasteel. The mewl that escapes you is inhuman.

He’s so warm. His tan skin is molten—it’s like he brought the sun in with him, as if he’s burning that star straight into your sex. You’re slippery with arousal; you can feel how glossed you are, you don’t have to look. You can hear it—hear the obscene squelches he’s stroking from your seam.

“Maker, you’re - shit - you’re wet,” he groans loudly, reveling in the way you pitch your hips—seeking his warmth, his friction. He’s been toying with you, drawing patterns along your pussy and playing with your puffy folds, but he hasn’t even come close to your clit. You know it’s no accident. Din is methodical in all things, he doesn’t make mistakes. This is a decision—it’s intentional. You think, perhaps, he’s looking to break you—some sort of retribution for these months you’ve spent swimming in circles around each other—and you think, perhaps, you’d let him.

That you’d like it.

When Din grants you mercy, finally gliding his index along your neglected bundle of nerves, reflexively you fist into his cowl, knuckles going pale.

“Stars-” you exclaim—just like that.

He handles your body like he does one of his pistols - practiced, unparalleled - encircling your clit with precision, his finger on your trigger—blinding, perfect agony swiveled into your sweet cleft.

When he pushes himself inside you, all the oxygen gets punched out of your lungs.

“Fuck, and so tight,” Din growls, bending at the knuckle to curl over that spongy spot of your walls that makes you gape, makes your brain go slack. Your arms scamper around his pauldrons, nails scraping sharp over beskar. The heel of his hand presses into your clit and you grind against him, each roll of your hips pleading a filthy please please please as you chase after the orgasm he’s baiting you with.

He responds to that, bourboned praise dripping smug from his smirk. “Fuck, look at you, so desperate—gonna cum for me already?”

You don’t have the wherewithal to formulate a response. He’s fit another finger into you, fucking up into you hard—fucking you exactly how you need him to. It feels like you are about to shatter right there on your feet. It’s almost unbearable, this mounting tension that’s climbing within you. You’ve been so starved for this, so deprived of a kind touch and a good fuck, and within no time at all he’s coaxing you to the ledge of your release.

“Mando,” you sob, entwining your fingers into his cape, grinding grinding grinding into his palm when suddenly, without warning, his ministrations cease—that burning coil abating to a simmer. You let out a rasped pant, collapsing forward onto his shoulder— your climax ripped away from you at the last, pivotal second.

Your eyes are screwed shut, you don’t see the movement—you can only feel it once it’s already there: the bounty hunter’s glove grating over your neck. You sputter out a gasp as he forces your jaw up to align with the chill of his visor, trapped in the unrelenting strength of his grasp. Your eyes clamber around the chrome boxing you in, gulping back the fear coalescing in your mouth.

“You say my name,” he gravels. “You say my name when I’m inside you.”

Your cunt spasms around the fingers still seated within you—aching for movement, aching to cum—and your lower lip quivers as he leers. “I gave it to you—say it,” he commands.

For a fleeting moment, in the remaining rational corner of your brain, it occurs to you that you’re terrified—that there may be no going back once you speak it. There’s no unmaking this choice. Like a door—a door that swings both ways—once it is cracked ajar, it cannot be closed again. Because you know yourself, you loathe to admit it, but you know his name will crumble you; that you will bend—that you will want to give and give and give to him— and still, despite, you lay onto the handle and fling that door wide open.

“Din.”

“Fuck,” he seethes. His reaction is visceral—the whole of him stiffens, leathered pads of his fingertips searing into your throat. “Again.”

“Din,” you whine as he rocks his fingers into your walls.

He moans, wanton and guttural, at the way his name tumbles from you like velvet. “Good girl—fuck, that’s good.”

He vanishes from your neck, bringing his hand down to cup his cock bulging painfully against the fabric there and your gaze snaps to it, saliva pooling in the well of your mouth. You slither your hand down his breast plate, over the paneling of his flight suit, trailing south until it lands on the hide of his glove. You stop, waiting there - breathless - until he nods curtly.

His hand falls away. You mold your palm to his length.

“Din,” you give freely, high-pitched and girly, and his cock brays under your hand. Fuck, he’s big—you can feel his mass through his pants and your pussy flutters around his fingers moving deliciously lazy inside you. Your eyes latch onto his, the brown of them hidden somewhere under the helm, and you can feel his own bore into you, weighing leaden there—

before you both simultaneously rupture.

Din’s fingers slip out of you to fiddle with the hem of his pants, unbuttoning in a clumsy flourish until he springs free with a groan of relief.

Maker.

He’s fucking divine—long and veined, with a patch of dark curls padding around the base of him. Din weeps for you already, frustrated and pent up from the confines of his restraints, beads of arousal dappling his head. He hisses as you swipe a digit over his cock, smearing his precum down the silken slope of him. You’re transfixed—the both of you staring as you wrap your hand around his shaft and he shudders, keening in to your touch.

“Mm, fuck you’re soft- kriff-”

Din dwarfs you—you barely fit around his girth—and he can’t help but buck into your palm as you begin to move in tandem. Din flicks at your clit, mirroring your pace as you get each other off. It’s awkward and lewd and perfect—both of you, a tapestry of woven limbs and sweat and you pump him harder and harder, choking his cock with your fist. You fuck him raw, the dry drag of your satin hand ripping curses from his mouth.

“Fuck, dala,” he pants, “I-I’m not—” I’m not gonna last. His words are snuffed out as you circle your wrist and brush a thumb over his leaking tip, forcing him to shiver. He doesn’t have to finish his thought, you understand plenty well. You’re dancing along that same precipice, flirting with the fall.

“Stars, yes,” you plead. Fuck, you want him to cum— you need him to. You need to make him feel good, to let him know that you’re here - you’re right here - and that he means more to you than you care to admit; that you want him—have since you first laid eyes on him, since he rescued you, since he took you back to the Crest and gave you the last of his bacta to heal all your splintered bits. That he deserves this—with all that he’s done for you, all that he’s doing for you—

with all that he his.

“Din—please.” Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re asking for—more of him, all of him—and a groan tears through his modulator at the sound of you begging his name—like he’s wounded, like it pains him to hear you say it.

It’s a race now—the two of you hurdling headlong towards this terrible, messy collision. You’re both sloppy—wet sounds and slaps of skin—as you stumble closer to the brink of release. He’s been rendered incoherent, chiseled down to the basest of grunts and broken words you don’t recognize. His thumb finds a devastating pressure on your swollen nub and your legs begin to vibrate, nearly unable to stand on your own two feet with how fucking perfectly he’s working your pussy.

This thing inside you feels giant - monstrous - and that slow wave that’s been building and building and cresting is here, upon you. You’re trapped in the barrel of it, and it’s going to crash at any moment and sweep you out to sea. Drown you—happily, gladly. “I’m - oh fuck—"

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises, tightening his circles on your clit. “Cum for me, cum on my hand-”

A crack of lightening streaks up your middle, the whole of you shaking as your orgasm rushes through, a sputtering cry let loose into the ship. You feel yourself gush, dripping past his thickness stuffing you full, dripping down your inner thighs. Din pulls out from you and you whimper at the loss—his absence leaving you gaping, leaving you bereft. You’re siphoning down air, dizzy from your release, when he raises his hand, glistening with your fluids, and traces your bottom lip—asking for entrance.

Fuck.

You part for him, eager and pliant, and he snakes two fingers inside—tasting your own tang and the leather residue left there, stamped into the whirls of his fingerprints. Your tongue swirls around them, laving him clean, and you drag over the ridges of his shaft— still hard and throbbing and waiting in your grasp. He bobs his fingers in your mouth, matching you thrust for thrust, and you let out a depraved little moan, humming around him, and all Din can do is watch.

Watch as he disappears between your lips—his skin pulling and catching on your plush flesh— watch as you suck on them, watch as he practically fucks your throat. And Maker, you take him so fucking well, letting him do what he pleases with your all too supple body.

He can’t even begin to imagine what his cock would look like—what it would feel like nestled in the hot cavern of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him like hard candy. Din doesn’t let himself—can’t. If he did, fuck, that’d be it. He’d be done for. He knows he’d cum in a flash and he wants to make this last—to hold on to this - onto you - for as long as he can, allow himself this singular concession. The only time, he convinces himself, the last time.

He won’t think about you again.

He won’t think about you again.

He won’t think about you again.

You quicken your rhythm and Din bucks wildly into your palm, his seizing and twitching alerting you to how close he is. He slides from your mouth, a string of saliva trailing along after as he clasps onto the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m—” Din knots into your hair, gripping you rough, panting frantic. “Fuck. Fuck, dala— cyare-”

With a hoarse shout, he slams his gloved fist into the durasteel and spills over himself in hot, thick pumps, spurts shooting out to splatter on your tunic, on his flight suit, on your knuckles. You ease him through it, his cum glazing down his cock before you slow to a languid stroke, his seed sticky under your palm. You’re panting, the both of you, spent noises reverberating ugly and loud against the metal sidings.

Din sinks his helmet to your forehead while you catch your breath, his cold beskar kissing your flushed skin—the density of it comforting, grounding. Your eyes teeter shut and you let yourself lean into him, a dazed grin tugging at your wet lips. This is— nice; so much gentler than the pace he drove not minutes before. Head to head, his hand buried in your hair, your arm slung over his hulking shoulders; your fingers thread into the askew fabric behind his neck to discover a sliver of skin treasured away underneath. You trace there - lightly, whispered - earning a fizzle of static sent whirring through his vocoder.

“Fuck,” Din mumbles, before unweaving himself and separating from you. Your legs have gone useless and rubbery—you almost face plant forward without him there— and by the time you blink open, he’s already tucked himself into his pants and picked up his glove, slotting it over those skilled fingers that had just filled you to the brim. He turns back round to find you staring at him through the haze of your afterglow, eyes glassy and fucked out; your fluids dribbling down towards your underwear still bunched above your knees, hair tangled with sweat and saliva and cum—his and yours.

You look wrecked—disheveled. You’re so fucking pretty it makes Din want to scream.

He picks up a stray rag from a crate and offers it to you, before silently sliding your panties back up to your hips in one dexterous swipe. He lingers there but for a moment, savoring the touch of you—grazing a digit into the crease of your hip. You’re rendered mute— your brain can hardly string a sentence together— but finally you manage, your voice weak when you find it again.

“Thank you,” you croak, wiping away the traces of him off your knuckles, and you smile coquettish, delirious. “That was… that was, uhm—I really enjoyed that.”

A quiet beat slogs by.

And then, everything  shifts.

Din’s hand descends from your waist, holstering it to his side, and he moves away. He moves away from you.

You can feel it immediately—like a gust of chilled wind, the change in the air nips at you. Din’s armor is anything but warm—his presence, his aura, anything but inviting—but now, he seems farther from you than ever before, his visor tempered and steely.

You know him. You know this man. You’ve travelled with him, you’ve mended his ills, you’ve taken care of his son, you’ve spoken his name, you’ve laid prints on his skin and deeper still—

And here, before you, Din is white noise. Indiscernible. Unreadable.

Nervously, you twiddle with the frayed edge of the stained cloth, worrying your cheek. You swear, just for a second, that you see him inch towards you— you think you sense him, some part of him, breaching the chasm that’s formed between you. But it’s only a trick of the lowlight—a trick of your cruel heart, winged and errant beneath your ribs, misconstruing your thoughts to fancy.

Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t come to you like you want. He doesn’t touch you again, he doesn’t hold you like you need.

It feels like you’re withering—your legs too bare, your tunic too short, hair too mussed, eyes too bleary—everything feels wrong now, misplaced. “Din,” you start, you try—you try to keep attached to this tether, to this thin strand you’ve sewn between your bodies, but he shrinks back. He severs it. He is as you first met him. Rigid. Distant. A Mandalorian bounty hunter— the best in the parsec. He is as he was months ago, when you were strangers.

When you were nothing.

“I—” He silences himself, teeth clenching shut around the unspoken sentiment you so long to hear, and instead takes another step backwards. Farther away. Farther from you.

He stands straighter, impossibly taller, and you feel

small.

“Goodnight,” Din gives, his voice shrouded and cloaked by his modulator. He pivots on his heel, retreating into the depths of the Crest and leaves you there, the ghost of his hands on your neck, on your breasts, in your heat— still tingling from where they haunt you. Exhausted, you thud back into the bulkhead, unfocused and unseeing.

“Goodnight Din,” you murmur, but it falls upon deaf ears. He’s gone, and the empty hull swallows your words—burying them.

taggies:

@girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedros-mustache @miranhas-art @djarrex @bookloverfilmoholic @keeper0fthestars @misguidedandbeguiled @bookishofalder @helmet-comes-off @grumpymuffinmama @niiight-dreamerrrr @spideysimpossiblegirl @janebby @greatcircle79 @djarinsbeskar @sammysdaisy @whataperfectwasteoftime @mandobloggin @silver-streaked-wings

[chewiedon]

SWIM IN GOLD | DOUMA

request: Reader is known to be the most beautiful woman in the village. Douma got intrigued by the word 'beautiful' from rumors that he tried to find the reader to see how beautiful she is and probably eat her soon. But when he saw how beautiful she really is. He hold off his hunger and kidnapped her. After that, Douma locked her in one of a special room for Queens (idk). The reader was upset and wanted to escape. As soon as she got the chance to, she run endlessly through the deep forest. A demon jumped out and attacked her, but before it could. Douma was there to kill it himself. The reader was threatened to be punished after that. But she doesn't care anymore. She knows she is safe with him from now on.

You woke up on the rough surface of the tatami mat with a thin comforter over your figure. Waking up with confusion plaguing your mind, you quickly raised your body and turned your head left and right trying to find something familiar in your strange surroundings. Immediately you tried to remember what you did the night previous, did you get drunk and accidentally sleep with someone? Did you end up being kidnapped?

The last thing you remember was laying down comfortably in your futon and going to sleep, not being able to recall the ingestion of any intoxication. The thought crossed your mind that someone might have drugged you asleep, that way you wouldn't have woken up. You weren't that heavy of a sleeper.

Morning rays of sun seeped through the cracks of the shoji doors, a body sized mirror in the corner or the small room reflected the little light it could catch. Standing up on your feet you got a better look at the room you were in, your gaze stopped at the sliding door which you immediately grabbed.

Sliding it open you were welcomed with long halls containing wooden floors, a man in a light colored kimono flinched when he saw you as he rushed to you.

"Madam, please wait in that room! The Lord is currently speaking to worshippers, I-" You cut the distressed man before he could continue.

"Where am I? I've never been here before," You were confused at the formality, sure men were usually formal to you but never like this.

"You're within the Lords' Chambers, if you're refusing to stay in there I'll have to lock you in there, madam!" You disliked his tone of voice with you, you were looking why and where you were and he was trying to lock you inside a room?

The rules of being a good guest flew out the window, you were in this strange house against your will and you don't want anything to do with it. You raised your voice, anger and frustration beginning to surface.

"I don't give a rat's ass about your "Lord" or whatever! Why am I here, I wish to leave!" You could feel the heat surface to your face as aggression rushed through your body, your foot stomping on the floor in frustration as if you were some child.

"Ma'am please!" The man pleaded.

"I had a feeling I heard a commotion~!" A masculine voice sang, a man dressed in colorful layers of kimonos with shining blonde hair.

He looked like he didn't long for this world, he was so colorful. A top his head he wore a crown as if he were some kind of God, in this case you could even say he was that. It explains his majestic appearance.

"Pardon the trouble, but please get back into the room, I'll be with you soon~!" You could hear the facade behind his tone, it was disgustingly obvious and he was disgustingly good at it.

The colorful man reached out to touch you, likely for some kind of comfort. You swatted his hand away, and took a step away. Your emotions were going haywire, who do these people think they are? Kidnapping you? Before you could even blink, a large hand had grabbed your jawline and pulled it forward.

"Keep this shit up and I'll punish you. I'll be with you soon," His tone turned cold, his smile wiped off his face- he looked like a different thing entirely.

Your stomach sank as fear had set in, this man standing in front of you was much bigger than you and clearly had power over people. There wasn't much hope for you, was there? You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded with a small whimper, you could feel your forehead dampen with sweat.

He removed his hand slowly and put a friendly pat on top of your head, his cheery disposition had returned. He walked down the hallway, the same way he came from originally.

"I'm so happy my wife is so understanding~!" He sang, "Takeshi-san please take good care of her in my place!" He sang before disappearing around the corner, leaving you in shock.

The servant, now dubbed as Takeshi shouted back, "Y-yes Douma-sama right away!" Before nudging you back into the room.

Douma was a name that rang in your ear, your mother often talked about him with the other housewives in the village about his cult. Despite the warm demeanor that followed the Eternal Paradise religion, you'd stayed far away from it. Something felt always off.

And now that you were stuck inside this small room with no reason why you were in the first place. A rock had settled in your stomach, a very large and immovable rock. You sat on the rough tatami mats on the verge of tears, choking back sobs.

Minutes turned into hours, hours of a sore throat and quiet crying. You were stuck, and nobody would think to look for you in here.

"Crying? What's wrong?"

The voice you had dreaded resonated throughout the room, your gaze was fixated on your crossed knees. His hakama pants made way into your view as he stood right above you.

"My... You didn't even use any of the gifts I got for you. I was sure you would like them."

"Why am I here?" Your voice was cold, trying your best to keep yourself from shaking.

Something was wrong, so very wrong. A sinister edge came off of Douma, he almost reeked of impurity. Simply from the way he presented himself to you, his facade made the rock in your stomach only grow. Your evident helplessness only made your anxiety spike.

His hand was cold, he cupped your cheek. Douma's multicolored eyes seemed to leave you in a trance, they were beautiful. Before you could even process what was happening his lips were on yours.

You've never felt more disgusted by something than right now.

Douma didn't have any body heat, his skin held a chill to it.

Shivers danced up and down your spine, you didn't dare to break the connection. He broke off and kissed your forehead while you stood frozen.

His breath smelled like blood.

"Was that your first kiss? Well don't worry, when we get married I'll make sure to kiss you plenty~!" He sang out, a bright smile on his face and his cheeks red.

"Married?" you had started, "I can't get married, my mother says I must wait until I'm 18 until I choose a suitor!"

"Your mother, oh the nice older lady with (h/c), right? No worries, I ate her just last night when I took her!"

Ate? What the fuck?

Was he the leader of some sick cannibalistic cult? Worshippers of the devil? Your voice was caught in your throat, unable to properly process the words that had spilled from Douma's lips. Was it a metaphor for something?

Douma sat down, your gazes at a similar height as you sat up straight. His back was slouched to look you straight in the eye.

"I'm unable to stay long, I'll make sure to keep you lots of company tomorrow though! It's simply just bad timing, my master has requested a very impromptu meeting. I'll be back, darling~!" he skipped around the room and flung the shoji door open, revealing the engawa.

Taking a deep breath, allowing the night air to fill his lungs.

"The night is beautiful," Douma commented, "But you're even more beautiful."

In less than a blink of an eye he disappeared. As if he was never there in the first place.

Douma didn't lie to you, he did have to leave to see his higher ups. But it was a trap, a test. He had known you were jittery, and he could feel the rushing adrenaline from the moment the two of yours' lips had met. He knew you would try to run away, and as such he could provide protection. Humans' minds were simple and delicate, and he knew how exactly to get you on his side. You were such a delicacy, he's never felt drawn towards someone like he had with you.

It may have been the way other men had talked about you. Or the way you had presented yourself to others. Those meager humans didn't deserve you in his opinion. You presented yourself as some kind of goddess, an inhuman being and giving your attention to mere maggots.

Back inside the estate, you didn't even look to see if Douma had actually left. Some fucked up shit was happening here and you didn't want any part of it. Not even looking for your shoes you had dashed out of the house. Ignoring the stinging of pine needles and small rocks against the bottom of your feet, you forced your legs to carry you through the forest.

Even though you didn't get a good look at your surroundings, nothing looked familiar in the slightest. You didn't care if you were running to the middle of the forest, you just needed to get away from him. The loose kimono restricted your movement, you twisted the obi off and lazily knotted the string around your waist.

Eventually, your adrenaline and stamina had given out. Your burning muscles only got weaker until they eventually gave out and knocked you on your knees, your lungs on fire from running. You had no idea how far away you were from the house, you could still see the dim light over the array of bushes and trees.

The song of the crickets was loud in your ears, as well as the snapping twigs and the rustling of the life around you. You had tried your best to muffle your heavy breathing, not wanting to cause any abnormal disturbances that might hint to your disappearance. Putting one hand over your wheezing mouth and another over your chest in hope to help calm yourself down. You could feel the blood pulsating all over your body.

"Ohoh? A human?"

Your heart sank, everything in your body completely refused to move. Ruled by the exhaustion and terror. It wasn't Douma's voice, but the choking stench of death made your throat close up.

"A woman too, luck really is on my side tonight!"

The demon stood above you from the withered log you had been hiding against, he twisted his body downward inhumanly. Grabbing your shoulder and digging his claws into your flesh, the stinging pain invading all your senses as you tried to wiggle yourself out. You tugged desperately at the hand, screeching and crying until your vocals were sore.

"How troublesome."

Before you could even begin to process the bloody image in front of you, your body had slammed into the rough ground below you, almost knocking the wind out of you. Scurrying backwards, seeing the attacker now in bite sized pieces. Decorating the grass below him with his insides.

"You disobeyed me."

Douma stood on the log above you, moonlight highlighting his figure. Godlike. Just what was he?

"I'll have to punish you."

The shaking in your body ceased, as soon as he had stepped on the ground before you your arms were latched around him.

You didn't care how he'd punish or hold you captive, you knew you were safe.

[yourstarvic]

Atsumu didn’t let whoever was talking finish. He quickly rushed to where the two of you were, maneuvered around a few of the people who stood in his way. Reaching the two of you, Atsumu was quick to glare at Hana, “Hey! Whatcha talking about?”

Atsumu didn’t let whoever was talking finish. He quickly rushed to where the two of you were, maneuvered around a few of the people who stood in his way. Reaching the two of you, Atsumu was quick to glare at Hana, “Hey! Whatcha talking about?”

Atsumu didn’t let whoever was talking finish. He quickly rushed to where the two of you were, maneuvered around a few of the people who stood in his way. Reaching the two of you, Atsumu was quick to glare at Hana, “Hey! Whatcha talking about?”

Atsumu didn’t catch you and Hana giving each other a certain look before turning to look at him with a small smile, “Hello Atsumu, we weren’t talking about-Oh… I see what you mean Hana.”

“It’s very noticeable isn’t it?” Hana smirked at Atsumu, who was looking between the two of you rapidly in concern and panic.

“W-What's noticeable?” Atsumu let out nervous laughter before making a serious face, “Really what’s noticeable?”

“Hey, guys!” Bokuto chimed in the group behind Atsumu.

“Hi Bo,” Hana looked at him, giving him a smile, “where’s Omi and Hinata?”

“They’re already at the booth,” Bokuto smiled making his way to the semicircle booth.

Hana followed Bokuto while you and Atsumu followed behind her. Atsumu, whose face had a small pout, asked you seriously, “What’s noticeable?”

“We were joking,” You assured him, as you gave him a small smile.

“Thank goodness,” Atsumu signed out happily.

Reaching the booth, you got in first and then Atsumu was last to sit. You were squished between Atsumu and Bokuto, Hinata was on the other side of Bokuto, and then it was Hana then Sakusa.

“So what were you guys talking about?” Hinata asked you and Hana.

“We were just getting to know each other,” You said politely. “But I can’t wait to get to know each of you!”

“I’m surprised you accepted Atsumu’s proposal,” Sakusa looked out him with his voice muffled with his mask. “I didn’t think anyone can stand him for more than a day.”

“I mean,” You shrugged your shoulders, “you’re his teammate and hanging out with him now… So I guess there is someone who can stand him.”

Bokuto let out a scandalous gasp as Hinata and let out a small chuckle. Sakusa just looked at you with a blank stare, rethinking everything. Atsumu looked at him happily, placing his chin on his hands as he leans a bit forward, “Aw Omi!”

“Shut up,” Sakusa glared at Atsumu, to which Atsumu smiled at him innocently.

As Sakusa was mumbled something to himself, a waitress came up to the table. “Nice to see y’all again! I guess y’all want the usual drinks?” Everyone all nodded and hummed in agreement. “Anything to eat?”

“Yes!” Hinata, said quickly, “I’m starving!”

“Same here!”

“What should we get?”

“We just this new cook,” the waitress told them with a big smile and giving them thumbs up, “and the burgers are amazing!”

“Yes!” Bokuto said with stars in his eyes, “Six burgers please!”

The waitress was about to leave until they saw you sitting next to Atsumu. “You’re new… What can I get ya?”

“Oh um,” You blinked at her, “I’ll take a scotch on the rocks please.”

“I like her,” the waitress told everyone with a smirk, making you blush slightly in embarrassment.

When the waitress walked away, everyone looked at you with a confusing expression with the drink you order. Scratching the bad of your neck embarrassing with a small blush tinting your cheeks, you said softly, “It was the first drink I had with my father when I turn of age… I grew to like it.”

Everyone all muttered a small “oh” and nodded their head in understanding as to why you liked it. Moving the conversation forwards, Atsumu leaned back and put his arm behind you on the back of his chair, tilting his body a bit to look at you and everyone, “So did ya do it?”

“Do it?” You muttered to yourself confusing. You then perked up remember what he told you to do the other day. With a nod of your head, you told him, “I did… Last night and this morning…”

“You cried this morning?” Bokuto asked, making you turned your head at him with confusion.

“How do you know I was crying?” You asked, pursing your lips together.

“‘Tsumu told us what happened,” Bokuto pointed to the setter, ignore Atsumu's head shaking and mouthing to not say anything.

Looking at Atsumu, you scrunched your eyebrows together in disbelief, “You told them?”

“N-Not really!” Atsumu put his hand up in surrender.

“Yes, he did,” Hana said in a straight tone.

“He told us everything,” Sakusa nodded his head.

Hinata shrugged his shoulders as he hummed, “We already figure a few things out on our own… But ‘Tsumu did tell us.”

You let out a sigh as you leaned back against the booth. Atsumu put his arm back behind the back of the booth as you said, “I guess it okay… I mean you all would know…”

“But why did you cry this morning?” Hana asked her voice heavy with concern. Pulling out your phone, you showed her what Rieko posted that morning. Showing to everyone at the table, their eye grew wide as they saw what was on your screen.

“And that’s your…” Hinata started, looking at you with wide eyes filled with worry. You nodded your head slowly, your eyes looking at the back of your phone sadly. You felt Bokuto patted your back softly in a comforting manner, trying to help ease the pain. You gave everyone a small smile to show you were okay as you placed your phone back in your bag.

“I know that blonde is helping you with revenge and everything,” Hana started at you determinedly, “but I want to help!”

“Same here!”

“I want to help too! I can’t believe someone would do that!”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“R-Really?” You looked at them with wide eyes, shocked they were offering their help.

“Of course!” Hana smiled at you, “We can’t have that idiot help you! He’ll probably do something stupid.”

“No, I wouldn’t!” Atsumu glared at her, making Hana laugh at his outburst. Everyone all started to jab jokes at Atsumu as he gritted his teeth and glared at everyone with a pout. You sat there, enjoying their company and listen to them all talk together, at times when you had something to say you would chime in. You already felt like you belong with them, laughing at their jokes, antics and talking to them as if you knew them for years.

Moments later, the waitress arrived with your food, placing each plate in front of everyone. Everyone all eyed the food hungrily, happy to finally eat while you tilt your head in wonder, looking at it with pursing your lips together.

So that’s a burger…

“Alright!” The waitress beamed, “Anything I can get ya’ll?”

“Can I have some silverware?” You asked her with a polite smile.

“Um…” She hesitated, “Sure?”

“Don’t worry about it!” Atsumu told her before she could walk off, “She won’t need it.”

The waitress nodded her head and walked off as you looked at Atsumu confusingly. “But how are we going to eat this?” You blinked at him.

“With our hands,” Bokuto said, picking his cheeseburger and taking a bite.

“Oh…” You looked down, looking at the burger intensely. “I see…”

“You had have burger before? Right?” Hinata asked, seeing you studying the burger.

“She never had normal food before,” Atsumu told them, stuffing his mouth with a fry.

Everyone all quickly turned their eyes to you, seeing you staring at the burger on your plate. Biting your lip, you went to hold the burger with both hands and mimic how Bokuto hold it. Bringing it closer to your mouth, you swallowed the growing saliva in your mouth. Everyone all looked at you in anticipation, waiting for you to take your first bite. Slowly taking a bite, you place the burger down back on the plate as you chew.

“It’s greasy,” You noted when you swallowed, looking at them with innocent eyes.

Sakusa fully agreed with you, nodded his head as he eyed the burger, “And messy.”

You giggled at him as you nodded your head, picking up the burger once again and taking a bite at it. Everyone smiled at you, seeing how eager you bit on the burger and then eat their burger as well. Everyone asked you what you haven't eaten, wanting to know what foods you should try next. After finishing eating, you looked at Atsumu, “I’m going to the restroom to wash my hands.”

Nodding at you, Atsumu got up to allow you to get out of the booth. As you were heading to the restroom, Atsumu sat back down in the booth, taking your seat. Looking at everyone, he asked excitedly, “So? Shat do ya-”

“Listen here Miya,” Hana cut him off, pointing her finger at him threateningly. Everyone looked at Hana in amusement while Atsumu flinched back thinking he did something wrong. “I like her. I want her to be my best friend. Actually, she is my best friend. She is nice, sweet, funny and I just want to wrap her up in a blanket and protect her. This is my one and only chance of having a girlfriend that is part of this group and I want to keep it that way. So, you can’t make any moves on her. No flirting, no kissing, and especially no having sex with her. Unless you marry her. Got it?”

Atsumu rolled his eyes at her, waving her off as he grabbed his drink, “Yeah, yeah, I got it. I wasn’t even gonna do that. She wants marriage and kids and that whole white fence thing.”

“Perfect,” Hana nodded, with a happy smile.

“I’m back,” You smiled at them, now seating in Atsumu's seat. “What did I miss?”

“Nothin’ much,” Atsumu shooked his head, putting his elbow in the back of the booth.

Sakusa turned to you with a smirk, his eyes linger a bit on Atsumu with a certain glint in his eyes as he said, “Actually, we were talking about how Atsumu is a furry.”

“A furry?”

“Oh! Don’t forget to tell her about the incident!”

“OI! Don’t tell her that! ‘M not a furry!”

MASTERPOST-PREV-NEXT

Notes: idk why it repeated the first paragraph and it took off what the original first paragraph should be. Idk why it won’t let me fix it…

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