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crackedpumpkin · 1 year

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ʙʟᴀɴᴋ ᴄᴀɴᴠᴀꜱ || ᴘᴛ. ᴏɴᴇ ||

[ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

“If there is a god out there, please make sure my order isn’t missing any pickles this time.”

“Here ya go, extra pickles on the side,” Mr. Perez, the store owner, grunts as he all but flings a wrapped sub into your hands from behind the counter. You grab it with relative ease, undeterred by how oddly soggy the parchment paper is. It’s a slow day in the sub shop, with many of its usual customers absent.

“How much?”

“Five bucks.”

“How’s Didi?” You ask, fishing out a crumpled five-dollar bill in your pocket and handing it to him. You drop another into the tip jar when his back is turned, humming innocently when he faces you with a bag of small cookies.

“The usual. Slightly less of the devil incarnate lately, though. I think it’s because you’re coming over to babysit more often.” You take the cookies gratefully, a small note written in the ten-year-old’s messy scrawl glued to the side. You stash it away in your backpack, ensuring it doesn’t get crushed behind your sketchbook and pencil case.

“Is that y/n?” You hear the clatter of plates being shoved aside, Didi peeking out from behind the blinds that separate the storefront from the stairs that lead upstairs to their house. You smile but realize she won’t be able to see it through your cloth mask.

“In the flesh,” You grin, scooping Didi into a tight hug. You prop her on your hip, transferring the sub to your free hand as she giggles. “Have you made any new friends in school?”

Her lips purse into a pout, fiddling with your hair with sulky eyes. “No…They’re all stinky. Except for Maribelle, because she likes pickles.”

“Does no one else like pickles, then?” You ask curiously, Didi shaking her head.

“Tommy and Jam like them, but they’re boys,” She informs you in complete and utter seriousness. You’re so tempted to comment, but you know that if you did, she’d sulk for at least half an hour.

“Jam?”

“Yeah, Jam.”

“Are you sure that’s his name?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright then,” You shrug, turning your head to the side so she can’t see the amused glint in your eyes.

“Are you headed to the bank?” Mr. Perez asks offhandedly, cleaning one of his bread knives with a damp cloth.

“Gotta cash in the moolah,” You rub your fingers together in reference to the cheque that’s buried somewhere in the bottom of the heavy bag on your shoulders. You had recently finished a commission, and your client had tipped you generously, paying you an extra fifty bucks on top of the two hundred she was already paying.

“Can I come? I wanna come. I’m going,” Didi demands as she braids a few strands of your hair. You look back at Mr. Perez for permission, the gruff man nodding in response.

“Okay, but make sure you always stay with me, yeah?” Didi nods eagerly, kicking your side slightly as she points to the door. You leave the store with her in your arms, making your way to the bank.

“Can we buy Legos?” You hum in thought, trying to decide how to reject Didi’s request without being too harsh. She tugs the beanie on your head, and it slides down to just above your eyes. You chuckle, using the back of your preoccupied sub-carrying hand to shift it back up slightly.

“Do you have enough money to buy some?”

“I got money!” Didi’s small hands search her pockets, patting down until she finds what she’s looking for. She pulls out a ten-dollar bill with a triumphant smile, eyes shining with anticipation as she looks at you.

“Then we’ll buy some on the way back, yeah?” You offer, already seeing the money leave your wallet when you pay for the leftover cost of the Lego set.

“Hmm…Okay!” Didi agrees after a moment of thought, clapping her hands together and urging you to walk faster. You break into a slight jog just to tease her, soon reaching the doors of the large bank.

You push past the huge glass doors with your shoulder, the sub still in your hands. You couldn’t put it in your bag, fearing it’d ruin your cherished sketchbook and, even worse, the crumpled cheque buried somewhere near it.

You eye the long lines for each counter, groaning at the thought of a prolonged wait. You scan the hall, trying to find the shortest queue.

There. You quickly join the line of people waiting, breathing a sigh of relief when you see a few more people join your queue right after you do. The bank is mostly quiet; the only sounds are fingers clacking away on keyboards and hushed conversations of bank account details.

A trio of men wearing black cloth masks stand in a corner, furtively glancing around and having a hushed conversation amongst themselves. Two large bags are on the floor next to the shortest one, all three nodding at each other before the other two pick up the bags and head towards the door while the shortest approaches the information counter with another bag slung on his hip.

Huh. Maybe they have social anxiety.

You watch them converse with the clerk, half your attention on Didi, who’s tugging on your hair while braiding it out of boredom. You spot the clerk smiling nervously in your peripheral, brushing it off as the usual horrible customer service interaction.

You focus on Didi instead, jostling her slightly in your arms. She yelps, lips pursing into a scowl when she’s disturbed from her concentrated braiding. You giggle, entertained by her reaction. You lean in, bumping your head against hers in a gentle tease.

The doors slam shut.

You flinch at the sudden sound, turning to see the two men from earlier at the entrance. Each stands in front of the doors, arms crossed with two large rifles in their hand as they quickly adorn ski masks. The man at the information counter now has a gun in their hands, pointing it up at the ceiling and firing a single shot.

The loud bang startles Didi, who instantly covers her ears, pushing her head against your shoulder with a small squeak. You protectively hold her close to you, ready to shield her body with your own in case anything happens.

“Everyone drop everything, get down on the ground, and lift your hands now!”

You slowly sink to the ground, eyes never leaving the guns in their hands. This situation is the opposite of ideal. Being held hostage isn’t exactly part of your five-year plan for graduation. The doors are guarded by the guards, dark silhouettes blocking the sunlight.

“Hey! I said to drop everything and lift up your hands,” One of the robbers guarding the doors earlier points a gun straight at you with a glare. You look from the weapon to the sub in your hands, reluctant to let go.

“I said, drop it!”

You gingerly set it down with a defeated sigh. “You happy now?” You ask him with a scowl. He steps towards you, still aiming his gun at you as he picks up your sub and throws it to the side. It lands with a plop onto the dirty ground, now a ruined mess.

“Wha- My sub!” You complain with an offended gasp, now glaring at the man who just destroyed your dinner. You see the arch of his brow beneath his thin ski mask, exchanging a confused look with his accomplice.

“You do know this is loaded, right?” He questions with a wave of his gun.

“You just threw away a perfectly fine sub! It even had extra pickles!” You argue, still mourning the loss of your dinner. Setting down your sub you could deal with. But flinging it against the wall? That was absolutely uncalled for. “You’re a maniac,” You seethe, your jaw clenched as you shoot him the coldest glare you can muster.

You hear tiny sniffles and a loud hiccup from beside you, looking down to see Didi’s scrunched nose with snot dripping down it and tears streaming down her red cheeks. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but you know she’s about to start wailing.

“Hey, hey, Didi,” You call out to her gently, ignoring the robber that watches you intently. “Let’s play a game of patty cake, okay?” You offer, holding out your hands. She places her small ones in yours, and you curl your fingers to cover her own.

“I’m scared,” She hiccups, her sniffles growing louder by the minute. You shush her with a reassuring smile, thinking of a way to soothe her.

“Oi! You sure have a death wish, lil’ missy.” You hear the cock of a gun behind you, turning to see it being pointed straight at you. “I already said: hands up where I can see ‘em.”

“Look, do you want to handle a wailing child that’s bound to attract attention? Or do you want me to calm her down so none of us get a headache?”

After a moment of deliberation, he moves his gun down to his side. “I’m watching you,” He warns.

“Yeah, yeah, as if I’d forget.” You huff with a roll of your eyes, crossing your legs and sitting down with Didi in your lap. “Now, where were we?”

You continue playing patty cake with the trembling girl after coaxing her into removing her hands from her ears. The shortest robber, who seems to be the ringleader of the three, is preoccupied with getting the clerk to empty the enormous vault at the back, stuffing bundles of cash into the large duffel bags they had carried with them earlier.

It’s tense.

Everyone chooses to stay silent, their shaky hands and terrified eyes a pleasure to the thugs. You risk a quick glance around, wondering when the hell Spiderman would show up. Isn’t this in his job description? Was he even getting paid?

Someone knocks on the door.

The two crooks guarding the doors turn instantly, pointing their guns at a familiar figure with their hands raised in surrender.

“Yo! I came here to negotiate, not to fight.”

They look to their ringleader for a response, the latter giving them a nod and gesturing to their guns warily. They nod at each other, hoisting their weapons closer to their chest and opening one of the doors.

Before they can react, Spiderman drops to the floor, immediately kicking their guns out of their hands. They land on the floor with a clatter. “You should really think twice before opening the door for strangers,” He chides, nimbly avoiding a harsh blow from the two thugs surrounding him.

That’s a nice suit.

Your eyes automatically follow him as he swings, dodges, and takes out the robbers in mere minutes. He’s nimble, avoiding each blow and disarming the vicious crooks that threaten to fire.

“One step closer, and she’s dead meat!”

Didi’s body is grabbed from your arms, and you look up in horror as the robber that threatened you earlier holds his gun close to the small child. Tears are dribbling down her cheeks uncontrollably, choking on her stifled sniffles.

“Woah, woah, woah,” The masked vigilante halts in his steps, hands raised up, “Threatening a kid? That’s not gonna look good on your record, man.”

“Then put your hands up, walk to the wall, and give up!”

“Wait!” You scramble to your feet, freezing as soon as you do. The robber presses the gun barrel closer to Didi’s shoulder, an ice-cold grip of fear crawling down your spine at the sight.

You can’t let her get hurt. You rack your brains, trying to figure out a good distraction for Spiderman to take action. “I-I’m pretty sure I’m gonna die, but I just have to say something.”

“Get down on the floor!” The robber shouts harshly, fed up with the kids that keep bothering his easy getaway. You slowly kneel back down, never breaking eye contact with Didi, whose cheeks turn redder by the second. You spot Spiderman’s finger slowly moving to press his web shooter, eyes darting between him and Didi. An idea takes form in your mind, but it’s risky.

You pause, swallowing nervously. “Didi… I’m the one that broke BunBun.”

She screams.

The ear-splitting sound makes the robber wince, dropping her to cover his ears. Spiderman seizes the opportunity, using his web fluid to grab his gun and toss it away in the far corner of the bank. He immediately gets to work through Didi’s screaming, effortlessly capturing the last robber and throwing him aside in a cocoon fashioned out of his web fluid.

You grab Didi, scuttling back into your corner of safety and trying to placate her. You gently rock her in your arms, letting her cry into your shirt. The collar is now soaked with her tears, and you’re beginning to regret confessing to the crime of having accidentally broken one of her favourite plates. You’d blamed it on the passing wind, and she bought it.

“Hey guys, y’all are safe now.” You look back up at Spiderman, who leans against the wall near you, scanning the crowd of relieved people who cheer for his bravery. He chuckles, casually shrugging as he tries to brush off the praise. He double-checks if anyone is hurt, his gaze lingering on you for a split second.

He gives you a brief nod and a friendly two-fingered salute, and you tiredly reciprocate the gesture with a still-crying Didi in your arms. His head moves back slightly in a wince (well, you’re pretty sure it’s a wince. You can’t really tell with his mask and everything.), and for a moment, you feel as though he’s sympathizing with you.

He takes his leave through the glass doors, Spiderman-style, with his web-slinging skills and whatnot. You’re left with the aftermath of the police finally showing up, the crying child deterring them from asking you any further questions besides a short testimony.

“Didi, it’s over now. We’re safe.” You try to soothe her by gently patting her head and hugging her tightly briefly. You’re sure your shirt is soaked by now. It baffles you how a child has so much water in their system that they still sob even after half an hour.

It took an apology, three Lego sets, and a future promise for another at Christmas to get her to stop crying.

— — — — —

The bed creaks noisily when you collapse on it with an exhausted groan, the sound a subtle sign of the old bed frame threatening to break any day now. The glow-in-the-dark stars glued onto your ceiling shines softly, the chilly breeze of Brooklyn gusting through your open window. You’d dropped off Didi on your way home, reassuring Mr. Perez that she was unharmed.

You shiver, getting up to close the window before hanging your beanie on the clothing hooks behind your door. You turn on the switch to the lamp on your desk, the warm yellow light coating your room with a cozy atmosphere.

Your stomach growls, a reminder of your delicious dinner having been a victim in the whole hostage situation from earlier. You sigh. Whatever. You’d grab a bigger breakfast tomorrow instead. For now, though, a simple protein bar from your snack drawer would have to do.

You unwrap it and bite down, munching hungrily while grabbing your sketchbook from your bag and laying it flat on your desk. You flip the pages, eyeing the empty pages with distaste. Page after page of drawings that didn’t meet your standards make your heart sink.

You finally land on an empty page and grab a pencil with your free hand. You tap the end onto the blank paper impatiently, trying to think of more inspiration for your next work. You’d been in a slump lately, and while commissions did give you some extra pocket money to go cafe hopping, it didn’t help much with your lack of artistic creativity.

Your hands itch to sketch out an idea. Anything would do. The only problem is that your brain can’t provide even a smidgen of inspiration. You huff, leaning back in your chair.

You sit up straight and scooch closer to the paper, hoping that maybe that’d trigger some form of idea.

Nope. Nothing. Nothing hits you.

Maybe it’s the happenings of today as well, what with a gun being pointed at you and helping your friendly neighbourhood Spiderman take down those thugs. You grin, recalling how Didi’s scream had impacted the poor goon, lips tugging down slightly at the reminder of your now empty wallet.

You’d have to find another commission soon.

Maybe Spiderman would want one?

You begin to doodle absentmindedly, the scratching of lead against paper a soothing sound that practically lulls you into a trance. You recall the red spray paint of a jagged spider against the black suit, the design of it so simplistic and yet representing his personality so well.

You remember his quick nod to you and silly salute, a chuckle slipping past your lips. How did he look like again? His elbow was bent, and two fingers were placed on his forehead as he leaned against the wall. He’s relatively lean, you recall, and probably taller than you too. It’s difficult to gauge since you were in a rather sticky situation that called for hunched shoulders and hesitant movements.

Your hand moves as if it’s got a mind of its own, recalling the webbed pattern on his suit. You draw and draw, adding shading after a basic outline is done. Your mind is foggy, no other thoughts remain except to transfer your memory onto paper.

Wow.

You stare down at what you’ve just drawn, taking in the overall sketch with a shaky exhale. It’s the best you’ve done in a long while, with all the details contributing to the final product.

It’s exactly as you remember, having drawn Spiderman giving you that silly salute while leaning against the tiled walls. You’d even shaded his suit perfectly.

You’re breathless. Is this really your work? From your own two hands, no less? It’s probably a one-off thing, but boy, does it feel good. Maybe thinking about Spiderman is the main reason why.

You giggle at the entertaining thought, shaking your head.

It’s probably just the adrenaline.

#spiderman: into the spiderverse #Into The Spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #into the spiderverse x reader #spiderman: into the spiderverse x reader

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spriteofmushrooms · 5 months

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Wei Wuxian sipped the wine Lan Zhan brought from Gusu in one of Jinlin Tai's many ostentatious peony gardens. He had found a branch in a ginkgo tree that was high enough that no one should see him at a glance where he still had a good view of the moon between the yellow leaves. It wasn't the worst way he could have spent his time at the Discussion Conference. Lan Zhan, for example, had to be xiandu. What could possibly be worse than that?

"Jin Ling, what's the matter now?"

Wei Wuxian rolled his eyes. Really, Jiang Cheng is such a wronged mother. He plays his part like a grand madam.

"Do you think Zizhen-ge is a better sect leader than I am?" Jin Ling hissed.

"What?" Wei Wuxian looked down. Through the branches, he could see Jiang Cheng's silver lotus guan glimmer with his head shake. "Where did you get that from? A-Ling, sit and explain."

"You complimented him in front of everyone," Jin Ling grumbled, but he flounced onto the bench.

Jiang Cheng folded himself gracefully, careful of the drape of his robes. "It's his first conference. All I did was walk him through presenting himself, like a junior should be treated."

"You liked his proposal."

"You like it, too, brat. Besides, a little support in the beginning keeps the old men at bay."

Jin Ling knocked his shoulder against Jiang Cheng's. "So it's not because you always wanted a poet for a nephew?"

Wei Wuxian couldn't see it, but he could imagine Jiang Cheng's face. But when Jiang Cheng spoke, it didn't match the tone he expected. Sad, but trying to joke. "After the poems Zixuan wrote?"

"A-Die wrote poems?"

Oh, oh, Wei Wuxian wanted to leave.

"Once he became enlightened, he was devout. 'Rain pearls on lotus leaves which bow gracefully/Thoughts of you collect and overwhelm me.' A-jie blushed for weeks." Jiang Cheng sighed. "The Jinlin Tai library should have them all somewhere. Please don't let Ouyang-gongzi read them."

Jin Ling huffed a laugh and threw his arm around Jiang Cheng's shoulder, which is when Wei Wuxian realized Jin Ling was taller and broader now. He hadn't seen them side by side in years. A light breeze stirred the gingko leaves and lifted the scent of peonies.

"Hanguang-jun didn't murder anyone with his eyes today," Jin Ling chirped. "Do you think he's starting to like politics?"

"Don't."

"Jiujiu..."

"He's the xiandu, Jin Ling. What do you think would happen if anyone overheard you disrespect him, especially while hosting the conference?"

Jin Ling groaned and threw his head back dramatically, jostling Jiang Cheng. Briefly, Wei Wuxian amused himself by imagining what Yu-furen would have made of her grandson. Then he gently slapped himself. "You're so boring, jiujiu! It's not like he respects either of us."

Jiang Cheng snapped, "I didn't realize you aspired to be so immature and irresponsible."

Immature? Irresponsible? Jiang Cheng had a lot of nerve! Wei Wuxian would tell him so, but then he would have to admit to hiding in a tree. Jiang Cheng would be so annoying about it, and Wei Wuxian really didn't want to bother!

"Aiya, jiujiu, if I can't complain to you about him, who can I? No one else sees what he's like."

Jiang Cheng leaned against Jin Ling, but then he ruined the picture by saying, "It's good that most people can't tell. If half of the sects ran to Zewu-jun with complaints about his beloved didi, he would leave seclusion before he was ready."

They were quiet for a few moments. Suddenly, Jin Ling burst out, "Do you really not care?"

Jiang Cheng paused. "About?"

"You know I spend time with—him!"

"You're sixteen, Jin Ling. Your memory should be good enough to remember every other time you've poked at this. And use his name; he doesn't actually appear every time you call."

"Wei-qianbei misses you!" Jin Ling grabbed Jiang Cheng's shoulders and started to gently shake him back and forth, but then Jiang Cheng pushed his hands away and stood.

"As you are clearly feeling better, I will leave first," Jiang Cheng hissed.

Jin Ling zipped in front of Jiang Cheng, blocking his path. "Jiujiu, I don't understand you at all! You want to talk to him, and he wants to talk to you. Why are you waiting?"

"He wants to talk to me so much that I learned about his elopement from gossiping disciples? He wants to talk to me so much that he lives in Cloud Recesses, which he hates? He wants to talk to me so much that he ignores Lan Wangji's hand on Bichen every time we meet?" With each question, Jiang Cheng prowled forward, and Jin Ling backed up.

"I don't think he hates Cloud Recesses..."

That's right; Wei Wuxian didn't. Lan Zhan was there, for one thing. And the juniors!

"That's because you don't fucking know him," Jiang Cheng snapped.

"Oh, and you do? When you won't even talk to him?"

"I was his assignment, Jin Ling. He either played with me or starved; he either trained to be the best or lost his position." Jiang Cheng laughed, dark and mean. "Not that I noticed."

"Jiujiu..."

"Let him live the life he wants, Jin Ling. Let me go to bed."

#pallas.rtf #mdzs #my writing #went through my old wips

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solaanas · 8 months

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𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫.

pairing, modern!ellie williams & black reader!

summary, jesse had absolutely no idea what the fuck privacy meant.

warning (s), a small mention of sex and fluff. dats it.

didi's notes, this is HEAVILY inspired by the scene in the fast car mv (ifykyk☠️☠️)

the sun was beaming, the windows were down, and hold on by the internet was blasting from the cars speakers. you and ellie were an empty parking lot just admiring each other. and by admiring, i mean making out with each other. ellie had her tongue shoved down your throat while you kept your hands put her on face, trying to keep yourself steady as the two of you moved back and forth.

she then stopped kissing you, making you whine and making her chuckle. "relax, i'll give you what you want soon." she placed two quick pecks on your lips before going down to attack your neck, making you whimper and throw your head back. you currently had your eyes closed in pleasure, keeping a hand tangled in her hair.

you then heard footsteps seemingly approach ellie's truck, causing you to open your eyes slightly and become disinterested in what ellie was doing to you. "you okay, baby?" she snapped you out of the trance were in and made you look at her: "yeah. just thought i heard somethin'." you explained, looking at the windshield for a brief moment before you focused your attention back on her.

"ya sure?" you nodded and smiled at your girlfriend before capturing her in a deep kiss, eventually washing away your worry about someone being near you two. you continued to let ellie massage your breasts and unbutton your jeans, allowing her to slip a hand beneath your panties and come in contact your clit.

you moaned into her mouth and gripped her forearm, still kissing her hard until the sound of her name coming from outside startled you: "ellie?" once she heard the sound of jesse's voice, she quickly removed her hand from your jeans and sat up straight, straightening her clothes as you turned down the music and straightened yourself up as well. "jesse! hey..." "what are y'all doing here?" he asked, looking back and forth between the two of you.

"i- we-" "just chilling." ellie answered for you, making the asian man furrow his eyebrows. "what are you doing here?" ellie asked, crossing her arms as jesse shrugged his shoulders and lifted his shopping bag up: "i saw your truck when i was pulling in but i wasn't sure if it was you or not and then i saw your hair and was like: 'yeah, that's gotta be ellie.' plus, me and d ran out of diapers, so she sent me to the store to grab some."

you and ellie shared glances at each other as jesse spoke, nodding your heads as he finished. "cool." you muttered, letting an awkward silence consume the three of you before he spoke up again: "are y'all good? cause y'all look sweaty as hell right now-" you looked at ellie with a small smile on your face, causing her cheeks to turn a light shade of pink. "we're fine, jesse."

you said, stifling a chuckle as he nodded. "i'll see you at work tomorrow, yeah?" ellie suddenly said, wanting to put an end to this awkward ass conversation. "yeah! yeah, i'll see you then." ellie dapped him up and you waved: "bye jesse!" he waved back and walked away from ellie's truck, making her let out a huge sigh.

"that was fucking weird... and awkward." she stated as you nodded your head, watching as jesse climbed into his car and drove off. "you still tryna fuck?" you rolled your eyes and hit ellie's shoulder, leaning towards her as you found your lips entangled with hers.

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sweetfire01 · 4 months

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Merry Christmas, here's your gift 👀

Daddy! Diavolo pt.2 (forced age regression)

[Pt.1]

"it's time to get up, sugar, open your eyes for daddy." A voice pulled you out of dreamland. Was your daddy there? "Ugh…Da…da…" Your mouth felt funny, you couldn't articulate the words well. You snapped your eyes open as you fully woke up, finding Diavolo kneeling in front of the bed. Everything that had happened came back to you. The adoring look on his face made you flustered again. "Aww, look at you! Too little to talk huh? Alright, dada loves hearing you babbling!" You suddenly realized you had something in your mouth and spat it out – it was a pacifier! The action must have seemed extremely adorable to the prince, cooing at you as he pulled you out of the blankets and crib. You kicked your feet weakly, protesting. "Nooo…Dii...Dii…" Damnation! Why did you feel this way? You couldn't speak, your tongue felt incredibly heavy, as did your cheeks and arms, resulting in a pathetic and futile attempt to free yourself from his grip. "Mmmh, do you prefer to call me Didi? Oh, okay baby, then Didi loves hearing you babbling" He hummed, setting you down on the carpet, sitting next to you and taking some stuffed animals from a basket. "Here, now that you're all rested up are you ready for some playtime?" Please no. You wanted to escape.

Despite all your time in the Devildom, you had never had an hour…this much hellish. Diavolo tried to get you to play, first with some stuffed bunnies, but when you refused to answer his "hop, hop, I'm the Rabbit Prince, what's your name?" he decided you were just too young for that. “Maybe not much fun for a baby who's still babbling,” he commented, which earned him an “absolutely adorable” glare from you and a bunny tossed no further than 50cm from you. He then proceeded to lie you on the carpet, with you stomach up, and take a rattle. It wass a simple wooden stick with a seemingly empty ball on top. Knowing you didn't have enough strength to make that thing fly out of his hands, you attempted to at least roll onto your side. But before you could even turn your head, the demon twirled the rattle, with the sphere facing a few centimeters from your face and…not only did you hear a faint tinkling of bells but also…the sphere coloured? It only lasted a couple of seconds, but you could have sworn you saw something there. Seeing how all your attention was now directed towards the toy, the prince smiled and spun it around again, a little longer. There, you were right! Small patches of color moved and merged with each other, generating other new patches that moved on the internal surface of the sphere.

“You like your new toy, don't you?” The prince's voice was calm and deep, even comforting in a way. And the rattle…yes, you had to admit, it was nice and interesting. If the sphere was empty inside, where did that sound of bells come from? Magic, most likely it had something to do with it. Diavolo continued to twirl it, the colors mixing and blurring together. “Right, I shouldn't expect you to talk. You're too small for that, you prefer babbling.” he chuckled and you let out a soft whine. You hadn't been able to say a single word correctly since you'd woken up. Maybe…maybe you should actually babble. Better than not talking at all, right? You made some disjointed sounds, you didn't even know what you wanted to say exactly. But again, better than staying silent… "Look at you, you're just a baby. A sweet, cute, happy and helpless baby. And you know that your Dada loves you so much." You felt a strange sensation in your lower tummy. You don't know if it was the fascinating colored spots that rotated above your head, the relaxing tinkling of the bells or the honeyed voice of your Dada that made you feel at ease. You giggled and squirmed a little. "You want to play with it, don't you? Come on, try to catch it." He lifted it up and you tried, you tried to raise your arms, but you couldn't move them from your chest, except for a few centimeters. The feeling in your belly became uncomfortable and you pouted. It wasn't fair, you just wanted to take that rattle and rotate it like Dada did! Why weren't your arms cooperating?! It was…so frustrating! You wanted to cry, even scream because of all this, but you didn't have time to make a single sound before Diavolo brought you closer to him, sitting across his lap. Your head rested on his chest, one arm wrapping completely around your back to support you, with his hand massaging your lower abdomen while the other one held…the rattle! He was so close now! He held it close to your hands, and you managed to grab it. He helped you gently twirl it, his hand guiding yours."You like being in your Dada's arms, hm? It feels so good." It was true. You felt so comfortable, protected…You wanted more. You brought your free hand closer to his, the one that continued to caress your tummy. He smiled when he saw you reach for it, and he took it in his, bringing it to his lips and kissing your palm. You giggled. It tickled you lightly as Dada peppered light kisses all over your palm. He lowered his hands back to your tummyy and you returned to seeing the swirl of color inside the sphere. A blue spot and a yellow one that joined to form another green one, this one approaching a red one and… And then nothing. His hand stopped moving the rattle. The stains faded, the ringing stopped, and silence returned to the room. Or at least just for a moment: a soft hiss was heard, and from the way your crotch was getting wetter and wetter, you realized in horror. That funny feeling in your abdomen, it was your bladder full of pee. You were peeing. But not only that. You were peeing in your diaper, on Diavolo's lap. And you noticed how his hand was now pressed to your diaper, feeling it as it got warmer and heavier. "My, my, how can such a small thing like you pee so much? Here, let's go change you." His voice shook you out of your thoughts as you were trying to process everything. What the fuck happened? You started to cry, you hated the feeling of the wet diaper, you hated the ridiculous way you had been acting just a moment ago, you hated being so helpless, you hated Diavolo. He placed you on the changing table, hushing you and starting to change you. He still had that stupid, smug smile. You hated that too. You couldn't help but look at him with hatred.

After he put a clean diaper on you, Diavolo took off his shirt and carried you over to a rocking chair, sitting you on his lap once more, your head this time supported by his arm. You hated also this position. “Now, now, that was fun, wasn't it?” You almost snarled at him. He started rocking his chair as he ignored you. “You seemed like a real baby, the way you babbled, giggled and peed yourself.” He chuckled, before looking at you with a look that sent shivers through you “You know, that rattle was magical. It would have been harmless enough as it was, but those little bells I added inside…oh yeah, I just put them for you. They have the power to brainwash anyone who hears them and make them do whatever the caster tells them." Oh God. No. "I was telling you, wasn't I?" He leaned closer to your ear and his voice became darker "You were just a cute baby, who loved his new toy, who couldn't talk, who was helpless." You whined and he returned to position. "Oh, don't worry, baby. I won't use it, at least not anytime soon. I'm sure you'll be more cooperative now. It's feeding time! Aren't you hungry?" Oh yes, you were hungry. But you didn't want to find out what he had in mind. You whined again in protest, but the demon took it only as confirmation. You couldn't wait to eat, huh? He adjusted you so that your face was pressed further into his chest, your mouth near his nipple. You weren't about to… "Here, drink the milk. I promise it's delicious" No no no no. You started to turn your head, trying to get away. Diavolo simply laughed. "But how? Yet I thought you wanted to go back to normal. You know, with your tongue and muscles working together." You froze, looking at him in shock. Again that dangerous smile and that darker voice. "You know the paci you woke up with earlier? Your paci was dipped in a type of poison that numbs all your muscles, from your tongue to your limbs to your bladder. Very helpful, I must admit." He chuckled as you continued to stare at him with wide eyes. "But perhaps you don't know that demon milk is very powerful, even working as an antidote against poisons. So, if you want to heal…" You gulped. You couldn't…"But obviously I don't want to force you, so if you want I can put you back in the crib in this state and leave you like that all night." You started shaking. You wanted your mobility back. Staying like this all night… for what then? He would probably just force you to drink in the morning. You looked at her nipple closest to you and hesitantly wrapped your mouth around it. You heard Diavolo coo and start rubbing your head. You wanted to bite him, you really did, but you didn't want to face the consequences. You closed your eyes and began to suck. But then your eyes widened again as the sweetest milk immediately started filling your mouth. You didn't want to admit it, but it was delicious. You had never tasted anything like it. You continued like this, drinking almost greedily, amidst the praises of Diavolo. And the more you continued, the more you could feel how your tongue moved more easily. You couldn't hold back a whine when nothing more came out of the nipple, but the prince moved you to the other one and you started drinking again. You wanted to stop, embarrassed by your behavior, by the whole situation. But you couldn't, you were hungry and tired after everything that had happened today and if you could eat something delicious, then you were going to accept it, dammit! And then you didn't know if the effect of the poison had worn off completely. Better to be careful, right? It wasn't long before you slowed your pace, your tummy now feeling full.

You closed your eyes and smiled, hearing Diavolo chuckle. He had never stopped stroking your head. You barely felt when he placed your head on his shoulder and made you burp. And he didn't have time to put you in the crib before you were already asleep.

That whole situation was crazy and you had to choose your battles, but you would have accepted this one without a problem.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #age regression #forced age regression #daddy diavolo

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greeniegaes · 1 month

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Cumplane Shenanigans

Little silly Cumplane Drabble I have in my docs with SY trying to threaten the sect just because he wants his husband home for their anniversary

Feat: disapproving brother and brother in law SJ and YQY, confused/intimidated peak lords watching all of this happen, Shen brothers

Words:777

The doors of the meeting hall dramatically slammed open, a rather pretty man wielding a sword in hand.

“Sect leader Yue Qingyuan! I demand you give me my husband back!” The man pointed the weapon at the table, obviously agitated over something.

Everyone turned to look at him, silence sweeping over the room. There were slight glances, looking at the strange man, then the sect leader, then back at the man.

“….Xiao-Yuan?” The man finally spoke, tilting his head in confusion for a moment.

“Yea yea, that’s me.” The man allowed his sword to dissipate, crossing the room and folding his arms over on another “not important though! I would like my husband to return for our anniversary. Cang Qiong Sect overworks him far too much.”

“Apologies, but I’m not aware of anyone being marri-” the sect leader starting, cut short by the snap of a fan.

“Shen. Yuan. You have not seen either of us for years, though I’m sure you knew where we were this whole time, only to complain about a husband? Whomst did you bow to at your wedding?!” Shen Qingqiu started, getting out of his seat and grabbing the man’s cheek. “Have you no shame?! Is there not more important things to worry about? How dare you storm in here so disrespectfully, during a meeting no less!” He chastised, starting to bicker with him.

As the two stood next to each other the other peak lords noted how alike they were. Same shade of ebony hair, pale jade skin and bejeweled green eyes. The both of them starting to argue a bit quieter as they delve into new topics. At some point the most people could see was a blur of hands as they smacked the other away. The An Ding peak lord sighed, standing up from his seat.

“A-Yuan.” The man put a hand on the small of the newcomer’s back, trying to save the brothers’ fight. “I thought I told you I’d be heading home soon. There’s no need to try and fight the sect leader.” Shang Qinghua gave a shaky smile, purposefully ignoring the glare from the older Shen.

“You’re married to An Ding peak lord, Shang Qinghua?” Shen Qingqiu asked, crossing his arms.

“Yes we have been for some-“ the man started, quickly being cut off

“Absolutely not.” Both Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu started, glaring down at the smaller peak lord.

“What do you mean absolutely not?!?” Shen Yuan shrieked, standing in front of his husband protectively, brows furrowed.

“I’m not letting my didi marry him. What do you even see in him?!” The Qing Jing peak lord glared down, his fan snapping open and hiding his face.

“Plenty! He has been there for me for years! I had gone to you once and you sent me away! For goodness sake you only start to act like a brother when I do something you don’t approve of.”

“I understand I made a mistake but why him?!”

“Jiu-Ge, I for one thought you’d understand liking pathetic men.” Shen Yuan sighed, looking past his brother to Yue Qingyuan. “Speaking of which, Peak Lord Yue, what is the matter with my choice of husband?”

“Ahem… Peak Lord Shang is just.. well..” the man stammered, avoiding eye contact.

“Maybe don’t try to insult me to my face.” Shang Qinghua sighed, leaning onto his husband. Shen Yuan looked over to him, a hand raising to hold the man’s cheek.

“Ah, apologies my dear.” The younger Shen sighed, shaking his head. “I’m just peeved that my husband has been overworked and my brother has finally decided that my life is his business again.”

“I understand, you looked cool yelling at him.” Shang Qinghua complimented, smiling softly. He was able to ignore the other peak lord’s whispers, only having eyes for his spouse.

“Ahem- well I suppose you should get going to celebrate another year of your marriage.” The sect leader coughed into his fist, awkwardly trying to break up this whole ordeal.

“Thank you for your understanding. I’ll return another time.” Shen Yuan bowed, fist in palm as he showed his respect. He made his way out of the meeting hall, Shang Qinghua still standing there for a moment.

“Shen Qingqiu.” The An Ding peak lord addressed him, looking directly into his eyes. “Your brother makes a lovely little wife.” He smiled, running after his spouse. The Qing Jing peak lord stood there for a moment, snapping his fan closed against his hand.

“SHANG. QING. HUA. Stay away from my brother you bastard!” Shen Qingqiu shouted out after them, too late as they both disappeared with the help of a teleportation talisman.

#shen brothers #shen jiu #svsss shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #svsss #cumplane #shang qinghua #Shen Qingqiu/Shang Qinghua #tad bit of #qijiu #in there #svsss fic #fanfic #sqh causing problems on purpose #greeniegaes

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whalyrae · 8 months

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THE OLD GUARD - CHAPTER 3

"We don’t get a say on how it ends, we never have. But we can control how we live."

Summary : You are a powerful witch, cursed and hurt through ages. Owner of your esoteric shop, you were resigned to live this lonely life when the powerful magic of soulmates and fate came to you.

Pairing : poly BTS x reader (she/her)

Genre : soulmate au, demons bts au, witch y/n au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, polyamory relationships

Status : In process

Word Count : 4.5K

Warnings : eventual smut, angst, mention of depression, death, suicide, past trauma, violence, blood, past (sexual) abuse, past torture, PTSD, scars, self harm, and more.

Tag list : @blackrockshooter780 @babyymeme @starrlo0ver @suckerforv @mushroom-main @m1sss1mp @prettydancingdamzel @i-have-no-life-charlie @avadakadabra93 @veronawrites @kawaiikpoplover268 @didi-9310 @ghostlyworld @carolinexkpop @gooooomz @00ihatesnaku

A/N : HEY YO I'M BACK !! Okay, I'm really sorry it took so long to publish the chapter... my exams, and after that I took a long rest because I travel in Spain and then in Paris during a whole month ! So as an apologize, this chapter is hella long I think it's the longest I've ever wrote in my life jfdkljgfk... I hope you'll like it !

Feel free to comment or send me a message (anonymously or not!) and give me your reactions, your impressions, your questions… I don't mind at all, on the contrary!

In the next chapters, there will be revelations, and answers to questions hehe so please don't hate me too much…!

A BIG THANK YOU again for all these views, I thought that by being absent for so long, my writings would be forgotten … but not at all!

Enjoy your reading, and thanks again, take care, I love you ♥

OH BY THE WAY !! I made a spotify playlist ! If you have any songs who made you think about the story, you can share it to me and I'll add it on the playlist !

Here is the link : The Old Guard Playlist

ps : sorry for the mistakes, it's already 1am here, but I really REALLY need to post something..... ENJOY :D

Masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

Chapter 2 // Chapter 4

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“I did it! I beat Ganon! Did you see, Jimin ?”

Jungkook put down his controller next to him on the couch, raising his arms with a big smile. Beside him, Jimin didn't seem to pay attention to him. His eyes focused on his cell phone.

Jungkook frowned, and turned to Taehyung, sitting on his right.

"Taehyung, Taehyung! Look!!!"

But he noticed that Taehyung also seemed lost in thought and was not paying any attention to him.

Jungkook puffed out his cheeks, a pout on his face.

"Hyungs! What's going on?”

“Do you know where Yoongi is? "

Taehyung's question surprised Jungkook. He arched an eyebrow and thought for a few seconds.

He knew that Namjoon and Hoseok had gone to the public library for some research, but he couldn't remember which. Jin had gone to the grocery store.

And Yoongi... well, he didn't remember seeing him or even remembering him leaving the apartment.

"He's been missing for a while, he doesn't answer when I try to call him..." Jimin sighed as he threw his phone down next to him.

They remained silent for a few seconds, while the game on the television continued to play its cinematic.

Jungkook turned his head and noticed that the window was slightly open. He pointed at it with his chin to his partners.

The three demons then glanced at each other. They figured it out. They knew where Yoongi had gone.

"You think he went..." began Jungkook.

"I wouldn't even be surprised, he was very quiet yesterday after Namjoon’s explanations." Jimin continued.

And they all knew that at those times, it meant that Yoongi had something on his mind. And when he did, he became the most stubborn person alive. Nothing and no one could make him change his mind.

"That guy... Ah, when he gets home, he'll hear me." Taehyung sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

Jungkook jumped to his feet.

"Are you going to wait quietly for him to come back?" He asked, crossing his arms before straightening up from the couch. "Because I'm not. We've been waiting for this moment for way too long."

°°°

Yoongi was… well she couldn’t describe him. His voice was sweet, his little vibrato always made her body shiver a little. Besides, he was so kind, so gentle, she had never seen so much tenderness in a gaze that was destined to her.

Well, of course, there was Jin. But that was so, so long ago.

She bit her lower lip nervously. Thinking about him made her heart ache. She was close to him like she never was since the two of them were separated, yet so far at the same time. She still hadn't thought about how she would manage it. She'd never figured out how to get his memory back, and she’d never found him at all to try anything though.

At first, she had planned to spend the afternoon with her books, researching curses, spells, or some kind of memory-related magic. She wanted to have some sort of plan before she tried any approach with her soulmates.

But it seems that one of them decided otherwise.

Yoongi never took his eyes off her. She seemed to be lost in her thoughts for some reason, probably his visit disturbed her.

He couldn't read her mind, she was probably powerful enough to block her mind to telepaths, as he and his demon boyfriends were. His admiration for her only grew stronger and stronger.

He wanted to know what was happening in her head, what seemed to be troubling her.

From the moment he saw her through her shop window in his cat form, busy watering her plants when he saw the lines on her face when he realized he was standing in front of his last soulmate, the world stopped in front of him for a moment.

Just as he felt when he met Namjoon, Jin, Hoseok, Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung. That feeling of being face to face with someone he'd known all his life, even though he'd never spoken to them, someone who completed him, who finally made him feel whole and fulfilled.

A soul mate, pure and simple.

She felt the same way. Like the day before with Namjoon, and when she was with Jin before they separated. However, she wasn't used to experiencing... so many positive feelings and emotions like that.

She'd also thought that Namjoon would never talk about her or want to see her again.

Apparently, she was wrong.

She fidgeted nervously with her fingers, keeping a certain distance between them. She wanted to ask Yoongi where the others lived, to meet them, and finally see Jin again after all these years.

But the problem was that Jin didn't remember her. And when Namjoon, Yoongi, and the others hear about what happened, they probably wouldn't want anything more to do with her. And that was what she was afraid of.

The pain of losing a soul mate is a sharp pain, like having her heart ripped out, without any anesthetic, raw.

She met people who had been rejected by their soulmates, or who had experienced the death of their soulmates. They were a shadow of their former selves, and remained so for the rest of their lives, until their last breath. Most of the time, they ended up taking their own lives, the latter being a gentler and more bearable solution than living without one or both halves.

She'd been through it once, with Seokjin. If she hadn't been immortal, she wouldn't have survived it.

"I don't know what's been going through your head, or what you've been going through all these years alone," Yoongi began, taking a step towards her, "but it's all over now. I mean, you're not alone anymore, not now that we've found you. You should have seen Namjoon when he came home yesterday, I haven't seen him this excited since we met Jungkook decades ago." He let out a chuckle.

She looked up at him, he was close to her, very close.

If he knew, he wouldn't say that. Even though she couldn't deny that those words warmed her whole being without really controlling it. So, Namjoon was happy to meet her? Were they all?

"You really thought Namjoon wouldn't tell us about you and we wouldn't want you?" He asked, tilting his head to one side.

"Honestly, yes." she admitted with a shrug, smiling shyly, "I'm... old, very old, I spent several centuries alone, never finding my soulmates so... I always told myself that they weren't looking for me, or simply didn't want me."

And the only one I ever knew, I lost him, she thought.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, his deep, soft voice making her shiver, "I'm sorry it took me so long to find you, we all are, believe me."

He raised his hand, without hesitation, to place it gently on her cheek. Normally, she wasn’t the most comfortable with physical touch, but strangely, she hadn't flinched, she hadn't moved. The warmth of Yoongi's hand against her skin felt good and soothing in a way she couldn't describe a comfort she hadn't felt... for ages.

She surprised herself leaning slightly against it, even closing her eyes when he started to rub softly her cheek with his thumb.

She opened her lips to reply but heard something behind Yoongi that made her take a step back. She heard the bell of her shop signifying that someone was entering.

"I knew it!" she heard a deep voice approach them, "I knew you wouldn't listen to Namjoon hyung!"

She tilted her head as Yoongi turned his, not disturbed by the interruption. She was surprised to find herself facing three new people. She didn't need to ask who they were, nor she didn't need to ask Yoongi who these three beautiful and handsome men standing in front of her were.

When her eyes met those of the smallest of the three, while the other two were talking to Yoongi, she didn't even know about what because she wasn't paying any attention. Her gaze was completely absorbed by this pink-haired person standing a few meters away from her. She was feeling for the second time today what she had felt earlier with Yoongi.

These three people were part of their bond. They were their soulmates too.

One of the other two noticed the smaller boy's attitude and turned toward him.

"Jimin, are you..." he began, turning his head to follow his gaze, "Okay..."

His voice trailed off when he saw her.

She didn't know what to say or do, she could feel four pairs of eyes on her now.

She noticed a smile tugging at the corner of Yoongi's lips and she bites her own nervously.

He knew that the maknaes would notice his absence, and would quickly realize where he was and, most importantly, that they would come to her.

"Are you..." the smaller one, Jimin, whispered in a trembling voice, taking a step towards her.

"Yes... Yes, I am." she replied, looking away, "It's a pleasure to meet y-ah...!"

She hadn't had time to finish her sentence when she felt a pair of arms around her waist and a body pressing against hers. She looked down, surprised to see a pink ball, slightly trembling.

"We've been waiting for you for so long..." he murmured shakily.

She felt her head spin slightly under all these new sensations, not so new, but ones she hadn't felt for ages. It was as if she was rediscovering them.

She didn't know how to react and didn't have time to think about it when she felt two new pairs of arms around her waist.

"Jimin, don't monopolize her yet!" a young man with blue hair sulked, "Ah, I can't tell you how happy I am to finally meet you... Can I call you Noona?"

She didn't know what to say and didn't have time to think about it either.

"Noona," the tallest of the three murmured as he hugged her a little tighter, "I can't believe I can finally hold you... You’re real...!"

She was surprised to see Jimin sobbing quietly in her arms. She looked up, utterly confused, and searched for Yoongi, who was standing not far from her, his hand resting on Jimin's back, stroking him affectionately as he looked at her. He gave her a gentle smile and shrugged.

"They are our maknaes, Jimin," he pointed to the pink-haired one, "Taehyung," he pointed to the blue-haired one, "and Jugkook, the youngest." He finished by pointing to the last one, who was looking at her with shining eyes.

“Noona, you’re so gorgeous,” Jungkook said, making her blush furiously.

“Kook’… you're making her uncomfortable," Yoongi grumbled as he brought his hand up to stroke Jimin's hair.

"I'm not... thank you..." she smiled as she saw Jungkook's face light up, then looked down at Jimin, "Is he all right?" she asked, worried to see him in such a state.

"Don't worry about him," Taehyung caught her eye and gave her a big smile, "he's very sensitive and just happy to finally find you."

"And we've been waiting for you... "Jungkook continued before letting out a shy little laugh, "Ah, you must have heard it lots of times since yesterday but... It's true... we've been looking for you for years, without success..."

"We've all always had that hole in our hearts..." Jimin spoke again, raising his head, his eyes bright and slightly red, "It was painful sometimes when all that was missing for us was you, I don't even want to imagine how you must have felt without any of us..."

She didn't even notice that tears had started to fall as they spoke. She wasn't the kind of person who cried easily, far from it. But in less than two days, this was already the second time it had happened.

She didn't know why she was so moved by their words, perhaps because they were the people she'd been looking for all her long life, never finding, thinking they didn't want her, which turned out to be wrong.

She could feel the deep empathy in their words because they'd been through the same thing as her - less so because they were all together - she felt understood by the people who were meant for her, and that feeling was indescribable.

Noticing her tears, the three maknaes backed away slightly but stayed close to her.

"Noona I... we're sorry if we said something hurtful..." murmured Jimin nervously.

"No, I'm the one who's sorry," she replied, shaking her head, "I'm just... I don't know, it all seems so unrealistic..."

And it still was. Knowing that she found her soulmates, that Jin was only a few miles away... After all those years of loneliness, of feeling guilty, of secretly envying the people who crossed her path, happy with their soul mates...

She thought back to Minji's words, yesterday’s evening in their apartment...

« You deserve it more than anyone else. You spent your whole life helping anyone who asks for help, sacrificing your life more than once - literally - for the helping and saving. You deserve to be happy, with those who are destined for you. »

The thought of those words made her tears double. Because after all these years, centuries even, in darkness, the light was finally coming to her, the hope of a more bearable and less lonely eternity was growing inside her.

“Hey, sweetheart, please don’t cry,” Yoongi’s sweet voice brought her out of her thoughts, “You’re prettier when you smile.”

She blinked several times and looked at each of the people around her.

There they were, her soul mates.

“Ah, I think Namjoon hyung and Hoseok hyung are back home," suddenly muttered Taehyung, who had his phone in his hand, "They want to know where we are..."

"I think we're in a bit of a mess..." chuckled Jungkook, resting his cheek against her shoulder. "Oh, you don't know Hobi hyung yet!"

"Same for Jin, I think we're going to have a bad time when we get home... they're going to be even more jealous!" added Jimin with a small smile.

Her eyes had widened when he'd mentioned Jin's name. He was with them. There was no doubt about it now. The confirmation twisted her stomach slightly with anticipation and excitement.

Jin was alive. He was in the same town as her after... over five hundred years apart. She didn't know how to deal with it all, again, it all seemed so unrealistic. She felt like she was in a dream, that she'd wake up sooner or later, and that everything she was experiencing now was an illusion.

If this was indeed a dream, she hoped she'd never wake up.

"I have an idea! Why don't you come with us?"

She lowered her head at Jimin's question. This was something she hadn't expected.

"So you can meet them too and see Namjoon again! Good idea, Minnie!" Taehyung came and hugged his partner, kissing his cheek affectionately.

Jimin giggled in Taehyung's arms, making her smile. But the idea of finding herself in the same room as not just one, but all her soul mates. Seeing Jin again, without the certainty that he'd regained his memory... If they found out the truth, what had happened, she'd lose them for sure.

Selfishly, she didn't want that to happen. She wanted to see Jin again, of course. It was all she could think about, constantly, ever since they both split up. But the risk was too big now. She wanted to come to him with a plan, a way of getting his memory back if he hadn't. She owed him that.

"I know we're all more than happy to find her finally," Yoongi began, "but our beautiful soulmate can't just walk away from her business, can she?"

"But Yoongi hyung... I don't want to leave her..." pouted Jungkook, rubbing his cheek against her shoulder.

"I know Kookie, me neither," Yoongi sighed softly, understanding with Jungkook because he too didn't want to part with her, "but I think she needs some time to herself, to get over her emotions, am I right?"

He looked at her, his lips stretching slightly into a thin smile. She could see in his eyes that he wasn't reproaching her and that he was also prepared to stay if she asked him to. Every one of them was ready to go and get the moon for her if she asked them to.

"I understand... it must have been a lot of emotions for you..." Taehyung sighed sadly as he pulled away from Jimin, "So can we give you our phone number? And we'll give you our address too!"

"Good idea!" Jimin exclaimed and snapped his fingers to summon a piece of paper and a pen, " So you can come and see us whenever you like! Usually, there's always someone at home, but if there isn't, we'll give you the code, and you can just make yourself at home and wait for us!"

"Deal," she replied as Jimin wrote their numbers and addresses on the sheet of paper, "and you, feel free to come here, whenever you like, my apartment's upstairs, but I suppose you already know that..."

"What was I saying, she's extremely intelligent, our soulmate, as well as being beautiful," Yoongi smirked, making her blush.

"Aaah, I don't want to leave you, Noona..." Jungkook whined, grabbing her arm, "You smell so good too..."

YoShe u held back a smile, feeling a slight pinch in her heart.

She didn't want them to leave either.

°°°

“You did what ?!”

Sitting on the sofa, Yoongi chuckled as the three maknae shrugged their shoulders at Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon. Namjoon had his arms crossed against his chest, his eyebrows furrowed, while his two companions beside him looked desperate but amused at the same time.

"You're incapable of listening to a tiny indication, are you..." Namjoon blurted out accusingly, "I hope you haven't scared her..."

"Knowing these three," began Hoseok, addressing the maknae, "they would have been able to jump on her..."

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook glanced at each other. Without needing to reply, Jin's eyes widened.

"You jumped on her..." It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"I... I wouldn't go to the extreme of using the word jump Jin hyung..." defended Jungkook with a pout, "and then... it was Jimin who clung to her first and cried like a baby !"

The said Jimin turned to his boyfriend, outraged and betrayed.

"At least I didn't make her feel uncomfortable by showering her with compliments! "Oh noona, you're so beautiful, you're so intelligent noona!" cried Jimin, pointing his finger at Jungkook, who was frowning, and Yoongi, who wasn't paying any attention to the conversation.

Hoseok and Jin couldn't help laughing as they watched their younger partners bickering, while Namjoon rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He should have known that his partners wouldn't listen to him and would go and find her the second his back was turned. He wasn't that angry with them, he understood them. From the second they'd said goodbye the day before, all he could think about was seeing her again. Yoongi was the most stubborn and obstinate of them all, and if the maknaes were by nature very impatient, he was even more so.

He couldn't blame them, she was their soul mate just as she was his. And even if a reason they didn't know existed had darkened her heart and saddened her soul, she could not want to have something to do with them. She just couldn't.

His four companions had only listened to their hearts.

"Did it at least go well?" finally asked Hoseok, who had settled on the floor, facing the maknaes, "how is she?"

"She's incredible hyung!" exclaimed Taehyung, "She's beautiful and her voice is so sweet..."

"Aaah, I miss her," Jimin added as he dropped onto Taehyung, "we shouldn't have left..."

Hoseok chuckled and turned to Jin.

"That means we're the last ones who didn't meet her, ah, that's not fair... Jin, are you all right?"

They all turned to the older man who had sat on the edge of the large sofa. He was staring into space, his face disfigured by pain.

Yoongi was the first to react and got up to approach his elder.

"Hyung, is it the same as yesterday?"

Jin took his head in his hands, nodding. He didn't understand why these violent migraines were suddenly coming to him, and more importantly, why he was now having these flashes and memories that weren't his own.

Or were they? He had no memory of living in a human village with a hill and a big oak tree. And who was this person he was with? He couldn't see their face correctly, it was blurred, like everything that had happened since yesterday.

"What's wrong with him, Yoongi?" asked Namjoon, concerned.

"He's never been like this..." Jungkook sat down next to him, also worried.

Yoongi told them about yesterday's episode in the kitchen, which made Jin wince, not wanting to bother them with it.

"It's nothing," Jin muttered after a few seconds massaging his temples, "It's just tiredness I guess."

He wouldn't talk about the memories flooding his mind. He didn't want to worry them anymore. He'd look for the answers himself.

"Hyung you've been very tired before, you've never had this kind of response..." replied Jimin who had gone into the kitchen to get him a glass of water.

"He's right, maybe it's a problem with your powers? Or... argh, I don't know." Taehyung grumbled in frustration.

"It'll be fine," Jin reassured him with a small smile, "I'll get some rest, and everything will be better tomorrow. But I will remember that you met our soulmate and Hobi and I are the only ones who don't know her."

He chuckled when he saw the innocent looks on the maknae’s faces and ruffled Yoongi's hair to reassure him.

"If it happens again, you won't be able to escape," Yoongi replied simply, rising to his feet.

He said nothing, but when his gaze met Namjoon's, the two demons understood each other. Jin's condition coincided strangely with the meeting of their last soulmate.

Pure coïncidence? Or was there a link between her and Jin's condition?

°°°

Every day there was an outdoor market in Seoul. She used to go there regularly to find various types of plants for her potions, spells, and other magical preparations. But also, fruit and vegetables for her personal use.

This time, Handong has decided to come with her. She closed her shop for the morning and set off in the early hours.

She looked up at the sky and spotted the moon, gradually disappearing to make way for the sun. The full moon was for tonight.

She knew that the moon was a very powerful force for witches. It was also that moment when she recharged her crystals and prepared her moon water for the month.

But above all, the full moon influenced her powers. It was the best time to cast powerful spells and make sure they worked. It was therefore the perfect opportunity to find any spell that would help Jin recover his memory.

The day before, after Yoongi, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin had left, and after spending a good hour recovering from her emotions, she went back to combing through every magic book and grimoire she owned, whether in the bookshop or her personal library.

She hadn't found anything very conclusive. All the chapters on memory magic had one thing in common: the spells, their effects, and their duration always depended on who was casting them and who was being affected by them.

The spell cast on Jin could have disappeared, just as it could still be present. She could only know this by seeing him and talking to him. But even that was a tricky thing to do.

"Is everything all right, sweetie?" Handong asked in a soft voice, after noticing that she’d been quiet for a while now.

"Hm?" she turned her head towards her, before smiling and nodding, "Yes, of course! sorry I... I was thinking about my research last night."

"Don't apologize," Handong smiled at her, "It's perfectly understandable. Don't hesitate if you need advice, I'm not a specialist, but I'll gladly give you my opinion."

She nodded again and explained what she’d found. Her different ideas, but they all came down to a single point. She had to see Jin to find out about his condition and memory. And that was where she was stuck.

During her explanations and conversation, she had arrived at the market, and without stopping to talk, she looked at the different stalls, buying some fruit and vegetables from old ladies.

In the distance, she notices a stall selling papaya. She hadn't seen or eaten papaya for a long time. It was also Jin's favorite fruit.

Handong was busy with a merchant, so she waved back and headed towards the stall. She greeted the old woman manning the stall and looked carefully at the fruit on display.

As she reached out to take one, she saw an arm in her field of vision landing on the same papaya as her. Surprised, she turned her head mechanically to see who it was, before freezing, her eyes wide.

No, it couldn't be true.

She had to be hallucinating, it couldn't... be him.

And yet she could recognize that face, those features above all others.

Jin.

Kim Seokjin was standing in front of her.

°°°

"By the way hyung, why were you and Joonie at the library yesterday?"

Jimin was currently sitting on a stool, watching Hoseok who was busy preparing lunch while Jin was away.

"Namjoon wanted to research our soulmate," he explained as he chopped some onions, "At first I didn't understand why honestly, but you know, over time, you and I know very well that Namjoon's instincts are never wrong."

"Does that mean you've found something?" exclaimed Jimin, suddenly straightening up.

Hoseok nodded, now working on dicing the vegetables. What they had found in the library... he could still hardly believe it.

Should he tell Jimin? Or should he wait until they are all together to share the results of their research?

He didn't have time to think about it any longer. He heard a loud knock, startling Jimin. It wasn't long before Yoongi and Jungkook emerged from their room, also startled.

"What's going on here?" Asked the older one, "I don't suppose we were expecting company?"

"Maybe it's Jin who's back and his arms are too full to open the door!" Jungkook added, tilting his head to one side. I'll get the door!"

He trotted to the door, dressed in a long sweatshirt belonging to Namjoon, who was still asleep in the room, just like Taehyung.

He opened the door with a big smile on his face.

"Hi! What took you so long Jin hyun..."

He didn't finish his sentence. His voice faded as he saw what was standing in front of him. At his silence, Yoongi and Jimin joined him, themselves freezing in front of what was in front of them.

Y/n was standing in front of them, totally panicked, out of breath, and sweating.

But she wasn’t alone.

"Help me... please..." she begged, her voice breaking. They could see she was holding back tears.

She was supporting Jin, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. A completely unconscious Jin.

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shijieswife · 3 months

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i think about how happy shijie mustve been to be in a happy marriage. how she saw her parents broken, loveless marriage, and must have known thats whats in store for her, as she looks at a boy a little older than her didis, who already looks past her like everyone else and hates her, for trapping him in a marriage with a weak, useless cultivator. who he didnt love.

she must have been so happy, when the betrothal broke. still sad, always sad, always caused by the boy who she - didnt love, but could love, or loved the idea of, she didnt know. the boy who besmirched her name and embarrassed her publically, the both of them, the both of their clans. but she would be free. of a loveless marriage. of making the boy - she didnt quite love, didnt quite hate - unhappy. making herself unhappy. maybe, she would have a husband who loved her, and little ones she would raise with the same gentle hand she raised her didis.

(i think she was scared. a little, a lot. because she hardly had the best marital prospects, and to be a spinster is a fate worse than death.)

but i think she would have been happier when jin zixuan, matured and so grown up, spat out an embarrassing confession to her. after chasing after her, finding excuses to be with her. she must have been happy, to finally get that romance, that she only heard about. dreamed about. longed for.

she mustve been happy at her wedding. bittersweet, without her xianxian there, a large piece of her heart missing. happy, that she could have shown him her wedding robes. married to a man, she knows, xianxian would begrudgingly approve of as the years went on, as a-xuan grew to be more and more good, finally shedding the last of the gentrys silly ideas. dangerous ideas. (she can only hope that for a-cheng, too. she never had to worry about that for a-xian)

she must have been the most happy, when her stomach swelled and her husband strutted around like - well, yes. a peacock ! attended to her every whim, made her giggle. jin furen, for all her faults, saw to her like the mother she never had, all fussing and gentle hands. still sharp, ever the violet spiders sworn sister (or something more), yet kind in a way yu ziyuan could never have been.

and when she held jin ling in her arms, his chubby cheeks, his fat hands clutching her finger so tightly, like he was afraid of her leaving. grabbing his fathers sword, disregarding everything else, like he feared for a-xuan leaving, too. jin rulan, she thought, pleased.

i think, even in the last few weeks, she was happy. even when her a-xuan died, and all she could manage was one long wail, in the recess of their room. when they accused her a-xian of such vile things, things he would never do, not in his right mind, not on purpose. when jin ling cried, and would not stop, unless he held his fathers sword. because jin ling was there, her lingling was still there. she could be happy, for him.

i think she was happy, when she died. because her wei ying was there, her xianxian was still there. she would be happy, that he would live to see another day.

still sad, for her lingling, her didis, the mess she would be leaving behind. but hopeful. because she hoped that her a-ling would forgive her, that he would be raised well, into a good man.

but happy, because she knew wherever she would go, in the next life, she would be reunited with all the pieces of her heart.

and hopefully, it would be happier.

#mdzs #jiang yanli

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dxsole · 1 year

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❝ yeah. looked like you had it all under control. ❞ / bash @ didi @dsperado

🍰 LET THEM EAT CAKE! 🍰

Not Accepting.

Didi threw him a look. “It was under control.” She muttered, harshly wiping frosting off her cheek. In fact there was quite a lot of frosting. And sprinkles. And ganache. And bits of fluffy cake bits.

“Listen...I am a reasonable person, hm.” They both know she’s not. “It is a sick, domestic tradition to pit people against me in a competition that involves food. Any kind of food.” Didi has always said she was never as good a baker as she was a chef, but no one else could say that. No one.

“I made Dacquoise from scratch and those imbecilic, biased judges choose someone who made a cake from a box?—” Didi can admit a lot of things get her angry, but this had made her climb over the judges table and force feed cake to the Vice President of the Home Owner’s Association angry.

“Sebastian,” Full name. Serious Business. Still ready to violently force feed cake to someone. “If you do not fight for the injustices of the world, it can never get better, hm.” This was a little less about justice and more about sating her love of vengeance, but I digress.

“Now are you going to help me get icing out of my hair or what?”

#dsperado #ch: didi #everyone in the neighborhood: so that's....that's your wife huh #[cut to didi biting someone's arm] everyone: and you....you chose that huh? crazy

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daydreaming-en-pointe · 4 months

Text

╰┈➤ 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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