#and smoking weed with my friends and being super high out in the world | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

automaticllamacycle · 10 months

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the taste of your lips (is my idea of luxury)

Summary: You had never smoked weed before. A few puffs with your friend Matty couldn’t hurt, right?

Content: 18+, smoking, shotgunning, face sitting, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, spitting, slight dom/sub undertones if you squint, friends to lover but make it super speed

Word count: 5,451

You sit in his room watching one of his favorite documentaries, a typical Friday night for the two of you. Matty’s at his desk, leaning over it while he starts to roll a joint. He insists the weed helps him think more deeply about the documentary, no matter how many times you tell him that’s bullshit. You can’t help but linger on his fingers as he packs the joint, carefully working with the paper.

You and Matty have been friends for a few years now. Nothing had ever gone further than that, even though you’d like for it to. Painfully, in the friend-zone. So, you sit on his bed and watch his hands, wondering what they would feel like on you. On your body, squeezing your hips just right…

His curly brown locks are a mess, hanging in his face. You hope he can’t feel your eyes barring into him. Part of you wonders if he does know, by the way he grazes his tongue along the edge of the paper, slow and calculated in his movements. He lingers his tongue longer than usual. As soon as he finishes the task, your eyes jump back to the television, acting like you weren’t just staring at him.

“Matty, can I change this to something else? What even is this?”

“What? Don’t like my taste in documentaries?” he jokes with the joint hanging loosely from his lips. He stands up in the middle of his sentence, looking for a lighter in his bedside drawer.

“You know I don’t. This isn’t even true crime. Can I put it on Friends or something? Please?” The remote is already in your hand, ready to go. A wide grin spreads across your face as you try to convince him to comply with your request.

“Anything for you. I’ll be high anyway. Don’t really care what we watch.” He replies, now clutching the lighter in his hand. The words anything for you repeat in your head as he sits down next to you, making himself comfortable against the headboard. His shoulders press against you, not a space between the side of his body and yours.

“You know it’s a great show. A true classic.” you say as you put the show on. You turn your head to him and watch as he strikes the lighter and holds the flame to the joint. When he finally lights it, he responds.

“It’s a funny show, I’ll give you that much sweetheart.”

You turn your head back to the TV screen, attempting to ignore how close his body is to you. His every movement distracts you from the TV. Only a couple minutes into the episode, you look to him again, watching as he takes a drag. More specifically, watching as his lips wrap around the joint.

You haven’t smoked before. Not like you’re against it or anything, just never found a reason to, yet. Still though, you’re curious about it. “So…” you begin, “What does being high actually feel like?”

“Why, you finally interested after all these years?” he replies with his eyebrows raised. A small smirk lights up his face.

“Maybe.”

“Well, it feels… nice. You feel happy and relaxed, not a care in the world.”

“That does sound appealing.” Your eyes flicker between the joint in his hand and his eyes, trying to steer clear from staring at his lips. Maybe the high will distract you from your feelings. Distract you from how much you want him, right now.

“Why don’t you give it a try?” He straightens up from his position against the headboard and extends the joint out to your hand. You hesitantly take it from his fingers, before looking back at his face. Unsure of even how to hold the joint properly, you decide to hold it like a cigarette as you’ve seen him do so many times, between your pointer finger and middle finger. Your eyes meet his again, looking for some kind of guidance. His eyes are a bit red from the weed. It doesn’t look like there are too many thoughts going on in his head.

“Matty, I have no idea what I’m doing. I’ve never even smoked a cigarette.”

“I can tell,” he chuckles. “You just breathe it in I don’t know how else to instruct you. You’ve seen me do it enough times by now.” Before continuing his sentence, he plucks the joint from your fingers and places it between your thumb and index finger, signaling for you to pinch your fingers around it. “It’s between these fingers. Easier to pass back and forth this way. Go ahead and take a hit.”

“Alright, fine.” You feel your confidence leave your body as you bring the joint up to your lips. You attempt to properly inhale, but you fall into a raging coughing fit when the smoke hits your lungs.

“Well shit, you weren’t joking,” he said, laughing as his hand goes to rub your back gently while you cough.

“Yeah, I don’t think smoking weed like this is going to work out for me.”

There’s a slight pause. A lull in conversation before he talks again.

“Wait. I think I have an idea.” His eyes light up alongside his smile. You could tell by the look on his face this isn’t going to be a regular, normal idea.

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“Come here and sit on my lap.” He holds his arms out, waiting. You stare at him for a moment, confusion on your face.

“I think you’re a little too high right now, Matty.” He’s not serious, right?

“I’ve only smoked like half of this, now come here. Don’t you trust me?”

Begrudgingly, you straddle his hips, and his hands steady you at your waist. You have never been this close to him. The look in his eye is one you haven’t seen before, and you aren’t sure you can blame the weed for it. His breath starts getting heavier with you on his lap. You’re just glad he has a shirt on. You find a voice to speak.

“Okay, what is your bright idea before I chicken out?”

“It’s called shot gunning. Basically, I’m going to take a big hit, then breathe it into your mouth while you breathe in. Simple as that.” His voice is confident as he explains his bright idea.

“That seems sexually charged,” you say. You feel the blush flaming on your cheeks, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Oh, shut up, our mouths don’t actually touch.” Bummer, you wish they would. Matty doesn’t need to know that, though. He continues, trying to defend his idea. “I just think it’ll be easier for you to get a full hit this way, since I don’t have a bong with me. Those are less harsh on the lungs.”

“Matty, you seem more nervous than I am.” That is a lie, straight through your teeth. The nervous energy is practically surging through your bones at the idea of his mouth almost touching your lips.

“I just haven’t done this with a girl I wasn’t currently dating at the time,” he says, biting his tongue afterwards. That is a bit of information he should have left out. Matty’s hands move up and down on your waist as he waits for your response. The heat of his hands burns through your shorts.

“Okay, it’s time for you to be quiet and get on with it. So, what exactly do I need to do?”

“You need to lean in a bit and get closer. I’ll handle the rest, just remember to breathe in when I breathe out, okay?”

“Alright.”

The hand that rests on your waist makes its way slowly up your back, cupping the back of your head and your neck. Out of reflex, you grip his arm, steadying yourself. His eye contact is magnetic as he lifts the joint up to his lips. Your breath isn’t coming as easy to you now, the air becoming thick around the both of you while you watch his lips wrap around the paper.

He breathes in deep, filling his mouth and lungs with smoke, but not blowing it out. He lowers your face down to meet his. Lips a fraction away from touching. Your lips part, waiting for him. Matty opens his mouth, nearly grazing your lips and blows the smoke out while you inhale. His actions are slow, like he’s savoring the moment. Like he won’t get the chance to be this close to you again. You take in the smoke without coughing up a lung this time, feeling the high start to hit, just a little bit.

You turn your head away from him to blow out the smoke, so it isn’t directly in his face. When you face back towards him, the intensity of his eyes almost melt you into a puddle. His eyes stare straight through you, like he can read your every thought.

“How was that?” he asks, breathless. He can’t stop looking at your mouth.

“It was better that time. Easier on the lungs, like you said.” Yeah sure, easier on the lungs, but not easier on your nerves.

“Do you want to try again?” He tries to maintain eye contact, but his gaze falls right back down to your lips. You impulsively lick them.

“Yeah, sure.” You maintain your composure, but as the minutes go on it becomes harder. The way you sit in his lap makes you nervous about moving your hips at all. Every inch of your body pressed into him.

He repeats the same actions, this time however, more intense. His hand on the back of your neck holds you close, keeping you millimeters away from his mouth. Your grip on his arm tightens in response. Oh, how badly you want to lean in. To taste his lips and feel his mouth on you. His eyes never leave your face as he takes another hit. This time, his hand at the back of your head moves to grasp your jaw instead. The hold spans to your neck. Surely, he can feel the rapid pace of your pulse underneath your skin, but you push that thought away.

He pulls your face to his and breathes the smoke into your mouth. Once he was finished, you blow it back out. However, this time, you brought your face back to the same closeness. Maybe the high is giving you a newfound confidence.

“That was nice,” you breathe.

“Yeah?” he questions with his hand still on your face. “Think you want to try to smoke it on your own again?” His facial expression disagrees with the words he says. He doesn’t want you to move at all.

You nod your head at his question, but you also have a different idea in mind. “Can I shot gun you instead?” you asked, timidly. You want to stay on his lap for as long as possible, savoring the impression of his hips against yours. His eyebrows raise, surprised at your question.

“Sure, love. If you think you’re that advanced.” He teases. He hands you back the joint while you attempt to conceal your shaky hands. He notices, though, despite your best efforts. “Start whenever you’re ready, or you can stop if you want. No pressure.” His hands return to your hips as his thumbs begin to rub in a circular motion on the bone, reassuring you.

You are in too deep, there’s no stopping now. You take a hit of the joint, and this time, you managed to fight off the cough. With a shaky hand, you cup his jaw as you lean in. His lips part, ready for you.

Your lips, ever so slightly, graze his before you blow the smoke into his mouth. Electricity runs through you at the brief contact. He exhales away from your face before turning back to you. One of his hands holds your cheek while the other remains on your waist.

“How was that?” you ask, hesitantly. For once, you found yourself not able to read the expression on his face.

“That was perfect. You did a good job.” His brown eyes are blown wide. They flicker to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your mouth.

“Oh, fuck it,” he exclaims.

In a split second, his lips meet yours, drawing a gasp from your throat. There is desperation in his actions, in the way his hands grip your face and waist like he never wants to let go. He moves against your mouth with fervor, slipping his tongue past your lips. Your free hand combs through his curls, pulling tight as you roll your hips against his lap. Fire runs across your skin as he kisses you deeper before breaking the kiss. He’s quick to say the first word.

“Shit. I’ve complicated things haven’t I? We can act like that never happened if you want to stay just friends.” He talks as though he is not already hard against you, aching for more contact.

“I don’t think I can just forget about this, Matty,” you reply, grinding against him. A groan leaves his lips as his fingers dig into your hips in a bruising grip. “Besides…” You lean down to his ear, breath hot as you speak. “I want you. I want you as more than a friend. Have for a while now.” He reacts to your word fast, grabbing the joint from your hand and putting it out on the ashtray laying on his nightstand. Before he continues, his eyes meet yours, still hesitant to continue.

“You sure?” He needs to make sure this is okay one last time before there is no going back to just friends.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.” His lips are on you again as soon as the words leave your mouth. The kiss is hot, passionate, needy. Both of your hands tangle through his brown curls, tugging to hear another groan leave his throat. Your tongue licks into his open mouth, wanting more from him.

Matty’s hands are ambitious, traveling under your shirt he grabs the shirt hem. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as he lifts the shirt off of you. For a moment, he stops to take in your body. The heat in your cheeks tints your face pink as he stares, completely awestruck. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

His lips attach to the newly exposed skin of your chest, nipping and sucking at the skin not covered by your bra. You draw in a sharp breath at the sensation of his teeth and tongue on your skin. Red marks are left behind by his mouth. You feel one of his hands drift up your spine to undo your bra clasp, leaving your chest bare to him.

Matty’s mouth moves onto your exposed breasts, tongue flicking over your nipples before his teeth barely graze them. You can’t keep the moans back from your lips. “Shit, Matty—”

Before he can leave even more marks on your skin, you push him back against the headboard. A dazed look is in his eyes as your hands find their way under his shirt, fingernails delicately grazing his lower stomach. “It’s not fair for only my shirt to be off,” you say as you lift the fabric over his head. You look over him, eyes trailing over his muscles and tattoos. He has more muscle than you remember, firmer underneath your touch, like he could break you if he wanted to.

You move before he does, beginning to mouth at his neck. Groans leave his lips when you suck on his pulse point, sure to leave a bruise. His hands at your waist frantically press your hips into his erection. Your mouth travels down his neck to his chest, and you about to get off of his lap and on your knees before he stops you.

“Can I taste you?” He licks his lips as he watches your face, gauging your reaction. It wasn’t typical for a guy to want to go down on you first. It was the other way around, usually.

“If you want to…” you trail off, feeling flustered at the idea of him knowing you so intimately so quickly.

“I want to make you feel good,” he insists, fingers finding their way under your waist band to remove your underwear and shorts in one go. You start to get up, to move to the place beside him for better access before he stops you. “No. I want you to sit on my face.”

Your eyes go wide. Unsure of what even say. “You want me to… what?”

“Sit on my face.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t. Besides, it would be a good way to go out.”

“Matty!” you exclaim, lightly hitting his shoulder.

“I’m just being honest,” he pauses in between sentences to lay down flat on the bed. You now found yourself sitting on his lower stomach with no separation. The arousal between your thighs was obvious to him now, hands digging into your hips. “Now, C’mere.”

He drags you by your hips to hover over his face before he pulls you down roughly. Waves of pleasure flow through your body as his mouth makes contact. “Shit— Matty,” you choke out, darting one hand to the headboard to hold yourself up, knees buckling from the sensation. The other hand drops down to his hair, trying to keep yourself grounded. He licks at your cunt like a starved man. He takes his time to run his tongue along you in a broad stroke before he narrows in on your clit, wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking. Hard. You jolt in his grip as a whine leaves your throat.

Feeling overwhelmed at the sensation, you nearly lift yourself off his face, but his grip is unyielding. Fingers hold onto your thighs tight. Your hand tugs at his hair in response, and his eyes look up at you as a deep groan leaves his throat. His pupils are wide as he watches you on his tongue. Instead of sucking, he begins to lap at your folds, indulging at the taste of you. A mix of saliva and your arousal begin to run down his chin as he works his mouth against you.

“Fuck, if I’d known you tasted this sweet, I would have done this years ago,” he says after lifting your body off of his face for a moment before bringing you back down.

“Make up for lost time then. Show me what you can do with that mouth,” you challenge. Oh, he delivers. At your words, the speed of his tongue increases, switching between sucking and circling at your clit. One of his hands leaves your thighs, lining up to your center to collect your wetness before pushing two fingers in. Your hips roll against his face. For a moment, you worry you could hurt his neck, but that thought leaves when his strong arms firmly pull you to his mouth. Matty moans against you, the vibrations increasing your ecstasy. His name leaves your lips over and over, not knowing what else to say. All you can think is Matty. All you can feel is Matty. His fingers curl just so, hitting that spot inside you. Hips rut against his face haphazardly now, chasing your orgasm. The heat is growing in your stomach. You’re on fire and his tongue is fanning the flame. “Matty— Matty, fuck, I’m close. Please, I’m close.” You sound unlike yourself, desperate and needy. He obliges at your request, his fingers rubbing over that spot inside of you at a rapid pace while his tongue attaches to your clit. With the harsh suck of his lips on your clit, you come undone.

You feel like you’re floating, and the only thing keeping you grounded is your hand in his hair. The world is hazy around you as you become enveloped in the pleasure his mouth brings you. He doesn’t stop, either. His tongue works you through your high, and his hand encourages your hips to move against his face. Matty loves having you like this. He loves making you lose your senses on his tongue. He loves to watch your face fall apart in pleasure all because of him. He knows his only job right now is to make you feel good, to make you feel better than anyone ever has.

When you finally come down from the high, Matty is still going at it. His tongue is overwhelming, like jolts of electricity through your body. With both hands at his hair you start to push off of him. “Too sensitive,” you reason with him, before moving down to straddle his hips again.

His looks at you with a hunger on his face. Eyes dilated as stare back into yours. A sheen covers his chin and swollen lips. He takes one of his fingers to gather the wetness on his chin before sticking the finger in his mouth, licking it clean. Matty’s lips curl into a smirk when he speaks again.

“Well, did I make up for lost time? Seemed like you liked it from the way you were pulling my hair, darling.”

Pink flushes across your cheeks. “I don’t know that once is going to be enough to make up for it.” You lean in, connecting your lips briefly. The taste of you is prominent on his lips and tongue. “I want more than that right now though,” you add, grinding your hips down on him during your sentence.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. ‘You’re going to be the death of me if you keep doing that.”

“Get on with it then.” He quickly flips you over on the bed so you’re pinned beneath his body. His lips attach to your neck, teeth biting at the skin. He sucks hard, leaving red marks in the wake of his mouth. Every nip of his teeth sends shocks to your stomach. “Shit, Matty, stop teasing me.”

“Just wanted to mark you up a little bit. You’d look good with some purple on your neck.” He stands up to go through his bedside drawer again, grabbing a condom.

You interrupt his actions before he opens it. “You don’t have to use one if don’t want to. I have an IUD.” You try not to sound desperate, but you want to feel him. All of him.

“It seems like you’re the one who doesn’t want me to use it. I didn’t peg you as the type to be that dirty. But if you wanna feel me that much, don’t expect me to argue.” he chuckles, before taking off his boxers. His cock is hard and leaking as he pumps himself a few times. Bigger than you expected. He gets back on the bed, kneeling over you. He kisses you quickly. “You ready?” His hand teases the tip of his cock between your folds, intentionally bumping into your clit.

You nod eagerly. “Please.” He enters you slowly, stretching and filling you as a gasp leaves your throat. “Fuck,” you cry out. Your hands grip his back, nails digging into his skin as he continues to fill you up. Your entire body is in bliss as he bottoms out, adjusting to his size. His mouth falls open as small groans escape his throat. His eyes close shut as he feels you surround him.

He stills, deep inside of you as he kisses you deeply, tongue licking into your mouth. His hands are on your hips, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. “Shit, you feel so good. So good for me.” You clench around him at the praise, feeling flush spread all over you. He notices the affect his words have on your body. “You like that too, huh? Want me to call you a good girl next?” he taunts. You draw in a shaky breath at his words, but you bounce back fast.

“Just start moving.” The words leave your mouth more as a whine than a demand. Your hips arch against him, seeking friction.

“A bit demanding. I’ll give you what you want for now.”

He draws almost completely out of you, before thrusting back in. You shudder at the quick pace he sets. “Matty— shit,” you whine. He straightens his body back up to admire you underneath him, still snapping his hips at a rhythmic pace. His eyes examine every part of you. He watches the way your face falls open in pleasure as you moan. How your hips follow the movement of his thrusts, and how your muscles tense underneath him.

With his new position, you take your time to admire his body as well. Your hands move to trace the tattoo on his lower stomach, feeling the strength of the muscles there as he rolls his hips into you. His arms grab your attention, too. As his hands grip your waist, his biceps flex. His arms are huge, like he could hold you down and keep you there for hours, using you however he wants.

“Hey.” He interrupts your staring. One of his hands slides up your body to grip your jaw, making your eyes meet his. “Keep looking at me, yeah? Want to see your eyes. Want to see how good I’m making you feel. Got it?” You nod at his request without a second though, wanting to please him.

“Atta girl,” he responds. He takes one of your legs and places it over his shoulder, letting him hit deeper inside you.

“God,” you cry out at the new depth of his cock, pleasure tingling through your skin every time he bottoms out. The feeling is overwhelming, melting you down into a puddle. You can’t stop your eyes from shutting closed at the sensation, slipping into euphoria. Instantly, he stops moving. Your eyes fly open, not sure what’s wrong, why he stopped.

“What did I just tell you?” he asks, voice firm. His hand is back on your jaw again, holding on tight. Your mind was hazy, both from the weed and the pleasure. You pulse around him, unsure what he wants you to say. There’s a short pause before he speaks again. “I told you to keep looking at me. I want to see the look in your eyes when I make you come.” His eyes are dark and lustful while he talks. “You understand?” You nod your head frantically, desperate for him to start moving again.

“I want words this time,” he adds, your head nodding not enough.

“Yes, Matty.” Your voice barely sounds like you. Broken and whiney.

“There we go, that’s what I wanted,” he murmurs. His thumb goes to brush over your lips. “Now, open your mouth.” You listen to his instructions, opening your mouth wide while he holds your chin. Without warning, he leans over you and spits in your mouth. Your eyes widen at his actions, shocked at the way it makes you feel inside. Butterflies forming in your stomach at his next words. “Swallow it.”

Gulping it down quickly, you open back up your mouth, showing him you obeyed. “That’s a good girl, listening to me so well,” he praises. “I think you deserve a reward; would you like that?”

“Please,” you beg, nails raking down his lower stomach lightly. He obliges, placing one hand beside your head to hover over you as he sets a relentless pace again. His hips rock into you roughly, hitting every spot inside of you to fill you with pleasure. You refuse to close your eyes, staring back deep into his own. His other hand urges you to wrap your legs around his hips, grasping tight around your hipbone. This time, he gasps at the feeling of being so deep inside of you. Your cunt squeezes around his cock, making him curse. “Fuck, love. God, you’re so good for me. So fucking good for me, shit.” He was losing himself fast, getting lost in you.

“Matty, please—” you cry out, not quite sure what you’re asking for. The heat was growing inside your stomach rapidly. Every thrust inside of you bringing you closer and closer to release. Only holding on by a thread as he speeds up his hips, hitting you deep and hard. His thumb moves from where it holds into your hip, circling your clit. “Oh, God,” you sob. It was all too much. His cock ruthlessly fucks into you. The feeling of his rough, calloused thumb rubbing your clit without ceasing. His eyes staring into you, overtaken with pleasure as groan after groan leaves his throat. The world blurs around you, and only the feeling of Matty remains. Your orgasm sneaks up on you fast.

“Matty, shit. I- I’m right there.” You hold on just a little bit longer, wanting his permission before you let go. No, needing his permission before you let go.

His thumb speeds up, rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Go on, love. Come around my cock for me,” he encourages. That’s all it takes for the tension building inside your stomach to snap. You come apart for him, waves of euphoria washing over your skin. Heats spreads through your veins as your back arches against the bed. Matty is the only word leaving your lips as he continues his thrusts through your high. His hands hold you together, keeping you from falling apart at the seams. You listen to his instructions, keeping your eyes locked with his throughout your climax, watching his face fall in awe of you. The look in his eyes is the only thing keeping you from drifting off completely.

Matty groans at the sight of you falling apart underneath him. The way you fluttered and pulsed around him only brings him closer to his high. His hips become sloppy against you, losing precision as he starts to reach his own climax. With a series of deep, hard thrusts, he moans out your name as he spills inside of you, hips stuttering. His breathe is labored as he rests his forehead against yours, collapsing on top of you. You stay there in his embrace while you catch your breath, holding him close before he opens his eyes to look at you.

“Shit,” he chuckles. “That was better than I could have ever imagined.” He has a genuine smile on his face, but you take the opportunity to tease him.

“Oh, so you’ve thought about me like this before?”

“Only about a million times,” he replies. Matty slowly pulls out of you, wincing at the sensitivity. As he gets up and walks to the bathroom, dread fills you, thinking that was it. That he was done and expecting you to leave. You sit up on the bed, feeling his cum drip down your thighs as you try find the nerve to stand up and collect your clothes. He comes back in the middle of your attempt to stand with a rag in his hand, wearing a new pair of boxers.

“Hey, hey. Where do you think you’re going?” he stops you. Voice soft.

“Oh. I was just going to get my clothes…” you trail off, not wanting to make things more awkward than they already are. A look of hurt marks his face at your words.

“You know me well enough to know I’m not a complete dickhead,” he sighs. “Now, lean back, let me clean you up.” His hand is gentle as it goes to your knee, signaling you to part your thighs for him. The warm rag in his hands wipes off your thighs before trailing up to your center, taking extra care around the sensitive skin. “I’ll be right back,” he says this time, reassuring you before taking the rag to the bathroom. When he returns, he walks over to his dresser, grabbing a t-shirt and another pair of boxers before returning to the side of the bed. “Arms up.”

“Matty, I can get dressed myself.”

“Sweetheart, let me take care of you. Please?” You lift your arms, complying with his request as he puts the shirt on you. The smell of him immediately engulfs you. He also insists to help you put the boxers on. Finally, he crawls up in the bed next to you, pulling you to rest your head on his chest. You’re safe in his arms. It’s warm and comfortable. The previous feeling of anxiety leaving you.

“I really like you. You know that, right?” he speaks, sounding unsure of himself.

“I really like you, too.”

“Then, let’s just leave it at that for now, yeah? Figure out the rest later.” He briefly kisses your forehead. All that mattered right now is that you’re here in his grasp.

#matty healy #matty healy smut #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #the 1975 fanfic #the 1975 smut #my writing #smut #writing #shotgunning one shot finished who cheered #cross posted to ao3 go give it a kudos ily

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legoflowrs · 9 months

Text

HEADCANNONS

c/w: drinking, drugs, addiction, abuse, slight nsfw

AGED UP TO 18 MY PEOPLE!!!!

A/N: ok so in the headcannons he’s with Stan cause Style is very dear to my heart but in the relationship headcannons he’s with reader xx

Kyle Broflovski

- Massive fucking NERD!! (pls i love nerds).

- Got straight A’s throughout high school.

- Was on the honour roll and was on student council.

- Firm believer in basketball Kyle supremacy.

- Came out as Demisexual and Bisexual (male leaning).

- Stopped being super strict on Kosher throughout high school but kept that a secret from Sheila.

- Never stopped being insecure about his nose. Literally at one point started saving for a nose job till Stan talked him out of it.

- Drinks almond milk.

- Thinks thrifting is gross cause he’s a germaphobe. Washes his hands like 50 times a day.

- When I hear the song Basic Instinct it reminds me of Kyle.

- The Smiths > The Cure.

- Style: Stan fell first, Kyle fell harder (bro i love these dweebs lol).

- Was legit so in denial about being in love with Stan for the longest time.

- His Dad pushed him to study law but he ended up studying psychology to become a child psychologist because he saw the effects of unchecked mental health in children while he grew up.

- Got really drunk once and Kenny pierced his septum. He has it flipped up most of the time.

- Hates glasses so wears contacts.

- Such a fkn mummas boy lol it honestly was a problem at one point.

- Didn’t do his own laundry till he moved out. Did not know how to put sheets on a bed 👍

- Such a good relationship with Ike, he would die for his little brother.

- Did someone say abandonment issues!!!! Could not keep a partner to save his life during high school.

- Smoked weed with Kenny twice and then freaked out after he greened out.

- Got addicted to nicotine during college and used it as an outlet because he put so much pressure on himself to be perfect. Spoke to his doctor and he’s trying to quit.

- Defs listens to Phoebe Bridgers because he has a strange relationship with his dad.

- His dad pushed him to be perfect all the time until Kyle had a massive breakdown in junior year that burnt him out for a long time.

- A family man!!! Wants kids pretty early on into his life.

- A god at poker.

- Hates taking photos of himself.

- Still pretty insecure about his hair but Kenny and Stan helped himself to accept it and even start taking good care of it.

- Really struggled with anger issues.

- Stopped speaking to Cartman completely.

- Forest green is his favourite colour.

- Writes poems and makes people cry with how nice his birthday card messages are.

- First out his friends to get a license. His parents paid for his car.

- Such a damn backseat driver.

- Didn’t really work until he moved out.

- I think he’d help Heidi out at the community gardens.

- After Heidi finally ended things with Cartman, her and Kyle became really close friends.

- Had a friendly academic rivalry with Wendy through high school.

- Him and Wendy study together in college often.

- Has a record player.

- Grew closer to Craig’s gang in senior year of high school. Goes record shopping with Tolkien.

- Very accident prone.

- Has diabetes.

- Loves picnics and simple activities like stargazing.

- Smells like pine needles and the ocean.

- Actually a fantastic swimmer.

- Did drama in sophomore year.

- A massive library in his house. Had to instil a book ban on himself because he was spending all his money on it.

- Really nice eyelashes.

- Comes home to celebrate Hanukkah with his family every year.

- Did long distance with Stan during college. They almost broke up a few times but pulled through.

- Enjoys taking pictures of nature.

- Takes Ike to the movies very often.

- Has the nicest knitted sweaters.

- His guilty pleasure is Taylor Swift.

- HE IS SO MIRRORBALL CODED.

- When he’s in a good mood he loves baking and often bakes for his friends.

- Kenny, Kyle and Stan do day trips together super often. In my world these three never grew apart they are inseparable 🤞🤞

Kyle in a relationship

- An absolute gentleman. Refuses to let you get out of his car without him opening the door for you. Holds doors and pulls out seats. Always gives you his jacket.

- Was very insecure about his sexual inexperience. But y’all guided each other through it. I think there’s something so sweet and special about that.

- Touch tank by quinnie is all I have to say 😼.

- Loves kissing your neck and ears. He kisses your knuckles as well it’s very tender.

- Combusts when he sees you getting along with his family. Especially his Mum and Ike.

- Let’s you touch his hair, it relaxes him a lot.

- Opens up to you about his struggle with his Dad and nicotine. You are his biggest supporter through it all.

- Even though he hates photos, he’ll have a polaroid of y’all in his phone and wallet. Plus a photo booth strip in his car.

- Y’all will bake at midnight together.

- You go on fancy dinner dates together and rate the restaurants in the car together.

- Avid Letterboxed users lol! Give each other show and movie recommendations all the time.

- Kyle always had trouble sleeping but there was something very comforting about your presence so he’ll spend a lot of time at your dorm.

- Writes poems for you.

- Brings you flowers every time the old bouquet dies (ugh what a man).

- BUYS YOU LEGO FLOWERS!!!

- His love languages are gift giving and quality time.

- Keeps a list of all the dates you’ve been on.

- Will take such good photos of you fr! Your biggest hype man.

- I think his short temper would be a problem for you guys but he loves you so much he works on it so hard.

- Your praise means the absolute world to him.

- You guys always go to carnival together and share a caramel apple, it’s like tradition now.

- Couples costume for halloween always.

- Asks for your Dads/Mums/Guardians blessing before he proposes to you.

- Loves the smell of your perfume/cologne. Like it’s seriously intoxicating.

- Proposes to you with his Grandmas ring.

a/n: guys i love kyle so much i’m gonna make his mood board now <3

also if any of these are ooc in ur opinion it’s just for funsies and my opinion hehe

#south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski headcannons #south park headcannons #my boy love him

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mypookiewookiebear · 2 months

Text

getting high with Hetalia characters

(cause I'm kind of high and bored :P) (I just did the allies + Canada to make my life easier)

⚠ DISCLAIMER ⚠

these are just my opinions/ headcanons, if you don't like... uh, don't read pls 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕

TW/CW: drugs, lots of drugs mentioned, uh I curse? mostly weed mentions, mentioned alcohol, I use gay as an insult (GUYS IT WAS A JOKE I PROMISE PLEASE)

America

I feel like most of the time he would mellow out. Like most strains would make him more chill, like purple kush.

I think he would prefer edibles, it's easier, you’re higher for longer, and I headcanon that he’s on the heavier side so the edibles are more effective.

(also he’s weak and can’t smoke for shit)

Regardless, I don’t think he smokes or takes edibles too often. I think his preferred substance is probably liquor, if anything.

England

Okay, here me out. I think he experiments with hallucinogens.

He has his little witch friends, they light a bong and do fucking magic

(my normal friday night tbh…)

But that is the craziest thing he does, plus he’s old and has a strict 9 pm bedtime.

(plus he needs his booktok kindle to read bad colleen hoover books)

I bet he has a clicker and everything so he can lay down and read his kindle

Anyway, I think he’s had his fair share of za, but gets busy so he doesn’t do it all that often.

France

Okay the haters are gonna sabotage me, but I think he smokes the least out of this group,

Does not like the way weed makes him feel, he gets sensory overload easily while high, his adrenaline spikes and makes his heart race (in a bad way).

Prefers alcohol, specifically wine, doesn’t usually get drunk or sloshed but is more comfortable being drunk than high.

Russia

More inexperienced with weed tbh.

Like he has smoked cigarettes, drinks often enough, and done an occasional hard substance, he just doesn’t see much appeal in weed.

I think he is extreme, like he either is dead sober, or sloshed from vodka. No in between

When he is high, he gets more introspective, and depressing lol.

(he thinks more about his childhood, how he felt during all that)

Canada

I wouldn’t say he’s the no.1 stoner, but he’s in the running for that.

He would totally come to a world meeting high asf

(I mean, who's gonna notice?)

No preference as far as smoking vs. edibles, but i bet he’s done some crazy crack pipe diys to smoke weed

(such as, but not limited to: making a bong out of a water bottle, hot wiring an iphone charger, and smoking out of a banana)

When he’s sober he's chill, but when he's high, legit the chillest of chill. Like owns the word chill.

More sociable and charismatic, also makes bomb ass foods.

China

Saved the best for last 😘

Guys… we did it, we found the number 1 stoner 🤯🤯🤯🤯

Kidding kidding, but he is very familiar with medicinal marijuana.

(my man has a bad back… leave him alone…)

While he has a lot of experience, rarely does he get extremely high, again mostly smokes for medicinal purposes.

But he still has a high tolerance in general, so if he does decide to get super high, he needs strong ass edibles or a full cart.

(me asf tbh)

In the event he gets high as hell, he mostly ponders… thinks about philosophy or something gay like that./j

Idk he’s not that crazy, just sits by himself and thinks about stupid shit, like the appeal of bamboo to pandas.

Side note: don’t use gay as an insult that's bad…

OK BYE GOODNIGHT

#hetalia #hetalia headcanons #aph china #aph america #aph england #aph france #aph russia #aph canada #cannabis #smoking #writing!#tumblr fucked up my formatting so i have to kill #i have an ear infection lol

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happyandticklish · 1 year

Text

I Would Give Up the World For Your Touch

Summary: Commission for @ticklishraspberries! I was stoked to write for these dorks; I’ve been italicizing DEH in my fandoms list for so long in the hopes that someone would request it for anything and that day has finally come~ Miguel doesn’t get his personality super explored in the book aside from what Connor tells us, so I kind of just went a direction with it, which I hope works for how you see him. I hope you enjoy!!

Notes: Weed has a habit of making Connor honest and Miguel mischievous, a combination that’s bound to end poorly.

He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way Connor had transformed from being a fully fledged human being into a world of senses. Everything was so much clearer that night. The smoke from his blunt trailed in the air above him forming strange spirals in his air that he traced idly with his finger when the mood took him. Cool, October winds snuggled under his jacket making him shudder in a manner that was almost worth it if it meant Miguel’s arm curling around his shoulder, drawing him into the comfortable warmth of another human body.

There was a part of him that yearned to point out that typically friends didn’t cuddle. Or stay up all night talking just to hear the other’s voice. Or kiss at a party and then pretend like nothing had happened the entire week after.

There was a part of him that wanted to say a lot of things, and yet he didn’t. Possibly because he was a coward. Possibly because he couldn’t handle bringing them to that level of intimacy yet. Possibly it was all those reasons and a million more all tied neatly together with the threat of Miguel’s rejection.

Possibly it had to do with the smile on Miguel’s face whenever he looked at Connor, and the way Connor would do just about anything to keep that smile from disappearing.

“You’re happy,” Miguel guessed, raising an eyebrow as he brought him shooting back to the present. “Snuggly.”

“I’m fucking cold,” Connor mumbled in response, the answer not sounding even remotely convincing as he squirmed impatiently to get closer to him. He knew he was being clingy, but it was hard not to be in this state. He wasn’t sure whether or not this kind of thing was allowed, whether or not they were at the ‘cuddle stage’ of whatever the fuck they were at this point, but Miguel hadn’t shoved him off yet and it felt too nice to stop now. “We should go inside or something. Watch a movie and make hot coco, some stupid teenage shit like that.”

Miguel chuckled and even that sound was smooth and languid in Connor’s addled brain. He wished he could capture the sound to replay on repeat during the nights when everything was harder and reality was more difficult to hold onto to—something to tether him. “Maybe I could convince my mom that I wasn’t high, but you look like you’re on another planet right now. I vote we stay here a bit longer and wait till you mellow out. Besides, what’s better teenage behavior than sneaking out to look at constellations and get high instead of doing the homework you are most definitely putting off right now?”

“Constellations are overrated," Connor grumbled. "I hear heat’s what’s in right now—really making a comeback now that that whole summer thing’s over with. Besides, it’s hardly sneaking out if we’re in your parent’s driveway.”

His words were slow and sleepy, a reflection of his current state. Miguel was distractedly tracing his arm, and each cycle forced Connor’s eyelids to drift gradually shut. If it wasn’t so cold, he might have been asleep right now, but as it was it was impossible to fully relax when any moment an icy gust could come to startle him right back awake.

And Miguel. Miguel, who kept nudging him each time he started to drift off, pointing to a new set of stars that Connor couldn’t care less about.

“And that one’s Gemini. Stands for—”

“The twins, yeah, yeah, we get it.” Connor took another drag, delighting in the smoky exhale it caused. “Anyone who’s taken even a year of astrology knows that, you’re not as impressive as you think you are.”

A sharp glance in his direction. “Really?”

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Yes, really.”

“Because last I heard, you haven’t shown up to class in the last, what was it—since freshmen year? So, when you take that under consideration, I really don’t see where you would have found the time to even take an astrology class—”

“Oh, fuck off—”

There was a shove, followed by an answering shove and a tumble of laughter that descended into several lazy hits. It was clumsy and haphazard and it was clear it was more an excuse to touch the other than anything else. Connor was still holding the blunt and laughing while he tried to ward him off with one hand, and Miguel was getting handsier and more creative, poking and pinching at his arms while Connor hissed out in protest.

A well-placed poke to the side had Connor yelping out an admittance of defeat, but Miguel barely noticed until Connor was giggling and scrambling under him, whacking his shoulder weakly.

“Get off you dick, that shit fucking tickles—!”

There was a pause in the scuffle, not long enough to provide Connor relief, but enough to be noticeable as Miguel processed the sentence. “You’re ticklish?”

In a sober state of mind, Connor could have deflected the statement. He could have shoved Miguel off, made up some bullshit lie, created enough distance between them to make sure Miguel couldn’t try anything. Instead, he continued to struggle weakly to get Miguel off and muttered out a ‘No’ so unconvincing that it was hardly even a protest.

High Connor was a menace to Actual Connor, and later, he decided, he was going to have to have some very serious words with the former about his decision-making processes.

Connor yelped as Miguel’s intentions flipped in an instant, hands rapidly devouring every inch of torso they could grab, slipping under his shirt to get at his bare skin. The silly giggles from before quickly became desperate and panicked as Connor did his level best to curl up without burning either himself or Miguel with the still lit blunt.

Miguel hardly seemed to care, so delighted was he in this new discovery. “You’re ticklish. That’s—do you know how amazing that is? How can someone as eternally grumpy and cynical as you possibly be ticklish? All this time I’ve been listening to your smart-ass comments on every little decision of mine, when apparently all it takes is a little poke and you’re in stitches.”

“I’m n-nahat fuhuhucking tihihi—ehe, tihihicklish! Shihit!”

It was hardly a substantial refute, but it was hard to form sentences when all his thoughts were devoted to Miguel’s hands which were touching skin now, touching him, and he couldn’t even enjoy it because every minuscule touch was so damn tickly. He could feel each poke acutely, their effects doubling and tripling up until it felt like there had to be far more than only two hands tickling him.

All of this would have been difficult enough to deal with on its own, but he was running into a much bigger problem.

Logically, Connor knew laughter was a completely normal reaction to tickling. He’d experienced it as a kid and even engaged in it a bit himself before things had grown so uncomfortable and disjointed with him and Zoe. He knew that the utterly embarrassing and stupidly helpless giggles practically ripping out of his mouth were natural and nothing to be ashamed of. He knew he should be able to relax into it and allow the oddly pleasant sensations to wash over him until it felt like his own skin was in on the action.

And yet.

Even as his thoughts were consumed by the distracting fingers drifting towards his hips, he couldn’t help but focus on everything else around the theoretically cute scene. He was overly aware of the scrunch of his neck against his chin, the way his eyes practically disappeared into his head when he squeezed them shut, the blotchy red color overtaking his face, and the sweat almost certainly accumulating under his hoodie from all the squirming. And the laughter. Squeaky, high-pitched, babbling laughter like he was five years old all over again.

If there had been any part of Miguel that had wanted to try that kiss again, surely it had shriveled up and died by now.

Connor scrambled for Miguel’s hands, insistent on ending this to save himself even a tad bit of dignity but the latter was relentless. He seemed to have a talent for finding each spot that made Connor want to crawl out of his own skin, which forced Connor to jerk his hands back in quick protection. Miguel’s hands were buried under his arms—which Connor was sure were sweaty and gross by now—and now that he thought about it, he couldn’t remember the last time he had washed this particular hoodie, but it tickled far too much for him to even try to communicate any kind of apology for it.

“Wow, Murphy.” Miguel whistled softly, more impressed than mocking. “I think this is the most expressive I’ve seen you since… well, since ever, to be honest. You’re making me feel ticklish just looking at you, jesus christ. I would feel bad, but honestly you look far too cute like this for me to regret it.”

The word ‘cute’ reverberated in Connor’s head like a drum echo, a constant beat of confusion as he fell into another fit of cackles when Miguel experimentally dug his thumbs in. Admittedly, he didn’t have many other friends aside from Miguel but he was pretty sure they didn’t call each ‘cute’ if they wanted to stay just that—friends.

They didn’t kiss each other either, but Miguel had been drunk, and so had Connor if he was being honest; he wasn’t sure if Miguel even remembered anything from that night. And now he was high and Connor couldn’t help a pang of annoyance that these ‘moments’ never happened when either of them were sober so that Connor could at least get a clear read on them.

He wanted to grab Miguel and interrogate him, pin him down and demand an explanation for the behavior, but the weed was making his movements slow and it was hard to do anything but giggle like an idiot under current circumstances. So instead, he resorted to the only method he could think of in his hazy state—he decided to fight fire with fire.

A flinch. Tiny, but there, when Connor reached out and grazed over Miguel’s ribs. It was a haphazard swipe, born out of desperation and impulse, but it was enough to slow down Miguel’s movements enough that Connor could seize the upper hand. Another swipe, followed by another, and another, and then a poke and a pinch, and suddenly Miguel was stumbling back into the cluster of discarded backpacks behind them.

The switch to defense meant that his hands were too occupied protecting his own torso to tickle Connor’s, and Connor tried to ignore the phantom sensations still ghosting over his sides. At the very least, the mortifying wheezing was done with; he tried not to focus too much on the odd yearning prickling at his skin and demanding more.

Besides, the smile slowly forming on Miguel’s face was well worth his attention.

“Connor,” Miguel said calmly, a placating gesture that Connor refused to fall for. “Trust me, you don’t want to do this.”

Connor tossed one leg over Miguel’s waist, straddling him effectively. “Oh really? And why’s that? Can’t take what you dish out?”

Miguel shifted nervously under him, arms up to try to fight off a potential attack. His eyes were laser focused on Connor’s hands, his body jumping a little every time they moved, and Connor bit back a small smile at that. “I’ll get you back you know. If what I just saw is any indication, tickling appears to be your kryptonite and I’m not afraid to use that information when necessary.”

A thrill coursed its way down Connor’s back at the threat of a continuation of that night. He swallowed, straightening up a little as he forced a confident smirk onto his features. “Maybe. But if you’re going to do it anyway, I might as well have my fun now.”

Miguel’s eyes widened, and he didn’t have a chance to protest the point before Connor struck.

To his credit, Miguel’s self-control was far stronger than Connor’s. He tensed as his hands scribbled over the thin material of his shirt, his own quickly rising to his face to cover his growing blush and grin. His stomach trembled with the effort of holding in his laughter, twitching whenever a spider of fingers ran over a particularly sensitive spot.

“What’s wrong, Miguel?” Connor asked, the tease softer than he would have liked it as he admired the flustered boy beneath him. “Ticklish?”

“H-Hardly,” Miguel managed, the ‘H’ sound fluttering a tad as a laugh nearly slipped through. “This is nothIHing!”

“Nothing, eh?”

Connor climbed gently up his sides, each step jerking Miguel’s knees up another inch—a reaction that did not go unnoticed by Connor. He pressed gently into the divots in-between his ribs and Miguel hissed out a soft intake of breath, his grin curling wider.

“S-Stop.”

“Stop what? You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“Stop—stop teasing. Just do it if you’re gonna do it.”

“Just stop me if you’re gonna stop me, then,” Connor parroted calmly. He wiggled his fingers gently over his bottom ribs, startling a huffed giggle out of Miguel. “You should be careful, you know. Some people might get the impression that you like getting tickled if you keep this up.”

A hypocritical argument, but Miguel didn’t need to know that.

“W-Well,” Miguel admitted, his tone cockier than it should have been while on the verge of an embarrassing burst of laughter. “It’s not so bad w-when it’s, aha, yohou.”

Crimson shot to the tips of Connor’s ears and he hunched his shoulders up defensively. “Right. Well. I have a feeling you're gonna regret admitting to that.”

Miguel's eyes widened, but he hardly had any time to protest before Connor struck for real this time.

Laughter rang out through the abandoned street as Connor’s fingers began to vibrate at alarming speeds over the other boy’s ribs, causing him to break the stoic act at last and squirm to his heart’s content. Connor knew he wouldn’t be able to keep this up for very long without Miguel’s mom noticing all the noise, so he made the most of it, his fingers painting over Miguel's body like a brush to a canvas as he hungrily devoured his reactions.

Yet all the while, he couldn’t get those seven, simple words out of his head, meaning nothing and everything all at the same time.

It’s not so bad when it’s you.

#tickle fic #conguel #dear evan hansen #commission #commissions #fanfiction #tickling #connor murphy #miguel

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nastymeowmeow · 2 years

Text

Testing my game this weekend was a blast! I got a ton of good feedback, and good ideas to smooth out the gameplay. I'll need to do a lot of work on tweaks here and there, but the basis of the game is solid and everyone said it was super fun to play, so I'm really happy with how things are going.

I also finished some huge projects in Minecraft and showed off my world to some friends and blew their fucking minds. That was also satisfying.

I think after the most recent dose increase on my meds, I can finally feel them kicking in. Not like a high feeling, but I can tell my mood swings are starting to mellow out. I still get them, but they're a little muted now. I'm able to focus a lot more and I've been able to finish projects that I start. It feels good to have my priorities straight and clear. I also stopped getting panic attacks altogether and I stopped thinking about suicide. I think the anxiety pills are doing great for me.

I tried to log on to Amazon today and realized her account was still saved to my computer from when we tried to watch one of her favorite movies together. We were definitely... distracted when we watched it, but again. Constant reminders everywhere. How in the FLYING FUCK can she be everywhere I go? HOW? It's driving me insane! I wish someone could obliviate my memories of her so I can fucking move on? That would be cool? I can't do shit without some random thing popping up about her. It's fucking torture. How does someone come crashing into my world at the speed of light and exit so fucking quickly and leave THIS MUCH DEBRIS. HOW. HOOOWWWW.

Anyways, tantrum aside I had a good weekend. I get to meet up with my new Magic friend on Tuesday after work to fix up my chonky cat deck. I also want to try to use the deck that she built with me at the next commander night I go to. I've only played it once and sadly I just had a bad hand the whole time so I didn't get to use it to it's full potential.

I wish we could have done more Magic things before we split. I wanted to be able to hang out with her and keep doing nerdy things and be friends, but I can't be friends with someone that I'm this in love with. I've never been like this. I have always been so good at turning off the feelings and just being in platonic friendships with my exes, but fuck man. I can't with her... and I've always walked away from relationships thinking "it's their loss," but I don't feel that way right now and it's just eating me alive.

Ugh I'm being such a baby about it... and this is definitely a tired subject, but where else am I going to vent? I'm sure my friends are done listening to me being whiney and emo. So I'll just keep bitching on Tumblr until I stop feeling like this.

I need to talk to a therapist about my dreams. The last few years I've been having back-to-back anxiety dreams about all of my exes, and there's a lot. I've been in at least 10 long term relationships since I was 13 and for some weird reason I keep having nightmares about all of them. My relationship with her was the shortest relationship I've ever been in, and I even have nightmares about her. I just want to stop dreaming about everyone from my past but I don't know how.

I'm gonna crack out on some Minecraft and I might smoke weed tonight just so I can try to fall asleep without getting depressed. I just need one night where I'm not wide-eyed in the dark missing her and hating myself for it.

Tomorrow I get to hang out with some friends and maybe do something artistic. I'm looking forward to that.

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theweredrifter · 1 month

Note

an ( accidental / mutually ) drunken high kiss . - Caspian

Roughly three weeks ago.

Gabriel had been talking to the same guy at the bar for over an hour, he was charming and very funny, the type of humor he could bounce his own off of and vice versa. The looming fear of finding somewhere to go while still present, took a backseat for a change. The bar was the last place he thought a natural strike up conversation could be had, but here he was. Whether it be at the man's behest, or Gabriel's somebody had to leave the bar, and while sure he'd enjoyed the conversation, he didn't want to swindle that guy.

Before long the two are acquainted, had exchanged names, but not phone numbers. Gabriel had lied that his was dead, and made a point to keep the phone out of his hands and off so he didn't ruin a good thing. Yet, he was in Caspian's home looking at the decor, and anticipating a hit of weed. Having no real idea what his new friend did for work, he wasn't aware the types of goods he was about to get his hands on. Feeling a little uncomfortable in a stranger's space, the worry he might be pressured to put out in an effort to stay forces him to pace around with the joint, making commentary about pictures, or the style of the furniture, or atmosphere, particularly if it was expensive.

A few hits in, and Gabriel's coughing, hard. "Shit-! This Fae leaf? God-!" He coughs twice more;"-Fuck me dead mate- shit is strong!" Gathering his composure, eager hits are taken, even if it procured coughing every so often. Anything to escape the pain. Eventually, due to lack of tolerance for what he later dubbed 'super weed', the anxiousness quiets and he comes to sit down. The two start having a conversation more geared toward likes, favorite colors, past jobs, ideal job, a couple slapstick pothead jokes, what life was like for one another growing up, perceptions on what life's greatest meaning was, if aliens were real and apparent sightings but eventually the subject landed on girlfriends, a love life.

By now, the jacket is off and slung over the back of a kitchen chair while Gabriel is laying on the couch, smoking joint number who knows- but he was no longer stressed out, and was contently gone. "Oh, I never really got very far in the datin' world. There was this one lass, but things just never progressed. She liked two others, and believe it or not I was guy number three. She was real down to earth, pretty thing, came thiiiiiis close to kissin' her but she just ended up trying out both guys and I just lost interest. We were supposed to stay friends, but when she started ignoring my messages I just dropped it cold turkey. I don't like wasting my time, you know?"

Kisses sounded nice, really, nice. The mouth waters, then he's turning to look at Caspian. A short thought process occurred, before laying on his version of suave, smooth charm;"You'know..speaking of women- and love.. you uh.. you ever kiss a guy?..." Blue eyes slow blink as he waits for an answer, god he hoped for a yes. When affirmation is given, he heaves himself up with a chuckle of anticipation;"Mate.. you're about to have the ride of your life. I know a thing or two bout kissing lads." The half smoked joint is held firmly inbetween a first and second finger as he goes to stand, but then has to stop to reorient, abandons the idea and sits back down.

"Wait, wait I got an idea.. hold that thought." Taking another drag, the body slinks down to all fours and crawls over to his company, wherever they sat or laid. He'd will himself upright when face to face, lips upturned into a grin, content to look dead on with no shame, and plenty of confidence. Eyes close, and lips connect, tongue pressing into the mouth for the full experience- but he's feeling a little dizzy. Warm fingers grip the face to hold his suitor steady, but it's a gentle hold, exhaling hot breath as he refrains from being too eager for love. An undetermined amount of time passed, heat built into the chest, then down the stomach, and was continuing its descent lower.

The joint was beginning to ash in the hand, forcing focus to shift back to what was in his hand. Lips part with a soft smack, and a subconscious tongue runs over before inhaling the lower lip with thought;"Hmm.. that felt like you were... holding back a little. You don't kiss guys often I bet." Gabriel exhales, holding eye contact with a challenging wink, then a little peek of tongue. He wants another round. "You wanna try again?"

#✔ they asked #☨ ŧhe things that make us (ṃoṇsŧeṛs)v1 #keepsake #story development

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curiousskelekitty · 1 year

Text

Hey, I'm sleep deprived and blasted on weed, let's see the reasons why I think I'm autistic

I'm awakemd super from a super high nap. And it's by the smoke and smell of incenst and can't get back to sleep until incest was out and fan on

Eye contact? Either really focused on making it and not listening or focused on conversation and eyes Drifting away

Say exact same way of hello at job

And other things

Sensitive to wet and cold so much that made it part of her image

Staying awake to make this list

Even though I'm supe r high and running on 3 hors sleep, latte, and pizza and 4 hb eggs

Adhd

Special interest in pokemon most of 26 year life

Creative

And loves child things like video game sand toys, special plush toys

And weird sex too

Like even when child me MASTURBAGED WITHOUT KNOW WHAT IT WAS

sorry tmi

Holy ahky I discovered something abot me that I didn't know

Wow

Anyways

Loves reading

And loud music during loud lunch during hs

Sensitive to loud noises like toilet as child

An dlole sonic

Oh shit

It late

Waited blanket for win! Special as adult

Fighting slep to write this once again

Super shy

Talked in labg with sister when

Adhd

Goes to speech therapy

Because I don't talk

Or maybe lisp

Idk

Imaginary friends until second grade

First friend grade younger

No friends in my grade until MIDLE SCHOOL

I think

Sorry no remember

This list loooooong

Writing still very clean

Nose so dry

Oh shkt Don her

He didn't say anything about me being up

I'm supposed to be asleep

lol

Argue with my self

Like all the time

I even fight with my ocs

lol

Autism brain go

Special cartoon likeys

Just explained idea for video for YouTube to boo and we might collaborate

My mouth so drunk

Suuuuuper sensitive to socks on feet at night! Even in winter

But can't walk out iputaide without shoes

Can feel EVERYTHKNG

Loves swimming

BUT NOT RAIN

RAIN MAKE USBWEY

sinuses dry as hell I can feel the air coming in my nose and down my throat

Hereditary

Also likes anime and furries

Has phases of certain likes or Dislikes

Like love reading but then don't love reading

Hating spicy for most of life

But finding a love from some as long as there's flavors

Mexico is so pretty

Making list like this

All the time

Will hypet focus on certain things for maybe a week

And it goes in curses

Ow though hurt for typing

Do stretches kids

Never admitted to watching porn whe her life insists of romances

Daydreamer

Ever since litter

First lover

Cucumber Larry

When he gets suck on by giat alien ad hero

That turned me on

AS A KID IN CHURCH

not even four years old

wft

This might be really revealing about me and my life

…

Okay

This Is where I add more to the title of this video

To warn me of the dangers

Of whatever the fuck I'm on

Could probably make this list over 200 points

Listn3s to music at night

Might be slightly dyslexic

Swimming

Vocal Stimson

When found out about stimming

Showed more stimming

So mad

Just took like 1 min to fix stimmong to swimming

Make little songs whole life

Wow hide in DC bathroom. And sing sad songs to my self

Don't really to that anymore

Ah shit it's late

I need to pee

Sleeps with toys still

Like stuffed animals

Once could not fall sleep until Carla into toybox

Only woke up because got hot

BISEXUAL AD FUCK

when I was little I was looking g in the mirror and ask if I was more otm boy or girly Gil and decided I was in the middle

If that not nonbinary as FUCK than what is

Thinking g about if the video went famous and FIL saw and reacted

Whole family know

Please be warned

Really sensitive about certain flavores in certain tempt

Those might go on Tumblr though

Incous make a lookout of people laugh

And no one would know

Damn thos list loomg

STRETCH TIME

often godb what if whole world kno

I could go on and on

But I think I will conclude here

Thank you everyone for reading

Good night

LoL

You wish

I'm very empathic

I forget words all the time

Especially with age

Always had bad memory

Selective hearing

Forms who they are around eho they with

But my baby let me be me❤️

Sinsirve tk sounds

I'm probably going to talk to my therapist about this list next week

Realized made horrible ablist joke in my head and realized it and was like tf why

Intrusive thoughts

Holly fuck

I can do this

And this

And

This

So easily

I love animals

Dep3ndent and independent at the same time

Anxiety

Depression

I'm still making the list dumbadd

My bad

Too much of a topical thing like lotion makes me feel icky

Hated mosquitoe spray because of sticky residue and smell

Hayes perfume

Sensitive to some smells, like perfume

Body pray okay tho

And candles

Loves sweets

LOVES TO READ

Can't focus on reading

Super aware of body

Hates being touched unexpected or by stranger

Said loved all colors and didn't have official favorite color until like first grade because didn't want to hurt other colors favorite

Still doesn't have least favorite color

"Lazy"

But I'm not suppsoes to coll me that

Realistic

Made day dreams befo3e bed every night

Had one going on for about a month

Googles everything

Okay I'll go to 200

Then I'll go to sleep

Lover of computers when little

Still love them

Have several unwritten stories to tell, including like three books and three or more wannabe books

Wrote toriko slitty fanfiction church

Drew a the time

Sonic the hedged hog fan

Loves pun so much

Made up "Copper later" for funny goodbye

Lives all her sisters

And all bet peanut

Hates pumpkin guts and still hate the feeling of them

Picky eater

May13b first 2023

Special interest in music

Went into band for school ad a trumpet and played for most of life until high school graduates but was never good at it.

That sucks

I could've learned how to song better

Now that I realize my voice is good and can be better

Hates needles

Squeamish

Spiritual

Loves crystals Spiritually

Believes in a carefree, unknowing god

Two more to go

AUTISM BLAST

Weird obsession with sex since really little

Oh shkt

Just remembered something

That I never told anyone! Fucm

I won't tell you guys

Never

Okay

Good night

I love you

#long #list #autism #weedlife #personal

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dzpenumbra · 2 years

Text

10/10/22

Dude, I'm so sensitive to weed, it's not even funny. Like... I have no idea how I smoked as much as I used to, honestly. I mean, there's never been a point where I could like smoke an entire bowl to myself, but seriously, I've been smoking every night (except for like 3 nights for tincture experimentation) for the entire time I've done this journal. So like... a month or two? Damn, time flies. I'm just really surprised I'm not building more of a tolerance. I guess maybe I've just always been sensitive to it.

I wonder if tobacco interacts with it in a profound way. Back in my last smoking phase, I would always mix the two. And I mean always. I don't think I ever smoked weed and didn't follow it up or mix it in with tobacco. It made smoking a lot easier, I could just pack a little ground bud into the end of my cigarette and just smoke the whole thing. I haven't smoked cigarettes since November last year, it feel so long ago, honestly. I still find butts just sitting in old pockets and shit and it's like... I don't know, distantly familiar but weird.

I'm guessing I've always been sensitive to weed. I tend to be sensitive... just... in general. Things just seem to affect me more than others. My brother's language for this that he taught me is INFP. My spiritual and historical nerd inside me decided to decode this through the languages of shamanism and druidry. I practice in my own ways, not as much lately, but this writing and my frequent periodic spirit work have been a new evolution of that. I'm getting lost in thought on this one.

Unfortunately, it seems like western culture is not a fan of sensitive people. Like being sensitive slows you down, and hurts you, and gets you attached to things and people. Like feelings are a liability or something. It's fuckin weird. The peer pressure that comes from this is just like... I don't know, it makes me feel alien for just being alive. It's not a good feeling, it kinda makes my skin crawl. And feel unsafe, honestly. That's where the anxiety can hit.

I think I realized this back in high school, when I got all freaked out and stopped trusting people and skipped classes and hid in my room for like... half the semester. I honestly don't know how long. I just got super freaked out in class, in front of everyone, and ran off back to my room. I think. Wow, I guess I'm telling this story tonight. Fuck. This was my first real freakout.

So let's just get personal here, since this is like... a journal... or diary... or whatever term you want to use for these things where you dump your thoughts and they just sit there for the future to hopefully not harshly overjudge. Back then, I had a phobia of smelling bad. I compensated in colognes and Axe and shit, I was really paranoid about it. And very insecure with that. So I frequently reeked of weed, cigarettes and body spray. I'm sure that attracted some noses. Weird to think of smell as communication, yeah? Well... I was insecure about my smell communication, I guess.

This time, my smoking buddy (I think it was Raphael, I could be wrong) and I scraped our pipes and made a big resin ball to smoke right before... English class. Yep. Real big dumb idea. I have no idea how I could possibly be chill in a classroom I didn't want to be in learning shit I didn't care about with people I didn't know. Good lord. I don't know how few brain cells you need to have running to not get insecure or anxious in a scenario like that. I guess when some people get high, they just go dance naked in the garden of Eden or something. But I've learned some shit. And it's real damn hard for me to go back to that. I'd like to learn, but the more you learn about the evils of the world, how real they are, the harder it is to just lay your head on a pillow and blink into dreamworld.

I started freaking out. I sometimes get phantom sensations when I get high. I didn't learn this was a thing until my friend told me - he passed a few years back, I wish I could have been a better friend for him - he told me sometimes he would get a phantom peeing sensation, or like your asshole is loosening or something. I actually had that a bit earlier that year, too, the tingling feeling and going "oh shit, did I just piss myself?" Then the awkward patting on your jeans when you're just chillin, out of nowhere I guess. That was a bit embarrassing. I remember that happening a bit. But this time, in English class... high as a kite... on the left side of the classroom from the back, about halfway down the left side in a U shape of plastic desks and chairs. I was on a swivel chair, I remember that. I suddenly thought my asshole was loosening or leaking, it more felt like leaking. Fun fuckin feeling in a room full of strangers. I was concerned that I might be starting to smell with that. I snuck out and ran to the bathroom. I started just wiping like crazy but it wasn't making a difference. Because there wasn't a problem in the first place. But I just started panicking, I didn't know what to do. I really feel like I should've just gone back to my dorm then... but I left all my shit in class. And I was a freshman like a few weeks into my first semester, I didn't have the balls for skipping class yet. I didn't really process what college was at that point, it really just felt like High School 2.0. I got it in my head that it would be a good idea to try to stick some toilet paper in my buttcrack or something, just to play it safe, in case it might start leaking later, or if it was just sweat that was building up or something. That just freaked me out more. I think I did a little bit, but I don't remember honestly. But the knowledge of having done that and going back to class, it was just insecurity city. And I was high as FUCK. So I started to freak out. Big time. Biggest one of my life, haunts me to this day. I was 18, I think... around this time of year. I think it was after my birthday, so I had to be 18. Fall 2004, I think, I'm pretty sure. I started hearing people laughing, and seeing them point at me. I guess I just... my panic and imagination got so strong that I couldn't tell the difference seeing an image straight out of like... Pink Floyd's The Wall or something. It still haunts me, in a weird way. It was just like the whole classroom looking at me, pointing at me and laughing. I endured it. And I sat through the rest of the class after, too. Until the end of the class. And I went up to the teacher, a stoned out of his mind teenager, and asked her "why was everyone laughing at me?" Very innocently. And I remember her replying, "you really need to lay off the mind-altering drugs." And in a way, she may have been right. But in a very big way, she was so wrong that she helped fuck up my head for at least the next 15 years.

So... that was a big one. After that, I really didn't go to many classes other than Gym super early in the morning one day a week for one credit. Eventually I didn't leave my room. I have no idea what I did with my time, I think I read ebooks, watched movies. No clue what else. Maybe Xbox? I stayed for winter break, I think... I remember staying there in the dorms in a blizzard when there was like no one in the dorms. Then the second semester, I was asked not to come back. It was awkward. I didn't really want to be there anyway, but all my friends from highschool went there. And I failed out. They didn't hang out with me anymore anyway, but... yeah. So I was kinda reborn out of that. But I stopped smoking weed for 15 years after that shit. And I'm very glad to go full circle with this.

I got this really big realization of how different I am from others. How I said my problems out loud to some people and they just looked at me like "how is that a big deal?" or something like that. When I'm like... on the verge of tears. They look at me listening to music and I'm in a fucking trance, I'm swaying and moving to the music, it is the only thing my attention is on. I go into an art supply store and I just bounce around and skip and get down on my belly and look at things on the very bottom row and shit. So when I get anxious, or depressed, or sad, or grieve, or - god forbid - angry. It just seems to confuse them. Like... they play off my positive stuff, they enjoy it. My optimism, my hope, my faith, my joy. They never seem to really match my level of true feeling there. But when they sense a negative emotion coming, oh boy do people get confused or concerned.

I guess a lot of people I've encountered have not been able to really properly identify what I am. I don't even really know how to explain it, I try lots of words but people just seem really skeptical or something. Artist is the best I can come up with, or creative. I don't know. But yeah, I didn't really process the importance of the difference in my overall sensitivity. It seems like it affects much more of the experience of life than I thought. Like, it affects the outcomes of experiences you go through and shit. It affects lessons you learn, you know?

So yes, my life can seem a bit dramatic and romanticized. Yes, it takes me 5 years to start dating again after a relationship. Yes, I talk to my cat like she's a person and have full on conversations with her. Yes, she tolerates it, and I think she secretly likes it. Yes, I can often be found barefoot in the woods clearing organic debris out of the streams so they don't turn into mud, collecting cool stones along the way. My childlike wonder for life is constantly ready to play, and I let him have plenty of room to do so. People like me are not often... embraced... by the workforce. The ones who are... unhappy. Who are overworked, and treated like shit, and disrespected, and barely scrape by for their trouble. Who gave up. Who fortune did not favor, despite their best efforts. They. They don't really like a "layabout".

I'm not letting myself go down that mental path tonight, I've done enough work here so far. I haven't had the time to do art and I guess that crabby "I'm working dammit!" impulse comes out. And starts projecting onto others in a hypothetical present - using ghosts from the past, events, memories. It's a part of me that can be very insidious, I'm guessing it's my trickster for my INFP whatever the term is, I never studied it. XD Extroverted Sensing - putting other peoples' beliefs, values, etc. before my own. Adopting the doctrine of another rather than be self-taught. Rather than discover meaning yourself. Yeah, I'll have to talk to my brother about that, I don't know shit about this but it seems to fit a bit there somehow. I'll work it out another time, I literally just told myself I wasn't going to do anymore. XD

I did want to record this, because this is actually a pretty good way to remember stuff, by writing it. Something about the physical act of forming words really makes you process information a bit more. So I tend to remember these posts pretty damn well, which is helpful. So what I wanted to add was finding my old jeans and stuff today. And washing them. They all have drawings all over them. I always used to be complimented by that. I used to draw all over my pants and all over my arms in college. Like a half sleeve in ballpoint pen, and the pants mainly just had the thighs drawn in, because I clearly just draw on them when I'm bored and want to do something with my hands. Or trying to focus on something.

I want to try to do some custom art on my hoodie. Fuck it, all my clothes that aren't already designed by others. Maybe I can even turn those into collabs down the line, who knows. The only thing that's ever held me back on this has been medium. It's not far off from working on skin, it needs to be taught and all that, so that's not foreign. I want --- wow, I just drifted right off into a memory of doing a project painting tattoos onto a classmate of mine for drawing class. That was very vivid. Well, the only thing I really don't know with the custom clothing stuff is... what type of ink do I use? To last the longest and bleed the least. I feel like no matter what, paint is just gonna melt, wash or peel off eventually. Ink will actually dye the fibers; bleach, too. I just need a really good ink that will last through washes. Some kind of ink that has warning labels all over it saying "do not let this touch your clothes, lest it will forever be this color." I make it seem like it's ye olde magick potion or something. That's what I need.

Then I can do art on anything. Shirts, pants, hoodies, hats... shoes... I mean, I'm gonna have to learn different materials for different types of shoes... but I bet that'd be... really popular. People really like their shoes apparently, I fuckin hate the damn things, so... hard for me to relate, I guess?

Reconnecting with this idea made me very happy, and if I learn how to sew and patch things too, I could open entire new doors. So check this out, this is the one I got when I was playing with Max before bed. I could see if I could find someone who makes their own handmade clothes when I move, like a contemporary tailor or something, and see if they want this work. I could develop a new graffiti style and offer my services doing pants, shoes, helmets, shirts, hoodies, all that at a skate shop. Just have them advertise the shit, push it a little, especially those fuckin helmets... XD And I'm open for custom commissions once I get a good feeling for the medium. Like a tattoo for your goddamn clothes. How about that idea, huh? I'm really stoked on it, I think it could lead to really good shit, and I can start any time I want with any article of clothing I have. I have a few blank shirts, so maybe I'll experiment on a few tomorrow or something.

I don't know if my landlords are coming to inspect today or tomorrow, but it's already 8 AM so... today's gonna be a weird one. I'm gonna see if I can talk my brother into coming over and doing art while my landlords inspect the place, so it's not awkward and I can put on music or something so they have privacy too. Maybe that would work. So that's gonna be either tomorrow late afternoon, or the day after at some point. Haven't heard from them yet.

That in mind... this was a big one, again, I'm glad I wrote tonight. I haven't told that story in a while and people I've told it to never really processed how important of a moment something that dumb and embarrassing was. It changed everything about my identity very quickly, and sent ripples that I still feel strongly today. Maybe I should be a drug counselor or something, I mean... that story changed my life forever, and no one talks about that shit. Like what to do when you're freaking out, who to talk to, how to anchor, shit like that. I'm having to learn it myself every day. I don't know. People do drugs for a lot of reasons that I can't fully relate to... so I don't know how much help I'd be for them... Maybe I'd be a better fit at a dispensary, that'd be sick as shit honestly. Talk about full circle - working as a high advisor in a dispensary, doing my research and giving recommendations to people who are prone to freakouts. So they can experience the benefits of cannabis, with some security in knowing how to work through the difficulties it can provide.

I'm rambling again. Kitty is not even subtly hinting that she's going under the comforter now. Who am I to argue?

#diary #journal #stream of thoughts #spilled thoughts #online journal #stream of consciousness #mental health #self care #self improvement

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kalivodas · 2 years

Note

ummmm fezco x reader where they’re best fwb but he catches feelings super quick and then the reader does soon after???

MORE THAN FRIENDS — FEZCO

summary: u have a fwb relationship with fez

warnings: weed, sex mentions, euphoria s2 e1 memory, mentions of a past injury

note: got my first euphoria request i can die happy thank u anon but i love the idea of this

WHAT YOU AND FEZ shared was a simple arrangement. Sex and friendship, but not feelings. Never feelings, because relationships were far too complicated in his world. But sometimes, change is inevitable.

Fez figured that out before you.

For as long as Fez could remember, past the small memory gaps of early childhood and his recovering from the time his grandma had split his head open with a crowbar, he was calculated and precise. He knew what he expected in life, knew what life expected of him, and knew what risks to take. He wouldn’t of described you as a risk, more or so a risk factor.

It’s why your arrangement had been created in the first place. You had been best friends for practical years, but at one point, you both needed more than that. Maybe not a full relationship, it would never work out, but sex. You two would have sex, and it would satisfy the gray areas you both felt weren’t being covered just by friendship.

And speaking with absolute truth, Fez was good at the gray areas.

Insanely good.

"Fez, you remember the first time we had sex?"

He takes the blunt from your extended hand and takes a hit, then nods. "Yeah, it was like—" He thinks for a moment. The only problem with smoking often is the sections in your memory where you know exactly what happened, but have to dissect it from the day before and day after. That was the only negative to weed, your days all crashed into each other. "A few weeks ago."

"New years," you say, and he agrees.

The timing hadn't been ideal, there was still dried blood on his hands when he ran them down your thighs, but if there was one consistent pattern, you had sex whenever you wanted to.

Whenever. However. Sometimes wherever.

The distinguished lines between the two of you —friendship and something more— became blurred at times like these. You were talking about sex, thinking about it somewhere further in your mind, but weren't acting on it. You were enjoying his company without doing the one thing you hung out with each other for.

Sitting together on the couch, your legs slung across his lap while one hand rested on your calf. You were in his clothes: black wife beater, pajama pants, gray zip-up you would never return.

So where did the boundaries end? Staying the night with him and doing nothing but sleeping? Wearing his clothes even though you lied about the clean ones in your bag? Where did your boundaries even begin?

"Why you askin'?"

"Just wondering," you smile, pushing your legs into a sitting position on his lap. He’d just passed the blunt back, so you drag it, then gently glide your hand along the side of his neck until he’s looking up at you. You lean down, he meets you coming upwards, and you blow the smoke into his mouth.

When you pull back grinning, he shakes his head at you with a lazy smile. "You crazy, bruh."

You can't help but let your head fall and laugh. "We’re both crazy, Fez. Absolutely mad and insane and so many other synonyms I can't remember. That's why we're so good together."

You fall out of his lap and stretch the length of your body across the couch, eyes roaming the ceiling briefly before they close and you breathe out, "We're loony."

And Fez is looking at you so intently, he's surprised you haven't lifted your head up to ask why the thousand yard stare.

But he’s not a thousand yards away, he's not unfocused or vague in his motives.

In fact, things had never been clearer for him.

He was hooked on you.

You sigh, eyes still closed, and run your hands down your front. "I just remember thinking of how good it was. I thought ‘well, we’re both really high and that's why it feels so good, but then we did it sober eventually and it was still really good."

Fez doesn't say anything, but he's still looking at you, hanging onto every word you say like it's the last thing he might hear.

He wanted to say something. Not about the sex or about being crazy, but admit that he was starting to look at you differently. He wanted to admit he didn't just want the grey. But you open your eyes, and you smile, and he knows he’ll never get the sentence out.

"What I'm saying is that you're really good."

He laughs, quiet and reserved like many parts of him, and you sit back up.

"I'm serious, Fez." You give him a stern look, lips slightly parted while you search every aspect of his face. In one your highest stupors, you sat in his lap and tried to memorize each thing about him. Hands, clothes, voice, mannerisms, freckles, smile, eyes, lips, chains, all of it.

His lips upturn at the severity of your face, but in moments, your facade crumbles, and your chest can't quite keep up with how much you’re laughing.

Fez likes quiet until it's you. If you had the urge to bang pots and pans around the kitchen until all the birds in the city spontaneously combusted, he'd let you.

A few hours after you’d both gone to bed and your high diluted into a serene feeling that lulled you into sleep, Fez says something. Quiet, even for him, and without reserve, he mumbles, "You driving me fucking crazy."

And from Fez, this was a marriage proposal. He'd learned how to sort money and make a living and raise a brother, but no one had told him how to deal with you. How to live in the middle with you, unsure on whether he needed to take a step forward or backwards.

Draped in sleep, you pushed your hands out into his side of the bed, then wrapped your arms around his torso. Fez knew he wanted to remember this moment for the rest of his life, and he knew in order to do that, he had to take the step towards you.

"Loony," he says, and he kisses the side of your head.

#euphoria #spoilers #fezco #fluff #pining #friends to lovers #fwb #fanfic #fezco x reader #fezco x you #fezco one shot

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spideyspeaches · 3 years

Text

Roller-coaster ↬ p.p

gif’s not mine

A/N: My take on What if Peter was in Wandavision? But with a twist ;) Beta read by my wifey @stars-aligning 🥰🥰

Warnings: canon typical voilence? mentions of death. Also the timeline doesn’t really make sense, just pretend everyone is of the same age. OH and Wandavision spoilers :)

WC: 9k (longest one shot I’ve ever written 😭)

Pairing: Peter Parker x ex!Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

"Ben? What's wrong? Why are you looking at her like that?"

"I- I don't. I don't know. She seems familiar."

"Familiar? Familiar how?"

"Like her and I don't belong here. Like we're from another world."

Working with Tony Stark as his intern, then head of the R&D and now working in the labs as the head of the department felt surreal, a fresh breath of air every time he looked at his desk, with his name written on it. It had been Peter’s dream to meet Tony Stark, maybe work with him too.

And then he got bit by a radioactive spider, giving him super strength, super eyesight and apparently super luck too, because though he liked to think that he was working in SI due to his intelligence, the spider bite did play a role in becoming his mentor’s favourite intern, without which he might have not had a chance to meet him hands on.

Tony kept reminding him that even if Peter had not been bit by the spider, he would have still secured a high position in Stark Industries, with his disarming intelligence that rivaled Tony’s own and charmingly trippy personality.

Peter begged to differ. But then again, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in it’s mouth. Ever since he was a bushy haired, rosy cheeked jittery teenager, he had always worshiped the ground Tony walked on.

Peter remembers the day he got an anonymous letter, which turned out to be SHIELD's handiwork, asking him to join them in their base in New York, even if he insisted that he wasn't interested in being a superspy wannabe. He was skeptical at first, why would the most paranoid of paranoid agents send him a letter in mail? Him, twenty three years old Peter Parker, who lives in a shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn with termite issues and smokes weed like the government is going to ban tobacco and is barely able to take care of himself with the overload of work.

Maybe it was just his Parker luck, or the fact that he was a freelance vigilante who looked after New York in a skintight spandex suit, because the safety of the people was apparently second in priority to the government. They'd rather have people die than have an illegal protector.

Yeah so Peter was salty, and what about It?

Slinging his satchel higher, he saw the sleek black car in confusion, trying to get a look at the number plate before the lift binged on arrival, walking into the open door. He swore he was either hallucinating or in midst of an intense flashback of the events that lead to what people dubbed as the 'Civil War', back to when he had been shaken out of his mind watching Tony Stark eat his aunt’s homemade walnut date loaf that had more salt than sugar.

His thoughts were put to a halt when he entered his and his aunt's old apartment in Queen’s after a long week of Spidey on mission and nearly getting (illegally) fired, footsteps coming to a pit stop. It's not like it's everyday you come face to face with Agent Coulson, Nick Fury and your ex not- really- girlfriend, somehow all in one day all together.

"So… um. What are you- What are you guys doing here again?" he asked, folding his hands on his chest defensively, leaning into his aunt's side as he whispered, "how long have they been sitting here?" from the corner of his mouth.

Fury raised a non-existent eyebrow, looking at him with a dagger for eye, making Peter shift nervously. Agent Coulson looked uncomfortable and You, You looked strangely in your element, sitting on the couch with one leg over the other, a neutral expression on your face.

Back when he was still in high school, when he'd first met you, he used to be in awe of how outgoing you were, seemingly adjusting in whichever situation you were thrown in. You had always accommodated to your surroundings, but with a start he realised that he had never seen you so… You in a while.

Not during your visit to the Avengers tower, not during the first time you came into his bedroom, all alone. Not when he had seen you take down a mugger on your way home from your first date without even as much as batting an eye.

"They were here ten minutes or so before you came home. It's creepy, as if they knew you were visiting," May answered with a whisper, wearily eyeballing them before moving towards the kitchen, leaving Peter unattended to Your and Fury's piercing gazes.

"I'm sure they know my monthly schedule before I do," Peter said, turning to look at the aforementioned agents. "So... you like, work for SHIELD, too?" He asked, wringing his hands to abate the tension in them.

"Yes, she does, but that's not what we're here for, Mister Parker," Fury said in his gruff voice, sitting back with a sauve expression. Peter gulped as Agent Coulson looked him in the eye, finally noticing the thin file he held in his hands.

"Well what are you here for?" Peter asked, mustering up some confidence as he tried not to look at You or the eye that Fury had that wasn’t covered by the patch.

"We need you to come to Westview, New Jersey with us," You said, a final no nonsense undertone in your voice. He shuddered when he heard you, remembering how soft and sweet you used to be. But that was before you disappeared out of nowhere, and apparently that nowhere was with SHIELD.

"Me as in Peter Parker or Spider-Man?" he asked, looking behind his shoulder to make sure May wasn't listening. It's not like she didn't know about his… nightly whereabouts, he just wasn't comfortable with making her worry. She already had too much to deal with, with the nephew by day and vigilante by night thing he had going on.

It was also a little concerning that the three in front of him knew that he was visiting her today. He wondered if his apartment was bugged (well, more than the daily roaches and ants) or if SHIELD had been keeping an eye on him after he had denied their offer, instead opting to stay in SI.

It was probably the second one, although the first one was entirely a possibility. He was going to need to talk with Mister Stark about debugging his shitty one bedroom apartment in Brooklyn.

"We need Peter Parker and his tech skills for this one," Fury said, before shoving the file in Peter's hands and crossing his own, “and my offer still stands.”

"For the last time, I'm not joining your little murderous boy band," Peter grumbled, scrunching his eyebrows as he looked at your twitching lips, as if holding in laughter. "I'm perfectly content with working with Dr. Connors in his little laboratory in SI."

Fury didn’t look convinced and opened his mouth to probably threaten Peter, when Aunt May came in with a tray of cookies. They smelled amazing, too good to be made by her, she probably brought them from Delmer’s.

“Oh- Were you…? I just thought you guys might want to eat something,” She said awkwardly, looking at Peter with pleading eyes.

“That’s very thoughtful of you, May! I would love to eat some of those, I’m famished,” You butt in, taking the tray from her with a smile.

“Um, May, you can um- you know?” Peter gestured, shifting on his legs, hoping that May would get the message before she stood for a minute too long. He didn’t like the way Nick Fury’s eye was looking at him, his tranquilizer gun suddenly visible from his leather jacket.

“Don’t be rude Pete, here May, I’ll help you get that.” You smiled, winking at him and dragging May by her arm, who was mouthing “she’s such a sweetheart” behind her shoulders.

"What if I told you that his man accidently got evicted due to some legal issues? And that now you're legally unemployed with severe financial issues that need to be looked after because the government suspects something illegal brewing?" Fury continued, looking him dead in the eye.

"Are you seriously blackmailing me? Threatening to unemploy me after all that shit you put me through with Mysterio?" Peter defended, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, watching you strutt back into the room, distracted by the sway of your hips in your mom jeans. He tried to shake the image, rolling his head to crack some tension that had built at the base of his skull.

"Mysterio was a mistake, Parker. This one is not; and we really need you for this one. Besides, remember that you're still a vigilante that hasn't signed the Accords of Sokovia."

Peter stiffened that the mention of the Accords. He thought the government was over it after the second amendment after the arrest of Thaddeus Ross, but apparently not.

"You said that last time and I almost died! My ex-girlfriend almost died, my best friend nearly died, heck half of Europe almost died because you Director Fury, apparently trust some superhero wannabe in a green and purple costume and overlook facts that could potentially harm someone. So the answer is clearly no!" he retorted, flopping the file on the table as he resisted the urge to sit on the floor flat on his back.

The three agents were looking at him with an unreadable expression, making him uncomfortable in his skin.

"Well, it's all up to you then." His voice had a finality to it, one that irked him to no end.

"Do I have a choice?" He sighed after a beat, looking at the three of you with a forlorn expression.

"Get your equipment ready, Mr. Parker. We'll be leaving for the camp tonight. You can read the details in this file." He heard Agent Coulson say (he was pretty sure his name was Phil), trying to make sense of how fast everything was going past the chronic tinnitus in his ears.

"It's Dr. Peter Parker," he muttered fruitlessly, blushing under your raised eyebrow.

***

"So, I didn't know you got a PhD. I knew you were smart, still are, considering that you're a PhD at twenty two," You said, sipping on your virgin mojito, and placing the mug in front of you.

Peter had taken you to a cafe after the confrontation, wanting to know more about your whereabouts and how he had not noticed that you were a superspy all of his high school years. You had retorted with a simple "I'm a spy, that's why,” which he found pretty badass.

"Well, yeah, I did my undergraduate and PhD together." He shrugged casually, looking out of the window to avoid looking at you.

You had always been beautiful, but somehow, you had become even more beautiful than the last time Peter saw you.

"That sounds brutal. Only you can manage that," You joked. You weren't going to admit it, but you had missed being with Peter, joking with him and watching his beautiful side profile as he blushed under your scrutinizing gaze.

"So, um. This thing, what is it about?" Peter asked, snapping you out of your daze.

"Huh? Oh it's a long story. Like really long, if this was a TV show it would take five episodes for me to explain." You gestured, dismissing his scowl. "Okay, so you remember that time when that super high security facility was broken in back in december 2019?"

"Which super high facility? There are a lot of break ins happening in high security facilities in America, and it's more than concerning, considering they're supposed to be super high security." He said, fiddling with his own drink.

"Okay, Yeah that's true. It was a S.W.O.R.D facility, and long story short, Wanda Maximoff kidnapped her corpse husband to reenact the dad-knows-best suburban lifestyle with an entire town held as her hostage." You said, looking over your shoulders to make sure no one was listening.

"Wanda stole Vision's corpse? Wait, is this about Westview? 'The Town that ceased to exist'? Is that what happened? Is this some sort of mind control thing? Cause I know she can make people believe what she wants them to..." Peter whispered, leaning in to show that he was interested. You took a moment to admire his front profile, his broken nose and dimpled chin, rosy lips and sharp cheekbones, accidently zoning out on his theories.

Leaning forward, you brought a hand up his face, pushing a stray curl behind his ears, cutting him short of his rambling.

"W-what?" He stuttered, his breath hitching, making the table shake with a wince.

"You have nice hair." You commented with a smirk, caressing his hair one more time.

"You said that in the senior's party too, and well, there's no sex happening anytime soon." He said, rolling his eyes, sitting back in his hair with his hands folded on his chest.

"I like being optimistic." You rolled your own eyes, heart beating a mile a minute at the reminder of your relationship- ex relationship with Peter, "so what were you saying about Westview? I kind of zoned out."

You watched him roll his eyes again, trying not to let your eyes wander around his biceps and the little bit of his collarbones peeking from his shirt, unbuttoned from the top, also exposing the thin chain that he always seems to be wearing. With a start you realised that it was the one you had gifted him on his eighteenth birthday.

"So this town, Westview, it just disappeared right? Behind a barrier of sorts? Is it like, coming from an energy source? Was it created by Wanda? " he asked, ever his inquisitive self.

"Yeah, apparently she's created an alternate reality, sitcom style, with the people of Westview trapped in it."

"So she's basically starring in a fanfiction alternate reality of sorts but a sitcom format? Wouldn't blame her, poor woman's been through a lot." He nodded, shifting in his seat. He could feel your eyes burning a hole in his skull, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. "Are you staying in a hotel? Or a shield facility?"

"Nope," You answered, leaning back on your chair. "Am I still allowed to stay in your room? With the doors open?"

He watched you with narrowed eyes, tilting his head with a smirk, replying to you with a nod, "alright."

***

"Did you pack your mittens? The extra warm ones with a built in heater? You know you're susceptible to frost bites-"

"May! I packed my mittens." Peter murmured, ducking his head in embarrassment as he raised an eyebrow at your amused smile.

"Okay, okay, that's great. Socks? Painkillers? Extra pair of glasses?" she asked, fumbling around the room like she did whenever he went on field trips.

"Yes, May!"

"Great. Stay safe, okay?" Her eyes softened, holding his cheeks in his hand like he was a seven year old, living with them with a knowledge of death no seven year old should have. Sighing, he leant into her palm, holding his own hand encompassing her small one. Giving her a smile, he kissed her cheek. “Ti amo, May. I’ll call you once I get there, okay?”

She nodded, pulling him into her embrace, though she knew full well that he’s going to forget to call her, too excited to be in the vicinity of multiple certified geniuses and other figures of authority.

***

"Is there anything I should know about? Like anything unexpected?" Peter asked, looking at the camp in awe as the jeep pulled over makeshift gates, a bunch of soldiers surrounding them.

Peter was used to seeing the hustle and bustle of camps, considering all the missions he had gone through with the Avengers, back when Steve wasn’t retired and the newer generation of avengers hadn’t entered.

“Your blood’s radioactive, right?” You asked, turning to face him with a smile.

“Yeah. Why? Is that relevant?” he replied, raising an eyebrow as he saw someone carrying his bags before he could protest.

“Well, Dr. Lewis found out about this hexagonal anomaly, no one really knows what it is, but the source seems to be emitting huge amounts of radiations,” You said, getting off the jeep, pulling Peter out with you. Walking towards the crowded camp, you came face to face with the tent where everything was set up.

“Doctor Darcy Lewis?” Peter said, looking at the place in awe. It wasn’t extravagant, but the technology surrounding the tent, the vans and what seemed to be a broadcasting antenna were all way beyond the regular one used in tech companies, which is funny, considering he’s been working with Mr. Stark his whole teenage life.

“Yup, that’s her, nerd.”

“So, what exactly is this Hexagon? Is it, like, a barrier of sorts? Can everyone go in?” He asked, looking around with glinting eyes, lips twitching in a smirk as he saw the barrier in question. His super hearing caught the static sound it emitted, wincing at the sharp noises. His boots crunched under the snow as he felt the thing pull him towards it, your voice muffled by the noises of the hex.

It was something he had never seen before, like the static of a TV with a lost signal, glowing red in places as if reaching out to him. His senses seemed dull, the world greying around the way it had before he was bit by the radioactive spider. The spider bite had enhanced his vision in a way that he saw colours not visible to the human eye, a technicolour wonder that even Bruce couldn’t solve.

He felt a tug, looking down at his shoes, wondering if he had just imagined it.

“Mom and dad have been, not fighting, just like different.”

He swore he felt a white light flash in front of him, his spidey sense buzzing at the base of his skull, tingling all the way to his spine as he straightened up to dissipate the feeling, shifting awkwardly.

“Only Captain Rambeau has gone in and come back intact so far. It’s emitting a colossal amount of cosmic microwave background radiation, also known as CMBR, and once you get into it, your mind doesn’t really stay your own, so no one has volunteered other than her. Everyone knows the risk,” You said, startling him, a sharp contrast to the voices that seemed to have suddenly accumulated in his brain.

“If you’re going to break the sound barrier, please just take your brother with you!”

‘Sound barrier?’ he thought, looking back at the hex as it flashed red, the tug strong enough to make him stumble in his place. You looked at him weirdly, asking if he was okay, but he wasn’t listening, turning to ask you what the red flash meant, distortion evident in the barrier.

“Captain Rambeau? The daughter of the director of SWORD?” he asked instead.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

“Damn.” He sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair, and dragging it down his face.

Walking inside the tent, Peter was hit with a face full of cold air, and the hundreds of monitors nearly gave him a sensory overload. The people running around didn’t help, either. “Where do I keep this?” He asked, pointing to his bag full of equipment that Fury had asked for.

“You can set up over here, newbie,” A new voice said chirpily. Turning around, he came face to face with the Darcy Lewis, eyes widening as he took in her smiley presence, another human who he didn't recognise standing behind her. “Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Doctor D-”

“Darcy Lewis, I know- I’m a fan!”

“Aw look at you, you have a fanboy at your hand,” Captain Monica Rambeau said, strutting in and keeping a hand on her shoulder, confidence radiating off of her every pore.

"And… You are?" he asked awkwardly, looking pointedly at the FBI agent. He saw Darcy hide a snicker behind her hand, patting his shoulder and shoving him forward.

The man fell forward, steadying himself on the table before he flicked a card seemingly out of nowhere. "Agent Jimmy Woo, FBI,” he said proudly, a smile on his cute little baby face. Peter was left staring in awe, wondering how he had done that.

"Wait, can you do that again? How did you do that?!"

"It's cool, isn't it? I could teach you if you want."

"Yes, of course, but how did you do it? It appeared out of nowhere and if you take in consideration the law of conservation of mass, it can neither be created nor be destroyed and it just seemed to have accumulated-"

"It's a trick of illusion. You see, when I opened my palms, I-"

"Peter, let's set things up shall we?" You interrupted their session, a smirk on yours and the other women's faces, shaking your head.

Ditching the bag on the counter, he nodded, willing his heart to stop beating out of his chest. This was the coolest thing that had ever happened to him next to Tony Stark sitting on his aunt’s old futon. And the magic trick.

“This is the coolest day of my life,” he whispered, shrugging when you chuckled at his excitement. “Ned’s going to freak out.”

“Wait until you see the schematics and control panels.” You smirked, making him raise an eyebrow as he blushed, the flush apparent from his neck to his ear. The others scattered just as he finished setting his station up, fidgeting with the radio, when the voice of Hayward boomed across the cubicle.

“Ah, Mister Parker!” he says, a faux smile on his face as he looks at the station, making Peter shift uncomfortably. The weird tingling of his spidey-sense came up again, his hand automatically reaching there to scratch at the itch.

“Here we go again,” Darcy muttered, patting Peter’s back, her eye roll loud enough for him to glance at her.

“It- It’s doctor,” he muttered, hearing a “he gets me” from Darcy.

“Very well, Doctor Parker it is, then. I’m Hayward, welcome to SWORD.”

“SWORD? I thought this was a SHIELD thing?”

“...Fury didn’t brief you?”

“He did! He was just very vague, hence why I’m asking. What exactly have I been called here for?”

The silence that took over was palpable, with you shifting awkwardly as Hayward eyeballed them all, looking at the five of them morosely before saying, “Brief him Monica,” and leaving.

“God, is every higher official such a dick here?” Peter grumbled, watching him retreat, shaking his head as he threw the ball of paper he hadn’t noticed he had been fidgeting with.

“See? He agrees, I like him.” Darcy nodded, pulling him with her towards the briefing table.

“This all started when the town of Westview disappeared after the second blip,” Monica said, pulling up holographs that showed the image of people reappearing from the snap, his breathing increasing in pace as he remembered vaguely of his own reappearance.

The whole situation was fucked up. After stealing Vision’s corpse, Wanda had basically resurrected him, holding and controlling thousands of people, an entire fucking town. Looking at the list of all the missing people, his eyes zeroed on to one particular face. He racked his memory to remember who exactly it was, mouth hanging open when he realised who exactly she was.

“Is that… is that Agatha Harkness?” Peter said, pointing at the woman who had no name written under her photograph.

“You know her real name?” Darcy asked, looking at him with raised eyebrows as he nodded, wringing his hands around.

“Yeah, Wanda told me about her, she’s the witch from the Salem trials!”

“How is she significant to the plot, though?”

“She... she mentored Wanda, before she went to the dark side."

In the time he knew Wanda, she had been the sweetest person ever. She was like an older sister he didn’t know he needed, empathising with him on a cosmic level. They had come close before the events of Thanos happened. She was his person, and they shared a lot of secrets, this one being one of them.

“That’s one connection to her. What about the others? She keeps telling Vision that she doesn’t know what’s happening, but when the drone strike happened, she looked straight at the camera, like she knew,” Monica intervened.

“He tried to deploy a drone strike? In front of her children, after knowing very well that she saw her parents die in the Sokovian attack when she was ten? Is he fucking insane?!” Peter seethed, nearly crashing his fist on the table hard enough for cracks to appear on it.

“Peter, hey, calm down! You breaking things is not going to make the situation any better, okay? He already tried to chuck us out of this, you don’t go around breaking things now!” You said, holding him still as his body shook. You had never seen him this angry, and frankly, you would never want to see it again.

Peter was a sweet person, respecting people’s boundaries and always so understanding. He was the embodiment of good, even after living a fucked up life, he never projected his trauma on the other. He wore his emotions on his sleeves, and your heart clenched every single time, seeing him in pain.

"Listen, that's my sister in there, and she has no idea what she's doing. She needs our help and I'll do anything to help that woman and if you guys even think of hurting her I will make sure each of you regret it," Peter hissed, staring daggers at the silent team members of the room.

“Is there any way to reach there?” he asked, more softly than before. Darcy exchanged a look with Agent Woo and Monica, opening her mouth before knowing better and shutting it. “What?! Is there a way to communicate with her?”

“Follow us,” the brown woman said, breathing deeply as she looked at the other two silently.

"Where are we going?" Peter asked, fidgeting with your fingers. He hadn't noticed himself holding your hands, your lips twitching when you realised he had done that unconsciously.

“Trust me, I don’t know half the things these ladies do,” Woo whispered, and Peter nodded along seriously.

“Whoa, I feel like there’s a secret underground base here! Is there a secret underground base?”

“Well, it’s not underground, and not really a secret anymore,” Captain Rambeau said, unravelling a curtain, revealing a small space with a million monitors and a wooden desk littered with laptops and too many empty coffee cups.

“This is so cool,” You whispered, watching in awe as Dracy lit up the screens, revealing various codes and stuff you didn’t really understand. Peter was already invested, babbling about codes and addresses and hidden files within hidden files, things that flew over your head at the speed of Darcy’s fingers on the keypad.

Leaning on the table with one hand, Your eye caught a flat round metal looking thing on the ground, picking it up and tracing it with your fingers. “Is this… a bullet?!”

“Yeah, it was hit on that suit, which turns out to be 87% kevlar. That happened when Captain shot at it,” Jimmy answered, giving you a smile as you dropped your jaw.

“She went in wearing a bulletproof vest right? Wanda just… manifested a dress made of kevlar?” You wondered, your words interrupted by Peter’s yelp.

“So, remember how Director Douchebag ordered a drone strike on Wanda?” she said, contemplating her words next as everyone turned towards her. “Turns out he’s been planning something else.”

“What’s that?” Jimmy asked, pointing at the screen, which displayed two boxes full of what seemed like cells.

“That’s Monica’s blood work, he’s been tracking it the whole time. The first time you travelled to the hex? It changed your cellular structure on a molecular level, twice.” She said.

A sombre expression took over the older woman’s face, pursing her lips. “He thinks I’m gaining powers.” Monica nodded.

“I may not be a genetic engineer, but from what I’m seeing here, he’s most likely right,” Peter interrupted, a silence taking over everyone. “He’s keeping track of the enhanced, if I’m not wrong.”

Shaking his head, he clenched his eyes when he heard another voice. You watched him weirdly, reaching to ask him if he was okay, before retracting your hand.

“Chill out sis, it’s not like you can kill your dead husband twice.”

“You’re right. He’s been tracking everyone who’s enhanced, including Vision.” Dracy said, typing something on the screen to show you the map of Westview, pulsing red and blue dots appearing in your sight.

“Do you know what his endgame is?”

“Yeah. Rebooting Vision.”

Peter inhaled sharply, trying not to let his face show the anger inside him as he looked at Monica with wide eyes, both of them looking at each other dangerously, both of them realising same thing.

“Then, I’m going in. Someone needs to tell her,” he said, looking at the others for affirmation.

You took a step back, gulping in anticipation of his words. Reaching out with a hand, you stared at him, hoping he wouldn't lash out. "Peter, you have to know, the hex is a dangerous place. You won't even remember who you are so there’s no point in you going in. You won’t be able to convince her to magically leave her hostages, she’ll just see you as an outsider and throw you out-"

"Captain Rambeau went in and she was able to get out!" he argued.

"Peter, I was tossed out because she saw me as a threat. She might not do that to you but going in that thing is dangerous, especially with your mutations-"

"I don't give a fuck about my mutation! You of all people should know how it feels like to lose family, Monica," Peter said, looking at her. The fire in his eyes spoke volumes. No one dared to intervene.

"Peter, your mutation could potentially kill you. You know the risks of going past the barrier due to your enhancements. The radiations are altering DNA to a molecular level, your cells-”

"-are already metastasizing! My spider DNA is going to get me killed some day because my body won’t be able to handle it anymore, so I don't care, I'm going and that's final." He nodded, puffing his chest to show that he wasn't going to step down.

"Fine, I'll come with you then," You said, looking at him as you said that. A lump formed in your throat as you realised that he was so willing to sacrifice himself, and blood pumped in your veins as determination set in along with a rush of adrenaline.

"Do as you please." He shrugged, pursing his lips, but his eyes were a different story. You felt sick, insides tearing themselves up as you took a good look at him and his pallor, the artificial lights illuminating the scar tissues on his face. Ones that you knew were inflicted by his years of being the friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man.

***

“Maximoff is never gonna negotiate with us,” Hayward said, circling the table as Monica looked at him with disbelief in her expression. “We’ll need all the guns we have here to stop her.”

“We can’t outgun her, but what we can do is try and talk her out of this. Antagonising her is only making things worse. If Wanda is the problem, she has to be our solution!” Monica argued, looking forward.

“She’s already killed thousands during the Sokovian attack. How do you guarantee that she won’t kill another person she finds threatening?!”

“She was guilty about it. It wasn’t her fault, do not bring that into this.”

“Yeah? Well, the guilt isn’t going to bring back the dead children is it?”

"The dead children aren't coming back, but those people trapped in Westview? They can, if you fucking let us!"

"Fine. But someone will be monitoring you."

Negotiations with your boss and commanding team of SWORD concerning the ship was a tough feat. you had finally convinced them to let you and Peter go across the border, but Darcy and Monica were to be on the radio in case everything went amiss.

Sitting in the (illegally acquired) van, you watched Jimmy, who was trying to teach Peter the card trick, invested in the trick yourself. Leaning forward to get a better view, you tried not to let the rush of blood in your cheeks get to you at the close proximity with Peter, heart pounding with every step you took closer to the hex.

“I did it! I finally did it, Y/N, look!” Peter said, showing you the trick, smiling at his childlike enthusiasm.

“That’s great! You should show it to Morgan, she’ll like it.”

“How do you know about Morgan?”

“I know everything.”

You may have been bluffing, but he seemed to have caught on your cue, the awkward tension reappearing as he shifted in his seat, twisting and turning and going back to the magic trick. You tried not to smile, but your mouth never did coordinate with your brain.

“We’re here,” the driver said, parking the van.

“Okay let’s go through this again: Captain Rambeau and Dr. Lewis will be on the radio while you try and get in, stay near a radio as much as you can so we can try and communicate, and do not try to meddle with Wanda,” Jimmy said, going over your checklist.

You were skeptical of the plan, thinking about how successful your mission was going to be, considering how powerful she had become in her own little sitcom. You had heard of her expanding the borders just after you had started driving near it.

“You ready?” Peter asked, taking your hand as you nodded, and wrapped your fingers around his knuckles, before taking a deep breath.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, looking over your shoulders to see the FBI agent giving you a thumbs up, muttering something into the comms. Looking back at Peter, you felt dizzy with the buzzing anxiety, the pull of the barrier strong.

Stepping close to it, you felt electricity buzz in your veins, shuddering at the chilling sensation and sudden exposure to stimuli, your gut twisting the more your hand went in the hexagonal anomaly. You swore you felt your physical being tear apart, your life flashing in front of you in a white hot light, your brain was practically mush with how much force you needed just to get in.

"I thought we would be able to get in easily!" Peter shouts, his screams echoing in your eardrums, mixed with your own screams.

"She's becoming more powerful the longer she stays inside, and so is the hex," You replied, gasping for a breath as you tried to move forward.

With a final scream, you closed your eyes at the static sound bombarded your ears, you couldn't fathom how loud it must be for Peter, sending a look towards him. His eyes were scrunched, hands curled around his head and ears to stop the sound. Before you could comment on his state, your own vision doubled, bright green and magenta lights appearing out of nowhere, the coiling of your gut intensifying, and before you knew it, the strong force pulled you inside, throwing you off on the hard concrete of the road, and everything went dark.

***

“I’m okay. I’m okay. Everything is alright,” Wanda said, repeating the phrase like a mantra as she sat on the couch.

She repeated the phrase like clockwork, just like being a mom to two half synthezoid pre-teens and the gatekeeper of Westview. Snapping out of her daze, she felt something in her brain stir, realising with a start that something had been messing with the barrier-- or, rather, someone.

Closing her eyes, she willed her powers, similar to the ones Tommy had, to look past the barrier, opening her eyes with a flash when she saw a familiar face.

“Peter,” she muttered, the brown eyed boy who she had come to think of as a brother materialising in front of her, dropping on the carpet with a thud as his unconscious form fell on top of Yours. Wanda remembered you from all the stories Peter had told her about.

Crouching down, she reached out to touch you both. Her eyes glowing red as she held a finger to your and his forehead, scrunching her eyelids as she navigated both of your heads.

A lonely young girl was seen sitting on a rock, the wind blowing wisps of her dark hair along with her dress. Suddenly, the noise of clucking of horseshoes could be heard, a woman coming into view as she got off her horse.

“Feeling lonely and afraid at the middle of the night when you’re a young and beautiful teenage girl?” the woman in the cowgirl shoes said, holding her hip as the girl nodded. “Well, don’t worry, every young girl must have a sword at her disposal!”

“A sword?” the young girl asked, tilting her head as she took the object in her hand.

“Yes, a s.w.o.r.d, my dear. Fear not, for the sword will protect you from all the hexes around you.”

The girl smiled, looking at the camera with the cowgirl’s hands on her shoulder. “A sword to protect the young!”

Buy now at your nearest convenience store, terms and conditions apply.

“What are you two doing here and not at school?” Wanda chortled, startling the two who were now very much conscious. The boy moved, fisting his eyes, and he curled his hands to stretch the kinks that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, the varsity jacket scrunching underneath his fists.

“Babe?” the boy groaned, messing up his hair, looking at the general direction of the girl.

Putting on a smile, Wanda folded her arms, biting her lips at how adorable the two of you were.

“Ben? Is that you?” the girl asked, looking at her disheveled frock with a confused expression, finally noticed the woman standing in front of her. “Oh my god, babe, I swear we were at the bleachers not long ago. Did you manifest teleportation powers now?”

“Miss Maximoff! You’re Billy and Tommy’s mom! Babe, we’re in Billy and Tommy’s house!” The guy, Ben said, his voice rising up an octave as he looked at his surroundings.

He couldn't remember much about the Maximoffs, except that his neighbours talk about the weird mom and dad almost everyday in the gossip sessions. Whatever, he wasn't interested in them.

"She turned them into teenagers."

"Well there goes our plan. Do we still have back up ready?"

“That’s right, kids. Now, what were you two naughty children doing out of school?” Wanda asked, helping the two kids get up as the boy blushed, stuttering an apology.

“We- we weren’t ditching, I swear, Miss Maximoff! We were just-”

"-Doing homework! Because… because Ben's a nerd and he doesn't like that he gets behind because of the baseball team!" the girl said, stuttering as Ben nodded along with her.

“Yeah! We weren't making out or anything! Even if we're totally dating."

Their relationship wasn't exactly your normal relationship. It was more of a… mutually beneficial relationship.

Well, so far they had the entire town fooled, having them all think that a guy such as Benjamin Fitzpatrick would ever date a girl like her, who liked her books more than her siblings.

"Hmm, well, thankfully, I'm a cool mom and I will not tell your parents about this… thing. Whatever it was. Anyone want cheesecake?" Wanda smiled, clapping her hands once as she looked at the two teenagers.

Ben's stomach growled at the thought of food. "You don't have to do it, Miss Maximoff, but I would love some," he said, sheepishly looking at the ground, and wincing at another growl.

Wanda chuckled, patting the boys back kindly. "Oh honey, it's alright. Come on, don't be shy, the both of you!" she said, looking over her shoulder and saying, "and it's just Wanda! Miss Maximoff makes me feel old, you know."

They followed her to the kitchen, taking in the interior of the house. Ben's eyes caught something from the corner, it was almost as if it was… flickering? Shaking his head, he dug his fingers in his eyes, wondering if he was still feeling the effects of the time he had hit his head during the baseball practice.

"You okay?" the girl asked, keeping a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Yeah, probably the aftereffects of a concussion." He nodded, burrowing his brows in confusion.

"Hmm, should probably get that thick little noggin of yours checked by the nurse." She snickered, hitting his shoulders playfully. Her heart was beating fast, he noted, wondering how he could hear it so clearly. The thought that he would have to leave her after she gets a date for prom made him sad.

They may be faking their relationship, but he had caught on very fast and realised that he wanted it to be real. As real as the town of Westview.

Wait, what?

"You know we don't have to pretend anymore, right?" Ben said, looking at the girl as she came to a halt. Miss Maximoff was nowhere in sight, the house eerily silent with her heartbeat echoing in his ears.

"This is the best ship SWORD could ever make."

The awkward silence was interrupted by the opening of the front door, a loud jingle as Agnes came strutting in, a big smile on her face. It made Ben's neck sting weirdly, slapping his hand at the base to nullify the feeling.

"Hello, children! What are you doing, skipping school like the little troublemakers you are?" She grinned, pinching each of their cheeks as her voice took a baby-like tone to it. Ben took a step back, grimacing as she continued pinching his cheeks.

"Um, we weren't- we have no idea actually-"

"Agnes! Oh, what great timing! Were you here for Billy and Tommy?" Wanda came in, a plate full of cheesecake and crackers in her hand.

"Oh, Wanda, Wanda, Wanda! Your little troublemakers are already in my house, or did you forget?" She chuckled, the sound of her laughter taking a higher pitch.

Wanda furrowed her brows, opening her mouth to say something, before closing it, a grin taking over. "Right. Yeah, of course! They really love it there with you, huh?"

"That's right, everybody loves Auntie Agnes!"

Ben looked at his girlfriend again, feeling strangely out of place between the two women.

"Um, Miss Ma- Wanda? C-Can we go now? I feel like-"

"Oh, Ben, don't be ridiculous! Why don't you sit down and take a breather? You look pale, hon." Wanda smiled, setting down the plate and ushering the two kids on the table, both of whom looked at the table with hunger in their eyes. Well, it had been long since lunch break.

"Thank you for the cheesecake Mi- uh, Wanda, we appreciate it," the girl said, promptly digging in after the affirmation.

***

Vision knew something was wrong the moment Agnes showed signs of knowing what was going on. The first time it happened, he was sure his paranoid wife would do something, but she had continued to act as if nothing was wrong with Agnes' behaviour.

Walking down the road in his ridiculous costume, he nearly sighed in resignation, before he realised that he wasn't capable of such human actions.

One more thing that perplexed him to no end was his strangely human behaviour. It was as if someone was forcing him to act more human, some weird force that was so unlike Wanda's warm presence, something more foreign and way out of his realm (like the gum incident. He sure did remember Wanda chastising him for doing this atrocity, surely she couldn't have been the one controlling him? Right?).

His mechanical heart ached for his wife. She had gone through a lot, from what he had read from her thoughts; losing a brother (twice, if the absence of Pietro was anything but a confirmation), and then him (it didn't bother him much. He was a synthezoid, there was entirely a possibility that he could be revived).

He just really missed her, he realised. Their relationship had been strained ever since the boys were born. He didn't blame the drift on his boys, of course. He loved them to no end, would sacrifice himself for them, but he couldn't help but notice the change it brought in Wanda.

The arrival of Pietro 2.0 didn't help either.

His thoughts were interrupted as his feet halted their movements, and with a snap he realised that he had somehow made it to Ellis avenue, the border's static buzzing through his entire being.

"You look lost, buddy," a strange man said.

Looking at the man, Vision tilted his head, looking through the database of Westview to see that the man seemed to be nowhere in the records. How had he made it here?

"I- I'm sorry, who are you?" He asked, leaning against the car door to peer inside, the man sitting rigid. It was only then did he realise that the man's eyes seemed… glazed, almost like he wasn't aware. Looking back at the barrier, Vision gaped at the view in front of him.

The man's car was half inside and half outside the barrier, the slow moving particles seemed to be disintegrating the vehicle, watching in awe as sparks flew the closer the barrier came to the man.

"Listen, you have to get out of here before that thing destroys you." Vision tried shaking the man, but to no avail. His attempts were in vain as the man simply grunted. "Listen! Can you hear me? What's happening? Why is the barrier moving?"

He tried opening the door, but it was shut firmly. Groaning, he punched the door, nearly falling to catch the falling man, who was mumbling some incoherent mumbo jumbo.

"Wanda, what are you up to...?" Vision muttered to himself, realising with a start that the barrier was expanding and the man had come from outside the barrier.

Looking at the muttering man, he quickly moved them both away from the barrier, propping him up against the grass.

"I'm sorry," Vision said, his hands gliding yellow as he touched the man's forehead, his own circuits being bombarded with incoherent noises.

"Oh god! I'm sorry, please save me! Please, this hurts, this- you- you're the Vision!" the man screamed.

"Yes, I'm the Vision! Now, can you stay still? I'm trying to help you!"

"-Please! She's in my head!"

His hands lit up again, the yellow light smothering the man's forehead as he went still again, as Vision retracted his hands regretfully. Opting to leave the man there, he stood up again, startling once again that day when he heard a shrill cry, the body of… Geraldine? Appearing out of the barrier. Shaking his head, he was convinced that he was hallucinating, if that was even possible for a droid, and turned around to walk back home.

(Agatha gave a satisfied chuckle, purple sparks erupting from her fingers as she turned back to Wanda, pretending that that didn't just happen.)

***

"Do you think our school is a little… solitary?" Ben asked, inhaling a puff of smoke from the blunt in his hands. His girlfriend and him were sitting on the rooftop of Westview high, their feet swinging against the edge as she clutched at Pe- Ben for dear life.

Peter? Who was that?

"Did you see that?? Peter was right, that was Agatha Harkness and she's been the one manipulating the people, it never was Wanda! It was meant to be a plot twist, but I totally predicted it."

"Um…"

"What? I'm invested."

Peter?

Y/n? Can you hear me? Please say yes if you can hear me.

She noticed the static sound of the radio speaking to someone. The static noise increased, and Ben didn't seem to have noticed the small portable radio malfunctioning. Shrugging it off, she went back to passing the blunt from her boyfriend.

Boyfriend. The word ignited a flame in her chest. Ben, who she faked her dates with once upon a time, now was her actual, real boyfriend, who she was ditching homework to smoke a blunt with, uncaring of her nearing curfew. Her parents would have her head if she found out.

"Do you hear that?" She asked, exhaling the stale air from her lungs. She knew it was more of the deep breathing than the weed, but it made her feel serene.

"I've been hearing a lot of things lately." He croaked, clearing his throat, sniffing the air as he leaned back, his Adam's apple bobbing with every gulp. His glasses were sliding off his face. She reached to push them back up, smiling at the flush of his face.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, slipping her fingers through his, rubbing a hand on his back. His life had been difficult, she knew about him being an orphan, but she didn't know he was having a hard time with life at the very moment, her heart aching for the poor boy.

"I don't know, I keep hearing these voices in my head. Children screaming, people crying, and this… this buzz at my neck, I can't ignore it anymore! I feel like I'm going insane and I can't keep them quiet! I've tried, but it's like they're trying to communicate with me."

Her eyes softened, hands running through his thick, straight hair as he leaned his head on her shoulder. Suddenly, the height at which they were sitting on didn't matter, she had him in her arms.

"He broke the fourth wall. He's been hearing things, just like Billy."

Wiping away his tears, she kissed his forehead, rubbing her hands gently on his back.

"It's gonna be okay. You're okay, they'll go away soon." She reassured, folding her legs to get up, and pulling him up with her. "It's getting late, and mom will have my head if I'm later than curfew."

"You've broken curfew before." He chuckled, stepping closer to Her, his hands on her hips.

Moving forward, she enclosed her hands around his shoulders, intertwining her fingers at the nape of his neck. Standing on her highest tip toes, she crashed her lips into his, their bodies swaying with the cold wind.

"Awww, they're so cute! Exes to lovers, I like it."

"I agree. Didn't see the fake dating coming though."

"Right?! Wanda should start a production company."

"If Agnes lets these people go."

***

Meanwhile, Monica had managed to find an abandoned shack in the backyard of Wanda's neighbour's house, her body buzzing with a familiar tension.

Opening the shack, she saw the trails of purple, vein like thing running their tracks until they reached somewhere she couldn't see. She didn't notice another person creeping up on her, too busy looking at the trails.

"Snoopers gonna snoop," the voice said, making her jump out of her skin, and keeping a hand on her heaving chest to stop her from hyperventilating.

"Pietro?!" She startled, looking around to see if anyone had heard her. The neighbourhood was eerily silent, leaning against the wall, before deciding against it and squared her shoulders, looking at the man in front of her.

"Yeah, that's me. But who are you? And what are you doing in Margie's backyard?" he asked defensively. She would have found the expression comical if it wasn't for her racing heart and adrenaline filled brain.

"I could ask you the same thing," she said, folding her arms to show a defensive stance.

"I'm here because… I live here?" he muttered, borrowing his brows as his eyes glazed over again, "Yeah, wait, no... I live with my sister! Who lives two houses from here! What am I doing here?"

"I don't know, you tell me."

"God, this is so weird. First Wanda was being weird, now I am."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing."

***

Billy was afraid. He knew that he should be stronger and braver, if not for himself, then for Tommy. His momma always told him that the only thing to fear was fear itself, and he didn't know what that meant, but he knew that he had to be braver to get back to his mom and dad.

"Billy, I'm scared," Tommy whimpered. "I'm hearing voices again."

"It's gonna be okay, Mom and Dad will be here soon," he reassured, just as scared as his brother. They were only twelve minutes apart, but he still felt a responsibility for him.

Mom said that they both reminded of her own brother- Uncle Pietro.

Hearing the door open, he felt a chill crawl up his spine.

"She's here! Billy, she's here!"

"I know! I know! Shh!"

Her footsteps came closer, the cackling of her laughter making his heart pound. His brother buried himself in his shoulders, both of them huddled next to each other, as if the inevitable could be avoided.

"How are my best boys doing?" Agnes' shrill voice rang, making Billy breathe faster.

"We want Mommy," Tommy whimpered, sounding as small as Billy felt.

"Oh, I'm sorry honey, that's not happening anytime soon." She tsked, sounding as apologetic as the villains in the action movies his mom forbade him from watching.

"Why's that?" Billy asked, squaring his shoulders as much as he could.

"You didn't hear? Mommy's dead."

And his world crashed, his brain crowding with darkness.

A/N: Lemme know what you think! 😁😁

#wandavision #wandavision au #wandavision spoilers #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x stark!reader #peter x reader #dark!peter parker #wanda x vision #jimmy woo #darcy lewis #monica rambeau #spideygirl writes #queue tea

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aliyah-the-creator · 3 years

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This is my very first post, so I hope I do good! Please give me some feedback, I would love to hear it.

The Umbrella Academy Life Swap:

The Hargreaves switch lives instead of powers.

• Ben ran away at the age of 13 and got lost in the dimension inside his stomach, the Handler eventually finds him and recruits him to the Commission. He works as a super powered agent that saves his victims from his sadistic partners, Hazel and Cha-Cha. Ben doesn’t come back in a 13 year old body like Five, he’s the same age as his siblings, and Ben does know about the apocalypse and has the eye. And unlike Five, Ben actually tells his siblings about the apocalypse and how he was a super powered assassin that acted as the kidnapper and lookout. When the Hargreaves were 13, Ben had tried to talk to Five out of time traveling because logically, he may not know where he would end up, but Five wouldn’t listen to him and started arguing with him. The fighting got so loud that Vanya and Klaus eventually got pulled into the argument as well and it turned into a fistfight with all 4 of them. All of them ended up with scratches and bruises on their faces, a few chunks of their hair missing, and cleaning the mansion floors and ceilings from top to bottom and every single room without using their powers as a punishment for fighting by Reginald. At 2 am, Ben woke up after a nightmare and felt bad about getting Vanya and Klaus into trouble when they didn’t even started the fight in the first place and tried to go to their rooms to apologize, but he never did because the Horror became restless and angry that it didn’t get anything to eat and wanted to make Ben feel how trapped they felt when Reginald always had them kill people, so Ben’s tentacles grabbed him and opened the portal to their world, which was the apocalypse, and trapped him there for 10 years until the Handler came and recruited him and was never seen after that day again. Because of Ben’s disappearance, Vanya and Klaus blamed Five and his ambition for time travel since it was him who argued with Ben in the first place and Five had never forgotten it. Ben hopes that Klaus and Vanya would forgive Five in time. Ben read Klaus’s book about what happened to his family when he disappeared, he read about Luther running away to Dallas to forget about the Umbrella Academy, about Diego staying at the Academy to keep fighting crime, about Allison’s death and how she’s now mute, how Klaus is trying to get sober and stabling himself, how Five became a professor at a prestigious university and a vigilante, and how Vanya took a dark path into alcoholism.

• Five became a lowly-paid physics professor at community college after he was fired for punching a colleague at prestigious university and he’s also a vigilante, but his fiancé Delores doesn’t like it though. Five met Delores at a professor’s conference in Canada where she was presenting her findings on the science of gems and geodes since she’s a mineralogy professor (someone who teaches the study of rocks and crystals) and where he was discussing the possibility of time travel. Those two immediately hit it off and are now engaged, Five proposed to her by using different types of gems to spell it out. Five uses his powers of teleportation to be a mysterious assassin and hero.

• Klaus is a dancer at a local theater and he has somewhat control over his powers, but if the ghosts get too loud, he smokes cigarettes instead of weed so he wouldn’t be high at a recital. He became friends with Leonard Peabody aka Harold Jenkins when Klaus was 23 after his family abandoned him for writing an auto-biography about him having a power that traumatizes him and what the Umbrella Academy was really like behind the scenes, it’s called “The Ghosts Inside the Umbrella Academy: the life of Klaus Hargreaves”. Harold makes him more isolated by threatening to kill himself and haunting Klaus for the rest of his life if Klaus tries to leave him. Since Klaus never had someone ,besides Ben, care for him and give him a home and food since he was living at a homeless shelter when he met Leonard, Klaus thinks that this type of friendship is normal and doesn’t think twice about it. In his book, Klaus portrays his remaining siblings as people who knew about his drug abuse, but didn’t do anything about it; he portrayed Luther as a hotheaded daddy’s boy who was treated like the Golden child, Diego as a momma’s boy with daddy issues always trying to compete with Luther for everything, Allison as his favorite sister who was taken too soon, who’s death was the final straw that tore apart their family, and who acts as a silent ghost mother since she’s mute (no one believes him that he can see her though), he portrays Five as the cause of Ben’s disappearance and as a heartless gremlin who doesn’t care about his siblings enough to see that his siblings are hurting and have real problems of their own, he portrays Ben as his kind-hearted and favorite brother who was the glue that hold their family together and who’s disappearance drove a wedge between the family, and he portrays Vanya as his ordinary violin playing sister that desperately wanted to belong with their family in any way she could, but turned to alcohol when she learned that her dream of being in the Umbrella Academy was crushed by Reginald and who had the easy life of not being exploited by their father for her powers like he was. Vanya actually confronted him about her portrayal in the book and they said some things that they shouldn’t have, but they eventually forgave each other and Vanya moved in with him and Leonard a month later. Klaus didn’t mind that Vanya and Leonard were dating, but saw a striking difference between Vanya and Leonard’s relationship and Vanya and Sissy’s relationship when Vanya came back from the 60s. With Leonard, Vanya was walking on eggshells and isolated from her brothers and couldn’t be herself around him, but with Sissy, Klaus saw that Vanya was happier and could be herself around Sissy and loves Harlan like her own son. Klaus was the one to kill Leonard with his powers by having Allison choke him to death when he badly hurt Harlan with a gun and tried to drown Sissy.

• Allison dies at the age of 17 when her throat was slit by a serial killer on a mission and now acts like Klaus’s mother by always keeping him sober enough to conjure her and giving him healthy advice, but ultimately going along with almost every crazy idea Klaus has. Since she has a slit throat she can’t talk, but she does sign language instead and like Ben, she ages like Klaus, but still wears the same outfit she was buried in: a yellow and green striped dress with a blue flora printed jacket with red heels and a pair of black leggings. She HATES Leonard Peabody because he’s manipulating Klaus into isolation from their family and she tries to get Klaus out of their toxic friendship, but Klaus always denies Leonard’s abuse. She misses her siblings so much that she’s deeply hurt that she had ignored their problems for so long.

• Diego stayed at the Umbrella Academy because he didn’t know how to be anything else but a hero, he also didn’t want to Mom behind, so he began reading and writing code to free Grace from her restrictive rules that Reginald put on her, but after his accident that had him have scars all over his body and face to the point where he lost his left eye and his face is almost beyond recognition, Diego left the Academy when he realized that there was no point in staying and became a recluse in his good friend, Eudora’s house. Unlike Luther, Diego doesn’t have the monkey body because I just couldn’t see that type of body build on David Castaneda. Diego met Eudora at a local boxing gym, Eudora was impressed Diego’s fight skilled and was shocked to know that he was Diego “The Kraken” Hargreaves because Reginald told the whole world including their city and Luther, Klaus, Five, and Vanya that Diego died in an explosion a year ago when he had his accident. Diego ,of course, was pissed that his own father told everyone and his siblings that he was dead instead of saying that he survived the mission and was just scarred for the rest of his life, but he wasn’t surprised that Reginald did that to keep up his reputation. Him and Eudora immediately became fast friends and roommates at her house since Diego had nowhere to go when he left the Academy 6 months ago and was living at an run-down and moldy apartment. They actually tried dating at one point, but because of their conflicted personalities, they decided to just stay friends and roommates.

• 3 months after Allison’s funeral, Luther ran away to escape his father’s tight gripped and cold stare and the house that reminded him of his lovely yet dead Allison when he was 18 years old. He ended up in Dallas, Texas where he became a famous boxer named King Kong since he’s so huge and muscular, met and married a successful TV salesman named Elliott Gussman, and they adopted an African American baby girl who they named Claire Allison Gussman. Luther decided to take Elliott’s last name ,even though it was Luther who proposed to him, to cut his ties off from the Umbrella Academy and the man who turned 6 children into soldiers and who blamed the death of an innocent 17 year old girl that happened to be his adopted daughter on his 4 sons and 1 daughter instead of the person who killed her in the first place. Luther and Elliott had a happy marriage for 3 years until Klaus’s book came out that exposed the secrets of Luther’s past and made him into a hotheaded bully with daddy issues who followed Reginald around like a eager puppy trying to get a reward and a coward ran away from his problems instead of facing them. Elliott was furious at Luther because when Luther came to Dallas he lied about being from a mob family that did all types of shady businesses and that he ran away because his “family” couldn’t understand and accept him being bisexual instead of telling him truth about his abusive father who raised them to be child soldiers, how his brother Diego would always tried to be better than him to their father’s approval, how his brother Five was too smart for his own good, how he loved his sister Allison more than he should, how he tried to forget about Ben’s disappearance, how he ignored Klaus’s drug abuse, and how he denied Vanya’s problem with alcohol for so long. When Elliott read Klaus’s book about what Luther did and who he was, Elliott immediately started arguing with him about his true identity. Luther tried to deny it, but couldn’t because he loves Elliott too much to even hurt him in a way. Elliott actually threatened to separate from Luther when their arguments gotten too much, but he didn’t and instead drove Luther and him to see a marriage counselor so that they could actually talk to each other instead of just arguing. Luther and Elliott eventually made up, but because of the book, Luther is the one that’s more pissed about it and at Klaus for almost making Elliott lose his marriage to him. Btw, Claire is 6 years old in 2019 and was adopted as a baby in 2013 by the Gussman family when Luther was 24 and Elliott was 30, a year after Klaus’s book was published.

• Vanya was introduced to alcohol at 13 years old when Five and Klaus were drinking 2 cases of beer that Five stole, Klaus persuaded her to take a sip of his beer and she hasn’t stop drinking since. Besides the violin and her pills, alcohol was the thing that defined Vanya and her personality. Vanya thought that no one would care about what happened to her since she was so ordinary and isolated that she dumped all of her pills in the garbage disposal and drinks her problems away. With her new coping mechanism, Vanya’s personality changed from quiet and meek to sarcastic and drunk. Five and Vanya left the Academy for college together, but ended up separated by the time they were 20 because Vanya kept drinking her tutition away. By the age of 22, Vanya ended up being homeless because she got kicked out of her apartment for not paying her rent with the money she used to buy alcohol. She still plays her violin, but only for cash instead of at The Icarus Theatre. She also read Klaus’s book and was upset about her portrayal as his alcoholic sister who had an easy life of being ordinary and never going on missions because she doesn’t have a power that can’t be turned off willingly or that can kill somebody; she cried and drank her misery away for 3 weeks until she confronted Klaus about the book, they both admittedly said things that they regretted, but ended up apologizing to each other in the end. She also meets and dates Leonard like in the show and instead of Allison finding the truth about Leonard, it’s Five and Delores who both tried to convince Klaus and Vanya that Leonard is a snake, but they both denied it. Vanya ends up living with Klaus and Leonard when her and Klaus made up when she’s 23. In my first draft I made it Five and Delores that Vanya ended up rooming with, but I wanted to make Vanya and Klaus isolated further by Leonard manipulating both of them. When the house is attacked by Hazel and Cha-Cha, Vanya is the one that’s kidnapped and tortured by them for 2 days and is rescued by Eudora who arrives with back up this time, but is injured in the spine by Cha-Cha. Vanya takes the briefcase and time travels to October 12, 1963 where she ends up falling in love with a woman named Sissy Cooper, a widowed housewife who accidentally ran Vanya over with her car, and becoming a nanny/second mother to Sissy’s 5 year old autistic son named Harlan. Vanya stayed with them until 1966 when a neighbor reported their “unholy” relationship to the police, so to keep them safe Vanya used the briefcase to go back to 2019 with Sissy and Harlan.

—When Vanya gets back to 2019 with Sissy and Harlan, no one believes her story except for Klaus, who promises to her relationship with Sissy a secret from Leonard, and Ben, who was the only one that was worried about her whereabouts in the first place besides Klaus. Vanya tries to become sober for the sake of Harlan not being afraid of her when she gets drunk and for Sissy and her’s relationship since her late husband was an abusive alcoholic, instead of conjuring the one she loves’s ghost like Klaus did in the show. When Vanya was dating Leonard, he would constantly have her and Klaus practice their music and dance at 12am-6am to train them more and if one of them mess up, he’ll have them locked up in a dark and tiny closet with only one dimly lit lightbulb and they would have to balance on a stool on one leg for the duration of their training. Leonard would also take his anger out on Klaus and Vanya if he had a bad day at his shop, which would leave Klaus with bruises on his arms and a black eye and Vanya with scratches on her back and bruises on her neck. (Trigger Warning for those who can’t handle stories with domestic violence) When the 3 of them were 27, Leonard gotten pissed at how independent and successful Klaus and Vanya were getting in their lives by Klaus getting paid more from his dance recitals and Vanya going to AA meetings more to the point of being sober for 3 weeks that he took his frustrations about losing his control out on them by punching and slapping Klaus and choking and scratching Vanya, but thankfully a neighbor called the police after hearing their screams and Klaus and Vanya were taken to the hospital and Leonard was arrested, but unfortunately Klaus and Vanya bailed Leonard out due to dropping charges against him as an apologize.

Here are the things that I changed

• Klaus and Vanya both cause the apocalypse by combining their powers at Klaus’s dance recital with Vanya’s violin because Leonard isolated them from everyone, manipulated them to the point of denying the abuse he put them through, and because of him trying to kill Sissy and Harlan for taking Vanya away from him.

• Five and Delores tries to explain to Vanya and Klaus that Leonard only liked them to get revenge on the Umbrella Academy and it was him that kidnapped Sissy and Harlan to get them to come back to him, but Five gets stabbed in the stomach by Klaus’s new found telekinesis and Vanya makes Five and Delores’s apartment collapsed after knocking Delores out. When the apartment collapses, Allison , who’s coperal at the moment, immediately grabs both a bleeding Five and an unconscious Delores and saves them from death and takes them to the Academy to be treated by Grace. Delores unfortunately loses her right arm to a huge piece of shrapnel lodged into it that’s cutting the circulation.

• When Ben goes to the apocalypse for the first time, he finds Luther with the eye clutched in his hand, Diego wrapped in black bandages holding a woman with a long black ponytail (Eudora), Five in an Armani suit with his eyes opened, and a red headed woman in a polka dotted blouse and a black skirt holding one of Five’s hand (Delores). All of them are dead and Ben finds out that they’re his brothers by the faded black umbrella tattoo on Luther’s wrist when Ben was inspecting the bodies. The bodies that Ben couldn’t find were Allison, Vanya, and Klaus’s, but after learning about Allison’s death from Klaus’s book, Ben kept looking for Vanya and Klaus.

• Vanya gets her burst of powers when Harlan almost drown in the summer of ‘64 in the lake 10 miles away from the farm. Harlan was playing with a beach ball when it got away from him and he tried to get it while Vanya and Sissy were cuddling in the sand and a wave pulled him under the water. Sissy started crying and panicking when Vanya couldn’t get Harlan to the surface, but after a minute of silence she was shocked and relieved to see Vanya holding Harlan in her arms while she’s floating in the lake with glowing white eyes. As soon as they get to shore, Vanya gives Harlan cpr which transfers her newly found powers to him like in the canon.

• Diego doesn’t show himself to his siblings until episode 3 when Hazel and Cha-Cha attack the house because everyone thinks he’s dead and he’s a recluse. He finds out about the attack from Grace (mom) when she calls him from her bedroom phone since they talk every day so that he can know what’s going on and because of these calls, Diego knows about Ben being back, how the funeral went, and how much each of his siblings changed over the years.

• In episode 1, since the siblings’ lives are switched around, the way they found out that Reginald died is slightly different from canon. Luther finds out from the press badgering him after he won a fight, Diego finds out from Eudora when she comes home after work and turns on the Tv in a flash, Klaus finds out during rehearsal on the radio that him and his group are listening to to practice the recital while Allison is dancing in the shadows behind him when the news suddenly comes on, Five finds out from his phone on social media when one of his students sent him the news link after Five teleports to his apartment after saving a 12 year old boy from being abducted by a creep and almost killing said creep by beating him senseless, and Vanya finds out from a bar Tv when she and Leonard are on a date. She immediately calls Klaus who was immediately going to call her to tell her the same thing when he was done rehearsals.

• Just to clarify, since Vanya spent 3 years with Sissy and Harlan in Dallas from 1963-1966, she is 33 years old and Harlan is 8 years old because he was 5 when he and his mom met Vanya. Even though Vanya spent 3 years in the ‘60s, she was only gone for 2 days with Klaus, Five, Delores, Ben, and Leonard searching for her.

• When the Hargreeves all come back for the funeral, the introduction of them to each other are very different. Diego doesn’t show up to the funeral to keep up the reputation of him being dead. Vanya and Klaus show up together, but immediately split up when Vanya goes straight to the bar making drinks for her and her brothers (mostly for her though) and Klaus goes to his old room to reminisce about his past. Five checks their father’s room and office for evidence of something other than a heart attack, he is the one that thinks that Reginald was murdered by someone, and he also greets Vanya and Klaus with Delores who went with him to meet his family. Luther is trying to get through the funeral as possible by almost avoiding his siblings, but that backfires when Five calls a family meeting to talk about their father’s death and Luther sees a tipsy Vanya holding a mix of vodka and rum, Klaus talking to Delores who is laughing at a funny story Klaus is telling, and Five lecturing the remaining siblings on how their father might’ve been murdered.

• Eudora is more present in the show since she survives the gunshot wound in her spine by Cha-Cha, but she ends up being paralyzed from the waist down in a wheelchair. She helps Five with discovering how Reginald actually died and Diego with stepping out into the world and seeing his family for the first time in years. Like in canon, she is the first one to find Vanya at the motel after finding the message that Hazel and Cha-Cha left on the van when they burned down the prosthetic factory after they got drunk off of Vanya’s “special lemonade” which is just lemonade mixed with wine and vodka. Unlike in the show, Delores and Ben go with Eudora as back up in case something goes wrong and it does end up going wrong with Cha-Cha and Eudora having a shoot out with each other in the parking lot that ultimately ends up Eudora becoming paralyzed by Cha-Cha’s bullet ricocheting off a lamppost and lodging into Eudora’s spine with her laser gunand Ben wrestling with his former partner Hazel in the motel room while Vanya is escaping through the vent with the briefcase in her arms and Delores in tow.

Ben breaks Hazel’s wrist and almost beats him to a bloody pulp for kidnapping Vanya, but he stops when he hears Eudora’s screams from outside and sees her on the ground behind her car and he immediately drives her to the hospital while Hazel and Cha-Cha get away before the police show up. Delores and Vanya get on a nearby bus to escape the chaos and they talk about what’s going on in their lives and Delores talks about how Leonard treats Klaus when they’re alone, but Vanya denies any abuse and opens the briefcase. The last thing Vanya hears is Delores screaming.

• The episode “The Day that Wasn’t” doesn’t exist in my AU and is instead replaced with an episode called “Welcome to the 60’s” where Five interrogates Sissy and Harlan about the past while working on the beat up briefcase to learn more about how to time travel. Eudora and Diego talk about how their long time friendship has become into a sibling relationship and about how Diego can reconnect with his siblings again. Luther and Delores discuss how they both want a normal and ordinary life with their husband and fiancé respectively, but fail to see that things can never go back to way they were. Ben goes off on his own to find the truth about Leonard Peabody, but finds himself at Griddy’s where he sees Hazel kissing Agnes and talks to them about his problems. Agnes gives Ben advice about how he can reconcile with his family by actually giving them time to process him being a time traveling assassin and him telling Five to not feel guilty about causing a rift between him and Vanya and Klaus because it wasn’t Five’s fault that Ben “ran away”.

I’ll continue the rest of the story when I have the time. Right now I just want to post this.

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