#literally just heard my uncle died | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brayneworms · 2 years ago

Text

i'll fetch you anything you like.

featuring. aki hayakawa x gn!reader

content. MDNI, smut, riding, begging, crying, smoking, light masochism, burning (reader puts a cigarette out on aki), mild codependency, pet names (loverboy, darling), gender neutral reader, agab not mentioned, sub!aki + dom!reader, a little angst, pining, kissing, vague love confessions.

word count. 3.2k

synopsis. aki's smoking is a nasty habit, but you're certain you can get him to quit. also, aki pines.

notes. minors don’t interact. anyways how’s this for a first post ( totally normal abt aki hayakawa )

Aki Hayakawa is an orphan in every sense of the word.

Literally being the one most people associate him with, but—Aki comes to a realisation when he's maybe thirteen or fourteen that the word runs deeper than that. It's not as if your entire life is defined by your relationship with your parents, after all; even people who have ones that are alive become something other than offspring in their life. Husband, brother, uncle, father. But orphan sticks, no matter how many people you fill your life up with to replace the parents you lost. Aki thinks there is something in the word that rings of loneliness; he could father a hundred children, become grandfather to two hundred more, gain friends and a partner, and still he would be Aki Hayakawa, orphan.

Alone.

"That's a bad habit."

Aki's fingers don't pause in their ministrations, thumb pressing down on the jut of the lighter as it zips to life. The cherry of his menthol cigarette glows in the blue-dark of the office. The sky outside the thin window is pale with the gloaming, and he breathes a haze of gritty smoke over it, sullying the view.

You've made yourself at home on his desk, legs swinging leisurely. You must be cold in only his work-shirt and boxers that cling to your hips and thighs. You watch him passively, head cocked.

"One of my least dangerous ones," he intones, which is true enough for a man who has three years to live at most.

"Oh? What tops the list?"

Aki eyes you serenely. "I dunno if you've heard, but I work for this place called the Public Safety Division."

Your laughter breaks the delicate quiet like a flock of birds taking off from a tree. "Put it out. I hate the smell."

Aki's dark brows crinkle. "I'm not wasting a perfectly good cigarette. If it bothers you so much, eat it."

"Eat it? You freak."

"At least then someone's getting something out of it."

You hop from the desk, yawning. In the dim light that is starting to grow just a little brighter, Aki can see the beginnings of bruises on your throat and collarbone, vanishing in an ugly rainbow trail down to the hastily-down buttons of his work shirt. Your socked feet pad along the threadbare carpet on your way over to him, and Aki inhales deeply. Maybe if there's enough smoke in his lungs it will encourage him not to breathe; that way, he won't do that god-forsaken embarrassing thing he does when you get close. His heart stutters, and it makes his breath hitch audibly. The worst part is you seemed to be goddamn attuned to it—there seems to be little you like more than knowing you have an effect on him.

Aki doesn't stop you when your fingers come up to encircle his cigarette, brushing his as you pluck it gently from between his lips. He hates that even the smallest kiss of your skin against his still sends liquid lightning zipping through him, like he's that seventeen-year-old he was when he met you, the one full of spite and anger who hadn't been held since his mother died.

You pull the cigarette away, still lit; the butt glows red and angry between your delicate hold, gleams in the reflection of your eyes. When Aki meets them, he feels his mouth go dry; your pupils are large and black, engulfing iris, barely blinking as you look up at him.

"Bet I can make you quit," you say.

Aki snorts. "Better men than you have tried."

"Anything can be unlearned," you counter smoothly. "All bad habits go away with a little punishment."

Aki feels his heartbeat quicken, tries not to let the way that one word sets his blood alight show on his face. "Hm," he says noncommittally, but frustratingly, he doesn't think he's fooled you for a second.

Your serene smile curved into something sharp as easily as breathing. "Gimme your hand."

And Aki does, though he knows where this is going. You turn his hand over gently at the wrist, leaving it palm-up, fingers splayed in your grip. You hold him so gently it makes him shiver. Carefully, slowly—Aki thinks, giving him much time to pull away—you raise the burning end of the cigarette and plant it in the centre of his pale palm, a stinging kiss. Aki hisses, grits his teeth, but dutifully doesn't move even as his hand twitches involuntarily at the contact. Just as tears start to needle at his eyes, you twist the butt and pull away, leaving a shallow pool of grey ash, a black soot mark, and a stinging red welt like a patch of burning leaves.

His eyes are glued to the masterpiece you've made of his boring skin. The burn throbs unpleasantly, but something low and hot has come alive in his abdomen at the lingering kiss of pain. It satiates something inside him just smoking the thing could never hope to touch. He likes the futility of feeding himself his own death, sure—makes him feel like he has marginally more control over it, despite what the Curse Devil might have to say about it. This sort of pain is different; it goes straight for the gullet, and it makes it all the more sweet that it's you doing it.

A stupid, lonely part of Aki—orphan—wants to believe you're doing this because you care for him. Because you want him to live as long as possible. The grown, cynical man he supposes he's become thinks you must be just as fucked up as he is. It doesn't really matter either way; Aki's loved you for years, and he's astonished he's even gotten this far with you, and he'll take anything you deign to give him, pleasure or pain because it's all sort of the same to him anyway.

You unscrew a bottle of drinking water and hold it over your discarded blazer, soaking the lapel before pressing it to the burn. Aki grunts, eyebrows knitting up as a strange cocktail of relief and pain throbs slowly through his body. Your hands holds the wet fabric over his one, like a ribcage encasing a beating heart. Oh, Aki would let you hold his heart in your hands, and who cares what you decided to do with it? It's hardly his business; it belongs to you anyway.

He leans in to kiss you, gets close enough to brush his lips against yours and feel his pupils dilate before you turn your head, ducking. Aki feels his heart stutter anxiously as you turn your serene face up to him.

"Hate the taste," you say.

Aki frowns. "I barely smoked it for thirty seconds."

"It lingers."

Aki isn't stupid; this is part of the punishment. And the goddamn annoying part is that it's working. Even as you take his other hand to hold the soaking blazer against his burn and turn away, every fibre in his body wants to stop you. Turn you back around, pin you against the wall, swallow any complaints with his lips. He wants to make you melt against him, wants to melt himself under you in that way you always manage to do to him. He likes feeling like he doesn't have to think with you; just await whatever comes next, pain or pleasure, and he'll take it because it's you.

But Aki doesn't move. He's not a problem dog. He stands quietly and nurses his burn, tracking you with his eyes as you re-dress yourself, his shirt tucked into your slacks, tie wound through the collar, work boots laced up to the ankle.

"I gotta run home and shower," you say, tugging your blazer on. "I'll see you back here in, like, an hour."

Aki nods. "Okay."

The grin you flash him is little more than poisonous; it makes it heart skip a beat. "How's your burn?"

He swallows around a dry throat, holding your stare with a touch of timidity. "What burn?"

Delight shivers over your expression like wind ruffling a field of grass, and you stride the length of the cramped office and kiss him. Aki grunts, rendered thoughtless the moment your mouth touches his, your hands in his collar and his hair; his hands go slack, blazer fluttering to the ground, and the welt on his palm stings horribly when his hands come up to latch around your shoulders and neck. He pulls you closer, a little frantic, and he has barely a moment to reflect on how worrying it is that he's this desperate for your touch after being denied only once, but before he can think to dwell on it you're parting your lips and he's tugged your body flush against his own. He's so close he could drown in you. For a moment, he wants to.

Far too soon, you pull away. You're delighted. "Good," you murmur, and he hates how his heart leaps into his throat. "You're so good, Aki."

His face is on fire. "I'm not a dog," he manages.

"Sure you are," you say matter-of-factly. "And I'm Pavlov. I'll break that nasty habit of yours if it's the last thing I do. Give you something else to focus on. Okay?"

Aki licks his dry lips. "You can try," he says hoarsely, hoping it doesn't sound as much like an invitation as he thinks it does. The impish smile you give him implies he's shit out of luck.

Aki is in hell.

He knows this, because every time the two of you have hooked up since your little conversation in his office, he hasn't been allowed to kiss you if you detect even a whiff of smoke on his breath. It's killing him a little, to be honest. Fucking without kissing just feels wrong. It makes him forget it's you, sometimes, his vision of you sliding out of focus 'till you could be just anyone. And Aki doesn't fuck just anyone. He fucks people he loves.

He loves you. But he can't have you. And he can't even kiss you so he can pretend he has you, if only for a minute. It's just fucking, a tumble of sweating limbs and gasps and grunts, of a thrilling cocktail of pleasure and pain and almost-confessions bitten back at the last second, hidden in the crook of your neck.

Your shitty wooden headboard creaks into the shitty thin bedroom wall, and Aki spends a moment in lucidity to send a silent apology to your neighbours. One arm braces against the wood, flexing with every fast jerk of his hips, and you're under him, eyes clenched shut and meeting his thrusts in a way that has Aki wondering why anyone could think being on top had to mean being in control. He's oiled to your machine, matching the rhythm of your hips and trying not to drown as your back arches up from the sweat-damp sheets, stomach curving into his, one arm holding fast around his neck.

You feel so good he could cry. Not that that would be an irregular occurrence, or anything—he'd practically sobbed the first time you fucked, and back then you'd been all fluttering concern, stopping even though he tried to sputter please, Christ, don't stop, I'll die if you stop, please. He supposes you're kind, in your own way. You'd stroked away his tears and kissed his damp face.

"Aki," you groan, bringing him forcefully back to the present; his dark bangs dangle in his eyes as he looks down at you, mouth agape and head cloudy. "Wh-what's got you so wound up?"

As if you don't know. Aki grits his teeth.

Your hand makes patterns on the damp nape of his neck as his rolling hips slow, as he breathes deep to try and regain a semblance of his dignity. "Loverboooy," you croon up at him, your free hand gripping at the junction between his hip and thigh. Aki grimaces; he hates that nickname. "Talk to me."

Aki glares at you. "You know—I want—you know. St-stop it."

He whimpers somewhere high in his throat as your body tightens around him, free hand coming up to scrub down his face. "D-don't!"

"Sorry, sorry," you laugh. "I'm sorry. Why don't you tell me what you want? Maybe I'm feeling nice."

It feels like a trap, like luring his feelings into the light just to snap a bear trap over them. But Aki wants, he yearns so deeply and desperately that he's just about willing to risk it. "Want to kiss you."

Your eyes gleam. "Do you?" you ask, as if this is news to you.

His arms shake. "Please."

God, he's pathetic. He's so used to being in control, to tailoring every facet of his life meticulously, grooming and tidying and cleaning. He knows the exact amount of calories he should eat per day. He puts his shoes on a rack so he never tracks mud onto the tatami mats. His shower utensils are organised in the order he uses them—shampoo, conditioner, face-wash, scented gel. He likes being in control. He thinks, anyway. You make him reevaluate. You make him reevaluate an awful lot.

You toss your head back against the pillows; you have the audacity to laugh. "Saw you smoking earlier," you tell him, and Aki's stomach goes cold. "Mm... full pack, too. A new one? When'd you buy that."

"Th-that was hours ago." And it's true; when Aki learns you're coming over, he puts his cigarettes in a locked draw and puts the key somewhere difficult to reach. "It won't still taste. I've eaten. I brushed my teeth."

That's just good manners.

"It's the principle of the thing, loverboy," you say, and your hand comes up to his chest and rolls him over. Aki gapes, whining at the loss of contact only to choke on his own voice as you sling a leg over his hips and slide him back into you. Your nails scrape red railroads down the pale skin of his sternum at the stretch, and Aki watches, mesmerised as you start to move, the flex of the muscles in your thighs, the vein bulging in your throat as you toss your head back. He wants to be all over you, a hand on your neck feeling your pulse go berserk for him, his teeth in your skin as proof he was there, nose buried in your hair, dirty and rough and the exact opposite of the way he usually wants you. That is—soft and kind, romantic, slow and heady as syrup.

He wants kisses that taste like tears, whispered confessions into bedsheets. He wants, painfully, the constant assurance he can never ask for. I love you. I love you. Oh, Aki, I love you.

"Kiss me," he gasps instead, writhing against the bedsheets, head thrown back at the brutal pace you set him. He's so close, teeth gritting and muscles locking up but without a kiss it feels cold and incomplete. "Please, please, kiss me, please—"

"You're a brat, Aki," you hiss, and Aki's heart twitches in his chest; he can hear his pulse in his skull. "You ignore the one rule I gave you, and you still think you get to ask for what you want?"

"It's a bullshit rule," he snaps. "I—I can't just, hah, I can't j-just turn it, off, oh, fuck—"

"You okay?" you ask in a fleeting moment of mercy. Aki's eyebrows knit up. "Am I—is it too much?"

Aki shakes his head. "I'm okay," he mumbles pitifully. "I'm close."

"I know, darling," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want. And you're gonna give me what I want. Deal?"

"I—I..." Aki chews the inside of his cheek till copper floods his mouth. "I'll try? I'll try, I swear."

You still for a moment. "You mean that?"

Aki nods frantically. "Yes, I—if that's what you want, anything, anything you want, please..."

The beam that breaks out on your face is a million watts. "Aki," you breathe, and finally you lean forward 'till your chest brushes his. Aki can't breathe, transfixed by every swoop of your eyelash and chap in your lip as you lean close. When you speak, you're so close that your lips brush his, and he has to keep every muscle taut to stop himself leaning forward and closing the gap. "Aki, I want you to live a long, happy life. You get that, right? Why I'm doing this?"

He feels his stomach flip, can barely comprehend the words through his dazed mind. His glazed eyes follow you, thunderstruck. "What—what d'you mean?"

"I care about you," you murmur. "I want you to live as long as possible. Want you to stick around with me."

With you? It's a wonder his heart doesn't explode. For a fleeting moment, there exists a future beyond the Gun Fiend, beyond Denji and Power and Nyako, one where he can love you freely. Tears needle at his eyes. It all seems so impossible.

Aki forgets himself, surges up to capture your mouth, but you turn at the last second, planting a kiss to his cheek before focusing on his jaw, his ear, capturing the lobe between your teeth and sucking gently as your hips resume their rhythm. You're faster now, gasping for breath, Aki's hands sliding over the skin of your hips and torso for a lifeline. You tongue at the cords in his neck, the shell of his ear and the sensitive divot just underneath till he's squirming.

Your hands are everywhere—scraping nails across his twitching abdomen, running up the valley between his pecs, tweaking a nipple and pulling. And Aki groans and gasps, every hint of pain from your lovely hands sending him rocketing closer towards the edge. Tears bead at his lashline.

"'M close," he gasps again.

"That's okay, loverboy," you say sweetly, words buzzing against the skin of his throat, and Aki shudders, arching impossibly closer to you. He can feel every nerve in his body sawed open and set alight, impossibly sensitive, boiling with love, and as he comes he buries his face into the crook of your neck with a hoarse cry. Two lone tears streak down his flushed cheeks.

You're not far behind, and Aki wouldn't dream of pulling out, so he squirms and gasps and whines with the prickling of overstimulation as you chase your own high. "Sorry—fuck—you okay?"

"I'm, I'm good," Aki whines. He cracks one steely blue eye open. It stands out against his red skin; he's so flushed as to look sunburnt.

"'M almost, fuck, almost there. Hang on for me?"

Aki raises shaking hands to grip your hips in answer. You laugh between pants, baring down at him.

"That's my boy."

You don't kiss him when you finish, but it's alright. You flop down beside him, taking in deep lungfuls of air, nuzzling your lips to the salt-sweat cooling on his chest. Usually, round about now, Aki would roll to reach his bedside cabinet where his open pack of cigs lay in wait. The lighter is right beside him, open and tempting. He can almost hear the flick of it, the zip of the flame bursting to life, the sizzle of the cherry scorching beneath that controlled flame. The grit of smoke in his mouth and down his throat, emptying his lungs of fresh air.

The pack goes untouched. Aki winds an arm around your shoulders and holds you close, your cheek against his thudding heart.

You don’t kiss him, but it’s alright.

Aki’s not a problem dog.

He's going to earn it.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 10 months ago

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AITA for saying my family shows favoritism towards my baby cousin?

(This is copied from my Reddit drafts because my partner told me tumblr would be better for this and I trust them)

Okay this is a long one so I’m just gonna throw out fake names for everyone and everyone is white middle class Americans

I, Op, 20M, I’m a trans man not accepted by my family. This is relevant

Renee, 20F, my twin sister

Bea, 16F, my younger sister

Lee, 35F, my aunt on my father’s side

Lucas, 2M, my cousin, son of Lee

Suzie, 5F, my cousin, daughter of Lee

My father, 44M, the patriarch of our whole family

My mother, 45F

Grandpa, 76M, paternal grandpa, previous patriarch

Grandma, 74F, paternal grandma

So I’m sending this in on Christmas Day of 2023. For some context, I still live at home, but it’s more of a roommate situation now that I’m an adult. Renee lives on her out-of-state college campus but visits for holidays, and Bea is still a high schooler. Lee, her children, and her husband who isn’t relevant to this (I love my uncle, we just literally never talk) live across the country. My father is losing the battle with cancer and can’t travel, so we had two separate christmases this year, one with my immediate family and one with Lee. Grandma and Grandpa went to Lee’s, which was awesome for me because that meant I got to avoid them this year!

As the character list above states, I’m (one of) the oldest of the five grandkids with my cousins being born a lot later than me and my sisters. My family is a traditional WASP family and staunchly conservative with Aunt Lee actively being a cop right now while my parents and Grandpa served in the military. Growing up undeniably queer was hilarious, I know. But the family dynamic wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been, my family did a good job of trying to hide the fact that Renee was the favorite child lol, but that was more on the basis of her having the same traditional values that they do until Aunt Lee had Suzie, then she obviously became the favorite. Fine by me, she’s an adorable girl and I love spoiling her. Also, ACAB does apply for Aunt Lee for being complacent in this system, it’s not just the most relevant part of the story besides explaining how she fits into the family dynamic

But then Lee had Lucas a few years later and the focus in the family shifted to him. At first, it was baby fever making everyone dote over him (and I’m guilty of this too) but after a while, I realized that the fever hasn’t died down. If we had family reunions, everyone would flock to Lucas and I would be the one watching Suzie. For a toddler, she’s a great conversationalist, but it was still sad to see all her aunts and uncles and cousins showering her baby brother with attention and not her. And then the comments started. That my father would only refer to Lucas as “my nephew” even when talking directly to Lee (unhinged to witness in person). That Grandpa was so happy to finally have a grandson (felt great). The lady-killer comments and guessing what profession he’s gonna go into based on how chubby of a baby he is (the money’s on Linebacker, little dude is built like a truck). Stuff like that

None of these comments were ever made about Suzie when she was born, and I really don’t want to admit that it’s because Lucas is a boy, but thats the only answer I can think of when trying to understand the favoritism. Lucas is showered in gifts and love and while I know newborns need that, Suzie received nowhere near this much attention. Lee’s husband doesn’t go to family functions because he works full time, but I heard Suzie mumble at Thanksgiving last month that she wanted to go home to daddy. It broke my fucking heart, so I called him and she got to FaceTime with my uncle until my phone died

At this point, I’m not even upset that the family ignores my obvious trans-ness as I’m over a year on T (paid for by myself too) in favor of my boy cousin. I’m upset that Suzie is getting left out of the fawning while she’s still super young and she could grow up resenting Lucas because of it.

Anyways, so this morning we opened gifts as an immediate family and I got to FaceTime my significant other as they unboxed their gift from me and we were having a good time until my dad FaceTimes Grandpa. Grandpa answers and Dad immediately asks how his nephew is. Lucas is pushed in front of the phone and all I can hear is asking about how Lucas is, is Lucas talking yet, is Lucas reading yet. I manage to squeeze my head in and ask about Suzie and Lee’s voice off camera says that “oh she’s fine, just snobbish.” Snobbish? A five year old?

And here’s where I’m probably the Asshole. Honestly, I’m looking between ESH and JAH here, but would perfectly understandable if tumblr decides YTA. My response to Lee’s comment was: “well maybe she wouldn’t be if everyone didn’t pick Lucas as the family favorite.”

My dad smacked me upside the head, Renee and Bea got really pissed off, and the FaceTime went quiet until it was cut off and Grandpa called back to talk to Dad privately. Bea called me an asshole and while my Mom got onto her for her language, Mom agreed that I was.

My dad came back from the phone and did the silent point towards his bedroom, y’all with shitty parents know the one. Because I’m twenty fucking years old and pay RENT here, I shook my head, grabbed my keys, and went to go hang out with my significant partner and work friends. We had a great time and I’m currently in the car with my significant other while typing this. I’m gonna spend the night at their place and go back in the morning to see how bad the damage is. My significant other says I was justified in what I said, but two of my work friends (one who’s a Cishet guy who grew up in a similar household and another who’s a new dad with his own son) say that what I said was uncalled for and rude. They explained that I had no right to weaponize Lucas and Suzie like that and I understand that. I’m just tired of Suzie being neglected and, selfishly I know, I’m tired of how my identity is ignored as well

So, tumblr, AITA?

TL;DR, My two year old cousin is the “only” grandson in the family. The family ignores my male identity and my baby cousin’s five year old sister to fawn over the two year old. Am I The Asshole for pointing this out point blank in front of the whole family on Christmas morning?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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leclerc-s · 8 months ago

Text

wait, there's another one of you?

series masterlist

isabellaperez posted new stories

this booger picked me up from the airport and then decided to mock me for buying food at the airport. little outfit change because it's not hoodie season in mexico. i ditched the booger and picked up my comfort food. no i will not be sharing, they're all mine.

lando norris someone want to explain to me who the guy in isabella's story is?

isabella perez my fucking brother? gael? dulce perez it's our brother.

charles leclerc wait, there's another one of you??

max verstappen how do you people not know this?

mae jones i didn't know...

daphne jones i did know, nice kid. i don't know how he's related to isabella.

sebastian vettel he used to come to races all the time, and then their dad died and he stopped coming.

dulce perez we all bonded with dad over f1. it was harder for gael because he was karting when dad passed. he gave up on the sport after that.

isabella perez haven't you heard, he's a big shot actor now. HE WORKED WITH THE SEBASTIAN STAN!!

penelope trevino your taste in men needs to be studied. under a microscope. isabella perez i don't really have a crush on sebastian stan. i have a crush on bucky barnes. it's very different. penelope trevino oh yeah, that makes so much sense.

max verstappen the worst thing is that he's a ferrari fan too 🙄

isabella perez HELL YEAH! FORZA FERRARI BABY!

charles leclerc LET'S GO!!

lewis hamilton i will never understand how checo's own blood aren't red bull fans.

dulce perez he was a ferrari academy driver with jules. it's practically in our blood to be tifosi. i just like to support my uncle, the other two are heathens.

isabella perez WE CAN SUPPORT UNCLE CHECO AND SUPPORT FERRARI AT THE SAME TIME DULCE!

esteban ocon we have to meet this guy!

lance stroll when can we meet him? carlos sainz are we allowed to meet him? dulce perez never. my brother will not be tainted by you nerds.

rowan todd listen, i understand the boys, but seeing as we work together with marvel. good luck keeping me away from him.

rowan todd wait-

rowan todd in the sense that, we're going to become besties. work besties if you will.

lance stroll pierre just let out a sigh of relief.

pierre gasly do you know how to shut the fuck up? if so, please do so. lance stroll why would i when you're so easy to tease?

max verstappen you have to bring him to a race soon. it's only fair! i will turn him into a red bull fan.

isabella perez listen, uncle checo driving for red bull is temporary, however long that may last, but ferrari is forever. you just have to deal with this max, uncle checo does.

carlos sainz max is just surrounded by tifosi isn't he?

max verstappen oh shut up carlos.

carlos sainz is the little one still a huge charles fan?

daniel ricciardo he called my move to mclaren the worst mistake of my life. daniel ricciardo he's also a little shit. but we love him max verstappen NO! YOU LOVE HIM! i tolerate him at best.

fernando alonso when you say patito, you don't mean pato o'ward, do you?

isabella perez i do! they were best friends growing up!

dulce perez wow, you are dumb.

isabella perez WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN??

dulce perez ask gael. maybe he'll answer the question.

lando norris someone could be in love with her and she would never notice.

daniel ricciardo i can't wait for the day i get to witness that

daphne jones don't be mean. she's not dumb, just oblivious.

pierre gasly this is like that time that guy asked for her number and she gave him dulce's number.

arthur leclerc WHAT THE FUCK? WHEN WAS THIS?

max verstappen arthur right now, probably

charles leclerc can confirm that is what arthur sounded like.

max verstappen at least someone appreciates my comedic genius. natalia ruiz he's in love with you charles leclerc literally shut up?

isabella perez WHAT ARE YOU PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT? HE ASKED FOR DULCE'S NUMBER?

rowan todd HE ASKED FOR YOURS! HE CALLED YOU PRETTY GIRL AND EVERYTHING?

isabella perez WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DID I MISS THAT?!

daphne jones like i said, you're oblivious.

freya vettel at least put us all out of our misery and ask out cute prema guy

isabella perez i can't.

esteban ocon the fuck do you mean you can't?

lance stroll wait. don't fucking say it isabella

isabella perez i got back together with austin

daniel ricciardo WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK ISABELLA?

fernando alonso OTRA VEZ? ISABELLA, NO PUEDES SEGUIR HACIENDO ESTO! (again? isabella, you can't keep doing this!)

isabella perez but he said things would be different this time!

dulce perez THAT'S WHAT HE FUCKING SAID LAST TIME YOU MORON!

gael perez dime que no es verdad isabella! (tell me it's not true isabella!)

isabella perez that depends, what are we talking about?

dulce perez cut the bullshit. why would you do this?

isabella perez HEY YOU KNOW WHY! I LOVE HIM!

gael perez i'm gonna die and my sister's still going to be dating that lunatic.

dulce perez at this rate i'm going to get back with arthur and she's still going to be with him.

isabella perez let's talk about dulce's problems instead!

gael perez old news, we all know she's still in love arthur but in denial about it.

isabella perez by the way, was patito ever anything more than your friend?

gael perez i have to go.

isabella perez CLEARLY I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE WITH PROBLEMS HERE!

isabella perez dulce is a snitch who's still in love with her ex and my brother dated his best friend.

dulce perez HEY FUCK YOU! WHAT HAPPENS IN THE SIBLING GROUP CHAT STAYS THERE!

max verstappen no, tell us more. as the children say, spill the tea sis.

mae jones i forget you have a broken childhood.

charles leclerc tell us something we don't already know.

dulce perez literally fuck you guys. i don't have to sit here and take this.

dulce perez i have class now.

pierre gasly coward.

dulce perez PIERRE'S IN LOVE WITH ROWAN BUT IS AFRAID TO ADMIT IT! MAX IS ALSO IN LOVE WITH MAE! AND CHARLES IS LOVE WITH NATALIA AND WE ALL KNOW THEY'RE SLEEPING TOGETHER!

dulce perez call me a coward again gasly. i know all your secrets.

lance stroll she's sort of scary sometimes.

daniel ricciardo she's a middle child. of course she knows everything.

daphne jones i love her.

max verstappen i'm kinda scared of her now. what else does she know?

dulce perez i know everything verstappen. all of you confide in me because i'm the only 'normal' one here.

dulce perez AND I KNEW ABOUT DANIEL'S PROPOSAL BEFORE ANYONE ELSE SO SUCK IT FUCKERS! (except for seb, lewis, and nando. i love you guys.)

mae jones RICCIARDO! YOU TOLD ME I WAS THE FIRST TO KNOW!

daniel ricciardo would you look at the time. i have to go walk my kangaroo.

fernando alonso coward!

daniel ricciardo no shame about it!

taglist: @burningcupcakefire @arkhammaid @sunflower-golden-vol6 @applopie @lorarri @mypage-myfandoms @bb-swift @thewannabewriter @stopeatread @hobiismyhopeu @lilsiz @alessioayla @niniluvsainz @au-ghosttype @justtprachisblog @nichmeddar @landonorizzz @unluckyyoshi @brekkers-whore @natcha888 @camdensreg @mycenterfold @dear-fifi @prongsvault @georgeparisole @dan3avocado @nikfigueiredo @bella-1 @namgification @jensonsonlybutton @chezmardybum @d3kstar @weekendlusting @trouble-sistar @lesliiieeeee @leclercsluv @33-81 @theseus-jpg @sarah-thatstings-ann @suicidepanda07 @minmira95 @vroomvroom95 @scuderiadevils @lilsiz @ssararuffoni @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @cowboylikemets1989 @rmeddar123 @kaa212 @anxxiousaries

not taggable: @Mimolovescookies @julesbabey1 @julesbabey @Smnthnclj @melissayalene @nothanqks @ragioniera @anytimeanywherebitchblog @burberryfilms @lorenaskaspersen @My-fangirling-outlet

click here to be added to the honest series taglist

¡leclerc-s speaks! if i hadn’t mentioned this character before that’s because he was literally made up like last week. i also just love danny ramirez and i had to include him somehow. this entire series is just me putting together all my interests in one. also my love for pato, i love him so much. i have too many stories and don't have time to update them all so i just create more to ignore the bigger issue.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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creekfiend · 2 years ago

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My great Uncle just died and I found out literally today that his legal first name was always Fred

He went SOLELY by Jack and everyone called him Jack and I never heard him referred to as anything other than Jack by literally anyone in my whole life

Anyway. Cis people do this all the time

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madelynraemunson · 9 months ago

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 019: The Piggyback

If you had the chance to do it over again with Eddie — and DO IT RIGHT — would you?

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020* * = somewhat smut , ** = smut

CW: hospital setting, dialogue heavy, uncertainty, fluff, talks of blood/broken bones/etc., car accident implications

word count: 2.5k words

“I’ll pick up these broken pieces ‘til I’m bleeding, if that’ll make it right.”

♡

Hawkins Memorial Hospital reeks of bleach wipes and bitter tears.

“Eddie…” Dustin wails. “No no no, noooo. Eddie…”

You’re sitting on the floor of the nurses station with Robin, Steve, and Nancy while the ‘kiddos’ occupy the waiting chairs. Surely, it's got to be unsanitary, but contracting germs off the floor of the ICU were the least of your concerns.

Your eyes follow Wayne as he helplessly wheels around, talking to anyone who would lend him an ear... anyone who would possibly know anything about his nephew’s condition.

“And my nephew — Eddie — he's self-employed,” Wayne continues to tell them.

Wheeling…wheeling…wheeling…

“But the Program he’s with allows him to go through Scott Clarke. You know Scott Clarke Insurance? It’s S-c-o-t-t, C-l-a-r-k-e… I’m through them too…”

But the able-bodied personnel are too fast for old Wayne, walking at a speed about 5mph while his frail fingers can only allow him up to 2 and a half. Just like the liters of oxygen he is on.

“Does he have a case manager assigned to him yet?” Wayne wonders. “If so I would like their name, please.”

Eventually Wayne’s voice fades the further away he gets. And just so you don't wallow in your misery, you go to your phone to see if anyone else has been reaching out to you for updates.

Justice (Hellfire)

Omg just heard the news! Hey girlie, is Eddie ok??? Can we come see him yet??

Just as you expected. Annoyed, you respond.

Girl fuck you

Suddenly a hand squeezes your kneecap. You didn't realize how aggressively you were tapping your feet until Max stops you.

“Doing okay, sis?”

“Yeah I'm just...” you sigh. “…going through all the emotions I guess. And in a fucked up way, I'm kinda convinced this is all my fault."

“You're a dumbass," she scowls at you. "How could you have possibly seen this coming? This was not in anyone’s control."

“I broke the rule,” is all you say. “We never go to bed angry.”

The odds have always been against you. You would think you knew that by now. It was probably why you spent all morning beating yourself up; because you knew that if you did, there's a huge possibility that Eddie would pull through. The Universe is twisted like that.

Suddenly, a pair of white coats are seen coming out of Eddie's room. Everybody in the party immediately stands, like it's some formation exercise at a bootcamp of sorts. Wayne eventually circles back as well, gazing up at Dr. Owens with hopeful eyes.

“Eddie is going to be okay,” Owens concludes. “You can all breathe now.”

The room fills with bone-weary, but nonetheless celebratory cheers. Owens and Eddie's nurse, Nurse Patty allows everybody to hug one another in relief. Eddie's doctor goes to speak again when the clamor dies down.

“But he did have to undergo emergency surgery,” Dr. Owens adds. “And he lost a lot of blood, so we have him on additional transfusions, as well as an antibiotic for an infection caused by his wounds. The plan for him is to recover, hopefully get him up with therapy when the time is right, and then he can get out of here.”

“Can we see him?” your voice cracks.

“That is up to him," the doctor responds. "But for now, what the young man told me is that he wants chocolate pudding... and to see his Uncle and girlfriend."

You and Wayne waste no time. Unlocking the brakes of his wheelchair, you lug Eddie's uncle into ICU room #010, unsure of what is to greet you behind the curtains.

The room is littered with juice and jello, laced by an overpowering bleach-esque fragrance that most likely was there to mask the innate smell of blood and other bodily fluids.

Beep, beep, beep, goes the familiar IV machine. And funny enough, Eddie has his TV on, blasting South Park on full volume, exactly the way it normally would be playing at the Harrington-Munson estate.

"…tell everyone the truth about whose fault this is! I didn't do anything!" ... "...you KNEW about the prank, you could've stopped it at any time, but you didn't say a word. SILENCE IS VIOLENCE!"

And there is Eddie, dressed in a mesh-fabric gauze bandana, a worn-out beige hospital gown, with matching grippy socks. His entire lower lip is busted, left arm in a cast, both of his heels elevated with blood-saturated pillows. And his hair... you didn't even want to think about the matting. But that is ground to be covered much later.

When Eddie sees the two of you, he only utters one sentence:

“Does this mean I finally get that motorcycle?”

“You fucking idiot!” you wail going in to hug him.

Eddie chuckles solemnly as you completely fall into his embrace, soaking his gown with your salty tears.

"I thought we lost you, Eddie,” you whisper in his ear as you sniff your tears away. "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if we did...knowing what I said."

He strokes your hair. "You have every right to be mad at me. I've been such a shitty boyfriend to you."

“I second that,” Wayne huffs, crossing his arms. “The idiot part, I mean… but I’m glad you’re okay, son.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Wayne,” Eddie grumbles. “I knew those Eddie Stops would catch up to me one day.”

Eventually, the rest of the party spills in, starting with the batallion of younger Hellfire boys who were inconsolable all morning, absolutely petrified of losing their role-model.

"Jesus,” Dustin breathes. “We thought you were a-goner!”

"Hey guys, good to see ya," Eddie grins, soaking up every bit of attention from his little minions as they all pile on top of him. Suddenly, he flinches. "Hey hey hey, watch my IVs! I've got an important med running through that piggyback."

"Right, sorry," they all utter in unison as they separate themselves from him.

Steve is next in line to give Eddie a hug, followed by Robin, and Nancy, and soon Jonathan. Chrissy and Argyle are the next people to trail in, with Henry and Nina at their tail. Then, the Corroded Coffin boys soon after.

"Eddie, oh my god!" Chrissy cries. "Don't you ever scare any of us like that again!"

"Good to see ya, Chris," Eddie smiles, giving her a one-armed hug. "Hey Neens! Creel! Villalobos. Boys.”

"So not cool man," Argyle shakes his head. "So not cool. We were worried sick for you."

As you all iron out the details, it is discovered that Eddie got into the accident shortly after leaving your place. He, in fact did, pull an Eddie Stop, failing to see the car coming at him from his left side, which then resulted in him getting T-boned. The other driver was okay. In fact, he was the one who called the ambulance for him.

"How much longer until you're discharged?" Nancy asks.

"I'm not too sure," Eddie sighs. "Hopefully in a few weeks."

He fails to sit up completely, wincing once again when his pain drags him down. Everybody nearly rushes to his aid, tenderly lowering Eddie back onto the bed while encouraging him to take it easy.

"Don't even worry about it, Eds," Lucas assures him. "We can hold down the fort."

"Oh that's reassuring," Eddie mutters sarcastically, shaking his head in discontent.

"What'd you say?"

"Nothing!"

---

You decide to stay with Eddie for the afternoon while everyone else goes home. A couple others stay behind as well, so you all take turns alternating, helping the nurses with their care and making sure Eddie isn't alone when a specialist from his team comes to see him.

But for now, it's just you and him, cuddled up in his rather stiff hospital bed, watching TV to pass time by.

"It feels weird sitting in place for once," he comments. "My body isn't used to laying down for a long period of time."

"Constantly in fight or flight, huh?" you tut. "Always on the go..."

Eddie whistles. "God, you have no idea..."

"Nah, I do," you insist, grabbing his hand to kiss it. "Our flights just look a lil different is all."

Suddenly, your phone rings again, causing both you and Eddie to jolt in shock. This time, it's your FaceTime ringtone... and on the other line, is Kassidy, quite possibly accompanied by the other Hellfire Girls.

"Jesus H. Christ," you mumble. "They've been spamming me all morning. Probably just wanna know how you're doing."

"Answer it," Eddie encourages you sharply. His tone is rather gruff, and urgent. "I need to talk to them."

Because you're nice enough to allow the girls the luxury of knowing their lord and savior is alive, you answer the call and hand your phone to Eddie. There's a slight pause before the call is connected.

"Hi," is all Eddie says.

"Eddie! OMG!" the girls squeal through the other line, of course all while failing to acknowledge you — the person whose number they called in the first place. "Are you okay?!"

"Yes girls, I'm fine..." he sighs. "How's Hellfire? Everyone holding down the fort?"

"Of course, just like we do best," Kassidy responds. "We just miss you, Eddie. What happened?"

"Got T-boned."

"OMG, whose fault was it?"

"Mine," he seems relatively short with them.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm in a little bit of pain. But I got some pain meds to help me."

"Thank God!"

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hospital walls, Nina and Chrissy stare at each other in bewilderment, a look that is naturally followed by one of disgust.

"Oh I know damn well..." Nina shakes her head.

"Stupid ass bitches," Chrissy adds.

Being the nosy girls they are, Nina and Chrissy crane their heads over into the room, eavesdropping on the FaceTime conversation between Eddie and the Hellfire Girls.

"Oh Eddie," Emmy pouts. "We're so glad that you're doing okay."

"Yeah, Eddie!" Lady chirps. "When do you think you'll be released?"

"Hopefully I'll be out in about two weeks," Eddie responds. "But I'll stay at home for a bit before coming back. You won't even know I'm gone."

The girls cheer obnoxiously on the other line. You try to act indifferent towards everything for Eddie's sake, but it's hard for you to feign something that so evidently isn't true.

Eddie senses it. And what he says next to the girls takes you by surprise.

"...But," Eddie says. "In that same amount of time, I expect your lockers to be cleared... as well as your side of the dressing room."

There's a brief silence while the girls try to piece together what Eddie means by that. Because surely it doesn't mean what they initially thought it meant.

"Why? Are we getting moved?"

"No, you're all getting terminated."

So it was exactly what they thought it meant.

"Wh-what? Why?!"

"What do you mean why?" Eddie demands.

He begins to list off everything they have done wrong, all of which they pretended to be oblivious about until now.

"The final straw is calling my girlfriend's phone, non-stop, knowing that's the only way to get through to me," Eddie goes on. "And not even acknowledging her! And even if you did, you all have some damn nerve considering what you guys did at Hellfire."

"You don't even have proof of us damaging her property though!" Justice argues. "So for all we know, you're just accusing us of things, Eddie."

"That's funny," you speak up. "Who said anything about property damage?"

Caught in their own trap.

The MAIN reason Eddie couldn't fire the Hellfire Girls when they put sugar in your gas tank was because you didn't have any proof that they did it, therefore it wouldn't hold up well if the girls decided to sue for wrongful termination. Again, lots of legalities to come in to play.

The girls were smart though. Choosing to wreck your car because they knew it was parked in the security camera's blindspot. Essentially, after the damage was done, it would be your word against theirs. And there was only so much that Eddie could do with the "subtle jabs". But now that you have a confession, Eddie can work off of that.

"But Eddie!" Justice whines. "This is so unfair. We've known you, and been at Hellfire longer than she has."

"Two weeks," Eddie reiterates, still firm on his decision. "That's enough time for you ladies to figure out the next step. I wish you the best of luck."

The ending of the FaceTime call wasn't a pretty one. It mainly consisted of denying and bargaining, all of which Eddie did not have the energy to be receptive to.

You and Eddie continue to hash it out with the girls over the phone, all while Nina and Chrissy were twerking in celebration because it meant more money for them during tip outs. And most importantly, celebrating you getting the justice you deserve...along with the possibility of you coming back.

"That was something I should've done way long ago," Eddie sighs as he hands you your phone back. "I hate dealing with legal shit."

"I'm sorry that they ended up being horrible," you frown.

"And I'm sorry that they ended up being horrible to you," Eddie counters. "I really wish I could've done more for you. But up until now my hands were tied legally, honey. And financially."

"It was a sticky situation," you mutter. "But...I knew you had a favorite."

He kisses your forehead once more and you lean into him again, resting your head against his chest and wrapping your leg around his torso.

"Ow, ow, OW!" Eddie yelps.

"Sorry!"

You asunder again.

"You think you're gonna find enough dancers in time?" you ask him.

"We'll be okay four dancers short," Eddie assures you. "And besides, more tips for the other ladies when it comes down to tip-outs. They did Hellfire a favor."

Exactly what Chrissy and Nina were thinking.

"Speaking of Hellfire..." Eddie quips. "Does this mean you're coming back?"

"Only if I'm still welcome."

"Of course you are, babe," Eddie chuckles. "Everyone there loves you."

Your heart flutters at the forsaken "L" word, uttered with so much certainty and fondness.

"...including me," Eddie adds. "I love you, man."

You bite your lip to contain your excitement as you blush, giving Eddie a light punch across his chest.

"I love you too...man."

And as a way to poke fun at you, Eddie flashes you a "surf's up" sign with his non-crippled fingers. He puts on his most pretentious California accent possible, one he learned how to do from Argyle.

"Righteous...man."

And before it could get any more intimate, Chrissy makes her way into the room, reaching into her tote bag to give you something she's been holding onto since she arrived.

You watch as she unveils a familiar velvet garment — your cloak. She gives you a courtly bow as she hands it back over to you, symbolizing an end to your very brief retirement from Hellfire, and a permanent seat at The Party's table.

"You know Hargrove, I believe..." says Chrissy. "...that this is for you."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins @feral-pumpkin-energy @bl0ssomanddie

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hazelsmirrorball · 1 year ago

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Spiderman’s Biggest Fan | Jaime Reyes part 3

summary: Jaime Reyes is the biggest spiderman fan. His girlfriend on the other hand is Spiderman's biggest hater.

pairings: Jaime Reyes x Spiderman! FemReader

a/n: Part 3 baby! Hope you guys are enjoying this little series. There’s going to be one more part. I hope you guys enjoy it. Wrote this in my literature class.

warning: English isn’t my main language. Angsty and kinda sad. Scenes taken out of No Way Home. Not edited

[MASTERLIST]

part one. part two part four part five.

Timing was never right when it came to Y/n’s life. Uncle Ben’s death, getting bit by the radioactive spider in the beginning of her relationship, Attempting to protect Palmera as she was surviving her teenage years. She finally wanted to scream to the world, well her world that she was Spiderman. But maybe the odds weren’t in her favor, maybe it was better if he didn’t know she was Spiderman. What he didn’t know couldn’t kill him. It was hard sometimes to understand what was good about being Spiderman. Don’t get her wrong she didn’t hate it but recently she wasn’t the biggest fan. But there was something positive about being Spiderman and keeping it a secret. Everyone was safe. Safe from danger and all the villains Palmera had to offer, but now with Doc Ock outside of her apartment she hesitated on what was actually safe for her family. No one besides the Justice League and Milagro knew her identity. She had made it her job to be as discreet as possible making it impossible to trace Spiderman to her and her family. Aunt Marisol was the only thing she had left of the family. She couldn’t lose her. Y/n wasn’t going to lose her.

Y/n snapped back to reality noticing who Jaime held onto both of her hands searching for her gaze to calm her down. Before Milagro could even speak again Y/n got up from the bed taking Jaime by the hand and Milagro by the arm. She led them both as quickly as possible into their safe room, Marisol made in case any emergency would’ve happened. Ever since Uncle Ben died due to a robbery her aunt had become paranoid with the villains in Palmera city. Spiderman eased Marisol nerves, making her grateful for her doing patrol. Y/n never really thought it was important to have that, but now she was thankful of her Aunt’s paranoia.

Y/n rushed the Reyes siblings into the room noticing that everyone else was sitting inside panic filling their faces. As she paced back and forth trying to think what was best for them, Y/n looked towards the door and scanned the room once again, her eyes bumping into Jaime.

“Get inside Jaime. It’s not safe outside” She responded seriously, not wanting to be questioned right now. Right wasn’t the time for the family to find out about her secret identity but it also wasn’t the time for Jaime to get all protective. Marisol could be dead right now for all they know.

“Get inside? Are you insane, Y/n! A literal murderer has your aunt and you want me to go inside, While you are there doing what, talking sense into him? Are you hearing yourself right now? I’m not letting you go. This isn’t a prick from your job. It’s a guy that could kill you just by blinking. ” Jaime replied, taking her by the arm. Y/n glared at him sternly.

“I’m not asking for your input on my decision, Jaime. Now stay inside. ” Y/n responded using her super strength to push Jaime in the room locking the door behind her. She could hear Jaime pounding on the door, but it was useless, he wasn’t able to break it down.

“Y/n! Please open the door before you do something stupid. You are going to get yourself hurt!” Jaime yelled, still banging on the door. Y/n slipped on her suit that was hidden behind one of the bases as she heard Jaime’s bickering.

“I’ll be back! I can’t let anything happen to Aunt Marisol.” she said against the door before running towards the kitchen where she could see the broken windows. She slipped her body outside of their apartment searching around in an attempt to see her.

On the other side of the door, Jaime continued to break the security door but he wasn’t able to do a thing. His family looked around in confusion, noticing how Khaji Da was nowhere to be found.

“Khaji, I really need you right now.” Jaime replied, resting his forehead on the door stopping his constant banging, noticing the blood dripping from his knuckles.

Jaime, Y/n is going to be fine. Follow her orders and stay here.

Jaime felt his body drag against the door as he hid his face in his hands desperate tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. Milagros slowly walked towards him, sitting by his side.

“We are safe here, don’t worry. Nothing bad is going to happen, I bet there’s a superhero on their way soon. Y/n and Marisol will be okay. ” Milagro replied, trying to ease the tension in the dark room.

“I am the superhero Milly! I can’t wait here if I know that Marisol and Y/n are outside with a maniac.”

Y/n climbed the tall building as fast as she could, finally reaching the top. She looked around desperately trying to find Doc Oc but she wasn’t lucky, her view being blocked by smoke coming all around making it quite impossible for her to see. She turned around in her spot trying to discover what was going on as she felt her spider senses tingling. Before she could even process what was going to happen she felt herself being pushed towards the hard ceiling. She looked up to see the familiar pair of eyes looking at her. Y/n tried fighting back but the hold he had on her was strong. He was getting powerful.

“Look who finally decided to show up. I thought Mister Spiderman has gotten big for Palmera City, I see. Forgot about his little friends in Palmera. I was starting to miss you terribly.” Green Goblin yelled as Y/n attempted to swing a punch but failed miserably. Goblin laughed as she struggled under his touch.

“I was taking a break from your bullshit. Might I add that I personally didn’t miss it at all” Y/n muttered moving side to side. Her suit scanned Goblin in an attempt to see how he had gotten so powerful the past two weeks. Her eyes wide as Karen told her the information.

Target has upgraded his suit and he made more contributions to his DNA. Making him at least eighty percent stronger than before. I believe you should request for backup.

Y/n rolled her eyes as she muttered a no towards Karen, noticing how she had Batman and Blue Beetle on speed dial.

“What a pity. I wished we got a visit from the bat, to make things a little bit more interesting than having you around. It’s too easy to win a fight and now thanks to my new upgrades you can’t even fight back. What a shame. I think that your Justice league card should be revoked. They have you fighting the Joker when you aren’t even capable of getting out of my grip. Has Metropolis rubbed on you?” Green Goblin yelled at Y/n as she moved her body attempting to get out of his touch.

“Whatever this is. You don’t have to involve that citizen. This is between the two of us.” Y/n's voice changed as the artificial intelligence from her suit made her voice sound more “masculine”.

“Oh you mean your little aunty? Let me tell you she isn’t just a normal citizen. She is attached to you so that means it is a perfect way to get to you and might I add you are good at covering your identity couldn’t find anything aside the fact that she was your aunt. Marisol is a beaut don’t you think? What a shame she has to die. Maybe I could’ve been your new uncle Ben.” And with those words slipping out of Goblins mouth Y/n shoot her spider webs hitting a pipe in front of her while flipping the bodies making her have a hold on the villain in front of her.

As she slammed through a few floors she could hear Green Goblin laughing as she went down floor by floor. Her anger took over, not even feeling the bricks scrapping her body. Y/n stopped looking down at the man as she heard her aunt yelling spiderman. She quickly looked up, noticing that Doc oc was near but Aunt Marisol was nowhere to be found. They were messing with her and it was working.

Before she could shoot her webs to go to the other villain, Green Goblin took her by the waist throwing her against the crystal door smashing them. Y/n ran as fast trying to avoid another hit or even more damage to her neighbors apartment. As she caught her breath, Green Goblin clapped slowly taunting her. As he stood a few steps away from her, he laughed looking at her directly.

“Strong enough to have it all, L/n?” He asked and before he could make the next move. Y/n shoot her webs taking a piece of the door that flew off and slamming it into him. Before It could even hit him, Green Goblin broke it.

“Or too weak to take it” He continued as Y/n got up trying to swing a punch but Green Goblin quickly caught it, throwing her to the other side of the long hallway. Y/n could feel her body start to weaken as she heard her name come out of his mouth. Green Goblin smashes Y/n through a window but Y/n quickly fires webs and pulls herself back inside only to be flung through another window, out onto the balcony. Green Goblin pounces onto Y/n. As she lets out a whimper in pain trying to hit him with hands falling miserably she webs the balcony above to flip himself on top of Green Goblin smashing him down to the balcony below.

“Oh no you don’t!” Y/n tries to web herself away from him. Goblin grabs Y/n’s leg and throws her through a window.

She limped towards him as she felt her mask breaking. Leaving part of her face visible. Green Goblin smirks at her excitedly as he sees her features

“Always thought you were a dude but now your shitty fighting skills make sense” He responded laughing as his laugh echoed through her ears. She ran towards him pushing him against all the floors of the apartment complex. When they reached the first floor, Y/n took her mask off, taking the man by his suit as she spit her blood on him.

“I want you to see how well a girl beats your ass” She responded slamming him against the floor. As every hit got stronger, he laughed harder, messing with her head.

‘Did you forget who’s in control here? Kill me and your little miss aunt Marisol is dead. What’s it going to be, Y/n. ” He replied, smirking at her. Y/n slowly turned around hearing footsteps behind her. She felt her eyes shut in pain as she noticed Marisol’s body from afar.

“Go! Please Marisol, run! Marisol please save yourself” As she hears her getting closer. Goblin gripped on her neck laughing maniacally.

“Your weakness, L/n , is morality. It’s choking you! Can’t you feel it?” Green Goblin gripped harder as she struggled to breath.

“Marisol…Please go” Y/n replied, barely audible as she noticed Green Goblins familiar booms coming towards her at full speed. Marisol, noticing her niece's face, froze dead in her tracks not believing what seeing but didn't notice the bomb that was coming at full speed towards her. Y/n let go of the green goblins body running as fast as she could towards Marisol but before she could get a step closer her body flew towards the wall as the bomb exploded.

“L/n,L/n , L/n. No good deed goes unpunished. You can thank me later” Green Goblin said as he left. Y/n tried to move her body as pain overtook her body. Pushing past the pieces of concrete Y/n slipped her body out of the blocks lipping towards Marisol. With all of her strength she pushed the concrete off Marisol's body trying to see what conditions she was in. Y/n leaned in trying to clean the blood off her face as she noticed the small smile on her lips. May tries to get up slowly covered in dust, Y/n slowly caresses her face trying to get the dust out. Y/n clutched her side in pain

“Marisol, Marisol, I’m here” Y/n replied while sending her a pained smile. Marisol got up and pulled her into a tight hug. Y/n could feel her tears welding up. Marisol opens her mouth to talk but before a world could come out her body slowly gave up stumbling back. Y/n quickly catches holding her body close as Marisol mumbles incoherent things as Y/n searches her eyes worriedly.

“Marisol..it’s okay. We are okay, right? You are okay”’ Y/n replied her breathing changing drastically making her feel a wave of anxiety.

“Yeah, got knocked on my ass” Marisol replied softly letting out a light chuckle. Y/n gave her a side smile as she brushed Marisol hair out of her face.

“Yeah, me too.”

“That’s all,” May replied softly, dozing off a little bit. Y/n moved her softly trying to keep her awake.

“I think I broke my ribs” Y/n said trying to gain her attention. Marisol's eyes flutter open watching her wounded side. Y/n clutches to her side wincing as Marisol looks around taking in all the destruction around them.

“I can’t believe that our nosy neighbors haven’t shown up by now. Haven’t they noticed that they don’t have an apartment anymore” Marisol responded, trying to lighten the mood. Y/n looked around noticing the mess she had made. She scrunched up her face in disgust and disappointed in herself.

“This is all my fault, Marisol. I never wanted to get you in danger, that’s why I never told you. I wanted to keep you safe and I couldn’t even do that'' Y/n replied, warm tears falling onto her cheeks. Marisol shook her head holding her hand for comfort.

“This isn’t your fault, Y/n. You are a hero! You did the right thing. That’s amazing.Now it makes so much sense the fact that you “outgrew” your asthma ” She said grinning. Y/n let out a teary laugh as she shook her head. Marisol was at the verge of death and she still managed to make jokes.

“Still, Marisol. It’s not my responsibility, I should be like a normal adult working studying, not risking my family's life!” She exclaimed as she squeezed Marisol's hand.

“No, no, no, Y/n. You listen to me, You have a gift. You have power, and with great power, there must also come great responsibility.” Marisol replied seriously as Y/n nodded slowly, understanding her words.

“Yeah, I know,” She said softly as she watched Marisol get up slowly.

“Let’s get the hell out of here. We need to check on the Reyes” Marisol said as she got up slowly. As Marisol got up she noticed the blood on her hands, she felt her body falling to the ground. Y/n quickly leans over her inspecting her body.

“What happened? Are you okay” Y/n replied, inspecting her body all over. She knew something bad was going to happen.

“I’m okay” Marisol replied softly trying not to worry, Y/n. Marisol closed her eyes for a few minutes before fluttering them open to look at her niece.

“Yeah, you’re okay. What happened, Aunt Marisol?” Y/n replied as she slowly inspected her, not wanting her to panic.

“Just have to catch.. Just need to… catch my breath.” Marisol replied, taking deep breaths. As she closed her eyes.

“Okay, well catch your breath. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. We are going to take our time, you catch your breath, and then we’ll take you to a doctor okay” Y/n said as her eyes dropped noticing Marisol's side. She slowly touches it, noticing her hands covered in blood making her heart stop

“Are you okay, mi niña?” Marisol replied softly, rubbing her cheek. Y/n starts yelling loudly for help desperately.

“Somebody help! I need an ambulance, please! Someone help me. Please” She replied resting her hand on top of mays looking around for help.

“What happened?” Marisol replied, already losing consciousness of what was happening. Y/n looked at her with teary eyes.She quickly rubs her tears away and looks at her.

“Nothing happened. You’re okay..You're okay aunt Marisol” Y/n replied trying to convince Marisol and herself.

“I just need to catch my breath. I need a minute” May said as she closed her eyes this time longer than the last. Y/n watched quietly not wanting to let her go.

“I’m right here. I’m right here, Aunt Marisol…We are okay, it’s just you and me.It’s always been you and me” She whispered, holding onto her hand. Y/n how Marisol smiled softly but her face fell when she noticed her hand let go of her cheek.

“Marisol? Marisol? Will you look at me? Marisol. Please Marisol…Marisol, please wake up and talk to me! Please” Y/n said as she shook her softly every word becoming louder than the next. Her cries became sobs as she tried to get Marisol pulse. Y/n broke down falling on top of her crying into her chest. She could hear from a few blocks away the sirens coming their way. Before she could even have another minute to mourn she heard Karen speak.

Miss L/n, I know this is hard but it’s time to go. They can’t catch you here, I already called for backup.

Y/n let out a sigh as she cleaned her tears turning her back on Marisol not wanting to cry here, it wasn’t the time. Right now she wasn’t Y/n she was Spiderman and Spider had always agreed with the police that “he’ would leave before they got there and this sadly couldn’t be the exception. She felt herself push her body to move to swing her body building to building.

With great power comes great responsibility,even leaving loved ones behind.

part 3

[MASTERLIST]

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charlesollielandooscararthur · 2 months ago

Text

Uncles Best Friend

Lando Norris x Fewtrell! Reader / Max Fewtrell x Niece! Reader

Summary: Y/n is a young girl who has gone through a hard time in her life. But what will happen when a certain someone helps her get through it will her uncle disapprove or support her??

(I don’t know if max has any siblings but we are going to make one up for the story)

Warnings: 18+ mention of alcohol, Abusive Dad!, smut, Oral (female receiving), unprotected sex,making out,grinding,aftercare

………………………….………………………….…………………

It all happened really quickly, the man who was there since I was born who heard me say my first words and watched me take my first steps, took me to my first and last school, comforted me when I had broken up with my first ever boyfriend, was now standing here right in front of my eyes threatening me.

Let me take you back to the start of how this all began, I had just came back from school and found my dad sitting on the steps crying in which I do what any good daughter would do and comfort him and ask him what’s wrong he looks at me and tells me my aunt had died, my heart stopped and all I can remember is my dad hugging me. A few days later it was soo different in my house my dad was drinking a lot and getting angrier each day, my mom and I are literally walking on eggs shells in our own house, my mom is constantly trying to avoid my dad every chance she gets, the past few days she hasn’t really been here, my little brother is only 2 years old and I’m trying to do everything k can to protect him from my dad’s outbursts but he even has a go at his 2 year old son my older brother doesn’t live with us anymore so he has no clue what is happening back at home.

A few days later it is still the same mom not around my dad still drinking and me looking after my 2 year old brother. I walk into the kitchen with my brother on my hip to get a drink I pour myself a drink of cold water out the fridge and put some in a bottle and hand it to my brother. “Y/N!!!!” I quickly put my brother down and tell him to go play in his room and that I will be up there soon, my dad walks into the kitchen “do you know where your mother is I have NOT SEEN HER IN DAYS” he shouts banging his fist against the counter causing me to jump “I have no clue where she goes she leave the house before any of us wake up” “DO NOT LIE TO ME” “WHY WOULD I LIE TO YOU!!” He slaps me like literally slaps me I hold my cheek and look at him tears threatening to spill “DO NOT SHOUT AT ME YOUNG LADY. NOW tell me where your mother is or so help me I WILL DO MORE THAN JUST SLAP YOU” “dad I honestly don’t know where she is” still holding my cheek, he grabs a handful of my hair and drags me closer to him “I’ll ask you one more time Y/N where is your mother” “she’s at the hotel a few blocks from here” i lied thinking it’s the only way to get him of of me. I really have no clue where my mom is. he smiles at me “see it wasn’t that hard was it” he says and pushes me onto the floor hard definitely leaving a bruise

My dad leaves to go where I told him so I quickly ran upstairs grabbed my car keys, ran to my brothers room and picked him before I ran with him in my arms to my car knowing my dad will be so mad by the time he gets back knowing I lied to him. I get in the car and put my brother in the passenger seat and start driving, yes I know irresponsible but I’m way too scared thinking that my dad will be home any time now although he just left I’m still scared, so u drive a little down the roads opposite way to the hotel and pull over a couple roads down so I can put my brother in his car seat strapped in responsibly.

I have no clue where to go the closets house to mine is my uncle Max and his best friend Lando’s house so that’s where I drive. When I get there I park my car on there drive get my brother out the car who is fast asleep and start walking up to the door. Knocking on the door for the 4th time I still get no answer soo I decide to just check if the door is open and too my luck it is soo I walk inside and lay my brother on the couch, I start to walk to Max’s room seeing no one is in the kitchen I knock and walk in and to my surprise no one, soo I go to lando’s room and only knock not wanting to just walk in and I hear a “come in” so I walk in and stand at the door lando looks up at me and immediately jumps up “you scared me Y/n oh my god I thought you was max or something” I laugh a little then he looks at me “is your eye okay are you hurt?” Lando asks looking a bit worried then all of a sudden like I couldn’t stop if I wanted too I start crying and hard Lando’s heart drops and he immediately comes over and gives me a hug rubbing my back “ what happed Y/n/n?” “My dad he-he” and I can’t finish I just started crying “ he pushes me away looking in my eyes “your dad did this?” And I nod still crying he gives me a sad look pulling me into a hug again he pulls me over to his bed and let me cry on his shoulder until I calm down “where’s your mom and your brother” I look up from his shoulder and look in his eyes “Jason is down stairs asleep on the sofa because my amazing mother was too busy trying to avoid our dad then to protect her two children” I say starting to cry all over again lando pulls me into his arms again hugging me tighter until someone walks into landos room “why is my nephew asleep on my couch” I look up from landos shoulder and immediately start rushing over to max crashing into him still crying by the way, “hey,hey what happened”I don’t answer just continue to cry, I try to compose myself and look at Max he takes one look at my face and immediately gets angry “what the hell happened to your eye” “oh no mate don’t ask her that she will start crying again” lando jokes trying to cheer me up I just look at him and laugh “wellll” I look at Max again “Dad did it” “I’m sorry did I hear that right” he said lando looks at him “ I’m afraid you did mate” “Y/n what the actual fuck where’s Amelia?” He questions asking about his sister “I don’t know the second my dad started drinking she left she would come back late at night when he was passed out and leave early in the morning before any of us woke up leaving me and Jason alone with him” “SHE LEFT YOU” I flinch and lando notices “mate tone it down a little” max looks at me and apologetics “sorry, but she left you seriously Can I ask why he did do that to you?” I nod “he was asking me where mom is to which I genuinely had no clue so I told him that and he thought I was lying so he slapped me” they both jus looked at me and nod slowly “ and then” “more” they both said at the same time, I nod and carry on “and then he asks me again and again and because I gave the same answer he grabs my hair pulls me closer and tells me that if I don’t tell him the truth he’s gonna do a lot more than slap me so I make up a lie and tell him she’s staying a hotel a few blocks away then he says see that wasn’t so hard and pushes me really fucking hard onto the floor and did this” I say pulling my trousers down a little showing them the huge bruise that had quickly formed. They are both sat there shocked of the story I just told, Max goes to say something but Jason starts crying “I’m gonna go to Jason” I whisper walking down the stairs the boys following.

The second he sees me he puts his arms out telling me he wants to be picked up so I do and hug him really tight “I love you so much” I say looking at him “I wuv you too sissy” I look at him and smile kissing him on the cheek and then he sees Max “WUNCLE MAXIEEEE” he reaches out for Max “hey little man are you okay” i let them have there little chat and walk to sit next to lando putting my head on his shoulder “thank you” he looks at me “for what” “for being there for me earlier” “Y/n you know I’ll always be there for you no matter what” he says and kisses my head I smile at him and kiss his cheek I then look at max who is looking at us, I put my head back on Lando’s shoulder and smile at max to which he smiles back.

Later on we are all watching a movie and I notice it’s getting late “Jason it’s times for bed it’s wayyy past your bedtime” “ I don’t wanna go to bed” he says with puppy dog eyes “I’m sorry bud but your sister right it’s late” Max backs me up “who do you wanna sleep with tonight” I ask him his face lights up and looks at all 3 of us atleast 5 times before answering “MAX” Max laughs but agrees “okay little man you can sleep with me that means I have my own bed and your sister and lando need to decide what they do” me and Lando laugh, Max takes him to his room to get him ready for bed.Max went to the shop earlier to get some nappy’s and thing that he will need while he’s here. When they leave I look at lando and smile which he returns “do you wanna carry on watching the movie” “can we watch it in your room?” I ask him he just nods and he turns off everything done here and we go to his room

We finish the movie we was watching downstairs and decided on watching a whole different movie as well around a hour in a sex scene comes on and when I tell you it’s soo fucking detailed like omg and I didn’t know what to do so I kept on watching the movie feeling a bit awkward but I definitely should of looked away because I’m starting to feel really horny right now and notice lando awkwardly shift about as well, I honestly didn’t know what to do I look at lando to see he is already looking at me I smiled in which he returns as always, he has a cute smile, and curly fluffy hair that any girl would love to run their hands through his eyes as well oh my don’t get me started I could get lost I’m his eyes fore… “Y/n” I snap out of my trance “yes” I whisper and look him in his eyes his beautiful brown eyes and then down to his lips and back to his eyes.

Lando leans forward and I feel his lips on mine for a second I don’t kiss back and Lando starts to pull away but I put my hand on the back of his head and kiss him back it started off soft but it got rougher I sat on his lap and felt him underneath his joggers, I pull away for a few seconds allowing us to breathe and then we kiss again running my hands through his hair, I start grinding on him and honestly it feels really good. I have never done this before. He pulls away and starts kissing my neck “Lando” I moan leaning my head to the side giving him more access to my neck, I start to get needy “Lando” I moan “I need you to touch me please” I basically begged he laughs and pushes me of him making me stand up he also stands up then pushes me down back onto the bed I lay down and he kisses me again “Lando please” “where do you want me to touch you my love” “anywhere, please Lando” Lando pulls off my bottoms leaving me in just my thongs he kisses the inside of my thighs he then pulls off my panties and I feel his tongue lightly run over my clit and I moan not loudly tho remember who’s in the other room down the hall, he keeps flicks his tongue over my clit a coupe more times before running it back to front I moan louder he then gets two fingers and inserts them into me while sucking on my clit I moan even louder he lifts his head up “you have to be quieter baby” I nod pushing his head back down not liking the missing contact of his mouth he laughs but continues sucking on my clit and fingering me with one hand I cover my mouth and my other hand finds its way to lando hair pulling it “lando” I moan and he stops taking his fingers out and lifting his head up I just look at him pouting, he laughs at me but then I see him pulling his trousers down followed by his boxers and I grin

Lando movies back on top of me kissing me slowly again I feel his dick brush over my pussy a few times before I feel him put the tip at my entrance he looks me in my eyes and I nod to which he pushes himself into me I cover my mouth and lando stares at me waiting for me to tell him when he can move, once it starts feel more like pleasure than pain I tell him to move and so he does starting off slow then increasing the speed “oh Lando like that baby oh yes” he starts kissing my neck still pounding into me “oh fuck” “baby I’m gonna cum” “hold it baby, wait for me” I moan again trying my best to hold it but the pleasure I’m feeling right now is so fucking strong “Lando I can’t” “it’s okay baby just hold it a little longer” “oh fuck” I say still struggling after a few more minutes I feel him twitch inside me “okay baby cum with okay” “okayyy, fuck” “3,2,1” we both came at the same time my hands running through Lando’s hair and Lando holding me soo tight while we both come down from our high.

Lando pulls out of me and lays down on the bed putting my head ok his chest “ Lando” “mhm” I need to go to the toilet” In which he took care of me the whole night, carrying me to the toilet,getting me cleaned up,making me a drink, and cuddling all night.

#f1 imagine #f1 #lando norris #max fewtrell #uncle #baby brother #bad dad #bad mom moment #smut #alcohol #tw abuse #tw smut #tw alcohol #tw alchohol mention

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rise-my-angel · 5 months ago

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Some stans actually believe that once Jon learns of his true parentage he will be happy. Jon literally just wants to be acknowledged as a Stark, he wants nothing with that shitty prince or his fire loving family. He might get some closure knowing about Lyanna but Ned Stark will always be his daddy.

I was thinking about this, and really, it doesn't change much of Jon's understanding of Ned. He knows his father isn't telling him the truth, or at least by not saying a word to him about his mother, he is keeping information from him on purpose. He knows Ned was hiding something about his birth, because Jon spent his entire life wondering what couldve happened between his mother and his father to cause him to shut down about it, even to him, even to Catelyn.

Jon already is aware that Ned is hiding something. He just does not know the degree of the secret.

But also, I am sick of people dismissing Neds role in his life. Ned is not Jon's uncle. Sure by blood he is, but Jon was raised thinking that he is his father. He was treated just like a father treats his son, he was loved and given the same education that Robb got, he was raised in the family home getting to grow up with his brothers and sisters.

Jon didn't suddenly lose all those days or evenings he wouldve gotten to spend with his father alone. Didn't suddenly lose all of the times they acted just like a loving father and son with no hangups. He didn't suddenly lose the fact that to Ned Stark, Jon is not his nephew, he is his son.

Jon does not suddenly lose that Ned never even gave him a reason to feel like he wasn't a good enough son. He interacted with his father his whole life in a way that made him feel loved to the point that even now that hes dead, Jon routinely feels frustration that multiple older men in his life have tried to place themselves into the position of a father figure to Jon.

He was given a personalized version of the Mormonts ancestral sword, that was once belonging to Jeors son. Jon's honoured but he is not lost on the implication that Jeor looks at Jon like a pseudo son and it bothers Jon even then. Men can give Jon a thousand swords but it will never change that his father alone is Ned Stark. And keep in mind, this occurs during the period of time early at Castle Black where Jon is resentful and thinks Ned let him come here because this life was all he deserved. And he STILL refused to let someone sway him into seeing a man as a father figure other then Ned Stark.

Jon through all the insecurities and anger, loves Ned Stark as much as a son possibly could. More then once Jon thinks in situations that could lead to his death, about Ned. He always circles back to what would his father think or do. Jon dictates his independent, adult life based around learning to be the honourable man his father wanted him to be and does so without resentment.

My negative opinions of Rhaegar aside, Jon has no attachment to the thought of him as any kind of man. He grew up his whole life knowing the story that Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark. He grew up likely hearing the rumours that she was raped. He knew that kidnapping led to her dying tragically at the age of 16 in a way that clearly traumatized his father.

Jon has never been missing a father figure. He has always been missing his mother. Not missing a mother figure, only his mother. The only person he cares to learn about is her because shes the one person in Jon's blood he has never truly known. Then he learns hes heard about his mother his whole life, and realizes the bloodshed caused both for his conception and that she died without having a chance to be with her son at all.

Learning the truth is about realizing WHY Ned did the things he did. Why telling him about his mother was both too painful and too risky. Jon can be angry he was lied too, but does not change that Jon is smart and will understand that Ned did it all to protect Jon.

Jon will realize Ned did not need to raise him as his own son, in his home and family and give him love, to keep him safe. Jon knows Ned did all of that because he loves him the way Ned loved Robb or Bran. Jon will ultimately realize he never actually lost the father he grew up with, because Ned always considered Jon to be his son.

Learning the truth for Jon is about Lyanna, it's about learning that his mother died with her last words begging Ned to protect him because she loved him. It's about Jon realizing he is an echo of the dark shadows of Lyannas final months of life and that he needs to stand up and fight because she couldn't. That he needs to protect the ones he loves the way he wishes he could go back in time and protect her.

It's about realizing hes always had a father, because to Ned, Jon was always his son through and through. And it's about Jon realizing that he needs to live and fight because without him, Lyannas memory will fade away forever and he will not allow that to happen to her again.

Whatever people want to say about how Jon will feel about learning his blood is partly Targaryean, they will always downplay Jon also coming to terms with himself as a Stark.

However Jon will feel about the Targaryean side, none of that will take away that Jon will realize how incredibly important his Stark side is and always was. Their speculations about how Jon will feel about a man hes barley thought about his whole life, should never overpower that the truth leads Jon to the thing that matters.

That Jon Snow has always been loved, and he's always been a Stark. Because he was the son his mother died begging to protect, and he was the son that Ned Stark chose.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #jon snow #ned stark #eddard stark #lyanna stark #anti targ stans #anti targaryen #anti targ restoration #anti rhaegar targaryen #anti rhaegar stans #anti rhaegar x lyanna #anti rhaelya #me having to add all these tags because rhaegar stans get so mad #when someone says jon probably wouldnt suddenly hate the man who loved and raised him his whole life

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bomberqueen17 · 1 year ago

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letters

So in 1944 my grandpa got tuberculosis. It was bad enough that they sent him to a sanitarium up in the Adirondacks for a rest cure, which was what was recommended at the time. He'd been married to my grandmother for just a little while; they had a son, my uncle, and she was pregnant with my dad.

While he was there he wrote letters daily. He wrote a lot of letters, I think, to his parents and sister and friends. But the ones he sent to his wife, my grandma, she kept.

I don't know the chronology of it all, but after Grandma died, probably my dad found the packet of letters, as he was the one who went through her effects-- might have been his little sister, my aunt. Anyway the packet got circulated around, and then came back to my dad, who carefully organized all of the letters into a binder with individual plastic archival sleeves. Someone asked after them recently, and Mom found them and pulled them out. I was over there today, feeding her cat while she's on vacation, and so I leafed through them.

Grandpa's handwriting is similar, a bit, to my late father's, so I was able to read it reasonably easily. He started strong, the first letter he recounts how he fared in the rainstorm he'd apparently left home in, and then asks how Grandma fared.

How are you, my Baby? Did your schooner of sleep bear you safely thru the storm? If it didn't then you won't be reading this sorry excuse for a letter.

In that same letter he goes on to say,

Zounds! How can I create in this infernal bedlam? All the patients are up (as far as possible) and braying, the phone is ringing, Ma is delivering the Gettysburg Address + Pa is making more noise with a piece of wrapping paper than I could make with a hammer and a piece of steele [sic].

It rapidly escalates from there, and in a later letter he explains that the rest cure was so boring he had literally nothing to do, nothing to write home about, and so in an effort to keep from dwelling on how much he hated it there, he would write these flowery, possibly-repetitive love letters, because he simply had nothing else to talk about.

Your accounts of the marital woes of the [illegible, probably neighbors] are really hair-raising, but I don't think that the happiness of our marriage is due entirely to good fortune. As I have always said, we were made for each other a long, long time ago and our hearts refused to love anyone until the right one came along.

Looking at the postmarks, I realized they dated from right around the time of my father's birth, so I found the one that was sent the day after Dad was born, and it did not disappoint.

My beloved Words cannot express just how I feel this morning; I am all mixed up. You are so wonderful that sometimes I wonder what I ever did to deserve you. You are the one who is increasing our fortunes, for truly our children are the treasures that make us rich. You are so brave, so cool that I hold you in undying amazement. I am sure of one thing, My Darling; I know your sons will love you, not just because you are their mother, but for your own precious self, for the truly great woman you are. For the ordeal you have gone thru to bring these precious lives into being, rest assured of the eternal devotion of your menfolk. Last night all I could think of was you. I heard the night train coming into the station and my heart said "Run, run and catch the train before it is too late. Run to your loved ones and to hell with the results. Run, let nothing keep you from their sides." But my head said, "No, don't undo all that has been done. They also serve who stand and wait. Wait, and by so doing, prove your love to be more than the reckless love of youth, prove it to be the wise, guiding love that lives on long after passion has spent itself and thus spent, dies." And so I waited and the train left without me + my heart hated me for it.

Oh boy I cried, I sure did. (I had to look it up; "They also serve who only stand and wait" is from John Milton's Sonnet XIX.)

He always uses beloved or darling or somesuch as the salutation, but he often refers to her as Red within the text of the letters, because she had red hair. He occasionally made saucy references to their sex life, elsewhere in the letters. But mostly it's absolutely banger shit like this:

My thoughts and deeds, my smiles and tears, my happiness, my loneliness, my joy, my sorrow, my every breath, yea, even the final beat of my loving heart are poor blossoms placed on my altar of adoration, raised in humble gratitude to you.

Her name was Margaret, and I never knew her to have any nicknames, she just went by her name. Except to him, apparently. But as for him-- his government name was John, as was my father's, but my father never had to have a nickname, because there was never a day in his life Grandpa went by John. His name was Buddy, everyone called him Buddy, and he signed his letters as Buddy.

He died in January of 1978 of complications related to the damage to his lungs from the tuberculosis (not directly, but it was related). Grandma was standing in the hallway of the hospital, watching him sleep, waiting for him to wake up so he could meet my older sister, his third grandchild. He never did meet her.

She died in 2002 of congestive heart failure; I'd spent much of the preceding week with her and she'd spoken mostly of him.

#family lore #letters #history i guess

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trans-girl-nausicaa · 2 months ago

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i saw a post about “what if your family was descended from a benevolent immortal” and of course my mind immediately jumped to “what about the inverse of that”

i think that if there was a family that was descended from an immortal ancestor there are a number of very likely and severe problems that could likely arise from having a matriarch/patriarch who has had XXXX years to amass financial/political/social/religious power (though more importantly than what is “realistic” i think it would be interesting to explore this as a metaphor for generational trauma)

problems such as

they impose their extremely regressive social values on several generations of their descendants. even if their social norms are “good” by the standards of “their time” (people generally don’t change their cultural values very much after they reach adulthood!) their influence on their descendants would engender an inherent alienation between their family & the rest of society.

they are abusive & traumatize several generations of their descendants (how horrible would it be if the abuser literally outlives all of their victims and bullies everyone into silence? there are many cases of families where people can only address their shared trauma once the abusive matriarch/patriarch finally kicks the bucket and if that could literally never happen, it would be a terrible situation)

they become a religious leader (much easier when you literally have a power that is either supernatural or looks supernatural) and traumatize several generations of their followers (and their descendants who would also be inducted into their religious order)

they become a political figure (even a minor political figure or political activist can have a lot of influence over a long enough time-scale if they are truly dedicated)

they get rich (truly there are 999 ways this is bad but i will only state one) and they literally never retire or die so none of their descendants can inherit the wealth and decide how to spend money themselves and instead there are generations of failsons/faildaughters clinging on like remoras to an immensely powerful tycoon who just keeps getting wealthier and more influential

they did something really horrible in their past and all of their descendants have to have the shadow cast on them of having grown up with this horrible person as a close relative who is also inherently historically notable because they are fucking immortal. “yeah that’s my uncle he fought for the confederates in the american civil war.”

all of this is compounded even more if their particular type of immortality allows them to be fertile as long as they live. some cis men remain technically fertile until they die. i’ve heard of men in their 90’s fathering kids. & if that guy never dies he may end up with genghis khan numbers of kids.

i don’t have an answer for this one but how is the criminal justice system supposed to handle someone who literally does not give a fuck about how many years you imprison them for (so long as it falls short of a life sentence) (many countries actually do not allow life sentences or the death penalty)

Anyway if even one of these scenarios was true & it was your ancestor who was an immortal asshole you might actually be grateful for someone to come along and Belmont that fucker

#putting aside the fact that there are many living people who deserve to get Belmonted #castlevania reference!!#long post #abuse mention

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can-of-w0rmz · 1 year ago

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One of the things that piss me off the absolute most about popular academic Frankenstein analysis is the “Victor Frankenstein is sexist” take. Like I know I’ve spoken about this quite a lot before but god damn it’s like people just look at the text and see, “(I) looked upon Elizabeth as mine—mine to protect, love, and cherish. All praises bestowed on her I received as made to a possession of my own.”, and they just immediately go, “Oh! Oh! Sexism! Misogyny! Victor Frankenstein is a sexist! Why does he want to create the perfect man, huh? *gasp* is it because he thinks women are inferior?”

When if those people pulled their heads out of their asses for five minutes and read the rest of that paragraph, “On the evening previous to her being brought to my home, my mother had said playfully, “I have a pretty present for my Victor—tomorrow he shall have it.” And when, on the morrow, she presented Elizabeth to me as her promised gift, I, with childish seriousness, interpreted her words literally and looked upon Elizabeth as mine (…)” along with the fact that Victor explicitly says he was “about five years old”, they’d maybe consider, “huh, maybe it’s very fucked up of a mother to give her to her son as a gift and spent her entire life basically shipping these two adopted siblings together until, on her death bed, she says, “my firmest hopes of future happiness were placed on the prospect of your union. This expectation will now be the consolation of your father.” Wow, maybe that’s kind of fucked up. Maybe painting, again, a five year old, who was honesty for all intents and purposes pretty much just manipulated into thinking it was his duty to marry his adopted sister out of respect for his dead mother’s last wishes who died when he was seventeen, as a wife-beating woman hater who reanimated the dead to spite half the human population, is very very fucked up!”

Like I can’t stress this enough – both Elizabeth and Victor are victims here. Of course as the story goes on a bit and Victor is a grown adult man who’s still avoiding his feelings and fucking off across the continent with his buddy pal best friend every five minutes instead of facing his mistakes and emotions, yeah, he is honestly more or less to blame for Elizabeth’s death, but that isn’t misogyny. Avoidance of everything is like one of his integral character flaws.

And I mean if you thought the 1831 republication had some creepy undertones, look at the bloody original 1818 version.

“(My uncle) request(ed) my father (…) take charge of the infant Elizabeth, the only child of his deceased sister. “It is my wish,” he said, “that you should consider her as your own daughter, and educate her thus.”’

So just explicit incest, basically. And again, if you thought Victor’s mother was a bit creepy and pushy in the republication,

“I have often heard my mother say, that she was at that time the most beautiful child she had ever seen, and shewed signs even then of a gentle and affectionate disposition. These indications, and a desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love, determined my mother to consider Elizabeth as my future wife; a design which she never found reason to repent.”

“………A desire to bind as closely as possible the ties of domestic love?” My brother in Christ you were groomed. Fun fact, I read the 1818 version first and read that in the middle of form class and sat for a good five minutes staring flabbergasted at what the fuck I was reading.

So no, dear God no, nowhere in the text does it imply Victor Frankenstein hates women. I mean honestly it’s kind of shown in the way he talks about the Creature’s Bride that he doesn’t view women as objects and does, in fact, view them as people.

“He had sworn to quit the neighbourhood of man and hide himself in deserts, but she had not; and she, who in all probability was to become a thinking and reasoning animal, might refuse to comply with a compact made before her creation.”

My guy basically says “well what are we expecting her to do here, immediately marry you just because she was told to?”

(Just a fun little comparison I noticed there – not to turn the conversation back to my whole “does Victor is gay” theory but I think it is interesting that Victor thinks that, that he does go “well she can’t just be expected to marry someone just because she was told to!” and then suggests to himself that she would probably rather “turn with disgust from him to the superior beauty of man” – interesting, Victor. Like Clerval’s “form so divinely wrought, and beaming with beauty”? Interesting as well that after Victor comes to that conclusion and destroys the Bride, the Creature immediately then kills Henry and only then does Victor finally go “well. I finally have to marry Elizabeth.” Feeling disheartened by sparing her your predicament only to be thrust even deeper into your own, are we?)

But yeah. “Victor Frankenstein is a full-blown women-hating misogynist” takes really piss me off. Another case of “oooh yes let’s cherry pick the text scouring it for anything we can possibly use to turn things back around to the same few analysis points we’ll reuse over and over instead of possibly considering that just because a text is written by a woman doesn’t mean that it’s a massive rant on the patriarchy disguised as a science fiction novel.”

Maybe that’s kind of sexist itself. Maybe women can just write kick-ass gothic horror sometimes. And maybe just because a work definitely has undertones about sexism and misogyny (like, fair enough, a lot of Elizabeth’s character definitely does) that doesn’t mean that the male protagonist wants to kill all women! And surprise surprise as well, works can comment on misogyny and patriarchy and acknowledge that women are treated badly in society and have been in differing ways for hundreds of years, without going “all men are inherently evil and fuck them all”. Bit of a side rant that I won’t go all into here, but just worth mentioning that after seeing this over and over again in media and analysis of media over and over again, hey, misandry won’t fix misogyny. It just makes everything considerably stupidly worse. –your friendly neighbourhood bisexual

#gothic lit #classic literature #gothic literature #goth lit #classic lit #frankenstein #frankenstein weekly #frankenstein or the modern prometheus #Victor Frankenstein #Elizabeth Lavenza #Frankenstein analysis #Clervalstein #(kind of)#frankenstein everyday

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reignof-fyre · 9 months ago

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Book!Alicent: ambitious woman who wanted her son on the throne and emotionally and mentally abused a child to obtain her goals, began smear campaigns against Rhaenyra and rhaenyra's sons with absolutely 0 proof they were bastards, waved off Jace, Luke, and Joffrey's deaths as "bastard blood spilt in war" and wished rhaenyra would die in childbirth, demands lucerys' eye BEFORE Rhaenyra requests that aemond be questioned sharply about where he heard that jace, Luke, and joff were bastards

Show!Alicent: whitewashed victim-complex who had many traits that are, in actual fact, rhaenyra's. Boring. Bland. Religious fanatic.

Book!Rhaenyra: fully desires her birthright, the Iron Throne (and why shouldn't she?), delights in her feminism, never once wishes she was a boy to please her father, named heir at nine years old, adored by the smallfolk, best friends with laena velaryon, apple of her dad and uncle's eyes, is verbally abused and smeared by the greens because she has the audacity as a woman to know what she wants. Likely Jace and Luke are Laenor's with the Baratheon/Arryn looks because rhaenys has black hair and rhaenyra's grandfather was an arryn with brown hair *gasp* genetics is a thing

Show!Rhaenyra: indecisive about being heir, constantly wishes she was a boy, whitewashed and victimised and written blandly

Book!Daemon: morally grey anti-hero who loves his family and the targaryen Dynasty and does questionable things, loved by the smallfolk, adored by rhaenyra, raised a literal army to put his brother on the throne, had ample opportunity to overthrow viserys and never did, was thousands of miles away when rhea Royce died, loved laena, loved rhaenyra, loved his children, even rhaenyra's three sons, fought to the death for rhaenyra's claims

Show!Daemon: I am villain he-he

Book!Rhaenys: never held her not being named Queen against Rhaenyra, was disinherited by Jaehaerys, a bamf bitch who loved her family, openly and proudly supported rhaenyra, had black hair streaked with white

Show!Rhaenys: I shall take my anger out on an innocent party and hold onto my resentment for years and insist the succession crisis isn't my problem when my granddaughters are in danger by association because that makes sense

Book!Otto: plotted and schemed for years to have his blood on the throne and conspired with his equally conniving daughter to do so

Show!Otto: pretty much the same, yeah

Show!Aegon; drunk, sad-boy rapist chad

Book!Aegon: drunk, sad-boy rapist chad who refuses to take his sister's birthright

Show!Aemond: whitewashed victim sad-boy

Book!Aemond: cold, calculating sociopath who willingly and happily kinslayed his nephew Lucerys over an incident years in the past of his own making and went on to commit genocide in the riverlands and take Alys Rivers as his spoils of war

Show!Helaena: dragon dreamer baby girl

Book!Helaena; sorry, but she's actually pretty irrelevant but she's still a baby girl

Show!Daeron:...doesn't exist? Yet(?)

Boom!Daeron: just as sociopathic and murderous as aemond, also commits genocide by burning an entire village to the ground

Show!Laena: kind of just around???

Book!Laena: best friends with rhaenyra, also likely her lover, loved by Daemon and Rhaenyra both, did not die by ordering vhagar to burn her, actually died much more tragically, rider of Vhagar, all around bamf

#anti greens #anti hotd #anti house of the dragon #pro fire and blood #pro blacks #pro rhaenyra #pro daemon #pro daemon targaryen #pro Rhaenyra Targaryen #queen rhaenyra #anti aegon ii targaryen #anti aemond targaryen #anti Alicent Hightower

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midnight-pluto · 1 year ago

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BITTERSWEET — 42!miles morales

TROPES: my poor attempt at angst, minor fluff

UNIVERSE: canon-divergent

PAIRING(S): 42!miles morales x gn!reader

WARNING(S): translated Spanish (please correct me), reader is still learning Spanish, 42!miles is a sad boi, mentions of death, ooc!miles I think?? (I really don’t know, this man got 2 minutes of screen-time)

A/N: is this original? not really. is this self-indulgent? absolutely. 42!miles is in purple 1610!miles is in red. Also sorry if this is all over the place, I was lowkey kinda sick when I wrote this

HOW DID MILES even end up in the spider society’s headquarters? Other Miles.

“Look man, I appreciate you bringing me here, but I really don’t see the point of me being here.”

“Dude, the only people you ever talk that your close to is mom, uncle Aaron, and me,” the tallest rebutted.

Miles was about to retort that those weren’t the only people he was close with but quickly snapped his mouth back shut, bringing back bittersweet memories.

— FLASHBACK

“Miles!” you called out, hurrying up your walking pace into a slight jog, “Thanks for waiting for me.”

“Of course. No podía tener al amor de mi vida aquí solo en estas calles a punto de ser asaltado,” he replied offering his hand which you took, and began walking.

“Wait, did you just call me ‘love of your life?’” you question after finally translating it in your mind, obviously flustered by his sudden declaration.

“You’re getting better, amar,” he compliments placing a chaste kiss to your jaw.

“Hey! Don’t ignore my question!”

Abruptly pausing your walk to your place, he swiftly drags you to the side of the street pulling you closer, “Sí, eres el amor de mi vida. Now, am I the love of your life?” he inquires with a soft whisper, squeezing your hand.

“My love is all for you, amado,” you softly chuckle placing a kiss, squeezing his hand back.

“That’s right, I am your beloved,” he smiled cockily, pulling you closer to him, with his arm around your shoulder instead of holding your hand in his, resuming the walk.

— END OF FLASHBACK

“We’re not close,” he huffed out.

“We’re literally the same person, but you somehow ended up emo and even more of a nerd than I am.”

One look from the other, made Miles immediately shape up again, “Um, anyways! This is the cafeteria, though not a lot of people are here right now since for some reason at exactly 3:33 PM no one’s ever hungry.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, but in the next 10 minutes or so, this place should be filled,” as if on cue 2 spider-people came swinging in.

“What’s up Miles and new guy!” Pavitr greeted, taking off his mask to show off his perfectly white smile.

‘So bright…’

“Finally, now your the new guy Prowler me.”

“No your still the new guy.”

“Wait why?! We’ve known each other for two months! And I’ve had practically 2 years of experience being Spider-man!” Miles exclaimed, making incoherent gestures with his arms.

“Yeah, but this guy just has the vibes, y’know?” Pavitr explained, making contact with Miles’ shoulder, immediately making said boy stiffen. “Oh, my bad bro,” he apologized, releasing his hand.

Miles just grunted in acknowledgment turning his attention to the other spider-person in the room, who was just standing there awkwardly.

“Uhm, hi?” they said, giving him a shy wave.

Immediately Miles’ half lidded eyes shoot all the way open at the familiar voice that came out of their mouth.

“Mi corazón?”

— FLASHBACK

“Uhm, hi?” those were the exact words you spoke when you first met Miles.

You both had been partnered with each other by default since you both were absent the day the project way assigned. He barely responded to any of your advances of being better acquaintances.

It was hard to tell and pinpoint an exact time when your friendship started, but all Miles knew, is that he wasn’t letting go of your relationship till the day you died. Just as his beloved nickname of yours stated itself.

— END OF FLASHBACK

“Uh… Dude? Are you okay? Because I swear I heard you say, ‘My hea-‘“ Miles was quickly cut off by a hand slapping his mouth shut.

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” he stares into Miles’ eyes before adding a small: “Please,” almost unheard.

‘He said please?!’

Slowly nodding his head, Miles slowly turned towards the other spider-person.

“Oh! Right, this is Y/N! Our latest member of the spider-society,” Pavitr introduced, making Y/N remove their mask.

“Hi, like Pavitr said, I am Y/N. Nice to meet you both,” they gave a polite smile and reached their hand out to greet the two.

“I’m Miles, and this: is also Miles! Another version of me,” the boy in the black and red spider-costume greeted, taking Y/N’s outstretched hand.

“Or you’re another version of me,” the boy in purple grumbled, “You can just call me the Prowler.”

‘He’s avoiding eye contact… Did I do something wrong? Is he just, nervous? He doesn’t strike me as the type to get easily nervous by new people…’ Y/N’s eyes narrow in thought at the newly dubbed ‘Prowler.’

“Well, I’m gonna get lunch before any others get here, see y’all around,” they say before making the braided haired boy too uncomfortable, and walking to the stands.

“Dude, what was that?” Miles questioned.

“What’re you talkin’ bout’ man?”

“‘What am I talkin’ about?’ I’m talkin’ about the way you interacted with Y/N! You were lookin’ everywhere but them.”

“Jus’ drop it man,” he sighed before turning around, “Ima jus go find that bathroom you were talkin’ bout.”

Walking away, his mind drifted back towards you; the you he just met, the spider-you, the alive you. Squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head, he refused to go back down that road.

You were just a bittersweet memory after all.

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daydreaming-en-pointe · 10 months ago

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╰┈➤ 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

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