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loveinhawkins · 1 year

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There’s perks to working a summer job where there’s seemingly no manager. Steve got an at most five minute interview with an overly smiley dude who said, “An independent workforce is very important to us,” and didn’t even check his references before telling Steve that he was hired.

So it’s down to him and Robin alone to open and close Scoops Ahoy. And the lack of any boss—not even a supervisor—is mostly great, means that no-one’s hovering over their shoulders droning on about ‘company policy’, means they can take their breaks as and when, and no-one’s tapping their foot with an eye on the clock.

But then there’s the times where it’s absolutely swamped with customers, and the statistical likelihood of having to serve an asshole skyrockets; and most assholes don’t tend to think of teenagers slinging ice-cream as being worthy of even the tiniest shred of respect.

“Are you wilfully this stupid, missy?” a douchebag snaps at Robin during the lunchtime rush, after she added chocolate sauce on his sundae instead of raspberry.

She remakes the order with a look that, if there was any justice in the world, would make him drop down dead on the spot. But instead, he just scoffs when she passes him the new sundae.

“Have a spectacular day,” Robin says acerbically, and if it was any other time, Steve would be ducking down behind the counter, pretending to check on stock levels so he can hide his laughter.

Except Robin’s also doing that thing where she blinks a lot, and Steve knows she’s fighting tears of frustration because he privately does something remarkably similar.

There’s a sinking feeling in his chest coupled with what’s becoming a steadily frequent flare of protectiveness. That one usually comes with the kids and The Upside Down—except Robin is a girl who’s round about his age, so he half-heartedly assumes it must be because he has a crush on her.

But he’s not even thinking about said crush at all when he gently bumps her towards the break room with his hip and says, “Take yours first, I’ve got this.”

For half a second, Robin’s eyes seem to shine in gratitude before she puts a hand over her heart and declares, dripping in sarcasm, “You’re a god among men, Harrington, I never believed what anyone said about you.”

“You’re wel—hey, what did they say about me?”

The door to the break room shuts, but not before he hears Robin let out a genuine snort of laughter. He smiles and pivots back to the register.

The line’s calmed down; Steve recognises a substitute teacher waiting to be served: Mrs Greeves, who’s been at Hawkins High since the sixties, at least. There’s no other adult in the shop, so it’s presumably her little granddaughter who’s running about the place, without so much as a glancing eye on her.

But Steve doesn’t have to worry about a potential lost child scenario, because a guy suddenly slips out of the booth he’d been sitting in, bending down to the kid’s eye level and subtly ensuring that she doesn’t hightail it out of there.

It takes a few seconds for Steve to recognise him; he’s still getting used to the whole phenomenon of seeing people without the high school setting behind them. Like, Robin used to be just a name from a class he can’t even recall, and now he knows her for her dry wit and love of cryptic crosswords.

And this Eddie Munson is sort of a different beast from the guy Steve saw stomping around the cafeteria tables.

He’s dressed pretty much the same, (Hellfire shirt sans the leather jacket must be the ‘summer look’, Steve reckons), but he’s quieter as he chats with the little girl, letting her try on one of his skull rings to distract from her obvious boredom. His grin is softer, too.

Mrs Greeves clears her throat, and Steve promptly puts on his vacant ‘delightful customer service’ smile.

“Afternoon, Mrs Greeves, what can I do you for?”

She orders a simple strawberry cone for the kid, Abigail, and two scoops of lemon and vanilla in a cup for herself—appropriate, Steve thinks, because her face looks like she’s sucking on a lemon half the time.

As he prepares the ice-cream, he’s quickly remembering why she’s on the list of substitute teachers that students dread, even if he’s only had the ‘pleasure’ of being in a class supervised by her once. He has vague memories of how she’d talk with other teachers in a scandalised stage whisper about students from ‘broken homes’—he’s pretty sure she’s still an austere teacher at the Sunday School, too.

“Abigail,” she says sharply, when Steve finishes the cone, and she finally seems to realise her granddaughter isn’t by her side, “what have I told you about—”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Eddie says hurriedly. Abigail hands him the ring back, very carefully dropping it into his palm, and he gives her a gentle smile. “I don’t mind—”

“—not talking to strangers?” Mrs Greeves finishes, as if Eddie hadn’t spoken.

“But,” Eddie says with tiny frown, “you know me, ma’am, I’m—”

“Let me be plain then, Mr Munson.” She finally turns to favour Eddie with a scathing look. “I meant that I don’t want my granddaughter around a corrupting influence.”

There’s an awful silence while Abigail collects the cone.

“Oh,” Eddie says, still crouched down by the booth. He sounds very small.

And Steve’s view of Mrs Greeves quickly turns from a general dislike to an icy hatred.

“And here’s yours,” he says, sliding the cup over.

She looks down. Her mouth goes all pinched in displeasure.

“What’s the meaning of this?”

“It’s your ice-cream,” Steve says, playing up a confused blink. “Is—is this not what you ordered? I’m terribly sorry for the—”

“Don’t be obtuse, Mr Harrington. These scoops are tiny; they barely fill the cup!”

Yup, Steve thinks with a savage satisfaction. They’re the size of a melon ball, and even that’s being generous.

“Mrs Greeves, I’m afraid it’s store policy. Nothing to do with—”

“What kind of policy could possibly justify—”

“Rudeness,” Steve says smoothly.

Eddie’s head jerks up at that, his mouth slightly agape.

“Mr Harrington,” Mrs Greeves says, her face turning puce, “I would like to see your manager.”

“The manager,” Steve says flatly. “Okay, sure. I’ll go get him.”

What he does next, compared to everything else that’s happened in his life thus far, isn’t all that stupid.

Well. Maybe a little.

It’s worth it though, to see the way Eddie Munson’s eyes widen at the sight.

Making sure to have zero expression throughout, Steve mimes walking downstairs, throws off his hat while crouched behind the counter, then re-emerges with a quick ruffle of his hair.

“How can I help you?” he asks, like they’ve only just met.

The cup of minuscule ice-cream is soon up-ended as Mrs Greeves storms out, barking over her shoulder, “Abigail, come here!”

Eddie stands to let the kid out of the way, who seems blissfully ignorant with her cone. Steve’s sure he hears him mutter under his breath, “Jesus, she’s not a dog.”

“I’ll be reporting you, Steve Harrington, make no mistake!”

Yeah, good fucking luck. I sure as hell don’t know who really runs this place.

“Uh-huh,” Steve says. “Looking forward to it. Harrington with two ‘r’s one ‘n’, ma’am.”

“Shit, Harrington,” Eddie drawls. He’s leaning next to the booth, hip cocked, and if it weren’t for the fact that he’d seen it himself, Steve might’ve been convinced that the Eddie from a moment ago was a different person. “That was not worth getting fired over.”

“I’m not getting fired,” Steve says—although honestly, if that had been a real threat, he thinks his actions would probably have been the same. Huh. “I meant it, dude, there’s no manager here.”

Eddie nods slightly, looks up at the Scoops Ahoy sign and grins. “So you and Buckley are the skeleton crew on this ship.”

“Uh, I guess?”

Come on, man, Steve thinks, as Eddie keeps up the wide grin like it’s a shield. This isn’t the high school cafeteria; I’m not about to hit your lunch tray or whatever.

Out loud, he calls into the back, “Hey, Robin, the chocolate’s low. I’m just gonna put in a new batch if you want some of the old stuff.”

The sliding doors open.

Robin sighs as if she’s just had a very relaxing facial, but she’s actually holding a folded newspaper with the cryptic crossword all finished.

“I am so chilled out,” she says, with a delivery that could rival Eddie Munson’s trademark dramatics.

“You’re so weird,” Steve says mildly while making up a cup with the leftover chocolate ice-cream.

“You’ve just got no taste, Harrington.” She waggles the crossword at him. “You should give ‘em a try.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “I’m no good at that code-breaking stuff.” He passes her the cup, goes to start assembling his own and pauses. “Hey, Munson, you want some?”

“Oh, uh, I’m good,” Eddie says, sounding suddenly wrong-footed. “Sorry, I’m just, uh, killing time before my movie starts. The other stores said if I wasn’t buying anything I should get out, so…”

“So you’ve come to our oceanic sanctum,” Robin deadpans.

Steve rolls his eyes. “You know, just ‘cause you do crosswords doesn’t mean you have to turn into a dictionary. Ow.” He doesn’t quite duck in time to avoid the newspaper smacking him in the face. He turns to address Eddie again, who appears to be fighting back laughter. “What’re you gonna see, Munson?”

Eddie’s eyes glance away for a second. “Something very scary and befitting of my stature, Harrington.”

Robin, who’s made a habit of memorising the mall’s movie schedules, checks her watch and narrows her eyes. “Return to Oz?”

Eddie’s cheeks start to glow. “Fuck off, Buckley, I’ve never liked you.”

“You’re such a liar, I’ve heard your applause at band practice—”

“Okay, but,” Steve cuts in, jumping up onto the counter with one hand. “I thought the whole point was Oz was a dream. How can she return to—?”

“Christ, I don’t know, Harrington,” Eddie says. “I didn’t pick it for critical analysis; the poster had a dude with a pumpkin head on it, and I thought it looked cool.”

“Oh, I saw that,” Robin says. “Made me think of when all those pumpkins went bad. Like, imagine if they had faces.”

Unthinkingly, Steve says around his ice-cream spoon, “No way, I’m not dealing with that, too.”

“Excusez-moi?” Robin says.

“Hmm?” Steve says innocently.

“Hey, you missed quite a show earlier on, Buckley,” Eddie says. “Reckon Harrington deserves a tally in the ‘you rule’ column.”

Steve glares at Robin. “I told you to keep that outta view of the customers.”

“Ah, but I’m not buying anything,” Eddie points out, “ergo, not a customer.”

“Ergo,” Steve mimics.

“That board is strictly for romantic successes,” Robin says.

Eddie snorts. “Aw, that’s hardly fair. I think it should have more… rounded criteria.”

Robin’s eyes narrow again. “Eddie Munson, you’ve never complimented a jock in your life, don’t start now.”

“Hey,” Steve says, overselling a ‘wounded’ expression. “I’m more than that, y’know. I contain multitudes.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, smiling. “Folks, we’ve got Hawkins’s own Whitman right here.”

Steve flips him off and, on a whim, decides to channel his inner Dustin.

“Maybe I just see the world more clearly than you two ‘cause I’m free of societal constraints.”

“You’re working in a mall,” Robin says.

“High school societal contraints. I am unshackled and ergo, free.”

“Damn,” Eddie says, patting down his pockets for an imaginary pen, “I should use that.”

“Stop inflating Harrington’s ego and go catch your totally scary movie,” Robin says.

Eddie checks his own watch. “Oh, shit. Um.” And Steve thinks that it almost looks like he’s reluctant to leave. “Time flies, I guess. Better go ashore.” He catches Steve’s eye, gives a tiny little salute as he leaves. “May your summer continue to be mundane and manager-less.”

“You’re a poet, Munson,” Steve says, even though Eddie’s already out the door.

“So what was the show I missed?” Robin says. “I couldn’t hear anything back there.”

“Nothing that exciting.”

Steve tells her, and even though a smile tugs at her mouth as he re-enacts his mime, for some reason her eyes are kinda sad for most of it.

“Good job, Popeye,” she says thoughtfully—and though it directly contradicts her own words, she marks up a singular ‘you rule’ tally for the rest of her shift before wiping it off.

Eddie doesn’t re-appear after the movie—not that Steve’s keeping track of time, or anything—but at least they don’t have anymore nightmares for customers. As Steve mops, he thinks about how Dustin’s return from Camp Something Something is approaching—and the fact that he’s circled the date with a goofy smiley face is between him and his bedroom calendar.

He smiles to himself while clocking out of the now ghostly mall, recalling Eddie’s parting words.

The thought of a mundane, manager-less summer stretching before him sounds pretty damn good.

#i think this is my first scoops fic! had fun putting in some silly foreshadowing ❤️#steve and robin #pre steddie #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #eddie and robin #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #briefly implied homophobia

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lovifie · 2 months

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Kyle "Gaz" Garrick always gets draw as the most level headed, more calm and more connected with his feelings. But in my experience, these kind of people always attract those that are more broken on their head (not talking about the 141, just funny it fits.)

Like, he just attract these people that love confrontation and it is always Gaz the one that has to deescalate the situation. Or people that when they notice they are in the wrong simply give him the cold shoulder or just straight up jumps to insult him, and at the end he still needs to apologise.

So yeah, he hasn't had the best experience with relationship. Until you, of course. He is completely smitten with you, delighted by how easy going you are, how easy it is to comunicate with you. But you are still human, and the dreading moment arrives, where you and Gaz get into an argument.

It was about something silly, like how he never cleans the water that splashes when he washes the dishes. You got home from work, took off your shoes and step into the puddle wetting your socks and it sent you into an emotional breakdown.

Gaz is expecting you to just insult him, he is ready, he is going to hate to hear you insult him, but he'll manage, you are worth it. But only then, you say:

"Kyle, I'm sorry but you are getting on my last fucking nerve right now. I had an absolute shit day, and it is not your fault it was. So I'm going upstairs, I'm getting a shower and I'm going to bed before I end up paying it with you."

And Gaz looks at you astonished, so used to people with an absolute lack of emotional intelligence and simple goes:

You don't make it pass him of course, because he grabs you, cupping your face. You look at him confused and he says: "I am going to fuck you so nicely, luv."

"Kyle, no, I'm pissed." You try to explain.

"I know, you can still be pissed when we are done. C'mon, c'mon. I have never been more in love with you, luv. I swear I have been waiting for you my whole life."

And just to be clear, you sock was not the only thing that got wet that day.

1. I know I am reusing the Donald duck photo, I'm sorry for the lack of originality, but it just encapsulates the vibes of the situation so good.

2. I just want to be clear, that I mainly think Gaz gets profiled as the most level headed, calmed and overall chill guy not because he is exceptionally any of them but because everyone else is just worse. I could go onto heavy detail, AND I'LL GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL. Just not today, but one of these days, I promise. Justice for Gaz, my man almost beat up the butcher when he was tied to a chair.

TagList: @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @kayden666 @dumb12bvtch1212 @thatonepupkai @glocuseguardian3rd @darkangel4121 @risingofjupiter @dukeofjjune @soupinasock @marymustdie @arbesa-mind @dilara-del @multifandomheathenannie @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago @lunari0m

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod #task force 141 #call of duty x reader #cod modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #task force 141 x reader #141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz imagine #gaz smut #gaz fanfic #gaz #call of duty headcanons #call of duty imagine

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incorrectbatfam · 19 days

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Batfam at the dentist HCs/incorrect quotes, please?? 🤲 I have a big surgery coming up and I'm terrified

Dick: What's up, doc?

Leslie: What are you doing?

Dick: Daffy Duck. I'm thinking of a new career as a voice actor.

Leslie: Okay but can you not do it with a mouthful of sharp objects?

———————

Cass: *brings a punch card and a knocked-out tooth*

Leslie, sighing: Here we go again.

Leslie: *stamps the card*

Leslie: Your next one is free.

———————

Leslie: *in the middle of the checkup*

Steph, getting up: Hang on, my Uber Eats is here.

Leslie: You ordered takeout to a dental appointment?

Steph: Efficiency.

———————

Leslie: You have a helmet. How did you still break your tooth?

Jason: *flashback to throwing his helmet at Dick, missing, and it bouncing back*

Jason: Enough with the questions, okay?

———————

Leslie: Ever consider braces?

Kate: I don't want any part of me to be straight.

———————

Leslie: Oh, you're early! Just check in with the receptionist and take a seat until I call you.

Bette: *goes up to the receptionist*

Bette: Checking in for Bette Kane.

The receptionist: Sorry, I don't have you down here.

Bette: Maybe try my full name? Mary Elizabeth Kane?

The receptionist: Still don't see you.

Bette: I should have an appointment for 2:00 today.

The receptionist: *typing*

The receptionist: I see you now. The doctor's right, you are early. Your appointment is tomorrow.

———————

Selina: *using cat claws as a toothpick*

Leslie: This might be an issue.

———————

Leslie: Say "ahh."

Tim: *screams*

———————

Leslie: You're bleeding because you don't floss.

Harper, who came in after a mission: ...

———————

Leslie: —but I cannot stress this enough, it's important to wear a mouthguard for all contact sports. And some non-contact sports. And training. And patrol. And walking through Gotham. And whenever you're around the Waynes. Actually, I'm just gonna give you the box. Take your time. Pick whatever colors you want. If you need me, I'm gonna be in my office questioning my life choices.

Luke:

Luke: ...I just asked how her day was.

———————

Bruce: Are you sure there's no tooth fairy? Because the Justice League has state-of-the-art tracking system that can locate them. I really think we can form a contract to expand social programs for children.

Leslie: Just shut up and let me do my job.

———————

Leslie: Everything's looking good except for a few minor spots.

Barbara: Yeah, well, call me when they invent stainless coffee.

———————

Leslie: I recommend removing your wisdom teeth.

Alfred: But that's where I keep my wisdom.

———————

Leslie: I see you still have one last baby tooth. It should've come out by now.

Damian: Father said to keep it in.

Leslie: Why?

Damian: He wants me to stay a baby.

———————

Leslie: Cullen, you're next.

Cullen: *climbing out the skylight*

Leslie: Wow.

Leslie: That's actually impressive for a non-vigilante.

———————

Leslie: Hey, Helena. I thought you were off duty this week. How'd you knock a molar loose?

[earlier]

Students: *fighting in the hall*

Helena: Break it up! All of you go to the office! And delete that video!

[present]

Helena: I need a raise.

———————

Carrie: I don't get it. I brush twice a day AND floss. How do I still have cavities?

Leslie: What do you brush with?

Carrie: Toothpaste, obviously.

Leslie: And what do you floss with?

Carrie:

Leslie: Carrie...

Carrie: The British call it candy floss for a reason, don't they?

———————

Leslie: Well done today, Duke. Have a sticker.

Duke: Why are they all the Justice League?

Leslie: Funding comes with a catch.

Duke:

Duke: *picks the Flash*

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deadghosy · 2 months

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HAZBIN HOTEL X ROBLOX NOOB! READER

prompt: your best friend John Doe hacked you into a universe where hell is much different in your mind

“OOF-” you said as you press the buttons on your ps5. A portal opens as blocky person with yellow skin exits out of the portal looking at you. “JD!” You said with a “:P” face. “noob…you get to get out the house more…” John Doe said with a static voice as he picked up your bloxy body and thrown you into a portal as you kept smiling

“:) yay I’m falling.” You said out loud as you felt yourself fall in the air. You fell but landed on your feet like always. You look around to see that it smell like must, ass, and most importantly fire. You walked around just smiling as demons and sinners looked as if you were some weirdo…..

You came across the hotel and applied for a job to be the schedule manager. You got a red outfit to match vaggie and Charlie as you grab a flat board and started to write who gets to do what.

Noob! Reader is the type to pull out a cannon out of fucking no where and fuck someone’s life up🦆(a/n: pinkie pie type shit)

I can see Alastor watching you do a r6 dance as he just looked at you weirdly with a strained smile. You literally said out loud “/E DANCE!” And started to dance 😭

Lucifer got scared because he accidentally let you dove off a roof…but you respawned with a blue force field around you making Lucifer think you were an angel.

You love the egg boiz as they love you too! You do color sheets with them as Pentious brings you guys some cookies like a mom💗

You had onetime pulled a chainsaw out because husk said he needed to get a haircut on his fur. You literally pullled it out of no while husk jolted looking at your crazed face as you reved it up.

“You said you needed a hair cut!!” “I SAID HAIR CUT! NOT END MY LIFE YOU FUCKER!” Husk yells back as you chase him smiling like “:D” with the chainsaw. It was giving scooby doo as you kept chasing him.

Lucifer would be weirded out with Noob as noob just sticks their tongue out like the :P face while Lucifer pokes you curious about your game like box body.

I imagine noob! Reader showing Charlie a picture of bacon hair boy who is doing orange justice in the back. “Oh is that your friend?” Charlie says with a nervous smile at how your friend’s hair literally looks like bacon or is. You nodded excitedly as you wave your phone happily at bacon hair boy.

You blasted “it’s raining tacos” outside of the Vee’s tower when learning your friends had opps in there. So you wanted to annoy them.

This lasted for 2 days until vaggie had found you and took you home as you screamed out the song LOUD AND PROUD

I can imagine Lucifer making you a duck hat that says “don’t duck with me!” It’s so cute 🦆

I headcannon noob!reader to be the most dangerous being in hell as they literally been to every other gun and fighting game of the roblox universe.

NOOB SOLOS‼️‼️🔥

You know those badass Roblox games with those cool combat moves? That’s what you use. 🤨

You grabbed a sinner’s face and run dragging their body in the ground with a smile. You lifted your arm and swing them around as they flew to who knows where as the crew behind you had an either shocked or entertained face.

One time Charlie and you were shopping in a mall and you peaked over the boarder to keep people from falling. “I wonder if I can die from this height.” “NOOB NO-” that’s when you had to get a kid leash on you anytime you go out with the staff.

It was a nice day as Angel was throwing knives to increase his skills. You walked by him curiously grabbing two knives and throwing them at the same time. Making it hit the bullseye as Angel looked at you shock.

“Whoa kid, how did you learn to do that?” Angel asked pulling out the knives you made in the bullseye. “I was murder once!” You said with a happy smile as you walked away. Angel dust has the most confused face ever(picture below)

I headcannon noob!reader to be like Kirby. So like noob pulls out a knife to be murder, and then they could pull out a gun as Sheriff✨🦆

“Pew pew pew” you said as you stood on the balcony of the hotel as you shot at random sinners. Alastor appeared behind you confused but laughs at the misery of the sinner running when a missed shot almost killed them.

One time Angel gave you a Tommy gun not suspecting you know how to use it….you literally started to blast sinners away-

You SHOT AN OLD LADY ALSO😨

yeah Angel never gave you his Tommy gun ever again.

As you stayed in hell, you didn’t know that you would be spied on by the angels as Adam laughs at how chaotic and naive you are.

You’re so use to bullshit in Roblox you just stand there like “🧍🏾” as shit goes on. Literally when Charlie was panicking when the extermination was due in 6 months

During a uno game you ate a card as husk was trying to win but forfeited in anger as you screamed out uno. Leaving the missing card out of your mouth….it got quiet so quick as husk chased after you.

Niffty finds you amazing as you both have crazed tendencies. You both literally cause made chaos around places 🤭

YOU USE YOUR ADOPT ME SCAMMING SKILLS TO SCAM PEOPLE 😭😭 I CAN SEE THIS

The overlords are confused when they see Lucifer bring you to a meeting for once. You just sat there eating a taco. “Ello.” You said waving your blocky arm at them.

When watching the horror movies with the crew, you don’t react at all with Alastor as you been in lots of horror games with that one guy named Guest…you miss home and him.

I headcannon that you once accidentally summoned John Doe because you sneezed and he literally stood there as you hugged him. The rest of the crew was confused thinking he was your brother.

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love-bitesx · 10 months

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May I request a hobie x fem reader

Reader is also a spider person and dating hobie. she gets in a fight with other spider people that been talking about hobie behind his back, And he just comfort her and help with her injuries.

: ̗̀➛ HONOUR. hobie brown x fem!reader

summary: after hearing fellow spider-people talking rudely about hobie, y/n defends him, taking a couples punches in the process. words: 1.6k warnings: fem reader, she/her pronouns used, mentions of blood & injury, miguels pissy like always, general mentions of fighting/violence

thank you sm for the request!! i hope i did it justice. im getting through all the asks, so pls be patient! ily all sm

"he's just a bit freaky, you know."

shoulders tensing, you eavesdropped on a pair of haphazard spider-people, their snark voices carrying through the reverberant room. you were sitting by the 'go-home machine' – aptly named – waiting for miguel to arrive and dish out orders, listening to them tattle about hobie brown.

"literally," a second voice tagged themselves in, jumping on the wagon of comments, "just turns up, acts like a prick and somehow everyone puts up with him."

chest burning, you tried to grasp your composure, gripping onto it with white knuckles – similar treatment given to the metallic desk you sat on.

first hand, you saw how hard hobie worked – having been dating him for a while now. though he lived to deny it, saying he was only in the spider society to look after you, gwen and pavitr - you constantly experienced his passion for keeping you all safe. even if its unconventional, he deserved his place here more than anyone.

"don't know what miguel was thinking bringing him here," the first spider snarled, a hint of a smirk lacing his tone, "he's useless."

stomach twisting, you physically bit down on your tongue - miguel would kill you in broad daylight if you started a fight in the headquarters (ironic, you thought, but you didn't want to bite the hand that fed you).

"freakshow, honestly," the other muttered, followed by a cold-hearted guffaw that made your blood spurt past the boiling point, "he doesn't even belong here."

as though someone had physically flipped your restraint, severing your ties, you turned to the duo, taking them by surprise when you shot a web in their direction, sticking the second man's mouth shut.

"what the hell?" the free one spun to you, stance ready.

you kept your posture strong, enraged eyes trained on him, "don’t be such a prick,” you spat through a clenched jaw. wrist aching at the urge to web him to the wall, your fingers itched.

he scoffed, stepping up to you, “i don’t think it’s any of your business, sweetheart.”

in your peripheral, your eyes caught the sight of the second spider clawing at the webs smothering his face, and you shot again – his hands now clasped together against his chest like a prayer.

a second audacious scoff sounded from the man in front of you, and a threatening tingle vibrated each and every bone of your spine – your spidey-senses alive with caution. it quickly became apparent why, when a fist flew towards the side of your head – an aggressive muttering of “oi, what do you think you’re doing?” accompanying it.

an inch before it connected, you ducked your head, crouching to the floor and kicking at the man’s knees. he buckled, falling to the ground and your fist collided with his jaw. your rage clouded your vision, adrenaline pumping through your veins like a poison. knuckles aching, pulled back, you webbed him to the concrete.

“y/n?” margo called from behind you, and you turned to see her. eyes wide like saucers, she looked at you with confusion.

“they start—” you couldn’t even finish your sentence when a powerful blow hit the side of your cheek, knocking you to the side, hip smashing into the corner of a desk.

shielding yourself with your arms, you caught vision of your attacker; the first man you webbed had freed himself, pouncing to you in defence. yelling something ending in “bitch”, he swung again, crashing into your ribs and you groaned in pain, connecting your web to a beam just behind him, pulling yourself away from his towering stance. with your new advantage, though winded, you raised your wrist to web him once more, when the huge, mechanical doors swung open.

“what the hell is going on in here?” miguel’s booming voice thundered across each vibrating wall, and you both froze, your arm gripped around your aching ribcage.

accompanying him was a cluster of spider-people, excluding your boyfriend. they took a second to adjust to the darkness of the room, before they halted at the scene in front of him.

“she went crazy, miguel!” the man on the floor shouted in defence, and your chest was heaving so heavily, you were at a loss for words.

“y/n, what happened?” gwen’s tone was soft, you could feel them approaching, your adrenaline draining through your body – taking any comprehensible inhibition with it.

“he swung at me!” you barked back, and the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you made your chest swell in anger, “don’t spin this on me when they’re the ones who started it.”

“we didn’t do anything!” unwebbing themselves from the floor, you stared at them, your eyes alive with rage, “she just came at us for no reason. she’s crazy, man.”

“i’m not—”

“enough! all of you!” miguel’s voice was heavy with anger, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t send a shot of fear to pierce your chest, breaking through the bone.

“i don’t care what happened,” he spat, looking at you like you were dirt on his shoe, “you two,” he pointed at your attackers, “get out.”

without a word of complaint, they filtered out behind your petrifying boss, and his enraged eyes fell on you.

"you," he paused, stepping until his lofty stature towered you, "you're one of our best, and you're picking stupid fights?"

"you don't understand, they–" you tried, grasping desperately at your side.

"i don't care what happened," he repeated his earlier quip, "it's not happening again, got it?"

reluctantly, you nodded, and he could practically see the flames in your iris, it burnt you to give over.

"go home, y/n."

"miguel–" gwen tried to intervene, but miguel wasn't paying attention.

"go home."

sitting on your bathroom counter, you struggled with the first-aid kit, hands trembling in pain as you attempted to patch up the skin that sat split open on your cheekbone. frustrated, you slammed the bandages and compact mirror down on the hard surface, chest burning with annoyance.

spine fuzzing, you felt the empty space change in your apartment, the tingling of static air putting you on edge.

"darlin'? you in 'ere?" hobie's rich voice carried through the walls, and you sighed in relief.

"hobie?" the bathroom door creaked open and he was standing there, dark eyes taking in your wounded appearance.

"fucking 'ell," he muttered, booted feet taking him to you, calloused hands gentle against your cheeks.

"you should see the other guy," a half-hearted smile played at your lips and you were melting into him, your anger subsiding, "well, guys."

"i heard," his expression didn't change, but his eyes scanned your open wound, "gwen wanted me to tell you she thinks you're badass."

a chuckle resonated in your throat, and you immediately regretted it as the vibration shot a bullet of pain through your bruised ribs. that's what hobie's mood shifted, his brows furrowed in worry and lifting your chin to him.

"what 'appened, pretty?" he reached for the first-aid kit, pushing your legs open to step between them – he tended to your wound softly, "can you tell me?"

hesitation brung you to a halt and you bit your lip. you had fought over him, defending him when he couldn't, but part of you wasn't sure how he would react. he saw this, sensing the tension in your chest, and longed to catch a glimpse inside your mind.

"look, i can't 'ave my girl get done up and not tell me what 'appened," a flash of his teeth as he smiled, and you reflected this, a tired grin on your lips.

"it was just," you sighed, wincing as he pressed a cloth to your cut, "they were being so rude."

"about you, darlin'? good on ya, defending yourself," he muttered affirmingly, dabbing the blood away.

"about you."

he stopped then. your eyes darted across his face for any signs of a reaction, nerves building in your throat. seconds of silence followed, and the air between you both almost dissipated as the tension grew. hobie squashed it, though.

pulling your face to his, he kissed you. lips warm with passion and respect, they melted together. hand falling to your waist, you were flush against him, the heat of his body overwhelming any of the pain pulsing in your skin. relief washed over you instantly. stress from the day just withering away at the power of his adoration.

breaking the kiss, hobie rested his forehead against yours, both chests heaving in tandem.

"you didn't 'ave to do that, darlin'," he muttered, and his brain was so conflicted. whilst his heart raced at the thought of you putting yourself in harms way to defend him, he felt guilty at how much pain it put you in to do so.

"you know i'd do anything for you, hobie." and his heart settled at that statement, nuzzling itself in the all-encompassing feeling of love overcoming him.

not feeling the need to do anything else, he kissed you again, this time with such a force you leaned back under the weight of him, shoulders pressed into the mirror. he was gripping your thighs, as to not tamper with the swelling bruise on your hip, and you succumbed to your boyfriend, lost in his touch, pouting when he pulled away.

"miguel's well pissed at you, by the way," he chuckled, cheeks flushed, massaging the skin of your thigh.

"i'm surprised it didn't happen earlier," you giggled, not excited to return to hq and see him again when needed.

placing a trail of kisses from your forehead to your lips, hobie's eyes softened.

"so proud of you, pretty."

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lonelier-version-of-you · 2 years

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girl help I thought about how much Henrik hated the idea of being a father and now I’m having Genderqueer Henrik Feelings

#i know some of that is about what his own dad did but i'm convinced it was also a gender thing...#the really specific emphasis put on ''me - a FATHER!'' in one man and his god (right before he gives a whole monologue about wanting to be #like roxanna at that)#when he's using the duck video as a metaphor for him and his staff in wnttaf and he compares himself to the mother duck #and when mr clarke says it could have been the father duck and henrik goes ''...perhaps. anyway the PARENT''#henrik has a lot of issues surrounding the idea of parenthood in general but it really does seem like at least some of it was #really specifically not just about being a parent but about being a *father*#there's also ''nils is far more suited to all this than i ever would've been'' in hanssen/hemingway #a line i have a LOT of feelings about and i definitely think is tied to henrik's queerness in some way whether that be his sexuality or his #gender identity. but i wouldn't be able to do it justice this late maybe i'll talk about it some other time #but it's just like. henrik admits nils could fit society's heteronormative model of what a father should be and he can't #and we know henrik has always WANTED that kind of domestic family setting in his life #he liked the idea of being a parent (even if he thought it wasn't possible for him he *wanted* it)#but he hated the idea of being a father #lol i have so many headcanons about this that i even feel wrong calling him billie's stepdad now #i tend to use step-parent instead for a reason

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

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Tim Drake becomes a mini Hellblazer

Tim is determined to be the best Robin he can be- he has a hero's legacy to live up to. He has a thirst to know as bad as Bruce’s. And... he's a bit morally grey. All this leads up to an encounter that will change his course forever.

While he is off training in Europe (wtf on that Bruce), he runs into Constantine and some demonic trouble. Just so the stubborn kid survives, Constantine teaches him some of the basics. Tim, living up to his name, takes to it like a duck to water. After Tim gets back to the states, books just show up every so often in Drake manor. Sometimes even Constantine.

It's surprisingly easy to keep the secret in that big, empty house.

And then one of Gotham's curses come to play, the dead are around as ghosts, and only Tim has any idea what's going on. Problem is, he'd rather the Bats never knew what he knew. Problem is, he might have to pull a John and sell his soul to win.

He hopes the Ghost King is a good master.

Some added possible bonuses:

Constantine has no clue that his mini Hellblazer Tim is a Bat or he would have never.

Tim has been using his powers this whole time- being able to portal and literally become one with the shadows, but it just works for a Bat Mood™️ so no one catches on.

Tim has tattoos like John for powers, but they're the invisible UV ones so they're not visible when he's getting his check overs as Robin/RR.

Possible scenes:

• A cult shows up in Gotham, of course, and the Bats are doing their investigation and find what they think is the home base and Tim's tracker is there. And he's not answering his comms. He's supposed to be resting, he's sick. All hands on deck panic. The Bats roll up ready for a fight just in time to see Tim, covered in blood and a little glass eyed, walking out of the building. Inside is a bloodbath. They are think Tim is traumatized from the obvious demon summoning that went really really badly. Tim is just so fucking tired from using magic and wants to sleep for a week, but sure, the cover story works, so he leans into it. Really annoying how Dick won't stop hugging him though.

• Constantine, trying to avoid his job trapped in Hell, again, sends his apprentice to meet with the Justice League. To bad he didn't give the apprentice a heads up because suddenly Tim is summoned/portaled into the Watchtower. And ho-shit guess that cat is out of the bag now! Not that he's willing to explain anything.

#more fics I don't have time to write so have a prompt #doesn't have to go crossover #dp x dc #or not #dc comics #could go tim/danny if one wants too #let Tim be a menace to the JL #tim drake #how promptous

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nolita-fairytale · 3 months

Text

bad moon rising | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: in another lifetime, you meet mikey berzatto by chance one halloween night in nyc.

or, the fic based on this headcanon

warnings: angst, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression, not a happy ending

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i wrote about grief again. shocking, i know. thank you all for your interest based on the headcanon it came from and thank you for your patience. i wanted so badly to post this around halloween and have been sitting on it since the better part of last year as one of my wips. finally, finally, it's here!! i took a slightly different approach than the headcanon, but i think it still does it justice. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the carmy taglist.

this what-if fic takes place october 2021 because it's make my heart surrender-canon that mikey and reader never met; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

masterlist

Halloween, in another lifetime:

“Can I get hands, please!” Carmy shouts out to the entire kitchen, only to be met with a strong chorus of ‘hands’ in response.

His team works together like a well-oiled machine; a tight run ship, led by a captain near-suffocated under the weight of the chip on his shoulder.

“Chef!” you hear the sound of your general manager’s voice ring through the kitchen, causing many a-heads to turn. She rarely comes into the kitchen during dinner service unless it’s serious. Her eyes lock with Carmy’s as he looks up from his expo, as if she’s about to deliver bad news.

His mind races through the possibilities, preparing to solve the next oncoming crisis. Could it be an undercooked steak? An overcooked duck breast? Another complaint of ‘too salty’ or ‘underseasoned?’

“Chef, you uh… you have a visitor,” she says instead–the last thing he expects to hear.

A visitor?

“Wh-?”

“Someone’s here to see you. Says he’s your… brother??” Carmy’s ears begin to burn, as he searches for your face amidst the chaos, your gaze there to catch him even from across the kitchen. Your presence feels reassuring, like a strong man in a storm. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s knee deep into service and he cannot get the sound of tickets being added to the expo out of his head. He opens his mouth to say something but he’s uncertain any words come out of his mouth, unsure of what he’d even say. You send him a reassuring nod, and it’s as if in one look, you’ve made the decision to go.

“Chef, you good?” Carmy hears you ask the head pastry chef.

“Yeah, we got it. But don’t take too long,” she answers with a curt nod of approval.

He watches as you nod again, this time in recognition of your boss’ answer, as you pull the food-grade nitrile gloves off of your hands, discarding them in the nearby trash can. Without a word, you follow Kate closely behind, exchanging a few words with her as the two of you disappear to the front of house. There’s a war inside of Carmy as he watches you go–a pang of guilt and a feeling of relief–that whatever it is, you’ve agreed to take care of it.

In all of the years that he’s been in New York, no one’s come to see him–the possibility of it happening now, let alone as a surprise, feels improbable.

Must be a prank or some shit….

It couldn’t really be Michael, could it?

As you seek out the answer, your feet carrying you faster than you anticipated, you realize that you’re searching for a face you’ve only seen in photographs. Kate follows closely behind while you push through the front door of the restaurant only to find a man pacing just outside of the restaurant, a ghostface mask in hand. You can tell he’s been sweating, the circles under his eyes just as dark as the ones you’ve become so familiar with in Carmy, with an anxious look in his eyes as his gaze turns towards you.

He’s certainly not the larger-than-life older brother you’ve seen in the sparse amount of pictures that Carmy’s shown you.

“I got this, Kate,” you mutter over your shoulder with a confident nod, letting your general manager know that you’re good on your own. “You sure?” she asks you quietly.

“I’m sure,” you answer, watching as a disappointed look spread across Michael’s face as soon as he sees that:

“You’re not Carmen.”

“Uh… no. I’m not,” you reply, hearing the front door to the restaurant close behind you. The man swears under his breath, and you watch as face changes from disappointment to annoyance quickly, as you try your best to come up with an explanation that may satisfy him. “He uh… he can’t come out. Not right now. So he sent me.”

Michael scoffs with a shake of his head, his eyebrows quickly rising and falling incredulously as he takes another drag off his cigarette.

“Shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" he asks, the annoyance obvious in his voice this time.

You take a step towards him, your arms folded across your chest.

“I’m sorry. I-, I don't think he was expecting you,” you answer, much more compassionately this time.

“Right,” Michael mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. You watch as he throws the butt of his cigarette down on the pavement, before stamping it out.

“It’s just-. He would if he could. I know it. It's just a busy night. I-... we're doing 200 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so,” you try again, and you can practically feel the disappointment (and resentment) burying itself deeper in Michael.

“Yeah, no thanks, lady. You don’t need to explain it to me. Jagoff can’t even make time to say ‘hi’ to his brother. Sends you to do his dirty work instead,” Michael dismisses you, bitterly.

He takes a beat. And then another, as if he’s accepted that he’s not going to see Carmy after all.

“Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure-,” you offer, taking another step towards him.

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” he dismisses you again, this time gentler. “You don’t need to make up for his bullshit.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything in defense of Carmy—but you’re certain that nothing you have to say will be enough for your best friend’s older brother (save for Carmy coming out here himself).

With a nod, you accept defeat, turning to go back inside. But there’s something that stops you—like you just can’t just go back inside without trying to remedy the situation one last time. This time all you say is:

“I don’t know how long you’re in town for but… we should be off by midnight.”

Michael only offers you a sympathetic smile before you slip back inside.

—---------------------------------------

It’s not until you and Carmy are packing up your things to head home that he brings it up—his mysterious visitor—hesitant to ask the question that’s been eating at him all night.

“So uh… was it really him? Michael?” he asks you, cautiously, as he watches your face carefully for any kind of reaction.

“Uh… yeah. I mean, at least the guy I recognized from your pictures,” you reply, hoping that the answer (or the fact that he missed his brother) won’t break his heart.

A beat.

“What’d he want?” Carmy asks, trying to mask his curiosity as best as possible.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Seems like he found himself in the city. I didn’t ask. I didn’t… know if you wanted me to.”

Carmy tries again.

“Oh no. It’s-, no I didn’t-, no, it’s okay.”

He takes his time, making up his mind about what he wants to say next.

“It’s weird, right? Guy can barely pick up the phone to say hello but… he can show up unannounced and just like-, expect me to drop everything?” he asks you—the look in his eyes telling you that his mind is miles away.

“I- I don’t know, Carmy,” you reply, heavily. “Are you… do you wish you had gone instead of me?”

Carmy’s quiet as he follows you out of the back door of the restaurant, thinking his answer over.

“I don’t know,” he answers slowly, a lack of confidence as the words fall out of his mouth. “Maybe?”

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel and right now he just feels… ambushed, which only makes him want to shut down.

Instead, Carmy changes the subject back to your post-work plans, the two of you debating what kind of post-shift late night meal you’re going to have before settling on a few slices of pizza on the way back to your place. You and Carmy cut through the alley to the front of the restaurant so that you can begin your late-night sojourn, and it’s only when he spots something odd that he stops you.

“What the fuck?” Carmy cuts you off, holding an arm out in front of you to stop you from walking any further.

You follow his line of sight right over to a figure moving towards the both of you. In the brief glimpse you’ve gotten of the person moving towards you, all you can see is a quick flash of the ghostface mask they hold in their hands as a bus drives by, obstructing your view.

Carmy’s heart stops, fear filling his chest as the bus speeds by, the person getting closer and closer until…

“Michael?!” Carmy shouts, squinting as he sees the man approach. His expression of pure shock leaves his jaw agape, rendering him speechless as he scrambles to try to find better words that:

“What-, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Shit,” Michael scoffs playfully, with a chuckle, his breath uneven from the light jogging pace he’d kept. Michael takes note of the arm his younger brother’s extended, shielding you from him. “What? Can’t your big brother come surprise ya in the big city?”

Carmy shoots him a look that says, ‘when have you ever done that’ and Michael nods knowingly, his eyebrows quickly raising, then lowering as he makes peace with the fact that he’s never been that guy.

“Me and Deb… we came up for the weekend,” Mikey admits with a heavy sigh. “Tried to do something nice for her but, you know, broad’s been a real bitch-.”

“Mikey,” Carmy warns, taking a tone you recognize—the kind he uses when he’s going to yell at the saucier for a broken mornay.

“Right,” Mike course corrects at the volume of a mumble, heaving a heavy, yet disarming sigh.

Carmy nods slowly as he allows some part of him to relax, his arm falling away from you as the two of you exchange a look.

“We uh…. Got into another fight. She’s on her way back to Chicago now,” Mikey explains, the disappointment evident in his voice this time, almost as if it were an apology.

“Sorry,” Carmy mutters quietly, as you exchange a look with him.

“Nah it’s-, she’ll get over it,” Mikey brushes off with a shrug, his tone shifting as he extens an arm out to you.

“Fuck, where are my manners? I never properly introduced myself earlier. I’m Mikey. Mikey Berzatto,” he grins with a charm and confidence that’s been absent in both of your interactions with him till now. The smile that spreads across his face is contagious as he looks from you to Carmy, then back to you. “Shit. I’m sorry. ‘M fuckin’ jagoff, interupting your night like this. I should probably get-.”

“No!” you protest, almost too quickly, earning a look from Carmy. “We weren’t-, we were just getting off work and were gonna grab a bite. Maybe even… a drink?” you suggest, a hopefulness in your eyes as you turn towards Carmy.

“Yeah?” Michael asks, his interest piqued.

“Uhm. Just gonna grab a bite actually,” Carmy forces out, sending a glare in your direction.

“You know what’s crazy? I know a spot. With food. And drinks,” you challenge him, silently begging him to just go with it.

“You cool with that, Carm?” Mike asks this time, looking from you to his younger brother once more. It’s the first time that Carmy thinks Michael’s ever looked to him for approval.

Carmy’s quiet for a moment, torn between wanting to burn it all down or declare a gleeful ‘yes’ because at least Mikey wants to spend time with him.

“Um. Uh. Yeah. Yeah okay,” Carmy finally agrees.

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do it!” Mikey rallies.

And as he turns to go, your voice instructing him that it’s only a few blocks from here, you and Carmy fall into stride, just a few steps behind Mikey.

“I’m gonna kill you,” Carmy threatens you—though there’s no weight to it—through gritted teeth.

You shove him playfully, bumping your shoulder against his side as the two of you walk, answering with a promise that: “You’ll thank me later.”

—---------------------------------------

You sit on one side of Carmy, Mikey on the other, and you can see why Carmy looks at his older brother like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars above. There’s something different about Michael—something different than when you met him just hours ago outside of the restaurant—as he corrals the three of you into a round of shots.

As the shots of tequila arrive at the bar, Carmy dismisses his, his attention fixed to the still-full whiskey on the rocks he’d ordered earlier, just to appease his older brother. He watches you carefully as you and Mikey clink glasses before throwing back your own respective shots.

“Carm?” Mikey asks, nodding towards the third, untouched shot glass.

Carmy hesitates.

“It’s fine. I’ll take his,” you jump in, half as an attempt to give Carmy the out he so desperately desires, and half because, admittedly, meeting the great Mikey Berzatto makes you a little nervous.

Before anyone can protest, you reach out, picking up the shot glass, before tapping it down against the bar top, fearlessly throwing it back. Michael watches you with a sense of amusement, as your face crinkles in response to the sting of the liquor and the bitterness of the lime you chase it with.

He smirks, sharing a knowing look with his younger brother that says, “I like this girl,” which in turn only causes Carmy to blush. Before Mikey can say anything more, the song that blares through the speakers changes, earning his attention as he hears the familiar words:

“I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today”

“Alright, alright. Think it’s a little too on the nose if I admit that I love this song? On Halloween? C’maaaaaahn,” Mikey asks, almost as if it’s a confession in reference to the easily recognizable Creedance Clearwater revival hit.

“No! No, I love this song,” you’re quick to assuage his hesitation as your eyes light up in response to his recognition.

“You got good taste, kid,” Michael notes confidently, winking in his brother’s direction. “I like this girl, Carm.”

Only this time, he says it out loud. Carmy only shakes his head, the blush already running across his cheeks taking a deeper shade of red.

“Yeah, yeah. Uh. You both uh.. Like music,” Carmy smiles, gesturing from you to his brother. At least this is going a lot better than he expected it to, he reminds himself.

“Oh yeah?” Michael asks, clearly intrigued.

“Oh that’s right!” you exclaim, simultaneously. The excitement that brews within you has you stumbling over your words as you manage to get out:

“You’re-, oh my god! The Lennon jacket!”

“What?” Mike asks, shooting you a funny look.

“I’m sorry. I just-. I realize I’m not-,” you stammer over your words, trying your best to explain your earlier exclamation over your own excitement.

“You gave Carmy the denim jacket – the 1950s selvedge Wrangler!”

“Just like the-,” Michael starts, the two of you finishing his sentence at once with:

“... just like the one John Lennon had!”

“Marry this girl, Carm. Marry her right now. Tonight! Or I will,” Michael encourages, slapping his hand down against the bar. He speaks with so much bravado and conviction that you can only imagine that there was none left for Carmy. “Fuckin’ christ. I never should’ve let you two meet,” Carmy groans on an exasperated exhale as he shakes his head once again.

“Oh c’mon, Carm,” Mikey rouses him, with a playful eye roll.

“It’s totally my favorite jacket of his! I-, well, it’s a long story but we actually became friends over the jacket because he spilled a drink on me and-,”

“Ahhh real smooth.”

“No! No, it was okay, I promise. I-, I don’t know if we would’ve gotten to know each other if he hadn’t so-. Call it a lucky jacket, I guess,” you smile, stealing a look in Carmy’s direction. He shoots the smallest smile back to you, cognizant of the fact that Mikey’s observing the entire interaction.

As you begin to tell Michael the story about the aforementioned Lennon jacket, it could be minutes, hours, or days that pass, once you and Mikey finish trading facts about music like they’re trivia cards. It’s almost as entertaining as watching Mikey and Carmy go at it, bouncing facts about the history of denim like you’re at the French Open.

You excuse yourself to the restrooms—partially because you really have to pee and partially because it seems like this evening is going well—wanting to give both brothers some time alone. And as soon as you’re out of earshot, Mikey’s on Carmy like an FBI Investigation.

“This your girl, Carm, or what?" he asks with a casualness to his voice that sets off alarms in Carmy’s head.

"Mikey, stop it,” Carmy dismisses him, hoping more than anything for this to be the end of the conversation.

Instead, Mikey scoffs, shaking his head as he downs another shot.

"Then at least tell me you're hittin' that."

“Michael!" Carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice this time.

"Are you fuckin' serious right now, Bear?” Michael pushes further. “What, you're telling me you're not when she’s walkin’ around in your jacket, talkin’ about wearing your clothes to your big brother and I’m supposed to think-?"

"She's not!” Carmy cuts him off. “She doesn’t do-, she’s.... my friend. Jus’ give it up alright.”

"Shit. Wish I had a friend like that. Ya friends, kid, or are ya... you know... friends?" Mikey smirks, earning a venomous glare from his younger brother.

Carmy shakes his head in response, jaw clenched, as he stares down at the bar top, a feeling inside of him that he doesn’t like when he even thinks about Mikey looking at you like that.

"Shit, I thought I taught you better than that, Bear."

There it is again.

That feeling.

He’s not sure how to name it, but it’s enough to make Carmy want to deck his brother right then and there as it rises inside of him.

"I'm serious, Mike. We’re just friends,” Carmy spits out. He’s much more serious this time. “Cut it out."

But Michael’s too quick, his voice growing louder as he interjects on the tail end of Carmy’s insistence.

"Oh come on! The chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. And I can tell that you like her. I'm not blind, Carm. I see the way you-."

And if it’s as if something snaps inside of Carmy as he exclaims:

"Don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life! Fuck!"

"Carm-."

"Can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?!” he fumes, standing up out of his chair.

His face grows redder with each word, and it only confirms Mikey’s suspicions: that his little brother is absolutely a goner for you. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Carmy like this and he’s torn between feeling proud of his kid brother or pissed that the kid’s turning this around on him.

"Well, if you ever bothered to come home. You know mom's been askin' about you since you never fuckin’-,” Mikey roars, eager to relinquish the hotseat here.

“Oh don't bring mom into this!" Carmy protests.

It’s your voice that snaps him out of it—brings him back to earth as he hears you ask:

“Everything okay?”

Carmy can practically hear his heart pounding away in his ears; can feel the blood rushing through his head as he takes a deep breath. He swallows, takes a beat, then turns to you.

“Yeah uh. I think we should go,” he states, his voice uneven and tense as you try to get a read on either brother.

“Uh… yeah, I guess we can-, um,” you stammer out, wondering how things went from good to hell in a matter of minutes. Carmy mutters something about getting your stuff as you try your best to put the pieces together.

“It was uh, nice to meet you, Mikey,” you say softly, as soon as you get your coat on.

“Yeah. You too, sweetheart,” he nods, something distant in his voice. Carmen scoffs at his brother’s usage of the word before tugging on your arm.

You wait a beat, in anticipation of some kind of goodbye between the brothers, but there is none as you follow Carmy out of the bar.

—---------------------------------------

Halloween, again — in this lifetime:

When Carmy comes to, he can hear the faint sounds of an episode of Pasta Grannies in the background, uncertain of what time it is.

“Hey, you. You fell asleep on the couch and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” you say, as he begins to sit up. Carmy blinks his eyes a few more times, watching as you make your way from the kitchen island over to the couch, taking a seat at his feet.

“Did you still want to watch a scary movie? You know, in the spirit of the holiday?” you ask him with a soft chuckle.

All Carmy can remember before falling asleep was what he was thinking about: what it would be like if you had met Mikey. It’s something he thinks of often, especially as the two of you grow closer—as your relationship gets more serious—and it’s something he hates that he’ll never be able to give to you.

“This was his favorite holiday,” Carmy manages to get out, the sleep heavy in his voice.

You’re not all that surprised. Carmy’s been on edge lately and you assumed it was because Mikey’s birthday’s coming up. But this… this makes sense too.

“I wish I could’ve met him,” you smile, reaching out for one of his hands.

Carmy nods.

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Think he would’ve loved you.”

Maybe a little too much, he thinks to himself.

“You think so?” you ask with a vulnerability and a desire for reassurance that catches Carmy off guard.

He nods with much more confidence this time, offering you a soft, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know so.”

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sanguineterrain · 1 day

Note

Your writing is so damn good, you execute every request perfectly 😭

Could you maybe write something where Dick's insecure partner wants to break up with him because their self-image is getting worse cause they feel they can't catch up to the Golden Boy reputation, superheroes, billionaires and so on?

hi, thanks for the request! I hope I did it justice :) a brief interlude from jaytodd before we return to our regularly scheduled program lol

dick grayson x gn!reader. low self esteem, an almost breakup, reader feeling insecure, threatened, sad. happy ending! 2.1k words

****

You've been tugging at your outfit for ten minutes. At this rate, you'll have to concede that this is as good as it's going to get.

"My love, you almost ready?"

You sigh and watch your reflection fold its arms.

"Yeah," you say softly. "'M ready."

The door opens. Your heart swoops.

Dick is beautiful, as usual. Your boyfriend can do a lot, including fill a suit. Both your and his outfits were tailor-made because that's one of the perks of being the son of a billionaire.

Over and over, you'd insisted you could wear off-the-rack, and over and over, Dick had said that was silly, that Bruce wouldn't mind.

And it's true that what you're wearing flatters you better than anything from Macy's or Marshall's would've. But you know it won't help tonight. Not in a room full of Gotham's elite.

"Just as I suspected," Dick says, immediately draping his arms over your hips. "You're gonna steal the show tonight."

He's lying.

That voice in your head has gotten louder recently, and you don't know how to turn it off.

You kiss him instead of responding. Dick enthusiastically reciprocates, always delighted when you touch him. You used to think it would be enough.

But ever since you found out that not only are you dating a billionaire philanthropist with a face that makes angels weep, but that said guy is also arguably the most beloved hero in Gotham, maybe second only to the Batman (who's his freaking dad?!), you've begun to have doubts.

You pull back. Dick's tie perfectly sets off his eyes. They're bright as they look at you.

"Everything okay?" he asks, brushing your cheek with his thumb.

"Uh-huh," you say, trying to smile. "Just nervous."

“Hey, it's alright. I'll be by your side all night. I'll save you from any and all small talk, promise." He winks. "And we can duck out early, get hot chocolate from that place you like. They won't care."

Dick's always doing that. Always catering to you. You're just some nobody who happened to stumble into the best relationship you’ve ever had with a golden god.

Dick never reminds you of that. That he could do better. He doesn't have to—you know it all on your own.

You swallow. “Okay. If you're sure. I... I would like to leave early, Gray."

“‘Course, baby,” Dick says, attaching his cuff links. "Anything you want."

You turn back to the mirror, wondering if you can reinvent your personality before you go and remind everyone what a mistake Dick Grayson has made in choosing you.

****

The party is tasteful, though a little stuffy. You're only here because Dick is going to give a speech, and he asked you to come support him. And while you know it's better for him to go without you so you won't dull his shine, it seems Dick hasn't quite figured that out.

You hold onto Dick’s arm as he makes his usual rounds. Dick doesn't enjoy these events, you know that, but he's fluid in his interactions. There is no doubt he’s Bruce Wayne’s prodigy. With his suit, his hair, his easy posture, Dick is almost unrecognizable from when you woke up with him this morning.

He's in his element. All you can do is peer in and watch.

Dick leans in and slips a hand around your waist after the fourth interaction with a donor. A donor who, again, acted like Dick may as well have been dragging around a coat rack with how intently they ignored you. Not that you give a shit about what the one percent have to say about you, except sometimes they say a lot of mean things, things you're pretty sure they don't let Dick overhear, and sometimes you start wondering if Dick is the only person who can't see truth in what they say, and sometimes—

“Hey.” Dick leans in to talk in your ear. He's warm and solid. You wish that was a comfort. “You okay?”

You're exhausted.

“Uh-hmm.”

He is going to wake up one of these days and realize he can have it so much better.

Dick moves like he's about to say more, pull you closer and permeate your senses with his gold.

“Dickie!”

Sweet, tinkling laughter echoes across the room. The crowd parts for this new woman, an obvious socialite, dressed to the nines and gorgeous.

Her dress matches Dick's tie. You feel sick.

When she reaches you two, she wastes no time grabbing Dick and kissing his cheek. He extricates himself from her, like he's done a million times before with everyone else who thinks they're entitled to a piece of Dick Grayson. He shoots you an apologetic look. You look away.

“My God, it’s been what, ten years?” she says. Then she sees you. “Oh! Where are my manners? I’m Caroline Banesbury, Duchess of Middlesworth. I heard the Dickie Grayson was going to be here, and I had to come.”

“Been a while,” Dick says, smiling blandly. “How are you, Caroline?”

“Spectacular! Father just bought another castle. You should come and see it sometime.” She plucks a flute of champagne off of a passing tray and smiles behind the rim of the glass.

“Dick and I go way back,” she says, gaze roving over him. “I hear you're transforming Blüdhaven. Taking a page out of Bruce's book, hm? You always had a big heart, Dickie.”

She grabs his arm and links it with hers. You sigh and take a sip of your own drink. You half-wish Poison Ivy would come in and gas the room or something.

Dick clears his throat and maneuvers out of her grip once more, letting go of her with a light pat. He returns to you, snugly holding your shoulders.

"This is my partner," he says about you.

Caroline hums, looking over you. "I see. Pleasure."

You nod. She turns back to Dick.

“If I can be of any help to your project, you let me know,” she adds, glancing down at where her empty arm now hangs at her side. “Anything.”

“That's generous of you, Carrie.”

Dick and I go way back.

Oh. Right. You're stupid. They've dated.

“We should have dinner,” she continues. “Catch up. I'm dying to know what Gotham's darling has been up to.”

“I feel sick,” you announce.

Dick and Caroline turn to you. Caroline looks perplexed, like you've just said you like to chew concrete.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she says, hardly sparing you a glance. "Perhaps you ought to lie down."

You feel Dick's eyes on you. If you don't leave soon, he'll know you're lying. Possibly the worst part about dating Batman's protégé.

Suddenly, leaving this hall is the most important thing you've ever had to do. You feel like you'll die if you don't.

Your feet start moving.

"Baby—"

Anyway, this is Caroline's chance. She can swoop in with her trust fund and while you think Dick can do way better than her—he can always do better—anyone is better than you. For Dick Grayson, who has been a master acrobat since he was a child, son of Batman, leader of the Titans, indubitably intelligent, capable, beautiful, the best goddamn guy you'll ever know—

You've lost your way. You're out of the gala, away from duchesses and doom. And you meant to get your coat but this hall that Bruce rented is enormous. You've no idea where you are. But you're alone.

Bruce must've known too, how unfit you are for his son. And why wouldn't he tell Dick? Unless Dick ignored him, because Dick, for all his smarts, is stupidly in love with you, thinks you're where he should put his heart, is certain you won't fumble and drop it.

Warm, callused fingers catch your wrist and you remember, suddenly, Dick telling you once, after you'd nearly stumbled into the street, that he'd never let you fall.

You meet his eyes. Why does he look at you like that? Who gave him the right to look at you like-like you—as if you could ever deserve—

"Hey," he says, squeezes your hand. "Hey, hey. What's going on?"

Dick Grayson is not a trusting man but he trusts you and good God, you're about to break him.

"I need to break up with you," you blurt.

"What?" he breathes. "What—why would you say that?"

You wish he'd give you the slip he gave everyone in that room, gently separate your arm from his hand. You never learned how to evade Dick's touch.

"Because it's true. Dick, please understand—"

"No, I'm trying to understand. Because yesterday—no, tonight, you were fine—"

"No, Dick, I wasn't fine! I haven't been fine in months!"

You wrench your arm away. He looks like you slapped him.

"You know anybody I talk to in there means nothing, right? You know that, honey." He's pleading.

You curl your fist into your eye. "It's more than that, Gray."

"Then tell me what the problem is," he says desperately. "Tell me and we'll fix it. I promise we can fix it."

"You can't!" you say, voice cracking. "You can't fix me."

Dick shakes his head. "I don't—"

"Why can't you let me break up with you with a little bit of dignity?" you ask. "Do you have to be better at this too?"

"I don't want to break up," he says, tugging at a handful of his hair. "This doesn't make sense. We're happy. You're happy, aren't you? Don't I make you happy?"

"Of course," you choke out. "Of course you make me happy. But you don't see I'm bad for you. You're wonderful and perfect and golden, Dick. And I'm a stain. I need to be scrubbed away."

"Wh—that's not true!"

"Everywhere we go, people see me with you and are immediately confused. I'm not a superhero, I'm not royalty, I'm not a socialite, and yet somehow I've managed to snag Gotham's darling. This is a mistake. I'm trying to do you a favor and wake you up!"

Dick's face is hard with anger. How could you have thought this would be easy?

"I don't need to be woken up! What is it that makes you think I have no agency over the people I choose to spend time with? Everyone I meet thinks they're entitled to touch me, demand me. Everyone but you. You, the person I chose to love, who I love everyday. Do you think you pulled the wool over my eyes and you're snapping me out of it? Is that what you really think?"

And isn't this the most puzzling thing? That he's not sad or gently accepting; Dick is mad.

"I just—" He runs a hand through his hair. "I don't mean to yell, but really, I can't bear it if you see me as some god on a pedestal, unattainable and inhuman, like everyone else sees me. I love you on purpose."

"You're so accomplished, though," you say weakly. "You're..." You wave your hand over him. "You're fucking Nightwing, D. You were Robin, you have superheroes for friends, Batman for a parent, you're beloved by, like, all of Jersey—"

"My love, you know those are just parts of me. You see all of me. You know me. And that's not a one-way privilege, okay? I'm so damn lucky to know you, to love you, to be with you, to fight with you. To fight for you. Knowing you isn't something I take for granted."

"But I'm boring," you say, tears spilling over. "Jesus Christ, Dick, I'm plain and untalented, barely a dime to my name, so painfully ordinary that—"

"Listen to me," he says, taking your face in his hands. "Flying around or shooting lasers out of your eyes, sure, it's cool, and it's helpful for taking down an alien dictator. But I don't need you to do any of that, honey. I don't need nor want you to be anyone but you. I wasn't tricked or swindled into loving you. We caught each other halfway, just like we were meant to."

You let him pull you into his arms, let him press your tear stains to his silk pocket square, let his hair fall around you.

His embrace is solid, firm, but when he inhales, his shoulders shake.

"Do you—" He swallows, throat against yours. "Do you still want to break up?"

His heart beats against your cheek.

"I'm just afraid you'll get tired of me," you whisper. "Bored. Annoyed."

"I won't," he whispers. "You're the least boring person ever. It's never boring to be loved."

You squeeze your eyes shut. Dick's warmth encloses you.

"No, I don't want to break up. I'm sorry."

He holds you tighter, and you realize you never had to match Dick's tie. Not when you've got his heart.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #richard grayson x reader #Nightwing x reader #Nightwing x you #Nightwing fanfiction #dick Grayson fanfiction #dick Grayson imagine #Nightwing imagine #batman fanfiction #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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thebearer · 9 months

Note

hi e! back again with more carmy shit because i love the way you did my little blurb justice 🥰. i literally just envisioned sydney minding her own business and just recklessly placing carmy in the hot seat cause she knew his ass was gon get it 😂. i’m all in for more dom!carmy so i’d love to keep the idea going that his s/o works for/with/alongside him at the bear with a touch of her giving him her two cents? a little bit of sass to just remind who he’s dealing with 😩. maybe this time around he slipped up on something major (a birthday, anniversary, or something that overall was important to the reader and he put it off because in his mind the bear comes first). she’s been slowly driving him crazy with that silent treatment she’s been doing for the last few days and her less than a few syllabled words when he doesn’t remind her how irked he made her 😂; she’s not mad anymore just disappointed. and anyway basically in a prep for preordered to go’s on lunch rush he’s reading back orders to her and she completely writes him off. i can see him being like exactly how he when he’s not getting when he needs from his staff during a frenzy and flipping tf out. like you know when he repeats himself a second time as if you didn’t hear him the first he means it 😂. tysm in advance! please feel free to do whatever you’d like. i’m writing this at 6 in the morning so many ideas are coming into the fold. i hope you have a great day - 🥣.

ok i did sorta a different-ish take. same idea but i don't write the reader as a chef bc quite honestly i can't relate lmao i'm a horrendous cook lol. but silent treatment yes!! reader works at the bear but not a chef.

"Does anyone know where the extra napkins are? Mindy needs to be settin' tables." Carmen huffed, slamming the empty crate back in the back stock.

"That would be your missus' domain." Richie snickers, elbowing Fak lightly. "Guess you better go ask her, Cousin."

"Yeah? Fuck off. Thought it was your fuckin' job." Carmen grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Me? Fuck no, Cousin. You know who's job it is, c'mon." Richie grinned. "It's your wife, Carm. What? Scared to talk to your wife?"

Carmen sneered, huffing in annoyance, but the truth was... yes, he was a little scared. Especially with how furious you were at him. Carmen was a chronic over worker, barely taking time for himself. It was a constant fight between the two of you, one he'd gotten better at, but still struggled finding that balance. Which normally, you'd be more forgiving about.

Except it was your anniversary.

Carmen left you waiting at home, dressed up with a new lingerie set that he painfully didn't get to enjoy. By the time he got off, taking his time to clean the kitchen, prep for tomorrow's crowd, he looked at his phone and saw your texts and calls, his heart dropping.

You'd been giving him the cold shoulder since then, furious and hurt- or so he assumed, you wouldn't say anything.

Richie found the entire thing hilarious when Carmen told him. "You forgot your fuckin' anniversary? You jagoff, holy shit."

Carmen found it less than amusing. The tension in the restaurant was thick because of the two of you. Everyone teetering around you, but especially Carmen, he was more on edge now.

Pushing the door open to the office, Carmen ducked his head in, seeing you at his desk- your desk, technically, you used it more. "Hey, honey," Carmen's voice was soft, a sweet hum that had your spine straightening. He flinched lightly, stepping towards you. "D'you know where the extra napkins are?"

You didn't reply, simply typing on your laptop, editing a video for the social media page about the upcoming summer specials.

Carmen blinked, barking out your name in a much harsher than he meant to, but it seemed to work. Kinda. Your head whipped around, eyes in a burning glare when they met his, but your lips were still pressed together.

Carmen through his hands out in exasperation. "Are you bein' fuckin' serious with me?"

Richie made his way towards the table where Tina was doing prep, craning his neck to watch. Your lips twisted, glaring harshly at Carmen. Carmen huffed, a hand running over his forehead. "What do you want from me, huh? What? You're just never gonna speak to me again? I forgot, ok? I didn't mean to, I just fuckin' forgot! I was at work!"

You glared at him, feeling Richie's amused gaze from over Carmen's shoulder, the rest of the staff pretending to be busy to hear. "Shut the door." You snapped.

Carmen flinched, shocked. "What-"

"Shut the fuckin' door, now." You snapped, slamming your laptop, turning to face him. Carmen pressed the door shut, ignoring Richie's whines of "c'mon, Cousin, it was just gettin' good!".

The two of you stared, neither being the first to talk, not wanting to break. You huffed, rolling your eyes in annoyance. "You wanted to talk, talk, Carmen. I've got shit to do."

"Hey," Carmen's eyes flashed at you, his tone hard with an edge of warning. "You better watch your-"

"-No, you better watch your mouth with me. Watch what you say to me, Berzatto." You snapped, pointing a finger at him. "This isn't a fuckin' game, alright? I'm mad at you. Actually fuckin' mad at you."

Carmen's stomach turned, swallowing the guilt rising with the bile in his throat. "I... I'm sorry-"

"-Sorry isn't going to work this time, Carmen. It's always sorry. Always I didn't fuckin' mean to, I got busy." You snapped, arms wrapping over your torso. "You always do this, but our anniversary? You forgot our anniversary?"

"No, I didn't forget." Carmen ran a hand down his face. "I got you flowers and-and the bracelet-"

"-And that was very nice, Carmen, but you weren't there." You snapped, the finality in his tone making his rebuttal dissolve in his mouth. The hurt in your eyes, rounding and pitiful, soft and pleading with him. You were angry, but you were hurt, too.

His shoulders deflated, breath leaving his lungs. "You're right," Carmen nodded slowly. "No, you're-you're right, and-and-and I'm... Fuck, I'm so sorry, baby." Carmen said sincerely, eyes shining with sincerity. "I... I got caught up and I-I shouldn't have even been working that day, I just..."

"I know." You muttered, looking down at the desk, a framed picture of the two of you in Copenhagen at your wedding ceremony. Carmen in his suit, you in your dress, happy and smiling with the breathtaking scenery behind you.

Carmen could feel the guilt growing in his chest, palms sweating and heart racing, the panic to fix it- to do something. "How much longer do you have?" Carmen asked, nodding towards your laptop.

"Just a few more things to edit." You looked at your paused work. "Why?"

"Let me... Let me make it right." Carmen sighed, shaking hands fumbling towards his apron.

"Carmen, you can't leave-"

"-Yeah, yeah, I can." Carmen nodded, pulling the door out and calling for Sydney. "Can you cover tonight, Chef?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah, I can." Sydney nodded.

"I got it too, Cousin-" Carmen shut the door before he could hear Richie's full comment, sure something smart ass would be included.

"Let's go out." Carmen looked at you. "A make up. Please?"

You folded your arms, pouting lightly. "'m not dressed for going out."

"What're you talkin' about? You look beautiful, c'mon." Carmen shook his head lightly at you, shoving his clothes into his bag, pulling out his spare.

You tried not to drool at the sight of his chest. You'd missed him, you really had. It was a shame the lingerie went to waste.

Carmen pulled you out of the restaurant, hand on your waist, holding you close to his side. It wasn't the fancy reservations you'd planned, no Michelin star restaurants with expensive wine. No, instead, he took you to some a rooftop restaurant, one with the vibey aesthetic you always cooed at on Instagram. Sitting and sharing pretzels and greasy food, snuggled into Carmen's side while he ordered dessert. Giggling when he fed you the brownie sundae, tilting your head back with his fingers cradling your jaw lightly. It was simple, romantic, and fun. Made your heart swell, clinging to him the whole way home.

And when you got home? Carmen was in heaven. Letting you show him what he missed a few days earlier.

#thebearer #bearblahs #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear #carmen berzatto angst #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x you #carmy x reader #richie jerimovich #sydney amadu #carmen berzatto fanfiction #carmy berzatto fluff #the bear fx

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bakugoushotwife · 8 months

Text

TLC

a/n: this lovely lil comfort fic was requested by my lawfully wedded wife, @keigotakamiz !! i know hawks if your brainchild, so i hope i did him justice! as for everyone else, i know i know, a sfw fic???

pairings: keigo takami (hawks) x fem!reader

cw: periods, comfort, just fluff tehee

wc: 2k

Keigo was extremely perceptive. He may have a carefully curated persona for the other pro-heroes and the hero commission, and that was not one of a loving and considerate partner. But for you, his character was thrown out the window. He was empathetic, highly in tune with you and actually a very doting and caring man. That’s why he was so anxious, you haven’t been yourself all day. Your replies have been short and almost angry with him while he’s been on patrol, and you turned down every option for lunch he offered. This was utterly unlike you, his easygoing, warm, and bubbly girlfriend. So he cuts his patrol short, Mirko owes him one anyway, she’ll take over. He realizes what must be interfering with his pretty girl’s mood, so he stops to get you the food he knows you’ll like because it’s the only thing you ever crave on your period. He takes the liberty to get some other stuff too, some flowers just to see you smile, a few sweet snacks for after lunch, and the ugliest stuffed animal he could find, an inside joke for the two of you. It started years ago, when you were both still teenagers. He found a Frankenstein-esque plush and held it up next to his face, claiming it was his twin. Ever since then, you’ve gifted each other horrendous stuffed animals just to get the other one to laugh.

He’s hoping this plan will be foolproof, cutting his day short to come check on you was rarely something you took as a good thing, never wanting to be the reason that he didn’t take his job as seriously as you would hope. However, he felt like this was a special exception, given your curt texts and irritated looking snapchats. He takes the bags and carefully secures them, flying over to your place to get there as quickly as possible. He ducks inside through the open window, looking around your vacant living room and kitchen. He tucks his wings back down, not noticing anything out of place. He approaches your closed door, extending his hand to push it open. His suspicions are confirmed by the darkness of your room, the curtains drawn tightly and the TV on low volume. You were splayed out on the bed, cuddling a pillow for dear life. At the sound of your door creaking open, you sit up quickly, prepared to chuck the pillow at your intruder.

Your arm falls to the side when you see your boyfriend standing in the doorway, slightly illuminated by the light in the hall. He closes his eyes and gives you a sweet soft smile, holding the shopping bags up by his face.

“Hey pretty girl. I thought you could use some TLC.” He hums, closing the door behind him before making his way to the edge of your bed. Your irritated gaze slightly softens at the sight of him, and you flop back into laying down, groaning aloud.

Your back is turned to him, arms still wrapped tightly around that pillow. He sighs a bit. You’re definitely on your period. He reaches his hand out to rest on your hip, squeezing the bone gently. He pushes his glasses up to function as a headband, and he tugs his earmuffs down around his neck.

“I brought you some food.” He coos, a singsong lilt to his voice as if he’s enticing you to eat.

You groan again, flailing your body against the pillow. “Don’t wanna eat.”

“Yes you do, you just don’t wanna sit up.” He chuckles out knowingly, his gloved fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull you into a seated position. You certainly don’t help him at all, all your body weight working against him. He sighs, moderately amused by you. He knows better than anyone how clingy you tend to be around this time of the month. You’re powerful and independent, all things he values about you, but he can’t deny how nice it feels to be needed, even if you were playing hard to get. You wouldn’t admit it, but he’d ask anyway. “Aw, babygirl, did you miss me?”

You huff, rolling your eyes at him before snatching the bags he brought. You squirm under the covers, a sure sign that you’re pleased by his offering. You fished out your food and some medicine he brought, and finally, your gaze towards him becomes loving, and you lean into his body. He smiles, knowing you missed him more than anything, and while all these goodies were nice, all you ever wanted was him by your side. Sure, you’ll feign annoyance in the fact he took the rest of the day off to hold you and eat shitty convenience store snacks, but after that, you’ll cry your annoyance out in his shirt and then fall peacefully asleep to him telling you all about patrol.

“Somebody definitely missed me.” He gleams, a shit-eating grin splayed across his cheeks as he presses a kiss to yours.

You hum in agreement, popping the pills for some relief and picking at the food he brought you. He reached over you and grabbed the bag, digging out the ugly stuffed animal he brought you. It was supposed to be some sort of bird, he thinks, but the way it was printed across the fabric made it look more like a feathered…deer or something. What a perfect gift. He holds it up excitedly.

“Another one to add to the collection, it made me think of you.” He jests, setting it in your lap. He watches you in adoration, the giggle you give him after you see it was worth any attitude he needed to disarm to get to his sweet girl again.

You pick up the stuffed animal and hug it close, chuckling at the ugly thing. “Say you, I’m pretty sure this was a misprint of your merchandise.” You tease, checking the tag to confirm your suspicions. Now you’re howling, the ugly stuffed animal was no animal—it was a severely fucked up version of your superhero man.

He yanks it back from you to see the tag himself, shaking his head at his hero name scrawled across the label. He’s chortling too, horrified by such a mistake but glad it could bring you such joy. Laughter is the best medicine after all, aside from snuggles, of course. You reach over and tug the toy back, cuddling it back to your chest.

“This is my prized possession now.”

He rolls his eyes, taking the opportunity to properly remove most of Hawks’ uniform, placing his glasses, earmuffs, and gloves on the bedside table. He shrugs out of his heavy coat and slips out of his boots, tossing the fabric to the floor. He’s certainly not getting out of bed now, not when you’re eating willingly and leaning into his side, an appetizer to cuddling. You groan at the feeling of another cramp rolling through, the medicine not kicking in yet. You pout, your bottom lip wavering and wobbling as you remember how bad the day has been, and that Keigo must have taken the day off to come to your rescue too, and you laid out of work!

He knew it was coming, so he turns his body a little more to give you access to his chest, where you promptly bury your head under his guidance. His hand comes up to secure you there, resting on the back of your head. The sounds of your little sobs and sniffles soon follow, and he nearly chuckles at how you try to quieten yourself even after all this time. He figures you’re a bit embarrassed to be vulnerable, and he supposes that bit still applies to him as well. But still, you were a leading lady on your own, perhaps it made you feel a little silly to reduce yourself to needing his comfort, so he wouldn’t rub it in too bad.

“Oh, c’mon babe. Let loose. It’s just you and me anyway, let me be your lil tissue.” He hums encouragingly, his other hand rubbing circles in your back.

“It’s just be-been such a r-r-rough day!” You stutter through your tears, your wails certainly increase in loudness though, and your hands grasp at his black and yellow turtleneck. He hums through it, knowing you just needed to get it out for a second.

“I bet, sweets. I’m sorry you’re feeling so bad, but you know I’m not going anywhere ‘til you feel better.” He says, leaning back a little so he could see your face. He smiles sympathetically, holding your tear-stained cheeks in his warm hands. “And before you even start, Mirko owed me a favor anyway so everything’s covered.”

You smile softly at his comforts, your eyes fluttering shut from the sweet paths his thumbs rubbed in your skin. His smile spreads a bit, and he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“Wanna lay down? I’m multi-use, tissue, wallet, sex machine, heating pad, etc, etc.” He smirks a bit, laying back against your impossibly comfortable pillows. He understood why you clung to one until he got here. “C’mere, wanna hold you.” He says a little bit more commanding, just in case you were thinking of being difficult.

You laugh softly, crawling on your hands and knees back up to your positioning on the bed. He lay on his back, his arms spread to the side as he waited for you to pick exactly how you wanted to curl up on him. He gives you such a kind smile, amber eyes twinkling with his adoration for you. You can’t help but return his grin, his energy always contagious. He reaches out for your hip, tugging you closer to him. You both snicker a bit as you fall the short distance to his chest, laying with your top half stomach down on top of him, legs tangled together in an effort to create maximum comfort.

“There. Much better, now, huh?” He quizzes, the pads of his fingers smoothing circles into your lower back. You nod, heaving out a long sigh as you snuggle your face into his warmth.

He knew it wouldn’t be long until you fell asleep, and the prospect made him smile. Whether you ever said it or not, being the only person that could ease your pain and lull you back to sleep was the highest of achievements in his book. He would relish the way you snore lightly and the way you would squirm closer and closer to him as if you wanted to be in his skin. He’ll flip on a show to watch, mostly just for the background noise, because he would watch you sleep. You always looked so peaceful, the stress lines in your face relaxed and your nose twitching on occasion. You were a work of art, maybe a difficult one, but his nonetheless, and he wouldn’t trade this for anything. He prided himself. He can read all your signs, know exactly what you need, and be that. It was the only thing he really wanted to be good at, and luckily he seemed to be a natural at it. He looks down, and sure enough, your lips are parted and barely audible snores slip out. He smirks, and turns the TV up a little, his eyes comfortably watching you sleep until a nap claims him, too.

#kyleewritesmha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo x reader #mha fluff #hawks fluff #bnha hawks #takami keigo #keigo takami

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timeoutsoup · 1 year

Text

Dig You A Grave

For @im-totally-not-an-alien-2 propmt

Klarion was enjoying his current mission for The Light. He was sent to a small city somewhere in America’s Midwest, to retrieve a magical tome that was currently in the hands of an eccentric billionaire. Imagine his surprise, when what he originally believed to be a boring errand, turns into an exciting night, because it turns out this city, Amity Park, reeked of Death magic and was infested with ghosts.

Giggling, the witch boy scratches his familiars chin as his eyes grow wide and his face splits into a mischievous grin. In front of him people were running in various directions, attempting to escape what looked like a giant ghostly cat, being ridden by a young girl.

“Oh, Teekl, this town is much more interesting than I originally believed.”

Watching mortals panic, as the ghostly cat destroys part of the street, and damages buildings, Klarion notices some pesky thorns in his side. Young Justice. Scoffing the witch boy decides to continue his mission.

“Well while it was fun watching, I should use this lovely feline as a distraction and continue my mission, don’t you agree Teekl.”

What Klarion, Teekl and Young Justice didn’t see was a teenage ghost fighting what appeared to be a genie, off in the distance, defeating her, and returning everything to normal.

Danny had just defeated Desiree, capped the Fenton thermos, and was looking for a place to detransform as the ghost genie’s wishes disappeared. He had noticed some superheroes fighting one of Desiree’s granted wishes and wondering why they were here. Sighing Danny notices where he is. Of course, his fight had to end in the back of fruit loop’s mayoral mansion, just his luck. He quickly ducked into an alleyway to change back.

Once back to his normal self, the young halfa heard yelling, and what sounded like a fight going on.

“I literally just defeated Desiree, and already another ghost appears.” Danny grumbles as he sticks his head out from the alleyway, and to his surprise it is not a ghost wreaking havoc on Amity, but a teenage boy, wearing a suit, glowing hands, and hair shaped into devil horns. The cute guy was taunting Vlad and Danny need to know.

Checking the streets, no one was around, the young halfa dashes through the open gates and crouches behind a bush.

“I do not care who you are, leave this property at once.” Vlad commands, glaring down his opponent.

“Oh quiet. You are interfering with my fun.” The young man says. “Now look what you’ve done. The Justice babies are here.”

Danny watched as Vlad was picked up by a guy in yellow and red spandex and is carried away in a flash.

“What are you doing here Klarion? Why are you attacking these people?” A young man with glowing tattoos askes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know water boy!” Klarion responds, raising his glowing palms, getting ready to attack.

Danny watches in amazement as Klarion fights the group of teenagers. Standing up, he leans on a near by tree and just watches the battle unfold.

No one noticed him until he let out a laugh at some of the banter going on. “’Aster.’ Who says ‘aster’?” the teen wheezes, as all eyes turn to him.

Klarion glances at the boy. “And who are you supposed to be? Another wannabe hero trying to stop me?”

Danny rolled his shoulder getting ready for a fight. “Alrighty. If you want to fight, I’ll fight you, and if I win let’s go on a date?” The halfa askes, smirking at Klarion.

Everyone froze. No one new what to do or how to react. It was Danny who broke the silence he made. “Well can I get an answer?”

Klarion regains his composure. “Alright Fine! But if I win, I’ll make you a grave!”

“Aw, you’re making me a grave already?! How sweet of you!” A hint of a blush appearing on his cheeks, but before they could continue, Danny is roughly picked up and is zoomed out of their by the same guy, who grabbed Vlad.

“Hey, kid that was super dangerous what you did. You need to stay out of it and let those of us who are trained take care of this.”

Before he even had a chance to respond, the speedster zipped back to the fight, leaving Danny on the other side of town. Determined to return to the fight, Danny whips his head around searching for a safe place to transform. It took a bit to find a spot, but he eventually did. Changing back into his ghost form, Phantom raced back to the mayoral mansion, and the fight that was raging, making sure to turn invisible on the way.

By the time Danny made it back, the fight had ended, and Klarion was now where to be seen. The team of teenage heroes was nowhere to be seen, doing who knows what, but left a destroyed lawn for Vlad to deal with.

Disappointed Danny turned to leave but notices an orange tabby, looking worse for wear staring at him. Floating down, still invisible, the cat’s eyes following his every move. He kneels in front of the feline, slowly offering his hand for the cat to smell, trying his best not to startle the poor thing. The cat sniffs his hand and butts its head against it, shocking the poor ghost boy. Most animals hated him, especially in his ghost form, feeling uneasy around a half dead guy. This cat was different. They were special.

Danny gently scooped up the injured cat, holding them gently in his arms, heading towards the nearest vet.

Klarion had succeeded in his mission of obtaining the tome for The Light, but at a heavy cost to himself.

Teekl had emerged from the Mayor’s Mansion having successfully gotten the book, only to be seen by the junior justice babies. They divided their attacks between him and his beloved familiar. In the end he was able to grab the book as he a Teekl were separated by a blast. Deciding to lead the heroes away and return for his beloved feline, Klarion took to the sky. Once he knew it was safe to return, the witch boy began his search for Teekl.

It had been three days and Klarion had not found her yet. Anger and worry clouded his vision, as he continued his search.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny fenton #dp x dc prompt #dpxdc #john constantine #klarion #danny and klarion friendship #klarion the witch boy #klarion dc #klarion danny

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