#i know we’re attached to these characters and want to see them happy

[elnotwoods]

imagine having an author of much beloved works, who turned said works into successful pieces of media, here on tumblr/social media and all people can think of is send their threats against said person worded in a funny way to mask their entitlement…

.. you’ve loved their work for years, so have faith in them - they will deliver! we know they will.. they already have in the past, the fact that there’s a bit of pain and angst along the way as the characters grow in order to end up where we want them to doesn’t entitle you to sending unhinged messages to said author/creator

the fact that said person is kind enough to engage with you isn’t an invitation to do more of it in the future

[requiemforthepoets]

babysitting duties 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: who knew that babysitting your four-year-old niece would make you feel things and imagine a life with lando, with a kid and family of your own.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: all these lando interactions with kids in my fyp got me, so here you go. hope you enjoy this one! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

WARNINGS: typos, photos grabbed from pinterest, inaccuracies of the photos, and baby fever

It was a busy race week, but it didn’t stop you and Lando from taking on a new role as temporary guardians. Your brother and his wife are currently away for a business trip, and flew their four-year-old daughter, Chloé, to Monaco to be in your care for three weeks, so that’s basically a whole month with her. Chloé had quickly become attached to both of you, especially Lando, who had easily embraced the added responsibility very proudly. Now, she’s living with you both in your shared apartment in Monaco, and despite the busyness of the race week, she was certainly coming along for the ride.

You entered the paddock hand in hand with Lando, while he was carrying Chloé in his arms, balancing her weight effortlessly as if he’d done it a hundred times before, with her tiny arms wrapped around his neck. Chloé, with her bright eyes and boundless curiosity, had become an instant star amongst the paddock. She was also dressed to coordinate with you and Lando, with miniature personalized ear defenders completing the whole ensemble. You couldn’t help but laugh at how effortlessly she charmed everyone around her.

“She looks so much like you two!” Someone exclaimed as you passed by. Lando quickly gave you a playful nudge.

“Well, we do make a good-looking family, don’t we?” He said cheekily, sending you a wink. You couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of rolling with the misconception that Chloé was your daughter suddenly became amusing for you.

“You two look like a proper happy family, eh?” Carlos teased as he approached, grinning mischievously, and giving Chloé a high five.

Lando chuckled, glancing over at you with a playful smirk. “Maybe we should let them think that, huh?”

You playfully rolled your eyes and chuckled, “you really have a knack for stirring the media, don’t you?”

“Anything to keep them in their toes.” You all laughed. “Let them have their field day. They want headlines, then let them eat this up.” He added.

Chloé, oblivious to the whole conversation that is going on, tapped Lando’s shoulder gently. “Can we see the cars now, Uncle Lan?”

He ruffled her hair and pressed a soft kiss on her temple. “In a bit, Koko. First, we have to make sure that Uncle Lan wins this weekend.” She giggled, her innocent laughter melting the hearts of the people around.

As the three of you continued through the paddock, other drivers couldn’t help but stop and coo at her and with Lando joking that Chloé should call Fernando ‘grandpa nando’, in which the older didn’t mind, and find Chloé a very wonderful kid. She even got Oscar to play with her, pretending to race alongside her as she ran towards him, he got Chloé to behave like a car, and squealed so hard with laughter, clearly enjoying every second of her playful interaction with Oscar.

Then Max came over, pretending to be serious but a soft smile was threatening to break through. “I didn’t know you two had a secret kid. When did this happen?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “She’s my niece. But for the thrill of it, let’s start some rumors.”

“Could’ve fooled me! You three looked like a picture-perfect family.” Max smirked, “she’s too cute not to be yours, mate.”

“See?” Lando chimed in, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “Told you, we’re a great team. Maybe we should borrow her every race weekend, love. Just to keep everyone guessing.”

“Yeah and I’ll get an earful from my brother in return for making her miss Kumon just to attend a race weekend with us.” You laughed, shaking your head.

Chloé had asked to be brought down from Lando’s arms, wanting to walk, and now, she’s swinging between the two of you, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way Lando looked at her. Lando had always been really great with kids, but seeing him in this light, with Chloé, felt like something deeper. There was an unspoken ease in the way he handled it, as if it wasn’t a huge leap from where you both already were.

Just then, Charles strolled over, taking a good look at the three of you. “A mini Norris already?! This weekend just got more interesting, huh?”

Before you could reply, Chloé pointed at Charles’s shirt. “I like your red shirt!” She announced, earning a laugh from everyone around.

Charles knelt down to her height, his eyes lighting up with genuine affection. “Thank you! I like your ear defenders. Maybe one day you’ll be in the car too?”

She beamed, nodding with all the confidence in the world. “I will! And I’ll beat Uncle Lan!”

You all burst into laughter, and Lando playfully feigned shock. “Whoa, hold on! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Koko is really adorable.” Charles smiled as he put out a hand for Chloé to high five, “can Uncle Charles get a hug?” She giggled and ran up to Charles, her tiny arms wrapping around his neck.

You smiled, watching the scene unfold, heart full from how she effortlessly fit into this world. It was sweet, chaotic, and somehow, everything just felt right. But honestly, all of this is making you feel a little bit of a baby fever.

The day continued on and more drivers stopped by to say hello, each of them being enamored. Even some of the team staff were swooning over how adorable she runs towards Lando and climbing to sit on his lap during brief moments in the garage. Lando even gently placed her inside his car, much to her delight. Chloé’s eyes sparkled as she explored the cockpit and touched the steering wheel, her giggles echoing through the garage. The whole team watched it all with fond smiles, exchanging knowing looks.

Chloé continued to win everyone’s heart, even joining Lando in signing autographs, and each time a fan got their merch signed, she’d beam proudly and say, “I helped!”

At one point, Toto passed by, taking one look at the three of you and shaking his head with an amused grin. “You two should just get married already and have one of your own. This one suits you.”

You blushed, the thought of you and Lando getting married and having a child of your own. Stammering out a response as Lando laughed beside you. “Oh no, we’re…we’re just babysitting.”

“Sure,” Toto said with a knowing wink before walking away.

By the time the day came to an end, Chloé had fallen asleep in Lando’s arms, her tiny body curled up against him. You glanced over and saw how tenderly Lando held her, stroking her hair softly. Witnessing this scene had made your heart flutter and melt.

“You know,” Lando said quietly, not wanting to wake her, “if this is what having a family looks like…I wouldn’t mind having one someday with you.”

You smiled, feeling your chest tighten with a mix of emotions. “Someday,” you agreed, leaning in to kiss him on the lips and him meeting you halfway.

For now, this was enough—an amazing race weekend, Chloé, and the unexpected joy of playing family for a little while. It was sweet, it was funny, and it was everything you didn’t know that you needed.

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbrother, yoursisterinlaw, oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer and 67,938 others

tagged: landonorris

yourusername when koko is in monaco ✨ on babysitting duties while the parents are away! yourbrother & yoursisterinlaw 💗

view all comments

username1 GIRL DAD LANDO!!!!

username2 not her decking lando’s car with stickers 😭😭😭😭

yourbrother so the little monster went karting, huh ♥︎ liked by the author

yourusername yep, she has been BEGGING landonorris 😭😭😭 you might have a future racer in your hands soon 😆

yourbrother should we start saving now? 🙂‍↕️

landonorris oh you should, mate. koko’s got some talent

yourbrother 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

yourusername oh come on u drama queen, not like you can’t afford it 🤥 also lan asked if koko can join us every race weekend 😂

yourbrother ?????? make your own ?????? she can’t miss her kumon

landonorris what do you say, love? 🤩

yourusername marry me first??? 🤨

landonorris won’t be a problem 🤪

yourbrother already asking her to marry you, when you haven’t gotten our blessing yet? 🤨

landonorris working on it!

yourusername 😭😭😭😭

landonorris she’s (and our future kids) the only one allowed that can deck my car in stickers ♥︎ liked by the author

yourusername already thinking about the future, huh 🤨🤨🤨🤨

landonorris ofc??? you’re the only one that i want to spend my life with, woman

yourusername aw, lan 🥺 i love you 🫶🏻

landonorris i love you more 🤪❤️

username3 not this post and all the comments calling me single 😔

username4 HER KART NUMBER IS LANDO’S NUMBER TOO 🥹🥹🥹

lilyzneimer it was a pleasure meeting koko! she’s such a pure sweetheart! 🥺💗 ♥︎ liked by the author

yourusername she’s happy to meet you too, lils! when we got home, she asked me when can she meet you again 😆

lilyzneimer omggg what a sweet baby! i’ll visit you guys in monaco before she heads back home to france! ❤️

yourusername ofc! just beep me anytime 🫶🏻

username5 SHES DEFINITELY THE STAR OF THE PADDOCK!!!!

yoursisterinlaw thank you so much for babysitting koko, you’re the best! 🥺❤️ ♥︎ liked by the author

yourusername anytime!!! she’s such an angel ❤️

yoursisterinlaw you and lando are both life savers! i hope she’s not giving you a hard time

yourusername oh nooo, she’s such a good kid!

yoursisterinlaw thank you! we’ll see you by the end of the month ❤️ ♥︎ liked by the author

username6 oh i can already imagine the moment y/n and lando have their own kids 🥹

username7 lando is born to be a girl dad!!!!

username8 he’s gonna be the BEST dad

username9 NOT OSCAR MAKING KOKO ACT LIKE A CAR LMFAO THE EXACT SAME THING HE DID BACK WHEN HE WAS A KID 😭😭😭

username10 y/n and lando being the fun and cool aunt and uncle 🥺🫶🏻

username11 HER PUTTING STICKERS ON LANDO’S CAR IS SO CUTE WTF 😭

username12 lando with kids is definitely top tier, chef’s kiss

[lilyevansisamilf7]

Another Life - Spencer Reid

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem Reader (Non Specified but imagined fem)

Warnings - not spell checked, character death??, cheating, all cm trigger warnings, Maeve, mentions of eating disorders addiction and suicidal thoughts.

Summary - You we’re ready to marry him, he was ready to leave.

———————————————————————

You fell in love four years ago. Budding new SSA Y/L/N and the marvellous Doctor Reid, the BAUs power couple, attached at the hip - perfect.

And perfect it was, you and spencer had been through everything together. Case after case, his addiction, your own struggles with disordered eating, and everything inbetween, so when he started being distant, and getting migraines, you were sure you could help. You found him the best doctors, geneticists, anything and anyone.

You never thought he’d fall for Maeve Donovan, his geneticist, i mean how could you, you’d seen the ring. He was going to propose, or so you thought, a beautiful amethyst ring hidden in the blazer pocket of his work suit. Not your favourite crystal but you’re sure he had a reason for picking it, he always did.

So you began planning.

And you planned and planned until it suddenly didn’t feel like he was going to propose anymore.

“Spence?” You call out from the kitchen where you’re making dinner.

“Yeah love?” He walks in.

“I was just thinking, do you ever think about marrying me?”

“Well yeah in the future when we’ve settled a bit more, i’m happy how we are right now”

“Oh” You sigh, “What about that ring in your blazer pocket? What’s that for then?”

Silence. You know what that means.

“Is she pretty?” He looks down at his shoes.

Your turn off the stove and wipe your hands on your trousers.

“It’s Maeve isn’t it? The doctor?” You giggle sadly “You always liked them smart”

“Y/n…”

“Does she make you happy?”

“Not like you do”

You scoff. He looks at you confused.

You pick at your nails, crying slightly. “You were the one for me Spence, and I just want you to be happy, I thought that was with me but i guess not anymore” You shrug before grabbing your bag.

“What are you doing?” He try’s to grab your hands.

“Im going to stay with Garcia tonight” You reach the door, “Maybe you can invite Maeve for dinner, i made your favourite. I’ll be back tomorrow to gather my things”

“Please don’t do this..”

“Goodbye Spencer Reid”

———————————————————————

The past month had been hell for you, you didn’t tell anyone the real reason you and Spencer split up, not wanting to ruin his friendships with the rest of the team, but you hadn’t been doing well. You’d lost a lot of weight, stopped going out with the team, and started throwing yourself into your work.

It was plain as day that you were heartbroken.

So when Spencer came in, seeking help for Maeve, you were advised to steer clear of the case. But you were determined to show everyone you were fine.

You worked the hardest on the case and found Diane first, and joined spencer on retrieving Maeve.

You walk in unarmed, as requested by Diane, and see Maeve being held by gunpoint.

“Diane, right?” You try and sound as calm as possible, “I’m Y/n”

“Stay back or I shoot her!”

“She rejected you didn’t she? Your paper? I read it and it was good, just needed a little more evidence”

“What evidence?”

“Someone who wasn’t your parents, who wanted to die”

You breath in

“I can help Diane, you need someone like me, you can kill me”

“You’re trying to trick me!” She exclaims.

“i’m not, Maeve doesn’t want to die, do you Maeve”

She begins to cry begging for her life.

“And you do?”

“I’ve got nothing left to live for”

You look to Spencer sadly.

“Think about it Diane, this gives you the evidence you need” You smile.

“You’re trying to trick me!”

��Fine, I guess Dr Donovan was right” I fake sigh and get a little closer, “You aren’t worth the time or effort”

In an instant, Maeve is thrown to the floor and Diane grabs and shoots you both in the stomach.

You fall to the ground.

Spencer instantly runs to you, cradling you in his arms, your breaths shallow and weak.

“Is Maeve okay?”

Astounded at your care he says “Please don’t worry about her, save your strength, the medics are on their way”

“I don’t think i have the time Spence”

“Please baby” He whispers.

“Are you happy Spence?”

“She’s not you…”

He holds you tight and you reach up to cradle his cheek with your hand, “Please let yourself be happy” A metallic taste covering the inside of your mouth.

As he’s holding you he can feel how much smaller you’ve become. “You’ve not been taking care of yourself” He begins to cry

“It’s not important now,” I whisper, “Spence?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think i’m another life we made it

He thinks for a moment.

“I’m every universe i will be forever yours, I just wish it could’ve been in this one too” Beginning to sob

“And i will always be yours too, you were it for me Spencer Reid”

His tears fall down quicker than you can wipe them away.

“At least we’ll have all those other lives, we could have that wedding I planned,” I giggle sadly, “You would’ve loved it”

“I should’ve asked you, I wanted it to be you”

“I wanted it to be me too”

Your eyes begin to close, in the distant shouts for medics get louder, the blaring of sirens closer.

“I love you” he whispers, “Please don’t leave me, we’re not done yet”

———————————————————————

[ambrosiagoldfish]

HI! Can I request Vox, husk or anyone else with a s/o who has an addiction problem?

Yes I know my Grammar and punctuation is out of line 🙏🏽

Hazbin Hotel x Addict!Reader

(Vox, Husk, and Angel Dust)

Viewer Discretion is Advised!

Warning: Drug/Alcohol Abuse, Gn!Reader, Reader being defensive, happy-ish endings.

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1170

A/n: Hi! Thank you for the request! This is my first time writing both Vox and Husk so I had to do some research (and by research, I mean reading 2+ hours of how other write them) to get an idea of their main characterization.

I really enjoyed writing this as I personally have my own experiences with addicts and how it’s affected me as a person. So this was also a little bit of a vent post if anything. I also added Angel cause I think it fits the theme but also he’s one of my comfort characters and writing for him made me happy.

Hope you enjoy <3

Proofread like once so sorry for any mistakes!



Vox

He’s used to being friends/knowing addicts. I mean one of his closest allies (And TOTES not previous hook-up buddy) Valentino, is also an addict who also employs many as well. So he’s not a stranger to it.

So mostly he’s indifferent to it, almsot desensitized to it. He doesn’t really see a danger to it, I mean we’re in hell and you can’t exactly OD and die

But of course, death isn’t the only thing that can happen when you're an addict. The breakdown of you as a person often happens, as well as you being reckless with money. And this is where Vox starts to have a problem.

If you’re in a relationship with Vox, then clearly you mean a lot to him, he may not be the most expressive about it but he does. So to see the partner that he has opened up to and grown attached to deteriorate slowly in front of him is something he refuses to accept.

So one day he cancels a meeting with his staff and calls you to his office so you two will be alone. When you get there he gives you a cup of coffee and you catch up a bit. How was your day? Have you ate yet? Those kinds of things.

Until finally he decides to just break open the floodgates with one simple statement.

“Darling… I think you should get clean”

You were caught off guard at first

“It’s fine, What’s the problem? we’re in hell”

He then comes out with his honest opinion

“*Sigh* I know it’s hell and you can’t die… but surely you can see how it would make me a bit… worried for you.”

He paused

“I mean even last week you spent all the allowance I gave you on it and you would have starved if I didn’t buy you food, surely you can see why it’s a fucking problem!”

Eventually after talking and depending on how it goes you either agree to go clean or it ends with an argument and he’ll just try again later.

If you agree, he’ll make sure he’s with you ever step of your sobriety. Considering he’s one of the top rising Overlords and owns VoxTech he’s got money so He’ll higher the best people to help you go clean(Do therapist exist in hell?)

“Thank you dear, you have no idea how much this means to me”

Husk

Similar to Vox in a lot of ways but also really different. He himself is an addict with alcohol so he clearly understands the struggles of it.

He has lots of walls up but for someone who “lost the ability to love” he sure does care a lot for you. I don’t think he would try a get you to go clean, at least not right away (or even at the beginning of the relationship) simply cause he thinks he doesn’t have a right to judge. So in all honesty he might just let you be.

That is until he realizes that you do it to forget things and ignore your problems/past. He knew first hand that drowning your sorrows away with your choice of addictive vice did nothing but harm you.

Then when you two are alone at his bar he’ll talk to you about it in a similar way he did with Angel. Perhaps a bit more softer than he did with Angel but even then “softer” is a bit of an overstatement.

“Look, I know you got a lot of shit that you don’t want to think about… but doing this *sigh* it’s not going to work, at least not in the long term.”

“That’s rich coming from you.”

He laughs. I mean, you were right. He was single handedly the worst person to be judging you. But surely you can understand his point of view, right?

Either way though, he leaves it alone again. Occasionally bringing it up when you’re both alone. He expresses the same sentiment about it each time hoping that eventually, hopefully…you’ll come to see from his perspective.

When you do finally see that he’s worried for you and understand why, you agree to go clean. Which, for once in a long while, made his supposedly cold dead heart melt.

“Glad you finally came to your senses… Seriously, I’m glad…”

Angel

He is THE addict of the show, so obviously he knows what you are going through and THEN some. Now,. Here’s the thing, how he handles it depends HEAVILY on when exactly you got with him/when you started having you addiction problem.

If you started dating him when you already were an addict he most definitely wouldn’t question anything about it. Hell, chances are you both might have taken part in it together. And it’s only when he starts making progress in the hotel (post EP4) is when he starts realizing how bad of an influence you both were on each other.

If you started sometime AFTER you both started dating then this boy would honestly feel terrible about it, ESPECIALLY after EP4 when he actually started being sober more often. He’d feel like he was a bad influence on you and that it was his fault you turned to your addiction.

Either way though, he will eventually realize that he doesn’t want you to be/continue to be on the same path he was. He’d talk to Charlie about arranging you to stay in the hotel, either in your own room or you guys could share one (he would honestly prefer the latter) and then after the preparations are made he would finally ask you too

Angel wasn’t expecting it to be easy, he gets what it’s like to suddenly be asked to go clean. And he knows how addicts act when they don’t get there vices, how he acts. So he mentally prepared himself for the worst first before asking you to come over and talk.

“Uh… Y/n can I talk to you about somethin’?”

You nod your head

“I’ve been thinking and… I think you should crash here at the hotel with me… and’ go clean.”

You only laugh “Angie I’m glad this hotel thing is workin’ for ya but that’s not really my style. No- I mean, I’m fine!”

Angel knows he put you on the spot, so he lightens off a bit but continues pressing on. He explains how he feels and how he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, to end up where he is. The poor boy starts crying honestly with how much he’s worried. He rarely opens up to people so this was a big step for him.

Seeing how much he cared and worried about you really put into perspective how important this was to him. So you agreed after some thinking.

“*sniff* thank you Baby, I’ll be there with you every step of the way… I love ya’ you know.”

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

This doesn’t get a title because I’m confused

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert!

Author’s Notes: I think I got possessed, I don’t even like Sam 😭 like in the slightest 😭

But pretend season 8ish Sam has season 2-3’s hair for the sake of that’s the season I’m on lol.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! She’s a genius!

Anyway, all notes are appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: 18+ ONLY! Minors do not interact, this is NOT for you.

This fic is extremely spicy, sort of can’t-stand-each-other sex. Reader’s AFAB & uses she/her pronouns, only physical description is of her being shorter than Sam. There’s oral (both m and f receiving) and unprotected piv which frankly only exists in the books- wrap it before you tap it!! Oh also they’re both pretty mean to each other… you’ll see.

Again, I think I got possessed when I made it-I sincerely can’t stand him- but hope you enjoy it!

**************************************************** Working with the Winchester Brothers is a gig like no other. Cas and I are more tagalongs in the operation these days, Cas demoted to resident healer and I to stay at home mom, apparently.

One accident (authors note: one possession & a year long recovery for a spinal injury retained from said possession) had apparently rendered me useless to the boys. It’s not all bad- I’m relatively close with the older one, Dean, since we’re both hoes for a good time and good movies/music. And before the accident, I was happy to kill evil sons-of-bitches with Dean any day of the week.

And of course, Castiel is a right sweetheart- showing him new human things is the sweetest experience in the whole wide world.

But you know what ruins the laughs and the nice moments? The younger brother. Sam “Little Shit” Winchester.

I don’t know how he found himself upon the moral pedestal he crafted for himself, but lord I want to remove his kneecaps and slap him with them. Little baby giraffe looking shit.

I don’t like the way he acts, plain and simple. Between the way that he treats Dean and the way that he talks so condescendingly to me- I’m about two seconds from starting a fight every time we’re in a room together for too long. He seems to feel the same way. It’s helpful in a hunt- both of us are smart enough to concentrate that anger towards our monster of the week instead of each other in the field- but now, when there’s no field to take the anger out on? Dean’s had to break up at least 3 almost-fights, and I’ve only been back on my feet for a couple months.

***

The boys looked especially pissy coming home today- they’d grumbled something about a “stupid fucking vampire bitch,” and went their separate ways, Sam to the med bay and Cas trailing Dean like a golden retriever.

Great. Looks like I’m on Douchebag Duty.

***

“What’s your problem?” Sam snaps as I tug the thread on his stitches a little too roughly.

“My problem, you dick? I’m the one that’s stitching you up right now, why don’t I just let you bleed out?” I retort, yanking on the surgical needle with the string attached to a particularly nasty cut on his upper arm. Cut’s an understatement- it’s really a bullet wound. I’m just too proud to have pity for the jackass.

“Yeah, your problem!”

I set down the needle at that, my fists clenched at my sides. “You’re a whiny little bitch who can’t sit still and shut the fuck up for two minutes! That’s my problem.”

“I think you’re a little too high and mighty there, princess,” he scowls, standing up to full height, presumably so that he can use his stature to literally look down at me.

“Yeah? Look who’s talking, Mr Morals,” I seethe, staring up at him. I snatch the needle, on my tiptoes, and hastily finish the stitching on his scar, while standing up.

“Out,” I spit as I cut the thread.

“No,” he retorts, glancing down at me through long lashes and stupidly overgrown bangs.

“What? Is five minutes away from your big head too much to ask?” my hands are on my hips. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of staring up at him, so I stare at whatever’s eye level. He’s wearing a bloodied white tank top, which is not doing much for the whole vibe we’ve got going on right now.

He bites his lower lip, still looking down through his annoyingly long lashes. And my dumb ass is attracted to it, apparently.

“Get. Out,” I say, anger laced in my words.

“No,” he says through clenched teeth. I start to turn away, as if giving up, before pulling a Dean Winchester and turning back around on my heel, punching him in the abdomen. He grunts, keeling over. “Ow!”

“You should’ve listened, you ass,” I say, looking down at him. He looks pathetic, his eyes gone wide and pretty in pain. I shouldn’t be into this, not one bit.

Keeled over, Sam is at eye level. Our gazes lock, his hazel eyes boring holes into mine, searching for something. I don’t dare waver, looking back at him with just as much intensity until he surprises me, leaning in and crashing his lips to mine. He roughly grabs my face, holding me close as he forces his tongue into my mouth, exploring. I hate how easily I give him access, I hate the way I let out a gasp against my will. By the time he pulls away I’m already leaning back in. He smirks, humoring me for one more kiss.

“How do you like me now?” he says cockily, lips plush and pink from the kisses, hazel eyes blown out by lust.

“I don’t,” I mutter, pushing him back so that he’s forced to sit on the med bay bed. His legs are spread wide, and of course I fit perfectly between them, much to my distaste. I kiss his jawline, using mostly my teeth so that it scratches as I go, especially once I start on his neck, biting and sucking dark marks everywhere I see fit. He’s into it, little breathy whimpers further fueling my unfortunate attraction to him.

“Take off your shirt,” I tell him, stepping back and smirking at how this time he leans into my touch instead of the other way around. He thoughtlessly pulls the hem of the ruined fabric over his head, throwing it to the side, exposing an obnoxiously fit physique and an anti possession tattoo. There’s little scars everywhere, and something deep down urges me to kiss every single one of them, but that can be later.

“Take off yours,” he tells me.

“Why?” I ask, trying to play smart.

“Cause if I have to be shirtless you do too,” he says.

“Says who?”

“Says me.”

“Better think of a better retort next time, Winchester,” I say as I take off the oversized concert tee I had been wearing.

“Bra too,” he orders, cocking his head to the side as he looks me over.

“Who made you the boss?” I ask, already unclasping my bra.

“I did,” he says, far too cocksure.

“We’ll see about that,” I grin, letting the lacy fabric fall to the ground as I lean in to kiss his damnable hot mouth. This time I take control, taking pride in the little noises he makes.

“I’m gonna suck your dick,” I say crudely, not bothering with pleasantries.

“Go right on ahead,” and I can tell there was meant to be spite behind those words, but it quickly fades away into sighs as I start kissing down his pecs, his abs, lightly scratching anywhere I can find with my nails. I hate how hot the heat between my thighs is, but at this point, I can’t help it, especially as I sink to my knees, nose perfectly level with his crotch.

I take his belt into my hands, grazing over the obvious tent that lies underneath it. He throws his head back at that, biting back a curse.

“What’s the matter Sammy?” I tease.

“Shut up,” he grumble, words morphing into a proper moan as I graze over the tent again.

“Uh huh,” I agree, tugging off his leather belt and yanking down the zipper of his jeans.

“Boxers? I had taken you for a ‘Tighty Whities’ girl, Sammy,” I mused, doing my best to work him up even more.

“Sto-,” he starts, immediately losing his words as I free his cock from his confines, pulling his boxers down to his knees.

You know, just cause a guy’s a big guy doesn’t always mean that everything’s proportionate. Sam’s six foot five-ish, long and lanky with lean muscle. And naturally, because everything about him is meant to spite me, his dick also fits the physical bill. My mouth waters, and the only prospect that excites my overly-horny self more than having it in my mouth is having it in my slick soaked pussy. And I will, if I have anything to say about it.

“Oh Sammy, you’re a big boy, huh,” I taunt, running a hand up and down his shaft slowly. He moans in agreement, no more fight left in him. It’s too easy.

I let go of it, ignoring the bead of pre cum leaking down as I move to kiss his thighs, grazing my teeth on them like I did on his neck. He seems to like it, legs moving in towards my mouth. Finally I move my mouth towards where he obviously wants me most, rubbing the bead over his tip with my thumb. I’m a little wary about taking the whole thing, but I’m sure as hell going to try.

I start simple, kitten lips around the base, licking a long stripe up the underside before wrapping my lips around the head, and he moans, a little too loudly. I brace my hands on his thighs before taking a deep breath through my nose and forcing myself down far enough that my nose is touching neatly trimmed hair. Thankfully my gag reflex is still gone-it’s been a minute- as I hold him there for a moment, before starting to bob my head up and down, testing the waters. He whimpers and whines, and it’s pathetic, and I’m far too into it, unable to do much else than keep up my ministrations.

One of his big hands find the back of my head, fingers weaving into my hair. I don’t think he does so with intent of forcing me to move, but the idea is so hot that I lock eyes with him with my mouth on his cock.

“What? You want me to fuck your mouth?” he asks, panting. And once he says it out loud I get impossibly wetter, and I moan yes, unable to nod at all with him buried as far as he’ll go.

“Damn, you’re a slut,” he grins, and I moan in agreement before he starts moving my head slowly. Forward and back, forward and back, before I lock eyes with him and he gets the hint to take it harder, hips starting to thrust meeting my throat as his hands push. I just keep sucking, doing my best not to choke as involuntary tears leak out. But it doesn’t hurt, not at all. If anything I’m just doing all I can to not start rubbing on my own sensitive spots.

Before I know it his whimpers get louder and his whines get needier, and he grits out “I- I’m going to-“

So I release him with a pop, taking a hand and rubbing up and down his length furiously before he bursts. Once he does, with the most pathetic whimper yet, I get my mouth right back on him, taking every drop of his hot release down my throat. When he’s done I stay there, opening his mouth so he can see that there’s nothing there.

“God, you’re such a slut,” he mutters, echoing what he said before as he catches his breath and pulls me up by the hair- gently.

I shrug cockily, moving back as he stands up.

“Strip and have a seat,” he lazily demands as he puts his perfect cock away.

I roll my eyes but comply, taking off my remaining clothes so that I’m left in all my glory.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that?” he compliments, a moment of tenderness as he crowds me against the bed so that I’ll take a seat. I blush, letting him hoist me up so that my ass is on the edge of the dinghy bed. “My turn,” he grumbles, voice low and hot against the column of my neck. He’s even rougher than I was, nipping at every square inch of skin that he meets, sucking dark marks down the side of my neck and over the tops of my breasts. I’m like a bitch in heat, responding to every touch in ways I can’t control- pornographic moans, leaning into his touch. He’s pulling on my hair to give himself more access, and I’m starting to worry that I’m soaking the bed. His mouth continues to work wonders, especially as he travels southwards, playing with my breasts.

He’s mean, outright biting the one and pinching the other, and it’s just what I need. I tangle my hands into his annoyingly long hair and tugging, not missing the way he moans into my chest.

Finally, finally, he gets down on his knees. He rests his chin on the bed, breath heavy on my heat. The sight of his head pillowed on my thighs as he looks up at me with those puppy dog, blown out eyes is enough to get me to come on the spot.

“This all f’me, princess?” he asks roughly, collecting some of the gratuitous wetness on two long, thick fingers.

“N-no,” I stammer, clutching his hair tighter. He bites back his moan in favor of a smug grin.

“N-no,” he mocks, turning to the side to bite the inside of my thigh, and I whine. “Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” His nose is eye level with my clit, and the only warning I get before he dives into my pussy is a small smirk that meets his hazel eyes.

“Fuck!”

He moans in between my thighs, setting my entire body on fire. I try to wiggle away from him, but it only takes one big, strong hand to hold my hips in place as he fucks his tongue into me, his nose rubbing on my puffy clit. It’s wet and it’s gross, but so, so hot.

He’s a little too good, knowing all the buttons to press that leave me tracking wetness all over his face, before taking two fingers and roughly pushing them into my core, giving me no time to adjust. They’re thick and long, and when he makes the come hither motion I know I’m fucked, doing everything I can not to gasp his name.

“S-s-oh my god,” I cry as he plunges his fingers all the way down to the knuckle every time, reaching deeper and deeper and rubbing on my g-spot. He’s too busy sucking on my clit to say anything, his attention overstimulating.

He adds a third finger, and that, combined with him tracing patterns on my sensitive bud, sends me straight over the edge with a an unintelligible cry.

Of course the bastard doesn’t stop, not until I’m physically shaking from the overstimulation, legs quivering, and on the brink of a second release.

He removes himself from my heat, laying his cheek on the inside of my thigh, looking up at me smugly.

“Good, huh?” he knows it was.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, voice weak.

“That’s what I’m getting to, princess. So impatient,” he taunts, standing up to full height again. Sam haphazardly wipes the slick off of his face with his forearm, not really caring how much he removes. He kicks off his shoes and socks before taking off his slacks and boxers in one go, revealing that gorgeous cock again. He stands before me, looking like some kinda statue of physical perfection. I have to physically close my jaw looking at him.

“Like what you see, princess?”

I stick out my tongue and blow a raspberry.

“Real mature, sweetheart,” he rolls his eyes. “You have a condom?”

I shake my head. “Don’t need one, I’m on the pill and I have morning after. Want you to fuck me and fill me,” I tell him honestly.

“God you’re a slut and you’re freaky? I’d never have guessed,” he mused, stepping between my thighs. I assume he’s clean as well since he doesn’t really… get out much.

“Yeah, that’s cause you’re not the brightest,” I tell him, scooting as close to the edge as I can without falling.

“Uh huh,” he says sarcastically, before picking me up and slamming my shoulder into a nearby wall, yet gently resting my back against it. Gentle with my injury, wow. Wouldn’t have expected it. I gasp, surprised by the sudden motion.

“Payback for the gut punch,” he explains.

“Oh yeah? I’ll punch you again if you don’t fuck me,” I say, a mean edge to my voice.

“Mkay,” he says, obviously not swaying either way as he aligns his tip with my entrance.

“Fuck me,” I order through a gasp, unable to wait anymore.

“Careful what you wish for there, princess,” he warns, before sheathing himself in me in one go.

Look, I can get laid whenever I want, especially back when I was on duty as a hunter. I’m no stranger to sex, and I have a decently high sex drive. If I can’t get some, then I always have backup- toys and vibrators, you name it.

But Sam? His dick was big in my mouth, but in my pussy? I feel like I’ve been split in two, my mouth is dropped in an o. But it feels so, so good.

“Move,” I demand after a few moments of adjusting.

“Say my name,” he cocks his head, pushing impossibly deeper so that he’s practically touching my cervix.

“Sammy,” I say with as much sass as I can muster, my voice high from the added pressure. I know he hates the nickname, it makes him feel like a baby. Because he is one.

“Nuh uh, princess. Say my name,” the pad of his thumb flits over my clit.

“Unh- Sam!” I moan, unable to stop myself.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it? Now ask me to fuck you. Nicely.”

“No.”

“Guess I’ll be on my way then,” he starts pulling out.

“No!” I whine.

“Ask nicely.”

“Sam, fuck me please?” I ask with as much sweetness and doe eyes as possible for me.

“You really are sweet when you’re horny,” he remarks, pulling back, before setting a brutal pace that has me raking my nails across his back and moaning his stupid name. He’s pounding into me with all of his might, sweat sheening on his brow.

It’s so hard that I can barely get any words out, and I hate it, but it just feels too good.

And of course, Sammy has enough words for the both of us.

“Fucking you dumb, huh? Got such a big attitude until I’m in you, just needed this dick,” he says, laughing meanly as I involuntarily clench at his words.

“What? You like me being mean to you? You get wet every time we fight?” a particularly hard set of thrusts accompanies each of the words in his third rhetorical question. I moan, not even sure of the answer. Probably? Maybe? Gah.

“Look at you, taking it like a good slut. You’re so tight and wet, and it’s all f’me,” his raspy voice starts slurring with lust. He brings one of his hands between us, finding my swollen clit and rutting on it, tracing patterns just as he did before with his tongue.

“S-Sam, it’s too much-,” I cry, unable to handle the overstimulation.

“Good,” he grins wickedly, before upping the ante both in thrusts and in rutting, unraveling me into a mess in his arms. I cry his name, helpless as I come down for the second time.

“So soon?” he tuts, not slowing his pace.

“Sh-shut up- ah-,” is all I can say as he gets impossibly rougher, chasing his own release.

“Gotta finish the job, princess,” he stutters, before growing more and more erratic. He’s got me on edge again as he does so, but mercifully comes before I can. I feel his hot release in me, filling me up just a little too full with his dick that he hasn’t yet pulled out.

Eventually he wordlessly puts me down, fingers plugging our mixed release in me. I can’t even complain- him keeping me full is unfortunately kinda hot.

“So…” he starts, looking down at me.

“Get out,” I interrupt.

“No,” he says, not moving.

This is going to be a long afternoon.

****************************************************

“Did you guys finally get into a bout?” Dean asks as we walk (re: stumble) out of the med bay and into the kitchen where he and Cas are sitting playing Uno, Bon Jovi playing in the background. “Oh- oh.”

Yeah, it’s pretty obvious the fight we got into. There’s no hiding it, even if we had tidied up our hair or faces- there’s scratches and bruises everywhere. Whoops.

“Are you guys in need of healing?” Cas asks innocently as Sam and I sit down a chair apart.

“No, Cas… these are, uh, special bruises. The fun kind. And they’re everywhere, apparently… damn, Sammy.” Dean comments as he surveys his brother and I. Sam coughs, and I reach over to punch him from my seat away. He grunts, and then we all go quiet.

“So… all in favor of never talking about this?” I ask after an uncomfortably long uncomfortable silence.

“Aye,” say the brothers in unison. Cas also agrees after Dean elbows him. “Fantastic.”

[arctophyllax]

*clears throat* why I think Larian should let us recruit Zevlor:

More people are desperate for Zevlor than I thought at first. We all want to see him happy. We all want him to get all that he deserves and more. He just has SO much potential, he’s such a well written character just for his story to get cut off so suddenly? Thinking about how badly his story was neglected by Larian after they made us so attached breaks my heart. Of all side characters we met along the acts he is undeniably one of the most important and memorable ones; we fought for him, we saved him, we helped him, hells we even get the option to reject his payment for us for helping him and his people.

We practically got nothing out of helping him, especially the ones who reject his payments and i find myself rejecting the payment every single playthrough because i can’t find it in my heart to take something away from people who have nothing left already. If you betray the tieflings you get Minthara- and yes that may cost you certain companions too, but wouldn’t it be fair to be able to have Zevlor at camp if we save his people? At least after we save him in act 2? That way it would still be optional but god I need him so badly, I need to see him happy, I need Larian to let me look after him and take care of him and make sure that he doesn’t drown in sorrow and I know everyone who reads this feels exactly the same.

He went through so much, and every time his hope returned it got shattered to bits again. And it just feels like we’re forced to “give up” on him after we let him wander away in act 2. It doesn’t feel right. It will never feel right. We saw how miserable he was in that pod, how distressed and in pain he was. Common sense would have told us to take him with us. Make sure he fucking survives the night without doing anything stupid. Clean him off the blood and clean him off his worries, all that self hatred.

God, do I so hate to see him in such distress. And while a tiny part of me believes that death might have actually been a small mercy for him I was and will never be ready to give up on him.

Every time I see him on that damned screen, every time he speaks and every time I witness him interact with someone I DON’T see an oathbreaker who failed his people and had to be saved from being consumed by the Absolute. All I see is a competent leader who carries a burden not meant to be carried by one person alone.

This has nothing to do with him being weak. This has nothing to to with him being incompetent or not careful enough. This has nothing to do with any lost faith or broken oath. This has to do with the fact that he is so selfless that he wouldn’t allow himself to share this burden with anyone.

Yes he has (had?) his fellow tieflings, he has Tilses right beside him all of the time. But did he ever open up to her? Does he ever accept any help from his own people while he knows that they are already suffering? Would he EVER allow ANY of these people to carry even a SLIVER of his burden?

No. He would not. He would NEVER let them bear any of those duties, he has seen them in way too much pain already, seen them suffer far too often.

He is the type who gives and gives and gives and he never takes. He doesn’t know how to take, take anything positive.

His past, his comrades, his Hellriders- yes he had them. They gave him as much as he gave them. But they got torn away from him, cruelly and mercilessly.

His people, the refugees, family- he had them. And they gave him the respect and admiration he deserved. But they got torn away from him. Cruelly. Mercilessly.

His saviour, us, Tav- he had us. But we left him. Because we had no choice. We watched him walk of as though it was nothing. Cruelly. Because we could do nothing else.

And yes, I will always see red at that. Because we SHOULD be able to do better. We shouldn’t be just another loss for him.

And I will personally fistfight Larian if it meant hope for just a single chance at giving Zevlor what he never allowed himself to have: stability, encouragement. Someone he can rely on and share his burden with. A rest. Peace.

(Larian do you hear me I am under your bed we are going to fight)

(Scratch would like him to stay at camp, too)

(And what Scratch wants, Scratch gets. Right?)

(No because when you talk to Scratch the second time at camp during the tiefling party he actually says that he wouldn’t mind if you kept the tieflings at camp… trust me, Scratch, i wouldn’t mind either)

…I’d honestly die for him who’s with me

[missinghan]

falling asleep in a time machine ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : mafia au; fluffy angst; hurt/comfort; female reader insert

❖ word count : 6,9k.

❖ warning : swearing, implied major character death, mention of arson, depictions of vomiting, killing, blood, death, can be brutal (!!!), delusional happy ending. 

❖ summary : four times you try to go back in time and save chan; or alternatively, you keep dreaming about chan to see if there is a way to undo his death when in reality there isn’t — from the world of illicit & priceless.

❖ author’s note : just finished my first term of uni (like actually the first term ever) and I’m so dead inside so here’s a silly little something. I can’t use pts anymore so pls bear with the banner *cries and dusts off this old blog* also I try to explain here why Chan was so attached and pissed off when mc stole his mother’s ring even though it’s accidental.

first attempt —

There are three missions that have altered the course of your and Chan’s relationship.

The first mission goes back to when you were still going on heists and Ryujin had foolishly put a piece of Chan’s mother’s sentiments into your pocket. Neither you nor Chan have come to know or like each other much before it.

The second one is the mansion with a bomb planted in the basement and Chan got locked inside a conference room with a three-layered door, one of them made from the same metal as the fucking Titanic. The third mission involves a casino where the Germans and Italians came together to push Chan toward a dead-end they had cultivated for the Devil himself, to his ultimate demise. They are all too arrogant to admit that Chan will take over the entirety of the East Asian market before any of them can start rolling in their graves.

Three missions of importance and not long after that, you and Chan have agreed to never go on a mission without each other. An unwritten contract. An unspoken promise. Nothing that the mafia engages in is legal so everything runs on trust, on how much faith you are willing to give those who you keep close.

However, there is a fourth mission that the Underworld records will fail to keep because even only a minuscule part of the Bang family is informed about this—how their precious heir has been summoned to bring home the girl he loves.

“Would you do laundry and taxes with me?”

“That’s an odd way to propose to someone, Y/N. And please, you’re asking an obvious question.” Chan looks up at you from his book. His smile is gentle, soft at the corners with his dimples sinking in—it’s how you know that he means it—the way it usually is these days. The way it has been for the past year. It is almost obscure, you think, how you both would have wanted each other’s head on a stick a year ago before one of you managed to make the other person cry out of gratitude.

You lift the book away from his face, glimpsing at the cover. Because Chan is an absolute heathen, he has been reading No Longer Human and you’re being annoying about it because he hasn’t come out to train with you for two days already. “Are you telling me you’ll say ‘no’?”

“We’re already doing laundry and taxes together. We will just have matching rings and a signed piece of paper,” Chan gives you a pointed look; he always looks so serious whenever he wants to correct you as if your sarcasm is that dry. “So it naturally implies as a ‘yes’, idiot,” he nags, even though he doesn’t mean the last part.

“Oh how you wound me, love,” you bite back, even though you don’t mean it either. “Chan, come on. You’re locking yourself up in a prison.”

Chan lets out a long, heavy sigh as if he’s insulted that you have just called his room a prison—which you never verbally hinted at, he simply interpreted it that way. He reaches over to grab the book from your hand, seemingly giving up his reading time for you, and places it on his bedside. 

“What are you–” You watch as Chan walks over to one of his mahogany drawers. “-doing?”

“I need caffeine to talk to you.”

Despite your bristling, he stays true to his words and finds himself a mug, a tea bag, along with a boiler. By the time Chan finishes filling up the boiler with water and turns on the heating switch, your legs are dangling over the edge of his bed as you puff up like a cat, baffled and offended. 

“So,” Chan inquires, a steaming mug of tea in his hand. “What’s up?”

“I find your current state distressing to look at,” you elaborate with glee, a glint coming into your eyes that Chan knows you’re up to no good. “Take a week off with me. We can go anywhere you want, it’ll be a short getaway, just the two of us.”

Chan’s back is turned toward you because he’s too busy searching for a spoon but you can boldly assume that he’s smiling. It’s hinted in his tone when he asks, “You mean a vacation?”

“Brilliant interpretation, Chan,” you smile wryly. “Of course, I meant a vacation!”

“No, you can go have fun by yourself. You have my permission,” he shakes his head. “I have things to attend to. Meetings, banquets, important business transactions. You know how boring the mafia lifestyle is.”

You still, voice low and suppressed in something Chan can’t seem to grasp at. “You’re going back to your family.” It’s barely a movement, a small enough action. Any passerby would think that you have only faltered a little but Chan has observed you for a good while now to notice you’re holding your shoulders back from trembling. 

“I am going back to my family,” he repeats calmly. “Only for a week, though. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“Chan, I know they want to see me.”

Chan tries not to let anything show on his face. “And they may very well kill you because that is what they are. Godawful, egoistic, and incapable of compassion.”

“Let me go with you, I—” you begin, though you cut yourself off almost instantly. The room is suddenly steeped in silence, unwieldy at the absence of your words. Every noise seems amplified in the quiet: the boys’ chatters echoing dully from the living room, the ticking hands of the clock, and every breath you take to calm the anxiety in your rib cage.

I do not fear death, sickness, or anyone’s hatred. What I fear most is losing you, Chan. It’s all so beyond you because a year ago, you were a thief, taking things as you please and sending them away when they’re no longer of use for your benefit. Now there is someone who you will live for and his kiss you will kill for, his laugh you will die for.

“Chan, do you have any idea what I would turn into if you left me?” You have always worried loudly, from the volume of your attentiveness and the anxiety beneath your skin all lie in the tender manner of how you love Chan—the same goes for him, that you can be certain of.

“I will never leave you, Y/N. We will be okay,” he assures you, unbearably calm.

Chan is a liar. 

second attempt —

Chan is supposed to go back to the Bang family’s estate with Yuriko for the New Year. Yuriko is the housekeeper whom he has retired for about a year ever since you came into the picture. The boys, especially Jisung, have been forced into keeping their surroundings clean because, for some wicked reason, they think you are absolutely terrifying when you’re upset about their muddy shoes dirtying the floor after a mission. Yuriko always giggles at that, her Young Master surely knows how to pick a partner. 

“I’ve got word that your father wants you to back to the estate, Young Master,” Yuriko tells Chan when she finds you and Chan in the archive because you have insisted on reading about something you won’t say a word to him. Surely, Chan recognizes what you’re searching for but he doesn’t mention it. 

“He said he wanted to make sure you are ready to take over his position. And there is a dinner he wants your attendance for,” Yuriko continues, hands clasped behind her back. You didn’t even realize when she stepped in and approached Chan—for a mere housekeeper to be so swift and quiet with her movements, you have long guessed that she’s not just any old woman to be hired by the Bang family.

The way Chan stiffens in his seat is telling all on its own. You are suddenly struck with the recurring memory of how Minho used to babble about how much of an ass Chan’s family is when he has had one too many drinks. “You don’t know how bigshot mafia families treat their children, do you? They kept the world from knowing for a reason. I’m surprised Chan didn’t turn out to be a monster like them.”

“Forgive me, Yuriko, but you can tell the old man to suck it up,” Chan says softly but his voice is dark, tense, riddled with a sharpness you haven’t heard from him in a long time—you were threatened just the same way when you had stolen his mother’s ring. Now you realize Chan only ever speaks so heartlessly if something precious to him is hanging on the verge of being taken away. 

“Young Master,” Yuriko frowns for two reasons; firstly, Chan has never been able to decline his blood family of anything and secondly, there isn’t much that she can do to solve the problem at hand. She’s a mere servant for the Bang family; she doesn’t have much power to begin with and therefore, she can’t exactly tell them ‘no’. 

“No, you can’t make me,” Chan grits because he knows, he understands it all too well. Unsaid words of all the things money can buy hang in the air like bile. 

“Young Master Christopher, you must know what happens if you defy your father.” And there goes Yuriko’s final warning along with Chan dashing out of the archive, straight through the hallway and the front door of the mansion, completely vanishing in the white curtain of December snow.

Yuriko murmurs something under her breath, unintended for you to hear her. You continue staring forward, the file in your hands completely forgotten. “He can come home with me,” you say without actually thinking about it until she turns to stare at you, expressionless before breaking into a fit of giggles.

“I think Young Master would like that.”

With that, you set off to find Chan.

“No one will love you unconditionally like we do.” “You belong to us, so do as we say.” “Work to kill, kill or you’ll die. You were born to kill, it’s a gift that not everyone receives.” “The world will bow before you and sway the way you want it but you’ll have to-”

“I don’t want any of that,” Chan hisses but the voices keep coming back louder, harsher, with more bite than he has ever heard from them. “None of you ever gave me anything that matters! You just can’t admit that you made me a murderer!!” 

The snow around him sinks with each step he takes, their words still echoing in his mind and sending shivers down his spine, driven so deeply inside his skull that he wishes he could have nothing of this reality. “Be mindful of yourself. Control it.” “Your fangs and claws are too sharp for you to be swinging just at anyone,” he hears them again

His nose burns in the cold but Chan doesn’t notice something warm and wet trickle down his cheekbones. “You never cared about restraint. You said I must kill or I would die. You all just want to possess me, you want me not as an heir but as a commodity!!”

“It’s how we’ve been running this family. It’s how we keep things in order. You’re one of us, Christopher, you are this family.”

With a huff, Chan eventually gives in and listens because he has no other choice but to; he slides down against concrete with a white-out vision, a quivering figure with nothing on but his cardigan. “Then you’re just as godawful as any of them,” he tells himself, knees curling against his chest, almost justified in his own lie that he wants to burst out laughing.

Chan knows they have made him more of a weapon than a child, more of a monster than a man and he is stuck with it for good. He has been holding onto life just because he can, not so much that he wants to. Because he never truly wanted anything before or was wanted in any way.

“Oh my god, you’re a fucking man-child!”

He hears someone’s nagging from afar and ignores it, hugging himself impossibly tighter because asking for comfort is unacceptable, they taught him so. “Chan!!” He hopes it goes away with all of the other voices. 

It doesn’t. Instead, it comes closer in a humane form, boots crunching against the snow and warm breaths sounding rhythmically. “It’s been an hour. Do you have any idea how worried we all were- how worried I was?! What the actual hell,” you snap. “Now I’m going to hear all this shit from Seungmin again because I let you run off and he’s too terrified of you to properly lecture you. God-”

Your rambles cut off when you kneel down next to him, rummaging for a scarf, a pair of gloves, yet another pair of gloves, his puffer jacket, and a hat from your bag. Chan quietly watches as he tries to blink away the oncoming tears but he can’t—they keep coming. He doesn’t reply when your scolding goes on because even though your voice is sharp, Chan can catch the worry hidden along the edges. Being cared for and cherished like this has made him realize how much he doesn’t want to come back to his family and he wants to cry like he’s the fourteen-year-old boy who used to refuse to pick up a gun all over again.

A child who was unable to stuff down the overwhelming agony and grief forced upon him. A child who was weaponized. A child who was threatened into killing his own mother. “If you can’t kill what you hold near and dear, you’ll never be able to kill anyone to save yourself.”

“Chan?” you call out to him, unbearably soft. There’s a certainty, a sort of gentleness in the way his name is said that only makes his tears come hotter, more and more of it because your love feels big, overwhelming.

Chan hates crying so he never did, not when they had locked him up in his room, not when they had starved him because of his disobedience, not when they had made him pull the trigger with the gun’s mouth pressing against his mother’s chest. Chan hates crying but it seems to be all he’s doing now. 

You’re wrapping him up so gently and trying to warm him up because you know he’s just as human as any mundane individual out there. Humans shiver when the temperature drops, they shed tears when they’re upset, and they bleed and bruise at the right amount of impact. That’s why humans are so clingy toward each other so they can prevent harm from coming the other person’s way. Because no one enjoys getting hurt and there is no good reason to voluntarily get hurt; it sounds like common sense but Chan never grew up with such things. He never came to think he was deserving of such things.

“Chan, come home with me. Forget your family. I don’t need to know about them,” you smile at him, somehow empathetic and so understanding when Chan has barely given you an explanation, when he is desperate to fill the silence but he knows his voice will be weak with tears, stumbling, and pitching all over the place.

Chan sniffles, finding the courage to say something back because he wants to, not because he feels like he has to, “Can I really…come-come home with you?”

“I’m sure the girls wouldn't mind, they might be a little annoying. Yeji, though, can be wary of strangers,” you shrug, something so relaxed about your posture tells him that you have learned to accept something without telling him. 

A breathy chuckle. “Especially when they’re a mafia leader.”

An exhale. Chan shudders when you embrace him wholly—every moment of pride and arrogance, betrayal and hurt that he has been boxing away—as the beautiful mess that he is. You’re the safest person on the face of Earth not because you are on equal terms with him in power but because you never care about those things. You will let him break something, burn something down, cry, and laugh however he pleases but you won’t ever let go of his hand. You never ask him for anything in return while continuing to save him over and over again.

He’s so unbelievably lucky, Chan thinks but doesn’t say it aloud, instead, he tells you, “If you’ll have me.”

The night after you drive Chan back to your mansion, the place goes up in flames. Only you are able to open your eyes to see the next daylight.

“Welcome home,” you want to whisper but can only watch a last smile bloom on the face of a ghost amidst the orange blaze.

third attempt —

You decide to come home with Chan.

For a non-mafia family, it might go like this.

Meeting Chan’s parents will be the hardest thing you have ever done—and that is coming from someone who has broken through the world’s most modern security systems and got your hands on objects worth billions of dollars. 

You will bow when you meet them, use the politest speech you have taught yourself last minute, and desperately try not to remember how Chan was forced to shoot his own mother as a child. They will pinch your cheek and call you lovely, chuckling at how stiff you are and offering you a ‘Come on in! Don’t mind the mess, it’s always how our house is.’

You will smile and you will play along because you want them to like you so badly it hurts. 

Chan will gawk at you without even trying to hide it because you have given him a completely different experience upon your first encounter. Casual, timid, and quick with your tongues when it comes to those witty retorts.

They will then ask you, ‘‘What are your hobbies? Any sports? Instruments?’’ Purely in the Asian parents’ style. 

You will be so nervous that you forget you play the violin and practice meditation occasionally. You will sit at their dinner table in their cozy, lived-in home, and rack your brain for a proper answer that might be deemed reasonable for a mundane girl. “It can be anything you do for fun, honey. No need to be nervous,” they will say again and you will give them a small grimace in return. 

It’s probably deeply fucked up when the first thing that comes to your mind is ‘I retired from heists a year ago because museums are fucking boring so I have moved on to finding new and creative ways to eliminate anything that might be the cause of Chan’s suffering.’

“…You play the violin beautifully,” Chan will suggest quietly beside you, his hand laced with yours beneath the table. “And you interrupt my reading time whenever you need attention.”

“I…I like to be with you,” you will finally find the courage to say with a firm squeeze of his hand, and the strength to smile when his eyes widen faintly, flustered yet not surprised. 

Still, it doesn’t matter whether Chan was born from a mafia family. You don’t hesitate to hold his hand beneath the table when Chan tenses up from the disappointed gaze of his father, lean over ever so slightly, and whisper, “I like to be with you.” He almost gasps but refrains. “Wherever we are. As long as you allow me to stay by your side.”

For once, Chan lets himself think that he won’t fuck up something before he even gets to have it in his arms. 

You did come home with Chan even if the dinner is anything but cozy and mundane. Their smiles are cold porcelain, a familiarity with death so staggering you feel nauseous. They are all here, though. Every single one of them. “I’ll be back,” you say and excuse yourself to use the restroom, he assumes.

Chan finds an uneasy slick in his throat, almost thick like blood when he sees a bright thing in your eyes. He lets you go anyway. Will things happen differently if he holds you back? 

Minutes after your withdrawal from the dinner table, an explosion goes off downstairs. The mansion quivers with a long string of rumble, a horrible feeling looming over everyone in the room like an ugly shadow. Though, no one bats an eye. Maintaining such a high position in the Underworld for so long is more than enough for the bounty on each of their heads to go up to millions of dollars. 

As much as Chan detests his blood family, he doesn’t want to die here, a horrendous place for his corpse to be found. So he stands as the rest of the room begins arming themselves, doing his best not to pay any heed to his father, and bolts downstairs. 

In situations like this, he is taught to close his heart and kill. Hence why there was barely any screaming when the commotion occurred, only the metallic sounds of bullets being clicked into their chamber. Truth be told, there is a weapon vault on the main floor of the mansion. Chan knows the most efficient shortcut there and can run through any hallways even without any lights on. He did grow up in this terrible place, and now he will make use of that to get you out of here before anything else. 

Chan arrives at the main floor and there is nothing but a giant hole and crumbled metal pieces in the weapon vault—or what used to be the weapon vault, blown up by a bomb it seems. Well, shit, he doesn’t even know how to register this. The entrance to his father’s most treasured place in the mansion has a three-layered door with an extremely lethal surveillance system, who and how the fuck-

He stops. He doesn’t so much as twitch. It gives him a moment of pure chill when the main floor has gone completely muted, both audibly and visually, like his life has just tipped off balance and leaned towards the bad part of a zombie movie. Upstairs, there is a cry for help and the sound of bullets continuously firing. 

“My fucking god,” Chan curses and turns on his heels, steeling himself mentally while rushing up the stairs. 

Upon arriving at the scene, it’s difficult to say whether turning up just five minutes earlier would have made much of a difference. Fuck, but if he had held you back, would things have taken a different turn?

There is a lot of blood. Too much blood to be explained away, and too much evidence to be traced back to no one else other than you. Well, to be fair, you’re the only person still standing and kicking aside from Chan anyway. The shotgun in your hand with a silencer attached speaks volumes, a knife between your teeth, and your left hand is fisted tightly. 

“…Y-Y/N,” Chan utters, in disbelief. “You’re Y/N, aren’t you?” 

You release something in your left hand and several fifteen-bullet magazines drop to the ground, the sound scratching his spine in the wrong way. The knife also hits the ground, metal echoing loudly against hard marble. 

“You’re here, Chan,” you reply, like your hands and clothes aren’t painted red. Swiftly, you duck to fumble for something beneath the dining table. Chan’s gaze follows you suit, prompting uneasiness to crawl down his throat when he realizes everything is, quite literally, drenched in blood. When he manages to snap out of it, you are unwrapping something from a white blanket—Berry, his eight-year-old Spaniel. 

You don’t look one bit surprised to see him—you have been expecting him. You simply keep on tucking Berry neatly into the blanket, murmuring something along the lines of ‘it’s over now’ and ‘I’m sorry I scared you’. Berry offers you a small whimper in return, still startled and recovering from the loud ruckus. 

Chan inhales very slowly. Exhales. “What did you do?”

“I killed everyone here,” you say levelly, as if mass murder is no big deal. “You’re a little late. I thought your intuition would be keener than that.”

“This is no time for a fucking joke,” he snaps. Chan has snapped because he’s mad at himself. He has been living purely by his intuition for more than two decades already, without it he would have died a long time ago. Yet when it comes to you, he’s always the most irrational. 

Your lips twitch like you’re about to smile but realize he’s upset. “You’re right, sorry.” 

Chan moves further into the room, his shoes squelching with each blood-drenched step he takes. He takes the scene in once again and keeps calm because that is what he has trained himself to do ever since the first time he got kidnapped. When his gaze brushes over the corpse of his father, he tries not to think about anything just yet. What’s done is done but Chan can piece the scene together from the explosion downstairs—a bait that anyone will be eager to take and a good way to disarm your enemies—to the scattering of hole-filled bodies, their blood blooming against the marble floor like a grotesque bouquet.

The crux of it is you know all too well he will run to find you without question, lending you the space and time to kill whoever remains.

“Why?”

Your eyes sweep over the mass of bodies, dull and distant. “Does it really matter?” You don’t think it’s fair to say you did it because you love him; it will become a curse that haunts him for as long as he lives. Yes, you love Chan with your entire soul but you also simply want to act as you please, allowing yourself to have your selfish ways of declaring your love for him. 

His chest heaves without any stability. “I thought you said you’re used to taking many things but you don’t take lives!!”

You cut right in, all glass. “Will anyone be able to do anything about it? Can anyone possibly arrest me, Chan?” 

Chan shudders, a sour thing gnawing at the back of his throat. It’s a morbid feeling he knows will become recurring at night, on the bad days. Chan wants to be furious, it feels like a moral obligation to be. Then again, everything the world has learned about empathy is already torn up by his family, they smeared it beneath their feet like it’s common trash. In the end, all of his nightmares and source of fear amounts to this, a mass of corpses with no resolution. 

“Do you want to kill me, Chan? If so, do it. You’re your own person, you are free.” 

Your eyes have turned into ice, and suddenly you have become so intangible that Chan slowly grows afraid. He thinks of terrible things, Am I allowed to have you? What makes you want me so badly? Why am I different from any of them?

The sound of retching interrupts his train of thought. It takes him precisely half a second to stare at how you are folded over your knees, dry heaving at the marble floor with Berry fumbling for help right at your side. Chan rushes to you to keep your hair out of your face as you gasp for air, choking on stomach bile and body raking with shudders. Once his hand smooths over the fabric on your back, you eventually cough and hack out the last of whatever is left that your system rejects. 

You breathe as shallowly as you can. Quiet wheezes, hollow breaths that pull in and out of your lungs too quickly. Chan rubs small, gentle circles on your back and doesn’t expect it when you snap up to look at him with wide, pained eyes as though you didn’t just murder his entire family in cold blood minutes ago, like you didn’t just take out the Underworld’s most feared lineage of demons by yourself.

Chan decides not to say anything, lets you lean into him shakily, and tries to figure out what you’re attempting to do with your hands. Dry blood makes your skin itchy every time your fingers twitch but you don’t mind it. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he finally whispers with you sitting in the circle of his arms; you’re shaking like you’re sobbing even though you make no noise and cry no tears. Chan lets you squirm with a wild mania in your eyes, frantic and lost. He can’t quite pinpoint what you want until he gets it. 

You stop shaking the moment your head leans against the left side of his chest, right where his beating heart is. A pattern in his rib cage and a rhythm in your ears, relief so immense you feel like you can finally breathe. What you want is just to hear the sound of his heartbeat. It makes Chan feel a little exposed, somewhat scrutinized but he really doesn’t mind taking himself apart to hand his heart over to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your tone wet and warm with oncoming tears. 

Chan presses his lips into a thin line, feeling like a hypocrite when he keeps you caged in his arms. “What are you sorry for, silly?” From the bottom of his heart, it’s abominable, he thinks—that even amidst such gruesome bloodshed created by your own hands, Chan is relieved that you are not hurt.

“I’m sorry this isn’t real.”

fourth attempt —

Chan is coming home with you. The childhood home you used to grow up in with two extremely loving, a little too oblivious parents who never once questioned their daughter’s occupation in the big city. 

It takes time to adjust but Chan is sliding into your little family without noticing it himself. He manages to impress your mom with his cooking and discusses politics with your dad. You might be going delusional but you swear you saw him chuckling faintly at your parents’ terrible taste of reality TV. 

The house might only amount to one-tenth of his mansion but it smells like fresh laundry all around, tender and soft, smothered in the love of ordinary human beings. So everything just feels that much bigger, a love so warm and overwhelming it stains Chan’s eyes with unfamiliar myriads of emotions. It takes him a few days to finally laugh a little louder, not refraining his speech to specifically formal phrases, and allowing himself to nag you in front of your parents. He even makes a sound of disbelief when you keep telling them he’s only a friend from work.

“Oh my god, why are you so salty about it,” you chide and close your bedroom door. “If I had said you’re my boyfriend, they would have started interrogating you!” 

Chan sits on the duvet you have laid on the floor for him—your childhood bed is too small to share—and mumbles something morbid under his breath, “I am quite good at tolerating any methods of torture thank you very much.” However, he doesn’t miss the look your parents give you whenever you bid them goodnight with Chan hovering over you in a way that’s nowhere near platonic.

You snort, actually, no, it’s too bitter for you to even react. “The worst they will do is leave you out when we watch TV,” you grin to relieve the inevitably building tension, shit-eating and all.

“That’s cruel. You know I love reality TV,” Chan replies, completely monotone. He flings an arm over his eyes like he’s putting in effort to mimic a dying body trying to convey his love in a Shakespeare play. Wrestling with like ten other housewives to buy those eggs on sale for your mom was more of a workout than any gun fights he has engaged in.

“Sleep. Mom said we’re going outside tomorrow,” you huff, tossing him a teddy bear from your bed—the amount of stuffed animals you own is impressive, they easily take up half of your bed so Chan had to accept his fate with the duvet. 

“I thought we’re heading back?”

“We will after going out with her. She said she wanted something from the bakery.”

Chan hums in response, his gaze skimming over the interior of your room again. Light pink wallpapers, white bookshelves and wardrobe lining the corners, and soft hues of blue on your bed and curtains to top it all off. “Truly, you are the designer of a generation.”

“Toddlers usually don’t like black. And I was eight, Chan, shut the fuck up,” you laugh, the sound so hearty it makes him want to bottle it and keep it all to himself like a child hiding his favorite candy. 

“Hurts my eyes a little, but I like it,” he declares and unwinds for the day.

You never realize you don’t really walk around town every time you visit your parents. Maybe it’s because you didn’t have many friends growing up, meaning there’s no one to call up for a hangout, or maybe it’s because all of the memories you want to relive here are with your parents, in the warmth of their home. So you walk down the sleepy streets with laziness on your shoulders, somewhat at peace when Chan can’t seem to keep his eyes in one place, secretly comparing the imageries of bright, colorful Seoul with this hazy rural area.

“What is that place over there?” He asks when you stride past a sketchy-looking building when in reality, it’s a spa run by this really nice old lady upstairs.

“Did you go to school here?” He ponders when you glance at what looks like a middle school; no kids are running and shouting in the playground since it’s the New Year holiday. 

Your mom notices how much curiosity Chan has for an apparent mid-twenties young adult so she giggles, offering to point out something she thinks he might be interested in, “That’s a small park Y/N used to play at. She wouldn’t leave when I came to pick her up after work.”

You can’t decide if you should scowl at your mom or burst out laughing at her implication that Chan, the leader of a notorious mafia group, should go and sit on one of the swings while she heads inside the bakery. “Come on, Chan,” you quickly make your choice. 

Chan sighs, though the sound is fond because he sees a sort of excitement blooming loud and clear in your pretty eyes. You have observed Chan long enough to know when he has given in so you laugh, turning to your mom and saying, “We’ll be back in a minute.” The familiar promise melts Chan inside out but he doesn’t tell you that. 

You accidentally drop your phone while walking down the stone steps so you turn away for half a second. And when you look back, Chan is seated neatly on the swing which is definitely not fitting for his age—his long legs dragging against the soil as his arms are crossed in front of his chest. As serious as he tries to look, you find the whole imagery so ridiculously unserious. He senses your gaze burning holes on the back of his neck so he stands, reaches upward, and lifts himself to sit on the metal bar that the chains rain down from.

“Chan, what the fuck, that’s not how you use a swing,” you chide, nearly rolling on the ground and barking a laugh. “If I take a photo of you right now, how dead am I?”

Chan doesn’t even need to turn his head. “What do you think?”

He looks down when your footsteps squish against the snow and he tries to imagine how a little you would hang around this place for an entire afternoon, up to no good things while waiting for your mom. “Concise as always, boss,” you purse your lips at him, nostalgia a heavy weight on the curve of your shoulders as you peer over places you used to designate as your hiding spots. 

Chan catches something shifting on your face and he ponders; why would you voluntarily involve yourself in outlaw doings when you could have had a perfectly normal life? “When did you start stealing?” 

“Probably when my parents sent me away for university. I hated it. School was hard and the expenses were awful for their bank accounts but they wouldn’t tell me that,” you mutter and decide to join him, legs dangling over the edges, a confession dragged from your lips unwillingly. 

Chan scoots a little closer, a hand reaching over to your left side to keep you from falling. “And you figured you were pretty good at it?”

“Nothing to be proud of, obviously,” you shake your head and can’t help a small grin. “Okay, maybe just a little. I was making money from racing on the side as well.” 

It takes him a moment to register your words when surprise halts the words in his throat. No wonder you’re better at handling car chases than any of his teammates who have been involved in this business for years. You look over at him, seeing that he’s having trouble reacting so you pinch his nose teasingly, “I know, so sexy, ain’t it?” 

Chan rolls his eyes, neglects the warmth spreading on his cheeks, and simply sits with you. The swing creaks and groans beneath the weight of two adults, rust staining his hand when he lifts it to check. 

“It was enough money for me to graduate and I was fine with that. Mind you I was always the top of my class,” you scoff, thinking of long days when you used to get little to no sleep, of when you had mustered the best smiles for your parents through FaceTime, of how you had begun not caring for how much money the jewels you had stolen were worth. 

None of it matters anymore, you think as you lean into Chan, and he lets you. “I’ll guess this, you were homeschooled?”

Chan doesn’t answer immediately as realization tightens his ribs. You don’t talk about home or how you grew up, and Chan doesn’t talk about his parents. Perhaps you both are similar in that way so neither of you mind when the other person never initiated it. “I was. Everything I ever learned was taught in that forsaken mansion. Most of it, actually.”

“Everything?”

“You can’t run away from what you’re surrounded with,” he says, and there’s a chilling edge to it, an icy kind of shiver that makes your fingers more numb than the winter cold ever can. 

“Chan, you’re not them,” you declare out of the blue, eyes crinkling up in adoration. “You are free, okay? No matter how hard they try to ruin you, you can’t become them.”

When you look up again, his eyes have a glassy shine when he says, “I know that now.”

“Don’t cry,” you huff out a breath.

“I’m not crying,” Chan shakes his head slowly, voice suspiciously shaky. “I guess I just thought you had a lot to live for and I was…you know, it was arrogant of me to keep you by my side.”

You laugh, a sharp, crisp bark of a sound that cuts right through his doubts. “Who do you think you’re talking to? If I wanted to run, I would have and no one could catch me, not now, not ever.”

“Well, I did,” Chan retorts, though there is no bite to it.

“Only because I let you,” you play along sedately. It’s the soft hum of your voice that makes breathing for him feel easier, and his shoulders feel lighter. When Chan exhales, it no longer tastes like the unfathomable, untouchable nightmares that he was so used to choke down, swallow, and not allow himself to throw them up as proof to show anyone else. 

Your mom returns perhaps in about an hour, a box tucked in her arms and groceries hanging from her elbow. “Time to go back,” she yells from the top of the stone steps. “We need to cook dinner, kids!”

You don’t dare budge. Chan notices it and nudges your shoulder gently, sensing your discontent. “You heard your mom, come on now.”

“I don’t want to go back,” you disagree. “Let’s stay here. I want to go to the beach with you when it gets warmer. And diving, kayaking, too!”

“You told me to leave my credit cards back home. You’ll have to feed me and pay all of my expenses,” Chan reminds you.

“Guess what, I left mine at home too,” you reply breezily. Maybe you both need to find new jobs. You don’t think Chan should worry about that because there’s nothing that he can’t do if he puts his mind to it, he’s just that great. Chan is the greatest thing there is, the best thing that has ever happened to you.

You watch rosy lips part, brown eyes widening as his grip on your shoulder falters faintly. “I don’t deserve good things, Y/N. I can’t stay here with you,” Chan says like he means it. “Tell me to leave.” He really is stupid until the very end.

“If you’re worried about that, I’ll kindly decline my spot in heaven and go to hell with you,” you assure him, your voice chirping with mirth but even that doesn’t seem to elevate his gloom at all. A groan. “Fine then, as the most wonderful person alive, I now denounce us of all our wrongdoings. And I announce us to be the best of normal friends as normal people!”

His solemn expression crumbles and now he just looks straight up insulted. “It’s supposed to be ‘husband and wife’,” Chan nags while fighting off a grin of his own.

A light feeling burgeons in your chest. “I thought you didn’t care about that kind of thing? We’re already doing laundry and taxes together, right? It’s not like we have enough money to buy the rings either.”

“I suppose I’ll have no say in that,” Chan sighs in defeat, finally smiling brightly as he reminds himself of what he has, and what he wants to become for you. “But I like to be with you as well. If you’ll have me.”

You look back at him, wanting nothing more than to burn those words into the flesh of your heart. “I already have you right here, don’t I?”

Because Chan’s existence is etched deeply somewhere inside your soul. And you love him everyday for that.

❖ note (yet again) : hello there, if you have reached the end, thank you so much for reading! I wish 2024 will bring you and your loved ones nothing but happiness and great health! (no one asked but I really tried to simplify their speech of affection towards each other here compared to illicit & priceless because all they really want is to be normal people living a normal life)

[kaleldobrev]

Lookin’ at the Stars

Pairing: Beau Arlen x Mom!Reader

Summary: Beau takes you and your daughter out on a special family date to look at the night sky

Original Prompt: Requested by @deansbbyx | I don’t think Beau Arlen gets a lot of love so I was thinkin som fluffy family fic with him and reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: A whole lot of fluff

Authors Note: So this is my first time writing for Beau and I hope I was able to do his character justice! | Thanks to my lovely friend @thatonewriter15 for beta reading this for me | I hope this came out just as fluffy as you were hoping my friend! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You woke up groaning to the sound of your alarm. 6am on the dot. For as long as you could remember you’ve never been a morning person; but that quickly changed once you had Amelia — your daughter who, despite being a pain in your side sometimes and thinks she’s attached to your hip, is honestly one of the best things that’s ever happened to you.

Once you had her, you had to become a morning person much to your dismay. In the beginning it was hard as prior to having her you never got up before 9am as you worked afternoon shifts — there was simply no reason to get up at 6 or 7am. But once the two of you developed a routine it became easier; the two of you working as teammates.

But today, for some reason, it felt even harder for you to get up. You felt drained, your eyes were still heavy, all you wanted more than anything was to get back to sleep. Your alarm went off again and you tried your hardest not to throw your phone across the room. With another groan, you shut off your alarm and got out of bed slowly, the hardwood flooring of your apartment felt cold against your feet. As soon as your feet touched the wood there was a knock on the door. Another groan left your lips; Amelia jumped out of bed and started running down the hall.

“Don’t worry mommy I got the door!” She beamed, her little feet smacking against the wood.

“Mel, let mom get the door okay?” You said, rushing out your bedroom door.

“But what if it’s —”

“It’s not him Sweetheart. He doesn’t come over this early you know that.” You said, and her face dropped. “Don’t be sad Sweetie. I know you want to see him, I want to too. But we’re probably not going to see him until later when he’s done with work.”

“At the Sheriffs office!” Amelia said, happy with herself that she remembered.

“Yes, at the Sheriffs office.” You smiled, slightly praising her.

Another knock came at the door and there was a part of you that was getting a little mad at the persistentness. It was 6 in the morning — who could possibly be coming at this hour? “Special delivery!” You knew that voice from anywhere, and it a matter of seconds that annoyance you had melted away.

Amelia looked at you, hands on her hips. “Told you it was your boyfriend!” She said, sticking her tongue out at you. You stuck your tongue out at her back, and she couldn’t help but giggle. Once opening the door you didn’t even have a chance to greet your boyfriend before Amelia was running past you to get to him. “Beau!” She called, and without warning jumped into his arms.

Not fully prepared for her to do that, the bag of what you assumed to be food almost fell out of his hands as he wrapped his arms around her, making sure she didn’t fall out of his arms. “Hey Kiddo,” he said, his voice in a similar joyful tone as hers was in. “How we doin’ this mornin’?” He asked, his accent a little bit more prominent than usual.

Amelia looked at him, her arms around his neck. “Good now that you’re here!” She beamed — you couldn’t help but agree with her answer.

Beau looked at you and smiled, and you couldn’t help but look at the two of them; happy that he had taken an instant liking to Amelia (and vice versa). “How about you darlin’?”

“You know I’m always happy to see you.” You grinned.

“You better be. Because I come bearing gifts.” He stated holding up a white paper bag.

“If that gift is food you are more than welcome to come inside.” You teased. “Let me take that since you’re too busy with your favorite.” You said, gently tickling your daughter in her side as she wriggled.

“Mom! Stop!” She laughed.

“Okay, okay.” You said kissing her on the cheek. “And one for you,” you said as you gave him a quick peck.

“Gross!” Amelia said.

“So, what brings you here so early? You never come this early.” You said, taking a sip of your orange juice.

“I uh, I took the day off actually.” He said, and you couldn’t help but look at him with disbelief.

“You? You took the day off?” You asked. “You never do that.”

“Yeah well, first time for everything.” He said. “Jenny insisted.”

“Ah.” Was all you said before taking a giant bite out of your breakfast wrap.

“I like her. She’s always so nice to me. And her hair is really pretty.” Amelia chimed in, mouth full of waffles. “Mommy when are you going to hang out with her again?”

“Probably this weekend Sweetheart. But we have to see, you know how busy she can be.” You stated; Amelia’s face dropped. “But I’m sure as soon as I mention you she’ll try and rush over.” You winked, causing her to smile. “You know how much she adores you.”

“Oh she sure does.” Beau let out a small chuckle. “I was thinking, you two don’t have any plans today right? Well, besides school for this one.”

“Not that I can think of. Why? What did you have in mind?” You asked curious.

“I was thinking, if you two are up for it, we could find a nice empty field somewhere, take some chairs, make some food, make a fire, watch the night sky.” He said, his voice sounding a tad nervous. It almost sounded more nervous than it did when he initially asked you out on your first date a few months ago.

“So camping without the camping?” You clarified.

“Essentially yes.” He said. “Think of it as a…family date night.”

“Family date night?” You smiled, loving the sound of that.

“That sounds like fun!” Amelia almost yelled. The only reason it didn’t come out as a yell was because her mouth was still full of waffles.

“What she said.” You said pointing to Amelia.

“Okay mommy how do I look?” Your daughter asked as she did a small spin to showcase her outfit. Like usual, she decided that she wanted to wear something sparkly for the occasion as she believed wearing something with sparkles was the epitome of fashion — reasons why she somehow convinced you to wear something sparkly on your first date with Beau, thankfully he found it cute.

“As cute as always Sweetie.” You said. “How about me?” You too did a similar type of spin as her as you showcased your outfit. It wasn’t sparkling (much to your daughters dismay), but you thought it matched her outfit well.

“You look beautiful mommy!” She said, side hugging you.

“Thanks Bean.” You said kissing her on the top of the head. “Now, I need you to make me a promise tonight okay?” You began as you kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

“No promises but I can try.” She grinned — she was becoming more and more like you each day.

You let out a small laugh. “I appreciate the honesty.” You smiled. “But, it’s gonna be a little chilly tonight so I need you to keep the jacket on okay?”

“But won’t the fire keep us warm?” She asked.

“Yes, but, we still need to keep our jackets on. You know why? Because it’ll keep us even extra warm.” You smiled.

“Okay.” Amelia said, a little disappointed.

“Can we shake on it?” You asked, now holding out your hand for her to shake.

“It’s a promise.” The two of you said in unison as you shook hands.

The drive to the field went like a blur but it was filled with song after song of you and Amelia singing to the radio as Beau chimed in during random verses. And like Amelia fashion, she found it the funniest thing whenever Beau would chime in, as he wouldn’t be as serious about getting the lyrics right like you and her tried to do.

As soon as Beau parked, Amelia went straight to the door handle trying to open the door. “Open the door! Open the door!” Her patience running thin.

“Alright alright. Don’t worry it’s not a race.” Beau said, his voice calm.

“Sorry sorry. I’m just excited.” Amelia said as she removed her hand from the door handle.

As you were about to speak to reassure her that she didn’t need to apologize Beau did it for you. “No need to apologize Bean. I’m glad you’re excited.” He leaned in. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yes.” She leaned in too, whispering.

“I’m excited too.” He smiled, whispering back. “Alright, I’ll open the door in five. Want to give me a countdown?”

Amelia kicked her feet with excitement. “Yes! One…two…three…four…five!” As soon as your daughter said five, Beau unlocked the doors and Amelia — without hesitation, opened the door and jumped out of the car.

As you watched her get out of the car and run into the empty field you pulled into, you couldn’t help but watch her as she ran around in circles occupying herself. Turning to Beau you smiled. “Thanks for this.” You said, placing your hand on his cheek.

“No need to thank me. I wanted to do this.” He reassured you, placing his hand on your thigh.

“I know but…I really do mean it. I really appreciate you doing this for Amelia…for me.”

“I’d do anything for both of you. You know that.” He gave your thigh a squeeze.

“I love you.” You said, slightly whispering.

“Love you too.” He said, leaning in and kissing you. “Come on, let’s go get her before she burns the field down.”

You grinned. “You know she would if she could.”

“Well, I don’t plan on making any arrests tonight. Well…not until later tonight.” He winked. “And with…permission of course ma’am.”

“Permission granted.” You winked back, the two of you kissing again.

“Okay so I brought your second favorite thing besides waffles.” Beau began as he started reaching into a bag next to him. As he grabbed the bag he pointed at Amelia. “No peaking.”

“No peaking!” She repeated back shutting her eyes and placing her hands over them.

“Are you peaking?” He asked her and then looked over at you.

“She keeps her word.” You said rubbing your hands together over the fire.

“Alright. I trust you.” He said. “Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, not even putting any of his fingers up.

“Beau!” Amelia couldn’t help but let out the biggest giggle. It was the type of giggle you hadn’t heard her have in such a long time — and that was something that genuinely made you smile.

“Alright alright.” He said. “Open your eyes.” As her eyes opened he held the bag of marshmallows in his hand and her eyes light up like Christmas tree lights.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She exclaimed getting up from her chair and running toward Beau with her hands out. Before she asked her next question she looked over at you, slight puppy dog eyes. “Mommy can I have one now?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Ask Beau Sweetheart.”

She turned to him, her hands still out. “May I have a marshmallow please?”

“Well, you did say please.” He said opening the bag. “Just one, because we’re going to make s’mores in a few.” He placed a marshmallow in her hand, her face continued to beam with joy.

“Thank you!” She said placing the entire marshmallow in her mouth.

“You want one?” He asked, a marshmallow between his pointer finger and thumb looking at you.

“Sure. What will it cost me?” You asked, getting up from your own chair and walking toward him.

“Hmmm,” he was deep in thought. “Kiss me?”

“I can do that.” You leaned down, your hands on either side of his face as you kissed him.

“Ewwww.” You heard Amelia say from a few feet away. “Adults are gross.” She said, scrunching her face in disgust.

The two of you pulled away and you took the marshmallow from his hands. “Sorry Mel, we’ll be more careful.” Beau said, giving you a look of amusement.

As the night went on, things started to wind down and it was finally getting to one of your favorite parts of the night: looking up at the night sky. Although it was something the three of you were doing a majority of the night between the laughing, story telling, and food eating, this was the first time the three of you weren’t doing anything but looking up at the sky.

“You know, I’ve lived here all my life and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at the sky.” You said, Beau’s arm around you now as Amelia made herself comfortable lying on a combination of not only your lap but Beau’s.

“It really is beautiful,” he agreed. “You know, as much as I love Texas, I’ll give Montana this, it does have some beautiful views.” He said looking at you as he said it.

You felt yourself blush at his compliment. “The views have definitely gotten better since you came to town.”

“Are you two going to kiss now?” Amelia said, looking up at the both of you.

“We could but, you do think it’s gross.” Beau commented.

“I’ll allow it.” Amelia said.

Beau and you exchanged looks. “You sure Bean?” You asked.

“I’m sure mommy. I’ll even close my eyes.” She said covering her eyes with her hands. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You and Beau let out small laughs. “With the permission of Amelia, can I kiss you darlin’?” He asked slightly leaning in.

“Yes you may.” You said, leaning in as well.

“Are you two kissing?” Amelia asked her eyes still closed. “Cause it doesn’t sound like it.”

Beau and you looked at Amelia, both of you holding back a laugh. “Come ‘ere.” You said, fully leaning in now and kissing him.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @deansbbyx @justletmereadfanfic If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[hard-core-super-star]

Hiya, may I request something for Kate bishop.

(Peter could be rs cousin or something.) Reader (who is spiderwoman and dating Kate), Kate and Yelena help Peter Parker (T. Holland) with the villains from the other earth's and as a result green goblin ends up killing aunt May and she seeks out revenge for may and almost kills green goblin but Yelena and kate stop her. (Oh, and Peter is the only one who is forgotten)

no such thing as good grief [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x parker!reader

summary: you always knew being a superhero came with a long list of dangers but it turns out you weren't quite ready to deal with someone else suffering for your mistakes.

warnings: major character death; heavy mentions of blood + injuries + grief; a huge serving of angst with a side of hurt/comfort, a dash of humor, and a sprinkle of plot; weird descriptions of fight scenes

wordcount: 3.2k

a/n: i probably should have rewatched no way home for this but shhh. any inconsistencies are just part of this other timeline because i said so and the MCU timeline is incredibly messy anyway. i very clearly got way too attached and wrote way too much but whoops, hope you enjoy <3 [also yes, may is R's mom in this but somewhere along the way, i resorted to just calling her 'may' instead 'mom' because I didn't want it to get too repetitive]

* * * * * * *

Nobody ever said being an Avenger was easy.

Especially now that most members are either dead, retired, off-world, or just simply unreachable. Nobody wanted to address the fact that the safety of planet Earth now rests solely in the hands of a bunch of college students and a Russian ex-assassin.

Of course, there’s still Dr. Strange and his merry band of sorcerers, including Wong, but it seems the only thing that man can successfully protect is his massive ego. It’s harsh, sure, but that doesn’t make it any less true. 

Although, maybe you’re just bitter that Stephen’s soft spot for your cousin ultimately got you tangled in a mess you had no business being in. 

A crack in the multiverse is bad enough but it being caused by one of Stephen's failed spells is even worse.

And of course, Peter's seniority when it comes to being part of a superpowered team means when he calls, you answer. There’s also the fact that he’s family and your mom would absolutely lecture you if you ignored him…again.

You really wanted to sit this one out but there was no way your girlfriend was going to let you. You tried all the tricks you knew to convince her but ultimately, her and Yelena ended up dragging you out of your apartment to help Peter fix his multiversal disaster.

“So, your plan to defeat these villains is to…not defeat them?” You question. “In what universe does that make sense?”

“Don’t be a jerk, y/n/n,” Kate mumbles.

You playfully roll your eyes at the archer’s words, biting back a comment about how rare it is to see her actually attempting to focus on forming a plan. She’s gotten a lot better at not rushing into situations but old habits die hard.

“Actually, it’s May’s plan,” Peter says. “I know it’s unconventional but I think it could work. We’re the good guys, right?”

Yelena shoots you a look but you just shrug in response. Fighting with him will only lead to more problems that you’re not sure you’re qualified to solve. Actually, none of you are qualified for any of this.

Webs, arrows, and strong punches are not going to get you out of this one.

You swallow down your hesitation and give Peter a small nod. “Right. What do you need us to do?”

Step 1, according to your annoying Spider-Cousin, is to pick up a few materials for him while he takes the misplaced villains to Happy’s condo. You don’t love the idea of being an errand girl but you already agreed to help and there’s no way Kate will let you take your words back.

Her loyalty is as admirable as it is annoying. But at least you get to spend time driving around New York with your two favorite people. And by driving you really mean sitting in the backseat with Kate while Yelena complains about how much harder it is to drive a car than a motorcycle.

Step 1 takes about an hour to complete and it’s not until you’re all heading to Happy’s place that your girlfriend decides to question you and your lack of trust in Peter’s plan.

“Since when are you so cynical?” She asks, her arm loosely wrapped around your waist.

“Me?” The question catches you off-guard and you turn your face away from the car window to look at her instead. “I'm not the one shooting arrows through people’s limbs.”

“It’s not like I’m killing people.”

“Neither am I,” you reply with a shrug. “I'm just saying to send them back to their universe.”

“So they can die,” she says, her tone making her statement sound more like a question than anything else.

“Well…yeah.”

It sounds brutal when said out loud but it’s the logical choice. Keeping them in your universe isn’t an option and there’s no telling what kind of damage Peter’s plan will have on those other timelines.

“And you don’t think that’s cruel?”

“Should I?” You look away from Kate’s eyes before you get distracted from the conversation at hand due to the puppy-dog look they’ve been carrying the past few minutes. “Yelena, you wanna help me out here?”

“You’re gonna get the heartless Russian assassin to help you prove your point?” She asks with a chuckle.

“Ex-assasin,” the blonde corrects her. “And I am not heartless. But y/n is right. What is that stupid saying? Something about a circus?”

“Not my circus, not my monkeys.”

“Exactly.”

“Okay, so if you’re so against this plan why did you agree to it?” Kate finally asks the million-dollar question.

The answer is a lot more complicated than one would think and you’re not in the mood to explain why the plan being your mom’s idea means so much to you. So, you take a page out of the archer’s book and reply with a stupid joke instead.

“You think May would have been fine with me letting Peter run around on his own?”

Yelena’s reply is just as witty as yours. “I am only here because someone has to babysit you while y/n babysits Spider-Boy.”

“You guys are jerks.” There are notes of humor in her voice that she tries to wipe away with an overdramatic pout.

You chuckle and lean in to kiss her, ignoring Yelena’s complaints about how annoyingly in love you two are.

The moment is a welcome respite from a chaotic and difficult situation.

A situation that only gets worse with every minute that goes by.

The three of you finally arrive at Happy’s condo and are led inside by your overly chipper cousin. You try to ignore the way the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the mere sight of the supervillains scattered all around the living room.

You’re probably just being paranoid. That’s what you tell yourself until Peter lets it slip that he’s not the only person watching over the time-scattered villains.

You grab a hold of his arm and lead him away from Kate and Yelena, more for his sake than yours if you’re being honest. “What do you mean my mom is here? Why the hell would you bring her into this mess?

“I didn’t do anything!” He responds. “She wanted to help. You know how she is.”

If you had a nickel every time he used that excuse you’d be as rich as your girlfriend.

“This is different, Pete! It’s not just her bringing us snacks while we fix our web shooters, this is serious.”

“Which is exactly why she should be here. We need all the help we can get to do this. You have no problem with Kate being here, why is May different?”

It takes you a second to be able to reply, your brain not fully computing his audacity to make such a flippant comparison. “Because she’s not a superhero, you dimwit! She’s the only family I have left, I am not letting her get hurt because you convinced her to help us.”

“First of all, ouch. Second of all, relax. She can take care of herself.”

All you can really do is groan since it’s obvious no amount of arguing will get him to change his mind and help you convince May to go home. There’s also the fact that she probably wouldn’t listen to you even if you managed to get Peter on your side.

“Fine. Just tell me what to do so we can wrap up this shitshow.”

You ignore his very obvious sigh of relief and focus on lending the helping hand you promised earlier. Help that makes you ignore your growing unease and leaves you unprepared for the violent turn things take.

You’re not even sure how it happens.

One second you and Kate are arguing about how Sandman’s powers even work while Yelena and May help administer Dr. Ock’s cure and the next you’re watching Green Goblin turn the rest of the misplaced villains against all of you.

Your one and only thought is on getting your mom out of here unscathed but it quickly becomes clear you won’t be able to just swing her to safety. There’s no plan, or even time to think things through, there’s only a tense atmosphere and an inkling that things won’t go well no matter what you do.

Green Goblin’s taunts ring in your ears right as Electro blasts Dr. Ock out the window. Kate shoots you a look you can’t ignore and you hold on to the silent promise that she’ll be okay without you.

You dive out the window without a second thought, barely managing to shed your hoodie and reveal the Spider Suit hidden beneath your clothes. (Peter can keep all his fancy little upgrades, nothing beats the classic suit in your opinion)

You manage to help Dr. Ock before he slams into the ground with equal parts teamwork and a staggering amount of webs.

He assures you he’s fine once you manage to get onto a nearby roof, not so subtly doing his best to get rid of a few webs that are stuck to his clothes. You shoot him an apologetic smile before jumping off the roof and swinging back to the now blacked-out building.

You ignore the swarm of cop cars and news vans that litter the front of the building and impulsively divide to crash through a window into the lobby, figuring it’ll be faster to find May and your team this way.

You jump onto your feet after your literal crash landing only to find Kate and Peter in the middle of fighting Green Goblin. A part of you screams to run and find your mom but then Osborn kicks Kate’s bow out of her hand and your body reacts faster than your mind can even comprehend.

“Hey, asshole!” You shoot a web at his leg and yank him backward. “Get your hands off of her.”

He stumbles but doesn’t fall the way you anticipated. Instead, he turns to look at you, that chilling smirk still plastered on his face. “What is it with you Parkers and your savior complex?”

Your first instinct is to run at him but you catch the archer’s look as she runs to help a badly injured Peter. If it’s a distraction she needs, that’s exactly what you’ll provide.

“It’s part of our charming personality.”

You shrug and shoot at him again, managing to pull his focus toward the barrage of webs you send his way.

You expect to keep him occupied until Peter and Kate catch their breath but instead, May rushes out of the stairway, a bleeding Yelena trailing behind her, and she injects the so-called cure into the back of Osborn’s neck.

The cure doesn’t work. All it does is send the Green Goblin into a fit of rage.

You urge May to run in between Osborn’s taunts directed mainly at you and Peter. She doesn’t listen and you’re too distracted to notice the deadly glider that hovers just outside the window.

By the time Kate warns you it’s too late.

The blast it creates when it crashes in sends you flying onto the ground. All the air gets knocked out of your lungs from the impact but you don’t get time to lay there and recover.

You somehow manage to get back onto your feet right as Osborn sends a bomb flying your way. You just barely manage to web it and throw it to the side before it goes off, sending bits of debris raining down onto all of you.

There’s the distinct sound of Kate’s boots running toward you, Yelena’s Russian curse words, and a part of you that tells you to go check on May. There’s no chance in hell that you’re letting Green Goblin get away though so you swallow down your pain from aching joints and bleeding cuts and run after him.

You arrive outside just in time to watch him throw another bomb that you’re too slow to stop.

The explosion throws you back onto the ground and you groan as you land on a piece of glass. You’re breathless and bleeding and it’s only then that the guilt crashes into you at once.

This time, your attempt to stand is far less balanced and you stumble onto a familiar frame. “Hey, hey, easy. There’s no rush, babe.”

You happily accept Kate’s embrace, the familiarity of her comforting touch soothing some of your pain. “You okay?”

“Yeah, nothing some band-aids and a nap won’t fix.”

Hearing the usual humor in her tone brings you back to reality…which brings your mind back to your mom and the way you so recklessly rushed outside without knowing if she was injured. “How about Peter and May? They okay?”

Your girlfriend’s silence never means anything good and in this context, it makes your heart drop to your stomach in an instant. You’re about to question her again when Yelena’s voice stops you.

“We need to get out of here before the cops arrive…again.”

You push your injured body away from Kate’s, searching for the answer you don’t want to hear. “Kate…”

“I’m sorry.” She avoids your eyes as she responds. “Peter tried but it was already too late. She’s gone, y/n.”

You don’t hear anything she says after that.

It’s strange the way the world slows to a stop around you while your overwhelmed brain tries to process the Earth-shattering information. Strange how a second ago everything seemed to make sense and now you’re left gasping for breath, reaching for answers you know don’t matter.

The how, the why, the what. None of that matters. 

May is dead.

And there’s nothing you could have done to stop it despite the powers, and the gadgets, and the hours of training.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye before she-

“y/n, it’s not your fault.”

“Listen to Kate Bishop, she’s finally right for once.”

“Hey!”

Their attempt to comfort you turns into chaotic bickering but you don’t pay attention to their words. You can’t think about anything except the gaping hole in your chest that had once been full of May’s knowing looks and thoughtful words.

Kate’s right.

It’s not your fault. Or May’s. Or even Peter’s. There’s only one man to blame for this. 

And you’re sure as hell going to make him regret his choice to mess with your family.

“y/n.” Kate’s voice manages to cut through the hate-filled fog that’s starting to cover your mind. “y/n, don’t.”

You don’t listen to her words, you don’t even take in the way she so easily knows what you’re thinking, you just do what you’ve always done: keep moving.

You successfully escape your girlfriend’s embrace and start running. You’re not sure where you’re going or how you’re going to find him but the plan will come later. Right now, you just need to do something before the grief consumes you.

Kate yells after you but there’s no way she’ll be able to chase after you. Especially once you start swinging from building to building.

The hours pass by in between blurs of rain, tears, and the occasional wall you end up crashing into. Your phone blows up with missed calls and countless texts but you don’t care.

The entire world could crash and burn without you for all you care. The light within your own world has already been extinguished. 

Your search ends up leading you right to the Statue of Liberty where you’re not at all surprised to find a chaotic battle going on. Maybe you should have checked your phone to get caught up with the plan but that doesn’t matter.

What does matter is that you’ve finally found what you’ve been looking for. And your mind is dead-set on your objective.

You ignore the rest of the fights going on, including the look of pain and relief on Kate’s face once she sees you swing past her, and hone in on Peter.

You're still bleeding and there's a sharp pain in your leg you can't ignore but your injuries don't matter. All that matters is avenging May.

You land next to Peter without a word, the venom in your eyes saying more than your voice could. You're both fighting for the same thing but you have no doubt he's still pulling his punches.

Something you have no intention of doing.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to join the fun,” Green Goblin taunts. “Too tired of running after your dead parents?”

“Shut your mouth,” you reply as you step toward him. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

That only makes him laugh. “Trust me, pain makes you stronger. You'll see, all I have to do is take away your pretty little girlfriend next and you'll understand.”

There's no hesitation left in your body once you hear those words.

You lunge forward, tackling Osborn to the ground. That stupid smirk doesn't leave his face even while you rain down punches on him.

“Come on! Is that all you can do? What's the point of two Spider-Idiots if one is too weak to fight?”

You know he's only taunting you. Trying to push your buttons and get you to break. Too bad that's exactly what you want to do.

Every time he pushes you back, you kick him back twice as hard. You stumble and get punched in the face enough times to make your ears ring but you don't dare stop.

You don't even think.

You just punch and punch and punch until Osborn’s on the ground, his witty mouth finally silent.

Seeing him like this only serves to remind you of what you've lost, of the pain that's taken hold of your every thought and move. You lift your hand to shoot a web at his forgotten glider when a voice stops you dead in your tracks.

“y/n?”

The mere sound of your name coming out of Kate’s mouth in that desperate tone is enough to make your breath catch in your throat. You already know what she's going to say so you speak up first. “I have to.”

“No, you don't. You've done enough, okay? You can walk away.”

You look down at your hands, at the bloody mess you've left behind, and the tears start falling before you can stop them.

The hand that pulls you up doesn't belong to the archer but it's full of an understanding only Yelena could be capable of. “Go on, Spider-Boy and I got this.”

You nod, too numb and overwhelmed to fully accept the weight of what you've done. Of what you almost did.

“Kate?” You call out as you finally turn around to face her.

“I’m right here.” She greets you with the same soft look and warm smile you fell in love with, nothing but compassion in her gaze.

You all but collapse into her waiting arms, your shoulders slumped as you finally give in to the all-consuming grief that lingers in every breath you take.

The sounds of the chaos around you fades into nothingness.

All you can hear is Kate's soft reassurances and the steady beat of her heart. You don't need anything else than that right now. Despite how strong the urge for revenge had been.

You just need your girlfriend…and a long nap.

Peter watches the scene with a small, albeit sad, smile on his face. There's a weight on his chest that even fixing his mistakes won't take away.

But at least he knows you won't be alone. The spell will make you and everyone else he loves forget about him but at least you'll still have Kate.

It'll be hard but he has no doubt you'll be able to rebuild and find the light inside of yourself that May always believed was there. Flickering underneath all the pain of your past.

Now you and Kate can shine together.

Without him and the chaos he unnecessarily brought into your life.

[tarirose]

Anything Sebastian, fluffy, smut related, I need it allllll

Starry Night

Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Summary: You and Sebastian had been friends since you came to Hogwarts. But you distanced yourself after fifth year from what he did. He invites you to join him one night. Finally telling you how he feels. And wants to make you his girl.

Warnings: Fluff and Smut. Characters are aged up.

Thank you for requesting me! I know I’m not great at writing and I apologise for that, but I appreciate you giving me the chance to try and write :) again, please feel free to send me some requests!

You were sat in the Great Hall, studying over your Herbology textbook, eating breakfast with Poppy. It was a quite, early morning. Most of the students were still in bed, but you loved the refreshing feeling of a crisp, cold morning before your classes.

You had your head buried in between your book, focused and busy to notice your surroundings. You felt a tug and a push at your shoulder, “Y/N? Are you there?” Poppy whispered faintly, trying not to get the attention of anyone.

“What?” You replied back, eyes still peeled directly into your textbook.

“He’s staring at you again.” Poppy caught a certain someone, sitting at the Slytherin table, his eyes glued onto you, watching your every move, with a grin plastered to his face.

“Who? Poppy, can’t you see I’m trying to stud-“

“Sebastian.” As soon as she spoke his name, you felt your heart flutter, and it perked up your attention.

You had been friends with Sebastian for about two years now. He was known to be a big flirt, a confident, cocky guy, who you had grown awfully attached to. The two of you weren’t as close as you used to be, fifth year changed that. You both still spoke, still trusted each other, still respected each other. But you needed time to forgive him. Let him realise what he had done. Heal from what he did. And hopefully grow up some more. He was a stubborn guy, one who didn’t care, or seem fazed by his actions, and who he hurted. You distanced yourself from him, so he could learn from his mistakes.

You were sat daydreaming about him, the thoughts running through your mind, of what could of been. You missed the guy you used to know. The one who would take you on trips to Hogsmede, the one who showed you the undercroft and told you all his secrets. But there’s no way that he felt the same towards you. He was stunning, more than he used to be. He had grown taller, his facial features were more defined. He had grown muscle, and his clothes sat tightly around him.

You put your book down and turned to face Poppy, trying to avoid Sebastian’s gaze. His own eyes burning into you.

“He does that a lot you know? Just sits there, staring at you.” Poppy speaks up, giving you a slight smile. She knew how you felt about him, she was your best friend.

“We’re just friends, Poppy.” You muttered, picking your book back up, trying to avert the eyes currently still lingering on you.

“This is more than a friendship, Y/N. Amit doesn’t look at you like that, Everett do-“

“Poppy, it’s nothing. That’s just how Sebastian is, he looks at most girls like that. You’ve seen how close he sometimes gets to Samantha.” You quickly interrupted her, getting slightly annoyed, and jealous at the thought of him with another girl that wasn’t you.

“No, this is different. He isn’t interested in anyone else, he’s always quick to get away from them. He doesn’t look at anyone the way he looks at you. Trust me, this is way different.” She signed, noticing how your fingers were now gripping your book. She just wanted you to be happy. And if that meant with Sebastian, then she would do anything for you to notice how he truly was with you. “You’re so oblivious to it, you definitely have an admirer. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we’ve been in here. It’s like he got up early to see you. It’s cute.” Poppy was trying to be quiet, but it came out anything other than intended. Even grabbing Sebastian’s attention, a smile started growing across his face.

You lifted your head from your book, and gazed ahead of you, and you caught his eye. His deep brown eyes just staring straight into you. He really didn’t make it any less obvious. Clearing your throat, you shifted your gaze back to your book.

“I told you so.” Poppy snickered.

“Still, just friends Poppy. Nothing more.” You said suddenly, you were trying to convince yourself that it meant nothing. But who were you fooling. You were head over heels for him.

You tried to ignore her and the thoughts in your head, but you hear Poppy once again, “Then tell me why he’s walking this way, to our table?” She nudged you back to reality, removing the book from your hands.

You turned your gaze to meet him as he swiftly approached the table you and Poppy were sat at. You could feel your ears and cheeks burning up, your heart beating even faster.

“Hello Y/N, Poppy.” Sebastian said, sitting down opposite you, flashing you a sweet but smug grin.

“Hey Sebastian, I was actually just about to go. I’ll see you later Y/N!” Poppy nudged you once again under the table, but before you could say anything, she was gone. Leaving you all alone with him.

You signed heavily, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Hey, I’m a bit preoccupied.”

He took the book from your hands before you could even begin to open it. “Hey!” You shouted, irritated that he was interrupting your only time to have peace.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” Sebastian muttered, reaching over the table to touch your hand.

You froze at his touch, his heat radiating through you. His fingers grazing over your skin, so softly and delicate. You pulled your hand away from his, turning your face away from him, and grabbing your book back. He signed, and you quickly turned to look at him, his smile had vanished and his eyebrows were now furrowed together. He stood up to leave and you let out a breath of relief, and sadness. You hated to admit that you liked him. Tried not to show him how he made you feel, how you flustered at a single touch.

You assumed he had walked away and left, but you quickly found him now sitting next to you. His hands once again finding their way to yours, under the table, locking his fingers into yours.

He tightened his grip around your hands, giving it a gentle but firm squeeze. You found yourself admiring his features. He was handsome. The two of you were so close, faces almost touching, you could of counted all of his freckles, all of his eyelashes. His cologne filling your nostrils, lingering around you.

“I want to show you something, but later. I think you’ll like it.” He spoke up, his breath was so close to you. You could feel your body emitting that same heat, his own cheeks bashfully reddening.

“Show me what?”

“It’s a surprise, I can’t be telling you, otherwise I’ll spoil it.” That grin appearing back over his face. He removed one of his hands from yours, and reached for your chin, lifting your face up to connect your gaze to one another. “I’ll wait for you by the entrance, let’s say about 7? Will you come? Please?”

You took a few seconds to think about your choice, wondering what he was up to. All you could reply with was “Fine.”

As harsh, and cold as you sounded, Sebastian was over the moon. He sent you a wide smile, and gave you a quick kiss on your cheek before getting up and leaving.

You were nervous. Sure you had known Sebastian a long time, and you have always been by his side. But Poppy was right. This was different. You made your way to the entrance, and there he was. Leaning against a pillar, a smile spreading across his face as he saw you. He made his way up to you, taking your hand in his, gently kissing the palm of it.

“You look beautiful, darling.” He whispered into your ear, trying to hide the flush that was glowing over his own face. He removed his own scarf, placing it around your neck. “You’ll be cold. Plus, it looks better on you.” His smell once again hovering around you.

He grabbed your hand, pulling you close to him, holding you to him as he walked you to wherever he was taking you. You reached a secluded part inside the Forbidden Forest. A patch of grass, surrounded by flowers, flowers that you love and admired. Floating candles setting a dim, but romantic setting. A perfect view of the clear starry night sky. The moon was beaming down a ray of light, where a picnic was set up.

“Do you like it?” Sebastian asked, running his hands through his hair. “I tried to get all of your favourite things, I know how much you like these flowers, I thought that I-“

“It’s beautiful Sebastian, but, why?” You replied, taken back by what was in front of you. Why did he do all this was all you could think.

He offered you to sit down next to him, he scooted himself closer to you. You quirked your eyebrow when you saw his arm resting around your waist.

“I just wanted you to have a nice time. All you’ve been doing is studying. I, I, uhm, well.. I-“ He stumbled over his words. Having you here, next to him, so close. He didn’t know what to say. Without thinking, he grabbed the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair, drawing you into a kiss.

He pulled away, still holding you close. He whispered into your ear, his breath sending tingles down your spine, “You really are beautiful.”

“Sebastian, what is this? What’s going on?” You said, surprised by what you just encountered. Missing the taste of his lips on yours. His smell still remaining around you.

He took a deep breath, eyes diverting from yours, his hands slightly shaking whilst holding you. “Y/N, I, I, ugh. Look, I like you. A lot… okay, maybe a bit more than a lot.” He let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know you wanted to stay away from me, and I don’t blame you for your choice to distance yourself after what I put you through. I hate myself everyday for what happened. I put you in danger, and I’ve tried everyday to change who I am, to be a better man, to be better for you.” He ran a hand through his hair, the other still resting on your waist.

“You’re on my mind all the time, everyday. Most times, I can’t concentrate, because you’re always occupying my mind.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, burying your nose into his clothes, clinging your arms around him. “I thought Poppy was going mad when she told me how you look at me.”

He tightened his grip around you, smiling into your hair. Planting a kiss, and running circles over your back. He never wanted to let you go. It was a perfect way to spend an evening together.

You let out a heartfelt sign, moving your way in between his legs, placing your back to his chest and resting your head against him. He wrapped his arms firmly around you, lowering his own head to rest near the crook of your neck. He planted another gentle, light kiss, right below your ear. You could feel his heartbeat, racing through his chest.

“Y/N?” Sebastian softly spoke into your ear, placing another kiss in the same spot below your ear.

“Mhm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just enjoying the moment and the company.” You replied, placing your hands over his.

He laced his fingers into yours, still holding you in place against him. He smiled again into your hair, taking in the scent of you. Running his fingers against your hands. He was warm, he was gentle. He made you feel safe. He was a completely different man than the one you met two years ago.

You turned around, relaxing yourself from his grip. Climbing over him, you pulled him into a kiss. He drew you closer to him, his strong hands again resting around your waist. Deepening the kiss, hungrily moving his lips against yours. Your noses bumping each other’s, making you both smile on each other mouths. His hands began wandering over your body, finding their way under your robes, gripping his fingers into your hip. Grazing his fingers over your soft, warm skin.

He moved his head and buried it into your neck, kissing you along your jaw. Biting into your neck, leaving marks on his territory. He gently kissed over each mark he left, always making sure you were okay.

“Darling, I want this, but I want to make sure you do. I want to make sure you’re okay.” He spoke softly, whilst laying down kisses, between every other word.

“Sebastian, I like you aswell. Yes, I want this.”

He rolled you over onto your back, making sure you were comfortable laying beneath him. He had grown so much taller, towering over you. He increased the kisses, throwing his tongue into your mouth, flicking around your own. Biting down on your lower lip. Trialing even more kisses down your jaw, back to your neck. His hands now roaming under your clothes. His hands, cupping each of your breasts, rubbing circles over your nipples. Your legs fall open slightly, allowing him to slot himself between you.

Freeing one hand, he found his way to your skirt. Slowly lifting it up, he pulled your panties to the side, gliding his fingers over your entrance. Gently rubbing and circling around you. He continues the motion, your lips parting from the kiss to take a breath, pressing against each other once more. He slid a finger in, whilst still using his thumb to rub circles over your clit, sending you a pleasant pleasure rushing through you.

“Is this okay, darling?” He says against your lips.

All you could do was nod. He slides another finger in, quickening up his pace. You couldn’t keep still, trying to grind your hips against his fingers. He closed his eyes, bringing his head lower down to catch your lips in another kiss. This time, more passionate, more deep. He let out a breathless moan, biting down on your bottom lip. He swiftly pulled away, removing his fingers from you. Looking down at you under him, with a filthy, but ever so sweet grin on his face.

“Look at you, all soaking wet for me.” His hands freely roaming over your thighs, lifting your legs over his shoulders, as he lowered his head between your legs. He buried his nose and mouth right into your clit. Your fingers winding into his brown locks, pushing him more into you. He gracefully drags his tongue throughout your folds. Circling over your entrance, leaving wet sweet kisses.

“Seb-“ You whisper, feeling a wave of emotion rush over you.

He dipped his tongue gently inside, teasing you, driving you wild. Then began to suck and flick, then back to the circular motions. Moving up and down against you in a fast pace. His entire mouth pressed deep onto your clit. You continue to moan, louder the more he moves against you. You grind your hips even more against his face, burying himself more into you, nuzzling even his nose around you.

His eyes never leaving yours. You can see the intense lust in his eyes, watching you. Smiling into your folds as soon as he sees you arch your back, throwing your head back to cry out more sweet moans of his name. He continues to explore you. Every now and then, biting down and pulling at your folds. He began claiming sloppy kisses, flicking with his tongue until you could no longer take it. Your back arching even more, feeling your release. He carries on kissing and sucking as you cum all over his face. He happily licks all of it up. You body jerking at the sensation of him still sending you kisses on your sensitive spot.

“Was that okay, sweetheart?” Sebastian asked, bringing his head up to meet your lips. Cleaning up his face, whilst waiting for your reply.

Your chest was heaving, trying to find your own breath. You let out a shaky quiet “Yes.”

“I can’t hear you darling.”

“Yes. It was amazing.” You moaned into his mouth, kissing him again deeply. You could feel his length between your legs. You lift your hips up to grind against him. Calling him for more.

“It’s only going to get better, my love.” He whispers, pressing himself more into your legs, so that you could grind harder against him. His own arousal getting the better of him.

“Can I take these of sweetie?” He asks, running his hands over your clothes, and you nod. He gently removes your clothes, tossing them to the side. Before removing his own and placing them with yours. He goes back to intertwine your bodies together, positioning himself between your legs, pressing his body into yours, resting his length against your entrance. You begin to grind bare against him, he groans into your neck, running his hands up and over your body.

“Beautiful.” Was all he could whisper into your ear again, his eyes lingering over every part of your body, running kisses all over you. Not missing a single inch of you. His kisses were sloppy and loud.

“Are you ready for me, darling? I promise, it will feel good. Just let me know if I hurt you in any way and I’ll stop.” He says, wanting to make sure you’re okay. He was scared of hurting you again.

“I’m ready, Sebastian. Please, I, I need more.”

He begins to slowly push into you, the stretch hurts you, and you throw your head back, wincing in pain. Sebastian suddenly comes to a stop.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?” He asks, concerned about how you’re feeling. Not wanting you to feel uncomfortable, or in any kind of pain.

“I’m okay Sebastian. Don’t worry.” You reassure him, sending him a smile and smashing your lips into his.

Sebastian reaches down to rub circles over your clit, to help you with the pain, you moan out in pleasure again. Your mind being taken away from him pushing himself back into you. Once he’s fully in, he sends you a soft pleasing forehead kiss, stroking your hair.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks again, groaning into another kiss to your head, from the feeling of himself now fully inserted into you.

“Yes, it just slightly hurts, but I’ll be fine.” Running your hands through his hair, as he presses more sloppy kisses into your neck.

“As long as you’re okay, and fine with me to carry on. I’ll make you feel good, my love. I promise.” He whispers, slowly thrusting himself into you, finding his pace moderately to let you ease into it. You gradually begin to repose into him, grinding and matching his rhythm.

Sebastian took this as a sign to fasten his pace, gently pushing his hips into you. You pulled his body closer to you, allowing him to rest into your neck. He started to thrust harder and faster. Pounding right into you, both of you moaning into each other’s ears. Digging one of your hands through his hair and pulling his head back, the other scratching into his back, leaving your mark on him. His own hand finding its way to your throat, clinging onto you, as you let out severe breathy moans.

“I’m gonna cum, darling.” He grunted through his raspy voice. Thrusting deeper and deeper into you, burying his head more into your neck, his thrusts were getting sloppy and loud. You could feel yourself tightening around the grip of him.

“Fuckkkkkkk, Y/N, you feel so good babygirl.” Sebastian praises you, resting his forehead on yours. Both of your bodies heavily shaking, releasing his own orgasm, as he breathes a pleasurable groan into your open mouth. He can feel you getting more tight around him. All of your own juices flowing out of you, drenching his own length still inside of you. He uses a few last extra thrusts, sloppy and wet as your bodies are pressed together on sweat. The two of you melting together as one.

He pulled himself out lightly, gently patting you down and wiping you clean. He was pure, and caring. Always made sure your needs came before his own. He placed himself down next to you, shoving some fallen hair from your face behind you ear, brushing it with his fingers to put it back in place.

“How was that, sweetheart?” He spoke smoothly, pulling you closer to his body, running his hands through your hair.

“Perfect Sebastian. You’re perfect.” You breathed out, still trying to catch your own pace of breath.

He let out a low laugh, “I told you I’ll make you feel good, darling.”

He kissed your forehead, pulling your face into his chest. He rested one of his hands onto the back of your head, and the other on your back. Caressing over you. He felt over protective of you. He had hurt you once before, he wasn’t going to let it happen again. No one was going to hurt you. No one would ever touch you. And he wanted to make sure he was the one for this.

“Darling, can I ask you something?” He spoke up, lifting your chin to meet his gaze.

“Of course Sebastian. Ask me anything.”

“This is more than anything I’ve ever felt before. You make me feel things I’ve never thought I’d ever feel. I didn’t think anyone would ever accept me for me. It’s like I get nervous when you look at me. Darling, I want to make sure you’re safe. I want to be the one to protect you, make you laugh.” He tenderly says to you, grabbing ahold of your face.

“What I’m trying to say is, will you give me a chance? To make up for lost time? Will you let me show you how much you’ve always meant to me? Will you be my girl? My one and only?”

Your eyes widen, mouth slightly agape. You say silent for awhile, to which this made Sebastian feel nervous that you were going to reject him, after he poured his heart out to you.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to rus-“

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his. Wrapping your hands around his neck, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you on top of him. “Yes Sebastian. I’ll be yours.”

Sebastian felt a sense of pride. Now knowing that you were finally, and officially his girl. And he was yours. He pulled you into him, your head resting into his neck. His hands hugging you deeper into him. “I’ve found the one I love. Stay here with me longer, sweetheart.” He murmured into your hair. His fingers caressing your bare skin. Sending you sweet kisses all over your face. He was a changed man. He cared deeply for you. Loved you intensely. And he was never letting this go, or letting anyone get in the way. You both lay there happily in each other’s arms, intertwined under the starry night sky.

[microwave-core]

DLC Girlie Headcanons

Happy Valentine’s day. Happy early birthday to me. Happy late first anniversary of this blog. Don’t expect this to be as profound or long as the first scarvio post, but it is a post, so have fun with it.

Also, I didn’t include Briar here because I wasn’t satisfied with what I wrote for her and just ended up scrapping it. Might come back to her one day. And yes I know the Carmine gif is big but I liked it and couldn't find one I liked more.

Carmine, my love. I know I already made a whole post for her not too long ago, but I can still add more (and there are also only three others on the list sooo). This time, though, things can take place post Kieran joker arc.

Of course, she’s still Carmine. She’s a bit overprotective and jealous and kind of a bitch, especially when at the academy because a certain Drayton will lazily and jokingly flirt with you just to get on her nerves. Don’t play into his flirtations, or else she’ll be mad at both of you (temporarily at you, permanently at toothpaste hair). She won’t stop you from hanging out with other people, though. That is, of course, unless it’s Drayton, who she will literally drag you away from.

 She doesn’t really boss you around like she does her brother, but she will often ask you to help her with whatever she’s working on. It’s totally because she needs you to lend a hand and not because she likes having you plastered to her side. Sometimes she’ll ask you to come help her with a task and the task in question is just hanging out with Amarys.

Carmine does actually take her studies fairly seriously, especially when she’s helping Briar. Spends a good deal of time studying, and might pressure you to join her if you are falling behind. Surprisingly, she’s a pretty good study-buddy. If you’re really struggling with a subject, she can probably explain it in pretty understandable terms, as long as you can brush aside her occasional insults, of course. Might reward you with a kiss or two if you do really well.

You’re allowed to be a little mean to Kieran, as a treat, but know your place. She loves you, yeah, but she’d probably side with her baby brother over you if push comes to shove. You can tease him a bit and slide in some snide comments here and there, but if you take things too far she will be upset. I know I said you could be a little mean, but don’t be, like, mean mean to him. He’s been through enough.

Speaking of, Kieran thinks you’re pretty cool. Little guy doesn’t really have friends, and being a recovering joker acr victim doesn’t help that fact. He knows you, you’ve been in his life’s peripheral vision for a good deal of time, being attached to Carmine and whatnot, and he thinks you’re wicked cool. No matter how much time passes, he will always watch on with stars in his eyes when you are showing off your skills. He’d love nothing more than to have a match with you sometime.

I wouldn’t say Kieran’s like Hop is for Sonia, where he would go out of his way to play matchmaker, but he does silently lay in hope that you two stay together, and their grandparents feel the same. They might partake in some light teasing whenever they see you together, which is often, but they aren’t really pushy with it. Not the kind of people to press Carmine about when you’ll get married or give them great grandchildren or anything.

When Kieran is in his villain arc, Carmine will ask you to help keep an eye on him. She’s worried out of her mind with how odd he was acting, and really wanted to find the root cause. Once the whole Terapagos ordeal blows over, expect the two to come find you and tackle you into a group hug, both blabbering on about how they almost died and how much they care for you. A similar thing probably happens after the Pecharunt situation ends, as well.

You know… a lot of scarvio characters could totally be melded into yanderes if you just exaggerated their traits a wee bit. Not saying that any of them are, we’re not doing the whole “Nemona’s a yandere” bit, but Carmine could easily fit the bill. She’s bitchy, a bit overprotective, and can easily become violent. Nothing more to add here, it's just a passing thought.

Following my original scarvio post, I am morally obligated to include a point of slander for each girl. Carmine has said at least a few slurs in her life. In, like, a Lana del Rey way, specifically with that one kid who was in Stranger Things (why did she do that it was just completely unprompted). Would casually drop a slur in someone’s general direction for literally no reason. Hater energy.

Perrin’s pretty cool. I don’t like her as much as her supposed great great great grandmother, but I’m not here to pin two bad bitches against each other. Regardless of her ancestors, she’s still cute and artsy, and we love that for her.

She’s kind of funny to me more than anything. She would just go up to you one day, saying shit like “Hey babe, I’m feeling really unmotivated right now :{ so I’m gonna take a trip to a small, distant island to take pictures of a fucked up beast”. Don’t try to talk her out of it, she’ll already be on the plane.

When she’s feeling low, she likes to take pictures of you. They aren’t used for anything, not making their way into her portfolio, just her little personal collection to look back on and smile at gently. She’ll start by mopily taking half-assed pictures with her phone, but steadily gets more and more into things, setting up her shots and having you pose, eventually pulling out her camera.

Although, it is a bit embarrassing for her after the fact. When she gets really into her shots, she gets super enthusiastic and constantly makes cheesy remarks. Please don’t point this out while she’s working, she’ll get super flustered and totally thrown off her game. She might be able to recover, laughing her comments off sheepishly, or she might be too far gone to continue, dramatically laying down her camera in defeat, hoping you'll give her some affection and out of pity.

However, her love for you, and love for looking at you, isn’t always enough to get her out of a slump, hence why she goes to Kitakami to look for a fucked up beast in hopes of finding her spark again. Getting out and searching for something interesting can help her get back into her groove, and she’ll keep you posted the entire time if you aren’t by her side.

Speaking of, she loves to send you pictures. Constantly. She’ll send breathtaking scenery shots, gorgeous skylines, diverse and adorable wildlife, and Growlithe. It’s mostly just Growlithe if we're being honest. Usually paired with a caption like “he misses you” or “stinky little bastard man has committed a heinous crime (he rolled in the mud).”Particularly loves to send glamor shots of him.

And said stinky little bastard man loves you so much. He likes to follow you around when nearby, trotting on your heels, curious as to where you’re both going. He’ll sit patiently at your feet whenever you have food, and curl up in your lap when you’re sitting down. Perrin’s his favorite still, but you’re a close second. But if you pass him enough scraps under the table and give him good enough scratches, you might be able to sway his opinion.

I don’t remember if the game ever states where Perrin is specifically from, but she gives off country girl energy to me. Maybe it’s just the song that plays when you talk to her, now that I think about it. I don’t know. I think in general she’s also pretty laid back, the kind to go with the flow. Unless she’s in a rut, where it seems like her entire world is falling apart.

She’s not super into PDA, but she doesn’t really get embarrassed with excessive affection, either. She’d prefer to just hold your hand when around other people, maybe rest her arm over your shoulder, but she wouldn’t argue if you wanted more affection than that. Not to say that she doesn’t have any limits, she’s just pretty lax.

However, I also think she’s suave. Not afraid to surprise you by pressing a sudden kiss to somewhere on your face-forehead, cheek, lips-when you lean in close, like if you lean over her shoulder or something along those lines. She does like to see you flustered, but she doesn’t do it too often. After all, if she does this all the time, you would expect it, and then you wouldn’t get flustered at all.

Slander devil emoji. Perrin feels like she’d own a shit ton of shoes. Mainly tennis shoes, methinks. Most of her funds are funneled into her camera and lenses, since she’s a photographer obviously, but her second biggest money sink is her shoe collection. Is kind of protective of them, too, because Growlithe will chew on them if given the opportunity.

Lacey’s just cute. Which makes sense, because being cute is, like, her whole thing. To her, most everything has some cuteness in it. Nothing can be spared from her cute-detecting gaze.

What more should I really say for her? She’s just a super sweet and kind person and I would kill for her. Actually, I wouldn’t do that, because if I did she would look at me sadly and tell me what I did just wasn’t right. She might be incredibly nice, but she ain’t a pushover. Daddy didn’t raise no bitch.

She’s super touchy feely. Always touching you in some way. Prefers to drape herself over you whenever possible, usually by wrapping herself around one of your arms to lean in close. If she can’t, then she’ll gladly link pinkies with you, as she believes that’s way cuter than just holding hands.

Massive cuddlebug. Whenever you are sitting or laying down, she’ll immediately jump into the spot next to you and hold you close. She’s practically nodding off by the time she gets comfortable, too warm and comfy to want to get up. Her pokemon, especially her Granbull, tend to pile up around you as well. Will complain and beg you to stay if you try to get up before she’s ready (she will never be ready). She’s also guilty of baby talk. Take that as you will.

Her pokemon in general are pretty cuddly, as well, but some are better snugglers than others. Like, Excadrill is a real sweetheart, but she’s also got massive claws and hard noggin made of steel, which aren’t the most um pleasant. And Slowbro is a little bit toxic, so be careful. Omg I forgot she had a Primarina. I love Primarina, that's my favorite starter. I’m gonna end this point here before I ramble into infinity, sorry.

Feels very into arts and crafts. She’d break out the macaroni and Elmer's glue unprompted in the league club room and everyone flocks to her, watching her and her art supplies like impoverished children about to receive their daily rations. Everyone joins in, even if they don’t want to or don’t see the point in it. Drayton loves the crafts more than anyone else, barring Lacey herself, but he usually tries to get other people to do the work for him.

I also feel like she would try to turn the league club into a band at least twice. Imagine Lemonade Mouth (aka the best disney channel original movie), but with the BB elite four. No matter how hard she tries, it always devolves into absolute chaos. Maybe one day she will get to live her band kid dreams to their fullest.

ASMR Clay kills you via excruciatingly intense eye contact because you’re dating his baby girl.mp4. He is prime overprotective dad material, and he is so stubborn at first. He acts all big and tough in front of you when you first meet, mainly because that’s just how he is, but eventually warms up to you. Don’t expect to be too close, though. “Warming up” just means that he tolerates you.

Anyways, thinking of Clay makes me think of “Heartwarming: Watch this dad totally accept his gay daughter coming out then eat 12 tacos”. He’s very accepting of anything she does, even if he’s hard on her when it comes to actually dating. He’s just hesitant to let her grow up, is all. Also, he radiates massive divorced single-dad energy.

Lacey doesn’t like to complain that much, but she does on occasion. In particular, she tends to complain when a certain school director dumps his duties onto her. It’s usually not very heated, just a brief vent about how it totally wasn’t right, hand gestures and all. 

When venting, she usually prefaces that what she says might be a little mean or too much, but then she says something very reasonable and tame. Also seems like the type to apologize when she rambles on about something or other, no matter how many times you tell her that she’s fine.

Lacey slander is that she absolutely uses Texan slang. What in tarnation is the one she uses the most, but do not doubt her ability to spout country slang out of nowhere. Also owns at least one cowboy hat. And a pair of cowboy boots. She’s got the whole cowboy ensemble, actually.

Amarys, while not outwardly emotional, is also a very sweet and caring person. Facial emoting just isn’t her thing. I’m struggling to put my thoughts into words with her, because my mind is just automatically defaulting to “Amarys my beloved” instead of forming actual, tangible ideas.

I don’t think Amarys is terrible with emotions, she just isn’t good at showing them. Particularly on her face. She prefers to express her feelings through words and actions, even if they come off as robotic and stringent. They’re coming from the heart, honest. She does like to make fun little gestures with her hands, as well, like making hearts.

Despite being relatively fine at navigating her own emotions, there are certain concepts that stump her, mainly concepts that are more abstract, one’s that lack clearly defined definitions. For instance, she asks Lacey in the league room what constitutes being cute. Sometimes, she’ll approach you and ask questions about these concepts, just to gauge your expert opinion on such topics.

I feel like she has a hefty pocket watch collection. I don’t have much more to add, mainly because I don’t know much about pocket watches outside of them existing. I don’t think she’s an avid collector per say, I feel like she’s just accumulated them over time, mainly from getting them as gifts over the years.

She comes off as someone who’s a little hard to shop for, so most people tend to just get her a watch when gift giving because it’s something useful and she clearly likes them. She doesn’t mind receiving them, even if many of them don’t get used because she just has too many. At the very least, she has plenty of backup replacements if the one she uses breaks, and is also willing to share if you ever wanted to borrow one.

Lowkey a worrywart. If you mention feeling wrong or down or just have issues in general, she’ll keep checking in with you until she’s certain you are doing better. Not in, like, an overbearing way, though. She’s not hounding you constantly, just bringing it up when she sees you, or texting if you haven’t seen each other in a bit. It’s a good way to see how much she cares for you. It’s part of her love language, if you will.

Amarys is a very good person to confide in, regardless if you’re dating her or not. She’s a great listener and is always level-headed. She doesn’t have advice for every given situation, but her calm nature can help keep you grounded when venting, which really helps on top of the effect that venting generally has.

I’m split between thinking Amarys spends at least an hour in the morning styling her hair or believing that’s just how she always looks. I would assume that she takes her hair down every night, because her hairstyle doesn’t seem very comfortable to sleep in, and also seems like it would be messed up pretty easily. But the idea that she just always exists with this very specific hairstyle is kind of funny to me.

On that note, she is pretty good at styling hair in general. You don’t get that hair without having dexterous and skillful hands. Show her a picture of the style you want and she can probably get pretty damn close. Also good with hair dye jobs, as I assume she dyes some of her hair gray. Actually, maybe she doesn’t, because her eyebrows are gray. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

Gets dragged into Carmine’s antics a lot. She usually plays the straight man in comparison to Carmine’s… Carmine-ness. She can talk her friend out of her more ludicrous ideas, but she joins in on Carmine’s antics every now and then. Has had to talk Carmine out of chopping off Drayton’s massive hair tuft on multiple occasions.

While writing this I came across the idea of Amarys being the child of Lenora, the black and white normal gym leader, which I like. Mainly because I like Lenora a lot and she does canonically have a husband, so it would check out pretty well. I have nothing else to add to this, just wanted to mention it because why not.

Amarys slander? Amarys slander tonight queen? I’d say she’s the type of person to correct people’s grammar whenever they make a mistake, in both writing and conversation. This does include using it to “win” pointless arguments online, although she’s also the type to write lengthy responses in those types of arguments, so she already has all of her bases covered, but that doesn’t change her grammar correcting ways.

[celestie0]

First time asker but long time reader 😭 I’m sorry that you got that shitty ask. It’s such a weird fucking thing to ask someone “hey when are you making these two fuck?” like… does that not feel weird to type out?

The gojo x reader tag has at least 5 explicit smut fics minimum daily, go read through those if you genuinely need sex in everything you read (it’s time to reflect on the porn addiction you have).

Regardless, I’ve been reading your fics on Ao3 and I absolutely LOVE the banter between gojo and reader 😭 it flows so fucking well I can feel the chemistry radiating from my screen. When I first started reading IHM, I was also an ancient hag like reader (29) so I found myself able to really relate to her. Usually when I envision Y/N, it’s a random person in their place but with this fic specifically idk why I lowkey insert myself? Everything she does, I would probably do the same and it makes me nervous (in a good way) that I’m gonna get attached to gojo and y/n’s relationship 😭

I absolutely love how gojo provides the security Y/N so desperately needs in the span of the fic. She has been suffocating on her own for so long that he just provides some fresh air. Dare I say meant to be?

The domesticity is everything and I like how we’re learning more about him alongside Y/N. So far we’ve seen just how supportive gojo has been and I’m excited to see how y/n comes through for him because my spidey senses (and your amazing writing) shows me that he has some baggage and it might resurface soon.

The build up to them realizing they love each other is making me giggle and kick my feet. I will happily eat whatever you feed us, thank you for sharing your writing with us. You absolutely have a talent for writing and fleshing out characters/relationships.

I appreciate you and will do my best to support you vocally from here on out 🥹 have a great week pls!

hi my love!! first of all thank you SO much for this supportive message, i srs teared up when i read it 😭 idk if that’s embarrassing to admit lololdjfsdfh but yea omg yesterday was rough so i can’t tell u how much it means to me

i agree on the porn addict thing omg like i love smut as much as the next person, but likeee to go into an author inbox after they just posted a 14k chap of their fic n say “are we gonna get smut soon?” like 💀 that’s sortaaaaa. i’m getting porn addiction vibes

aaaaaaaa i’m so happy you’re enjoying the banter in ihm :’’) and that you’re able to see yourself in reader’s shoes!! that’s such a wonderful thing n one of the aims of my writing ♥️ ♥️ also pls 29 is not ancient hag oml i mean there will be lots of rhetoric in ihm where reader thinks she’s old but like ultimately i want the message of the series to be that it’s never too late to start over and find happiness & joy :) i think that really applies to everything and everyone. and ahhh yes there will be some pretty angst stuffs BUT there will be happy ending <33

yes ihm gojo def got some baggage 😂😂 i need my men like that LOL. but thank you so much for being excited to see how reader comes through for him as well!! i know she’s going through a lot on her own, and that can sometimes cause her to neglect the things outside of her…but i think she has capacity to really be there for him too

oh my dear i really am so lucky to have you as a long time reader and i’m so grateful to hear your thoughts, but also please send them whenever you want to and without pressure <33 i will eat it tf up if/when you do but yea xD never feel burdened to! you have a wonderful week as well omg imma eat u fr

[evanpeterswifeyyy]

Welcome back to my Ted Talk! Today’s episode we’re discussing roleplay accounts and boundaries!

I didn't know roleplay accounts of real people were a thing until I came across one, and I have some thoughts. This is going to be very directed specifically to the people who own those accounts or people who interact with them, PLEASE. HEAR ME OUT BEFORE YOU ATTACK ME OR WHATEVER.

I understand roleplaying as fictional characters, but stealing someone's REAL identity as a celebrity and pretending to be THEM....guys cmon….

I genuinely don’t care what identity issues you have or why you want to do it, or if it brings you comfort. You don't need to do that, and it's extremely creepy. Imagine if some random person online started roleplaying as you and making you say and believe things you don't and attaching your actual face with it. You'd feel rightfully creeped out l'd assume?

Celebrities are people. Just like you. I don’t know how many fucking times that needs to be said before people understand. They aren’t AI, they aren’t robots. They are sentient, they have thoughts, they laugh, they cry, they love, they feel, they hurt, they think. They breathe and walk and talk every second you do. They don’t disappear from the world everytime you don’t see them. They’re constantly living and doing something.

If you want to roleplay as a celebrity, use one of their roles as an actor, or their celebrity persona. Don't roleplay as them. As their actual person and being. Don’t act like you know how they would respond or react to something. Even if you’re trying to make other fans of them happy, it’s just wrong. It’s unnecessary and borderline obsessive to an unhealthy amount.

And if you interact with roleplay accounts like that for real, you're also weird. Don't encourage that.

This discussion keeps reminding me so much of Chappell Roan and how we finally have a celebrity speaking out about boundaries. I can tell you right now, I am not the only person who feels this way about it. I can assure you 99% of the celebrities you are cosplaying as are most likely going to be creeped out and uncomfortable if they find out you’ve been impersonating them for fun.

So for the love of god, please stop treating celebrities like toys or characters. They. Are. Real.

[shunin-gumis]

Designs of Happiness - Track A13

L4mps Main Story Translation

Title: POTHARU

Characters: Toi, Akuta, Nagi, Raito, Yodaka

Summary: The protagonist is invited by Akuta and Raito to the Friday Film viewing, along with Nagi and Toi. Sympathizing with the shy Nagi, Toi decides to join for his sake. 

Thank you aca @463ce6, jes @arcanecrayonn myun @/myuntachis and Niri for helping me with proofing!

Location: HAMA House - Personal Room

Akuta: The Friday Film Show is about to S.T.A.R.T! 

Momiji: I knew it’d be you, Akuta-kun. But, Raito-san as well? You’re an odd pair to spot together. 

Raito: It’s true. One night, I’d found him face down in the hallway because he was too hungry, so I took him out to have some late-night ramen. He’s been attached to my hip ever since. 

Akuta: A debt of gratitude that tastes like firm noodles, thick soup, extra oil and topped with a ramen egg, along with a side of a chunky chashu bowl! 

Momiji: Ahaha, I’m glad to see that the fellow leaders are getting along with each other.

Raito: Indeed. I find him adorable in a different way than I do Nayuki. 

Momiji: (Akuta-kun does kind of make you want to treat him like a younger brother… Meanwhile Nayuki is like a cat that refuses to fall for any bait Raito-san might throw his way…)

Akuta: C’mon, come ON!! Let’s get a move on already! We gotta go ‘round the other rooms too!

Raito: You’re right, we’re short on time. The film playing tonight is “Spirited Away to the Valley in the Sky.” It’s Studio Ghizli’s masterpiece*, so Akuta is full of energy.

Akuta: Teach and… uh, Nagi-san, and Toi-san? You two want in?

Nagi and Toi: Oh, um… 

Raito: This would be a good opportunity to deepen our bonds. 

Akuta: Heck yeah! We can be buddies who finish each other’s popcorn! Come watch with us~

Momiji: Ahaha! We got it already, we’ll see you there. 

Akuta: ASAP, ‘kay!? Aight! Onwards to the next room!

Raito: Akuta, we just came from that direction.

*Raito and Akuta leave*

Momiji: …And that’s that. Since we’ve settled on where to go for the study trip, we should head down for the film viewing. 

Toi: Ah, yes… There’s gonna be a lot of people, huh…?

Momiji: Probably, but… What’s wrong? You look restless all of a sudden. You were bouncing around during the party last time though.

Toi: T-That’s because I was in the presence of Chii-sama! I might have… maybe lost my mind over the excitement…

Momij: (So he was in something of a trance back then… and this is what Toi-kun is usually like?)

Toi: T-There’s gonna be so many people I don’t know… I can’t help but feel nervous… Oh, if only Ani-sama was here with me… 

Momiji: How about you, Nagi-kun?

 

Nagi: I… 

Momiji: Yeah?

Nagi: I don’t think I’m a good match for party people… I might just end up getting swept away in the middle of it… 

Momiji: Party people?

Nagi: Oh… She’s not even aware she’s one of them… I stand in the presence of a true partygoer… 

Momiji: Aw, c’mon, we're just watching a movie together. Don’t worry, it’s not that scary, you’ll be alright.  

Nagi: Wow, you’re just like Naumica when she was comforting the Eihm*. 

Toi: Nagi-san, I’m begging you!

Toi: Would you please come with us…? I think I might just die from loneliness if no one from the Night Team is there… 

Nagi: ….. 

Momiji: Um, you don’t have to force yourself if you don’t want to. It was a sudden invite after all.

Nagi: …It’s okay. I feel reassured if Toi is going too. 

Toi: I’m so glad you understand… I feel a lot better already~

Momiji: (I… can’t really tell if Toi-kun is actually shy or not, but it looks like he could empathize with Nagi-kun.)

Nagi: So let’s go, together. 

Toi: Yay! 

Location: HAMA House - Living Room

Ten: Valley in the Sky sure is a blast to the past~ I was totally attached to the protagonist when I was a kid. 

Nanaki: Watching your loved one float down from the sky… It’s really romantic. 

Kinari: …… 

Kiroku: Azekawa-san… Have you… not watched… Spirited Away… to the Valley… in the Sky… before…? 

Kinari: I have a memory of watching it. Once. At a movie theater. 

Ushio: Huh, at a theater? How long ago was that? 

Yachiyo: Oh, they tend to re-screen movies at the theaters to commemorate its anniversary right~ I’d love to see it on the big screen too~ 

Momiji: Ooh, it’s nice to see everyone all together here! And there’s even pizza! 

Renga: Chief, your seat’s over there. Nagi and Toi, on this side. Feel free to dig in.

Toi: Oh, um… Thank you very much… Nagi-san, sit next to me, over here! 

Nagi: Okay. Thank you too, Renga. 

Renga: Well, like I said before… There’s no need to be so formal with us. 

Nagi: …Yeah. 

Muneuji: Looks like we made it in time. 

Akuta: OH FUDGE!! Don’t start without us~!

Momiji: Welcome back, you two. Right, Akuta-kun, about the cake… 

Akuta: Oh, yeah! I was rushin’ all over the place so I forgot all about it. I gotta apologize to Nagi-san directly… 

Nagi: …I was never upset about the cake. I heard you went out of your way to get me another one, so I feel bad about that… 

Akuta: Huhh? What’re YOU feeling bad for, Nagi-san? I don’t get it but, you’re a funny guy! 

Akuta: I mean it f’real though, sorry ‘bout eating your slice.

Akuta: I couldn’t stop myself even after I figured it was yours… My self-control was NOT at the wheel. 

Nagi: It’s all good. I think that was very human of you, don’t worry. 

Momiji: Isn’t that great, Akuta-kun?

Akuta: Yeah! Thanks a bunch Nagi-san! 

Toi: Um… Are Kafka-san and the others not joining us? 

Sakujiro: He said that he would return when the words of destruction are chanted: “Power That Ruins,” in short, POTHARU*.

Momiji: So, at the very last minute huh… 

Akuta: Yo, it’s starting!! Also this pizza’s crazy good! 

Ten: I was a fan of “When My Neighbor Dorodoro Was There” too~ Couldn’t help but empathize with Ganta as a kid, y’know?

Tao: Woah, knew I’d smelled something delicious. Turns out you guys are having a Studio Ghizli party, huh? Mind if I join?

Yachiyo: Of course~ I’m ordering a second round of pizza right now~

Momiji: (Looks like everyone’s having fun… Despite coming from all walks of life, we’re all like one big family here.)

Nagi: ……

Toi: …… 

Momiji: (Those two look like they still need some time to break the ice… But I’m sure it’ll be okay.)

Momiji: (I hope they can all get along with each other soon…)

Nagi: …… 

Toi: Uh-Uhm…. I’ll take a quick bathroom break… 

Location: HAMA House - 3rd floor balcony

Toi: Phew~ That was nerve-wracking… 

Toi: (I’d like to get along with them but… I just can’t seem to find the courage without Ani-sama by my side…)

Toi: Still… I have to try my best. 

Netaro: Mm.

Toi: Oh, Netaro-san… You look tired.

Netaro: I was holed up in our room cooking up the invention of the century, the “Five Senses times One Billion Sticker” all day, and before I knew it, it was already this late… 

Netaro: Which reminds me, I found this strange note attached to the door. 

Toi: Ah, I’m sure that’s a memo left by Akuta-kun. It must be from when he was going around and inviting people to the film viewing. 

Netaro: Hmm~ If that is the case, why are you loitering about up here, mumbling all on your lonesome?

Toi: That’s, um… It’s fun being with everyone, but I'm still nervous around them… 

Netaro: Nerves, I see~

Toi: I hope I can feel more relaxed by the time we get to POTHARU… 

Netaro: POTHARU?

Toi: Huh? You don’t know POTHARU?

Netaro: Never heard of it. Nor read of it. Is it some ancient French term? Or perhaps, it’s a distant relative of paratha*?

Toi: Don’t tell me, you’ve never watched any Studio Ghizli films?

Netaro: Non.

Toi: No way! I didn’t think there was anyone in JPN who hasn’t watched them yet!

Netaro: Wow, is that so! Perhaps I am something of a rarity? Huzzah!

Toi: Wha… Is that something to be happy about?

Netaro: Once you watch it, you can never go back! Therefore I have the advantage when it comes to non-reversibility! 

Toi: Pft-ahaha! You have a point! But Ani-sama and I are both big fans of Studio Ghizli’s works, so I really recommend watching it! 

Toi: Ah, but we’re already halfway through the film now… 

Toi: Um! If you’d like, I can explain the first half of the plot for you! We just have to sit together. 

Netaro: Hm~ Movies and dramas are an excellent look into the human thought process, so I enjoy them very much~

Netaro: Yes, I shall join you.

Toi: Then let’s head down to the living room together! 

Location: HAMA House - Living Room

Yodaka: …I hurried back because I was told to make it in time for POTHARU, but… 

Akuta: Now!! Time to POTHARU–!!

Muneuji: Isotake, I think you’re being too loud. 

Renga: Can’t help but get excited at this scene huh? I get it. I remember when I first watched it too, at an outdoor screening… 

Kiroku: The pizza… is tasty… 

Momiji: Eating pizza when watching a movie just hits different huh?

Yodaka: …It feels like a party in full swing. It’s always wonderful to witness such harmonious revelry. However… 

Nagi: …… 

Yodaka: (At the heart of the living room stands Nagi, lost and alone…)

Yodaka: (It’s as though I’m looking at a Milet* painting… Nagi’s shadow is so faint that he blends in with his surroundings without anyone noticing…)

Akuta: Aw, man! Not a commercial right when it was getting good!

Nanaki: Even though I know how it ends, I still get all anxious.

Akuta: Hey guys, let’s all hold hands when it’s time to POTHARU! It’ll be so hype!!

Ushio: Hell no.

Ten: I’m cool with it~

Nagi: …… 

*Nagi leaves*

Yodaka: …… 

Yodaka: Fufu… I suppose it can’t be helped. That part of you is lovable as well. 

Yodaka: (Regardless, I can’t help but be concerned. You will have to forgive my meddling, Nagi.)

Momiji: I wonder if I could get away with eating some potato chips this late at night…

Yodaka: Chief, could I speak with you? 

Notes:

Studio Ghizli is a parody of Studio Ghibli, and “Spirited Away to the Valley in the Sky” is a mash-up of 3 movies - Spirited Away, Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, and Laputa: Castle in the Sky. Meanwhile “When My Neighbor Dorodoro Was There” is a mash-up of My Neighbor Totoro and When Marnie Was There. 

Similarly, Netaro asks if PANYOSU is a relative of Nachos, which I localized to paratha (an indian flatbread) to match POTHARU.

The title originally spells “PANYOSU” which is a play on the spell BARUSU used in Laputa Castle in the sky. It’s a spell that causes the self-destruction of the castle at the climax of the movie.

Sakujiro explains that it is the shortened form of "Power, Scepter, Throttle" (PA-wa, NYO-i, SU-rottoru) which I decided to localize to “Power That Ruins” (POTHARU), which I found out later can mean “you will leave/die” in Telugu.

Nagi compares the player to Nausicaa, the heroine from Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, when she was comforting the baby Ohm that is hurt and scared near the end of the movie.

The painter Yodaka thinks of, Milet, is most likely a play on Claude Monet, an impressionist artist. Yodaka compares Nagi to Monet’s paintings, to speak of how there’s only a faint ‘impression’ of Nagi and that it doesn’t feel reflective of reality. 

[quizmasterfred]

13 in 'The God Complex'

I saw a Reddit post a while ago asking 'what episode would you like to see a different Doctor tackle', and now it's been ages but i had some thoughts, and can't stop thinking about it, and just desperately need to write them down somewhere so here if you're seeing this: sorry, you've got to deal with my ramblings now.

This could replace ‘Legend of the Sea Devils’ wholesale. It was most people's least favourite centenary special, so hopefully we’re not losing much. OR, if you want to wrangle 4 specials in that year, it comes between ‘Eve of the Daleks’ and LotSD, which I’ll elaborate on later.

Arrival:

13 genuinely intends to follow through with “that moment on the beach where you tell me everything”, directly says as much at the end of EotD. Instead of fobbing it off with “whatever happened to the lost treasure of the Flor de la Mar”, they ARE going to San Munrohvar, which Yaz is ecstatic about.

In the OG God Complex (quick reminder: 11/Amy/Rory originally), it’s Amy’s faith in the Doctor which brings them there, and it’s the same now. Except it’s not just the generic faith of a particularly attached companion, it’s the exact specific moment of Yaz knowing she’s about to get that conversation.

Her faith is both restored, and about to be rewarded. After years of asking, and wondering, and being fobbed off, finally the Doctor is opening up. And right after Yaz’s coming out to Dan? Wow - what if!

They aren’t there because Yaz “has faith in the Doctor”, they’re there now because in the exact moment the TARDIS launched, that faith was higher and more intense that it has ever been.

Dan:

Common complaint is that Dan’s a bit of a blank slate – Diane, Liverpool, nice bloke. Fun moments, but not enough time to really develop as a character. I’m not going to make a spectacular reveal here and give him an amazing arc, but at the very least we have a chance to make that blank-slatedness really work. He takes on Rory’s role in the story:

13’s Room:

We never see 11’s room, only hear the TARDIS’ cloister bell as he looks in. The implication, of course, is that he’s afraid of dying – permanently. Trenzalore, no more regenerations. Very nice and subtle for 11’s arc/personality – the old man disguising himself as a 20-something.

13 has a very different problem: she’s the Timeless Child, she’s been alive for potentially a billion years before her memories begin, and she’s still regenerating. 11 is afraid of regenerations running out; 13 is afraid they’ll never run out.

It’s harder to convey my idea here with just a noise, not showing the inside of the room itself, so I will describe what I imagine the room to look like, but if there’s a way to do this without showing the viewer, that’d obviously be great.

Her room is a field of graves: “Susan Foreman”, “Sarah-Jane Smith”, “Alastair Lethbridge-Stewart”, “Donna Noble”, “Amy + Rory Williams” (an exact copy of the grave from ‘The Angels take Manhattan’), “Clara Oswald”, River('s Screwdriver/Neural Relay sitting on a Library server?), “Bill Potts”, “Yasmin Khan”, even one written in Gallifreyan (could be inferred to be the Master, but not directly stated). Only a brief look, but enough for someone to pause it and read a bunch of companions’ names.

Many are faded, symbolising a fear that one day she’ll be so old with so many lost loved ones, there simply won’t be room for all of them, and she’ll starting to forget their names and faces. Thousands more we can’t read, the people she’s yet to meet across all her future lives, and they will age and die all the same. In the centre, she’s still there. Alive, young, never dying. Maybe it’s not even Jodie standing there – maybe it’s Ncuti Gatwa, or some completely other actor: ‘generic future self’.

This is the moment of tragedy for her. After her own chat with Dan, the fireworks, seeing Sarah + Nick happy, she had decided to give it a try with Yaz. But seeing this room is what changes that. This is the moment she says to herself:

In OG, this happens immediately after 11 effectively invites Rita to join the crew, but maybe we can swap these around. So 13 sees this, completely psyches herself out of pursuing a relationship with Yaz, knows in her heart that her biggest fear is losing more and more and more people, but seeing Rita being a little bit brilliant again makes 13 invite her along anyway. She can’t help it – a clever little human working their way in, no matter what. Bittersweet.

Speaking of:

Rita:

Another young Muslim woman who’s a little bit brilliant and a little bit too brave? In all of time and space, it’s a bit weird for a bottle episode to have someone who, on the face of it, is basically a carbon copy of our main companion, right? We’ll see.

13 gets along with Rita just as 11 did. Maybe Dan is the butt of the ‘with regret, you’re fired’ joke. Maybe in a moment alone, Dan can crack a line to Rita that ‘she’s got a thing for clever Muslim gals’. But of course, most importantly, Rita and Yaz have a bit of bonding over their shared faith. Rita mentions ‘Jahannam’ in the OG, and we can use that to get some insight to Yaz’s faith. We know she’s practicing-enough to visit a Mosque (mentioned in Rosa), but really we get very little exploration of what Islam truly means to her throughout Chibnall’s run. Give Yaz something personal that isn’t tied to the Doctor, y’know.

Then, the phone call when Rita is about to die. Like 11, 13 tries to talk her into coming back: maybe she can save her, she really wants to save her. She can’t convince Rita, but Yaz takes the phone off of her. Two young women of the same religion have a heart-to-heart about faith and rapture and Jahannam. They both start off thinking Yaz was brought here for the same reason Rita was (and the viewer does too) – stealing their religion from them.

BUT, Rita gradually realises that isn’t true for Yaz. She realises that Yaz’s faith in the Doctor is stronger: “if you come back, the Doctor can save [you/us]”. That brief, shining moment of beauty that Yaz felt when the Doctor confirmed she would follow through on ‘tell[ing] you everything’ was so powerful, it eclipsed her religious faith. Not forever, she hasn’t become an atheist, but the novelty, the cocktail of love, and rewarded patience, and anticipation, and trust – for a tiny moment, it out-shone her other faith, and that’s why the TARDIS was pulled in by the eponymous God Complex.

Maybe Rita says it explicitly, or maybe she doesn’t. Either way, Yaz also realises what Rita has seen, but the Doctor isn’t privy to Rita’s side of the conversation (because… phone). They hang up, turn off the cameras, and Rita dies. If Yaz hadn’t let the Doctor take over her life and heart, could she have saved Rita? Did someone die because she failed as a Muslim? (Obviously the answer is no – that’s not how faith/religion works, and Rita was dead anyway because that is how the minotaur works, but the point is Yaz has a total crisis here)

As with the OG, the very next scene is the Doctor’s ‘I figured it out’ moment.

Yaz is hit with a whole fresh wave of guilt. The whole reason they’re here, the thing that killed Rita – and the Doctor agrees with that assessment (the Doctor couldn’t hear Rita, so this obviously isn’t actually the Doctor saying ‘you’re right, you got her killed’ – the Doctor would never think or say something like that – but that’s what it feels like to Yaz).

Yaz’s Room:

Now this is what’s really beautiful about the change from 11 to 13. Amy and Yaz’s rooms are the same thing. Amy’s is a little girl waiting by a window for her Raggedy Man to come back; abandoned. Yaz’s is a young woman in a basic white TARDIS console room, surrounded by sticky notes and sheets of paper, after hundreds of failed attempts to make it fly, waiting for the Doctor to come back from Gallifrey; abandoned.

[Quick side-note: the moment between Amy and Gibbis where she says ‘I thought that room was for me’ about the Weeping Angels still works for Yaz. In her only meeting with the Angels, what was the result? They took the Doctor away from her for 3 years]

11’s speech to Amy, tearing down the image of him in her head – saving her life by pretending he can’t – absolutely stunning. But 13 has even more to work with here: Amy/Rory, Clara (died because she became too much like the Doctor – hello Yaz), River. The added tragedy of breaking not just a friend, but someone who is actively in love with her and who she shares those feelings for, and the only way to save Yaz’s life is to shatter those feelings.

AND: Bill. "Remember that man who tried to kill you, Graham, and Ryan in a plane crash the instant he met you? The man who tried to kill us all on Gallifrey, and is ultimately the reason I left you, vanishing for 10 months? The man you’re most afraid of, of every villain we’ve met together? I TRIED TO HELP HIM. I put his redemption above Bill and Nardole’s safety because ‘[he’s] the only one person that I’ve ever met who’s even remotely like me’ (direct quote, btw(!) – ‘World Enough and Time’), and it got her mercilessly killed and converted. That’s the sort of person I am, and now I’m about to get you killed too."

Falling Action:

Because Yaz is a little bit brilliant, and coming into her own as “becoming like the Doctor”, like Clara did, she later works out that the speech in her room was ‘the plan all along^TM’ to get rid of the minotaur, and starts to patch herself up by telling herself that the Doctor didn’t really mean not to trust her. So Yaz presses, once again, asking for the Doctor to tell her something about herself.

The Doctor, of course, actually was being genuine, because her own room – the field of graves – scared her that much. 11 rebuffs Amy’s question, continuing with his exposition about the prison. 13 does the same to Yaz. The episode started with Yaz being elated that the Doctor would finally open up, and ends with 13 reverting back to closed-off, and refusing to answer a personal question. Because 13 saw what was in her room, and decided, against everything they both wanted 45 minutes ago, that she can’t fix herself.  So back in the box it goes.

Then:

From 11’s perspective, this could be perceived as bittersweet. He’s still afraid of death, but at least there’s someone here and now commiserating with him. Maybe it would be a gift, and maybe he can accept it in time, and go to Trenzalore in peace. But for 13, it’s just bitter. 'Yes, it would be a gift – if only I could ever have it. But at least I can grant it to you.'

We can either do the beach scene now, ‘can’t fix myself’…

(and then in my ideal world, alter Power of the Doctor to give us a slightly happier end / opening up / explaining 13's hotel room / Thasmin kiss, because god knows us gays need someone to throw us a bone – but that’s not important right now, not relevant to 13!GodComplex)

Or this is where the Doctor goes ‘let’s fuck about looking for the Flor de la Mar’, cue LotSD. Again we see the contrast between her genuine intent to be honest with Yaz 45 minutes ago vs fobbing it off now. Yaz’s heart is broken for real, just after she managed to convince herself that the Doctor’s speech in the hotel room was all a trick.

I can't stop thinking about it, because Doctor Who has consumed my every waking moment for the last 2 months...

[mrs-monaghan]

What is this obsession people have with Jimin? I'm not an anti I'm a fan of jimin as much as I am of bts, Have been in the fandom for years now and have always seen jimtober to be the biggest birthdays all this years,From jimin occupying all the 28 trends on twitter with his hashtags (Kings Impact)..It's good to celebrate your idols birthday I too contribute to those hashtags on twitter for our baby Mimi, Last year on jimins birthday fans flocked magnate cafe to the point police were involved, If you were here last year I know you know how korea was crowded with jimins birthday events and at the cafe it was kinda scary. This year when group is in hiatus I didn't expect for jimtober day to be as big as other years right? Since for other members birthday this year was all silent? Unless one is aware is a members birthday no one could tell bcs it was all silent even in the fandom,Personally I forgot to celebrate JK's birthday this year until so late that I saw some posts from fans. It was dead silent even on other socials that's why I didn't remember same as other birthday this year. But with jimins fandom started trending hashtags on twitter again occupying 23+ trends. But what I don't get is why this pjms spend so much money on birthday events everywhere in Korea is just about his birthday. That's an obsession and a weird one if you asked me. Again this year police are involved because of how much fans are crowded at his birthday events and magnate. I'm from Brazil and I have two friends who bonded a flight to Korea busan for jimin's birthday is that normal? Like I'm not saying they shouldn't do all this for Jimin but this looks like a mental obsession and infatuation. Here in Brazil majority of bts fans are all jimin biased so its a jiminland just like Korea. And I see the same crazy events here every jimtober.

In short, I don’t feel that it’s unhealthy to be personally attached to an artist or celebrity, and it can improve your life in several ways! In the same way that we’re fond of our favorite book or television characters, we can enjoy what celebrities offer us while remaining cognizant that the relationship is one-way and that it’s important not to invest too much time and energy into what is ultimately not a mutual bond.  

Additionally, remembering that celebrities are human as well is just as crucial. Idolizing them is incorrect, and it’s important to remember that they don’t have all the answers to your problems. Therefore, for the time that you spend interacting with a celebrity, try to spend a similar duration in your real-life relationships and participating in other activities that you enjoy. Jimin is one member of bts that's fans idolize the most! I never seen such obsession with other fans so why jimin? Why treat jimin like he's some god? People idolize Jimin so much to the point that it gets scary! Jimin is an amazing human,a talented sexy and pretty man,and so successful at his young age. He wouldn't be happy seeing how people idolize him.the obsession people have with him is unhealthy!

African Armys getting in on Jimin day 🥺🥺🥺

Idk my lovely, as long as Jimin stans are not hurting anyone I don't see why we can't love him as much as we want.