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missskzbiased · 3 years

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The Things We Don’t Tell

Summary: You were sure your life was written and directed to fit a sketchy Rom-Com and nobody could convince you otherwise. First, your boss was too hot to be true, and burning with desire didn’t even begin to explain the tingling sensations he left on you. Second, your coworker (a.k.a. Ex-About-to-be-FWB) insisted in turning your life into a living hell, which wasn’t the exact kind of hotness you were into. And if having these two hot men around you every single day of your life wasn’t enough to prove it, maybe the threat of your slutty secret identity about to be busted would be… But you couldn’t let this happen.

WC: 7,5 K

Genre: Smut, Humor (?)

AUs: Office, Enemies to Lovers

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin X Fem!Reader X Bang Chan

(Not really a love triangle as Hyunjin is the Lead. However, Reader wants to Bang Chan)

Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List

Warnings: Language, Thigh riding, Public space (Office), Exhibitionism, Possessiveness, Pet Name (Baby girl), Sir Kink

[If I forgot anything, please let me know! I’m kinda sleepy right now]

Notes: There will be at least one more chapter but I won’t do a tag list post for now, only if someone wants it, cuz I’m too lazy to think about doing it right now. This fic is an attempt to experiment with some writing style things that I’ve been wanting to try. I don’t think it worked, tho SUHAHUSAUHSUHA But that’s life

- I’ll quite possibly change the title in the future-

///

You are a superhero.

Okay! To be honest, you may be exaggerating a little bit ─ a tiny harmless little bit ─ but that was how you felt every single day of your life, alright? You had this glorious and mysterious side of yours that you hid from everyone else in the world… That mask that you couldn’t let come to the ground and would fight for dear life to protect… That side to your persona that no one was allowed to meet… The fierce, bold, and dark aspects of your soul that—

“Y/N! I want those papers on my table!”

“Yes, sir!” You shrieked in an embarrassing (not even slightly bold) way.

— That you couldn’t show at your work.

Yeah… So maybe no one actually thought of you as a superhero, but you really believed someone should start to. Was there something that different between your life and those low-budget TV shows people seem to enjoy so much? You didn’t think so.

To be fair, sometimes you felt like someone wrote a questionable script and poorly directed your life to fit you as the leading lady of a sketchy rom-com. As if they just focused on checking out every point on a bullet list made up with rules for a successful superhero office drama that wasn’t even that good…

… And speaking of which…

Rule Number One: The stern (maybe kinda attractive) boss!

If you had to define Bang Chan with a couple of adjectives, you would choose undeniably beautiful ─ extremely professional of you because the right words to describe him were fucking hot ─ and committed. Fortunately, it wasn’t an “I have someone waiting for me at home and a bunch of kids I must put to sleep” kind of commitment, which would destroy your hopes of having this man one day. Unfortunately, it was an “I’m better than the header and gonna run this company by tomorrow night” kind of commitment, which destroys your hopes of a peaceful day at work.

Now, it’s not like you don’t want to do your job! It’s just that you didn’t sign up to be Bang Chan’s perfect little toy ─ definitely not the better words to describe it ─ and you didn’t expect to be joined by the hips ─ really? ─ with him or any of your coworkers. The thing is that Bang Chan wants to be on top ─ someone has to stop you ─ and he believes the only way to get there is to work as a team and be as perfect as one can be. In other words, Bang Chan wants absolutely everything and everyone to be neat, tight, and ready to be used ─ again… Not the better way to put your thoughts into words ─, but this just wasn’t who you were.

It also wasn’t the point right now.

The point right now should be the fact that Bang Chan was striding to his office looking like he owned the whole damn place… If this was a movie, the camera would be focusing on his expensive, black leather shoes before scanning all the way up to his waist in slow motion. The scene would zoom in on his fine ass only to go a little bit up and catch the shiny, black belt wrapping around his figure. The outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination, but you had a hell of a productive mind… You could think of a few things you shouldn’t really be thinking about right now.

Bang Chan didn’t seem to understand he was at work either.

He rolled his sleeve up in a sexy motion that should be illegal. It isn’t. You can tell by the way there are no cops bursting inside the building and arresting this gorgeous son of a bitch.

The lack of any authorities to stop this atrocious moment had you lowering your gaze to your desk ─ a vain attempt to ignore the way his forearms flexed as he gestured and ordered people around. If you were a little bit less professional, you would have some ideas of how he could do it in bed. With you. But you weren’t some kind of creepy perv who would be fantasizing about riding your own boss from dusk till dawn.

Not at all.

“Do you need me, Sir?” His secretary asks politely.

A question that you would love to ask him too… In a totally and strictly professional way, of course.

Rule Number Two: The (extremely unnecessary) nemesis!

The shiver running down your spine could mean only one thing: Hwang Hyunjin ─ your obnoxious coworker ─ was standing right behind you, just like a bloody damn ghost. There was no need to turn around. You knew he had his mocking eyes glued on Bang Chan’s figure, and you could feel the air shifting as he tilted his head in a silent sneer before leaning on your desk.

You refused to turn around and acknowledge his presence; painfully aware that he would flash a wide grin while looking at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. You wouldn’t give him the taste of seeing in your face that he was right; that you were staring at your boss as if you were a starving vulture. So you did the only thing you could do in this situation: You started to work. The sheets scattered over your desk wouldn’t walk by themselves to Bang Chan’s room, right?

And neither would you if it depended on Hyunjin.

The attempts to swipe the papers in your direction and gather everything you needed ─ to finally get rid of Hyunjin ─ proved to be vain as his hand took root on the desk. You pursed your lips in annoyance while glancing at his prominent knuckles and slender fingers; wondering if he would be so collected if he knew you wanted to crunch them. Probably not. But he gets off so fucking much on upsetting you that he might just want to take the risk anyway.

“What do you want, asshole?” You hissed; stopping your motions before turning around to stare blankly at him.

The face of an angel was the most accurate way to describe the sight in front of you. Plump, pink lips molded into a sweet smile and dark brown eyes morphed into cute crescents. None of those features fit his true self, though. Underneath the angelic façade, there was a demon called Hwang Hyunjin ─ who was resting his free hand on your shoulder for no reason besides driving you crazy.

It would be easier if he was just a pretty face, but Hyunjin had a good body too. The guy looked just like a model ─ slim, tall, and classy ─, and even though only his collarbones peeked out from down his shirt, you knew that there was much more than the eyes could see.

Well, you never saw it, but you had felt it.

As far as you could remember, each curve on Hyunjin’s abs was craft by God himself. The way his chest was built for you to caress would be forever craved on your mind. You might never forget how soft his lips were in contrast to his lap… How his thighs flexed just right when you pulled his hair… How reactive he was… How his moans sounded… And how he put everything to waste.

“Oh, nothing” He shrugged. As usual, his voice was just like sweet, hot honey; still, you could wipe the poison dripping down his chin, “I was just wondering if you had enough time to do your job while fucking your boss inside your head” He clarified sarcastically, cracking you a smile.

Sometimes you regretted not putting his mouth to good use… He really needed to learn how to shut up for a while and stop being so… Unbearable. The silence he met had him scoffing; body leaning even closer to the point his face was practically hovering over yours ─ smugness plastered all over it. You held his gaze to confront him; breathe mingling with his in a heated mix that matched the anger under your eyes.

Was he licking his lips as he stared at yours? Oh boy… He definitely wanted to get laid. It was your time to scoff as the frown on your lips turned into a smirk; eyes twinkling mischievously as you looked into his in a silent teasing. As if sensing that he was in trouble, Hyunjin tilted his head to look even more obnoxious than he was; face coming closer to yours to defy your newfound confidence.

“You know what? If you stared at him any longer, I think his balls might have fallen off…” He whispered in a tone loud enough for just you to hear “Unless he saw the way you were looking at him… Then I guess his dick would go straight up” He assured you with a ‘friendly’ pat on your shoulder as he finally let go of your papers and straightened his back.

“Are you saying it from experience?” You sneered; grimacing at him.

“Are you telling me that you want me to fuck you too?” He retorted gibingly; not even thinking twice about it.

“No” You tilted your head, trying to stay composed, “I’m reminding you that you couldn’t even kiss me without getting a boner… Just like a teenage boy” He arched a brow at your statement; pursing his lips as he hummed in wonder “I’m surprised you never came in your pants like the pathetic thing you are” He laughed; poking his cheek with his tongue before squeezing your shoulder in a silent warning.

“I must have been quite a sight if you can remember it so vividly” You pretended not to notice the way he sniggered, pushing away the urge to punch his face.

Nemesis was just a classy way to call him a pain in the ass.

Rule Number Three: The (plain and uninteresting) secret identity!

It would be impossible to miss the moment Hyunjin’s devilish smirk morphed into a bright, friendly smile. The snarky comment on the tip of your tongue was swallowed back in a bit; grimace dissolving into a wide grin as if you weren’t about to throw your fists at him. He giggled as his arms spread open before snaking around your body to pull you into a tight hug; holding you close and rocking your body side to side as a soft huff fell from your lips.

If you didn’t know any better, your knee would be buried between his legs.

“Way to go, Y/N!” He chirped, loosening his grip to take a better look at your face; eyes smiling as if the both of you were the bestest of friends in the entire world, “You’re awesome! I’m so proud… I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you as my teammate” He pursed his lips; dimples showing as he offered you nothing but affection in his gaze.

You did know better, though, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out who was standing behind your back as you opened your mouth to answer him: “There’s no one I’d rather be with!” You reassured Hyunjin in a sweet, mirthful tone; tilting your head to return the fondness in his look in an act worthy of an Oscar “We’re a team, you know? You can’t get rid of me so easily” He laughed wholeheartedly at that; ruffling your hair before leaning closer to you again, resuming the hug.

“We’ll see about that” He whispered in your ear, making you scoff.

“What are you gonna do? Cry to Daddy so you won’t work with me anymore?” You hissed back; breaking away from his hug with a tight grin before turning around to meet Chan’s gaze.

The surprise plastered over your face was millimetrically calculated; just like the way you pretended to be flustered as you stared into your boss’ eyes to see the pride shining on them. You brought the papers closer to your chest in what was meant to be an innocent, coy way ─ a technique mastered over the months you worked for him ─, and Chan seemed to fall for it as he giggled in delight. The poor guy had no clue all of this was as fake as your camaraderie towards Hyunjin, and he wasn’t about to discover it anytime soon if it depended on you.

Luckily, it did! You had taken some acting classes; just enough for your next words to be naturally convincing: “I’m so sorry, Sir! We’re just so happy that –” The words were deliberately drawled to give him enough time to interrupt you. Just like you knew he would. And it was a good thing that he did because you had no idea of how you were supposed to finish that sentence anyway.

You were a good actress, not a professional improviser.

“Don’t mention it” He cut you off giggly; detaching himself from the doorframe he leaned on as he watched the friendly scene taking place.

The amount of cuteness this man could deliver in his smile wasn’t fair, and it didn’t match the sensuality a simple gesture of his overflowed with, enchanting you. You gulped down as he gave both of you a silent order to follow him into his room, wondering if the duality he had in the office was remotely similar to what he could do in bed ─ a thought that shouldn’t be having a place in your mind right now.

Hyunjin seemed to pick up on it pretty quickly too, and as soon as Chan turned around to head to his office, he bumped his shoulder onto yours. The obnoxious action was followed by your elbow diving into his ribs; a retaliation that took you less than a second and, luckily, Chan ─ or any of your coworkers ─ didn’t seem to notice. Neither of you gave away your silent quarrel as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, smiling at you when Chan finally took his seat.

“It’s good to see that you guys have such chemistry” He confessed, and you had to suppress a scoff when you looked into his eyes. He had no idea… The chemistry between you two was enough to make you want to blow each other, “You know what I always say, right?” He boasted on a sing-song; much more at ease than he seemed to be earlier.

You weren’t about to put that on the line, though.

“You can’t have teamwork if you don’t have a team!” You warbled in unison.

“That’s the spirit!” Chan gurgled, heading to his desk in a visibly good mood.

What was going on? He wouldn’t be so happy just because you and Hyunjin were being friendly… Were you missing something? He didn’t seem in such a peaceful state of mind when he came in… It had to be something that happened after that. Perhaps he got some good news from his secretary? Or maybe… You narrowed your eyes as you caught a glimpse of Hyunjin’s hands fidgeting in front of him; his foot tapping the ground rapidly but quietly before moving slightly to step on your toe.

Or maybe Hyunjin had something to do with it…

“As I said in the email, Sir, I happened to hear some stuff around and… KQ managed to get an exclusive with Han Jisung” The sentence sounded just like a normal introduction to a report, but you knew it wasn’t. Hyunjin’s eyes darted to meet yours, glinting with anxiety and despair. He was informing you of what was going on, not Chan, “And as we all know, Jisung is a rising producer star, which is bound to raise their sales and might get in the way of ours…” He continued, swallowing dryly and widening his eyes ever so slightly.

He was definitely trying to warn you of something.

“Yes, I read the e-mail, Hyunjin” Chan agreed sternly; smile disappearing as his fingers intertwined to serve as a support for his chin. He looked classy and incredibly sexy, but your mind couldn’t afford to focus on it right now. You had to figure out what the hell Hyunjin suggested to Chan before blowing everything up, “You also said that Y/N might have the solution for this…” Oh, so that was it, you thought when Chan arched his brow; eyes connecting to yours.

And now what?

“So?” He encouraged you, detaching his chin from his hands so he could rest them on his desk “I’m waiting” He smiled gently; a closed-mouth smile that was supposed to calm your nerves, even though you could see how tumultuous his gaze was right now.

It was practically a silent threat.

In a normal situation, the predatory way he was looking at you ─ resembling a wolf when you were nothing but a sheep under his radar ─ would get you… Thinking.

Your job wouldn’t be at stake in a normal situation, though.

The pressure on your toes increased; the subtle way Hyunjin found to snap you out of your mind, despite your silence hanging in there for just a few seconds. It was obvious that he was freaking out just as much as you were, and you couldn’t help but blame him for this. Couldn’t he have told you about it earlier? What the hell was going on inside his mind?! Instead of taunting you about wanting to fuck Bang Chan, he should have warned you about that shit!

That’s not the time for this, Y/N.

The muscles on your face tensed as you tried to not give away everything going through your mind; lips twisting in a tight smile as you looked at Hyunjin: “Yeah, he was right” You answered calmly, even though your stomach was settled on becoming an Olympic athlete right now, “As I was telling him before coming here, Sir, I have someone in mind…” The relief washed over Hyunjin’s face; a genuine smile adorning his features as he withheld a sigh, “I happen to know I.N, and I think I can get us an exclusive” You confessed, shifting your gaze from Hyunjin to Chan.

“The writer?” He blurted out, astonishment plastered all over his face.

“Yeah… They’re a friend of mine…” You trailed off, embarrassed to say it out loud “They’re in the top trending now since their novel will become a drama and…” You cleared your throat, lowering your head to avoid his gaze. There was just so much of acting you could handle for a day, “I mean- It’s… Adult stuff, right? But they never—”

“I know! That’s perfect!” He beamed, getting up from his chair to walk your way “They’ve never been seen! Nobody knows anything about them, Y/N” He laughed ─ he genuinely laughed ─ while clasping his hands together “Han Jisung is good, but I.N is better! This is hot news… FrontPage… How come you never told me about that?” He chuckled, placing his hand on your shoulder “Rest assured that when I get my promotion, I’m gonna have you right here in this room” He promised you in such a serious tone that a shiver ran down your spine.

Rule Number Four: The (kinda horny) true self!

There was not a single soul in the office as you made your way down the hall; eyes focused on the mesmerizing view outside. The sky was colored in purple shades, so deep that you would have mistaken them for black if it weren’t for the dazzling, sleepless city and its dozens of skyscrapers lighting everything up. Not even the full moon would be able to compete with such a beautiful brilliance, but it wouldn’t be necessary either as your gaze was abruptly torn away from the night.

The darkness surrounding you didn’t allow your brain to connect the dots immediately, and you couldn’t help but wonder what happened when you bumped into something. The surface was much softer than a wall, yet firm enough to have you wincing for the impact; eyes snapping to meet the unlucky bastard that stayed until so late. The moonlight kissed his skin just enough for you to recognize the sharp features of your boss; clenched jaw revealing popping veins that distracted you for a fraction of a second.

Your eyes trailed the path from his jaw to his neck, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it tasted like; if you could savor it like the sins you wanted to commit with him. The closeness didn’t work in your favor, and the hint of his scent intoxicated your senses as you connected your gazes. Something must have given you off ─ maybe your hesitation, maybe the lust glinting in your eyes ─ because the next second, Cristopher had his hand placed on your lower back.

The warm sensation grew to a burning feeling as his eyes darkened while diving into yours; his stern, cold gaze contrasting to the feeling of his touch and sending a shiver down your spine. Could he have noticed the way your legs trembled as his grip tightened around you? The look on his face was indecipherable, and the intensity of his gaze made you feel too exposed and vulnerable to keep looking for an answer, so you averted your eyes away from him.

“Weren’t you supposed to come as soon as you got his answer?” The way his voice made its way to your senses had the embarrassment washing over you. The huskiness in his tone made you gulp down ─ throat dry from thirsting over him ─ and the calmness in his sentence alarmed you as it didn’t match the disapproval in his eyes “It’s so late that there is no one else here anymore” He added nonchalantly; mixed signals getting you confused to what he meant by it.

Was it just a way to scold you or was it an invitation?

“I’m sorry, Sir” Despite not having anyone around, you whispered the words as if you could be caught at any moment now, “It took me longer than expected, but we—”

“We?” His eyes were sharp enough to cut you off but the real reason why you couldn’t manage to finish your thoughts was the way he pulled your body impossibly closer to his “Were you with him this whole time?” He hissed right into your ear, letting his hot breath fan over your cold, sensitive skin in a silent threat.

“Working” You corrected, even though he didn’t say anything.

“Working” He hummed in agreement; hand going to tuck your hair behind your ear “As in how we work late at night?” He sneered, manhandling you to press your back against the cold surface of the glass wall that separated his office from the rest of the place “Or is it as in how he wants to work you on his desk?” He scoffed; soft huff almost as degrading as the way he held your cheeks with one hand and guided your eyes to his.

“Neither” You guaranteed breathlessly; voice quivering in excitement.

“Are you going to pretend that you didn’t notice his looks?” He narrowed his eyes at you; his knee making its way to the gap between yours before slowly rising to your thighs, “That you don’t know how much he wants to fuck you?” He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “You better not, ‘cause I know you love it” He warned as he kicked your legs apart.

“He could never fuck me as you do” There was such seriousness in your tone that it had him chuckling, and he nodded in approval before burying his nose in your neck, “I-I’m yours only, Sir… I know my place” You promised quietly, trying not to give away how aroused his jealousy made you feel.

“Yeah…” His raspy laughter tickled your skin, and you muffled a whine as he grazed his teeth over your neck teasingly “But you like being reminded of it, don’t you?” He taunted, taking in your scent in a way that made you feel too small and helpless. He groaned as soon as you let a whimper fall from your lips, and you couldn’t help but struggle to stay still while knowing what was about to come, “Do I have to spell it for you, baby girl?” He snickered before sucking on the tender spot of your skin that he knew too well at this point.

“N-No” Somewhere inside your head, you acknowledged that your reaction was insanely humiliating. He just needed a couple of words spoken in a sultry tone and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence. That was the power he had on you. And you loved it. “Only yours” The rushed tone made him smirk against your neck, stopping his path of kisses for a second to look into your eyes “Sir” You panted; returning his gaze with just as much intensity as he had on his.

“Claim your place” His order was so tantalizing that you didn’t even blink before you finally let your knees give away, losing the support of your legs to earn the support of his thigh, “That’s right… You do remember your place” Somehow, this sounded like the best praise he could ever offer you, even under his amused tone, “But you have been such a bad girl lately…” He pouted as he caressed your cheek; hand stopping to grab your chin gently “And I don’t like bad girls… You know that, right?” He let his thumb reach for your lower lip, fiercely staring at it before grazing his finger on your teeth.

Your answer was as silent as his request; tongue welcoming his thumb before you sucked on his digit. He hummed in appreciation, pushing it inside your mouth as you looked at him with big doe eyes to show a coyness that wasn’t really there within you. The action was followed by a swirl around the tip of his finger; as if to leave in his mouth the taste of what he was missing and prompt him to give you what you really wanted: Him.

If he picked up on your plans, he showed it by giving like for like.

He didn’t say a word as he pressed his thigh against your heat; leaning closer to let his breath fan over your neck once more. He stood like that for what could have been seconds, maybe minutes, but nonetheless time enough for his warmth to creep into your senses. He was like a poison to you; the intoxicating presence clouding your better judgment and destroying any will you had to have him losing control. You didn’t even mind the way he scoffed as you started to grind his leg; brows twisting to shout out a needy plea for release.

“That’s a good girl” He approved, catching your earlobe between his teeth. The moan that fell from your lips was muffled by his finger and he didn’t seem to appreciate it, “I don’t hear you, baby girl” He complained, moving on to your jaw with a path of open-mouthed kisses that weren’t enough to distract you from his other hand “There’s no one here… Be loud for me” He allured you as his hand found its way under your shirt.

The temptation was great… Scream his name as he fucked you senseless in the office... No risk of being caught… Just you, and him, and your dirty little secret…

Your thoughts were all around the place, and you had no hopes of grasping them back as his cold hand brushed your side, contrasting to the warmth under your clothes. The way he touched you made shivers run down your spine; his slow, delicate motion enhancing your senses to every single second of his caresses. You held your breath when his finger finally managed to reach its destination; grazing over your nipple to have you succumbing to his wishes.

You fought it as you could, but you were never much of a fighter.

It was too easy for him to have you under his control, and he knew it. You could tell it by the way he chuckled as soon as you gave away how lost you were at this point. The moan that left your lips came all the way up from your chest, sounding crystal clear in the room as you let your mouth fall agape. Sucking on his finger and following his orders were the last concern you would have for this moment. The only thing worthy of your attention right now was the fact that you couldn’t get as much friction as you needed, and you had to do something about it.

So you grind on his leg for dear life.

“You’re so needy” The mockery didn’t have much effect on your mind anymore, so you just kept sliding up and down his thigh as if that was the only thing that could keep you going “You’re not even listening to me, are you?” He huffed in disbelief; thumb leaving your mouth so he could cup your face “That’s all you can understand, right?” He taunted, pinching your nipple to get your attention again, “Are you still there, baby girl?” He leaned closer to whisper in your ear.

“F-Fuck me” Was the only answer he would get.

“Manners” He warned; licking the sweet spot next to your jaw.

“Fuck me, Sir” You corrected yourself; wrapping your arms around his shoulders to look for some support as you practically bounced on his leg, “Please, fuck me, Sir” You repeated, forehead resting on the crook of his neck as you clawed his back, trying to bring him as close as possible to you.

“Louder” He demanded, and you didn’t need to look at his face to know that he was grinning, “Louder…” He instructed in a tone so low that you could barely hear him over the rustling sounds of fabric against fabric. Your breath hitched as his hand gently caressed your hair; moving some strands away from your face to take a better look at you. However, he didn’t get to see your teary eyes, “Come on, baby… Look at me” He asked in a tantalizing tone, alluring you to try and meet his gaze.

There wasn’t much you could see through your hooded eyes; vision too blurry for you to grasp what was going on inside his mind. You could tell he enjoyed it, though. He always did. That moment when he could pinpoint you had given up on your control, that you weren’t yourself anymore and would be willing to do whatever he asked… He lived for it, for that rebellious flame of self-control extinguishing from your eyes.

For who you become when lust overcomes you.

The grip on his hair wasn’t unexpected, and Cristopher offered you a small, wicked smile before you connected your lips. The kiss was messy and hurried; tongues exploring every corner they could find while your hands were occupied on getting rid of your clothes. Neither of you cared about anything else but feeling each other’s bodies as you ripped your shirts. The cold breeze hitting your bare skin wasn’t enough to cool down the heat consuming you, but it was enough to have you squirming and whining.

“Beautiful” Was the only thing he said before pushing your back against the glass and adjusting his grip to take your nipple between his teeth. The groan that escaped your lips was almost animalistic, prompting him to answer with a grunt of his own as he sucked on your skin. The vibrations ran from your flesh to your core, enticing another moan that seemed to fall into deaf ears, “Louder, baby… I want him to hear you…” He pleaded, letting go of your breast just to grope it and give you a kitten lick on the next second “To know who made you like this…” He added before sucking on it again.

Perhaps it was the fact that he thrust on you, just to tease your senses and make you thirstier. Perhaps it was the fact you had to support yourself on just one leg as he pushed his hips against yours and you tried to seek for your balance by involving his leg with yours. Perhaps it was his hand sliding to meet your clothed core; finger pressing against your clit to add a delicious, needed stimulus for your orgasm.

Perhaps it was the words that slipped through his lips.

“W-What did you say?” You panted; hips faltering as you tried to keep riding him, but steading their pace as his finger circled your clit to goad you “M-Mhm… S-Sir” You cried; hand burying in his hair to pull it and translate the utter bliss waving down your body. The string of mewls and urgent pleas spilled from you like a chant, getting him more eager than before, “P-Please” You whined, even though you weren’t sure what you were asking for.

“Hold it” He ordered; straightening his back to look right into your eyes, but failing as yours rolled back to your head. His hand made its way to squeeze your cheeks, forcing you to look at him with a soft shake to catch your attention “Look at me” It sounded like a warning; stern enough for you to try your best to focus on him, “You’ll only cum when he walks right through that door… Do you understand?” He searched for any signs of stubbornness in your eyes, but his smile showed he didn’t found any.

“W-Who?” You managed to ask; body trembling as you tried to hold every single string inside your mind in place, even though each one of them was ready to snap and unravel the crashing pleasure that was building up.

“Why does it matter?” He scoffed, quickening his pace as the unmistakable ring of the elevator sounded on the room “You love being seen, don’t you?” He chuckled, watching as your body shook violently and your knees started to give away to the sensations running down your body.

“Y-Yes, Sir” You could bet your voice echoed inside the building, and Christopher seemed to agree with you as he grinned in approval.

“So look at your guest, baby… And scream my name” He instructed, pushing your face to the side. The doors opened slowly, revealing the lights inside the small cubicle right in front of your eyes “Let him know who you belong to” He whispered in your ear; hand pushing your underwear aside so his finger could come in contact with your core.

The mysterious figure detached from the corners of the metallic walls to finally reveal himself. You met his eyes for a half of a second; enough time for you to recognize the one who worked with you every single day of your life. For the past few years. Someone who would be your partner for years to come, and who would witness and engrave your face in your most vulnerable moment.

You came hard; probably the most overwhelming orgasm you had ever had in your life. It was impossible to hold back your voice, and you couldn’t help but howl his name; legs shaking and body collapsing into your boss’ arms. You squirmed and whimpered as you tried to recompose yourself; letting him help you ride you out of your orgasm and occupying yourself by staring into your coworker’s shocked eyes.

“Thank you, Sir…” You breathed out, gripping his arms for dear life while the shame sank into your soul.

Rule Number Five: The (grateful and satisfied) fans!

And… Post.

Oh, well… You did it. Again. There was something about displaying your deepest fantasies for anyone to see that was kinda thrilling to you. Your heart raced inside your chest just like a drum ─ well, if a goddamn drummer decided to do a solo but was too offbeat, to begin with ─ and you couldn’t help but stare blankly at the page without a clue of what to do now. It was out there… Why didn’t anyone say anything yet? Was it that bad? Should you delete it?

Well… People have to read it before commenting, you know?

Yeah, right… You just posted it.

Chill.

You licked your lips before biting them; feeling the rush that was posting about your boss online when no one else knew about it. If you were being honest, the best part of this wasn’t having the chance to live your fantasies throughout your writing. No. The best part was knowing that only you knew the true identity of Christopher… Or what you really wanted to do to him while he walked down the hallway. The best part was that no one would ever figure out that you were the author of the bestselling novel of the moment… That this steamy romance between boss and employee was nothing but your rawest desire.

Who would think that the boring, shy girl from the office would be a smut writer? Who would think that you would have a horny, interesting secret identity? No one else but you.

And this was priceless.

Or maybe… It was priceless.

As far as you knew, every single thing you cherished about being a secretive horny bitch could go down the drain tomorrow. It would be all fine if it was just a… Well, actually everything would suck. How would you look at Chan’s face if he knew you were writing about having sex with your boss while he was your boss? What would you do if they decided to fire you because of it? What would you do with your life from now on?!

Don’t panic, Y/N.

You had everything under control… Tomorrow morning you would be going to Jeongin’s house and interview him as if he were you. No one would ever suspect you after that. You would save your ass, Hyunjin’s ass, and Chan’s ass. And that was it. The perfect plan. Nothing to worry about. Just trust Jeongin to follow your script and make sure everything would go as planned.

Flawless. Totally safe. Perfect.

That’s right…

You just need to take a deep breath and rela—

The sudden sound caught you off guard; eyes focusing on the screen once again so you could understand what was going on. All of your worries vanished away as soon as you saw the notification on the top of it; announcing that you had just got a message from a fan.

Finally!

The weasel icon was so familiar that you chuckled while opening the message; a smile plastering over your face as you let your eyes wander around the words. There was nothing more fulfilling to your writer ass than seeing the way Weasel always had something to say about your story. Sometimes, he’d give you some feedback on your style. Other times, he’d freak out about how much he wanted to “try those things out”, as he usually said. There were also times when he’d just get excited over the characters and their conflicts, which always got you laughing.

It was fun to talk to Weasel.

He was just as mysterious as you… There was no name to his face, and also no face to his icon, but both of you were friends anyway. He had been keeping up with your stuff from such an early stage that it felt natural to have him around and getting his feedback. It was so comfortable, that you didn’t even mind when he slid in your DMs, embarrassed to let anyone else know that your smut made him… Feel things. There was no need to elaborate on what he did about those feelings or those things. But it was kinda hot to know he enjoyed himself throughout your fantasies.

His fantasies.

Well… For the number of times that you used them to write your stories, it was some sort of shared fantasies by now. As a matter of fact, you never intended to make Christopher a jealous character but Weasel made the idea seem too hot for you to ignore. Sometimes, he’d open up about that girl from his work that he really liked and how jealous he was of the guy she liked and then… Well, it felt… Interesting.

The thought of being desirable to the point a guy would want to claim you as his like this? Not that Weasel did it. He actually just mentioned that he hoped she was into this as a kink. You couldn’t help but picture the way he would touch her in such a greedy way… The possessiveness blinding him for a second… The grip tightening… The mean words and the humiliation… Oh, the sweet humiliation that would crush you as he whispered how much you would cum for him… How he was the only one who could make you like that… How he would ask you to say his name… To tell him that you were his…

You could drink holy water and still be shaking just by picturing it.

“That was such a good chapter… I didn’t expect you to use her friend like that. I thought it was a given that she’d end up with Chris” You read out loud, chuckling when he reached for your DMs to talk to you “Will we get a threesome or something, miss? 😏” He joked on the next line and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at this “I’m waiting for it”

“You’re just a horny bitch, aren’t you?” You typed, smirking as you stared at his messages “No spoilers for you, though, baby boy… You’ll have to wait like everybody else” Teasing him was always funny, and he never failed to amuse you.

“I’m not the one writing porn online” He pointed out, and before he could write anything else you shot him.

“Yeah but you’re the one getting off to it” You retorted, getting a whole set of gasping and shocked emotes that had you laughing.

“I have no words to express how offended I am” You chortled, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Alright, Drama Llama” Why was it so fun to mock him? You wished you could actually meet him offline and banter like this in real life “To fill your horny ass, I might write a dom!reader next time… I was thinking about torturing the 2nd lead a bit”

“First of all… I don’t think I want my ass filled, thank you for offering tho” Why was he like this? “And I was just joking” You frowned at that, confused by what he meant “Don’t you think that a threesome doesn’t go along with the characters? Her friend likes her a lot and Christopher is just a kinky son of a bitch… I thought he’d just show him that she was his and be an ass as usual”

“What do you have against Chris, dude?” You rolled your eyes, although he wouldn’t be able to see it, “He’s way better than her friend! At least, he does something about her”

“I have the 2nd male lead syndrome! You know that!” You chortled, very aware of this, “And isn’t that the perfect opportunity for him to do something about it?! I mean… I don’t want to be nosey but having a threesome is way out of character for them” He pointed out, and you had to admit he was right.

“No, you’re not nosey…” You sighed; shoulders dropping for a second “It’s just that I’m upset about something that happened at work today and you know that projecting my problems on those characters is my thing” You pursed your lips, staring at the keyboard for a few seconds before deciding to continue “Besides, I’m about to spend an entire day with a guy that kinda inspired the 2nd lead and… I don’t really want to think about a sex scene with him, you know?” You confessed.

“But thinking about torturing and having a threesome with him is easy” He mocked you.

“That’s because that threesome would never happen” You sent it before you could think about what you had just written.

“Ooohhhh!” Holy shit… The amount of emotes he had just dumped on that chat couldn’t be a good sign, “So having sex with this guy is something you want?! And that could happen?! ” Great, now you would have a Drama Llama-Weasel trying to get some juicy gossip about your inexistent sex life… WORSE! Your sex life with your nemesis! “Why don’t you go for it? I’m sure he’s into you if he’s anything like his character” Poor thing… He had no idea.

“Shut up, it’s not like that” You brushed it off.

“If you say so” You could almost hear him snickering, even though you didn’t know how his voice sounded like “I’ll just have you regretting this for the rest of the night” You snorted, shaking your head in disbelief. He was unbearable! “I have work early tomorrow but I’m gonna come back with questions, Miss… Wait for me”

“What I meant is that it’d be easier to happen than having a threesome, not that I want it to happen, moron” You defended yourself but he didn’t even get to read it as he logged off right away.

Great… He would never let you live it down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rebloggable Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Tag List

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Ch. 19: Lack of Communication (Wayne Gala)

AO3

The shrill ringing of her phone tugs Marinette from her sewing machine. Glancing at the caller ID, she grins widely.

“Hey Uncle Jagged.” She says, pushing her chair away from her desk. It’d been a couple weeks since she last heard from the man as his tour had really picked up at the end. It was practically back to back concerts, so that didn’t leave a lot of time for phone calls or face times.

“Little Rocker! Glad I caught you. I have an event next week and I was hoping I could drop by the bakery so you could fix a tear in one of my suits.” He says. Marinette winces. That’s what she was supposed to do. Tell Uncle Jagged about...well, everything.

“Yeah, about that…” She trails off, wishing she’d thought to tell him about the whole ‘adopted’ thing the last time she’d seen him in person. “I’m actually not in Paris right now. I’m in Gotham spending the summer with my birth father.” She says, deciding to just rip the bandaid off. There’s silence for a minute. Then two. She looks down at the phone, frowning. Did he hang up?

“You’re in Gotham?” He finally says.

“Yup.” She says, sighing. “I’m really sorry I won’t be able to fix your suit.”

“What, no, this is great! See the event is in Gotham! It’s just a bunch of rich people and- hold on. Penny!” He yells. She catches bits and pieces of their conversation, Penny agreeing wholeheartedly with whatever it is Jagged has suddenly decided. “I have a rocking idea.” He adds.

“Okay? I’m listening.” She says, glancing at the new dress she’d started that was pinned on her dress form. She was having trouble with the shape and was quickly getting frustrated with her struggles.

“You could come with! As MDC, of course. You could wear one of your designs and get known in Gotham. The event is supposed to be highly publicized. Penny thinks it’d be a good way to get known in the US. So, whatdya say?” Jagged asks, and Marinette can just tell that he’s grinning widely, can hear it in his voice. She thinks for a minute, glancing at the dress form with a new sense of determination.

“I’ll have to double check with my dad.” She says, trying to think if they had any plans for next week.

“Of course! Let me know soon, okay? Penny says she wants to start publicizing MDC’s appearance if you’re gonna come.” Jagged says. Marinette agrees before hanging up, thinking. Would her dad let her go alone? Or would he insist on coming with? She knew Gotham was dangerous, it’s why she hadn’t gone anywhere by herself despite being a hero herself. She didn’t want to risk her Miraculous falling into the wrong hands, even if the person didn’t realize what they had. Making up her mind, she sets off to find her dad and ask about the event. She still wasn’t quite sure what it was, just that there would be plenty of big names and plenty of journalists- the perfect opportunity to build up a clientele outside of France. Checking his study first, she’s unsurprised to see he’s not there. Knowing chances were good that he was in the cave, she pulls a domino mask out of her purse. Her dad had asked her a couple days ago to wear one in the cave just in case they had unexpected visitors. Kinda like how her and Chat Noir had shown up unexpectedly that one time. Complete accident. Changing the time on the clock, she presses the button that opens the entrance, sliding in and walking through the passage. Glancing into the cave, she grins when she sees her dad, in costume, sitting at the computer.

“Hey B!” She says, knowing not to call him Dad while he was in the cowl. Something about it making him seem less intimidating, or something.

“Ladybird.” He nods. She frowns, glancing at the computer screen and wincing when she sees Superman on screen.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were busy.” She apologizes, waving awkwardly at the man on the screen. He quirks an eyebrow.

“Hello. Ladybird, was it?” He asks and she nods.

“Er, yeah. Ladybird. Nice to meet you.” She says, rocking back and forth on her heels, eyes darting around the cave. Maybe she should just leave and ask later.

“Is everything alright?” Her dad asks, obviously confused at her presence in the cave. Not that she wasn’t allowed, she just didn’t spend a lot of time there.

“I was just wondering if I could go to an event next week with my Uncle.” She says, trying to stay vague. He’s silent for a moment before nodding.

“We can discuss details later, but that should be fine.” He says. Marinette grins, bouncing up and down in excitement.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She cheers, resisting the urge to hug him. “Bye Mr. Superman!” She adds, waving before running back through the passage to work on her dress some more. This was going to be amazing!

---

Penny had picked Marinette up early the morning of the Gala. She still wasn’t sure what it was for, but that didn’t bother her. She was just excited that she had finally finished her newest dress in time for the Gala. Penny had insisted on her coming over early so that she could help Marinette do her hair and makeup, which she was thankful for. Selina apparently had something to do tonight and couldn’t help her, and she would’ve definitely been her first choice. Smiling down at her dress, Marinette looks at Penny with a grin.

“Could you take a picture for me without my face covering so I can show my parents later?” She asks. Penny nods, smiling back.

“That dress is amazing, Marinette. Truly one of your best designs.” She says. Marinette blushes at the compliment before smiling at the camera. She thanks Penny and takes her phone back, sending the picture to her Maman and Papa as well as her dad and Selina. She was extremely proud of the dress and wanted them to see her in it before she added her ‘disguise’ to protect her identity.

“Hey, Aunt Penny?” Marinette says, looking up at the woman. Penny hums, putting on lipstick. “What is the event for? All Jagged said was that it’s a Gala.” She says, Penny huffs.

“Of course that man didn’t give you any other information. Honestly, sometimes- you agreed without knowing what the event was?” She says, eyebrows raised. Marinette shrugs.

“Uncle Jagged said that it’d be fun. I trust him.” She says. Penny sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Remind me to read any contracts before you sign them, okay sweetie?” She says. Marinette nods and Penny smiles. “Good. Anyway, it’s a Wayne Gala. The family hosts several every year to help raise money for the Wayne foundation.” Penny says and Marinette freezes. Wayne Gala? As in, her father? Her family? Were they really having a Gala tonight without telling her? Or inviting her? Were they….were they embarrassed by her?

“Like, Bruce Wayne?” Marinette manages to ask, trying hard to ignore the way her heart breaks when Penny nods. That was why Selina couldn’t help her. She had to get ready for the Gala. And if she had to guess, the rest of her family was also going. What would they have done with her if she hadn’t had plans? Would they have told her then? Or would they have acted like nothing was happening. Where even was the Gala? Oh my god. It was at the Manor, wasn’t it. The thought strikes her and she winces, giving Penny a small, tense smile.

“Are you okay?” She asks, obviously concerned. Marinette nods sharply.

“Yes, one last question. Where is it?” She asks. Penny frowns, obviously not believing that Marinette was okay, but luckily not pushing it.

“Wayne Manor. The Galas are the only time the manor is opened to other celebrities. The family is usually very private.” Penny says. Marinette huffs out a puff of air, working hard to ignore the hurt in her chest. The feeling that she wasn’t enough. That they didn’t need her. Suddenly, she wasn’t excited anymore. She really wished she would have asked Jagged for more details last week, because now she was stuck going. And it was going to suck.

---

Feeling confident in her design and disguise, Marinette walks through the wall of journalists with Penny and Jagged at her sides. She was working hard to push down the intrusive thoughts that were threatening to take over. Instead, she tried to focus on the questions being called out by the journalists.

“Jagged! Jagged Stone, is this really MDC?” One of them asks. Jagged immediately stopping and shooting the reporter a wide smile.

“Of course it is! She designed all three of these outfits.” He says, gesturing between the trio. “Isn’t she rocking!”

“MDC, why did you pick the Wayne gala to make your first public appearance?” Another journalist asks. Marinette turns to Penny, trusting her to answer the question. They’d agreed before leaving the car that it was best if Marinette didn’t speak directly to any journalists. It would make it easier for them to place her age and where she’s from, given her accent.

“She was in the area and Mr. Stone insisted his favorite designer needed a chance to flaunt her skills in America.” Penny says, flashing the journalist a wide smile before gently pushing Marinette along down the line of journalists. Marinette nods to the man who’d asked the question before following Jagged and Penny closely, her stomach churning as they walk up the front steps of the manor. Of the place she’d been living since summer started. Where apparently they didn’t care to tell her about one of the biggest family events of the year. No big deal. She thought they were accepting her, that they were all getting closer. But maybe not. Her dad not telling her didn’t hurt nearly as much as her brothers not telling her. That felt like a knife in her chest. Trying hard to move gracefully instead of tensely, she follows Jagged into the manor and into the ballroom. Her jaw clenches as she spots her family across the room.

“Mr. Stone, I’m Clark Kent. Nice to meet you.” A man with a notebook and camera says, walking over and extending a hand. Marinette narrows her eyes. She thought the journalists were supposed to stay outside. And this man looked oddly familiar….

“Rocking meeting you man! You a journalist?” He asks, his calculating look hidden by a wide grin. Mr. Kent chuckles.

“Yes, sorry for being so forward. Mr. Wayne and I are friends, so he lets my wife and I have an exclusive pass to come inside the Galas.” He says, glancing at Marinette over his glasses. She watches as his eyes widen slightly before he schools his features back into a neutral expression.

“That’s pretty rock n roll of him!” Jagged says, clapping Mr. Kent on the shoulder.

“It is. Pardon me, but are you MDC?” He asks, turning to look at Marinette once again. She glances at Penny, shaking her head to let her know that she’ll speak for herself for this one. As upset as she was with her dad, he obviously trusted this man. So she would as well.

“I am. Pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kent.” She says, extending her hand. He smiles, shaking her hand.

“And you, ma’am. I must say, I was not expecting to see you here. I was under the impression that in person events weren’t your forte.” He says, clearly fishing for something. She knew how journalists worked, she’d seen Alya at work enough times to understand that the man in front of her was looking for a story. One she wouldn’t be giving, no matter how much her father trusted the man.

“I like to occasionally surprise people.” She says, waving her hand in a noncommittal way. “Keep them on their toes.”

“I can respect that. Well, I’ll let you all get back to your evening. Nice to meet you all.” He says. She nods back at him, not missing the way he immediately darts off to her dad. She watches as the two start talking, a surprised look on her dad’s face before he turns and sees her. She knows he recognizes the dress. Knows that he knows as well who is underneath the veil. She turns, deciding to ignore him. He didn’t want her here, fine. She’d make sure she stayed out of his way.

---

Clark Kent was confused. He’d known that Bruce must have another kid, adopted in some way. He didn’t just work with random vigilantes, especially not in his city. So knowing that Gotham had a new vigilante named Ladybird, he put two and two together. Didn’t take the world’s greatest detective. But what was confusing was the fact that no new faces showed up with the Waynes as they walked into the ballroom for the Gala. Making a note to ask him about it later, Clark makes his way around the room, talking to familiar faces and names, writing things down that would help the story he was being forced to write on the Gala. These events were not his favorite to cover, hardly anything ever happened. Until he heard the commotion outside, other journalists calling out to MDC. He blinks in surprise. MDC had never made a public appearance before. This was an odd one to choose. Preparing himself to confront the designer, he’s surprised as she walks in behind Jagged Stone. He’s even more surprised when he realizes she had to be a teenager. He chats with the girl and Jagged, glancing down at her over the top of his glasses, shock immediately flooding him. The girl had injuries. Hundreds of them. Bones fused back together haphazardly. Quickly excusing himself, he rushes over to Bruce.

“Do you know who MDC is? Because that girl is definitely younger than Tim. And she has hundreds of injuries, Bruce. Hundreds.” He says quietly, watching as Bruce turns and glances at the girl, his eyes widening slightly.

“Shit.” He mutters.

“What?” Clark asks, trying to figure out if he should also be concerned. Bruce smiles, but it's tense.

“That is my daughter.” He says. Clark blinks.

“That’s the new one? Why didn’t she show up with the rest of the family?” He asks.

“I knew she had plans for tonight, so I didn’t tell her about the Gala. I was going to warn her about it, if she didn’t have plans. So she knew to stay in her room.” Bruce explains. Clark frowns.

“You were going to keep her locked up?” He asks incredulously. Not even the least social Wayne was kept locked away for the Galas.

“Of course not. It’s just- she hasn’t said she wants to be announced yet. She hasn’t even said anything about being MDC because she hates the spotlight. I couldn’t just throw her to the sharks. I’m just trying to do what’s best for her.” Bruce says, standing up straighter. Clark sighs.

“Did you actually talk to her about it? Or did you just assume?” He asks, Bruce huffs.

“I think I know my daughter a little more than you do, Kent.” He says.

“Really? Because from here it sounds like she’s about two breaths away from a panic attack. And Penny Rolling keeps reassuring her that they don’t have to stay long. Oh- and now she’s apologizing for not telling her it was a Wayne Gala until today, but she’s also clearly confused as to why it’s upsetting her. And now-”

“Okay, I get it.” Bruce snaps, cutting him off. Clark raises an eyebrow.

“I’m not sure what happened, but you should fix this.” He says with a pointed look before walking away. God knows the Bats all need a push in the right direction every now and again.

---

Jason frowns as he looks around the room for Marinette. He knew that she hadn’t come with the family, B hadn’t explained that one. But he had heard that MDC was there. And he wanted to talk to her, make sure she was doing okay. These things were annoying as hell and he knew he wouldn’t get through it if he didn’t have his brothers (even if they were little shits). He finally spots her near a wall, clearly trying to disappear. He grins widely, walking over and grinning at her.

“Well, MDC, fancy seeing you here.” He teases with a wink. He watches her for some kind of reaction, frowning when he doesn’t get one. “Pix?” He says, softer this time as he looks at his baby sister.

“Oh, that’s right, I wasn’t supposed to be here, was I? Well, sorry to disappoint.” She snaps bitterly. Jason flinches back, surprised at her tone.

“What’re you talking about?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed. Why did she sound so hurt? Why did she think they didn’t want her there?

“Clearly I’m not as much of the family as I thought I was.” She hisses under her breath. He starts to deny that, but she cuts him off with a humorless laugh. “Bruce didn’t even tell me that there was a Gala. None of you did either. A Wayne family Gala and I wasn’t told. I should’ve known better.” She says, turning to walk away. He grabs her wrist gently, stopping her.

“I promise you, we want you here. Dick, Damian, Tim, me- we all want you here. I can’t speak for B, I’ll definitely be having words with the son of a bitch later, but we want you here.” He says, frowning as he listens to her sniffle under her veil. “Pixie, we thought you knew. He told us you weren’t ready to come to this. I swear to you, we would have told you if we knew. I swear.” He adds. His heart breaks as he hears a hiccupped sob break free from her. He wants nothing more than to wrap his baby sister in a hug, but he knows he can’t. Media’d have a field day.

“Really?” She asks in a small voice. Jason nods.

“Hell yeah Pix. Tell ya what, I’m gonna go get the others and then we’re all gonna sneak out. Take one of the old man’s cars and get some garbage fast food. Who needs this lameass party anyway.” He says, hoping she’ll agree. He’ll let himself be mad at Bruce later. And boy was he gonna be mad. The old man had really fucked up this time. It was one thing to ask Mari to not go to the Gala, or to think she wasn’t ready for it. It was a completely other thing to not even give her the chance to decide, or tell her at all. Cause now she was hurt and thinking everyone hated her. Well, he wasn’t gonna let that happen. Not on his watch.

“Lemme just go tell Jagged and Penny real quick.” She agrees, scurrying off. The second she walks away Jason lets his smile drop into a scowl. That son of a bitch. Storming over to his brothers, he tugs them over to the wall. Better not to let B get word of where they’re going.

“What is the meaning of this?” Damian asks with a scowl.

“Pixie’s gonna tell her Aunt and Uncle that she’s leaving and then we’re stealing one of B’s cars to go to McDonalds.” He says simply. Tim frowns.

“And we’re doing this because?” He prompts.

“Because B apparently didn’t tell the kid about the Gala. And she assumed we knew, and that we all hate her.” Jason explains with a frown.

“Father said she didn’t want to attend.” Damian says, and Jason huffs.

“Yeah, well apparently he lied. She had no clue that the event she was going to as MDC was a Wayne Gala.” He says.

“I’ll go get the car and pull it up front.” Dick says, a determined look on his face. Sometimes his ‘we’re a family and we stick together’ shit annoyed the hell outta Jason, but he was thankful for it today.

“I’m gonna go grab Selina’s coat for her to put on. I saw her dress, and if any MDC fan sees her leaving with us it’s gonna start a media circus.” Tim says, walking away to the coat room. Jason sighs, watching Marinette from across the room. A cleared throat beside him tugs his attention back to his youngest brother.

“What?” He asks, pushing his frustration down. He’d go shoot something later, but right now he was determined to not take his frustration at Bruce out on his siblings.

“Why would Father intentionally keep her from the Gala? She is far more adept at social interaction than I am.” Damian says with a frown. Jason sighs, shrugging.

“No clue. But I’m not about to let her push herself away from the rest of us just because B fucked up.” He says, watching as she walks over to the wall, almost disappearing in the shadows. He nods towards her, making sure Damian follows. The second Tim has Selina’s coat, their small group is off, sneaking out one of the side doors and walking past the journalists, sprinting to Dick and the waiting car. They all jump in and she tears the veil off her face, making Jason wince slightly at her red, puffy eyes. Dick slams on the gas, eliciting a curse from Jason and a squeal of surprise from Marinette.

“So! We broke out of that stuffy party. Where are we headed?” Dick asks, glancing in the rearview mirror to make eye contact with Jason. Jason grins.

“We go get a shit ton of junk food from McDonalds and eat it in the car. Give it the old, fast food smell that B loves oh so much.” He says. Marinette snorts, and Jason grins at her. He’d give B hell later, but for now, he was going to enjoy spending time with his siblings.

---

Bruce frowns as he glances around the Gala, not seeing his daughter. Or any of his other children. He made a mental note to talk to them later. Perhaps keeping the Gala from Marinette wasn’t his best decision.

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82

115 notes · View notes

fanficwritersworld · 2 years

Text

Skin

Summary:Nora never thought she'd lose you, now she's back home and you hate her. Will she get you back?

Pairing: Post-Season 5 Nora West-Allen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: unrequited love, sad nora, pre-season 7. Nora wasn't erased until Crisis in this fic

I changed some of the lyrics to fit the story so their not identical to the song and only some of the song. Also not my best cause I'm very tired.

Masterlist|Prompt List

Maybe we could've been friends

If I met you in another life

Maybe then we could pretend

How did this happen? How could you not know her? Not love her?

Nora knew going back in time was risky, but she made sure never to mention you or even go near your family. Yeah, Eobard fuked her over but she made sure nothing would happen to you, her girlfriend, the love of her life.

It started the day after her family defeated Eobard, Nora walked into work as usual with a smile on her face and a bounce in her step. After the fight she rushed straight over to Iris, the mother daughter duo hugging it out over tears and lots of white wine. She looked over to see someone else at your desk, filling out papers for their latest case.

That’s strange? You never wanted to change desks? Always saying that you wanted to be the first thing she saw in the mornings at work.

Nora walked up to her lab, her heart letting a tug at her as she saw her best friend Lia working away. “Finally! How was it? Seeing your dad and stuff?” Lia asked very excitedly about her friend's time travelling adventures. Nora knew she had to tell her but it’s been bugging her about you.

“Um, before that. Where’s (Y/N)?”

There's no gravity in the words we write

Maybe you didn't mean it

Maybe dumb was the only rhyme

The only rhyme

Lia laughed at her friend. “(Y/N). As in (Y/N) (L/N), that girl you had the major hots for in senior year?” Lia asked the West-Allen, who nodded vigorously. Lia looked at with a sad face. “Nora, (Y/N) hates your guts” Lia told her.

Lia went on to explain that when Nora went to ask you out for the first time that it didn’t go as planned, causing you to hate her with every fibre of your being. Nora had to stop the tears before they fell from her eyes.

Almost a decade of the best parts of her life were gone. She wouldn’t be able to feel your warm hugs, your lips on hers not even the weird facts you’d spill from that head of yours. No more late nights on the roof looking at the stars.

No. Nora could fix this, all she had to do was make you fall in love with her again. Not too hard. Right?

Want my heart to be breaking, breaking, no

I'm happy and you hate it, hate it, oh

You never thought you’d see her again. Nora West-Allen, the cute CSI that called you a dumb bitch in front of everyone. Yet here she was, standing outside your workplace with your favourite flowers. “West-Allen? Here to ruin my life again?” You asked in a cold tone, glaring at her.

“Nope just to get you flowers” Nora beamed brightly with her stupidly pretty smile. You rolled your eyes, taking the flowers from her. You have to admit, not many people could find out your favourite flower easily. Was she stalking you?

You looked at her boredly, “What do you want, West-Allen?” You asked her, curious of her intentions. Nora looked at you as if she wanted to kiss you. “Uh, would you wanna get a coffee? With me. Or it doesn't even have to be a coffee. It could be any kind of beverage, like a wine or a beer, or... Not that I wanna get you drunk. We... we could get iced tea. Do you like iced tea? Do... would you wanna get an iced tea with me?” She started rambling, her nose scrunching up with every suggestion.

“No” You responded, giving Nora a cold glare to rival Killer Frost. Nora nodded before giving you a smile. “Don’t worry you will one day” She smiled.

And I'm not asking you to let it go

But you been telling your side

So I'll be telling mine, oh

And everyday, Nora West-Allen would be outside with a bunch of your favourite flowers. Everyday she would ask you to go on a date with her and everyday you would refuse. But she was persistent just like her mother.

You could be in Jitters and someone would have paid for your coffee. And you would notice the tuff of chestnut hair that would walk past every time you went in. Why couldn't she leave you alone? What had you done to deserve this?

“You might as well just go on a date with her” Your co-worker, Roni Snow said as you dumped the flowers in the trash. “And why would I do that?” You asked her, crossing her arms. “Because (Y/N), deep down you still have a crush on her and it’s painfully obvious” Roni smirked at you before leaving for lunch with her mother and aunt.

You rested your temples against the palm of your hands. Ever since Nora publicly humiliated you during senior year you felt as if the girl had it out for you. Then after nearly a decade she just shows up and acts like it never happened.

You can try

To get under my, under my, under my skin

While she's on mine

Yeah, all on my, all on my, all on my skin

You sat on the rooftop of your workplace, feeling the wind on your face. You loved it. The peace and quiet as the city moved about without your lingering presence. “What are you doing up here?” a voice called out.

You looked to see Central City’s newest hero, XS. She looked hella hot under the light of the moon. Her hair framed her face perfectly as she walked closer to you. “Just getting away from the craziness” You responded, trying to keep yourself together. XS sat next to you, looking on to the busy streets.

“Relationship problems?” XS asked you, smiling softly. “Not exactly. A girl I had a falling out with has popped up and I don’t understand why?” You sighed. “What happened?” XS asked you. You looked at her with an eyebrow raised. “You seemed very concerned about a civilian?” You questioned the heroine.

“Not all problems are crimes. Helping those in need is what is most important to me” XS smiled at you sweetly. For a moment, Nora came to your head. You remember her saying something similar back in high school.

“One day I went to my locker and found a note. And there she was, the cutest girl in the school asking me to read out the note out loud. She called me a dumb bitch. I was so humiliated, I kinda hoped she would ask me out. Not insult me like that” You told the hero. You didn’t know why but it was so much easier to talk with someone who didn’t know you personally.

“And now?” She asked. “I dunno, she seems to be oblivious about everything” You sighed, feeling a bit bad that you’d been rejecting her this entire time. “Maybe you should give her a chance to explain? It might do you both some good”XS offered before police sirens began to fill the silent void.

She gave you a comforting smile before running away followed by purple and yellow lightning.

I wish you knew that even you

Can't get under my skin

If I don't let you in

You tapped your fingers against the table, gauntlet in hand as you stared at the contact information. Maybe XS was right? Nora always seemed sweet and reserved when you two were kids, yet when in her element she became more confident and very hyper.

“Hey West-Allen, i’m going to be at Jitters tomorrow if you want to meet up?” you sent the voice note, not trusting yourself to send a text or call.

Not even a few moments a text popped up. ‘See you there gorgeous’ with a few emoticons added. She was so old school sometimes, like she was born during the 2010’s or something.

You're telling it how you see it

Like truth is whatever you decide

Some people will believe it

And some will read in between the lines

You held your coffee close, counting the seconds until Nora’s arrival. “(Y/N)?” Nora called, smiling at you. “West-Allen” You smiled back.

The next two hours was her explaining everything, how the prank was really an attempt to ask you out. She seemed to set on trying to help you connect the dots. You could help but notice the way she talked, like if she didn’t go so fast she’d explode. You noted how she used her hands to talk, making you gigiled a bit.

Maybe you were wrong about her, maybe it was time to give Nora West-Allen a chance.

I just hope that one day

We both can laugh about it

When it's not in our face

You smiled at Nora as she waltzed into your apartment with big belly burger. “This is why I gave you a chance. Good food” You smiled happily, taking the meal from her hands. Nora laughed at you, kissing your cheek. “Not the fact I’ve been heads over heels for you since junior year” Nora remarked.

It took so long for you to trust her again, to fall for her dorky smiles, crazy hand gestures and rambling at a misunderstanding speed. That girl got under your skin, making you feel real love.

You loved her kisses, the warm nights in her apartment with hot cocoa and lazy hugs. Morning spent just lying in bed, musing on the time and not wanting to go to work.

Won't have to dance around it

Don't drive yourself insane

It won't always be this way

#Spotify #nora west allen imagine #nora west allen #nora west allen x reader #nora west allen x fem!reader #the flash season 5 imagine #2049 central city #lia nelson #enemies to lovers #unrequited feelings #time travel

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liquid-luck-00 · 3 years

Text

Seven Stages of Being thrown into Teenage Superherodom

Stage 1: Panic

@marijon-week Day 1: Blue Eyes / Identity Reveal

@t1dwarrior-of-earth

Here *** Second

~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since Fu made her Guardian she left Paris. The Kwamii convinced her that the stress of being ladybug and the mental, and now physical, abuse of her classmates has become too much. Her parents also noticed her shift and they supported her leaving.

This was how she found herself in Blüdhaven. She was a student at Gotham Academy, but with Gotham's high crime rate they wanted somewhere safer for her. Sure she could have also chosen Metropolis, but the commute from Blüdhaven was shorter.

She will be the first to admit that it wasn't ideal, but for her mental health it was great. And with complete honesty and sincerity she wouldn't change a thing.

You see one thing that apparently gets overlooked is that Nightwing is the resident vigilante of Blüdhaven. Even more is the fact that he happens to be her neighbor.

OK so maybe a little bit backtracking here. Marinette may have figured out that her next-door neighbor, Detective Richard Grayson, happens to moonlight as Nightwing at night.

So the building they had chosen for her was extremely safe, however they didn’t take an account Marinette's extremely packed and late work schedule. With how Marinette would still be awake in the early morning hours, and if she heard a thump of boots on the balcony next to hers regularly, she is going to look out the window eventually.

When she does, she sees Nightwing at her neighbor's apartment. Which could be one of two possible reasons why Nightwing could be there. One, his significant other lived in that apartment and he just came regularly. Or two, he lived there and assumed every sane person was asleep.

Her question was eventually answered one night when she was at the desk next to her balcony door, she heard boots like normal, but this time they were closer than normal, this time they were on her balcony.

The door moved, causing her to turn and focus on the door. That was when a male voice muttered, I thought I left it unlocked like always.

So most people would have quietly left, but she wasn't most she opened the blinds. She is pretty sure she had a stare down with him but its difficult to say because at the mask.

However after countless akuma attacks, you tend to figure out who the target is, which is what she did. Same height, same rough build, same hit and skin tone, combined with her ability to recognize figures for fashion, that gives you Richard Grayson. Without breaking eye contact she got up, stepped to the door, opened it and pulled him in, shutting it and the blinds, turning to face him. Then is when she noticed the blood near his hair line and down his neck.

“There better be an extremely good reason why this happened Mr. Grayson.” She looked innocently at him, “because I don’t know how to explain.” She gestured to him now seated at her desk. She pulled out her first aid kit and started checking him.

“How did you find out?”

“Night owl,” she shrugged. “I hear you come in every night and well um, well...”

“Curiosity got the best of you.” She nodded.

Of course this was when her phone would go off, she grabbed it, opened it, and groaned, because of course she was being called a Paris in the middle of the night, morning over there.

“You know what you're still alive, just a superficial head injury, but I have to go.” She said moving towards her bedroom when Mr. Grayson finally reacted.

“I’m supposed to… you said you were 14 right?” She nodded. “I’m supposed to let a 14 year-old leave in the middle of the night?”

“I am, I can explain in the morning.” She tried to justify, but he wouldn't let go of her wrist. So in a leap of faith, she gave him a quick rundown of the Paris situation and why she had to leave. If after this Blüdhaven had another vigilante well no one else knew why, Trixx loved it though. And she had someone who not only knew who she was but knew how to help and train her. Even if he acted more like a brother to her.

After all the eyes are the windows to the soul, and as a true guardian and a pure soul of creation, she knows that she can trust Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson’s.

- - -

It’s almost humorous that the next pair of eyes she would this come to trust were a blue so electric that they seemed to hold Lightning itself. Those eyes belong to one Jonathan Samuel Kent.

She had actually met John while in class at Gotham Academy, but nothing much more than their initial meeting and a good morning in the halls. This was pretty much because he seemed to stick with Damian Wayne, the ice Prince of Gotham. And green eyes always hurt her in the past, so she mostly stayed away from them.

However the fates had another plan for them. A group project, yay was sarcastically running through her head because of course, the two people she was partnered with happened to be two pairs of eyes that made an impression on her originally.

“So, should we go to your place, or should we go to the library, oh maybe we should go to Damien’s, or maybe mine to work on this.” Jon rapid fired at her and Damian, as they well she moved in order to talk about the project.

“I um... I’m not exactly...” she couldn’t even finish the sentence before Damian butt in.

“Tt figure this out and inform me later.” With that he go up and walked away. And go figure her assumption that everyone with green eyes were complete and total dicks is just reinforced. Because if you’ve never had a good experience with anything or anyone who shares the same traits why would it be any different now.

“Maybe we should just meet at the café or at the library just get this over with.” She got up with the bell, turned on her heel, leaving Jon sitting at the desk she just vacated.

She heard of a soft, “oh ok” as she walked away.

But of course nothing ever was easy in her life. Because the next thing she knows she hears foot falls behind her, they were actually picking up speed, and then stomps as if they were trying to stop right behind her. That was when I hand wrapped itself around her wrist making her spin and face the person who grabbed her.

In that moment she didn’t think, she reacted, she reacted like every other time one of her classmates decided to hurt her. It was a motion that came as naturally as breathing while in her civilian form, so much so that she would bet her heartbeat wouldn’t have changed. She dropped the books and book bag from her arms and shoulder lifting her arms defensively to protect her head and she pushed her shoulders forward , defend her head, in an attempt to stop a blow. But the swing never came, no weight, no pressure, no kick, no pain, just silence.

She tentatively opened her previously shut eyes eyes and looked forward, towards where the hand had originally pulled her, to the person who pulled her, she saw Jon, shocked at her reaction and then that turned to fear almost, it seemed to her, as if he was wondering if he did something wrong, if he hurt her, quickly she tugged her arm away from him and dropped to the ground and tried to pick up her items. However what shocked her was that he also dropped down and tried to help her pick up her things.

She looked up as he handed her a stack, “I forgot to ask you for your number so we can do a group chat. Are you OK?”

“Oh yeah yeah I’m fine.” She pulled a pen quickly from her bag and a sticky note, she usually uses to annotate her sketches and class notes come on, “here.” She handed him the piece of paper, Marinette got up and started to walk away again, as to not miss her next class.

By the end of the day, she found out that Jon can can text her head off. She always tries to respond to text quickly but this boy spammed the chat trying to get to know her better. If she was Damian, and she figured he did, she would’ve silenced the conversation, but it would be rude of her not answer.

Eventually they did figure out a an arrangement, Damian was going to go meet a brother after school so he wouldn’t be available meaning that she and Jon would start the project. So they decided to open a chat just between the two of them and figured it out from there.

Seeing as both of them lived outside of Gotham they decided it would be a little bit safer to meet at Marinette’s and John would leave from her apartment. And that is what they did, together the two of them left Gotham Academy after school, took the train to Blüdhaven and got into study mode. They worked in relative peace, researching and writing down ideas until there was a knock on the door. Marinette made her way up to the door, looked through and there stood Dick. So she opened the door, yet what got her attention was not just her pseudo Brother but the person who is with him. This person just happened to be the missing member of their project group, Damian.

“Hey Mari, I thought I would introduce you to my baby brother!” He beamed then noticing the other person in the room. “Hey Jon.” He greater and then took a double take “Jon!!!”

“Hey Dick, Damian.” He smiled.

“Tt. Anyone care to explain this.” Damian glared between her and his brother.

“Wow something the boy wonder doesn’t know.” She muttered under her breath, apparently it wasn’t quite quiet enough as some reacted.

“She knows?!?” Jon directed towards Dick and Damian.

“Know what?” She bit the bullet.

“Boy Wonder!?!” He seemed to shout just loud enough to get their attention. This did cause a reaction, Dick almost looked proud but Damian seemed ready to attack her.

“Okay I knew you were clever but seriously?!”

“Not the time Dick!” She moved so the kitchen island was between her and Damian. That was when something clicked Boy Wonder, Robin, Damian is Robin. Dick is Nightwing, both work with Batman. Jon heard her the others didn’t, Robin is close with… oh sweet honey iced tea. “ Dick please please tell me that I’m wrong!”

“I’m going with no your right.” Thump went her head as it fell onto the counter unrestrained.

“Why can’t my life be normal?” She asked no one in particular.

“You are a magical girl who can use the power of mini sized gods who you also protect.” Dick supplied ever so helpfully.

“Not helping!” She glared at him.

“Your life wasn’t normal long before we met.”

“Still.” She grumbled. Damian and Jon were now watching her and Dick interact as if trying to figure something out. Ping. Her phone went off. “Oh come on.” She fell back on the counter.

“Who is it this time?” Dick asked.

She tossed the phone to him. “I hate elementals.” A livestream of Stormy Weather ravaged the city of Paris.

“Cookies?”

“Cookies, I’ll be back.” He tossed her a box from her pantry. Special macaroons for the kwamii.

“Wait! Let me come with you.”

“And how many times have I told you that would be a bad idea.”

“But…”

“No, don’t make me call Honey Bee to venom you again.”

He slowly backed up and sat on the couch dragging Damian with him. “I’ll um… I’ll hold down the fort. Don’t call Goldie.”

“I won’t.” She turned to go to her room. “Oh there is fresh cookies in the jar.”

She silently transformed and portaled away. Luckily her team was already there and they made quick work of the Akuma. Meaning she was back near instantly.

“That was quick.”

“Viperion was there.”

“How many times?”

“Dunno.”

“Liar.”

“Am not.”

“You are.” Jon interjected into their bickering.

“Who’s side are you on anyways?” She asked out.

“I have no idea.”

“Great we broke Superboy.” She plopped down on the couch next to a stunned Jon. “If only… Fluff.”she smiled, and knowing that smile Dick panicked. “Fluff. Hey Fluff.”

“Oh no time travel is what got you into this time travel will not get you out.” Dick jumped landing on her keeping her seated.

“What it’s going fine?!“ Jon screamed at them, looking pretty close to a mental break down, she should know.

“You didn’t explain anything did you.” She looked on up from her position under a pile of a Dick and pillows.

“I was meaning to come up with the cookies were good and kind of had my mouthful.”

“OK great so here’s the rundown. Hello my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I was chosen at the age of 13 to wield the Miraculous of the Ladybug which grants me the power of creation and healing. I moved Blüdhaven and enrolled into Gotham Academy because of my utterly deteriorating mental health as a result of bullying in my previous school. Not to mention the magical terrorist who prays on sad or negative emotions, who happens to be using the Miraculous Butterfly or the miraculous of transmission. My partner uses the miraculous of the black cat which grants them the power of destruction, but he’s a total and complete asshole, but that’s not surprising. I was then given full guardianship of every single miraculous in the Chinese zodiac box, the most powerful of all of them the tender age of 14. I figured out that Dick was Nightwing about a month after I moved in and afterwards I have been going out into with him as he’s in as the vigilante Vulpes. And I literally just figured out you are Robin,” she pointed at Damian. “And you are Super Boy,” she pointed at Jon, “because of you’re a little outburst. I would not have figured it out otherwise! And I’m totally not I am going crazy because now there is a total of three people who know my identity in another country, no less, and I’m sure I can figure out the rest of the Bat family from here but I so I don’t want to.“ She was able to breathe now, after having explained this in just under a minute.

She looked between both Damian and Jon noticed they both looked as if she was either crazy or that certainly made a lot of sense, or a mixture of both she really can’t tell.

“You were bullied.“ Jon seemed to only take away. “That actually explains earlier.” He said just load enough for her to hear, as they were still next to each other.

“I’m not going over this again.“ She huffed, causing Dick to roll off of her laughing onto the ground and she followed suit. “You know there’s a reason I’ve always trusted blue eyes.” That was the beginning of and inseparable friendship between her and Damian, and something more between her and Jon.

None of them quite knew that at the time.

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha @animegirlweeb @jumpingjoy82 @thedragonbug@astoriaandroses @icerosecrystal @t1dwarrior-of-earth @moon5606 @zalladane

Taglist: @miraculousfanfic127 @t1dwarrior-of-earth @bonusbuggy @ashbrea381writings

#maribat #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #miraculous x dc #mlb x mcu #mdcu marinette dupain cheng #mdcu dick grayson #mdcu jon kent #mdcu damian wayne #marijon #jonette #marinette x jon #marijon week 2021 #marinette dupain cheng x jon kent

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burytherosemarysprigs · 3 years

Text

Oral Sadism and Literary Arguments

A/N : Ok, so, like enemies to lovers???? slow burn??? literature??? fuck me.

/ Masterlist /

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (College AU)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: There’s probably only one thing worse than chauvinist literature, and that’s the sardonic boy who sits two rows behind in Lit class with his torn paperbacks and ineffable aversion.

“Well, I actually disagree with you,”

If you didn’t have that much self-control, you would’ve snapped the pencil you were holding in half, as you heard a deep voice speak up behind you, and before you could retort, Professor Gordon spoke,

“And why’s that Jason?”

“I think Bukowski was trying to present how men will hide their inner thoughts and feelings, really their sensitivity in that aggression as an attempt at protection.” Jason spoke up, his voice boiling your blood as the rest of the class stayed in relative silence, as you turned around to look at him as he stared directly at you,

“I’m sorry, protection? What part about misogyny and blatant objectification of women as only being sexual objects that can be discarded and picked up when he pleases passes as protection? Women that are empty and uncharacterised to the extent the reader begins to agree with Chinaski that yes, women are less. Women are not important. And women don’t require compassion and consent, what part of any of this reminds you about goddamn male – “

“All right, I think that’s enough for today.” Gordon interrupted your heated rant with a sigh, which you share and quickly turn around close your eyes to try and avoid the weight of Jason’s stare as Gordon begins to dismiss the class.

“All right everyone, I hope you took something useful from that discussion, though I’m not sure if you would classify that as a discussion,” He added sarcastically, before continuing, “I expect you all to have brief outlines planned out for next week, and please try to work as collaboratively as you can with your partner to do so.”

The last part was directed at you and Jason – though neither of you payed proper attention – while the rest of the class let out small snickers.

“Right then, class dismissed, and uh, you two, could you both please stay behind for a minute.”

Fucking great. You thought to yourself, even though Gordon didn’t specify both you and Jason, his tired expression tells you otherwise and you start collecting your notes and pens into your bag in a silent fury and made your way to the front of the class, where Gordon was leaning against his oak desk, watching both of you stand in front of him – not casting a single glance towards the other as you waited for him to speak. He sighs,

“I don’t think you both understand how frustrating it is when your top students both have it out for each other and can’t hold a single civil discussion before arguing like little children,” He begins, becoming more wary as he continues, “Which is why I paired you up for this assignment and I fully expect you both to work together, and I hope I can expect that from you?”

He looked at both of you with an expectant look, and Jason only nodded curtly as a response, and you did the same but decided to chirp in,

“That’s great that you think we’ll be able to work together, sir, but on a totally unrelated note, how would my grade be impacted if my partner was suddenly mauled by a car over the weekend and was unable to complete the project with me?” You spoke, voice deadpanning, as your professor barely restrained in a smile while Jason looked at you with an empty expression.

“I would say that would be a fail as you missed the premises of ‘working with a partner’, as well as some serious legal consequences.” He replied, somehow maintaining a serious look as he spoke.

“That’s great to know sir.” You spoke, nodding along before he dismisses you both, leading you to quickly walk out of the classroom, breathing out a sigh of relief as you see Barbara leaning against the wall, busy on her phone, waiting for you to come out.

“What took you so long,” She asks as soon as she hears your sigh, pocketing her phone, and linking her arm with yours,

“I swear to God, one day, I might as well skin him – “

“Look, if I had known before that you could be so dramatic, I would’ve told you to choose drama as your major.”

“Ha. So funny. It’s just – fuck him.” You say the last part under your breath as you turned around to see nobody in the empty hallway.

“You two are really something else.” She states, making you roll your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean that you and Jason are really annoying. And petty.”

“Well, he’s the one that needs to contradict and compete against every single fucking thing I say, every single fucking time! It’s really fucking annoying,” Barbara only rolls her eyes in amusement. “And Gordon paired us up together for this project, and, God, I just can’t do anything with him without wanting to punch him in his stupid face.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why Gordon paired you both up, he really likes you both and he wants you both to stop having this weird rivalry between each other.”

“Wait. You knew?”

“Well yeah. I’m his daughter.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I like seeing you suffer.”

“You know, you’re a terrible friend.”

“Thank you,” She replies, with a small laugh, before she links her arm with yours again and whips out her phone to frantically shoot another text as she lets out a deep sigh. “Where is Steph? She took my car this morning and said she’d pick us up.”

“You let her drive your Bentley?” You ask, surprised she would give Stephanie one of her most prized possessions.

“Yeah, I know,” She spoke, absorbed in her phone, “But, she promised me that she would keep it safe, and we all know that I will kill her if something happens to it.”

“I do.” You reply, a small laugh escaping your lips before a blue Bentley pulled up in front of you both, causing Barbara to quickly pull open the door and shuffle inside, leaving you to chuckle to yourself before making your way to the back seat of the car, the blaring music making you wince as you enter the car but Babs quickly turns it off as both of you settle in.

“See! Your car is perfectly fine, just like I told you it would be!” Steph smugly announced, her blonde curls bouncing wildly as Barbara stared at her unimpressed, before both of them fall into their routine bickering as, this time, Babs begins to criticise her driving and apparent ‘mishandling of the most precious thing to me’, while you only roll your eyes at their antics before pulling out your phone to scroll through the messages you’ve missed throughout the day.

“Hey,” Steph’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts as you meet her eyes through the rear-view mirror, “What’s up with you today?”, her seemingly innocent question provokes a snicker from Babs – to which she receives a smack on the shoulder from you.

“What?” Steph inquires further.

“Nothing, why don’t you ask miss ‘I-fucking-hate-Jason-Todd’ here.”

“Fuck off, Barbara.” You grit out, glaring at her through the rear-view mirror.

“God, both you and Jason actually act like children,” Stephanie chimes in, “You’re both almost the same but you both compete against each other against every little thing – “.

“Are we done talking about Todd?” You retort, ignoring Steph’s comment, “I have better things to do than think about him.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Barbara winks at you and it takes a lot for you not to launch at her right there, in the car but Steph draws your attention away by babbling about some boy she met in her criminology class and the conversation in the car gradually fizzles out, until Steph asks,

“You guys heard about the party this weekend, right,” A matching ‘yes’ from you and Babs prompts her to continue, “Well, you’re going then, right?”

“I don’t know, but why’re you so pressed about it?” Bars questions, with a raised eyebrow.

“No reason, I’m just curious.”

“It’s Tim, isn’t it?” This time, you pipe in, and Steph almost yells,

“No. No, it’s not!”

“Oh my god. Of course it is.” Babs laugh echoes with yours as you eye Steph in the rear-view mirror, to see a blush dusting her cheeks as she quiets down.

“Whatever, are you coming or not.”

“After this conversation, yeah I am.”

“God. I hate you both.”

Standing in the corner of the party, nursing a red solo cup of something that burns your throat when you drink it, you regret not saying anything in the car against attending this party.

You’re currently standing alone, both Steph and Babs have completely disappeared into crowd, as Dick had shown up and quickly whisked her away as soon as you all entered the apartment, whereas Steph has promised to get you a drink about twenty minutes ago but never came back and as you try to block out the reverberating EDM music blasting through the room, you make your way towards the kitchen to re-fill your cup (the one that you went and got yourself), before something catches your attention in the peripheral vision.

It’s a wispy haired girl, her eyes smudged with mascara, backed against the wall of the kitchen – away from the main crowd, you could pick from her body language a sense of uncomfortability as she was drunkenly shaking her head at a man who towered in front of her, making you stop in your tracks to watch the scene unfold right in front of you, before quickly changing your course towards their direction, already knowing the identity of the man in front of the girl, without seeing his face.

“Hey, Cyrus, get the fuck away from her!”

As soon as you reach them, and the words leave your mouth, another raucous voice speaks at the same time as you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Cyrus and the girl in front of him stop at their hushed conversation, to look away from each other and face you both while you also look at Jason – with a shocked expression – standing next to you and before you can say anything, Cyrus lets go of his hold on the girl before turning to glare at you.

“I don’t see how any of this is any of your business?”

You restrain yourself from physically hurling at him and fist your hands at your sides before looking at him with an unimpressed look.

“I don’t see how any of this is your business either, Beck? Thought daddy said that he’ll pull you out of school if he had to deal with your stupid behaviour again, or did you forget about it?”

“I swear to god – “

He tries to step closer to you but Jason steps in front of you before he can do anything else, and mutters,

“How about you fucking walk away before something worse happens?”

Beck shrugs of Jason’s hold on him before walking away and pointing a finger at you.

“You’re such a fucking bitch, you know that?”

“Should’ve said that to your daddy when he said I was best fucking person he’s ever met.”

He looks at you wildly and is about to retort before one of his friends pulls his attention to a game of beer-pong happening in another corner of the party and the whole scene stops for a second. You watch with a held breath as within a fraction of a second, a cocky smile overtakes his face and his shoulders relax as he runs his hands through his dark hair, leaving with his friend and you quickly turn around to see the girl, still standing there, her arms wrapped around her body and a shocked expression on her face.

It takes you a second, but you manage to gently coax her to the hallway outside the apartment and Jason (unbeknownst to you) follows in your footsteps.

“Do you want me to call you a cab, or can I drop you off?”

She shakes her head and is about to say something before Jason interjects,

“I can take her home.”

Both you and the girl turn around and stare at him and you quickly shake your head, diverting your gaze away from him,

“It’s fine Todd, I’ve got this.”

He sighs.

“Will you just let me help her?”

“Well, I’ve already told you that I’ve got this under control, so I don’t see why you’re being so – “

“Oh - uh, you don’t have to worry about me, I can uh – go home myself.”

“No. I – uh mean, let us take you home just to make sure that everything will be okay.”

A meek smile overtakes her face as you squeeze her hand lightly and you offer a half-smile in return.

“Us?” Jason’s voice perks up and you turn around,

“Well, I don’t have a car. If you want, I can come with you and drop her off at her place but – “

“Yeah, sure. Come on.”

His voice is clipped as he moves past you both, turning around the end of the hallway, leading you both to quickly follow him as well.

“Wait. I never asked you for your name.” You gently rest place your hand on her shoulder, making her stop and quietly giving her name,

“It’s Anna.”

...

By the time you’ve left Anna’s apartment complex, the small talk in the car dwindles down as you both sit, unnerved in the dimmed light of the car, the silence suffocatingly awkward. It doesn’t change until he pulls up to the curb, facing the entrance to your apartment building.

“Thanks.”

It’s quiet enough that you didn’t expect that he’d actually hear you. Let alone, grab your wrist before you leave, an incredulous expression on his shadowy face.

“Thanks? That’s it. You’re not going to say anything about what’s just happened?”

“Well, what the fuck do you want me to say.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well neither do I. Look. Thanks for dropping me off and Anna. That’s it. I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

He doesn’t say anything and let’s go of his hold on your wrist before you quickly slip out of the car, not realising the force at which you push, slams the door shut, making you internally wince. But in your peripheral vision, you can see he doesn’t look at you, with his face staring forward and grip tight on the wheel.

His car’s gone further and turned the corner before you’ve even made it to the entrance doors, and you breath in the cold October air, letting the wind whip across your bare skin, goosebumps rising while standing in a pathetically insulating satin dress, your thoughts pummeling through your mind without fully understanding them and you sigh again.

“What did you say to him after that?”

“Babs, I’m already – “

You stop midway through your hushed conversation with Barbara to see a disheveled Jason noisily weave his way through the shelves, towards the table at the back of the library you had occupied with Barbara.

“Sorry, I – “

“If you weren’t really going to care about this assignment, you should’ve said something before showing up thirty minutes late.” You deadpan, voice steely and brows furrowed.

“Will you fucking listen to me?” he breathlessly cuts you off from saying anything else as he drops his books on the table.

“I’ll head out now.” Barbara mutters to you, squeezing your arm and slinging her bag over her shoulder before quietly slipping out of sight. You rested your chin in your propped arm, waiting for Jason to continue,

“Well, what’s your excuse?”

“I don’t have an excuse. I was caught up in call with my father, it ended up being longer than I expected.”

You stare at him for a moment, his eyebrows also furrowed and hair sticking in all directions as he breathes heavily.

“Whatever, just complete the outline of notes I made for you.” You replied, pushing pieces of sticky notes and highlighted papers, that you had been picking at for the past half hour, towards his direction.

In about fifteen minutes, you’re both working in relative silence apart from the occasional remarks on the thesis and clarification on handwritings. There’s also been the perpetual looks on Jason’s part, and regardless of how much you try to block them, it itches at you to confront him about his irritating tendency.

“What Jason? What do you want now?”

His expression is firstly, taken aback, and then he coughs before asking,

“Did you ever talk to the girl after the party?”

You nod slowly, eyes still trained on the table, curving letters on colour-coded sticky notes before replying,

“Yeah, Stephanie’s their R.A, so I went and checked up on them the day after the party, she’s doing fine.”

You think that’s the end of his curiosity, but the pit of anxiety in your stomach and his next question, makes you internally want to bang your head against the alder wood table.

“And, uh, what about Beck?

Now, you stop writing with your pen and look up at him instead, resting your chin on your propped hand again, with a bored expression splayed on your face to try and detract from the internal anxiety, for both yourself and him.

“What about him?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and for a moment you think he might snap like he did in the car a few nights ago, but he only closes his eyes in frustration as you cock your head to one side.

“If you’re wondering if he’s going to face consequences for what he does – then no.”

There’s no verbal response except for a quizzical expression and you almost roll your eyes at him.

“I swear to God Jason, do you live under a fucking rock?”

“I just – look if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, then fucking leave it.”

“Maybe if you’d like to stop yelling in the goddamn library, I can fucking say something.” You almost hiss at him, voice seething as you both glare at each other.

“Anyways, you probably know that Beck’s the son of the headmaster, yeah, yeah, anyways, he’s always been a fucking creep around parties, but he’s never like you know, ever gotten that far.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at your hushed whispers.

“Like, he just trails around parties looking to either fight someone or just annoy them the fuck out but usually someone stops him before he can do something worse. But, still doesn’t mean that he isn’t a fucking asshole anyways – and his dad and him have like the worst fucking relationship ever, he’s threatened to pull him out a bunch of times of school because he’s so shit.”

You lower your voice even further at the last past, that you’re not sure if he can even hear you.

“How do you know all this?”

You shake your head and trail your eyes back to the unfinished notes in front of you.

“That’s unimportant. He’s a whiny trust-fund brat and I don’t know why someone hasn’t punched him yet.”

That silences Jason for a moment. And the moment doesn’t last long before your phone’s alarm blares through the silence of the library and you quickly move to silence it and Jason eyes question you but you don’t respond, instead move to disorderly throw all the pens and highlighters into your bag and grab as many papers you could in one go before quickly whispering,

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait – “

“Look. I promised I’d help a friend out with something. I’ll let you know when I’m free again.”

Jason doesn’t have a chance to say anything else before you’ve flitted through the haze of bookshelves out of view.

“What happened to the guy your dad set you up with?”

“Darian?”

Babs doesn’t look up from her place on the vanity table as she touches up her makeup while you’re sat on the table with a plastic fork prodding the edges of one of the Halloween themed chocolate cakes Babs attempted to bake for the party.

“Yeah, the one with the hair, right?”

“The hair?”

She casts a pointed look at you through the mirror, but you only take in another forkful of chocolate icing before answering,

“Yeah, he had like the most voluminous hair I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Really? Well he had the most boring personality that I’ve ever fucking seen.”

She barely contains a smile at your comment while her own snarky comment elicits a snort from you but before you can say anything else, the frantic clicking of Stephanie’s (beloved) d’orsay heels against the linoleum floor followed by her quickly making her way into the dimly lit bedroom causes the room to fall into silence.

“You’re not ready yet?”

Her voice holds an accusatory tone and Babs quickly scoffs,

“I’m trying. But somebody keeps distracting me by asking unimportant questions.”

“Excuse me. I’m trying to be a good friend and keep up with my friend’s life.”

“Please. It sounds more like you want to know more about Darian.”

Before you can retort to her statement, Steph’s voice cuts in,

“Darian? Who’s that?”

“A guy I went on a date with a while ago.” Babs replies with a roll of her eyes, pulling out a scarlet lipstick tube from her make-up bag.

“ – That your dad set you up with.” You finish for her and Stephanie laughs.

“Since when is Professor Gordon a dating guru?”

“Since fucking never,” Babs replies, this time, twisting the cap of her lipstick. “It was just some guy in the forensic unit that he probably felt bad for being single and alone, but he shouldn’t have, ‘cause he didn’t have a fucking personality even if he tried.”

“Well that sucks. Anyways, are you both ready?” She pulls out her phone out of the bag she’d brought and starts typing.

“Or, you know, at least tried to be ready?” This time, she eyes you pointedly and you let out a noise of protest while stuffing another forkful of chocolate cake in your mouth.

“I’m sorry not all of us have devoted our whole fucking lives curating every Halloween costume known to man!”

This was something you’d noticed since you’d come back to Gotham and had been forced to attend Halloween parties – nearly everyone you’d encountered was practically obsessed with the celebration – and one of those people was Barbara. So much so, that every year she held a Halloween party and planned it more profusely than you’ve ever seen her do anything else. Her love also came with a heightened scrutiny for your enthusiasm – or lack thereof – for the holiday.

Which was why you were currently sat, dressed in a black boat neck dress with a flimsy witch hat resting on your head as you decimated one of Babs’ rejected Halloween cakes – yet the worst part was that it was currently early December (midterms being pushed back made it impossible to have it in October) and the last thing you’d wanted was to attend this party but Babs had personally threatened to drag you there to complete her and Steph’s wish of doing a group costume.

“It’s only you, you know.” Steph retorts, head cocking to one side and blonde curls hanging over her shoulder, “Now, let’s go, let’s go!”

About three hours later, you’ve found yourself nursing a cup of cheap bar (the number, you’re pretty sure that you’ve lost count of), eyeing a clique of literature students, who are currently in the midst of an argument while you stand in the corner of the room, trying to avoid them recognizing you out of their peripheral vision.

“What’re you doing?”

“What the – “ You quickly turn around to see a tall figure dressed in black staring down at you quizzically, and then you realize that it’s Jason Todd.

“Todd, what the fuck do you want.” You hiss – not at all in the mindset to have a conversation with him at the moment – while trying to remain quiet enough so that you don’t attract any unwanted attention.

“I should be asking you,” He taunts back. “You’re the one sulking around the party and hiding in places.”

You don’t try to reply to his response but offer another front of argument that throws all sensibility of your previous claim of not wanting to fight Jason out of the window.

“I don’t fucking understand, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to talk to you and you’re blocking everyone’s way.”

“Well, I’m not moving. So, they can find another way.”

“Are you fucking serious,” His voice raises. “You’re actually acting like a – “

“Shut up. Will you.” You hiss, pushing both of you further into the corner, so the bi-fold doors hide you better from the view of the group.

“What are you – “

“Morgan and his stupid friends keep trying to argue with me about some shit literature and won’t leave me alone.”

“Why?” There’s an edge to his voice which you pretend not to hear by avoiding his eyes.

“Beats me.”

He falters at the hostility of the comment – or lack thereof and you don’t say anything else but instead move to carefully peer pass the maple doors to scan for the group you’ve been avoiding amongst the mass of people in the room and as soon as you can’t see them you quickly move past Jason, to the to the cantilever staircase, without registering Jason’s footsteps trailing behind yours until you’ve reached the top and the overwhelming music and yelling from the party subdues a little and you let out a breath of relief before you see Jason also reaching the top of the stairs.

“Are you fucking following me?”

“No. Barbara and Stephanie were looking around for you and I was helping them.”

That lessens your anger a little and then confusion settles.

“Why?”

“I wanted to apologise to you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and find yourself a little speechless.

“I – I meant why were they were looking for me but go on.”

“Oh,” You think you see his cheeks tint pink a little but with the dim lighting dancing shadows on his face, you’re not sure. “Well, I wanted to say sorry about the last class we had with Gordon.”

He takes a pause to slightly mess with his hair by running a hand through it.

“You were right about Bukowski – I – I don’t know why I said all of that shit.”

Looking back at this moment, you think it’s not your brightest because somehow his rather heartfelt confession falls almost deaf on your ears and somehow the narrative in your mind shifts to something else entirely.

“Is this some sort of joke, Todd?”

“What?”

“Did Morgan put you up to this shit? I know you and I don’t get along but siding with him is real fucking low, you know?”

“I – “

“I can’t fucking believe that you’re listening to all their bullshit and agreeing with them. It’s so – “

“No. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He cuts you off and his voice raises considerably. “I’m trying to fucking apologize to you and all your doing is being a bitch again.”

That silences you, but he continues.

“You know, I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything to understand what I did to fuck up with you, I’ve asked Barbara and Stephanie and – just, fuck, why did I listen to Dick?”

He mutters the last part, but you catch it anyway but still no response forms in your head at all, instead new questions pop-up as Jason runs another frantic hand through his ruined hair before quickly thundering down the stairs, leaving you…

You’re not quite sure what you’re feeling but cold is one of them as you pull the pathetic lace sleeves down your arm to try and warm yourself but nothing happens and maybe you feel your eyes too heavy to keep open as tears brim at the corners.

“Hey – are you okay?”

Babs’ voice causes your head to snap upwards as you watch her quickly scaling the stairs, eyebrows furrowed together, and you offer no response until she reaches the top and extends her arms to pull you into a hug.

“You were right. Halloween really isn’t your holiday.”

“Could you please stay behind for a moment?”

Gordon asks of you as you’re heading out of the hall, and the pit of anxiety resting in your stomach throughout the class, blooms further as you wait on the side until all the hall empties and its just you and Gordon.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, until he finally sighs and looks at you with a hard expression – one you’re all too familiar with from when you were little –

“Concerning Jason,”

You nod. Since your argument two days ago, you haven’t seen him, and the guilt seeped in farther when his spot well behind you remained empty the entire lesson.

“He’s pulled from your partnership.”

“W-what?”

“He came to talk to me, saying that he can’t continue to work with you anymore on any further projects, and the last one I paired you up on should definitively be the last.”

“Sir, I – “

“Look, I don’t like to meddle in the private lives of my students, but this situation is too tiring for me not to say that whatever problem you and Jason have; fix it. I always find both your work fascinating and that goes for the assignment you both submitted before and I simply cannot allow your own vanities to cloud judgment over the fact that you and Jason are paragons at literature and in my books, are too quick-witted to allow this talent to be lost amongst petty arguments.”

“I know, I – “

“So, I hope you’ll resolve this issue before next week’s lesson?”

“I – yes. Yes, I will.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

“Can I come in?”

The situation that you’re currently in rolls over you in waves of guilt and anxiety as you stand in front of Jason, in a beige coloured hallway as he idly stands with the apartment door halfway open, hesitant at your words or more so at how you’re standing in front of his apartment with worn boots and a heaving chest. You’d finally taken heed of the advice offered from Gordon, Steph and Babs and even consulted Dick and mulled it over with your own guilt before trekking all the way to his apartment.

“Sure,” His voice sounds removed – apathetic enough that you have to refrain from wincing, as he opens the door further to let you in. “Are you okay?”

You don’t hear him as your boots echo against the hardwood floor as you enter the apartment building and the sudden realization that this is the first time you’ve seen his apartment settles in as you eye the dimly lit space, with books scattered on the coffee – most of them are torn, something you’ve always found a little endearing, though you won’t admit it. The room is an oddly home-y mixture of warm beige's and deep browns that you would’ve kept staring at if he hadn’t called out your name again.

“What?”

“I asked, are you okay? You’re red in the face and panting.”

“Oh, oh, yeah, I walked all the way here and the elevator was out of service, so I used the stairs.”

“Why did you walk, nearly twenty blocks?” He furrows his brows and you let out of a puff of annoyance.

“I – listen, I don’t want to argue with you,” You take a step closer and calm yourself before starting. “You – you were right, I was being a complete and total bitch to you without reason at that party and before that. It’s just – “

You stop, and release a chuckle before awkwardly asking, “I’m gonna need a drink to get through this, do you have any?”

Nearly fifteen minutes later, not as drunk as you need to be, but enough that it gives you courage to finally stop beating around the bush and talk to him so you move to see him also standing facing the open windows to the evening sky, the sun setting against the horizon as dusk settles and you motion for him to sit on the floor as you are and he slowly complies.

“Look, I know I’ve been hostile towards you since – “

“Why?” He interrupts, not looking at you and you sputter a little. “Why have you been so hostile to me.”

“Well, you should know, none of it was your fault – well, not directly.” You sigh.

“College was my chance to start over. You don’t need to know all of the other shit, but I just thought that this whole experience would make everything okay and I wouldn’t need to fight for every single thing in my life just to end up being sub-par. And, it was going great.” You slightly chuckle to try not to choke on your words.

“That was, until you came along with your prodigal capabilities in literature and it felt like everything was falling apart again. Because somehow, suddenly, I wasn’t Gordon’s favourite anymore and I wasn’t at the top of the class – and somehow, I wasn’t enough.” Your voice is a little more choked now as you kept looking forward, even though Jason had started watching you now.

“It just was like my entire belief system just got turned upside down.” You release a breath and let the silence settle after your words.

“Fuck, I just unloaded a crap-ton of shit onto you, and you probably don’t understand any of it. I mean, I’m drunk so I don’t understand either.” You laugh and try not to cry, even though you’re pretty sure you will.

“No, I think I understand sort of, too,” He replies, voice softer than you expected and you’re more surprised to see a small smile gracing his lips. “You’re not completely wrong about the whole belief system thing there, you know, Gordon’s classes meant the same thing to me too and I just wanted to enjoy something without having to fight my way for it but boy, did you make that hard.”

A breathy chuckle escapes you as he stops talking and you both sit in the silence until he pipes up again,

“If we’re trying to mend this whole thing then maybe you should want this back too,” His voice is cryptic as you furrow your brows in confusion and stare at him with a lost expression as he stands up to walk away and disappear into the hallway, out of your sight before quickly returning with something clasped in his hand while you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You dropped this in my car when we were heading back from the party with that whole thing with Anna. Dick found it the next morning and had a whole field day about it.”

In his palm, rests a single earring piece shaped like an olive branch which you thought you’d lost in the chaos of the party and you almost laugh.

“You know, I’m gonna pretend this isn’t too creepy and thank you for giving it back.”

“I was trying to give it back to you but you never wanted to have a single conversation with me so,” You roll your eyes before picking up the earring and hooking it back through your ear even though you didn’t have the other one on.

“Right, I get it, I suck.”

That causes him to laugh as he settles back down again next to you and he doesn’t look at you before saying,

“No, you’re not as annoying as I originally thought.”

You echo a ‘hey’ and lightly punch him and the silence envelopes you both – softly, and there’s a moment of peace you think you’ve both settled in and it feels nice.

le fin

(pt.2 will come)

#dc #dc fanfic #Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #batfam #batman imagines #jason todd imagines #red hood imagines #dc fic #dick grayson imagine #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #fanfic #my fanfic #bruce wayne #jason todd x you #red hood x y/n

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messrmoonyy · 3 years

Note

Have you seen that popular post of tonks going to Remus class after the war and taking teddy with her? cood your write something with that? Please 😃

I sure have anon! I loved this. Some happiness amongst all the angsty asks I have lmao.

I took some mild creative liberties with the conversational abilities of portraits and the timeline is slightlyyyy wobbly. But enjoy

Read my other writing in my masterlist and feel free to drop me a request

Pairing: Remus lupin x Nymphadora Tonks

Warnings: none

When Tonks woke up Remus was already gone, her fingers reached around blindly on his side of the bed and found nothing but cold sheets and she groaned. In the year that they had been living at Hogwarts with Remus back teaching again, she had gotten herself into the habit of waking up with him. But Teddy had simply refused to sleep last night so she had been up for hours with him so that Remus could sleep. She opened her eyes and saw there was a steaming mug of tea on the bedside dresser with a little note propped against it and she reached over to grab it.

'My dear Dora,

Don't be mad at me for not waking you, you needed to rest. I checked on Teddy before I left. I have a class of 6th years 3rd period so feel free to come down if you want to. I have a free afternoon too, so tea in Hogsmede?

Yours always, Remus'

She smiled and sat up in bed stretching her arms up above her head with a yawn, grimacing slightly as her arm popped. It was one of the main reasons she still hadn’t gotten back fully into working herself, an injury from the war that still hadn’t recovered. The curse still that had hit her making it seem like it might not ever recover properly. Madam Pomfrey saw her once a week to help with it, but it wasn’t much better really.

She felt quite useless some days. She was desperate to get back into working again. She was never one for just lazing around doing nothing. She had been offered her job back at the ministry when ever she was ready to return to it, a hefty promotion waiting for her too. She still dis small things for the ministry, Kingsley has worked very closely with her and Remus on getting equal rights for Lycanthropes, made wolfsbane much more accessible. But for now she didn’t really mind that much, it meant having plenty of time with Remus and Teddy. Now in terms of work she she just helped out around the school where she could, because they didn't mind if she brought Teddy along with her. Some days she helped out in the hospital wing, her extensive knowledge on healing coming in handy. Other days helped with Minervas homework study groups, helped Remus plan his classes, she kept busy.

Teddy started to fuss and she got out of bed with a roll of her shoulder to try ease the morning pain. She peered into his cot to see him wide eyed and awake. He had Remus’ eyes. Big and brown and beautiful. He looked so much like Remus, she knew the older he got he’d simply be a double of his dad. Minerva was already joking that with them looking so identical now she would resign the day he was old enough to attend Hogwarts. With Remus and Tonks as his parents he was certain to have a mischievous streak in him for certain. It was practically fate.

" my silly boy huh " she said as she saw he’d managed to completely change ends he was sleeping on. She smiled, rolling her eyes with a smile and picked him up. His hair was a vibrant shade of red today, like the phone boxes back in London. His hair was the one of the only thing that seemed to change about him at the moment but he was already starting to control it. He had seemed to have learnt how to change his hair to match who he wanted to be held by when he was particularly grumbly. Which made things particularly difficult if they were staying at the Weasleys. But also quite cute when they would visit Harry and a little scar would appear on his head. She didn't even mind that just lately it would go brown more often than pink because seeing Remus and Teddy together was one of the greatest feelings in the world. Seeing Remus happy was one of the greatest feelings in the world. Because he so often would wake up in the night in a cold sweat as his nightmares replayed all the trauma of the war back to him. But work kept him distracted. And Teddy did. And she did. And though he would never admit it, the fact that he was sole income for the family now kept him motivated too.

She carried him over to her bed and sat down with to feed him, knowing that must be the reason he was fussing. It was quite peaceful sitting there in her room with him, it was raining outside and the rain hitting the window panes was almost melodic. Remus loved the rain and she’d grown to love it as well, sometimes convincing him to go out dancing around in it with her. If she listened closer she could hear the chatter of the children, she glanced at the clock and saw second period would be starting in 5 minutes so they were noisily moving between their classes. Even though there were no classrooms by the teachers wing in the castle, she could still hear them.

When Teddy had had his fill she propped him up on her pillows as she opened up his little wardrobe to get him something to wear. There was a quidditch friendly later on the evening, so she pulled out his little hufflepuff quidditch jumper ready. Molly had knitted it for him and it was an almost perfect replica. Even though Harry had tried to convince her he should be wearing Gryffindor. But even Remus agreed Teddy would be a hufflepuff. Through and through.

" wanna go see daddy teach later, hmm? You like being in his classroom don't you? Mummy does too because daddy looks very handsome in his teaching robes doesn't he? He does " she said as started to get him changed, unhooking his foot that he had shoved into his mouth “ are you going to be a good boy whilst he’s teaching? My good boy huh? “ Teddy gurgled an answer and went back to trying to get his foot into his mouth again.

With a half hour or so to go until his 6th year class she left their quarters and took Teddy down to his second favourite place in the castle. In one of the corridors off the main entrance hall a long row of portraits of those that had been lost in the war had been hung. Including one of Sirius. The first time they had seen it both Remus and Dora had cried only to have had the painted Sirius tell them both to grow a pair. But getting to introduce Teddy to his family was worth it, even if it did still make her emotional to see his face and hear his voice again.

When she reached Sirius frame he wasn't in it and she rolled her eyes knowing exactly where he would be. She walked down a couple more portraits to Fred Weasleys. And there was Sirius. Turns out even painting Sirius and Fred were mischievous and Sirius acted like the marauder he once was around Fred as they tried to play pranks on the others in the hall.

" do you ever actually stay in your frame?" Tonks said with a smile, bouncing Teddy lightly on her hip.

" Tonksie! And my little man! " Teddy started laughing as he heard Sirius voice and made grabby hands towards him. Tonks held him to the frame and Sirius pulled stupid faces at the little boy making him laugh even more. She wished Sirius was still around to truly play with Teddy. To make him laugh and turn him into the little prankster she knew he would grow up to be. But a portrait would all she was going to get nowadays. So she took what she could get " where's moons? Teaching? "

" yeah. We're going to see him now. Arent we Ted? Gonna see daddy? “ Teddy’s hair shifted brown at the mention of his dad and with a slight worry he would start crying and disturb classes, she said a quick goodbye to Sirius and made her way down to Remus’ classroom. She was a little early but Remus tended to let his class go early if he knew she was coming down.

And as exactly as she had suspected he had let his 3rd years go early when she arrived and they were piling out of the room. They all smiled as they saw her, all of Remus’ students knowing who she was.

" morning Mrs Lupin! "

" hi Ted! Hi Mrs Lupin! "

" good morning Mrs Lupin, oh hiyya Teddy! " some of the children greeted her as they left the classroom and she smiled at them all eagerly still just loving the sound of ' Mrs Lupin ' as she stepped into the classroom Remus had his back to her, tidying something on his desk and she snuck up behind him, wrapping her free arm around his waist.

" hi " she said softly and stood up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. He turned in her embrace immediately, a smile gracing his faces the sight of his family. He leant down to kiss her only to be disturbed by Teddy yanking on his hair.

" oh I'm sorry, does someone feel left out? " Dora said with a laugh and handed him over to Remus who kissed his nose and both his chubby cheeks.

" kisses for both my favourite people " he held the baby boy up in the air and playfully tried to bite at his little feet making Teddy squeal in delight. Remus was well and truly in his element as a father. He had taken to the role so well and it warmed Doras heart watching them together. He may have had a rocky start. But he was more than making up for it now. He doted on his son, spoilt him completely rotten and showed him all the love and affection she’d known he’d had in him from the start.

Teddy soon became disinterested and far more interested in the model of some small creature on his desk. Remus handed it to him and sat him down on the floor as he gurgled to himself, inspecting the skull as if it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.

“ did you catch up on your sleep? “ Remus asked turning to Dora then as she watched Teddy with a smile “ you look tired darling “ he pulled her into, his hands on her waist. She gave a small shrug and looked up at him. His face was mildly concerned. He always worried too much. Always.

“ a bit “

“ you should’ve stayed in bed. Gotten some more rest “

" I’m fine Remus. Honestly. Besides. I like watching you teach " she said with a smile and hopped up to sit on his desk after a look towards Teddy. He was still babbling to himself as he investigated the small skull, still insanely amused by it.

" people aren't allowed to sit on my desk you know " Remus said and moved to stand in front of her, his hand reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“ if I recall we’ve done much more than sit on this desk Mr Lupin “ his cheeks flushed and she couldn’t help the giant grin on her face. After all the time since they’d first met she could still get him flustered. She loved it.

" you're a tease you know that? " he murmured and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

" I'm well aware. But you married me didn't you? You signed up for it " he smiled and she brushed her lips against his with an smile to match his. Though he’d barely kissed her for a second when there was the sound of children in the corridor, his next class arriving. Dora gave a small sigh and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before hopping off of the desk and picking up Teddy.

“ you’ll stay? “ Remus asked, straightening up his desk and pulling her back in gently before she could go “ it’s mostly just a study lesson, you won’t be a bother darling “ how could she say no to him when he was looking at her like that? He made her melt. She gave a nod and pressed a kiss to his cheek, before retreating to the back of the classroom so she and Teddy wouldn’t get in the way “ in you come class! “ the children piled in, some stopping briefly to talk to Tonks and Teddy before finding their seats.

She’d attended so many of his classes by now and she’d never seen any children really misbehave. They all seemed to love him, all listening with pure interest in everything he had to say. And maybe it was his parental instinct, but he was practically a father to some of them. They went to him for advice, just to talk, some of the more quiet students would even seek him out at lunch break so they didn’t have to eat alone. There were the odd few that were still coming to terms with the new easing of laws regarding werewolves, having grown up around people always saying they were bad. But everyone quickly grew to love him.

Just like she’d said they would.

He’d been a little hesitant to take on his old job after the war and had declined twice before finally accepting. She’d had the joy of watching him flourish after returning to work, he was truly in his element. He was happier. More confident than ever. And she loved him even more for it.

Teddy remained quite as Remus started teaching, always looking at his father almost in awe. He only became a little restless when Remus set the students off to do their own working, a quiet chatter filling the classroom.

“ Mrs Lupin? “ Tonks turned her head as she heard her name and smiled as Ravenclaw girl looked at her expectantly “ could you give me a hand with this one? “ she happily walked over to the girls desk, crouching down to help her with her questions on the behaviours of Pukwudgies. Teddy continued to wiggle around as she tried to help the student so placed him down to sit by her feet.

She had only taken her eyes off of him for a few moments , but Teddy took his chance and wiggled out of his mothers grasp and crawled away to sit at Remus foot who was stood a few desks away helping a student himself.

" oh- Teddy " Dora hissed and went to snatch her child back to their place in the back of the classroom. But Remus simply bent down and picked Teddy, not even stopping his explanation to his student , and placed him on his hip which made Teddy clap his chubby little hands excitedly. Tonks finished helping the girl before hurrying over to Remus, ready to relieve him of their son. But Remus declined with a smile.

“ it’s okay. Have a break. He’s fine sweetheart “

He held him for the rest of the lesson , even when he brought the classes attention back to the front for the final part of his lecture. He held Teddy in his arm and acted as if it was a perfectly normal thing to teach about the life expectancies of dark creatures with a small child on your hip. None of the students seemed fazed by it either and Dora sat at the back of classroom with a smile so wide it hurt her cheeks. Nothing would ever come close to the sight of Remus happy. So at ease with being a father now, so at ease back in front of classroom. Helping. Teaching. Shaping small futures as he has always dreamt of doing.

And of course the cherry on top. His family. Something he had never thought he could have. He was finally living the life she’d wanted him to have since that first meeting back when she joined the Order. The war was over. He had lived most of his life in war. And now he was finally free. Free with her. And their son.

#I hope this doesn’t flop like my last one #messrmoonyy writes #remus lupin #nymphadora tonks #remadora #harry potter #remus x tonks #the marauders #lupin #ronks #tonks x lupin #tonks #hogwarts #Sirius black #Remadora If they lived #Remadora au #teddy lupin

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flourgirl · 3 years

Text

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

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

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

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

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

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

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

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

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

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

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

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

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

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

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

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

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

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

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

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

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel #mcu #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff

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mctherofdragons · 3 years

Text

A Sanctuary Heart | 3 | SR

summary / after her abusive husband lands her in the intensive care unit, y/n changes her identity and moves as far away as possible. upon starting her new life, she meets dr.spencer reid and his son, maddox, when she begins her job as a teacher. but can she keep herself safe and keep up the facade with spencer? can she be safe at all?

pairing / spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings / slowburn romance, fluff, angst, marriage, trauma, domestic violence/abuse, dad!spencer, wheelchair use, paralysis, injury, ptsd flashbacks, car accident/serious injury, bullying, mention of ableism, a singular mention of god.

important links / series masterlist + domestic violence resources

authors note / i absolutely adored writing this chapter, omg. we get more of spencer and maddox's backstory. and things start to get a little more exciting as the rest of the team makes their first appearance! thank you all for the great feedback so far, i'm so glad you're enjoying the series. also my tags are not working, so reblogs on this chapter would be insanely appreciated. Flashbacks are in italics!

Seeing the blood on your hand, Spencer instinctively reached out to grab your wrist gently. You snatched your hand back, bringing yourself up to your feet, wobbling. You grabbed your bag, wrapping your hand in your scarf that you had managed to take off in the cool October night.“Ivy,” he said the moniker one more time and you felt your insides reel once more.

‘I’m a liar, Dr. Reid, I wish you knew,’ you thought to yourself, stumbling to search for your keys under the warm glow of the moon.

“I have to go. Thank you for dinner,” you contended, making your way out of the side gate. Spencer watched in confusion as you made your way out quickly. He figured he ought to chose his battles, not wanting to startle you by following after you.

Once you were safe inside your car, you sat in the driver’s seat, hands gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life. You felt a sharp combination of embarrassment and frustration. You wanted the flit of light that came from the possibility of new love. But instead, the one before had taken everything from you. Even now, all these miles and a new name away, he was pulling you away from those little flickers of brilliance and back into the darkness of yourself.

_____________________________

2 years earlier.

“Maddox,” Spencer whispered, feeling his heavy eyelids open just slightly. He was disoriented, noticing that the once right-side-up roadway was now upside down instead. The loud blaring of the horn was constant. It sent a piercing sound into Spencer’s ears and head, which caused him to wince. “Maddox.”

Spencer tried to turn, but he couldn’t move. Something had him pinned in the driver’s seat. He looked into the review mirror, which by grace alone wasn’t entirely broken. Maddox was slumped in his car seat, blood trickling down onto his Toy Story tee shirt. Spencer let out a weak gasp, trying again with no avail to move.

Spencer noticed how cold it was. It had been snowing all night, and Spencer wasn’t sure how long they had been where they are now. The snow had fallen through the shattered glass, tiny flakes gathering anywhere they could.

Using all of his strength, he turned his head to his wife. Her eyes were half shut, a trickle of crimson come from her mouth.

“Baby,” Spencer whispered. “Are you alright?”

She began to speak, but began to sputter, her lungs sounding flooded. Her hand curled and uncurled, and Spencer could barely reach it. He was able to hold onto her fingertips with his. They felt ice-cold like she was already three steps into Eternity. Spencer knew that type of frigid touch. He had come in content with it a million times, and the person on the other end was never living.

“D-don’t talk, baby. Okay? The ambulance is coming. Do you hear them? We’re going to be okay.”

Spencer could hear the medics somewhere far off in the distance. The repeated echo of the sirens sounded like a band of angels to him. Spencer Reid admittedly didn’t believe in the Judeo-Christian God. He wasn’t sure what he gave credence to, in fact. But at that moment, inverted in the shattered glass, surrounded by the labored breathing of his dying wife...he prayed.

________________________________

Spencer walked into the Bureau, adjusting the brown satchel on his shoulder. His brow looked furrowed as he sipped from his paper coffee cup. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way you left, trying to profile what exactly had gone wrong between the Merlot and you rushing out of his backyard.

“Penny for your thoughts?,” Emily piqued as Spencer sat down, tossing his bag onto his desk. Spencer let out an exasperating sigh, taking another drink of his coffee.

“Just trying to figure someone out.”

“Oh, oh, oh. Is this a lady someone?,” Derek queried, wiggling his eyebrows. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning onto Spencer’s desk with a sparkling grin.

“Maybe.”

Spencer felt himself smiling despite his best efforts. Emily opened her mouth in surprise, giving Derek a playful shove.

“I told you he would get back out there, Morgan!”

Spencer smiled. “Yeah, she’s sweet. I just...don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

That morning, Spencer had put on his wedding band. He still did it when he was scared, or nervous, or needing to feel close to her. He would feel the cool metal atop his finger and feel less alone. For a brief moment when the metallic touched his skin, he could pretend she was still here.

Derek gave Spencer’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

“I hope you know me and Prentiss are just messing with you. We care about you, kid. We know these past two years have been hell for you. Just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah…I appreciate that. I just…,” Spencer paused, bringing his hands up as he spoke, as was so akin to him. His lip curled into the smallest smile. “Seeing this girl interact with Maddox. She...loves him for him..already?”

“Maddox is a great kid, Reid.”

“I know. I just don’t want her to find out---”

Spencer’s sentence was cut off by Hotch appeared, letting everyone know they had a case and to meet for Round Table. Spencer quickly shot a text to Maddox’s home health nurse, letting her know he’d need coverage for a few days.

________________________________

You sat in the front of your classroom, your eyes scanning from the test in front of you to the answer key. The students were working on a Social Studies project in small groups. Their task was to read a short story about colonial times and fill out a short worksheet. If they finished early they were permitted to color, which most of the children thoroughly enjoyed.

“Maddox can’t use crayons,” you heard a small voice snicker. You raised your eyebrow, hoping it wasn’t harmful, and rather just an observation.

You heard another child sling a slur at Maddox, who was sitting quietly with his aide, trying to ignore them. But as you looked up, you saw Maddox’s tiny bottom lip begin to wobble. One of the children picked up a crayon and threw it at Maddox, hitting him in the shoulder.

“He can’t even feel that! My dad said that’s why he’s in a wheelchair,” the bully jeered again, high-fiving his friend.

You stood up with a loud squeak of your chair against the linoleum floor.

“You two. Principals office. Now.”

The rest of the class erupted in a chorus of childish ‘ooo’s. You clapped your hands together - your universal signal to quiet down.

“I did not ask for comments from the audience,” you scolded. The children settled down, going back to their work, whispering amongst one another.

“Maddox, come talk to me in the hallway,” you offered. Tears were rolling down Maddox’s cheeks. His aide reached over with a tissue to wipe them, but he turned his face away, one of the only ways he could physically set a boundary.

Maddox’s aide helped him into the hallway and then left the two of you alone. You sat down on one of the small, metal benches in the hallway. At this angle, you were about Maddox’s height. He was blubbering, trying to take deep breaths as more tears came. You pulled a small, clean, cloth handkerchief from your pocket. He let you dab his cheeks, giving him a gentle click of the tongue.

“Buddy, do you want to talk about it?”

“T-they’re so m..m..mean to me,” he whimpered, closing his eyes as more tears fell. “And, and, and I can’t play with them even, that’s why. I can’t do anything!”

You nodded empathetically, gently catching more of Maddox’s tears.

“I hate school! My daddy wants me to like school. It’s all he talks about. I hate him!”

“Maddox,” you softly redirected. “That’s not very nice. You don’t hate your dad.”

Maddox looked a deep breath. You smiled, knowing Spencer must have taught him to do that when he was upset.

“You’re right. But I’m sad, and I wanna go home.”

You sighed, reaching up to blot the little bit of redness still present on Maddox’s cheeks. You adjusted his glasses, moving some of his curly brown hair from underneath the metal.

“Just a few more hours, okay? We have library at the end of the day.”

Maddox’s face lit up, his apple cheeks glowing beneath the rims of his glasses. “Library!”

“Yes, and just for this week, you can take home two books.”

______________________________

Spencer felt distracted the entire flight to Vermont. He knew he was going to be far away for a while, and that Maddox wouldn’t know until he got out of school for the day. The agent detested when he had to leave without Maddox knowing in advance, but it was usually impossible given the nature of things. Thankfully, Reid had a good setup of support through healthcare and respite so Maddox never went without someone to care for him.

Then, there was you. He couldn’t stop thinking about your reaction. He had seen it before in abuse victims. The way you flinched when he moved too fast, the apologizing like your life depended on it, even the way you looked at him with pleading eyes, desperate to avoid a blow. He bridged his fingers together, thinking to himself for a moment.

With that, he stood up, making his way to the back of the plane. He unlocked his phone while he chewed his fingernail with his free hand. Before he knew it, he was calling Garcia.

“Penelope. Hey, I need a favor. A personal one. If you could keep it between us, that would be great.”

“Anything for you, my precious string bean.”

Spencer laughed. “I need you to get all the information you can on someone. Ivy Porter.”

“Ivy Porter. That’s like a movie star name. What did she do?”

“Um..nothing, I don’t think. Just call me when you’ve got something, and email me everything you find.”

“You got it. Every in and out of Ms. Ivy Porter coming to you soon. Be safe. Talk soon.”

With that, Penelope clicked off of the call. Spencer sat back down, anxiously waiting for whatever information Penelope could find about you.

___________

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid series

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Text

DEBRIS AND MISERY

CURIOUS MINDS THINK ALIKE ; PART 5 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.1k SUMMARY: Through guessing games and walking on eggshells, it’s you and Loki that dance the strange choreography of two curious minds trying to figure out the other. A/N: Slow moving chapter! If any of you speak Norwegian and know that sentence is wrong, please tell me! I took a risk, not sure if it's worth it. Anyways, I promise there’s more stuff coming in the next chapters. Tell me anything about this chapter, what you love, what you hate. Enjoy xo gif from this gifset by@marvelheroes WARNINGS: Swearing? More paperwork. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

The narration of Miss Minutes accompanying the grainy animated graphics of a training video on how, why, and when a branch of a timeline is reset seems to be the source of Loki’s absentmindedness. If he is typically referred to as outrageously and mostly unnecessarily communicative, it is his mind that beats his mouth—the tumult of his thoughts is loud and overwhelming like the people who amass at taverns every evening to drink themselves silly whilst singing jolly drinking songs until the wee hours of the morning. Except, his thoughts are far from jolly. He, mastermind of language and a silver-tongue, has no words of any language to describe the complexity of his mind with accuracy.

Kraftig regn som faller i en fossende elv.

Like heavy rain falling on a cascading river. Water from the sky on water streaming through the ground—thunderous raindrops from above against the river that strikes every rock of every winding turn.

Those were the words of his mother.

Maybe, that’s how his mind should be described.

It’s the mechanical creaks of spinning wheels against the polished floor that pulls him out of his thoughts and finds that he had been staring blankly at a page of men riding jet skis of a magazine he'd nipped from the stack of junk on Mobius’ desk for the last minute or hour. A second or a day? He isn’t sure.

Time works differently at the TVA.

“Hey Casey,” he hears you chime, the cart squeaks as it pulls to a halt. “Do you have a paperweight or something I could use?”

There’s a sound of rummaging as the clerk searches the drawers. Loki restrains the urge to look.

“Uh, yeah...Here.”

“Thanks.”

Probably an infinity stone.

The clerk then wheels by, pushing the evidence cart as he casts a cautious glance his way.

Right. He did threaten to gut him like a fish earlier on although the threat was not as deadly as he intended but proved to be surprisingly effective. Yet, Casey is probably the type to be afraid of his own shadow, he would comply with any sort of threat even if it isn't death.

Pathetic. But amusing.

The training video continues to play in the background, and Miss Minutes’ stupidly charming and cheery voice is starting to sound like gibberish to him. At this rate, it’s white noise to him—attention elsewhere but somewhat listening to a certain extent. He loves multi-tasking and isn’t afraid to admit he’s great at it though it likely plays a huge factor in contributing to the uproar of his brain. It’s why he doesn’t get any sleep for most nights.

There’s just...so much to think about.

And now, it’s filled with the reminder of how you met another version of him. Somewhere. Sometime. An inferior Loki, obviously.

Suddenly, the jet ski magazine becomes less interesting, his mind fleeting.

Discreetly, he spins in his swivel chair and sees you through inked writings and diagrams on the glass partition of your cubicle. Your coat’s discarded, and you have your sleeves rolled up, looking less formal, less tense than before. Yet, still as fierce with that constant scowl of your brows. He watches you bring your fingers to scratch the left side of your cheek and notices a vague resemblance of a fading scar.

He hadn’t seen that before.

The glowing orange hue of the soul stone sits idly on top of a stack of papers beside you.

Loki makes some sort of contemptuous noise in his mind at the sight.

The TVA is a strange place. The thought of a cosmic organization that overlooks all of the time doesn’t make it any less weird and neither do the uniforms—dull color combinations and collars that never seem to end. And the Time-Keepers, well, he isn’t sure what to make of that. Things are a little too straightforward, too simple for handling such a complex matter of the universe—Time. It doesn't make sense.

You spark his curiosity. You had a connection with him. Another Loki trusted you to a certain extent. He wonders what makes you so special, that Mobius was willing to try everything to convince you to help.

He also wonders what your name is.

The clearing of his throat comes off as a sudden and disruptive sound that resonates clearly through the somewhat silent environment of the office floor. A subtle way to gaining your attention although it's proving ineffective. You continue to flip through documents, scribbling notes on a notepad.

He wheels his chair closer to you. For a moment, he catches sight of a white mug amongst the mess. It says, 'Rocket scientist at work.' There’s no way a person as intimidating as you have that kind of mug.

He clears his throat once more.

Still nothing. It’s like he doesn't exist to you.

Then, he notes your vague attempt to fight down a growing smile.

Oh. Oh. You—

Hm.

He scooches closer and taps on the glass partition a little too aggressively.

“I know you can hear me.”

His tone comes out in a sing-song manner. Finally, your eyes turn up to meet his. They are different from when you first saw him emerged into the hallway. Less angry and shocked. Now, you just look unimpressed.

Loki somehow thinks it’s a great idea to charm his way to you.

A grin finds his way to his lips, curving widely with oozing allure.

Or so he thinks.

“Pardon me, but I believe we haven’t properly met and I didn’t catch your name earlier on.”

You don’t say anything, only blink in response.

Tough crowd.

Loki shifts in his seat.

“...What is your name?”

He articulates his words with care, and he doesn’t know why he finds it a need to tread lightly around you. Like with a touch, you will transform into a fiery beast from his childhood nightmares and eat him alive.

You and Mobius are polar opposites—personality-wise. It’s a wonder how the two of you get along.

Do you scare him? No. Definitely not.

Do you intimidate him? Perhaps. But, he will never admit it.

Maybe it’s the way you’re gazing at him with that constant, deafening deadpan look.

Then, you finally give him an answer.

“Agent.”

And with that, you're back to scribbling notes on a notepad.

Agent.

Loki scoffs silently to himself.

Well, that turned out to be completely pointless.

He turns his back to you, returning to scanning through Mobius' jet ski magazine within his grasp.

Loki doesn’t see how you’re now staring at the back of his figure, tapping your pen against the notepad absentmindedly.

Curious minds think alike.

You needed a change of scenery.

With all the noise of the muffling narration of the training videos from Mobius’ desk, you began to feel like you forgot how to do your job. The only job you were created for. The disturbance seems to be putting your brain into a frenzy and it’s preventing you from getting your head straight on report protocols. Trying to think of better words to describe the things you’ve seen on Sakaar that weren’t words that meant trash and didn’t end up sounding unintentionally sexual, is where you draw the line.

Times are hard for the variant turned analyst.

The archives are serene amid your solitude. Extensive tables hidden between shelves of identical-looking binders that expanded throughout the hundreds of floors of the building. The spot that overlooks the three looming statues of the Time-Keepers is your favorite. The occasional swish of a passing elevator calms your nerves from all the frustration and pressure ever since you were released from your arrest. You’re just happy to be somewhere familiar although it’s not home.

Although all distractions are gone, you manage to find new ones as you gaze at the glowing ‘357’ signage from across the building as you decide to let your thoughts run for just a little while. You feel like you’re looking through foggy glasses and your brain feels like it’s about to shut down any moment.

Dream away the pain, then.

Then, you hear a voice from afar. Two voices. It’s Mobius; you’ll recognize that quintessential Texan accent anywhere from the times he would rave about a new jet ski magazine he’d found on a mission...something along those lines.

Much to your chagrin, you also hear Loki with that irritatingly posh accent of his.

You should probably move somewhere else. Run and hide before you're being pulled even more into this mess because you know Mobius is trying to get you to spend as much time with the variant turned analyst to gain trust.

You’re still not sure how it’s helping with his case. Loki has better trust in Mobius than you as far as you’re concerned.

Before you could even gather the mess of your files, the two men you’ve been trying to escape are already by the desk you’re sitting at. You suddenly notice the stack of files on the other end of the desk, not remembering seeing the archivist putting that there.

Crap.

“Let me park ya at this desk and don’t be afraid to really lean into this work...”

You look like a deer caught in the headlights, signaling to Mobius that you really don’t want to share a desk with Loki. He continues to speak to him, ignoring your silent plea. Then, he gestures to the seat across from you.

There’s still time to leave.

Mobius addresses you with the stretch of his pointer finger.

“You, keep an eye on him. I’m gonna get a snack.”

Well, too late.

With a turn of a heel, you and Loki watch him walk away and pass neverending shelves of the archives. Once again, the two of you are left alone in the silence and the white noise of the TVA.

You meet each other's eyes at the same time, struck with the thought that you and he will probably be seeing each other a lot until the Loki variant is arrested. Plus, you’re tired of giving him the cold shoulder although you believe he deserves it.

This is a different Loki. The one who’s still power-hungry. The one who still wants to rule.

Time to start fresh.

You notice he now wears a jacket, a color somewhere between green, grey, and brown with a striking image of the TVA’s official badge above his chest. The lapels of his jacket jut out in an attempt to replicate his sense of pride and confidence.

He must have been on a trip with Mobius to the Renaissance Faire in Wisconsin, 1985. Oh, how you would kill to tag along. Everyone who knows you knows about your obsession with Earth’s music pop culture, specifically the 1980s. It explains the cassettes you have lying around. Your apartment has more of it.

Unfortunately, you're grounded. That's reality.

Thus, you decide that Loki deserves a second chance because he’s also somehow looking at you for some kind of approval. You’re starting to wonder if this is the same Loki that was tapping aggressively on your cubicle earlier on.

With an open palm, you gesture to the empty seat surrounded by stacks of binders and folders. It's the first time he has experienced some kind of acknowledgment of his presence that you weren’t ranting or screaming about. Oddly calm. Oddly inviting. Momentarily, he shifts in his stance, eyes darting between a fading figure of Mobius rounding the corner and to the seat, across from you.

The air is tense. However, still breathable.

Loki slides into the seat, legs shifting under the desk as it brushes against your by accident. You shoot him a pointed look, and he responds with a coy expression, blinking at you innocently. It’s mischievous.

Classic Loki.

You turn back to your case file, ignoring the way his gaze seems to burn holes into the side of your face for a fleeting moment before flipping a binder open from the stack to his left.

You snore when you sleep.

Loki wouldn’t describe it as a snore; it's more of a wheeze. Soft and subtle but it’s there, cutting through the ambiance of the archives, drifting and resonating in his ears. Through turning pages, uttering words to himself for his amusement, and having an irritating lady shush him for that, he realized how it became a lot quieter. The grazing sound of pen furiously scribbling words onto the yellow notepad has stopped.

Then, he hears it. Your pathetic snores. Your cheek is unceremoniously pressed against the back of your hand while the other holds the orange pen that’s still pinned down on the paper, mid-scrawl. The tip of the ballpoint pen sits idly, halfway through the curved stroke of the last letter of the word, ‘debris.’ He cranes his neck, face tilting in an attempt to read the chicken scratchings of your handwriting.

0132: L1190 hauls me through the time door and I miserably land on Sakaar, the planet of wastelands and debris.

You are quite...miserable. In a comical way. And he knows how much you hated your time on Sakaar—Mobius warned him of your apparent irritation in reminiscent of being stranded and then having to resume paperwork immediately. He wonders if he, too, is the reason for another boiling rage.

Apparently, you were pardoned on behalf of not only Mobius but the Time-Keepers as well.

You, an agent, are recognized by the holy and almighty Time-Keepers.

You, an agent, who sleeps with your mouth agape.

The statues of the TVA’s creators loom over him like they’re watching his every step. Every movement. Every lingering thought. Right now, he has the urge to uncover, perhaps deduce, the holes within this whole mess. In a carefully calculated and discrete movement, he reaches to prod you on the forearm. You don’t move.

He prods you again.

You still don’t move.

Now, Loki is trying to chat up the archivist who watches him through narrowed eyes, glasses framing the austere and rigid structure of her face, in favor of files that turn out to be classified.

Classified, classified, classified. Only able to gain access to his own file.

His journey from the desk proved to be useless and unproductive although the much-needed stretch somehow made it a little worthwhile.

When he returns, you're surprisingly still asleep, brow twitching and lips still parted.

Aren’t you supposed to be keeping an eye on him?

The pen you held has now left your grasp, rolled over to his stack of binders. He notices the words inscribed on it, ‘Mars is there, waiting to be reached.'

Through your fury and chaos, he knows there’s a part of you that feels, a part of you that loves. And you love everything about the Midgardians’ space program. It's shown in the way you cling to collected memorabilia.

There are dark circles that adorn your shut eyes, barely hidden under your lashes. You’re exhausted, fractured.

Loki is having a difficult time trying to suppress how he likes the way the frizz of your hair glows against the glowing table lamps from the desk behind you. You’re raw, flaws presented on a silver platter for everyone to see. Maybe, that’s the reason why you entice him the way you do.

He’s staring. Right. Back to work.

Loki returns to running through neverending case files, engrossed in the pixelated monochrome images that accompany the monospace typeface of endless reports.

Then, he sees it.

‘Destruction of Asgard’ in big, bold, and red letters. It glares at him sharply, images of his once divine home of Asgard, crumbling at the feet of Surtur. Buildings, people, engulfed in the flames of the fire demon. The prophecy of the end, Ragnarok—it was meant to be.

His home, it still was. Although an untrue Asgardian.

He knows how it ends. He knows he dies. He wishes his true self, the one on the Sacred Timeline, could have done more.

He doesn’t realize the forming tears that linger. He doesn’t realize that in the sense of premonition, you’ve awakened. He doesn’t realize that even with sleepy eyes, you notice the grief that glints in his eyes.

“Are you okay?”

With three words, you’ve struck him with those eyes that seemed all-knowing. You see through the facade he has created, sealing the true nature of what is truly a child that is afraid of his destiny and to lose all he had ever known. His mother, father, and brother. His people. You see through it all.

You know that face. You’d seen it on Sakaar when he sat at the doorstep of your makeshift home, watching the splintered moon drift through the star-lit sky. You’d seen it in yourself through the dusty reflection of the screen of the tempad.

He longs for home. He longs for family.

For a moment, Loki sees Frigga in your eyes.

Then, his world shifts, hauling him back to reality. It’s you who’s across his way, not his mother. Loki blinks, partly to get his head straight with the excuse to blink away the sting in his eye. He shifts in his seat, rolling his neck and squares his shoulders.

“Yes. I’m alright. It’s just...”

Trailing off, he clears his throat. You follow his gaze and from your spot, you catch sight of those deafening crimson letters. Maybe, it was the spur of the moment. You blame your drowsy state, but there’s a growing warmth that spreads across your chest from the pit of your stomach. It’s subtle, a spark, but evident. Before you know it, you’re uttering words that leave your lips faster than your brain could perceive.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t know when was the last time you said those words and meant it. Loki doesn’t know when was the last time he’d ever heard those words addressed to him, spoken from the lips of a stranger. Until now.

You mean it. He sees it in the curve of your brows.

Loki swallows, nodding curtly. For the first time, he has nothing to say. And as quickly as the moment comes, he brushes it off and so do you. Whatever is reminiscent of a residing unknown feeling, bubbling within, has disappeared.

He sees your hand reach for the pen and for a while, he thinks you’re about to reach for his arm.

But no, you’re back to scrawling notes on the paper and he’s back to studying useless documents.

It doesn’t take long for the two of you to fall back into your normal antics as you find yourself chasing after Loki, who abruptly left the desk with wide eyes.

Curious minds think alike. Mostly.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

#loki #loki x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x you #loki imagine #loki laufeyson imagine #loki series #sylvie #mobius x reader

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lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks · 3 years

Note

In relations to my last ask, how would you write Danny revealing his ghost identity to Sam and Tucker? Set somewhere in the month between Danny being vaporized by the ghost portal and the opening episode.

sorry for sitting on this one for a couple days, I didn't have the spoons to go into the answer I felt it deserved

I know there have been fics and aus about Sam and Tucker not being there during the accident, but it's been so long since I read one so I guess it's time for my take on it!

Danny would have been Freaking Out after it happened, like he sees his reflection and realises that something fuckin' weird absolutely just happened to him, he might not twig at first exactly what it was because he figures he could be hallucinating or his vision could have been fucked up by the light in the portal, it isn't anything serious right?

the power surge from the portal would have alerted his parents who come down into the lab and they go absolutely buck wild with joy that the portal finally worked!! and oh my god Danny you weren't standing too close to it right?

Danny's thinking 'why the fuck aren't they saying anything about the white hair and glowing eyes' but he glimpses back at his reflection and it's totally normal again, okay so maybe it was a hallucination okay that's good

his dad is pretty much doing a victory dance while his mum is scanning him for any contamination, she says his readings are abnormally high and they should keep an eye on him and run some decontamination procedures

boy goes back to his room feeling pretty shaken up, he probably calls Sam and Tucker immediately to tell them what happened, he might mention that he was seeing things after coming out of the portal but everything seemed to be fine now, he feels really cold tho

his parents pull him out of school for a few days to keep an eye on him but nothing especially unusual happens, he mentions to his parents that he feels cold all the time and they keep checking his temperature and ectoplasmic readings

it's an unpleasant few days, he has to scrub his skin almost raw in the shower and wash his hair three times in a row every night, as well as drink a fuckton of water and take a diuretic to flush out his system, they make him take some kinda medication they developed that's supposed to keep him from absorbing any more radiation than he already has, it makes him really sick but they keep making him take it

but in the end despite feeling incredibly unwell his readings DO go down and his temp DOES climb back up so the Fentons breath a sigh of relief and just tell Danny to make sure he tells them if he feels sick again or if anything unusual happens

what they DON'T realise, is the treatments worked to flush what was currently in his system and on his skin, but it didn't do anything for the fact that he was now producing his own ectoplasm, which very readily began to replenish itself after the initial purge

he goes back to school and tells his friends all about his terrible last few days, and suddenly Sam is looking at him in alarm and whispers 'dude your eyes are glowing'

Tucker looks over like 'what do you mean? they look fine'

'they were absolutely glowing! like just for a second they were-'

'bright green?' Danny asks, mildly panicking

he tells them exactly what he saw in the mirror when he came out of the portal, and they finally start wondering if maybe it wasn't a hallucination

they go hide in some empty classroom somewhere and discuss what should happen next, Tucker thinks Danny should tell his parents, Danny does not want to go through another few days of decontamination procedures, Sam sides with Danny, mostly because she's generally anti-parent in general but also because she thinks that the Fentons' methods sound dodgy as hell because of how sick the medication made him

'I mean have they even tested those meds properly? how do they know it won't make him worse?'

it's at this point that the school-bell rings and Danny falls through the desk he was leaning on

Sam and Tuck think he just slipped, Danny also thinks he just slipped, but Danny also noticed that he felt really weird and tingly for a moment there

in class his pen keeps slipping out of his hand, in science he drops two beakers and is barred from handling anything fragile for the rest of class, he finds himself feeling weirdly lightheaded and motion sick at random moments, his stomach flipping and his feet feeling almost like they aren't completely touching the floor

he doesn't know that it's his body very momentarily ignoring gravity, not enough to make him float completely but just enough to make him feel weirdly unanchored to the ground

Tucker is very much convinced that Danny should tell his parents about this, Sam thinks he should probably go to a hospital instead, Danny thinks telling his parents is probably a good idea, but he's highkey terrified of them making him take that medication again, they kept assuring him that it's harmless to humans and the sickness is just a reaction to the ectoplasm in his body, but he knew that each time they made him take it he felt more and more like whatever was in it shouldn't be in him

so in the end he decides that he'll wait to see if the side effects go away on their own, so far they don't seem to be hurting him, and he'll take being lightheaded and dropping stuff constantly over taking those meds and feeling like he's got pins sticking into every nerve in his body

(like it was Bad, kid's lowkey traumatised)

and then in class he falls right through his chair, nobody sees what happened, he was at his desk and now he's on the floor, everyone laughs it off but after school Danny drags his friends around behind the gym to tell them what happened

he is freaking out, totally panicking and that's when Sam and Tucker notice his appearance change, it's wonky at first, flashes of light keep sparking off him and his eyes are glowing on and off, his hair is flashing streaks of white and his clothes keep shifting into something black

Sam snaps him out of it with a slap, but instead of going back to normal his whole body flashes and suddenly he's in his ghost form

he is SUPER confused about why he's in his hazmat suit again and why the colours are all wrong and Sam and Tuck have to tell him 'uh dude, that hallucination definitely wasn't a hallucination'

then a football comes flying past and some jock chases it behind the gym and see them standing there and is like 'what are you two losers doing back here'

and Sam and Tuck are like 'two?' and they realise that Danny isn't there anymore, the jock grabs the ball and runs off again

then Danny reappears

cue all three of them freaking out

the fact that he's fighting ghosts without hesitation in the beginning of the first ep probably means it isn't the first time it's happened, he's probably down in the lab with his friends, showing them the portal and telling them exactly how his accident happened, when something comes flying out

it immediately attacks them and Danny probably goes instinctively into protective mode, he transforms and lobs a punch at one of the fuckers, and it hurts it, a lot, he grabs it and hauls it around, throwing it back into the portal

Sam and Tuck are just like 'holy shit dude you kicked ass' and Danny's just like 'uhhhh I dunno what happened guys but that felt really super cool'

he turns back to normal as his dad comes downstairs and gets all excited about the three kids being interested in the ghost portal, cue opening of the first episode

at this point Danny is pretty convinced he's going to tell his dad, but Jack doesn't give him a chance to say much before going off on his monologue

and then the portal opens up again and the ghost comes back, this time with friends, Danny barely thinks before he's throwing himself at the ghosts, kicking their asses and lobbing them back into the portal, he turns around completely expecting to have to explain himself and finds his dad SOMEHOW hadn't turned around even once during the whole fight and by a miracle didn't notice anything unusual

Danny loses his nerve and transforms back without telling his dad anything, and then we have the events of Mystery Meat where he's still struggling to control his powers and whether or not to tell his parents

soooo yeah that's my take ~ hope you enjoyed

#asks #danny phantom #lula's headcanons

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dontcare77ghj · 3 years

Text

Inked

Natasha x reader x Wanda

"You know those cause cancer, right?" Mal asked, entering your office. "And you're gonna stink out your office."

"The window's open." You shrugged, exhaling slowly and sending the smoke out the open window. "And you and I both know, cancer isn't something I'm scared of."

"Yeah, yeah, death licks your boots." Mal rolled her eyes, blowing a strand of blue hair out of her eyes. "Anyway, I'm going on break, Blaine's with a customer, and we've got a walk-in."

"I'll handle it." You promised, putting out your cigarette. "You going to pick up Erin?" You asked the younger girl.

"Yeah, I'm gonna drop her off with a neighbor. May offered and wouldn't let me refuse." She told you.

"Well, here. Get Erin something sweet for me." You said, shoving a twenty into her hands.

"Y/N, I can't." Mal started, trying to give you the money back.

"I insist." You cut her off. "I want to be her favorite aunt." You shrugged, forcing her to curl her fingers around the money. "Go, get your kid, and give her a hug for me."

"Will do, boss." She nodded before leaving.

"Hi, welcome to SkinPolish. How can I help you?" You asked, entering the main room to see the back of a man. He was looking over the walls of the store but turned at your entrance.

"Just so you know, I'm not here to get stabbed a thousand times," Clint told you with a grin.

"I think your day job provides you with enough of that." You joked, wrapping your arms around him. Clint chuckled as he returned your hug, pulling you close. "It's been too long, geezer."

"I know, you've got at least four more tattoos since the last time I saw you, you hoodlum." Clint teased you.

"It's been two years, Clint. Some of us had to change our identities." You reminded him, pulling back. "What are you doing here?"

"I need your help." He told you.

"Blaine, watch the shop." You said without taking your eyes off the man before you.

"You got it, Y/N!"

"Follow me." You told Clint. You led Clint out of the front of the store and into your office. "Clint, I left when SHIELD fell. I handed in my clearance and took off." You said, lighting another cigarette. "I'm not doing any more work for them."

"Don't be like that." Clint groaned, sitting on your desk.

"First off, get the fuck off my desk. Where are the manners Laura shoved down your throat? And secondly, I can't come back. Fucking HYDRA was running SHIELD for years, and none of us knew. All our information was in their hands. Who knows what they took? I have people I care about, Clint. I can't risk anyone's lives." You told him.

"I'm not asking you to do anything for SHIELD. I'm asking you to help the Avengers." Clint explained.

"Even better, a more public job." You scoffed. "Clint, we're friends. We've been through a lot. I get why you're here, but why the fuck would I risk the people I care about for another mission?"

"Argentina." He said simply.

"That is a dick move, and you know it." You groaned, finishing your smoke.

"I do know it, but I have to use it. We need your help." Clint said, rising from your desk to stand in front of you. "We need your help, kid. I wouldn't be asking if I had another choice."

"Fine." You relented after a minute. "When do you need me?"

"Tomorrow," Clint told you. "I'll pick you up." He added before going to leave.

"You don't know where I live." You protested.

"Yeah, I do." Clint corrected you. "I'll see you at nine." He said, and with that, he was gone.

"Fuck me." You sighed, rubbing your hand across your face.

"Remind me why I agreed to this again?" You asked, watching as the Avengers Compound grew closer through the window.

"Because you love me," Clint responded cheekily.

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart." You rolled your eyes. "You never even told me what I'm needed for."

"Briefing's in half-hour," Clint told you. "Which gives you enough time to get acquainted with everyone." He added as the car slowed to a stop.

"You know how I feel about crowds of people."

"It's not a crowd. It's the team and Maria. You're fine, kid, I promise." He said.

"Fine, let's get this over with." You sighed, unclicking your belt.

"Avengers!" Clint called as the two of you moved further into the maze of a building. "I have a surprise for you all!"

"Is it a unicorn?" A male voice asked as you both entered what looked to be a meeting room.

"Even better. Gentlemen, and Wanda,"

"Smooth Barton." A redhead coughed.

"This is Y/N L/N." Clint continued his introduction. "A specialist in all fields, especially disguise, and the only reason we might do our job today."

"Oh, so I'm doing your work for you again, Barton? Nothing's changed, I see." You commented.

"Hey! That's not true! Name one time that's ever been true!"

"I can list fifty off the top of my head." You said, raising a brow at him.

"I can add sixty-seven to your list." The redhead piped in. "Natasha Romanoff." She introduced herself.

"Pleasure Agent Romanoff." You smiled. "C'mon Barton, formal introductions, please."

"Yeah, Barton. Introduce us."

"Y/N, this is Tony, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Wanda." Clint gestured. "Are you all satisfied?"

"Not particularly, since you still haven't told me what you need my help for." You said, crossing your arms.

"You haven't even told her that. Jesus Barton." Wanda snorted.

"I was getting to that. I was waiting for you all to meet." Clint whined.

"Well, we're met." You said, taking an empty seat beside Natasha. "C'mon, what am I doing here?"

"There's a gala tonight," Natasha said, handing you a file. "A man named Jayden Reeds is going to be in attendance. Reeds has stock in several large companies, but that's just a front. Reeds actually has ties to HYDRA and deals in human trafficking. From what we've gathered, Reeds kidnaps people who will seemingly not be missed. They're then delivered to HYDRA bases around the world and never heard from again."

"Am I here to kill him? Because I can get behind that." You said, shaking your head.

"Wait till you hear the rest," Clint told you.

"There is a possibility Reeds also has his own collection. He's been spotted with several women who have all disappeared shortly after."

"What's the connection between them?" You asked.

"They're all French brunettes."

"So let me guess, my job is to go undercover tonight and see if he takes the bait. And when he does, I bring him in."

"Bingo Boingo," Tony told you.

"Well, I guess I better find a long sleeve dress. Oh, and maybe a wig."

"You know, if I didn't know better, I would have assumed your accent was real myself," Wanda commented later that night.

The mission had gone as smoothly as could be. Reeds had fallen for your act believing you to be a young French brunette on vacation in America's busiest city.

You hadn't even needed to corner him as he'd followed you into a woman's bathroom with two other men.

You hadn't given any of them a chance to move or say anything before you had them unconscious on the ground.

Now you were heading home, still decked out in your gala gown, with Natasha, Wanda, Clint, and Tony.

"It's not that good. No matter how much I practice, even my Italian's better than my French." You shrugged.

"Not that good?" Tony snorted, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. "Sweetheart, if I weren't engaged and I met you in Paris, I'd take you back to Hotel Plaza Athenee and show you a time."

"Cute, Starky boy, but you're not my type."

"I'm everyone's type."

"Sorry, hon, but I like women." You told him. "This is my stop." You added as Tony pulled over.

"You live here?" Natasha asked, looking around the neighborhood in distaste. You could understand her aversion to the area. Any one of your neighbors would move in an instant if given the choice.

"Yep." You said, unclicking your belt. "Been here since SHIELD crashed."

"Did SHIELD pay this bad?" Tony questioned you.

"SHIELD pay wasn't great, but it was something. I saved most of it, but a lot of it went to making sure Y/N Smith, the tattoo artist from the wrong side, wasn't connected with Y/N L/N, SHIELD agent." You shrugged. "Didn't see a point in moving after." You added. "This was fun. We should do it again sometime." You said, sliding out and holding the door open.

"We'll give you a call if we need someone to do all the work for us." Clint nodded.

"Great. Come by the shop if you ever want a free tattoo. Clint knows where it is."

A part of you was sure you wouldn't see any of the team again. They led much more busy lives than you did, and their schedules were forever changing.

So imagine your surprise when Natasha and Wanda entered your shop the next day just to simply chat. And they continued to do so for a week. Sometimes Clint would come, Steve had popped in for a few minutes while on a run, but Natasha and Wanda visited every day.

On the seventh day, the two came in at one in the afternoon with Tony.

"Hey, Tony. I didn't know you were coming to lunch with us." You said, continuing to lock up the shop. "I'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"Great, but there's been a slight change of plans," Natasha said, watching you closely.

"As long as foods still involved, I won't be too bothered." You shrugged.

"Food is involved. It's just going to take us a while to get to it." Tony cryptically informed you.

"Guys, I'm running on twenty minutes of sleep and caffeine. Please, no cryptics." You sighed, narrowing your eyes at the three.

"Relax, we're not trying to hurt your head." Tony chuckled. "We have something to tell you."

"But first, step this way, away from any possibly hidden weapons," Natasha said, gesturing you forward. "No-one should get a knife to the head because they shocked you."

"Haha." You rolled your eyes, walking forward. "For the record, I did that once. And Clint caught it." You added. "What did you three do?"

"Technically, Tony did it," Wanda said, pointing a thumb at the billionaire.

"Real smooth, Sabrina." Tony scoffed. "Alright, yes, I did this, but I did it out of pure kindness."

"Did what?"

"I've had all your stuff moved out of your apartment. I've had it moved into a spare room in the Compound," Tony announced.

"Put it back, Tony." You demanded, crossing your arms. "My things aren't yours to touch."

"You live in a shitty neighborhood." Tony defended himself. "You have eight security systems of your own just to keep yourself safe. You won't find a new place of your own volition, so I found one for you."

"Tony, you moved my things into the Avengers Compound." You sighed. "I'm not an Avenger."

"Yet." Tony cut you off. "You are more than qualified to join the team. The way you helped us the other night, the way you took those men out and got the information quicker than we would have done. You can be an Avenger."

"I'm not risking those closest to me." You shook your head. "I gave up Y/N L/N when I left SHIELD. I have people in my life now, civilian people, who could get hurt because of me."

"Than don't let them," Natasha said. "I've been through your records, know how many people you helped and protected. Protect those you love just as you did all the strangers. You can still lead this life as well as one where you can protect people again."

"At least try temporarily," Wanda suggested. "Give it a month trial period and see if you can remember what it feels like. If it doesn't work out, you don't have to do anything you don't want to. And if it does work, you can join our team. Please." She added, giving you puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. A trial period." You sighed, pushing your hair back. "But no more using those eyes. It's evil, and you know it." You said, pointing at the witch.

"Yes, she does." Natasha smiled, putting her arm around her girlfriend's waist. "C'mon, there's a car waiting to take us back to the Compound."

"Where Tony ordered lunch," Wanda added, putting her hand out to you to take.

"At least he did one thing right." You joked, taking her petite hand.

"Hey!"

You had been staying at the Compound for almost a month. There were four days before the end of your trial period, but you hadn't made your decision yet.

There was still a part of you that thought it would no longer be safe for the civilians in your life if you joined the team. If you entered the Avengers, you might have to give up this identity and everything and everyone that came with it.

But there was something about being around the team that ignited a spark within you. A spark you long thought had burned out. You longed for adventure, for that adrenaline rush that came with being undercover and the pride you felt at helping someone.

You were torn between two worlds. Torn between two personalities.

"Jesus Christ, you smell like an ashtray," Natasha complained as she suddenly appeared by your side. You snapped out of your daze just in time to see Natasha take the smoke out of your hand and take a drag for herself.

"Didn't know you smoked." You commented, watching her exhale the smoke slowly.

"I don't. Not anymore." Natasha shook her head. "Just couldn't resist."

"Don't expect me to kiss you until you brush your teeth," Wanda said, skipping into the room and crossing her arms as she stared at the two of you. "I want a tattoo." She announced, staring you dead in the eye.

"Okay. Do you want me to find a parlor for you in the morning? I have a couple friends who owe me a favor or two." You suggested.

"No, I want you to do it," Wanda told you firmly. "As soon as possible if you would."

"And you're sure about this?" You asked, raising a brow. "You're sure you want a tattoo and that you want me to do it?"

"Yes." She nodded.

"Alright, then. Follow me." You said, leading the two back into the Compound and into your room.

"You have a gun and inks in your room?" Natasha asked, looking your makeshift parlor over.

"Yep. Set it up the night I arrived, gave myself this the next." You said, lifting your shirt to reveal the healing tattoo on your hip.

"Geez, you know most people drink a bottle of scotch to welcome themselves to a new place? Not give themselves a tattoo." Natasha informed you.

"Probably." You nodded, beginning to set up your station. "Okay, Wanda, what did you have in mind?"

"I want the words, 'Ty namnogo bol'she' to wrap around my wrist," Wanda said, tracing around her thin wrist with her finger.

"Alright, I can definitely do that. But you might have to write it down for me. My Russian's not that great." You informed her.

"We'll have to work on that," Natasha said as Wanda began to write it down.

"Alright." You began after Wanda handed you the spelling. "Let's get started."

"I love it." Wanda smiled, watching as you gently wrapped her wrist. "It's perfect."

"I like to do my best." You grinned, putting the last of the tape down. "Make sure that stays moist. And do not scratch it under any circumstances." You instructed her as you began to shove your equipment away in plastic tubs.

"You need a better system," Natasha commented. "Yours is kind of a mess."

"I'll update my system when I change this room around." You said, looking around the nearly bare room. Everything you owned was in plastic tubs or bags. You hadn't been bothered to unpack yet.

"Does that mean you're planning on staying?" Natasha asked. "Have you made your decision yet? To join the team or not?"

"Not yet. I'm still trying to decide." You sighed, leaning against the wall. "I like not giving a shit. I like waking up in the morning and paying too much for a shitty cup of coffee. I like going to work and being around people who've never had to see the shit we have. I like not having to feel like the weight of the world is on my shoulders, but I miss it.

I miss being a part of a team. I liked saving people. I enjoyed going on missions, creating new personas to get what I needed done. I miss being around people who've seen the shit I have. Who know what the weight of the world feels like.

Now I don't where to go. What I need more in my life." You told them.

"We told you, you don't need to pick one world," Wanda said, standing from her stool. "You can still save people and drink over-priced coffee. You can still be with people who share your trauma and be with those who don't. You don't have to pick one world."

"Can we help your decision along by us asking you out to dinner?" Natasha asked, breaking your pensive silence.

"Excuse me?" You asked, for once being taken aback by another person. "I think I went temporarily deaf there. Can you repeat yourself?"

"Let us take you on a date," Natasha repeated slowly. "We were thinking about dinner and wine and then a night at the opera." She said, causing your nose to scrunch up without thought.

"She's kidding." Wanda giggled. "Actually, we were thinking we get a couple beers, order a pizza, and watch a movie in our room."

"Can I pick the movie?" You asked her.

"With your crappy taste, no." Wanda shook her head.

"Okay, now she's kidding," Natasha said, taking three steps forward to stand beside her girlfriend. "Of course, you can pick the movie."

"And this wouldn't hurt your relationship?" You asked tentatively. "I wouldn't ruin what you already have?"

"You could only add." Wanda smiled.

"So, what do you say? You wanna go on a date with us?" Natasha questioned you.

"I'd love to."

"Go away.” You groaned, rolling away and under the covers into Natasha’s body.

“Wakey, wakey. Up and at ‘em you two.” Wanda ordered, pulling the blankets off the pair of you.

“Wanda!”

“Both of you will forgive me when I tell you I have coffee.” Wanda rolled her eyes, sitting on the bed beside you.

“The overpriced kind?”

“What other kind is there?” Wanda asked. “C’mon sit up or no coffee for either of you.”

“Alright, alright, we’re up.” Natasha said, sitting up with you on her chest. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I love you.” You groaned after taking the first sip of your steaming beverage.

“Are you talking to me or the coffee?”

“Can’t it be both?” You shrugged before grabbing her hand and kissing her palm softly.

“As long as there’s love for me too, it can.” Natasha told you.

“I love you too, Nat.” You promised, kissing her collarbone.

“After today’s meeting, I want you to give me a tattoo.” Natasha announced. “I don’t care where is is, but I want ‘YA zasluzhivayu lyubvi’.” She told you.

“Alright then. I like this plan.” You smiled, looking up at your girlfriend. “You know I think I’m due for some new ink myself.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you can choose for me.” You shrugged. “I trust you both, always.”

Once, you left SHIELD and it’s lifestyle behind. And then one day Clint Barton walked into your shop and brought you back into it.

He brought you back to the life you missed and brought you to Natasha and Wanda.

Remember all Taglists are open as are requests.

Taglist

@rvgrsbrns @smilexcaptainx @hopingforbarnes @starlingelliot @piper-koko-barnes-rogers @jelly-fishy-babie @skeletoresinthebasement @agent-barnes40 @reann-loves-sebstan @skadikh @summergeezburr @buckybarton03 @sunshinepower17 @bindythedemon @natasharomanoffismywife @keenmarvellover @bbybarness @storiesbystarlight @buckybarnesplumwhore @bromieeeomieee @marvelmenarebeautiful @niki-is-a-thing @pauloonig @abyssiniapleasant @beautybyfire @officalmarvelbaby

Natasha Romanoff Taglist

@natasha-danvers @5aftermidnight @ohfuckno

All women Taglist

@imnotasuperhero

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

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gryffindors-weasley · 3 years

Text

Tempers and Temptation

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: Ron lets his feelings get the better of him when he finds you spending some time with his brother, and when his temper boils over, it leads to a long overdue confession.

— “Can you shut up for once in your life?”

— “I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now.”

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: arguing, jealousy, insecurities, angst, mild swearing, fluff, requited love, kissing

A/N: This is my fic for @theweasleysredhair 9k writing challenge! The prompts I’ve chosen are listed above, and they will be bolded and italicized in the fic! (Also, Fred is alive in this one!) Congratulations again my darling Chloe, you deserve all the love and more!

(not my gif, credits to the maker)

It was the beginning of the summer season, just a week and a half before Charlie’s wedding. The Weasley’s had all flocked back to their beloved family home for the once in a lifetime occasion for their brother, the new and improved Burrow now bustling with jovial energy. Harry had come with Ginny, Ron had picked you up on his way, Bill and Fleur were there first with Percy, and Hermione would soon join the family in the next couple of days to come. The decision to host the wedding there was one that was made hesitantly with the way Bill and Fleur’s had ended so tragically. But, the tight-knit family had decided the past was going to be put behind them and they refused to let it tarnish another special day. Their home was remodeled and desperately ready for new and brighter memories.

It was supposed to be a fun trip, and it had been at first, but Ron’s rather bitter mood had begun to sour yours after a while. His irritation only seemed to be directed towards you, you’d noticed, barely speaking more than a few words to you and only when you addressed to him first. The reasoning for his change in behavior was something you weren’t privy to, but you tried your hardest to brush it off and hope it’d resolve soon so you could enjoy your time with your best friend. You were surprised he’d even sat with you at dinner that evening, though he hadn’t contributed very much to the conversation. He opted to push the food around on his plate instead.

George nudges your arm, effectively pulling your attention from Ron to look to your left. You raised a brow at his grin, Fred peering over his brothers shoulder at you with an identical smile. Surely they were up to something; they always were. “What have you done now?”

George leaned in close, speaking in a hushed whisper, wiggling his brows.

“We’ve got a little prank for the groom.” He looks to Charlie momentarily, turning back to you as you gaze up at him curiously when he holds up the smallest of potion bottles. “A couple drops of this and his hair will be as colorful as mum’s flowers!”

You couldn’t stifle your laughter, covering your mouth when you grabbed the attention of the older Weasley in question across the table. Ron sat a little straighter in his seat, his grip on his fork tightening as he exhaled a huff through his nose. The sound of your giggling made his stomach churn, the tips of his ears burning cherry red. You hadn’t paid him and his temper very much mind the whole dinner, hadn’t stolen any food from his plate, hadn’t made a point to embarrass him in front of his family like you usually had. Perhaps it was because you were too busy giving all your attention to his brother; it seemed as though you were always doing that. And he was absolutely not jealous of it.

“Are you okay, Ron?” You ask softly after a while, the sound of his huffing no longer a coincidence and your brows furrowed in concern at the redhead brooding next to you.

“I’m fine,” he dismisses, too quick for it to even be remotely truthful. He shrugs his shoulders as he looks anywhere but at you.

You frown at the sharpness of his tone, his answer once again just as short and vague as all the others. Your gaze lingered on him and he knew it, shifting around in his seat as his cheeks flush a pale pink. After a few moments you look away, only briefly. “Are you sure? You’re acting weird.”

“I said I’m fine, Y/n.”

The crease between your brows deepens, your frown remaining as your heart flips in your chest and it was quite obvious he was at odds with you. You brush it off and stuff down the hurt that bubbled in your stomach, repeating his actions as you shove the food around on your plate. His shoulders slumped a bit more at the look on your face, but the way George had whisked you away into conversation had him quickly swallowing down his apology.

He felt you hadn’t seemed too bothered anyway, but it very much bothered him. He wanted nothing more than to steal you just for one day, to have your undivided attention just for once this trip. Unbeknownst to him he could have it whenever he wanted it, but his stubborn attitude and his rash assumptions had pushed you away. The conclusions he’s jumped head first into had gotten him into a trouble only he could bail himself out of, whenever he’s ready to think rationally, that is.

He’d spent the whole dinner casting you longing glances that went unseen, exhaling sighs that hadn’t gone unheard. He managed to hold a half-conversation with Harry and he stuffed down the rest of his mashed potatoes that have since gone cold. Perhaps most noticeable to everyone was his lack of excitement for dessert considering it had been his absolute favorite. Instead he had a small sliver of the cake before excusing himself, setting his dirty dishes in the sink and sauntering off up the stairs wordlessly.

You followed after him to his old room after you’d had enough, hot on his tail as your fists clenched at your sides. “What is your problem?”

He turned around, brows knit together as he looked down at you quizzically. A bitter laugh left his lips at the question, and he pretended as if he didn’t have a clue as to what you were talking about. “I don’t believe I have one.”

“Oh really?” you begin, squinting up at him in disbelief. “This is the most you’ve said to me since we’ve gotten here, Ron. So I’m going to ask you again, what’s your problem?”

You were rapidly growing impatient at the fact that he’d been very obviously skirting around the question, more so at his lack of communication the entire week, fluffing the pillows and smoothing the blankets on his bed to distract himself from giving you an answer.

However, you didn’t miss the way his chest was beginning to rise and fall at a quicker pace than before as his jaw tenses. He finally turned to look at you directly as you stood there with an expectant look on your face. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask George?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion at his words, head tilted as you squint up at him. “What?”

“Forget it,” he grumbles, shaking his head. He pushed in the chair seated at his desk, rearranging a few misplaced things that lay atop it.

“No, tell me again.”

He stands before you, clearly getting worked up the more time that had passed.

“Alright. I said, why don’t you go ask George? You’ve only spent every waking moment with him since we got off the bloody train!” He said, raising his voice at you as a pale scarlet began to flood his cheeks and burn down his neck.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” You scoff, taking a step closer to him. You cross your arms over your chest, quickly unraveling them moments later as you fidget angrily.

“You don’t have to pretend, Y/n. Why don’t you just bring your stuff to his room instead?”

His tone was taunting now, immaturity weaving around his words the more he spoke his mind. It was beginning to remind you of the time he’d acted the very same way when you had gone to Hogsmeade with Cormac McLaggen. He hadn’t spoken to you for three days until he had finally gotten over it, claiming he was simply stressed over an upcoming quidditch match and nothing more. There was always something more.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you counter. You watched the color continue to stain his freckled cheeks the angrier he got. Then realization hit you in that very moment. “Ron, are you jealous?”

“Jealous?” He repeats, trying his best to sound as if he were utterly surprised and not at all knowledgeable of your accusation. Trying to act as if you’d just said the most absurd thing in the world. “I’m not jealous.”

He wholeheartedly was, that much was clear. Though he wasn’t about to let you know that. It lanced through him every time he saw you, every time you laughed at his brothers jokes, every time you chose to spend time with his brother over him. He loathed the feeling that settled deep within his chest and simmered there; he knew it was irrational and he knew he had been unfair the past week. He loved his brother, he loved his whole family deeply, but he couldn’t help but to feel as though he came in last place in more ways than one. He felt he had a lot to live up to being the youngest brother, and he was sure he wasn’t quite doing that. He always had to share everything, and there was one thing he wanted to himself. He wanted to be selfish and have it all to himself. And that one thing was you.

You could feel your cheeks flush a burning red at his ridiculous behavior, heart beginning to race and pound against your chest in frustration. “Yes you are! You’ve been ignoring me for the past week, Ron. He is my friend. Much like you even though you haven’t been acting like it.”

He didn’t want to be your friend, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted to cross his room and kiss you, not argue over his own jealousy.

He rolls his eyes and digs himself deeper instead, crossing his arms to mimic your stance. “Yeah, right, it won’t be long until you two are snogging. Maybe Aria will throw you the bloody bouquet next week.”

“Can you shut up for once in your life?”

You grit out the words as you attempt to conceal the falter in your voice from trying to suppress your tears, hastily grabbing your bag from the floor and slinging it over your shoulder. Your eyes stung by now as you turned to look at him briefly with your hardest stare, promptly spinning on your heel to walk out.

“Where are you going?” He asks, brows furrowed and his arms drop down to his sides.

“Anywhere to get away from you.”

“Fine.”

You rushed down the winding wooden staircase with a heavy ache in your heart, and in that moment you wished there hadn’t been so many floors because you desperately wanted to leave. As much distance from him as possible would be nice. The tears began to spill over your flushed cheeks, wiping them away with the back of your hand as your other held the strap that rested on your shoulder.

“Why the long face, Y/n/n?” Fred asked with a pout as you hurriedly passed by the living room.

“Your brother is an idiot,” you sniffle, though your tone was still angry as you brushed by him to get outside.

It was dark out now, the night breeze that swept over you giving you chills. You continued to walk towards the field surrounding the cozy home, nothing but anger in your stride and a headache forming from trying to keep your tears at bay. Despite that you kept on walking as they spilled freely down your cheeks now that you’d been alone, only stopping when you reached the familiar clearing. It wasn’t too far from the Burrow, but far enough to be left alone for a little while. Far enough from Ron and his absurd jealousy.

You sat down on the slightly overgrown grass, hugging your bag to your chest as you let your frustrated tears fall quietly one after another. The stars glimmered above you in the navy expanse, unable to be truly appreciated in your state of mind and the moon provided just enough light for you to not be quite so fearful to be alone out there at night. Frustration barely explained how you felt, how could he be so oblivious?

George was one of your closest friends, all of the Weasley’s were for that matter. You had grown up around the delightful family just a few years short of your whole life, so quite honestly his behavior was something unjust. It wasn’t unlike him to be distant, to let things bottle up and build before he bursts. But his words cut through you and you wondered just how long he’d been keeping it in.

Regardless, you continued to sniffle and wallow to yourself, the cuffs of your shirt now dampened by your tears. Being in love was a wonderful thing, but it was also something that could hurt you all the same. You felt ridiculous, really, to have pined for the same ginger boy since you were fifteen. It had been eight years of backing out of confessions, of being on the brink of kissing him. Eight years of taking turns being jealous but unaware of the other.

It was a viscous cycle that seemed to do more harm than good sometimes, but you suppose it could’ve been your own fault for keeping your feelings a secret. You didn’t know he broke up with Lavender because he’d missed you so much. All you knew was that seeing him with somebody else hurt. He hadn’t known you turned down Cormac’s several dates in favor of spending your free time with him instead. He just knew there was talk of the two of you, and the thought of pressing further for more information made him nauseous. You were so blind to one another it was starting to take its toll.

In his teen years not long ago, he would have kept his distance out of sheer stubbornness. He would have brooded to himself and sulked about until he was over it, but now he just felt ridiculous. He was twenty-three years old still acting like he was thirteen, and the regret pooled in his chest the moment the words left his mouth. The truth was, he couldn’t bear being apart from you for too long, especially when your absence hadn’t been on good terms. He could swallow his pride if it meant you wouldn’t leave.

You didn’t know how long you’d been out there, but it certainly felt like a considerable amount of time. You’d unknowingly sulked to yourself for the last two hours, the initial anger long gone. The lights of the first floor had since been turned off, mismatched windows beginning to lose their glow as well as your eyes raked up the home. All but the very top floor.

Your time alone was cut short at the familiar footfalls sounding behind you. You close your eyes and release an exasperated sigh. “Y/n?”

“Have you come to yell at me again?” You huff, standing to your feet and turning around. The urge to cry had immediately come back upon seeing him but you simply stared at him.

He stilled in front of you, brows furrowed as he swallowed thickly. His eyes bounced from the bag clutched tightly in your shaky hand, so much so your knuckles were an ivory white. Then they landed on your face, at the tears rimming your eyes and wetting your flushed cheeks. At your rosy nose and miserable frown on your lips. Your lip quivered in a mix of anger and tears you fought to suppress now that he stood before you again.

“No,” he said, much softer this time as he looks at the ground momentarily before coming up with a defense. “To be fair you yelled at me too.”

You narrowed your eyes at him in an unamused glare and purse your lips, crossing your arms over your chest. “Why exactly did you follow me out here then?”

He shrugged timidly, stuffing his hands in his pockets briefly before taking them back out again nervously. He was too flustered to lie. “Because you never go out at night by yourself.”

He remembered, of course he did. No matter how irrational, no matter how mad he may have been. But that wasn’t important, it shouldn’t have been because you were angry at him over the fact that he thought you were so madly in love with his brother. You were angry that he had been so blind to the fact that you were madly in love with him. You felt as though it couldn’t have been anymore obvious, but you suppose you were wrong.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you stared up at him with a softer gaze, biting the inside of your cheek. “Well, I’m fine. You can go inside now.”

With a few moments of a lingering stare, you turned away from him, unable to withstand the tension any longer but he hadn’t left you just yet. Instead, he stayed put, staring after you wordlessly as you took a few more steps away from him. His heart had been bounding mercilessly in his chest as if he’d just run halfway across the world to see you, his words on the very tip of his tongue.

“Don’t,” he said abruptly, cheeks flushing at the unintentional raise in his voice. You stand still then, your back to him as you wait. He gulped as he fought desperately to articulate his words in a way that didn’t make him look any more foolish before you could take another step away from him. “Don’t leave.”

You turn back around, clutching the strap resting on your shoulder as you look up at him. His mouth must have opened and closed at least a dozen times, looking like a fish out of water until eventually he gave up entirely as he met your gaze.

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” you say softly, and his cheeks are quick to burn the scarlet red shade of embarrassment at his words. He simply nods in acceptance, though, looking away from you.

A silence settles over you, save for the crickets chirping and the occasional breeze sweeping through the warm summer air. It was tense and inescapable, neither one of you knowing just what to say or how to say it, though it was very clear that something was on both your minds. More than what had just transpired not long ago.

“I think I’m going to head to bed now. It’s late,” you finally say, brushing past him and back towards the misshapen home that stood tall in front of you. The tension was almost suffocating and you had to leave before it had gotten any worse.

“Y/n wait,” he calls out, hesitant as his hand reaches out for you, dropping back to his side as quickly as he held it out when he saw you’d been too far to grab onto.

You turn your head and look over your shoulder, the look on his face causing you to turn around fully. Your brow raises in curiosity though you stay quiet. A sigh leaves his lips in frustration with himself. The words were on the very tip of his tongue, just waiting to be spoken as they had been for quite a while. The reason for his behavior was right there.

“Goodnight.” It’s all he says, finding it impossible to speak his mind when you look at him like that.

You nod, glancing up at him with a half smile. “Night, Ron.”

—

A week had gone by since your argument, and things had been considerably less awkward between the two of you, though it was still very much there. Ron had stopped avoiding you, he stopped speaking to you in one word answers in favor of your usual banter. And he stopped his sulking and brooding, for the most part.

Hermione had arrived and has stolen you away once more but he expected as much, though you did notice him focus his gaze on you on more than one occasion. It left you jittery, as if you were in fourth year again and he’d just asked you to the Yule Ball. Hermione insisted that you admit your feelings, not without a friendly but firm threat that she’d tell him for you. You promised you would in time, just not yet. You weren’t exactly jumping at the opportunity to put your heart out on the line.

Ron had almost told you he loved you three times over that week, but he kept it to just an apology no matter how tempting it was to spill his most vulnerable feelings once and for all. He spent so long holding the words on the very tip of his tongue that he just wanted to say them a million times over.

He wanted to tell you when he watched you and Hermione help his mother with dinner. You looked like sunshine as you laughed in the cluttered kitchen joyously, too focused on conversation to notice him gawking. He wanted to swipe the flour off your cheek and press his lips to yours in a kiss, tell you just how much he adored you and all that you do.

He wanted to tell you when you helped him wash his dads car. You’d been teasing him about the infamous scratch that just couldn’t be repaired by Ron’s encounter with the Whomping Willow, the brightest smile on your face. He found you could pick on him all you wanted and he wouldn’t mind, even when you sprayed him with the garden hose. He was too distracted by the way your hair glimmered and sparkled in the afternoon sun to care about much else.

He wanted to tell you when you’d helped him set up the tent for the wedding the night before the ceremony. You found yourselves laying side by side on the ground, staring up at the striped ceiling of the enchanted structure in awe. You’d caught him staring and he looked away immediately, smiling to himself as his hand brushed against yours. Conversation had long since been quieted at that point, your presence alone being enough to keep him happy no matter what. He wanted to tell you of his all consuming love without pause.

Now, you were shuffling around his room in a hurried panic, time ticking by relentlessly as you search for the matching earring that was supposed to be adorning your right ear, but it had been nowhere to be seen. A frustrated sigh leaves your lips as you root through your bag for the third time now, dumping its contents out completely in hopes for a better outcome. The commotion filtering in from outside certainly hadn’t helped flustered state.

“Do you really need to wear those earrings? I’m sure Ginny’s got some you could use, or maybe even Mione,” Ron reasons with a shrug as he tries to ease your frustration.

“Yes, Ron. These go with my dress, I need to find it,” you insist, frowning when your triple check yielded the same result. It was just your luck to have lost a key part to your attire only moments before an important event. You were beginning to think you hadn’t packed the complete set at all.

He shakes his head with a soft laugh at the way you’d been acting, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he watches you flitter around in a huff. He felt you didn’t even need the earrings, it wouldn’t have taken away from your radiance, nothing could. You looked absolutely beautiful in your dress, and he tried not to dwell on the fact that it’d matched his suit. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but he couldn’t help the feeling blooming in his chest.

Your groaning had pulled him from his lovestruck thoughts, your hand running through your hair. There were so many places the delicate piece of jewelry could’ve gotten lost in, and you were beginning to think you should give up entirely.

“This is unbelievable,” you grumble, taking a moment to think it over and retrace your steps. “I’m positive I brought both, I even double checked with you!”

He nods, going along with your words. “Y-Yeah. I’m quite sure you did,” he assures, scratching the back of his neck.

You rolled your eyes at his nonchalance, pursing your lips at him as you huff through your nose.

“Ron, it would be better for the both of us if you stop standing there and help me,” you say matter-of-factly, looking hopelessly in the drawers of his desk. When you look over your shoulder at him, it’s as if he hadn’t heard a single word you’d just spoken to him, his eyes fixed on you with a soft smile on his lips. “What?”

You turn around fully, raising a brow expectantly as you wait for his explanation of just why he’d been looking at you like that. He looked away momentarily, shifting his gaze to peer out of the window and collect himself before looking back at you, biting the inside of his cheek to fight his widening smile. “Nothing.”

You hadn’t bought his response, not even for a second, and he knew that. He wasn’t exactly being discreet by now, he’d stopped trying to do so a while ago. Partly because he knew you’d be too oblivious to put the pieces together, and partly because he was too smitten to mask it. It was rather tiring; to love someone for nearly a decade without certainty of it being reciprocated was taunting. Yet he didn’t have it in him to move on to someone else, because the truth was, no one in his lifetime could hold a candle to you.

“Could you please help me?” You ask again in a much less irritable tone this time. You spun on your heel quickly, hoping to mask the very obvious fact that a million butterflies had been set loose in your stomach, smiling softly as you scrambled to remember just what it was you had been looking for. With your back turned, you missed the way he stood there with hesitancy, the way you could practically see the gears turning in his head if you’d been looking at him. But he was grateful you couldn’t see it.

He’d spent the past week thinking of a hundred different ways to tell you this, all of them sounding hopelessly romantic in his head. It hadn’t gotten better with each day that passed either, switching between doubt and wanting to grab your face and kiss you. It became a looping cycle within those seven days, taunting him until he just couldn’t suppress it a moment longer. He refused. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“I know you said you didn’t want to be late, but you look amazing, and I’m trying not to kiss you senseless right now.”

The words tumbled from his lips and he almost winced with how utterly direct it was, spilling out with much less grace and eloquence than he’d planned. There was no way you wouldn’t understand what he meant after that.

Your distracted actions stilled at his quiet words, turning your head as your mouth hung slightly agape. A soft crimson stains your cheeks as you become aware of just how fondly he’s staring at you now, and you have the pressing urge to look away from it’s sheer loving intensity, but you don’t. However, you did drop the hairbrush in your hand, the sound deafening as it clattered loudly to the floor in the otherwise quiet room. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a timid smile as he laughs nervously, the tips of his ears burning while he fumbles with the hem of his vest.

You hadn’t been entirely sure you’d heard him correctly, but you were too stunned and too caught up hoping you had been to ask for any clarification. A part of you was tempted to pinch yourself to see if you’d been dreaming, but you were quite sure you weren’t. Even though a few fleeting moments had passed, the seconds felt like hours to him and you knew you couldn’t stare forever.

A rush of confidence had coursed through you in that moment because he hadn’t appeared to be joking, a smile pulling at your lips. “Well go on then.”

His breath caught in his throat at your words, his heart nearly beating right out of his chest. So much so that he found it impossible for you to not hear it’s rhythmic pounding. Though he quickly breaks out of his daze, his hand enveloping yours as he tugs you closer. His lips press to yours with the force of a thousand kisses, his fingers quick to tangle in your hair as your hands settle on his cheeks. Years worth of longing had seemed to seep into every brush of his lips, in the very way he’d been holding you as if you’d slip right through his fingers. And every time the warmth of his breath swept over you, it sent a bout of shivers rushing over your skin and leaving you completely enchanted.

You couldn’t help the smile forming, a soft laugh leaving your mouth as your nose brushes against his lips lightly. The pause in your kiss hadn’t lasted more than a few seconds as he found himself completely drawn to you. The desire to skip the reception altogether in favor of staying right there with you had lanced through him, the thought all too enticing but he knew he’d never hear the end of it.

“Bloody hell,” he murmurs, a lopsided smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he lets out an airy laugh, breathless and in awe. The quizzical look on your face is prompting enough for him to speak his mind. “I love you.”

The words were soft and they were true, mumbled without second thought in the close proximity. It had only taken him two years short of a decade to do so. His eyes flutter closed at the feeling of your quiet laughter on his lips, a sigh escaping him.

“I tell the girl I love my true feelings and she laughs at me. How wonderful,” he grumbles in faux offense, breaking away from you to shake his head as he looks to his right.

Your fingers brush over his jaw and turn him back to you immediately, leaning on your toes and kissing him once more. One that turned from a simple peck to a languid kiss that he found it next to impossible to break from. He hadn’t wanted to either. Your laughter has since disappeared, silenced against his lips as the certainty of his words truly began to sink in.

“I love you,” you whisper, and the smile on his face is immediate. His forehead rests on yours as his nose scrunches, his hair tickling your skin and a hum escaping him.

His hand squeezed your own gently, his lips continuing to ghost over yours in the softest of kisses. He had a lifetime to kiss you now, he had every day to come to do so, but he also had this current moment and he felt there was nothing more he wanted to do. It was apparent he was in a daze of requited love, it was obvious by the very way he looked at you as if you’d been the one person making the world go round.

You return his thoughtful look, something akin to mischief dancing in your eyes and he knew he was in for something. “Ron?”

He hums in response, his lips pressing to your cheek in hopes to distract you from the inevitable. His attempts were valiant but not enough to cloud your mind.

“So you were jealous?”

He squeezed his eyes shut as he drops his head to your shoulder, desperate to hide the noticeable scarlet invading his freckled cheeks. A groan leaves his lips and vibrates against your skin, he knew you would bring it up. He also knew this wouldn’t be the last time you would either. His soft laughter answers your question, his arms tightening their hold around you.

“You’ll never let this go, will you?”

You respond with a shake of your head, brushing strands of red hair from his eyes before wrapping your arms around his neck in a tight embrace. His smile is adoring as he tucks his face in your neck once more. He’s got you now, he’s unknowingly had you all along but his blunders didn’t seem to matter in that moment. Nothing did except for you.

His grin turned to that of a mischievous smirk, tugging on the corner of his lips as he stifled his laugh.

“What is it?” You ask, brow raised as you push back and your hands rest on his chest.

After a moment he held up his free hand between the two of you, the glimmering silver of your missing earring dangling between his finger tips. Your eyes widen a fraction as you gasp, his laughter unable to be contained much longer as you swat his arm.

“How long have you had that, Ron Weasley?”

He simply shrugs as a blush coats his cheeks and you snatch the earring from his hand with a playful frown, slipping it in your ear with ease.

“To be fair, I needed some time to work up the nerve to kiss you,” he reasons, your frown fading as you roll your eyes.

An eruption of boisterous cheers sounding several floors below had been reminder enough of the plans you were currently absent for. Surely they must have been waiting on the two of you. “Now look what you’ve gotten us into. We’re officially late.”

His gaze gave way to just how enamored he’d been by you, his lips meeting yours once more in hopes to hold him over until he could kiss you again. He knew that effort would be futile. He doesn’t even know how he’d made it this long without doing so a thousand times over.

“I’m sure they won’t miss us for five more minutes.”

You look up at him momentarily, your squeal ringing out as he nearly swept you off your feet. Your words are whispered against his lips as he brushes the hair from your face.

“Five more minutes.”

—

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wizardofahz · 3 years

Text

Sentinel vs. CatCo

Kara sighs internally as she spots the Superfriends whiteboard.

While it has become a permanent fixture in Andrea’s office, it doesn’t always feature so prominently. The focus of the meetings determines its location. If it’s an internal meeting unrelated to the Superfriends, it can be pushed off to the side: towards the balcony or in front of the cabinets. If the meetings involve board members or anyone Andrea wants to impress, it’s tucked into a corner and discreetly covered.

Today, the Superfriends whiteboard stands right beside Andrea’s desk, which means their meeting is going to entail more requests for Superfriends interviews.

Kara braces herself.

And then Andrea says some of the worst words possible: “I want an interview with Sentinel.”

Kara wills herself not to react. On the other side of William, Nia actually snorts.

Nia has worked her way back into Andrea’s good graces, but Kara very much doubts that openly snorting at their boss’s request will lead to another mental health day. Before Andrea can react, Kara says, “I, uh, I don’t think she likes giving interviews.”

“That’s what Nia said about the Superfriends,” Andrea says, completely undeterred, “and we have since gotten interviews with most of them.”

As much as Kara hates to admit it, Andrea’s right. They never participate in puff pieces about what they do for fun, but when they have a cause to promote, they lend their voices in support.

Through his PI work and with his deep ties to the alien community, J’onn had been encountering many others who were also the last of their kinds. With an interest in preserving these alien cultures, he had dedicated a portion of the Mars space in the planetarium to a rotating exhibit of those cultures. He had also teamed up with Kara to revive her Aliens of National City series for a special feature.

Brainy had volunteered for a live public service announcement when a toxic chemical spill had breached the boundaries of an industrial complex and threatened nearby neighborhoods. He had been a little too thorough with the technical details though, and Dreamer had had to intervene to make it more vernacular friendly. His PSA had been big with the scientific community, where some of his equations had been beyond current understanding and sparked contentious debates.

Nia had done a fantastic interview of the new Guardian about marginalized human communities. To quell any curiosity, Guardian briefly mentioned that she wasn’t ready to reveal her identity, but she did reveal that she had the previous Guardian’s blessing to pick up the mantle. Annoyingly, most media outlets chose to focus on that rather than the deep dive into intersectionality.

Alex hadn’t done any interviews. None of the Superfriends had thought twice about it.

Until now.

Knowing how private Alex is, Kara can already picture her reaction to this request.

“If it’s about the ratings, I could get another exclusive from Supergirl,” Kara volunteers. “You said she’s the ideal Superfriend for interviews.”

“Mmm, but we’ve had Supergirl,” Andrea says. “We’ve had all the other Superfriends. We don’t know enough about this Sentinel.” She taps the board under Alex’s picture where it says “HUMAN?”. “Is she fully human? What is her motivation? If she is human, how did she come to join the Superfriends? I want to know.”

“And if Kara’s right?” William asks. “We seem to get interviews with the Superfriends on their timeline, not ours.”

“Then get yourselves on their timeline,” Andrea says. “But I’ll be generous and give you a week instead of 24 hours. If you still fail, well, you’ve heard me say your alternatives enough by now.”

On their way out of Andrea’s office, Nia passes by Kara and mutters, “I’m not touching this one.”

Kara cannot disagree with that life choice.

“What did Nia say?” William asks.

“Nothing.”

...

Alex looks up from her console as Kara enters the Tower. “Hey, what did you want to talk about?”

Knowing how little Alex will appreciate the conversation, Kara says, “You love me beyond measure, and that will never change, right?”

Alex turns around completely, resting her back against the console. She crosses her arms. She knows the difference between Kara approaching her abandonment issues and something Alex will find unpleasant. “Yes? Am I going to change my mind?”

Kara grimaces. “Andrea wants an interview with Sentinel.”

The look of horror on Alex’s face would be hilarious in any other circumstance. “Why?”

“Because you’re the last Superfriend not to give an interview. Andrea thinks that makes you mysterious and intriguing.”

“Not happening.”

“I figured as much. I tried offering up a Supergirl exclusive instead.”

“I love you.”

“Well, she didn’t bite.”

At that, Alex’s head drops back, and she stares at the ceiling.

“I'll write something up anyway,” Kara continues. “Hopefully it will keep Andrea happy in the meantime.”

“Thanks.” Alex gestures for Kara to come in for a hug. “I know you don’t like puff pieces either.”

“It’s okay,” Kara says into Alex’s shoulder. “I’ll find something meaningful to write about.”

...

Alex glances around the downtown street. Luckily she, Brainy, and J’onn had arrived in time to stop an Infernian from destroying a private lab. The police had also shown up and set up a perimeter, which was helpful as a crowd had developed to the south.

“Sentinel!”

Alex spots William Dey at the front of the crowd. "Oh, hell no.”

She normally likes William well enough, but given what Kara told her about Andrea’s request, he’s now on her list of the last five people she’d want to see at any given moment.

“I gotta get out of here,” Alex tells J’onn. “You and Brainy got this covered, right?”

They look over to where Brainy is explaining his containment technology to the police officers taking custody of the Infernian.

William says her name again.

J’onn glances at William then back at Alex with amusement. “Go. We’ll be fine.”

...

“Sentinel!”

Alex looks across the chaos of overturned cubicles and office supplies to see William Dey approaching.

Alex frowns. How did he get here so quickly?

Luckily they are on the fifth floor of the building, which means Alex has an exit strategy William doesn’t. “Supergirl, meet me outside.”

“Copy that.”

A few of the windows were broken in the fight. Dreamer already has the offending meta-human contained, so Alex doesn’t feel bad leaving William behind.

Alex picks the window with the cleanest break and jumps through.

...

Andrea drops something on Kara’s desk. “What is this?”

“An interview with Supergirl,” Kara responds after a quick look.

Andrea sighs. “Kara, I know you heard me when I said I wanted an interview with Sentinel, not any Superfriend.”

Kara shrugs. “I couldn’t get ahold of Sentinel, neither could William, and Supergirl had something she wanted to say.”

“Did you ask Supergirl about talking to Sentinel?” Andrea asks expectantly.

Kara blinks. “I think they have more important things to do than to act as messaging services to one another.”

“It’s not your job to think about their priorities. It’s your job to think about CatCo’s priorities,” Andrea says. “Get me an interview with Sentinel. You, specifically. And again, I don’t think I need to give you the consequences spiel. You have 24 hours.”

Kara reaches out to clear the Supergirl interview from her desk, but Andrea snatches it back up.

“I’m still publishing this.”

...

Kara looks apologetically across the couch.

Just as Kara had tried to give a Supergirl exclusive to spare Sentinel an interview, Alex is now giving an interview to spare Kara’s job.

“Okay, I have to make this on the record, so let’s maybe do a rehearsal.”

Alex sighs but shrugs her agreement anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

Kara hands over her notepad where the questions are written out. “These are the questions I’m going to ask you.”

“You already know the answer to most of these,” Alex says as her eyes glide down the page. “And there’s no way we can publish them.”

“I know. That’s why we’re rehearsing. We’ll have to come up with something that’s real but not revealing.”

Alex balks. Kara doesn’t have to wonder which question its at because Alex reads it out loud. “‘You’ve been a super hero for a while now, but this is your first interview. Why now?’ Seriously?”

Kara grimaces. “Yeah.”

“Because my little sister’s boss is a pain in the ass.”

“Alex.”

“Right, come up with a fake but real answer.”

But their quest for acceptable answers is a tedious process that comes up short.

“I can’t do this,” Alex groans and flops back into the couch cushions. “How about I promise that when I have something to say, I’ll say it to you? You can have that promise on the record.”

“I’ll try,” Kara says. She’s also tired, and she hates forcing this on Alex.

Andrea won’t be thrilled with it, but Kara will make it work.

...

The next day Alex sighs in relief at Kara’s single emoji text.

A thumbs up.

#supergirl #alex danvers #kara danvers #andrea rojas #moments in the life of superfam

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Penmanship- Cedric Diggory x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: I- i love this request. I’m also hella confused by half of it so imma guess? Also i’m putting Lupin in this story because in my dr hes the defense against the dark arts professor and i do what i want really so like-

Request: Okay so listen honey. A cedric diggory imagine where he constantly gets love letters every now and then from a secret admirer aka the reader. Not so secret though because she has the prettiest handwriting ever and it was very obvious. One day, Cedric like asks for her notes because he needed it??? She mindlessly gave it away because that's her long-time crush okay- and then after, Cedric gives it back and says she has a beautiful penmanship and reader just blushes, thinking about what she had done and- Gdjshdhxbhshgs so she tried like avoiding him because embarrassing really wow and then some days after, Cedric asks her what was the answer. She was like???? Was there a question????? Ced was like look at your notes???? And tHEN SHE RUMMAGES THROUGH HER NOTES AND SAW CEDRIC'S LETTER ASKING HER OUT.I've always been that freak in class with a pretty handwriting 😭 - 💐

House: Hufflepuff

Possible Triggers / Warnings: the fluff, Cedric being a cheeky bastard, cursing because i have a foul mouth

☼-☪-☼

Cedric Diggory, 7th year Hufflepuff, quidditch captain/seeker, handsome, charming as a prince, and one of the most popular guys at hogwarts along with Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy, George and Fred Weasley, Blaise Zabini, etc. Anyway, like most girls and boys in Hogwarts, you fell for him. Hard.

i mean- how couldn’t you, you shared almost every class him and he just seemed so kind and caring. He did have his smug side though that you rarely saw, but it was surely there. In layman’s terms: he was perfect in your eyes, and in your mind, you didn’t deserve him or his weird perfection thing he had.

so you came up with a strange and somewhat coward way of confessing your feelings. Better than being embarrassed, normally guys and gals would get the young lad alone and confess there undying attraction to him and well- they’d get rejected. Everytime. It was almost as if Cedric had an attraction for no one.

you decided to send love letters of sorts, but not really. They were more like letters of encouragement and it certainly wasn’t going to be a constant thing, just when you noticed a negative change in his attitude or anything like that. You would write him sweet compliments that you hoped weren’t to creepy as well.

you just hoped that the letters brought Cedric some sort of happiness whenever he was low.

☼-☪-☼

the Hufflepuff house had quite a grim aura this afternoon. The quidditch team had just lost a match against Gryffindor and even though Hufflepuffs were no sore losers, losing just sucked in general to anyone. It was sad to see your fellow housemates on the quidditch team so upset.

the worst part was that Cedric had took the lose quite harshly since it would have gotten them a place in the quidditch finals of that semester. Now he would have to wait until next term to assure his team a spot. You noticed Cedric’s pained expression during the end of the game and left early.

this was one of the moments where you could write something sweet and kind to lift his spirits and write you shall. You snuck back into your common room and quickly gathered up some parchment, ink, and a quill. You sat on the yellow loveseat as you wrote.

‘Dear Cedric, I’m sorry that you don’t get to participate in the quidditch finals, but don’t see this has a huge lose. You are still the most amazing quidditch captain and seeker i have ever seen. You should be proud of what you have accomplished so far. I just know you will do much better next term because your the kind of person to grow from your failures and such. It has inspired me to do the same with myself. Have a good rest of your day Cedric.’

after writing what you needed to say you quickly make your way back to the quidditch field to see Cedric and his team slowly making there way to the changing rooms. Oh no. You needed to think fast. In a rushed state you slip into the boys changing room, no doubt feeling like a bit of a perv while doing so.

it smelt like pure testosterone. you gaze around until your E/c eyes land on a small locker that had Cedric’s name on the front. Boom. With haste, you rush over and open the locker. The smell of fresh sage filling your nose. Odd. Anyway, you fold the letter and place it gently on on his clothes.

after that you left.

☼-☪-☼

as Cedric walked into the changing room he sighed deeply, running a hand through his golden brown hair that by then had collected sweat. His male teammates were quiet as they began to strip themselves of their protective padding.

as the seeker opened up his locker to grab his regular clothes he spotted a folded up piece of parchment. By now he had been receiving letters for a bout a month now, so he instantly knew. He reaches in and grabs it from the locker. Opening it, he spotted the unique handwriting as always.

as he read the words a wide smile grew on his face. He honestly looked like a lovestruck idiot who had just been kissed by an angel. After a month of receiving these letters, he now had a want for them. They always came when he needed them the most and always brought the brightest smile on his face.

even after reading the kind words you had wrote for him, Cedric couldn’t help but wonder who was writing the letters with the unique penmanship. He had fallen for the anonymous writer and longed to know who there identity was, so he could say those feelings in person.

but not once had they mentioned any descriptors that could lead him anywhere, no hair color, eye color, not even there gender. Cedric could less about any of those, but he needed those clues to find them, to find you. All he had was a stack of letters with unique handwriting.

☼-☪-☼

a week later

one of the many classes you shared with Cedric was defence against the dark arts with professor Lupin, which was where you were walking into at this current moment. Oh yeah, you were deskmates (assigned) with him as well, which was totally not nerve wracking in the slightest.

Lupin stood up from his chair in the front of the class as most of his students had taken their seats “Welcome, welcome everyone. Once your seated please pull out your textbooks and turn to-” before he could get another word in Hermione Granger’s hand had shot up in the air.

professor Lupin gave her a small smile before nodding once towards her direction “Yes, Ms. Granger?” he asked. Hermione’s arm fell and she folded her hands across the wooden desk she sat at “You told us last week there’d be a exam today on the Chameleon Ghoul?”

as groans fell from your classmates you heard the chair next to you slide across the floor “I haven’t missed anything important, have i?” that deep melodic voice you had grown to enjoy spoke. You turn your head to face the browned haired boy who wore a kind smile and questioning eyes.

you manage to muster up a reply “Uh- Granger reminded Lupin that we have a exam today” you said cracking a quiet chuckle. He rolls his eyes dramatically and takes a seat in the chair, all while pulling out a couple pieces of parchment with his handwriting on it. You assumed it was his notes.

“Of course she did. What’s the exam for?” he asks. You sit back in your seat to make yourself look less tense then you actually were. “Chameleon Ghouls” you say, watching the golden brown hair boy search through his notes. A frown formed on his face, one you noticed “Are uh- you alright there?”

Cedric turns his head to face you, his frown replaced with a sheepish smile “I was at quidditch practice during that lesson. You wouldn’t mind me borrowing yours would you? I- I mean if it’s not to much of a hassle?” he asked. You shook your head quickly, not wanting him to be nervous.

“Oh no it’s alright. I usually write two sets of notes for my friend Hannah who usually sleeps through her lessons” you say, making him chuckle a bit. You reach into your bag and pull out both pages of notes, handing him one. Cedric gently takes the notes from your hand, his finger grazing yours.

it affected you more than you’d like to admit. You pull your hand away and place it back in your lap. Cedric smiles kindly before looking at the parchment you gave him. His brown eyes scan the handwriting, a smug grin plastered on his face. It took him a couple minutes to read the whole page.

“Your penmanship” he spoke

at this point you were looking at your own notes and for once not paying so much attention to him. You raise a brown in confusion before looking up at him “My penmanship?” you question. Cedric nods towards the parchment he held in his hand

“The way you write is so unique, i could spot it in instantly among others. I could never forget it” he said sending you a wink. You were confused at first by his choice of words before it finally hit you. The letters. He had seen your handwriting so many times before, so much so that he couldn’t forget it.

and you had so willingly, so stupidly given away something with your distinct penmanship on it. Oh merlin, you were so screwed. Your E/c eyes widen, opening your mouth to force out some answer but professor Lupin speaks instead. “Now notes away while i pass out the exam”

Cedric casually faces forward in his seat once again as he slides over the notes you handed him minutes ago. You quickly snatch them and stuff it into your bag as a red hue tinted your cheeks. You felt so embarrassed at the moment and wanted the earth to swallow you up.

☼-☪-☼

“Aright, leave your exams on the table and you may leave” Lupin spoke, while kids stood up from their desks to leave the classroom. In a haste, you sling your bag over your shoulder and make a beeline towards the door, not wanting to even risk Cedric questioning you about the letters. Your heart couldn’t handle it.

for the next couple days you spent most of your time avoiding the hufflepuff boy who seemed to now show up everywhere you went. Almost like the universe was punishing you for being such an idiot in giving him those notes and you did feel like a total idiot. You really hoped he would just forget you existed.

☼-☪-☼

a couple days later, friday

you couldn’t avoid him forever though.

back in professor Lupin’s classroom you had been quietly sitting next to Cedric almost the whole class period. What were you supposed to say to him anyway “We seemed to have finished early, talk amongst yourselves quietly for the rest of the remaining time if you so desire”

well shit

you lean back into your chair and sigh deeply. He wouldn’t talk to you right? He should of taken the hit that you were avoiding him, RIGHT? No of course not. You felt a tap on your shoulder and slowly turned your head to face Cedric “Yes?” you say, trying to keep your calm composure.

“You still haven’t given me an answer, your cutting it pretty close there Y/n” he snickers, leaning in close to you since he spoke in a hushed tone. You instinctively lean back, cause like- boundaries. “I’m sorry, i don’t understand?” you spoke, a confused expression on your face.

Cedric studies your expression for a moment before chuckling again “I guess i don’t leave letters as skillfully as you do” he says making your face go bright red “Check the notes that you gave me” he adds. You mumble an okay before opening your bag to grab the crumpled parchment.

when you unfolded it another piece of parchment had fallen into your lap. It was small and looked like it had been ripped off the sheet and folded up like a note you would pass to a friend during class. You reach down and collect, gently unfolding the top flap to read the words.

‘It’s my turn to write you something my secret admirer or should i say Y/n L/n. Would you do me the honor of going out with me this saturday- Cedric’

you must have read those couple sentences three times before you believed your eyes weren’t defective of some sort. You slowly place the note down on your lap once again, biting your bottom lip out of nervousness. Slowly looking over to your right you saw Cedric with a questioning glance “So?”

a smile grew on your face before nodding “Yeah i’d love to”

the date went great, you walked around the school talking about anything you or Cedric could think of. He did question you on why you had sent the letters anonymously and you told him the truth, you didn’t want to be embarrassed. He thought it was funny the way he found out and you though to.

☼-☪-☼

a month later (bonus stuff)

you were wearing a yellow sweater with black sleeves and collar, a short denim overall dress over that and black leggings with matching black boots as you tapped your fingers against the wood of Cedric’s chest at the foot of his bed. You were waiting for your now boyfriend to come back from the shower.

Cedric had been at quidditch practice all afternoon and you knew he went to wash up right after, so it was the waiting game now. What you didn’t expect was what would happen next. The door suddenly opened to reveal Cedric with damp hair and only wearing a towel around his waist.

you yelp and cover your eyes with both of your hands instantly “Cedric! What the hell!?” you shout. Cedric gives you a weird look all though you couldn’t see it “Your in my dorm! I didn’t think you be in here!” he shouts back, you can hear shuffling of clothes and his walking.

“Did you walk through the common room like that?! What if somebody saw you!?” you exclaim. You didn’t want prying eyes on him in such a state since you knew almost everyone in your house and others hand the biggest crush on him. The thought made you frown knowing full well he could have anyone he wanted.

you feel his large hand over yours as he pulls them from your face, his brown eyes studying your expression like always “Who cares if anyone saw?” he questions, your face not changing “Because everyone likes you, what if someone more good looking than me saw you and- eh”

you look away from him. Cedric exhaled and let go of one of your hands to gently force your chin towards him so you were looking at him once again. “I don’t really care about anyone else Y/n. I’m your boyfriend aren’t i?” he asked, tilting his head with an amused smile. You nod slowly “Yeah”

“Y/n i fell for you the first time i read your letters, don’t doubt yourself because your the only girl who has ever caught my attention” Cedric smiles and leans up since he was crouching in front of you to kiss your lips gently. It was like he was sealing his statement with the kiss.

you smile against his lips. He pulls away after a couple seconds with a smug smirk “Now my secret admirer, want to cuddle?”

“I’m never getting over that am i?”

“Nope, now in the bed”

☼-☪-☼

Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss

☼-☪-☼

Kody: this is shi for how long it took me lmao. Anyway, requests and taglist are open so like- yeahhh.

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