#For the record he hasn’t seen ANY marvel

[imsaunteringvaguelydownwards]

I’ve convinced my bestie to watch the first avenger and we’re on ft while he watches it im so scared but so excited

[sanguineterrain]

get a little action in | miguel o'hara

Summary: Spider-Man doesn't like you. And for the record? You're not crazy about him either. But you kind of wish you could see his eyes when he swings you across the city. For curiosity's sake.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader (some Spanish language is female-gendered, but other than that, no gendered descriptions.)

Word count: 2.2k

Content desc: rivals, superhero!reader (kinda - they're trying their best). miguel's a bit of a jerk ngl but he's a SEXY jerk <3 very enemies to lovers coded. swapped insults, injuries, and a whole lot of charged flirting. (lyla thinks they're adorable.)

A/N: i actually think this fic is the closest i've gotten to miguel's canon personality compared to my previous (delusional) characterizations of him lol. hope you guys like this one! as always, i appreciate corrections to the Spanish if needed, but it's no one's responsibility to do so!

Translations: 

¡Chingada madre! - Motherfucker!

¡Pinche pendeja! - Fucking asshole!

¡No mames! Eres una idiota. - I don't believe this! You're an idiot.

¡Cállate, por Dios! - Shut up, oh my God!

¡Ay, coño! ¿Qué demonios haces? - Oh, fuck! What the hell are you doing?

¿Qué? ¿Qué quieres? - What? What do you want?

¿Estás loca? ¿De dónde sacas esas ideas? - Are you crazy? Where do you get these ideas?

No seas estúpida. - Don't be stupid.

Porque tu haces un desmadre. Eres un dolor en el culo. - Because you make a mess. You're a pain in the ass.

Ve. - Go.

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“All units be advised: 10-33 on 10th and Palisade. Suspect is known as “Captain Darkness.” Approach with caution.”

You shove the police scanner into your bag and stash it in the alley by your apartment. You’re close to 10th and Palisade, and the cops have lost Nueva York’s newest supervillain, Captain Darkness, three times already. For all the mocking headlines the press write about him, he sure seems to be the one laughing every time.

You pull your mask over your face as you make your way to the abandoned factory on 10th and Palisade. It looks normal from the outside, but the code means there’s been an explosion. 

Probably best to enter through the back. 

It’s dark, because supervillains like to nail the atmosphere, and that means there’s no budget for lighting. The factory smells damp, moldy. You hope you don’t get sick. Vigilantism doesn’t come with health insurance.

You stay close to the wall, ears tuned for any sounds. Usually, a good villain would have clocked your entrance by now. The fact that Captain Darkness (a stupid-ass name for a stupid-ass villain) hasn’t—

BRIIIING! BRIIIING!

Alarms blare throughout the factory. Your ears ring from the volume. 

Okay. Maybe you’ve underestimated him.

You run; stealth doesn’t matter now, only speed. Captain Darkness is, predictably, at the center of the factory. He has all the typical workings of a mad scientist: electric ball thingy, giant lie detector-looking thingy, et cetera. You go up the stairs of his platform to get closer.

Except there’s something you’ve never seen before. It sort of resembles a portal. Fuck.

Captain Darkness spots you immediately. He has giant crab legs fused to the lower half of his body, which you’d think were sick if he wasn’t such a jagoff. 

“Well, hello,” he says, sneering down at you. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you one of the Spiderlings?”

“I’m offended by the suggestion,” you say, darting towards the electric ball first. 

It looks easy enough to shut off, except the Captain blocks your path immediately. He knocks you across the platform. You cough at the impact. The concrete bruises your right temple.

“Alright, that’s it.” You grunt, pushing yourself up. “Now I’m gonna kick your ass for real.”

The Captain laughs. “By all means, hit me with your best shot.”

So you do. You manage to knock him backwards, his clunky crab legs sliding on the platform. You take the opening and shut off one machine, which causes a crackle of electricity in the air. The hair on your arms rises.

But being a mad crab scientist apparently means you have a lot of time on your hands, and Captain Darkness whips out what looks like a ray gun. He blasts you and knocks you off the platform. You hit your ribs hard, and your vision blurs for a second.

The portal begins to whir, warming up. Captain Darkness towers over you, grinning maniacally.

“Your efforts are adorable, but I suggest you find another line of work. No one will stop me from opening a portal. Once I venture to other worlds, I’ll be unstoppable. This world will be mine! Finally, everyone who ever—”

“Oh my God,” you groan, clutching your ribs. “Please don’t start monologuing. Do you know how cliche you sound right now? Blah blah blah, your parents didn’t give you enough attention so you’re insecure and power-hungry. Do I look like Dr. Phil to you?”

His eyes flash and one crab leg grabs a nearby tool cart. 

“You’re no longer amusing me,” he says. "Goodbye." 

The tool cart is flung in your direction, and you roll, covering your head and bracing for the worst. But the crash never comes. You look to see several orange webs wrapped around the cart. The cart flies backwards and hits Captain Darkness right in his face.

Miguel O’Hara lands on the railing of the platform, perched gracefully. He doesn’t waste a second in going after the Captain.

“Oh, where did you even come from?” you shout, pushing yourself to stand. “I have it handled!”

“I’m not dignifying that with a response,” Miguel growls as he easily dodges the Captain’s grasp. 

He swings to the other side, aiming for the portal which has now fired up. 

Perfect. Damn it, it should be you that J. Jonah Jameson will scream about on the news tomorrow morning, not Spider-Dorito. 

You force yourself to get up so you can try to apprehend the Captain. But he has other plans; one of the machines sparks, and suddenly, hundreds of flying crab-shaped robots pour out of the mouth of the portal. Miguel shouts orders to Lyla. 

You’re only interested in one thing: taking down Captain frickin’ Darkness. So you go after him, leaving the factory. Unfortunately, the crab-bots take that as an invitation to leave too, zeroed in on your destruction. Your ribs are killing you, and whatever the Captain blasted you with left a nasty gash on your hip. 

Still, you limp and pant through the pain. You’re not letting this guy get away a fourth time. No way. Captain Darkness has been a thorn in Nueva York’s side for several weeks now and you’ve been tracking him for just as long. You need to get him.

“¡Chingada madre!”

You glance over your shoulder and see a flash of blue and red. Miguel is right behind you, fighting through the cluster of crab-bots. The sight makes your blood boil.

“Fuck off!” you wheeze out. “He’s mine, O’Hara!”

“If you hadn’t stumbled in and screwed everything up, we wouldn’t even be in this situation right now!” he snarls. “¡Pinche pendeja!”

Fucking Spider-Man. It’s because of him that Nueva York doesn’t even know who you are. Every time you get remotely close to taking down a criminal, Miguel swoops in and saves the day. Not without giving you grief, of course. You’re too weak, too disorganized, too slow—you’re too wrong, according to him. He’s told you multiple times to stay away, but hey, he should know by now you’re also too stubborn to listen.

You pull your hand away from your rib. It’s tacky with blood. You’re slowing down, too; you aren’t enhanced like a hero is supposed to be, and after going two rounds with Captain Crabcake, it seems you’re about to meet your untimely fate with killer crustacean robots. 

You really should’ve become a lawyer like your mother wanted.

“¡No mames! Eres una idiota.”

You feel Miguel’s breath on your neck before his arm curls around your waist. You cry indignantly but he doesn’t let go, heaving you into his grip and continuing to run.

“Let go of me!” you demand, wiggling in his grip.

“Shut up.”

“I don’t need you to save me,” you snap.

He looks down at you, red masked eyes burning into you.

“No? ‘Cause every time you screw up, I’m the one fixing your mess. How many times have I told you to go home?”

“I had it under control,” you say. 

Miguel doesn’t even look at you. Your injuries are jostled with every step and you have to fight to not whine in pain. But you don’t try to squirm away again. You’re no match for his strength, and, unfortunately, he’s a lot faster than you. If you want to live, Miguel’s your ride. 

“Lyla, find me a route.”

Lyla pops up on Miguel’s other shoulder. She leers at you, raising her eyebrows.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks. 

“Lyla. Route, now.” 

“Alright, alright,” she says, sounding far too smug. “Might I suggest going airborne?”

Your fingers dig into Miguel’s giant shoulder as he flings a web string at a nearby fire escape. He shifts you to one arm. Your eyes pop out of your head.

“No, wait, I have a terrible fear of—”

He doesn’t wait, the asshole, and you scream as he pulls both of you up. Now you’re bleeding, clinging to the worst person in the world, and at least two hundred feet off the ground. Somehow, killer crab-bots would’ve been better. 

“¡Cállate, por Dios!” he shouts, jerking his head away from you. “Unless you want me to drop you.”

“I’m gonna kill you, O’Hara,” you say, closing your eyes. “I’m gonna—oh, God.” You swallow hard, feeling dizzy. “I think I’m gonna hurl.”

“Do not throw up on me.”

You peek over his shoulder, trying not to watch the buildings blur by. That’s when you spot the army of robots behind you. And they look mad.

“Shit, shit!” you hiss, jolted out of your nausea. 

You reach down Miguel’s broad back, feeling for the nifty little gadgets you know he keeps on him.

“¡Ay, coño! ¿Qué demonios haces?”

He swats at your wandering hands. You smack him back.

“I’m trying to save us, if you don’t mind!”

“Do not touch anything—” he starts.

A bot whizzes by, firing at you both. Miguel wobbles on the next swing, trying to fight off the bot. 

“Lyla, three o’clock!” you yell.

Tiny rockets fire from Miguel’s suit, taking out several bots. There’s too many, though; you need another plan.

“Lyla, run diagnostics on the bots,” you say, grunting as Miguel swings sharply around a corner.

“Lyla, don’t do anything I don’t tell you to,” Miguel says. “She’s not yours to—”

“Water,” Lyla interrupts, understanding where your brain is. “They malfunction in water.”

“Huh. That’s ironic.”

Ahead, the waterfront is quickly coming into view. You pinch Miguel’s shoulder. He hisses, his suit’s eyes narrowing at you. 

“¿Qué? ¿Qué quieres?”

“The Hudson,” you say. 

“I can’t just dive into the river, we’ll both—”

“Use me as bait,” you say. 

“¿Estás loca? ¿De dónde sacas esas ideas?”

“I pull them out of my butt,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“You couldn’t even destroy the portal,” he says scathingly. “I’m not throwing you into the river, tempting as that is.”

“You don’t have a better idea, smartass. And unless you want them tearing up Manhattan, you’ll do it.”

“No seas estúpida,” he says. 

“Can’t help it. It’s one of my superpowers.”

Miguel lands on a rooftop. He drops you none too carefully, and you land hard on your butt. You grunt, the movement squishing your injury. 

“Lyla,” Miguel says.

“Yup,” she says, popping up on your shoulder and scanning your body. “Bruised ribs, and a gash right on top. If you wrap it, they’ll be fine.”

Miguel takes out a bandage and tears the top off. You’ve seen them before; they’re of his own creation, and used widely by his Spider Society. Never on civilians, which is what you are, according to him.

He crouches and shoves your suit up, then wraps the bandage around your stomach. The wrapping begins to expand and you feel the sting of cold gel. He yanks your suit back down without a word.

“I’m sure my ribs are broken,” you say through a wheezy exhale.

“Nope! Just bruised. You really shouldn’t fall from those kinds of heights,” Lyla says cheerily.

“Yeah, you were definitely programmed by him,” you mutter.

You start to get up. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Miguel says. 

“Screw you.”

“You living here screws me enough.”

“I don’t need your help! Why can’t you stay in your own damn lane, O’Hara?”

“Porque tu haces un desmadre. Eres un dolor en el culo.”

“The feeling is mutual,” you say through gritted teeth. “And you can’t stop me from going after him.”

His suit’s eyes narrow. Quick as anything, he flings two webs over your wrists. You squawk, now glued to the pavement.

“This is illegal!” you screech, twisting your wrists. “Let me go!”

“Stay out of my way,” Miguel says. “I won’t save your ass next time.”

You glare up at him, still breathing hard. It only makes you angrier that Miguel hasn’t broken a sweat.

“I hope those bots tear up the Spider Society!” you say. “I hope—I hope your suit malfunctions and the whole city sees your ass.”

Miguel pauses, and turns around. 

“Uh, Miguel?” Lyla asks. “The murder robots? Kinda urgent.”

“Tell Jess to go downtown and cut them off there.”

“But—” 

“Ve.”

He stands over you. You fling your legs up, trying to get a kick in, but he quickly puts a stop to that, resting a heavy foot on both of your ankles. 

Miguel bends down. You burn with curiosity about how he looks under the mask. It’s twisted of you to wonder, considering what an arrogant jerk he is. You could fill several encyclopedias with Miguel O’Hara’s worst traits. 

Still, you wonder. You wonder what color his eyes are. If his hair is short or long. If he smiles at all. His expression when you get under his skin.

You’d learned his real name by accident. Whether he knows your identity or not, you don’t know. You wonder if he has to stop himself from saying your name.

“You’re lucky I don’t web that dirty mouth of yours,” Miguel says, his face inches from yours. “I’ve been considering it.”

You lift your chin.

“You think about my mouth a lot, O’Hara?”

He jerks back, like you’ve startled him. He stands, turning around.

“Don’t let me see you out here again,” he says.

“Wait!” you cry. “What about the webs?!”

Miguel shoots a web towards the street.

“What about them? You don’t need my help, remember?”

Then he’s gone. 

Fucking Spider-Man.

[winterpinetrees]

Exactly two people asked, but two people did ask! So here are my Villain Coded Kids.

These six characters are a small fraction of the marvel fan fiction that I dreamed up when I was 12 years old. I daydreamed about them constantly, and they carved a little hole into my brain so I could never stop thinking about them. It’s been over five years. These guys are often stereotypical, several names come from fantasynamegenerator.com, and they were invented alongside a self-insert mary sue who I cannot leave behind. That being said, I love them dearly. Who wants to meet them? If you don’t want to, simply do not read this post. This is entirely voluntary.

THE VILLAIN CODED KIDS!

In the Marvel Cinematic Universe, there is a shield base in the middle of Manhattan. It’s where Captain America wakes up from his 70 years in the ice. But I don’t think it’s ever seen again. In my mind, it holds offices and training rooms, but in 2018, it is also home to six villain coded teenagers.

You are going to meet these kids as they were on some afternoon in the fall of 2018. They’ve been a team for about a month. It has been six months since Iron Man and Black Widow died in the events of Avengers Endgame. Six months since half of the population was killed and then revived, six months that the other half of the population has spent slowly forgetting five years of memories from the lost time known in canon as The Blip. The Sokovia Accords are exactly as unmerciful as they are in canon. Any unauthorized superpowered activity can be punished by arrest without trial or parole, and the only difference between a friendly neighbor hero and a prisoner is whether or not the local police like them. The police did not like these six kids!

……………

Imagine a common room like what you’d find in any college dorm. There’s a couch, some chairs, and a television. Six kids are gathered doing whatever. The oldest are 16 and in 11th grade and the youngest is 13 and in 8th grade.

The too tall boy drawing Voltron fanart on his IPad is Zachary Jesper. He is a vessel for the reality stone, which grants him near infinite power at the cost of chronic pain. He also shares a body with the villain from Thor 2. The stone (also called the aether) is eating him alive. He has a little sister that he hadn’t seen since May, and religious trauma that he hasn’t unpacked. He’s been doing pretty well in class lately, but is working on a YouTube video at the moment. Zach has long dark hair and sickly pale skin, which makes him look a bit like Loki, the supervillain that he has a crush on.

And the blond girl reading Lord of the Flies for homework? Her name is Cyrene, although that’s not the first name she’s tried out since running away from her transphobic home two years ago. She has two powers. Telepathy, and the ability to summon blades and whips of cyan energy. Back during the blip, she ran a criminal syndicate and hunted any billionaire or politician who dared to exploit others. For the record, she did quite a bit of bad stuff herself. Cyrene has also read Lord of the Flies before. It’s not a particularly accurate depiction of how people behave (it was written as satire!). She remembers the blip well enough to know that.

The oldest person in the room is Sarah “Sol” Torres, but she won’t turn 17 for another few weeks. She’s afro-latina with loose curly hair and eyes that look more golden in the sun. That happens a lot, because her ability is to summon and control sunlight. Sol is used to being the responsible oldest sibling. She’s fed up that her only two options are heroic perfection, or rotting in jail. Why can’t she just be a teenager? Who is she supposed to avenge?

The US government in this world has a lot of crazy tech. There’s an east asian boy tinkering with some of it while sitting on the couch. His name is Daniel Asato, and you’ll never see him without a pair of gloves. It’s convenient that he likes engineering, because his power is the ability to manipulate metal. He’s mostly used it for crime though. He’s wearing gloves and long sleeves because they cover long, jagged scars on his limbs. They also let him avoid physical touch. Six years ago, when he was just shy of 8 years old, Daniel was trapped under a collapsed building during the Battle of New York. His parents died instantly, but his brother bled out in his arms. Daniel hasn’t wanted to hold anyone else since.

Given any group of teens, someone is always taking a nap. That person is probably Noah Griffin, an african-american girl with powers too strong and uncontrollable to really be used in combat. She can control the weather, specifically wind and cold. Noah is a tomboy at this point, with a short, masculine hairstyle. She’s also hoping to be a woman in STEM and does environmental work when she can. Noah has a bit of survivors guilt because she knows how difficult it must have been for Hawkeye to convince the shady government organizations to set her free. She’s worried about the upcoming winter. What if she freezes New York City?

Last, youngest, but certainly not least is Vicky Khol (whether that’s short for Victor or Victoria depends on the day, she’s gender-fluid in the same way as Alex Fierro in Magnus Chase. Blame my 12 year old self). She’s a suntanned country kid with dirty blond hair dyed red at the tips. Her ability is mind control and illusions, but they don’t work through cameras. She’s not even in high school yet, and SO EXCITED to be a famous hero. She’s a mischievous theater kid with a traumatic backstory that she tries not to mention.

By all rights, these six kids should be dead by now. Instead, they got a second chance and are making the most of it. They are under unbelievable pressure from outside and inside forces. The worst of it is from a second team of teenagers, who are hero coded and were never in any danger to begin with. They fight frequently. It’s a game to the heroes, but the villains are fighting for their lives. It all turns out okay though.

…………

If you actually read that, I am in your debt forever. Literally. I will grant you any reasonable favor. Please reach out so I can know who I should thank! This is a small fraction of the lore. I also have two other completely separate stories. My brain would drive Cyrene mad.

[charlie-grusin]

I can’t help but wonder if there wasn’t some precedent to this settled as far back as Indiana Jones: the first two films pretty much followed up to the ambitions Spielberg had had in making his own James Bond, but once we got to The Last Crusade we started to see Indy procure some personal growth as a character, discovering there was more to life than artifacts and that there was more at stake than the preservation of history from those stinkin’ Nazis (that being, well, life; human documents; the living present). It was a complete far cry from what was typically the norm for most pulp/pulp-inspired heroes and that was the intention - this, after all, was meant to be a last great hurrah for Dr. Jones from Spielberg and Lucas, who at that point felt it was time to give rest to their brash little character of high adventure - yet it also became a problem whenever it was inevitably decided that Indy should return: there was this obligation that only S&L could be in charge of sailing the ship, that only Harrison Ford could play Indiana Jones because he has become so recognizable, so defined as a character from the last time, that any other face or voice to that name would be thought of as blasphemous.* They could give the Indy character as many adventures and scenarios as they wanted in tie-in books, comics, video games and what have yous (and they certainly have), but when it came to the films themselves they eventually couldn’t keep hold of that luxury - it also didn’t help how heated (ha) in controversy Temple of Doom became on its release with its over-the-top violence but still - as long as Spielberg, Lucas & Ford were deeply involved with the series they had no choice but to further age out the character, to mellow out its edges, to repeat those same notes of hurrah like a stuck vinyl record before it became too depressing to play. There was a bit of a tease near the end of Crystal Skull that perhaps Mutt could become a new star hero with his own set trajectory, but they not only since neglected to follow along that thread they also literally killed it off by having Mutt killed off-screen in Vietnam; unless they decide to really revitalize the series (like, I don’t know, maybe give Alden Ehrenreich a call back?) then it will either stay on the flatlines or worse, it will eventually find a few inches more to grind itself and everyone else away - what we are seeing now with the MCU, essentially, is that Indy stagnation being shifted over to maximum overdrive, powered not by the changing tides of its head creators but by a relentless churning corporate meat machine with a grind-em-till-you-drop mentality.

I was quite amused by the whole RDJ as Dr. Doom reveal as a moderate outsider looking in: it’s very much a cry of desperation but it’s also such an outlandish idea that I bet a lot of people are gonna latch onto it anyways in the same manner a train wreck involving nuclear materials can’t help but be seen (of which I may cry myself guilty on that charge). Then when I thought about it (about that feeling in particular) it was like, Well of course - Marvel Studios is pulling the same old schtick Lucasfilm had done with bringing Emperor Papaltine back for The Rise of Skywalker, complete with bringing along the same array of directors who have recently made Disney some strong bank! Abrams might as well start inviting the Russos over to some clubs at this point

It’s absolute damage control; they’re starting to see the smoke that’s been building up since 2019 and they’re willing to pull anything but the stops to stop it. That 2026 release date feels like it’s only delaying the inevitable.

* I don’t know exactly how inclined British pop culture is to maintaining a kind of spiritual status quo - I can only make vague hints and gestures, and because I’m an American who hasn’t traveled as far around the world as Florida I’m likely dead wrong on all of them - but considering how willing the British side has been with giving new faces and identities to the likes of The Doctor, James Bond, even Sherlock Holmes, and how we aren’t, I can’t help but get the feeling that (amongst other things) we have made our pop culture too religiously sanctified. No wonder we brew so many cults.

obviously there are a bunch of issues with the MCU and I'm not gonna sit here and try to convince everyone that MCU movies are cinema or whatever so don't get what I'm gonna say twisted. I do find their kinda mainstay in cultural media and the dominance they had to be interesting, especially now in an era where the MCU is undeniably falling off and struggling. just as like a cultural analysis I find that interesting and everyone has their opinions of why it happened.

my opinion/theory on why the MCU just crashed is because they sort of forgot what it means to be telling a comic book story, especially a marvel comic book story. Because I've read thousands of issues of various marvel series at this point, across tons of different eras and events, and the thing that makes them last (which is also a thing that drives me personally crazy and I hate so much) is that the status quo doesn't really change. Or when it does, it lasts for a few arcs or years at most and then gets reverted back to the norm eventually. Like the fact that everything is pointless and nothing is a risk is something I loathe, but it is admittedly what keeps them going. If someone just got into comics, they can pick up a modern issue and expect to find Spider-man or Captain America or whoever. They may be introduced to new characters, but the big ones will show up eventually.

And after the last Avengers movie, like half of the mainstay cast are just gone. Which as someone who likes good stories, I think is a good opportunity (which is arguably being wasted but idk I haven't watched any MCU thing in years) to actually shake things up and develop characters that mainstream people are less familiar with and give them a chance to shine and tell interesting stories. But that's not why people like marvel comics.

People like marvel comics because if they want to read about Iron Man, they can pick up any random issue about Iron Man and it will most likely be the Iron Man they know. People like the status quo, and Marvel has never been high literature and has always basically been pulp storytelling, and it gave people status quo and familiarity. And I think Marvel Studios figured this out waaayyy too late.

Because if Marvel actually understood what people like about the comics, they would have embraced recasting major roles from the start. They wouldn't have tied characters' identities so strongly to their actors and would have made it clear that characters can and will continue on with different faces. There is no reason why Tony Stark needs to be RDJ or Steve Rogers needs to be Chris Evans. They would have had plans to not write these characters out of existance the second actors wanted to exit or died or were fired or any of the various reason why actors are no longer involved with the MCU. Hell they had precedent. They didn't have a problem replacing Terrence Howard with Don Cheadle, who are very different looking people who give very different performances, but we know why they felt ok with that recasting but won't recast any of their boys named Chris...

Anyway it seems like they realized that general audiences don't actually like change if its permanent and are learning the wrong lessons with the Doom casting nonsense and the fact that they seem to keep changing what the new story is to fit what they think audiences want.

I'm fine with the MCU dying off and its probably better for media that it does, but again I'm just kinda interested in the fumble from like an objective standpoint because it seemed like they just locked themselves into eventual failure in such a stupid way. Like they could have told the same safe representative Avengers storylines for decades and wouldn't have a meltdown every time an actor in a major role needed to be removed from production if they just accepted that people would be recast as needed. It would be worse for actors and it would be worse for movies in general probably, but it would have kept the MCU churning out pulp like the comics do to this day. But now people are realizing its not just pulp but pulp they don't want and its gonna kill the MCU eventually.

[arc-misadventures]

Goodwitch MFK Jaune Ren Oscar

Glynda: MFK

Glynda: Must I do this?

Port: You lost the bet~!

Oobaleck: So do it!

Glynda: Haa… Fine… Oscar Pine.

Oscar: Yes, Ms. Goodwitch?

Glynda: Kill.

Oscar: What, why?!

Glynda: For starters Mr. Pine you are 15 years old, a minor. Illegal.

Oscar: Oh, good point.

Glynda: Not to mention, Ozpin is in your head… That thought is revolting enough as it is.

Oscar: Shit, I thought this would work…!

Glynda: ‘I?’

Oscar: Uh oh…

Port: The plot thickens!

Oobaleck: How will, Ozpin react?

Glynda: Ozpin…

Oscar: H-Hi, Glynda! How are you…?! Whaaa?!!!!!

Port: And, there he goes straight through the wall, and well on his way into the, Emerald Forest!

Oobaleck: But, will he be able to survive the fall?!

Port: So lomg as he has his semblance, he should be fine!

JR: What semblance?

Port: Haven’t you seen, Ozpi… Oscar’s semblance before?

Jaune: Mmm… No, have you, Ren?

Ren: No I haven’t.

Port: Oh… Oh my…

Glynda: He’ll live. okay… I would… sleep with, Mr. Lie Ren.

Ren: R-Really?

Glynda: Yes, I would… in separate beds, far away from one another as possible.

Ren: Ahh, that makes sense.

Jaune: I don’t get it?

Ren: She would sleep with me, but not sleep-sleep with me.

Jaune: Oh, I get you. Ya, there’s nothing in the rules saying she has to be romantically involved in any of these.

Ren: Of course, she’s a grown woman, she can do want she wants.

Glynda: Why thank you, its so nice to see such smart caring young lads.

JR: No problem Ms. Goodwitch!

Port: What are you talking about!

Oobaleck: There are rules for a reason they have to fu…GRKK?!!

Glynda: You know… Oscar may have, Ozpin’s immortal soul in his body, but his body hasn’t developed the necessary muscles to use those skills. I think he could use some help… Would you like to join him, Oobaleck…?

Oobaleck: N… n… noo…?!

Glynda: Oh, that’s a shame…

Oobaleck: (Gasp!)

Port: Well… Mr. Pine should be fine! why my father used to throw me into, Grimm filled forest all the time! It builds character!

Glynda: Does it now…?

Port: Yes…

Oobaleck: Yes indeed…

Jaune: You think these two know how to handle, Goodwitch since they’ve be around her for so long…

Ren: Apparently not…

Glynda: Now where were we…? Ah yes… I would marry, Jaune. And, at long last, you are mine~!

Ren: What is she talking about?

Jaune: I made a promise when I was six to…

Ren: What?

Jaune: I made a promise to… Glynda…

Port: Speak up, lad!

Jaune: I made a promise when I was six to marry, Glynda!

Ren: Wait… You two have known one another since you were six?

Jaune: She’s my oldest sisters friend! She came to see us all the time, one day I asked her, and she said yes. I was a kid, I thought she was just playing with me! I didn’t think she actually wanted to marry me?!

Glynda: I was just playing with you! Your mon then gave me the ultimatum that either I get married, and if you became of age, and I wasn’t married, I had to marry. And, the last guy I dated became a huge jackass so I was going to confine in my fate, and begrudgingly marry you! Then, you just show up one day, this adorable hunk of a man! With scores of woman chasing after you?! You promised to marry me, an Arc never goes back on their word, so you will marry me, UNDERSTOOD?!!

Jaune: …

Ren: …

Port: …

Oobaleck: …

Jaune: O-Okay…

Glynda: Wonderful~! I’ll go let your mother now, and we can start planning the wedding~!

Jaune: Okay…

Glynda: Also, Jaune, I want to have at least, eight, maybe nine kids. Alright?

Jaune: Trying to beat my moms record? H-Hehe…

Glynda: Oh~! There’s a marvellous idea~! I best ask your mom for advice on that. I’ll see you later love~!

Jaune: …

Ren: Well… Nice knowing you, Jaune?

Oobaleck: Well done, Mr. Arc!

Port: I do believe you will be a fine couple, treat her well, Mr. Arc!

Jaune: …

Jaune: Okay then…

[teamironmanforever]

HIGHLIGHT TRANSLATION OF THE SPANISH DUB ACTOR GUILLERMO ROJAS

Guillermo Rojas - Spanish Dubbing actor for Dean since season 12 until 15x18 (he contracted Covid and was unable to record 15x19 or 15x20 - he has yet to record those) 

INTERVIEWER: “Memo (nickname for Guillermo), I am not sure if you knew, but you broke the internet” 

MEMO: “Yes, a lot of people sought me out when this happened. I am so sorry I wasn’t able to answer at length all of your questions, but I was right in the middle of dealing with Covid. I couldn’t speak without feeling like I was drowning. Right now I am going to (voice) therapy. While it is not too dreary, there are 2 continued effects, so I couldn’t answer everyone who contacted me through various ways - through FB, instagram and an old youtube channel that I haven’t used in years - with respect to the situation that occurred between Dean and his friend (Cas). 

MEMO: “We try to follow (our lines) in what we see of the acting. Remember that dubbing is something where we must make a parallel alignment in our own language. Under the guidelines given to us by the client, we try to expand on all possibilities and all the alignments and - as actors - they permit us to give 100% of ourselves. So there isn’t a limit per se, so long as you don’t go off track (from what was requested from the client)” 

INTERVIEWER: “What were the guidelines for the line that broke the internet” 

MEMO: “It’s curious because neither the director nor us the actors knew much about the tendency that existed. Because we didn’t have much previous information that suggested that something like this would happen. To be honest when we recorded it, we were asking wait what’s happening? I mean we did it, but no one knew this was coming neither in the production studio nor amongst the actors.” 

INTERVIEWER “I need to ask for a clarification here. I mean we are talking about the love declaration Cas made to Dean after 12 years of intense eye-contact. But the big question is Dean’s answer. Because EVERYONE heard in your voice that clear “And I you, Cas”

MEMO “And I you, yes.” 

INTERVIEWER “Where does that “And I you” come from? Was it you? What happened there?” 

“The adaptation came entirely from my director (Adrian Fogarty). He adapted it and gave us our acting guidelines, and I performed accordingly - I gave what he asked of me. We all loved it. We never saw it coming so overtly.... If you remember across all seasons, we rarely see Dean get involved with any women. It just didn’t happen, unlike his brother. He just never got involved. It wasn’t his thing, especially because we have his brother to compare him to. We saw (Sam) in a relationship in the past 2 seasons with Eileen which was a very intense relationship, and very painful in the end. Dean never had to suffer through that. They tied Dean’s pain to the loss of his mother since he lost her more than once.” 

FB question: “So It wasn’t a rogue translator, it was a rogue director”

MEMO: “Look, Fogarty has some really intense abilities and one of them is to adapt the dialogue. When you see him translate a script, when he has the time to do it - even when he is not the one directing - and he leaves it in Spanish. The dialogue said, if I remember correctly, “me too” or something like that and then we switched it to “and I you” due to effects of lip movement, rhythm, etc... We don’t all have the ability that Fogarty has, that speed which he has, to think and translate immediately. We are a team and we work together, and pool our collective abilities, and of course Fogarty does his part. You need a Fogarty in every company.” 

(The interviewer mentioned that her cat hates Sam Winchester and loves dubbed Dean’s voice). 

INTERVIEWER “Do you know what Dean said in the original script before Fogarty got his hands on it?”

“Yes, of course. It made allusions to that. (Fogarty) made the right translation. It said and so do I or me too or something like that. It said it in the (original) script.” 

INTERVIEWER: “When you heard the english version while you recorded yours, did you hear Dean say I love you too?” 

MEMO: “No. If I would have, I would have taken the earphone out and gone what the fuck? *laughs*” 

INTERVIEWER: “What was your favorite episode to film?” 

MEMO: “With my short-term memory, I would say this last one (15x18), because it says so much. In one scene, it says it all. It was impressive, and so beautiful. I never saw it coming.” 

Interviewer “Well you have broken tumblr again.” 

MEMO: “Okay *Laughs*. Well, that’s good. Thank you very much.” 

MEMO: “I think it’s clear to everyone that the fact that he (fogarty?) broke the internet, with this information was a surprise for everyone. Absolutely everyone. Because we all say that if someone wants to be a “real man” we have to be like Dean. In fact it’s something very beautiful for me because it has nothing to do with gender and everything to do with feelings. It was a play by the writers that was marvelous. You didn’t see it coming, but damn do you like it.” 

MEMO: “Nothing was left out of the translation... No I was not called to re-record the “and I you”. I have not been asked to remake the dubbing. My director perfectly understood the texture of the text.” 

INTERVIEWER “Do you know if Supernatural has a quality review for the dubbing through Warner Bros?” 

MEMO: “I would be lying to you if I said yes, but I have been working for WB (LatAM) for many years as both an actor and director. And there is some specific material where they do have “filters”, but with something like supernatural I doubt it. I would assume the one left in charge of all decisions was our director (Fogarty).” 

INTERVIEWER “Have you been interpreting Dean as in love with Castiel this entire time or was it a surprise for you?” 

MEMO: “No, never, it was a surprise. In fact, to be entirely honest, to my closest friends - of the same gender - I do use the phrase “te amo”. I don’t have any issues with that. So I actually thought it went that way - but then I found out it was romantic.” 

INTERVIEWER: “Guillermo, what is your opinion, of destiel now that you know the nature of their relationship.” 

“Well it was a revelation for everyone - including me. I love how they handled it because we didn’t see it coming. And I think, of our understanding of the character’s traits and psychology, we know that if someone knows how to repress their feelings, it’s Dean Winchester. *laughs*” 

INTERVIEWER: “What would you say to Cas if he came back from the empty?” 

MEMO: “He came back?! (he hasn’t seen 15x19 or x20)

INTERVIEWER: “No I am saying what would he say IF he did” 

MEMO: “Oh, okay. I was under the assumption that I said I loved him so long as he wasn’t planning on coming back! *laughs* Well if he returns I guess I would say “Hello, Cas”.  

INTERVIEWER: *Tells MEMO about the not for nothing cas but the last person who looked at me like that I got laid” 

MEMO: OKAAAAY *laughs* That was too much. *laughs* 

INTERVIEWER: Would you be this fandom’s Godfather? 

MEMO: But of course *smiles* This was a big thing, from what I see. 

INTERVIEWER: “What message would you give to the fans who are descovering the spanish dub?” 

“first, thanks a lot of being part of the mexican dubbing. We do this job with all the heart and all the passion that we have. And I think I speak for all involved in this industry. We are glad to note that there are so many people from other countries that are watching these new projects in another language. So I have no words but thanks a lot.” 

INTERVIWER: “What would be your ideal ending for Dean Winchester” 

MEMO “I think, for all of them, they have sacrificed their lives and that of their loved ones for the safety and well being of everyone else. I think if anyone deserves to be well, happy, and calm, at least it’s those three (Sam, Cas, and Dean).” 

INTERVIEWER: “What about jack?” 

MEMO “Jack did attach himself to them, but I think he could find happiness in another nest.” *laughs* 

[sineala]

How would you say fandom culture has changed over the years? What are some differences you notice between older and younger fandom folks?

I’ve been thinking for a while about how to answer this, and I’m not sure I have a really good answer, but I’m going to try.

I’ve been in fandom since approximately 1995. Maybe 1994. At that point, the world wide web was a relatively new part of the internet, and the fandoms I was in had most of their activity on privately-hosted mailing lists (predating eGroups/OneList/Yahoo Groups) and on Usenet newsgroups, with fiction beginning to be available on websites as part of either fandom-specific or pairing-specific archives as well as authors’ individual pages. Fanfiction.net did not yet exist. LiveJournal did not exist. AO3 definitely did not exist. If you wanted real-time chat, there was IRC. I was coming in basically at the tail end of zine fandom; zines were no longer the only way of distributing fanfiction, as fandom started to move online. So I have a selection of zines from 90s-era Western media fandoms but even by then zines weren’t where I was doing most of my reading.

I think in terms of generally “what it was like to be in fandom,” the big-picture stuff hasn’t changed. Fandom still produces creative fanwork and likes to, y’know, get together and talk about fandom. Also, almost every fight or complaint that fandom has about something is a thing that has been going on for actual years. People complain that, say, the kudos button is ruining comment culture because back in the LJ days the only way you could comment on a story was, well, by leaving an actual comment, or sending an email on a mailing list, and this might mean that people who would have otherwise commented have left a kudos instead. But back in the LJ and mailing list days, people were complaining that commenting was going downhill since the days of zines, when in order to comment on a story you had to write a real paper letter and mail it and because you had to do that, the quality of feedback was so much better than you got nowadays because people could just dash off a quick email or comment. You get the idea. Top/bottom wars are not new either. Pairing wars are not new. If you’ve been in fandom a while, you will pretty much have seen all the fights already. I think one thing that is new, though, is the fandom awareness of things like privilege and intersectionality and various -isms, as well as things like “providing warnings might be nice” (do you know how much unwarned deathfic I have read? a lot!) and I sure won’t say we’re perfect at any of this now, but I think fandom is trying way way more about all that stuff than it used to.

There are some fights we actually don’t have anymore, as far as I can tell. I feel like it’s been years since I’ve seen the “real person fiction is wrong” battle, but also I don’t hang out in a whole lot of RPF fandoms, so it’s possible that’s still going and I just don’t see it.

There also used to be a recurring debate about whether gay relationships that were canonical were slash or not. When slash started, obviously this wasn’t a question because there weren’t canonical gay relationships in fandoms, period. But as gay characters began to appear in media, people started to wonder “does slash mean all same-sex relationships, or does slash mean only non-canonical same-sex relationships?” Now, you may be reading this and think that sounds like an incredibly weird thing to get hung up on, but that’s because what appears to have happened is that the term “ship” (originally from X-Files Mulder/Scully fandom) has, as far as I can tell, come up and eaten most of the rest of the terminology. Now people will just say, ��oh, I ship that.” For any pairing, gay or not, canonical or not. Fandom seems to have decided that for the most part it no longer actually needs a term specific to same-sex relationships as a genre.

Similarly, there are a few genres of fic that we used to have also pretty much don’t exist anymore. There are also plenty of genres that are well-entrenched now that are also extremely recent -- A/B/O comes to mind. But there are some kinds of fic we don’t write a lot of now. Like, I haven’t seen smarm in years! I also haven’t seen We’re Not Gay We Just Love Each Other in a while. There was also a particular style of slash writing where you’d basically have to explain, in detail, what made you think that these particular characters could be anything other than straight. You’d have to motivate this decision. You’d have to look at their canonical heterosexual relationships and come up with a way to explain why all those had happened in order to reconcile how this one guy could have romantic feelings for another guy. When had he figured out he wasn’t straight? Who might he have been with before? How does he interact with people in ways that make you think he’s not straight? That kind of thing. You had to, essentially, show your work. And these days a lot of fanfic is just like, “Okay, Captain America is bisexual, let’s go!” It’s... different.

Fandom also used to skew older, is my sense. A lot older. I don’t know, actually, if it really was older, but I get the sense now that there are some younger people who are surprised that adults are still in fandom. I have seen people saying these days that they think they’re too old for fanfiction because they are not in middle school anymore. And I think a lot of this has to do with the fact that the barriers to access fandom are a lot lower than they used to be. You used to basically have to be an adult with disposable income (or know an adult with disposable income who was willing to help you out; but even then if you were reading explicit fiction you also had to swear you were 18+, usually by sending in an age statement to whoever you were buying the zine from or to the mods of the list you wanted to join, so a lot of fandom was very much age-gated). Internet access was not widely available. Even if you had internet access, you maybe didn’t have your own email address, so you couldn’t sign up for mailing lists; free email providers didn’t exist. If you wanted to buy zines, you had to have money to buy them. If you wanted to go to cons, you had to be able to afford the cost of the con, travel to the con, et cetera. If you wanted to have a website you had to know HTML. Social media did not exist. You want to draw art? Guess what, you’re probably drawing it on paper! You might be able to upload a picture to your website if you have a digital camera or a scanner, but both of those things are expensive, and also a lot of people don’t have the capability or the money to download pictures from the internet (some people have data caps with overage charges, and some people have text-only connections!), so they won’t get to see it. Maybe you can sell your piece at a con! You want to make a fanvid? We called them songvids, but, anyway, you know how you’re doing that? You’re going to hook two VCRs together and smash the play and record buttons very fast! If you want anyone else to watch them, you are either making them a tape personally and mailing it to them or bringing your vids to a convention. Maybe you can digitize them and upload them, but it’s going to take people hours to download them!

(Every three hours my ISP would kick me off the internet and I’d have to dial in again. If it was a busy time of day, it might take me 20 or 30 minutes to get a connection again. And that was assuming no one else in the house needed to use the phone line. Imagine if your modem went out every three hours now.)

And now, for the cost of my internet connection, I can read pretty much whatever fanfiction I want, whenever I want it. I can see all the fanart I want! I can watch vids! Podfic exists now! Fanmixes exist! Gifsets and moodboards exist! If I want to write fic I can write it with programs that are completely free, and as soon as I post it everyone in the entire world can read it. If I want to draw or make vids that may require some additional investment, but I may also be able to do it with things I already have. Do you have any idea how good we all have it?

There are a couple of kinds of fan activity that don’t seem to exist anymore, though, and I miss them. I know that roleplaying still goes on, but I feel like these days most people who do real-time text roleplay have switched to things like Discord. I know that in the LJ days, RP communities were popular. But I really miss MU*s (MUDs, MUSHes, MOOs, MUXes..), which were servers for real-time text-based RP with a bunch of... hmm... features to aid RP. There were virtual rooms with text descriptions, and objects in virtual rooms with descriptions, and your character had a description, and they could interact with the objects as well as with other characters, and you could program things to change descriptions or emit various kinds of text or take you to different rooms, and so on. Just to, y’know, enhance the atmosphere. It was fun and it was where I learned to RP and I’m sad they’re pretty much gone now.

I also don’t think I see a lot of fanfiction awards in fandoms. Wonder where they went.

Going back to the previous point, the barriers to actually consuming the canon you are fannish about are way, way, way lower now. You can pretty much take it for granted that if right now someone tells you about a shiny new fandom, there will be a way to read that book or watch that show or movie right now. Possibly for free! Of course you can watch it! Why wouldn’t you be able to?

This was absolutely, absolutely not the case before. I’m currently in Marvel Comics fandom. If there is a comic I want to read, I can read it right now on the internet. I have subscribed to Marvel Unlimited and I can read pretty much every comic that is older than three months old; the newer ones cost extra money. But I can do it all from the comfort of my own home right now. I was also, actually, in Marvel Comics fandom in the nineties. If I wanted to read a comic, I had to go to a comic book store and hope they had it in stock; if they didn’t, I had to try another store. Not a lot of comics were available in trade paperback and they definitely weren’t readable on the internet. I used to read a lot of Gambit h/c fic set after Uncanny X-Men #350. I never found a copy of UXM #350. I still haven’t! But I did eventually read it on Unlimited.

Being in TV show fandoms also had similar challenges. Was the show you were watching still on the air? No? Then you’d better hope you could find it in reruns, or know someone who had tapes of it that they could copy for you, otherwise you weren’t watching that show. It was, I think, pretty common for people to be in fandoms for shows they hadn’t seen, because they had no way to see the show, but they loved all the fanfic. The Sentinel had a whole lot of fans like that, both because I think it took a while for it to end up in reruns and because overseas distribution was probably poor. So you’d get people who read the fic and wrote fic based on the other fic they’d read, which meant that you got massive, massive amounts of fanon appearing that people just assumed was in the show because it was a weirdly specific detail that appeared in someone’s fic once. Like “Jim and Blair’s apartment has a small water heater” (not actually canonical) or “Blair is a vegetarian” (there’s an episode where his mother visits and IIRC cooks him one of his favorite meals, which is beef tongue).

Like, I was in The Professionals fandom for years. I read all the fic. I hadn’t seen the show. As far as I know, it never aired in the US, and it certainly never had any kind of US VHS or DVD release. I’d seen a couple songvids. I eventually saw a couple episodes in maybe 2003, and that was because my dad special-ordered a commercial VHS tape from the UK and paid someone to convert it from PAL to NTSC. I didn’t get to see the whole show until several years later when I got a region-free DVD player someone in fandom sent me burned copies of the UK DVD releases and then I special-ordered the commercial release of the DVDs from the UK myself. But if I were a new fan and wanted to watch Pros right now? It is on YouTube! For free!

I think also one of the things about fandom that’s not immediately evident to new fans is the way in which it is permanent and/or impermanent. There are probably people whose first fannish experience is on Tumblr or who only read fanfic on FFN and who have no idea what they would do if either site, say, just shut down. But if you’ve been in fandom a while, you’ve been through, say, Discord, Tumblr, Twitter, Pillowfort, Imzy, DW, JournalFen, LJ, GeoCities, IRC, mailing lists. And sure, if Tumblr closed, it would be inconvenient. But fandom would pack up and move somewhere else. You would find it again. It would, eventually, be okay. Similarly, if you’ve been in a lot of fandoms, if you’ve made a lot of friends, drifting through fandoms is like that. You’ll make a friend in 1998 because you were in the same fandom, and then you might go your own ways, and ten years later you might be in another fandom with them again! It happens.

But the flip side of that is that I think a lot of older fans have learned not to trust in the permanence of any particular site. If you like a story, you save it as soon as you read it. If you like a piece of art, you save it. If you like a vid, you save it. Because you don’t know when the site it’s on will be gone for good. I have, like, twenty years of lovingly-curated fanfic. And I feel like people who have only been in fandom since AO3 existed might not understand how much AO3 is a game-changer compared to what we had before. It’s a site where you can put your fic up and you don’t have to worry that the webhost is going out of business, or that the site might delete your work because they don’t allow gay fiction or explicit fiction or fiction written in second person or fiction for fandoms where the creator doesn’t like fanfiction, or whatever. Because all of those things have absolutely happened. But, I mean, I still save pretty much everything I like, even on AO3, just in case.

So, basically, yeah, fandom is a whole lot more accessible than it used to be. I think fandom is pretty much still fandom, but it’s a lot easier to get into, and that has made it way more open to people who wouldn’t have been able to be in fandom before. There is so, so much more now than there ever was before, and I think that’s great.

[lotusthewriter]

Square One

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: T

Relationships: Tony & Peter

Characters: Tony Stark, Peter Parker, Happy Hogan; MINOR - Morgan Stark; MENTIONED - Pepper Potts, May Parker

Summary: “Speaking of that,” Tony remembers, “how’s the kid?”

The other man legitimately frowns. “Kid? You saw Morgan, didn’t you?”

Tony frowns, “Hap, come on. I mean the kid.” Happy only blinks like he knows nothing. “Peter? Peter Parker?”

Even being told his name, Happy only recognizes it after an entire minute. “Oh, Peter! I… I actually met him yesterday,” he says.

“… Happy, are you playing a prank on me?” Tony laughs nervously. “I know you’re right to be angry after I was gone for one whole year but come on, don’t joke about that.”

“No, Tony, I’m serious. I met him yesterday when we went to his aunt’s grave.”

“His… what ?”

Word count: 2.992

AO3

A/N: I have not seen No Way Home and I refuse to, I’ll just stay right here in my chair and make Irondad canon. RIP to Marvel but I’m different.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - canonical character death, past character death, trauma and implied suicidal thoughts

SPOILERS FOR NO WAY HOME.

--

Waking up after knowing you’d die is… certainly not too surprising.

He laughed at the face of death multiple times. Turns out the universe cannot kill Tony Stark, even if it wanted to. Even if he tried to accept that.

Problem is this time is not immediate.

Tony wakes up near his home, likely his own grave at the small and nice woods around his cabin house in the middle of nowhere. Some lady was walking there with her daughter. The child gasped and pointed at Tony like he was a shining star. Well. The mother’s jaw was not as dropped as his own stomach.

His right arm is… alright, like he didn’t snap his fingers in the first place. Maybe he time travelled? Even if he doesn’t have the stones with him…

Either way, Tony takes the way home, already meeting Morgan playing by the garden. Morgan doesn’t question it – she simply runs all the way to him to give him the biggest hug.

“I knew you’d come back,” Morgan tells him.

Tony laughs, “I always come back.”

Pepper is surprised, though. Apparently, Tony has been away for an entire year. He really wonders if he actually travelled through time. He’ll make sure to make the necessary calculations and experiments to find that out.

It’s so strange, because Tony feels like he’s only hibernated, not… died. He remembers Pepper staying with him when he died. Remembers telling him he could rest. Pepper and his now six-year-old daughter have had to live without him all this time.

His wife stays a good three hours glued to Tony like he would disappear at any minute. In the meantime, he played a lot with Morgan to make up for the lost time. By the end of the day, Tony promised he wouldn’t be away, and would just call his other friends.

He leaves a video message to Rhodey, who for any reason is busy today. Rhodey will probably go straight to his house and ground him for eternity. Fair.

Finally, Tony decides to call Happy, to know about a certain spider-kid. He wonders how Peter is. Peter was… very devastated before Tony collapsed.

We did it, Mr. Stark.

I’m sorry, Tony.

It rings for a while, but Happy eventually picks up. His voice is very much confused.

“Tony?” He asks for confirmation.

“The man himself.”

There’s a good silence.

“This isn’t recorded, right? You’re not a robot?” Happy questions.

“No, Happy, it’s me. I can send you a picture. I’m at home right now.”

With the suggestion, Happy does videocall him. Save for his gray beard, he hasn’t changed too much. And he seems to have learned how to actually do videocalls.

Waking up after knowing you’d die is… certainly not too surprising.

He laughed at the face of death multiple times. Turns out the universe cannot kill Tony Stark, even if it wanted to. Even if he tried to accept that.

Problem is this time is not immediate.

Tony wakes up near his home, likely his own grave at the small and nice woods around his cabin house in the middle of nowhere. Some lady was walking there with her daughter. The child gasped and pointed at Tony like he was a shining star. Well. The mother’s jaw was not as dropped as his own stomach.

His right arm is… alright, like he didn’t snap his fingers in the first place. Maybe he time travelled? Even if he doesn’t have the stones with him…

Either way, Tony takes the way home, already meeting Morgan playing by the garden. Morgan doesn’t question it – she simply runs all the way to him to give him the biggest hug.

“I knew you’d come back,” Morgan tells him.

Tony laughs, “I always come back.”

Pepper is surprised, though. Apparently, Tony has been away for an entire year. He really wonders if he actually travelled through time. He’ll make sure to make the necessary calculations and experiments to find that out.

It’s so strange, because Tony feels like he’s only hibernated, not… died. He remembers Pepper staying with him when he died. Remembers telling him he could rest. Pepper and his now six-year-old daughter have had to live without him all this time.

His wife stays a good three hours glued to Tony like he would disappear at any minute. In the meantime, he played a lot with Morgan to make up for the lost time. By the end of the day, Tony promised he wouldn’t be away, and would just call his other friends.

He leaves a video message to Rhodey, who for any reason is busy today. Rhodey will probably go straight to his house and ground him for eternity. Fair.

Finally, Tony decides to call Happy, to know about a certain spider-kid. He wonders how Peter is. Peter was… very devastated before Tony collapsed.

We did it, Mr. Stark.

I’m sorry, Tony.

It rings for a while, but Happy eventually picks up. His voice is very much confused.

“Tony?” He asks for confirmation.

“The man himself.”

There’s a good silence.

“This isn’t recorded, right? You’re not a robot?” Happy questions.

“No, Happy, it’s me. I can send you a picture. I’m at home right now.”

With the suggestion, Happy does videocall him. Save for his gray beard, he hasn’t changed too much. And he seems to have learned how to actually do videocalls.

“Oh my god,” Happy gasps. “Pinch me.”

“I would if I was there,” Tony smirks.

“Tony… Tony, you’re really back?” Happy laughs, living up to this name. “Oh, man. I don’t know what to say. If only you knew what happened…”

“Looks like everything went south without me, huh?” Tony jokes.

Happy doesn’t laugh at that. “Oh, you have no idea…”

“Speaking of that,” Tony remembers, “how’s the kid?”

The other man legitimately frowns. “Kid? You saw Morgan, didn’t you?”

Tony frowns, “Hap, come on. I mean the kid.” Happy only blinks like he knows nothing. “Peter? Peter Parker?”

Even being told his name, Happy only recognizes it after an entire minute.

“Oh, Peter! I… I actually met him yesterday,” he says.

“… Happy, are you playing a prank on me?” Tony laughs nervously. “I know you’re right to be angry after I was gone for one whole year but come on, don’t joke about that.”

“No, Tony, I’m serious. I met him yesterday when we went to his aunt’s grave.”

“His… what ?”

Happy looks down in sorrow. He’s not kidding; not that he would ever kid about that.

“May died yesterday. We couldn’t save her,” he explains, guilty.

“… No,” Tony whispers, “No… No, Happy, please tell me that didn’t actually happen. I must be still dead. There’s no way…”

Happy sighs. “I’m sorry, Tony. Apparently, no one remembers what happened. I don’t remember what happened. Peter won’t tell me…”

Tony only tries to deny May’s death, but Happy truly looks like he’s aged ten years. It only happened yesterday. Tony initially thinks, I could’ve saved her if I got there in time. But it shouldn’t be his course of action. Blaming himself is never helpful.

“Where’s Peter?” He asks, taking a deep breath.

“He’s living with me at my apartment. He won’t come out of his room for anything…”

His kid is suffering, Tony can tell. Peter only shuts out when something happens. He cannot imagine how he must be feeling after losing his aunt. May was the only family he still had after Ben.

“I’ll be right there, alright? The kid will probably not believe I’m real, but I’ll be there for him,” Tony assumes, not laughing about it. “I’ll call a suit. And give you a hug, because you look like you need it, Hap.”

“Yeah, I won’t deny it,” Happy sighs again. “Thanks, Tony. I’ll be waiting.”

“Thank you for taking care of Peter, too. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Alright. See you, Tony.”

“Bye.”

Yeah, everything truly went to shit without him. He just wonders why it took so long for him to come back. Well, he can’t change it so he must act.

Pepper isn’t confident to let Tony alone after just being brought back. She doesn’t want to wake up again and not find him with her in their room. Tony promises he’ll be back home. Just like he told Morgan, he’ll always come back, no matter what happens. Apparently, not even if he straight up dies. Death isn’t match to him.

Tony flies to Happy’s apartment, the same one after years. New York doesn’t look like it’s changed. But considering Happy – and Pepper and Morgan too when Tony told them about Peter – doesn’t remember anything from before, he wonders if the world was really reset.

It takes at least five minutes to arrive, and Happy is already waiting at the door. He’s the one who hugs Tony first, for that matter. Oh, he missed the big guy.

“Peter is right there,” Happy points at the door. “You try not to scare him too much, okay?”

“No promises.” Tony sighs, “Alright, here we go.”

The hero hesitates before knocking on the door, and slowly opening it as there’s no answer, finding what seems to be a simple guest room and a miserable, small figure on their knees on the floor.

“Kid?” Tony tries.

Peter instantly raises his head, and Tony notices the kid has been crying just in one glance. And like Pepper, the teen is completely horrified. But more horrified than everyone that saw Tony again.

“No,” Peter shakes his head, “No, please don’t do this to me.”

Tony’s heart aches at how deniable he sounds. “Peter—”

“You’re not real. You can’t be real. Dr. Strange is just messing with me, isn’t he? Are you Dr. Strange?” Peter sobs, his eyes filling with tears again. “I know I messed up, okay? Please leave me alone.”

“No, Peter, it’s me. I would never hurt you, no matter if you messed up or not.”

Peter continues to deny it. “This is my punishment, isn’t it? Not a single friend of mine remembers me and now I have to remember I killed him?”

So, this is what happened, isn’t it? Dr. Strange is behind all of this? That sounds like the guy.

“Peter, believe me, I’m as confused as you are. I don’t even know how I got back,” Tony admits, “But it’s really me, on the flesh. I’m right here, kiddo.”

“Prove it. Just prove it for once. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Tony tries not to cry with Peter, as he must be strong.

“The last thing I remember was seeing you cry, and how much I didn’t want you to cry. You were begging for me to stay. I wanted to, kid. I would’ve stayed if I weren’t so weak.” He replays the whole scene in his head. “The thing I remember before that was finally holding you. I’d missed you so much, Pete. You’d woken up just like I did today: without any memories, like we were just in a deep sleep. You had no idea what was going on and you were telling me the entire story again. And all I could think was that I’d gotten my kid back. I could finally hold you again.”

Peter stays quiet but he cries more, except he doesn’t sob for now. At Tony’s heartfelt words, the kid seems to believe him.

“I-I really messed up, Mr. Stark.”

Tony takes that as a sign to sit in front of him but allow the space Peter needs. What must the kid be thinking, he’ll never know.

“Tell me what happened,” Tony requests, softly.

Peter sniffs. “E-Everyone found out who I really was. My friends and my aunt were getting hurt for it. MJ and Ned couldn’t get into MIT, May couldn’t get another job, everyone struggled because of me,” he swallows his sob. “I-I asked Dr. Strange to erase everyone’s memories, but that collapsed the whole multiverse somehow. There were other villains, other Spider-Men, it almost destroyed the entire world.” He pauses to regain breath. “I thought I could fix it. I thought I could fix the villains because they were just people who were done wrong. The other two Spider-Men too, they just wanted to go home. And- they did, sure, that’s good, but Dr. Strange actually casted the spell and everything was back to normal. But I didn’t expect people not to remember my face at all. I’m a nobody, Mr. Stark.”

That’s… quite a lot of information, but like Tony said, Peter was in the same place not too long ago. He knows some things, though:

“Alright. Remind me to kick Strange’s ass later,” Tony tells him, not joking. He’s quite too serious. That would do. “But gosh, kid. I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now. I… I really don’t know what to say. Only that I could’ve helped you if I were there, but…” Tony sighs, “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Peter sniffs again. “I-I lost May, Mr. Stark. I couldn’t save her. I killed my family again.”

“Oh, no, kiddo. You didn’t kill May.”

“But she died because the Green Goblin got to her, and he got here because of me. S-She would’ve been just fine if I didn’t ask for that stupid cast,” the teenager pulls his own unkept brown curls. “Maybe it’s best if MJ and Ned don’t remember me at all. They could’ve died, too. Everyone dies because of me, so maybe I should just disappear.”

“No, no, don’t say that. Peter,” Tony begs, “please don’t say that.”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? May isn’t gonna come back. I thought you wouldn’t come back either, and- and I didn’t do anything when you died. That’s how Ben and my parents died, too, I’m dangerous, I’ll kill everyone. I might even kill Happy. I-I should just run away.”

“No, I’m not letting you do that.”

“Why? W-Why won’t you stay away from me?” Peter’s voice shatters. “Why won’t you stay with your family?”

Although Tony’s heart definitely breaks, he stays.

“Because you’re my family too, Peter.”

Peter shakes his head but only seems to cry more.

“T-Tony, you need to stay away from me. I d-don’t want to kill you again.”

For once the older man approaches a hand. Peter freezes like a deer caught in headlights as soon as Tony touches him. The other is also shocked. He didn’t remember feeling Peter’s presence. He didn’t remember what holding Peter felt like. Until now.

Peter’s cheek is pretty much wet and red and kind of gross, but Tony doesn’t care. Peter’s hand touches his, too. That’s the kid’s cue to throw his arms around Tony, like he’d been holding in for all this time.

Tony sighs and hugs him back as tight as he can, as Peter sobs in his shoulder. Tony kisses the side of his neck, no longer hiding his own tears.

“I’ve got you, kiddo,” he reassures his kid. “I’m glad I still remember you.”

Peter breaks at this sentence, his weight sinking in Tony’s arms. He sobs so loudly, so painfully, but Tony knows he has been hiding this for so long, so he lets him sob and grieve and cry as much as he needs.

“I swear, Pete, you don’t deserve to be alone. You really don’t.”

The teen hiccups, “B-But I messed up so badly…”

“Nothing could ever make you deserve to be forgotten. You’re so lovable, kid. If I ever had to forget you, I would be the saddest man alive.”

Peter laughs, “Y-You’re exaggerating, right?”

“No, I’m not.” Tony sobs as well, “Why do you think I snapped?”

“Tony…” Peter’s grip loses itself a little, but it tightens again. “I’m not worth it.”

The hero sighs. “It’s okay if you don’t believe me yet. But I’ll prove it to you, Pete, you’re so much worth it, and your aunt and your friends knew it. Your uncle knew it. None of them are gone because of you. It’s because sometimes the world is cruel, and it’s crueler to some people. But it’s not your fault the world is fucked up.”

Peter thinks over it. “E-Even if I destroyed it?”

“Even then, Pete. You destroyed it because it destroyed you. And yet you still wanted to fix it again.”

The kid finally looks like he’s listening and believing Tony’s words, but obviously he’s not any less hurt.

“I-I just want May back,” he begs.

“I know. I know, kiddo.” Tony takes some of the kid’s hair and smooths it. “I miss her, too.”

He remembers May’s scent and how excited she was, how much she loved Peter and wanted to protect him and look after him the best she could. Tony misses their talks, their coffee breaks, he misses the time he asked her about having kids because he would dream so much about it, and she would imply he already had one, but that Peter would love little siblings.

The news of her death was like a punch to his stomach, it hurt as much as Thanos’ stab against him. He hasn’t quite accepted it. Imagine how Peter must feel, then.

Losing a parent, losing someone when they’re right there and you can do nothing but watch…

He can only hope he doesn’t lose anyone else again.

“I’ll stick in with you, Peter. I promise. If you let me, we’ll figure this out. We’ll beat the hell out of Dr. Strange together.”

Peter laughs, “He’d beat your ass first, though.”

“Don’t test me, kiddo. I beat a god once.”

“Right.” Peter pauses. “I just wish I could go home,” he whispers.

Tony caresses his back. “Me too, kiddo. At least we’ve got each other.”

“Yeah…” Peter finally relaxes in his hug, even if for now. “I’ve got you back, Tony.”

Tony smiles, not minding if the kid takes a nap right there.

“Yeah, you did.”

[gingeraleluke]

𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗹𝗲𝗿𝘀

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: tom holland x fem!reader

𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: your boyfriend got home just in time to watch his most recent interview on tv with you.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: swearing, nothing just fluff! :)

𝗔/𝗡: this is my first time writing for tom so i hope you guys like it!! <3

this is based on the spider-man: far from home interview with jimmy kimmel!

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

the young girls heart was silent for the first nineteen years of her life. nothing but a faint heartbeat and some clouded thoughts of little to nothing inconsistencies. from the moment she first opened her eyes as a baby, separating her fingers and spreading her toes while her newly polished eyes tried making sense of her surroundings, to the ripe summer when her mother insisted she become a camp counselor to succumb enough money to buy her very own long-overdue car. the girl felt nothing.

the teens she longed to be alike were a mere hourglass, y/n a shadow. portraying their success and growth without mirroring any of her own, she felt like a weak duckling surrounded by marvelous swans. she would spend her youth watching blondes fall for brunettes on television, plopping popcorn into her mouth while pressing rewind on her favorite romantics, watching the way they would look at eachother and move with one another. she never thought she could be able to experience that. everything inside her was too quiet, too plain.

and then she met tom. it became loud, too loud, and she loved it. everything she thought she could never achieve, she achieved with him. her colorless days no longer existed and she fell deeper and deeper in love with him everyday.

switching the tv from some medical soap opera, y/n sat on her couch. she wore nothing but a plain bra and a pair of baby blue satin shorts. normally, she’d cover up more, especially if she had company over, but tom was a different kind of company and a comfortable one at that.

“THOMAS HURRY UP!” she could hear her boyfriend yell a faint, “i’m coming,” through the noise of the water running. shortly after, the shower stopped as y/n scrolled mindlessly through her phone, impatient.

she expected to see her boyfriend walk out of the bathroom, a trail of steam behind him, but instead she heard the loud roar of a hairdryer.

“for fucks sake-“ her mouth was lacking the salty and buttery flavor she craved so she took the opportunity to use her time by putting some popcorn in the microwave while her boyfriend blowed out his hair.

as she watched the minutes on the timer go down, the machine dinged as she grabbed a bowl and poured the snack inside it. she made her way back to the bench sofa and extended her legs out on the grey island cushions. the lace on the trim of her shorts tickled her feet as she folded her legs. “TOM HURRY THE FUCK UP, ITS ALMOST STARTING!”

the girls mouth was full as she yelled, losing patience with the boy. “IM SORRY, IM COMING!”

minutes later, a shirtless tom holland, wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his waist, appeared in their shared living room. the girls eyes grew big, his doing the same as he took in her taboo and exposed form.

“what- tom! you haven’t even gotten dressed yet?!”

“well, neither have you, apparently! plus, this is pretty comfortable, is it not?”

“tom-“ she warned.

“i got it, i got it..” his bare feet slapped against the hardwood floors as he quickly ran into their bedroom and retrieved his clothes. he came back out wearing a black t shirt and a pair of light blue sweatpants.

“KIMMEL IS STARTING!” she pointed at the tv and looked over to see tom bounce down onto the couch next to her, sprawling his legs out like she had done earlier.

“baby, that’s just the intro, i’m not there yet.” she peered over at him.

“who said i’m watching this for you?” he turned his head and made a sarcastic face.

“yeah, sure..” he mocked.

“WAIT, i need my blanket! go, get it, i don’t want to miss this!”

“y/n, it hasn’t even started yet-“

“now tom!”

“but what if i miss it!”

“you were there, you already know what happens-“ you lightly shoved his clothed knee and he sprung to his feet, so fast that tessa jolted up and ran after him.

“tessa! calm down!” the dog didn’t listen and continued following her dad, panting the whole way back.

once they were settled, jimmy announced his upcoming guests before a quick commercial break.

“quick, my ass..” she muttered.

tom stifled a chuckle. “why are you so bent up about this? you’ve seen my interviews before!”

“yeah, but i’ve never been able to actually watch one with you! it’s like… an entirely different experience!”

he didn’t believe her. “are you sure that’s the real reason? or is it because you just want me to give you secret info on the film, because love, you know i can’t do that, not after last time.”

she placed a hand on her chest playfully, “tom! i would never, how could you think of me like that?! as if i would ever do such a thing!”

“mmhmm..”

the commercials came to an end and y/n looked up to see jimmy start announcing the cast.

“shit, oh my god, it’s happening.”

“shhh, calm down!” tom laughed, placing a hand on your shoulder, his other arm sprawled out behind the frame of the sofa.

“how can i keep calm!? my fucking BOYFRIEND is about to be on tv! you know how many people can say that they are dating spider-man? like, no one!” her knee was bouncing and she couldn’t contain the excitement. watching someone on television while sitting in the same room with them was a rush she had never felt before.

she was loud as hell inside.

“please welcome, tom hol-“

“WHOOOOO, YEAH!!” she started clapping dramatically and stood up for a quick second, her eyes glued to the tv as she watched her boyfriend appear, while her actual boyfriend sat there laughing at her excitement.

they did a stupid elevator bit, before him and everyone else walked up to their chairs.

“really, tom?” his dark eyes flickered to hers. “what?! i thought you would like it, it’s funny!” she rolled her eyes and smiled, thinking to herself: my boyfriend is a dork, even on national television.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“oh my god, you all look so good.”

“i know, right?”

“look at jake!”

“yeah-“

“look at zendaya!”

“i know-“

“OH MY GOD LOOK A-“

“OKAY Y/N, i get it, everyone but me is attractive, thanks. you’ve made it pretty clear.” he frowned as you gushed over how good his coworkers looked.

“yes, tom! i think you look awful, that’s why i’ve been dating you for the past four years, because i think you are ugly.”

he looked at his girlfriend, uncertainty in his eyes.

“oh, come on, i’m joking! you’re beautiful, come here.” she grabbed the side of his head and pulled him over so his head was laying on her chest. she began to play with his hair while watching.

“so the trailer came out, the trailer got like 135 million views within the first hour-“

“yeah it did!” she exclaimed, her fingers busy in his hair.

“see, i didn’t know that then.” he muttered, his brows furrowing together as tessa looked up at him from y/n’s lap.

“well it’s no secret, i’m not very good at instagram.”

y/n bursted out laughing. it wasn’t even that funny, but all of her emotions where heightened in this moment.

“oh god, i know where this is going.. this is the zendaya story isn’t it?” you smirk down at him and he lifts his head to nod at you.

“i knew it..”

“i basically.. forgot to post the trailer.”

“that’s bad.”

“yes jimmy, yes it is.” she couldn’t contain the snickers leaving her mouth and tom protested against it.

“listen, it’s difficult for some people, okay!”

“mmhmm, whatever you say baby.” she remembers distinctly, waking up and asking her boyfriend why he never posted the trailer, which caused him to wind up into a frenzy and immediately contact zendaya for assistance.

“well, you wouldn’t tell me how to!”

“tom, you’re a grown man! you should be able to figure that out yourself, peter parker.” she leaned over and kissed his cheek, his arm wrapped around her.

“so you’re IT for the team?”

“yeah, y/n, making poor zendaya the it for the team-“

“oh, shush, it was funny as fuck. but not as funny as the time you spoi-“

he placed his finger on her lips to quiet her, “oh, stop it!” she giggled in response.

she watched as zendaya recalled the moment she had to screen record how to delete an instagram story for him, which was another thing y/n refused to help him with. sure, she loves him and all, but watching the panic on his face as he realizes that he messed up, always cracked her up. especially since he brags about how ‘tech savvy’ he is for his age.

“it’s not my fault you’re a grampa!”

“yeah, we’ll, you’re dating a grampa!”

“true, i am.”

her hands reached towards her blanket as she put her popcorn bowl down and laid the covering over her and her boyfriend. the grey weighted blanket matching the couch perfectly.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“okay, wait…why are you guys still in highschool?!” y/n had paused the program to engage in a very serious and heated discussion about the aftermath of endgame which led up to the beginning of his new movie, far from home, which had yet to come out.

“i mean.. it’s five years! i’m so confused.” tom sighed, placing his hands on his knees, he sat up straight. “like i said in the interview, y/n, i don’t know.”

“well… ask the russo brothers! i mean, jacob is right, that’s a huge plothole!”

toms eyes sparkled as he looked at his lover trying to make sense of the whole thing.

“i… i don’t even know what to say right now. my whole life is a lie!”

“okay, let’s not get too dramatic here-“

“NO, tom! as an avengers fanatic, i need to know!” she gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged, his body jolting forwards.

“tell me!” she shook him as he laughed and tessa barked.

“i don’t know, baby!” she frowned slightly and looked at her boyfriends amused face.

“i’m dating spider-man, you’d think i’d get the inside scoop.” she rolled her eyes and placed her legs back up on the cushions. tom leaned over and looked her up and down, flickering from her bare chest and her eyes. he leaned into her neck and started planting kisses. “i’m sorry, i will be sure to ask someone at marvel for you.” she smiled sweetly before thanking him.

“has everyone seen avengers: endgame?”

the girl rose to her feet, the blanket stuck to her bare legs. “yes, jimmy, i have! i saw my boyfriend get dusted right before my fucking eyes!”

tom remembered the first time he watched the film with her. it was hard for him to keep it under wraps and while he did end up telling her some spoilers, he kept out the whole ‘death by thanos’ part.

“okay, calm down little one.” he reached his arm out to pull her down, back to the couch.

“tom, baby, i know you like.. could get in trouble for it but-“

“y/n… not this conversation again.” he put his hand up to his forehead, two fingers on the bridge of his nose. she knew that if she prodded and poked in all the right spots, that her boyfriend would give in. that it just took a little push for him to confess all the dirty details of his new blockbuster.

“come on! i am begging, tom- i have so many questions, can you blame me? i mean… mysterio, like.. what’s that guy all about?! he’s a villian right?”

“well…”

“a hero?”

“definitely not.”

“antihero?”

“not exactly-“

“UGH, tom! you are killing me here.” she whined, putting her hands on his chest as the paused tv shined upon his features. “please give me something… anything.” she trailed her fingers down his chest, tauntingly.

“anything?” he smirked at her.

“yup. like… maybe just exactly what jakes character is? i mean, i remember him telling us at dinner that time, but that was barely enough, i mean.. there’s gotta be more right?”

“go on.”

“and mj, i mean.. is peter finally going to ask her out? baby, so many questions, i just have so many.”

“well… i guess i could tell you one thing..” he tempted her. her lips twitched upwards as she pressed her forehead against his.

“mmhmm?”

“i could tell you that… the ending of the movie?”

“yeah..”

“is fucking fantastic. really, it’s brilliant babes.”

“because?”

“you will just have to see-“ he was cut off by his girlfriend hitting him in the face with a pillow.

“FOR FUCKS SAKE TOM-“

“quiet down! you are going to get tessa all going..”

“sorry…”

a moment of silence passed as tom squealed, “for fucks sake tom!” in his best high pitched, y/n impression possible.

“shut up!”

the two laughed before she clicked play.

“you look so good here, tom. it’s so weird like- i’m sitting next to you-“ she pointed at tom, “but, there you are on tv!”

“you are just realizing this?”

“well, it’s like inception!”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“i was told, it was a wedding!”

her chest boiled with anger as she quickly hit pause. “NO BECAUSE, fuck you for that! i remember being all excited, thinking tony and pepper were gonna have a beautiful wedding, only to see hes fucking DEAD.”

tom couldn’t hold in his laughs. “i’m sorry, i didn’t know!”

“well it’s pretty obvious, tom! everyone’s sad and in black, baby, you really are an airhead.”

“hey-“ she cut him off with a kiss to his lips.

the two cuddled up while watching the interview, small laughs leaving their bodies.

“like, zendaya! when did you find out how endgame ended?”

“oh, i remember. me, jacob, and zendaya were all in a facetime call freaking the fuck out, while my boyfriend over here, was chilling like nothing was wrong.”

“you guys were in a facetime call?” he questioned.

“yes! i was heartbroken and i had gotten a call from z who was clearly also upset!”

“well, he’s fine clearly! i mean, i wouldn’t be in far from home if peter was dead, right?”

she looked up at him, his heartbeat still lingering on her skin. “so you can tell me that you are still alive, but you can’t tell me about jake gyllenhaals character?”

“well, it’s a given! obviously peter is alive!”

y/n groaned, her head now resting on his chest.

“dating a superhero is difficult.”

“aww, poor darling, i’m sure it is.” he peppered kisses along her forehead.

“hey! you ate all of the popcorn?!” tom was flabbergasted, his voice heightening a few octaves.

“yep, and what about it?” her tone dripping in sass.

“i wanted some, for one!”

“too bad, maybe if you would spill the deets on far from home, you’d get some of my popcorn. hell, tom, if you confess right now, i’ll make you a whole bowl!”

“no.”

“well it was worth a try!”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“i can’t believe it’s over.” the house was completely silent, the only thing audible being tessa’s light snores.

“i’m gonna miss that guy..”

“baby, i’m right here.” he placed his hand at the small of her back, looking at her lovingly.

“i’m talking about mysterio.”

“oh, yeah, great!” she giggled at his response. “he’s just so hot, tom! way hotter than peter-“

“yeah, maybe if you think manipulation is hot!”

her mouth fell agape at his words.

“what?” he said, oblivious to the screw up he just made. she smiled widely at him as he slowly was hit with realization.

“oh, fucking damn it!”

[barzzal]

between halls and thin walls → part three

summary: friends who fool around almost never work. almost.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: fingering, fem and male receiving, mentions of pornography, sexual/suggestive themes, swearing, mat not knowing how to eat pussy, anddd too much sneaking around i’m hating myself for it

↳ genre: fluff, angst, smut, roommates au, best friend’s best friend, friends with benefits, 18+

↳ length: series; part one, part two, part three (8.6k), part four, part five, part six

↳ masterlist: the barn

↳ track: god is fair, sexy nasty, cinderella, planet god damn by mac miller

note: so sorry for the wait! have been a lot busier with uni :(( took weeks for me to finally sit down and write on my laptop to finish this aaaah anw here’s the update and i’m making it up to yall i hope you like!! happy reading babies <3

“Wait–” you break off, your fingers already weaving through his ever so gorgeous hair. 

“What about Tito?” you fret.

You’re sure there was at least a hint of annoyance in his voice. Possibly irked that you had to ruin the one thing you both have been craving for for weeks.

“He won’t come home, trust me.” he says, lips already making its way back to touch your skin, nestling on your jawline, before trailing down to the intricate line of your neck, his movement hasty with a sense of hunger and urgency. 

You didn’t mind. It felt good. 

“Okay– no. Let’s stop this for a sec.” you try to snap out of it, pushing him away but just enough to keep him within arms reach. You rest both your hands on his broad shoulders whilst he rests his on your hips, just a few inches above your ass. 

“We need to clear things out.” you start, eyes lingering on his irises, making you wet your lips at the sight. 

“Didn’t we clear things out thrice now?” he quirks his brows, “And it kinda looks like we’re about to clear the same thing for the fourth time. What’s not clear about it?” Mat kids, half laughing as he lets you punch him playfully, “I’m not kidding, Barz.” you say, clearing your throat. 

You didn’t mind for any of his double entendres but you did mind the fact that whatever’s about to happen tonight is bound to tip the scales of whatever it was that you were having with Mathew.

“Fine. Let’s talk,” he agrees. He walks towards the bed just as he began pulling his shirt off over his head to undress himself.

“Mathew!” you call him yet again, earning yourself a defensive shrug from him, “What? We’re gonna have sex either way might as well talk while we’re at it, right?” he counters, “Now, take your clothes off.”

Regardless of being annoyed at him for acting like an unreasonable child engaging in too much banter, you let out a laugh in disbelief, letting Mathew’s quirks have a hold on you. You roll your eyes out but do as you’re told and begin taking your shirt off which you then throw his way. 

Mat whistles, a smirk sprouting off his lips, evidently in awe of how good you looked half-naked, “Wow.”

You cock up a smirk and shrug to play it off, “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.” you turn the compliment back which Mat only reciprocated with a taunting wink, brushing his shoulder briefly like an idiot.

“So. How do you want to play this?” you inquire.

“Naked, I hope.” he laughs, putting his sweats off revealing nothing but his boxers on. When he sees you roll your eyes, yet again, almost wondering if you’re going to bawl it out at any moment, Mat clears his throat and decides to dial down his terrible jokes. 

“Fine. Let’s just say we’re doing ‘Friends with Benefits’ or, you know, what was that movie again?” he thinks for a second, snapping his fingers as he gathers a few romantic comedies he’s seen in the past. “No Strings Attached! The one with Natalie Portman! Yeah, that’s the one.” he marvels.

You look at him quite stunned that he’s familiar with these movies. “Wow. I thought you guys are just into full-on pornography and sports.” 

“Hey!” he retorts, defending himself at once, “I’m speaking your language, dumbass. And for the record, I don’t like porn.” with that, you let out a loud laugh accompanied by a scoff, obviously not buying any of his lies. To which Mat jumps to defend himself the moment he sees the mocking look in your eyes, “What?? Not all men likes pornography, y/n.”

With both hands on your hips, you arch your brow at him and reply with a revolting grin, “First rule, no lying. I wasn’t born last night, Barzal.”

“Fine. I don’t like it like it.” he points out just as he averts your gaze, “But I’m certainly not against it. Those girls need to make a living, y/n.” 

You meet his cocky remark with an exasperated sigh, “You’re such a pig.” 

Mat answers with a shrug, letting your judgmental glares slide, “Call me names, I don’t care. You’re the one sleeping with a pig.”

And as if it had been expected all along, it didn’t take long for the both of you to end up in bed, wearing nothing but your skin, breathing in each other’s breaths, gasping as you let yourselves let loose with the company of a friend.

Mathew marvels at the sight of your heaving chest whilst his head was wedged in between your thighs, going on endless circles as he nibbles on your clit, perhaps trying a little too hard to make you meet your high. 

What the fuck is he doing? is probably what every girl has asked herself when a man goes down on her thinking that he already got her all figured out. 

Mathew knew what he was doing to be fair. He was there. For the most part. His fingers were nothing but magic but his mouth was a different subject. It was almost as if he was overachieving something. Kind of like the way he does during plays that would eventually cause them the game. 

He’s in his head a little too much. That’s for sure. You didn’t want to ruin the moment so you decide to let it slide and put on your best suit. After all, it wasn’t the first time you had to fake your sexual orgasms. You weren’t entirely surprised though. Half of the men you’ve gone out with didn’t know shit about eating pussy. And Mat was pretty, at least he had that going on for him.

You bit your lower lip, trying to suppress the fact that you weren’t enjoying it. Mat was doing all sorts of things at once and it was all too much. Too much that you’d rather finish the job yourself than have someone licking your region like a fucking chew toy.

As much as you didn’t want to, you arch your back and let out a fake moan, curling your fingers on the sheets, the other tugging on Mat’s hair, staging the perfect scene Mat had wanted to see. He emerges from below and hovers on top of you with a proud grin on his face, oblivious of the dramatic pin you’ve successfully put into the night. 

“And that, my friend,” he smirks, “is how you do it.”

Oh, believe me, it is not. You try to smile, “Hm. It’s that easy, huh?” 

“Well, yeah. Think of it like a scrimmage.” he says as he starts to pepper kisses on your cheeks, his hands roaming around your body, compensating for what his mouth missed. “Or a shootout even.”

“I’m thinking no.” you deny, “Rule two, if talking hockey is your definition of dirty talk, you better zip it.” you stress out as you prop your leg around his waist in order for you to move on top of him. 

Mat chuckles, trying to mask how much he longed to feel your mouth envelop his member. There hasn’t been a day where the image of you sucking his length didn’t enter his mind. It didn’t matter where he was. Whether he was in the shower, on the road with the boys, leaving for practice, or just tying his skates. He wanted nothing more than to look down at you as your little tears revolt to escape your doe eyes whilst you take him whole. Indeed, it was a sight for Mathew. And god knows how much he’s willing to give just to see it again. 

You spit just as you kiss the tip of his shaft, stroking his length in a circular motion to spread your saliva on his cock before you proceed on pressing gentle kisses on his head; edging him for not letting you cum— unconsciously wanting him to know how to give a goddamn head the right way. 

You patiently went your way as you began taking him in your mouth, inching down his thickness without breaking off of his dark and lustful gaze. Mat rests his head on the headboard, his breathing growing heavy and hoarse whilst he watches his dick be consumed by your hollowing cheeks, sucking the life out of him. 

“Fuck. You’re so good.” he groans, pulling your hair with his free hand before guiding you further down his dick. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Flattered by his praises which you find undeniably hot, you pop him out of your mouth, letting all your spit drip onto it just before gathering it back once you start licking him underneath, sucking on his balls as your tongue goes on little circles, playing with it for a while before letting it go with a loud pop. 

You watch Mat lose his mind with every movement you make but you know full well not to let him come in your mouth. It’s bad enough you didn’t get to come the first time he tried tonight. You won’t have yourself seeing the light of day high and dry while Mat gets to doze off the second you leave for his door. 

You climb on top of him. Mat was rather quick to let his hands find its way to your hips, your pussy sitting on his flat stomach just enough to let him know how wet you still are for him in spite of not getting the fun you’ve wanted for your own. 

“Where’s the rubber?” you ask him. Mat props himself quickly and carefully shifts towards his bedside table. You feel him on your back, poking on your skin whilst he pulls out one of the drawers. He fishes a wrapped condom straight from the box which he then swiftly opens with his teeth, motioning for you to get off of him first so he could get settled. 

“Ready?” you ask him, “Ready.” 

Mat rolls over and secures you in between his hands resting on both sides of your head. You feel his head poking against your abdomen as he finally takes his shaft to rub it in between you far too moistened slit just before he takes the plunge and dive deep.

“So,” you struggle to find the words as Mat finally starts making up for his loss a while ago. Your fingers envelop his nape, digging on his skin as you let himself adjust inside you. Stretching you whole with barely half his dick pushing through you.  Thank god this was one of the many things Mat definitely did not suck at. 

“Wanna walk me through this whole set up?” 

Mathew groans, his chest hard against yours as he pumps inside you at a steady pace; one that was pleasurably slow. One that had you closing your eyes whilst you let your head sink into his pillows. 

Despite working his way on tending to too many things at once, with his thumb brushing on one of your nipples, his lips attached to your earlobes, and his free hand secured on your hips, Mat whispers in your ear. “It’s like what we’ve agreed on that night.” he breathes heavily, his mind trailing off to that night momentarily before he speaks again, “We’re friends.”

“And?” you whine as you feel his wet lips brush briefly on your sensitive skin just enough to send chills up your spine, making you crave more of his touch; a grave wanting kindling inside your gut like fire.

“Friends…” he repeats in between kisses, “who likes to do this.” his lips travel from the corner of your lips and onto your jaw line. He then lets himself pull away just so he could look you in the eye, all whilst maintaining both your bodies moving in sync as you follow his lead. 

“You do know that things like this almost never work, right?” you honestly say, telling him the very same thing you’ve told him when you first crossed the line and threw everything you’ve progressively built with him throughout the years of being Anthony’s best friends. 

“Almost is good enough for me.” he counters with a husky voice, feeling constrained by how tight your pussy was around him. It had been a while and Mat was going insane just by thinking about how your cunt was made exactly for him. It was absurd for him to think such a thing but he would not deny the sensation coursing through his veins as if sex had become something entirely new to him. That you have miraculously been able to paint something far better than what he’s already gotten used to for who knows how long; luring him into the worst kind of addiction he could get himself into.  And although Mathew wanted to hate himself that it had to happen with you, he knew he couldn’t. 

“Let’s not have secrets,” he suggests. You raise both your brows, quite intrigued that he requested such a thing. “We’re not that close to have secrets, Barzal.” you remind him. 

“Exactly!” he cheers, voice briefly rising as you let out a moan escape when he pushes himself deeper through your heated walls. Mat hurriedly locks your mouth with his, swallowing all your moans before continuing with his case. 

“That’s the point. We’re not that close so we shouldn’t be keeping anything from each other. You tell me everything. Good or bad, and I’ll do the same.” 

You shoot him a questioning look, pushing him briefly so you could position yourself on top of him. Your action was very much well-received on Mathew’s end and it’s amazing how he’s able to lift you close to his torso before the two of you roll over the switch-game without letting his dick slip out of you. 

“Are you saying we’re going to be in a relationship? You’re way over your head, mister.” you laugh because it was exactly what it sounded. At least for you.

Mat rolls his eyes as he takes a pillow to support his back. His hands then roamed from your thighs before settling to cage your hips to lock it with his, “First of all, bold of you to assume that’s ever gonna happen.” 

You scoff.

“Second, it’s more of a mutual agreement and definitely less than a relationship.” he points out to reiterate that having said ‘relationship’ with you was the last thing he wanted. 

Your hands take rest atop his chest as you start working on rocking your hips at a gentle pace; the kind that had Mathew at a loss for words for a moment, his body taking over his mind as your physique towers all over him. Mathew meets you halfway while you do most of the work. He angles himself forward so as to reach for your tits, his mouth latching on one of your buds, thirsty like a newborn child. Your fingers find their way to his tousled hair, its disheveled state unbelievably making him much more difficult to resist. 

The two of you worked each of your own highs whilst you rock each other’s bodies. Exchanging moans and groans thrown carelessly throughout the room. You were all over Mathew as much as he was with you. His strong and capable hands that moved so well on your body, made you crave for more. Mathew took control of the pace now, his arms embracing your waist closer to his body that no amount of spatial space could ever be perceived by either of you.

“Come for me.” Mat orders, voice almost inaudible as he was chasing his own, the moment he feels you throb rapidly around him, fluttering like butterflies while he watches you shut your eyes. Just like that, you finally reach the ecstasy you’ve been longing for the whole night; one that was specifically shut down by Mathew’s stale mouth.

You let Mat take over. He orders you to turn your back against him before he pulls you rapidly close to his front, your ass perked up close to his skin. His mouth leaves fashioned bites on your neck whilst he held you firmly by your forearm. Mathew begins pounding on you hard from behind, his sharp and abrupt movements painting bruises you know will show up the next morning. 

You were all over the place and you didn’t care. It was messy, it was loud. The sound Mathew’s lips leave on your skin, his balls banging against your pussy, your moans— his groans. Everything was off the record book but neither of you wanted to stop. 

With one final thrust, you feel his body grow all the more rigid behind you. Mathew’s hand was wrapped firmly around your neck whilst he caught his breath. 

“You good back there, bud?” you ask, chuckling. 

“Oh, shut up.” he says, finally letting you go. 

The two of you gather yourselves. Mat discards the wrapper and offers to clean up after the mess he’d made but you profusely decline. 

“I’m not your girlfriend. You don’t have to take care of me.” you tell him with a strong suit as you begin picking up your clothes. 

“I know–” he cuts himself off when he sees you getting into your pants, “Where are you going?” he questions. 

“Rule four. No staying the night.” you point out, grabbing your sweatshirt from the floor. “You come to my room, I come to yours, but that’s that. No more, no less.” you add. 

Mathew looks stunned. Obviously on board with how well you were taking things so easily. 

“Alright then, buddy.” he strides his way towards his bed still naked. 

“We don’t speak about any of this in the morning.” you warn him for you know how the three of you tend to leave the house almost at the same exact time as each other. Meaning that this new setup of yours is bound to be much difficult if you let anything slip off your hold. 

Mathew runs his fingers on his lips as if to zip it before he jumps on the bed, already reaching for his phone that was on his bedside table so he could check the gram.

You were just on your way out of his door when he called you one last time, a teasing smile creeping on his lips, “What’s rule five?”

“No funny business.” you say at once. You look at him one last time with your own teasing smile to mock him from across the room, “No strings attached.” you say, repeating how he used the movie as a reference from a while back before finally disappearing into the hall. 

𖥸

Who would have known agreeing to such a set up would mean getting laid almost every chance you get?

It had been a few weeks since you and Mat committed to your foolish escapades after sorting out your mutual agreement. Said escapades involve a handful of times of you driving over to the Coli to pick him up right after his morning skate and get off the back of your car. It wasn’t that big of a deal being that Mathew usually rides with Anthony for work. Of course, there were also times where you would call him into your office just to grab a quick lunch. On those times you always make sure to leave out at least half an hour or so before going home to avoid unnecessary suspicions from Tito and you and Mathew have been mindful so as not to let him notice anything. 

Mat had mentioned how he was already looking for a place nearer to yours and Tito’s but farther than his previous complex. The place was half an hour less than the travelling time Tito had to drive to from when they used to ride together going home. And now that you were officially friends and more than just acquaintances, Mat has asked you to come and see the place with him. 

You took a lift on your way to Mat’s and let’s just say, that for a man with a whopping 21M at his disposal, the building was grand but it wasn’t as boujee as you’ve expected. It might’ve been your lack of a better judgement but Mathew just didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who would be smart when it comes to his finances. You’ve always thought that he was the kind to splurge on things whenever he gets the chance. Although much to your surprise, just like everyone else, he was a simple man. 

You knock on the door a few times before you hear the familiar footsteps nearing the front door. 

“Hey,”  a signature grin welcomes you. He opens the door wider and invites you in. “Took you long enough.”

“Well, I had better things to do, Barzal.” you retort as you start to scan the vicinity. 

The flat had floor to ceiling windows so the surroundings were well lit. You were making your way further when you noticed a few sealed boxes laying around what you assumed to be where the living space was going to be. 

“I thought you were just looking?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion whilst you look back at him, pointing on the storages with your thumb. 

As expected, the entire apartment was painted in white and beige tones. Pretty much like every Islander’s home you’ve been to. It was quite spacious just like his former home. That being said, spacious doesn’t necessarily mean ‘good’ sometimes. For one thing, it didn’t feel home to you. It felt like a cage with huge-ass windows overlooking a scenery you can’t even lay your hand on. You keep your thoughts to yourself, not wanting to ruin Mat’s excitement for the place. Sure enough, it’ll all come together once he gets settled. 

Mat walks towards you, taking a deep breath. “I was. But the offer was really good so I figured signing the lease right away would be a smart move.” he explains. When he sees your gaze trail off onto the boxes again, Mat feels the need to reassure you that he wasn’t going to move out of your apartment just yet. 

“I won’t be moving in for another month or two, just to be clear. Those are just some stuff I didn’t want hogging all the space at home.” he says candidly pertaining to your apartment as his home, not even realizing the weight he had tied to his words. 

You were quick to dismiss your own unsolicited thoughts and carried on with the semi-tour Mat was starting to indulge you with. “Are you sure you’re gonna live here alone? Feels like a whole penthouse up here.” you honestly say, half-laughing as you make way towards the hallway. 

“Yeah. I mean, it would be great for when the team comes over.” he says as he follows your tracks. “The penthouse is actually two floors above mine though.”

You roll your eyes at his subtle remark, “Why’d you made me come here anyway?”

And as if Mat had remembered the task he originally had in mind, he walks right past you to lead the way. “I want your opinion on something.” 

“Really? What is it?” you inquire, following after his footsteps. Mat stops and opens a door leading to what you assume is the master bedroom. Situated at the center of the fairly spacious room is a california king sized bed, waiting patiently to be slept on. 

Mat looks back at you and says, “D’you think it’s any good?” 

He lets you roam around the place, setting yourself down on the foot of the bed. “Bed’s nice actually.” you tell him and you stand at once to look more of his semi-furnished room. 

“How nice is it exactly? Like, nice to sleep on or nice to not get any at all?” you turn around, rolling your eyes at his sleazy innuendos. “You’re such a tool. You really made me come all the way here to get me tied down this bed?” 

Mat only answers with a shrug. An adorable one to be exact. “What? That’s what friends are for, y/n. Now, come on. Test the bed with me.” he says, taking your hand at once before you could even answer. He lets himself fall onto the bed as he caught your weight in his arms, your bodies dangerously close to each other, feeling your own body temperatures. 

His hands roam around your clothed physique just as he starts to cage you in a well heated kiss. Your lips dance with his, letting his tongue slip whenever he gets the chance, nibbling on your tongue as the two of you enjoy exchanging your own take on what house warming gifts are supposed to look like. 

Mat’s hands were already gripping on the curve of your ass when the sound of your and Mathew’s kisses were stopped by a sudden knock on the door. Your hand immediately trailed down from Mat’s nape to his chest, “Are you expecting someone?”, he thinks for a second, both of his hands still secured on your bottoms.

“Oh!” he gasps upon remembering who could it possibly be, “It’s probably my realtor. He’s picking some stuff up, I’ll go get it.” he says, propping himself up as a cue for you to get off of him. 

“Would you mind getting the door? I’ll be quick, I promise.” he adds, looking back at you as he steps out of the room, heading for the other side of the hallway. He speaks in an apologetic tone, feeling sorry for having to cut off the purpose of your visit. So, in an effort to let him know he had nothing to worry about, you shake your head as you finish straightening the wrinkles off your work clothes. 

“No, it’s all right, I got it.” you give him a reassuring smile.

You gladly make your way towards the door, not even bothering to look through the hole. You hand enveloped the cold metal, swinging the door wide open, leaving yourself not a chance at escape as soon as your eyes landed on those all too familiar big blue ones you’ve known all your life.

“Y/N?” a puzzled expression was all you could make out of Tito’s face. You tried stumbling for a few words in the hopes of calming your already racing heart impending to escape your chest at any moment. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks in utmost bewilderment. You were still in shock being that you’ve never lied to Anthony before since he’s the only one you’ve told everything to most of the time. Having him here, clearly unexpected, has evidently thrown you off guard.

You maintain your gaze at him and throw the same question back, “What are you doing here?”

“Mat and I are going out with Mikey and Noah for drinks.” he answers quickly so he could throw the ball your way, “You didn’t answer me. I didn’t know you knew about this place already?” he furrows his brows, looking over your shoulder to get a glimpse of his best mate. 

“Uhm. Mat called me to discuss a few things. Showed me some stuff too.” you nervously say, tip toeing on the fact that what you just told him wasn’t entirely a lie. You open the door all the way and finally let him in. Your knuckles were wrapped hard around the cold metal knob, wishing that Mat would come out to the room to save your ass. 

You must have gotten on a wrong foot and told Tito a lie that’s bound to invite more suspecting queries.

“Really? What stuff?” 

His bed, where he was just about to defile me on. 

Thankfully, Mat walks out the open room holding an envelope in his hand, immediately halting his tracks the moment he sees Anthony looking straight at him. 

“Beau! What–” he tries to remain composed, but you know Tito would definitely pick up on something just by how pale Mat’s face was. Dead and cold like someone who had seen a ghost for the first time. 

“What— am I doing here?” Anthony finishes Mat’s question just as he turns his gaze back at you. You try to avert his gaze but you figured it’s best not to. You need to go before him strong and level headed. The last thing you and Mathew want is to get caught in the act by no other than the last person you want to know about it. 

“What?” He laughs, brushing Tito’s biting tone off. “I know why you’re here, silly.” he tries to search in his head momentarily, but when he takes long enough, Tito answers it for him. “Drinks, man. You texted me for drinks.”

“Oh– yeah, no. I knew that.” he breathes out an uneasy laugh. 

“Why is Y/N here? I didn’t know you guys hung out? The last time I checked you can’t even last in the same room without slashing each other’s throats.” he smirks.

Surprisingly, Mat was fast enough to come up with quite a clever way to sway Anthony from his inkling suspicions. One that made sense, but not necessarily helpful in your end. “Psh. That?” Mat throws a hand towards your way, dismissing your presence in his unfurnished apartment, “She told me she needs money so I hired her to move my boxes for me. She even insisted on listing all the stuff I’ll eventually get rid of online.” 

Anthony looks back at you, surprised that you didn’t go and asked for his help instead. “How much do you pay her?” he asks Mat again. 

“Uh, five… ten bucks?” Mat scratches the back of his head and your face immediately falls to your palm. 

“Ten?” he questions, glancing at you. “Don’t you have your own office and a secretary? What do you need the ten bucks for?” Tito’s tone was now getting more curious and Mat, just like he always was, was dumb enough to forget you were earning more than just ten bucks for a living. 

“Did I say ten? I meant fifty— per hour.” Mathew takes it back instantly, following it with a lie that involves you asking him for a job because your publisher ordered you to for a book she wants you to sign for. Not that any of it made sense but at least Anthony seemed to have bought it. When you agree, Mat immediately takes Anthony in his arms as he guides him out to the door, snatching his coat resting atop his kitchen island. 

Mat looks over to you once more, both of their bodies already at the other side of the door, “You did great today, y/n. I’ll write you a check in the morning!” he says pushing Tito, who was still asking questions, farther from the door. 

Before Mathew disappears, he looks at you with his big doe eyes already thanking you for going along such a stupid make-up excuse. You roll your eyes as you watch him mouth a quiet ‘Sorry’, flashing his ever so gorgeous smile before him and Tito finally went on their way.  

𖥸

You’ve gotten used to how lazy Mat and Tito are during their off days. They would rather stay at home and play endless video games with each other than spending it with something less dumb than their stupid Xbox. Luckily, today wasn’t like those days because you happened to have your free day as well. You all agreed to spend the evening binging the entire Fast and Furious franchise. 

The three of you were cramped on the cloud couch. To put it in simply, you were sandwiched between two huge hockey players. Your back was leaning on Tito’s strong shoulders as it was laying just above your head. The huge bowl of half-eaten popcorn safely sits in between your middle, hugged by your stomach and your curled up legs, your sock-covered feet brushing against Mat’s thighs innocently. Almost as innocent as how you ignore Mathew’s hands creeping underneath the thick wool covering your body. 

Alarmed at how dangerously close Mat’s creeping palm was to your inner thigh, you shot him a warning look which was, as expected, answered by a defensive, and seemingly harmless “What?” look on his face. You roll your eyes, cautious as to not make any sharp movements for the benefit of Tito. You shift your position, angling your body away from Mathew and towards the direction of the screen instead. You let your body sink in your best friend’s shoulder, clueless that your movement had just given Mat the exact opening he was hoping for. 

With wide eyes, you give Mat’s thigh a firm nudge as carefully as you can, “Are you being serious right now?” you mouthed. Mat stifles a smirk and moves his hand away, keeping it to himself. You try turning your attention back to the television but somehow, Mathew’s actions left your mind wondering what he was about to do next. 

Gently, you stir back to your original position, propping yourself from leaning against Tito. 

“Hey, could you please fill this up for me?” you ask him nicely. Thankfully, Anthony reaches out for the bowl without letting his eyes break off the screen. “Thanks, Beau.” you add the moment he starts walking towards the kitchen. 

“Why’d you stop?” you cautiously whisper, asking Mathew who was surprised by your sudden inquiry.

“I thought you didn’t want me to.” he answers on the same level of your tone, putting his hand back on your shin. The warmth of his palm sends a familiar sensation down your region.

Looking back at the archway leading to the kitchen, you quietly tell him, “I asked if you’re being serious. I never said no.” 

Your candidness was met by Mathew’s widening smile, incapable of stopping himself from biting his lower lip, finding your bluntness quite adorable. “Be quiet.” he mutters as he clears his throat, eyeing Tito who was just returning from the kitchen holding a bowl full of popcorn fresh from the microwave. 

“Thank you.” you say the moment Anthony hands you the bowl. You scootch over, making you a lot closer to Mat. Tito places his arm back over the couch, allowing extra space for you. Once you got yourself in a position comfortable enough to last for the remaining half of the movie, your mind flies away, briefly forgetting the exchange you and Mathew just had. 

It was not even a full minute when you feel Mat’s very much capable hand start creeping underneath the thick cloth again. You swallow a giant lump in your throat, your senses already heightened just by the mere contact of his rough and calloused hand on your skin. 

You were wearing a pair of sweat shorts, the kind that were loose enough to let Mat maneuver his way deeper down your thighs so effortlessly. You steal quick glances towards his way but to no avail, Mat’s eyes were nowhere else other than the screen. His fingers, however, told quite a different story. 

You did the exact thing as him and put your sole focus on the movie. The sound of Anthony’s breathing was a good reminder to not let anything slip off of you unconsciously, especially now that Mat’s long fingers were inching its way to the thin fabric covered by your night wear. 

Mat begins to brush his middle finger over your delicates. You bury a part of your face underneath the thick cloth whilst your eyes are still pinned on the screen. The scene where Dom goes rogue plays and the light of the television flashes before your eyes. 

You tried to listen to Tito when he tells you about that time you went to the movies to see the film, trying to space out from Mat’s finger drawing idle circles on the thin fabric of your underwear, easing you just right, evidently taking his time fondling in between your clothed lips.

When he feels your moistness on his skin, Mat sophisticatedly slides a finger in your underwear just so he could feel the wetness of your folds. 

You on the one hand, keep your face hidden under the only light flashing from the screen. You manage to choke down your whimpers and instead lean your force towards the bowl you’re holding. However, you fail to stifle a gasp when Mat slides a finger inside you, making you stir just enough to stop your sudden movement from being unnoticed by Beauvillier. 

“You okay?” he asks, a concerned tone embracing his voice. You meekly nod, saying that you were just too caught up watching the film. He then takes his attention back, pretty much like the grinning Mathew sitting on the other end. 

You shoot a knowing look when you meet Mat’s irises. He casually plays it off just as he remains busy on his own, his fingers curling inside you with ease, pumping in and out at a slow pace, not wanting to let any of his movements show on the surface of your blanket. As Mat continues pleasuring you, you gather all your strength to stay still and calm your breathing. To no prevail however, knowing how good of a fucker Mat was, you knew you won’t be able to hold it in longer than you’re supposed to. 

Your heart almost beats right out your chest when Anthony’s phone starts to ring. You prop yourself up, causing Mat’s finger to do just the same inside you. You shut your eyes at the feeling and chose to clear your throat. 

Anthony takes his phone and looks at the two of you, “I need to take this. Just watch the movie without me.” he says, already standing to head for the balcony at the other side of the room. You sigh in relief, letting yourself fall back on where Tito used to sit, allowing more space for Mat’s miraculous fingers. 

He adjusts his seat, cautiously looking back after Tito’s track just to make sure he was no longer near the two of you. He looks at you, attention faltering from the screen as he slides another finger inside you. 

“Don’t make a sound. Stay still.” he orders, pumping his way in just as he glides his thumb to massage your clit. Your hand takes rest on your forehead, your eyes closed at every pleasure thrown your way, almost forgetting that you were holding a bowl full of finger food on your stomach. Mat must’ve caught on and ensured no unnecessary noises would make Anthony come back just yet when he takes the bowl off your middle to set it down the coffee table. 

“Fucking hell, Mat.” you can’t help but moan, arching your back once you feel your arousal come close. 

“Do it, y/n. Come on my fingers.” he growls in a low register, moving his way into hitting the spot at just the right speed, not wanting to prolong your misery any longer. 

You reach for his hands, your grip on him tighter than ever. Mat feels you come around his finger, eyes pinned on your spent up state harder than it was when the two of you were still watching the movie. When he feels your pulsating core starts to die down, he slips his fingers out your slit, eventually taking it in his mouth to suck your far too addicting juices.

You fix yourself up, eyeing Tito who had just ended his call. Mat looks at you, quite proud of himself.

“At least your fingers make up for what that pretty mouth can’t.” you say with a taunting smirk before standing up to get yourself a glass of water just as Beau finally comes back from the balcony, leaving Mathew with his mouth slightly agape and without a doubt dumbfounded.

𖥸

It was an hour before midnight but the house was already asleep. The boys had to call the night early because of the morning practice they have first thing tomorrow. But you still had some energy left so you figured drawing yourself a calming bath would help soothe your mind and maybe even up the chances of having yourself a well-deserved good night’s sleep. 

Now that you’re feeling better and getting ready for bed, your bathrobe hugs your body whilst you finish off your night routine so you could finally dip into the comfort of your sheets, the cream white duvet calling onto you as you picture yourself dozing off for the night. 

The strides you were just making out of your bathroom were put into a stop by how your door sprung open wildly, revealing one troubled Mathew Barzal entering your room almost a little too carelessly. 

“What the hell did you mean my mouth can’t?!” he questions at once, hissing. When he realizes the sudden rise in his voice, (which has also startled you in the process), Mathew immediately looks back just to make sure that Anthony was in his room, or far enough to hear. He shuts the door behind him before he finally turns his attention back to you. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” you ask him, putting both your hands on your hips, your body covered by nothing else but a bathrobe. 

“The thing you said back in the living room, my mouth can’t what? What the hell did that suppose to mean??” Mat roars like a child’s impending tantrum was about to come. You avert his gaze for a moment, scratching your temple. You couldn’t believe something you’ve said stuck to him. Not that he’d ever do anything about it. Something you most absolutely doubt. 

“If you had to come here to ask me that, I’m pretty sure you already got what I meant.” you say, walking towards your bed as you get the bottle of your vanilla scented lotion from your bedside table. 

“But all those times it looked like you were having a good time?” he speaks, voice in a lower register as if he was talking to himself all along. 

“I was faking it Mat.” you finish off applying lotion on your legs, spreading the remaining on your hands. You met Mat’s gaze and saw that you might’ve tipped him off a little for there was a faint hurt in his eyes. 

“You were faking it?” he repeats in a quiet voice.

“You’re still good in bed, buddy.” you assure him with a smile yet to no prevail, Mat didn’t seem to buy any of what you said thinking that it was just a decent effort to save his ego already plummeting to the pit of his own embarrassment. 

“How many times have you been faking it?” he asks the moment he gathers his thoughts, his mind circling on the fact that all throughout this time he wasn’t able to get you off.

“You’ve only had the chance to do it twice. So… just those two.” you answer honestly. 

Mathew, who was utterly clueless to what was going on didn’t know how to react to such bluntness. He tried to mutter a few words but he was speechless. All this time, he thought he was good at something he obviously wasn’t. And being told something as morally immobilizing as that shocks him to his very core. The horror of all the girls he’s slept with, walking out of his apartment unsatisfied befalls on him. 

“You should’ve told me, otherwise this whole setup won’t make any sense, y/n. I thought you said we shouldn’t lie?” he questions, evidently disappointed in himself. 

“Look,” you stop, tapping on the side of the bed to have a proper conversation. When Mat finally sits beside you, you continue, “I didn’t think it mattered. And no offense but we both know you’re such a sore loser. I didn’t know how you would react. And I definitely didn’t want to deal with any of the messy stuff just to feed your ego.”

“For your information, I’m a thick faced motherfucker, you should’ve known that by now. This thing between us is going to be complicated if you’ll tiptoe your way around it just to spare my feelings.” he says with certainty, a definitive tone accentuated by how intense he was now looking at your face, still glowing from your night care routine. 

“Is there something I don’t do?” he adds, “Or is it something that I should stop doing?”

“Fine. If you really wanna talk about this I’ll tell you.” you angle yourself facing him and Mat does the same, “You’re not entirely bad. You do know your way around. It’s just that— you’re trying a little too hard and it gets really overwhelming at times. And mind you, it isn’t even the good kind,”

“Show me.” Mat cuts you before you could grab the chance to continue, stopping you mid sentence, causing you to stumble on a few words. “What?” 

“I won’t leave this room knowing I can’t get you off.” he says, and just like that, Mathew meets your lips with an all too hungry mouth eager to make you come for him even if it takes having to have endless runs at it. 

Your body achingly responds to every bit of Mathew’s kisses whilst you let him run the course. His touches are tantalizing, urging you to come near him. He takes you in his arms, one fondling on your robe to pull it free from your body, the other tugging lightly on your hair just as he begins to move his weight on top of you.

“Tell me what you want.” Mat breathes the moment he breaks away, his mouth now travelling down the skin where your shoulder meets your neck, leaving faint bites, nibbling on it just before he makes his way down to fondle on your breasts. 

You answer him with a muffled moan when he takes your lips yet again. Mat’s irises unwaveringly gazes on your buck nakedness, your scent just enough to take over his senses. You feel the roughness of his hands graze all over your skin. Pinching on one of your buds just before it travels down your thighs, staying out of the place where he knew you needed him most. You feel him in every inch of your skin but there.

But just as you want him more, Mat purposely leaves it out of his hold. You begin to realize how much you must’ve underestimated what this forward could do. His hands were everything and you couldn’t even put into words how much you need him down there. 

“Mat…” you call out his name, groaning. His featherlight touches flowed smoothly on your inner thigh, grazing just your lips but even that was more than enough to tell him how wet you already were for him. 

He begins to leave wet kisses in between your breasts down to your stomach. Kisses that eventually made their way to your thighs as he inched his way to your core, the sloppy noise he makes sounds so beautiful in your ears. You look down on Mat trying to compose yourself under all the breathing he’s subtly passing your middle. 

“What do you want?” Mat asks again, this time his doe eyes meeting yours, clouded with lust and desire. You buck your hips upward in an effort to meet his mouth but Mat was rather quick to put you back in your place when he cages your hips with his capable arm. 

“Use your words, y/n.” he orders, one that has effortlessly made you oblige. You wanted to feel him more than anything else and if that meant submitting to Mat this time, you know full well you’d gladly break before him. 

“I want you to get me off.” you surrender, signaling him to take the plunge. Once he did, you let out a whimper at his touch, almost forgetting that Mathew was probably doing this so he could eat out his future girl right.

“Don’t rush.” you breathed as you guided him, “Stay slow and steady.” 

Mathew’s eyes never left yours even when you had to look away when you let your head fall back on your sheets with how well he was moving with everything you say. 

“Mathew…” you moan, reaching for his hair to take him closer to your throbbing core, “Go on circles, please.” 

Mat was obedient and followed your every command. Unlike the times he’s spent trying to pleasure you with his mouth, tonight was a time where he actually listened and gave you exactly what you wanted, exactly how you want it.

Mat didn’t have to do anything else for when he started to slip into your cunt and fuck you with his tongue, you going insane was more than enough to let him know that he was doing it right. He watched you fall before him, your chest heaving, your breathing rapid as if there wasn’t enough air for you to breathe. He entwines both his fingers atop your abdomen, the sound of you calling his name like a prayer doing all kinds of wonders on his end. 

You meet his eyes yet again just to see that it never left. Mat looked at you darker than ever before and for once, you feel a firm tug in your stomach you just weren’t ready to acknowledge and care for. As he takes time with his final strokes, knowing that you were close, Mat pulls away, thinking about the one thing he knows will redeem himself. 

“Turn around.” he orders with a grim voice. You were in dire need of an orgasm to even care about how he’s the one ordering you. You gladly oblige to his every whim and turned to your belly, your ass perked up so perfectly for him.

He lets your robe fall just above your back, revealing more of your skin for him to enjoy. He takes no second to waste and kneels before your already swollen pussy. Needy and very much heated for him.

Mat’s hands spread your cheeks before he takes you in his mouth once again, letting himself drown in your juices glinting under his all too heavy gaze. 

“Oh, god.” you whine, feeling Mat’s grin behind you as you dig into your sheets while your legs begin to shake at your incoming orgasm. “Mat, please.” you call out in a whimper, pushing your ass back further his face. 

Mat gladly takes the challenge but maintains at the pace you wanted. As he feels your pussy flutter in his mouth, he deepens it into yours to finally pour you with nothing else but ecstasy and ecstasy alone.

His face was filled with nothing but your juices once he pulled away, leaving you breathless and still caught up on meeting your high. He stands, a hand gripping on one of your cheeks whilst he admires the art that is: your all too spent pussy.

“Next time you lie, you won’t get to fake it at all.” he warns with a firm yet definitive voice masked as a taunting remark. 

Mat looks at your still throbbing pussy, eyes lustful and dark. As much as he craved for the inkling fire resting in his loins, it was already past midnight and he had self-discipline stronger than anyone else’s. He couldn’t afford any more scolding from Anders the next morning. 

So, even when he wanted nothing but to fuck you right then and there, he lets his hand send a message he certainly wants you to remember instead. One that has left a faint yet stinging mark on your skin. Your legs were practically still wobbling when he finally leaves for the door, this time fueled with the purpose of being the one leaving you dumbfounded in your own post-orgasm shame.

Perhaps, even wanting and more.

[wherethewordsare]

Till the Fever Breaks

A very happy birthday to @unremarkablegirl I hope you enjoy this!! <3 <3 <3

“This place looks like it hasn’t seen a living being in a century,” Jaskier whispered, following close behind Geralt.

“Just about. But it might have some records Vesemir has been looking for.” He held the torch a little higher, turning slowly. Around them, shelves with crumpling scrolls and molding books flanked work benches and long dead potting plants.

“Don’t touch anything,” he growled, carefully stepping over a pile of shattered glass. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice. This place gives me the creeps.” Jaskier held his own torch a bit higher, letting the light throw the table in the center into a mess of shadows and grimey reflections. 

Geralt scanned the shelves, kneeling to try to make out the old ruins on the side of one volume as his hand braced against the shelf above him. It barely took any pressure but he felt it as it went under his weight. 

“Jaskier, get out!” he barked as there was a crash of glass and wood. Dust from the shelf fell into Geralt’s face and he coughed, struggling to get back to his feet for a moment as the taste of ash flooded his nose and mouth. The shelves around him seemed to fall apart as he scrambled out after the bard. 

They both hunched over, gasping for fresh air, blinking into the bright morning as the cacophony of collapse rang out behind them. 

“Don’t touch anything?” Jaskier looked over, smirking. 

“Shut up, Jaskier.” But there was no heat to it. Geralt felt like his lungs were burning and his vision couldn’t seem to focus. He looked out towards where he had left Roach and blinked hard, shaking his head. He wasn’t sure what had been in that dust but it couldn’t have been good. 

They paced back to the road and Geralt found that Jaskier was easily pulling ahead of him, his strides even and sure where Geralt was starting to have trouble navigating the ground. 

“Hmm.” He stopped, looking back at the building and finding that the stone looked unfocused and hazy, as if a fog had been put between them. He turned and found that he could no more make out Jaskier, even as he drew nearer. 

“Fuck.” He felt as though the ground had shifted under him and his legs were quickly losing the battle of keeping him upright, his armor and swords feeling heavier against his frame than they ever had. 

Then Jaskier was there, his arms under Geralt’s holding him up, his face only inches away. Geralt had only a moment to think how strange it was that he couldn’t quite make out Jaskier’s eyes the same way he had that morning. 

“We got to get you to a healer. Something’s wrong.” Jaskier half carried him towards Roach as the world seemed to shift and crumble under him. “Shit, Geralt. You’re burning up.” His voice hitched with worry and he pulled Geralt a bit closer to support him. 

“I’ll be fine Jaskier.” Geralt tried to reason but the ground was swirling now and everything seemed too hot, too much. 

“Of course you will be,” Jaskier promised. “Of course.”

Geralt wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince more. It didn’t seem to matter as he felt his body finally give out and he collapsed.

-

When he came to, he was tucked into a warm bed with the covers to his chin. He could feel the trace of fingers against his scalp and all he wanted to do was lean into them. So he did, groaning as those same fingers brushed his hair out of his face.

His whole body ached, a headache pounding behind his eyes as he tried to look around. Jaskier was sitting beside him on the bed, a book balanced on his knee while his hand still idly brushed through Geralt’s hair. 

“Jask?” Geralt croaked. He made an attempt to sit up but he could not seem to find the strength in him. 

“Well hello there,” Jaskier said simply. He pulled his hand away and Geralt thought he might have whined at the loss. Before he could make any verbal protests, Jaskier was sliding the book into his lap and sighing. 

“Mages,” he explained simply. “They must have been some of the first to help create the witchers. I think they were trying to find ways to undo it. Why, I can’t tell, but,” and he pointed to a set of ancient ruins that Geralt could barely make out, “Whatever that dust was that hit you, they made.” Jaskier’s leg was bouncing under him, an anxious tick. “I think they only tested it on younger witchers.” 

Jaskier twisted his hands for a moment before leaning in and helping Geralt sit up, piling the pillows behind him and readjusting the covers. 

“Where did you get this?” Geralt let himself be propped up on the pillows, wincing at how stiff and frail he felt. 

Jaskier cleared his throat, not meeting his eyes directly on. “Might have gone back in and found the shelf the powder was on.” He rubbed the back of his neck before glancing at Geralt. “Good way to brush up on my elder?” 

Geralt only glared at him. He would cross his arms were he able but he hoped the scowl would be enough. 

“Oh, scary witcher!” Jaskier chuckled. “Try again when you’re not laid out flat, darling.” 

“The powder was supposed to do what?” He struggled against the blankets around him to bring his hands up in front of his face. Even as his vision seemed to fail him, Geralt could still make out the firm muscles and calloused pads that he knew to be his. 

“Drains them- you? Makes the witchers men again.” Jaskier’s hand came up covering Geralt’s and squeezing gently. “I think only temporarily?” he plucked the book back from Geralt’s lap, flipping through pages. “They never fully succeeded it seems.” He showed the next page of ruins, splattered ink and water damage. 

“And if the witcher was a few decades older than that?” Geralt dropped back against the pillow. His body shook for a moment but there was that hand again against his scalp, steadying and firm. 

“Temporary, Geralt.” Jaskier nearly snapped but his hand remained gentle. “You’re going to be fine, remember?” 

“Hmm.” Geralt gave in, pressing as much as his weak body would allow up into the hand, marvelling quietly as it came down and cupped his cheek. It was warm and slender and it was all he could do not to turn his face and nuzzle into it. 

The powder had to wear off soon. Geralt realized that not only had it drained his strength but every ounce of his carefully maintained control seemed to have vanished with it. 

~

Jaskier never left his side, only long enough to bring back meals and water. He was constantly hovering over Geralt, his hands never far from an easy touch. And with every touch, Geralt could feel his determination slipping. As weak as he was, there was no other weakness he knew greater than the one against the gravity that was Jaskier’s casual affections. Part of him wished that the powder would simply drain him so completely so that when this was over, at least he didn’t have to face the bard. 

For days, Geralt laid there, his strength gone though his body did not show the same betrayal. He found that his senses had all been dulled as well. He was no longer able to catch the steady rhythm of Jaskier’s heartbeat or hear his footsteps on the stairs as he went for broth and ale and fresh linens. 

All the while, he burned, his skin feeling as though it were on fire. He had tried to pull the covers away, just managing to do that only to find that the air around him was freezing. Geralt groaned and turned restlessly in the bed. 

“You’re worse than my sisters when they catch a cold,” Jaskier teased, pulling the covers back up over Geralt’s shoulders. 

“You could just give me one of my potions and we could be done with this,” he groused but shifted, chasing after the tips of Jaskier’s fingers with his shoulder. The touch was back, easily given and Geralt all but melted under it. It felt like he was duping Jaskier into the contact but he couldn’t find the strength in him to care. 

“No witcher powers, Geralt. It would be over because you would be dead.” There was something distressed and anxious in Jaskier’s voice and then he was hovering again, pressing the back of his hand to Geralt’s forehead, fingers cool against the burning skin. 

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier made a soft sound in the back of his throat as he let his fingers slide into Geralt’s hair, pushing it back from his face, tucking loose strands behind his ears. “The powder’s going to wear off any time and you’ll be back to your old brooding self in no time.” 

“Hmm, wouldn’t mind you keep doing this too,” Geralt sighed, letting himself settle into the comfort of Jaskier’s attention. 

He remotely registered the press of a fresh cloth to his face, damp and cool and gentle. Cracking an eye he could just make out Jaskier’s face. He wondered if it was a trick of the light or his dulled senses that had made that look feel like it was just for him. He thought maybe it was best not to know and he tucked the image in the far back of his mind. The fever would break soon, his strength would return and he would lose those caring hands. 

~

Jaskier was slumped over the edge of the bed, his doublet discarded and his hair rumpled. Geralt could make out his breathing, his heartbeat, the sound of the cook below preparing the stew. He had to squint against the light that flooded into their room but he was able to sit up. He felt exhausted but there was strength in his own hands again.

So he used that strength, leaning forward and letting his own fingers card into Jaskier’s hair. It was softer than he had imagined, finer hairs at the nape of his neck brushing against the side of Geralt’s hand. 

Jaskier stirred and for a moment he thought about snatching his hand back. Maybe he hadn’t returned to his full self. Not quite at least as he found that he no longer cared to restrain himself. Under his fingers, Jaskier turned his head to look up at him, a sleepy smile on his face. 

“Good to see you’re feeling better.” He sat up slowly, almost careful not to dislodge Geralt’s hands as he pressed the back of his own fingers to Geralt’s forehead then his cheeks. “The fever broke.” There was something small and sad about the smile he gave him though. “Guess the training is going to need a bit more time to catch up, hmm?”

Geralt slowly pulled back his hand, flexing it for a moment before it dropped back into his lap. There was a pang in his chest he was having a hard time ignoring. He felt as though he had been caught out somehow. 

Jaskier slid into the bed next to him, checking him over slowly the same way he had over the past few days, waiting for the magic to wear off. His touch was still careful, turning Geralt’s hands over, squeezing and waiting for Geralt to squeeze back. When he did though, Geralt didn’t let go. He squeezed back at Jaskier’s fingers and then held on, letting his thumb brush over the back of his knuckles. 

He found that he wasn’t ready to let go of this. The thought that the touch Jaskier gave him while he was sick was only temporary churned his stomach and made the need to cling only stronger. The consequences were coming for him, he knew, but he was still too weak still to stop himself.  

Maybe that had been the problem. Maybe he had always been too weak when it came to Jaskier. The bard had stayed far longer than Geralt thought he would and for all that time he had struggled to maintain that last distance. Now he found himself buckling under the weight of of a need he had no right to. If he pushed, he knew he was going to lose Jaskier. 

“Love how you just sit there and brood,” Jaskier chuckled as he bent down, sliding off his boots. He shifted under the covers, his hands tugging at Geralt’s shoulders. “Come on then. You’re not quite up to snuff and I desperately need a nap.” 

It was all the explanation he gave Geralt before rearranging them to where Geralt’s head was resting on his chest, Jaskier’s arms wrapped around him. 

Slowly, Geralt let himself slip back off to sleep, realizing that those touches weren’t lost, he just had to be strong enough to let them stay. 

[traincat]

I’ve been trying to piece together a few things from your Twitter and Tumblr posts alike and still can’t make heads or tales of things, so would you mind helping out a FF & spideytorch noob? 1) what is currently happening with Johnny in the comics? (I’ve fallen head over heels for this guy, largely all your doing) 2) when’s the last time he and Peter have interacted, canon wise? (And do you think upcoming interactions are likely?) 3) your thoughts on if they’ll have him come out in the near future? (has that ‘biggest change to the fantastic four’ teaser come to pass yet?) Love all your content, thank you!

I'd say no problem but then I started thinking about this current run again and got a headache. But yes, I can do that to save you from reading it, because it is very largely not good.

So I don't think it's unfair to just flat out say the current Fantastic Four run is not very good, largely due to writer Dan Slott's efforts. Slott was previously on Amazing Spider-Man for 10 years, to mixed opinions, but a large portion of Spider-Man fandom, myself included, blames him near singlehandedly for the decline in quality of Spider-Man books over those ten years. I will say, in the interest of fairness, that Slott as a writer has an incredible fondness for the Spider-Man/Human Torch relationship, and that a lot of the recent teamups and interactions between them have been written or co-written by him. So it's all not all negative here. But in general, I personally find Slott's more recent comics (the last seven-ish years especially) to be badly plotted out, messily characterized disasters that feature characters written with all the emotion of a cardboard cutout. That's me putting it nicely.

To explain this fully, you have to understand the position Fantastic Four comics were in from the years 2015 through 2018, both in the fictional 616 universe and in the real publishing world. Following the 2015 Secret Wars event (great if you want some Johnny angst in the background of your plot), the Fantastic Four were disbanded -- Reed, Sue, and their many biological and found family children were presumed dead but in reality were remaking the multiverse, unable, for a reason that was never clearly defined, to reach home. Ben and Johnny were left on Earth. They had an unspecified falling out, likely due to Reed and Sue's absence, and went their separate ways -- Ben joined the Guardians of the Galaxy and went to space. Johnny was featured on both Inhumans and Avengers books. What's notable about this period is that it's the first time since 1961 that there was no Fantastic Four book being published by Marvel. Now the real world reason behind this is both complicated and extremely petty: Marvel really wanted the Fantastic Four film rights. Marvel denied this explanation at the time, stating that the reason was sales motivated, but it was a thoroughly flimsy excuse and Jonathan Hickman, writer of 2015's Secret Wars and overseer of the current X-Men plot, gave an interview saying the decision was film rights motivated. This decision kept the Fantastic Four books off the shelves for three years, up until the Disney-Fox merger, which secured the X-Men and Fantastic Four rights for Disney's Marvel Studios. Marvel then announced that the Fantastic Four book would be returning. So that's a little bit of background as to the precarious place the Fantastic Four currently occupy in the Marvel universe -- it's worth noting that this year is their 60th anniversary, and Marvel has done very little for it. Compare this to the X-Men, whose film rights Marvel also obtained during the Disney-Fox merger, and whose books are currently dominating the publishing lineup. The Fantastic Four definitely occupy an unpopular position, one Marvel themselves is at least partially responsible for forcing them into.

But to move back into the actual content of the book -- the readjustment period Slott wrote reintroducing the Fantastic Four into the Marvel universe can be described as clumsy, at best. It's never fully explained why Reed, Sue, and the kids couldn't return to Earth, something that was explored in Chip Zdarsky's 2017 Marvel Two-in-One, which featured Ben, Johnny, and Doom on a multiversal roadtrip to try and find their family and which I on the whole recommend, despite it having an awkward ending due to being cut short by Slott's announced Fantastic Four main title.

(Marvel Two-in-One 2017 #4)

Instead, the Fantastic Four return to a Marvel universe a little different than how they left it, with the Baxter Building -- formerly the offices of Parker Industries, the company Doc Ock started in Peter's body during Superior Spider-Man that Peter inherited after his defeat and then lost spectacularly when he trashed his own company to fight nazis (good for him) -- occupied by a different fantastic foursome in a plot that goes nowhere and does nothing. This is somewhat emblematic of the early days of Slott's run -- he introduces ideas that fail to go anywhere, including Johnny's rekindled relationship with his other best friend and former college roommate, Wyatt Wingfoot, who he was seen being very cuddly with in the early issues.

(FF 2018 #1) A small group of Fantastic Four fans have argued for a while that if Marvel was to have Johnny come out, a relationship with Wyatt would feel very natural -- they're already close, with Wyatt being an important Fantastic Four supporting character since the '60s. I have some further analysis here on the conspiracy theory that Johnny and Wyatt were supposed to be in relationship at the beginning of this run but that that plot was, for whatever reason, nixed. I don't know that I entirely believe this theory, for the record -- but I do think the pieces line up remarkably well.

Anyway, that didn't/hasn't yet happened, obviously. Slott instead for the most part put Johnny on the back burner for the beginning of his run, up until the Spyre arc, which I have reason to believe is the main story he pitched that he credits with securing him the Fantastic Four title. The Spyre arc suggests that the Fantastic Four's failed space exploration during which they got their powers wasn't just to beat the commies to the moon, as Lee and Kirby envisioned (simpler days), but to reach a specific planet outside of our galaxy. When the team sets out to conquer this mission, they arrive at the planet, but are quickly captured. The planet, they find out, operates like a soulmate AU -- everyone has a fated person that they are matched to via a gold armband. Reed and Sue are soulmates (and Ben is confined to an underground subterranean with the other monsters, because this is a Fantastic Four comic) while it's discovered! Shocker! That Johnny is actually the soulmate of the one the planet's inhabitants, a winged woman named Sky, with the suggestion that this is both why Johnny's previous relationships have never worked and why he loves space exploration -- he was just trying to get to his Soulmate TM.

(FF 2018 #15) "What's going on here? Where are my clothes?" As you can see, this didn't start off super great, with Johnny being separated from his family, stripped naked, and put in Sky's bed with a soulmate armband slapped on him. Did I mention they're only removable if your soulmate takes it off for you? And that Sky has consistently refused despite Johnny asking her to? Yeah. It's bad. (I think it's important to note Johnny's long history as a victim of assault plays into this narrative, whether or not Slott is personally holding that in mind while writing, which I don't believe he is. cw in the linked post for discussions of sexual assault.) There's an additional issue here in that Slott has a history of problematic writing regarding women of color, featuring characters he's created to act as love interests being oversexualized, infantilized, villainized, or some mix of all three, with two examples of this phenomena being Cindy Moon and Lian Tang, both of whom he introduced in quick succession in Amazing Spider-Man. Slott certainly didn't have to write Sky as manipulative or controlling towards Johnny, but that's what he chose to do, and that factors into the bigger picture of unfortunate themes in his writing.

Sky returns to Earth with the Fantastic Four despite Johnny appearing unenthused about the idea and initially generally reluctant to interact with her. Apparently they went on a few dates after this and kind of made up. I don't know because I stopped reading for about ten issues in there but I feel confident I missed very little. It's hard to talk about the Sky plot without referencing Johnny's previous interactions with a character named Lyja, a Skrull whose relationship to Johnny I have a long breakdown of here. It's doubly hard, because Lyja actually showed back up in Fantastic Four during this plot. Lyja's modus operandi has remained consistent throughout almost all of her appearances, which I guess makes sense, because she literally has no storylines that do not involve her being obsessed with Johnny, and this recent story isn't any different: Lyja shows up, Lyja disguises herself as another woman in Johnny's life to get close to Johnny, Lyja gets caught and claims it was all fine because she did it for love. This time she disguised herself as Sky.

(FF 2018 #32) Not gonna lie, kind of proud of him for this one. That's one of my problems with Slott -- very occasionally, he busts out good moments, only to undermine them with the rest of his narrative.

In the same issue, Alicia Masters, the first woman Lyja impersonated in order to get close to Johnny, uses her supervillain stepfather's radioactive clay to control Lyja's mind and send her back to space, and I do think she utilized girl power when she did this. Johnny, left reeling after Lyja's latest attempts to trick him into a relationship, ends this issue by sleeping with Victorious, Dr. Doom's right hand woman.

I know she pegged him. I know it. This scene was a little controversial in Johnny fandom, because a lot of people viewed it as Johnny cheating on Sky and thought that that action was out of character for Johnny. I'm personally of a little different opinion, which is that regardless of whether or not you view Johnny and Sky in a committed enough relationship that Johnny's tryst would count as infidelity when all Johnny and Sky are bound by are magic plot soulmate bracelets, I think Lyja's involvement changes things significantly when it comes to Johnny's characterization. All of Johnny's "playboy" periods, if we can call them that, coincide directly with Lyja having been in and then left his life again, which I think makes a certain amount of sense -- it's Johnny trying to wrest control back after a situation where he had none. None of this is explicitly canon, I have to note, but sometimes in comics you have to do the work yourself. So I think this is a case of something being accidentally extremely in character that Slott accidentally stumbled into because he had these love triangles in mind, not because he put a lot of thought into it.

Speaking of love triangles! Johnny sleeping with Victorious gets more complicated when Dr. Doom announces his intent to marry Victorious -- not because he has any romantic interest in her (this engagement caused a lot of uproar in Fantastic Four because Victorious had been previously referred to as being like Doom's adopted daughter) but in order to install her as Latverian regent in his absence. I'm not going to lie, I love a political wedding. Victorious, for some reason, thinks Doom will be deeply upset that she slept with some closeted blond twink and the member of the Fantastic Four he views least as an enemy and more as an annoyance. Johnny, who Sky is currently not talking to because she "felt" him sleeping with Victorious through their magic plot soulmate bracelets, also feels nervous about Doom finding out about this, which I guess is slightly more valid. Anyway, for some completely ridiculous reason, Victorious decides the best time to tell Doom about this little indiscretion is when they're standing at the altar, which coincidentally the Fantastic Four are also standing at, because Doom asked Reed to be his best man in a not at all homoerotic little setup involving midnight swordfighting and Reed slipping Doom's emerald ring onto his own finger. Sorry to sidetrack into DoomReed territory here but it's just like. It's just a lot.

(FF 2018 #33) Also, Ben walked the bride down the aisle. :,) Look at his gigantic hand.

Anyway then Doom decides he's going to kill everyone in a completely reasonable and not at all overblown reaction to Johnny and Zora having what was most likely both disappointing for Zora and weepy for Johnny sex. And that brings us up to where Fantastic Four comics left us yesterday -- in answer to your "big change" question, that's most likely coming up in the next issue, so it hasn't come to pass yet.

Having gotten all that out of the way -- the last time Johnny and Peter interacted canon-wise was in the recent Empyre Fallout Fantastic Four, at the end of the Empyre event:

It was cute! Slott does right good interactions between them. This is possibly the Stockholm Syndrome talking. I don't know if more interactions are likely imminent -- the Empyre event was fairly recent. On the other hand, Slott does like writing interactions between them. So I'd give it about a 50/50 shot. I was skimming the letter page in the latest issue and someone wrote in asking if Peter was likely to appear in the pages of Fantastic Four again any time soon, so there is definitely a demand.

As for Johnny coming out -- I don't know. It's not a call I feel comfortable making at this moment, which I guess means I wouldn't bet money on it. I'd like to say yes, especially because I think Slott set up, whether that was his intention or more likely not, several good places in his run where Johnny could have come out. The beginning, when he's implied to be living with Wyatt again and where he and Wyatt are paralleled against Ben and Alicia. Ben's bachelor party, where Johnny laments not finding the right person -- specifically person and not woman -- and where Ben tells him to "be brave, Johnny Storm." And the soulmate planet plot, where I think could have had a very different and much better ending if Johnny had told Sky that she couldn't be his romantic soulmate, because he knows he wants to be with a man. But those are just places that I think would have made good opportunities for a coming out story. Instead, Johnny's been involved (dubiously) with three different women over the space of the last 10 issues, which is more heterosexuality at one time than he's been confronted with in the last 60 years. So my thoughts are still that it's going to happen eventually, but quite possibly not anytime soon.

Hope that helps! And that my incredibly long answer about what's currently going on with Johnny in comics sheds some light on things!

[demonsandmischief]

Come Home To Me Part 5

Marvel - A Sam Wilson Imagine

Sam Wilson x Female Reader 1.4k Words

Here's Part 4 and my Masterlist for additional parts

-Part 5-

The ending.

----

You liked Washington DC. You liked Sam's house and being able to see the things he enjoyed.

It was also nice that you had the opportunity to be able to walk or ride the subway to wherever you needed. Even though there was a car for you to use, you couldn't drive. Sam had promised to teach you when he got back.

The only downfall was when he had to work. Sometimes he was gone for days. Two weeks had been the latest so far. It did give you a chance to find yourself beyond your sweet soulmate, but you always missed him terribly.

For this mission, it had been five days since you had last seen him.

You took boxing classes once a week to give you something to do. You considered getting a job, but you still were very uncomfortable and wary around other people.

It was also really difficult to sleep without him. The nightmares return full force. You didn't mean to be so attached to Sam, but how could you not, given everything that you went through?

You hum to the music as you eat some cereal for breakfast. Sam's place was full of old records, CDs, speakers. It was comforting to listen to the things he liked.

Sam: Miss you.

You grinned when you read the text. He had managed to call last night, and it had been so good to hear his voice.

You: Miss you more.

You could just push the messages right to his head, but you promised yourself you wouldn't when you learned they gave him serious migraines. Not to mention you had no idea what he was up to and you didn't want to be a distraction.

The TV program you had on in the background cut off to an emergency news broadcast, and even though it was muted, it still caught your attention. You turned up the volume.

It was definitely an adjustment to be without him, but you were learning lots of new things. How to cook and clean, different kinds of movies and TV shows. It was nice to feel like a normal person doing normal things.

Everything had been good recently, but that never lasts long.

"We interupt your scheduled program to inform you of the reports of a plane hijack containing US officials, including the Vice President. The plane has since crashed over Pennsylvania and is believed to be an act of terrorism. Captain America is believed to have been helping get the plane under control, but has not emerged from the crash site. Emergency personnel are on the scene."

You watched with horror as the cellphone video played, capturing your glimmering man falling from the sky before disappearing into the dust and flames.

You turned it off as a quick reaction, your heart pounding viscously in your chest. Your stomach threatened to turn, and your spoon hit the table with a clatter.

Oh god. Please let Sam be okay.

He had just texted you. He had to be okay. You cringed as the video replayed over and over in your head.

He had to be okay because you loved him.

Your phone ringing broke through your sluggish mind and you scrambled to get to it in time. It was an unknown number, but you answered.

"Hello?" you whispered.

"It's Bucky. Sam's been hurt."

A sob left your mouth but you muffled it with a shaking hand, "Is he okay?"

Bucky didn't say anything, only adding to your worry. You didn't even know Bucky was with him, or any of the details

"Bucky?"

"He's going to be fine, Y/N," he gave a tired sigh. "I'll come pick you up and take you to the hospital to see him. Is that okay?"

You nodded, before realizing he couldn't see. "Okay."

----

Sam was pretty banged up when you got there, but he was alive and you had never been so relieved in your life.

You sat impatiently by his bedside. The doctor told you his suit had taken the brunt of the impact, but he still hit his head pretty hard. Some of his ribs were fractured, along with his right wrist. He had been very lucky.

You dried your tears for the billionth time. Where would you be without him? Sam saved your life. He was your soulmate, your home.

You had dozed off in the stiff plastic seat when he woke.

He hissed as he shifted and stretched.

"Sam," you cried, reaching for his hand. "Don't move too much. Let me get the nurse."

"It's okay," he said hoarsely. "I'm fine. It's just a headache."

"You scared me," you whispered, feeling new tears. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Shh," he soothed, running his thumb over your knuckles and closing his eyes again. "I hate to see you cry."

----

The hospital monitored Sam's head injury for about a day before they cleared him to go home.

Bucky had stuck around and he drove you and made sure Sam was settled.

"Thank you for everything," you told him. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat before you go?"

He shook his head, "My girl is waiting for me at home. Let me know if there's anything he needs. You have my number now."

Sam was out cold. He was taking some medicine for the pain, and you felt beside yourself, not knowing what to do or how to help.

You had fallen asleep on the couch when you were startled awake by Sam standing over you.

"Jeez," you gasped, pushing yourself upright. "You scared the hell out of me. Why are you standing over me? Why did you get out of bed?"

Sam chuckled, "I'm sorry. You should have seen your face."

He nudged you over and sat down beside you, pulling the blanket onto his lap.

"Hey," you protested. "I was using that."

"Too bad. You have to scoot closer if you're cold. Why didn't you come to bed?"

"I don't want to hurt you, Sam," you protested. The cool air caused bumps to form on your arms.

"C'mon. You can't hurt me. Get over here before you freeze."

You hesitated. "I'll just get another blanket." You stood up, but he reached for you.

"Please, baby. I just need to hold you. I promise to tell you if you hurt me, okay?" He said it so soft and sweetly that you couldn't do anything but comply. Besides, all you wanted was for him to hold you.

You sat as close as possible without leaning too much on his ribs, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped his left arm around you.

He reclined the couch, and you adjusted the blanket so it covered the both of you.

It was pretty quiet, and you could feel yourself starting to go to sleep when he spoke.

"All I could think of was you."

"What's that?" you mumbled.

"When I fell, all I wanted was to come home, to be with you."

You hummed, reaching for his hand. He kissed your head.

"When I accepted Captain America, I accepted my fate. I told myself that I would be okay with dying, but now I have so much to live for."

You smiled, turning slightly to see his shining eyes. He leaned down for a sweet kiss.

"I was terrified when I saw that video, and then Bucky called me. Like I told you before, I don't want to be anywhere you're not."

He sighed, "There's always a risk. It comes with the territory."

"I know," you whispered. "And I know it'll never get easier for me, but we can handle it."

Sam nodded, leaning back and closing his eyes.

"I'm surprised your sister hasn't personally come up here to beat your ass."

He laughed, wincing at the jostle it gave him. "That's only because you were around to tell her what's going on."

You smiled, "That laugh was payback for nearly giving me a heart attack."

Sam peeked down at you with another chuckle "You're a brat, but you're my brat."

You shuffled a bit so the blanket was pulled to your chin, a warm contentment settled over the two of you. He reached over to turn off the lamp.

"I do love you, Sam," you whispered very quietly into the darkness.

He groaned playfully, "You just had to wait until it was dark. How am I supposed to kiss you now?"

You giggled, a light happiness swirling in your stomach.

"I love you, too," he said back. "So much."

Tag List: @superwholockruleztheworld @imiiimargo @hiuahoe @idunnomayn @cable-kenobi @nialeesato @bklynxbaby @wolflover384  @mytbel0st @burnalley @heyarely16 @lilithknight1111  @loveyou5everr  @yougottalovefandoms @lets-love-little-me @cxlpxrnia @daddyissuesmademe @queentorresstuff @spookycereal-s

----

Thank you guys for loving this series. I've been in such a mental slump and struggled with this, so I hope it ended okay. I appreciate each and everyone of you.

[hermannsthumb]

As per our convo, Newt getting set up with Hermann via Hermann’s father’s binder full of pre-approved suitors for his son...

(from @k-sci-janitor 👀) easily one of our funniest concepts yet. I was going to end on newt coming over for dinner scenario but I like the ominous open ending. I'm not actually sure when kaiju attacks fall in the PR timeline so excuse my handwaveyness, LOL

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hermann’s relationship with his father is what one would call strenuous at best, but—Hermann must admit, to the man’s credit, and in spite of his many flaws—he took the news of Hermann’s sexual orientation as unflinchingly as if Hermann had told him the day’s weather. It was a bit annoying, in fact. Hermann had agonized over the proper way to breach the subject for months, certain it spoke to some sort of personal ruin (whether ostracization from the Gottliebs or being forbade following through on any attraction he may feel whilst still living under the family roof, he wasn't sure), before finally simply announcing it one day at the breakfast table on a whim.

It had been a long-standing tradition that Hermann’s parents compile a binder—effectively of dossiers—on all the most eligible bachelors (for their daughter) and bachelorettes (for their sons) to aid in the choice of the latest Gottlieb mate. It was easiest this way, or so Hermann and his siblings were told. Parental approval was already secured. The histories of each were already secured, which bypassed any nasty shocks that might emerge in the courtship stage. Most of them were children of his father's colleagues or bright minds in their own rights: surgeons, and dentists, and mathematicians. Poets were strictly forbidden.

The occasion of Hermann’s breakfast table announcement had also been the day Hermann’s father presented him with his very first binder of prospective mates—a few days after his eighteenth birthday, and shortly before he was to go off to begin work on his PhD. His father had slid him a hand-written binder of names, no more than a dozen, and all with accompanying photographs. “All are accomplished young women,” he assured Hermann. “We can arrange any meetings of your choice over your winter holidays.”

Hermann glared down at the row of frozen smiles. He stabbed his fork into his cooked tomato wedge. “I don’t want to marry any of these women,” he said, and turned his glare on his father. He still had a rebellious streak in him at that point, something nurtured by a charismatic young man he used to trail after in boarding school, who pierced Hermann’s ear with a sewing needle in the boys’ toilets and listened to songs about setting things on fire. In late this streak had manifested itself in Hermann in nicking packets of cigarettes from his father’s study, one of which was in his pocket now. The weight of it made Hermann feel bolder. “I don’t want to marry any woman,” he continued. “I like men.”

The binder was drawn away in silence, and Hermann was free to eat his toast and tomatoes. The next morning a binder of young men was in its place.

(In a way the acceptance infuriated Hermann. It meant he could not blame his father’s obvious dislike for him on an unfounded, homophobic prejudice; rather, it was a result of Hermann’s own personal failings.)

The binder was placed at Hermann’s breakfast plate every day until he left for his studies. It was placed at his plate when he returned from them five years later. Not even the emergence of the kaiju from the bottom of the ocean shortly after Hermann turned twenty-four dampened his father’s hopes, nor turning all their scientific efforts towards the new jaeger program: some names were removed from the binder (the reasoning Hermann shudders to think at), more still were added, though Hermann is expected only to consider it once a week now on account of his busy schedule. This was one of such days.

“Your brother is very happy with his wife,” Hermann’s father reminds him. “She was one of my first suggestions for him, in fact.”

Hermann is not fond of his sister-in-law. Too rude—too cold. Though perhaps that makes her perfect for Hermann’s brother. “Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about these days than whether or not I’m going to marry?” Hermann says. He adds milk to his tea. “I’m sure they’re all, er, marvelous selections, only—”

“Your sister, too, with her husband,” father says.

Hermann sighs. He hasn’t got much of the rebellious streak he used to in him anymore—too stressed. Not fancying a fight before they’ve even begun today’s coding work, he picks up the binder and begins flipping through it. Sons of engineers working on the jaeger program with them, prominent young chemists, many of whom Hermann has been presented with since he was eighteen. Plenty of them are even handsome. Half of Hermann wonders if he should just pick the least-unappealing one of the bunch and be done with it already. He turns the page over and freezes. “Oh,” he says. “This one is—new.”

“Hm?” father says.

Hermann holds up the binder, tapping at a new entry. “Newton Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” father says, nodding. “A child prodigy from Berlin—he’s made tremendous strides in kaiju science in such little time. And,” he adds, “three PhDs. Two of them before he even turned twenty.” The unspoken implication was that Dr. Geiszler far surpassed Hermann in intelligence and Hermann should feel ashamed for not skipping as many grades as Dr. Geiszler.

Hermann feels he ought to resent Dr. Geiszler for it, but he's finding it difficult to summon up any animosity towards him. It's likely because Hermann finds Dr. Geiszler to be strikingly handsome in his photograph: cheeks which haven’t quite lost their baby fat (giving him the appearance of being a scruffy hamster), large, thick glasses, tousled hair, an easy grin. Three PhDs, and German at that. And a child prodigy? “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to me before,” Hermann says. He seems precisely the sort father would. Geiszler’s photograph is black-and-white and a bit grainy, but Hermann swears he could make out the lightest bit of freckles across his cheeks.

“I’d not heard of him until he published an article last week on kaiju biology,” father says. “Besides—he’s moved to America.”

Geiszler has three piercings up the side of his left ear. “I am going to write to him,” Hermann declares.

Father nods, and picks up his newspaper, clearly already disinterested. They speak no more of it that day.

It is not hard to find Dr. Geiszler online (his name is not the most common, and his field of study certainly isn’t), nor is it hard to match his photograph to his faculty page on MIT’s website. From there, Hermann retrieves Dr. Geiszler’s email address. He takes the evening to read over Geiszler’s publications spanning back to 2003 before he gathers up the courage to type out an actual email.

Dear Dr. Geiszler,

You do not know me, but I have recently been made acquaintance with your work and find it—Hermann pauses—scintillating. My father and I are—Hermann backspaces this—I am currently working on the development of the jaeger program…

There’s a response waiting for him the next morning. It’s as enthusiastic as it is brief. Dr. Gottlieb- That’s so awesome!! Believe it or not I’ve been following your work too. I have a million questions for you about the jaegers. If it’s classified info I promise I won’t tell. -Newt

It makes Hermann smile like nothing ever has before.

Hermann’s correspondence with Dr. Geiszler does not transgress beyond the professional until the following January. By that time, Hermann and his father have successfully completed the coding for their first jaeger prototype, and Hermann has been offered his fair share of tenured university positions to pick from as he likes. He finds himself oddly disappointed that none of them are in America with Dr. Geiezler. This, which leads to the realization that he’s grown rather fond of Dr. Geiszler, is perhaps what drives Hermann to uncharacteristic sentimental extremes on January 19th: he orders Dr. Geiszler a birthday present. The first email Dr. Geiszler sends him after that addresses him as Hermann. The first email Hermann sends Dr. Geiszler after that addresses him as Newton. Things move rapidly after that.

“Are you still writing to that young biologist?” Hermann’s father asks him in March. Hermann has spent the last two months devouring every bit of information Newton has seen fit to divulge about his personal life: his dexterity with no less than three different instruments, his favorite loud monster movies, how he’d love to get a kaiju tattooed on him one day. Hermann suspects he might be falling in love with Newton. In hardly five months! These are war times, Hermann supposes, so it would make sense. People are meant to do such extreme things.

“I am,” Hermann says.

“I’ve asked around about him,” Hermann’s father says. His expression is stern—unimpressed. “About his character. I’m not sure it’s wise to continue your correspondence.”

The reasons are this. Dr. Geiszler’s methods are unorthodox. Dr. Geiszler is loud and uncouth, and has little respect for his intellectual superiors. Dr. Geiszler was thrown out of a convention once for storming up on stage and stealing a microphone from an engineer to shout about the destruction coral reefs. Dr. Geiszler was in a distasteful band for several years. Dr. Geiszler was once arrested for egging a politician’s house. Dr. Geiszler has gone on record as describing the kaiju as “kinda cool”. Almost none of this is news to Hermann; in fact, that which is only causes Hermann’s affection for Newton to grow. “I will consider your advice,” Hermann says, knowing he won’t. Besides, it's not as if his father really has Hermann's interests at heart—Hermann knows he merely wishes to preempt any scandal Newton Geiszler could possibly bring upon the Gottlieb name.

In April Newton goes on television and declares that he’s sure the kaiju are extraterrestrial in origin, on account of their great size and his brief examination of a sample from the second kaiju to make landfall. He’s laughed off by his older peers before he can get another word out. The email he writes to Hermann afterwards is furious, capslock-heavy, and expresses that Hermann is the only one who takes him seriously in the whole world. It leaves Hermann certain that he is in love with Newton.

“Dr. Geiszler was interviewed on some American television program,” Hermann’s father says a few days later.

“I know,” Hermann says, proudly. Newton was on television. “I watched it.”

“He made some extraordinary claims,” Hermann’s father says.

But Hermann is thinking only of the outfit Newton wore (skinny jeans and an oversized leather jacket, so out of place compared to the suited other scientists sitting around him), the shade of his eyes (hazel), his short stature (hardly taller than Hermann), and the cadence of his voice (high, but not unappealing). He’d been so confident, and carried himself with a self-assurance that was foreign to Hermann. It was marvelously attractive. “I’m sure they're correct,” Hermann says. "Every single one. Newton is a terribly brilliant scientist." All bold claims are met with derision at first, are they not?

Newton’s theory is proven correct after the next kaiju attack, when experts other than him get their hands on kaiju samples and validate his claims. The general consensus after that is that the kaiju are not of this world. And Newton was the first to propose the theory! Hermann sends Newton an email full of congratulations, and Newton responds with a heart emoticon in his sign-off. Newton isn't just a brilliant scientist. “Newton is a genius,” Hermann tells his father, dreamily.

The binder reappears on Hermann’s work desk a few months later, Newton’s page torn conspicuously from it. Hermann tips the whole thing straight into his trash can. He has more important things to worry about—arranging a meeting with Newton, perhaps. Hermann ought to have him over for dinner.

[i-drink-and-i-write-fics]

Back In A Snap

Chapter 3: Can’t Move On

Summary: Reader tries to accept the reality that Loki is gone, but it’s proving to be too much.

“How she holding up, Dr. Banner?”

“Please, Sasha, call me Bruce. It’s touch and go right now. The baby still appears to be healthy, but _____ isn’t staying awake long enough to eat or drink so she’ll have to stay hooked up to the I.V.”

“Do you know how long the other Avengers will be gone?”

“Hard to say. I know Captain Marvel took Brunnhilde and Thor to some planets she suspects Thanos might be on so they could be back any minute thanks to Thor using the Bifrost. As for the others….. Cap, Nat, and Hawkeye are working with Scott to figure out how to use the quantum realm to their advantage.”

“And Tony?”

“He should have arrived at Wakanda an hour ago. Their tech is unmatched and Shuri and Tony’s minds combined will come up with a solution.”

“I hope so.”

“Dr. Banner?”

“Yes, FRIDAY?”

“Dr. Cho has arrived to the compound. Shall I direct her to the lab?”

“Yes, thanks!” Bruce looked considerable more relieved. “With Dr. Cho here we may be able to find a way to snap your friend out of her cocoon. And we can get an ultrasound on her and see which, uh, parent they’re leaning towards.”

Sasha laughed. “You were going to say species, weren’t you?”

Bruce tried to hide his smile. “Yeah, and while it’s scientifically correct we shouldn’t think of the child in that way.”

Sasha’s smile faded. “Is there a chance…. that they could be born with Loki’s skin?”

Bruce ran his hand over his mouth as he looked at you asleep in the bed. “I honestly don’t know. None of us, save Thor, has seen Loki’s true skin. But from what Thor has told us, if the child is born that way _____ won’t be able to breast feed them or even hold the child without them being wrapped in blankets. It’ll prove a difficult road for her.”

Dr. Cho walked into the lab followed by a few staff members dragging equipment behind them. “I came as soon as I could, Bruce. Where’s the emergency?” Bruce gestured towards you. “Uh, Bruce, you know I love helping you guys out but why are you guys taking care of a pregnant woman? Should she be at the hospital?”

“Sorry I didn’t explain everything over the phone, Helen, but I needed you here as quickly as possible. This is a very complicated pregnancy and the mother-to-be is suffering from a deep depression. She hasn’t eaten on her own or been awake longer than five minutes since she arrived here.”

“How complicated can it be? And do you know the source of her depression?

"Yeah, the answer is actually the same thing. The father of her child is Loki and he was killed.” Helen’s jaw dropped and as she recovered to voice her objections, Bruce beat her to it. “Don’t bother with the lecture, Helen. We already tried to tell Thor no and he threatened to bring this complex down on our heads. Look, we have no idea who the child will take after and ____ being too depressed to function isn’t helping the situation. Will you help us or are you going to head back to Korea?”

Helen looked over at your body. Your frame had started to shrink over the last three weeks due to lack of food intake and it made your pregnant stomach stick out more. Sighing, she turned back to Bruce. “Fine, I’ll help. But I don’t feel comfortable in this.”

“Join the club.”

“How far along is she?”

“Should be in her eighth month currently.” Sasha chimed in.

Helen glance over at your friend. “Who are you?”

“Her best friend. And for the record, I was strongly against her dating Loki.”

“At least one of you has common sense. Ok, let’s get her hooked up and see what we’re dealing with.”

Dr. Cho’s staff instantly jumped into action, drawing blood from your arm and getting the ultrasound machine hooked up. While one of her assistants was running tests on your blood, another took out a syringe with a long needle to extract fluid from your womb. Sasha grabbed a stool and tried to sit as close to you as possible as the newly arrived doctor and her staff ran circles around your bed looking for answers. Bruce did his best to try to rouse you.

“Hey, ____. We need you to wake up. Dr. Cho is here to help you with your baby.”

“No, Bruce. Please. Just let me be. I-I can’t do this. Not without him.” You voice came out softly, no energy behind it.

“You can’t give up, kid. Sasha needs you and Thor is looking forward to being an uncle. You still have family here.”

Tears began to leak out of your eyes. “But he’s gone!”

“I know, I know. But you need to be strong. For your child.”

“They’ll have his skin, I just know it. I’ll have a child that will look like the man I lost and I won’t be able to even touch them.”

Dr. Cho walked over to your side and smiled down at you. “Hi, ____. I’m Helen Cho and I’m here to help you with your baby. I know you’re going down a rough road right now, but we need you to stay strong. Neither you nor your baby will make it to the end of your pregnancy at this rate.”

You took a ragged breath. “Do what you need to save the child. Thor will be able to take care of them.”

Helen tried to keep her face neutral before pulling Bruce off to the side, Sasha close behind. “This is going to be really difficult, Bruce. Thor picked the worse possible time to tell her about Loki’s death. She’s pretty much losing the will to live.”

“What?!” Sasha exclaimed. “Can’t you fix it?!”

“It’s not that easy. Bruce already hooked her up to an IV and we will take whatever steps we can to ensure the life of the child, but if the body is unwilling to help us there is only so much we can stop. If she gets too far along, we’ll have to perform an emergency C-Section to at least save the child.”

“Will the child live?” Bruce looked from you to Helen.

“It’s unsure at this moment. If this child is part frost giant that could prove some difficult factors. We are unsure if the dietary needs are different, the growth rate, or even how we’ll hold the child if it’s like what Bruce is predicting. Thor may be able to help, but if Jötunheim still exists, the child might be better off there.”

Bruce and Sasha became uneasily quiet. Sasha went from being a reluctant ‘aunt’ to your child to now facing the fact she was going to lose both of you. As much as she had teased you about dating Loki, she had secretly looked forward to meeting your child. But Dr. Cho was right. How could they possibly know how to take care of that type of child?

Dr. Cho and her staff continued to work well into the night running tests on both you and your child as well as trying to keep you up for longer than a few minutes. It was under the pretense to find out about your pregnancy, but the truth was they needed you to want to live. To want to save you and your child.

Come morning, the entire team was exhausted and no closer to finding a solution. “Bruce, I don’t know what more we can do. We’re still awaiting the test results, but as of right now we can’t find anything abnormal about the child. And ____ hasn’t changed at all, despite all our prodding.”

“Did you find out anything about her pregnancy at least?”

Helen nodded. “It sounds like it was a pretty typical pregnancy. No unusual cravings or complications. If we can get her energy level up it could be a typical delivery.”

Bruce opened his mouth but was interrupted by the compound suddenly filling with confused chatter. He looked at Helen and before either could respond, Nick Fury burst through the lab door followed by Maria Hill and Phil Coulson.

“Wh- what….” Bruce trailed off.

“Looks like that crazy son-of-a-bitch Stark pulled it off.” Nick smirked. Then he caught sight of you. “So what the hell is going on here?”

Chapter 4

[vidavalor]

SamBucky people... a balm for the broken-hearted here...

About what the producers/directors, etc are saying...

I’m not going to say that their approach to this does any service to anybody-- *including* the studio morons who can’t see that they could make $ by having more LGBTQIA characters in their stories (and that seems to be their primary motivation so...) 

The thing is, once the people involved in the show define a character’s sexuality, they are also doing something else-- they are also specifically saying what a character *isn’t*. If the producers say that Bucky is bisexual, then there are fans out there who are going to feel betrayed. I’m fairly certain there are maybe like I dunno five? fans who actually think that Bucky is straight (lol) but fans tend to ascribe whatever their wishes for a character are onto that character. They project far, far more than what a show’s canon actually suggests. Think about how, as SamBucky shippers, if the producers said in an interview tomorrow that Sam is asexual, you’d be disappointed because then it would feel in violation of canon to ship SamBucky in the way you already were. (BTW, if a show doesn’t make *some* character asexual at some point soon.... grr.) Would it still be a great show? Of course! Would we still love Sam? I would hope so because Sam is awesome! But you can see my point which is that confirming one thing eliminates something else. Producers don’t want to do that because they don’t want to alienate fanbases. They want as many people as possible to watch their stuff so they traffic in vagueness with most characters, with only cishet ships really getting any daylight as canon because that is still how the majority of people identify. Is this good? God, no...

Marvel is also really the worst with it. The comics, often written decades earlier, were often more progressive than the MCU is. But this doesn’t mean that there is a lack of *intent* in how something is made. As a writer, I can tell you that TFATWS is written with romance beats-- not the story beats even of a buddy cop drama. That could maybe get you through the first two episodes. Past that, it’s a romance. More than that, it’s a damn *Hallmark* romance, minus a Christmas tree. TFATWS is one cookie baking scene away from Sam & Bucky having made out under a gazebo at the Delacroix Dancing Reindeer Festival or something. The actors are clearly acting with intent-- this isn’t just Stan & Mackie’s “natural chemistry” or what have you. There is no universe on earth in which the actors, the director, the producers, the *studio*, looked at the dailies (early rough cut of filmed scenes) for the boat scene where Bucky reaches for Sam’s hips and went “oh, this will definitely come across as Bucky isn’t the slightest bit interested in men”. There is no way that a scene of two guys rolling in a flower field was not meant to contain a heaping dose of homoeroticism. And those are just two of the examples-- if I went on and got into actual subtle ones, I’d be recapping *every single Sam and Bucky scene* in TFATWS and you all saw it.

For an example of how this attitude can exist and not be kind of toxic to a fandom, anyone who hasn’t seen it already should go check out Good Omens. If you think SamBucky is a love story, wait until you watch an actual enemies-to-friends-to-married couple that includes a 6,000 year slow burn and is one of the most romantic stories ever filmed (all while being insanely smart and funny at the same time.) There’s no overt declaration of love, no kiss but there is also absolutely, positively zero doubt that this angel and this demon (who are each a little of both, really) are over the moon crazy in love with one another. When this is put to the co-writer of the novel & producer of the series, Neil Gaiman, he affirms that it is a love story-- that Crowley and Aziraphale love one another. Even though the vast-- and I mean vast-- majority of people watching it will see it as a romantic love, the Good Omens fanbase has people who see different things in the relationship. There are a lot of fans who are into the potential asexuality of the characters. (Personally, I don’t think this works-- not because I have an issue with asexuality because I don’t but because there’s some fairly overt examples of sexual attraction between the two. Anyone who has seen it or will see it... Aziraphale in the Bastille. Enough said.) Anyway, the point is that there are fans whose interpretation differs from the others and, in a spirit of a state of being supportive of the freedom to be who you are which is really a major Good Omens theme anyway, the producers will simply say that it is a love story and that the two male-presenting leads love one another. Sound familiar? 

It’s what Marvel is trying to do with TFATWS and SamBucky. The difference is the tone. Good Omens is a community full of positive LGBTQIA representation and love for all people and everyone involved with the writing of the novel and the production of the show really reflects that attitude. Marvel.... doesn’t have the best track record with this stuff. Granted, these are not comparable things. Good Omens is the ultimate in niche-y stuff-- it’s a long-running and large fanbase but compared to Marvel, it’d fill a thimble. Marvel is trying for a big tent approach to its movies and tv shows-- to have something for everyone eventually-- but the problem with this is that it doesn’t really give anyone much of anything that is well-defined... and that’s kind of their goal. They want you to be able to see what you see in things. It doesn’t mean that they aren’t actively trying to create things for you to see but it does mean that most of the stuff they make that is not a cishet relationship could have an entire romantic arc for characters-- and TFATWS does-- but it’s also going to leave open doors all over the place to try to attract the most viewers. 

By that definition, TFATWS is shockingly gay. There are an enormous amount of tells built into the story to lead the viewer in that direction. Bucky didn’t want to go on the one date he went on with a woman and ran out of it in the middle, after talking about guy profiles on dating sites. Sam has been in 89 pieces of canon and other than a howyoudoin? at Black Widow that goes nowhere-- in front of another guy who was from the 1940s-- Sam hasn’t blinked at a woman. Neither of them get actual love interests in TFATWS but for one another. They spend the entire series proving themselves to themselves so they can prove themselves to one another. The list is endless. 

No matter what they’re saying Bucky’s sexuality is or isn’t or what Sam and Bucky’s romance is or isn’t, they’re just dancing around things to try to keep from becoming “the gay Marvel show” in the media and keep viewership numbers up because, sadly, there are still too many people who won’t watch a show about hot, gay superheroes for some reason I do not understand...

So if you’re feeling a little faint of heart, just keep in mind that you can believe your own eyes and these two are in love, no matter what crazy verbal gymnastics the people who made this show for you are doing to try to pretend they didn’t just write you a six-hour long gay superhero Hallmark movie.