Summary: When Mr. Terrific comes back to the lab late at night, Guy hot on his heels, you help stitch him up. Small (1.9k) fluff drabble that I wrote up and barely proofread. No Y/N usage. No warnings.
Pairing: Mr. Terrific x f!reader
A/N: Like I said, rough day, so saw Superman again. Came away with this. I'm about to pass out so just wanted it posted instead of it going through the normal 3-day editing process, lol. Hope you enjoy. Will probably write more. Let me know if you have any ideas or requests. I have one in my queue at the moment for Loki that will come out soon, but I will also take Mr. Terrific and Bucky Barnes ideas!!
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You turn the radio off with a free hand when you hear the Gang thundering back into the Hall. Well, when you hear Guy. His voice could grate on your nerves even through the shut lab doors. It’s taking all of you to keep your hand steady as it solders the delicate machinery of the disassembled T-Sphere in front of you.
You were supposed to go home hours ago, but just hadn’t felt the need. You told yourself that you just had a lot of work to do, so it was easier to sleep here, on the pull-out couch your boss designed for you. In reality, the lab felt more comfortable than your dingy apartment ever has been.
From the corner you set up in the back, couch by the bay window overlooking Metropolis, you had everything. Bookshelf filled with any book you want, your own desk and tinkering table, mini-fridge with your iced coffees and that horrible caffeinated-algae glop your boss drank. Hell, he had even fixed up your busted radio from college, adding a module that expanded the frequency pick-up. Now, you can listen to any station in the world, all from the comfortable sterile Terrific Lab.
It all sure lives up the name. In fact, the only bad part is when the Justice Gang’s missions end, and you can tell Guy is on your bosses heels; through the lobby, up the stairs, down the hall, right to-
The door bangs open and you jump, welding pen going flying behind you. You curse under your breath as you look at the drops of metal littering half of your components, and rip off your welding mask to scowl at the intrusion.
Mr. Terrific meets your gaze with an eye-roll as he walks in without ceremony, wiping away a drop of blood from a scratch above his eye. He pulls his gloves off slowly and roughly, throwing them at the hamper by the door without looking. There’s more gashes on his jaw and near the collar of his leather jacket, but he barely seems to notice as he stops just short of his desk chair. He jabs a thumb behind his shoulder at Guy, who looks barely worse for wear.
“Is he still talking?” His voice is perfectly even. That’s how you know he’s pissed.
You’re pissed too. Mr. Terrific doesn’t get scratched up unless something goes wrong. And what’s the probability that it was his fault?
Not very damn high.
He drops in his desk chair, leather creaking, and types out his password with piston presses that almost crack the keyboard. All the while, Guy keeps shouting about whatever, voice echoing around the room. You try to ignore him as you gather the medkit, but it’s hard to tune it all out. Especially when you see blood dripping down on the clean floor from Terrific.
“All I’m saying is that could have gone so much smoother than it did. And for what? Popularity? Are the police here so inept they have to call in the Justice Gang-”
“We’re not the Justice Gang.” Terrific says as you pull your chair up next to him, opening up the medkit with a sterile hiss. The smell of antiseptic fills the room as you snap your medical gloves on.
“We are, but that’s not up for discussion. What is up for discussion, is why we just spent hours hunting down some shithead petty thieves that the cops could have found with a magnifying glass!” Guy cries out, pacing by the door and gripping his head between his clean palms.
“Look over here.” You murmur under your breath, Terrific glancing to you, with your hands clean and workspace ready. You’re not going to leave him alone either.
He sighs, closing his eyes once before turning and facing you, leaning back in his chair. He looks tired. You don’t blame him. Guy wasn’t wrong on how long the mission took. They had said it would be a short mission, mainly just for the 6 o’clock news, but it was easily 4:00 a.m. by the time they came back in. Hawkgirl didn’t even sound like she came in the building. You’re almost jealous of her.
“We should be better than them. Be able to find them before they even get their grubby hands on the jewels-” Guy starts up again, and you’re not sure whether the wince on Terrific’s face comes from the alcohol wiping his neck wound clean, or Guy’s grating voice.
“They stole cash.” He mutters, mainly just to you, and you smirk a little as you gently peel off his disintegrating mask and setting it back in the nanite pool on his desk.
The T dissolves on contact, assimilating into the mass, ready to reform at a moment’s notice. For now, you just see Terrific’s face, brushed over with his own blood and a bruise forming at his temple. As you press the antiseptic pad to the gash above his brow, he winches fully this time, hand clenching on his knee.
“Sorry.” You murmur, cleaning it quickly.
He hums a note, fingers brushing your elbow, telling you to slow down without a word. It’s an easy directive to follow.
It was easy to tune out Guy when you were this close. But he always finds a way to be known.
“Y’know, I thought you were a lab assistant, not a nurse.” Guy barks, arms crossed as he stands in front of the door like a brick wall. You shrug a shoulder, cutting a nanothread bandage to match the cut.
“I don’t see you cleaning him up.” You glare at the man, who glares back.
“He’s a god-damn super genius. I don’t think he needs someone patching him up.”
“And you don’t need to talk as loudly as you do, and yet...”
Terrific huffs, shoulders settling slightly in his chair as you carefully bandage him. Guy scowls, directing his ire at Terrific’s rod-straight back.
“Funny. She’s funny. You hire her after seeing her one-woman show? Love it. There should be a sign on the door; Smart-Ass Comedy Club.”
“Think I could charge entry?” Terrific muses, and you nod.
“I’ll take a 50/50 cut.” You smile, and he nods back slowly, rubbing his chin.
“Hmm. Maybe. I’ll think on it.”
Guy groans, rubbing his face quickly with two hands as he starts pacing the room again.
“For two people who aren’t dating, y’all are the most annoying couple I have ever met.” He says through gritted teeth.
“For someone with a chronic concussion, you sure do talk a lot.” You say, flicking your eyes to meet his as he looks over his shoulder to glare at you again.
“I’m just saying. You’re always in here, waiting to patch him up, or organizing his files, or tinkering with his shit.” He nods to the dismantled T-Sphere on your workbench. Terrific glances at it and lifts a brow at you, and you grimace.
“I was trying to expand the sensor range. I ruined a few of the components when he barged in.” You jerk your head towards Guy, and Terrific sighs.
“I’ll get some more.” He mutters, glancing over at the Sphere again. “You really disassembled that yourself?”
The question makes your heart flutter. All you can do is nod to avoid looking him in the eye when he glances back at you. He hums a little, under his breath, as if to just himself.
“Hello?! She’s messing with your damn orbs! This is not casual behaviour!” Guy almost shouts, and Terrific turns away from you to look at him. He jerks his head to the door.
“Get out, Guy.” His words are even and low, if clipped at the ends.
“What? No. We have to go over the mission.”
“Go yell at Hawk.”
“No. She’ll yell at me.” Guy crosses his arms again, and Terrific turns his chair fully towards him. He backs up a step, back against the door.
“I will make you wish she was yelling at your sorry ass.”
The air stills, both men staring at each other as if the other will disappear if they waited long enough. Guy grows impatient, setting his jaw and hissing at you through gritted teeth.
“You’re just in denial. Both of you. With your little game of shay raids-”
“Charades.” You pipe up from the back, and Guy scowls.
“Whatever! What-fucking-ever! Y’all are made for each other anyway.” Guy storms out of the room, slamming the door after him. Terrific sighs, turning back towards you.
“Are we done here? I have to see how bad you massacred my sphere.” He mutters, and you roll your eyes.
“I didn’t destroy it. Just... burned a few parts.” You shrug, steady hands moving as you slip into the familiar rhythm of wiping and bandaging the scrapes and bruises that refuse to stay hidden. “All done. Next time, try to use the spheres, not your face, mkay?”
You peel off your gloves, the sterile snap loud in the quiet lab. He’s already turning back to his screen, diving headfirst into whatever research obsession he’s wrapped up in. The medkit cleans up fast, but you hesitate, caught between routine and something softer pulling at your chest.
It’s late. Too late, really. But it wouldn’t feel right to leave now. Not without that familiar presence, that quiet habit you’ve claimed as your own. His missions and Guy’s endless complaints wear on him, but you know the weight doesn’t stop there.
You’re tired too.
His injuries barely cut deep, but they tug at something fragile inside you; a sudden fear of how mortal he is. How even heroes can bleed. How this lab, his sanctuary, can feel so hollow without him.
The fleeting glances. The whispered words, half-heard over microscopes. The casual brushes of shoulders as he fiddles with chips smaller than a fingernail. These moments stitch themselves into your days, the quiet pulse you look forward to.
A man you’re happy to see. Every day.
“Michael?” Your voice is soft.
“Yes.”
“Can we play some chess? If you’re too tired, it’s okay.” You offer the chance, breathless, as if daring him to say no.
His shoulders drop, a small smile touching his lips—the barest flicker, but for your heart, it shines like a beacon. You smile back, warm and wide. For a heartbeat, you swear he leans in, closing the space between you, filling it with the clean scent of soap and shea.
There’s something about these quiet hours. When his voice lowers, when the hum of the lab feels like a heartbeat, and you work in sync, like your thoughts are the same.
You never say the words out loud, but sometimes you think them.
You want more.
More of this.
More of him.
Not just his brilliance, his trust, or his permission to stay.
Just… him.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs, voice rough but steady.
You lean in, arms wrapping under his, pulling his chest just a moment closer before you pull away, rushing to the chessboard like a kid with a secret.
From across the room, he watches you, the tension Guy left behind slipping away like smoke. His shoulders ease, fingers rubbing the armrest with quiet thoughtfulness.
It’s easier for Michael to breathe when you’re near.
Easier to think.
Easier to feel.
Though he’d never admit it.
Not quite yet.
But every time you catch him looking at you, pen poised and eyes bright, it almost slips out of his mouth.
For now, his heart will have to keep its own steady rhythm. Though, not a day goes by that he doesn’t want to hear yours.
forethoughts: apologies for my long hiatus; writer's block has been draining me mentally. anyways, i started playing honkai star rail :D. no spoilers for penacony pls i wanna see this through 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻
notes: fem!reader, reader working for arlecchino, arlecchino being sweet? idk
Your head throbbed as consciousness came back to you. Unlike the hard mattress you normally slept on and the nonexistent pillows, your head was supported by several, a large puffy blanket covering your body. You were even in different clothes than you remembered yourself to be in; a pair of silk pajamas buttoned up instead of the large worn out oversized shirt. The change of scenery instantly made all fatigue and drowsiness disappear, as you shot up, head spinning around, grasping at the scenery around you. You were inside a well furnished room, the windows on the side of the bed open, the Fontainian breeze entering your room. All your stuff from your flat above the shop was on the nearby desk. Your heart pounded heavily inside your chest, as you planted the balls of your feet on the soft surface underneath you, allowing yourself to explore your surroundings to a better degree. Somewhere far, you could hear the sound of children, their cheerful laughter reaching up to the room you were in.
The doorknob twisted, stealing your attention as every nerve in your body went on high alert, your muscles tightening. The door opened, revealing a familiar figure, the sound of her heels muffled by the carpet as the woman walked towards you, those crimson eyes boring into your skull.
“Ah. Y/N. You’re awake. Perfect.” The Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers stated with a monotone voice, her hand moving towards your face. A rush of heat shot to your cheeks as the Knave ran her darkened thumb over your lips, feeling the cracks and grooves of your chapped lips. You swore you saw her own thin lips purse ever so slightly at the touch, displeased by your physical condition.
“W-Where am I?” You forced yourself to sputter out, in hopes of destroying the suffocating atmosphere around the two of you.
“Inside the House of Hearth. Since our last meeting, I took it upon myself to ensure you were properly settled into your job. All your belongings are on the desk.” Arlecchino said ever so matter-of-factly, as if she wasn’t fazed at all by the idea of breaking into your place while you were sleeping to move you into new territories without ever asking you if that was okay.
“If… that's alright with you. I understand for a normal human a sudden change like this is… daunting. However, this is to ensure the discreteness of the House’s location.” Arlecchino added, after noticing the shock and horror in your eyes.
You forced yourself to calm down, bottling up all your emotions now for a breakdown later as you faced the Harbinger. “I-It’s okay. I understand.”
“Excellent. I shall let you get dressed and ready for the day before giving you a tour of the House.” Arlecchino’s hand lingered on your cheek for a beat longer, her crimson eyes gazing into your dark pools. She removed her hand and departed before you could speak up, and thankfully you didn’t have to.
Accepting your fate, you changed into the clothes inside the closet, as another sense of uneasiness bubbling in your stomach at how the clothes perfectly fit your body. You brushed your teeth and washed your face, reminding you that this was the reality you were in. Not some fantasy or dream world. Stepping outside your bedroom, you found the Knave standing idly by the door, those red crosses instantly landing on your figure the moment you opened the door.
“You look wonderful in that.” Arlecchino mused, her lips curled upwards slightly as she beckoned for you to follow her. Looking back once to ensure you were behind her and not trying to escape, Arlecchino began her tour. You stayed by her side, listening to her explain the schematics of the House of Hearth and the history, though never delving into great details. She led you through the different halls and floors, until the two of you passed by the dining hall.
“Are you hungry?” The Harbinger asked, no sign of malice in her voice as she looked at you.
“U-Uh..” Before you could think of a convoluted lie so the tour could move on and end sooner, your stomach answered for you.
Your stomach churned as you heard the Knave let out a chuckle, your heart thudding at the sound as Arlecchino smiled at you. “I suppose you are. Come. Allow me to fetch you some breakfast.”
No. Why were you feeling this? This feeling of… longing. Longing to hear that chuckle again. Longing to see those lips curl upwards and those eyes bore into yours, a hypnotizing gaze that told you everything would be alright. No. This was the Knave. Arlecchino was a Fatui Harbinger. She killed people. The blood on her hands was far greater than you’d ever known.
But yet a part of you couldn’t help but keep thinking about Arlecchino possibly seeing you only in your undergarments and carrying you and tucking you in, a sense of joy and glee filling your heart.
“What would you like?” Arlecchino brought you over to the breakfast bar, waving and greeting the children that occupied the hall.
“Do you have pancakes?”
“Pan..cakes?” Arlecchino looked at you, confusion written all over her face.
“I-I like pancakes.” You mumbled under your breath when you realized she didn’t have a clue about what you were talking about.
Arlecchino instantly shook her head, her gaze softening as she granted you a small smile, immediately making you feel better. “I will ensure that the kitchen will make these.. pancakes of yours for you. How about some fruit and yogurt as a substitute for today?”
“Sure.”
“So, that concludes the tour.” Arlecchino cleared her throat, rummaging through the files on the cabinet behind her desk as she grabbed a piece of paper, placing it on the table in front of you. “Your employee contract. Sign it, and you will become a teacher at the House of Hearth.” Arlecchino listed several things that came along, as you sat on the plush chair reserved for the children that visited her offices. Every once in a while, she’d glance over at you, watching you eat your bowl of yogurt and fruits, your eyes following her figure pacing around.
“Any questions?” Arlecchino turned her head towards you. Her gaze softened ever so slightly when she saw you with your knees to your chest, holding the empty bowl with both hands as you looked at her with those innocent round eyes, a smudge of yogurt on the corners of your lips.
“No.” You responded, shaking your head, setting the bowl aside.
“Well then.” Arlecchino placed a pen next to the contract.
Arlecchino watched you take a deep breath, picking up the pen and rereading the contents on the paper. She knew her methods of getting you here wasn’t the best, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel bad for taking you in your sleep and bringing you to the House without asking you. But then again, she stared at the paper, waiting for the pen to move, nails digging into her arm. Ever since that day at the flower shop, Arlecchino could not stop thinking about you. She wanted to have you close. Wanted to always see that innocent look on your face, oblivious to the world of danger she lived in.
A sigh of relief nearly escaped Arlecchino’s throat as the pen moved across the surface, your signature on the line. She stifled it with a cough, taking the contract and gazed at the signature, as if trying to burn it into her brain. “Excellent. Take the rest of the day to adjust and get used to the surroundings. Is there… anything I can do for you?”
Arlecchino hoped you were going to say yes.
“...You don’t know what pancakes are?” You tilted your head.
Arlecchino blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
“You work at an orphanage. With children. B-But you don’t know what pancakes are. Kids like pancakes. Pancakes are good”
“Are you insinuating that you are a child, then, Y/N?”
Your cheeks flushed, realizing the error in your sentence. Arlecchino let out a low chuckle, reaching her hand out to wipe away the stain around your mouth. “How about you show me… what this pancake is? So the children could enjoy something new, and you would be happily fed.”
so I’ve got a list of people I’ve decided to write for some I might struggle with but I’ll sort it as I go along. So now accepting requests for (and anyone else in smosh i possibly will consider)
DAMIEN HAAS
SPENCER AGNEW
ALEX TRAN
TREVOR EVARTS
(and more as we go on possibly some of the girls (Angela or arasha))
