✮⋆˙ the horizon tries but it's just not as kind on the eyes
⋆.˚ ★— as arabella
✦ ⋆ ࣪. introducing yours truly!
arabella | fifteen | she/her | bisexual | aspiring writer | spencer reid's no.1 fan | bob reynolds girl | aspiring photographer | spiderman-obsessed | arctic monkeys stan | music lover | dave franco fangirl | daydreamer | fox mulder if he was a teen girl | wallows repeater | musical theatre addict | val kilmer enthusiast | electric guitarist |
✦ ⋆ ࣪. fandoms!
marvel | pjo & hoo | x-files | criminal minds | nysm | top gun | grishaverse | + way way more |
⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ fic masterlist | series masterlist
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── requests are OPEN !
➢ ﹔୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ requesting guidelines
| will not write nsfw | will not write problematic content (illegal age-gaps, incest, etc.)
୨ৎ summary: as the youngest avenger, you have to be closed off, all emotions under lock and key. until you come face-to-face with wanda maximoff. suddenly, your world is flipped upside down by the loveliest girl you've ever seen. the only issue is she's fighting on the opposite side as you. what is wrong with you?
୨ৎ pairing: aou!wanda maximoff x fem!reader
୨ৎ warnings/tags: enemies-to-not exactly lovers but close enough, canon-typical references to violence, language, reader is lovesick and #doesnothandleitwell, reader does not have specified powers/abilities, reader is painfully in love and it's a lil angsty, but it ends cute so it's ok, pietro doesn't die. not proofread either
୨ৎ word count: 4.0k
୨ৎ a/n: thank god an actual fic i've been doing so many smau's I missed actually writing stuff! also this is so self-indulgent because i've been missing emo Wanda BAD lately and I can't find any non-smut fics about her 💔 AND it's based off of or3 bc what's wrong with me is my fav song on the album !
Being the youngest Avenger comes with its own unique challenges. People eye you cautiously when you walk into a room. They wonder if you’re too young to be here, they question if you have what it takes. There’s nothing more you want than to be able to prove you can hold up under the pressure of being an Avenger. As a result, you make sure you’re flawless. Whatever it takes, you never mess up, because mistakes give people reasons to doubt you. Most importantly, you keep everything locked down. You leave no room for having emotional breakdowns, or becoming too attached to anything and anyone. Because a single chink in your armor could be all it takes to take you down. The last thing you expected was for that to change.
After the fallout of New York, Loki’s scepter vanished off the map, and HYDRA settlements started cropping up everywhere. Eventually, Thor had tracked the scepter to a fortress situated in Eastern Europe, smack dab in the middle of Sokovia. It was an operation so simple it was practically textbook. Get in, locate the scepter, neutralize all targets, and get out. Banner, Nat, Clint and Steve took out the first wave outside the stronghold, while you and Stark slipped inside. From there, it was almost too easy. Floor by floor, none of them ever stood a chance. You cleared them out with the shocking precision you’d trained for.
“I’m going for Strucker, check the east wing for any strays,” Steve’s voice rang out over the comms. You fired off a couple bullets at an incoming HYDRA agent.
“Copy,” You replied, grunting as you took down a couple of agents who attempted to attack you from behind.
You turned the corner of another hallway, before you heard a resounding thud come from the next set of stairs down. You peered down the dark corridor, searching for the source of the noise. Instead, you spotted a girl. She couldn’t have been a year older than you. The first thing you noticed was her eyes. They had a subtle crimson glow that shone through the dark shadows of the corridor. Smudged black eyeliner sat around her eyes; and the glow was now gone and replaced with a piercing shade of green. Then, she spoke.
“Get out of my way,” she said, her hands coming up in front of her. Around them swirled red spirals of energy, glowing from within. It matched the glow in her eyes.
“Absolutely not,” It went without questioning, there’s no way you’d ever let a potential threat out of your sight. You stepped forward, staring her down.
“Hm. Well that’s a shame, you seem nice,” She replied, almost tauntingly. Her hands flicked upwards, shooting tendrils of red energy towards you. The next thing you felt was the cold stone of the wall, as the air was forced from your lungs. You fell to the ground, letting out a wince as you tried to get back up. She looked at you with a mocking sort of pity, before fleeing out of the doors. You let your head fall back against the wall, groaning in what was a mixture of frustration and pain. She got away, and you let her. That never happened. You could only wallow in your disappointment for so long, before Steve’s voice shot through your earpiece.
“Hey, you still with us?”
“I’m fine, but there’s a second Enhanced in the building. Female. Watch out,” The least you could do was warn your fellow Avengers about this girl. Who was she?
“You’ve met her too?” Steve asked, chuckling a little bit, “Yeah, she got to me first. Shoved me down a set of stairs and everything. Never seen anything like it.
You both could agree on that. She truly was like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
On the ride back to Avengers Tower, you couldn’t shake the mental image of the girl. The sound of her voice echoed in your head. She had a heavy accent, Sokovian most likely. It suited her quite nicely. You remembered the shape of her hands, the ones wrapped in glowing red light. They were clad with multiple silver rings. It was laughable actually, how you could remember all of that, but you remained clueless as to how you managed to slip up so bad. It wasn’t like you, you hardly ever made mistakes. Especially not ones as big as that.
“Hey, what happened back there?” Natasha’s question shook you out of your thoughts. She knew you better than anyone on that team. Which means she knew it was strange of you to make such a large blunder.
“I don’t know. She got the jump on me I guess,” You replied flatly. The truth was, you didn’t know why you were so thrown off your game by her. She was Enhanced, sure, but it was almost too easy for her to knock you down.
“I wouldn’t sweat it,” Nat reassured you, a wry smile playing at her lips, “Clint got his ass kicked by the other one.” You heard Clint protest somewhere at the front of the jet.
“Wow, I feel so much better now,” The sarcasm in your voice was evident, earning yet another scoff from Clint.
“Happy to help,” Nat said, patting you on the shoulder before heading over to talk to Banner. Once again, you were left alone with your thoughts, currently occupied by a certain brunette Enhanced that you just couldn’t get rid of.
The days following the encounter, you made it your personal mission to find out who exactly your mystery girl was. Fairly quickly, a pretty clear picture started to form. Her name was Wanda Maximoff. She was orphaned by a bomb that struck her building, leaving her and her twin brother to fend for themselves. Despite your disdain for her, you felt for Wanda. Her and her brother probably joined those trials looking for a way out. Maybe they thought it was their only option? Whatever the case, some part of you wanted to help her. Without fail, Wanda Maximoff stubbornly refused to leave your head. She haunted you, like an annoying, albeit pretty, ghost. You found yourself sketching her face into the blank margins of notebooks, which you quickly buried under your bed, like a shameful secret for your eyes only. You told yourself your fascination with the Maximoff girl was only because she got the better of you when no one else could. Maybe if you told that lie enough you’d convince yourself to believe it. It was a far better fate than any alternative imaginable.
Post the disaster that was Stark’s party, and the now emerging threat of Ultron on the rise, you were (thankfully) forced to set aside all thoughts and daydreams of your horrible, horrible distraction. Ultron had killed Strucker, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slightest hint of satisfaction that he was dead. The team had traced Ultron’s next target back to a South African arms dealer, who dealt with Wakandan exports. A couple of the Avengers chattered about their next moves, and suited up for the possible fight to come
“I can deal with the speedster, but what about the nutcase in red?” Stark said, reloading some of the weaponry on his suit.
“There’s really no good way to neutralize her, she’s-” Bruce started, before you interjected.
“Neutralize? She’s a person Bruce, not some weapon of mass destruction or a ticking bomb for you to diffuse,” You felt weirdly defensive over Wanda. Sure, you weren’t on the same side here, but why didn’t she deserve a chance too. She’s a good person, you were sure of it. You also knew that good people were sometimes put into bad situations. You hoped that was her case.
“Yeah…sorry,” Bruce trailed off, going back to tinkering with whatever he was doing on the computer. An awkward silence fell over the room, as some of the Avengers shared looks with each other, like they knew something you didn’t.
After tracking down Ultron to a grounded cargo ship, the Avengers came face-to-face with a shiny new Ultron. And you were once again faced with your tormentor. She stared at you with what you can only assume was hatred in her eyes. Even in light of that, you still couldn’t help but notice certain things about her. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. It looks nice like that. Her necklaces somehow laid so perfectly on her neck. What a weird thing to notice about someone. You were so engrossed with her that when all hell breaks loose against Ultron, it takes you a second to snap back into reality. Something is seriously wrong with you. You dodge a couple of Ultron’s murder bots, as you notice Wanda slipping away. You weren’t going to let her get away again. You trail Wanda back into a small walkway. The rusted metal creaks under your footsteps, and she turns around. Her gaze hardens at the sight of you.
For a second, you both stare at each other. For that second, you almost forget that you two aren’t on the same side. You snap out of it soon enough. This time, you were sure you were going to change her mind.
“Wanda, please listen. Ultron is lying to you and your brother. Don’t listen to him-” You began, trying to reason with her.
“And then what, we join your side? Because Stark is such an honest man, right?” Wanda retorted, her eyes flashing that familiar shade of red. Unfortunately, she did have a point. It was his lies that started all of this in the first place.
“Whatever Ultron is promising you, it’s not true. He’s playing you. All he’s done is hurt people, how does any of this save the world?” You take a step closer to her. You’re practically begging her to hear you out here, but all she does is scoff.
“Why would I ever listen to you?”
“You just have to trust me,” You understood better than everyone that trust is something not easily given, but for her sake, you had to try.
“Trust is a luxury I cannot afford.” She replies coldly, as she once again raises her hands. The red glow returns, but in a split second, a flash of blue zips by, sweeping you off your feet. Your head collides onto the floor, and your vision immediately starts to blur at the edges. Distant rings echo in your ears, as you lie limply on the ground. Wanda stares at you for a second, before turning her back and running away. She doesn’t make it very far before she runs into Clint. You crane your neck up in an attempt to see what’s happening. Clint slams one of his stun arrows onto Wanda’s forehead, and you watch her crumple to the floor. Momentarily, you feel a pang in your chest. But, in another flash of blue, she’s gone again. You let your head fall back onto the floor of the corridor, as you groan to yourself. You failed her. Again. Your thoughts trail off, as your eyes shut, and everything fades to black.
You wake back up on the floor of the Quinjet, a thin blanket draped over you. You try to blink away the persisting headache, and glance around. Scattered around you, the Avengers look wholly defeated. You get up off the ground, and make your way to the front of the cockpit. Clint was the only one up there, and you sat in the seat next to him.
“What happened…?” You asked tentatively.
“That girl, Wanda, she got into our heads. Messed us up. Hulk ripped apart half of the city,” Clint said solemnly, flipping a couple switches on the dashboard. He turned towards you.
“You got knocked out by her brother. I hit Wanda with the stun arrow, and then the twins vanished,” He continued, “And now we’re heading to a safe house to lay low, at least until Ultron pops back up on the map,”
You nodded, staring out the window of the cockpit.
“I’m curious though. I saw you up there, with the girl. You could have taken her out, why didn’t you?” Clint asked. The memories of the encounter flashed through your head. You pleaded with her, for what? To get knocked on your ass? She simply didn’t want to listen. Another horrible mistake, all because of one girl.
“I wanted to make her see that Ultron wasn’t the good guy. I thought she might listen,” You started, before trailing off, “Maybe it was a mistake.”
“No. You wanted to help. She’s probably scared. People like that sometimes just need a little push,” Clint replied, his eyes flicking back to Nat. She sat in the back, staring blankly at the floor. You knew their history. It gave you hope that if Nat could be saved, maybe Wanda could too.
The next morning, you landed at the “safe house” Clint was talking about. It was a humble little homestead ranch. Soon enough however, you figured out this was Clint’s actual home. He had two young kids, and his very kind wife. You peered around the home curiously. Crayon drawings were hung up on the walls, toys were scattered around the floor. It was so perfectly domestic. It was the kind of life you would have liked, in the event you weren’t an Avenger. Maybe in another life. Then again, maybe in another life you would have fallen for a girl that wasn’t the enemy.
Speaking of the enemy, Wanda Maximoff was quickly starting to take up an uncomfortable amount of space in your mind, more than she already did. You were plagued by visions of her in your dreams, with those ethereal green eyes. In those dreams, she stared at you with her green eyes full of love, not hate. You often woke up in a cold sweat, the harsh reality hitting you in an instant. You truly hated how much you thought about her. It was hardly conducive to Avenging when your opposition was that distracting. When Fury stopped by the Barton house to fill in the Avengers, you sat at the table. Fury’s words flowed in one ear and out the other. Instead, you doodled little cartoonish drawings of Wanda onto a pad of sticky notes. You swiftly crumpled them up and chucked them into the trash. Because nobody could ever know that you were infatuated with Wanda Maximoff. It was painful enough coming to terms with that yourself, so what would the team think?
That night, Nat cornered you in the kitchen. You had offered to wash the dishes, just to do something to keep yourself busy. She slid over to the counter, drying a couple damp plates.
“I saw your little sketches. Of the Maximoff girl,” Nat said, casting a knowing glance your way. You froze, and the only sound in the room was the noise of the running faucet.
“It’s not what it looks like-” You immediately began, before Nat shushed you.
“Uh-huh. I’m sure it’s not,” she said sarcastically, “Look, I don’t care about any of that. But I need to know, if it comes down to it, can you do your job?” Nat looked at you seriously, her hands drumming on the counter.
“Yes. Absolutely,” You said quickly, nodding vigorously, “You can trust me.”
“I know I can.”
You dried your hands off and bolted to the bathroom. The door shut behind you, and you set your hands on the counter. Your heart pounded in your ears, as you fought back the moisture in your eyes that you’d never dare let become tears. You told Nat that you could be trusted to do your job, and up until recently, you were positive you could. You’d screwed up twice already because of Wanda, how could you ever promise her that you wouldn’t do it again? Honestly, you couldn’t. All you ever wanted to do was help Wanda, who could blame you for that? Whether it was for your own selfish reasons, or truly honorable reasons, it didn’t matter. God, you hated loving Wanda. She was every reason why you swore to never let anyone worm their way into your heart like that. She hated you anyways, so why couldn’t you do the same? You came to the conclusion you were simply pathetic. A pathetic fool who couldn’t be trusted to grow up and do the job she signed up for. What was wrong with you?
The days flew by after that. Nat never brought up the conversation you and her had that night. Before you knew it though, you were once again suiting up to face off against Ultron. And the twins. You made a point to suppress the slight spark of hope at the prospect of seeing Wanda again.
The next time you saw her, you weren’t throwing punches at her, or firing bullets in her direction. Finally, you were working with her. She had discovered the truth about Ultron’s goal for the world, and wasted no time in abandoning his cause, along with her brother. It was humiliating how overjoyed you felt, to say the least. Your excitement was fleeting however, seeing as Ultron had successfully derailed a passenger train in the struggle. Steve directed Wanda to stop the train, while it was up to you and Pietro to usher civilians out of the way. Once people were clear, you glanced back at Wanda, who was absorbed in her efforts to stop the train. She was so, so beautiful. Her ability to distract you was probably the most magical thing about her.
Her efforts were successful, and the train skidded to a halt. You, Wanda, and Pietro all met Steve, where he was coordinating what to do with Ultron’s latest project. From what it sounded like, Ultron made an attempt to create a physical body, harnessing the power of some foreign stone found in Loki’s scepter.
“Stark’s taking care of the Cradle now,” Steve told you three. Wanda raised an eyebrow, interjecting.
“No, he won’t.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stark’s not crazy,” Steve replied, almost incredulously. You stepped forward, opening your mouth to say something, before Wanda spoke again.
“He will do anything to make things right,” Wanda said, casting a glance over to you, “Ultron can't tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. Where do you think he gets that?”
Steve looked at you three blankly, before sighing. You heard Clint’s voice over your earpiece, and paused. He sounded stressed.
“Anything on Nat?” Clint asked. When you looked over at Steve, he explained that Ultron had taken Nat with him. You felt sick.
“We’re on the way back to the Tower now, we’re bringing along the twins,” Steve said grimly, beckoning the three of you to follow him.
Exhausted, the three of you return to the Tower, where you find Stark and Banner fiddling around with the Cradle.
“Shut it down Stark,” Steve said sternly, staring down Stark, “You don’t know what you’re doing here.”
“And you do? Are you sure she’s not in your head?” Bruce remarked, his tone accusatory as he stared down Wanda.
“Cut it out Banner,” You retorted sharply, glaring at him.
“I know you’re angry,” Wanda began calmly, before Banner cut her off again.
“We’re way past that, I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade-”
“I said cut it out Bruce!” You snapped, as Bruce scoffed and turned his attention back to his computer.
Everyone’s voices grew louder as they bickered amongst each other. In the fray, Pietro had run around the lab, unplugging all of the equipment.
“Go on, you were saying?” Pietro asked innocently, smirking. A loud pop resounded through the lab, as the glass shattered underneath Pietro and he fell through the floor. Wanda screamed and ran towards Pietro, as a full on brawl broke out among the Avengers. Bruce grabbed Wanda, locking her in a chokehold.
“Go ahead, piss me off,” He hissed, before you pried him off of her.
“What the fuck are you doing Bruce?” You yelled, stepped in front of Wanda, “I mean seriously what were you thinking-” You never got to finish your sentence, before Thor burst through the window. He landed on top of the Cradle, before slamming his hammer down onto the lid. As electricity ran through the case, the lid blew off. A purple-ish man burst from the Cradle, slamming down Thor and flying through the air. He seemed to come to his senses, as he returned to the ground. Thor explained that the gem from Loki’s scepter was some sort of power source, called an Infinity Stone. And now the purple man had the capacity to end the world with his power. Clearly, there were some questions. He, or apparently the Vision, asserted that he was very much not on the side of Ultron (thankfully) and agreed that he should be stopped.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, you all were preparing for the fight to come. You stayed with Pietro and Wanda. Despite the previous animosity towards them, all of that was in the past. Besides, it wasn’t often you met very many people that were like you your age. Even on the Quinjet, on the way to Sokovia, you sat by Wanda. You racked your brain for a way to approach conversation with the girl you previously had fought (and also just so happened to be borderline obsessed with). Of course, you settled for the smoothest option.
“Hi…” you said, breaching the awkward silence between you two,
“Hello?” Wanda replied, almost suspiciously as she eyed you. You felt strangely exposed. Your heart felt like it was in your throat as you wrung your hands nervously.
“I don’t think we’ve actually talked, at least not without-”
“Without me kicking your ass?” Wanda offered up helpfully, smirking. You laughed, a feeling of success blooming in your chest. She wasn’t entirely opposed to friendly conversation with you, that was better than nothing, right?
“I wouldn’t say you kicked my ass necessarily…” You said. Even you sounded unconvinced, “I think we’re a pretty equal match actually.”
“Hm, whatever you say лепа,” She shrugged, smiling at you slyly. You weren’t quite sure what she said, seeing as your Sokovian was fairly rusty, but her slight smile and glint in her eyes was enough for you to not worry too much about what she said.
︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.
The fight against Ultron was exhausting. He was gone, at long last. The battle was not without its losses though, as Sokovia was long gone. At the end of it all, you found Wanda leaning against the wall of one of the SHIELD carriers, covered in dirt and grime. Still, she had never looked more beautiful to you. You sat down next to her, sighing.
“You ok?” You asked Wanda, nudging her shoulder slightly. She turned her head to look at you, giving you a small smile.
“Yes, I’m fine. Very tired,” She remarked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. You could agree, your bones physically ached from exhaustion at this point. You were itching to ask Wanda something though, despite the pit of anxiety crawling around in your stomach.
“Hey, Wanda? Y’know, maybe when we get back, do you want to grab coffee sometime? In the event we’re not faced with a world-ending crisis?” You asked, bracing yourself for the answer.
“You do know I can read minds right?” Wanda asked you, craning her neck to look at you. The smirk on her face could only be described as devilish. You could feel your face heat up at her answer (and it’s unfortunate implications).
“So is that a yes or no?” You replied, laughing awkwardly.
“I’d love to,” she affirmed. Wanda yawned, letting her eyes close. She leaned her head on your shoulder, and slumped into your side. Within minutes, she was sleeping beside you. You looked down at her, and suddenly the distant dreams of that domestic life–the ones you’d shoved down so long ago–seemed much more real. You looked up from Wanda, and caught the subtle stare of Nat, who smiled at you kindly. You felt lighter than ever, and for once, you felt relief.
yesss! i feel like the best order to watch them in is just that order^^^ because you have titanic — romantic film and then the truman show which challenges your perception of reality and then theres speed which is kind of a refresher and then dps !!! and the terminal <333
part of Make Me Your No. 1 Obsession
previous part | next part
popprincess
♫ Delicate · Popstar reader
liked by applemusic and 3M others
popprincess: Thank you so much to everyone who came out tonight!! I hope you guys loved "Delicate" as much as I do! I can't wait to share the studio version soon 💜
fanofpopprincess: RELEASE DELICATE NOW PLEASE
siriusxmhits1: i'm sat
justanordinarygirl
♫ Hannah Montana · Old Blue Jeans
liked by officiallerika and 10 others
justanordinarygirl: before show tradition and after show view <3
officiallerika: you got donuts without me? :(
⤷ justanordinarygirl: I owe you one pastry in the near future!
justanordinarygirl
♫ The Supremes · Cupid
liked by officiallerika and 15 others
justanordinarygirl: love sneaking in some songwriting between shows
huge thank you to @polkaadotz for giving me inspo for this format <3
୨ৎ summary: after an emotional confession and a long night with spencer reid, the two of you are faced with working out the kinks in your relationship. for some reason, it's much simpler than you guys were thinking.
୨ৎ pairing: spencer reid x film girl!reader
୨ৎ warnings/tags: language, implied sexual content, literally all fluff idk
୨ৎ a/n: IT'S SUMMERRRRRRR (so now I have so much time for writing) and if yall have any requests pls send them in 🥹 also I was doing tech crew for a community theater show so I was a bit late w/ getting this last part out SORRYYYY 😭
liked by: kingofthe_lab, spence_reid, penelopee_garcia, d.morgan, and 7 others
lab.rat: you never know what's going on in people's departments huh
kingofthe_lab: look at my bau agents dawg my case is NEVER getting solved 😭✌
⤷ spence.reid: actually we've have a fairly effective solve rate, compared to other local and state departments :)
⤷ kingofthe_lab: can someone pls get him
⤷ lab.rat: working on it
___________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
lab.rat
♫ Late Night Talking ➤ Harry Styles
liked by: kingofthe_lab, spence_reid, penelopee_garcia, d.morgan, and 3 others
lab.rat: hard at work or whatever
kingofthe_lab: i'm still irritated you left me btw
⤷ lab.rat: i'm still sorry 💔
⤷ kingofthe_lab: you're getting US coffee when you come back 🥹
⤷ lab.rat: ok fair
spence.reid: hey the rest of the team is getting dinner if you want to come with!
⤷ lab.rat: wait are you sure I should come 😓
⤷ spence.reid: yes of course i'd love it if you went with us :)
⤷ lab.rat: aw shucks 😊 i'll be there then!
spence.reid
♫ All I Think About Now ➤ The Pixies
liked by: kingofthe_lab, spence_reid, penelopee_garcia, d.morgan, and 7 others
spence.reid: another dinner with the team!
d.morgan: hey reid 👀 you looked real cozy next to you know who
⤷ emily_prentiss: "you know who" like we don't know who ur talking abt 😭
⤷ d.morgan: eh it's funnier this way
⤷ spence.reid: I fail to see the humor in this
⤷ penelopee_garcia:: oh you sweet summer child you
lab.rat: you guys are all sm fun I love it
⤷ spence.reid: thank you! I hope some of them weren't bothering you too much though
⤷ lab.rat: ofc not spence 😭 ur coworkers are so cool dw
⤷ kingofthe_lab: wait cooler than us 🤨
⤷ lab.rat: yk the answer to that one don't even joke lad
⤷ kingofthe_lab: YES
___________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐
penelopee_garcia
♫ Save Tonight ➤ Eagle-Eye Cherry
liked by: spence_reid, lab.rat, d.morgan, emily_prentiss, j.jareau and 23 others
penelopee_garcia: finally going homeeee <33 also peep the two cuties I caught sleeping on each others shoulders on the way back...
@ spence.reid and @ lab.rat
lab.rat: oh wow tagging us and everything
⤷ penelopee_garcia: yes because you guys are adorbs!!
⤷ spence.reid: she sure is :)
⤷ lab.rat: awwwww
⤷ d.morgan: amazing shot reid
emily_prentiss: girls night afterwards?
⤷ j.jareau: yes please
⤷ penelopee_garcia: UM DUH ABSOFREAKINGLUTLEY
lab.rat
♫ the cure ➤ Olivia Rodrigo
liked by: spence_reid, kingofthe_lab, d.morgan, emily_prentiss, j.jareau and 6 others
lab.rat: officially official <33
kingofthe_lab: HOLY SHIT HE ACTUALLY DID IT????
⤷ lab.rat: astounding amount of faith I see
⤷ kingofthe_lab: it's literally been months god forbid I don't have the patience of a saint
⤷ lab.rat: nvm you're actually never getting food from me AGAIN
⤷ kingofthe_lab: actually I believed in you guys the WHOLE time
penelopee_garcia: oh my god i'm literally shaking do you understand how much this means to me
⤷ spence.reid: i'm assuming quite a bit?
⤷ penelopee_garcia: YOU DON'T EVEN GET IT THIS IS INSANE
⤷ j.jareau: we're so happy for you Spencer 🥹
⤷ emily_prentiss: yeah what she said ✌
⤷ dave_rossi: yeah what she said too
⤷ a.hotchner: congratulations Reid :)
⤷ d.morgan: ik you could do it
⤷ penelopee_garcia: no you didn't.
⤷ spence.reid: I think this is all rather excessive for the occasion....?
spence.reid: i love you angel
⤷ lab.rat: ilysm spence <33
⤷ kingofthe_lab: tread cautiously.
⤷ lab.rat: wait I promise he will don't murder him??
⤷ kingofthe_lab: also spencer if you were wondering she IS beaming at her phone rn
⤷ spence.reid: hm really is that so?
⤷ lab.rat: WHY WOULD YOU TELL HIM??
forensics by: @cafekitsune
file length: 2.9k
crime: For years, Dick Grayson has pretended he was happy being your best friend. Tonight, he finally admits he wants more.
case notes: Hi nonnie, thank you for the request! I think I ended up making this more wholesome than the power couple vibes I was initially trying to go for.
warnings: none
major crimes database | dc case files | suspect files
The bright camera flashes shuttered rhythmically. Pop, pop, flash. The blinding bursts of light bounced off the polished marble floors of the Wayne Foundation Gala, a constant reminder that in Gotham, privacy was a luxury even the grandest fortunes couldn't entirely buy. It was something you and Dick Grayson had been dealing with since you were both children.
As the eldest adopted son of Bruce Wayne, Dick was Gotham’s golden boy—blessed with a devastating smile, effortless charm, and the kind of liquid-gold wealth that made high society look normal. You were his mirror image under a different family crest. Born into old Gotham money, wrapped in silk, and taught how to navigate the complex social hierarchies of a charity gala before you were old enough to speak, you were the city’s darling.
It was an unspoken law of the universe that two children raised under the suffocating weight of such massive legacies would either become bitter rivals, competing for the scraps of the spotlight, or inseparable confidants. You both chose the latter. You had traded stolen hors d'oeuvres under grand banquet tables at eight, shared a mutual, silent loathing for classical piano lessons at twelve, and protected each other's deepest vulnerabilities as the years grew heavier and the city outside grew darker.
Tonight, you stood near the edge of the sprawling ballroom, where the heavy velvet drapes offered a modicum of shade from the oppressive glare of the chandeliers. A crystal flute of champagne rested loosely between your fingers, the amber bubbles rising and popping unnoticed while you politely nodded along to whatever Mayor Hill’s wife was saying. Your family’s name carried just as much weight in this metropolis as the Waynes', which meant your entire life had been a carefully curated series of choreographed public appearances, impeccably tailored outfits, and the suffocating expectation of absolute perfection. One wrong look, one slouch of the shoulders, and the tabloids would dissect it by morning.
"Oh, look at you. You know, you and Richard would look so good together if you two finally made it official,” Mrs. Hill sighed, her eyes darting past your shoulder with a knowing, matchmaking gleam that every high-society matron seemed to weaponize. She tapped her manicured fingers against her fan, leaning in closer. "Speak of the devil. You two truly are the crown jewels of this city's youth. It is simply a matter of time."
Before you could even begin to turn, a warm hand settled on the small of your back, the heat of his palm cutting straight through the fine fabric of your evening wear. The familiar, comforting scent of sandalwood and expensive cologne washed over you, instantly lowering your guard. Dick effortlessly slid into the empty space beside you, his broad shoulder brushing yours in a familiar, comforting gesture. He looked maddeningly handsome in his tailored midnight-blue tuxedo, a single, stray lock of dark hair falling perfectly across his forehead in a way that looked entirely accidental but was devastatingly effective.
"Mrs. Hill, you're looking lovely as always," Dick Grayson’s voice was smooth, dripping with that trademark Romani charm that Gotham couldn't get enough of. It was a cadence that could disarm a room in seconds, a perfect blend of high-society polish and genuine warmth. "Mind if I steal my favourite dance partner? I promise to return them in one piece, though I might try to hoard them for the rest of the evening."
"Oh, Richard, go right ahead!" Mrs. Hill gushed, waving her hand dismissively as a sly smile broke across her face. "We were just saying how absolutely darling you two look together. Honestly, it’s a crime you haven’t made it official yet. The press would have a field day, and quite frankly, you would make the most beautiful couple this city has seen in a generation."
You offered a practiced, polite smile, the kind you had perfected in front of bedroom mirrors by the age of twelve— pleasant but utterly vacant of your true thoughts. "You're too kind, Mrs. Hill, but Dick and I are just—"
"The best of friends," Dick finished smoothly, cutting in with a flawless sense of timing that kept the conversation light. He flashed his trademark smile, the one that usually left even the toughest political reporters completely tongue-tied, and wrapped a casual arm around your waist. With a subtle pressure, he drew you just a fraction closer against his side, letting your hip rest against his. "I’d hate to ruin a good thing by forcing her to put up with me full-time. I'm afraid my charm wears off after the third hour."
Mrs. Hill let out a delighted, tittering laugh, completely enchanted by the display. "Oh, nonsense! True love always starts as friendship. Mark my words, children, it's inevitable. You can't fight a match written in the stars." With a final, knowing wink that suggested she knew far more than she was letting on, she drifted back into the swirling sea of silk and diamonds on the ballroom floor.
The moment her cloying perfume faded from the air and she was safely out of earshot, the polite, rigid posture you both held melted away. You let out a small, dramatic groan, letting your head drop against the steady expanse of Dick's shoulder for a brief second.
“If I have to hear one more socialite tell us we'd make 'the most beautiful babies’ for one more second, I'm going to fake a medical emergency,” you muttered into the fabric of his lapel, your voice a hushed, exasperated whisper. “I mean it, Dick. I’ll fake an allergy to the caviar and demand an ambulance.”
Dick let out a low laugh, a rich sound that vibrated right through his chest and against your side. His hand remained comfortably resting on the small of your back, his long fingers splaying over your waist as he began to guide you away from the crowded center of the room and toward a quieter area of the Gala.
"Oh, come on. Mrs. Hill means well," he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners with a wicked, playful glint as he looked down at you. "She’s just obsessed with the idea of a grand Gotham dynasty. It’s the ultimate high-society sport." He paused, a slow, roguish grin spreading across his lips as he leaned down slightly. "And to be fair... we would make beautiful babies," Dick murmured, his voice dropping into a low, smooth purr right against the shell of your ear, sending a sudden shiver straight down your spine.
You froze in your tracks, your heart giving a violent, erratic thump against your ribs before you recovered and playfully shoved his chest. “Shut up, Grayson!" you laughed, though you could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, something that had very little to do with the stuffiness of the crowded ballroom. "Don't let the media hear you say that, or the Gotham Gazette will have our wedding registry published by tomorrow morning. They’ll have us married off at Wayne Manor before the weekend."
Dick didn't even stumble from the shove. He just absorbed the hit with that effortless, athletic grace of his, a soft, amused chuckle echoing in his throat. His hand slid seamlessly from your waist down to your hand, his long, calloused fingers lacing through yours with practiced ease. He squeezed your hand gently, a reassuring, familiar gesture that instantly relaxed you, as he led you toward the ornate, glass terrace doors.
"Let them print it," Dick murmured, his voice softening as he pulled you into the shadowed alcove near the exit. His thumb did a slow swipe across the back of your knuckles, his touch entirely too warm. "Think of the perks, Y/N. We’d get a great discount on a blender, and Bruce would probably finally buy us that ridiculously overpriced espresso machine we've been eyeing for the penthouse. We could spin it into a charitable tax write-off."
"You're entirely ridiculous," you sighed, letting out a soft breath as the cool night air began to bleed through the cracks of the terrace doors.
Yet, despite the exasperated words, the smile pulling at your lips was entirely genuine now. The stiff, suffocating mask you had been forced to wear all evening had completely evaporated the moment he stepped into your space. It always did. No matter how bright the camera flashes were, or how heavy the expectations of your families became, Dick was the only person who could make you feel like yourself in a room full of strangers.
"It’s part of my charm," he replied smoothly, pulling open the heavy glass door and guiding you out onto the sprawling stone terrace.
The transition from the stifling, perfume-heavy air of the ballroom to the crisp, cool Gotham night was instantaneous. The distant hum of the city’s traffic and the faint lapping of the river below replaced the classical orchestra with a peaceful sort of quiet. Out here, the paparazzi's flashes were nothing but a faint, ambient glow behind the tinted glass.
You walked over to the balustrade, resting your hands against the cool stone. You closed your eyes for a brief second, letting the breeze wash over your face and soothe the burning heat on your cheeks his comment had left behind.
Dick leaned against the balustrade next to you, mirroring your posture but keeping his body turned slightly in your direction, his shoulder brushing against yours. He reached up, his fingers working to loosen the silk bowtie at his collar. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt, taking a deep, unhurried breath of the cool air.
For over a decade, you had been each other’s safe harbour in a city built on quicksand. When his world had shattered as a boy, you were one of the few who didn't look at him with pitiful charity or morbid curiosity. When your own family's scandals had threatened to crush you under the weight of public scrutiny, Dick had been the one to drag you out of your house in the dead of night, forcing you to eat greasy diner food in your finest clothes until you laughed so hard your ribs ached.
"Seriously, though," Dick said, his voice dropping into a softer, more grounded register. The playful billionaire facade he put on for the likes of Mrs. Hill faded completely. He stepped up beside you, leaning his forearms against the stone railing and looking out over the manicured lawns of Wayne Manor and looming city ahead. "They're not entirely wrong, you know," he said quietly, his gaze shifting from the distant city skyline back to your face.
You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden drop in his tone. "About what? Mrs. Hill's terrifying obsession with our future lineage?" You tried to keep your voice light, but your heart was still racing against your ribs.
"About us," Dick murmured as he shifted, his body completely blocking out the glowing warmth of the ballroom doors behind him, creating a small, intensely private corner just for the two of you on the dark terrace. He reached out, his hand wrapping around yours where it rested on the cool stone. His fingers laced through yours, his thumb tracing a slow circle over the back of your knuckles.
"We've been playing this game since we were teenagers," Dick continued, his brilliant blue eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made the cool night air feel suddenly very warm. "Every time someone says we'd make a good couple, we laugh it off. We tell them we’re just friends, or like family. But..." He paused, his grip tightening as he gathered the courage to finally say what he’d always wanted to say to you. "Every time they say it, I find myself wishing I didn't have to lie about it."
Your breath hitched in your throat. The ambient noise of the gala—the live orchestra, the clinking of glasses, the low roar of conversation—all of it faded into static. "Dick..."
"I'm serious," he said, taking half-step closer until the faint, clean scent of his cologne enveloped you completely. "I know everything about you, and you know the worst parts of me. You've been my anchor in this city for as long as I can remember. I don't want to be just your childhood friend anymore. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life pretending that’s all we are."
The sheer honesty in his voice was staggering. Dick Grayson, the man who could charm the entire world with a flash of his teeth, was standing before you entirely stripped of his armour. There was no playboy performance left in his eyes. Only the raw, terrifying honesty of the boy who had once promised you, in a diner booth at three in the morning, that he would never let this city swallow you whole.
"Dick," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as your eyes darted down to his lips, then back to his eyes. "Do you have any idea what you're saying? If we cross that line..."
"I don't want to keep pretending anymore," he interrupted gently. He took another step closer, his chest nearly brushing against yours, effectively trapping you between his broad frame and the cold stone of the balustrade. The warmth radiating from him was a sharp contrast to the biting breeze. Slowly, Dick lifted his free hand, his long, calloused fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. His fingertips lingered on your jawline, his knuckles lightly brushing against your cheekbone in an agonizingly tender gesture.
"I’ve spent half my life pretending to be exactly who people want me to be," Dick murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to lock with yours. "I put on the tuxedo, I smile for the cameras, I play the charming, carefree son. But the one lie I’m utterly exhausted of telling is the one where I pretend I don’t look at you and see my entire world. Every time someone looks at us and says we belong together, I don't see a society joke anymore. I just see what I want. I see you."
A breathy, stunned laugh escaped your lips, your hands instinctively rising to rest against his chest, clutching the fine fabric of his tuxedo jacket just to keep yourself anchored. "You're insane, Grayson. You choose a Wayne Enterprises gala, surrounded by three hundred of the nosiest people in the tri-state area, to tell me this?"
"Hey, I've always had a flair for the dramatic," he teased softly, though the smile pulling at the corners of his mouth was entirely tender, a private expression reserved only for you when the rest of the world was locked outside. His thumb traced a slow, soothing path along your cheekbone. "But I mean it. I’m done waiting for the 'right time.' There is no right time in a city like this. There’s just us. Right here, right now."
"So, what do you say?" Dick whispered, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of hope and his signature, playful charm. "Want to give Gotham society something real to talk about?"
Looking at him—the golden boy who had always held your hand through the madness of your worlds—the answer was suddenly the easiest thing in the world. Your hands tightened their grip on the lapels of his tuxedo, holding him close.
"You're sure about this?" you asked, giving him one last chance to take back his words. "There's no going back from this, Grayson."
"I don't want to go back," he murmured, his face tilting down toward yours as you squeezed his hand back. "I've been moving toward you my entire life."
When his lips finally met yours, it was slow and gentle, a dam breaking after years of carefully maintained boundaries. He tasted like champagne and mint, his hands shifting from your jaw to wrap securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.
When he finally pulled back, just an inch, his forehead rested against yours. His breath was shallow, but a brilliant, genuine smile lit up his face in the moonlight as he stared down at you.
"You're going to ruin my reputation," you whispered, another breathless laugh breaking through your shock.
"I think I'm improving it," Dick countered, his voice dropping into a low, affectionate purr.
He leaned down and kissed you again. This time, it was deep, possessive, and filled with the fierce intensity of years of unspoken longing. His arms tightened securely around your waist to pull you flush against his chest, lifting you slightly until your toes barely brushed the marble floor. Your hands slid up his chest, tangling in the soft, dark hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as the last of your defences completely dissolved. Every shared glance across a crowded ballroom and every midnight escape to a greasy-spoon diner converged into the rhythm of his lips against yours.
When he finally allowed you to breathe, his eyes crinkled at the corners with that signature, devastating charm. "Well," he whispered, his chest heaving slightly against yours. "The paparazzi are definitely going to notice we've been gone for twenty minutes."
You let out a soft laugh, wrapping your arms securely around his neck and feeling lighter than you had in years. "Let them notice. For once, let's give them exactly what they want to talk about."
happy pride month to all of those who celebrate <33 whether you're out or not, you're loved and NEVER let anyone dim your sparkle ! stay whimsy my lovelies 🤍🤍
Hiiii! Hope you’re Okayy! I was just wondering if you were going to finish the Spencer Reid smau? Have a great day!!! 😊
yes I am !!! im lwk just right in the middle of finals week so im waiting until school gets out so i have more time to write <33 i promise its gonna get done 😭😭
No show did it like Agents of Shield. Episode 1, Coulson does his best to talk down a man having a mental health crisis, proclaiming with every shred of desperation and his own sense of self “It matters who I am!” The show refuses to make Mike another nameless victim, immediately setting it aside from large scale plotlines the avengers deal with. And as Mike screams at Coulson, blaming the agent in front of him for every way the government has hung him out to dry, that it’s not enough to be just him anymore in a word of gods and monsters, Coulson just says softly “I know”
No one did it like agents of shield. No one broke the MCU down into the small stories like it did.
