Alix-alx - ٠࣪⭑Lex_writtee٠࣪⭑

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄, 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄 ! j.todd x f!reader

you hadn't realized the extent of the mess until jason turned his head. the light played over the faint smudges of lipstick along his face, neck, & even on his collarbone(so much for leaving only two or three lipstick marks). it was marvelous in unintentional vandalism, & he was gazing at himself in the mirror, with an expression of amusement.

"alright, artist," he muttered, tilting his head to the side. "mind telling me why i look like some kind of abstract painting?”

you stifled a laugh behind your hand as you leaned closer. "i guess i got a little… carried away?"

"carried away?" he turned to you, eyebrows raised. "you were marking me up like a kid with a brand-new box of crayons."

his teasing tone made your face burn. "i'll wash it off, i'll wash it off." you said, taking a towel off its rack. jason caught your wrist, stopping you.

"hold on," he said, frowning at one particular smudge beneath his ear that was so bold & red you could see half of it from across the room. you watched in amusement as he gently touched it with one finger. he grinned. "red. like blood, almost intimidating."

you blinked. "what are you trying to say?"

he shrugged, slouching back against the sink. "i'm saying if you keep decorating me like this, i might just keep one or two for effect. bad guys don't mess with the guy covered in battle scars &… lipstick art."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes in amusement. "oh, sure. nothing's more terrifying than a man with kiss marks all over his neck."

"don't knock it till you see it in action," he said, with a growing grin. "but next time." he tapped your chin lightly. "you better warn me before you turn me into your canvas. i've got a reputation to uphold."

"reputation?" you teased, crossing your arms. "as gotham's most qualified lipstick model?"

jason groaned, pulling you into his arms as if it took no effort whatsoever. "keep it up, & i'll leave a few smudges of my own. fair warning."

you couldn't help but laugh as you hid your face in his chest, the low rumble of his chuckle vibrating through you. hilarious, ridiculous, & utterly jason peter todd.

a few moments, your laughter—gone, you lifted your eyes, looking up to him with that sly grin for yours plastered on. "at least you officially became the 'red hood.’"

jason narrowed his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. "doll…"

you let out another laugh making jason sigh & pulled you closer.

© minorlyatfault

I feel like a virgin when I search up “x Reader” with a new character I like

she’s with me. 

synopsis: love and deepspace boys’ reaction when someone tries to flirt with you. 

wc: 3.5k (approx 800-900 per chara)

character/s: zayne, rafayel, xavier, sylus 

warning/s: men being creeps (dude, she's just not into you.)

note/s: i apologize in advance if this isn’t entirely lore accurate or ooc, i’ve just started playing and am only at chapter 5 (if you’re in the asian server, let’s be friends!!) 

zayne: 

zayne was running late. you sighed as you looked at zayne’s text message. it contained an apology about the unexpected traffic and how he would be a few minutes later than the agreed upon time. 

knowing that the situation was out of his control, you text him back a reassurance and took a picture of the menu, asking him what he’d like so you could order it before he arrives. 

“are you ready to order, miss?” the waiter asks and you put the menu down and give him a polite smile. 

“not yet, i’m still waiting for someone.” you could see a spark twinkle in the waiter’s eyes. you didn’t like it. it felt as if he were hoping for something that you were not willing to give. 

every now and then, the waiter would ask if you would like to order and time and time again, you make it clear that you were waiting for someone. the waiter would constantly look over at your table, taking notes of the minutes and coming back with subtle hints of his infatuations. 

first, it was a refill on the untouched napkins with the first folded one conveniently having his number. 

second, it was accidentally spilling water over your table even though there were no obstacles that hindered his footing. 

third, and hopefully the last, he managed to insert himself while explaining the menu as a pick-up line–which almost made you lose your appetite. 

you felt uncomfortable.  

“would you like me to inform you of tonight’s specials? it’s a rare wagyu steak with a side of me—” “oh, you’ll just be wasting your time. i think it’s better for you to tell me when my date arrives. we wouldn’t want you wasting your breath now, would we?” you jest, trying to subtly tell the waiter to leave you alone but it was either he was very persistent or very dense as he keeps ghosting over your table even after leaving. 

you try to push any assumption away, telling yourself that it was part of his job to be attentive but was it still professional attentiveness when he wouldn’t stop staring at you? 

your phone vibrated on the table and before you could take a look. the waiter comes back to your table, more confidently this time. as if he was about to claim a prize. 

“miss, i’m off for the next half hour, how about i keep you company while you wait for your ‘date’.” you didn’t like how he put air quotes on the word date and the sarcastic lilt in his voice as he speaks to you. 

“i told you, i am expecting someone and i do not appreciate you being unprofessional when i have explicitly told you i’m waiting for my date.” 

“by the looks of it, he probably stood you up. no man would keep a pretty girl like you waiting.”

you were evidently pissed, your face held an unimpressed stare but before you could answer back, a familiar deep voice caught both of your attention. 

“while i do appreciate your sentiment for keeping my girlfriend company, i don’t think that’s necessary.” the sight of zayne made your lips quirk up into a small smile, the waiter, with his back turned, only offered a snort of arrogance. 

“yeah, some boyfriend you are keeping a lady like her wa—” the waiter stops in his tracks as he turns around and sees zayne’s tall, lean physique looking at him with the same unimpressed look you were sporting. the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. 

the waiter feels like he’s being watched under a microscope due to how the two of you were looking at him as if he were some kind of gum under your –most likely– expensive shoes. 

zayne spares him a glance no longer than a second before he turns to you. 

“i apologize for being late, darling. work took longer than usual and the traffic was unexpected.” he explains and takes a seat in front of you. you smiled and shook your head. 

“was the surgery a success?” you asked and zayne nods before you gave a hum of acknowledgement. 

the waiter then realizes who just sat across from you. he was on the news for being the best cardiac surgeon in the akso hospital. he knew he was no match for him– not that he was an option in the first place. 

 you turned over to the waiter who looked like he was regretting every decision he’s ever made with his life. 

“would you mind getting another menu? my date and i would like to order at the same time.” you asked, the waiter nods stiffly before turning around and walking away. 

the additional menu was brought over to the table by a different waiter, but neither you and zayne questioned it as you enjoyed your date night. 

rafayel: 

stinkfish: wruuu :((  stinkfish: i’ll sneak out this exhibition talk to come to u this is so boring :((  stinkfish: i don’t wanna explain to the people why i painted this and that. they won’t listen the way you do stinkfish: tell me where u are pretty pleaseee :(( 

you snort as you see the myriad of texts rafayel was sending you. you sent him a picture of the aisle you were in with no context before turning your phone off, you looked at the painting in great detail. smiling softly as you remembered how excited rafayel was when he was rambling about the vision he had and how he couldn’t wait to paint it. and now, after a few days, his vision came to life and you were in front of it, admiring the details and thoughts that went behind the painting. 

“you know…” you hear a foreign voice say from beside you, your thoughts get cut off as you look at the stranger with a curious glance. 

“i thought you were the prettiest painting until you started moving.” you blinked, not exactly knowing how to respond to the cheesy pick up line but you only offered him a polite smile as you nod and move away. 

the man did not take the hint. 

“so, what brought you here?” he asked and you showed him the brochure of rafayel’s exhibition with an obvious look.

“so am i! wow, we have a lot of things in common.” you were fighting the urge to roll your eyes because as much as friendly goes, the man knows that you’re obviously not interested, but he isn’t going to give up. 

the two of you stopped by in front of rafayel’s biggest painting yet. the glimmering shade of red that contrasted with the painted sand captivated you. you tilt your head to the side, smiling at how the painted blue ocean seemed as if it were glittering under the lights of the exhibition. 

“do you like that painting.” right. he’s still there. you don’t bother facing him as you nod. the stranger huffs. 

“there’s nothing good about this painting. it’s just the ocean. if you were to ask me, i’d say it’s mediocre at best.” 

‘i didn’t ask.’ you wanted to say but you kept your mouth shut, not bothering to reply to the stranger no matter how much he insulted your boyfriend’s works. your hand clenches the brochure tightly as you move on to the next painting, hoping the man gets off your tail because you were so close to flag down a security guard and report him but it’s fine. you can handle it. 

silence is the best weapon after all. 

“— and i think the blue could use a deeper shade because it doesn’t look right, the blablablablabla” you tuned out the stranger’s yapping, not really acknowledging nor caring about whatever comes out of his mouth. 

“you know… the exhibition is about to end and i think we have a connection.” brother eugh. this time, you couldn’t help the cringe that overtook your features as you grimaced at his forwardness. 

the stranger clicked his tongue, a smirk playing on his face. “still playing hard to get, huh?” he takes a step closer to you. “i like that about a girl.” your grimace only deepens as you look at him as if he was the most disgusting being on earth. 

“too bad, that’s my little conch shell you’re talking to.” you turn your head to the side, your grimace turning into a smile as you see rafayel behind you. 

“hey miss bodyguard. you weren’t at the picture you took.” rafayel pouts, you shook your head slightly. “you were taking too long, i wanted to see your exhibition already.” you finally talked for the first time and in the corner of your eye, you could see the stranger deflate when he realizes that he was your boyfriend and you were not in fact playing hard to get nor interested in him. 

“i had to escape thomas, he kept telling me that new buyers were coming and he kept going on and on and on– so i escaped and here i am.” he beams, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you closer. 

“you’re prettier than anything in this exhibit.” he says loud enough for the stranger to hear and the stranger almost throws a tantrum when he sees you bury your face in rafayel’s chest due to flusteredness. 

rafayel cradles your head to his chest in a gentle way, but the look he gave to the stranger was nowhere near. 

his brow raises. “why are you still here?” as if the man’s trance snapped, he blubbered out apologies before he ran out the exhibition, knowing the embarrassment would probably haunt him for years. you pull away with a sigh. “thought he’d never leave me alone. i almost thought you’d met your match because he kept talking.”

“are you trying to say i talk too much.” 

“...”

“hey!” 

xavier: 

xav<33: I’m sleepy. U and Ur friend enjoy yourselves though. Good night my little star.

you huff as you read your boyfriend’s text. he could’ve at least remembered tara’s name. you think to yourself before you send him a good night sticker. he responds back with one back and a heart, causing a smile to etch on your face. 

“hoho.” tara smirked evilly. “is the boyfie dropping by?” she teases and you huffed. “i wish. knowing xav, he probably sent me that emoji while asleep.” you said before pocketing your phone. 

“pfft, more fun for us then!” tara beams as she pulls you in the nightclub that she planned. 

the strobe lights were blinding as the dance floor lit up with different shades of blues and purples. the people around were dancing as if nothing else mattered and there was no tomorrow. 

“whoah.” tara breathes out, eyes filled with amazement. “there are a lot more people than i thought there would be.” she turns to you with a smile on her face. “stay close to me, okay? wouldn’t want your boyfriend getting worried!” you smiled and nodded as you let her lead you to the dance floor. 

the dance floor wasn’t quite as packed as it was a few minutes ago, seeing as some people left to get more drinks, hoping to get more buzzed. 

maybe it was an impulsive decision on tara’s end, or maybe it was her fear of missing out as she yells over the music. 

“i’ll be back in a second, i’ll go grab us drinks!” and before you could yell back that you’ll stay on the sidelines while waiting, she was already gone. 

thinking that tara would look for you and see you on the sides eventually, you stood and observed the people around you. the atmosphere was nice. the club wasn’t stuffy, the music was loud but not uncomfortably so and the people seemed to be having a great time. 

“you here by yourself?” you remain unfazed as your eyes flit to the sides, seeing a man who looked like he was buzzed. his breath reeked of alcohol and his body was slurring to the side. you smile dismissively before you shake your head and point towards the dancefloor with a vague finger. 

“my friend is getting me drinks.” tara hurry up. 

“ah? really? i don’t see them.” he takes one step closer and you instinctively take a step away from him. “she’s about to head here.” you explained. the stranger grins and you could feel a cold sweat on your back. 

“how about you give me a dance before i let you over to your little friend? maybe she could join if you’d like.” disgusting. absolutely disgusting. 

you wanted to kick the man where the sun doesn’t shine and maybe, just maybe, neutralize him with the same neutralizer you use with unstable wanderers. the thoughts of what you could do in the situation filled up your mind that you didn’t notice his grimy hand reaching for your wrist. 

“would you mind not touching my girlfriend?” you look up to the voice. pleasantly surprised to see your boyfriend holding onto the man’s wrist with a glare on his face. 

“hah! as if! back off, chump, i saw her first.” the man cackles, xavier remains unfazed as he tightens his grip on the man’s wrist every time he struggles– which was a lot that you had to stop xavier once you hear the cracking of bones. 

xavier abides to your gentle touch before he pushes the man before letting go, causing him to lose his balance and slide against the nightclub wall as he whimpers pitifully at the pain on his wrist. 

xavier spares him no glance as he places a hand on the small of your back and escorts you outside the nightclub. 

“(y/n)!” you hear tara wail as she runs to you, hugging you tightly. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i couldn’t find you anywhere and you weren’t responding to my messages and–” “tara, it’s okay.” you reassured her, tara looks at you with a doubtful expression, obviously still feeling guilt before she turns to xavier. “thank god you got here so fast! i really wouldn’t know what to do! ack! i’m really, really sorry.” she apologizes, xavier gives her a nod. 

“it’s alright. i’ve neutralized the threat—” “threat?!” “what he means—” you hold tara’s hands with a smile on your face. “he managed to find me before anything bad happened, right, xav?” your smile screamed out just agree and thankfully, your dense boyfriend caught onto it as he nods his head in agreement. “right.” 

“it’s getting late and i don’t think we can continue the night, how about we reschedule this?” you asked tara and she gives you a determined nod before the two of you parted ways. 

once you waved the taxi that tara was in goodbye, you turned to xav. 

“how did she manage to wake you?” “i wasn’t asleep. i was waiting for you to message me to pick you up.” he explains before he yawns. “you owe me so much cuddles for making me teleport.” 

you scoffed, knowing that your night will be spent with you as his personal bolster. but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

sylus: 

“last chance to back out, kitten. i must warn you that i may not be able to have my eyes on you once we get inside.” sylus says as the two of you stood outside the banquet doors. you were donned in a fitted blood red dress, your makeup was done just right and you were the embodiment of elegance. 

“are you scared that i’ll be swept on my feet by someone else if you look away?” you teased. sylus chuckles, the rich baritone of his voice reverberating against the quiet hall. 

“my kitten, i am in no way insecure about you falling for another man’s trap. i am merely concerned for the poor fellows who will fall for your beauty, not knowing you’re mine.” his deep voice practically purrs by your ear as his nose traces the outline of the side of your head. his musky cologne invades your nostrils causing you to shiver slightly. you scoffed, pushing his head away before you wrapped your perfectly manicured hand on his bicep.

the banquet was regal. that was the only term you could think of as you stepped in with sylus by your side. your heels click in pace with his large steps as all the clamor quieted down, all eyes were on you and sylus. 

almost immediately, the elite walked towards him, trying their best to get the onychinus’ boss’ attention. you immediately let go of his arm, not wanting any attention to be on you. although, if that were truly the case, you shouldn’t have had walked in with him but it was his demands. you had no choice but to abide. 

you shouldn’t even be here in the first place! you did not agree to being sylus’ arm accessory, it wasn’t part of your deal but with the wave of his black card, you find yourself observing the people who desperately tried to gain his attention.

you can see the women blinking their lashes, trying to get sylus to even glance at them but you paid them no mind, knowing that sylus only has his eyes on you. unfortunately, not at the moment, as you slipped from his gaze and walked over towards the bar. 

you sat by the corner, by yourself as you observed the elite and how they interacted with each other. you can see how the ladies immediately roll their eyes once their conversation partner turns their backs, or how the men would look pointedly at their henchmen when information about their rival partnerships were leaked out of intoxication. 

a cold drink slides down the bar and hits your arm, you jolt slightly at the sudden change in temperature before you turn to take a look at the bartender who offered you a charming smile. 

“i did not order this.” you say, pushing the drink back, the bartender shakes his head. “it’s on the house.” 

you tilt your head in confusion, your body unconsciously shifting towards the bar as you engaged in conversation. 

“i can’t have a pretty lady sitting on my bar and not have her drink, right?” you blinked before your eyes darted towards the drink, a blank expression on your face before the bartender chuckled. he took the glass away from you, dumping its contents out before preparing you a new one.

“the first one wasn’t spiked. but maybe that just wasn’t your cup of tea.” he explains before asking for your preferred drink and went into making it immediately, making sure your eyes were on him. the bartender smiles as he presents you with the drink. 

“open a tab fo–” “it’s on the house.” “excuse me?” the bartender smirks, elbows on the bar as he gestures towards the drink. 

“pretty ladies drink for free.” he winks and you almost want to look back at sylus and see if his eyes were indeed on you, but you weren’t about to take advantage of some stranger’s generosity even if he was obviously flirting with you. 

“no, i insist. open a tab for–” “i insist it’s on the hous–” “sylus.” the bartender looks at you amusedly before he huffs out a laugh. “sylus, huh? haven’t heard that name for a tab in the past twenty minutes.” he smirks. 

“lady, you’re the fifth person to ask for a tab to be opened after sylus’ name.” you fight the urge to roll your eyes. “before this gets embarrassing for you, i suggest you take the free drink and maybe i can have your contact?” he winks. 

“sylus may not look at you but i will.” the bartender obviously did not see you and sylus walk in together. 

“while i do appreciate the generosity for buying my kitten a drink.” you barely bat an eye as you hear sylus’ booming voice interrupt your conversation, one of sylus’ big hands run down the slit of your dress, fingers slipping into your thigh garter as he pulls out his black card. 

“i am very capable of providing for what’s mine.” he says as he places the black card down. “you heard the lady, open a tab under my name.”  

the bartender was now distraught, obviously intimidated by sylus’ presence as he takes the card and immediately turns his back, making your drinks with shaky hands.

“scared i’d get swept away?” you repeat your words from before, a smirk forming on your lips. sylus places his hand on your cheek, his thumb playing near your lips. 

“what can i say? you look absolutely ethereal, sweetie. i wouldn’t put it past them to attempt and steal what’s mine.” 

note/s: first ever l&ds work we cheer !

Class break 🖤🤍

If this gets lots of reblogs I will make a cute/naughty part 2 😏

Prints with shoko

Prints only sugusato

I feel like a virgin when I search up “x Reader” with a new character I like

It's out guys!!!

link

Put 4 weeks of my life into this with my friend, please consider checking it out.

Our passion project for Sukugo <3

part one: alert synchronicity

— ★ spencer spends a day surrounded by small reminders of you—and finally understands that he's already lost his heart to you.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing!

Something shifted.

It wasn’t just a minor change, a fleeting blip in the rhythm of his day—no, this was something bigger. It was subtle, almost imperceptible.

Whether it was a trick of the mind or a deeper instinct trying to get Spencer's attention, he didn’t know.

He woke that morning with an odd heaviness in his limbs, the kind that made the simple act of opening his eyes feel like a monumental effort.

The space beside him was empty. Cold.

And for a long, disorienting moment, he stared at the undisturbed sheets, his mind caught between sleep and wakefulness, reality and the lingering traces of a dream he couldn’t quite recall.

You weren’t there.

Of course you weren’t. You had left hours ago, after the movie credits rolled and the apartment had settled into silence.

You had laughed at something he said, before gathering your things and slipping out with a quiet "Bye Spencer."

That had been the plan. That’s how it always went.

Yet, for twenty minutes, he lay there, motionless, his gaze fixed on the vacant space beside him as if expecting it to offer answers. His mind was a paradox—simultaneously blank and overcrowded, thoughts swirling like leaves caught in a gust of wind, too fast to grasp, too numerous to ignore. It was as though a hundred thoughts were scrambling for attention at once, but none of them quite made it to the surface. He couldn’t grab onto anything.

All he knew was that something didn’t sit right.

Was it just exhaustion? The residual effects of too many late nights and too many cases blurring together?

Because the truth was, he had felt it before. That eerie, inexplicable tug of fate, the universe nudging him toward something he couldn’t yet name. And today, it was stronger.

Today, it refused to be ignored.

The sensation clung to him like static, prickling beneath his skin even as he dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror looked tired—more than usual.

His eyes landed on the toothbrush—the one that wasn’t technically yours, but might as well have been. A soft pink handle, sitting next to his own.

He’d bought it months ago, after the third time you’d stayed over and sheepishly admitted you’d forgotten yours. It had been a practical decision at the time—a small, logical accommodation for someone who kept ending up in his space, in his life, for longer and longer stretches.

His fingers hovered near it, not quite touching, as if it might burn him. A strange warmth spread through his chest, fluttering and restless, but beneath it was something hollow, something aching.

He didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to understand it.

Shaking his head slightly, Spencer wandered into the kitchen. The fridge door groaned as he pulled it open, half-hoping for inspiration, half-hoping to distract himself.

He frowned at the nearly empty shelves. A few containers. Half a bottle of almond milk. Some leftover takeout he wasn’t entirely sure was still safe.

He pouted, just a little. That soft, childlike disappointment that slipped out before he could mask it.

And then, out of nowhere, a thought sparked:

Your cookies. The chocolate chip ones.

The kind you never used to bake until you learned he liked them more than your usual vanilla batches .

The first ones you made had been slightly burnt on the edges, the chips off balance, but you kept trying. Adjusting the recipe, tweaking it each time like it was a science experiment. The way you’d squint at the oven timer and mutter about ratios—it made him smile more than he ever let on.

Over time, they’d gotten better. Perfect, even. To the point where Spencer had started associating the smell of melted chocolate and brown sugar with you—with the way your nose scrunched when you laughed, with the flour dusting your sleeves, with the way you’d always leave a few extra in his freezer "just in case."

Now, the absence of them felt like a physical thing.

He closed the fridge door slowly and let out a long sigh, his back pressing against the cool metal as he leaned there for a moment.

But then his eyes caught something on the counter and his breath caught.

There, on the counter—your box of cookies. The very ones he’d just been craving.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor sometimes, dangling the answer to a thought he hadn’t even fully formed. A coincidence? Maybe. But the way his pulse jumped at the sight made it feel like something more.

A slow, disbelieving smile tugged at his lips as he reached for the box, his fingers brushing over the familiar creases in the cardboard—the same way you always folded the edges to keep them fresh.

On top, a note in your unmistakable handwriting:

“For my favorite genius. I know you probably don’t have anything to eat for breakfast. And you need to stop living off coffee.”

Next to it, a lopsided smiley face, the kind you always drew when you were teasing him.

And beneath it, another slip of paper—this one with a quote:

“I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.” —The Importance of Being Earnest.

His book. The one he’d lent you months ago, dog-eared and annotated in the margins with his cramped scribbles. You’d not only read it, you’d remembered it. Enough to pluck this line, this line, the one he’d laughed at when he reread it next to you.

Something warm and unnameable curled in his chest.

He gently traced the smiley face with his index finger before carefully peeling the note off the box and walking to the fridge. He smoothed the edges against the metal and stuck it there. Right in the center, right beside the magnet he never used. The quote followed, aligned just so.

Two little pieces of you.

He fully enjoyed the cookies—more than he wanted to admit. One turned into two, two into five, and before he knew it, he was staring at the bottom of the box, only two left. He hesitated, tempted to finish them off, but something made him stop. Maybe he wanted to save them. Maybe it felt symbolic somehow—leaving just a little behind.

He set the box aside with a quiet sigh, realizing it was probably time to face reality. If his breakfast consisted of cookies and the last splash of coffee from yesterday’s pot, then yeah—he needed groceries.

The thought alone was exhausting.

Reluctantly, Spencer went to get dressed. As he rummaged through his dresser for a sweater, his fingers brushed against something soft in the corner of the drawer. He paused, then slowly pulled it out.

The scarf.

The one you’d given him last winter, wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, a little handwritten tag that simply said “For when the cold gets into your bones.”

He hadn’t worn it much. Not because he didn’t love it. He did. Too much, maybe. He was worried he’d ruin it, spill something on it, or catch it on a subway door or lose it in a moment of distraction.

So instead, it became a part of his quiet morning rituals—he’d look at it while choosing what to wear, smile to himself, then fold it back gently, like preserving something sacred.

It became a small, secret reminder of you that never failed to make his lips twitch upward.

But today, something tugged at him. Wear it.

He paused, hesitating. There was no case today. No flights, no crime scenes, no risk of ruining it in some chaotic whirlwind of work. It was just grocery shopping. A quick errand. No danger. No reason not to.

Before he could overthink it, he looped the scarf around his neck. The wool was warmer than he expected, carrying the faintest trace of cedar and vanilla—your perfume, maybe, or just the ghost of memory.

He slipped on his shoes, grabbed his coat, and stepped outside into the crisp morning air. The cold hit him immediately —but the scarf helped.

You helped.

And for once, Spencer didn’t feel quite so alone.

The drive to the grocery store should have been routine—just another mundane task.

Spencer flipped on the radio out of habit, his fingers automatically tuning to his usual station: the one that dissected quantum physics and debated the ethics of emerging technologies in monotone, academic voices. It was comforting, familiar. He usually looked forward to it. Even if he already knew most of the facts being discussed, there was something soothing about hearing others speak his language.

There was comfort in the predictability of it.

But today, the voices grated.

He listened for maybe a minute, maybe less. The words blurred together, sounding hollow in a way they usually didn’t.

He stared ahead at the red light, fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. Restless. Unsettled.

His gaze drifted to the radio display. Without really thinking, he pressed the button to change the station.

Click. Static. Then a beat.

And then—your favorite song.

It took him a second to register it, but once he did, his breath caught in his throat. It wasn’t a popular song, not one that played often. In fact, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d heard it on the radio.

But here it was. Blasting softly through his speakers like the universe had handpicked the moment.

The same song you’d hum under your breath while baking, the one you’d insisted on playing three times in a row that one rainy afternoon when he’d pretended to complain but secretly memorized every lyric.

His breath hitched.

For a heartbeat, he just stared, as if the universe had reached into his chest and plucked out a thought he hadn’t even fully formed. Behind him, a horn blared—sharp, impatient—jolting him back to reality.

“Oh. Sorry,” he muttered, flushing as he hit the gas, the car lurching forward a second too late.

He didn’t change the station.

The rest of the drive passed in a haze, the music wrapping around him like an echo of your voice.

By the time he pulled into the grocery store parking lot, the song had faded into something else, but the melody lingered, tangled up in the wool of your scarf and the ghost of flour on your hands.

Once he stepped out of the car, Spencer paused and looked up at the sky. Heavy clouds loomed overhead, dark and swollen with the promise of rain.

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets and muttered to himself, “Alright. Just in and out. Quick.”

October weather was unpredictable. He quickened his pace toward the store, shoulders hunched against the cold. The last thing he needed was to get caught in another downpour.

Like last night.

The memory surfaced unbidden: you, standing in his doorway, drenched and shivering, your hair plastered to your forehead while rainwater pooled at your feet. He’d panicked—of course he had—fussing over the cold you’d surely catch, the inconvenience, the unnecessary risk you’d taken just to watch some movie with him.

And then you’d grinned, wide and unrepentant, before launching yourself at him.

The hug was instantaneous, your arms locking around him, soaking his shirt through in seconds. He’d stiffened—“You’re getting me all wet!”—but you’d just buried your face in his shoulder and mumbled, “We’ll be sick together, Spencer.”

He hadn’t stood a chance.

You’d spent the rest of the evening wrapped in mismatched towels, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder on the couch, your laughter warmer than any blanket. And if a cozy evening like this with you made him get sick? Who was he to care? If anything, he had used the rain and the cold to scoot even closer to you on the couch, mumbling a small "My apartment is cold" as an excuse to press his thighs closer to yours.

Now, standing in the grocery store parking lot with the wind gnawing at his scarf—your scarf—he realized something with startling clarity:

He missed you.

Not in the abstract, distant way he missed people when they were gone. But viscerally, like a pit in his stomach, that couldn't be filled with anything but the sight of you standing infront of him with a smile.

The clouds overhead rumbled softly, like the sky missed you too.

Spencer turned toward the store, tugging his scarf a little tighter, and stepped forward, but something caught his eye.

Next to the grocery store, nestled between a laundromat and a pharmacy, was a new coffee shop. That in itself wasn’t unusual. But the name?

His breath caught slightly in his throat as he read the sign above the door.

Drip Drop Brew.

His eyes widened. He blinked, like maybe he had read it wrong. But no—those words stared right back at him, painted in playful script across the front window in soft red and black.

His breath stuttered.

“Drip drop drip drop,” you had murmured just last night as he made you tea, still damp from the rain.

You had stood beside him in the kitchen, doing absolutely nothing useful, your hair still curling with leftover stormwater. You never offered to help—and he never minded. You just liked being near him while he moved around the kitchen.

“Drip drop?” he’d repeated back, bemused, pouring hot water over chamomile leaves.

“The rain,” you’d said, as if it were obvious, tilting your head toward the sound. “Listen.”

And he had. Not to the weather, but to you—the way your voice softened around mundane things, how you found rhythm in the ordinary. It was ridiculous. It was perfect. It was such a you thing to do, finding magic in something as ordinary as the sound of water hitting glass.

Now, standing frozen on the sidewalk, the memory wrapped around him like the scarf still knotted at his throat.

A coincidence. It had to be.

But the way his pulse jumped said otherwise.

He took a slow breath, torn between stepping inside and continuing to the grocery store. He didn’t need coffee.

Groceries were forgotten the moment he pushed open the coffee shop door.

The place was you—cozy and vibrant, with mismatched armchairs in deep red and black , shelves lined with well-loved books, and the scent of freshly ground coffee.

He could already picture you here, curled up in that corner nook by the window, a half-finished report abandoned in favor of people-watching.

You both had a habit of doing reports in cafés—something that started as convenience and turned into tradition. A small ritual between the chaos of the job. He could still remember the first time you'd convinced Hotch to let it happen.

It had been on a slow day, paperwork piling up, everyone dragging. You'd walked into the bullpen and said, “What if we were… slightly more productive in a cozy public setting with caffeine and pastries?”

Complete with your best “convince-Hotch” smile.

Somehow, it worked.Honestly, most of the team had a hard time saying no to you. Even Hotch, who wasn’t exactly known for bending rules.

But Spencer? Spencer never stood a chance. He wasn’t even sure the word no existed in his vocabulary when it came to you.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly said no to you. The word dissolved in his throat whenever you smiled at him.

He ordered a coffee—black, simple, but he let the barista add a drizzle of cinnamon syrup, just because it reminded him of the way you'd order his drinks when you thought he needed “spicing up.”

Then he settled down in the corner seat, back against the wall, giving him a view of the whole shop. It should’ve felt peaceful.

Instead, the absence beside him was deafening.

He let his eyes wander, taking everything in. The handwritten menu on a chalkboard. Cute drawings of animals, such as ladybugs. The tiny potted succulents lining the windowsill. A basket of dog treats by the door. A stack of used books by the counter with a handwritten sign that read: “Take one, leave one, love always.” C

Time slipped through his fingers like sand.

What should have been a thirty-minute grocery run had stretched into nearly two hours—first the coffee shop, then the quiet absorption of his book (of course he’d brought one; he’d sooner leave the house without pants than without reading material).

Eventually he forced himself to leave.

With a full bag of groceries and a head full of thoughts, he made it home. The sky had darkened even more, a low rumble of thunder in the distance echoing through the streets. Rain hadn’t started yet, but it was only a matter of time.

He unpacked everything robotically, stacking the pantry and fridge, then tossed his coat aside and curled up on the couch, blanket wrapped loosely around him.

He traced the spine of the book in his lap, his thumb brushing over the slight crease near the top.

Your book.

The one you’d pressed into his hands last week with theatrical solemnity, your brows furrowed in mock severity. “This one is my favorite,” you’d said, voice low, as if entrusting him with state secrets. When you’d jabbed a warning finger in his face, he’d barely suppressed a grin. “If anything happens to it—”

He’d waited, eyes bright with amusement, until you’d leaned in close, your voice dropping to a theatrical whisper: “You will know my rage in ways you’ve never known before.”

The threat was absurd—he’d seen you genuinely angry exactly once, and even then, you’d mostly just frowned harder—but he’d played along, snatching the book from your grip with exaggerated defiance.

“Terrifying,” he’d deadpanned, already flipping to the first page.

That was another one of your rituals: swapping books every week, your version of a love language. You’d once called it “literary matchmaking.” Every Friday, without fail, a book would be passed between you—sometimes annotated, sometimes dog-eared, always loved.

This book had been your favorite.

Now, tracing the dog-eared corner of page 111—your favorite passage—he realized with a quiet ache that he could almost hear your voice between the lines.

He’d read three chapters today, but the words blurred together, his focus frayed by the day’s odd synchronicities—the cookies, the scarf, the song, the café.

And now this: your favorite book in his hands, your phantom laughter between the lines.

Spencer exhaled, tilting his head back against the couch.

The universe, it seemed, was determined to remind him of you.

Thirty minutes later, he turned the final page.

The book was finished, and God, he understood now why you loved it so much—the way the prose curled around his ribs like smoke, the underlined passages that felt like secrets shared between just the two of you.

Your notes in the margins had been his favorite part: little exclamation marks beside plot twists, sarcastic commentary in the corners, the occasional doodle when you’d clearly gotten distracted.

With a quiet sigh, he set the book on his lap, but the spine—well-loved and cracked from years of your hands holding it—fell open again of its own accord.

And there it was.

A single line, highlighted in soft yellow, framed by a constellation of pink hearts you’d drawn with the same care you reserved for frosting cookies or arranging flowers in his too-empty apartment:

“I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”

The air left his lungs in a rush.

It hit him with the force of a bullet train—no warning, no gradual buildup, just the devastating certainty of it.

The cookies. The scarf. The radio station. The coffee shop. The way his chest ached when you laughed. The way he’d memorized the cadence of your voice without meaning to. The way every road, every book, every breath seemed to lead back to you.

Oh.

Spencer Reid was in love with his best friend.

And the terrible, beautiful truth was—he’d been in love with you for a long, long time.

you are the only exception, from vi

ᰔ pairing . . . d. wayne !

ᰔ category . . . fluff , one - shot , requested ᰔ requested by . . . @xoxorory !

ᰔ with . . . a wonder!fem!reader !

ᰔ in which . . . you & damian bond quietly over time▰through missions, late-night snacks, & rain-soaked walks. until he realizes you’re not trying to fix him, just choosing to stay.

ᰔ tags . . . 3.9k slowburn(ish). tension. quiet understanding. strangers to teammates to something more. subtle affection. team dynamics. mutual respect. gentle banter. protective!damian. observant!reader. late-night walks. rain scene (classic). reluctant softness. grumpy x calm dynamic. titans tower bonding. canon divergence(?). reader lowkey has mythological trauma. emotional healing. damian wayne character study. teasing under affection. enemies to allies to "maybe." relationship misunderstanding. very ooc. reader is low-key flirty af.

ᰔ look around . . . m. list, d.wayne & detective comics m. list

────── vi whispers . . . ᰔ

001. woah.

002. i acc made this in my mom's office lmfao😭😭

003. not proofread obvi

004. "damian is a vege —" in other storylines,, he eats meat btw ! i js forgot which comic essit

the first time you got to meet damian wayne wasn't anything compared to the rest. at least, not the rest who were also members of the teen titans.

the first new recruit to enter was always eyed with suspicion. the team was a machine, & each new piece of machinery had to fit exactly, or it would break down. but when damian wayne arrived at the titans, it was as though a storm entered the room. the rest of them did have their misgivings▰some put theirs more squarely than others. some rolled eyes at his brashness, his refusal to work with. others, like gar, tormented him pitilessly, but you knew better. you saw a guy who'd been toughened up by an existence he never solicited, a life that had been too grim to shatter.

you could see that.

whereas the others were, you weren't all smiles and forced smiles. your calmness, your unobtrusive confidence, didn't stem from naivety. it stemmed from knowing the depths at which people could reach when life didn't give them a moment to be children. and, in spite of everything, you recognized that damian was a child, although he refused to acknowledge that.

it wasn't that you were naturally great at relating to people▰it was that you were simply more aware of the fact that everyone had his or her own silent wars. yours just happened to have been against the gods.

but the first time that you spoke with him? you could almost sense the electric shock in the air. as if zeus striked you for no reason. damian wasn't a big talker▰he never was, unless he was compelled to drop some biting comment. the others were,, well, acclimating to him, but there were still missteps. still moments when the words didn't align with the intention. but you? you'd been taught by someone who could step into a room, & the entire room would sense the presence. you weren't intimidated by damian's intensity; you saw it.

it began as a mission, something straightforward. stopping a gang who'd somehow fallen under the influence of an ancient magic. it was meant to be simple, a routine patrol for the team. but things had gotten out of hand fast, & there was damian, barking orders sharply while gar attempted to make jokes. it was your responsibility to maintain the peace in times like those.

"damian," you said, your voice cutting through the mess of noise around you. "focus."

he scowled but didn’t look away. "i’m always focused."

"clearly." you raised an eyebrow at him, then shifted your attention back to the enemy. “just. don’t get yourself killed, okay?”

there was a beat of silence before he scoffed under his breath. “i don’t need you to babysit me.”

you laughed, your tone gentle but distinct. "nobody needs to babysit anyone here, damian. but one of our duties is to be a team. which means cooperation is a must.. you don't go off by yourself unless you're willing to face the consequences."

& it was there, in that shirt conversation. where the tension lessened with unspoken reality▰that something moved. the ire in damian's eyes grew a little softer. you weren't attempting to gain control. you were attempting to keep him alive. & for some unknown reason, that mattered.

it wasn't friendship in the beginning, no. but there was mutual understanding that grew with time. you weren't like the rest. you didn't view him as some lone wolf to be controlled or combated. you viewed him as someone who merely needed a bit of space, a bit of trust.

then, after that mission, when the team met back at the tower, it was not hard to tell how much stress had still accumulated between him & the rest of them. but you weren't going to be swayed. you approached him, standing a bit taller than normal, but not quite invading his space.

"you good?" you asked flatly.

damian raised an eyebrow. "i'm fine."

"you don't look fine."

"i said i'm fine."

you shrugged. "alright, then."

it was the little things that warmed him up to you in the end. the gentle side glances, the times when you both slipped into the same rhythm without words. small things, such as when you'd grab the last piece of pizza, & he didn't complain, didn't snatch it away. & you would catch him glancing at you from the corner of his eye, like he was still unsure, but maybe▰just maybe▰he didn’t mind your presence. you didn’t force the conversation. you just were there.

it was a few years on, after one particularly draining mission, when you and damian ended up walking the city streets at midnight, out of costume, just a couple of weary titans hoping to recharge.

the mission had drained everyone, but when the team went back to the tower you could tell that damian was. well, not exactly in the best mood.

"damian," you started, casting him a sideways glance from the corner of your eye, "i don't know about you, but i'm famished."

he shot you a sideways look. "i'm not hungry. i have better things to do."

you rolled your eyes. "come on, just one kebab. i'm not going to accept no for an answer."

he scowled but didn't argue further. that was the thing with damian▰you didn't push too hard. if you made it seem like you weren't desperate for his company, he'd eventually give in. you didn't need to ask twice.

& so, there you were, sitting on a street corner, having a midnight snack of kebabs like you didn't have anywhere to be. the quiet between you wasn't uncomfortable. it was relaxed, organic. like you have done this multiple times.

but you noticed something as you sat there, working on your food: damian wasn't generally like this. he wasn't this at ease. the tension in his shoulders had relaxed, the sharpness around his eyes eased, & there he was, simply. eating.

you couldn't help but stifle a laugh. the look of him▰this tough, near-royalty hitman who was now sitting on the curb, attempting to eat a kebab without vomiting from sheer contempt was truly priceless.

damian gave you a bewildered stare, furrowed brows as he chewed. "what?"

you couldn't help it. you bursted into laughter.

"nothing," you said between giggles. "you just… look different."

damian's scowl intensified. "i look fine."

you brushed a tear from your eye, still smiling. "i know, i know. but it's just. you never drop your guard, not even for food."

he growled something under his breath, something that might have been an oath, but you didn't hear it. the tension crept back into his voice, but the warmth remained. he was embarrassed, yes, but for once, he didn't hide it.

the evening dragged on, & as the two of you walked back to the tower, the rain started falling.

"great," damian grumbled, his face darkening further. "now i'm going to get soaked."

you didn't let him get away with it. you were already wading into the downpour, a smile fixed on your face. "oh, come on, it's just rain!"

he huffed, standing there & watching you spin about in the rain, dancing as if you didn't have a single worry in your head.

"you are insane." he grumbled, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"that's the point!" you shouted back, still turning, relishing the cold, the wet, and the sense of freedom. "you should give it a go!"

& to your surprise▰after a moment of silence, damian trailed behind. he wasn't smiling, not even slightly. but there was something in the fact that he observed you that tempered his irritation with something a little less bitter, a little more. affectionate.

as you moved, you couldn't help but blurt out a random fact, something that just felt appropriate in the moment. "did you know the greeks used to think rain was the gods' tears? maybe it's aphrodite weeping for us. or zeus, having a tantrum again."

damian gave you a look, his face half-obscured by the rain, but you could see the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"you are strange."

"yeah, but i'm your strange," you teased, grinning even wider as you drew him deeper into the downpour.

by the time the two of you stumbled back into the tower, soaked but happier than you'd been in days, you discovered the other titans waiting for you inside, giggling at your dripping condition.

but before you even got the chance to tell them what happened, damian sent a glare their way & glared. "she pulled me out there."

the rest of the team laughed, but you & damian both knew there was something more than just the rain between you now.

the doors of the elevator slid open softly with a dinging sound, & you walked out first, your shoes making squelching sounds on the wet floor. damian followed you, his face unreadable but his body tense. the rain had penetrated through both of you, although it didn't seem to affect you as much. he, however, was obviously upset, though you could glimpse the tiny flashes of something more in his eyes. was it. affection? perhaps, just barely?

"well," you said, attempting to shake off some of the wetness, "this is where you're supposed to tell me to go get dry. go take care of yourself."

damian glanced at you, squinting slightly. "you're the one who got me into this," he stated sharply, but there wasn't actually any venom in the tone. he was still dripping, & his characteristic scowl was lessened, as if he wasn't sure what to do with the moment.

"i didn't drag you. you volunteered." you smiled, jabbing him in the ribs with your elbow.

he didn't respond initially, his jaw clenching. then, to your surprise, he put a hand on your shoulder. "come on, i'll escort you to your room."

you blinked, slightly taken aback by the offer. "uh, damian, i can make it myself."

"it's the least i can do after you pulled me into the rain," he insisted, voice low and steady. his eyes flashed to you once more, his softening just slightly, something you were still growing accustomed to seeing. "besides, you're still wet. it's… not safe for you to be out like this."

if you told your younger self that the damian wayne just placed an arm in your shoulder, she would've laughed at your face.

you laughed softly, although his seriousness tickled you. "i think i can do it, damian. i'm tougher than i appear."

he didn't release your shoulder. "not this time."

you rolled your eyes, entertained by his persistence but thankful for the effort. you'd been through a lot as titans & as teammates who had to learn to trust one another. after a moment, you released a gentle sigh and nodded, your lips curving into a smile. "okay, lead the way then."

the jwalk to your room was silent, save for the dripping of your clothes. you couldn't help but look over at damian, still attempting to understand this iteration of him. he was no longer the prickly, withdrawn young man who had originally joined the team. there was a serenity to him now, a quiet concern that he kept masked beneath his stern expression. it was odd how much he'd changed since the time you'd known him, & it made you notice just how much you'd changed as well.

you paused at the entrance to your room, turning to him as you inhaled deeply. "appreciate you for walking me to my room, damian. i really appreciate it."

he looked down at you, his mouth set in a thin line. "it's no trouble."

it wasn't a rejection, but it wasn't exactly a compliment either. typical damian. but you didn't mind. the fact that he'd even suggested doing this in the first place was a small win.

"well, you can go now," you said, pushing him gently towards the door.

damian didn't budge right away, his dark eyes examining you with interest. it was sometimes difficult to read him, but something in the way he regarded you now, a spark in his eyes, caused your heart to beat just that little bit faster. you swallowed hard, full of conflicting feelings, but before you could get a word out, his voice stopped you.

"if you need anything," he said softly, "don't hesitate to ask."

your eyes went soft as you nodded. "i won't."

there was a moment of silence. then, to your shock, you moved closer to him, tilting your head up slightly. you reached up & kissed him on the cheek, the gentle touch of your lips on his skin a moment that seemed to catch him off guard.

damian froze, his whole body rigid as if he didn't know what to do with himself. his breath caught, & you couldn't help but smirk silently at the sight. the angry scowl came back onto his face as he sharply turned his head away, although there was something there, something more.

"damian?" you said teasingly, your voice gentle, your lips still retaining the remnants of a smile.

he didn't respond immediately, & you could see the blush rising up his neck, hardly perceptible but enough to make you laugh.

"well," you said, taking a step back, "thanks again for the escort, & for the rain dance. i'll see you around."

before he could respond further, you hastily turned & glided into your room, closing the door softly behind you. you stood leaning on the door for a moment, your heart racing. you hadn't anticipated the kiss to be like that. & you certainly hadn't anticipated damian's reaction. you really wanted to go back out there and taunt him some more, but the thought of leaving him in such a state was too hilarious to let pass.

you smiled to yourself, removing your shoes & gazing at your image in the mirror. this had been a night you wouldn't soon forget.

in the meantime, beyond your doorstep, damian was frozen, his hand still suspended in mid-air as if to knock but was unable to muster the courage. his head was spinning from the kiss, & he couldn't even determine how he felt. that odd sense of heat rising in his chest had caught him totally off guard.

the silent corridors of the tower were suddenly too noisy, and damian couldn't help but notice the odd feeling of exposure he had. he grumbled to himself, irritated by the entire episode but unable to dispel the way his heart was pounding. why did she have to do that?

it wasn't as if he hadn't enjoyed it. far from it. but that she had kissed him. it changed something within him. he despised how quickly it had impacted him. this was not something that was to happen.

as he finally turned away from her, he couldn't help but relive the moment in his head. he couldn't help but think of her smile, the laughter she brought forth, the way she always lightened the load. she's impossible, he could think, though there was a small smile that danced at the corners of his mouth. totally impossible.

but somehow, he couldn't even be mad about it.

it had been two days since that kiss.

damian was behaving… differently. to say he was behaving out of character was a gross understatement. he was still damian, naturally. the perpetually serious, overly-disciplined, stubborn & almost insufferable young man▰but there was something off. new. extra. he was softer, his normally sharp edges a little less rough around the edges when it came to you.

you didn't resent it. in fact, it felt pleasant. his body language, while still damian▰infrequent, was a bit more considerate. the manner in which his eyes lingered on you when you spoke, or the way he'd make an effort to include you in all plans. he'd even begun to be a bit. protective? it was weird, but you assumed maybe it was only his way of demonstrating that he was growing more trustful. you didn't really give it much thought. at least, not at first.

you had taken, at least, for granted that the two of you had progressed to a new, greater depth of friendship. that he had let you in his palace. there wasn't an outright point where you & damian had professed anything to one another. you hadn't even assumed there was a need for one. the kiss had come as naturally, but perhaps it wasn't something substantial. perhaps it was simply an expression of warmth between friends. perhaps he was trying to ignore it. perhaps he wished you didn't lean in & kissed his cheek.

of course, the rest of the titans were paying attention. you'd been with them long enough to recognize when they were baffled▰hell, when they were flat-out stunned. they were used to observing you & damian bickering at each other. to them, your dynamic was as much about reciprocal frustration as romance. but now? something had changed, & they were not overlooking it.

you, on the other hand, were happily oblivious to their speculation. your attention was primarily on damian, who had become accustomed to lingering around you more than ever before, his subtle displays of concern a tad too overt to be overlooked. his little touches on your arm when he gave you something, his eyes tracking you as you moved across the room, the way he'd insist on walking you to places with that added tinge of insistence. you just assumed it was damian being. well, damian.

& then, at last, it all boiled over.

it was a relaxed scene in the common room, nothing unusual. the titans were lounging about in different locations. cyborg fiddling with devices, raven reading, gar cracking awful jokes, and you & damian observing. the rest of the team were generally occupied with their own activities, but there was an underlying tension that you couldn't pinpoint.

damian had only just given you a drink, & you grumbled your thanks, taking a sip as you settled back into the couch. your gaze wandered over to him, where he was standing at the window, arms folded, gazing out at night. there was a gentle sort of sadness in his stance, or was it concern? something that caused you to feel you should go & ask what was on his mind in that clever brain of his.

but then it happened.

damian, as if out of nowhere, whirled on you & exclaimed, "beloved, i would rather that you stayed away from there so late."

you stopped mid-sip. "what?"

damian, oblivious to your shock, kept going with a scowl. "you know it's not safe for you to go out by yourself at night. i'm not requesting your safety. i'm commanding it."

you blinked. beloved? did he just refer to you as beloved? be.lov.ed? is aphrodite playing games?

the room fell silent. raven's gaze narrowed suspiciously from the other side of the room. gar stopped in mid-chew of whatever food he was eating, his mouth agape with shock. cyborg, who had been fiddling with his arm, looked up at once. they were all gazing at you & damian, their faces screaming, you're dating!?

you, however, were blinking frantically, still trying to process the word beloved that had so readily fallen from damian's mouth. you turned to look at the rest of the titans, who were obviously waiting for some kind of explanation.

"we're… dating?" you said, finally able to get the words out, your voice full of confusion.

the rest of the team looked at you like you had just uttered something in another language.

"what?" raven asked in her deadpan tone, looking clearly confused. "wait… you're dating?"

gar leapt to his feet. "hold on, hold on! you & damian are a thing now??”

"the lone wolf & twilight sparkle?" cyborg questioned, obviously having trouble understanding what he was being told. he swiveled around towards damian, who had stiffened slightly at the focus. "seriously?"

you spun around towards damian now, waiting for an explanation. he lingered there for a second, as though he was going to speak, but then closed his mouth, blinking as though the truth was only registering on him as much as it was registering on you.

damian had opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again, his eyes flashing to the others in the room, his jaw clenching. "i▰ i thought we were▰i thought the kiss▰"

“kiss!?”

"the kiss?" you asked, a flush rising to your cheeks as you recalled that night. "that kiss was just▰just… a kiss! it wasn't like▰"

damian let out a deep sigh, massaging the back of his neck. "i thought.., after the kiss & everything that happened afterward▰ i assumed… i'm not good at this." his voice caught for a second before he appeared to pull himself together. "i'm not accustomed to such things, but i thought▰ we were... & you leaned in."

you blinked in shock, now totally confused. "wait, wait. you thought we were dating because of a kiss?"

damian's stance improved. "it was not the kiss alone. the way you. behaved afterward. it was the way you remained with me. the way you▰”

"wait, wait, no," you broke in, shaking your head, finally beginning to put the pieces together. "you thought we were dating just because of,, that kiss?"

he scowled, clearly frustrated by the misunderstanding. “yes. i thought you knew.”

you stared at him for a moment, then shook your head, biting back a laugh. this was damian wayne, the same guy who could go toe-to-toe with the best of them, & yet, here he was, utterly flustered & confused over a kiss. you couldn’t help but giggle at the thought. "damian," you started, attempting to suppress your giggles, "we never really discussed it. i didn't know you were. i didn't know you thought we were going out."

"i didn't know you didn't know," he retaliated, obviously irritated. he touched his wayward hair, his expression nearly agonized. "this is. complicated. i▰"

you put your hand on his arm, halting his tirade. "you don't need to apologize, damian. this is… this is just you, & i understand. we'll sort this out, okay?" you smiled at him softly. "& perhaps we should discuss this properly. not in front of the entire team."

damian seemed to relax a little, but his expression remained intense, like he was still processing the whole situation. the titans, however, were still whispering in disbelief, with gar having the audacity to go “this is so cute, bro!” from across the room.

"fine," damian grunted. "we'll discuss this later. but it is complicated." his gaze softened as you met his eyes, & for the first time in a very long time, there was actual warmth there.

after a few seconds, you laughed again, more due to how damian was behaving than the actual situation. "alright," you said, taking a step forward. "let's say. dating, then. for now."

damian arched an eyebrow, as though expecting some validation. you touched out, cupping his cheek & drawing him down for a kiss▰a soft, fleeting kiss on his lips, which left him more than a little taken aback. you drew back hastily, your heart pounding at the contact.

"that's official enough for me," you said, smiling up at him. "now, we can work out the details later, okay?"

damian looked at you for a very long time, his breath caught in his throat. his scowl was still there, but now it was accompanied by a new softness, a reluctant warmth.

"alright," he said, voice softer now.

expect the team( mostly gar & cyborg ) teasing you for months, though.

© MINORLYATFAULT

SHE WAS A MOMENT OF CHAOS MASTERLIST (INCOMPLETE).

"It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one. We all know that our time in this world is limited, and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet, never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is. Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment of dark surprise as you try to readjust the way you thought of things." — The Reptile Room, by Daniel Handler

Pairing: Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Death, mental health struggles, violence, smut (later down the road), & a lot of angst.

Total W/C: 2.6K

❥ If you'd like to be on the taglist for updates, comment on this post.

Summary.

Your life had started out normal. A boyfriend, friends, a stable job, and an aunt who took over as the parental figure in your life. But fate had a cruel sense of humor, and you are wrapped in its claws as you watch your once-perfect life fall apart. As strange things happen around you, you find yourself being watched by a force you cannot see. Amidst this chaos, there is only one constant: you.

Prologue.

Chapter 1: With Love Comes Loss.

Chapter 2: Survivor's Guilt.

Chapter 3: Unique Frequencies.

Chapter 4: The Boy in the Mask.

Chapter 5: Inky Veins and Agents of Chaos.

Chapter 6: Is Everything Going to be Okay?

Chapter 7: The Illusion of Love.

Chapter 8: The Healing of Old Wounds.

Chapter 9: Summer Kisses or Government Threats?

Chapter 10: A Hollowness in Her Chest.

Chapter 11: Final Showdowns.

Chapter 12: A Twist of Reality.

La danza de los dragones.

Milenios después de que la devastación atacara las tierras que los dioses le otorgaron al mundo, Hubo belleza inundando cada plano de esas bendecidas tierras, las especies vivían todas en paz, lo inimaginable sucedía como actos comunes, la vida, en pocas palabras era tranquila.

Cada ser cumplió con su deber, las sirenas habitaban el mar, las hadas plagaban los bosques, los dragones surcaban sus cielos, y el sinfín de animales y habitantes mágicos acogió sin dudarlo a la especie que se consideró lo único simple en todo el lugar, los humanos formaron parte. El mundo tenía paz.

Hasta que la perdió.

Los humanos son imperfectos por naturaleza, no es que desearan serlo simplemente no podían controlarlo. Por eso cuando la envidia envolvió las venas de los primeros hombres nadie pensó que tendrían que interferir, los dioses no pondrían a seres destructivos en la tierras que contenían la paz ¿Cierto?

El resentimiento es una enfermedad aérea, los humanos, anhelantes de peculiaridad fueron la mejor forma de contagio. ¿Por qué los otros tenían magia y ellos no? Las innumerables cuestiones los hicieron envenenarse de envidia; decidieron entonces, si no podían conseguir la magia, la arrebatarían. Los primeros levantamientos iniciaron un día de pesca, con cientos de barcos llenos con marineros que zarparon con el único objetivo de poner un ejemplo. Miles de sirenas cantaron su tragedia aquel día.

Aquellos que alguna vez fueron respetados, incluso apreciados, esta vez fueron temidos, ya no había más debilidad en los cuerpos mortales, en su lugar se alzaron lentamente contra la magia que les había sido gentilmente mostrada. Años de sangre y lucha después; poco quedo de lo divino en el mundo de Modrum. Entre la crueldad de la guerra dos figuras singulares resaltaron. Sus caminos se marcaron por sangre, ambos con la amarga ambición de un mundo diferente

Aliados, compañeros, enemigos.

La sangre y el oro coronaron a los primeros reyes humanos, avariciosos y ciegos tomaron sin dar a cambio. El poder fue repartido en dos grandes reinos, Aurelen la tierra del oro y las hadas extintas y Sylvarith la montaña de bosques y dragones. Modrum fragmentado había perdido la gloria de sus grandes días. Las hadas desaparecieron, las pocas que quedaron fueron convertidas en esclavas, y las sirenas preferían mantenerse en lo profundo, donde su belleza no cautivaba y sus cantos se ahogaban junto a marineros de poca importancia. Poco a poco no quedó rastro de lo hermoso y divino que solía ser el próspero mundo de Modrum.

Entre todos estos seres solo uno fue considerado digno de permanecer. Con vida y relativa libertad, los dragones altos e imponentes sobre cualquier otro ser, lo suficientemente sabios para callar y tan audaces para no escuchar, Estas denominadas indomables bestias, fueron los compañeros perfectos para aquellos despiadados reyes que buscaban el control de tierras que no les pertenecían.

Hace cientos de años, el cielo se iluminó con un suceso histórico, la danza de los dragones expandió el poder de aquellos que se coronaron a sí mismos en cenizas y sangre. Ambas casas ahora convertidas en nobles palacios de reyes y jinetes se atravesaron en la guerra por el control de todo. El fuego envolvió el cielo con su calor y la sangre y el oro adornaron las cicatrices en las manos de los jinetes. Cuando finalmente todo termino no había mucho que salvar, las cenizas aun ardientes se forjaron en el terror del pueblo y la poca paz que pudo conservarse era sostenida por un par de manos débiles, un tratado de paz demasiado delgado impidió una segunda gran guerra. Sus coronas se consagraron con el poder absoluto.

Aquellos días oscuros se habían alejado de ambas familias, ahora un par de décadas después la fragmentada paz que se había conseguido después del baile de los dragones, estaba pendiendo de un diente de león. Los nobles herederos de ambas familias, Plint y Creed una vez más unidos por poco más que un hilo de odio fino, el destino de un mundo colgaba del espacio entre sus dedos entrelazados.

Oliver Plint no era un luchador, prefería entre todas las cosas montar a su dragón y escapar, aunque fuese por pocos minutos del legado que le precedía. No era un sanguinario ni un prodigio de la espada, si algo lo definía era su absurda gentileza. Todo lo gentil se extingue en el mundo, la amabilidad no coexiste con la fuerza.

Kaius Creed estaba preparado para una matanza, la espada y su dragón eran sus únicos aliados y además de su ambición por la corona de Aurelen, no había nada que le importara, era un guerrero un rey nacido en la corona, envuelto en brazas y oro, echo para odiar y destruir así tuviera que morir para lograrlo era un sacrificio digno de tomar. Nada duraba para siempre, a excepción del honor.

Los dos reinos se tocan de nuevo durante una gala particularmente absurda y cuando un par de movimientos en falso podrían destruirlo todo se necesita de dos almas corrompidas para evitar que los dragones vuelvan a danzar.