Request: Could you maybe do (if you have the time) one where hank and reader go on a mission and have to pretend to be a couple? Or maybe where they’re undercover and they’re about to get caught so hank quickly pins reader to a wall and kisses them so they don’t look suspicious?
A/N: I chose option two of this epic request :) where Hank kisses the reader in order to blend in. For inspiration for this piece I pulled from the CAWS scene where Steve and Natasha kiss in the mall.
“Hank slow down.” You tugged his hand so his pace matched your casual stroll. “We need to just blend, not looking like we are storming our way through the super market on a man hunt.”
“Uh.” Hank fixed his glasses, “but we kind of are.”
“No,” you corrected him, “Charles simply said keep tabs on the mutant from afar, just so we can see who he is.”
“Couldn’t Charles of done this.” He titled his head towards you, his mouth drawn into a line. You shook your head again.
“This kid, whoever he is, has the ability to block Charles telepathy, something we could use on our team when dealing with other mutants who can get inside our heads.” Hank nodded but didn’t look convinced. You squeezed his hand you realized you were still holding before dropping it and turing to glance through the shelves into the next aisle. You could just make out the shaggy head of hair that belong to your target.
He was young, probably not much older than fourteen, but was extremely aware of his surroundings, constantly checking over his shoulder, his eyes shifting away from the products he was picking up, making sure he wasn’t being watched. He must know what’s out there. Either that or he was waiting for someone, you couldn’t exactly tell. You felt a chill run up your spine, most likely he was just a kid who’d been through a lot, but still…
“(Y/N) you’re doing it again.” Hank said, interrupting your thoughts. You followed his gaze to your hand and realized it was gone. Your sweatshirt sleeve was floating there vacant of your arm.
“Shit,” you mumbled as the image of your fingers slowly returned, reappearing. That was your mutation, you had the ability to vanish, in other words, you could turn invisible. Normally you kept it in check, but when ever you felt threatened your mutation worked on its own acting to protect you from possible danger, so you had to focus to keep it at bay. Hank knew this, he knew it was subconsciously triggered by your nerves.
“Hey,” he reached for your hand lacing his fingers through yours. “It’s going to be okay, last time a checked we can handle a fourteen year old.” He laughed with a small smile. You felt your self relax right away. He knew how to keep you calm and would always reach for your hand when the other mutants couldn’t see during stressful missions and trace circles over your palm with his thumb knowing it helped. “Maybe we should try talking to him, we’ve been standing in this aisle for a long time-shit.” Hank suddenly said.
And then, he did a very un-Hank like thing. Normally he was hesitant to do anything to bold, but at that moment in the middle of aisle three, Hank wrapped one hand around your waist and cupped your check in the other, and leaned in for a kiss, but not just a peck on the lips, a real kiss. His mouth moved against yours and he stepped towards you, pulling you closer into him, his grip tightening around you, he did have superhuman strength. After a second of hesitation you melted into him, kissing back. When Hank finally broke away you still didn’t really know what just happened.
“Wha-” You smoothed your shirt, trying to sound less flustered, but you were.
“I-the kid, um he was walking and down this aisle-well, I didn’t know if he could read minds and so-well I thought the kiss would distract us from thinking about finding him…so he wouldn’t k-know what we were doing.” He adjusted his glasses again, his cheeks a warm color. You bit your lip, but were unable to hide your grin. He clearly was flustered too.
“Well,” you finally spoke, “I don’t know what we’re gonna report back to the professor.” You could still feel a small smile on your face.
“A mission gone very well.” Hank lifted his gaze from the floor, a small knowing smile on his lips, and raised his eyebrows at you. You covered your laugh with your hand and punched him lightly on the shoulder. You could still feel the butterflies in your stomach.
The door to the
apartment swings open with a shove of his foot. Jonathan stomps inside,
his burlap costume drenched from the storm. His expression is buried in
shadows thanks to his tattered old hat, now more so due to the rain
making it curl over his mask. Muttering something under his breath; he
gently pulls away the hat, and mask from his face.
takes apart his costume, a croaked caw erupts from his hat. Inside
lays a raven, injured from the night’s fearful festivities. His
name was Nightmare, he was Jonathan’s trusted companion for years. His
first corvid accomplice, and his most treasured friend, Nightmare had
been around the longest of all. He was the only raven in Jonathan’s
flock of trained corvids. It’s an understatement to say he was
protective of the boy; and while he wouldn’t admit it, Jonathan loved
this bird in particular.
Slowly, he pulled his feathered companion
away from his temporary shelter and onto a nearby desk. It was at this
time that his Mistress walks into the scene. When she saw the corvids
broken wings and bloody feathers, her expression fell flat.
Nightmare was an old
raven, he shouldn’t have gone out nearly as often as Jonathan insisted.
He was attached to his companion; and despite his past with birds, this
raven was his protector and good luck charm. After all, Nightmare is the
only bird to
ever break the Joker’s nose, that’s a real accomplishment.
examining the corvid, Jonathan gently prodded and pulled apart blood
soaked feathers with a pear of forceps. The bird continued to wine and
cry upon his touches. Staying beside him as he worked, Shannon gently
cooed back at Nightmare and stroked under his chin in an effort to
soothe the creature.
“It’ll be alright Nightmare. Papa Scarecrow will take good care of you”
cringed, knowing that he was about to put his boy though a lot of pain.
Glancing up at his Mistress in silence; his eyes flicked that of gold,
and he mouthed a word in silence. Nodding knowingly, she pulled out a
sterile syringe from a drawer, and walked into another room to create a
The walls in the apartment were thin, they did
little to hide the tortured cries of Nightmare as Scarecrow preformed
surgery. The low squawking gasps almost made her cringe and lose
concentration, but she had to finish her work.
her formula was complete, Shannon took it back to Scarecrow. Looking
over his shoulder, she noticed his detached expression. Jonathan
couldn’t handle the situation, the idea of losing his friend.
handed it over, and he quickly snatched away the syringe; unlike Fear
Toxin this new formula didn’t glow, It was more pale in tone. Scarecrow
jabbed it into the thick feather coat of his friend and refused to look
away as Nightmare cawed in pain. Soon his fussy noises soothed
themselves as the pain killers took effect, his head crooking back and
forth between Scarecrow and his Mistress.
His beak opened and closed slowly, eyes blinking to asses the situation.
For this raven, these would be the last images he would know. Nightmare
lay wrapped in an old towel, held by his owner and most trusted friend,
Jonathan Crane. No longer held back by the Scarecrow’s fearsome glare;
Jonathan wanted to share these final moments with his Mistress. Laying
beside him, she stroked Nightmare’s chin just as she did a mere half
hour before. His Mistress had also bonded with the corvids he brought
home, finding their curious nature charming.
The two of the
set with Nightmare during his last hours, exchanging stories and memories.
Jonathan retold of the time he faced off against Joker. and Nightmare,
still bathed in cake batter from one of Joker’s tricks somehow managed
to break his nose! That night was full of smiles and laughter from the
both of them. For a moment, they almost forgot.
Even Nightmare managed to cough out their names a few times.
the sun peaks through the dusty curtains of the apartment; his Mistress
asleep on his shoulder, Jonathan stared down at his feathered
companion curled up into the blanket. Despite his name, His last moments
were devoid of fear. He deserved as much.
Author Note: I know this isn’t what you wanted, but I’m not really in the mood to write some angsty death scene. Don’t worry, I’ll write that kinda stuff in the future. I just really felt like writing about Jonathan’s birds. There isn’t enough headcannons about how he treats them, especially when he’s named at least two in the comics. (Nightmare and Craw)
Send 💕 and I’ll generate a number 1-48 for what kind of date my muse will take yours on
Quinn smiled at Vi as they arrived at the beach, their hands locked as the two looked out at the sand and shore before them. Quinn wasn’t the most confident about her body, but if Vi was also wearing a swimsuit it made her a lot more comfortable to be in one too. Valor cawed happily, chasing seagulls around in the warm summer air. “So, did I pick good?”
Let’s face it, Genos would be so head-over-heels for Saitama
that the idea of him NOT adoring every single part of his body is just absurd.
I mean, just consider:
>>>Saitama’s hands. They’re small, delicate hands,
with slender fingers and
unmarred skin that doesn’t betray how many monsters he’s
punched into oblivion. Genos catches them in his own to marvel at them, their
unassuming power, and brings each one to his mouth to press a kiss to the lonely
pulse fluttering at the wrist.
>>>Genos studying Saitama’s eyes; he’s never
encountered anyone with ones that are such a compelling dark brown, and the
occasional steely glint in them makes it almost impossible for him to breathe.
Not that he even really has to. He finds himself staring into them whatever
chance he gets, and he waits patiently for the fire to return to them.
>>>Genos straddling the small of Saitama’s back,
tracing the ropes of muscle. He follows the trapezius down to the spine and
then the latissimus out to the sides, exulting in how each one shudders at the
contact, how Saitama’s breath catches from one ridge of muscle to the next. There’s
a soft quality to the moment, blurred at the edges with drowsiness and love,
and when Saitama sighs it’s as though he’s released every negative thought from
>>>Genos mouthing at Saitama’s collarbones, the
junction of neck and shoulder, in that sleepy, early-morning cuddle sort of
way, while Saitama halfheartedly tries to get up before relenting.
Genos just loves all of Saitama so much, and it can get a
little overwhelming at times, but Saitama wouldn’t have it any other way.
These never really work out for me but it won’t hurt to try at all!
I’m looking for more people to follow and new friends/mutuals on here, so like/reblog/message me if you post or reblog any of the following!
✨ Ava’s Demon
✨ Danganronpa (ANY AND ALL GAMES/ANIMES, ANOTHER EPISODE ESPECIALLY)
✨ Gravity Falls
✨ Miraculous Ladybug
✨ Sailor Moon
✨ Any other cartoon too!
✨ Marina and The Diamonds
✨ Melanie Martinez
✨ 5SOS (music-ish related?)
✨ As long as your friendly too?
✨ Or post art and stories or anything like that!
And six months later, I’ve at long last finished all the venues I need for my writer’s retreat world. :D I never expected it to take this much time, but now that I’ve decorated and play tested every community lot on Serendipity’s Main Street I finally feel happy enough with my progress to show you guys some pictures. I think I’m going to do a small photo tour sort of deal over the next couple of weeks, queuing up screenshots of one build per day. However, some of the bigger lots will likely involve more than one post, while some of the smaller rabbit holes will consist of just one or two images. Anyway, if you don’t want to see, I plan on tagging it all as “Moonlight Falls” and “Serendipity”. And, as always, if it gets obnoxious and you would like me to add another, more specific tag for easier blocking please let me know and I will gladly do so. :)
Guess who just finished The Song of Achilles and managed to eke out enough motivation to finish this ridiculously dramatic illustration, which, to be completely fair, I was working on on and off even before I’d started reading TSoA, and was influenced by a variety of other influences such as a giant Klimt art book snagged from the library and the Bucky Barnes/St. Sebastian parallels outlined in @spitandvinegar‘s beautiful fic “Ain’t No Grave (Can Hold My Body Down.)”
Anyway slowly trying to make more and more complex stuff in this style! Color is always kind of a mystery to me but hoping I could make it work in this case without relying too much on fancy lines, although as you can see above I just couldn’t help myself with a thin gold outline, hehe. Hope you all enjoy :D