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meowmeowbeepy · 2 months

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A reflection re: Ben

Inspired by conversations re: love, relationships, soulmates, trials, tribulations etc. circa Lillian

Dear Ben,

I am experiencing a very new state of being where I feel untethered to the idea that my soul = Ben and Catherine. Sorry to start off this letter so abstractly. This "state of being" is not one I have felt before in romantic relationships. The failure and pain I had from those previous relationships I THINK partially came from the inability to separate my individual security and happiness from the security and happiness my relationship gave me. I.e. when things between my love interest and I were good, I was happy. When things between my love interest and I were rocky, I derailed and felt very unpeaceful in all aspects of my life. I remember being uncomfortable in class, at home, at work, going to bed, in the presence of friends, everything and everywhere- even when he was not physically there to directly cause immediate strife. When I say I was not independent of my relationship, I am not saying I needed to be with this person every waking moment. I really did not. But I needed everything about that relationship to be good in order to be fully functional in the other parts of my life. I did not like that, and I am glad this is something I don't have to feel with us. So, the lesson that Ben and Catherine (henceforth referred to as B+C) has taught me is that Catherine can watch B+C, tend to B+C, reflect on B+C, and treat B+C... like a plant. I hope this is a healthy form of love. But I think this reflection has been on my mind recently as Lillian has been profoundly reflecting on her relationship. Also further fueled by the fact I am more acutely aware that we are spending more time apart than together. When we do spend our weekends together, I don't feel like a Catherine watching B+C. I feel like one thing = us!! And not just Catherine, or Catherine watching B+C. I quite like knowing and truly feeling a difference between these states of being. To give you a specific example of the moments I feel "untethered". I have developed this idea from my new reactions to our disagreements. This was not always the case, but in the most recent times where we philosophically disagree, I feel like Catherine watching B+C. And I know that while B+C are discussing and disagreeing and butting heads, Catherine herself does not need to take her upset to the next level or even personally. Does this make me seem sociopathic? I feel like this is a highly effective form of compartmentalization. I do get fussy in my head a little, but I try to come down from it by reminding myself that this is not a change in B+C. Instead, it is Ben (alone) and Catherine (alone). But B+C can and will recover and love each other anyways. With your recent sick series, I have been challenged to understand that sick Ben is not a sick B+C. It's been harder for me to untether your health from us. But I am trying to find a way.

I wish I could remember more of our early courting days. From our happy, talkative and chatty dinner at Barcenas, cocktails at DTO that very romantically extended to a big walk to Mama Teresa's and back to your place where you were so forward and confident, to never really going a day without talking or a week without dating. I knew I was lucky then to have such a fun and non-dramatic relationship. I remember saying "we somehow have such spontaneous and great dates every weekend!" I even showed you some of my crazy! I am glad you accidentally told me you loved me, and I am glad you reminded me (verbally) how much you liked me and thought we were progressing well. It kept me on track, especially since I was definitely trying to run the course too fast. I can always rely on you to not get lost in my clouds. We are compatible in that way. I give you fun and endearing cheer, you give me back the silliness I crave and consistency and stability. After the first 3 dates, I cannot specifically remember the timeline of what happened after. I vaguely remember the surprise I felt that each weekend we didn't just lounge around and do nothing- we had activities! Events! In Texas City, in Galveston, we were young and easily happy together. I also vaguely remember the instability I felt before you asked me to be your girlfriend. Or rather, I asked you to ask me to be your girlfriend. I was grabbling with not knowing when we would be official despite getting closer every week. I should have been happier to enjoy the ride, especially since the ride was smooth and without conflict. Instead, I felt unease there was no absolution or security that we were NOT going to break up. You were easy going back then. I am grateful for the patience you had with me. I came to love and learn how wise you were through my weekly freak outs.

I have some other memories, TKY parties, going to the beach, feeling shy just dropping by the house, going to Oktoberfest and seeing you socialize with people you went to school with. I don't know why I felt so shy, but I was meeting a lot of people (formally) really fast. And I think I was nervous that all these put together were white, mostly attractive, had more in common with you, and would have more in common with me if I was also white. And I felt awkward thinking people were initially thinking we don't match. I was just projecting. Because in my head, I was struggling frequently about us not matching. It wasn't the same critique Lillian had earlier on about how we were "settling" for each other. My overthinking, unfounded, unmaterialized fear was more that we would blow up at each other for the same disagreements we were having then, in the future, and it would get REALLY ugly. Like in 5 years, we would continue to have the same tensions (that we were not letting completely tip us over at the time) but suddenly, we would both stubbornly not back down. And by then, we would look back and feel guilty we "ignored" this for 5 years and now had to be BRAVE to break up. I know I am not brave like that. But I think you are. It is still a fear I have, but after almost 2 years of working through these things and not having any less love (actually, having more love), I think "WOW. We are 2 out of 5 of those scary 5 years I imagined, and it actually has only gotten easier." Hence the B+C theory.

You feel so familiar to me now. It actually gives me butterflies in my tummy when I think of this. Your uncontrollable urges to redecorate, move furniture around, devote yourself to new hobbies like cookbooks, planting, coffee making, scavenging eBay and sellers online for clothing, Toyota Matrix's, and much more... they make me giggle. I know my Ben can get excited by something so small that brings him joy. It is so fun to watch. I like to make fun of you for these things, but I see a future father who will want his children to experience and find small tasks to devote to. And I will be in the back thinking... "how long will this one last?" But it makes me smile. And excited. I still daydream about our future so much. While your ADD presents in new hobbies, mine presents in new daydreaming topics. I think about the future so much. How will our wedding dinner look? How will our photos look? How will the photos of us looking at each other look? How will the proposal look? How will our first home look? Your residency? Our dates in the next phase of life? Our kids?

I trust that God brought us together, and I hope we can both be blessed by God. I hope He smiles down on our love. I hope we have a Christian and honorable life together. I idolize our future too much. Like my earlier mistakes, I know I just need to sit back and enjoy the ride. But I am giddy with anticipation. I am so thankful for everything and every feeling you have given me. I want to be less selfish, and do better at giving to and supporting you.

I think I am done. I love you!

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quindolyn · 3 years

Text

Better Kisser || Lily Evans

Word Count: 2228

Note: little bit of James x Reader, but I think it’s mostly focused on Lily, idfk at this point. I questioned my whole ass sexuality today because girls are pretty and we got this. I have come to the conclusion that I would let Lily absolutely rail me and then hold me afterwards.

Warnings: Kissing, alcohol, Lily is hot as shit, sue me, barely edited

Part 2

Masterlist

One thing was for sure, Sirius Black was an upright prick.

And there he was all cuddled up in his boyfriend’s arms, having lost his shirt to Marlene many rounds ago.

“You’re really daring me to kiss your best mate’s girlfriend?” You asked incredulously, hoping you had misheard him. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to kiss Lily. No, on the contrary. You were just afraid that it would make things awkward with both her and James, whom you’d known since the both of you were in diapers.

‘Why (L/N)? You scared?” He taunted, a wicked grin plastered on his face.

“No, course not.” You denied, leaning forward to scoop your glass of water off the floor, you didn’t want to taste like firewhiskey when you kissed Lily. “Are you okay with it Lils?” You turned to her, if she didn’t want to then that was a non starter, James could be persuaded. But Lily’s consent was 100% necessary.

“Sure (Y/N/N), s’not like I’m kissing Sirius,” She jokingly sneered at him, straightening her skirt as she composed herself.

“You okay with it Jamsie?” She crooned at him like he was a child, and sometimes he was, his eyes never leaving her lips, but you could only sympathize because you too weren’t able to pry your eyes off of them. They were plump and red and swollen from alcohol consumption, you wouldn’t really care if she tasted like alcohol.

“Mhmm,” He hummed, his eyes never quite meeting hers, “You do whatever you want baby, you wanna kiss (Y/N)?” He shrugged, she nodded, “Then go ahead and kiss her, s’not my place to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do.”

“Kiss!” Sirius heckled, taking another swig of firewhiskey before Remus pried it from his hands, kissing his cupid’s bow in attempts to calm him down.

“You ready love?” Lily asked, taking a puff from the blunt Marlene passed her, inhaling sharply before letting the smoke billow out her nose, a lazy smile taking over her face.

You nodded meekly before crawling over Dorcas who sat between you and James, where Lily was perched on his lap.

“Come here doll,” She beckoned with the crook of her finger, you hesitantly settled yourself next to her, your side pressed into James’ arm which was wrapped around Lily’s waist.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked her, you faces inches from each other, noses prodding each other’s, you had been right, her breath reeked of alcohol and instead of repulsing you it just dragged you in further. Her eyes flitted down to your lips staying there as James had to hers. You wondered if yours were half as pretty as hers were right now?

Her response came as she leaned forward pressing her lips to yours, they were incredibly soft, her lip gloss tasted like strawberries as you licked it from her lips, the tip of your tongue grazing her bottom lip. Feeling her smirk into the kiss at your boldness, leaning in towards her more you cupped the right side of her face in your hand, savoring how the soft skin felt under your hands. Pushing her tongue into your mouth she grabbed your waist with one of her hands, working her way under your shirt to access your bare skin.

It felt like an electric current surged through your body as your tongues fought for dominance, both of you mounting a fierce campaign, but ultimately you gave into her, letting her tongue explore your mouth at will.

After what felt like a ridiculously short amount of time she pulled away from you, the both of you gasping for air. You were distantly aware of the small whimper you emitted as she broke contact, but you couldn’t find it within yourself to give a damn, you were high off Lily Evans, and you needed more.

“I didn’t think you would actually do it,” Sirius spoke from Remus’s arms which were now rubbing up and down the smaller man’s arms, “I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” You smirked, quickly regaining your composure.

“You’re an excellent kisser (Y/N),” Lily lilted, brushing a piece of hair that had fallen out of your ponytail, behind your ear.

And just as quickly as you had regained it you lost all sense of what you were doing and quickly fumbled out an awkward thank you to her compliment, you were sure your face was 30 varying shades of scarlet and was quick to hide it from the view of the others in the room. Settling back into your seat on the other side of Dorcas you failed to notice the intense gaze of a certain bespectacled brunette upon you that stayed there for the rest of the night.

The next morning, sitting down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, the last thing you expected was to be immediately ambushed by James. He flew into the seat beside you, straddling the bench before scooping scrambled eggs and french toast onto your plate for you.

Before you could thank him, he opened his mouth and ruined his perfectly pleasant behavior, “I need you to kiss me!”

“I’m sorry what?” You spat out, somehow managing not to choke on the orange juice you had just taken a gulp of.

“I need you to kiss me.” He repeated plainly.

“No, I heard what you said, my bad. I probably would’ve clarified,” You cleared your throat, setting the glass of juice down onto the table, “What the actual fuck Potter? You have a girlfriend.” You swatted his arm turning in your seat so your body was completely facing the table, James was only able to view your side profile.

“And she has a boyfriend but you still kissed her,” He pointed out, you hated when he was right.

Before you could apologize for stepping over the line he continued, his words soothing your woes, “Last night after we all went to bed,” He started quickly, gesturing with his hands as he always did when he was trying to make his case, whether that was to McGonagall about how it most certainly wasn’t him who was hexing Slytherins in the corridors, or trying to convince Sirius and Remus about his idea for a prank, the boy was always moving his hands about like he was trying to direct air traffic, not that he’d know what that was. “Lily was bragging to me about how good of a kisser you are and how much she enjoyed kissing you.”

You blushed at that, moving your hair so that it would hide your face from him, but the boy wasn’t having it and moved it from curtaining in front of your face so he could once again view your side profile. “And that piqued my interest, because watching you guys kiss was,” He paused for a second, looking for the correct word, “Was euphoric.”

“Big word there Potter, Lupin teach you that one?” You tried in attempts to derail where this conversation was heading but he wasn’t having that.

“That was all fine,” He continued as though you had never spoken in the first place, “But then she started talking about how she was sure you wouldn’t have kissed me like that because she’s such a better kisser than me.” You did not like where this was going, “The problem here is that we’ve never kissed the same person, Lily was my first kiss,”

Though he raced over it quickly you couldn’t stop the small smile that bloomed across your face, there was no denying that James Potter loved Lily Evans. Unless you were Severus and couldn’t pull your head out of your ass that is.

“So we need you to help us settle this little disagreement.” He explained as though it were the most logical answer to his conundrum.

“Does Lily know about your little idea?” You finally turned towards him, one leg bent up on the bench.

He hummed, looking down to his hands where he was tugging at his fingers, “Well, no, not yet, I wanted to see if you would be interested in it before I asked her.”

Risking another glance at the boy you were met with his hopeful gaze which quickly morphed into a cocky grin as you nodded your head, “Fine I’ll kiss you, but only if Lily’s in too.”

“Great!” James exclaimed, pulling you up from your seat at the table and dragging you out of the Great Hall as he excitedly jogged towards the library where he knew Lily to be.

“Oi, Potter, slow down my legs are shorter than yours!” You complained attempting to keep up with his long strides.

“Sorry Love,” Though he made no move to slow down for you, if anything he picked up speed.

“Lily!” He announced your entrance when the two of you finally came to the library, earning him a sharp look from Pince. You tried not to look around at everyone in the library not wanting to see the looks they were undoubtedly flashing you, instead burying your head into the back of James’ shoulder, allowing him to guide you through the maze of tables and bookshelves until he finally found the coveted redhead pouring over her potions book.

“What do you want Ja-” She looked up catching sight of you as you tried to hide behind James, suddenly very nervous about what you had previously agreed to. “Oh, hi (Y/N). What’s going on?”

“I was thinking about last night, after we all went to bed,” He moved into the chair next to her, propping his head up in his hand which rested on the table top, “And I love you Flower, I really do but you’re just not the better kisser here, I am. But since you refuse to see that and we’ve never kissed the same person before we can’t really come to a conclusion. Until now that is, because (Y/N) here has agreed to kiss me and then she can tell us who is better.” He motioned to you with a wave of his arm and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks, the way Lily was looking at you, as though she was appraising you, made your legs tremble.

“You sure about this darling?” The question was directed towards you.

You nodded your head, not trusting your voice at this moment.

She sat in her chair a minute longer drinking you in before nodding, turning to her boyfriend who was smiling like an absolute idiot. “Not here though,” She commanded with a flick of her wand that had all of her supplies flying back into her bag, “Our dorm,” She looked at you as she grabbed James’ hand, then yours leading you out of the library.

James was sprawled out on Lily’s bed, the three of you had come to an unspoken agreement that that was where this would take place, it only seemed appropriate. Lying back, James propped himself up on his forearms, his eyes raking over Lily’s figure as she shrugged off her outer robe, leaving her in her tight fitting button down and plaid skirt.

“You don’t have to if you don’t wanna love,” She murmured in your ear, brushing her lips against your skin, “Jamsie’s just being a dick wad.”

A gentle laugh escaped you at your joke but you shook your head, “No, it's okay, I want to.”

“Alright then bub,” She hummed, “Get on J’s lap.”

You scrambled to comply, easily settling into the grooves of his thighs, “Are you gonna sit up?” You asked him glaring down at where he laid splayed out on the bed.

“No was thinking you’d come down here since I’m gonna be doing most of the work anyway,” He smirked smugly up at you as you leaned down to connect your lips thinking, it's only gonna cost you points Potter, go ahead, you’re just hurting yourself here.

You brushed the hair off his forehead as your lips met each other, he tasted like mint and citrus, it left you wondering what Lily usually tasted like when she didn’t have alcohol on her breath. He wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you closer to him as his hands ran up and down your back, soothing you into his touch. His lips were rougher than Lily’s had been, though you suspected they would be, you weren’t sure if you’d actually seen him ever apply anything to his lips aside from Lily’s.

His tongue gently pressed against the seal of your lips before pushing past it into the velvety expanse of your mouth. James let out a moan, you didn’t realize what had caused it until you felt Lily’s delicate fingers slide up from his scalp to caress your face.

You stayed there, in their shared embrace letting James’ tongue have its way with your mouth until your lungs couldn’t take it anymore and you were forced to push away, inhaling deep gulps of air.

James barely let you catch your breath before asking his question, running his hands up and down your arms which were the only things keeping you up.

In all honesty they were both phenomenal kissers and they were lucky to get to kiss the other every day but there was a correct answer to this question, and James wasn’t going to like it.

tagging: @randomoutsiders

#harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #marauders era fanfiction #lily evans x y/n #lily evans x reader #lily evans x you #jily #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you

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diaco1968 · 3 years

Text

Altair x Reader

Warnings! Smut, lemon, unprotected, a bit of choking, bit of humiliation, sounds a little dub/non con in the end

Note: I just realized I've written nothing for my first and longest crush, none other than the arrogant grumpy assassin! Sorry for the slight ooc-ness, I get weird writing about him...

Also amazing art! It's thanks to this, I've been visually crushing over this man for the longest time! *^*

Artist

"Wanna blow off some steam, Assassin?"

He could still feel your hands all over him, the feeling of your touch;

Your fingers running up his abs, tracing his chest, running over his shoulders, nails lightly scraping the back of his neck before they carded through his hair finally coming to a rest in a tight demanding grip on the back of his head.

It was unlike whatever he was used to.

The girls in the garden. They just did what they were assigned to do. Though they were obedient and submissive, they didn't claw at him like they desired him.

It was unusual.

It was exhilarating.

It was wrong.

It had been one of the rare occasions where there was a brief pause in the conflict between the assassins and the templars. A moment of peace that kept you all from jumping at each other's throats while their mentors and your commanders talked out their differences for a mutually beneficial truce. And of course they both had the option of having their choice of bodyguards accompanying them.

That was how he first met you. In person and eye to eye. With a distance of less than a rooftop, even less than a swords lenght, apart.

He couldn't get it off his mind now.

You had heard of him, seen the havoc he had caused in your ranks without even being seen. And he had seen you before as you barked orders at your little pawns and cut through his less experienced brethren with no mercy.

Always from afar.

Maybe that was the reason you colided hard the moment those roles were gone and out of the way. Attracted by the differences like day and night.

So when you cornered him alone with that very suggestion you were met with little to no resistance as you grabbed his collar and crashed your lips onto his. You demanded and you took as you pleased, making him bend to your will and despite his arrogant self, he liked that. He liked being wanted. The way you had him on his back in moments, straddling him so full of confidence. You were quite a skilled rider too.

Had him wondering if he had finally met his match?

Now as he stalked in the shadows waiting for you to make a wrong move, he wanted to take back. He wanted you. He had spent weeks being distracted time and again by the memories of your little encounter, now that he was so close to you again he couldn't help but drown deeper and deeper in his inner conflict. Thess were slightly different times, what if you rejected him? It would be so embarrassing... and he couldn't just kill you off if you did, that would harm the truce...

He shook his head as he caught himself thinking nonsense again.

Stay your blade from the flesh of an innocent...

You were a templar though... did you count?-

He didn't have time to measure your innocence as your pawns left to do something you ordered them to and finally you were all alone. All his. Easy prey.

A hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it behind you as he pulled you into the alleyway and slammed you front first into the wall.

"You've become too dull."

"Have I really?"

That was when he noticed you didn't use your other hand to brace yourself on the wall. The little sharp pain in his side from the blade threateningly pressing into him was proof enough.

"You'd still die anyway. So, yes, you have."

He let go of your arm and you turned around to face him in the very little space provided by his arms caging you to the wall, teasingly grinding your ass back onto him. He of course suppressed the little hiss in response, not wanting to give you the satisfaction.

"You think I dismissed my men because I'm dull and not because I saw a certain assassin lurking around in the shadows?"

He narrowed his glinting golden eyes at you.

"You are bluffing."

You chuckled as you wiped at your scraped cheek to ease the stinging.

"What ever helps your ego."

You could see his scowl even from under the hood casting shadows over his face that complimented his features, as he loomed over you, completely silent. His sunkissed skin, sharp bones, haunting eyes, defined scar over his lips.

"You are in templar territory, what do you want, bird?"

His grimace at the nickname had you smirking triumphantly. Why did you have to know their language... it was annoying.

"Don't call me that!"

"But that's your name."

You looked smug and he didn't like that but you didn't have all day for the yarn of his ego to untangle on it's own. You reached up, slipping your hand inside the hood and grabbed the back of his neck, pulling him down to you so you could whisper in his ear.

"Or do you prefer, Eagle? Am I your poor little prey this time?"

He could feel the goosebumps rise over his arms as he growled in annoyance, your voice rolled over his skin smoothly.

"If you were, you wouldn't live long enough to mock me."

"Flattering."

Your smirk widened, nipping the side of his jaw and pushing him off a whole step before he could react.

"Come, boy."

"... tch..."

Clicking his tongue he wondered if this was all worth it any way as he watched your form striding down the alley, taking his time before he decided to follow you.

To an abandoned building, top floors almost burnt away, leading to a giant hole in the roof opening up to the skies. At the entrance you grabbed his hand cause he was hesitating to step in.

He would have preferred more hospitality... like your own quarters maybe...

He didn't have time to ponder as you pushed him back on one of the few surviving furniture, before straddling his lap.

... a long wooden bench... in a burnt building with cold stone wallls...

"We're in a church!-"

You were already half way through his robes, heavily dropping the weapon belt on the ground as you looked up at his anxious expression, scoffing.

"And? Are you a religious man, Assassin?"

He glared at you but you had a point. He just didn't expect such disrespect from you. Were you not fighting as part of Richard's army?...

"You're shameless."

"Shame is a weakness. You didn't seek me out beacuse I am a weakling now, did you?"

You plopped down on his now not dangerously armed crotch and his hands shot up to grab your hips and steady you.

"Who said I seeked you out? I was just in the area for a job."

"Ouch... you mean you killed off one of my men and came to add insult to the injury?"

He paused as you paused staring down at him. Well maybe he didn't choose his words right. He wasn't good at lying on the spot.

"That's hot."

At this point he had no idea if you meant the things you said or if you were being sarcastic. But he didnt care as you started grinding down over him.

Like last time.

Oh hell no.

He flipped you, so now you were lying on your back looking up at him surprised.

"Not this time. You are mine now."

"Oh? Fine then, show me what you've got."

You almost immediately regretted that as the pit in your stomach deepened not only from excitement but from fear as his fingers wrapped around your throat tightly, nudging your legs apart to settle between them. As you let him discard your clothes, it was probably the first time it downed on you. The danger you were in. He could actually kill you. And no one would know. Kill you and leave you there disgraced and dishonored with no one to know where to look for you.

You wheezed loudly, clutching the wrist of the hand he had wrapped around your neck, your train of thoughts derailed as he unceremoniously thrusted himself into you.

His fingers left your neck, to fist in your hair instead, arching your neck so he had more room as his lips met the delicate skin, his stubble scratching you pleasantly. You grabbed the back of his neck, pressing his face deeper into the crook of your neck and he didn't mind endulging you, sucking and nipping on the skin, combined with shallow slow thrusts had you arching and twisting under him, trying desperately to get more friction out of him. He gripped your hips tightly, pinning you down and restraining your movements.

"I said you'll be good and do as I tell you to."

"That is not what you said."

"Don't test me, (y/n)."

He growled in your ear, his voice rumbling from deep in his chest and you were not about to argue with that as you hummed in response and decided to oblige.

He briefly pulled out of you, only to pull you up and dropping you on your knees on the stoney ground. With a hand on the back of your neck he had you face down, arse up and he plunged himself back into you groaning at the way you twitched around him eagerly with a loud wanton moan.

His other hand grabbed your hip to keep you from jerking forward while he drilled into you, completely different from his earlier pace.

"This is what you want after all. To be fucked like a little bitch with an important audience."

Between your moans and scratching at the ground in pleasure mixed with pain you didnt have time to wonder who, until he grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled you back against him so you were facing the old crushed cross behind the altar.

"...you fucking basta-geh!"

He shoved his fingers into your mouth, down your throat, deep enough to make you choke and gag around them.

"I'd watch my mouth, if I were you."

He resumed kissing your abused neck, fingers thrusting in your mouth, creating lewd wet noises and heavy moans.

You were close, he could tell. You were constricting around him so tight he almost released a few times if not for the way you bit his fingers angrily. But he wanted you to finish first. Wanted you to whimper and beg as you just couldn't anymore.

He sunk his teeth in your shoulder and that was it for you. A high pitched mewl and you were clamping down on him violently as your release shook you to your core, slumping over him as he slowed down ever so slightly.

Then he let you drop on your front and resumed his brutal pace, seeking his own release now, disregarding your half hearted protesting sobs.

It didn't take him long and he finished over your ass, panting heavily as he watched your shaky body, get used to the abuse way too quickly as you rolled over underneath him to shoot him a glare.

Awkward silence engulfed you both as he got on his feet and even helped you up with a hand and you both started fixing up your clothes and putting your weapons back in place.

This was not how it ended last time. The silenece made him wonder if he did something very wrong. If your little forbidden rendezvous had come to an end because of him. If it had, it was probably for the best but... he felt a pang of sadness thinking about it. Oh how he wished for you to open your smug mouth and say something. Anything.

"I think we can both agree, I am better off in charge."

"You wish, Templar."

"...well... yes, I do. That's the whole reason behind our ancient conflict, Assassin."

#altair x reader #altair x reader smut #altair x reader lemon #assassins creed #altair ibn la'ahad #assassins creed imagines

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babygirl-diaz · 3 years

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how about this tho -- bucky and sam are in heavy denial about how stupid gone they are for each other. and it's mostly bucky's fault :) cue like a bucky barnes from another time or better yet another timeline landing in theirs, and they gotta get him back home. but the other bucky barnes makes all the right moves on sam. makes him laugh, makes him smile, compliments him head to toe -- just easily expresses everything that the real bucky wants to say. bucky barnes being jealous of himself poor bb

(Wrote something based on this. Hope you like it, anon! Sorry it's a bit different from you prompt)

***

Bucky couldn’t sleep. The thoughts of Sam invaded his mind, like they often did these days, keeping him awake in the middle of the night. He thought about that beautiful face, that gorgeous smile… that hot body and that sexy ass that was just begging to be grabbed. Fuck.

But Bucky couldn’t make a move on the other guy because he was the only friend he had, and he didn’t want to lose him. So he was forever doomed to suffer through his schoolboy crush.

Bucky sighed and closed his eyes to finally get some sleep when a sound caught his attention. He was out of his bed before the knock on his door. He knew none of his enemies would knock before they burst into his apartment, but he still got the gun from the side table and took it with him. Pressing the muzzle to the door, he left the chain on as he peeked out of the door. But his eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw the person on the other side and the gun almost slipped from his hand.

“What the fuck…” he said incredulously. Standing before Bucky was his mirror image. Well, not exactly his mirror image, but close. He looked a little older than Bucky, was rough around the edges, his beard was slightly thicker, his brown hair was longer, and his eyes were brown instead of blue.

“I know how this looks,” the man said in a gruff voice. It sounded how Bucky would sound if he smoked. “Okay, maybe I don’t know how this looks. But could you please remove the gun from the door and let me in?”

“How did you--” Bucky asked but was interrupted.

“I am you.” The man replied.

Bucky had to be dreaming. This was some lucid dream. He had a powerful urge to pinch himself, but instead, he lowered his gun and stepped aside, letting the other man into the apartment.

“Thanks,” the man said offhandedly.

“Care to explain what’s going on here?” Bucky asked, closing the door behind them.

“I will once I figure it out myself…” the other man replied.

“Well, you’re— you— you look like me.” Bucky said, staring at the other man. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t just look like you, dumbass. Like I said, I am you.” Okay, this man had no manners whatsoever.

“How can there be two of us? Wait, a second…” something hit Bucky. “Hydra… are they back? Did they send you?” He took the gun and pointed it right between the other man’s eyes.

“Hey, whoa, man, chill. I don’t work for Hydra.”

“Then who are you and where did you come from?” Bucky unlocked the safety of the gun and got closer to the other man.

“I keep telling you, asshole, I am you. What part of that is hard to grasp?” The other man asked. He suddenly looked more frustrated than scared. “As for where I am from… that’s hard to explain but let’s just say that I am not from this universe-- your universe.”

“What?” Bucky let the gun down once again. “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

“Do you want me to write it in dumbass and hand it to you?”

Bucky again had the urge to shoot this man. “Can’t you talk without swearing?”

“Why? Does it make you uncomfortable, princess?”

“You are such an asshole. How can you possibly be me?” Bucky asked. “I need to think…” He started pacing the floor, wondering what the fuck was he going to do. He stopped in his tracks when he remembered something. “Wait… how did you know where to find me?”

“I live in the same apartment in my universe. Except mine isn’t so…” he looked around and made a face. “--so clean and I have a cat.”

“A cat?” Bucky asked, surprised.

“Yes, fluffy little creatures, perky ears, long tails… You got those in your universe?”

Bucky threw his hands up. “Of course we have cats in our universe. I am just surprised that I would want anything to do with one.”

“What? You a catphobe?”

“That’s not even a thing..” Bucky scoffed. “And by the way, we’re derailing from the point. How did you get here?”

“Hell if I know,” the other man shrugged. “One second I am passed out drunk in my apartment and then the next thing I know I wake up in a strange-looking Brooklyn.”

“You can get drunk?” Bucky asked, surprised. The other Bucky had the bionic arm, even if it was old-fashioned. Then he had to have Bucky’s powers, too.

“It was with Thor. He brought out his special Asgardian liquor, and we got hammered,” the other man explained. “Pun fully intended.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at him and started pacing again. “I can’t do this alone. I need help.” He said, more to himself than the other man.

“Who are you calling?” The other man asked when Bucky picked up his phone to call.

“Sam.”

***

Sam looked exhausted when he arrived at Bucky’s doorstep, and Bucky hated to admit it, but his half asleep state and his grumpy face made him look kinda cute. Okay. Right. Focus Buck.

“What’s so urgent that you asked me to take the first flight here?”

“Okay, so don’t freak out…” Bucky said, putting his hands out in front of him.

“You telling me to not freak out is freaking me out, Buck.” Sam sidestepped Bucky and into the apartment. “So what is it?”

“You have to see it to believe it,” Bucky told him as he led him to the bedroom. He slowly opened the door, and the first thing to hit his ears was the sound of snoring.

“What the hell?!” Sam screeched, causing the other Bucky to practically fall off the bed in his haste to get up. “That’s--” Sam looked between the other Bucky and Bucky, before rushing out to the living room.

Bucky went after him and tried to touch his shoulder, but Sam shrugged him away. “What is going on? Who is that?”

“He’s apparently me,” Bucky explained. “From another universe.”

Sam blinked at Bucky before bursting out laughing. “He’s you. From another universe? Good one, Buck!”

When Bucky didn’t laugh along, Sam’s laughter died down. “You’re not joking.”

“No, he’s not.” Bucky turned around to find the other Bucky standing behind them in nothing but his boxers. “Hey, Sam,” the man tilted his head to the side and offered Sam a smirk.

Sam looked at him from top to bottom, making Bucky frown.

“Hi… Bucky?” Sam greeted him unsurely. “This is really freaky…”

“You’re telling me,” Bucky mumbled.

“H- how did you get to this universe?” Sam asked the other Bucky.

The other Bucky walked over to Sam and stopped a little too close to him. “I have no idea, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart?” Bucky and Sam asked at the same time and looked at each other.

“What? You don’t like it?” The other Bucky lowered his voice even more.

Sam cleared his throat and shook his head at that. “No, that- that’s fine.”

“Well, doll, I gotta say, you are hot.”

Bucky’s breath suddenly became shallow, and his hands tightened into fists beside him. How dare this man call Sam hot? Yes, Sam was hot. Really hot. But this man had no right to call him that.

“Oh, wow.” Sam chuckled nervously and bit down on his lips. “Thanks, man. You aren’t bad looking yourself. Love the rough around the edges look ya got going on.”

“Why, thanks, baby,” the other Bucky winked at him.

Bucky had enough of the other Bucky’s flirting, and he put himself between him and Sam. “Can we get back to the important part? How do we get you back home?”

The other Bucky dropped on the couch and put his arms behind his head. “No clue. I don’t even know how I got here in the first place.”

“We need help, Buck. This is way above our paygrade.”

Bucky agreed with Sam. This wasn’t a problem they could solve on their own. “Should we ask Dr. Strange for help?”

“It’s worth the try-”

“So you got the wizard over here too?” The other Bucky chimed in.

A broad smile spread across Sam’s lips. “THANK YOU!” Sam said a little too loudly. “Glad someone else agrees that he’s a wizard.” He raised his hand to high five with the other, Bucky, who enthusiastically returned the five. “By the way, we need a name for you. Can’t call you Bucky. It will be too confusing.”

“You can call me darling if you like, doll,” the other Bucky started flirting again. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Sam nervously chuckled at that again, “While I love that suggestion, I think I will go with James.”

“Shame,” the other Bucky-- James pouted. He actually pouted.

Sam sat down beside James and James immediately moved closer to him much to Bucky’s chagrin. “What’s the last thing you remember?” Sam asked.

“I remember going to bed drunk last night and then waking up here this morning.”

“How did you know you were in a different universe?” Bucky asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Everything felt wrong…”

Bucky and Sam looked at each other before Sam asked, “That can’t be the only thing, James.”

James sighed. “I’ve been sent to a different universe before.”

“You have?” Asked Bucky.

“Yeah… It just feels different when you’re in a different universe. It’s really hard to explain. You know how when you go to a different country and the wind suddenly doesn’t feel right? It’s like that except dialed up to 100.”

“So universe hopping isn’t anything new to you?” Bucky asked with an edge in his voice. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

“Didn’t wanna freak ya out, dumbass,” James replied.

“Do you have to call me that?”

Sam looked up at him and chuckled, making Bucky frown even more.

“So, sweetheart, you got a lady or fella in your life?” James threw his bionic arm around Sam’s shoulder and pulled him closer.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to remove his arm and strangle him.

Sam threw a quick glance at Bucky before replying, “I’m single.”

“Nahhh… that can’t be true. A handsome fella like you doesn’t have anyone in his life. It’s impossible.”

“Are you always this flirty?” Sam asked him instead.

“Only around someone as sexy as you.” James leered at Sam like he wanted to eat him up.

Sam chuckled and looked down at the floor.

Bucky couldn’t take it anymore. He was practically in love with Sam and couldn’t do anything about it. Yet, here was another version of him, touching him and openly flirting with him.

“Sam! Let’s go. We should go talk to Dr. Strange.” Bucky grabbed Sam’s arm and pulled him up.

Sam threw him an annoyed look and pulled his arm out of Bucky’s grip. “Fine! Let’s go.”

“What do I do?” James asked.

Bucky threw him an annoyed look. “You stay here and watch tv or something. We’ll be back soon.”

#SamBucky #TFATWS #fanfiction #ask

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letsfluxshitup · 3 years

Text

companionship is stored in the fried bread [ao3]

Techno wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here, (somewhat) prisoner at his own kitchen table, as Tommy furiously kneaded dough in front of him.

bedrock bros but with old routines and new trauma aka tommy and techno fry bread

Techno wasn't entirely sure how he'd ended up here, (somewhat) prisoner at his own kitchen table, as Tommy furiously kneaded dough in front of him.

He remembered waking up from another week long nap, Phil recounting any news he'd picked up, and stumbling back towards his bedroom. He'd barely made it to the stairs before his door had flung open, bouncing off of the wall and slamming shut again.

Techno blinked at the door, before it was flung open again, this time much gentler and followed by a string of curses and taunts.

"Your fuckin door sucks, y'know that? Trying to lock me out? Stubbed my fuckin toe on it, you should get a new one, piece of garbage attacked me." Tommy hissed as he walked through the door, not hesitating to slam it behind him. The door swung back and hit him from behind, bouncing off of a spare shoe that had fallen in the way.

Tommy paused, face and shoulders scrunched up as he sucked in a deep breath, cheeks and ears flushing red in Tommy's signature lead up to I'm

-going-to-throw-a-tantrum-but-it's-not-called-a-tantrum-technoblade-I-am-not-a-child-technoblade-but-that-will-not-stop-me-from-bursting-your-eardrums-because-I've-been-inconvenienced-technoblade.

"Are you hungry?" Techno blurted out, remembering back to SMP Earth, and the foolproof method of derailing a Tommy Innit Tantrum— offering food and/or shiny things.

Tommy deflated in one long exhale, shoulders relaxing and face smoothing as he grinned at Techno.

"Actually, I am, big man! What do you have available? I'm quite hungry actually, I've been walking for a very long time, and it's very rude of you, actually, to not offer me something to eat sooner," Tommy inhaled again, catching his breath. "Did you know that, Techno? Did you know you're very rude?"

"I'm aware," Techno deadpanned, spinning on his heel and heading for the kitchen. Tommy was directly behind him, stepping on his heels more often than not.

Techno gestured towards the kitchen table, in what should have been a universally recognizable symbol of please-sit-down-you're-in-the-way, which Tommy completely ignored by climbing on to his counter to dig in his cupboard.

RaccoonInnit, echoed in his head, startling him slightly since Chat had been unusually quiet since Tommy had appeared.

Techno sighed deeply as the voices picked up slightly, humming their thoughts into his ears. Mostly protect-protect-protect, but there wasn't really anything to protect him from. If he slipped and broke his neck from falling off the counter then that was his own problem.

That train of thought earned him a near unanimous shriek of voices, demanding he make sure Tommy didn't fall.

He sighed again, ending it off with a slight growl as he moved towards Tommy, figuring he may as well entertain the voices for now.

Tommy's head whipped around at the sound of the growl, and he reeled back as Techno moved closer, a stuttering of "sorry- sorry- I didn't-" cut off as he slipped off the counter.

Techno lunged forward without thinking, catching Tommy around the shoulders and lowering him to the ground. Tommy's eyes were wide as he made eye contact with Techno, terror twisting Techno's stomach as Tommy let out a childlike little whimper.

Techno opened his mouth, to speak, to apologize, to break the silence, but was awarded with a face full of sweaty hand, Tommy smacking him away and cursing up a storm as he stumbled to his feet.

When Tommy made it out of arm's reach he paused, shifting from foot to foot, glancing between Techno and the doorway.

Techno blinked, slowly rising to his feet, hands spread out.

"Sorry," he rumbled, voices in his head screaming for him to apologize, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Tommy huffed, puffing up again, forcing his shoulders back and head held high.

"You didn't scare me, dickhead, just startled me a little." He grumbled, arms crossed as he deflated slightly.

Techno certainly wasn't going to argue semantics after nearly causing the kid to crack his head open, and instead brushed the non existent dirt off of his pants.

"So," Tommy huffed, gesturing towards the cabinet. "Where's the flour? I want to fry bread."

He'd managed to sparse through Tommy's nearly incoherent ramblings to pick up that Tommy was hiding from everyone else- or rather, "taking a break, because Big Men don't hide, Technoblade-".

"You needed a break from the drama so you ran to your worst enemy?" Techno deadpanned, reaching for the flour as Tommy sent him a pleading look. His hands were covered in too sticky dough, having ignored Techno's insistence that they needed to add more flour. He couldn't really knead it like that, he was more just squishing it between his fingers.

Techno would be more grossed out if he hadn't watched tommy thoroughly wash his hands. He'd hovered nearby as Tommy aggressively scrubbed before Techno had even let him near the dough, Tommy complaining the whole time about how he knew how to wash his hands and didn't need a babysitter.

Tommy huffed in response, wind whistling between his clenched teeth as he worked the flour into the dough.

"You're not my worst enemy," he snarked, something vulnerable in his eyes and the set of his jaw. "My worst enemy is in prison, currently."

"And hopefully that's where he'll stay," Techno hummed absently, watching as Tommy's shoulders relaxed minutely. "Things have been a lot quieter around here, startin' to wonder if him blaming you for all the problems on the server was just him projecting."

"Yeah, right, of course. He was being a projector and shit," Tommy let out a slightly incredulous laugh, and yeah, Techno realized it was hypocritical of them to place the blame on Dream. But, Tommy looked tired and tense and other t-words with negative meanings that Tommy didn't deserve the weight of.

Tommy rolled out the dough, flour-y hands causing puffs of flour to cling to his shirt and pants and hair. Techno huffed a laugh at the smear of flour across Tommy's cheek, and vaguely gestured towards his own face when Tommy raised a questioning eyebrow.

Tommy immediately swiped a hand across his face, smearing more flour in the process. His eyebrows furrowed, surely able to feel it, and he glowered at Techno, daring him to say something. Techno just snorted as he stood up, ignoring the coos roiling through his head, and waved Tommy away from the rolled out dough.

"We've gotta cut it up now, so we can fry it," Techno said, reaching for the knife he'd left out for this exact reason, carefully watching Tommy for a reaction.

"I know that, dickhead, you don't have to explain," Tommy snapped, head held high, as he watched Techno section up the dough.

Techno kept his eyes on the dough, carefully watching Tommy through his peripherals. In a, frankly, unearned show of trust, Tommy turned his back to him to wash his hands of the flour and sticky dough remnants.

When he was done, though, he whipped back around, watching Techno's hand on the knife. He'd apparently exceeded his reserve of unfounded-trust-for-the-person-who'd-essentially-ruined-his-life for the day.

Which, despite the voices' croons of distress at being untrusted, Techno thought was totally fair.

Tommy was nervous, and on edge, but he didn't seem to be explicitly afraid of Techno, just anxious in general, and Techno wasn't sure if that was better or worse.

Blinking back to the present, realizing he'd just been staring blankly at the cut up bread, he looked to Tommy.

"Do we want to make shapes or just fry as is?" He asked, carefully skirting past Tommy to drop the knife in the sink.

Out of sight, out of mind, hopefully, Techno thought. He quickly rinsed the knife, and cupped his hand to let the water run over the flecks of flour and dough that clung to the sides of the sink.

Tommy opened his mouth to respond and moved past him at the same time, towards the table, shoulder barely brushing across Techno's back. Techno tensed slightly in surprise. Tommy froze, and from the corner of his eye Techno could see he was tensed up as well. After no reaction, Tommy carefully made his way back to the table.

Techno kept fiddling around at the sink, letting Tommy play with the dough while he pretended to be busy. He knew Tommy liked making all sorts of shapes out of the dough, but wouldn't do it if he thought he was wasting Techno's time.

Techno busied himself with finding a proper pot, then filling it with the appropriate amount of oil. He measured it out carefully, and tried not to be bothered about the deafening lack of Tommy's insistence that you didn't have to measure it, the right amount of oil was something you felt in your heart.

He remembered the first handful of times, way back in Hypixel, when Tommy had insisted on teaching him how to fry bread. Those attempts, rife with errors and Tommy shouting about not needing to do silly things like measure, were near disasters, almost always saved by Techno's insistence on following instructions.

Once Tommy's hands stilled and the oil was at the appropriate temperature, Techno consciously relaxed his shoulders and smoothed out his face before turning around, eyeing the flour that had made its home on Tommy's clothes.

"We'll have to get you an apron," he drawled, already thinking about the leftover rolls of cloth he'd made, and if he had any red dye laying around still.

Tommy blinked, hands nervously fluttering at his side, caught off guard. Techno stared blankly back at him, having an idea of what was going through the kid's head.

Technosoft, bounced around in his head and he rolled his eyes when Tommy wasn't looking.

"You're assuming this is gonna be a regular thing?" Tommy tried to snark, but it fell flat, voice coming out too vulnerable and soft. It pitched up at the end, as if asking for permission.

"Yeah," Techno grunted. Tommy's eyes snapped back to him, and narrowed slightly before he huffed.

"Yeah, ok, fine." Tommy crossed his arms in front of himself. "I get it, I get it, you can't live without the great Tommy Innit's amazing fried bread."

Techno snorted as Tommy continued on.

"No, no, I get it, truly, it's just not the same when I don't make it, right? I have the special fried bread making touch, I know, it's a special talent of mine that gets all the ladies." Tommy scooped up the tray of dough, bringing it along to the stove where Techno stood.

"What ladies?" Techno grunted, as he reached for dough to test fry. He ignored the fact that it really didn't taste the same when Tommy wasn't there to help/be a menace.

"I'll have you know, Technoblade, I get lots of ladies-" Tommy puffed up, moving to put his own bit of dough in the oil. Tommy wasn't really paying attention, head tilted up to try his best to look down on someone who was taller than him, as he continued defending himself.

His hand moved down too quickly, and the dough flopped down into the oil, splashing a considerable amount back on to Tommy's fingertips.

Tommy cried out, jerking his hand back to his chest.

There was barely a breath before Techno's hand shot out, grabbing Tommy's around the wrist and dragging his hand towards his face.

Tommy flinched violently, his other hand coming out to swing at Techno, catching him hard across the jaw. Techno let go of Tommy's wrist, shoving him away in surprise, sending him careening into the side of the kitchen counter.

They both stumbled away from each other, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen as the oil kept sizzling away. The only other sound was Tommy's heavy breaths and slight sniffles, and Techno watched as he furiously swiped at his eyes.

"Do not grab me like that, alright?" Tommy snarled, shoulders tensed as he looked ready to run or defend himself.

Techno slowly held his hands up again, forcing himself to relax.

"I'm sorry," he grunted out, "You're right. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

Tommy squinted at him, swaying back on to his heels as he relaxed his arms from where they'd curled up defensively in front of him.

"Sorry for hittin' you." Tommy grumbled slightly, crossing his arms.

"I deserved it," Techno huffed back, scratching the back of his head. "I was just worried about your fingers. Sorry again."

"I accept your apology," Tommy said finally after a tense pause, head tilted back again, a look on his face as if daring him to say something.

"I accept your apology," Techno said back, carefully. Communicating, expressing his feelings and being a "good person" was so hard sometimes. It felt like he was walking on eggshells and if he said the wrong thing everything would fall apart.

Tommy sniffed.

"How's that for communication, huh, Puffy?" He muttered to himself, uncrossing his arms and making his way back to the stove.

"Cmere, dickhead, we have more dough to fry."

Techno relaxed as he made his way back over, and they settled back into banter and teasing.

Techno looked down at their fried bread, an assortment of shapes and figures.

Some were more distinguishable, like the twin T's and the handful of misshapen hearts.

Before Techno could say anything, not that he would've, Tommy started to talk.

"They don't mean anything, dickhead, they're just easy to make. We're not friends or anything, alright?" Tommy puffed himself up again, and Techno absently wondered why he did that, was it subconscious? Was it for confidence or to make himself seem bigger?

Instead of acknowledging anything Tommy said, Techno lightly bumped their heads together. Techno watched as his face flickered through several different emotions, ranging from happy to sad, before he just huffed and turned back to the finished bread.

"Everyone knows the best topping is sugar and cinnamon, I don't know why you even have the honey out," Tommy snarked, aggressively sprinkling sugar on to the bread. The image was kind of ruined by how careful Tommy was being, only covering pieces that were resolutely "his".

"I like the honey," Techno responded, loading his plate with a handful of pieces of bread. He picked up a few plain pieces, unshaped and just flat bits of bread. Tommy slipped a few shaped pieces onto his plate; one that was shaped vaguely like a pig, a crown, and one of the letter T's.

On Tommy's plate was the other T, a bee, and a horribly misshapen cow, along with a majority of the wonky hearts.

Techno drizzled the honey on to his bread, eyeing the excessive amounts of sugar and cinnamon Tommy put on his.

"Y'know, you'd like the honey if you tried it," Techno hummed, ignoring the glower Tommy sent his way.

"You always say that and I never like it," Tommy hissed back, petulant and childish. A warm feeling filled his chest as Tommy settled into their old argument, that Techno knew would eventually devolve into all the other things Techno dared to like that Tommy didn't.

Techno tuned back into-

"You said the same thing about mushroom stew! And cod and broccoli. Who even likes fuckin' broccoli?" Tommy dropped down into the seat next to Techno, pulling his plate to be in front of him. Techno didn't respond, focused on lightly slathering a small piece of fried bread.

3... 2... 1...

"Well, maybe I'll try a little bit," Tommy huffed, accepting the small piece Techno held out to him with a grumbled 'thanks'. Based on his reaction after he stuffed it into his mouth he still didn't like the honey, but he didn't say anything.

They ate in silence, Tommy quickly scoffing down the bread like he was worried someone would take it. Techno ate slower, hoping Tommy would pick up on the fact that he didn't have to choke down his food. This inevitably led to Tommy finishing first, and he silently started cleaning up.

Techno quietly finished up, helping Tommy with the rest of the dishes, before going to settle in the living room. Tommy followed behind him, looking a bit lost.

Techno was hit with the abrupt realization that he didn't want this to end. He liked having Tommy around, his energy filling the house with a warmth Techno never could.

Tommy cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling his feet.

"I guess I should be heading out then-" Tommy started, eyes flicking to the door.

"No," Techno said, suddenly, too loud and aggressive, making Tommy flinch back.

"I mean- do you, uh, want to have some hot cocoa?" Techno fiddled with his braid, trying his best to give a reassuring smile around his tusks. Based on Tommy's expression it didn't really work, but Tommy stopped looking like he was about to sprint away.

"Sure, I guess," Tommy grinned at him, false bravado coloring his tone. "You missed Big Man Innit? I know, I know, my company is just so great, I see why you wouldn't want to miss out on it."

Tommy practically flounced over to the couch, and flopped down on it, resting his feet on the coffee table. Techno was silently grateful that Tommy was naturally overbearing, and more than willing to make up excuses for the both of them.

Techno retreated back to the kitchen, and it wasn't long before they'd settled into the living room, Techno in his arm chair and Tommy on the couch.

Tommy had loudly insisted on a blanket and pillow, saying he was cold and the couch was uncomfortable, and Techno was quietly hoping he'd just fall asleep there. Then he could avoid kicking him out or, even worse, asking him to stay.

He'd much rather Tommy just take advantage, instead of having a conversation.

Eventually, Tommy's constant stream of chatter petered out, and he slowly slumped back into the couch, falling asleep.

Techno waited until he was sure he was asleep, before carefully checking he wasn't at an awkward angle, he didn't want to deal with the kid complaining about a crick in his neck, ok? He started towards the stairs to his room before hesitating on the first step.

The voices, practically feasting on his reluctance, started loudly protesting at once.

What if a zombie breaks in?

What if the Butcher Army comes back?

What if he has a nightmare?

Techno huffed, ignoring how irrational the last two were, the Butcher Army long disbanded and it's not like Techno cared if the kid had a nightmare.

As if the universe itself was daring him otherwise, a scared whimper broke the silence. Techno looked back to the couch, where Tommy was tightly gripping the blankets around him, and his brow was furrowed. He could see from here how aggressively Tommy was clenching his jaw, and winced in sympathy.

He made his way back over, a quiet rumble in his chest. It was a soothing noise, meant for baby piglins but it worked just as well on Tommy considering how quickly his face smoothed out. Techno settled back into his armchair, accepting that he'd be up late watching over the kid and chasing his nightmares away.

He couldn't believe he'd gotten so soft.

#bedrock bros #tommyinnit #technoblade #fic #dsmp #flux writes

71 notes · View notes

whataboutmyfries · 3 years

Text

Russian Roulette

Okay, okay. I am fully aware that it has been an absolute AGE since the last chapter but Life(tm) got in the way of this one and I'm so sorry it's getting to you so late.

Additionally, I hope you guys are aware that minimal editing has happened here.

@lumosinlove thank you so much for letting us mess around with your characters!!

Chapter 5

Logan slammed another cup of coffee to the table, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “Shit,” he breathed. “This is….this is probably enough for us to completely wreck their operation”

Finn leaned further back in his chair, blinking at the stacks of paper spilling onto the desk; about as much surprise as he’d show in front of Leo. “It is.”

Leo looked utterly unfazed as he sipped from his cup, closing his eyes at the feeling of the hot caffeine sliding down his throat. He rubbed at his eye, fixing the other one on Finn, then on Logan. “Will you do it then?”

Logan and Finn exchanged a glance. “I think you already know the answer to that.”

Leo studied the two of them before dipping his head in a nod of thanks. His voice was hoarse when he spoke again. “Thank you. For all of this.”

Finn waved him off, taking a long sip from his coffee. “Mm, I was wondering if you’d ever come around and show us that brilliant magic of yours.”

Logan laughed. “Forget magic. How would you feel about a game of cards?”

Leo’s eyes glittered “oh darlin’, I’m going to beat your asses.”

And damn if Leo didn’t deliver on his promises. An hour later, the three of them were sat around the table, staring intently at the cards spread over the wood. Finn tossed his knife, the blade making complicated swirls around his fingers as he caught it.

“You’re gonna have to do better than that to win nutty.” He chuckled; not even turning his head as he threw the knife at the dartboard.

Leo didn’t have to look up from his cards to know it’d hit the bullseye.

“Remind me again, which one of us is the magician here?” Leo drawled, eyes twinkling with mischief as he threw down his card.

Logan and Finn groaned, slapping down their cards in exasperation. Leo had won. Again.

“How does he do it?” Logan groused, pouting at the table, pulling one of Finn’s knives free of the wood.

Leo laughed, reaching behind Logan’s ear. And with a complicated twirl of his fingers, he unfurled a fan of cards

Piercing blue eyes looked over the top of the cards and Leo winked at the both of them.

“Magic.”

Three am found them sprawled around the room fast asleep. Mugs and cups and pots of coffee on every imaginable surface, papers spilling onto the floor. Leo blinked his eyes open to warm sunlight, shoving his face off the desk. Disoriented, he blinked his eyes frantically, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His eyes landed on a halo of red, and the memories of the previous night came back to him; only to immediately be ignored in favour of the beautiful boy in front of him. Finn’s head leaned back against the couch, exposing the column of his throat, the freckles there mapping constellations onto the creamy skin. Leo wondered if maybe Finn would ever let him trail shapes into those stars; if he tried hard enough, Leo was sure he could trace a wonky version of his namesake onto the alabaster skin. Unable to help himself, his eyes trailed upwards, crimson eyelashes fluttering against high cheekbones like trapped birds searching for a freedom he wasn’t sure he could offer.

He ripped his eyes away, his traitorous heart beating furiously against his ribs. It proved an even bigger mistake to look away because his eyes found smooth tan skin instead. Logan was almost devastating in his beauty when he slept, Chocolate-y hair shimmering in the early light. Sunshine dripping like honey from aristocratic cheekbones and hazel curls. Leo’s thoughts went into overdrive, his brain offering him vague snippets of poetry and literature in a futile attempt to describe the beauty of gods. The sunlight threw shadows across their faces, casting them in stark relief, and Leo’s heart all but crawled out of him to repent.

His heart was beating so loud it honestly surprised him that the two of them hadn’t awoken. This was a mistake. He never should’ve come here, let alone stay the night. Cursing his idiocy, he got up on cat-soft feet and gathered his things, chiding himself for letting down his guard so easy. He saw himself out, sparing one last look for the ethereal beings asleep on the couch. And as Leo let the door fall shut; he failed to realise that he’d been so caught up in cursing his mistakes; he hadn’t noticed hazel eyes trailing him on his way out.

Logan— on the other hand— woke to Finn’s feet sliding out of his lap. He knew he was home. He was safe. The syrupy darkness of sleep pulled him back under. Finn woke him again with a hand to his shoulder, the distinctive smell of coffee taking over his senses. Still drowsy, he grinned, a hum rumbling through him. Finn laughed, ruffling his hair.

“I don’t remember adopting a cat, but I can’t say I dislike it.”

Logan shoved at his knee with a socked foot, grumbling incoherently, though the smile on his face rather took away from it.

“Shhhhh it’s too early for your stupid face.”

“So no coffee for you then? More for me I guess”

“Touch my coffee and I’ll punch you”

“Oh shut up, you like my face too much to punch me.”

Logan blinked one eye open. “Who said I was punching you in the face?”

Finn laughed, nudging Logan’s cup closer to him. “Touche.”

Logan took the mug, nursing the warmth of the ceramic between his palms. “You know, that may be the only french thing that sounds halfway decent in that accent of yours.”

Finn flipped him off over the rim of his mug, drinking deeply. “Drink your sugar crash and leave me alone.”

Logan raised an eyebrow “Is that what we’re calling it now?”

“It is the sole cause of diabetes in this world and I am willing to die on this hill.”

Logan huffed, shoving papers out from under him so he could shift his feet up onto the couch. The events of the previous night still weighed on him. Lizard had given them….everything. Every detail, every nook and cranny of the snake house was documented. He’d left no stone unturned.

And he’d lost everything, anyway.

“Harz, he’s given us everything we were looking for.”

Finn nodded, “He did, didn’t he?” He gave Logan a look. “What do you want to do about it?”

Logan shrugged a shoulder, staring absently out the window. “We said we’d help.”

“You know you don’t have to follow through, you don’t want to do it, we don’t do it.”

Logan met his gaze, Finn’s sharp edges smoothed into something softer by the early sun. “I want to. It just…..” He trailed off with a vague gesture.

Finn hummed. “I think I know what you mean. But, Lo, we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do, okay? The second you want to drop it and leave, we leave, yeah?”

Logan swallowed past the lump that formed in his throat. His chest full to the brim with a feeling he’d come to describe simply as ‘Finn’. It was ephemeral and fleeting but felt like warmth; it felt like coming home. It was the feeling of waking up to find a blanket thrown over you, the feeling of a mug of steaming cocoa pressed into your hands on a bad day, the feeling of sunshine after tumultuous storms. It was the feeling of Finn, joyful and constant and forever ready with a bright smile or dry wit.

Logan smiled at his friend, shoving at Finn’s knee with his foot. “Awww, look at that. You might care about me after all.”

Finn shot him a look, the only warning he gave Logan before tackling him to the couch. Logan let out a somewhat aborted choke-squeal as he fought to get Finn off of him, wrestling his tickling fingers away from him. Logan cackled when Finn yelped overbalancing and falling onto the carpet—followed shortly by Logan, who had been too busy laughing to notice that Finn had grabbed him in a desperate attempt to stop his fall. They both lay on the floor, gasping for breath between peals of laughter, shoving at each other playfully.

Finn let his head drop to a side, catching Logan’s gaze. “You know…..It’s not like we have much to do today….”

Logan grinned “Ice cream and movies all day?”

“You know it.”

To put it quite simply, Leo’s brain refused to leave him alone. His smile was more facade than anything else, his beloved cards feeling clumsy and distracting in his hands. His train of thought had derailed almost an hour ago, his body running completely on autopilot as we walked the streets of Gryffindor.

They’d said yes. They’d said yes, and now Leo was going to be working with them. For a considerable amount of time. He couldn’t afford to throw something like this away on some fickle feeling, much less fickle feelings for a mob boss of all people. There was too much at stake.

Leo revealed the card in his hand with a flourish, the gasps of the people around him little more than background noise as he slipped through the crowd, surreptitiously pocketing a couple of fifties he certainly didn’t have before. He strolled unnoticed through the city, checking his watch as he went. He was early. good. He slowed his pace, watching passers-by go about their lives as he marvelled at the busy streets. It never stopped amazing him; the fervour that filled the city. Every street and bend so rife with potential, the possibility of wonderful things just itching to happen.

Like anyone else, Leo was wont to miss his home, the sprawling fields and endless forest of the countryside, but there was nothing quite like Gryffindor, with its skyscrapers shoved next to beggarly hovels and the hum of activity and excitement haunting every corner.

As his thoughts wandered through the city, his feet carried him to a familiar street lined with cafes and charming little stores. He ducked into one of them— a quaint bookshop, the well-worn sign hanging at the door proclaiming its availability to its patrons. The tiny bell above the door announced his arrival, the chime sounding through the magical place.

Leo had always thought that walking into Moony’s was like stepping through a portal to another world. Most bookstores were organised, neat. Books lined from A-Z subject to subject. Not Moony’s. Moony’s was a labyrinth. An explosion of literature and colour and homely comfort in every direction. Books covered every imaginable surface in the store, the shelves full to bursting. Haphazard piles of literature graced the floor, leaning against potted plants and comfy little armchairs scattered across the place. The books were stacked layers deep, some piles reaching as far as the ceiling, teetering precariously alongside narrow walkways. Leo loved it. The smell of tea and well-loved paper wrapped around him like a blanket as he walked to the checkout. An indignant meow drew his attention to the plush armchair, the stacks of books leaning against its arms fashioning it into something of a floral throne.

“Cheshire! How are you, you stinky little muffin?” Leo cooed, scooping up the ball of fur that had taken up residence on the chair. The cat in question purred happily, head butting Leo’s hand demanding head scratches. The blond laughed, indulging the cat and dropping a kiss onto his fuzzy little nose as he walked to the front of the store. A head full of tawny curls shuffled around under the till, clearly looking for something underneath.

“Found that treasure you’re looking for, Loops?”

Remus jumped, standing up with a smile, nearly knocking his head on the counter in the process.

“Missed me enough to come in early today?”

Leo snorted. “You wish. No, I just finished up quicker today.”

Remus raised a brow. “Sure you did. What’s bothering you Nutty? Tell me things.”

Leo’s chest warmed with affection. He sighed deeply; the singular breath seeming to take some pressure off his bones.

“You remember what went down with Pascal a while ago?”

Remus nodded.

“And that I went to the Lions for help like he said?”

Another nod.

Leo took a deep breath. “Well, they said yes.”

#russian roulette #my writing #lumosinlove #lumosinlove ocs #oknutzy #mafia au

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ladyblogger-margie · 3 years

Text

Permit Pending - Part 1

Pairing: Will Miller (Triple Frontier) x F!Reader

Summary: All Will Miller wanted was a park permit for a VA fundraiser, what he got instead was an unscheduled afternoon exploring different parks with F!Reader.

Word Count: 3890

Rating: G (smut to come in chapter 2!)

Warnings: Course language. Eventual smut in future chapters.

a/n: My first time writing reader insert and for Will Miller AND for Triple Frontier, so any feedback at all is appreciated. No Y/N.

Series Master List

3-2-1, Will Miller counted down to the ring of his morning alarm clock. Just like every single day his phone blared a monotonous alarm sound at exactly 05:42 and Will shut it off. He spent the next three minutes practicing mindful breathing and preparing for the day ahead. At 05:45 he rose and changed into his gym clothes.

He shook together a protein shake as he rode the elevator down to the surprisingly decent gym in his building where he did exactly 30 minutes of cardio followed by an hour of weight training. Today was back and chest day – his favorite – so of course he decided to listen to a podcast instead of a playlist of high tempo motivational music. It was easier to be motivated for something you already wanted to do after all. The podcast today was about finding a balance between order and relaxation, something his therapist had recommended he do before his insurance ran out on therapy sessions and he opted out of continuing the process.

After the gym he returned to his apartment and started the coffee maker. After a quick shower and some facial hair maintenance, he dressed in one of his branded polo shirts and drank his coffee with his breakfast. He had two talks scheduled for the day before lunch, then an errand to run after lunch. Later that evening he would meet up with Benny for fight training. Today could not be any more normal for him - exactly the same as the day before, and the day before that.

Or so he thought.

You woke up groaning when your alarm went off at 7:15am. You snoozed it. You also snoozed your 7:22am, 7:31am, and 7:40am alarms. You finally rolled yourself out of bed at 7:50am in time for your quick 30 minute yoga routine before you got ready for work.

You breezed into the parks and recreation office at City Hall at exactly 8:57am. You grabbed a cup of coffee from the office machine knowing that if you got up at 7:15am as planned you would’ve had time to stop at Starbucks on your way into the office.

You spent your morning as you usually did - catching up on your passion projects which were the youth sport organizations. You ensured all the public teams had access to the necessary fields and confirmed with the greens team that they were all in working order. You loved your mornings at work even though you weren’t necessarily a morning person.

After lunch was another story. After a series of poorly timed budget cuts, your department was forced to cancel the internship program. That meant you were drafted into working the permit desks in the afternoons. You knew that it wasn’t actually the worst thing in the world, it was just so boring. The applications were longer than they had any right to be and filled with confusing language. This meant nearly every single application required a specific follow up that never fit one of the many form responses you’d been accumulating in the hopes of streamlining the process.

Of course you wanted your community to take advantage of the awesome parks in your town, but apparently the legal department didn’t. It put you in a difficult spot where sometimes you were forced to give the park permits to corporations instead of individuals and it drove you crazy to do so. It also locked you to a desk unless a specific permit issue arose that required an in-person follow up which never happened. Which is why after lunch you went off campus to get yourself your favourite Starbucks order because the permit desk on a Monday required the heavy artillery to survive.

Or so you thought.

After a few hours of pouring over pages and pages of documents, the most handsome man you had ever seen walked into the office. He had blonde hair and soft eyes which you noticed right away but immediately after you were drawn to his strong chest tightly wrapped in a blue polo with some logo you didn’t recognize over one of his firm pecs.

“My name is William Miller, and I’m hoping you can help me with a park permit,” the man said, holding out his hand to you.

You composed yourself as quickly as you could and introduced yourself in return, shaking his hand. “I’d be happy to help you with that,” you said as you let go. His hands were firm and from the callouses you could tell he worked out, though his general physique already gave that away.

He smiled at you and you felt something stir inside you that was not exactly professional, “Did you have a specific location in mind?”

“No, actually I was hoping to get your opinion. I’m helping to put together a community fundraiser, a BBQ actually, to help support the local VA, but I’m not exactly sure where would be the best place to set something like that up,” he replied.

You knew exactly where to send him. There was a perfect location you often recommended for huge family reunions, outdoor wedding receptions, and concerts. But as you looked down at the desk for the correct application form you saw the huge pile of pages still left unread taunting you and you got an idea, “Why don’t I give you a tour of a few different locations to help you make your decision?”

“That’s a service you offer here?”

“We aim to please” you said, desperate for an excuse to get out of the office.

Will hesitated as he fiddled with his keys for a moment.

“I could drive if you like,” he offered.

You smiled as professionally as you could, trying to contain your glee.

“Thank you, let me just check out with my boss and I’ll be right back” you darted away before you could blow your composure.

You stuck your head into your boss’ office. “Hey, I’m stepping away from the desk. Some guy is insisting I help him pick a park location for his permit request. I’m on my cell if there’s an emergency” you said, not stopping to hear their response before darting off.

You grabbed your coffee off the desk and landed in front of Will. “Ready,” you said as he smiled warmly at you. He held the door open for you as you left the office, and your boring afternoon, behind.

He led you to his truck in the parking lot and held open the passenger door for you which made your heart flutter though you tried to control it and you reminded yourself that this was a professional outing, not a date.

He climbed into the cab beside you and started the truck before he turned to you and asked, “Where to?”

You gave him directions to a park you know wouldn’t work, but it did have a couple of soccer fields, and you wanted to check the nets there for holes and figured you could push your luck a bit more today.

He pulled into the park parking lot and looked around with a slight purse of his lips and a furrow in his brow. He cleared his throat before asking, “I did explain it was a BBQ, right? I don’t really see a place for that,”.

You suddenly felt guilty, thinking he probably had somewhere else to be today and you derailed him for your own selfish reasons. “I’m sorry, I’m keeping you. I just had to get out of the office, and I took advantage of you. If you’ve got somewhere to be, leave me here with your information and I’ll get everything arranged for you at the perfect place,” you said, avoiding eye contact.

To your surprise he smiled at you, “You should’ve said, I’ve got nothing going on this afternoon, I can help you play hooky.”

You smiled back at him, relieved that he was on board with your scheme.

Will watched as you inspected the soccer nets for tears and he felt a warmth in his chest he hadn’t since his fiancee, who had left him after the incident at the Publix. You were really nice and he could tell you were passionate about your job, at least parts of it, especially hearing you explain exactly what your job was while he drove you both to this destination. Plus there was no denying that he found you incredibly attractive.

You returned to his side at the edge of the field after completing your inspection. “Thanks for waiting, there’s a middle-school tournament here starting tomorrow and I wanted to make sure everything was set,” you said to him and he knew he was in trouble.

“Ready for park number two?” you asked.

He nodded and led you back to the truck.

When you arrived at park number two, Will realized this had to be the place you intended for the permit and he was a bit disappointed. He had been hoping to stretch out his afternoon with you a little longer. Before he could ask if you needed a ride back to City Hall he heard you let go a soft, sad sigh. He looked at you but you were gazing out the front window at the park.

“Is something wrong?” He asked.

“I’m going to kill the guys in City Planning,” you muttered upset.

Will tried to figure out what it was you were looking at, but he couldn’t see anything wrong with the park. It looked like the perfect place for a fundraising BBQ.

You turned to Will hopeful, “Do you have tools in this truck, or is it just for show?”

He smiled at your joke, “I’ve got a box in the back. What’s the problem?”

You gestured to a park bench, “City Planning keeps installing anti-homeless architecture in my parks and I’m not going to let them get away with it,” you said with a sly smile.

Will knows for sure now that he definitely has a crush on you. He gets out of the truck and grabs his modest tool box from the bed and follows you over to the bench. He sees a metal arm rest in the middle of the bench, obviously installed to ensure no one lays across it. He checks the back to see how it’s attached and scoffs at the simple way it’s been bolted in and opens his tool kit.

“Am I going to get arrested for this?” He jokes as he gets to work.

You laugh, “You’re with me, I’ll protect you”.

You smile at this; you could get used to the idea of having his back. He gets the bar free and you take it from him. He gestures to another bench a few steps away and he gets to work on liberating that bench too. You happily follow him as you ask, “So, you work for the VA?”

“Yeah, I mostly just run my mouth though,” he grunted as he loosened the much tighter bolt on the second bench.

“Were you military?”

“Yeah,” He rolls up his sleeve and shows you a tattoo on his forearm, “Delta Force”.

“But you’re retired now?”

“Something like that,”.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be retired?”

He paused and handed you the second detached metal arm.

You felt self conscious, maybe you were being rude? “Sorry, it’s none of my business,” You said nervously.

He shook his head, “You’re fine. It’s just not something I’m necessarily proud of though”.

“You don’t have to explain, it’s none of my business,” You said, as you led the way to the third bench.

“I had some trouble, and I was told my services were no longer needed in the field,” he explained getting to work on the third arm, “But I found a way to be useful, stay involved”.

You nodded, “That couldn’t have been easy,”.

He shook his head, “There are good days, and bad days,” and he handed you the third arm.

He looked around and didn’t see any more pieces of hostile architecture so he turned to you, “Do you need a ride back to City Hall?”

You looked at him and felt bold. “This is obviously the best park for your event, but if you’ve got nowhere to be, did you want to make one more stop and see my favorite park?”

He smiled at you and nodded his head. You led the way back to his truck where he put his tools away and took the arms from you and dumped them in the bed.

“I can’t wait to drop those off at the City Planning office tomorrow,” you giggled triumphantly.

You and Will loaded up into the truck and you directed him out of the parking lot.

Park number 3 was your favorite place in the entire world, though to be fair you hadn’t actually travelled much so you couldn’t really compare it to anywhere else, but still. To you the lakeside beach next to the tree covered green grass was a slice of heaven. You’d go there on the weekends with a podcast lined up or an old book and spend the whole afternoon on a bench with a coffee and some fresh air.

When Will pulled into the parking lot, you suddenly got nervous. You had lost some of your earlier boldness that suggested you open yourself up like this to a man you just met. But there was something about him, a warmth and a vulnerability that made you want him to know you, and you to know him.

You both got out of the truck and the sun was starting to get low in the sky as you walked him to a bench that bordered the beach and the grass. You took a seat and he sat next to you, your thighs gently brushing. The contact sent a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cool breeze that brushed through the leaves above your head.

Will looked out across the lake and around the park. He felt the warmth of your leg against his and the urge to lean over and brush your cheek with his thumb nearly overwhelmed him. You were so close, it would be so easily for him to just kiss you. But he wasn’t sure you’d want that. You wanted to play hooky from work, and share your love of the parks. He couldn’t let himself think that your enthusiasm for the day had anything to do with him. Instead of holding you under his arm and against his chest, he folded in on himself and looked at you.

He was about to ask what you were thinking about when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and noticed Benny’s name on the caller ID and cursed under his breath. “I’m so sorry,” he said to you as he answered, “I’ve got to take this.”

He stands and walks a few paces away and you watch him leave, disappointed. You thought maybe he was about to ask you on a date, and tried not to let yourself be too upset that he didn’t. You watch as he rubbed his forehead and shook his head as he talked on the phone to someone you couldn’t hear and didn’t know.

He hung up the phone and turned to look at you, and you turned away, a little embarrassed to have been caught staring at him. He walks back to you on the bench but doesn’t sit down again.

“Thank you for showing me this place, it’s beautiful,” he said softly and his sweet voice drew your gaze to his lips as he spoke. You felt the electricity surge between you all the way through to the tips of your fingers and your toes. “I hadn’t realized how late it’s gotten, I’m supposed to be at the gym, training my brother,” he explained.

You nodded and stood up next to him, so close you had to look up to meet his eyes. “That’s fine, I can call an Uber or something back to City Hall” and you pulled out your phone.

He put his hand on your arm, “Don’t be silly, I’ll take you back. Plus gotta make sure those city planning guys get their gift.”

Your breath hitched when he touched you and you couldn’t contain your smile as you nodded. “Are you sure? I’ve already taken so much of your time” you said, unable to tear your eyes from his.

“I want to”.

He walks you back to the truck and opens your door for you again and you hop in both flustered and excited.

The drive back to City Hall is more quiet than you’ve been all day. Your previous trips were full of chit chat about sports and books and random small talk. Now all that existed in the truck was the electricity and tension between you. You wondered if he felt it too, or if the surprising infatuation was a one-sided affair.

Will gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. He had spent most the afternoon with you and he failed to buck up the courage to ask you out. You took him to your favorite place and basically hand wrapped a romantic moment, and he blew it. He didn’t know if you noticed the potential romance of the location, or if you intended to entice him so completely, but you had. And he blew his shot.

Back at City Hall he handed you the metal arms from your adventure and you stayed by the truck. You were hoping he’d ask you out before he left.

“Thanks for the ride, and the impromptu bench liberation, and the excuse to get out of the office,” you said with a smile, lingering longer than you needed to.

He smiled back, maybe he could ask you now and he could still pull off the romantic gesture. “I had a great day, which I hadn’t actually expected when I went in earlier looking to fill out boring paperwork,” he said leaning unconsciously closer to you.

He took a deep breath, ready to ask - when his cell phone rang again. He silenced it and tried again, “Hey-“ and the phone rang again and he answered it. “I’m on my way, asshole. Start with cardio,” he said, frustrated, “you don’t need me for that”.

He hung up and looked at you embarrassed by his outburst, absolutely believing that he had blown it for sure now. But you just looked at him amused, not annoyed.

“Friend of yours?” you asked, stifling a laugh.

“My baby brother. He’s a fighter and I’m his trainer, which I do for free by the way, but he loves to act like he’s my boss”, he explained.

“Sounds like a character.”

“He is something that’s for sure. He’s also really special, really talented. He deserves a better lot than what he’s got”, Will's voice trailed off as he thought bitterly about how Benny left service when he did and the guilt he carried, unspoken, about that ever since.

Will leaned back, “Do you need a walk to your car?”

“I’m alright, thank you. I better head back up to the office first anyway. Thanks again for today. Maybe I’ll see you around”, you forced a smile, abandoning all hope of a date and retreating into the building.

Will kicked himself mentally all the way to the gym. When he got there he was in a bad mood.

“Finally!” Benny shouted at him when he walked in.

“I have a life outside of you, you know that right?” Will spit towards Benny.

“Fuck’s wrong with you?” Benny asked.

“I told you I was on my way, what was so important that you had to call me again and nag me?” Will asked.

“You’re never late, I was worried,” Benny admitted.

Will paused. He hasn’t thought of it like that. He was never late, it was so unlike him. It was actually kinda nice Benny worried, even if he was an ass about it.

“Well I’m here now, let’s get to it”, Will shrugged and he climbed into the ring opposite Benny.

After training they grabbed some food together. After scarfing down most of his meal without breathing, Benny asked Will, “Why were you late? You didn’t say.”

Will cleared his throat, “I was trying to get a park permit for the VA BBQ”.

“I thought you did that right after lunch?”

“It took longer than expected,” Will said vaguely.

Benny squinted his eyes at his older brother until the metaphorical lightbulb went off. “Oh shit!” he said, “You were with a girl! Fuck, I never would’ve called you away if I knew, you’ve been alone for so long!”

Will threw his used napkin at his taunting brother, “Fuck off.”

“Seriously,” Benny said, not laughing anymore, “I hope I didn’t blow it for you, I want you to be happy.”

Will sighed, “I didn’t get her number, and I didn’t ask her out.”

Benny gave him a sympathetic smile, “At least you got the permit for the event.”

Will pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fuck, I completely forgot to actually get the permit.”

Benny smirked at him. “You know what that means, right?”

“No,” Will groaned.

“You gotta go back and see her tomorrow.”

Will leaned back in his chair, his mood dramatically improved.

The next morning you dragged yourself out of bed after your third alarm and skipped yoga, just not in the mood. You hoped stopping at Starbucks would get you out of your funk, but even your favorite coffee didn’t have its usual effect. You felt so stupid for feeling like this today. You literally knew Will Miller for all of one afternoon, it shouldn’t ruin your whole week that he didn’t ask you out.

You walked into the office ready to be grumpy for the rest of the day when you noticed Will stand up from the chair in which he was sitting.

Will had been waiting for you since the office opened. He was there long enough to wonder if what he was doing was creepy or sweet. The longer he waited, the worse he felt about his plan. Though once he saw you, his resolve formed and he stood to greet you. Any insecurity he had melted away when he saw how you smiled at him when you noticed him there.

“Hey,” he started, finding his voice.

“Hey,” you replied, breathless.

“I never did fill out a permit yesterday, I got distracted by someone way more interesting than paperwork,” he said, unable to contain a grin.

You felt something deep in your center as you too failed to contain a beaming smile.

“I can help you with that,” you walked behind the permit desk and he met you on the other side.

You handed him the paperwork and helped him fill everything out. The entire time neither of you could contain your ear splitting smiles. When he finished you stamped his form and returned his copy.

“You’re all set, Mr. Miller,” you said, “Will there be anything else?”

He looked you the eye, “Are you free Friday night? I’d love to take you out.”

You nodded eagerly, “I’d like that.”

PART 2

#will miller #will miller x reader #will miller x f!reader #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #william ironhead miller #william ironhead miller x F!Reader #william miller fanfiction #fanficion #fanfic series #permit pending series

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princess-of-the-corner · 4 years

Note

Lila trying convince people Mari works for Hawkmoth "Ladybug told me she refuses to give Mari a miraculous, I think we need to question why she thinks Mari would be a bad holder" and immediately after that Mari is outed as Multimouse

I uh. I got carried away answering this one.

“Hey,” Alya said, leaning over the desk. “Since you’re friends with Ladybug, you have influence on who she chooses to be new Heroes, right?”

“She does take my choices into account,” Lila grinned. “I can’t tell you who anyone is though! Of course, we must uphold secret identities!”

The implication was lost on Alya. But not Adrien. Perhaps he should encourage this line of discussion. Maybe Lila would ‘confess’ to being the Fox Hero. That’d really be some ‘proof’.

“I know,” Alya said. “But… I know you haven’t gotten along, but maybe you could suggest Marinette?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Lila frowned.

“Again, I know you two don’t get along well,” she said. “But I think that offering an olive branch like that might help you two, you know. Bury the hatchet and all that.”

“I-it’s not that I don’t want to,” she sighed. “I’ve actually tried, with that exact idea in mind! But… Ladybug doesn’t think it’s a good idea.”

“How is it not a good idea?” she wondered. “Mari’s… Mari. The only non-heroic quality she has is her clumsiness! And Ladybug let Chloé be a Hero!”

“I heard that, jackass!” Chloé said from her seat, lazily flipping them off. “It’s true but you shouldn’t say it.”

Adrien laughed at that. Especially because Alya just gave an exasperated smile and eyeroll instead of derailing this into an argument. Progress on friendship!

“I don’t know the details,” Lila said. “But when I suggested that Ladybug choose Marinette, she refused. All Ladybug said was that she ‘had suspicions’. But… you’re right. If Ladybug gave Chloé a Miraculous but thinks giving one to Marinette is a bad idea…. Maybe we should examine why.”

Oh. So that was her game. Well, as much as Adrien wanted to say something about that, there was already a plan in place to keep it from going too far. Perhaps it would be better if Marinette didn’t know about this one.

Though he would later tell her that Alya still defended her from Lila’s implied accusation. Manipulation was a powerful tool, but try too big a lie too soon and it’d fall apart. Lila had too much faith in her abilities, and not enough in how wonderful Marinette was.

So instead, he rolled his eyes and focused on the girl in question, who had just scrambled into the classroom seconds before the bell rang. And by ‘scrambled’, he of course means she ran in and tripped, landing on the floor in front of his desk.

“Morning, Bugaboo,” Adrien grinned. “Glad to see you’re still falling for me!”

“Just for that, you don’t get breakfast,” Marinette teased, holding up a somehow-not-crushed bag of pastries.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry!”

Alya was filming again. Of course she was. She had to get footage for the Ladyblog! And be nearby in case Rena Rouge is needed. Though she had learned her lesson about getting too close to the battles, and was safely with the rest of the crowd of reporters and curious passerby, all recording as well.

However, the Akuma of the Day was not her intrest right now. It was the new Hero! A girl in a gray and pink costume, her hair in two buns. She was adorable!

While Ladybug stood back, observing the battle, Chat Noir and the new Hero, Multimouse, fought the Akuma.

Alya winced when Multimouse got grabbed and thrown, landing near the crowd. She tumbled, rolling on the road. The force must’ve been enough to slip her Miraculous off, as there was a flash of pink.

Even if Alya had the reflexes to cut off her own video, and wasn’t frozen in shock, all the other people recording would have footage of this reveal.

As the pink flash ended, Alya watched as Marinette got up, shaking her head. The girl looked panicked, realizing her Miraculous was gone. Even more panicked when she saw she was on live tv.

Chat had followed to make sure she was okay, and was just as panicked. He landed, helping her up just as she found the necklace.

“It’s fine,” Marinette swallowed. “I- I’m fine. Let me finish the fight and you guys can have this back, okay?”

“If you’re sure,” Chat said. “Too bad about the identity thing. I mean, Ladybug and I have been so excited to get you on the team for a while, after all the times you helped us without powers. Kinda sucks I won’t get to enjoy you being a Teammate more often!”

“Chat, Multimouse!” Ladybug shouted from the rooftop. “Fall back and regroup!”

Nodding, Marinette gave a sheepish wave to the cameras before calling her Transformation again. The Cat chased the Mouse back to the rooftops and away from the fight.

This… didn’t make sense. Hadn’t Lila said that Ladybug was refusing to give Marinette a Miraculous? And while Alya assured her that Ladybug’s suspicions of Marinette possibly being connected to how many times the Class was Akumatized was just paranoia, Alya had thought that Ladybug had already made up her mind.

Had Lila only said that to cover that Ladybug was choosing Marinette? Then why say all that about how Marinette was ‘suspicious’? It doesn’t make sense. Maybe Lila talked to her again and changed her mind?

No. That doesn’t make sense either. Chat said that he and Ladybug were looking forward to ‘Multimouse’ for a while.

Did Ladybug just tell Lila that to keep the info secret? No that still doesn’t make sense. It brings her back to ‘why say she’s ‘suspicious’’?

She’d have to look more into it.

Multimouse landed on top of a rooftop, with ‘Ladybug’ and ‘Chat Noir following her.

‘Reality!’.

‘Ladybug’ turned into orange mist. ‘Chat’ seemed to as well at first, before solidifying into Silver Fox. God she hated that name. But it was technically the term for an actual black-furred fox. Somehow.

“Ugh,” Silver groaned, nearly collapsing against her. “How in the hell did you do this the first time? Making ‘Ladybug’ act like you is hard enough without having to constantly wrap an Illusion around myself.”

“I am the creative one out of both of us,” Multimouse said. “How’re you doing though? Using both of those must be tiring.”

“A little,” he replied. “I might take a nap after this.”

As half of Silver Fox’s transformation dropped, leaving just Chat Noir, Multimouse dropped her own transformation. Letting the Kwamis rest, Marinette pulled some snacks out of her purse.

“This is fun!” Trixx said, his mouth full of blueberry scone.

“It is,” Mullo agreed, munching on a cracker. “We’ve been helpful though, right?”

“Very, Marinette nodded, petting the Kwami’s head. “Now there’s footage of Ladybug and I in the same place. No one will be able to connect us.”

“We still need to finish the fight,” Chat said. “That means we still need Trixx.”

“Aw man,” Trixx sighed.

“You really need to work on your work ethic,” Tikki mused, appearing from wherever she had been hiding.

“Do you need me again?” Mullo asked.

“Nope,” Marinette answered. “Silver Fox will make an Illusion of Multimouse this time, while Ladybug fights for real. I do need to purify the Butterfly, once the fight’s over. Stay nearby and at the ready in case something happens though.”

“You ready to go again?” Chat asked.

“I guess,” Trixx sighed, popping the rest of the scone in his mouth.

“Still less lazy than Plagg,” Tikki muttered.

“Trixx, Let’s Pounce!”

“Tikki, Spots On!”

Ladybug stretched, while Silver Fox yawned. With a soft smile, she kissed his cheek. That seemed to perk him up a little bit.

“Make sure to keep ‘Multimouse’ back a bit,” Ladybug said. “Don’t need her getting hit and ruining the whole thing. And when we get to the fight, the Butterfly’s in the Akuma’s hairpin. We need to get it quick before your Mirage runs out.”

“Don’t worry,” Silver said. “I believe in you. So do most people.”

“Most people?” she wondered.

“A certain liar might’ve said something this morning,” he shrugged. “Don’t worry. With the appearance of Multimouse, her claim is being quickly forgotten. Or someone might catch on.”

She frowned, wondering exactly what was said. Oh well. She’d deal with it later.

Turns out ‘later’ meant walking into a goddamn riot when she got back to class.

#lila salt #Multimouse comes back and so does a new fusion #yes Adrien is ridiculous in his naming theme #Alya's not an asshole or dumb she's trying to believe the best in both sides

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universemarvel · 3 years

Text

The time Peter should have FIRST called Mr. Stark “Tony.”

By @universemarvel for @sdottkrames

Rating: general audiences

Relationships: Tony Stark & Peter Parker

Characters: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Summary: an irondad one shot where Peter gets... hurt., and handles it in a Peter Parker Way™️. Tony is honestly just trying his best okay?!?

Part of the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on ao3 here

Or continue reading via tumblr here...

“Peter!”

The kid jumps and his head snaps towards his mentor. He smiles sheepishly. “Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“What are you doing?” Tony held his coffee mug up in front of his mouth in a poor attempt to hide the smile on his face.

Peter looked down to his messy table, which was occupied by empty blue and silver snack wrappers, drinks, and his Spider-Man suit, which he was currently scrubbing with a sponge. He picked up one of the wrappers that still had some did in it. “I’m... trying all the pop tart flavors,” he said, taking a bite out of the pastry.

“You feeling alright?” It’s not often he could walk up unnoticed upon Peter.

But Peter just smiled. “A little lightheaded from the sugar rush, but otherwise fine;” his smile disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Why?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Why are you scrubbing your suit with a sponge? I’m sure there’s a dishwashing machine somewhere in this building,” he finally revealed his smile.

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Is the suit dishwasher safe? Because that would actually be great.”

Tony laughed. “I’m not answering that. What happened? And please don’t tell me you’re hand scrubbing your multi-million dollar suit because you forgot to put on deodorant.”

Pink painted Peter’s cheeks as he smiled and shook his head. “No, I just got something on it and it stinks. Do you want to smell it?” He offered the suit up, and Tony took a step back reflexively.

“No thanks, kiddo, I’m rather enjoying my coffee at the moment. However, I do have a decontamination gadget for a reason, so let’s throw it in there for a few hours so we can go back upstairs for dinner. That is, if you’re still hungry after eating New York’s entire stock of pop tarts.”

“Of course I’m hungry,” Peter smiled, “and if your cleany-box doesn’t work, can we try the dishwasher?”

“Absolutely not.”

__________

After dinner, the pair found themselves scrolling through Netflix. Peter’s lightheadedness from earlier had slowly been developing into a headache, but he didn’t want to bother Tony with it.

He didn’t feel like watching a movie, which he figured was a red flag, but he picked a Star Wars movie to avoid raising suspicion.

“Are you sure?” Tony’s voice pulled Peter from his attempts to distract himself from his headache.

“Am I sure...about what?”

Tony eyed him suspiciously, and Peter tried to think of what he did that was out of the ordinary so he could reverse it.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?” Tony squinted his eyes.

“Of course.”

“Correction-“ his mentor rolled his eyes; “do you have any pain at all?”

Peter shook his head, still trying to figure out what his giveaway behavior was. “Why?”

Tony crossed his arms. “Because we watched this movie last night.”

Peter’s breath caught, and he reached for a lie. He shrugged. “I feel like you didn’t appreciate it enough the first time.” His mind replayed the evening before. “Aaand you fell asleep, so technically you can’t say you watched it last night.”

Tony’s mouth was still pressed in a thin line, revealing his doubts, but he just shook his head. “Okay,” he gave in, “but don’t make me regret this.”

Peter smiled, hoping the well-known noises from the familiar film would minimize his headache’s growth.

__________

Still in the process of waking up, he was glad the room was so nice and quiet. He knew he was still at the tower because it was always loud at his apartment. His headache was gone, and realizing he was in his room at the tower, he wondered with a start how he’d gotten back here from the living room; he figured he must’ve been pretty tired last night to have been so out of it.

He waits for the noises of the tower to reach him, but they don’t. He sits up quickly, somehow quietly. Too quietly. He looks down at the sheets, and runs his hands back and forth on them. He can’t hear them, and his eyes widen. He can see his chest is moving quicker with his increased breathing pace, but he can’t hear that either.

He brings his fingers to his ears and snaps.

Nothing. He tries again, watching his hand this time to make sure he snaps correctly, still nothing.

He feels true panic swell up in his chest, and jumps out of bed. He rushes to put a shirt and a pair of pants on, and the silence of his movements scares him; he feels like he’s watching a movie on mute, except he’s never not heard at least his own breathing. He opened the door, and paused; the silence of the hallway greeted him like a wave, rushing into his head with an overwhelming ringing he feels rather than hears.

It hurts.

On second thought, he closed the bedroom door again, shutting himself off from the hallway. It had to have been whatever chemical was on the suit. The suit which was now decontaminated and as clean as it had been new. How helpful would it be going to Mr. Stark without any information? Maybe if he could retrace his steps from yesterday, he could find out what the chemical was. He glanced at the clock, and saw it was 7:15. Tony wouldn’t be awake for several hours still, so Peter could get a head start until then. If all went well, Peter could even analyze the sample and neutralize it before Tony was up for his usual weekend 11 am breakfast.

__________

Peter made it to the spot he’d been sprayed by the bad-smelling stuff by 8 o’clock. He landed, slowly turning around to assess the area. It was a bright alleyway, lit from the morning sun’s reflection off a nearby skyscraper, but was still secluded and generally ignored by passerby’s due to it being a dead end street, blocked off by a wall of brick apartment.

He realized that he hadn’t said anything to Karen, who had no doubt been talking to him since he put the mask on; he wondered what she had been saying, and felt partly guilty for what was probably perceived as him ignoring her.

He didn’t want to tell her he couldn’t hear, however, for fear of some hidden protocol that would alert Tony, so he did his best to try to sound natural, a difficult task given that he couldn’t hear himself.

“Hey Karen,” he said, and paused. What did she normally say to him? Ask him how he was doing? How he slept? She would have for sure commented that she was glad to see him, but her usual trail of discussion had probably been derailed by the fact that he hadn’t acknowledged anything she’d said throughout the entire trip thus far.

“Sorry for ignoring you,” he said after giving her a chance to talk, “everything’s fine, I’m just trying to find something. Here. For Mr. Stark.”

He waited a beat, hoping he wasn’t cutting her off or waiting too long to respond, but honestly he had no idea.

“Could you help me find any synthetic chemicals on the walls or ground here? I’m looking for the stuff I got sprayed with yesterday.”

If she replied, he didn’t know, but he was glad to see diagnostics pull up as Karen began to highlight a plethora of invisible substances in the environment around him. With each one that pulled up, Karen did a quick calculation as to what it was.

He scanned his surroundings; urine, vomit, urine, blood, urine, some more urine, a few unidentifiable splotches, but he could tell from their location and position that they weren’t what he was looking for.

His shoulders slumped forwards, and he frowned.

He saw a shadow grow forward into the alleyway, and jumped around in a twist to see what was there. It was just a garbage truck, but the fact that it was now looming over him in the alleyway without him knowing it was even there still had his blood running cold. He jumped onto the wall and started climbing. Halfway up, Tony’s face appeared on his display. He realized it was an incoming call, and too late requested, “Karen don’t answer!” As the call connected through.

He couldn’t hear anything of course, and knowing Tony was currently talking to him made his breath quicken. Also the fact that it wasn’t even 9 am, which was early — and therefore abnormal, for Tony.

“Hi Mr. Stark,” he greeted as happily as he could. “I’m, uh, climbing up this wall at the moment, can I, uh, can I call you back later?”

He hoped Mr. Stark said yes, and he wished he’d have video called so Peter could see his expression and attempt to read his lips, but he couldn’t. Instead he quickly exhaled “Karen, hang up,” and watched as the call disconnected. He climbed onto the roof, and hoped that Karen’s compliance to hang up meant that Tony hadn’t said anything too important. Besides, Peter should probably head back to the tower anyways to start figuring out what was wrong.

Now that he was on the roof, however, he was met with another wave of panic as the view of the skyline met him. He looked at the silent scene of a busy New York City morning, down the streets where he knew cars were still honking, people were talking, phones were ringing, and kids were yelling while they played on their weekend, a morning free from school. He knew it was going on, and he was missing it. Sure, this was every day for a lot of people, but he was Spider-Man. His job required his ears.

As if to prove his point, his spider sense flared up, and he fell to the ground. He looked around, not knowing why or where it had come from, but he didn’t see anything. Was he even the one in danger, or was it alerting him that someone else needed his help? After nothing happened for another moment, he ran to the side of the building and looked down. The scene he saw was normal, people walking, cars driving, even the alleyway he had come from was clear. His spider sense was still pulsing though, so he ran to the next side of the rooftop, frantically looking towards the street.

His eyes immediately found the scene, a car crash. It had just happened, and he wondered if he’d have been able to prevent it if he’d been able to hear. He didn’t know if they’d crashed before or after he’d felt the warning, although experience told him it was the latter. He swung down to the scene, and saw the driver open their door and fall out of the car. He ran up to her, seeing the passenger seat was empty, and helped her to her feet.

“Are you alright ma’am?” He asked, and not seeing any blood on her or problem with standing on her own, he thought so. Except her expression was still extremely worried, and she was talking, yelling maybe, but Peter couldn’t tell what she was saying. She then stumbled forward. Peter caught her, confused as to what she was going on for. She had just been in a motor vehicle accident, after all, so maybe a bit of odd behavior could be expected? He wished he could hear her to be sure.

She pointed back to the car. He looked, but didn’t see anything in the seats, besides boxes that had fallen in the back; other people were approaching the car now, too, trying to open the crushed back door. His spider sense was still calling, and he wondered what was in the back that could be dangerous. What everyone but him currently knew of. He turned back to face the woman, but she just grabbed his arm with a grip that told him that Something was Not OK and brought him around to the back, tears on her face now. The driver of the other vehicle ran up to them, saying something, before turning and walking anxiously with them. Confused, Peter cautiously followed them to the car, pushing past other people.

He suddenly saw behind the boxes in the back seat that there was a baby car seat, spider-sense screaming, and he was pretty sure he cursed out loud. He darted past the woman, pushed past the small, struggling crowd, and tugged the jammed car door, ripping if half off its hinges. He pushed the boxes out of the way to get to the baby. He tore the seatbelt in half to let the car seat loose, and handed the entire seat to the woman.

He glanced at the baby, happy and relieved to see her alive— crying but unharmed, and he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. The mother unbuckled her, smiling now, and seeing that the scene was okay to go on without him, Peter left.

He swung away, away to a rooftop surrounded by nothing but open sky, and crumpled to the ground.

His spider-sense didn’t stop. He didn’t feel safe anymore. His chest tightened, and he felt like his airway was closing. He closed his eyes tightly and focused on breathing in, slowly, breathing out, slowly. Repeating it. His fingers dug into the rough artificial ground.

Someone could be screaming right next to him, and he wouldn’t even know it.

He could see something flashing even through his closed eyelids, and opened his eyes to see this at his display had changed.

Next to a transparent box showing his elevated vital signs, Mr. Stark’s concerned face was on the screen. He said something, but Peter shook his head.

“I can’t hear you, Mr. Stark,” he said, hoping his voice was louder than a whisper, “I can’t hear you.”

Tony frowned, typing something on his screen and saying something else Peter hoped wasn’t supposed to be directed at him, and at once a new message popped up on the screen, all systems online and functioning correctly.

Peter just shook his head again. “I’ll be right there,” he said, “I’m heading back to the tower now. Please meet me there, please.” And he hung up before Tony could try to tell him something again.

He had to take four breaks on his short trip back to the tower, just to breathe. He felt like he was dying, but he hadn’t been hit by anything, so he couldn’t be. It painfully reminded him of an asthma attack like those he used to have pre-powers.

But, unlike those past times when he wouldn’t have even been able to stand, every time he caught his breath even just enough to stand up again, he forced himself to keep going. He was so afraid to see someone get hurt, or worse, without him being there to prevent it from happening. His never relenting spider-sense made him feel like people were getting hurt around him; it made him feel blind, like he couldn’t see things he knew were there.

It wasn’t even 10 am when he arrived back at the tower, but Peter fell into the tower window, gasping. He saw Mr. Stark stand up in surprise at Peter on the floor, before rushing over to him. Peter pushed himself up so he was sitting, and ripped off his mask. He felt the tears on his face and didn’t know how long he’d been crying for. He just wished he could hear the voice of his mentor as he stopped in front of him.

Peter reached forward and grabbed his shirt, seeing that the man was trying to talk to him.

Peter cried, “I can’t hear, Mr. Stark; I can’t hear you.”

Mr. Stark pulled him to his feet, touching Peter’s chin so that Peter could see his face, and tried to say something else. Peter shook his head. “I can’t hear you,” he repeated, “I can’t— I can’t hear anything.”

Mr. Stark pulled Peter into a hug, where they stayed until Peter could feel his heart rate slow and his breathing calm down. He pulled away to wipe his eyes. Mr. Stark gently took his arm and led him into the lab, where he handed Peter a metal device shaped like a pencil. He pressed a button and a nearly (but not quite) opaque holographic blank screen popped up in Peter’s face out of the long side of the not-pencil, making a sort of hand-held paper in Peter’s hand.

Suddenly the words, “can you understand me now?” Typed into the screen, and Peter looked up. Tony said something else, and the words, “it usually works pretty well, just let me know if something doesn’t make sense” appeared. Peter raised a confused and interested eyebrow.

“This is neat,” he said curiously. “Why do you have this?”

Tony shrugged, and started speaking. Then, “It’s not the first time I’ve had deaf friends hanging out in the tower, you know.” Peter didn’t know that, but didn’t ask further. Whoever it was had his respect, though.

“So do you have any clues?” Tony’s question popped up on the holographic tablet.

Peter shrugged. “Pretty sure it was whatever I got sprayed with last night.”

“Makes sense. You were pretty out of it yesterday you slept through most of the movie and didn’t even wake up when I carried you to bed.” Peter scrunched his eyebrows at the image.

Tony went on. “When did it kick in?”

Peter cocked his head to the side; “what do you mean?”

“What time did your hearing go away this morning?”

Peter shrugged. “Sometime last night.”

He looked at the screen, then at Tony when nothing appeared. Tony was staring at him with an expression Peter had seen before, usually when he’d done something wrong.

Tony spoke, and Peter was for once glad he had good reason to look away to understand him.

“So. You woke up. Your first morning missing a pretty important sense. And decided to go out as the crime-fighting, life-saving, danger-seeking Spider-Man?”

Peter didn’t know if the punctuation on the screen was intentional, but it helped give him an idea of how Tony sounded.

“Ummm, not exactly,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the screen; it was weird talking and not hearing your own voice, and Peter partially wondered if he was talking too loud. “I went to see if I could find a sample of whatever was in the, uh, the spray.”

Tony turned to the table beside him and pushed a button. Silent videos from social media popped up of Spider-Man helping a woman to her feet, then pulling a baby from a crushed car. He had to admit that even without sound, he looked a little lost.

He glanced back at Tony, he was now looking at him skeptically.

Peter shrugged. “I got distracted.”

Tony rolled his eyes, but Peter could see a hint of a smile on his face. He thought he was going to say something but instead he walked around the table to where Peter normally sat, grabbed a paper towel, then reached under the table and grabbed a yellow cube from the trash can.

Not a cube. The sponge from last night, that Peter had used to try and scrub the suit clean. Tony held it up expectantly.

A sample.

“Oh.”

Movement on the tablet caught his attention. “Oh indeed,” Tony said.

____________

They had the chemical’s composition within the hour. They had the antidote by lunch. They were waiting for FRIDAY to make the dose needed, when Peter saw Tony laugh.

“What?” Peter hadn’t said anything, and he looked around to find out what he was laughing at.

Tony’s words appeared, “I think it’s time for lunch. Friday tell us when the dose is ready.”

He laughed again. The words, “sure thing boss” followed on the screen.

Peter frowned. “Why is that funny?”

Tony smiled. “Because your stomach growling is more reliable than my alarm clock.”

Peter rolled his eyes, glancing down at his abdomen. “Traitor,” he jokingly accused.

____________

FRIDAY had the dose ready sooner than expected, so Peter brought the rest of his PB&J down to the lab with him.

He’d forgotten the talk-to-text tablet upstairs, so he didn’t hear anything Tony said and hoped there weren’t any urgent special instructions when Tony handed him a glass of blueish liquid.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I just drink it?” Tony nodded and opened a can of sprite, leaning it forward for a toast. Peter tapped the cups, and they both drank. Peter made a scrunched face at the nasty taste after emptying the glass, closing his eyes as he coughed.

“So I’m guessing it wasn’t blue raspberry flavored?” Tony asked.

Peter shook his head and coughed, but froze when he realized he’d heard the question. He opened his eyes to see Tony smiling in front of him.

“We did it Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed, his voice sounding wayy too loud in his head.

“We did it,” Tony replied, and Peter visibly flinched.

“Everything’s so loud,” he said quietly.

Tony’s smile faded a little. “Hm.” He spoke softly, “whatchya say we stay in for the rest of the day and watch movies with the sound turned way down low?”

Peter grinned, “I’d love that, but then you won’t be able to hear it!”

Tony put his fists on his hips in mock anger, “are you saying I’m old?”

Peter laughed. “Maybe in spider years.”

Tony rolled his eyes and smiled. “That’s what I thought. Now, what’re we watching? And please don’t make me watch that same movie for the third time in a row. There’s only a certain number of times I can listen to the jar jar lizard, and we’ve already exceeded that.”

“Okay. So how about that old movie Predator?”

“Okay, now you are calling me old.”

“Of course, now that I can hear your reaction.”

____________

30 minutes, 2 buckets of popcorn, and 1 pizza later, the duo finds themselves back upstairs on the couch, working on pulling up Predator with subtitles for Tony.

“So,” Tony began, “going back to that topic of reactions. How about I add this: don’t go out when you’re injured, as if that’s a new rule. Or impaired in some way. And if something like this happens again, come to me first. Please.”

Peter smirked. “Of course.”

“Nuh-uh, I need a stronger promise than that, bud. I don’t feel reassured at all.”

Peter sobered up, then. “Okay,” he said, “I will. Seriously. I was so scared.”

“Me too, Kid. Me too.”

“I thought I’d never hear you again. Or anything.”

“Aw, you’d miss hearing me?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Just the good stuff.”

“Like how much I care about you? And how great you are? And I’m so glad you’re my kid?”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up before he could stop them. He quickly turned it into a frown as if contemplating something. “Nah, I was thinking more about the times when you’re like, ‘do you want food?’ Or, ‘here’s some pizza,’ is a good one, too.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at Peter, who grinned. “But that other stuff you were saying is nice, too,” Peter added, feeling a blush rise in his cheeks.

“I’m glad you think so,” Tony replied, “because I mean it.”

“Oh,” Peter responded.

“Oh indeed,” Tony replied with a smile Peter could hear in his voice.

The movie started, and Peter rested his head into Tony’s side.

“I care about you too, Mr. Stark,” Peter said quietly. He knew Tony could easily hear over the movie’s volume. “And I’m really glad you’re here for me and that you’re my, uh, my mentor. Well, and like a father figure person, too.”

Tony wrapped his arm around Peter.

“Glad to hear it, Peter. You make a really great kid, you know. And I’ll always be here for you.”

”Thanks, Tony. And you make a really great dad.”

______________

#friendly neighborhood exchange #friendly neighborhood fic exchange #irondad #spiderson #tom holland #robert downey jr.#prompt #this is canon now #UniverseMarvel #avengers #marvel #tony stark #mcu #peter parker #iron man #marvel cinematic universe #spiderman #sdottkramer

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keelywolfe · 3 years

Text

FIC: Snowdrifts ch.4 (spicyhoney)

Summary: It's Edge's first day as a stay-at-home child caregiver. It'll be fine, he has a plan! How much trouble can one little baby be?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

“All right, child, we need to come to an understanding,” Edge said firmly, hands on his hips. He was standing over Snow, who was in her highchair, sucking vigorously on her fingers and looking up at him with wide eye lights. They were alone in the Swap brothers’ kitchen in the late morning, all the others having consumed breakfast and gone off to the respective jobs or job searches as the case may be. Blue made a hearty breakfast of eggs and sausages, and if grape jelly wasn’t Edge’s preferred seasoning for sunny side up yolks, he certainly wasn’t about to start his tenure here by complaining about the food.

Tomorrow he would get up earlier to make breakfast, Edge told himself. He’d been here for two nights now, he needed to begin adjusting to his new sleep schedule and stop lying about in bed. Today he would be implementing some changes and as former Captain of the Snowdin guard, it was up to him to maintain order. He could do this and now was the time to begin.

“Today I start on my duties as your caretaker and also homemaker,” Edge announced to his audience of one. “I am going to wash the breakfast dishes now. You,” he pointed a finger at Snow and she tried to focus on the sharpened tip, her large eye lights crossing, “will remain there until I am finished. You have your cereal and toys, keep yourself busy and I will be finished soon."

With that, Edge gave her a last nod and turned towards the sink. Before he could even stick his hands into the soapy water, Snow let out a wail.

He hunched down as if struck by a blow and turned back towards her. “No,” he said sternly. “I can’t carry you all day, I have chores to do. You have food and toys, you can entertain yourself.”

Unfortunately, Snow was not at all receptive to his perfectly sound reasoning. Large tears were rolling down her plump cheekbones and she batted away the little bowl of cereal. It fell off the tray to the floor, scattering tiny ‘o’s across the linoleum. Both her upraised arms reached for him as she bawled loudly and Edge, who once walked home on a broken ankle without so much as limping to keep the weakness concealed, folded like a paper sack in a rainstorm.

He pulled the tray loose, scattering more cereal bits, and swept her into his arms, patting her back as he crooned, “All right, shhhh, it’s all right, little one. It’s all right.”

The tears dried up with suspicious ease and soon Snow was chortling happily again. Any move towards putting her in the chair made those joyful sounds melt away and Edge was forced to settle her into his lap as he sat on the floor to clean up the newest mess. Between the two of them, they picked up most of the fallen cereal with entirely too much of it ending up in Snow’s mouth before he could stop her.

“I suppose we should be grateful Blue keeps his floor clean,” Edge sighed.

“Brzzt,” Snow replied as she chewed happily on another filched floor treat.

It became an endless cycle. He would attempt to set her down, the child would cry, and Edge would cave and quickly pick her back up. The dishes sat in the sink untouched, the dregs of jelly and eggs drying into crusts while Edge could do nothing to prevent it.

It was hours later when Snow finally started drooping, her little sockets growing heavy. Edge sat with her in the recliner and rocked her to sleep, and then with the same care one might use while handling a volatile soufflé, Edge eased her into her little pillow pile and sighed in relief. If she kept true to her schedule, she’d sleep for at least an hour and that would give him enough time to wash the dishes, perhaps fold yesterday’s laundry and—

The front door flew open hard enough to crash into the other wall as Stretch came in, dusted with snow and his cheekbones flushed bright orange from the cold as he sang out, “lunchtime! what’s shakin’, bacon, got anything cookin’, good lookin’?””

He’d barely finished his verbal abuse of pork products and cookery before Snow began to wail.

“I just got her to sleep! Why would you—!“ Edge realized he was wailing at nearly the same volume as the baby and shut his mouth with a hard click, gritting his teeth until he tasted dust.

“whoopsie, sorry, sugar butt!” Stretch only laughed and Edge reminded himself that dusting was not considered a suitable punishment in Underswap, even for a crime so heinous as this one. Stretch kicked off his shoes and walked over to scoop her up, snuggling her until her cries dimmed down into tired hiccoughs. “didn’t mean to bust in on naptime.” He cocked a brow bone at Edge, who only slumped down and glared back. “must’ve been a rough morning sitting on the sofa the whole time, huh? lazing around ain’t exactly your modus operandi.”

“Lazing!” Edge sputtered. He shot to his feet and managed to lower his voice just in time as Stretch hissed a warning. “I have not been sitting on the sofa! I have been trying to get some housework done, but Snow keeps crying if I’m not holding her! I’ve yet to do the morning dishes, there’s laundry waiting to be folded. I’d planned to make lunch for you all and all I have to offer is you floor cereal!” He took a deep breath, ashamed of how close it sounded to a sob and swung away from Stretch, facing the wall and admitting to the blank drywall, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“woah, hang on,” Stretch said behind him. “pull back on the reins for a sec. edge, this is your first day at this, okay? bet you didn’t learn all your puzzles in one day.”

“Puzzles are complex tools that take weeks of planning, she is one child!”

“kids are plenty complex, edgelord, until you figure out how they work.” He sidled up next to Edge and slung an arm around his shoulders, giving him a gentle shake. “you know, letting her cry a bit isn’t gonna hurt her. if she’s clean and fed, she can take sitting on the floor for a little while.”

“No,” Edge said decisively. “I will not allow her to think her cries are going unheard, she’s not sobbing into a void in my presence.” When he turned to look at Stretch, he saw the other skeleton was giving him a strange little smile. “What?”

He only shook his head, sighing out, “oh, you got it bad already.”

“Got it? Got what, I can’t be sick,” Edge said, and already panic was starting to swell. “If I’m sick, I’ve been holding the baby all day, she could be ill as well!”

“nah, edgelord, calm down,” Stretch chuckled, “it ain’t contagious, well, not like that, and even if it was, it wouldn’t hurt anybody.” That crooked little smile widened. “think we’re all developing a serious case of superfluous adoptive parentalitis.”

It took entirely too long for Edge’s weary mind to puzzle that out and when he did, he could only sigh in exasperation. “You aren’t helping.”

“never said i was, but don’t you worry, edgelord, i got tricks up my sleeves that amateur houdinis only wish they knew. hang on.”

He went into the other room, still cradling the drowsy baby, and came back with Edge’s scarf, embarrassingly wrinkled from its overstay in the dryer. Edge watched in confusion as Stretch knotted the ends together, then tied it across Edge’s chest into a sort of sling.

“okay, snowflake, in we go.” Deftly, he slipped the baby into the scarf before Edge could protest. He nearly panicked, expecting the baby to come crashing out to the floor. Instead, her little bottom settled snugly into the pocket it created, her short legs spread on either side of his ribcage. She snuggled in contently, yawning widely as she cuddled in against his sternum, and drifted almost immediately to sleep.

“see?” Stretch said softly. “she doesn’t want your arms, she only wants to be close, and now your hands are free. well, kinda, she’ll probably keep ‘em pretty full one way or another.” He smiled wryly, tucking his own hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “i’d tell you to let the housework go, but i’m pretty sure i’d be wasting my breath.”

“Other houseparents manage,” Edge said, firmly, “I will, too!”

“oh yeah?” Stretch countered, “other houseparents manage with no help at all, huh. how many other houseparents do you know?”

“I know enough.”

Stretch crossed his arms over his chest. “name three.”

Edge floundered, unprepared for the sudden quiz, “Um...the Cleavers, the Cunninghams—"

“from tv doesn’t count.”

Years of experience taught Edge when it was time to abandon a strategy. “That doesn’t matter. Other households don’t matter. I will manage this!”

“uh huh.” Edge was too startled to flinch when Stretch reached up and gently took hold of his face with both hands, his slim fingers still chilly from the cold outdoors. “remember what i said about not slapping away any helping hands.”

“You did help,” Edge admitted grudgingly. He tugged the scarf a little more securely around Snow. The baby didn’t stir, only slept on peacefully. “This was a good idea.”

“gonna help more, too,” Stretch said cheerily, dropping his hands and pitching his voice low, “you head over to the breakfast dishes and i’ll get lunch on track, yeah?”

“But—”

“i didn’t starve before you got here, edgelord, i can make sandwiches.”

It was the truth, Edge knew it was, and yet it still didn’t sit well. The bargain was that he would stay home instead of earning G, he should be able to do this, how could one tiny baby take up so much time and energy…that thought was abruptly derailed and Edge nearly jumped out of his clothes as Stretch gave him a little slap on the backside before strolling towards the kitchen. Retaliation wasn’t possible while he was holding the child, but Edge made a mental note to add this transgression to his tally as he followed after him.

The urge for any revenge reluctantly vanished when Stretch suddenly swung around and leaned in to drop a soft kiss on top of Snow’s skull. It was enough of a distraction that he couldn’t react when that quick kiss was transferred to his own mouth. Stretch didn’t linger to watch Edge gape at him, only headed to the refrigerator and began scrounging through it, leaning in to survey the contents.

“hmm, we got some leftover chicken, how about some chicken salad—eep!” Stretch whirled around on a yelp, rubbing his backside as he stared in disbelief at Edge, who was already making his way to the sink and the dishes.

“What was that?” Edge asked coolly. “Something about playing chicken?”

That sudden grin should have been worrisome, but Edge only felt a trill of anticipation as Stretch said with dark, deep intent, “oh, don’t you worry, honey, i can play. but first, lunch.”

Yes, lunch, that was in order. As Edge washed the dishes, the baby sleeping warmly against his chest and the plates clinking softly in the soapy water, he considered what sort of games Stretch might have in mind. Once he got a handle on this parenting strategy, he might switch his focus to the puzzle of Stretch. It would have to wait, for now, because when he began, Edge was certain it was a mystery that would require his full attention.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #drifters

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northstarfan · 3 years

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Alpha Flight #42 - (Bill Mantlo and David Ross, January 1987)

So we get two terrible bits of writing this time around, one in full bloom and one just seeded.

Let’s start with the immediate bullshit, Heather’s response to Northstar after he manages to shake off Kara’s conditioning again.

So, as I’ve noted before, most of the early indications we have of Northstar’s sexuality are varying degrees of snark and homophobia from his teammates. And that’s a whole lot of not great. But this one is really beyond the pale. Northstar was kidnapped and sexually assaulted by the person they’re debating letting onto the team, and Heather completely dismisses it as a joke. Not only that, she does so even as she acknowledges that it would have been worse for Northstar because Kara was a woman - an indication that she knows that the assault would potentially be more traumatic for him as a gay man. And she just doesn’t care.

That’s not just “quit the team” territory, that’s “quit the team and put your leader’s head through the wall on the way out”. Scenes like this are one more reason why I maintain that anyone who gives Northstar shit about his attitude toward Alpha Flight has never actually read Alpha Flight.

Then there’s the more infamous element - the cough that marks the start of the aborted storyline that was supposed to culminate in Northstar dying of AIDS. For the sake of redundancy, I’m not going to cover every panel that had Northstar sniffle, cough, and stagger his way to Alpha Flight #50, but since this is the issue where it first rears its head, I am going to give a general overview.

So this goes all the way back to Bill Mantlo taking over the title. Mantlo, who was on The Incredible Hulk at the time, was enthusiastic about taking over the book when John Byrne offered to swap titles. As Mantlo told Amazing Heroes: “I was bowled over [when Byrne called], because this was John’s creation and I’ve had nothing but admiration for the way he’s been handling it. So I said ‘My God, yes!’ And that’s how we decided to switch.” (Amazing Heroes #76, 1985). This enthusiasm also seemed to include a plan to out Northstar. As John Byrne put it in that same interview: “[Bill] is going to try and say the unsayable about Northstar in no uncertain terms; I wish him luck.”

Outside of that particular point, however, Mantlo seemed to have little interest in the Beaubier twins and had no real direction for them outside of Aurora’s fluctuating powers. From AH #76:

“So far the least interesting to me are Aurora and Northstar. John played them up the most, and really went heavily into their origins, but he made so many changes to them that it’s almost impossible for me to say what the norm is any more. I’m just giving them a chance to relax and recuperate while I concentrate on the others.”

Ultimately, Mantlo’s plans to out Northstar were blocked by editorial, and he found writing Jean-Paul under the same limitations Byrne had dealt with to be quite frustrating:

“I always felt Northstar had possibilities if his background could be developed as a logical extension of his character. But I was prevented from doing that because of creative restrictions. Therefore, I had to look at the character as a viable superhero with the reality of his gayness kept largely in the dark. And as a character, his flying and running fast just didn’t make him and integral part of the team without his uniqueness - being gay.” (The Advocate #479, 1987)

This lead to Mantlo’s decision to reveal Northstar as HIV+ and kill him off. From the same interview:

“Northstar… could have been made to just vanish or even quit the team, but Mantlo wanted to be true to the character’s integrity. He decided, instead, that Northstar would die of AIDS. It seemed, [Mantlo] says, plausible given the fact that there had been allusions to numerous relationships during his years in the book. ‘It would give me the opportunity to deal with a frightening, sad, controversial topic in a comic book - which I had always understood Marvel was all about,’ he adds.”

Alpha Flight’s editor, Carl Potts, was not on board with this. From the same interview with The Advocate: “We had never openly declared that Northstar was gay. Now we had the only fairly popular Marvel character generally acknowledged as being gay and he was dying of AIDS. You shouldn’t equate one with the other.”

The two came to a compromise on the storyline, wherein Alpha Flight’s foe, Pestilence, would sicken Northstar by quickening the “corruption” in his body, with the disease remaining unnamed and the intent being that Northstar would never realize he had contracted HIV, even as his illness progressed.

Said Mantlo: “It was really AIDS in another guise, and there were still complaints about it being too similar.”

The storyline was ultimately resolved by Mantlo having Loki tell the Beaubier twins that their respective ailments (Jean-Paul’s wasting disease and Jeanne-Marie’s increasing mental instability) were the result of them being half-elves unsuited to life in the mortal realm. Jeanne-Marie used her powers to heal her brother, Jean-Paul got sent off to Asgard to live with the elves, and both were written out of the series for about two years worth of issues. (The twins were eventually brought back by other writers via the expedient explanation of Loki being a lying liar who lies.)

Mantlo was displeased with the compromised ending:

“It’s really a fallback position, since we were precluded from doing anything else… Quite honestly, I think it’s hypocritical and pointless, but that’s comics. You can’t do anything controversial, even if it has integrity, even if it’s honest, even if it’s an attempt to deal with a serious issue affecting thousands of people and likely to affect millions more.” (The Advocate #479, 1987)

Though there were apparently plans to revisit the twins at some point, Mantlo left Alpha Flight before this came about.

So, there’s a bit to unpack here, the biggest point being Mantlo’s reasoning behind trying to kill Northstar off. This was a writer who was plainly frustrated by the limitations being imposed on him, but, at the same time, he also sounds very much like he’d limited himself by reducing Northstar’s character to the sum of his sexuality. Aside from a brief aside in Marvel Fanfare #28, it seemed Northstar’s jam-packed past of childhood trauma, circus life, professional disgrace, and political terrorism held no interest for Mantlo as something that could be used to open the character to wider exploration, nor did even his own ideas for Northstar and Aurora’s otherworldly origins. No, if Northstar couldn’t be outed, he had to die. And if he couldn’t die, he still had to leave the book.

I’ve said before that I admire Mantlo’s integrity in not dropping the subtext related to Northstar’s sexuality, and I hold to that. As a writer, he could have saved himself a massive headache by simply making Northstar straight or immediately dropping him from the roster. So I do believe that Mantlo was in some part sincere in his desire to do something authentic and emotional with his planned storyline for Northstar; he’d stated that Jean-Paul’s sexuality was a unique quality in the comics landscape and seemed to want to make that an open part of the book by whatever means he could. There’s even a case to be made that, for better or for worse, linking Northstar to AIDS and the scrutiny that storyline brought made it that much more difficult to downplay the queer subtext surrounding the character, in turn making it easier for a later writer to make a case for making his homosexuality canon.

However, I have a real hard time scraping up much patience for a straight writer who decided that portraying a semi-closeted character was just too hard, when that very life experience would have been authentic to any number of queer readers, particularly in the middle of the AIDS crisis. I’ve even less patience with the apparent conclusion that the way to remedy that frustration was to kill Northstar instead of finding more subtle ways to advance the character, as Byrne had managed, or even just having him leave the team. The notion that it would have been out of character for Northstar to leave Alpha Flight is absolutely absurd; this is a character who only ever stayed with the team for the sake of his sister. All that would have been required for Jean-Paul to plausibly leave would have been for the writer to stop torturing Jeanne-Marie for an issue or two, or to have her take a bad enough turn that he took her off the team for her own safety and that of others.

Finally, I can’t say I have much faith that Mantlo would have been able to execute his plotline at all well, particularly given how little sympathy he seems to have had for Northstar as a character or how little interest he had in him beyond the controversy of his sexuality. Whatever Mantlo’s intent, it’s hard to believe that we’d have gotten any deathbed emotion that rang true to Northstar as a character or was particularly honest as commentary on society’s treatment of AIDS victims from the same writer who had Northstar’s teammates blow off sexual assault as delivery for a truly nasty homophobic joke and who thought a gay character possibly having had two romantic relationships in his life (I’m assuming this was in reference to Raymonde and Maurice) made him so promiscuous that it was plausible he’d have AIDS. And on top of that, regardless of other motivation, the decision to get rid of Northstar seems to have come as much from Mantlo’s frustration with his editors as any desire for meaningful character development.

In conclusion, for whatever good I might be able to say about Mantlo, I’m not the least bit sorry that his plans were derailed. He seems to have been, at best, a writer with better intentions than capability when it came to the sensitive subject matter he’d decided to tackle, and it seems for the best that other writers were able to give Northstar the development he couldn’t.

Next Time: The Man You Were

Previous installments of the series can be found here and at AO3.

#northstar #jean paul beaubier #alpha flight #x factor #homophobia #northstar's gayest hits

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