#marveldc-imagines-hub

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Trying to Cheer Nanaue up With a Makeover:

A/N: I love Nanaue/King Shark from The Suicide Squad very much and I haven’t written an imagine in forever, so here’s a silly thing I came up with at like 2am a couple of nights ago. Also Reader is a part of the Suicide Squad in this so... yeah. Also, this was beta read but it was beta read at 5am so... yeah, lol.

    “Do you think he ever gets bored of like… just wearing jeans?”

    Cleo stopped staring out of the bus’s window to glance down at you slumped against her shoulder, then to where Nanaue was sitting across the aisle pouting. She looked back at you and after a moment gave a low-energy shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t think he seems to mind. He’s probably more upset about the fake moustache.”

    Poor Nanaue, not being allowed to join the rest of Task Force X-slash-the Suicide Squad in the gentlemen’s club to find the Thinker. Your skills on the team included using technology to make realistic illusions that would have dealt with the “King Shark doesn’t have a feasible disguise” problem that DuBois and Rick were using to keep Nanaue out of the public eye but when you offered up the suggestion, you were shut down by the secondary issue of the demigod seeing every living creature as food. So there you were, feeling bad that Nanaue couldn’t join the fun as the bus slowly pulled up to the club.

    “Well, guess it’s time,” Cleo commented at you. She lightly shrugged and you moved off of her so she could place Sebastian on her shoulder instead. Then she stood up and adjusted the dress she was wearing as her own disguise. 

Sebastian gave you a cheerful wave and squeak as he passed and you smiled and gave him a quick head pat in return. You however made no other move to prepare to leave the bus, which had Cleo quirking an eyebrow at you and shooing you to move so she could get past.

“I don’t think I’m going to go,” you said as you pulled your legs up onto the chair and wriggled your way across the seat to give her room to get out.

“Why not? It might be fun.” Despite her very casual attempt to convince you, your rat-controlling friend shuffled past you into the aisle.

“Might be,” you admitted, “but it’s not fair that all of us aren’t able to go. Besides, I don’t drink and clubs aren’t really my scene.”

Cleo snorted and offered you a smirk. “And you think it’s mine? Or his?”

She pointed and you looked over at Abner, the Polka Dot Man, who was trying to decide whether or not he should tuck in his shirt while Dabois and Rick tried to brief the team in the aisle next to him, with very little success.

You smirked back. “To be fair, you look very pretty. Like my grandma. In her coffin.”

The comment earned you a flick to the forehead, which made you snicker. Then Cleo shoved her hand into your face as she flipped you off but she had a goodnatured smile on her face all the while. “Fuck you.”

“Hey,” Rick suddenly hollered in your direction, and the two of you jolted to look over; he was coming your way. He stopped in front of you and Cleo, grabbing the back of the seat in front of you as he threw an expectant look your way. “What are you doing? Get up, we’re about to go.”

You frowned and looked over at Nanaue again, who had now moved to grumble in the back of the bus. His back was facing the rest of the team in pouting defiance.

“[Y/N],” Rick scolded, “no.”

You turned back to the man with a puppy dog-eyed pout. Outside of Harley Quinn, you were the longest reoccurring member of the Suicide Squad–killing, robbing, and being good at your job had a habit of doing that to people under Amanda Wallace’s thumb–so you and Rick knew each other well. Well, not well; you barely knew each other really, but you had a love-hate relationship that you enjoyed. That is, you loved to give him shit and he was forced to admit that you were a pretty good asset and thus had to endure you. 

“Ricky,” you whined, flinging yourself over his arms, “he looks so sad, though.”

Rick sighed but made no move to remove you. He knew that if he actually tried to wrangle you, you would do the exact opposite of what he ordered you to do, so he tried half-hearted reasoning. “We are this close of being done here, [Y/N], and this whole thing would be a lot easier if you could just… illusion us in and out of there.”

You gasped, eyes growing starry as you stared up at him. The expression changed from lovestruck to morbidly amused in a flash as you smirked, “Aw, Richard, are you saying you need me?”

“I’m saying it would be easier–”

“Say please~”

“No.”

“Please~?”

Rick looked like he wanted to bash his head into the nearest wall. The thought made you giggle. After a few moments of what you assumed was silently begging whatever higher powers existed to give him patience, the soldier’s eyes rolled back to glare at you. “Please, would you just–”

“What’s going on?” DuBois yelled from the front of the bus. You peeked over Rick’s shoulder and saw his older war buddy glaring. The man, first name being Robert and alias being Bloodsport but you liked DuBois better, was messing with his mundane clothes like everyone else with. You supposed that being imprisoned for a while with only orange jumpsuits to wear would make any other clothing feel a little odd. 

You answered before Rick could with an aggressive wave in DuBois’s direction, just to make sure he knew who was talking. “I’m not going!”

DuBois’s eyebrows flew up his forehead. “You’re not going? Why?”

“They are,” Rick tried to intervene, “Just give us a minute–”

“We don’t have a minute!”

“We also don’t need a minute!” you chimed in. You sat high up on your knees on the bus seat and tapped Rick’s nose with a finger. “I’m not going. The idea of needle-head man freaks me out and it’s probably smarter to leave Nanaue versus a very nom-nom-looking human bus driver, yeah?”

You heard shuffling from behind you followed by a questioning sound from the shark-man in question. “Nom-nom?”

“No,” Rick, DuBois, and Cleo sounded at once, then Rick gave you a glare.

The kindly stating that you weren’t going didn’t seem to work but pointing out that you were more qualified to keep Nanaue from eating people than Milton was definitely a swaying argument. Just for added effect, you clasped your hands together and gave Rick your best puppy eyes and smile once more, although it once again cracked and turned into an expression that was a little more unsettling when you pleaded, “I’ll be good, I promise! C’mon, Dick Flag!”

“Heh, dick-flag,” Cleo snorted next to you.

Rick frowned but you could tell his resolve was cracking. “You’re not much better than the bus driver. Probably worse. You killed 500 people in two days because you said they all looked like your ex.”

Your eye twitched. “They did! At the time. And if he hadn’t cheated on me and stolen my money, it would have never been a problem.”

DuBois broke first. “Flag, we don’t have time. We’ll figure out something else, let’s just get the hell out of here.”

For a moment, Rick looked like he was preparing to argue further but he quickly decided it wasn’t worth it. He pointed a warning finger at you before turning and walking to the front of the bus, then out of it. One by one, the other squad members followed, until Cleo and Sebastian came up the rear and the two waved at you before departing.

“And then there was three,” you chirped to no one at all, although you were still in the presence of the pouting Nanaue and Milton the bus driver. You sat and waited until your teammates disappeared into the club, then twisted in your seat to face your sharky companion. “Hey, Nanaue!”

Nanaue only grunted in response. After being disappointed twice now, he wasn’t willing to take the bait for a possible third.

You had no intentions of disappointing him, though. You hopped over the back of the bus seat, then the next two, until you were sitting in the same row as him with only an aisle separating you. You waited there for a moment to see if you would earn anymore acknowledgement and when you didn’t, you slid over to sit directly next to him.

The so-called King Shark’s small, dark eyes watched you but when you got closer, he harrumphed and turned as far away from you as he could without literally leaving the bus through one of the windows. You gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder but his only response was to cross his arms and growl over his shoulder at you, “Go away.”

“But Nanaue, how will we go explore the town without each other?” you asked. In the meantime, you pulled up the sleeve of your disguise’s puffy blouse and fiddled with the dials on an augmented arm brace that you wore underneath. Once you were satisfied, you pressed a button on the brace an a small puff of pink smog was released from a grate on the device’s wrists. For anyone else, the puff was simply a small billow of colored air that smelled a bit sweet, but you knew that there was an army of microscopic nanobots following your orders. As the smoke dispersed, you pulled down your sleeve again and wafted a breeze in Nanaue’s direction.

“No exploring,” Nanaue pouted, “No disguise. No fake moustache.” Then he caught a whiff of your brace’s work and shifted to catch you still waving air at him. “Ew. What is that?”

“Well,” you started, then paused as you took a glance at the bus window to confirm your nanobots were working. The reflection in the glass showed you sitting next to a random, albeit large, human man instead of a sharky hybrid and you grinned. With a point at the window to draw Nanaue’s attention there, you continued, “It’s not a fake moustache but it’s one heck of a disguise.”

Nanaue looked at the window, then grunted in confusion at it. You drew his attention to the reflection itself and then he growled at the reflection that didn’t seem to look like it belonged to him, only for him to be surprised that that the human reflection moved with him. You watched with an amused little smirk as he executed some tests; he raised a webbed hand and the human reflection followed, he tilted his head and the reflection did the same. It took him a little while to get to the most obvious conclusion–that the human reflection following his movements was in fact his own–but then he looked at you as he raised both hands to his face, patting lightly. He groaned confusedly with a twinge of sadness, “Human?”

“Oh, gosh, no,” you said as you quickly shook your head. You placed your hands over the shark-man’s own and squeezed, giving his face a squish. “You’d be much less fun that way, promise. I just gave you a little disguise of your own so you wouldn’t feel left out on the party! You’re still all sharky-like, I just changed what everyone else sees.”

“Party?” Nanaue echoed as he dropped his hands. His head lurched to look towards the club where the rest of the team had gone.

“I mean we could go in the stuffy boring bar,” you admitted with a tilt of your head and a bored sigh for effect, “or we could take a walk on the town. Check out the stores, try some of the local cuisines, have a nom-nom chaser or two…”

Nanaue’s eyes shined like little black pearls; he didn’t get some of the words you were saying, like cuisine, but he certainly understood nom-noms. He got to his feet, jostling you and the entire bus in the process, and pushed into the center aisle. In the process, one soft, silvery hand engulfed your own human-toned one and Nanaue dragged you after him. “Friend and Nanaue get nom-noms!”

You would have clapped if you had both hands free but you simply grinned and followed Nanaue off the bus, much to bus driver Milton’s dismay.

~~~~~

“Nanaue~” you sang from your perch on a chaise-style lounge chair in a random clothing boutique. The rest of your sentence faded off a bit as your eyes caught a particularly interesting tidbit in the magazine that you were perusing and you casually kicked your feet as you looked the text over. Towards the end of the reading, you remembered that you had been saying something and shook your head to refocus. “Nanaue, how’s it going in there?”

Some grumbles sounded and the curtain that separated from you from the dressing room that your companion was in shivered. From the gap between the floor and the curtain’s end, you could see Nanaue’s feet turning, and a bulge appeared caused by his dorsal fin appeared briefly in the fabric as his back faced the exit. Eventually, he got twisted around enough in the tiny space to be able to grab the curtain, but rather than pulling it open properly, he yanked it off it’s rail completely and tossed it to the side.

You tossed your magazine to the side and clapped as he wriggled himself free from the dressing room and stepped out into the viewing area. “Look at you! What an outfit for a man! So much better than some of the stuff that everyone else was wearing, like that god-awful yellow shirt that Rick had on. Didn’t fit him too bad, though.”

Not too long into your and Nanaue’s tour, you managed to find a store that sold clothes for larger men. With some minor editing–like tearing a hole in shirts for a fin and hemming some pant legs–you were able to come up with enough outfits for Nanaue to give you a little fashion show and the demigod, high on exploration and human flesh, was in a good enough mood to give you what you wanted. Instead of his usual and only pair of ratty shorts, Nanaue now wore a pair of what looked like jeans but were made with a stretchier fabric along with a tank top and a brightly patterned button-up polo shirt. 

“And I thought the jean jacket was the best one.” You chirped as you hopped to your feet. You tried to circle him and assess the outfit from all angles but to no avail because Nanaue started turning with you. You checked out the outfit in the three old mirrors that faced the viewing area from different angles instead and noticed the collar of the overshirt twisted oddly–probably because it wasn’t really a shirt meant for people with fins on their backs–so you stepped up to Nanaue and fixed it for him. Then you stepped back and placed your hands on your hips with an approving nod. “This one’s definitely the best. What do you think?”

Nanaue shrugged but then appeared to notice one of the mirrors for the first time. He eyed himself a bit and flapped his arms, then shrugged again. “Okay.”

“That’s all?”

“Mhm. Hungry.”

You sighed but you couldn’t really blame him. He was quite big, after all.

“Well, let’s head out then. Sorry for the lack of cash, Ms. Shopowner, Ma’am! You’ll just have to put it on our tab.” You waved over to the counter, where the bloody remains of an arm sat on the glass, then headed toward the shattered front window of the boutique with Nanaue in tow. “Wait, do clothing stores even have tabs? Hm.”

Nanaue shrugged yet again and grabbed the leftover arm as he ambled after you. 

#marveldc-imagines-hub #imagines-hub #this ended up longer than it was supposed to but what's new #the suicide squad #dc #dceu #nanaue #the suicide squad x reader #the suicide squad imagines #the suicide squad headcanons #rick flag #robert dubois #cleo cazo #abner krill #nanaue x reader #nanaue imagines #nanaue headcanons #headcanon #imagine #fanfiction #king shark #king shark x reader #king shark imagines #king shark headcanons #ratcatcher 2 #ratcatcher #polka dot man #the polka dot man

[onedirection-marvel2]

Steve Rogers Masterist

☘︎ drunk in love @bonky-n-steeb

Steve is drunk not only on Asgardian mead, but also on your love.

☘︎ A Sturdy Vanity:  @angrythingstarlight

Lumberjack Steve wants to make sure your new vanity is sturdy enough to handle anything. 

☘︎ Harder Next Time @angrythingstarlight

Steve discovers a new kink thanks to your thighs.

☘︎ Biker!Steve x Baker!reader @angrythingstarlight

my hc of biker!steve is he’s with a rlly cute girl who bakes cookies and sweets for everyone and he SIMPS for her and all the guys are like YOUVE GONE SOFT and he’s like NAHHH but he literally dotes over her like she’s the most precious person in the world like MY ANGEL 🤩🤩🤩

☘︎ Lunch Buddy @fanfic-scribbles

Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

New Girl @marveldc-imagines-hub

Where the reader is from a very small town and she moves to Brooklyn to try and make some money during the war and meets Steve as he tries to get enlisted.

What a world @onsunnyside

S.H.I.E.L.D. had a lot of secrets, you just never expected one of them to be an actual person—a blue-eyed giant, wild manbeast at that.

Last updated: 30 November 2021

[overwatch-imagines-hub]

Depending on how much writing I get done today and tomorrow, I might open requests for a bit again. I have classes during the week so I probably won't write much then, and I have a series I'm going to start over at @marveldc-imagines-hub but I am in fact getting back into the swing of things a little bit!

#beanji bumbles #i may also make my queue post more and more frequently #we'll see tho

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

The Moon Knights & Layla as ✨Vibes✨

A/N: Don’t ask me what this is, lol. Sometimes when I think of a character, I think of weird details like what they smell like, what color they make me think of, visuals or feelings, etc. I’ve been getting over a cold for the past over a week now and haven’t had a lot of energy to write, but these are things that just kind of appear when a character comes to mind, so I figured why not share them? Idk, sorry if this is boring, lmao. Uhh if you don’t find them boring and want to request a character’s ✨vibes✨ though, feel free to ig?

~~~

Layla Abdallah El-Faouly

Dark purple/indigo

Soft textures like really fluffy faux fur, dandelion fluff, soft fabrics

But also like

Storms

Big, scary storms with swirling clouds and lightening and thunder and tornado warnings

Watching heavy rain from under a canopy or through the window of a warm, cozy house

The shininess that leather has

Stepping through a muddy puddle of water

Sometimes knives but a very specific type of dagger-y knife that I don’t know how to explain

The steam coming from a hot bowl of soup or noodle dish

Marc Spector

Blood red

Fabrics like silk, velvet, and chiffon

Hair that is crunchy from a lot of product in it for some reason

Early mornings

But like really early mornings

Teddy bears for some reason

Unsurprisingly, bloodied knuckles

Radio/TV/walkie talkie static

The little lines at the corners of the lips on a tight-lipped expression; not the entire expression, just those little lines

Steven Grant

Sandalwood and tea tree oil

But also the smell of heat/sunshine when he wakes up after sleeping

Sundays

Having books with dog-eared pages and broken spines from owning them for so long, but also being horrified when you see someone else mistreating a book in literally any way

Being in the darkest, quietest part of a giant aquarium with only aquatic creatures and soft blue light around you

Flannel

Dust particles floating gently through the air, particularly in rays of sunlight

Yellow or gold but never both

Like a very specific shade of yellow, like canary yellow but paler

The creases in clothes that have been folded for a really long time but weren’t folded very well

Jake Lockley

Just a little too much cologne all of the time

Probably to cover the scent of blood, etc

The scents that you always see those weirdly sexual ads on TV for

With names “Crashing Waves” and “Tornado Dragon” and “Shipwreck” and shit

Late nights

Street lights

Falling asleep in a car while someone else is driving (probably because he’s a cab driver)

Car tire and horn sounds (Also probably because he’s a cab driver lol)

Really dark blue, like the sky during the middle of the night

I was gonna try to explain another color but I think I’m trying to describe a color that doesn’t exist

Addressing him by his full name literally every time you speak to him

Scratched records but not like the sound of scratched records, the physical objects

#marveldc-imagines-hub #imagines-hub #moon knight #moon knight headcanons #moon knight imagines #moon knight x reader #mr knight #steven grant #steven grant headcanons #steven grant imagines #jake lockley #jake lockley imagines #jake lockley headcanons #marc spector #marc spector imagines #marc spector headcanons #layla abdallah el-faouly #layla imagines #layla headcanons #vibes #mcu #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #mcu headcanons #mcu imagines #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Pathetic (Steven Grant x Reader)

Summary: Steven gets called into work and it interrupts your day date, so you spend the day hanging around his flat. You decide to plan a nice evening for the two of you to make up for it, only for Steven to come home sad after an upsetting encounter.

Word Count: 5,113

Warnings: Sad and insecure Steven :( Also there’s a lot of lead-up in the beginning and possibly inaccurate representation of cooking times. This takes place maybe a little while after the series (no major spoilers); Marc and Jake are both mentioned but aren’t present. I’m still trying to better educate myself on DID so I can write the Moon Knight men properly, so if I made any mistakes on the subject, please feel free to correct me! Also friendly reminder that all of my Readers are gender neutral unless explicitly stated. :)

A/N: I see people calling Steven pathetic quite a bit and I know it’s usually in an endearing way but it still makes me a little sad every time because he’s just like. a dude. trying to do his thing. and Going Through It. That doesn’t mean I’m mad at people who call him that or anything, I just Feel Things whenever I see a post doing it, so I thought I would write something about it. Also I have like five half-written pieces in the works right now and less than a week until my final semester of college starts, please save me, lmao.

Ko-Fi | Commissions

~~~~~

Spending the day at Steven’s flat while he was at work had been surprisingly nice. Originally, the two of you had had plans to go out for the day–have a picnic, walk around town, maybe do a little window shopping; there was no set plan, just the two of you enjoying each other’s company–but Steven had been unknowingly scheduled to replace another worker at the museum gift shop. The two of you found this out very unceremoniously when your morning of sleeping in had been interrupted by Steven’s phone scaring you awake and him getting yelled at by Donna for being late. Steven was quick to scramble out of bed and while he was bustling around getting dressed and apologizing profusely for the day out interruption, you simply threw on one of his sweaters and hopped up to prepare a quick breakfast and lunch that you handed off to him with a peck on the nose as he dashed out of the door.

You didn’t live with Steven but you spent almost all of your time at the flat, so hanging out there all day wasn’t particularly jarring. Being there by yourself did feel a little strange though, as most of the time you were there was also spent with Steven himself, either cooking or reading or snuggling together. You hovered around the kitchen and front door for the first few minutes after Steven left, unsure of whether or you should head home because he wouldn’t be home until much later in the day, but eventually settled on enjoying your alone time in the quiet space. Steven hadn’t told you to get home safe or that he would call or visit you later anyway, which were things he normally did when you were expected to part ways, after all. It wasn’t long until he confirmed that you were welcome to stay either; assumedly after he made it to the museum, you received a text from him, thanking you are the coffee and lovely breakfast and telling you to take your pick of whatever was in the kitchen. 

So you made yourself a bowl of cereal and snuggled up in Steven’s favorite chair, providing you with a view of the outside world through the nearby window as well as the pleasant company of his pet fish, Not-Gus. After that, you took a shower; Steven always smelt fresh and clean in the ways of sandalwood and tea tree oil, and something about the idea of smelling like him for the day made you smile. When you stepped out into the steamy shower and realized all you had to wear for the day were yesterday’s clothes or the pajamas that your boyfriend let you borrow, you found a dark pair of his jeans that more or less fit you and one of his shirts–dark yellow with thin off-white lines in a vaguely plaid-like pattern–that you knew would be a little too big and thus had perfect tucking-into-jeans potential. 

You didn’t spend the entire day indoors, which you later felt a little bad about because Steven certainly had to. Still, since your plans for the day went a little awry, you decided to make up for it in a nice dinner. There wasn’t much in the flat’s kitchen, so you went out and picked up groceries, and even stopped by your own place to pick up a couple of things in case Steven wanted you to stay the night again. That was often the case, so it wasn’t odd to assume it would be the same today.

Back at the flat, you tidied up for a while. Steven was a bit of a hoarder of books and interesting trinkets, so his place always looked like a bit of a mess, but you still took the time to sweep the floors, fluff throw pillows and straighten blankets. At some point between straightening some precariously leaning stacks of books and chatting with Not-Gus as you fed him, you turned on music to sing along to. Your final touch to finish cleaning up was hanging a small windchime made of colorful pieces of glass that you found at a market near the window with a little romantic note attached for Steven to find later. You smiled every time it would cheerfully harmonize with you and the music playing when a breeze caught it, or reflect a kaleidoscope of dancing colors throughout the flat as the sun shined through.

You eventually ran out of things to tinker with or clean, so you found a comfortable place in Steven’s chair and picked up a book to read until evening drew closer. When the two of you weren’t actively buying little gifts for each other every time one of you saw something that reminded you of the other, you liked to send quotes or pictures of novel passages, usually of romantic or interesting information nature, to each other. Since Steven was busy and couldn’t respond as he might usually, you decided to have some fun with the concept. You happened to pick up a romantic novel from Steven’s collection–he was an awkward hopeless romantic at heart and he’d get flustered if you ever said so to his face–so you went to work snapping pictures of sappy lines and fluffy excerpts to flood his messages and greet him after work with. 

The day’s golden hour set in. When enough light filtered through the window to give you a headache from squinting at your reading, you set the novel aside and got up to prepare dinner. The plans for an entire day together was ruined, so you originally wanted to make the evening grand enough to make up for the time lost. Unfortunately, there was a lack of cooking ware and space in Steven’s flat, and he, understandably, quickly became stressed when things in his home, his safe space, got too out of sorts. 

Organized disorganization, he would say about his place. It might look chaotic to anyone else entering his flat for the first time but he knew exactly where everything was and he liked it how it was. It only became a problem when it got out of hand for him.

The last thing you wanted to greet him with after a long unexpected day of work was a stressful home situation and you toned down your grand ideas as a result. The dinner idea that you finally settled on was perhaps a little silly and definitely a little cheesy but when it popped into your head, it just wouldn’t un-stick; you would create an indoor picnic to make up for the picnic that you’d missed out on this afternoon. The dishes took some brainstorming and tutorial videos, but once you had them down, you were roasting veggies for rainbow collard green wraps and chopping peppers for a black bean and bell pepper salad. Fruit was added to the mix in the forms of a smaller fruit salad and vegan fruit tarts for dessert, and any pieces of fruit or vegetables that were left over were cut and turned into pretty garnishes or added to a snack board that could be munched on after the main meal was over or simply eaten tomorrow. Drinks were a little trickier for you to come up with and you almost settled on simply a bottle of wine but it felt like it didn’t quite work with the theme. You quickly skimmed through some recipes online and then found yourself making last-minute mocktails with fruity and minty flavors.

There was the occasional lull in food prep when you were waiting for something to cook or set and that’s when you took to setting the scene. You hadn’t come up with the picnic idea while out grocery shopping or you would have also bought a plaid blanket or tablecloth for the aesthetic alone. You poked through Steven’s collection of bedding until you found a light blue bedsheet instead, which you spread out in the middle of the flat’s floor. Not wanting to sit on the otherwise hard floor, you also put down a few throw pillows in a little nest of sorts for the two of you to snuggle in while eating. It dawned on you that you also that you also didn’t have a picnic basket–somewhat ironically, considering a picnic was one idea for the day anyway–to make a show out of pulling the finished dishes out of, but Steven did have a wire basket on the counter where he kept fruit when he had it; you emptied it and made a little display of all of your dishes in it, using tea plates or small cups to hold the items. This display basket would be your introductory piece that you would offer to Steven before showing him the real event, so it stayed on the counter while you carefully plated the actual dishes on the plates and bowls that had the most outdoorsy feel to them. You carried the plated food to the blanket, leaving extras on the counter in a buffet of sorts to go up and grab seconds, then sought out some various items–a plushie of Ra, the Egyptian sun god; your necklace that Steven gifted you a while back with a pendent of Ken, a love goddess, on it; a few pretty stones that Steven kept displayed on a shelf; a couple of books with covers that had a field and a sunny sky on their covers and whatever else you could find–to decorate the space a little more.

You didn’t notice a lack of sun the room or the sky until you walked to fridge to get the mocktails you had stored there and had to blink the brightness of the light away. You carefully sat the drinks, served in glass jars with fruit and mint garnishes floating on top, on the counter and looked around the darkened flat before making your way over to the light switch by the front door.

Just as you reached the light switch, you heard footsteps and the jingling of keys approaching. You scrambled back from the door and grabbed the drinks to take to the floor setup, where you practically flung yourself onto the pillows after once again carefully setting the drinks down. Then you remembered the display basket you left on the counter and jumped back to your feet, sliding on the hardwood floor in socks to get back to the kitchen area and grab the basket. You spun to run back to the door to have yourself and your basket there to greet Steven as he walked in but you slammed your hip into the counter’s corner in the process and found yourself coughing out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding instead, clutching your display for dear life.

The front door opened with a click and whiny grumble as Steven stepped inside. The light was flicked on and your boyfriend of roughly a year took a look around, finding the picnic setup on the floor first and you in the kitchen last. You would have considered this whole entrance and reveal a mission failed if it weren’t for the fact that Steven looked like an abused puppy with his hunched up posture and restless hands and big, sad eyes, which quickly became a bigger concern for you.

Your heart was filled with pride about your dinner plans one moment and shattering into pieces for Steven the next. You immediately went to comfort him about whatever had gone wrong with the day but the movement was more of a hobble due to your aching hip. When you opened your mouth to speak, all that you could manage was a pained, “Hey.”

“Hi,” was all Steven said back at first, slowly. He looked around the flat again in reverse order–you, the basket in your hands, the buffet, the picnic–and his expression slowly changed from depressed to bewildered. You knew if you didn’t question him now, it would be difficult to get him to talk about his feelings later, but you just couldn’t make your mouth move faster than his. “What’s all this then?”

You limped your way over, holding out your arms with the display in your hands like some food-bearing zombie. Steven noticed your odd walk and immediately met you, hands carefully finding your waist in hopes of steadying you, healing you. “Goodness, [Y/N], what have you done to yourself?”

You snorted, then replied through gritted teeth as you wiggled your basket at him, “Happy anniversary.”

The expression shifted again and you knew whatever chance you had had to ask him about what went wrong at work had passed; you would have to pry it from him later. Now Steven looked like he was melting in the best way. Whatever tension his body had been holding faded as he stepped as close to you as he could without disrupting your display, which he looked at with mixed awe and glee. A crooked, dopey grin slowly blossomed on his face and almost made you faint in the process, and his hands restlessly danced along your sides, your arms, your hands, until they reached the basket; then they danced back in the opposite direction and found your hips. You winced at the fingers on your newly tender flesh and Steven offered a sympathetic slight furrow of his brows, though try as he might, he couldn’t get his smile under control.

Before he could get too worried, you gave him a shake of your head and reassuring smooch on the cheek for good measure. “Don’t worry about it, just slammed into the counter trying to get to the door before you got in. I’ll be fine in a few.”

“You’re sure?” The hand that rested on your bruising hip played with the waist of your jeans there. It was taking all of his control not to untuck your shirt, unbutton your pants, and check the area for serious injury. If he did that, then you’d have a whole different problem on your hands and you refused to let all your hard work of the day go to waste.

He could take care of you after dinner.

“I’m sure,” you promised, quickly slipping out of his grasp and holding out your display of dishes to him once again. In a much cheerier voice this time, you repeated, “Happy anniversary!”

“A year already, look at us,” Steven murmured, wonder edging his voice. He took the wire basket to closer inspect what you had made and reached in to grab the collard green wrap as you took him by the arm and led him to the pillows to sit.

“Since you got called in today–”

Steven interrupted, a frown replacing his grin for a few moments, “I am so sorry again, love. I swear I had no idea–”

You kissed his frown to quiet him, then gave him a warning look as he went to talk again immediately after; he has already apologized a billion times this morning. When you were sure that he would let you speak, you went on, “Since you got called in today–which wasn’t your fault–and our plans kind of went out the window, I wanted to make sure that we still sort of, kind of did something nice for the day. Behold, our indoor, nighttime picnic! Et voilà.”

While you sat on one of the pillows, Steven fluttered nervously around the edge of the bedsheet, as if he were scared that the entire thing would disappear should he step foot onto the fabric. After a couple of minutes, you realized that he needed a little bit of a push, so you caught his arm holding the wrap that he was now nibbling on and gently coaxed him to sit next to you. He looked shocked, face frozen in giddiness; you decided to help him further by snagging the basket from his hands to be the centerpiece of the setup, then tugging his jacket off of his shoulders. Steven came back to his senses bit by bit and popped the last of the display wrap into his mouth before shimmying his jacket off and tossing it over a nearby stack of books. 

He eyed the food and licked his lips but still hesitated to grab anything until you did so first. You went for the mocktail, leaning back on your free hand as you took a sip, and Steven quickly snagged another wrap. He took a bite, hummed happily, and cast a questioning look your way. “You cooked ‘n’ everything?” 

You offered a proud grin in return. “Sure did! Got bored so I picked you up some groceries, looked up some vegan recipes.”

“Magic,” Steven practically purred as he ate away, “pure magic.”

“Did you get all my messages, by the way?” You asked.

Steven quirked a brow and, with cheeks puffed out after shoveling a couple of spoonfuls of bean and pepper salad, pulled his phone from his back pocket. His shoulders instinctively hunched as he rested his elbows on his knees and flipped through his messages and you fought the urge to reach over and try to relieve the tension in them. You tried your fruit salad as you watched him chew and read and fought a growing smirk as you saw a flush appear on his cheeks and ears.

“Love,” he mumbled once he was free to talk again, “there’s at least a hundred messages of romance snippets here.”

“I read fast, and that was after ” you replied with a shrug. You sat up properly again, only to lean on Steven’s shoulder as you flung your arms and around his neck and smooshed your face against the side of his. “Also I looove you.”

Your boyfriend’s happiness faltered slightly then and you were reminded that you needed to ask him what was wrong before he completely shut whatever it was out. It was almost like the falter hadn’t happened at all, though, because then he was making a sound between a snort and a chuckle as he craned his neck to lightly kiss your temple.

“Well, I should hope so, all things considered,” he said, setting his phone aside again. “I love you too. And all of this is bloody amazing, by the way.”

“Yeah? You like it?”

“Like it? Try bloody love it. Only second to you.”

Your cheeks warmed at the compliment and you made a pleased sound in response as you picked up a wrap of your own to try. You thought about teasing him a bit, casually pointing out the fact that you were wearing an outfit made exclusively of his clothes today or that your scent currently matched his, but the worried voice in your head insisted you had something better to do. “So, how was your day?”

Steven cleared his throat a bit as his gaze, which had previously been trained on you or your gift to him the entire time, danced away altogether. He ducked his head, shielding his eyes from you behind thick, loose curls and visibly leaned away from you like he would get up and run away if it weren’t an impolite thing to do. He knew that he couldn’t run from you, though—never you—so he tried to deflect instead, “How was your day? It looks very tidy in here, you must’ve spent the day cleaning. Oh, look, you even made the bed.”

You huffed a sigh and narrowed your eyes at him; you felt a pang of satisfaction as he began blushing again, this time flustered from being under your scrutinizing gaze. “Steven, you’re not answering me. You walked in looking miserable tonight, I just want to know that you’re okay.”

Steven looked at you again and your heart almost broke for him all over again when all you saw were big, brown pools of hurt staring back. He shifted his position, twisting to face you better as he grabbed one of your hands to fiddle with. He looked down at where the two of you were now joined, hiding his face again. “My love, my angel, my gift from Ken, it’s our anniversary. My workday was like any other, I promise. I don’t want to drudge up silly things and ruin the night that you worked so hard on.”

You frowned. It was awful that Steven felt like his feelings weren’t worth talking about. It was something you had tried to work on with him time and time again, not always successfully. Steven found it very easy to hide away within himself. But him pushing down his negative feelings until they seemed to go away, or simmering in them until they added to the insecurities he already had, wasn’t the way to happiness, was it? 

You simply weren’t having it this time. You crooked a finger of your free hand underneath his chin and dragged his gaze up to look at you once more. “Steven, your feelings are not silly, and even if they were, that doesn’t mean you should be ashamed of hiding them. We’re partners, you and I. That means we’re supposed to be here for each other.”

Steven sat there quietly. He continued to play with your fingers and glanced away from you every few seconds but never made any real moves to pull away from your hold on him. 

“Please,” you softly pleaded, “talk to me.”

It took a few moments longer but Steven eventually sighed and accepted his fate. He glanced away again and when he looked back this time, his face wrinkled with shame. His voice was almost too quiet for you to hear when he spoke again. “D’you think I’m pathetic?”

You blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“Pathetic,” he mumbled a little louder, “Do you think I’m pathetic?”

You felt like a deer caught in the headlights of a car, staring at him incredulously. “What? Of course not. Why would I think you’re pathetic?”

”My job,” he listed, and with every suggestion he deflated more and more until he was practically a ball of sad mush sitting next to you, “my lack of social skills, my talking to myself, my living situation, my—“

You pulled your hands back to wave them at him whilst shaking your head. “Stop, stop. Steven, where is this coming from? Did Donna say something? I swear to the gods, I will wring her neck.”

Steven quickly shook his head and even though most of his face was hidden from the way he was curled in on himself, a twitch in his cheek informed you that he had briefly smiled at your comments. However, it was quickly gone again and the man flopped onto his side on the mound of pillows to stare off into space past you. That is, until something caught his eye. “Did you buy me a wind chime?”

“Later,” you said pointedly. You lied down on your side as well so your partner had no excuse but to look at you again. “Steven.”

He made a whiney noise from deep in his throat before finally confessing, “I decided to leave the museum for lunch today and saw my golden statue mate while out ‘n’ about. Decided I sit ‘n’ chat for bit— Y’know, since I haven’t done it in a while. Was just sitting and talking there and some folks walked by and called me pathetic.”

“I will kill them.”

Another small break in Steven’s sad shell as he breathed a short chuckle. “Not to my face or anything. I don’t think it was meant to be mean either. I overheard it. ‘Look at that man talking to the statue performer. Sweet pathetic man.’ Or something.”

You cupped Steven’s cheek in your hand and ran your thumb along the sad lines there, willing for them to go away. “Oh, my love, I’m sorry. That’s awful rude of them.”

Steven shifted closer to you and lightly nuzzled your palm. He closed his eyes forc a long moment and when he opened them again, they were wet with unshed tears. “Anyway, I started thinking about it and— I am kind of pathetic, aren’t I? At least in some sense. I mean, I’ve been working the same dead-end job for years, my boss doesn’t treat me with any respect. I–I had the chance to find a new one when I got fired but I came back when they called me, like a hopeless animal or something. I can barely ask out a person and when I do, I chicken out or miss the date completely by days. I don’t have very many friends—“

“Steven, jesus, stop,” you said, and this time it was stern enough to freeze him completely. You took a moment to blink your own frustrated tears away before taking a firm hold on his face. “You’re not pathetic, Steven. Say it.”

Steven simply blinked at you.

“I’m serious,” you said with a glare, “say it. Say you’re not pathetic.”

“I’m not pathetic?”

“You’re not. Now say it again.”

“I’m not pathetic.”

“Now say it again and say it a billion times, and say it every single time a bad thought like that pops into your head because my god—“ You had to pause. Your blood was boiling and your hands were shaking and Steven was looking at you with an expression on his face that you just couldn’t figure out. You were holding his face tight enough that your were squishing his cheeks a bit, not that he seemed to mind in the slightest, but you released your grip anyway to card your fingers through his gorgeous dark hair as you took a breath.

All of him was gorgeous, really. Not just his hair. His face was stunning; he had a jawline that could kill and a nose that was perfect to peck in the morning to wake him up for nuzzle your own against. His eyes were beautiful, such a dark shade of brown that they were almost black but still carried all of the emotions that he also happened to wear on his sleeve in the most endearing way. He always lifted one side of his mouth a tad more than the other whenever he smiled or made a face, which, paired with the slight gap between his two front top teeth, left you breathless even with the silliest expression. His hands were often restless but when they had a task to do, they did it better than anybody else, and no one would know it because he often hid under bulky clothing but you knew his body like nobody else and you would happily attest to its perfection. Not to mention that all this was just a vessel for his heart and mind and goodness, his heart and mind—

Your hands settled on the sides of Steven’s neck, steady once more. He couldn’t quite hold your gaze when you looked him in the eyes but that was fine with you—you both struggled with eye contact sometimes. You knew he was hanging onto your every word and by the way his eye never lingered away away from you for too long. It almost seemed like you’d captured his attention more than whoever had caused this plague to his day.

“Steven,” you said, “anyone who calls you pathetic doesn’t know shit about you. You’re kind, you’re caring, you’re gentle, and those are wonderful qualities. You’re one of the most intelligent, goofy, nerdy people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and I love it. And truly, your mind is amazing. You’re definitely not as awkward as you like to think you are either; I’ve seen you tell stories of Egypt to children for hours and go toe-to-toe with an asshole who tried to show up a tour guide— Do you remember that? Incredible. And your flat is charming and homey and I love being here with you, and sure, your job isn’t exactly what you want to being doing but you’re still damn good at it, and if I hadn’t walked in to buy some of those nasty gummies a year ago, we never would have met, so I am grateful every day— And, about that whole asking out thing—“

You broke off as Steven’s hands found either side of your face and pulled you to him. His lips quickly covered yours and you groaned softly, somewhat gratefully; you had started to ramble, which could have easily led to a mess to nowhere if someone didn’t stop you. Your and Steven’s lips played together perfectly, and the sound the two of you made harmonized like beautiful music chords. A little moan escaped you as he gently tugged on your bottom lip with his teeth. His hands roamed your neck and shoulders, while yours found themselves tangling in his hair again.

The two of you parted only to breath and neither of you spoke until a while later. You simply held each other, basked in each other’s presence, appreciated each other.

“Guess I’m not so bad if I’ve found you, am I?” Steven murmured finally. The tone of his voice sounded like it was meant to be a bit of a tease but his grateful gaze that danced across your face held the truth. “I’m doing my best.”

Steven often spoke in questions, especially when discussing his feelings, and you learned over time that he expected validation in the form of answers. To him, a lot of what he did and said wasn’t worth its weight until someone else confirmed it, so it made your heart swell to hear him firmly state he was doing his best. 

You smooshed your face against his and said back, “You aren’t bad at all, or pathetic. You’re perfectly perfect and your best is wonderful. I’m very lucky to have you.”

Steven’s cheeks warmed against your skin and he giggled a bit as the two of you kept your faces squished together for a few moments longer. Then he pulled away to look at you properly, thumbs gently brushing across your cheekbones. His eyes were wide but no longer sad. They were bright, little flecks of gold noticeable in the dark brown with how close your faces were, and so full of love for you. 

“S’pose we should finish our date night then, yeah?” He asked. The one corner of his mouth quirked up a bit more than the other when he gave you a bit of an exaggerated questioning look. It took everything in your power not to tackle him and simply have your way in the pillows.

“Probably,” you agreed instead, “I made fruit tarts for dessert.”

You could take care of him after dinner.

#marveldc-imagines-hub #imagines-hub #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagines #moon knight headcanons #moonknight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant imagines #steven grant headcanons #headcanon #imagine #x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #marc spector #jake lockley

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Being Saved by Jake Lockley:

A/N: This was actually inspired by another Moon Knight piece that I’m working on. In that piece, there’s a lot of backstory lead-up that’s making it kind of wordy, so I figured I’d just... write the backstory as well. So, here’s the start of another accidental series, lol. This is the first time I’m writing Jake Lockley and I don’t know a whole lot about him, so sorry if he’s a little ooc. Also, my Spanish is not the best because I’ve only taken a couple classes, and I took some help from Google, so sorry if it’s rough. Luckily, I don’t use it too much, lol.

Ko-Fi | Commissions

You worked for an organization that traveled around the world buying and trading for artifacts, usually from museums and black markets, in order to return them to their rightful lands. This meant you lived a fairly mobile life, practically living out of hotels, basing your operation out of whatever buildings would lend you the space, and working with new individuals–aside from you superiors and the few permanent members on your team–during almost every job. Still, you enjoyed your job, as hectic and sometimes dangerous as it was, and you’ve always said that you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Well,” you grunted as you pried open a crate, “except for maybe now.”

Alarms were blaring alongside flashing red lights throughout the office building that you were working in, indicating that someone had broken in. You would have been grateful for the alarms if it hadn’t been for the fact that you had already heard the breaking of glass and muffled voices a few rooms over before they had started. Now they were just giving you a headache as you wriggled the crate lid free, revealing a load of packing material. 

“Perfect to hide in.” You set the piece of wood aside and began shoveling the various artifacts and important documents that you had gathered into the crate, apologizing to them for the mistreatment as you went. Any smart person would have probably booked it as soon as there were signs of a break-in, especially if they were the only person working that night, but you were more stubborn than smart. You cared too much about your work to let some lousy black market thieves put you back several months of progress. You had scurried around the room where you had been preparing a set of artifacts for shipping and grabbed as many as you could to hide in the old crate that was going to be disposed of.

You were finishing covering the items with the packing material when you heard the handle of your office’s door jiggle. With that being your only escape route, you found no other choice than to join the your work in the rotting crate. You quickly patted your pockets to make sure your phone was on your person to call the police, then you armed yourself with a stone statue of the Egyptian god Sekhmet. You apologized to her for using her as a weapon in the near future before jumping into the crate. Luckily, the area that you were working in was large enough where you still had time to cover yourself with the crate’s lid before the assailants could get to you.

You knew from the muffled conversation you had heard earlier that there was more than one robber but you could tell more easily now that there was only a few; unfortunately, the blood pumping in your ears made it hard to understand what they were saying as they began rummaging around the room. Despite getting poked and prodded by statues and helmets, you shimmied further down into the crate in hopes of hiding yourself under the paper packaging. A dim light suddenly caught caught your eye in the process and you turned your head slightly to a gap between the crate’s slats. Clutching Sekhmet closer with one hand and gingerly fishing around for your phone with the other, you tried to peek through the opening.

There wasn’t much to see other than shifting shadows and black clothes. You caught a pant leg here, a large gloved hand there, but nothing that would help you describe the robbers to the cops. Still, between your own labored breaths the thieves’ destroying your workplace, you managed to make out a word or two. It sounded like all of the people–the ones you were currently sharing a space with, at least–had deep, masculine voices and they sounded frustrated over not being able to find much. You had done your hiding job well.

Then, in a lull of movement, one of them said, “Hey, what about that junk in the back corner?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You grabbed your phone as quickly as you could without causing too much noise–at least the alarms helped with masking–and tried to keep an eye on the approaching figure through your peephole. You just managed to free your phone, which luckily had its brightness turned down, and were struggling to unlock it with one hand when a slam echoed through the room. It took you several moments for your heart to start up again and for you to register that it was the office’s door being knocked open rather than your immediate incoming death.

“Well,” a new, much louder voice called out, “what do we have here?”

Whoever it was, they took the attention of your hiding spot long enough for you get into your phone. Busy pulling up the dialpad, you weren’t focused on the crack in the crate slats but you could hear confused exclamations from the initial group of thieves as they focused elsewhere. There were the sounds of clacking that you assumed was them readying their weapons followed by hurried footsteps. You took a moment to feel bad for whoever walked in trying to play hero but then decided it was better them than you.

You expected to hear a scuffle and gunshots, which you did in the moments following. What you didn’t expect was some eerily cheerfully spoken Spanish in response. Your focus on your phone began to wane as your morbid curiosity got the better of you, especially when a weighty thud sounded after a particularly loud gunshot. You were sure that the dropped body had been the newcomer, only to be shocked further when you heard a chuckle that sounded more like them than your artifact thieves. Another shot sounded and another thud followed.

You couldn’t help being drawn to what was going on outside of your hiding place. You were a curious person and research was the nature of your job. It was only natural for your phone to be forgotten as you squirmed closer to the opening in the crate to see better, which allowed you a fuzzy glimpse of the scene.

The view was mostly blocked by the back of the last assailant. They were dressed head-to-toe in black, although you could see in the gap between their vest and ski mask a line of pale skin. To your surprise, their hands were in the air and, as close as they were to you now, you could see them shaking. You strained to hear and heard them whimpering.

“Look, man, I’m sorry,” they whined. “I– I was just following orders. Let me go and– and I won’t say a word, I swear. There’s nothing here anyway, take what you want!”

“Here’s the thing, amigo–” the newcomer started, and you caught a glimpse of tan skin and a hat when the final robber shifted. He didn’t finish the sentence until he’d already fired his gun, though, and the robber’s body dropped to the floor. “–you’re in my way.”

Without another body standing in the way, you could see the loner more clearly. He wore a bomber-style jacket over a collared shirt and driving gloves, and you caught a gloved hand slipping a handgun into the jacket’s pocket. You spotted curls of black hair poking out from under a flat cap as he looked around, as well as dark eyes and a jawline that could probably cut a diamond.

Well that’s… a weird detail to notice on a psycho killer person, you thought. Despite the mental scolding, you found your gaze lingering far longer than necessary on the curve of the man’s grimacing mouth, the outline of his shoulders and back as he turned. He really was quite attractive. Okay, down, bad, no.

The man wandered in and out of your sight as he examined the office space. The way he walked reminded you of a big cat on the prowl, his movements careful and measured and ready for action. He seemed to be looking for something– other thieves, perhaps? Then he stopped a few feet away from your crate, gaze slowly rolling over it and the other materials around it. His eyes found the gap you were peering out of and then he was staring directly at you.

You froze under the intensity of his stare and, for some ungodly reason, found yourself blushing. As much as your brain willed your body to do something, anything, your corporeal prison refused to move, even as the man stepped closer and closer. His body blocked the gap, leaving you in complete darkness and your blood running cold as it washed over you. You only managed to move when a creak groaned above you but it was only to turn your head and watch, quite dumbly, as gloved fingers moved appeared around the uneven edges of the crate’s lid and lifted it away. He tossed the lid aside and leaned over the opening, and there you were, a deer frozen in the headlights of a man who had just killed three people minutes prior.

It was silent as you and the killer looked on at each other. The air around you was thick like fog and chilly like it too, causing goosebumps to rise on the skin of your arms. You still held the Sekhmet statue but couldn’t bring yourself to throw it; instead you clutched it like a child holding clinging to a teddy bear, the sharp edges digging into your skin. Your other hand still held your phone but it was locked once more and all your fingers could manage was fidgeting helplessly around it. You mentally cursed yourself for knowing as little self-defense as you did despite your work. Now there was a murderer standing above you and you had no idea what he was going to do.

He raised a hand, the hand that been holding a gun moments earlier. You sucked in a breath. 

He gave you a “relax” motion before leaning further over you and carefully prying your fingers free from the Sekhmet statue.

“You’re bleeding on an ancient artifact,” he mumbled as he removed the statue from your grasp and sat it somewhere outside of the crate. His voice was much quieter now, albeit still gruff in a way that made a warm tingle cut through the cold as it danced its way through your body.

Okay, I’m officially the crazy one, you decided but you still couldn’t stop focusing on the gentleness of his touch. Now that he was closer–another thing to revel in despite the obvious danger–you noticed that the robbers must have gotten a couple of hits in before the shooting started and they went down; the man’s bottom lip was split and bleeding, and one of his cheeks was swelling with a purplish tint.

Now your body moved but it was once again without your brain’s permission. For some reason, you were compelled to say something to him, and what your mouth came up with was, “You’re bleeding… from your face.”

The man blinked, then raised a hand to his face. He checked his cheek first and after confirming that there was no broken skin, he moved onto his lips. A thumb brushed against the bottom one, followed by his tongue, and you probably would have been caught staring at his mouth had he not taken a glance over his shoulder afterwards.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, more to himself than to you. He slipped into Spanish as he touched his cheek again and winced. “El hombre escuálido tenía un fuerte gancho de izquierda.”

“That was good Spanish.” But my English continues to deteriorate, apparently.

He smirked when he looked back at you, offering a flash of white teeth and making you sweat in the process. “Gracias, lo hablo con fluidez.”

“Cool,” was your dumbfounded response, “I studied in college. Latin, too. Arabic. German. Greek. Helps with the job. And I liked learning more than I liked being around other people.”

You found yourself relaxing a bit, enough to wriggle around in your wooden confinement. You fidgeted your fingers as you moved your arms and flinched. Looking down, you saw that what the stranger said had been right. You had gripped the Sekhmet statue so tightly that its sharper parts had cut into your skin, leaving blood beading on your skin.

The man still standing above you looked at your hand as well before his eyes found your face again. “Can you get out by yourself?”

It finally registered with you that you probably looked like a mess, tangled up in yourself in a rotting box of packing paper. You quickly sat up to fix yourself– Too quickly, because you headbutted your companion in the process. The man spun away from you with a yell, followed by a string of expletives. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You scrambled your way out of the crate and trailed after him as he held his nose. You were careful to avoid the bodies around you, which would have been a lot more jarring if you weren’t focused on making sure the well-mannered murderer of them was okay. He tried to wave you away with his other hand and kept stepping away as you got closer, causing your reaching hands to graze his back, his shoulder, his chest instead. “I promise I didn’t do that on purpose!”

“It’s… fine,” he grunted back, his voice now slightly nasally voice from pinching his nose. “It’s fine. Just… give me a minute.”

You had noticed the blood, though, so there was no stopping you from catching his arm to properly check on him. Before you could really think about what you were doing, you caught the man’s jaw in your uninjured hand and leaned in close to inspect the damage. You handled him gently, carefully turning his head from one side to the other as you eyed his nose and used your other hand–and part of your jacket sleeve–to dab at the blood.

“Well,” you said after a few moments, “it doesn’t look broken. So that’s good.”

“What a relief,” the stranger said. The tinge in his voice said he didn’t care much either way. 

It wasn’t until he spoke and his breath landed on your lips that you realized just how close you had gotten to him. You backed away from him, only to trip over a nearby corpse. You floundered around, physically and mentally, but before you could land on a dead body, the man caught you with one hand secured your waist while the other steadied one of your waving arms. He turned with you in a seconds-long, bloody waltz as he helped you avoid the body. As a result, you ended up being tugged further into the office, near where your desk was. Reminded of the danger at hand, you may have been worried, but then the memory of a first-aid kit in your desk overtook it.

“Thank you,” you said quickly. You parted from him and slipped around the other side of the desk to dig around in the largest of the drawers. “Hang on.”

The man looked at his hands and flexed them like he wasn’t sure what had just happened either; it was nice to see that you weren’t the only awkward one. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked around while he waited for you, the thought that you might be searching for a weapon not occurring to him in the slightest. 

It didn’t really occur to you either, even had your hands found a stapler and a pyramid-shaped paperweight. You were honed in on the first-aid kit, which you pulled from the back of the drawer and tossed on the desktop triumphantly. You popped it open and grabbed a rag, which you offered to the man for his nose. Once he took it, you grabbed some hand sanitizer and bandages and fixed up your hand, wincing at the mild sting but your mind to focused on your stranger to spend too much time worrying about yourself. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, he said, “I should probably get you to the police.”

That drew your attention. You quirked an uneasy eyebrow at him. “That’s weird, coming from the man who killed three people.”

Unphased, he tossed a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m a cab driver? I saw the robbery at a stoplight.”

You looked past him, through the window at the far end of your office. Sure enough, you saw a bright yellow cab with its lights still on sitting outside. You turned your attention back to the man with a squint. “A cab driver with a gun?”

“Passengers can get weird.”

“A cab driver with a gun and the skills to take down three black market guys with more guns?”

“Passengers can get really weird.”

You were torn. One the hand, all things considered, this guy did seem like he wanted to help. He’d had plenty of opportunities to kidnap or kill you if that was what he’d wanted to do. On the other hand, though, you couldn’t get over the feeling that he wasn’t telling you everything.

“Offering to take me to a police station feels like trying to get me to a secondary location,” you said slowly. You then immediately wanted to kick yourself because why would you tell a possible kidnapper that?

The man blinked at you, still relatively unbothered. “I mean… Cab driver. It’s kind of my job. But fair enough…” He trailed off and his gaze trailed downward. Your cheeks grew warm as his eyes danced across your body. Then he looked at up at you, a smirk playing at his lips. “Doctor.”

He was looking at the name tag. Of course he was. Your face and neck still felt hot, this time from embarrassment, as you turned away from him to fiddle with your phone again. You unlocked it and dialed for the police, got a woman to take your case. After you explained who you were, where you were, and what had happened–minus some key, handsome details–she told you that police would be on their way. You finished the call and gave the stranger intensely watching you a smug look.

“There, problem solved.” You pocketed your phone and turned your attention back to the first-aid kit. You dug out some painkillers, a cooling pack, and another rag before giving the man a wave to come closer. “Now come here.”

He didn't argue. Joining you on your side of the desk a moment later, he leaned on the desk before you gestured for him to sit in the nearby chair instead. He did so silently and you leaned on the desk instead, trading him the cooling pack for the now bloodied rag that he still held. After activating the pack, he held it to his swollen cheek while you grabbed a water bottle from the first-aid kit and poured some of its contents on the new rag.

When you turned back to him, he nodded past you. "What's that?"

You took a quick look before turning your attention back to him. You wiped your suddenly clammy hands on your pants before taking his jaw in your hand again to tilt his head up. Tingles danced on your fingertips and in your belly as you ran the wet rag over his split lip, carefully scrubbing the blood away. "Egyptian tablet of some kind, but it's a fake. We found it during a black market search, one of my newer people bought it without consulting me first. Gotta be careful with black market stuff, lots of copies."

The man nodded along, and his tongue poked out to instinctively chase the wetness on his lips. You nudged his head back a bit to swipe the blood that had reached his chin and neck; you could have sworn you felt the pulse in his quicken but you were quick to dismiss it. Your out-of-nowhere attraction to this questionable man was already a lot but having him sit nestled between your legs while you cleaned his wounds had to be making you imagine things.

His eyes still lingered on the tablet as you worked. "Why do you still have it if it's fake?"

You shrugged. "Haven't gotten to tossing it yet. It was supposed to go with that rotting crate and the stuff with it but then… the universe had different ideas for me, clearly."

"The universe wanted you to be cleaning up a dirty taxi driver surrounded by a couple of bodies? Sounds like a bad joke." He had an amused twinkle in his eyes. Whether it was because you had slipped up and said fate brought him to you or it was just the morbid enjoyment he had had earlier when fighting returning, you weren't sure. Either way, his smile made a new wave of goosebumps grace your entire body. 

You wiped the rag over his nose a little carelessly to keep him from noticing, which seemed to work. He flinched and pulled away from you with a mild glare. You offered him a playful raise of your brow and the glare turned into a scowl before he leaned back into your waiting hand, grumbling under his breath.

You finished cleaning up the blood and tossed the rag aside. You took a better look at his nose now that it wasn't bleeding and confirmed what you had said earlier; you hadn’t headbutted him hard enough to break anything. While checking, you felt compelled to run a gentle, probably-more-affectionate-than-it-should-have-been finger down the bridge of his nose. You thought you saw his eyes flutter at the touch but you had no time to reassure yourself about it because then they were focused on the stone tablet again.

You perked up a bit. "You into Egyptology?"

The man shook his head. "Not personally. I know a guy or three, though."

"Oh, nice."

He nodded a bit and turned gaze back to you as you set the rag aside and grabbed the pill bottle to shake a couple of painkillers into your hand. You offered them and the rest of the water bottle to him with a smile and after an assessing look that you weren't sure was completely serious or not, he took the pills and popped them in his mouth. You cleaned up the bloodied rags and first-aid kit as he took the painkillers.

"So you just throw stuff like that away?" He asked when he was finished and you saw his eyes trained on the tablet yet again. 

You wondered if something more drew him to the object as you nodded. "I mean, not like throw it away, throw it away. Usually we'll, like, destroy it or something. So they're not found and resold again. Sometimes we'll keep them for research purposes. Sometimes they go to the police but that particular job went a little hairy and they got called in pretty early."

The man nodded again, still staring intensely at the engraved stone. "It might make a… decent decor piece or something. For a place."

You sat back on your hands and grinned. "Why? Want it for your most special Egyptology buddy?"

He turned his powerful gaze on you before pushing back the chair and standing up. You were caught off guard by just how close he was to you standing up, especially with the way you were sitting leaned back with your legs spread. You weren’t sure if it was intentional when he leaned further into your space still. Then he offered you a somewhat darker grin of his own and you suddenly felt like he was an animal on the hunt again, every move calculated. He knew exactly what he was doing.

"Quizás," he said simply, a teasing Maybe in Spanish. Then he moved away from you altogether to look out the window. While you released a labored breath, the playful energy faded as blue joined the red alarm lights in dancing across his face.

"Shit," you hissed as you jumped to your feet, "cops. Um."

The man looked irritated now. He scolded himself under his breath but still loud enough for you to make it out, "Should have parked somewhere else. There goes my car."

You found yourself dancing in place as you thought. You snapped your fingers and an idea arose and shook a finger gun at him.  "Two rooms to the left there's a hallway that leads to the bathrooms. There's a fire exit at the end of it. You can hang around until I distract them, then pretend you came out of the drug store on the corner or something."

The man raised an eyebrow at you. "Are you helping me get away with murder?"

Your face twisted into a disapproving look and you shook your head. "No, but you did save my life, and also chose not to kill or kidnap me, so…" You trailed off as your eyes settled on the tablet on your desk. You tried to weigh the pros and cons of giving it up to a stranger but when muffled voices became audible outside, you opted for just shoving it at him. "Consider it thanks."

The man stared at you for a few moments before taking the tablet and tucking it under his arm, hiding it underneath his jacket. "I wasn't going to kill you."

"Well, how was I supposed to know?" The voices continued to get closer, so you ushered your companion out of your office and towards the fire exit hallway. As you went, you offered him a restless shrug. "A promise then."

"A promise?"

"You will continue to not want to kill me," you replied simply.

He chuckled. "Okay. Deal."

The two of you reached the hallway and you shooed him the first few steps down it. Your heart ached watching him leave and you were positive this time that you saw him hesitating as well.

Then he turned and headed to leave. You stopped him with a wordless holler and blushed as he turned back with raised eyebrows.

"Um, also," you stammered, "I will, uh, see you again. As. Part of the promise."

You felt the blush reach your ears as he smirked at you. The front door to the office building opened and he began backing his way to the fire exit. Before he spun around and disappeared from the building, he offered you a tip of his flat cap and said, "Jake Lockley. Call and request my cab sometime."

"Oh, okay," you said softly after him. “Bye, Jake Lockley.” You waved as the door shut and continued to stare in bewilderment of the night’s events for a few moments after.

A police officer called out for you on the opposite side of the building. You collected your thoughts, crafted a story that you hoped would cover up Jake’s presence, and headed back the way you came to meet them.

#marveldc-imagines-hub #imagines-hub #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagines #moon knight headcanons #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley imagines #jake lockley headcanons #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant imagines #steven grant headcanons #mr knight #mr knight x reader #mr knight imagines #mr knight headcanons #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagines #marc spector headcanons #Layla Abdallah El-Faouly #layla x reader #layla imagines #layla headcanons #red scarab #scarlet scarab x reader #scarlet scarab imagines #scarlet scarab headcanons

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Shut-In Pt. 1 (Battinson!Bruce Wayne X Reader)

Shut-In Masterlist

Summary: A young Bruce Wayne experiences one of the few interactions he had with [Y/N] before his parents died.

Word Count: 1,517

Warnings: Kids being disruptive in school. The early blossomings of Bruce’s anxiety. I haven’t written fanfiction in a hot second, so sorry if my writing’s a little rusty.

Ko-Fi | Commissions

~~~

Bruce’s upbringing had always existed in a blur, especially after his parents’ deaths, but [Y/N] [L/N] was hard to forget.

    Bruce had gone to school with [Y/N]. He never knew them well but he would see them running into class almost every day, excited while other students slumped over tiredly in their chairs, greeting every teacher as they stepped through the classroom threshold. They would sometimes even say hello to Bruce himself, which would always leave the awkward boy a little bewildered as they didn't wait for his response and instead walked right past to collapse into a seat that was often behind his. He had heard once through a conversation between teachers that [Y/N] was a scholarship student and had some of the highest grades in class; Bruce never found this too hard to believe, despite [Y/N]’s generally scatterbrained nature. During class, he would catch them giggling or mumbling to themselves about one thing or another, but instead of being upset, he would find himself worrying about a teacher catching them and ruining whatever made them so happy. One time, he looked over his shoulder to see them several ahead in the reading than the teacher and when [Y/N] caught him looking, their face turned bright pink as they put a finger to their lips in a quiet shushing. Another time, their quiet giggling mixed with an odd beeping pulled Bruce out of an intense case of taking notes.

----------

The giggling-beeping combo continued and Bruce was fully taken out of his note-taking experience. Normally, it was easy for him to watch the teacher work and write straight lines of notes simultaneously but a quick glance downward showed his neat handwriting straying from across the page in odd angles. He wasn’t too bothered by the disturbance, though, and his curiosity was piqued over the beeping that seemed to elicit new laughter from the classmate sitting behind him. Instead of picking up his notes again, the young boy shifted slightly in his seat to lean backward without looking away from the teacher and mumbled, “You’re going to get caught if you’re not careful.”

There was another series of beeps, another little giggle, and then, “Haven’t gotten caught so far.”

Bruce blinked but refrained from looking back at [Y/N]. “You will if you disturb the class.”

There was some shuffling behind him and when they spoke again, he felt their breath ruffle his hair. “Haven’t yet.”

The corners of the ravenette’s lips quirked into the smallest of smiles. “Well, I’m the class, and you’ve disturbed me.”

A giggle. A beep. Another giggle. Bruce wondered if that first one had been because of him. Then [Y/N] changed the subject altogether. “Do you want to see him?”

“Him?”

“Give me your hand.”

Bruce wasn’t one for passing notes in class but he’d seen other kids do it in the past. He subtly dropped his arm to his side from where it had been sitting on the top of his desk and twisted his hand at the wrist to reach in his classmate’s direction–or so he hoped it had been subtle; his heart began to flutter in his chest and he suddenly felt jittery. While he waited, he tried to remain unsuspicious but couldn’t help glancing around the classroom. Bruce caught the eye of another student a couple of seats away and his breath caught in his throat, only to remember to breathe again when the student glanced at his hand and nodded slightly in solidarity. Kids with strict teachers had to look out for each other, he supposed.

Then another hand brushed his own as a piece of plastic was pressed between his fingers. The hand vanished as quickly as it had appeared and [Y/N] murmured from behind his shoulder, “His name is Ernie.”

Bruce discreetly pulled his hand into his lap and took another look at the teacher before glancing down; what luck it was that her back was still to the class as she recited something from a textbook that had to be decades old. Then Bruce’s eyes fell to Ernie, a blinking, pixelated image of a monochromatic creature surrounded by purple plastic in the shape of an egg.

“Do you love him?” [Y/N] asked, with a new energy in their voice that had Bruce picturing them vibrating in their seat like a cartoon character. “My dad got him for my birthday.”

Bruce twisted the egg around in his hand. It had a small chain attached to the top of it and three buttons to press. When he did, Ernie beeped and reacted on the screen, making the boy crack a smile. However, his attention was quickly pulled back to Ernie’s owner when a question popped into his head. “When was your birthday?”

“Over the weekend,” [Y/N] quietly chirped back, “Yesterday.”

“Oh. Happy birthday yesterday.”

“Bruce!”

The young Wayne was so startled by the teacher’s suddenly booming voice that he almost fell out of his chair. Luckily, he caught himself and quickly shoved Ernie into the blazer pocket of his school uniform. Not so luckily, he was suddenly stuck like a deer facing headlights as the entire class now stared at him.

The teacher in question, an old, spindly woman with white hair, stared down at him from the front of the class, glasses low on her nose and the textbook slammed shut between her hands. She knew she’d caught him in the act–of what she thought that was, Bruce had no idea–and headed down the aisle to inspect the situation further. “Bruce Wayne, what do you think you’re doing? Last class of the day and you think you can act however you like, hm?”

Bruce felt like he was a bird trapped in the claws of a cat. His heart pounded faster than a hummingbird’s wings flapped, making his ribs ache and his insides churn. His outsides were doing something similar, squirming helplessly in his seat as the teacher moved closer. He was sure that she was going to yell at him in front of the entire class and he would be held back at school until Alfred came to pick him up and had to be brought in to be talked to instead. She would send him home with a disciplinary letter for his parents and his mother and father and Alfred would all be so disappointed in him, and stories of him getting in trouble would spread throughout the entire school, and all of the other students would make fun of him for getting caught doing a mundane task that they had all already mastered, all because he had tried to make a friend with the nice classmate that sat behind in the desk behind him, and now his fingers were aching along with his ribs from gripping his desk and his face felt like it was burning–

Then, shockingly, that nice classmate piped up in his defense. [Y/N] leaned out from the open side of their desk and looked at the teacher, now looming over both of them, dead in the eye as they said, “Sorry, Ma’am! I lost my pencil and was asking Bruce for one of his. Right, Bruce?”

Bruce opened his mouth but no words came out. He shrunk further down into his seat, ashamed for both getting into trouble and now dragging [Y/N] into it with him, even though it had technically been their fault in the first place, but he couldn’t bring himself to blame them. He was only drawn out of this fearful haze after [Y/N] poked him a few times in the shoulder, then craned themselves over their desk and into his direct line of view to give him an encouraging look.

“Bruce?” they tried again, “Right?”

[Y/N] glanced down at Bruce’s desk and he followed their gaze to where his pencil bag sat. He found himself numbly nodding along before grabbing the bag and retrieving a random utensil from it. He dropped it into their open palm and they gave him a toothy grin as he mumbled back, “Right. Here.” He turned in his chair as they plopped back into their own and noted the chip in one of their front teeth. He wondered how they had gotten it.

Bruce and [Y/N]'s teacher wasn't buying their story but before she could question them further, the bell indicating the end of classes rang–and [Y/N] was gone in a flash. Bruce glanced at the teacher once before snagging his bag and following suit. However, when he made it out of the classroom, they were lost to the sea of other students that flooded the hallways. His hand dipped into his pocket and retrieved Ernie, who beeped cheerfully when Bruce fiddled with the toy’s buttons. After a last quick scan of the hallway, Bruce clipped Ernie’s chain to the strap of his book bag and made his way to the nearest exit; it looked like he would just have to keep Ernie safe until he and [Y/N] could meet again.

#marveldc-imagines-hub #imagines-hub #batman #the batman #the batman 2022 #robert battinson #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman imagines #batman headcanons #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne headcanons #young!bruce wayne #young!bruce wayne x reader #young!bruce wayne imagines #young!bruce wayne headcanons

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Shut-In Masterlist

Character: Robert Battinson!Bruce Wayne

Summary: Shut-In follows a series of interactions the anxious Bruce Wayne and the elusive [Y/N] from Bruce’s perspective, spanning from childhood to modern day. 

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

#masterlist #marveldc-imagines-hub #imagines-hub #batman #the batman #the batman 2022 #robert battinson #the ratman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne imagines #bruce wayne headcanons #batman x reader #batman imagines #batman headcanons #bruce wayne x reader

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Singing Shower Duets With the Stranger Next Door and Then Your Water Goes Out:

A/N: What an unnecessarily long imagine title, lol. And it still doesn’t quite explain the imagine. Oh well. I saw this prompt on Pinterest last night and immediately thought of this silly, quick idea with Sam.

Prompt: “So we’ve never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall so sometimes we’re showering at the same time and we sing duets AU.” - @awfulaus

Tip Jar

    It wasn’t unusual for showers to be a favorited part of the day. It was unusual for the reason showers were one’s favorite part of the day was because you shared a fairly thin bathroom wall with the stranger next door who happened to shower around the same time as you and enjoyed singing duets with him. It was even more unusual that your next-door neighbor, who you’ve been singing in the shower with—separate showers bordered by the wall, of course—for several months now was still a stranger. The two of you were always apparently just missing each other in the hallway or going downstairs to check the mail, and the few times you’ve gotten the nerve up to go and knock on his door, he was gone for work, which could last anywhere from a day to a couple of months. All you had with your stranger-neighbor was a name—Sam—sporadic texts with a number exchanged via shower conversation, and the shower duets.

    And yet here you were, excited to hop in the shower and chat or sing with your shower buddy. You leaned into your shower and pounded on the wall separating yours from his and waited for a minute until you heard a muffled voice from the other side of it, then a couple of pounds back. Smiling, you started up the water and adjusted it to the correct temperature, then began to strip. It was harder now to hear Sam’s voice over the water but he was talking to someone else—perhaps his equally elusive coworker, Bucky—so you didn’t mind. 

    You were flipping through music choices on your phone before getting in when you heard the other shower turn on. Another pound sounded from the wall and you leaned in to give one return, narrowly avoiding water splashing on you and your device, then hollered a hello.

    “Sorry about that,” you heard Sam’s deep voice holler, “Bucky’s complaining about a job we have in the next couple of days.”

    Hearing that you’d be without your singing buddy soon, for who knows how long, made you a little sad but you tried not to show it. Instead, you stepped into the shower, keeping your upper body out of it until the music was decided on, and hollered back, “How is your friend Bucky?”

    “Hey, he’s not my friend!” Sam said, clearly offended. His voice was closer now as he got into his own shower.

    “I’m not so sure about that,” you replied, “The two of you spend way too much time together to just be coworkers. Coworkers, maybe. Friends, clearly. Roommates? … Oh my god, they were roommates.”

    You could hear Sam’s short, wonderful laugh from the other side of the wall. “I’ll show you friends. Also, shut up, we’re not roommates!”

    “Maybe someday,” you admitted, ignoring his demand for quiet, “after you’ve returned to your natural habitat once again.”

    “Maybe it’ll align with the rare moon that you decide to stop chickening out and coming over to say hi.”

    “Hey! You’re hardly around and you could come over and try to say hi too!”

    “I have!”

    For some reason, hearing that Sam had also tried to visit you while you had been out made your heart flutter. You tried to play it cool, as if Sam could see you attempting a casual lean on the shower wall while you dipped a foot under the running showerhead to lightly splash the water.

    “So, what’s on the music agenda?” You glanced at your phone and picked out a random name. “I’ve got Twenty One Pilots because my playlist apparently chose emo rights today.”

    Sam laughed again, this time a more genuine one. It was deep and smooth and you bet his chest would do that rumbly thing if you’d ever get the chance to put a hand on it while he did so.

    Clothed. Completely clothed. In a completely normal, clothed situation. Why would you ever be nude and touching your stranger-neighbor-friend’s chest? No one said the situation was nude.

    Boy, were you glad for the wall separating your shower from Sam’s at that moment because you were just… on fire today.

    Sam, completely oblivious of your mental infighting, answered your music question, “I have… whatever the first playlist my finger touches says I have.”

    “Ah,” you said with an understanding nod, “Playlist Roulette. I’m down.”

    You quickly flew through your recommended playlists and, without looking, let your thumb land on one. The duets were afoot.

===

===

===

    The universe had brought you and Sam together for shower duets and casual conversation in any scenario that wasn’t face-to-face. That could only last so long before Madame Universe decided she wanted some better entertainment, so she decided to shut down your water just before shower time, only minutes after Sam texted you and told you that he returned from his week-long job. 

    You stood in front of his apartment door now, hands gripping your towel and travel bag of toiletries so hard that your knuckles turned several shades lighter. You were rehearsing what you were going to say, trying to remember how to talk like a normal person, and debating whether you really needed a shower right now or not.

    You really did, so you knocked. 

    The door a couple of minutes later and you were finally face-to-face with the buff, gorgeous, sweats and tee-wearing, boyishly smirking Sam that you had been singing shower duets with.

    You didn’t know that it was possible to feel your stomach all the way down into your toes. It was happening anyway.   

    “Why, [Y/N],” Sam drawled teasingly and held out his hand, “how nice it is to finally meet you in person.”

    You tried to be normal but you couldn’t help but focus way too hard on how your hands were suddenly clammy as you took his larger hand in yours for a shake.

    “Wish it was with better circumstances,” you managed.

    Sam stepped to the side and beckoned you inside. He didn’t seem bothered by your clammy hands. “Do you know why you lost water?”

    “Apparently the universe hates me,” you joked as you glanced around; his apartment was almost identical, mirrored image of yours, minus his considerable lack of decor. “No, but actually I was scheduled for water maintenance because of some trouble in the apartment above mine, but no one decided to inform me of this, and also no one decided to inform me that the maintenance guy had stopped by while I was at work, so I missed him.”

    Sam gave you a sympathetic nod. He walked past you and into the open kitchen, where he leaned his hip against the island counter. “How long do you have to wait?”

    You gave him a strained smile. “He has Friday, Monday, and the weekend off this week and next. Using up his vacation days before he loses them.”

    It was Thursday today.

    Sam made a face but then came to the same conclusion you had, that there was nothing to be done about it, and shrugged. “Well, good for him.”

    You snorted. “Bad for me.”

    He placed a hand over his heart and gave you an offended look. “Excuse me, I thought this was a wonderful opportunity for us to get to know each other.”

    “Oh, my bad for not considering this over the fact that I can’t use my shower or sink or toilet for the next few days.” You rolled your eyes.

    Sam smiled and it hit you like a ton of bricks. How dare he be so goddamn attractive in your greatest time of suffering.

    “Well,” he said, “you’re welcome to use mine, although I’m sure the lack of duets will make it much less entertaining.” He snickered, then nod towards the hall. “First door on the left; I’m sure you can figure it out.”

    “Thank you, by the way, I really appreciate the help.”

    “No problem. Like I said, nice to meet you in person finally, and it is an opportunity. You want a drink when you’re done?”

    You blinked. He actually wanted to hang out?

    “Sure.”

    Sam nodded and gave that smirk again. 

You spun around and started walking to the bathroom and tried to play it cool as you felt his gaze follow you, slowly looking you over and lingering a little bit longer than needed. Not that you really minded.

You made it into the bathroom and immediately got down to business; you didn’t want to keep your host waiting, after all. You were about to step under the rushing water of the shower when you hesitated, then grabbed your phone to put on a song. Then you got in, started singing and scrubbing, and a couple of minutes later, you heard Sam singing too, from the other side of the wall that the kitchen and bathroom shared.

#marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons #marveldc-imagines-hub #sam wilson #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson imagines #sam wilson headcanons #the falcon #the falcon x reader #the falcon imagines #the falcon headcanons #falcon x reader #falcon imagines #falcon headcanons #fatws #falcon and the winter soldier #fatws x reader #fatws imagines #fatws headcnons

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Ultimate Masterlist

This is the ultimate masterlist for all of the x reader content on my blog, including other masterlists for series. The characters and pieces are all organized alphabetically.

* = Mature content but not explicit

** = 18+ NSFW (Minors, do not read or interact!)

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Marvel

Series Masterlists

Being Friends Includes (BFI)

Poly!Moon Knight

Subtitles/Captions (WandaVision)

Bucky Barnes

Bucky Living on His Wakandan Farm With His Spouse

Eddie Brock + Venom

Imagine Venom’s Reaction to You Calling Them Your Angel

Grandmaster

Grandmaster Hiring an Artist Who Falls in Love With Him HCs

Imagine Kissing the Grandmaster and Not Noticing the Face Paint Smears

Loki Odinson

Imagine Helping Loki Through the Abuse He’s Suffered

Imagine Loki Giving You a Massage With His Magic After a Long Day

Multiple Characters

The Moon Knights & Layla as ✨Vibes✨

Peter Parker

Bleeding Heart

Imagine Saving Peter From Thanos

Peter Trying to Buy His S/O a Holiday Gift HCs

Peter Quill

Imagine Enjoying Footloose With Starlord

Night In

Pietro Maximoff

Floor Skating

Sam Wilson

Imagine Singing Shower Duets With the Stranger Next Door and Then Your Water Goes Out

Stephen Strange

Imagine Dressing up as Doctor Strange for Halloween (F!Reader)

Steve Rogers

Missed You

New Girl (Pre-Serum!Steve)

Steven Grant

Pathetic

Thor Odinson

Imagine Cuddling Thor After a Long Mission

Tony Stark

Imagine Just Listening to Tony Talk About His Worries and Struggles

Vision

Imagine Being Vision’s First Kiss

Come Back to Bed

Wade Wilson

Ice Packs

Imagine Having an Insult War With Wade Wilson

Wanda Maximoff

TBA

WandaVision (Poly)

Dating WandaVision HCs*

================================================

DC

Series Masterlists

Shut-In (2022!Bruce Wayne)

Diana Prince

Diana With a Shy S/O HCs

Jason Todd

Dating Jason Todd Would Include

John Doe (Telltale)

That’s Not a Real Kiss

Nanaue (The Suicide Squad)

Imagine Trying to Cheer up Nanaue With a Makeover

Oswald Copplepot (CW Gotham)

Sweet but Psycho

Poison Ivy

General Poison Ivy HCs

Sid (CW Gotham)

Imagine Going Trick-or-Treating With Sid and Your Son

Tim Drake

Tim Fighting With a Shy Superhero S/O Who’s a Badass Until They Catch Him Staring HCs

================================================

Mixed

Series Masterlists

Character Preferences

Others

Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Dick Grayson, and Tim Drake Whose Usually Relaxed S/O Gets Random Bursts of Energy

Relationships With Bucky Barnes and Poison Ivy HCs

Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, and Poison Ivy Reacting to Their S/O Being Catcalled HCs

Wonder Woman, Harley Quinn, Jessica Jones, and Domino With an S/O Who’s Never Been With a Woman Before (F!Reader)

#masterlist #marveldc-imagines-hub #marvel #mcu #dc #dctv #dceu #dccomics #dc comics #multifandom #superhero #superheroes #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #dc x reader #cw gotham #gotham #gotham x reader #telltale batman #avengers #guardians of the galaxy #wandavision #venom #doctor strange #spiderman #spider-man #tony stark #iron man #ironman #captain america

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Character Preferences Masterlist

Preferences are simple pieces that use gifs to depict characters’ preferences of a certain situation!

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Marvel

Avengers

The Original Six (& Hulk): Cuddle Preferences

DC

Gotham

Gotham Men: Kiss Preferences

Gotham Men: Dance Preferences

#marveldc-imagines-hub #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu #mcu x reader #masterlist #dc #dc x reader #cw gotham #cw gotham x reader #gotham x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #tony stark #steve rogers #natasha romanov #bruce banner #thor odinson #hulk #thor #ironman #iron man #captain america #superheroes #superhero #oswald copplepot #oswald cobblepot #ed nygma #edward nygma #jim gordan

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Venom’s Reaction to You Calling Them Your Angel

You sat stretched out across the couch in Eddie’s apartment, wearing shorts and one of Eddie’s shirts in a red plaid pattern, peering over the drink you were sipping with a smug little grin as you watched the event before you unfold.

You were having a day in with your boyfriend and his symbiote during one of Eddie’s days off. While he had been attempting to make something both casually romantic and edible, you had had a tiny Venom in blob form hanging out on your shoulder, still attached to Eddie via a thin string of black goo that trailed across the space between the living and kitchen areas. Between casual, weird conversation and ganging up to lovingly tease Eddie, you’d given Venom a smooch on the head--his favorite form of affection, especially via you--and called him, specifically, a ‘good, little angel goo-baby.’

The symbiote’s response? Making sure Heaven and Earth, and Eddie Brock, had heard it.

“Eddie! Eddie? Eddie! Did you hear them, Eddie? [Y/N] said we’re their angel!” The little black blob that was now bopping against your mildly annoyed boyfriend’s head continued to do so, growing more insistent the longer your partner refused to give them a reaction. “Eddie! Eddiiiieeee! An angel, Eddie!”

Turning around with two plates of a homely, homemade version of your favorite meal and Venom protruding out of the neck hole of his hoodie, Eddie met your amused gaze with a desperate, wild-eyed look of his own. You simply winked and took another sip of your cooling drink, savoring both its taste the happening moment. 

“You’ve created a monster,” was all he said as he walked over. He gently swatted your legs from their resting spot on the couch so he could sit beside you, and placed the plates of food on the coffee table. As Eddie’s hand made contact with your skin, Venom ceased their assault and trailed their way back to perch on your shoulder once more, pouting.

You replied with a theatrical mock gasp, shielding Venom from Eddie’s gaze, and said, “How dare you? Venom’s not a monster, he’s a baby! An angel baby.” 

Venom let out a pleased hum, which caused your facade to crumble into turn another grin. When you removed your hand from its place over Venom’s face, pressing another kiss to the blob of symbiote’s head, they had a matching one. 

Eddie just rolled his eyes and sighed in overdramatic defeat, and stabbed began eating. 

#marveldc-imagines-hub #imagines #headcanons #fanfic #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcnaons #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons #venom #venom x reader #venom imagines #venom headcanons #eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock imagines #eddie brock headcanons #marvel venom #mcu venom

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Dating Jason Todd Would Include:

Anon said: “May I make a headcanon request about dating Jason Todd if your requests are still open, please?”

Tip Jar

~~~

Jason Todd

Him being playfully possessive

Also playfully jealous

A friend or stranger becomes a little too friendly and before you can shut it down yourself, he whisks you away

Will hug you close and whine in your neck (from a distance it looks like some sensual smooches) about “annoying boooyyyyssss...”

On occasion, he does get genuinely irritated (he thinks he’s slick and covers it well but you’re not that dumb and he’s not that good at hiding his emotions from you) but he doesn’t to let it bubble into something too aggressive--he knows how dangerous he can get

So whining and smooches and overall being a cute dork

You’re the only person who can get him to properly put a cork on his more aggressive side, and you don’t even have to ask him to

He’s beauty

He’s grace

He’s danger

But as soon as you walk into the same room, he absolutely loses his cool

Mostly, he becomes a bit of a klutz

Not in the sense that if a threat suddenly appears he’s not ready to switch into kick-ass mood, or if one of his Batbrothers chucks something at him he won’t be able to catch it

More in the sense that he’s too busy puffing up his chest and throwing flirty lines your way while walking with you down the hall that if there’s a bump in the rug he will trip over it and almost land face first into floorboards

Surprisingly romantic and even more surprisingly cheesy about it

Cheesy pickup lines

Flirty all the time

Loves to kiss, like he l o v e s kissing

Tries his best to remember anniversaries but often ends up being a couple days early or a few days late

He’s got your birthday and holidays on lock, though

Very much enjoys a good snuggle

The occasional dirty joke

He loves when you tease, flirt, or be cheesy back to him

Lots of dorky cliche rom-com scenes, for instance bubble fights while washing dishes

Self-aware cheesiness

He’ll say something rom-com gooey and cavity-givingly sweet

Then he’ll smack himself and groan, “Oh my god, look at what you do to me, it’s so grooooosss!”

“... Meant it, though.”

#marveldc-imagines-hub #dc #dc x reader #dc comics #dctv #dceu #dc imagines #dc headcanons #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd headcanons #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood imagines #red hood headcanons #robin x reader #robin imagines #robin headcanons #batman #batman x reader #batman imagines #batman headcanons #batfamily #batbrothers

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Enjoying Footloose With Starlord:

Tip Jar

“Now you gotta cut loose, Footloose! Kick off your Sunday shoes! Please, Louise...!”

“Pretty sure those words are a little off there, bud, but ye-es! Get it, Starlord!” You clapped and cheered, a little too loudly for the small space of the bunker that was Peter’s room, as you watched him dance along with the beginning credits of the original Footloose. Doing so quite well, might you add, despite his otherwise off-key and off-word performance. The two of you were watching Footloose for the umpteenth time--Peter had lost his mind when you told him that you had a DVD copy of it--and only now were you graced with viewing the peak of Peter’s obsession.

As he continued his performance, sweating a little and huffing a lot, Peter made goofy faces that resulted in you giggling. Sometimes he even tried to convince you to dance along, reaching out his arms and shimmying closer; this resulted in you laughing and shaking your head. More often than not, he’d make his own edits to the lyrics. “Ooh-whee, [Y/N]-y, shake it, shake it for me!”

“Guys!” You could hear Nebula yell just barely over the movie’s highest volume and Peter’s pant-broken singing, the yell followed by two pairs of pounding fists. “It’s two in the morning!”

Peter gave you a pointed look, brows raised and face flushed, and you waved him off with a grin. Leaning back slightly to yell over your shoulder, you replied, “We’re in space! Time doesn’t matter floating around in space!”

“[Y/N],” Rocket, the source of the louder pounding of fists located closer to the ground, warned, “I’ll show you what matters when I--”

Just then, the final line of the of the beginning credits rang, and you and Peter both screeched, “I’m turning it loose, Footloose!” Then the two of you collapsed, cackling with your heads bumping together, as Rocket and Nebula’s grumbling faded. 

There were a few moments silence, occasionally broken by Peter’s attempts of quietly puffing, as the movie officially started. The two of you snuggled together in a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, watching the film on a fairly outdated portable DVD player that probably shouldn’t have worked in the worst place.

“You know,” you chirped after a moment, “The premise of this movie really is kind of dorky.”

“Oh, totally,” Peter replied with a nod. “But! It’s still a fantastic movie.”

“Oh, absolutely!” you agreed, nodding once yourself before burrowing farther into the crook between his arm and side.

#marveldc-imagines-hub #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons #Guardians of the Galaxy #guardians of the galaxy x reader #guardians of the galaxy headcanons #guardians of the galaxy imagines #gotg #starlord #peter quill #starlord x reader #starlord headcanons #starlord imagines #peter quill x reader #peter quill imagines #peter quill headcanons #footloose #gotg x reader #gotg imagines #gotg headcanons #songfic

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Imagine Going Trick-or-Treating With Sid and Your Son:

@bitweird1 said: “Maybe one where (The reader isn't one of the "Monsters") It's in the future and Sid is playing around with his and the reader's little kid with his super speed and it's super fluffy and cute?❤”

A/N: This is an old-ish request but it’s spoopy season now, I haven’t written creatively since this semester has started, and the last season of Gotham is officially on Netflix; I haven’t finished it yet, so I don’t know exactly what happens at the end, but “one of Gotham’s darkest times” used to mean the beginning of the blackout but now means the return of Jeremiah after the chemicals accident, so this takes place a few years after the show ends. Also, yes, I turned Gotham into a festive Halloween town; let me have this.

[Y/S/N] = your son’s name

Happy Spoops!

~~~

    “Ah, Halloween,” Sid murmured, a small smile gracing his pale features, “The one time Gotham seems to be at peace. The place must have been made for it.”

    “Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” you replied teasingly, “Halloween was made for Gotham. That stuff about Halloween existing before it was founded? Conspiracy. Gotham was never founded, it just appeared one day in olden times and with it the spirit of Halloween. And the spirit of weirdos in flashy attire who like to rob people.”

    Sid snickered before briefly getting distracted by a large, lit up witch balloon that was posted outside of a high-class suit shop.

Gotham was often considered the city of darkness, of pollution and corruption; on Halloween, however, it was--unknowingly, to the outside world--the city of life and laughter (for once, not the bad or chemically-induced kind). On a regular day, it already looked like someplace out of a gothic Halloween film, with its tall, dark buildings, its year-around fall-like weather, its abundance of gargoyles, and its high population of crazies sporting fashion that fit into the categories of both classy and absurd. When Halloween came around, that aesthetic was cranked up from eleven to thirteen; the gargoyles were polished, string lights of various Halloween icons hung from every awning and window sill, cobwebs were draped across light posts, and it appeared had all crime and evil in the city had stopped--even though even the most clueless person in Gotham was aware that was not so. Regardless, it was a rare time where Oswald Copplepot, the notorious Penguin, would genuinely smile at children--he even kept candy at his clubs for trick-or-treaters--and you were sure that at one point you saw The Riddler, shiny green suit and all, helping a smaller-than-average child sneak more than one candy from a public ‘Grab one!’ candy bowl that was just a little too tall for them. 

    You and Sid were walking hand in hand through the crowded streets of the city, blocked off by the GCPD to allow people to roam without worrying about traffic. The two of you gently glided through a sea of costumed children and adults alike, scurrying like rats to their endless destinations of the night. You yourselves had a mission, and it took the form of a little boy trotting ahead a yard in front of you, in a vampire costume that was much too expensive but absolutely worth it. He was a carbon copy of your partner in features, down to the slightly larger than average ears and a jawline noticeable even through still-present baby fat, with your eyes and jaw-length hair a couple shades lighter than your own, currently slicked back in classic Dracula fashion. He was a few years old, born during one of Gotham’s darkest times but raised well and loved fiercely. Love was a trait well passed on to him, too; it showed in the copy of his father’s impish smile and the gentle kindness when he helped another child, dressed as a fairy, pick up their candy after tripping. 

    Unfortunately, for a speedster, your son was clumsy. He’d started running soon after he’d started walking, which, if Sid wasn’t a speedster himself, would result in far too many random and bizarre injuries for your liking. Still, over the course of raising a meta-child, you’ve gathered a special form of anxiety every time your child tripped or lunged or made any sort of jerky movement; you could never tell whether it was going to be a small knee scrape or you child disappearing and reappearing on the other side of town with a twisted ankle and a bloody nose in a matter of seconds. 

    Now was one of those times.

    Not long after the fairy child had gone on their way and the three of you started walking again, [Y/S/N] himself tripped; apparently, Gotham needed to touch up the cracks and potholes in its roads. When your son got spooked, his instincts, and thus powers, kicked in and this was no exception. One minute he was stumbling ahead in front of you, the next he was gone and no one but you and Sid noticed anything more than a breeze. 

    As the world for [Y/S/N] sped up, your world slowed down; you didn’t have superpowers running through your veins, just the fear of not knowing where your child would end up or if he would be able to stop himself without hurting himself. You were suddenly far too aware of your own spiking heartbeat and the clamminess of your hands, and you were so distracted by the spot where your son had been that you didn’t notice Sid’s hand was no longer in yours.

    Only when you got a text did you notice that not one, but both of your boys had disappeared.

    Sid: He’s alright. Scraped up hands and knees, and missing a shoe, but he’s alright. Ended up in the garbages behind Gotham Bar. Almost scared Bullock to death, but now we have his entire candy stash as reward for ‘one good prank.’

    Then another ping. 

    Sid: Grab his bag, I think it’s time we head home. 

    Relieved but still overwhelmed by parental worry, your hands shook as you picked up [Y/S/N]’s discarded bag of candy and began quickly making your way through the crowd.

    At home--a reasonably sized cabin-style house in the forested country outside of Gotham--you leaned against the bathroom door frame as you watched Sid take care of his and your son. [Y/S/N] sat on the closed toilet seat, wrapped in a hooded towel with his hair damp from the bath he’d finished a few minutes earlier but his fingers sticky from the partially melted candy bar he was currently eating, while Sid knelt in front of him. Having already patched up [Y/S/N]’s hands with brightly colored bandages, and bandages on the bridges of both their noses in speedster solidarity, Sid was working on double-checking [Y/S/N]’s knees for any stubborn flecks of dirt or debri that had refused to be scrubbed away in the bath. Seemingly satisfied, your partner’s concentrated scowl turned into a pleased smile, and he added a couple more bright bandages to your son’s collection. At the same time, [Y/S/N] finished his candy bar and Sid took an extra moment to wipe the excess chocolate from his fingers. 

    “Now,” he said, rising to his feet and smoothing the gathered wrinkles out of his sweater, “if you are capable of standing--”

    [Y/S/N] interrupted by half-jumping and half-falling off the toilet seat and landing in a superhero pose, hands on his hips and chest puffed out. “Heroes are always capable of getting back up after a fight!”

    Sid shot an exasperated look your way, your reply being a snicker, before continuing “--and are willing to walk safely to your room to get dressed, we can put something on the television and eat some of our hard-earned winnings.”

    [Y/S/N] grinned and straightened his towel like a cape before trotting to the doorway where you stood. He briefly stopped, seeming to think about something, before he hugged you and nuzzled his face into your stomach. “Sorry for scaring you.”

    You and Sid shared a soft smile, then you ruffled the boy’s hair. “No problem, kiddo, you’ll get the hang of it soon. Besides, Halloween’s about spooks, isn’t it?”

    [Y/S/N] looked up at you with large eyes that matched your own and grinned again. He detached himself from you--you almost didn’t want to let him go--and you moved to let him pass, watching him as he began trotting down the hall to his room. 

    Then a different pair arms wrapped around your waist from behind, and you leaned back to rest your head on Sid’s shoulder. He nestled his own into your hair.

    “We did a good thing,” he mumbled, and you shivered slightly at the feeling of his warm breath. 

    “We did a great thing,” you replied, a goofy grin appearing on your face. You pointed down the hall, where [Y/S/N] paused to pull another candy from the hood of his towel--when did he hide those there?--before carrying on his way. “That thing? Great. A good thing right there.”

    Sid snorted. “Dork.”

    It was silent for a moment, two parents relishing in each other’s embrace and the idea of watching TV in a warm house with their child rather than running around outside until the late hours of the night. It was a warm and soft and safe little space the three of you inhabited together-- until the sound of your child’s footsteps began speeding up. Then they kept speeding up until you no longer heard them; instead you heard and felt a quick gust of wind, accompanied by a muffled crash--then an also muffled “I’m okay!”--coming from [Y/S/N]’s room at the end of the room. Normally such a sound would be concerning, but [Y/S/N] liked stuffed animals over any other toy and you and Sid had learned early on to make accommodations for your speedster son. While your heart still pounded, you were overall a lot less worried when it came to [Y/S/N] speeding around inside the house. 

    “Well that lasted a whole of a minute,” Sid said with a chuckle, releasing you from his embrace and starting down the hall; you whined at his leaving before smiling and trailing after him.

    “Can’t keep a hero down, I suppose.”

    “Yeah, what is it about that?” Sid questioned. “If he’s a superhero, why did he choose Dracula? Why not Batman or something?”

    “Because Batman is just a fursona, and also doesn’t have super speed,” you answered, then cackled at Sid’s confused look forming over the word ‘fursona.’ “It would have been really cool if he had dressed up as Batman, though, and then Batman saved him before he scared Harvey to death or something. Talk about meeting your heroes.”

    Sid’s confused look deepened, then turned into one of disbelief. “You don’t believe that Batman is real.”

    It was your turn to return the look of disbelief. “Of course he is?”

    “He’s so obviously a myth created by the GCPD to keep criminals in check. And failing miserably, might I add.”

    “Obviously?” You were sure your eyes were bulging out of your head now. “You can be experimented on by a crazy doctor who literally brought people back to life, but Batman’s a myth?”

    “Who would call themselves Batman willingly?”

    “I mean, fair,” you paused, “but Penguin’s a genuine person.”

    “He didn’t call himself that willingly, though” Sid pointed out matter-of-factly. “He embraced the insult and made it his own. Plus, we’ve actually seen the Penguin.”

    “People have seen Batman too!”

    “Rumors and shadows.”

    You floundered for an argument, but the end result was your mouth opening and closing with no words coming out.

    Sid grinned, and you scowled. “You’re joking right now, aren’t you?”

    “No, he’s definitely not real,” Sid chirped, “You’re just cute, believing your ghost stories.”

    “He’s so totally real! And who says ghosts aren’t too?”

    This argument continued until the two of you reached [Y/S/N]’s room, where your son was already back on his feet and changing into a bat onesie. Naturally, he sided with you, and soon the two of you were able to force Sid to accept defeat.

#gotham #gotham imagines #gotham headcanons #gotham x reader #marveldc-imagines-hub #imagines-hub #sid x reader #sid imagines #sid headcanons #gotham sid #gotham monsters #the riddler #the penguin #harvey bullock #ed nygma #oswald copplepot #oswald cobblepot #edward nygma #riddler #penguin

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles Masterlist

Subtitles is a poly!WandaVision x gender-neutral!Reader series that follows the episodes of the Disney+ series, WandaVision.

Subtitles poster (a WandaVision poster edit), Captions header, writing © @marveldc-imagines-hub/@imagines-hub/@bearsandbaubles

Subtitles

Summary: [Y/N] has been living in Westview for a month when a couple that is just as attractive as it is strange moves in across the street. Not long after, strange events begin to occur, and [Y/N] can’t help but be intrigued by the couple in more ways than one. What will happen when [Y/N] falls headfirst into the mysterious world that revolves around the married Maximoffs and maybe even head over heels in love with not only Wanda Maximoff but her husband, Vision? Tune into Subtitles to fine out!

Episode 1, Filmed Before a Live Studio Audience

Episode 2, Don’t Touch That Dial

Episode 3, Now in Color

Episode 4, We Interrupt This Program

Episode 5, On a Very Special Episode...

Episode 6, All-New Halloween Spooktacular!

Episode 7, Breaking the Fourth Wall

Episode 8, Previously On

Episode 9, The Series Finale

Captions

Summary: Captions is a mini-series of stories within the Subtitles universe. This mini-series covers events that are important to the story and Reader’s relationship with the Maximoffs, such as Vision teaching them to play ukulele or their first Valentine’s Day together, but did not fit into the structure of the main story, whose chapters actively follow the show’s events; there will also be a few alternative scenes that ended up not being in the main series but were considered. While still following the general storyline of Subtitles, these short stories are written with a much looser structure and thus can be read on their own.

Ukulele Practice (Setting: Before Episode 2)

Night Watch Meetings and Gum-Drunk (Alternate scene, Episode 2)

The Vision, The Witch, and the Baby Wizard (Setting: After Episode 3)

That One Valentine’s Day Special (Setting: After Episode 4)

The Bonus After-Credits Scene (Series Epilogue)

#wandavision #subtitles #captions #fanfiction #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel imagines #marvel headcanons #mcu x reader #mcu imagines #mcu headcanons #wandavision x reader #wandavision imagines #wandavision headcanons #poly!wandavision #poly wandavision #gender neutral reader #reader insert #scarlet witch #vision #marvel vision #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagines #scarlet witch headcanons #wands maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagines #wanda maximoff headcanons #vision x reader