#i have been plotting a fic all day and i cant stop thinking about her so i had to talk about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

beybaldes · 10 months

Text

And somehow I know that you and I would've found each other

roy kent x gn!reader

word count : 8.7k

masterlist

summary : you and roy always end up finding your way back to each-other

content warning : taylor popped the fuck off with the speak now vault tracks especially timeless (another timeless fic coming out soon!!!!), slow burn that takes place over 36 years - dermatologists hate me! Roy’s sister is dubbed Molly yet again, I steal britanny brett for plot because I’m obsessed with @onceuponaoneshotfanfic and superstar (check it out now if you still haven’t, and if you have already, then reread it!!!!!!)

It's 1991 and youre not old enough to understand why your neighbour, and best friends older brother Roy, has to move away. You're only 4 years old, and so is Molly, and Roy's only 9 - so you're not sure why he's going away, where he's going, or if he's ever going to come back.

All you do know is that you and Molly's little arms are wrapped tightly around each other and you feel like it's never going to be enough to fill the hole of Roy's absence.

It's a cool September morning and Roy knows that December 19th - the day he gets to come back home for Christmas - is exactly 107 days away, but not even the last dregs of summers warmth can make this moment something he's going to look back fondly on.

He's got blankie folded perfectly at the bottom of his backpack and your favourite teddy bear wrapped up in it. Even though he wouldn't discover it until he'd arrived at Sunderland, you knew it was there and that Roy would look after it, and it made everything feel just a little bit better.

When Roy's Grandad announces that it's time to go, he gives you and Molly one last hug, pressing a kiss to both of your heads and promising to write and call whenever he can. You and Molly chase the car until the end of the street, where it turns a corner and Molly's mum calls you back to the house; you linger long enough to watch Roy turn from one of your best friends into a blurry figure in the back of a car.

Ms Kent gives you and Molly ice lolly's from the freezer and puts on 'Cinderella' while you eat them. She then sits through 'Sleeping Beauty,’ ‘The Little Mermaid', and 'Beauty and the Beast' with the two of you until your tears have long since stopped and you've fallen asleep in each others arms.

The following morning, Ms Kent nearly has a heart attack when she doesn't find you in Molly's bed, but her worry is soon ended when she realises the door to Roy's room is half opened and you're quietly curled up in tear stained sheets. Slowly, she wakes you up, and when fresh tears spring to your eyes she's quick to pull you into her arms. As she rocks you gently in her hold, she promises you that the prince always returns to the princess; even if it takes breaking a curse or waiting for 100 years.

They always find each-other in the end and live happily ever after.

And 107 days is nothing when you're 4 years old, it's the blink of an eye and sticky melted ice lolly on your hands, it's your first ever school uniform and glitter from Christmas crafts that you cant get off you no matter how many showers you take, and it goes by even quicker when Roy comes home 10 days sooner then expected.

You don't see him for the first 5 days. Roy locked himself away in his room and refused to come out or speak to anyone. But when the sixth day, and the weekend, finally rolls around, you decide to do something about it.

For a 9 year old, Roy sure had a lot to think about. He never got to say goodbye to his grandad, and he wasn't going to teach him how to ride a bike, or see him score his first professional goal, or get married, and he didn't know how to explain that when he went back to Sunderland come new year, he wasn't going away in the same capacity granddad had.

No 9 year old should've been thinking of all that.

Roy hadn't been expecting any visitors, not that he wanted any, but when you barged your way into his bedroom, he couldn't bring himself to send you away.

"Go away." Roy had growled, hidden beneath blankie and curled tightly into himself. "I want to be alone." Roy hadn't meant a lick of it and you hadn't believed any of it either.

"No, you don't." Though you had to wriggle your little self into his arms, you did it, and beamed proudly against his pyjama clad chest when he let you cuddle up to him. Roy had hugged you tightly, pulling you closer to him and wrapping blankie tightly around you both. "I missed you, Royo."

"You packed Dave in my bag." Roy stated, not asking why, or whether you wanted the teddy bear back, or telling you that he'd actually left it in Sunderland for when he went back in a few weeks time.

"You need him more then I do." Roy just nodded his head at your words, willing himself not to cry at the guilt he felt over leaving you and Molly behind and thinking about something other then his grandad. "And, if you have Dave, and Dave is mine, then you have to come and give him back to me. You have to come back from sundayland."

"Sunderland."

"What's that?" You tilted your head up to look at Roy, and found him already looking at you, half a smile on his lips.

"It's nothing."

Both you and Roy fell asleep in his room, under the safety of blankie, talking about 'sundayland' and everything good about his time there. It wasn't until tea time that his mum found the two of you and dragged you down stairs for dinner, teasing Roy once you'd gone home that you definitely had a little crush on him.

~*~

Roy's transfer to Chelsea once the season is over is announced just before your 16th birthday and you swear it's the best birthday present you've ever gotten. He's newly 21 and he's got this shaggy mullet thing going on that really shouldn't be working for him, but it is. You can't keep your eyes off of him, and Roy pretends not to notice for what he tells himself is your sake. He knows it isn't.

When his car pulls up in the drive for the first time since the weekend he came down for Mollys birthday, you and Molly run out of the house hand in hand to greet him, crying his name. He lets the two of you crash into him and wrap your arms tightly around him, almost squeezing him to death when he finds himself sandwiched between the two of you.

Roy's barely been on home soil for 10 seconds when Molly pulls away from the hug to look up at her big brother with the best puppy dog eyes she can muster up at 16. "Will you buy us drinks to take to leavers?”

"Fuck off, buy your own." You don't unwrap your arms from around Roy while they bicker, quite enjoying the familiarity of the scene before you. It was almost too long ago to fathom the last time Roy had been home long enough to start a fight with Molly, and though you never thought you'd say it, it was really nice to see.

"Incase you lost some brain cells this season, you have to be 18 to buy alcohol, fuckhead." Roy just stared blankly at Molly, and ran his fingers up and down the length of your arm as you stayed curled in his side, thinking about how similar Roy and Molly really are when it comes down to it. "So, I need you to buy it for us."

"Ask mum to buy it for you."

Molly immediately scoffs, throwing her hands in the air and muttering under her breath that she was genuinely concerned that Roy had lost some brain cells from all the headers he'd done this season. "Don't you think I tried that, dumbass? Mum said no to both of us."

Roy's gaze turned to meet yours, surprised to find you already looking at him. "Please Royo, everyone else will be drinking at leavers." Roy could never say no to you, and he was convinced both you and Molly knew that and had concocted this scheme to get him to buy it for you. He didn't mind saying yes, at least not this time, at least not when it was you asking.

Molly ran back into the house with an excited cry, promising to return with all the money she'd owe Roy for the drinks plus some as a charitable donation for his kindness.

For the first time in almost a year, you and Roy where completely alone together. He spared a moment to look at you, really look at you; notice how your hair had gotten longer and that your sense of style had completely changed, that the early summer sun was already tanning your skin and that you still had your arms around him. Roy only tightened his grip on you, dragging you into and around the house with him until you made it to the living room.

His mum had repainted since he'd last been down to visit from Sunderland and there were new photos on the wall behind the settee; mainly of you and Molly on your last day of school and one of Roy at his last match playing for Sunderland.

"You look like a proper footballer now, Royo." Despite every other seat in the living room being free, you took purchase on the arm of the chair right beside Roy and pray no one thinks it's a sign of the bubbling feelings you have for him. You may only be 16 but you're sure you've been in love with Roy for the better part of your life. It's one thing for everyone to tease you about you and Roy having little crushes on each other as kids, it's a whole other thing for people to tease you for having a crush on him when you actually did.

Roy scoffed, taking a long swig from the beer he'd grabbed from the kitchen when he first got to the house, swallowing down his smile. "But not enough for you to stop calling me 'Royo,' apparently."

"You could be the most famous footballer on the planet and I'd still call you Royo." You reached up for his hair and ruffled it, laughing at the way he pulled away from your touch and went to flatten his hair back out almost immediately. "But I mean it, you look like the kind of footballer kids have posters of up on their walls, that they want to be when they grow up."

And you're entirely right. Somewhere up in Manchester, a 6 year old Jamie Tartt is pinning a poster of your Roy up on his wall and promising himself, and his dad, that all of his time and money spent on football practice will one day pay off - that he's going to be one of the greats, just like Roy Kent.

"You'll always be my Royo, Roy. Even when you're super famous and don't remember me anymore." Your hand had somehow found it's way back into Roy's hair and he couldn't bring himself to move away from your touch. Since his sudden rise to fame, in which it seemed like he'd become an overnight sensation, he couldn't remember when he was last touched so gently. Touching only to touch, not because they wanted something from him or his name.

Roy couldn't keep in the smile that pulled at his lips. It faltered slightly at the fact he couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled, let alone genuinely, but it quickly returned and warmed his face when he meet your eyes. "And how could I ever forget the likes of you, yeah?"

Somewhere between shared words and glances, his hand had found yours and the two of you couldn't tear your eyes away from the other. "Dinners ready, guys." Molly was well known for her perfect timing, and despite some initial upset at the moment being taken from you, you knew it was for the better. Roy was Molly's brother, your best friends brother, who had 5 years on you yet. Though you knew it was unlikely anything would ever happen between the two of you, moments like this made you think there was a small possibility something one day would. The thought wasn't one worth seriously entertaining. "Did I... interrupt something?"

"What? No way." You and Molly ran from the room hand in hand, giggles bubbling past your lips and exchanged, in hushed whispers, the conversation that Molly had just walked in on.

It was like Roy had never left as he followed the two of you into the dining room. He took his seat across the table from you like he always did and knocked his foot against yours every time he wanted your attention. Dinner was good and before he knew it you were half on top of him on the sofa, sneaking bites from his plate of dessert as everyone else partook in the worlds most heated game of Pictionary.

He gave a sharp nudge to your ribs when you stole the last bite but quickly soothed it over with the gentle drumming of his fingers against your skin. The pair of you talked in hushed tones for the rest of the evening about his transfer to Chelsea and everything he was looking forward to now that he was back in London, as well as all your plans for your super long summer before you started college in September.

It was only when Roy's mum turned to ask if you were going home or staying over that anyone had noticed the two of you cuddled up in the armchair in the corner of the room, both fast asleep. She didn't dare wake you, thankful to see her son at peace for the first time in what felt like years, instead placing a blanket over the two of you and ushering Molly up to bed despite her insistence that you come with her.

One day, she thought, the two of you would finally see yourselves in other people, realise that if love looks like that then the two of you must be in it, and with any luck she'd still be alive to see it. She knew Roy was stubborn enough to keep that from happening. Maybe he would't be this time; at least, not when it came to you.

~*~

When the rumours of Roy's relationship with Britanny Brett are confirmed by a quote she gives in an interview, he finds himself typing out an apology to you. He stares at his phone for 3 hours and the most he can type out is 'I didn't want you to find out like this, I'm sorry,' but he still doesn't send it. Roy's not entirely sure what he's apologising for.

It's the night before his 27th birthday and he's debating whether or not he should show up to the birthday dinner his mum has planned for him tomorrow. You'll be there. He knows it. But only because he knows that Molly dragged you back from uni with her just for the occasion. And for some reason that he can't quite place, or just doesn't want to yet, he feels bad about having to see your face and hear you talk about his girlfriend.

Although Brittany Brett is smoking hot, and they have really great sex, he's not sure he wants to take her home to meet his family. To meet you. Sure, she's a great footballers girlfriend, but he's a little worried about what the people who know him as just Roy will think of her.

When she appears on the other side of his door the morning of his 27th birthday, the first thing he says to her is 'you can't come to my birthday party' and he feels like he's 8 years old again and making mortal enemies in the playground at school. She doesn't acknowledge his comment, instead inviting herself in and making herself at home in Roy's living room, and he's never been more thankful for her 'too good for everyone' demeanour.

He drops her off at her house on the way over to his mums house later that evening. Roy decides he hates the way her perfume lingers in his car and has buried itself under his skin. He wants nothing more then for it to get away from him but there's still 20 minutes left of the drive and he knows the second you hear the car pull up you'll come running out the door and he won't have anytime to get the smell off of him.

When he pulls up on the doorstep of his childhood home 20 minutes later, only Molly comes running from the house to greet him. For a minute he thinks you haven't shown up to celebrate his birthday with him and he feels his heart break in two. He tells himself he doesn't know why. However, when he walks into the house and heads straight to the kitchen in search of a beer to calm his nerves, and help him forget about you, he finds you there, helping his mum with making his favourite dinner and a wide smile on your face.

You notice him lingering, shocked, in the doorway and pull him into your arms. There's less strength to your hold then he's used to but he feels grateful that you even want him in your arms after everything he's done. Now Roy really isn't sure why he's talking like that; like you've been hard done by from his relationship with Brittany Brett. To a degree he feels like he's cheated on you, but he can't have done because the two of you were never together. However, he doesn't let the thought linger, instead pulling you tighter against him and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Of course you'd be here, of course you would, but he finds himself holding onto you for a little longer then he probably should just to make sure you're really here and really staying.

Dinner is nice. It's a piece of simplicity he's missed every night since he was 9 years old and heading away to Sunderland for the first time. It's not often nowadays that he gets to eat dinner at a dining table surrounded by people he loves and who love him, so he relishes in every moment of it. He lets his hand brush against yours when he asks for the salt and he nudges your foot with his every-time he wants your attention. Being in this room, in this seat, with you, is like being 8 years old again and everything bad is yet to happen to him. Roy realises he likes the feeling of it more then he ever remembers.

No one brings up Brittany Brett, the way Roy smelt like her when you hugged him, the apology he never sent, or the way you cried in Molly and Ms Kent's arms when you found out he had a girlfriend. Dinner is peaceful and you and Roy share a slice of birthday cake on his Grandad's armchair, then fall asleep together there like he doesn't have a girlfriend and you don't have a broken heart.

His mum feels like she's got two children in her house and she wishes it would stay like this forever, as long as that meant Roy couldn't hurt your heart more then he already had. But Roy is stubborn, and she knows that. When she comes downstairs in the morning it's just you on the armchair with Roy's jacket over your shoulders like a blanket. You're hugging the material tightly against you as if it could ever replace Roy's presence, and even though you're still asleep, both of you know it won't.

When Roy sneaks out at 4am, the first thing he does is drive to Brittany Brett's house and breaks up with her. After all, there's no point being with someone when you know for a fact that you're in love with someone else.

~*~

Molly's dating this guy who doesn't let her speak to you, or Roy, or her own mum and you're scared for her life. In the two times you've managed to get a hold of her, you begged and pleaded with her to leave him. She's only 25 and so are you, you could run away together and start it all over and no one would know any different. Both times she said she wanted to be with him, that she loved him. All you want is your best friend back and for her to be safe, and rather selfishly, because you need her more then you've ever needed anyone.

Despite trying all day, you can't reach her, or her boyfriend, and you don't know who else to call. Ms Kent was the only real parental figure you'd had growing up, but it was pushing midnight and you didn't want to wake her up for the sake of your own comfort. Roy's number is below hers on your favourite contacts and you don't hesitate to ring it. You know he's got a match this weekend and practice tomorrow but you need someone and you have no one else to keep you from your own mind.

Roy's in some club in north London when his phone rings and his screen illuminates with your name and a picture of the two of you from last Christmas. It's one of the newcomers 21st birthday and he remembers being 21 and moving to Chelsea, moving back home, like it was yesterday. He's got 10 years on the kid who's just starting his career while he's going on aging out of it. It's almost enough to make him feel old.

He's quick to answer the phone, practically running out of the club to make sure he can hear you and he's already walking back to his car when he hears the suppressed sniffle to your voice. Roy can't see 100% past 9pm anymore so he doesn't drink when he goes out with the team, he knows it'll only make it worse, and for the first time ever, it's actually come in use.

It takes him 37 minutes exactly to drive from the club to your childhood home that's pressed brick by brick against his, and that's only because he made a pit stop to his own house on the way over. Every time he comes back here lately, it feels like some cruel trick of fate, that he can't have you but can have his entire life shaped by you.

He's banging his fist loudly against the door before he can take into consideration that your neighbours, one of which is his own mother, are likely asleep and wouldn't take too kindly to being woken up at this hour. When you open the door to a friendly face, you all but collapse into Roy's arms, already sobbing and heaving and trying to get the words out but not being able to do so. He scoops you up into his arms, years of intense football training allowing him to do it without second though, and carries you to your bedroom.

He placed you against the pillows and then kicks off his shoes, he definitely scuffed them up in the process but Roy couldn't seem to find the time to mind. Before you've managed to get a single word out Roy's stripped off the bulk of his suit, leaving him in just a shirt, boxers and socks. The image is kind of funny and if you weren't so devastated, you were sure you'd be laughing.

"What's wrong?" When Roy's hands gently wrap around your wrists to try and pull them away from your face and get a glance at you, you just start crying harder. "C'mon sweetheart, talk to me."

When he's met with more silence he pulls out his surprise weapon, a raggedy, old teddy bear, with matted fur that smells surprisingly like Roy. "Would it be easier to talk to Dave?" Finally your hands move away from your face to get a look at the teddy bear, not believing it's right in front of you when you know you haven't seen it since you were five yours old. It took a couple of minutes, lots of sniffling, and really willing yourself to say it, but eventually you did. Roy's arms around your and the soft touch of Dave's fur against your skin settling your nerves.

"My dad died this morning." Roy didn't hesitate to pull you into his lap, settling himself against your pillows as he brought you closer to him. "And I have no one to tell. Molly's boyfriend won't let her speak to me anymore, and I didn't want to burden your mum with it, and I just... I didn't know who to call or talk to and I know you were probably busy-"

"Hey, hey, don't. You did the right thing calling me. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, yeah?" Both of Roy's hands are cradling your face, forcing you to look at him and really listen to what he wants to say. "I'm here, okay? I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

You shuffle in his lap, turning enough that you can bury your head in the crook of his neck and wrap your arms around his shoulders. Roy's warm and surprisingly comfy, but you reckon that's more so because the skin of his thighs are pressing into the skin of yours and you're sure it's the closest you've ever been to him. You try not to think about how you wouldn't mind being this close to him more often.

The rest of the night is spent with you in Roy's arms, his hand running up and down your back, his other hand cradling your face and wiping away each tear that spills over. He lets you ramble and ramble about everything on your mind with no regard for the fact he's got practice at 8am tomorrow. Even when you fall asleep in his arms, tears staining his brand new shirt, practice is the furthest thing from his mind, so much so that he doesn't even remember sending Di Matteo the text saying he wasn't well and wouldn't be able to make practice in the morning.

Roy wakes up a long time before you, and he finds he has to practically drag himself away from you and the bed. When his eyes blink open he sees the sight he's spent the better part of his life waiting to see: you're in his arms, fast asleep, looking entirely peaceful and for a minute he can pretend that this is his life. While the haze of sleep has yet to fade, he can act like he wakes up to you every morning, that you love him like he loves you, and that, if he wanted to, he could press kisses all over your face until you woke up and flashed him that bright beautiful smile of yours.

If he wanted to, he could press kisses all over your face until you woke up and you would greet him with a soft smile, pressing a kiss to his face in return and not caring if it landed against his lips, cheek, or jaw, because you know you'll be able to kiss the other places whenever you like.

Roy pulls himself out of bed and drags his feet all the way to your kitchen where he cooks the two of you breakfast. Nothing about it is rushed - he knows that he has nowhere to be but here, with you. He knows you've woken up when he can hear the gentle padding of your feet against your bedroom floor. Roy hears you walk down the hall, down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where you then cross the room to him, and wrap your arms around his waist. Dave is clutched in on of your hands and your head is pressed against the dimples of his shoulder blades, your other hand fiddling with the hem of the front of his T-shirt, so casually that any passer by would think this was routine. And even though it isn't, Roy takes the risk of placing his hand atop your own and lacing his fingers through yours. When he can feel you smile into his back, he thinks maybe he should've kissed you in the bedroom, that maybe you'd have liked it just as much as he would've.

~*~

It's another year after your dad died before Molly finds out. She doesn't show up to Christmas, or Easter, but she comes by one late spring afternoon when Ms Kent had invited you and Roy over for picky bits in the garden, with a bin bag full of her belongings and a black eye. If your hand wasn't holding Roy's so tightly you were sure he would've been right out of the door, driving off to find the prick and give him an even worse beating then he'd given his sister.

You pull Roy with you when you cross the garden to engulf Molly in a hug, both of you breaking down at the contact and apologies tumbling from both of your lips. Molly apologises for not being there when your dad died, and not attending the funeral, you force her to take back her apology while also shoving your own down her throat, apologising for not finding her, for not being there. The two of you only cry harder when Roy pulls the two of you, still hugging, into his embrace. It's warm and his hands are big and it makes you feel like you're a child again, and you suppose that in some ways you still are.

It takes almost half an hour for the two of you to calm down enough for any coherent words to get out, and the first ones that do is that Molly's pregnant and she needs somewhere to stay. Immediately you ask her to move in with you. It's perfect really, you're next door to her mum and you've got a room for her and for the baby (when it comes) now that your dads passed. Roy likes the idea even more; something about his three, soon to be four, favourite people being in one place taking his fancy.

The eight months between Molly showing back up and beautiful baby Phoebe being born seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. The soft, warm, yellow paint of phoebes nursery smears your memories of those months; everything about it is caked in the glow of the summer you have when you're 5 years old and have no care in the world.

You and Molly are best friends again and it's like you never missed two years of each others lives; everything just falls right back into place. The two of you do everything together and you wouldn't have it any other way, even when everything includes being in the room with her and Ms Kent when she's giving birth.

Roy, unluckily, is the only one not invited into the room, and he spends almost 6 hours pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth in the waiting room, waiting for some kind of an update on his sister and his niece. It's you that comes to give it to him. You're in blue scrubs that you pull off further with every step you take into the waiting room, running right into Roy's arms with the widest smile he's ever seen cross your face.

"She's beautiful, Roy. She's so beautiful." He just nods his head and allows you to take his hand and pull him in the direction of the room Molly and his mum are in. "I love her so much already and she's only been here for 5 minutes."

Roy understood what you meant as soon as he walked into the room. Molly was absolutely glowing, and cradling this tiny, tiny baby in her arms like she was terrified any movement at all might hurt her - she didn't even look like she was breathing less it hurt the baby.

"Do you want to hold her?" You whispered, nudging his foot with yours to gain his attention. "You won't break her, promise." You didn't give Roy the opportunity to answer, instead eagerly taking the baby off of Molly and walking over to Roy. His mum all but pushed him into one of the chairs they had in the room and lectured him on how to hold the baby correctly. Slowly, you lowered her into his arms, making sure he had a comfortable and safe grip on her before you removed your arms from the little Phoebe completely. "Isn't she amazing?"

Roy can already picture it and it's breaking his heart. You, and him, and a little baby wrapped in a blanket with eyes that don't yet know how to open. But, in the daydream he doesn't tell anyone about, you're holding the baby and his arms are around you, whispering how much he loves you into your ear and promising to do everything for that baby. Your baby. He doesn't yet know if a day like that is ever going to come; he'd have to get over himself first, and he doesn't see that happening anytime soon. For you, however, he just might try.

"Yeah, yeah she is."

Molly and little baby Phoebe have to stay in the hospital overnight, but can be discharged in the morning, and Molly doesn't let any of you stay with her. In fact, she demands the three of you head home and come back tomorrow, well rested to drive her and newborn Phoebe home.

The three of you pick up some chinese takeout on your way home and eat it around Ms Kent's dinner table. Molly's absence is so heavily felt that part of you feels thrust back in time to a year ago, when you didn't have any contact with her and didn't know if she was even alive, let alone okay. It shakes you to your core and you leave your dinner half eaten as you excuse yourself to the bathroom just to breathe. When you return to the table, you find that dinner has been cleared away, but Ms Kent is holding out a spoon for you, pointing you in the direction of the living room.

Roy's sat in his grandads armchair with the biggest bowl of ice cream you've ever seen and he opens up his arms to you when he feels you staring at him from the doorway. You didn't hesitate to sit with him, squished up in the seat that fit the both of you slightly better when you were kids, with Roy's arm around your shoulders. When you didn't take a large helping of ice cream for yourself, he nudged the bowl in your direction.

"When Molly came home, I'd get in bed with her each night." You whispered, only loud enough that Roy would be able to hear you. It felt embarrassing, to try and explain why you felt Molly's absence for one night so vastly, but you knew that if anyone would get it, it would be Roy. "For the first month or so, she'd ask me to stay with her, so she knew she wasn't alone and she was safe. So I did. And then one night she was like 'I don't need you in bed with me anymore, I think I'm okay now,' and I didn't know what to do." You stuck your spoon inside the ice-cream, stirring it around the bowl but never bringing the build up of vanilla on the spoon to your lips. "I got in bed that night and I couldn't sleep at all, so I went and knocked on her door and she was still awake. Told me she couldn't sleep either, and I got right back into bed with her." Tears pricked at your eyes and your spoon fell against the bowl. "I don't know what to do without Molly, Royo, I don't want to have to do without her again."

Roy quickly moved the half eaten bowl of ice cream to the coffee table, pulling you into him and cradling your head against his shoulder. "Molly's not going anywhere, babe, she'll be home in the morning. Everything's going to be okay."

Neither of you brought up how he called you babe, and his mum didn't bring up how you fell asleep cuddled up in the armchair like you did when you were kids. But when Roy brought Phoebe and Molly home the following morning, and Molly and Ms Kent had taken Phoebe upstairs to get her settled into her new home, he pulled you in for a hug.

"Told you so." He whispered in your ear, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. Then Roy grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers with his and pulling you up the stairs to join Phoebe in her new room. Dave was in his other hand and he continued to stand by you as you placed it in the crib with her, knowing that she needed Dave more then you or Roy did now.

All of you couldn't wait to watch this little girl grow up surrounded by people who loved her so, so much.

~*~

Roy gets transferred to Richmond just before Phoebe's 4th birthday and you tease him that he has a penchant for getting the best kinds of birthday present. He asks why you remember so clearly that his transfer to Chelsea 15 years ago was just before your 16th birthday, and you answer honestly that it was the only thing you'd wanted for your birthday that year - for Roy to be closer to home. You immediately get to tease him again as a blush coats his cheeks.

On his first day at Richmond, he gets you, Molly and Phoebe seats in the family box, says that they'll always be there if you ever want to come and watch him play, and you reply that you always watch him play.

"I've been playing professionally for half my life. Sunderland, Chelsea, and now Richmond. I've never seen you even glimpse at a football match."

You scoff immediately and Roy's slightly taken aback, you almost look angry at what he's saying and he doesn't know why because he's right. Not that it matters to him, but you just don't like football that much; he doesn't blame you or anything, each to their own, but he wishes you'd like it for him. "I've seen every game you've ever played."

"Yeah, right."

"Yeah, right." You turned to Roy, putting down the bag filled with Phoebe's first ever school uniform inside now that you'd made it back home. "I'm serious. I've watched every match you've ever played in. All of your games with Sunderland and Chelsea, and I'll watch all your games now that you're at Richmond." You turn to Roy with a tense crease in your brow and he's wishing he never brought it up. "You're important to me Roy, of course I'd watch every time you play."

"What's sundayland, babe?" Phoebe had ran into the living room when she'd heard the door go, excited that you and Roy returned home. Molly and you had called each other babe since you were teenagers, and Phoebe had taken to calling you babe over your actual name. It didn't help that Roy had let it slip a few time too, only reassuring her that she was calling you by the correct thing.

"It's nothing, pheeb's." You scooped the little blonde into your arms, resting her against your jutted out hip and beginning to wander through the house. "Where your mum? You need to try on your uniform."

"Can I give you a fashion show?" She asked, leaning her head against your shoulder in a way that had Roy thinking about the two of you with a kid again. He'd have to ask you out first, and with each year that passed, the possibility of him actually doing that seemed to get slimmer and slimmer.

"Of course you can, Pheeb's. Go get dressed. Me and your uncle Roy will wait in the living room."

You stuck to your word, watching every single match that Roy played in. Sometimes at Nelson road, sometimes with Molly and Phoebe, sometimes in Ms Kent's living room - but you always watched him play.

The first time Molly let you take Phoebe to Nelson road was as your birthday present the same year Phoebe turned 6. You'd been pleading all year for Molly to let you bring Phoebe along to a home game, and she finally caved - on the condition you kept her ear defenders on all night and left if it got too much for her. Phoebe loved every minute of the match, screamed her little heart out just for the sake of joining in, even if she didn't know what people were saying; You were certain her cry of 'uncle Roy' every time she saw him with the ball was the loudest in the stadium.

When the match was over, a man with glasses found you in the stands, introduced himself as 'Higgins,' handed you two family lanyards with Kent plastered all over them, and asked you to follow him. You're barely in the changing rooms when Phoebe lets go of your hand, crying Roy's name and interrupting a speak from that new, American coach that Roy had complained about.

"Phoebe!" The blonde didn't wait up for you, running right at Roy and knowing he'd catch her when she flung herself the remaining foot into his arms. "What did I tell you?"

"I didn't know grandad fancied himself a cradle robber." You'd heard enough complaints to know the dig at Roy was from Jamie Tartt, the season loan from Manchester City. "Surely, someone like you isn't married to someone like Roy."

The twinge of disgust that slipped from the mans mouth when he said Roy's name had your blood boiling. "Why? Would you rather me with the likes of you instead?"

Jamie stood in dumbfounded silence as you turned back to Roy, your face entirely brightening, and his presence being totally ignored for the rest of your stay in the lock room. He wasn't used to that. He was trying to compliment you, say you were way out of Roy's league - maybe even ask for your number - but you didn't even spare him a second glance. In fact, now that your eyes were back on him, he wasn't entirely sure you were ever going to look away from Roy again. It made sense when he thought about it in bed later that night, even though he teased the fuck out of Roy and sometimes plainly treated him like shit, Roy Kent was one of the greats. Even Jamie Tartt knew that, and had known it since he was 6 years old - of course he'd managed to score someone like you.

Murmurs of Roy Kent having a secret spouse and daughter had filled Nelson Road before you'd even left the building.

It wasn't that Roy didn't want to talk about you. If he had the opportunity, he'd scream about you from rooftops, but being a footballer was a very public affair and he loved his privacy. Almost as much as he loved you.

The dog track didn't think they'd ever see your face again, not when Roy had growled at them after he'd guided you and Phoebe out of the changing room. Unfortunately for them, they would, under the worst possible circumstances.

You'd been on the edge of your seat the whole match. Roy's been benched for the first time in what you're sure is his entire career and doesn't come on until the 60th minute and when he does, you swear he's on fire. He's playing better then he'd ever played before, running faster then he's ever ran in the past few years, and he's slide tackling Jamie Tartt and getting the ball away from the goal. People are screaming his name and so are you.

And then he's not getting up.

And then he's still not getting up.

And then he's still not getting up, the cheers have died down, and everyone's waiting with baited breath while it's determined if they've just seen the end of Roy Kent's 30 year long career with their own eyes.

And then Roy gets up, and for a fleeting moment you think that maybe everything's okay, that Roy's okay, and he's going to carry on playing.

And then he's walking from the pitch, limping, and your sprinting from your seat in the family box and running up to the owners box. You don't have to say a word because Rebecca calls a member of security over to you, and asks with a kind smile for him to guide you down to the changing rooms.

You linger outside the door for about 5 seconds before you push it open. If you were anyone else, you'd were certain he would've yelled at you to get out, even though he didn't mean it, just for the sake of his image. But you weren't anyone else, you were you.

"I'm fine." You hadn't even made it fully into the room and Roy was already trying to make his pain seem less bad then it was. "I'm fine. Go watch the rest of the match. You might have to drive us back to yours though."

"Roy." He doesn't say anything as you cross the room and sit beside him on the bench. You slowly wrap your arm around his shoulders and tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head down to rest against your shoulder. "Don't. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, yeah? You're important to me, let me be here for you."

Roy kisses you and you instantly realise you'd have waited 33 more years for it, if that meant it would happen.

His lips are chapped, and his beard is slightly scratchy, and he's already breathless before he even leans into it but you don't mind. You find that his lips slant against yours perfectly and he slides you closer against him on the bench, using the hand he'd placed on your hip to give it a squeeze, eliciting an gasp from you. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth but he pulls away before it can escalate.

You hope to anything listening that he wants to kiss you again, because you're sure he's ruined the touch of everyone else's lips against your skin for you.

"I've been in love with you since I was 5 years old." Roy pressed his lips back to yours in a quick succession of kisses and you're sure that thats a good sign.

"Since you were 5 years old?" He asks, nudging his nose against yours, pressing his lips firmly to yours when they brush slightly as he speaks. "Fuck, did we waste a lot of time."

~*~

Roy's been the manager of Richmond for the last 4 months and you're thankful that there's no football on over Christmas. You get Roy practically all to yourself for three weeks and it's the best feeling ever.

Phoebes still in school until the 22nd, and you live together at Roy's house, so there's no chance Molly will walk in on the two of you or his mum will hear you through the walls - meaning 90% of his first week off work is spent having sex on every surface in the house, in every position imaginable.

The second week off is the main bulk of Christmas. You pick Phoebe up from school on the 22nd and she has a sleep over at your house. The 23rd is spent curled up on your couch, with Phoebe sandwiched between the two of you, watching Christmas movies all day and stuffing your faces with popcorn and hot chocolate. Phoebe spends the night again, and then the three of you drive down to Ms Kent's house at lunchtime on the 24th. Molly comes home from work around 6pm and the 5 of spend the rest of the evening in the living room, watching 'love actually' and 'the polar express,' until it's time for bed. Even though you and Roy have been together for nearly 3 years now, you sleep in Molly's bed with her and Phoebe, reminiscing on the christmas's of your childhood and giggling over them until you fall asleep.

When christmas morning finally comes, you and Molly are the last awake, Phoebe jumping all over the two of you and demanding you get downstairs as soon as possible to see what Father Christmas has left for her. You let Phoebe drag you down stairs even though you're barely awake and you crawl into Roy's lap, in his grandads armchair, at the first opportunity. He's already got a coffee made for you, just the way you like it, and a warm hand that he slips up the back of your tshirt to scratch gently against your skin as you watch Phoebe begin to open her mountain of presents.

"How many of these are from you?" You whisper, feeling Roy smile against your temple as you sip on your coffee, slowly waking up in his arms.

"Enough. They're not all for Pheeb's anyway." Roy picks you up enough to adjust your position in his lap, making it more comfortable for the both of you to sit and talk and watch presents getting opened. "Some for my mum, some for Molly, some for you."

"You're too kind to me, baby." You lean up enough to press a kiss to Roy's lips, ignoring the loud screech Phoebe lets out at the display of affection. "I got some stuff for you under there too, handsome."

"I don't see you under that tree, Father Christmas clearly mustn't have got my list." Even though you're not looking directly at Roy you can feel the smirk that is pulling at his lips.

Before you could comment on what that could possibly mean Phoebe was calling your name, sticking her hand out with a tiny, paper-wrapped box in her palm. "This one's for you, it says it's from uncle Roy!"

"For me, huh? Lets have a look then, shall we Pheeb's?" Phoebe abandoned her half opened pile of gifts to stand beside you, leaning over the arm of the arm chair and over your shoulder to get a prime look at the gift as you opened it. "Thank you, baby."

Roy pinched your hip teasingly, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he intently watched you carefully unfold the wrapping paper. "Open it first, you might not like it. I kept the receipt so... just say the word and we'll get it changed."

"It's from you, Royo, I'm sure I'll love it." You punctuated your words with a kiss to his lips, not realising just how much your words would ring true until you'd fully unwrapped the box; finding a navy blue, velvet ring box and tears in Ms Kent's eyes. "Roy..."

"I spent 36 years of my life not knowing you felt the same way about me as I felt about you." Roy took the box gently from your hold and opened it, taking the dainty and elegant ring from it and holding it between the two of you. "And I don't plan to waste another moment of my life without you by my side."

"Yes."

"Oi, you're supposed to let me fucking ask you first." A laugh bubbled past your lips despite the tears building in your eyes. "Will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?"

"Yes." Your hands found Roy's face before his could place the ring on your finger, pulling him into a hot and forceful kiss, tilting his head back with how much you leaned into it, into him. "Yes. Yes. Yes, please."

"You owe me £1, Uncle Roy."

Tears are shed and the rest of the gifts are opened. Christmas dinner goes by without a hitch, and before you know it the days nearly over and you find yourself in Roy's lap, in his grandads armchair, with one bowl of dessert between the two of you, like so many times before. Ms Kent is sat across from the two of you with her own bowl of dessert and she looks like she wants to say something about it. She doesn't, but only because she knows, and she knows that you and Roy know. This day was a long time coming and she's over the moon that it's come in her lifetime.

Roy's love for you was stronger then any will he had to remain stubborn, and after a life time of waiting, he'd finally found his way to you, and she was sure he would find his way to you in every lifetime; even if it took 100 years or breaking a curse. Like she'd told you on that cool September morning, the prince always comes back, and they always live happily ever after. And she was sure the two of you were going to as well.

an : if you made this this far I love you!!! I hope you enjoyed another super long Roy fic, feel free to leave some feedback or what your favourite part of the story was, or even a request from my summer sleepover prompts!! Mwah <333

#beybaldes writes !!#ted lasso x reader #roy kent one shot #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine

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johnslittlespoon · 1 month

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ok okokk i may be pushing it but i just cant stop picturing barry circa 2012 with leaving!bucky. i just feel like theyd have the cutest dynamic ever. he gives art student vibes like maybe hes studying film or literature. theyre childhood bestfriends and maybe they were eachother's homoerotic-codependent-friendship canon event. UGHH theyd be so cute stfuu. and maybe bucky and gale are already established and curt is just yearning for a whileee like over a year of slow burn until the three of them are a throuple... idk i just miss curtbuckbucky. you dont have to change your canon for the long fic i just needed to share this idea lmfao

au post | NO ur not pushing it this is such fun world building teehee <33 genuinely this is gonna help me later for drafting! (FUCK MY LIFE HOW IS THIS 2K WORDS. i thought i only had a few thoughts... i was so wrong. my bad chief. enjoy/suffer ig)

ok so this is so funny because i've actually been thinking ab how sweet those two would be together, cute little nerdy besties, and how they'd meet because of course curt has to be in this fic!!

and the first thing my mind went to was the cliche homoerotic codependent friendship trope too LMAO. i'm feeling like maybe they meet on the first day of highschool; neither of them share their english class with any friends, and they end up sat next to each other, and john keeps side–eyeing him because curt looks... interesting. (ie: deep into his emo phase. the fringe. the smudged eyeshadow. chipped black nail polish, band shirts– all things john does not let him live down as they grow up.)

but his eyes settle on some pin on curt's jacket that has some character from his favourite movie or something, and the yap jumps out, john can't control it. blurts out a "you like ___ too?!" and curt's head snaps over and he nods nervously and john takes one look at those big sad charcoal–ringed blue puppy eyes and is like yup. this is the one. will protect with my life.

(tiny headcanon that rly won't have a big effect on plot or anything, but i feel like it just fits very well with john/his character in leaving– dude's got madddd undiagnosed adhd. he's written off as a loud mouth/troublemaker in his childhood, but he wants to be a good kid, his mind is just always going too fast and sitting still is torture and his parents get frustrated and don't look into the root of the problem, trying to discipline it out of him instead. i will heal my inner child by healing him alright)

they're attached at the hip from that moment on and it makes sense to no one because they seem like complete opposites, curt more inclined towards the arts and bookish things and his friends are all the same, whereas john is more inclined towards athletics and science and hangs around that type of crowd as well. but they both love video games and movies and music and they bond over never really feeling like they fit in anywhere particular and both groups of friends get along just fine when they all get together. <3

but yk time goes on, they learn things about themselves as they grow up, and curt and john are so close and spend so much time together that they're already a lot closer than regular friends– they just don't realize it. they think nothing of cuddling up on the couch watching movies together, or sharing a bed when john stays over at curt's place after he gets into a fight with his parents, or being much more interested in spending time together than pursuing girls.

and curt's pretty– john nearly mistakes him for a girl that first day they meet. the summer before their senior year, john practically spends the whole summer at curt's house, and curt's mom doesn't mind; she works long hours and is glad her son isn't spending the summer moping around indoors alone, and she loves john and gets the feeling that her home is a sanctuary for him. one day they're in the backyard lazing around, and they get onto the topic of first kisses, and neither of them have had a proper relationship outside of those classic week–long middleschool flings that don't actually mean anything, so there's not much to talk about.

but being dumb teenage boys, they start worrying about "what if we're really bad at kissing and no girls wanna go with us to senior prom this year" etc. and one of them pops the suggestion of practicing together, and thus begins a summer of sweet stolen kisses and hand holding and experimenting and dancing around calling it something. it ends when the summer does because they realize that they both work better as friends, but they're as close as ever and both definitely learn they aren't straight (and they probably make a cute pact– "if we aren't in love by the time we're thirty, we'll just marry each other.")

i don't see them really doing much together because they're young and shy and inexperienced, but it's enough for john to decide that yeah, he definitely likes guys too, but that's all that really amounts to (until he meets gale) because he's growing up in a small town in wisconsin and it's not the easiest/most accepting place to find other queers. john probably ends up dating a real sweet girl during his last year of highschool, but she's going away for college and john's going to a local one so it ends amicably at the end of summer, both of them staying close friends. (if we wanna get sickeningly wholesome, maybe she ends up pining for a girl while john's pining for gale and they share their little stories and give each other advice and facetime every week to catch up <3)

(++ curt ends up falling head over heels for ken, who he meets through john when curt and john's friend groups get together for movie nights or summer parties. john pretends to be annoyed at how lovesick they are when they first start crushing, but he ends up matchmaking and being the one to push them to confess their feelings after graduation because he loves his friends.)

BUT THEN, leaving this fic's 'canon' to elaborate on the throuple stuff you said! i miss curtbuckbucky too </3

in a separate universe, curt doesn't end up with ken, and as much as he loves his friendship with john and agrees that a relationship wouldn't have worked at that time in their lives, he spends that first year of college pining. when john starts talking about some guy named gale during their second year, he's a little sad, but mostly protective, because "what do you MEAN he's in his 30s??" and "he's a BIKER?"

but john eventually introduces him to gale after a few months of telling curt about him, probably once he and gale actually start seeing each other, and curt immediately gets it. and then he's in double–hell because not only is he a bit (a lot) in love with his best friend, but he's blushing every time said best friend's new bf talks to him, and they're gonna notice eventually if they haven't already and he feels so guilty.

more yearning ensues and john is dense and doesn't realize but gale picks up on it, maybe even notices john doing a bit of pining of his own that john's not fully aware of. and his heart twists because his mind goes to his own insecurities about how john should be seeing someone his own age, so he sits john down and opens up a conversation about it. john is adamant that he's very, very happy with gale, but he tells gale about his and curt's past and admits that he has always still had feelings for him, but insists that it's not something he'd ever pursue, that he values curt's friendship more.

gale throws him off by saying he wouldn't mind if john wanted to explore those feelings, and at first john gets anxious gale is calling things off with the two of them and this is his way of softening the blow, but gale reassures him that's not the case, that he's very happy with their relationship. he just encourages that if he wants to talk to curt and feel things out, he wouldn't be opposed to john and curt seeing each other as well– gale's often busy, after all, so it would be nice for john to have someone else, as long as curt's comfortable with that kind of arrangement and as long as john keeps gale in the loop.

they decide to kinda just feel it out as they go, but soon enough gale starts coming home from work every so often to find the two of them curled up on his couch together, sweet and innocent. curt's wary at first, always slightly detaching himself from john when gale's around, but gale is always friendly and doesn't change up his routine, settling on the couch at john's other side like it's not a big deal at all, wanting to show curt he's welcome there, not wanting john to feel guilty.

it's another scenario where lines just sorta start to blur over time, curt spending a lot of time over at gale's house, and gale sees the way curt looks at him, probably noticed it from the first time they met but chalked it up to nerves at the time. curt's an angel and he's grown quite fond of him, but he doesn't want to overstep, so he leaves it up to curt, thinking maybe the boy will mention it to john one day and john will in turn come to gale to talk about it.

and eventually that happens, just like gale thought it might. curt's just gone home and john's head is in his lap on the couch while they watch tv, and john asks "what do you think about curt?" and gale tells him that he's sweet and he loves how much john smiles when he's around him, the usual. "so you like him?" john pushes, and gale immediately has a feeling where this conversation is going, drags his eyes away from the tv to look down at john.

says "of course" easily, and lets john take his time forming his thoughts. john ends up telling him that he and curt were fooling around earlier while gale was at work (and god help gale for the images that puts in his head) and that he'd made some offhand comment about how curt better hurry up if he doesn't want gale to come home and catch him half naked on their couch. and john's all shy when he says "and curt, uh. y'know. that... did it for him" with a vague gesture LOL. gale never fails to find it amusing how certain things can fluster john to talk about after all they've done together.

"so, anyway. i asked him about it after, if it was a coincidence, and he was real shy about it, but he did admit after a whole lot of apologizing that he likes you." gale listens to him nervously get his words out, petting his hair encouragingly, waits for him to be done before he asks "how do you feel about that?" only to watch the flush return when john mumbles "it's hot."

this is getting sooo long i need to take away my own typing privileges, but basically that's how things would start between the three of them– john and gale agree that gale will let himself be a bit flirty with curt and see how curt takes it. obviously this goes a little too well when curt gets hot and bothered sat between john and gale during a movie night with john's hand on his knee and gale's arm resting on the couch behind him while he plays with curt's hair.

the movie is forgotten when gale's finger catches on a tangled curl and curt doesn't bite back the little whine that slips out in time and john's head snaps over and he mumbles a "fuck" when he realizes what's happened, and his lack of filter comes out to play when he turns to curt and asks "curt, can gale kiss you?" and curt turns to gale with big doll eyes and nods.

john ends up palming himself over his shorts as he watches gale coax curt into his lap, face hot and pupils blown as he gets to see both his guys make out in front of him, almost dizzy seeing curt get so shy and needy and pliant because when it's just the two of them, he and curt are both very balanced in their dynamic. they've been such close friends for so long that not much gets the other truly shy like that, and they're always quick to voice their wants and crack jokes while fooling around and all. so to see curt get so flustered in that way with gale has him lightheaded, and by the time they all collapse into gale's bed at the end of the night, john's convinced this is the best decision he's ever made.

there's a lot of pining on curt's end because for a while it's kinda just sex when it's the three of them, and he loves it but he also finds himself wanting more but feeling too scared to voice it because he feels like he's intruding. but eventually they all get their shit sorted out; curt fits into their relationship just right in a way gale and john never intended or expected, and gale falls for curt just as much as john has and curt does the same with gale.

gale's got two sweet things glued to his side now and man, do they ever give him a run for his money, and if he'd thought john had too much energy (and stamina) it's nothing compared to keeping up with both of them, but he wouldn't have it any other way. <3

throuple things won't be happening in the actual fic, but i do love the idea of exploring the dynamic the three of them might have in a spin–off of that au so this was rly fun thx :-) maybe i'll write a pwp oneshot set in that universe as an excuse to write more curtbuckbucky once the fic is done LOL we'll see!

#leaving bikeriders au #will proofread later bc i want to get back to the other drabble LOL #i can't believe these keep ending up so longggg #i wish it was this easy for me to get words out like this for my actual fics but alas #drabble and brainrot will always have me in their clutches #johnslittlespoon asks #johnslittlespoon brainrot #curtbuckbucky #buckbucky

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levmada · 2 years

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What are the Levi x Reader fics Recommendations you have? (Characters close to how they are in canon). Mature fics are okay.

i dont read nearly enough but here are my recs that i can think of!!!

Silver Soul (and anything... Afterglow... In the Land of Gods and Monsters) by @bibblelevi . all of sar's content is MUAH gold.

Levi and his Second learn to live in a world without a war as they pine for each other in silence and manage his tea shop.

And So It Begins (canonverse; soft Levi) and Between the Pages (canonverse; slightly domestic; fluffy) by @jayteacups and a TON of their other blurbs/drabbles/oneshots. Such a vivid, poetic style. And that first fic made me cry no cap.

On the field, you are a force to be reckoned with. Off the field, it is almost the exact opposite. Either way, you catch your Captain’s eye, and so it begins.

The Carnivore by Captain Degenerate on ao3 (Levi enters the modern universe; slow-burn). my comfort fic. not totally in character imo, but the plot makes up for it.

Trying to survive the meaningless void that is existing in the modern world, your peaceful days are left behind when you find an unconscious man on the street.

Dressed unconventionally and clueless about the world you live in, you mistake him for a refugee and decide to take him in for the night.

Cue the rest of your life.

Ackerbond by @levi-my-beloved (canonverse; amazing out of this world thorough take on my headcanons)

After a night spent on paperwork and tea, something in Levi shifts drastically, something he can’t exactly pinpoint. All he knows, is that he has to keep you safe. No matter what.

this fic by @poisonpeche (dadvi; modern au). im such a sucker for dadvi and their style of writing is so intense it just GRIPS you. alla is also fairly new to tumblr, so go support!

Leather and Scales by @happybird16 (hot as hell. i died. bondage with mer!levi)

Levi had been surprised at first, when you’d asked to fuck him. He doesn’t think he’s ever been upside down before, much less seen so much leather prior to today.

Give and Take by @1252291 (pwp; riding Levi's face) and all of their aot works.

Kinktober Day 12 by @anlian-aishang (dadvi; lactation kink) because it is one of the hottest things i've ever read goodbye

With the Musicbox in the Candlelight by @wall-maria-fritz (canonverse; canon-divergence; gripping as hell). UGH just. i have a soft spot for Levi being vulnerable and his rage mode. UGHHHH i cant explain it i just love this fic to pieces.

Kenny the Ripper has discovered the ultimate carrot to his stick– Levi’s fiancée. Levi races to rescue her; out for blood and on a rampage. Nothing but a humble baker, and none the wiser for all the horrors that Levi’s job entails, Reader witnesses the darkest, most monstrous sides of her betrothed that she was unprepared to see.

extra:

‼️The Two of Them‼️ by fuchsiaring on ao3

It roils in his chest: desperate, aching, empty. It sears his throat, stings his eyes. He’s dizzy with it, how it hurts, how he needs it. It burns like a wound, sweet like the summer breeze, and Levi relishes, lets it swell, lets it overtake him. --OR-- 5 times Levi cries during sex + 1 time he doesn’t

THIS ONE THIS ONE!!!!! This is't LevixReader but it's my fav eruri fic of all time and will never stop screaming about it when it comes up. I can't put into words how fucking amazing, gut-wrenching, hot, and heart warming it is. the best ever.

possibly my fav fic of all time???

#kane has mail #hhh i dont read nearly enough fanfic i now realize #but do support these wonderful creators

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dooplissss · 4 months

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i would like to know about the ocs 🫴🏽

bless you

ok I have way more than just these but these are the current standouts, maybe I’ll do a part 2 tomorrow bc i cant stop talking about my silly little guys

Emmett & Marasmus: Newest oc for dnd, pact of the undead warlock. Emmett was just living his life til he ate the wrong mushroom for dinner and it revealed itself to be a god named Marasmus that wants people to praise it, so it took over poor Emmett’s body and puppeted him around, turning his hometown into a cult. Emmett broke out of his stupor and escaped after nearly feeding a spore to his brother and he’s been running ever since, his body slowly being eaten by the monster that inhabits him. Also they bicker constantly, real Beacon and Duck Newton vibes.

Emmett is truly just some guy who doesn’t deserve to have this wannabe god parasite stuck to him but that’s how these things go. He’s so sweet and ofc he loves his family bc I’m predictable and make that a trait for nearly all my ocs. I tend to avoid family drama or at least do it in a different way than most people, in that I prefer my characters to be striving to get back home or avoiding going home because they feel they don’t deserve to be a part of their family anymore, but always always always they are loved despite everything bad they’ve done/think they’ve done. I really hope the game goes long enough to see Emmett get to hug his brother again and forgive his mom for not being able to help him, he’s the only one of my ocs who’s been wronged by his family and even then its neither of their fault. God he needs a hug so bad

Salem & Erin: god this guy is so fun. Salem is a skellington who started as a rich brat that got peer pressured into a ritual that makes you immortal, 40 years later he had a heart attack, died for a second, and then started rotting alive. He spent decades alone in his big mansion haunting his own halls, bored out of his skull. Occasionally people would come thru, be terrified by him or try to kill him, but largely he was just left there. It took him years to work up the courage to enter his son’s room and reminisce about him; he was married a long time ago, but as soon as he floated the idea of having his spouse and child go through the ritual too they up and left him.

Eventually a realtor, Erin, comes to the house to sell it, and she’s the only person who isn’t scared of him. It’s the first conversation Salems had in years and they become friends, her daughter Olivia makes clothes for Salem to disguise his form and help him gain the courage to leave the house more and more. Salem lets more people into the house, especially artists he really loves art, and eventually lets people live there while he moves in with Erin and Olivia once he feels safe enough to live among people again.

Originally Erin and Salem were supposed to just be friends but ofc I started shipping them and ughhh they make me insane. They’re both divorcees and have talked at length about how they’ll never make that mistake again, but Salems been in love with Erin since the beginning. And he’s the least subtle person on the planet so ofc everyone knows, including Erin and she’s just patiently waiting for the day when Salem admits how they feel, however long it takes. I made Salem for dnd and his quest is basically to find a way to undo his immortality, but tbh every time he joins a campaign it dies soon after so I think I want to try making a comic or a series of vignettes or something for him anyway, especially since I’ve had a lot of time to think about plot hooks and stuff.

this is the only fic i have them but i really love it please clap

Tillian & Somlen: The OCs of All Time. I literally have a tattoo representing them, they mean so goddamn much to me its hard to put into words like they changed me as a person. Somlen isn’t my oc, he belongs to my dm, but the two are so tied together and influenced each other so much it all kinda blends together.

Tillian is a haunted one bard who grew up in the town of Winslow, a little prairie town that had something Wrong in the well that caused all the sounds to warp. The crops whispered, the blueberries gossiped, her mom echoed, her dad sang, her brother spoke backwards, and when Tillian herself spoke everyone would hear something different (I had a d100 list for what they would hear). After someone disappeared while doing recon inside the well, the town boarded it up and went their separate ways. When Tillian’s family went to stay with her aunt, she said hello to her cousin and instantly killed him with her voice.

She went to bard college to help get her voice back, and as the game started she was simply looking for answers to why this happened and what caused it. She meets with the group, starts adventuring, and one fight goes so bad she gets fully 3 failed death saves killed. Something picks her out of the river of death and brings her back to life, and that’s when she buys a haunted doll, a homebrew item from TAZ that takes that final death onto itself.

As the adventurers leave town, she feels her bag moving on to find oh fuck the doll is alive and its an asshole. The doll says his name is Somlen and he was cursed after he slept with the wrong person. Tillian HATES this guy at first but ah fuck, if she dies he’s going to die in her place so she has to be more careful. And as she talks to him more, she starts to warm up to him. He cheated on his girlfriend and he’s the perfect picture of the horny bard trope, but he wants to do better and become a better person.

Things happen, yadda yadda, Tillian finds out the location of the hag that cursed him and they kill her, taking the curse away but Somlen is still stuck in the doll body, they need powerful magic to get him polymorphed back to human. The group decides to go to a city but, as a lark, one of the npcs decides to try her luck to change him back and she rolls a goddamn nat 20. Somlen is human again and oh god he’s in his birthday suit. While Tillian is in total shock, the group gets him clothed, Somlen jokes around and plays it cool up until he gets back to Tillian, who just. Wordlessly takes her signature scarf, the one her dad knit for her, and wraps it around him and hugs him. And it hits them both like, they did it, he’s safe, and Somlen would do anything for her and vice versa.

They go into the city where they get a clue to visit the outskirts where Tillian’s aunts house is, except its old, like really really old, all that’s left is a hole down into the basement. And when they get in, Tillian can feel something trying to communicate with her, and she learns this place is over 2000 years old and so is she. That night, when she sleeps, she wakes up inside the well surrounded by hundreds of faces and she knows every single one of them. The thing that lives in the well tells her to bring her friends back for it, and that’s when it hits her: This thing, the Uvuuduam, has been sending her out every hundred years to go collect a group of adventurers and bring them back to feed them to this monster. It controlled her into tracking down every villager of Winslow and throwing them down into the well, including her mom and dad and brother. She is as much the thing haunting her home as this awful creature is.

She wakes up, silently collects her things, and leaves everyone behind to spare them. They catch up, ofc, but she is desperate to spare them from this fate. She offers them a anti-scrying necklace so they can leave her and be untrackable, but no one agrees to take it, they’re all in it to save her much as she begs them not to. She is absolutely broken by this revelation, but the group and especially Somlen are there to hold her together.

They send some time leveling up and preparing to go to her town, and finally the day comes when they arrive. They go into the well and face the Uvuuduam, it’s a tough fight (we had a irl sleepover to play it all the way thru), but they do it and she severs this horrible things neck as she screams, her voice finally returning to her after all these years. Everyone in the well wakes up, she reunites with her family, and (this part always makes me cry) when she sleeps that night, it’s the first restful sleep she’s had in 2000 years. She and Somlen stay behind in Winslow, finally home.

Like. They are truly everything to me. They are foils in so many ways but it just makes them stronger. Tillian is an aromantic bard, helping me realize I myself am aro, and it always gets to me that she loved so fiercely and so much and it was used as a weapon against her, that the monster knew it could depend on her to make connections strong enough to make people willing to do anything for her and therefore bring back its food. She loves too much for her own good, but she’s safe now, she’s with her family and the people she loves and god forbid anything try to take advantage of her ever again.

Also these two are just funny. Two halves of a whole idiot. Tillian is a neurotic mess at all times, Somlen is full of himself, they’re life partners and also an inseparable comedy duo. They’ve seen each other at their very worst and choose each other without hesitation over and over. They’ve both had their free will ripped from them thru curses and manipulation and they vow to break the hold others have on them, they would tear the world in half if the other asked. And just. Tillian wants nothing more than to return home while Somlen runs as far away from his past as possible, but he finds a home in her and he helps her win back hers. They love each other and they are best friends forever :’) also I’ve written so many fics about them and I still have so many more I want to write lmao

#tillian and somlen #emmett #salem #i could talk about tillian and somlen for ten thousand years and i will #ocs

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onlyjaeyun · 7 months

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Zadie, Zadie, Zadie I know you said Poison bonus chapter, but may I recommend something even better, Hype Boy bonus chapter just in time for the one and only Jake Sim's birthday.

The feminine urge to write a fic for Jake's birthday is just too much, like my heart says do it, but my brain says finish your Sunghoon fic it's already at 51k and so close to being done.

I'm out of plot ideas for the moment, which like I've sent so many, instead just enjoy some thoughts for the moment.

Once they start dating y/n is quick to realize when Jay gets mad, rather than possibly yell and all at her, he'd just invite Sunghoon to go workout, getting his anger out that way rather than possibly hurting anyone with his words.

Jay is the type that once him and y/n start dating, he won't let either of them go to bed angry, it would hurt his ego, but he'd put himself aside and apologize for the argument even if it wasn't his fault. He'd apologize and just confuse y/n, since she's be just be like 'but I started the argument' and Jay's just like 'well I'm sorry I let you start an argument'. They definitely talk through everything, and Jay takes each and every word y/n says to heart. The boys definitely send that one picture that says 'me and bitch don't argue she tells me shut up and I do' to their gc and are all 'that's u Jay'.

Once y/n and Jay are dating, Sunghoon would find a reason to be at Jay's penthouse every night, just because he wants the good food. Jay would cook all the good food while y/n bakes all the amazing treats, Sunghoon calls them his parents at least once, probably in the gc at some point asking Jay 'what's for dinner', and when Jay's like 'why', he's like 'ur my parents and I'm hungry'; this interaction gets him uninvited from Jay's penthouse for like a week, until y/n ask why Sunghoon hasn't been over to raid their freshly baked goods and Jay lets him back in, but limits his visits to once a week.

Jay said y/n can personalize her area, but she refrains from it, not wanting to possibly put something out Jay does not like. Jay however notices that she does not personalize her desk like he said she can, despite how much he hates it and it hurts him, he puts a few personalized items on his own desk, seeing those makes y/n feel more comfortable about personalizing her own desk. While he might hate the items he put on his desk, he enjoys seeing the joy in y/n's face as she personalizes her own desk.

Jay isn't one for personalizing anything, but once him and y/n are dating, he has a picture of her in one of his desk drawers and whenever he can't just look at her, say he's stressed or just missing her beautiful face, he just opens up the desk drawer and stares at the photo. The boys definitely catch him smiling into his desk drawer at some point, and then clown him about how down bad he is.

Jay officially goes to therapy and stops using his notes app as a therapist after he overhears y/n say guys that take care of their mental health are sexy.

urgh bestie when have you ever MISSED with these? i'm afraid NEVER. i literally cant post your other hcs because they're too similar to my ideas and would be HUGE spoilers but these are too cute not to and i just :( thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to send me these k love you sm

pls ive been thinking about writing a jake fic for WEEKS but life keeps getting in my way i hate it here sm 😭😭😭 might just edit and rewrite an old fic bc i cant not post on his birthday as his gf like come on 🫣

also: FIFTYONETHOUSAND WORDS THATS FUCKING CRAZY AND I SHALL RESPECT YOU FOR THAT FOREVER THATS MADDDD

And to add to the last part: he actually goes to therapy and his therapist suggested him the notes app part bc he knew jay wouldnt do physical journaling but needed to let out his thoughts 😭😭😭

#; mailbox 📬#; strictly business

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endermahn · 1 year

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IFHY

Part 1 | Part 2 | part 3 | part 4 (not made yet)

Plot: Wenclair fic but Wednesday and Enid don’t make up ep 8 and Wednesday goes insane after that scene.

As you probably could have guessed if you’re a Tyler fan, it’s based off of Tyler the Creator’s song “IFHY”.

IDEA FROM AN EDIT BY “emmamyerswife1” ON TT

TRIGGER WARNINGS: mention of Blood, Knives, detailed-ish Description of death, Major character death, OOC Wednesday, slightly out of character Enid(??), LOTS OF SWEARING! Co-dependancy basically, Wednesday is a psychopath Wednesday with psychopathic tendencies.

DISCLAIMER: I do NOT encourage this behaviour, it’s just a fic, if you do feel like this, I urge you to seek help, it ISNT a healthy coping mechanism and can hurt you and who you feel this way for!

3rd Person Wednesday

“I’m going to stay with Yoko for a while, I can’t be here.” and with that she was gone. Enid had dragged her suitcase out of the door and out of Wednesday’s reach.

Wednesday looked back at the door after a while, realising she wasn’t going to come back. All she could think was “Fuck.” She was so incredibly angry, so angry that her eyes became glassy and her heart began to year at her chest.

So increasing angry that her hands began to shake.

So undeniably angry, in fact, that she started to feel her whole body shaking from the thumps of her heart. How she knew this? Her hair was shaking, everything was moving.

She tried to breathe but struggled for a second. She gasped a bit for air, finally getting it. She began to make her way to the window, trying to get anything that could stabilise her and keep her grounded.

This isn’t real, is it? It’s all a dream, she’s just having a dream, a horrible, horrible dream. Enid would never just leave like that, that isn’t Enid. Enid loves her too, Enid would never leave, somethings making her leave, somethings distracting her from Wednesday. She needs her, she needs her constant presence, no matter how annoying she can be, she’s grown used to it, they both cant be without the other, it’s been proven time and time again. They need eachother.

Sooner or later, Enid will come running back like nothing happened and start talking about some boy problem. Or maybe Yoko will force them to talk to each other again. Either way, they both can be right, Enid can go off for a couple days for some space, and Wednesday doesn’t have to apologise for what she hasn’t done.

And with that comforting thought, Wednesday drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

——————

2 days later.

Wednesday wasn’t about to sacrifice her pride for some stupid fight, Enid was bound to come back. It’s just taken a bit longer. It’s not like they’ve even fought before, so theres no way she’s about to stop being friends with Wednesday over one childish disagreement.

Well

That’s what Wednesday thought.

Enid passes in the hallway, not a single thought in her head, laughing until she had no breath left to give and her ribs starts hurting.

But that isn’t right? If she’s so happy, why wouldn’t she be back with Wednesday? Why wouldn’t she be waiting in the dorm, waiting to give some clearly fake excuse why she’s back and why she wants to talk again? Was she staying at Yoko’s dorm forever? That isn’t fair. That isn’t where she is supposed to stay, she’s supposed to stay in Ophelia hall, she’s supposed to stay in that room, she’s supposed to stay in their room.

She wasn’t supposed to be happy, she wasn’t supposed to laugh, she wasn’t supposed to be happy without Wednesday, she is her source of happiness so why wasn’t she hers? None of this is fair.

So she did something about it.

——————

Weems office.

She made her way down to Principle Weems office as if a rainbow hovered above her head for all to see.

The door opens in an aggressive manner, Weems swivels around in slight shock but her shoulders relax when she sees it’s just Wednesday. “Please, don’t slam-“

“Enid.”

“What? Take a seat, Wednesday..” Weems tilts her head slightly, squinting at her.

She didn’t move an inch and didn’t Miss a beat.“Enid, she’s never in our dorm, it’s been 2 days.”

“She requested to be moved for the time being, there’s nothing I can do, I’m afraid..” Her eyes softened a bit, sympathising with Wednesday. “You Look tried, Are you okay?”

“Yes, now invalidate the request and make her move back in, she is needed for the investigation.” Her eyes looked like a sailor’s storm, the bags proudly claiming the title of her most prominent facial feature.

“Again, there’s nothing I can do unless she, personally, requests to be placed back. We cannot move students back in when having a disagreement with their roommate for safety reasons.” Weems took a more professional approach with Wednesday when she was like this, sleepless and motivated to get something she just can’t have.

“Ms W-“

“Wednesday.” She started to sound more firm in her decision while still trying to understand her perspective. “If you can get Enid to personally request to go back, then I’ll do it with no problem. However, I cannot-“

Wednesday huffed angrily and slammed the door behind her. If she isn’t getting what she wants then why would she want to stay? She knows the answer so why wait that extra, valuable time she could be spending with Enid there?

She considered swallowing her pride but decided against it, thinking of other solutions, any solution that could keep Enid close but keep her dignity.

An ear screeching bell ring throughout the school, making her jump slightly as her thoughts were disturbed.

She would have to devise a plan later, lunch is over.

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paleairlesscompanion · 5 months

Text

Lost Sterek Fic Please Help!

TW: Fic contains past non-con/rape

I've posted this to Lost Fics in reddit but I'm desperate so posting here too.

I need help finding a Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale fic that I remember certain details/plot points of, but no idea what the title was. I've put the various layers of details I remember below. I've been trying to find it forever - please help me before I go insane!

GENERAL:

- Was definitely on ao3

- Was definitely third-person Stiles POV

- I THINK it was about 2000-2500 words but it could have been longer

- I read it several years ago, pre-2018 if not earlier

- Main premise was that Stiles had been sexually assaulted in his early teens but hadn't been able to process what happened to him as being actual rape. He is then triggered when being intimate with Derek, but Derek actually stops when he asks which brings the trauma to the surface. Derek explains that what had happened to Stiles wasn't his fault, hurt/comfort etc.

MAIN PLOT POINTS:

- Stiles and Scott go to party

- Stiles ends up being raped by older girl (starts as consensual making out)

- Girl gaslights Stiles 'of course you want this/all guys want sex'

- Stiles is ashamed, doesn't tell Scott or anyone else what happened

- Few years on, Stiles exaggerates his crush on Lydia Martin to hide his trauma around intimacy/sex

- Meets Derek (canonical age difference), and actually wants to be intimate with him

- They make out but Stiles is triggered and wants to stop

- Derek DOES stop, Stiles asks why, Derek says because Stiles told him to

- Derek respecting his 'no', when the highschool girl hadn't, brings all the trauma/confusion to the surface and Stiles panics and runs

- Derek goes after him, Stiles tells him about his assault, and Derek explains that what happened to Stiles was rape and that it wasn't his fault

- Stiles cries in Derek's arms, Derek is very protective/tender

Super specific details under the cut

SPECIFIC DETAILS:

- Stiles and Scott are early teens (middle school age?) and sneak out at night to go to a highschool party

- It is Scott's idea - Stiles is worried about how angry/disappointed his dad will he if he finds out but goes because his friend wants to

- Scott leaves Stiles alone at the party (I think to go off with some cute girl from one of their classes)

- Stiles feels awkward and out of place surrounded by popular older kids he doesn't know

- He is approached by a hot older girl, and is mostly very flattered that she's showing an interest in him when he's so young/'uncool'

- She is some kind of athlete on a school team

*(I could have sworn it was the girls volleyball team, but this hasn't narrowed my search results so now I'm not sure)*

- They end up in one of the bedrooms alone and begin making out on the bed

- Stiles cant believe this is happening and is excited and willing at first when it's just kissing

- She ends up on top of him and starts escalating from making out to full on sex

- Stiles becomes uncomfortable and wants her to stop -- I can't remember if he says 'no' or 'stop' or 'I don't want this' but he definitely protests

- She is too physically strong (athlete) for Stiles to push her off -- there's a line about Stiles realising the strength hidden in her toned body and being afraid instead of turned on

- She dismisses his protests -- says something about 'don't be silly, of course you want this'/makes a comment about how all guys want sex (may have also said something about it being his lucy day and/or how many boys can say they lost their virginity to a hot older girl? i.e. bragging rights)

- She stays on top of him and rapes him - he's gone into a Freeze response, not participating but unable to stop her

- I can't remember if he comes or not

- She leaves him there - says something like "you're welcome", definitely keeps up the whole 'not even considering he wasn't willing' thing

- It takes him a while to un-freeze, when he does he's shaken but he cleans and dresses himself

- He finds Scott downstairs all happy/blushing with the cute girl from earlier

- I think there's a line about how different Stiles feels from Scott i.e. they entered the party as dumb kids but now Stiles has been changed by his experience, while Scott has stayed the same

- Stiles does not tell anyone what happened

* he's been messed up by what she said to him, lots of self-doubt, like he must have reacted that way because there's something wrong with HIM. Possibly alluded to the whole 'men cant get raped' bullshit. Worried no one will believe he didn't want it *

- The next part is more general description of the next few years going into highschool (and Scott getting turned etc cannon stuff)

- Stiles is super uncomfortable with his peer's increasing focus on sex now that they're all older

- SUPER SPECIFIC LINE but I can't remember the exact wording, something about guys thinking about sex every 7(?) seconds, and that Stiles also thinks about it that often but for a very different reason (trauma)

- He's terrified of being intimate with anyone, but since everyone else is focused on dating/sex, he tries to appear that way so no one knows how fucked up/traumatised he feels about all of it

- It's common knowledge he's had a crush on Lydia since they were little kids so he plays it up his attraction to her (canonical stuff about everyone knowing he's infatuated with her, making embarrassing public declarations about her, etc.)

- She is a safe bet as he knows she would never go for him/reciprocate anything, and his antics stop anyone else from showing interest in him

- There's a line I can't remember the exact words to, something like 'everyone knew Stiles was in love with Lydia Martin, so of *course* he wanted to have sex with her'

- There's also mention of Scott meeting Alison, being super into her and all the PDA -- It makes Stiles feel nauseous (trauma response)

- I can't remember the particulars of how Stiles and Derek end up being interested in each other but they do

- They're in a room in the abandoned Hale house and are going to make out

- I'm pretty sure there's a bit about how Stiles actually wants Derek, and how significant that is when he hasn't been able to feel attraction since what had happened to him -- and he's psyching himself up because he WANTS this and he doesn't want to start feeling scared/disgusted/etc, he wants to be normal and enjoy being with the guy he likes

- They're making out, I can't remember if it's Derek being on top of him, or if Derek goes to put his hand over Stiles cock through his jeans, but something triggers Stiles

- I think there's a line that draws a parallel to him behing young and weak against the athletic rapist, and him being older/bigger now but even more helpless against a werewolf with supernatural strength

- He freezes and says something like 'no' or 'stop'

- Derek stops IMMEDIATELY, takes his hands off Stiles and moved back to give him space

- Stiles is still frozen but is even more thrown that Derek had actually listened and stopped

- I can't remember the exact wording of the exchange but Stiles asks why Derek stopped, and Derek answers because you told me to but like it's the most obvious thing in the world

- It brings up all the buried shit for Stiles, because if Derek listened to him now it means the girl should have listened to him back then and it overwhelms him and he runs out of the house to his jeep

- Derek doesn't understand but knows something is very wrong and goes after Stiles

- They end up in the Jeep together -- I THINK Derek catches up with the Jeep as it's driving through the woods and Stiles slams the breaks OR Stiles is so hysterical when he reaches the Jeep thar he can't get the keys into the ignition and Derek finds him there

- Derek is very slow with his movements getting in the car and doesn't touch Stiles

- Stiles eventually starts to spill everything about his assault, but the way he describes it is through the lens of all the fucked up self-blame he has had about it

- Derek becomes obviously furious, he's mad at the rapist but Stiles sees the anger and looks terrified as though Derek is going to do something to HIM (trauma response)

- Derek deliberately calms himself because he does not want to spook Stiles

- Again, I don't remember the particulars but Derek gently explains that Stiles was assaulted, that it wasn't his fault, that it never should have happened to him, that she should have listened

- He ends up holding Stiles while he sobs and I THINK there's mention that he's going to encourage Stiles to tell his dad

#lost fic #lost sterek fic #sterek fic #sterek #stiles x derek #teen wolf #TW: Rape

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wolfiegirlxox · 2 years

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Hello hello! Your reverse au has pulled me into the deep end.

For one, are you planning on properly writing down this story as a fanfic? And if not would you be willing to let other write it? (With credit for the idea and au of course)

And two, I’m really curious about Wu in this timeline! Judging by the character designs and traits it seems that garmadon grew up fine without the poison or his oni/demon traits popping up until this point. So how did wu fair 👀 why is he fighting his son? And maybe how he adopted morro and a tidbit about morro and Lloyd’s relationship ☺️

I’m already brainrotting this like thinkin about how Nya would be her fathers assistant like Claus was to Chen while Kai infiltrates the tournament.

I know I’m rambling but speaking of, does Claus work at Chens restaurant? And are him and garmadon like brunch buddies? I can imagine all too well these two sitting down at like a Starbucks and talking about student shenanigans.

I KEEP GOING I CANT STOP- for the EMs in the tourney, would their whole characters be swapped or maybe just their personalities. Like this event was advertised as a friendly competition to find “who’s the best” and all the EMs are just like a collection of every day people who happen to have been training elemental powers.

I’ll stop now but I keep thinking about all the cool parallels and SIDJEKBANE SHUTTING UP NOW

Hi! Hi! Welcome to the pit! Thank you for sending this ask, it was really fun to answer!

For your first quesion: I do not currently have plans to write a Reverse!AU fic, I just don't have enough thought out story to write a proper fic yet. I may do bullet notes or oneshots at some point but not a full fic.

If anyone would like to write a fic of it I would be ELATED, please do not be afraid to do so, just @ me or something when you post it so I can see it! <3

Next! So my idea right now is the Spinjitzu brothers both took more to one of their halves, Garm is more Oni and Wu is more dragon. They both have traits from both but lean more to the side of one (Ex: Garm has gold eyes, Wu has red). Garm actually looks more Oni than he appears, he's just using his limited shapeshifting power to hide it as he doesn't like that part of himself.

When Wu and Garm were sparing and Wu's sword went over the wall Wu quickly went to get it and was bitten by the Great Devourer. However, due to his strong dragon blood, the venom was much slower to take effect, giving him a longer normal life and more of a chance to bond with his family.

Living with Lloyd and watching him grow up made Wu realise that even if it wasn't with Misako he still wanted a child of his own to raise. So, he found an orphanage in a small village nearby and adopted little Morro when he was only a year and a half years old. He was good enough to stay with Morro and raise him for the first 6 years he was there and loved him very much, that love probably held the venom back even longer than his dragon blood did. For a couple months he showed many signs the venom was finally getting to him, but he never showed them around Morro. One day he finally snapped and got sent to the underworld for another 6 years before the Pilots. He was there plotting his revenge for most of that time as the evil grew more quickly in the absence of his family. He hadn't even considered Morro being involved in the fight but when he found out, well... he'd come too far to let his emotions stop him now, if worst came to worst he'd spare him, the venom wasn't strong enough to make him take his own son's life, right?

(Sorry this was so long lol, I have many thoughts)

Now for Morro and Lloyd's relationship. (Get ready for some more sad) Morro was only about 3 1/2 years old when Lloyd ran away, he doesn't really remember Lloyd, maybe only a few vague memories. On Lloyd's side of things, however, Morro was old enough to talk and walk and have fun with him, Lloyd has a lot of happy memories of his little cousin and he misses him a lot.

*Smirks evilly* Great minds think alike. Nya is at her father's side for most of the Tournament, going off to do his dirty work while Kai is incognito as just another EM. Everyone knows Nya is Ray's daughter as she was introduced as such.

Clouse is Chen's adoptive son INTERN at Chen's Noodle House. He's 19ish and going to college for Chemistry (closest normal equivalent I could think of for magic). Chen has practically adopted him at this point TAKEN HIM UNDER HIS WING as cooking is, in some ways, a lot like chemistry.

Garm didn't know Chen very well before the ninja business but after talking with him when he came for Skylor and hearing her talk about him he reached out and the two have been enjoying brunch together every Saturday they can sense. And yes, they do talk about student shenanigans lol.

For your last one, I love your ideas!!! I'll have to take more time to think about how I'd do it for my AU but that is a great idea!!! Maybe I could have opposite personalities switch elements like Griffin and Paleman or something. I'm not sure about this one at all though, I'll definitely have to brain rot over this some more so I can post something more concrete about it.

Anyway, that's all I got for you right now, I hope this is what you were looking for!!!

Seriously though, thanks for the ask, I loved it and it made my day! Please feel free to send all the questions you want I would love to answer them! I hadn't thought a lot about these before you asked so it was fun to think about!

Have a great day/night!!! <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

#Ninjago #Ninjago AU #Ninjago Role Swap AU #Ask #My Writing #Ninjago Morro #Lord Garmadon #Ninjago Wu #Lloyd Garmadon #Ninjago Nya #Ninjago Clouse #Ninjago Chen #Ninjago EM #Ninjago Elemental Masters #So many tags!!!!#Anyway #ty for reigniting my brain rot #I had fun thinking about this!#Butterpony100

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ennaku-sirri-da · 1 year

Text

Kamal writes bad fanfiction Kamal writes the WORST most CLICHE RIDDEN most SELF INDULGENT MEANDERING RIDICULOUSLY ELABORATE METAPHORS and he will Never Stop ( If you troll him he will cry). He's not super confident about them either but the love of the game keeps him coming back and he's been doing fic for a LONG time.

He uses events from his own life as fuel sometimes so he's on the edge of his seat when a friend or um HUSBAND 🥸( silly disguise emoji with big moustache and glasses ) is "proofreading"" through them

I was gonna post angst because I had a worse day but instead have some affectionate Kamal slander /lh

Uhhh for an example IDK have this thing I wrote that he would write about Habby PROBABLY when he's like. younger ( it's an AU!!):

"I woke up, batting my sunstone orbs, the sun shining on my wicked cute face while I ran a hand through my waves of candy donuts before I got up and walked out for work

On the way a small mysterious goblin suddenly appeared beside me at the doorframe. I was late already and had to munch the nutella bread in my mouth extra fast but I gave him a little kiss on the head before I started jumping on top of cars as fast as I could, cant be late to my first day of work OMFG !!!! "

[ GIF ID: Sailor Moon from the anime Sailor Moon is running to school with bread in her mouth, looking so worried and jumping in long strides. The BG is overlaid with pink sparkles and circles. The artist is 'rtil'. End ID]

Little did he know the small mysterious goblin was going to be of paramount importance to the plot as a shameless author self insert /hj

---

HERES one more of the stuff I think he'd write/wrote( style evolves!!) like but from my own Dark Wattpad Repetoire only for your petty amusement/lh

( IM SORRY TREY SMITH I HAD TO KILL U TO CHARACTERISE ANOTHER GUY /LH)

(Plain text: Im sorry Trey Smith I had to kill you to characterize another guy /lh)

' Kamal Bora walked.

The almost ancient sidewalk of the presently lone and desolate streets was unforgiving, making the intrepid man's every determined footstep to it have an especially unpleasant meeting with the cold, unwelcoming exterior of its boringly dull and long-since worn tiles even more excruciatingly difficult.

[...SKIP]

Often his avoidance of the troubling situations at his hands were accompanied by a great big sigh of relief and more senses of alertness for any more dangerously deceiving footing steps, but even then the mischevious sidewalk had him tricked once again, as a rickety tile fell off dangerously close to the one on which he was currently standing on. " DAMMIT!!!" An annoyed voice tore it's way to the dull night sky, yelling curses at the trickery of the streets-- In fact, it was exactly the type of voice you'd hear from someone who was really pissed off because they were walking in an abandoned Hell of a street all alone with only the much undesired company of some son of a bish-- In Kamal's case, the tiles.'

HWGSHJ Idk if I'll do more of it this "excerpt" was Just a Joek but maybe ANYWAY IM SO TIRED GN

Fun character exercise even if I had to pull out my old unholy writing LOL

#kamal bora #headcanons #roseverse #au #sooo tired...#txt #gif #my headcanons #all /lh guys i wrote badfic too HAJJSS #fanfic #badfic #habismal

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peakyblindersxx · 3 years

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now i cant stop thinking about breeding kink w Tommy since yesterday, ive never expected to like it so much but now all i think about is like a reader that wants to have a baby but Tommy's like "not now, its not the right time"etc but one day when he sees esme pregnant and john happy or something like that he decides to change his mind and get his wife pregnant too lmao i mean if youd want to write that then id die happily but if not its fine omg

a/n: soo, i made this fic tommy x wife!reader (cause i’m a sucker for tommy being soft for you & only you. can you blame me) and i fucking loved writing it, especially since i’m rewatching and s1 tommy has me all the way absolutely fucked up (not even gonna talk about john cause i’ll probably die). ngl there’s not much plot but it’s still cute imo, hope you like it!!

love, abi xxx

give you what you need - tommy shelby x wife!reader

warnings: nsfw! smut, breeding kink, daddy kink, just a whole lot of filth but i mean it’s tommy what can i say

Esme was waddling. Her stomach protruded from her body so far she could barely even get her arms around her stomach anymore. “Just what we need, another fuckin’ kid,” John had griped, but you could see his ocean blue eyes sparkling with adoration every time she shuffled into the room. In all truthfulness, you were a bit jealous. You’d broached the subject of children with Tommy before, but it was always met with resistance. You understood where he was coming from; he didn’t want to expose them to the life you were living. Yet, beneath it all, you knew what a good father he’d make. You saw through to his tenderness: the gentleness in his voice when he cared for a sick horse; the fierceness with which he protected Finn. Tommy didn’t like to admit it, but he was kind to those who were vulnerable.

Yet, something had changed in the way that Tommy was looking at you, crystal clear blue eyes fixed on your figure. You liked it when he looked at you, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Was it so wrong to crave someone’s attention like this? You wouldn’t know, unable to control yourself when it came to him. It was ridiculous, how he could rile you up with just a look. Was he really thinking about you underneath him? Right here, in the middle of John’s living room?

“Wanna get out of here, sweetheart?” Tommy leaned close to you, mouth hovering next to your ear. You could smell the whiskey on his breath, mingling with yours. That combined with the smell of his cologne was sending you into a tizzy, the gin and tonics you’d consumed adding to the problem.

“What’s wrong, Tom?” You questioned, eyes looking up at him. He chuckled.

“Nothing's wrong, darlin’. Just been out all day, yeah? S’gettin late,” Tommy drawled, lips brushing against the skin of your neck. His eyes said everything his mouth didn’t.

“Alright,” you relented with a soft smile, letting him tug you towards the door, giving a hurried goodbye to his other brothers. People stared, but didn’t dare say anything. Who would?

Tommy had the two of you home in less than ten minutes. His hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew what was on his mind from the way he had pressed you against the car, nipping lightly at your neck before he opened your door for you with a devilish smirk. God, he made your head spin. It wasn’t long before he had his hands on you again, broad shoulders flexing as he carried you up the stairs, grinning cheekily at your laughter before closing the bedroom door behind you and immediately boxing you in against it, his calloused hands slipping under your flimsy peach dress. You whimpered, earning a chuckle from him as his lips grazed your collarbone, breath hot against your skin.

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you being as pregnant as Esme was,” Tommy groaned, hiking up your dress as he took the chance to press his cock against your core, hard and thick through his dress pants. “How fuckin’ angelic you’d look, belly full with my child.”

You couldn’t help your reaction to the words spilling out of his mouth, hips bucking slightly against him as you reached down to free his cock from its confines, savoring its heaviness in your hand as you guided him towards your already wet heat. Was it wrong to want this as badly as you did?

“Want you to fill me up, Daddy,” you moaned, the fond nickname having the effect you wanted as Tommy practically growled, making quick work of the peach number, revealing the white lace lingerie set you wore underneath. He couldn’t help but stop and stare, in an attempt to memorize just how gorgeous you looked, begging for him, of all people. “Want you to put a baby in me.”

Tommy snapped. In an instant, you were on the bed, legs flung over his shoulders as he pressed himself into you, your dripping core stretching at the girth of him. You couldn’t help the obscene mewl you let out, Tommy reveling in your desperate state. He quickly picked up the pace, cock bumping up against your cervix in a depravedly sweet sense of fullness.

“This what you wanted, sweetheart? Don’t worry, darlin’, Daddy’s gonna take care of you. Give you just what you need, aye?” He crooned, tone deceivingly sweet for the filth that was pouring out of his perfectly shaped lips. His thrusts grew faster, sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head as whimpers poured out of your mouth. Tommy savored each one, taking pleasure in the way you were writhing so beautifully underneath him, toes curling when you came. He couldn’t help but capture your lips with his, reveling in the way you moaned into his mouth when he fucked himself into you. You were a fucking vision, and you were his. He was going to make sure everyone knew it.

“Tommy, please…” You were so far gone, you couldn’t finish your sentence. Tommy had already fucked you through four orgasms, pace relentless, and he wasn’t letting up. You almost thought he enjoyed seeing you like this: needy, touch starved for him and only him.

“Please what, angel?” Tommy murmured into your ear, groaning at the feeling of your walls clenching around him as he brushed against your g-spot.

“N-need you to come in me, Daddy,” you managed to get out, vision hazy as you felt your fifth orgasm approaching.

“Poor baby, want me to fill you up ‘till you’re leakin’, don’t you?” Tommy’s eyes were dark as he watched you nod and squirm, filling you to the hilt as your nails scratched at his biceps. His words themselves almost made you cum again, pussy squeezing around his throbbing cock. Tommy’s mouth met yours in a bruising kiss as he fucked you as hard as humanly possible, sending stars across your vision. He chased your orgasm with his, leaving the insides of your thighs sticky. He couldn’t help but admire his work, a blush spreading across your cheeks as he took his time in drinking you in.

“Fuckin’ beautiful when you come,” he drawled, reaching for a rag to clean you with. Before he could lift you up and carry you to the bath, you stopped him.

“Doctor says I should lay on my back for twenty minutes. Helps the chances of the baby forming, or something.”

Tommy wasted no time in closing the space between the two of you once more. “I swear, you’re from heaven.”

#tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby masterlist

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delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

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free-pool-trash · 3 years

Text

happiness - peter maximoff

yay a new peter fic <3 i was feeling a little unmotivated for a few days (since our boy wasn’t in episode 8 at all :/) but im back 😎 although im back in school so i might be on and off for a while 😩✋🏻

!!!it’s not a songfic those lyrics at the start are just my inspo!!!

word count: 5k <3 😳

warnings: maybe swearing but i dont think so i cant remember, peter being sad, angst, but mostly fluff, WandaVision spoilers maybe??? I pretty much made up this plot so idk, endgame spoilers, reader was an avenger, kissing but it’s not graphic😽 probably some mistakes yk how it is

feedback is appreciated <3

tagging: @enchantedcruelsummer (should i make a peter maximoff taglist? let me know and I’ll do it)

masterlist

haunted by the look in my eyes that would’ve loved you for a lifetime

leave it all behind

& there is happiness

Loneliness had always been something that plagued him. That and a plethora of other negative emotions.

There wasn’t a day that went by where Peter Maximoff wasn’t made to feel like a loser. Admittedly, he’d never held himself to a high standard, he grew up thinking that he’d never fit in anywhere and eventually that thought mutated into a lifestyle as he began isolating himself from the world around him, either far too good or heartbreakingly not enough to be a part of that crowd.

He liked spending time with himself. Nobody else knew him the way he knew him, and still, he found nothing but an overwhelming hollow space where his deepest most important hopes, aspirations, dreams and self discoveries should have resided.

Peter had always put this feeling of exile down to the fact that he was a mutant, it was the most likely explanation, right?

It was only when he’d decided to join the X-Men that he finally came to the conclusion that maybe the rest of the world wasn’t the problem, nor was his mutation the problem, but that he himself was the problem. For even in a school full of people exactly like him he was still the same loser that he was in his mother’s basement.

And he was under no illusions that that was exactly what his teammates saw in him; nothing. No potential. Just a space holder to bring the numbers up.

Super speed was incredible. That’s how Peter acknowledged jobs well done, he praised his speed but never himself. He just saved Charles and Erik from a room full of armed guards? No that wasn’t him, that was simply his speed. He saved an entire mansion full of people from a potentially fatal explosion? Nothing special, Kurt probably could’ve done the same.

Forget all of the good deeds and saved lives because the bottom line of it all, to him at least, was that all he was good for was cheeky one liners and hopeless kleptomania.

His life took a turn for the worse when he found himself being mind controlled in an alternate universe. And even then, he was playing the part of someone that wasn’t him, the thought humbled him, reconnected him to his roots and reintroduced him to his life long philosophy that he’d never be anything more than a social pariah. Not even an alternate reality could accept him for who he was. There wasn’t a warm welcome and despite not knowing what was going on, the definition of “imposter” or the weirder, “recast”, still shot to kill.

He settled on the notion that he was an inter dimensional waste of space. At least in WestView he could be blissfully ignorant, let the real him be drowned mercilessly in favour of being an integral part of someone’s life- to feel important, even if it wasn’t real.

When WestView fell apart he was completely lost. In every sense of the word. In a new world with no way home and as it turned out, nobody was looking for him. Although he didn’t expect anyone to care, it still stung that nobody did. He always hoped that one day Erik would step up as a father figure for him, this; getting kidnapped and smuggled into a different dimension, seemed like the perfect moment for that epic father son moment, but it wouldn’t surprise Peter if his father has yet to notice his disappearance.

But then, seemingly out of nowhere, he came into contact with a beacon of hope. A guiding star that might possibly lead him to an existence consisting of something other than misery and self loathing.

It offered him a choice; return to being the self proclaimed loser he was known as or start fresh as someone new and mysterious, with first impressions yet to be made and conclusions about him yet to be drawn. Peter had known himself to be rash in the past, when it came to making decisions he had the tendency to act impulsively, never putting too much thought into how his decisions would affect his life in the long term. The choice before him now is no different, he knew exactly what he wanted going forward, however selfish the choice may have been, the second he realised it was an option his heart was set on it.

That previously mentioned beacon of hope arrived to him in the form of a girl, in the form of you. An ex-avenger and close friend of Wanda’s, you were hired by S.W.O.R.D to help them clean up the more ‘sensitive’ fallout that the fall of WestView brought about. Obviously, they were sticking you- the only other avenger with magik- on babysitting and rehabilitation rather than letting you go after your best friend who had gone completely off the rails. Having said that though, you didn’t want anyone else handling him.

You hadn’t watched WandaVision, nor were you even aware that any of it was going on until it had reached a boiling point and you got a call from Monica Rambeau, she’d begged you to come and wait on the edge of town while she went in and act as her eyes on the outside along with Jimmy Woo.

That’s where you stayed until the hex broke down.

As soon as the barrier came down the base you manned was overrun by an armada of terribly confused and distressed citizens, Monica and Wanda were not among them but in their places stumbled in Darcy and the man playing the role of Pietro.

Jimmy appointed himself to Darcy, who in all honesty seemed relatively unscathed by the situation while you made a beeline for the dirty blonde charading as your former, dead teammate.

Peter was, to put it simply, completely enthralled by you as soon as you’d strolled over to him and in the moment he’d put his almost magnetic attraction to you down to the fact that you were the first friendly face he’d seen upon breaking free of Agatha’s possession.

But one thing in particular struck him; you’d asked him his name. You hadn’t immediately assumed him to be some knock off Pietro, as everyone else had. You acknowledged that he had his own personal identity and despite how often he caught himself hating the person he was, he found that when it was torn away from him that he wanted it back. The simple question you posed gave him the opportunity to regain his identity.

“Peter. My name is Peter.” He answered you, almost unsure of himself and you found your interest in the man piqued even further.

He remembered with perfect clarity the way you’d offered him a grin, tilted your hand, extended your hand and said, “Well it’s nice to meet you, Peter. Come on, I’ll be your babysitter for the next while.” There was something about the way you’d laughed after saying the words and the slight, yet unmistakable, glint of mischief in your eyes that had him captivated from the get go.

With you came a whirlwind of new emotions. After only a few weeks of knowing you, Peter noticed he wasn’t as lonely as he had been back home. He didn’t hate himself half as much either, he wasn’t entirely free of self deprovative tendencies and maybe he never would be, but undoubtedly, he likes himself more in this world than he ever had in his last. He thanked you and your determination to make him “a functioning member of society” for that.

It didn’t feel belittling, the way you helped him. You hadn’t dragged him to your favourite mall every weekend just to taunt him about how he couldn’t stop himself from stealing something. Even the very first time, when he’d sped away from you and returned within a second adoring a pair of freshly stolen sunglasses. Your only reaction had been to laugh and casually place your hands on both sides of his face.

“At least remember to take the tag off next time, speedy.” You’d muttered, subtly pulling the tacky stickers off the arms of his shades. No, you weren’t dragging him sight seeing or forcing him to help you go clothes shopping because you thought he was a loser who needed reforming you were doing it because you were a true friend who wanted him to succeed.

The pair of you seemed like two peas in a pod. Which to be fair, you were. Peter Maximoff intrigued you in every sense of the word. He was new, quite literally other worldly, he was kind, he was funny, he was perfectly mischievous and completely wonderful.

What caught your eye the most was the way he held himself, as if he wasn’t entirely comfortable in his own skin. It became apparent to you that he lacked confidence with the phrases he usually tacked onto the ends of his sentences. When you’d invite him to hang out in the beginning his response would always be something along the lines of, “Sure. If you want me to.” But the excitable puppy dog eyes told you that he was dying for someone to want him to tag along some place.

There was a certain understanding between you. You were both more than accustomed with the harrowing feeling of being alone and even though you’d never exactly voiced those thoughts with each other, you couldn’t deny that his was a spirit kindred to your own and he felt it too.

Since the Avengers has disbanded, one of your best friends, Natasha, was dead and your other best friend, Wanda, was gone completely off the rails and the people chasing her wouldn’t let you anywhere near her or even attempt to help pull her out of her darkness. You were being kept as a wildcard in case they needed her taken down. Peter was no stranger to the feeling of being cast aside and so he quickly responded to your frustrations, and in doing so, forced himself out of his comfort zone to be there for you. To his complete shock though, you’d been so appreciative of his efforts.

You never failed to thank him for the little things he did for you, always complimenting his mutation when he’d use it and giving him the recognition he never received at home. The friendship he formed with you was so… two sided, again, something he wasn’t accustomed to before. It didn’t involve him giving everything he had to offer and receiving nothing in return, you matched his energy meticulously and never left him hanging.

In a series of firsts, he didn’t wonder whether or not you genuinely liked him, never feeling the need or want to question it as you’d left him with no reason to doubt.

As he walked around the mall with you now, his mind brought his attention back to the question you’d asked him rather casually a few nights ago. You were both lounging on your couch, watching some ridiculous reality show (a favourite of yours and Peter’s) when you’d turned your head to look at him, a thoughtful look on your face. “Do you think when S.W.O.R.D figures the technology out to crack into other realities, you’ll go back to yours?”

The question had taken him aback for a second, in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about going home, not when he was with you at least and considering he’d become your roommate about three weeks after he got out of WestView, the thought of returning to his old life had barely crossed his mind.

Being an ex-Avenger you were fairly well off, you lived alone in a two bedroom apartment in New York that you’d bought to be closer to Stark tower. Peter had nowhere to go and aside from having a spare room to offer you’d also been sort of lost in the current of the busy city with everyone you once loved in the area either dead, on the run or busy elsewhere.

While the question hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind, it had crossed yours on several occasions. He’d been staying with you for six months and the moment you realised that he was becoming one of the most important people in your life, the thought of him leaving you too weighed on your mind but at the end of the day you wanted him to feel happy. He deserved to feel happy and if going back to his reality brought him that happiness then you’d support him.

“Dunno,” he’d replied, turning to face you, chucking a handful of popcorn at you when you looked incredulous at his response, “To be honest I haven’t really thought about it, m’way too busy babysitting you anyway.” He joked, effortlessly dodging the few pieces of popcorn you attempted to throw at him.

For the last few nights, the question haunted him, but it wasn’t just the question that was bothering him. You were at the forefront of his mind as he replayed the past six months of his life which also happened to be the best six months of his life. WestView put him through hell but coming out the other side of it and meeting you felt like heaven.

He weighed up the pros and cons of returning to his native timeline. The cons: he’d have to leave you behind, he’d go back to being the loser who nobody took seriously, his talents would be downplayed and disregarded and he’d inevitably end up revisiting his lifestyle of solitude. Then there was the pros: he’d get to reunite with his pac man machine. He couldn’t manage to think up anything else.

If he stayed he’d have everything he ever wanted and needed. You’d be there and he knew you always would be, besides he couldn’t leave you knowing that you needed him. If he left who would wake you up when you had night terrors about the catastrophe that your reality was still recovering from? There would be nobody there to comfort you when you woke up from the nightmares, reliving the deaths of Natasha, Tony or Vision and the experience of being snapped out of existence? If he wasn’t there to make you laugh when you were about to cry then who would be? In his heart of hearts he knew you had a huge support system at your disposal, he’d met most of them. Even though he was well aware that Sam visited you as often as he could, that Bucky wrote you letters on a monthly basis and sometimes tagged along with Sam on his visits, that Stephen Strange appeared in your apartment whenever the urge struck him, that the literal god of thunder invited you out for beer whenever he was visiting Earth, that the little spider-kid, also named Peter, swung by your apartment at least once a week to tell you all about school and his good deeds. Despite knowing all of this and knowing all of these people loved you dearly, Peter wanted to be your main source of support, he didn’t want to be someone who came and went, who’d love you then leave you. He wanted to be with you through anything and everything and the feeling that you’d love him for a lifetime had him satisfied with the decision he was about to make.

If leaving his old life meant he could stay here, with you, and experience happiness for more than a fleeting moment then he’d simply; leave it all behind.

“I’ve been thinking about what you asked me the other night.” He spoke through a mouthful of curly fries. You were sitting in the food court of the mall when he decided to let you in on his desire to stay with you indefinitely.

You raised your eyebrow, “You? Putting thought into an answer? Peter, I think I’m starting to become a bad influence on you.” You told him teasingly, taking a long sip of your drink as he rolled his eyes humorously.

“You’re a terrible influence which is exactly why I’ve decided to stay here and put you on the straight and narrow.” The glee you felt at his statement was undeniable, your eyes lit up and your lips curled upwards.

“You’re staying? Really staying?” Your smile was contagious, Peter’s face now painted with a wide grin as he nodded his head.

In a moment of weakness he frantically added, “Y’know only if you want me to though. If you don’t that’s completely cool.” He rushed through the words, feeling more embarrassed when the fond look on your face never faded.

“Of course I want you to stay. You mean a lot to me.” You reassured him, a gentle smile on your lips as you reached across the metal table, intertwining your fingers with his.

Peter squeezed your hand gratefully, holding it in his grasp securely and allowing his smile to return to his face, “I know. You mean a lot to me too.” It was somewhat of an understatement, he was starting to understand that you didn’t just mean a lot, but that you meant everything.

His resolution lifted a huge weight off your shoulders that you wouldn’t be losing yet another best friend. You were glad he’d be with you when everything blew over with Wanda, the two of them definitely had the potential to develop a beautiful sibling relationship and they both deserved that. Of course, Peter would never replace Pietro and having known them both it was obvious just how different the two men were, the only thing they had in common being their powers and last name. Still, he and Wanda would still be able to work on it. He didn’t hate her after WestView and you knew Wanda well enough to know that she was kind hearted and she’d be more than willing to give him a chance. When she eventually comes back to her senses, that it.

As the months went on, life with you and Peter seemed to only get better. You never stopped laughing, your nightmares died down and Peter had taken on a whole new lease of life. Yourself and Peter were the perfect example of meeting the right person at the right time, you balanced each other out and accentuated the other’s good qualities.

Peter could now say with complete confidence that he was happy and what’s more is that he was finally sure that he was making someone happy.

Up until nearly eleven months of living together your relationship had been purely platonic, save for the constant flirting but flirtation pretty much ran in yours and Peter’s blood. Peter wasn’t going to lie to himself, he’d fallen for you the second you’d peeled the security tags off his stolen sunglasses.

You, on the other hand, had been fighting with yourself because yes, you love Peter but you couldn’t have told him when there was the possibility he’d eventually leave and now so much time has passed and you’ve got such a good thing going you didn’t have it in you to ruin it.

However, all of that changed when your original Maximoff best friend came knocking on your door.

Wanda was on the run. She’d caused an amazing amount of chaos but Stephen Strange and S.W.O.R.D were hot on her trail and now she needed a place to lay low with the twins. She figured there was no place more reliable to go than to the always open arms of her best friend, who conveniently had a divinity for earth magik and could muster up a protective barrier without raising suspicions. And that’s exactly where she found herself; outside your door.

You’d been chasing Peter around the apartment when you heard the knock on the door. Peter was on the opposite end of the kitchen to you, using the bar as a shield from you. “You better get that.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you?” You glared as you spoke, it was his own fault really. What sort of idiot jumpscares a witch while she’s mid-meditation? He’d frightened you so badly you accidentally blasted a ball of your signature green energy and ruined your favourite couch throw pillow. When you were ready to pounce on the scared speedster the knocks sounded again, more frantic this time.

With one last glare towards Peter you stomped towards the door. Your anger melted away completely when you saw her. Her hood was up and she looked completely exhausted, two small hooded little boys by her side.

“Wanda…” You breathed out, relief flooding your system at the sight of her alive. She didn’t get a chance to speak before your arms were pulling her against you tightly, hugging her as if your life depended on it. Wanda returned in your embrace, allowing herself to relax for the first time in nearly a year, she sniffled against your shoulder, holding back tears as she realised how much she’d truly missed you.

Billy and Tommy watched in confusion as their mother cried into your shoulder. They didn’t know who you were, all their mother had told them was that they were going somewhere safe.

It was the yell of one of the boys that caused you and Wanda to separate, “Uncle P!” With that you felt a familiar rush of air across your leg but instead of Peter appearing one of the kids was gone.

You shared a perplexed look with Wanda, although your confusion was for different reasons.

“Hey hell raisers!” Peter responded, catching the mini speedster who all but threw himself at him barely regaining his balance before the other child had flung himself into the hug.

“Wanda? Those two… are they...?” You started, at a loss for words Wanda cut you off quietly, her tone as disbelieving as yours.

“My children? Yes. Is that…?” You nodded your head numbly, anticipating the end of her question.

“Your fake brother? Yeah.” Quickly, you realised you and a wanted woman catching up with the door wide open wasn’t ideal and you ushered Wanda inside, shutting the door when she walked in.

“Hey.” Peter greeted her simply, as if he hadn’t been used as a meat puppet in her altered reality. It wasn’t in his nature to hold any grudges.

“Hi?” Wanda replied, her voice still twinged with confusion.

“Peter, will you keep an eye on the kids for a bit? Wanda and I have some catching up to do.” You asked him with a nervous laugh, just thankful that Wanda was too tired to argue with your suggestion.

Peter ruffled the boys’ hair and gave you a grin, “Only if you stop trying to kill me.”

You rolled your eyes as you began to lead Wanda into your bedroom, “You’re on probation, jerk.” You called over your shoulder.

Once you were securely in your bedroom, the door locked and sitting comfortably you fixed Wanda with an amused look, “I’d ask you what’s new but I’m not sure I even wanna know.”

Wanda gave you a sad smile while she shook her head, “No, you probably don’t. I will tell you tomorrow, I don’t want to get into it tonight. I’m so tired.” She admitted, her voice overcome with sadness.

“I’ll pump up the air mattress and you and the boys can sleep in here for however long you need. I’d offer you the spare room but that’s where Peter’s been staying and I don’t think empty food containers are the kind of decor you’d be into.” Wanda nodded, squeezing your hand gratefully.

“So his name is Peter?” She asked, curious about the man Agatha had used to trick her in WestView.

You nodded in confirmation, “Yeah. Peter Maximoff, actually.”

Wanda’s brows came to a furrow at that, “Maximoff? So he’s a relation?”

“Yes and no. Peter is from a different reality but he’s still a Maximoff and he’s got super speed. So, and this is just my theory, while you’re not directly related he could still be your brother- if you wanted him to.” You explained, as gently as you could, not trying to push her too far but to nudge the idea in her direction.

Wanda, to your surprise, didn't seem to hate the suggestion, “What is he like?”

A genuine smile made it onto your face then, as you shot into your description of your roommate, “He’s caring, funny, a little bit of a kleptomaniac but he’s working on it. He’s understanding and moronically selfless, moronic in the sense that he doesn’t even realise he’s being selfless. Huge pain in the ass too.” Wanda had a soft smile on her face by the time you’d finished.

“You like him.” Was all she said and you let out a laugh in disbelief, standing up and opening the door.

“Go grab a shower. I’ll have Peter blow up the air mattress while I go introduce myself to my god sons.”

“I thought you’d at least wait until I actually asked you.” Wanda laughed as you walked out of the room.

Things moved fairly quickly after that. As promised you introduced yourself to Billy and Tommy as their god mother, which they seemed more than thrilled about and you assumed that excitement had to do with whatever description of you Peter had given them. Wanda and the twins were all cleaned and fed and had all but collapsed into bed, foregoing the air mattress and huddling together in your double bed instead.

“Where are you sleeping, mother Teresa?” Peter teased as he noticed your eyes drooping where you stood.

“On the couch probably. Or the air mattress.” You mumbled, cutting yourself off with a yawn.

Peter, unimpressed with your options, scoffed, “No way. Come on, you can bunk with me.”

Much like Wanda, you were too tired to argue and you let Peter pull you to his, surprisingly clean, room by the hand.

You both crawled into the bed, lying close together despite the amount of empty space on the mattress.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Your soft voice broke through the silence and Peter turned his head to look at you.

“About Wanda?” You nodded your head, watching him intently as he rolled onto his side, facing you more comfortably.

Peter shrugged lightly, “I’m feeling ok. Just glad the twins still see me as their cool uncle.” You let out a small laugh at his response.

“Wanda was asking about you. Seemed interested in getting to know the real you.” You informed him, your heartwarming as you watched a hopeful look fall across his face.

A lull settled over the room once again and Peter caught himself staring at you. His eyes drifted over every visible part of you, reminding him of most of the points on his pros list for staying in your universe; your eyes, your lashes, your nose, your lips, you.

“What’re you thinking about?” The sound of your tired voice pulled him out of his thoughts and ultimately pushed him to bite the bullet and tell you how he’s feeling. With you curled up beside him, in his bed, fighting sleep just to stay in his company for as long as you could; he knew there would be no better time.

“Just about how happy I am to be here with you.” He answered you honestly, the butterflies in both of your stomachs fluttering in sync at his words.

You trailed a hand under the duvet and onto the bedsheets between your bodies, feeling around until you found his hand and gently intertwined your fingers. “I’m happy you decided to stay.”

“What you’ve all gone through in this timeline sucks- don’t get me wrong-“ Peter started sincerely, scooting closer to you and dropping his head back down on the edge of your pillow, leaving the pair of you practically nose to nose as he went on.

“And I hate that Wanda had to go through so much… but I’m really glad that it led me to you.” Peter swore in that moment, right after the confession left his mouth, that he could die right now and be completely content knowing that you now knew how he felt.

His heart stopped, and he thought that maybe he was about to die, when you gave him the softest, sweetest smile he’d ever been on the receiving end of and whispered, “I feel the same.”

Time moved in slow motion as he felt you moving your intertwined hands towards your lips, your lips pressed gently against the back of Peter’s hand before you brought them to rest against your chest.

It was a fact to say that Peter Maximoff had never felt intimacy quite like this before. But, experiencing it now, with you, led him to wonder how he’d ever survived without it. He wasn’t sure whether it was natural to crave more, especially when the affection you were showing him was so gentle, but he didn’t care as he let the impulsive side of him take over.

Not sparing another word, Peter closed the small distance between your lips and his. His free hand cupped your jaw while yours wasted no time in getting tangled in his silver hair.

His lips moved softly and surprisingly slowly over yours and he savoured the feeling of your hand holding his while your other got lost in his hair, your body pressed up against him, the way your jaw moved against his palm as you reciprocated the movement of his lips and the taste of your lips, promising himself he’d never let the memory slip from his mind for as long as he lived.

With complete clarity, Peter could say he had felt true, genuine happiness and he had no doubt in his mind that there was absolutely nothing Charles, Hank, Scott or anyone else from his original timeline could say to make him leave this happiness behind. Because in the process of forgetting his old life, he couldn’t deny that he has undoubtedly found himself in the position of a man who had so much more to live for.

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