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puppetmaster13u · 5 months

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@f4nd0m-fun here (I hope they allow us to ask with secondary blogs soon)

Just how wild do you like your Batfam cryptids? I've got ideas for days.

One is a wing fic where all the bats essentially end up half demon. Thomas and Martha make a deal with Alfred to help fix the city and clean up the curses and everything, and. Alfred asks for 'the souls of your descendants' at the point, not caring much for humanity but hoping to get ahead of those pesky demons in his soul collection (so and so said he has Constantine's soul but that's only a piece! What about a bunch of souls that have been tainted by the spirit of a city that has never had reason to hope? Now those are some rare and dark souls).

The Waynes were hoping he'd take their souls instead but he refuses (maybe they're too full of hope or something) but, over time, he grows attached and ends up giving Bruce a shard of his power, allowing him to transform into a demonic winged form based on an animal for his protection after his parents die. When he's young the form is a snowy owl, but once he come back and became Batman his wings have changed. Each of the babies is the same way. As Robin, they gain their baby wings, but, once they move to a new name, their wings evolve.

'The Demon's Head' isn't just a fancy title, the Al'ghul's are demon descended, so Damien is at least a quarter demon even at the beginning, but Alfred's power can't be passed genetically like they thought, so he was born grounded. In this, he shows up sooner, Talkia asking Jason to take Damien with him to his father since she knows her father will kill him for being wingless.

Tim, poor baby. He couldn't fly as Robin because his wings were a shattered mimicry of Jason's Robin wings. He felt like he was in the shadow of the previous Robin, making the 'replacement' nickname sting even more, but, eventually, he grows into the wings of a cardinal and learns to fly.

I'm not sure if Alfred marks Barbara as his person, but if not, maybe he regrets not doing so, thinking that she might not have ended up paralyzed if he'd given her power. But also she's not really considered a 'Wayne descendant' life the kids Bruce adopted, so he'd have to directly make the deal with her. Maybe he does this with Stephanie when she comes along, still thinking about how Barbara might've been better off with a deal. Also, he keeps trying to hold off on gathering their souls because he's grown attached. I figure he'd probably end up wanting to turn them into proper demons too tho when they eventually die but, for now, until the city has been restored (if it ever will be), the Batfam is essentially immortal, and Alfred might be pulling some strings so no one realizes the Waynes are as well. As a side note, I debated Alfred x Lady Gotham for this story.

Then I had a dpxdc version of this where the wings were still demonic in origin but basically Scarecrow and Bruce are many many family lines removed cousins from an ancestor who was siblings with Jack Nightingale. On top of that, Danny had wings but they got charred when he was electrocuted. This one also has Clock x Pariah and they have wings due to something to do with ghosts, Danny gets a cloak made out of their feathers while his ghost side slowly grows its own wings (but he'll never have wings as a living again).

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Sorry for the long send, I got a bit carried away, but if you want I can dig up my AU again and share what I have for the wings at least, not sure what else I've got written down.

#colony of bats AU

Honestly I love both of these ideas, but what if they were say, combined.

Alfred gifts Bruce a shard of his power- everyone knows the Waynes have wings, even if in most cases too small to fly. But the wings are feathered, usually bright and flashy for the men who inherit the trait.

Which means they're very identifiable. But like you said, Alfred gets (ugh) attached to this little mortal. He's practically raised him and honestly thinks it's adorable watching him manipulate the other richfolk at galas into thinking he's such a "polite young man." Bruce is practically his baby!

So he gifts him a bit of his blood (which we know via Constantine can extend ones lifespan including giving them a bit of healing) and an itty bitty piece of his own power. Just enough for Bruce to be able to willingly call upon it. Just enough for him to disappear into shadows. Just enough for his eyes to gain a hint of an unholy glow. Just enough for a hint of claws. Just enough for feathered wings to shift into jagged mimicries of his own.

You know what could be an interesting thing? The wings are Realms in origin. We know the FentonNightingales separated into the Fentons and Nightingales some time after Jack, so whose to say that the Nightingales didn't get into magic. Perhaps they were given a gift to thank them after a bit of protection or assistance. And the infinite realms are well, infinite. It attaches to all worlds, including say the more demonic ones. But whose to say none of the Fentons made a deal or three in the generations following. They were witch hunters after all, perhaps they need something to keep up with the "traitors" of their bloodline.

Perhaps a deal which resulted in those matching wings.

Now, how could they find out their relation with the Fentons? While there could be the adoption route, what if instead it was right after Danny's accident.

He died screaming, visibly got electrocuted, his wings are torched, there's no way they're not taking him to the hospital. Which means things like blood tests, maybe even a donated organ or two because someone doesn't get blasted with that much electricity without consequences.

Which, it's the batfamily, they definitely have alarms set up for any sort of family pings for both themselves and their rogues. Just in case.

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

Also had no idea where to put it but if this includes demons and ghosts feeding on fear, or emotions in general, then Scarecrow could be instinctively attempting to feed and grow his wings. Also he deserves raven or rook wings. Maybe a jay's if you wanna go for color.

Oh my gosh, even if Alfred and Gotham don't get together, they definitely have tea together and spar. They're definitely co-parenting either platonically or romantically, it doesn't matter this is their specialist lil boy. Who then brings even more of the specialist lil ones ever!

God I love the implications of Clockwork and Pariah creating a cloak of wings for a ghostling for them to use as their feathers slowly grow back. Love what that implies for the culture of the ghost zone. Love the idea of it maybe having an influence on Danny's wings in ghost form since a ghost's appearance is influenced by their image about themself.

#ask answered #batman au #batman #dc #dcu #dcxdp #dpxdc #cryptid batman #cryptid batfam #normally I don't really like demon aus #but this is honestly really interesting in implications #I am honestly here for this and am very interested #Would the batfam also get wings (that is feathered ones)#What is Constantine's reaction to Batman #Does it ping similar to a half-demon or something else #Does he just think it's a Gotham thing since like 3+ portals to hell have been opened there #I honestly don't think Alfred would let Jason die #Like demon blood is actually kinda OP in the DC world #We've seen Constantine stabbed through the center (like practically split in half hotdog style) and heal pretty freakin easy #Okay but wings #like wing ideas #Jack has condor wings (very big & also death implications)#Danny deserves lil dove wings as bby before they're scorched #They deserve to be similar to galaxy when grown back #White flecks from Clockwork & the darker bits from Pariah with hints of his own colors swirling together #Jazz has either a finch's wings or cockatoos #OH #Bruce has nicobar pigeon wings #Closest living relative of the dodo #And it is Gorgeous

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daedelweiss · 1 year

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“LIFE MISSION: SAVE MY BROTHERS” 💖 The Red Knight’s Mission (Episode 1: The Buried Memory Page 28-41)

and, finally, the last set for this episode. this was actually harder to get through compared to the rest of the sets, physically and emotionally 😭 drawing leo grieving broke me and i cried like a baby sketching that panel. i wish i could add more panels in but i didn't want to drag out the comic too long and give myself too much work. it was supposed to play out similarly to "E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" where leo's memories pushed back against him to avoid painful memories but i feel like that would've destroyed the vibe and somberness of the softer moments. plus it'll make the episode much MUCH longer. also leo didn't actually lose the colors of his scarf. it was more for symbolic reasons. and if the last panel of page 35 looks familiar, i took inspiration from the movie and imitated the expression mikey had when he tried to open the portal for the third time to save leo. (no, i did not trace it) it may or may not be foreshadowing for later 🤭 and yeah, the comic will be taking a hiatus……. to make more of the comic 😂 dw it's not for mental health or personal life reasons… actually it's partly that because i have an upcoming VISA interview 😭 bUT i'll still be making LM stuff behind the scenes, dw >:3 next episode won't be as drama or action packed as this one but… we will meet raph for the first time 👀 i'm really rEALLY excited to work more on the comic, and that's TWO reallys! i just hope y'all will be patient with me because it is no easy feat working on this. i love it but i'm only one person, after all 😄 thank you so so much for supporting this comic again! comments and shares are very much appreciated! 💖 BEGINNING / PREV / NEXT EPISODE (coming this april) •

( 🌿 please do NOT repost, edit, trace, use, and/or sell 🌿 )

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt 2018 #unpause rottmnt #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt raph #my ert #rottmnt life mission AU #life mission AU #separated AU #rottmnt life mission comic

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thevoidstaredback · 7 days

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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

In Danny's defense, dying scared the hell out of him. Living in a house of ghost hunters was a bad idea, so he left. It didn't matter that they were family. He was a ghost living in a house of Ghost Hunters whose life's work was the very thing that killed him in the first place. He died turning on the portal his parents had spend nearly thirty years working on with two witnesses to his demise. The natural response was to destroy the portal and leave without telling anyone.

He didn't get to that point, though. The first few months after The Accident had been constant ghost attacks, one after another. Danny had tried t understand what was happening, but between his friends on some level denying his death, the ghosts attacking on sight, and the powers he was developing not getting themselves under control, he was reaching his breaking point.

On top of all of it, the portal destabilized.

No one had been in the lab, thank god, but the ghost portal collapsed in on itself. The running theory his parents had was that the ghost boy had been the one to break it. Danny's running theory was that the constant back and forth and overloaded the system. No new actually knew what had been the thing to turn it on in the first place, so no one could actually prove anything either way. At least, that's what Danny hoped.

Danny knew, in the deep recesses of his mind, what to do to get it working again. He knew what to do to keep it open if he so chose.

It had never been his choice in the first place.

Danny had known it wasn't entirely safe for him when the house started to turn on him, but that had only been solidified when the portal had gone down, Jack and Maddie Fenton doubled down on hunting down the Ghost Boy. He was the only ghost left in Amity Park, so he was the only one the trackers would lock onto.

Six weeks before he turned fifteen, Danny left his home. He didn't tell Jazz or Tucker or Sam, and he most certainly didn't tell his parents. Quietly, he packed his things - only those of which that would be easy to carry - and left. He didn't bring his phone or laptop with him. He thought about leaving his wallet, but figured that'd be useful to him.

The last thing he did before leaving Amity Park was go to the police station and tell them he was leaving willingly. He refused to elaborate as to why. They didn't need to know that. He didn't tell them where he was going, either, just that he was leaving.

It was an accident that he ended up in Bludhaven. Four weeks of traveling had tired him out. His powers only making it worse. He was low on money and food, he'd been sleeping on benches and in alleyways, his clothes were all filthy, he hadn't showered in days- He was ready to collapse.

Bludhaven, from what he understood, had a much smaller homeless population that her mother city Gotham, but it was still a lot of people. Particularly homeless youth. Danny was just another kid in an alley when he'd finally collapsed.

It took three days of sleeping behind a dumpster before anyone noticed him. In that time, he'd only woken up once. Not having eaten in a while, he had no waste to expel, so his body had focused on keeping he rested before allowing him to wake up. That was when he'd realized the actual danger he was in.

He had no idea if human weapons could still work on him or not, and he was not trying to figure that out any time soon. So, before the group of armed guys who'd just come into the alleyway noticed him, Danny let the invisibility wash over him before he flew up and away.

On the rooftops is where he found the city's vigilante. He was dressed in a black suit with blue accents and a black domino mask. His weapon looked like a broken bo staff and was strapped to his back.

Danny was not inclined to meet this man, but he'd never seen another hero in action before! Sure, he knew they existed, but he'd never actually gone looking for any. No one in Amity had, actually. It was a peaceful place. Well, until he opened the portal on himself, but that was hardly his fault.

Sure, he wasn't going to meet him, but maybe following him around wouldn't hurt? As long as he didn't get caught, he should be fine. It was only for the night, anyway. He'd probably never see this man again after this.

At least, that was the plan until he accidentally followed the man home at three in the morning. In his defence, though, he didn't know that it was that early or that Nightwing - as he'd heard a few guys call him - was going home! Regardless, he was going to take this to the grave. He was going to leave Bludhaven come dawn and he was never going to tell anyone the he knows where Nightwing lives.

Again, that was his plan. Danny ended up falling asleep on the rooftop opposite the building Nightwing lived in. He slept through the day, only waking up when rush hour foot and road traffic got too loud to ignore. Just as he was getting ready to leave the rooftop, he spotted movement in Nightwing's apartment.

Now, he couldn't even begin to say what had made him stay, but he did. He sat back down and watched as Nightwing moved around his apartment.

It was messy, messier than he'd have expected, but he wasn't one to judge. What really caught his attention, though, was the uniform Nightwing was wearing. Now that begged the question as to why the hero - vigilante was probably the better term here - fought crime at all hours of the day. Why approach the problem both legally and less legally? Why align yourself both ways?

Danny was always a curious boy when something sparked his interest.

He was swift in his movements as he pulled out the binder of paper and scholork he'd taken with him. Opening up to the first blank page, Danny started to write.

He was a hero, whether people thought of him as such or not. He only ever wanted to help. Maybe he could help this guy. Maybe he'd feel some kind of accomplishment if he managed to help Nightwing.

Step one is to observe.

Part 2 Part 4

Tag List: @flame-343

I need to point out that I have gone off of the original prompt, if that wasn't already obvious. In the og prompt, Danny is an adult. In this one, as I continue my take on it, Danny is a child. I didn't mean for it to happen, but the words don't listen to me, I listen to them.

#part 3 #dp dc crossover #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #danny phantom #dick grayson #danny needs a hug #danny needs sleep #danny's a hypocrite #It's not adoption papers because dying is a legal barrier #work life balance #except it's being explained by a hypocrite 7 years younger than him #danny is going to make sure dick takes care if himself

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rooshoom · 10 months

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I did it. I have Spots verbal quirks in the previous post and now you get to have Spots physical quirks and movements with some quotes from when I noticed he does them.

Poses

Terrible casual ‘guy’ poses

The arm lean, the hand on the hip, the tilted head. He is totally faking the confidence.

“I love how many of your there are!”

“It’s the place with the big collider.”

Shoulders / Arms

When he first walks into the store to rob the ATM, he has super tense shoulders. We see a lot of his stress and tension carried more in his upper body than lower body.

Lots of shrugging

Shrinks in on himself by squeezing his arms to his sides

During the flashback when he brought the spider from 42 to 1610 you can really see how much he tries to squeeze in on himself.

Slings his arms, when he throws his portals his arms fly forward very fluidly. Example when he throws the portal at Pav, Gwen and Hobie, he throws it hard enough that his upper body drops once it’s out of his hand.

Hand movements

Fingers first, if you watch the way he reaches into the ATM he doesn’t just casually reach in, he grabs things with his fingers instead of his whole hand or with his palm

Floppy hand / t-rex arm

Conveys tons of emotions through his hands, like when he is shocked he flexes his fingers open. Maybe picked up on this since he can no longer express emotion through his face.

Balled fists but likely out of nerves. Once again seen in the flashback of the spider.

Points with all of his fingers instead of just one. “You made me into this!”

Standing / walking

It seems like he only stands at full height when he’s trying to convince himself to be confident. “I am the Spot.”

Even when he’s actually confident he doesn’t stand at full height. Right before he disappears inside Pav’s collider, which you can tell by his verbal cues that he’s very confident with what he's about to do, he’s still leaned over.

Knees together, once against this man just wants to appear small.

Clumsy. “I need more spots!” Running into walls, dropping things, and twisting around corners.

Would rather stand, crouch, or stand on his knees than sit down. Look at Gwen watch him ramble to himself while building, he doesn’t sit once.

Crouches with his neck more than his back. “You’ll have a villain worth fighting for.”

Head / Face

Head tilts

Leans forward to see with face first, so lucky he has a hole right there to deflect fists because if he didn’t he would be punched in the face so fast.

When he says “wow four on there.” You can see him lean in with his face. Totally why that old lady beat him with a purse.

Literal nose tilted up attitude later in the movie. When he’s in Pav’s universe dropping scientists into portals, he has face tilted up and nodding along with how many holes he creates.

Other

I see him stim with his legs a lot, such as hopping foot to foot. “This is real.”

Just generally very fluid, watch how he falls into the portal when he yells, “I am your nemesis!” He flops into it instead of bracing for impact. He has no sense of self preservation.

He. Cannot. Fight. Watch all of his scenes and look at how loose he is. A slinky of a man.

Look at how he flails. This man would flinch if you threw a pillow at him.

Y’all, I’m absolutely encouraging you to write Spot X Reader with my lists. I’m trying to make this easy as possible, don’t think babygirl just write a bedtime story for the masses we can all peacefully drift off to. Let me spoil you with the time I spent doing this so you don’t have to.

#jonathan ohnn #the spot #across the spiderverse #the spot x reader #jonathon ohnn #what else should I write about

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mgc02 · 2 months

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Yandere Vox and Valentino x angel Fem reader who snuck to hell to help Charlie out.

Its been a while since I tried learning Spanish and I used Google translate to help out but I apologize if I got it wrong

Caught on Camera

Cw: toxic behavior, stalking, toxic relationships, suggestiveness

You had felt compelled to do something when the princess of hell pleaded her case to heaven. To think they've been slaughtering hell's citizens this whole time and for the reason of overpopulation.

It all seemed so unfair and the princess seemed to actually be making an impact as you all saw the sinner she was trying to redeem act very selfless. Looking out for his friend and standing up to someone with power over him to protect others. Yet the seraphim concluded that there was no helping him.

You couldn't believe the events you witness so you decided that enough was enough and you packed your bags and took a portal to hell. (Without telling anyone of course). When you arrived you noticed that it was like earth but worse. Dirty with crime in every corner.

You tried not to be judgemental. You didn't like how the angels acted so superior towards the princess and her people so you wanted to be as open minded as you could. You tried to find some kind of directions so you make your way to the hotel but nobody seemed inclined to help.

Meanwhile you were unaware that as an angel showing up in hell you were attracting more attention than you realized. The demons that noticed your halo and wings began to whisper about and you were oblivious to the cameras watching you since you arrived.

"Is that really an Angel?" Vox pondered. "She certainly looks like she comes from heaven" Valentino said with slightly suggestive implications. "She might be powerful if we can get her to make a deal..." Vox's words trailed off as he felt consumed with the way she moved. She was born to be on a screen. "...We'll have to make sure she doesn’t make it to her intended destination." He caught himself trying to hide his allure towards her.

Val on the other hand never tried to hide anything. "Ella seguro es hermosa. I wonder if she'd be open to filming something with me." He spoke as he eyed her on the screen. Vox tried to contain the unreasonable amount of jealousy he was already feeling. "Well if I get a deal with her we can share." Vox lied. He didn't have any plans to share her. Val didn't seem to like that idea.

"How come you want her so bad? Maybe if I get her I can make us both rich." They both threw shade at one another while trying to hide their true feelings before they noticed the cameras had lost their precious little angel. "HEY! WHERED SHE GO?!?" Vox shouted. They searched street after street before the drone found her again. She was close to the hazbin hotel. "Shit! We can't let her get there." Vox declared. "You're right. We can discuss this once we have her here." Valentino said being uncharacteristically reasonable for once.

"I'll cut her off and you meet me there" Vox knew he might have to share her with Val but he started to feel confident he could manipulate him enough to keep him in check at the very least. Now all he needed to do was convince an Angel to trust a demon which was something he wasn't too concerned about. Convincing people to trust him was literally his job. And it was pretty damn good at it. This should be easy.

#hazbin hotel #vivziepop #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #yandere valentino #hazbin valentino #hazbin hotel valentino #yandere vox #valentino x reader #vox x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader

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aidemint · 10 months

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To Break A Habit | Routine Doesn’t Get You Kisses Like These

Summary: You kinda-actually find out he wasn’t joking about the spider stuff. Okay. But you’re totally cool about it. Totally.

Word Count: 5.1k

Pairing: Hobie Brown/GN!Reader

Notes: 5 minutes of screentime and i’ve already wrote more about this guy in a week than i usually write about anything in three months jesus christ

Masterpost | AO3 | Part 1 | Part 3

“40081’s got this hoodoo shit goin’ on.” Hobie sighs as he makes his way down the main hall of Spider-HQ, recounting his mission discoveries from days prior. “Some sort of bad luck spell that’s making the world lose its plot.”

Gwen paces beside him, listening intently. “Sinister Six behind it?” she asks with a frown. “Or do you think it’s something else?”

“Not certain,” Hobie responds with a shrug. “But I’m close to catching the anomaly. Things should reset once it’s out of the fabric.”

“Hope it gets resolved soon.” Gwen sucks in a breath from between her teeth. “Miguel’s not looking too happy these days.”

Oddly enough, the mission so far had been almost deceptively easy—three days into the operation Hobie had already located and shut down a multitude of energy pockets emanating from certain parts of the city. A variant of Mysterio or Osborn was bound to show up soon, as the sites were likely siphoning vitality from the dimension. Now he just needed to gather intel about the effects of the magic while playing the waiting game. Luckily for him, he has a direct source.

“Relax Gwendy, it’ll be fine. I even got in touch with one of the locals for—” Hobie starts assuredly, turning to address his drummer, but pauses and swivels around when she’s noticeably no longer keeping up with his stride.

“You what?” Gwen stands frozen in the middle of the walkway, eyes blown as large as dinner plates with her mouth slightly ajar. She readjusts herself with a shake of her head, though her hands and shoulders remain raised and stiff. “Hobie, please tell me you’re not getting to know a civilian. ”

“Then I won’t tell you that I’m ‘getting to know’ a civilian.” A roll of his shoulder and he’s back walking, half-lidded eyes peering at Gwen when she inevitably joins again, bobbing and weaving through a downcurrent flow of Peter Parkers. “And I won’t tell you that it’s strictly for information about the mission.” A coy smile tugs the edges of Hobie’s lips upward. “Probably.”

Gwen looks just about ready to explode at the last quip. “You just told me— Oh my God, you know that, out of everything, is against protocol. Very against protocol,” she hisses, her voice lowering as her lip curls and she leans further into the privacy of only each others’ company. “What will you do when Miguel finds out?”

“You gotta live freely past the propaganda, Gwendy,” Hobie replies nonchalantly, patting a palm on her shoulder as a point of reassurance. “Just think about it.”

The best Gwen can offer him is a wary glance and a moment of hesitation, but he takes it with a grin anyhow. He’s certain she’ll eventually come around—the extent of their friendship isn’t something so miniscule that a few words of indoctrination would ever be enough to turn her.

It’s a nice notion to have, but he unfortunately doesn’t get much time to dwell on it—suddenly, his watch buzzes with an alert.

Hobie checks the device. “Someone’s ringing me, gotta bounce.” A few taps of an orange screen and a twist of a dial, then a portal opens up just shy of his left arm. “Been fun, Gwendy. Don’t blame me if I come back late.”

No matter how hard she rolls her eyes, Gwen can’t help but give into the smile that creeps onto her lips. “Stay safe, loser,” she responds, bumping her fist against his.

“Safe is practically my middle name.” With that, Hobie ducks into the gateway, and disappears.

How the fuck do you accuse someone of having spider powers without sounding like you’ve gone insane? Since morning you’ve been stuck in a cycle of decision-making for a seemingly hopeless situation. You thought the hard part was over after seeing the guy in the costume swing away on white silly string, but the mostly sleepless night and brainstorming the resolution to be had was another beast altogether. What doesn’t help much either is the fact your favorite pair of jeans are now stained to shit because an idiot thought it would be a good idea to trickshot a half-full Starbucks drink into a trashcan you were standing right next to.

Oh, New York, how it surprises you each day. You swear you’ve never had bad luck like this in your life—and now you’re twenty minutes late, punching in your timecard and hurrying to tie on an apron.

Even through your shift the anxiety doesn’t go away, despite how you try to ignore it. Nervous energy bleeds into your work, shaking hands spilling and dropping drinks; your preoccupied mind is nowhere near as focused as you need to be for the rush—you remake a drink three times in a row before being on the receiving end of a tired lecture from an angry customer.

“Something on your mind?” one of your coworkers ends up asking after most of the crowd has dissipated. “Or just tired?”

You’re on the verge of bursting into tears actually, but you manage to stifle it with a deep breath in. “A lot of both,” you mumble in response. You can’t tell her about Hobie, and it’d be too winding to describe the entirety of everything. She’s pretty good at giving looks of pity and she’s already shot you one following the complaining customer. Honestly another one is the last thing you want to deal with right now. “Maybe I should’ve just skipped work today.”

“Don’t worry, we all have bad days,” she offers with a consoling pat on the arm. “How about you just calm down for a bit and take your break? I’ll make you your favorite drink and get a bowl started for you.”

The gesture does ease your nerves, even if only by a little. You sigh, shoulders slumping, and give your coworker a grateful smile. Parting ways then, she returns to her station to honor her word and you make your way to the back to punch in the start of your break.

Exhaustion starts to seep in when you catch yourself staring blankly at the time card machine, watching the hands of the clock tick away second by second. There hasn’t been significant progress in terms of settling the whole “Hobie Brown is a superhero” dilemma, you realize, just a lot of pain and aching on your part. Maybe it’s time to put the matter to rest just for a brief half an hour—you’ll pick it up later. There isn’t even a guarantee Hobie will show up to the shop anyhow.

Yeah, you have time.

The chunk sound of the punch machine brings you back to your senses and you put away your slip before making your way back to the front of the house.

“Drink’s ready and bowl’s on the way. You can enjoy that while you wait,” your coworker chirps, sliding a cup to you when you emerge from the back. You’re just about to voice your thanks before she cuts in again, gesturing to a spot just beyond the counter. “Oh, and someone asked for you. He’s right over there.”

Your eye is already twitching before you even look. But you suppose you hate yourself and the world at this point, because you slowly turn to where her hand points regardless and find the one man you just made a pact with yourself to not think about.

Hobie greets you by name and gives you a friendly wave. Out of courtesy, you force yourself to return in, lips pressed together in a tight smile with the short extension of your hand.

“Heard it was your break,” he says, approaching the glass panel between the two of you. “Mind if I intrude?”

Yes! you scream internally. Yes I do mind very much!

“No, it’s alright,” you end up saying to him, staving off a growing impulse to whack yourself upside the head.

“Sick,” is all Hobie replies with before he retreats to a nearby table. “I’ll be waiting here—don’t rush yourself.”

It’s right about now that you’re wishing he wasn’t so nice and you didn’t like him so much so that this process of confrontation would go about smoother. Your gaze lingers on him and you bite in the inside of your cheek as you think about the validity of what you witnessed yesterday.

The option to not tell him and maintain your chances of still potentially becoming friends like normal exists. Dodging the awry reputation that comes with the manic conspiracy theorist persona is always good. You’ll get over it one day, right? Leave the suspicions behind and assume that the image was just a hallucination brought about by stress; convince yourself that Hobie Brown is just your average British punk-rocker.

But you can’t fight the feeling in your gut, how it burns, and suddenly you’re leaning over the counter, over the glass.

This is a bad idea. “Hobie,” you call in his direction.

He looks up. “Yeah?”

Shit, this is a bad idea. “I have something to tell you.”

“Wah’gawn?”

“It’s… I think it’s a matter best told in just our own company.” You look around apprehensively, a slight crease in your brow. “Mind going somewhere more private?”

Trying your best to ignore the suggestive look your coworker shoots at you from your peripheral, you beckon Hobie to come into the back. Walking through the kitchen, you usher him into the storage pantry and shut the door behind you when you join him.

“I’m guessing we’re not just here to kotch?” Hobie teases with the sideways tilt of his head.

“Unfortunately.” Your gaze lowers to the ground at the admission, fingers finding one another and squeezing. “Been thinking about something for a while.”

Hobie lets the change in the air stew until it thickens before responding. “Ready when you are.” His voice is softer, malleable, lost of all its previous playfulness and replaced with a certain kind of sincerity.

The slightest incline of your chin brings your stare back to him. You wish it served the simple purpose of just admiring the slopes and angles of his face, but your lips part and your curled hand trembles, and it all reminds you of the gnawing insecurity.

“I need you to tell me the truth.” You say it slowly, sincerely, keeping your voice as steady as you can despite the way your heart rate thunders. “Please.”

In your supplication, you aren’t certain how to appraise the extent of your desperation, but Hobie’s gaze does not leave yours. He nods wordlessly, a glint of something in his eye and it looks a lot like deference.

You take it as permission to continue. “When you brought up Parker”—you swallow thickly—“you were talking about something real, weren’t you?”

A beat of silence. There isn’t any external reaction from Hobie, standing as still as he had the moment he stopped in front of you, face lax and hands tucked away in his pockets.

“Ain’t got a Scooby-Doo what you’re talking about,” he says plainly, unfaltering in every word. Even then he doesn’t move, fortress-like in his disposition.

Perhaps he truly doesn’t know what you mean, you think. The chance is present, albeit slim, though present nonetheless—and how tightly you clutch this sliver of hope. But for a moment, in your hesitancy and under Hobie’s untelling stare, doubt creeps in—your palms grow clammy against the material of your pants, sweat assisting the glide of your fingers against one another. Your eyes search those of the man in front of you, wishing his look could change so you could find the courage to ground yourself.

What if you’re wrong? What if it’s all a fallacy, some trick of the light? New York is no stranger to oddities but even this seems too extreme. Coincidental talk of Spider-People leading to an impossible accusation. Fucking Spider-People don’t—shouldn’t—exist. The idea grows more absurd the longer you question it. Peter Parker got the short end of the stick, if there was even a long end in the first place, so what the hell are you doing?

But what if you’re right?

A breath rattles through you. “Hobie.” With a new waver in your voice and a tremble to your hands, you stand unsure of how your conviction bleeds through what you say but you try anyhow. “I know you’re gonna think I’m crazy, but I saw a masked man walking on the side of a building yesterday.” The admission comes quickly, riddled with cracks, but you’re entirely too focused on the followup to care. “After the conversation we had about Spider-People, after the whole thing about superheroes, tell me that it wasn’t you up there. Because I saw your— your fucking pins and I’ve never— God, I don’t even know! I’ve never seen something like this.”

Your fists clench, fingers digging crescent-shaped craters into the flesh of your palms. The marks bite, angry red and stinging—perhaps aching even more the absence of Hobie’s response, the seconds you give him to reply.

“Who are you?” Dry—your throat is so dry. Your voice can’t be anything above a whisper with how hoarse the question comes, flaking away with every shallow breath you take.

Silence blankets the both of you then, soundless space a limbo between comfort and unease. Unsure of what to do with it, what to make of the situation you stand in now, you let it hang listlessly, drawing upon an empty room and an even emptier conversation.

It takes a handful of moments for Hobie to even look like he’s processed all that you’ve said. Under your scrutiny, the smallest movement of his eye is the only discernible change to the testament. Whatever goes on inside his head is a complete mystery to you for the few minutes that elapse before he speaks.

Finally, he shifts in his stance. “You want me to just come out with it, yeah?” he asks, not sounding terribly happy, but not as nonplussed as you expected. He sighs when you nod slowly. “Alright. I’ll start from the top, then.”

He tells you his name is still in fact Hobie Brown, and he was bitten by a radioactive spider three years ago. Formerly a runway model, though not a role model, he’s been protecting the streets of his hometown against the PM. When he’s not playing shows, antagonizing fascists, or staging unpermitted political “action-slash-performance art pieces,” he’s out partying with his friends.

“And don’t call me a hero,” he ends with a frown. “Hate the label. Calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologizing, narcissistic autocrat.”

When he stops, you have both hands to your temples, pressing down hard. You can deal with his anti-authority spiel just fine—some part of you even agrees with the sentiment—but there is so much to unpack prior to the statement.

“So you— you have actual spider powers? Oh my God?” you sputter, eyes blown wide in an expression of surprise you’re sure looks exaggeratedly dreadful. “What even— that’s— what even are spider powers?”

“Dunno really.” Hobie gives a shrug. “Enhanced hearing, speed, vision, and sticking to walls are the main perks. Also links up to my—”

“Can you shoot webs out of your butt?” you blurt in a sudden horrible realization.

There’s a few seconds of tense silence before Hobie bursts into laughter, arms crossed around his torso to hold himself, shoulders bunched to his ears. The ring of his joy through the air lifts a weight from it and suddenly the atmosphere doesn’t feel as crushing as before.

Witnessing his state, it doesn’t take long for unease to fade away and for you to start softly chuckling with him.

“You’re so jokes,” Hobie cackles, a hand over his eyes as he leans back. A long, shuddering breath tears through him in his attempt to calm down. “But to answer your question, no I can’t shoot webs out of my arse.”

“Thank God,” you breathe, clutching your heart. “Wouldn’t have looked at you the same if you said you could.”

“I don’t think I can look at you the same after you just asked that.”

“Hey, in my defense it was just to get to know you better.”

“I’m sure that’s all it was.” Hobie gives you a pointed look, but is quick to smile after. “Speaking of which, I came in to ask you something as well.”

“Oh?” You blink. The sudden shift in conversation is unprecedented, taking you slightly by surprise, but suspicion is quick to replace your wonderment when you notice a change in Hobie’s features. A squint narrows your eyes. “What are you plotting?”

“Nothing, it’s just I have an excuse now that you know me better.” He pauses briefly, staring at you for a moment. “I wanted to ask if I could know you a little better.”

Your lips purse in confusion at the phrase, forehead pinching. “But you already know me?” you ask, brow raised. “Don’t tell me you forgot everything already.”

“I didn’t,” Hobie reassures gently. “I was just thinking instead of talking over a counter we could do it over dinner? Maybe a movie, if you have the time?”

A beat passes and suddenly realization sets in, drawing all the air out of you. The smallest groan escapes you as you bury your face in your palms, the skin of your neck and cheeks burning hot. Every inch of you seems more sensitive in your mortification—were you always this close to Hobie, and was his cologne always that strong?

“I’m an idiot,” you whisper from between the gap in your hands. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

Hobie supplies a soft chuckle to ease your embarrassment. “You’re not. It came out pretty corny anyways.”

“I can’t believe I’m getting asked out by a guy with spider powers.”

“Is that a yes or a no?”

You groan again, a tight breath pressed against your fingers. “You are so lucky you’re cute, Hobie Brown.”

It is as endearing as it is exasperating that you can practically hear how big his smile is. “You free tomorrow?”

“Anytime past five,” you reply softly, slowly inching your hands away from your face to peer at him. “Where should I meet you?”

Hobie’s grin tilts sideways at the query, a new sparkle of mischief brightening his eye. “I’ll come pick you up.”

Dates aren’t exactly a new concept to you—you’ve been on a handful, and they all go about the same. The first time, someone shows up with flowers or a small gift to start the evening right, then you’re whisked away for three hours to some place to hang around and have fun. It’s conventional, it’s safe—sometimes you enjoy the company more than the actual activity, leading to a second or third outing, but there’s nothing too special about the dance you do with routine.

Along this line of reasoning, Hobie crash-landing on your balcony with one of the most ridiculous offers of transportation isn’t exactly the way you imagined your date would start.

“You are not web-swinging me to Manhattan,” you tell him, still inside your apartment, arms crossed and shaking your head vigorously. “I don’t care what you have set up, I’m not gonna risk going splat on the damn concrete.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” Hobie pushes playfully. “Promise I won’t drop you.”

You frown, brows furrowing and lips pursing as you glare at him. He returns the look as calm as ever, a slight smile edging the corners of his mouth and stance open in invitation. The way he holds himself has uncertainty creeping to you, forcing out your fervent disagreement in favor of consideration in a rather slick way of persuasion.

Perhaps you should’ve known you wouldn’t win, with the sheer difference in your demeanors. Your staredown continues for a couple of minutes before you sigh, breaking eye contact with a reluctant drop of your chin and a gentle moan of diffidence.

“Can I at least close my eyes?” you mumble, walking out and shutting the balcony door behind you.

“You can do whatever you want,” Hobie replies, sliding on his mask and gloves. “Just hold on tight.”

Stifling a breath when his arm wraps around the small of your back and under your thighs, you cling to his shoulders as he lifts you up and climbs on the railing.

“You ready?” His chest rumbles under your touch when he speaks, and you can only give a small nod in your position, heart pounding against your ribs and face buried deep in the nape of his neck.

Hobie laughs—a deep, warm sound—and then launches off your balcony.

There are no words to truly describe the feeling that swallows you while in freefall. Wind blasts past your ears in violent howls, gravity pulls your figure down but your insides up, and the only thing you have to ground yourself is the feel of Hobie as you clutch him with every bit of strength you possess. Adrenaline thrums through every vein, lighting your nerves on fire and prickling your skin with gooseflesh; even your energy to scream depletes into fueling the rush that floods your senses.

Upon the first pull up, Hobie’s web catching a surface to swing from, your gut lurches and a serrated gasp shudders through you. Your arms pull you impossibly closer to him, fingers clawing to dig deeper into the back of his vest.

“Easy now,” he chuckles, sounding miles away with how loud your heart beats in your ears. “I promised I wasn’t gonna drop you, didn’t I?”

“D-Doesn’t make it better,” you gasp, shivering now that the breeze whips against your back.

“Try to relax—we’ll be there soon.” Though he says it like it’s the easiest thing in the world, it proves contrary to the way his grip tightens around you with the next swing.

Despite how comforting the gesture is, you find that you can’t relax much while still flying through New York a hundred feet in the air.

After what seems like days of travel, Hobie finally lands on solid ground, giving you a moment to catch your breath before setting you down gently. His arms are threaded underneath yours as you try to balance on shaky legs, knees bent and feeling all too much like jelly for your own comfort.

“I feel like a newborn deer,” you sigh, voice trembling from the withdrawal of adrenaline. Jitters quiver your fingers, lightly chatter your teeth, and shake the thin chamber of your chest. “My God, how do you even get used to this?”

“Gotta learn to trust yourself,” Hobie hums smoothly. “First time’s always a tad tricky.”

You only nod, gaze now pinned to the ground as he gradually guides you forward, step by step, until you’re stable enough to slowly walk on your own. From there, the slightest incline of your head brings your attention to a small spread of food and flowers laid out nicely on a patterned blanket. A warmth comes to settle in your core at the sight, softening your eyes and easing the tenseness in your limbs—contentment reaches you and the stress gained from the ride here begins to fade, if only by a little.

“Hobie, this is so sweet,” you coo, pleasure lightening the tone of your voice.

His rings just as sweetly through the evening air. “Good to hear—would’ve been gutted if you didn’t like it.”

You laugh at the response, casting an affectionate glance at him that just grows fonder upon meeting his charming reciprocation. The bend of his brow, the part and curve of his lips, the crinkle of his eye—all of it has you transfixed for a generous moment, barely able to notice the way your navel aches with longing in your stupor.

The feeling persists throughout the evening, present in every winding conversation and instance of quiet shared between the two of you. It’s rather freeing to be unconstrained by the formalities usually held by the label of a first date and to sense such endearment for the whole of it. There is no talking to only talk—every sentiment has meaning, every word punctuated by some semblance of tenderness; there is no awkward atmosphere brought about by nervous tension—you rest comfortably, leaning back on your hands, as does Hobie, elbows on crossed legs, positioned towards you.

Hours pass by easily in the space, kissing the sky with hues of orange and gold and violet as they bid a teary farewell, trails of light following in the wake of their departure. Yawning clouds push to the east, unlined shapes dissipating with the fleeting luster. Soon, the New York city skyline is only a bleak, black horizon that cradles a half-yolked sun just shy of its surface.

Golden rays grace your skin, full and temperate and real. You’re just about to gush to Hobie about how this is your favorite time of the day when you’re stopped by the shallow movement of his arm.

He shifts to pick the carnation laid closest to your hand, snaps off the longer part of its stem, then tucks it delicately behind your ear. Wordlessly, he adjusts the petals, and grins when they seem to his liking.

You’re practically bursting at the seams when he retracts his hand, fingers ghosting the curve of your cheek on their path back. Heat rushes to your neck, white-hot on a quick shot up to heat every inch of your face. The sensation catches your breath, widens your eye, tucks the tip of your bottom lip between your teeth, and all you can do is sit and watch Hobie as he admires you.

There’s a look in his eye that you hope is reflected in yours, how beautiful he is. The warm vermillion hue of the sun hits his complexion and it’s like there’s nothing else in the world to behold but him.

Suddenly you find yourself reaching for the flowers on the blanket, clasping multiple in one hand and halving the stems with the other.

Leaning forward, palms stained with sap, you place the carnations in each of Hobie’s wicks, uncaring of the smell of chlorophyll or the tremble of your fingers. You only return to your seat and wipe your hands when you finish, the expanse of his head dotted in small blooms, all that’s left of the original bouquet messily cut stems and loose leaves.

A breathy laugh escapes you at the sight, light and happy and bright. “You are so pretty, Hobie,” you whisper, your heart swelling with adoration. “And I wanna kiss you so bad right now.”

He smiles. “I’m not going to stop you,” he says, then wraps his arms around you when you crush your lips to his.

You feel you must be drunk on something, but are entirely too far gone to care the slightest bit. Hobie is every bit as soft and warm as you imagined, his hold homely, his scent familiar. Breathing him in, bergamot, plum, and sandalwood filling your lungs, a dreamy sigh stutters out of your nose before you start to move.

The kiss takes on a steady rhythm then, perhaps the easiest thing you’ve had to follow. Each press of your lips against his finds just the right amount of resistance, the feel of his piercing snug as it nudges you in every shift. Your hands find purchase in cupping his face, fingertips smoothing the silver studs that line his ears and thumbs stroking his cheeks.

Hobie’s touch rests just shy of your waist, the bend of his elbows against your ribs, palms flat against your scapula. His chest rises and falls with every breath, a slight hitch in the motion when you crawl to his lap, sitting in the space between his legs.

The two of you share your own pocket of heaven for a minute longer, then with one last kiss, you part. As your eyes flutter open, Hobie slides a hand off your back to thumb your lip, swiping a finger across your bottom one.

You make a questioning noise but remain unmoving as he works, sliding his digit across sensitive skin.

“My lipstick got on you,” he explains when he finishes, showing you black makeup smeared on his thumb. “I liked the look of it, but didn’t know if you did.”

A gentle laugh spouts from you at his kindness. “I’m all for you giving me a makeover next time,” you say with a grin.

Hobie gives a small chuckle back, delight sparkling in his eye. “Good.”

The afterbuzz of the date still tingles the back of Hobie’s neck even hours later. It’s ten o’clock, the moon at highrise and not a single star in sight in the muddy violet pool that overhangs New York. He’s in the middle of a stakeout, monitoring an energy station reopened as bait for whatever, whoever, might come out in response. The task of fully focusing proves rather hard in the wake of remembering the warmth of you as you held him, the brush of your lips against his, and your small gasps of breath, but he tries anyhow.

Hobie’s just finished shaking off the image of your face in the light of dusk when his watch buzzes. He looks down with a frown, noting the peculiarity of receiving a call this late.

“Gwendy,” he greets, an orange hologram of Stacy appearing with the twist of a dial. “What are you ringing me for?”

“Hey Hobie,” she returns flatly, not providing much else before quickly casting her gaze askance.

From her projection, Hobie can gather that something seems off—Gwen’s stance is completely closed, arms crossed and feet together. What looks like nervousness twists her features, pinches her forehead, pulls her lips tight together. She’s never been good at hiding her emotions, but even this seems exaggerated.

Sobriety seeps into Hobie then, the high of hours ago eroding. “Something wrong?” he asks, voice dropping low.

Gwen pauses, hesitating. “Miguel wants you back at HQ,” is what comes from her after a few seconds. “Now.”

“What about the mission?”

“He just says to leave. There’s been some new intel. That’s all I know.” Gwen swallows thickly, her eyes flickering back to Hobie. “See you soon.”

“Alright, see ya.” The hologram blinks twice, then disappears. Hobie taps on his watch to open a portal back to Earth-928, dubiety sinking its teeth into his thoughts. Miguel was ever the autocrat, so he was never quite fond of the guy, but the way Gwen had come to him—with a fresh feeling that extended beyond terror etched in her expression—that doesn’t sit well. He doesn’t need a spider-sense to recognize that something is amiss.

Somehow, he can’t elude the feeling of dread that creeps to him when he’s swallowed by the vortex.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown/reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown/you #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #across the spider-verse #hobie brown imagine #fluff #angst #kissing <3 yeah #miguel o'hara #gwen stacy #i wish this kiss were a canon event i really do #yeah uh hold onto your hats for the last part

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the-secret-keeper · 11 months

Text

Part 3 of Obey Me X Twisted Wonderland/Barbatos X Reader

This was requested by @sonicfangirl123 and @babyxwolfiex

TW: Very sassy demons terrifying a crow, mentions of alcohol and alcohol consumption, and canon levels of violence for Obey Me.

Reader is referred to as MC.

There has been a bit of time that has passed since the end of the last one and the start of this one. It will begin the day that the festival celebrating the finding of MC is starting.

Also, fair warning, in this, MC used to live in the House of Lamentation, but currently lives in Diavolo's castle with Diavolo and Barbatos.

Enjoy!

I shifted my bodyweight from the front of my feet to the back, as I stood beside my best friends and boyfriend in front of the mirror portal.

"Calm down, MC. They'll be here soon." Lucifer sighed.

"Sorry, I'm just excited." I laughed.

"I am too!" Luke agreed, matching my impatient movement. "I haven't met their friends before! It isn't fair that you guys got to!"

"I am excited as well, but you doing that won't make them appear any faster." Simeon agreed with Lucifer, but in a much gentler tone.

"Here they are." Barbatos interrupted our discussion. I turned and practically started vibrating in excitement as their silhouettes appeared in the mirror.

They all stepped through, getting their bearings, but I was only interested in one.

"Grim!" I exclaimed, speed-walking up to the flying cat and hugging him.

"Get off me, Henchman!" He complained.

"You got your backpack?" He nodded. "I'm so excited!" I beamed. Riddle cleared his throat. "Right, sorry." I apologized, taking a few steps back. "Welcome to the Demon Lord's Castle in the Devildom. You have all been formally invited to stay here for a few days, and attend the Welcome Home Festival that starts today."

"You get a whole festival just for coming back?" Azul questioned.

"Yeah. I'm pretty well-liked in the Devildom."

"Yeah, we all like MC here." Satan agreed.

"Yes, in fact we like them so much that once we named a comet after them." Diavolo said proudly. I nodded enthusiastically when they looked to me for confirmation.

"Wow!" Kalim exclaimed, eyes shining with glee. I smiled warmly, nodding at them.

"You'll actually be split up in where you're staying. Malleus," I paused. "Where is Tsunotarou?" My friends from Twisted Wonderland looked around. "Oh my Diavolo." I sighed. "Diavolo, come on, let's go get him. We'll only be a few minutes."

"You can't just order a crown prince around!" Jamil hissed, glancing between us.

"I don't mind!" Diavolo smiled jovially.

"Yeah, Dia is really chill." I agreed, before leaning into my lovers side, who leaned into me in kind. "Please make sure Jamil relaxes. He's a 24/7 babysitter, he needs a vacation almost as bad as Lucifer does." I whispered, and Barbatos nodded, before we both stood up straight, and Diavolo and I headed into the mirror portal.

We walked through the school, past stunned students, and straight towards the Diasomnia mirror in the mirror chamber. It didn't take us very long to reach the Dracula-esque castle. I fearlessly pushed open the front doors to see Sebek approaching the doors with a bag.

"Sebek! Good, you're already on your way, we were going to pick up the others as well. If you'd wait by the portal back to the mirror chamber, we're going to retrieve Malleus." I smiled at him.

"The Young Master hasn't arrived yet?"

"No. For someone so tall with such a presence, he is very easy to lose."

"Lillia-Sama! Is Waka-Sama here still?!" Sebek yelled into the castle.

"Child of Man." I turned around, and beamed at my tall friend.

"Tsunotarou, I was worried when you didn't show up with the others. Are you ready to go?"

"Are you certain it's ok for me to go?"

"Trust me. You are no more intimidating than him." I gestured at Diavolo who stood at my side. "Plus, it's really important to me that you're there! I want you to see where I'm from, you're one of my best friends, and I want you to enjoy the festival."

"Yes. Your presence will likely be about as noticeable as the brothers. While it may turn a few heads, most people in the Devildom will not spare a glance." Diavolo reassured.

"Now that I think about it, you'll probably stand out the least." I hummed, though didn't explain my train of thought further.

"Malleus, you almost forgot your bag." Lilia appeared upside down next to me, causing me to flinch.

I don't usually flinch at intimidating presences. But when Lilia just pops out of nowhere, it scares me for some reason. Maybe it's because he hides his presence, and I can usually sense when those with presences like Malleus or Diavolo as they approach.

"You ready to go?" I smiled at Malleus, who nodded.

"I am ready as well!" I laughed a little at Sebek's enthusiasm.

"Sorry you have to miss it, Lilia. But he's in good hands." Someone has to look after the dorms, which is why all the Vice-dorm leaders are staying back, aside from Jamil. Ortho is also staying behind, simply to watch over the dorm. But he made Idia come, somehow, so, there's that.

"Take lots of pictures."

"Definitely will!" I promised, giving him a thumbs up before whipping out my phone. I sent a quick text to the group chat containing my first-year friends, making sure they were going to meet us at the mirror chamber.

Once I got a confirmation from all of them, we all headed towards the mirror portal, which was actually in the auditorium. And we emerged in the Devildom. Everyone was still there.

"Now!" I exclaimed, causing most to flinch. "As I was saying." I smiled. "You'll actually be split up in where you'll be staying. The First-years will be staying here, in the Demon Lords castle." I said. "However!" I turned to my friends. "This isn't Ramshackle, and what Barbatos says goes, got it? Behave yourselves." They nodded. "Now, Sebek." I looked at him, placing my hands on his shoulders. "Don't panic."

"What?"

"Malleus," I turned to Malleus, letting Sebek go. "you will be staying at the House of Lamentation with the Demon Brothers."

"I will?"

"Yeah. They're pretty chaotic, and they only have the one guest room. You're the only person I felt could deal with them without completely losing your mind." I laughed a little awkwardly. "Boys, I expect you to treat my friend with respect."

"Yes! Waka-sama is the Crown Prince of Briar Valley." Sebek agreed.

"True." I nodded. "Anyways. The rest of you will be split between two halls. Solomon is in charge of one, and Simeon and Luke are in charge of the other. They will actually determine who goes to which hall."

"I want him!" Luke exclaimed, standing next to Riddle. I pursed my lips.

"Luke." I was trying not to laugh, about to ask a question to him.

"Yes," I paused.

"Nevermind. It's fine with me, Riddle likes sweets anyways." I shook my head a little. "You all can duke out who goes where. But, Jamil needs to stay with Kalim. So those two are a package deal." I explained. "The Festival starts in a few hours, so until then, I guess we can take you guys to your separate living arrangements?" I looked to Barbatos for confirmation.

"I don't see why not."

"Yes!" I exclaimed. "Alright, I'll show the first-years their rooms so that they can put their stuff down and then we can head to the House of Lamentation."

"Why don't we tour the castle first?" Vil asked.

"Because you won't be here that often." I explained. "We can always do the tour of the castle later, but the other living arrangements are a good distance from here, it's just more convenient to do them as soon as we can. Plus, by the time the tours are done, the festival will be getting ready to kick off, and there'll be just enough time for Vil to prepare. Right?"

"That should be correct if the estimations of the time his routine takes is correct." Barbatos nodded.

"Rude." Vil grumbled.

"But accurate." Belphie sighed. "If you're anything like him, then you take forever to get ready."

"Basically the alternate universe version of each other." I nodded.

"What's even going to happen at the festival?" Leona asked.

"Hmm." I hummed, squinting my eyes in thought. "I know there's going to be a lot of food booths, various welcome home themed activities, and a big ball at the end of it, but I didn't do very much of the planning because they insisted it be a surprise."

"That's right!" Asmo latched onto one of my arms, and Mammon threw an arm around my shoulders.

"We planned it all!" Barbatos cleared his throat. "Except for the ball. Barbatos insisted he do that." Mammon corrected.

"Today, tomorrow, and the day after's events will be like a steretypical festival. With lots of games, food, fun, and a few amusement park rides that Diavolo rented." Asmo explained excitedly.

"And booze too!"

"Just to be clear," I added quickly, "the alcohol from the Devildom doesn't affect humans, unsure about beastmen and fae." I made sure they were aware. "If, there is alcohol from the human world, it will be marked. And there will also be nonalcoholic substitutes for those like Luke who are too young, yet will be affected by alcohol from the Devildom."

"Will you be partaking?" Azul asked.

"Not without several powerful demons around me." I smiled knowingly at him. "Don't try it."

"Noted." He nodded.

"Partaking in any alcohol, from the Devildom or otherwise, will be optional, so don't even worry about it." I shrugged.

"That's good to know." Riddle nodded.

"Yes, dealing with over a dozen drunk humans would probably be more chaotic than the actual festival."

"Probably." I agreed with Lucifer cheerfully. "I will be right back, do not leave without me." I waved for the first years to follow me, showing them to the guest quarters.

Though each of them technically had their own room, I knew my friends well enough to know that they were going to spend the majority of their time in each other's rooms or in my room. I left all of them with maps, as this castle can get kind of confusing.

But I marked several places as "Do not go. This place can and will kill you." While that may have been a bit of an exaggeration for some of these places, I also wanted to make sure they didn't cause too much trouble, for Diavolo and Barbatos, but also in case they ever wanted to visit.

I also marked the room I was staying in while they were here. Normally I'd share a room with my lover, but I knew he needed sleep and that my friends would be coming to my room in the middle of the night. Like the little gremlins they are.

After making sure they were aware of the different areas they were not allowed to go under any circumstance. I made sure to really pound that into their heads. I know that they're chaotic, but it's for their safety.

Of course, I'm not an idiot. I know my friends. They're going to try to go there anyways, despite my warnings that it could put their lives in danger. But none of them are nearly as powerful as Barbatos who put up a barrier around the areas that they aren't allowed to go into. Even combined, they won't be able to break a barrier put up by him. If my warning isn't enough to deter them, the fact that they will be physically unable to enter it should.

I made sure that they were all set up in their separate rooms. That everything was where it was supposed to be, and that they were comfortable. And then I made them change out of their dorm uniforms into more casual clothes.

No point in wearing them when not at NRC or their dorms.

All of this took about 20 minutes because they're slow. But once the entire process was done, I led them back to the entrance hall, where everyone else was as well.

"Now that that's done." I sighed approaching the group. "Let's go! I can't wait to show you all around my home town!" I beamed, as I began to lead them all out of the castle.

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ronearoundblindly · 23 days

Note

Ari- Baby is sick for the first time

Ari Levinson x best friend!reader (now fiancé)

New Parent Panic, a Bedrock and Blueprints tale

Warnings for protective!Ari, Ari not communicating, you doing the same, and then everyone gets their shit together and it's fluff. WC 2k *Off in the distance an ol' timey man pops up: "An argument, you say? You wrote an argument?? How different from your usual!!" Ha-ha. Yeah. We get it. Ro's the same hoe as last year... **I am not a mother. I know what would reasonably be categorized as zilch about babies. I have, however, seen this overwhelmed and guilty behavior from several of my peeps as they raise their youngins, so that's good enough for me. You're doing fine. I promise.

Sure, there was the rather severe diaper rash incident, and the time when nursing her turned your nipples into raw portals for a newly-discovered circle of hell, but nothing could have prepared you for this day.

Rachel was...meh this morning when Ari left for work. A little whiny, not sleeping well, but she's an infant; that's not new. Overall, she's actually been a very straight-forward baby.

And then you don't know what happened.

You napped very hard until noon (after only a moderately successful feeding) and by then Rach had a fever.

You called the nurses' hotline. You gave her the dose of baby meds. You're trying to keep her hydrated, at least, if she can't be happy right now. You just have to stay vigilant and wait it out.

But that's not easy.

She's crying and won't sleep, she'll barely eat, and you don't have a separate car. You only want to call Ari if it's to say "we need to take her to a doctor." You're not there yet.

So you do the shittiest feeling thing you can think of, the most painful thing, and you wait.

You don't sleep. You barely eat. You take Rachel's temperature like you are monitoring the possible meltdown of a nuclear reactor. One wiggle of a degree in the wrong direction, and that Bat Signal is going on.

I can do this, you tell yourself. I've wanted to be a mom for a long time, so I can do this.

Except you don't sleep and barely eat.

Ari arrives home precisely when he said he would, the exact number of minutes (after work shuts down for the day) that it takes to drive to the house, predictable, dependable, and utterly useless when he opens the door and asks "why is she crying?"

"Because she hates me," you blubber, holding her to your chest, arms cramped from cradling her for so many hours at this point.

"She need meds?"

Of course, I gave her the fucking meds.

"Hungry?"

No, asshole, I purposefully starved your fucking child for my own amusement.

"Calm down," Ari snips back. "I'm just trying to help."

Well then fucking help me!

By now, you likely look as if you're in a war zone: disheveled, manic, and possibly--definitely--hostile.

"Okay, okay, let me just take a piss and then I'll hold her."

"Yeah, of course. Whatever you want. Whatever you need." You turn your back to him before grumbling, "not like I haven't had to hold it all afternoon..."

Ari's still-booted feet land heavily beside you again. "Then I'll take her now," he grits through clenched teeth, "and you can use the bathroom."

"No. I already have her."

"Fine. I'll be right back."

"Take your time."

The way you lace the words with a sickly sweet melody has Ari spinning on a heel and staring at you through his long eyelashes, a tick in his jaw stopping him from saying something he might regret.

"Kid," he finally sighs, "just tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it."

He runs a hand over his beard while he waits for your answer. A few seconds later, his hip juts out, arms akimbo, and he bites his bottom lip expectantly.

You just walk off toward your phone on the kitchen counter and call the nurse hotline back.

"I swear, woman," he mutters as you leave, but you're glad he can't hear you sniffle back a sob.

It should be reassuring that the nurse has no new advice for what to do. You're doing everything correctly. You're doing all you can. Don't worry. Keep checking her temp and giving her whatever fluids she'll take. That's all for now.

It doesn't feel like enough. It doesn't feel like all a mother can do.

Ari? Ari waltzes up to the fridge and cracks himself open a beer.

You don't even have words, only flaming hot vibes that will melt his face like a Spielberg movie--you have got to stop watching movie marathons during late-night breast-feeding--if you stare hard enough at his casual blue gaze.

"So," he begins, "you figure out what I gotta do?"

What had been steady whimpering from Rachel has amplified into wails that bring tears to both hers and your eyes.

They just fall down your cheeks, and you wipe them from your chin before they can fall onto your screaming child.

Ari's judging frown makes your stomach turn while he steps closer, bends at the knees, and takes his little girl in hand.

Less than a minute later, Rachel stops, and you just cannot fucking handle it. The only quiet moment you've had in six and a half hours he gets to enjoy moments after coming home.

That's not fair. Cure fucking cancer already, Levinson, and save us the goddamn grief!

The tears and the tired are choking you.

Ari tells you to go freshen up in the bathroom, but that is the most horribly wrong way to say anything to you, ever, in a moment like this.

You stomp out the front door, rip open the sliding back door of the SUV, and crawl onto the cab floor. Once the latch clicks behind you, face buried in the blanket kept on Rachel's car seat, you scream.

You whimper and you cry and you get your fucking time to be angry at all your feelings today because it's bullshit.

You didn't take your own temperature. You didn't get rest and drink plenty of fluids. You didn't take any medicine. All you keep going over in your mind is whether or not you were sick first. Did you have something you gave to your daughter? Is this your fault?

So the tears and the choking continue for...as long as they take.

You don't know how much time has passed before the car door is yanked open again. Thank the stars you are facing away. You can't look at Ari right now.

"Is she okay?" you ask with a watery voice.

His big, warm hand rubs across your back, making you sink further into the upholstery.

"Took a few ounces of a bottle and went down in her bunk."

Ari likes to call Rachel a part of his 'squad,' so he talks to your infant daughter like they're going on 'missions' to the store or getting a bottle from the 'mess.' Your bedroom has thus become the 'barracks.'

Sometimes, he holds her sitting up against his chest and uses her feet to 'march' the pair of them across the house.

Left. Left. Left right left.

And almost always, there's a giggle, too.

"Up you go, kid," Ari huffs, maneuvering you into his arms.

"No," you whine, so tired you can't tell what it is you don't want.

He just keeps saying, "I know. I know," until he's carried you inside.

Instead of taking you to the couch or the bed, Ari sits you both down in the front hall, balancing you on his lap while he loosens his boot laces and finally kicks the sturdy shoes off, placing them on the mat a couple feet away.

He presses his lips to your temple, rough beard gently scrubbing over your eyelid and cheek.

"How many times I gotta tell ya to call me?" he whispers. He doesn't expect to have this same argument again, not like this, but his point still stands. "You know, you're warm, too."

If it's another question, you don't answer that either. You change the subject.

"Did you take her temp?"

He nods, and the number he tells you is the same as it was thirty minutes ago, or rather, thirty minutes before he came home.

Ari squeezes you tighter. "You want to get into bed, and I'll bring your some juice and meds, huh? Meet you in there?"

"I'm a bad mom," you breathe.

"What?" He pulls away, smacking his head on the wall behind him. "What are you talking about?"

How are there more tears left in your body? You should be nothing but a shriveled husk at this rate.

"Bullshit," he practically seethes. "Don't you ever say that again."

"I shouldn't have--"

"Stop."

"--you were--"

"Stop it," he blurts, firm and serious.

"But I'm the one who wanted this, Ari!" Your most powerful voice only comes out as high whisper. "Me. I wanted kids. This whole time. I bitched about how Joanna's done, and I thought I could just--" you swing an arm out dramatically "--and I suck at it. Rach even likes you better!"

"No, kid. She was exhausted. I only got here at the right time."

"It's 'cause your comfy and you smell good--"

"--not sure about that--"

"--and she loves you," you bemoan.

Ari snorts out a laugh.

"She loves you, too. You're her mom." He tucks you in closer, soothing you with petting hands wherever he can reach. "I love you. So much. So, so much."

He finds your hand and the sapphire ring he put on it, spinning it gently on your finger. He hasn't gotten to make good on his promise. Planning a wedding, even a small one, with a newborn is almost impossible, but that seems to be part of the problem.

Anything to do with you or you two feels selfish when there's three. Guilt grips you when you stop to daydream about your big day because it's not about Rachel. She's the most important thing. She will trump you forever as the single most--

"Can I tell you a secret?" Ari's timbre rattles close to your ear. "You're my favorite."

You slump into his chest until your forehead braces his throat.

"Almost not fair, really," he drawls. "You've got a decade of brownie points, and she's managed to make me buy more pads for her than I've had to for y--"

You pinch at his side harshly, biting back a smile, the salt from dried tears on your lips flooding your mouth.

"Oh! And you can control your bladder for a whole day, which is downright impressive wh--hey now--" Ari scuttles on the floor to evade your attack on his ribs. "I'm just...being...honest," he chuckles.

"You're a jerk is what you are, old man."

He easily grabs both your arms and pins them together in front of him.

"Yeah, but I'm your jerk. Your old man, kid. I'm yours, okay? You are not alone here. You don't have to know how to do everything by yourself." He lowers his voice as well as his face to yours. "And you mean just as much to me as that little girl in there. You hear me?"

There's a different lump of emotion lodged deep in your chest. You only nod because you can't speak.

He makes your foreheads meet.

"Please be okay. I could never do this without you. Any of it..."

That's when you realize what bothers you so much: Ari should need you to raise Rachel, but you never truly acknowledged you might need him to raise her, too.

This enormous weight of clutching every thread of life in your own two hands isn't real. You can share. You are meant to share your life with Ari. Ari is meant to share his life with you. Rachel shares life with you both, as she is meant to share with everyone around her. It's a lesson she has the opportunity to learn a lot younger than you, apparently.

He gets you to drink a whole bottle of water. He brings you some food and medicine while he handles some laundry and cleans out the day's bottles. He leads you with both hands to the bathroom, finally, and then gets you settled in bed.

As you fall asleep, you watch Ari take Rach's temperature again.

He lets out a silent cheer and holds his hand over her.

"High five?" he whispers. "No? It's fine. We'll work on that."

The last thing you see is Ari playfully lifting her from the basinet, sneaking out to the living room to enjoy a movie marathon, just for a little bit, snuggling together while he winds down for the night.

All that matters is she's safe and happy.

That, and of course, waking up in Ari's arms, listening to his slow breathing and Rachel's faster, baby huffs. You can handle anything because you made it through today and you have them.

[Ari's POV for this day]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @late-to-the-party-81 @rogersbarber @yenzys-lucky-charm

#bedrock and blueprints #ro answers #ari levinson fanfiction #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson angst #ari levinson fluff

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sanguineterrain · 10 months

Text

get a little action in | miguel o'hara

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

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

Word count: 2.2k

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

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

Translations:

¡Chingada madre! - Motherfucker!

¡Pinche pendeja! - Fucking asshole!

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

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

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

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

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

No seas estúpida. - Don't be stupid.

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

Ve. - Go.

follow @sanguine-marvel for all future miguel fic notifications!

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

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

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

Probably best to enter through the back.

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

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

BRIIIING! BRIIIING!

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

Okay. Maybe you’ve underestimated him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“¡Chingada madre!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“¡No mames! Eres una idiota.”

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

“I had it under control,” you say.

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

“Lyla, find me a route.”

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

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks.

“Lyla. Route, now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not throw up on me.”

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

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

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

“¡Ay, coño! ¿Qué demonios haces?”

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

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

“Do not touch anything—” he starts.

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

“Lyla, three o’clock!” you yell.

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

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

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

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

“Huh. That’s ironic.”

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

“¿Qué? ¿Qué quieres?”

“The Hudson,” you say.

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

“Use me as bait,” you say.

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

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

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

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

“No seas estúpida,” he says.

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

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

“Lyla,” Miguel says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You start to get up.

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

“Screw you.”

“You living here screws me enough.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Miguel pauses, and turns around.

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

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

“But—”

“Ve.”

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

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

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

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

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

You lift your chin.

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

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

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

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

Miguel shoots a web towards the street.

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

Then he’s gone.

Fucking Spider-Man.

#miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fic #enemies to lovers #rivals to lovers #across the spiderverse x you #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse #atsv x reader #atsv fanfiction #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman fanfiction

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kairiscorner · 8 months

Note

four words

punk!miguel and reader

yes please 😋

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

punk!miguel x gn!reader headcanons

punk!miguel has two moods: being an annoying, cocky bastard and being an intimidating, more serious bastard.

punk!miguel loves towering over you. he enjoys smirking down at you and making you feel just how much smaller you are compared to him–it's not the feeling of being bigger than you that he likes, he craves to hear you cuss at him, and just seeing you get all furious at his teasing.

punk!miguel enjoys seeing you get all frustrated when he calls you those nicknames that just make you feel so... tiny when around him, like he's not taking you as seriously as he says he does: 'baby doll', 'mi chiquito/a', and of course...

"you're late to the action, my sweetest little gremlin." he cooed in a deep voice as he sauntered over to you all cocky, ripping his mask off from his head and shaking his unkempt hair. he smirked down at you and chuckled lowly as he bent down to your level. "what's the matter... pequeño/a? not too happy to see me?" he asked you as he placed his hand on your waist, feeling you squirm away from him and hearing you release those deliciously sweet little grumbles of frustration from your itty bitty mouth that sure knew how to complain a lot about him being a 'more powerful, capable spider person than you'... that can manage to piss you off beyond all comprehension.

"this was supposed to be a joint mission, o'hara." you remind him as miguel beat webbing up the anomaly and hoisting their unconscious self onto his shoulder, opening a portal up to HQ quickly as he turns to look at you with a shrug; his cocky smirk not leaving his face. "hey, chiquito/a, relax. it's not my fault your stubby little legs make you so slow that you gotta rely on a big, capable guy like me to help you out. ain't that right, my itsy, bitsy little spider?" he teases you as you huff, wanting to strangle him right now, but knowing that wouldn't solve anything, you kept your hands and anger to yourself. he chuckled, messing up your hair as he tousled it up with his free hand. "how adorable, see you back at HQ. that is, if you can keep up this time, cariño/a."

punk!miguel definitely plays music, preferably punk rock, but he prefers keeping that part of himself to himself. he's not embarrassed or anything, he's in fact, very confident in his music; the thing is, he wants to be better than he is already. he wants to make you stop and listen to his music, swoon to what he plays; and if he can't do that... then you won't get to see him play until you admit his talent's good enough to win you over.

punk!miguel likes teaching you how to play the electric guitar—he can play a bunch of other instruments too, though, like the acoustic guitar and such, but you were insistent on learning the electric guitar—and he loves feeling your soft, dainty little fingers underneath his longer, more calloused ones.

punk!miguel finds it so hot whenever you act all angry and take things in your own hands; he cheers for you whenever you silence everyone to alleviate the chaos, unironically.

punk!miguel would not hesitate going out, acting as your partner to protect you from people who think you're easy or soft. he hates it when people get that impression of you, but he's actually honored to get to know (and fall for) the real, raw you; one of the strongest spider persons in all of HQ, the most loving yet tough people he's ever met, and the only person who makes his heart beat for real, making him feel something other than it being a biological response.

"hey, now..." his low voice rumbled as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him as he glared down at a few people who kept clamoring around you, trying to get your attention when you clearly weren't interested in any of them. "what do you assholes what with my chiquito/a, hmm?" he asked them in a deep voice as he moved in front of you, shielding you from them. he knew you could protect yourself from all kinds of anomalies and villains, but when it came to confrontation, you sometimes struggled telling strangers to go away when you weren't behind that mask you donned on. luckily for you... miguel's always eager to step up to protect you.

"what? not gonna say anything?" he asked them as he towered over them, feeling you cling on to his jacket, making him slightly flustered, but still seething with rage at how these people couldn't even comprehend what personal space and boundaries were. as they left one by one, he turned back to you with a softer expression, holding your hand that clung to his jacket. he smiled all sweetly and chuckled. "pretty good, no? that's the only good thing about looking so scary, you get a bodyguard as well as someone to help you through all the multiverse's endless caca storms." he says as you move closer to him, letting go of his jacket to wrap him in a hug, catching him by surprise. "what's all this now?" "thank you..." you whispered as you clung on to him tighter, making him choke on his words. he cleared his throat as he felt an even worse fluster afflict him, making him smile wider.

he covered his smile up with his hand and pat your back with his other free hand. "you're... welcome. all the time, you're welcome. but all this is only for you, though." he said, adding that last bit in a rushed whisper so you wouldn't hear it clearly. you wondered what he uttered at the end of that statement, but you didn't mind. you always felt so safe around miguel, no matter how rough, stubborn, intimidating, or rebellious he seemed; he was just a big, cuddly, spiky teddy bear that was eager to hug you back... and do more things with in private (though he wasn't opposed to doing it in private, you two had autonomy over your own bodies. so if you'd... let him... maybe...)

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #atsv fluff #atsv fanfiction #spiderverse across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff #spiderman across the spiderverse fanfiction

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thatonebirdwrites · 4 months

Text

Crossover Shenanigans: Korrasami and Supercorp

Korra and Asami stand in front of a strange purple portal. Korra: You know, I'm a little relieved I'm not the reason for this portal for once. Asami: True. Mako: I don't think it's safe to mess with it. Maybe stay here? Asami: How will we be able to determine where it goes? The best way to test a hypothesis is through an experiment. *proceeds to tie the rope around her and Korra's waist and then spools it around hte pulley-crank system she's built. It's several hundred meters of rope* So all you two have to do is keep an eye on this. If the rope is tugged three times, then crank us back. Bolin: *digs into his bag of cookies* Easy enough. Mako: *sighs dramatically* Don't yell at me when this goes badly! Korra gives him a thumbs up, takes Asami's hand, and enters the violet portal. A brief moment of weird stomach-churning nausea hits them, and then they enter a large white room. Two people stand behind a counter with strange devices that Korra and Asami have never seen before. Asami: Wow. That looks like a fancy typewriter. *Points to the keyboard with a strange square attached to it, that looks like a very thin mover screen.* Brunette-and-very-pretty-woman: Who the hell are you two? Korra: Hey! That's not very nice! We're explorers. Investigating the new portal. I'm Avatar Korra. *jerks her thumb at Asami* and this is my super awesome girlfriend Asami Sato. Asami: *blushes* Do you have to introduce me like that every time? Tall-muscular-blonde: Oh, hey! Great to meet you! I'm Kara Danvers, and this is Lena Luthor! *grins and holds out her hand* Asami stares at it for a long moment. Korra rolls her eyes and shakes Kara's hand. Asami bows instead. Lena: Okay, so nice to meet you, now go back through so I can shut this down... Asami: Wait, you made this? How did you make it so small? When Korra made a spirit portal, she energybended a massive explosion, which ripped open the fabric of reality... Lena: What is energybending? Asami: Oh, it's something only the Avatar can do. She manipulates energy in people or the environment. Lena: So she manipulated a massive explosion to create a portal? That seems a very destructive way. *gestures to the portal behind Asami* I built this using Nth metal, magnetic coils, and... Asami: *whips out a notebook from her jacket* What is Nth Metal? And magnetic coils? That's actually a brilliant idea. I've been experimenting with those lately. . .

Kara and Korra watch as the pair dive into an intense conversation about electromagnetics and engineering.

Korra: Yup, that's Asami there. My girlfriend.

Kara: Yup. That's Lena. My girlfriend.

Korra: Huh. So what can you do? I can bend all four elements and metal! *shows off by waterbending the water from Lena's glass, then uses airbending to boost herself upward briefly, and bends stone around the room* Lena: Would you please put my water back in its glass? Asami: It could short-circuit the electronics. Korra: Whoops. *Drops water carefully into glass but then bends the metal bar that's lying on the table into a knot*

Kara: Okay, but that was really awesome. So, as Supergirl, I can do this. *Flies into the air, shoots lasers from her eyes, then lifts up half the lab with one arm.* Lena: Kara, please, if you're showing off, do it away from the portal. *turns back to Asami* So you're saying, you build a powered suit using pistons, hydraulics, and platinum? Are you sure its platinum? Because the hardness and tensile strength you described sounds like titanium to me. Asami: You know, maybe that's what it's called here. Let me show you. *proceeds to draw the chemistry diagram for the metal*

Lena: Fascinating. That's definitely titanium.

Korra: I bet I can beat you in a fight.

Kara: No way. I could beat you.

Lena and Asami: If you're going to fight, take it outside please.

Lena: I'm also filming it. *Reaches over and picks up a round ball and then proceeds to type something into her keyboard. Asami watches fascinated as the ball rises into the air and follows Kara out of the room and onto the porch area of the lab* Asami: Was that a tiny mech? Lena: Robot. Asami: Wait, so what powers it? I've struggled with decreasing the size of batteries due to... Korra unhooks herself, cracks her knuckles, and follows Kara outside. MEANWHILE IN AVATAR-VERSE: Mako: Why did the rope go slack?

Bolin: OH NOES. Do you think they got eaten?

Mako: Bo, by what? *his eyes widen* Oh no, they could really be in trouble then.

Bolin: We go to save them! But we need someone to man the ropes for us.

Mako: Let me radio Jinora. *picks up the portal radio* Jinora? Can you send some help to the new portal?

Opal and Jinora soon join them. They agree to man the ropes while Mako and Bolin head into the portal. MEANWHILE ON EARTH-38:

Mako and Bolin exit the portal and stare in shock at Asami standing by a brunette, while Korra and Kara battle outside. The walls are transparent, and the fight is intense.

Bolin: Asami! We're here to save you! *puts up his fists*

Asami: Wait what? No! Korra and I are fine.

Lena: Who the hell are you two?

Mako: So you're not about to be poisoned or something? *has fire blades ready in his hands*

Asami: NO! Lena here was chatting with me about the technology here. Korra is just sparring with Kara. Lena, that's Bolin and Mako, our friends.

Bolin: Oh. Do you have any snacks? Because I got to see this.

Mako: *sighs* whatever.

Lena: *grumbling but opens snack cabinet and tosses food at Bolin* I hope no one else comes through. I still need to calibrate... Asami: For the calibrations, do you have to manually type commands? Lena: Actually, no, I write code for that. Asami: TEACH ME.

Mako and Bolin sit down with their snacks to watch the increasingly intense fight. Korra has all four elements and is in Avatar state while flying in the air. Kara is blocking all the attacks using invulnerability and trying to get close enough to do a right hook.

After several minutes, Jinora and Opal rush through the portal.

Jinora: Are you all okay?

Opal: Woah, nice place.

Lena: What the fuck is with you people?? Go home! I can't turn off the portal with y'all here!

Bolin: Can't! Got to see who wins!

Jinora: I apologize for the intrusion! I'm Jinora and this is Opal. We were worried about the brothers.

Asami: Here's some snacks. Korra is battling Kara to see who is stronger. *gestures to the windows* I think it's an even match so far.

Lena: *scoffs* Kara is obviously winning. She's invulnerable to all of Korra's attacks. She also has the ability to fly, and her laser vision can easily incinerate most of what Korra fires at her.

Asami: *laughs* So? Korra's ability to dodge with airbending keeps her a moving target. Kara has yet to land a punch. Also, the fire blasts, ice daggers, and stone spikes keep her on the defensive.

The pair fall into an argument into the science of their girlfriends' powers and how they may work scientifically. The argument ends up so heated that Lena finally throws up her hands in defeat.

Lena: FINE. Let's find out who wins then?

Asami: FINE. More snacks are needed though. Bolin eats enough for three, I swear.

Lena grumbles under her breath about insatiable eaters, while she makes popcorn for all of them instead using her bunsen burners.

Alex, Kelly, Brainy, and Nia burst into Lena's lab.

Alex: Are you okay? We heard about the invasion!

Asami: Invasion? We're just visiting.

Lena: Don't interfere! This is important research.

Alex: Who the hell are these people? *gestures to the Avatar-verse people*

Mako: Who the spirits are you? *jumps to his feet with his fire blades ready*

Bolin: We need more popcorn! *waves an empty bowl*

Nia: Did you say popcorn? Yesss. You're my new friend.

Opal: So you're all friends of Lena? *Opens snack cabinet and ignores Lena's glare at her touching Lena's things. Takes out snacks and tosses them at Jinora who hands them to the others*

Kelly: Yes. Don't tell me, she had an accident in the lab?

Lena: Not an accident! I might have unintentionally created a bridge to another multiverse that is directly parallel to ours per M-brane theory --

Asami: M-brane theory? Spirits, we're way behind. We just figured out quantum entanglement exists and how to build planes. Tell me all about M-brane theory please.

Brainy: I posit that if you tell her that could alter the trajectory of their world with dangerous consequences--

Lena and Asami: Shut up Brainy!

Bolin hands out more popcorn for the now TWO shows: Kara and Korra fighting still -- the fight has gotten more and more intense with no sign of either being able to land a significant blow on the other. On the other hand, Asami and Lena fall into an intense argument about physics, which is interspersed with yells at Brainy to stop interrupting them.

Brainy: Sharing this with a person of lesser technology may interfere with the time modality of their multiverse --

Lena: Brainy, if you don't shut up, I'm kicking you out!

Asami: It's not like I'm going to completely rebuild the entirety of all engineering in my world. I mean, I could, I am rich, and you know, that would be a fun project...

Lena: Ah, shaping society through money and technology. Sounds like me... *she trails off and stares at Asami*

Asami: Oh my spirits

Lena: Oh my god

Asami and Lena: ARE WE THE SAME PERSON?

Bolin: *throws popcorn into his mouth* Yup.

Nia: And those two fighting are probably the same person too.

Brainy: I calculate that the probability of two identical people from alternate universes could disrupt the time continuum-- Everyone but Nia: SHUT UP BRAINY.

Nia: *shoves a beer into his hands and pulls him down next to her* Shush, just enjoy the show.

THE END... FOR NOW?

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brighterdaysarebeforeus · 10 months

Text

Soooooooo...basically a rewrite of Hobie's entire part in the movie? Except more awkward teenager and much, much more rambling. This does feel a bit all over the place so...enjoy, if you wanna.

Meeting Gwen for the first time wasn’t anything particularly memorable or anything like that, Hobie didn’t think. It was a simple thing, really; LYLA had found an anomaly, Miguel had reluctantly put Hobie on the case, Hobie had gone out of his way to ramble on about how he wasn’t a cog in Miguel’s system (man looked like he wanted to punt Hobie out of the office, and that just added more pleasure to his insubordination), and then Jess had sort of insisted that Gwen tag along to learn how to inter-dimensional travel and also how to deal with the anomalies as they occurred. Her exact words, if he remembered right, were “she needs to learn how to deal with these things in a team setting, and also maybe get some more friends her own age” or something similar that Gwen had immediately protested against.

He’d protested as well, as if it would change anything, as if these two would take him any serious. Hobie told them that he didn’t believe in teams, or in teamwork, and Jess put her hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eye, and told him very sternly to get over himself. Miguel was in the back, rubbing his hand over his face with one hand and waving the other at them in a motion that screamed ‘just go’. The mission itself was fine, easy job for a sole Spider let alone two Spider-People, but Gwen had been pricklier than he’d been expecting. He thought she was spunky, but particularly withdrawn for a Spider, and she’d snapped at him several times before the mission had ended. Afterwards, they’d gone their separate ways and he didn’t think too much about her, focusing on being the one and only Spider-Man (Spider-Punk, the newspaper headlines screamed, and he’d hated the name with a passion when he was younger, but found the title had grown on him over the years) in Camden.

Then they got paired together again. And again. And again. There’d been a genuine moment of concern that Miguel and Jess were punishing him for something, because they kept sticking him together with this small wisp of a child who looked like she wanted to bite his head off any time he asked her anything remotely personal, whether it be about her family or even her favorite kind of music. Hobie couldn’t even begin to figure her out, but decided that if he kept pushing, especially if they kept getting put on missions together, she’d have to crack eventually, right?

(It was worse when he realized she was actually older than him, even if it was only by three months. She held it over him for days, blocking his every question and prompt with “I don’t have to tell you anything, I’m older than you are.” Like a kid. Like a little kid, and how in the hell was she older than he was? It was unjust, it was.)

The sad part was, Hobie wasn’t even sure when things changed, with Gwen. Rather, he wasn’t quite sure why they had changed, though far be it from him to criticize someone’s changing of their mind. They’d gone on a mission, catching an inter-dimensional Doc Ock in some bizarre backwards universe made up of graffiti art that had her particularly subdued and snappish with him; she’d just given a thirty second rant that had cut Hobie deeper than he’d wanted to admit and they were swinging around searching for the Doc in a strained silence that had lasted until they’d found the fucker; at some point in the fight, the Doc had her pinned and Hobie’d yelled for her to cover her ears, and used his guitar to blast the scientist off of her at the last second, using his regular webs to yank her from where she’d been embedded in the ground; they’d, somehow, ended up victorious back at HQ and handed the Doc to Margo to send back to the proper dimension, went to Miguel and Jess to report their success. Hobie set his watch to his home dimension, the portal had opened up, and then —

“Hey, can I…” He’d half-turned to Gwen, eyes wide on his mask to showcase his paying attention as Gwen held her left arm tightly in her right hand, pointedly not looking at him and using the longer left side of her hair to cover her face. She’d taken off her mask, though Hobie had never really felt comfortable enough in the Spider Society to do so very often, and he could see the uncertainty in her face as she finally spit out, “can I…crash with you? For a bit?”

“Like, in my dimension?” Hobie’d asked, and she rolled her eyes so hard that her head followed the motion automatically. Something warm and pleased grew in his chest as she pushed past him roughly, muttering something sarcastic under her breath, and he didn’t even notice Jess watching them from behind as he nudged her shoulder playfully while they walked through the portal together.

Gwen started hanging around more after that, even when they had to keep moving from abandoned house to abandoned house in order to keep a roof over their head for the night. She didn’t stay over every night, but it was often enough to leave some of her shit laying around for him to trip over. He discovered she like playing drums and incorporated her into his band, more or less the only permanent member aside from him despite the inter-dimensional shenanigans. ‘Gwen’ became ‘Gwennifer’ (she threw her drumstick at him) which then became ‘Guinevere’ (he’d barely dodged the swing she leveled at him for that) became ‘Gwendolyn’ (she’d webbed his mouth shut) became ‘Gwendy’ (she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, but he’d caught the pleased look on her face for that one). Over time, she started opening up about her dad, her indefinitely on-hold Spider-Woman work in her home ‘verse, her Peter…

Miles.

The name lit up something at the back of his head, the first time she’d mentioned it, and Hobie couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. It wasn’t until she mentioned something about a particle collider that it came rushing to Hobie; he was Miguel’s “original anomaly”, the one who had apparently weakened the multiverse apart enough for the Spider Society to be kept busy damn near constantly. Hobie could respect a Spider who could throw the multiverse into chaos like that, even if was accidental and wasn’t even his fault to begin with. He tried prompting her, through trial and error, into talking about Miles damn near constantly; it worked better than he’d hoped, and for a hot minute all she would talk about was Miles. What he looked like, what he’d say, the way he’d stuck his hand to her hair when he’d first gotten his powers and she’d had to cut it off on the sides (“and you kept the hairstyle?” “Fuck off, Hobart — ” “Ew, no thanks mate, ‘o the fuck is Hobart — ”). She talked about him so much that Hobie felt like he knew the damn kid all on his own without ever having met him.

And then Gwen got herself assigned to a mission in his universe. Not only that, but she was allowing herself to miss her friend enough to stop off to visit when she went, though she had a brief moment of panic before she’d left and she’d called him for ‘moral support’ or whatever it was she’d hissed at him when she called. Hobie felt proud of her for that, even though he couldn’t find his chucks the day she left and he nearly brained himself tripping over her damn jumper when he headed to the bathroom.

It was her first mission on her own, officially, and Hobie was pulling out damn near every trick in the book to keep him from worrying. He was sitting at her drum set where they had it set up in a practice warehouse, listlessly banging on the cymbals when his watch went off a second time. Heart jumping up into his throat, Hobie answered the call and whipped his way into Mumbatten, which was exactly where Gwen was not supposed to be at this current moment. He’d barely even taken the time to suit up, nearly forgot to grab his damn guitar, and didn’t even pause to take in the situation before strumming the thing and bursting through what looked like a barrier. He’d heard Gwen and Pavitr shout, but he’d landed with his back to them and then he’d gotten rushed by Pav the second he caught his breath.

Then he’d turned fully, pushed Pav off of him, and nearly swallowed his tongue when he caught a good, solid look of him, dressed in his black suit with pops of red; it had to be Miles, the Spider-Man-Who-Wasn’t-Supposed-To-Exist-In-Earth-1610-Specifically, which for some reason both was a surprise and yet was completely expected.

“This the kid from 1610?” He asked first, like he wasn’t fully aware of who Miles was to begin with. Gwen’s head rolled, a sure sign she was rolling her eyes, and he’d glanced her way briefly before looking back at Miles, who was complaining to Gwen. He’d gotten close enough when Pav thanked him for destroying the barrier in time to hear him (“I weakened it!”) and shot a quick demonstration of “use your whole palm, mate, not just your fingertips”, complete with hand visuals. Miles looked, low-key through his mask, like he wanted to strangle him. Gwen looked away, but Hobie could tell her shoulders were shaking from held-back laughter.

He wanted to crawl into a small hole for a minute. For a hot second, Hobie debated the pros and cons of potentially just jumping back through the portal and going home, there were three Spiders to deal with the Dalmatian over there, he wasn’t really needed for this, was he? He was distracted for all of two seconds before remembering there was supposed to be a fight going on, and he was supposed to be helping, and that Miles was standing in front of him.

So, naturally, once he was back online and fully focused, he opened his mouth and immediately put his foot in it.

“What’s up with his suit, is he bleeding from the armpits?”

“Wha-Who even is this guy?” Gwen introduced them quickly, Hobie talking even faster as they prepared to fight the Dalmatian-looking dude in front of them, and though Miles looked slightly lost (“I thought you hated labels?”), Hobie had hope that they’d be able to get along swell.

Then he stuck his foot in it again.

“Gwendy, you left your jumper ‘round my place.”

“What’s a jumper?”

“It’s a sweater!”

“How many sweaters do you own?”

And, because he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut to save his own damn life even as Gwen clearly tried to salvage that mess, Hobie continued.

“And your toothbrush.” He kind of wanted to die. What was the deal with this spotty dude? Hobie wondered if the dude would shoot him into another dimension if he asked him nicely enough. He hated asking nice though, and it was pretty obvious this guy happened to be the villain of the week (as it were), so his best bet was staying here. Shame, that. He was really fucking things up right about now, and he just knew Gwen was gonna give him shit for it later too.

Things happened…weirdly fast after that. They fought the Dalmatian, they lost the Dalmatian, Mumbatten’s AlcheMax began crumbling and they had to save the people. Normal Spider stuff, and Hobie was glad for the distraction — well, not glad glad, he didn’t want Mumbatten to fall apart and Pav was far too little a Spider to be dealing with this kind of cosmic mess — just because Miles took off with Pavitr and left him and Gwen to hold the building up. Even better, Gwen was all the way over there, so she couldn’t even give him shit for how he’d been acting the fool in front of Miles.

God, he just hoped it wasn’t noticeable. To Miles, at least.

Then after the building collapsing was the bridge falling apart, and Miles diving to save the Inspector. Hobie had skid to a stop next to Gwen, the both of them staring down as Pav tried to save the bus and his girl, and Miles tried to save the Inspector. Gwen’s eyes were wide, taking up the entirety of her face as she held onto the railing in a death grip with one hand, the other still outstretched; she’d grabbed Miles then, right before Hobie had gotten there, and for a moment he wasn’t sure why she’d done it.

“He’ll be aces, yea?” Hobie said to her quietly, eyes still on the bridge.

“It’s a canon event. He’s interfering with it.” Gwen said somberly, and Hobie scoffed with a roll of his eyes — she sounded just like Miguel, there, for a hot moment, and he wondered if he should begin extracting them both before the man’s ideals managed to get in any deeper — but Gwen didn’t seem to notice him. When the bridge finished collapsing, she didn’t hesitate to jump over the rail, yelling for Miles as she did so. Hobie followed after her, beelining his way to Pav first to help him with the bus. Once it was on solid ground, relatively speaking, the passengers disembarking and Pavitr trying to smooth things over with his girl, Hobie turned on time to see Gwen lift a giant piece of rubble to reveal —

Miles. Holding a small child, with the Inspector right behind him. Both were fine, probably filled with adrenaline but relatively unharmed, and Pav’s girl was rushing past them all to embrace her father. Hobie followed her, not to the Inspector, but to Miles; Miles, who had been facing Gwen, who hadn’t heard him approach and therefore wasn’t anticipating it when Hobie grabbed his shoulders from behind and shook him eagerly.

“Miles, my guy!” He said cheerfully, and even the city cheered for them (and wasn’t that just novel, that’s never happened to Hobie before), and then —

There was a hole, big and black and looking similar to the spots on the Spot, sucking in pieces of Mumbatten. There was Jess, and her team of Spiders trying to keep it contained (points to Spider Society!) and her just blatantly blowing off Miles in a way that made Hobie’s hackles rise and ordering them all back to HQ to talk to Miguel (negative points for their diligent leaders!). Panic spiked at that, briefly, for Hobie; he leaned on Miles and tried to get him out of it, get them both out of it, but Miles shrugged him off in order to practically run into the belly of the beast with his fist in the air like he’d won something. Hobie dropped his face into his palm, but followed along anyway. Just to see what was going to happen.

Miles looked slightly awed when he took off his mask, which was kind of an ego boost, if Hobie was being honest; his whispered comment was met with one of his own comebacks (“how are you even cooler under the mask?” “I was this cool the whole time.”) that made Gwen press her lips together as she repressed her snort of laughter. Hobie glowered at her slightly, and she rolled her eyes in the opposite direction. Even Jess looked somewhat amused, and Hobie grunted softly at both of them.

He tried, honest to god, he tried so hard to keep Miles from meeting Miguel. Once he’d realized that Gwen had met with Miles and yet told him nothing about the Spider Society, told him nothing about how he fit into all of this as the supposed “original anomaly” (he had ThoughtsTM about Miguel’s thought process, is all, ThoughtsTM that he didn’t necessarily have time to delve into at this specific moment) — he couldn’t let him walk in blind. Miles didn’t deserve the way Miguel was gonna treat him on a normal day, short-tempered and blunt as the man was, let alone a day where a mission was fucked up bad enough that the BBG got away and another dimension was in peril of nonexistence. There was just no time to prepare him, not right at this moment, and he’d completely messed up his entrance to begin with so it wasn’t even like Miles would wanna even listen to anything Hobie had to say, let alone believe it, so…Hobie stalled.

Easily reaching out and grabbing anything potentially useful, Hobie distracted Miles as best he could. Bet this don’t even do anything. Why’d you wanna join up anyway? (The scoff Miles gave him when Hobie told him to make his own watch was not cute, Hobie did not find it endearing at all, and he was shit at lying to himself) What’s your set up — loving parents? (He was thankful Gwen was walking ahead of them for that one and not paying them any attention; the way he’d leaned on that unused portal more or less broadcasted his interest, especially combined with the way he’d fallen through it. He was also infinitely grateful Miles was too preoccupied to notice that blatant display). Hell, he even planted himself in front of the damn kid, sitting in the chair and stretching his legs out onto the table top so that Miles wouldn’t advance anymore, and felt his heart flutter in his chest when Miles simply pushed past him without even stopping.

Then it stopped when Miguel showed up, acting more Miguel-ish than usual. Miles greeted him brightly, holding up the empanada he’d gotten from the cafeteria, but Miguel was having none of it at the moment. Hobie glared at him out of the corner of his eye when he threw the empanada, then dipped out of sight in order to steal more tech that he needed; he lost track of what was happening all the way up to the loud crashing noise, and he’d popped his head back over to see Miguel yelling at both Gwen and Miles. Sniffing irritably, Hobie opened his mouth and was cut off immediately by Peter Parker from Earth 616 making his appearance. Miles was happy to see him, Hobie could hear it in his voice, and against his better judgement he went back to what he was doing.

When Miguel trapped Miles, way before literally trapping him in a cage, Hobie made his way to Miles’ side while keeping a small distance from him. He kept his eyes on him, watching how he ranted against Miguel’s idea of ‘keeping to the canon’, how he fought against the idea of letting one person die just to save others, how he argued that as Spider-Man they should be able to do both. Watched how he turned to his original allies, Peter 616 and Gwen and even Peni, and how they all couldn’t look him in the eye for longer than a few seconds. Encouraged him when it seemed like he needed it (“Here we go.” “Hobie, you’re not helping.” “Good.”). Miles realized it was a trap a second too late, and once Miguel had him caged, chaos began to descend upon them all. His friends were yelling at Miguel, who was yelling back, and Miles was panicking. He couldn’t break himself out, and Hobie’d had enough.

“Oi, Peter Pan.” Hobie hissed at him, and Miles stared at him with wide eyes. He didn’t touch the digital net, all too aware of the fact that it would draw attention from the others, but he spread his hands out just in front of it. Hobie repeated his advice from earlier, complete with visual demonstration, without speaking out loud. “Use your palms.” Miles seemed to take a breath at that, his shoulders lowering from around his ears as he pressed his hands fully against the barrier, palms and all. Since Hobie was the only one paying attention, he knew to brace himself when electricity started crackling up and down Miles’ arms; when the barrier exploded, he was the only one who wasn’t knocked over aside from Miles, who seemed to freeze for a sec when he realized he was free. He chuckled, smiling proudly when Miles’ wide brown eyes met his again, without the barrier this time.

Then Miles turned heel and booked it down the corridor, where the door was wide open and awaiting his exit. Hobie sort of regretted that breaking the door so it would stay open meant that the other Spiders also had easy access to go after Miles, but they were still trying to pick themselves up off the floor and that gave Miles a solid four second head start. It was the best Hobie could do for him, given the situation, along with one last thing.

Miguel yelled for everyone to go after Miles, and they complied. Hobie activated his watch, creating a portal to his home ‘verse. Sneering at all the Spiders rushing past him, Hobie shouted “for the record, I quit!” and threw his watch off once he was safely in the portal.

He crash landed towards the edge of the bed in the room, close enough to where he was aiming originally. Sighing heavily, Hobie sprawled out on the bed and listened to the drones flying overhead, watched as their lights illuminated the room he was staying in currently. Gwen’s jumper was still on the floor where she’d left it, her shoes dropped carelessly two feet beside it. (Seriously, her shoes were right there, did she really have to take his?) With a soft sigh and a quiet groan, he pulled himself back up, stretched, and started pulling shit out of his pockets. He’d actually grabbed a lot more things than he’d needed, courtesy of trying to hold the door for Miles, and he tossed aside the things he didn’t need in order to get started. Several other watches dropped out of his pocket as well, the ones he’d made before staying on him for safekeeping — one for him, one for Pav, one for Gwen.

Just because Miles didn’t want to make his own watch didn’t mean Hobie couldn’t make one for him.

#punkflower #spider punk #spider gwen #miles morales #hinted punkflower #like just a taste of it #spiderman atsv #more hobie pov of his part in the movie than anything else #starts before the movie events

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roachesbf · 10 months

Text

Spiderman Noir With a Superman Anomaly Reader

Stumbling into Noirs universe was a complete accident. You were doing some simple patrolling when you stumbled upon a weird portal, of course you did the responsible thing and reported in to Bruce. Telling him about your findings and from his mic you could pick up your uncle Kal, yelling about no matter what, don't go messing around with it until they arrive to check it out. You tease him a little about it, saying how you’re not that stupid to mess with something you know nothing about by yourself. Of course you’re above simple mistakes…such as tripping on your own cape, managing to get sucked into said other wordly portal.

It’s very easy for Noir to spot you because of the weird getup you’ve got going on. I honestly think one of his first instincts would be to web you and investigate what/who you are. But upon being webbed you manage to break them, brushing them off as you concerningly ask what the fuck was that. He’s a bit perplexed after that because there’s no way you got out of his webs that easily. You don't seem like an initial threat at first but he keeps his guard up in case. You explain your situation with the whole portal, of course skipping out on the tripping part because he doesn’t need to know that. After his whole ordeal with being in another dimension he knows your telling the truth and loosens up a little.

The two of you are sitting on top of a building ledge as the both of you exchange different information about each other's universes. He admires that the symbol on your chest stands for justice and truth, happy that the people in the universe have heroes like you to protect them. Noir probably also makes a comment about how you don’t wear a mask and he truly feels your dedication to being a hero to others when you say you want people to trust you. Noir finds your attitude interesting, considering how bright and fun you contrast to his monochromatic world. He’s 100% amazed by what you can do, comic books are barely becoming a thing in his time and age but you’re exactly what he imagined they’d be like. He’s really curious as to what you can do, and doesn’t believe half of them. He’s a little suspicious when you say you have laser vision but he’s not willing to take the risk of you showing him, simply brushing it off by saying “Okay okay I believe ya, now put those eyes away before someone gets hurt.” Once he knew you could fly and had super strength he let the best get to him and asked if you could lift him.

Of course always eager to show off you flew up and picked him up by his underarms. He knew it was coming but seeing you actually fly and lift him up is still something that could startle anyone. He lets you have your fun for a little bit before asking to be put down and you agree, fixing his hat on his head. Noir eventually asks you if there’s any way for you to get hope and you simply pop out with a nope. He murmurs to himself for a bit to see if there was a way for him to help you, so far your circumstances were different that his, and he was sure there was no one in his dimension trying to open any other dimension portals so this just must’ve been a fluke of nature.

He invites you to stay with him until you somehow get home, in return all he asks is that you help with his crime fighting. He totally admires you even more once the two of you get down to business, throwing in a few compliments on your form here and there as he lands a punch. After a while of getting to know each other he’ll help you blend in properly by letting you borrow his own things since this motherfucker is built like a brick. He’ll have you wear his coat + hat when you’re out in public. Sometimes he’ll catch himself staring too much at you in his clothes but in my head he resembles that one joke that's “I’m probably nonbinary but I have a job so idrc about that rn” except how he’s totally gay for you.

Once Bruce finally manages to get you back, you were out doing normal things with Noir before you get dragged into an alleyway. Of course Noir senses this and follows behind. Seeing a man who looks like you along with a man in a batlike costume. He ask if this means you're finally going home, Bruce says its where you belong and hurries for you to follow along through the portal. You ask him if he wants his coat back but he insists that you keep it, saying that it'll be a memory of the two of you.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't know."

#spiderman noir #spider noir #itsv x reader #into the spiderverse x reader #istv x male reader #into the spider-verse x male reader #into the spider verse #male reader #x reader #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse headcanons #I want this brick built man so bad #tbh i dont read the comics...maybe i shoudl idk all i do is fucking look at personality deep dives and read shit lmaoo #but i want him so bad its insnae #he is going on the list of men i will turn into my wife #homophobia be dammed this mf fine as hell

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tashacee · 6 months

Text

Aspects of a Reveal

It was all very well saying that he was going to tell the Chain the truth, but it really wasn’t as easy as just doing it. He still wasn’t terribly confident in his sign and didn’t know half the words that he would need to explain the full story; and that was what he wanted to do, tell the full story. Not just saying ‘so funny story, I’m actually hylian’, he wanted to explain about the Aspect, about the belt, about getting stuck, and why he had never said anything until now. If he was going to tell the truth then he was going to tell the whole truth.

And then a portal came. Right when Wild was beginning to think ‘yep, this is it, I have these signs ready to go’, a portal opened up in front of them and threw his plans into disarray.

And of course, it couldn’t just be a normal portal, could it. It had to be one of those fun portals that tore the group in half and left them separated in a strange Hyrule.

Well. Maybe not that strange. Because as soon as Wild stepped through the portal he knew exactly where he was. The gentle golden tones of the grass and leaves around him. The scent of fresh air on the breeze. The gentle buzz of magic in the air - he had never really noticed it before but now that he had been away for so long it was unmistakable.

He was home.

read the rest on AO3!

#it me #hero’s aspect au #hero's aspect #lu #linked universe fic #linked universe fanfic #linked universe #fanfic

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lykaonimagines · 2 years

Text

Not So Bad - Stephen Strange x Reader

Paring: Stephen Strange x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,476

Description: Sorcerer F!Reader was borrowed by the Avengers for a few days for a mission, and Stephen isn’t too happy about her spending the night away from him, causing him to take matters into his own hands.

Other Things: Fluffy. Established relationship. Post End Game. Kate Bishop appearance. No DSMoM spoilers.

Warnings: Some swearing, mentions of panic attack.

Part 2 Masterlist

Collapsing into the plush chair in her shared hotel room, Y/N sighs loudly and slowly stretches her limbs before starting to massage her fingers and palms to work out the stiffness from her magic use earlier.

“This is still so crazy!” the energetic archer on the other side of the room shouts before flinging herself onto one of the beds. “We’re actually on a real Avengers mission, we’re Avengers!”

Chuckling as she rubs her thumb into her palm, Y/N glances over to Kate with a smile, “You’re an Avenger, I’m on loan from Rent-A-Sorcerer.”

“But you totally could be an Avenger,” Kate insists, putting her chin in her hands as she looks back at Y/N. “Your magic is wicked good, and honestly we could use the help.”

Y/N grins and shakes her head slowly, “I’m down for helping out sometimes, but I’ve got my own duties. Also doubt Strange would take the news that I’m ditching him and the magic house for the cool kids club very well. Last time I was gone for more than a week the Sanctum literally froze over.”

“Froze over?” Kate’s eyes widen. “How did the entire building freeze over?”

“The Sanctum has a lot of seals that need to be checked periodically and casted again to prevent accidents. That didn’t happen, we got a blizzard inside.”

“Shit that sucks.”

“Mhm, came back to Strange and Wong bundled up in winter clothes shivering by the fire place.”

“He seems pretty… intense honestly.”

“Intense?”

“I don’t know,” Kate huffs and flips over to lay on her back. “I mean, Clint wasn't exactly easy to get close to, not that I gave him the choice. But Doctor Strange just seems… like he’s on some other plane of existence. All protect reality, no time for nonsense. Seriously unapproachable. Borderline terrifying. Don’t know how you live with him everyday.”

Y/N shakes her head once again after a quick exhale of air out of her nose, “You get to know people when you spend as much time around one another as we do.”

“Ok what’s one thing about him I’d never guess?” Kate asks after a moment of silence. “Anything.”

“Hm…” Y/N looks up at the ceiling lost in thought. “He loves music. Like insane level of music trivia knowledge, can guess nearly any song within seconds of it starting.”

Kate laughs and taps away at her phone, “Made him sound human for a second, then firmly back into the realm of too scarily all-knowing.”

“Eh he’s not that scary, trust me,” Y/N chuckles as she feels her own phone vibrate in her pocket. Pulling it out she scoffs, “Tries to convince you he isn’t scary, he immediately texts me.”

“See! Told you he’s fucking scary as shit. He knows.”

Opening their messages, Y/N quickly reads his latest before responding.

Stephen 💙: This was a terrible idea, who agreed to this? Come home.

Y/N: Babe it’s only a few days, and they need the help. They got the new kids out in the field.

Stephen 💙: So they needed a master of the mystic arts to babysit the young Avengers?

Inappropriate use of our time, you’re needed here.

Y/N: And what exactly am I needed there for so urgently Doctor Strange??? Last I knew everything I needed to do was handled.

Stephen 💙: Take a picture of your hotel room and send it

Y/N: ???

Stephen 💙: Just send it love

Rolling her eyes, Y/N snaps a quick picture of the hallway leading to the entryway of her shared hotel room and sends it over to Stephen.

Y/N: Happy now?

Babe?

Stephen???

Frowning down at his lack of response, she’s startled by the familiar sound of crackling magic by the door way.

Quickly getting up from her chair, Y/N meets Stephen as he leans through the portal. Sending her a knowing smirk, he runs his hand through the normally tidy hair sitting messy on his head. His lack of shirt and a glimpse of their bedroom behind him makes it clear he was headed to bed.

“Couldn’t even stand one day away from me Doctor?” she teases as she stops just shy of him.

“Seriously who approved this?” He complains as he steps through the portal and wraps his arms around her waist. “Don’t see why they needed you.”

“Well Sam specifically said he wanted to ‘borrow a wizard,’ and you scowled, said you were too busy, and stormed off. So I’m the second choice ‘wizard’ rental,” she chuckles as she rests her chin against his bare chest.

“Hmm, if he knew well he’d have chosen you from the start,” Stephen comments as he presses a kiss to her forehead. “Talented and stunning. Infinitely more agreeable.”

“Says you. Though the last point is just fact.”

“Abso-fucking-lutely says me,” he agrees as his hands slowly stroke her back. “Now are you going to come willingly or am I going to have to carry you back to our bed?”

“Can’t stand one night without cuddles Stephen?” she teases before sticking her tongue out at him.

“I won’t suffer a night without my cuddles,” he corrects, returning her gesture.

“Poor boy,” she mumbles as she reaches up to cradle his jaw in her hands. “Long day?”

“Terribly,” he sighs and leans into her touch, his eyes flickering shut. “London Sanctum called for backup shortly after you left.”

“Shit, what happened?”

“Student visiting snagged a book from the advanced section and accidentally summoned a demon in the library.”

“Uhg, please tell me you told him he’s not allowed in the New York Sanctum. I don’t want to lose our bedroom to a demon please.”

“Don’t think he’ll be seeing much of any sanctum, Wong grounded him to Kamar-Taj indefinitely,” he responds before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “You however are in urgent need here at the New York Sanctum.”

“Oh, how urgent?” she slowly trailing her thumb over his lip and pressing down on it slightly.

“The fate of this universe depends on it,” he responds stoically before nipping at her thumb.

“You brat did you just bite me?” she smirks and taps the tip of his nose.

“Yep, now get your ass in bed.”

“Babe you know they need me for this mission.”

“And you know we’re more than capable of having you back in this room before they come looking for you in the morning.”

“They need me here. Like here, here. Mission briefs change, targets move, you know the deal,” she explains, still letting herself be drawn in closer to him.

“Cloak’s waiting in bed already, you don’t want to disappointment him right?” Stephen tries, shifting tactics.

“And I love Cloakie, I’ll wrap him all up in a hug when I get back.”

Stephen scowls, narrowing his eyes at his girlfriend in front of him, “This is cruel and unusual punishment darling.”

“Making you sleep in the bed alone for one day is cruel and unusual punishment?”

“Absolutely, and downright neglectful,” he insists, fighting to keep the grin off his lips.

Reaching up to card her fingers through his hair, she pulls him down to her and captures his lips in a kiss. First slow and loving, it quickly gets deeper and rougher as needy sounds come from his throat.

At the sound of someone clearing their throat, the two freeze in place. Stephen’s pupils blown wide, hiding most of his iris as he stares back at Y/N questioningly.

Slowly detangling herself from the sorcerer, Y/N turns sheepishly toward the sound to see a red-faced Kate standing at the end of the hallway.

“Gonna be honest,” she admits, rubbing her hand on the back of her neck. “Forgot you were here Kate, sorry about that.”

“It’s cool,” Kate says, glancing over at Strange before quickly focusing her eyes back on Y/N. “Guess you two are a thing?”

Stephen groans and awkwardly rubs his bare arm, “You saw nothing, alright?”

“You don’t want anyone to know you’re with Y/N?”

“Oh everyone can know Y/N’s mine, but everything you heard. All that, you didn’t hear it. Got it?”

Y/N rolls her eyes before turning back to Stephen, leaning up she presses a chaste kiss to his lips and turns him back toward the portal. “Now you get to bed, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Grumbling under his breath, Stephen finally agrees and steps back through the portal, looking back at his girlfriend once more.

“Close the portal Stephen,” she teases, walking to the edge of it with a smirk.

Within seconds he leans through the portal once again to press another kiss to her lips, then hastily retreats back in and closes the portal behind him.

Y/N shakes her head incredulously and turns back to the young Avenger, “Well this is a bit awkward.”

“Ok, ok, I’ll admit he’s not so scary now,” Kate laughs and walks back to her bed. “I just heard one of the most powerful magical beings in the universe say he won’t suffer a night without cuddles.”

Y/N grins back and flops herself onto the opposite bed, “You need to put up a certain front when you’re in his position. He wants to be respected, and not fucked with. Doesn’t mean that’s his personality. He is very sweet when he wants to be. Just has gone through some shit… like a lot of us have.”

“Were you two a thing when… ya know… it happened?” Kate asks sheepishly.

“During the blip? Yes,” she answers stiffly.

“Were either of you…?”

“He was dusted, I was left behind,” Y/N picks at the comforter in obvious discomfort.

Kate nods slowly, “Seems like a lot of relationships didn’t last that. Did you know he was coming back or something?”

“I… well. I didn’t know for sure. For awhile I just kept hoping he was busy and hadn’t been able to come home. When Stark made it back to Earth I went to talk to him. Told me Stephen gave up the Time Stone to spare his life then got dusted.”

“So you didn’t know he was coming back?”

“I hoped. I believed in him, always have. Thought he had to have some kind of plan. Spent years going through every book in our library. Every note in his desk. Every sheet of paper in our bedroom. Looked under and in and around every last fucking artifact and piece of furniture in that building. Trying to find something. Anything.”

“Did you?”

“No,” the one word hangs in the air as Y/N nearly glares a hole in the ceiling. The familiar ache in her chest coming back. Each breath in shakes her body as she desperately tries to will away the memories.

“So you waited five years for him having no idea if he’d ever come back?” Kate asks as she looks at Y/N questioningly. “Must really love him… wait are you alright?”

“I-I, y-yeah. N-no. I d-don’t know,” Y/N stutters, a hand going up to grip the fabric over her rapidly beating heart. “Sling ring. G-get it.”

Kate quickly hops off her bed and runs to the desk drawer Y/N had stored her things in, digging out the object in question and pressing it into her palm.

Turning over in the bed, Y/N quickly does the motions for a portal, her vision blurring as she watches the magic crackle open. “Stephen!”

She sees immediate movement from the bed, Stephen rushing over and through the portal to her side, “What’s going on!?”

“We were talking and she just started breathing weird, holding her chest, and freaking out,” Kate rambles out, coming to his side and looking down at Y/N worriedly.

Y/N’s hand reaches out shaking as she grabs his wrist, attempting to pull him closer.

Checking her pulse and looking her over, he finally lets her pull him in. Her arms quickly latch around him, followed by her legs intertwining with his and burying her face against his chest, hot tears hitting his skin moments later.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you,” he whispers as he rubs slow circles on her back as she shakes in his arms.

“She’s having a panic attack,” he says more loudly for Kate. “What happened?”

“I, well we were talking about the blip, and you.”

He hums in thought, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Panic over trauma is normal. Finally hit her.”

“I just said how she must love you, since she didn’t know if you would come back but didn’t move on, then she panicked,” Kate admits, kicking at the carpet.

Stephen nods and tightens his grip on his girlfriend, “I’m here love, right here. I’ve got you.”

After a few minutes of silence in the room beyond hushed sniffles, he finally hears her breathing slow, her head leaned against his chest fast asleep.

“Maybe you should close the portal? I mean, if you’re staying here with her,” Kate says before climbing back on to her own bed.

“Looks like you gained another roommate kid,” he carefully shifts Y/N in his arms to slip the sling ring from her hand, and awkwardly makes the gesture to close the portal leading to their bedroom.

“You’re not so bad after all.”

Stephen glances up at Kate with an arched brow at her statement.

“I may or may not have said you’re borderline terrifying,” she admits. “But in my defense, prior to this I met you twice and you were angry both times and stormed off to do ‘more important things.’”

A slight smile crosses his features and he chuckles, “Fair point. She must have found that hilarious,” he nods his head down at the sleeping Y/N.

“Well she said basically when you spend a lot of time with someone you get to know them, but I was thinking that sounded like Stockholm Syndrome until you showed up here demanding cuddles. Then I just realized you just like to look scary.”

Stephen huffs in annoyance, turning on the bed and tucking Y/N into him as he gets more comfortable, “We never speak of this again. No one hears about this. The conversation you heard, her panic attack, or me sleeping here. Never happened. Understood?”

“Still don’t seem as intimidating or tough when you’re holding someone snuggled up to your chest, but alright Doctor, your secret is safe with me,” she winks and slides in under her covers. “Have a good night over there you two.”

Sighing loudly, Stephen pulls up the covers on their bed with a snap and rests his chin on his love’s head as he gently strokes her back. “Sleep well darling.”

----

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#stephen strange #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange imagine #doctor strange imagine #stephen strange x you #doctor strange x you #marvel #fanfiction

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