Warnings/Notes: elf!reader, gender neutral insert reader, mutual pining, Reader falling BUT is unharmed, tinsel
Summary: Upon hearing a simple compliment from the Head Elf, the Reader finds themselves in a barrel of tinsel...who will come to their rescue??
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Christmas. The most undoubtedly wonderful time of the year. As December neared, the final stretch to complete the gifts for the children of the world was in full swing. And, as always in the past few decades, Christmas and toy delivery was a success. Record high numbers of children on the Nice List. And growing with each passing year. And it was all thanks to the hard work of the elves of the North Pole, and the leadership of Santa Claus.
With December so close, quality checks were even more crucial. Each toy needed to work as they should; not just look good. Your department, however, was a little different.
Tinsel. Not just for decoration. It was a Christmas essential. The sparkle, the versatility. It definitely had it's uses, even for Santa's first Christmas at the North Pole.
It had to be the right colors, the right width. Everything had to be precise. So it came as no surprise to you that you would have dreams about it. Sometimes not so great ones. All the more reason for you to take great care in your work.
Running the streamers of tinsel through your fingers, you carefully inspected each strand. No faded sparkle or dull edge would escape your finely festive sight.
Santa was making his rounds through the workshop. It was only a matter of time before he got to you. Though, even as important as it was, it was by no means nerve-racking. Santa was kind and, of course, jolly. He could not bare to see a single tear. Not that he ever did with any of the elves. It would probably take something like an announcement of retirement to do that. Unlikely.
"Excellent job." You heard Santa praise nearby. His warm voice stood out against the everyday elf.
It was almost time. Wheels were tested, bear bows were complimented, and tinsel was to be inspected. But then, you heard him. The Head Elf.
"Ready, Santa?" Asked of Bernard, only a stone throws away.
"Oh yeah," Santa clapped his hands together. "It's tinsel time."
Your name danced out of the elf's mouth. It was so smooth and bright that it stilled you. "They're such a hard working elf. It really shows."
At his words, your heart rang like a chorus of silver bells. Your mood soared high, but your foot veared to the side. A stray strand of tinsel. You never saw it lying there on the floor, and you definitely were not going to see it any time soon. The slip was fast, entirely unexpected. You soon found yourself toppled over into a barrel full of the decoration.
A collective gasp reached your finely tipped ears. "ELF DOWN!"
Reflexively, you kicked your feet. A meager attempt to free yourself somehow. It was difficult to say the least. That barrel was absolutely packed with tinsel. It would be a Christmas miracle to not find a single strand of it somehow still on you in the new year.
Through your sigh of defeat, you stilled and let your legs hang, suspended in the air. "Well…jingles…"
"Nobody panic!" Santa called over, his voice getting closer. "We've had worse!"
"What's the plan, Santa?" A fellow tinsel elf asked, a small thud hitting the side of the barrel.
"Alright, here's what we're going to do," Santa began. "You guys hold the barrel down."
"Check."
"Great. Now, uh… Bernard, can you reach in there and get ahold of their hands?"
"I'll do my best," the head elf said with some obvious uncertainty.
Wanting nothing more than to be two feet on the ground again, you reached up, your hands springing free of the tinsel.
"Whoa! Thanks for the jumpscare. Straight out of a horror movie." Santa gasped, staring into the barrel. "Go ahead, Bernard."
A pair of hands touched you. Each wrapped warmly around your wrists, and you mirrored the action, securing the hold.
"Alright…now, on the count of three," Santa instructed, grabbing your legs. "One……two……NOW!"
One firm yank, and you felt your world rotate back to normal, hands releasing their hold on you. You saw none of it, of course. The tinsel you had fallen into clung on like Velcro.
"Wow…you look like a festive Cousin It," Santa remarked in awe.
"Thank you, Santa."
A shake of your arms and the weight of the tinsel began to lessen. There certainly was enough to spare for the whole winter season.
"There you are," Bernard smiled brightly, his fingers pulling aside the metallic decor in search of your face.
A smile of your own pulled at your lips at the sight of him. His closeness was surprising, but not unwelcomed. "I guess I can't hide in here forever," you shrugged, more tinsel falling off of you.
"Yeah, but, the tinsel really brings out the color of your eyes," Bernard said earnestly.
Your heart bloomed at the declaration. "Really?" Hopefulness sparkling in your eyes.
"Of course," he said as if any notion otherwise would be ridiculous. Then, his head tilted cutely as he inclined closer to you. "Would I lie to you?"
There was no hesitation in shaking your head in response to his question. Never had he lied to you. There was no reason to. And honestly, you did not think him even remotely capable of such a thing.
Santa smiled, rubbing his hands together. "As far as tinsel inspection goes…it looks good to me. It certainly glimmers and hangs well. Good job, team!"
The other elves in the department cheered happily. Sometimes they tended to tease Santa in showing off the tinsel. However, it looked as though he would not have to worry about having baskets of the decoration dumped overtop his head that year. You had indirectly completed some field testing.
Bernard lingered as Santa turned to head to the next station. Carefully, he plucked a few strands off of your head as you brushed off the rest.
"Hey," he spoke softly, your eyes meeting his. "Maybe you'd like to join me for some hot cocoa later?"
Your eyes widened. Had you heard correctly? "I…"
"Bernard!" Santa called.
Hurriedly, before your chance could be lost forever, you nodded. "Yes," you smiled. "I'd love to."
"Great," he grinned bigger than you had ever witnessed before. "I'll see you later." Stumbling backward with a sheepish grin and a laugh to match, he scurried off to rejoin Santa.
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Thank you for reading!
If you'd like to read more from me, the pinned post on my blog has everything. Years worth. Feel free to browse around.
I had a bit of fun with the first one with Morgie and Reader realizing that there might be feelings for the other. Then I got fully carried away with the second part and going through their whole teenage experience of having a crush.
"Blush" Morgie le Fay x Merlin's Kid! Reader
"Blush" Morgie le Fay x Merlin's Kid! Reader -- Part Two
Warnings/Notes: mentions of the Jedi purge. The Reader teasing Maul a bit. Platonic. This idea was triggered by the teaser trailer for Star Wars: Maul - Shadow Lord.
Summary: After a long wait, the Reader finally reunites with Maul in the early stages of the new Empire.
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Patience. Patience was a very strong skill to have within your arsenal. It could be fleeting for others, especially in regards to certain situations. You had plenty.
Deep within the metropolis, lined with colorful lights, you waited. The patience you clawed onto for so long was to be rewarded. It nearly had your fingers itching to cling onto something else for a change.
Well hidden in your acquired apartment, you stood alone. The simple yet comfortable furnishings had long become familiar to you. Dimly lit by a single light fixture, you breathed in the quiet.
A faint click and a soft swish to the entrance door, and not a trace of fear entered your veins. It soon closed and you remained with your back toward it. The cybernetic footsteps that followed were not alarming in the least. Not when you had since became accustomed to their sound. No droid could ever step with such focus and precision.
"You kept me waiting… I was beginning to wonder if you had forgotten about me." You spoke honestly. There was no need to hide from him, not when he could sense such things.
"You have more patience than most," Maul stated, his voice calm in the space between you. "Or has that attribute of yours been waning in my absence?"
A smirk pulled at your lips. "I do believe that my patience still rivals your own."
Humming in his mild amusement, he glanced around. Nothing extravagant or worth noting struck out to him. It was a most humble dwelling at its surface.
Curious, you turned around. Your focus was not on the stunning zabrak, but at the entrance. An inner restraint kept your eyebrows from furrowing in your confusion. "Is your loyal lieutenant not with you?"
Golden eyes set on you. "Kast is taking care of other business."
It was a wonder not to see Rook Kast, the Mandalorian within arm's length of her rightful leader. "I'm sure she jumped at the opportunity," you said, your snide remark being dutifully overlooked.
Striding over the short distance casually, Maul stood before you. His gaze hunted for answers of any kind. "And what of you?" He asked with a tone too smooth in anyone's regard to his appearance. "Hiding in a metropolis?"
"Hiding?" Your sudden smile at his inquiry pulled a laugh out of you. "It's my hunting ground."
Despite his menacing markings, they could not conceal the intrigue painting his face.
You continued. "The Jedi are being hunted, purged from the very galaxy that they sought to protect…" You took a breath, not entirely wanting to bring up a specific person of interest into the conversation. Then again, it would be inevitable. "The Emperor's inquisitors are roughly easy to keep track of. People mention sightings of them, even if they do not know who they are."
Maul followed your line of sight when your eyes flickered over to a small table.
"Which brings me to this," you said. Reaching over to the holopad resting on the table, you grabbed it swiftly. A few slides of your finger across the screen, and a single picture took center focus. "Even with your hood up," you stated, showing him his Imperial wanted poster, "your features can be quite striking. Fugitive at large…"
Grumbling, Maul began to pace.
A crease sank between your brows. "The Emperor wants you dead now--"
"I am of no use to him as I was before," he cut you off, an irritation brewing at the subject. "He began to see me as a rival…but now…I know too much. I know who he truly is… What he always was… That makes me a liability to his new Empire."
When he got like this, you too tended to gain that knowledge. But he needed to speak, to work and sort things out. Being in the mode of survival for too long could do that, or worse, to a person.
However things were and appeared, you could not let him spiral. Not then.
"You're worth a lot of credits, you know," you said slowly, gaining both his attention and a raise of his eyebrow ridge, his pacing ceased. "And hiding from the Empire can get expensive…"
"Are you considering turning me in?" He asked, amusement filling his syllables.
You smiled. "This would be a fine trap, wouldn't it?"
With narrowed eyes, he drank in your expression, analyzing every detail of your face. "No," he took an easy breath, leaning back on his heels in his conclusion. "You would not."
A grin broke out over your face. "I would never. You know me too well to assume such a thing."
Maul clasped his hands behind his back. "One must remain cautious. Even of those closest to you."
"Oh?" Your brows popped up at his words. And it had been far too long since you had worked alongside him. Perhaps with a large neon target on his back, he would not mind a little experienced assistance. "And how close are you wanting to work with me under these…circumstances?"
Maul inclined his head, eyes piercing with determination. "Much more closely."
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Thank you for reading!
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Warnings/Notes: The Reader is anxious about being alone in the dark in Gotham and light teasing.
Summary: Leaving a lecture late, the Reader finds that walking home alone at night in Gotham doesn't feel like a good option. So, they call Jason to pick them up.
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"Are there any more questions?" The voice reverberated through the speakers on the wall. The guest speaker standing behind the small podium looked around curiously. When silence remained, they smiled. "Thank you all so much for coming and…I hope I answered your questions well enough for you to write that paper I'm sure your professor is having you do before their next class."
The audience in attendance in the small lecture room erupted in amused laughter. In truth, most students were there as per instruction. It was not an unusual occurrence.
Everyone clapped in thanks to the guest speaker, and as the lights slowly brightened the room once more, you gathered your belongings.
"I don't remember everyone asking so many questions at the last lecture." Your friend stated beside you, stretching their arms as they stood.
"Hah," you smiled, "did you see the professor giving up trying to hint at everyone that the lecture was going overtime because of it?"
"Yeah, I think I got secondhand embarrassment from that," they squinted their eyes at the thought. "But now that you mention it, I think I'm gonna ask them about next week's project."
"Alright, see you later."
"See yah."
As they trotted quickly toward the professor, you made your way out of the room. Filling out with the others, somehow everyone evenly dispersed out of the door and going their own way. And as you walked down the few steps out onto the sidewalk, you were met with the dark environment of the night stretching out before you in all directions.
"Great," you frowned.
Inwardly sighing to yourself, you set off down the sidewalk. Mandatory lights lined the path every couple of yards, but they scarcely reached far enough into the grass.
The more steps you took, the more the dark surroundings felt more prominent. As if slowly closing in on itself, and you. With a grimace, you glanced behind you and took out your phone. There was no hesitation in who you decided to call. You simply did.
"Hey," Jason Todd responded. He sounded calm and relaxed; you hoped you were not going to be a bother in disrupting his night.
"Hey, Jay. Is this a bad time?"
"No. What's up? Did you need something?"
"Honestly, yeah. I was kinda hoping--if you wouldn't mind--coming to pick me up."
"Pick you up?" He asked, growing confusion lacing around his words. "Where are you?"
"I was attending a lecture--"
"Wasn't that supposed to end over an hour ago?"
"Yeah."
He chuckled. "As long as you're all right…"
"I am. It's just…really dark outside."
"That tends to happen when the sun sets."
The jingle of keys reached your ear as you put your hand on your hip. "Ha…ha."
"I should be there in a few minutes. Will you be all right until then?"
"Yes," you confirmed, hearing a door close through the phone. "How about this, I call someone and talk to them until you're right in front of me?"
"That would make me feel a little better, yeah." An uneasy sigh slipped through his words.
"Okay, see you soon."
"Be careful." Jason's voice lowered, a quieter tone than you were used to over the phone.
"You be careful."
Ending your phonecall with Jason, you swiped to your contact list. Barbara.
After a moment longer than it would for a call to go to voicemail, you ended the attempt. She had to be talking to someone. Or otherwise busy.
As you continued standing under the light of one of the posts, you glanced around. You should not have been feeling a growing paranoia, but sometimes the surrounding darkness tended to heighten your instincts.
Scrolling and internally debating, you selected another contact.
"Hi," the cheerful voice of Dick Grayson answered.
"Hey," a smile seamlessly found itself on your face. "Are you busy?"
"Not at all, just hanging around. Did you need something?"
"Just someone to talk to," you shrugged, walking toward the next section of light on the sidewalk. "I got stuck at a seemingly neverending lecture…and of course it's dark out now."
"Time flies when you're having fun, huh?" He asked, a small thud and quick faint footsteps hardly reaching your ear.
"Ha, my foot went to sleep halfway through the lecture, but that's beside the point I guess. So…I called Jason, and he's on his way to pick me up."
"Oh, okay. Good," he said, his small breaths making it seem like he was jumping around his living room. "I hope he doesn't speed too much."
"Oh, don't tell me that," you gave a nervous laugh. "Now I'm conflicted. I told him to be careful…"
"But at the same time you want him there already?"
"Well…yeah."
It was no mystery. A night in Gotham could be riddled with villainous activities. Even the view of the sun setting acted like an impending event in itself. But even if nothing occurred, the sheer thought of possibilities and what-if's lingered through the night. It's not as if you had a vigilante on speed-dial.
A few short minutes went by. The conversations between you and Dick spanned from dinners gone…not so great, to the latest films you had watched and ones that you just had to see multiple times a year.
By the time the faintest hum of a motorcycle was heard by you, you froze. Whipping your head toward the nearest parking lot, you watched as one solid light weaved closer.
"Judging by your silence and a certain noise," Dick spoke light-heartedly, "I think that I can safely guess that our conversation has reached it's end?"
"And I appreciate it, and you, very much for keeping me company. In a sense."
"You're welcome. Tell Jason I said hi, for me?"
"I will, see yah." You smiled into the phone, slipping it away as no one other than Jason rolled to a stop a couple of yards away.
"Jason!" You bounded over to his side with the largest grin when he got off the bike.
"Hey," he pulled you into a hug, crushing whatever anxious feelings that still lingered. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," you affirmed, stepping out of his embrace. "You?"
"Yeah," he shrugged. "Not much traffic on the way over, but…uh…who'd you end up calling? I'm still not sure if that smile was for them or me."
"Dick."
"Really?" His face twisted in his disbelief. "You called him? As opposed to literally anyone else."
You laughed. "I called Babs first, but it kept ringing busy so…"
"Just the next one down in the alphabet?"
"I mean…kinda. And I know he's one for conversation."
"Oh yeah," he rolled his eyes.
"He says, hi, by the way."
"Sure he does."
Shaking your head, you watched as Jason retrieved a spare helmet from his backpack.
"And for you," he said, setting you up properly with the safety essential.
"Thank you."
"I wasn't gonna have you not wear a helmet."
"I meant…for the helmet and for coming to get me. I appreciate it."
A smile spread across his lips. "I, uh… You're welcome. I'm not about to leave you out here," he said, looking upward. "But let's get you home."
Jason swung his leg over the bike first before you climbed on behind him. You hastily got situated, but soon found that when you looked back up, he scarcely moved.
"Ready?" He asked, looking over his shoulder.
Gingerly placing your arms around his middle, you nodded. "Ready."
With a short laugh, he tapped the front of his helmet to yours. "In a hurry?"
"Nope!"
A rumble of the engine, and you were both gliding out of the parking lot and into the night. As he took the turn out, your hold on him tightened, leaning with both him and the bike.
Riding on the back of his motorcycle was somehow exhilarating and calming all at once. It must have been the wait. Waiting in the dark and not knowing what was beyond your sight was a little unnerving. Comparing that to your current situation, you had no issue with Jason leading you away from the dark.
The city lights glowed. Highlighting what was important to see. And otherwise, what companies wanted you to see.
By the time you found yourself nuzzling into the warmth of his back through the fabric of the squished backpack, the sights around you were all too familiar. The bike slowed and the rush of the night air eased. Home.
Flicking out the kick stand, silence soon surrounded the pair of you. "Would you mind if I walked you up?" Jason asked.
"Not at all," you smiled, peeling yourself off of him.
"Ha, alright."
Carefully, as to not accidentally kick the other, you both hopped off of the bike and removed your helmets. As you left the curbside and headed up into the apartment building, you could not help but take your time.
"Is this you trying to trick me into doing more cardio?" Jason questioned, following you up the steps.
"No. I still feel adrenaline in my legs so… I'm walking it off."
"Whatever works for you," he grunted. "Can't skip leg day, I guess."
"Looks like you don't."
"I…try to take care of myself," he said, striding up beside you.
"Good."
"Good?"
You nodded simply. "I need you around, and…you…you should anyway."
Jason grinned beside you. "Fair enough."
Approaching your apartment door, you stopped to retrieve your key. With a swell in your chest, you turned to Jason. "Thank you for coming to get me," you said quieter than expected.
His dark brows furrowed. "It kinda sounds like you weren't expecting me to."
You shrugged. "I know that you're busy a lot of the time…especially at night. And I didn't want to interfere with that. Whatever that is."
Jason reached a hand out to hold your shoulder gently. "Hey," he said softly, "if you need me, I'll be there. No questions asked. All right?"
"Thank you."
Chuckling lightly, he pulled you in for a hug. "I think you've thanked me enough this evening."
"Maybe, maybe not." You gestured toward the door with your chin. "You wanna come in? I've got some of those contraband snacks I've heard aren't allowed in Wayne Manor."
Backing away slowly, he shook his head. "Hah, as much as I want to, and believe me that I do, I have to deal with something."
"Leave your brother alone," you teased, remembering his reaction from earlier.
He rose his hands upward in defense, "I can't make any promises on that. But I can promise a raincheck on those snacks, if I'm able."
"I'll save you some," you assured, unlocking the door.
"And thank you for that," he grinned. "Now get inside."
"I am, I am," you laughed, opening the door before calling out to him as you closed it. "Enjoy the stairs!"
His joyful laugh reached you anyway. "Good night!"
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Thank you for reading!
If you'd like to read more, here's my DC Masterlist
Warnings/Notes: established relationship, use of "darlin'", gender neutral insert reader, fluff. And some dialogue based off of Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides.
Summary: The Reader sneaks into Leonard's quarters while he's sleeping to join him, except...he wakes up...eventually.
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The regular and as per usual shift felt longer. It was not a rare occurrence, but it was definitely not a welcoming feeling.
On the USS Enterprise, the chief medical officer was in his quarters at last. It would be an obvious thought, but one could only picture, or assume, him to be working or on the bridge. Alone, he had no quips to reason. No metaphors were heard. Perhaps it was the fact that he was absolutely and undeniably asleep.
As the main door to McCoy's quarters opened with a swish, he hardly budged on the bed. The soft footsteps, too, did not deter him. It was appearing as if nothing could disturb his slumber. Though, as the bed undulated in the slightest, he spoke up.
"If this is a dream," he drawled sleepily, "you can stay…but if it's not--"
Remaining still, bedsheet suspended upward by your hand, you pecked a kiss to his cheek.
"Alright…you can stay," he mumbled, a smile curving onto his lips.
Grinning successfully to yourself, you shimmied under the blankets. If it was going to continue to be cold in space, you were going to make due your own way. Temperature control panels were not going to persuade you otherwise. And if you were able to cozy up beside someone in particular, you would find your endeavor a success.
"You know," Leonard yawned, "I'm thinking that this has happened before… Very recently."
Snuggling up behind him, you draped an arm over his waist. "Is that a complaint?" You whispered into his dark hair.
"Hell no," his voice raised a fraction, awake. A quick grab of your hand, and he kissed your inner wrist. "I'm starting to believe that I get my best sleep when you're here."
"So am I a natural sedative?"
"No. I said my best sleep," he clarified. "You don't put me to sleep, darlin'."
A light chuckle filled his ears. "Give me some time, the night is still young."
"Look out any window and it's perpetually night out there. No matter the time or day. It's just darkness. The eternal--"
"Leonard," you sighed, squeezing his hand.
"Yeah, well…you get the idea," he grumbled.
"I know all too well," you reminded him. Softly, you placed a kiss to his bare neck. "Try to get some rest, huh."
Shifting his shoulders, he took a deep breath. "That might be a little difficult now."
"Why?"
"I'm wide awake now. Fully conscious in the knowledge of you in my quarters."
"I would hope so…all considering how close I am to you."
A hum resonated from his torso to yours. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
Smiling to yourself, you enjoyed and welcomed the quiet that enveloped the room. With the exception of the hardly audible breaths from the pair of you, it was likely the quietest place on the entire ship. Or, it at least felt that way.
"Sweet dreams, Leonard."
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Thank you for reading!
If you'd like, you can check out the pinned post on my blog for more fanfics and imagines (My Masterlist of Masterlists).
Warnings/Notes: established relationship, mild hurt comfort, taking care of Simon, sleepy Reader, and forehead/face kisses
Summary: The Reader had tried to stay awake but are asleep before Simon returns home. When Simon finally makes his way into bed to sleep, he finds that his eyes are sore from work. That only prompts the Reader's need to take care of him.
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Sleep had overtaken you hours ago. The exhaustion of the day had overridden your usual determination to wait for your beloved Simon to return home. That intelligent lawyer of yours really had some strange work hours. Alas, the city never rests.
Rolling over, you froze. Hearing the faint sounds and locks of the front door to the apartment, you remained silent. The steady footsteps approaching the bedroom were familiar, easing your initial worrying response.
"Simon?" You yawned, forcing your eyes to stay open.
"Sorry," Simon apologized, stepping through the doorway. "Did I wake you, darling?"
"Not really." Your eyelids fell again. The impending sleep was just too strong.
"Rest." His voice stirred you awake. Pressing his lips to your forehead, he smiled fondly at you. "I'll join you soon enough."
"Alright," you affirmed groggily, half reaching for him.
There was a long moment where you were able to watch him move around the room. He settled his briefcase down into the top of the dresser, and held his shoes. The shoes are what struck you odd. Maybe he was trying not to wake you with the sound of his dress shoes against the floor. But again, your eyelids closed, trying to drag you back into a restful slumber.
You dozed in and out of a light sleep. Each time that you did, Simon was doing something else. First, you caught a glimpse of him pulling open a dresser drawer to retrieve his sleepwear. The next, you heard the rush of the shower. The steady sound soon lulled you into a deeper sleep.
The mattress undulated beside you. The sudden movement made your eyes open, peeking at the disturbance. The bedside lamp was off, letting the subtle blue light of the night filter into the room from the covered window. Seeing Simon finally shuffling under the covers brought a small smile to your face.
"Hi."
"Hello, sweetheart," Simon cooed, planting a gentle kiss to your lips. "I'm sorry I returned home so late," he whispered, scooting closer to you.
"As long as you return home," you nuzzled into his side.
"I will always make sure of that, you have my word."
"Good."
"Sleep well," he said, resting his hand over yours as it held a crinkle in his sleep-shirt. "I love you."
"Love you, Simon. Sweet dreams."
Listening to the comforting sounds Simon's steady and quiet breathing, you were sure to be asleep again in no time at all. Mixed with the gentle rise and fall of his chest, it was the perfect combination for you. However, after some time, his hand left yours, leaving it open to the slightest chill on the room.
After a moment, your curiosity took over. "Simon," you asked, propping yourself up on your forearm to look at him. "What's wrong?"
With closed eyes, Simon was rubbing them meticulously. His brows knitted in what appeared to be discomfort or concern.
"My eyes are a little sore," he stated in a tired flatness. "There's nothing to worry about."
A thoughtful hum resonated within you as you delicately placed a hand over his eyelids.
"What are you--?"
"They're warm," you noted aloud.
"I…over did it tonight. Eye strain. I was so focused on my tasks, I…they had to be completed."
"Hmm, I know the feeling," you acknowledged, caressing your hand over his cheek. "But you have to put yourself first at some point."
"You know that I cannot always do that," he looked at you solemnly.
"Well," you sat up, "if you won't, I certainly will."
"Where are you going?" He asked as you hopped out of the bed and headed straight out of the bedroom.
"To the kitchen," you stated. "I'll be right back."
After a few short minutes, you did return. The only difference about you was the items you held within your hands.
"I do not think bringing me a snack is going to help," Simon said, further straining his eyes to see you in the semi darkness.
"Ha, well, this isn't exactly edible."
Sitting beside him, you offered him the contents at your disposal. "I present to you, an ice still love you, but you need sleep kit."
A moment's silence passed and Simon's mouth opened and closed with no words.
"That's the best pun that I could come up with at this hour."
"Oh," he smiled. "But you didn't have to go to the trouble."
Holding up the full ice bag and small kitchen towel, you scoffed. "Trouble? What trouble? It's literally just ice, Simon. Here."
With the utmost tenderness, you placed the towel-swaddled ice bag over his eyes once he closed them again. It took a good minute for the cool chill of the bag to permeate through the cloth. And you knew exactly when it did.
Pleasant relief coursed through Simon. Sinking further into his pillow, he sighed. "This feels very nice. Thank you very much for this."
"You're very welcome," you kissed his cheek. After the fourth peck, you laughed happily at his smile. "Don't leave it on for too long."
"I won't."
Laying back down, you snuggled into his side once again, but this time, you had no intention of going anywhere else for the night.
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Thank you for reading!
If you'd like to read more from me, check out the pinned post on my blog ✨
Warnings/Notes: est. relationship, baking with Alfred and Dick Grayson, wearing Jason's shirt, brotherly bickering, fluff and kissing.
Summary: What was supposed to be time with Jason turns into baking with Alfred, until Dick Grayson decides to help. A cloud of flour later leads the Reader into Jason's room (and shirt). What will Jason think about all of this by the time he finds the Reader in the library?
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Visiting Wayne Manor was not a frequent occurrence, but each time felt more welcoming. The strong and elegant architecture did not automatically read as comforting or casual in outward appearance, but the residents had a way of making it so.
The main door opened, revealing the friendly and inviting, Alfred Pennyworth. Though he was the main and sole butler of the house, you had only half expected him to be the one opening the door for you.
"Ah, a pleasure to see you."
"Hi, Alfred," you grinned, stepping in through the threshold. A clean and expensive scent entered your nostrils.
"I regret to inform you that Master Jason has not yet returned, and has permitted me--with some insistence on his part--to allow you into the kitchen under my discretion."
You blinked. "Oh."
Jason was supposed to greet you at the door. Even to the lengths of insisting that he would, over your texts messages. But things came up. You understood that. He did not cancel, he would just be running a little late.
"Thank you, Alfred. But I don't want to get in your way."
"Certainly not," he walked with you toward the kitchen. "Master Jason has acknowledged to me your love of baking, and has bestowed great compliments."
You glanced away with a laugh. "I'm no professional, I assure you. I simply follow a recipe, and either enjoy the result of that, or gift it to someone."
He smiled warmly. "And what better gift than one made from the heart?"
With that compliment, you could not agree more. Sure, there were nearly an endless line of shops with varying qualities of merchandise. There was a certain trial and error with shopping for specific individuals. An exchange of pleasantries if one was kind enough to accept a present that they did not particularly like. No, you found that in your case, taking the time to make something for another to enjoy worked for you. And, if there happened to be extra, well…a little treat for yourself was always nice.
Entering the kitchen, you spotted a lineup of telltale ingredients on the counter. "Do you mind if I ask what you're going to make?" You asked, growing eager. There was a story or two that you had heard regarding some of his award-winning desserts.
"Just a simple cookie recipe," he said handing you an apron. "Chocolate chip."
Following the specific recipe Alfred provided, you followed each direction diligently. The dry ingredients completely stirred together in one bowl, and steps were being taken to blend each wet ingredient in the other. You were fortunate enough to have a hand mixer at home, but you had only dreamed of using a standmixer. What less of an arm workout it was.
But just as the eggs and vanilla were being mixed in, someone entered the room.
"Hey, Alfred! It smells great in here already!"
Turning, you saw the bright grin of Dick Grayson.
"Welcome back, Master Grayson," Alfred nodded in happy greeting. "Master Bruce isn't scheduled to return for another two hours."
"That's alright," he shrugged before looking to you. "Hey, nice seeing you again. How are you and the menace--I mean, Jason?"
You laughed, noticing the prominent smile growing over his face. "Hi…and the menace and I are doing just fine, thank you."
"You're very welcome." Bounding over like a child on Christmas morning, he asked: "What are you two making?"
"Chocolate chip," Alfred responded in kind.
"Excellent. What's the next step?" He asked, leaning in to take a look into the bowl as the whisks whirled.
"To add in the dry ingredients." As he said do, Alfred switched off the speed of the mixer. But, before he could continue, the phone on the wall rang. "Oh, excuse me."
The two of you watched briefly as he stepped away. The focus again fell onto the mixture in front of you.
"How about I help out?"
"Sure." Who were you to say no to an eagerly helpful part of the Wayne family?
"Alright…" As carefully as he could, Dick lifted the bowl and poured in the contents with a steady hand.
"It would be easier if we lifted the beater part out," you explained while he insisted to dump too much in the space between the device and the rim of the bowl. "There's a hinge there."
"No need," he smiled, setting the now empty bowl down. "I got this."
Opening your mouth to heed warning, words could not have come sooner to spare you from the result of his actions. Good intentions as they may have been, you found yourselves covered in it.
A fraction of an instant too late, Dick Grayson pulled the level back, stopping the rapid spin off the whisks. He blinked over at you with white eyelashes.
"I…guess it didn't need to be pushed that hard after all." He smiled sheepishly, seeing as you both had a hefty layer of flour and remnants of what would have been the wet dough plastered to your upper torsos.
Not even a sigh escaped you as you looked down at yourself. Sure, you were wearing an apron, but what you had really needed was a raincoat to spare your shirt an be head from the mess.
A pair of dress shoes stopped prominently behind the pair of you. It was a sort of silence that made you grow uneasy. Even with it's short duration.
"I think it would be best to clean yourselves up," Alfred suggested.
"Sorry, Alfred," you chorused together, tasting flour and finally turning to him.
Accepting damp hand towels, Dick and yourself wiped and dusted off the mess to the best of your abilities. Dick soon left to freshen up upstairs in his room, whereas you went to excuse yourself of to the nearest bathroom sink.
"Nonsense," Alfred stated with assurance, "I will show you to Master Jason's room. The bathroom is well stocked, and you will find a clean towel for yourself. Come."
Ascending the staircase, your mind whirled. You had visited a number of times before, even to the point of becoming acquainted with Alfred. That reason alone was entirely Jason's fault. There was nothing shy of strategic ingenuity on his part to ensure that you met Alfred Pennyworth before all others. You did not mind, of course. You met them all soon enough.
Down one of the hallways, Alfred opened the door to one of the rooms. It was tidy, of course. Nothing less would do in the Wayne Manor. And…all the more reason that you felt a growing guilt for the state of the kitchen.
"Master Jason tends to leave some items here, from time to time," he announced, checking inside a set of drawers. Turning back to you, he headed back out the door. "Just leave what stained garmets you have in the bathroom. I will tend to them later."
"Alfred?"
"Hmm?"
"Thank you," you gave a small smile, one that he reciprocated.
"Of course." With a final nod, he left.
All alone. And in Jason's room, of all places. Then again, as you looked around, there was no personalization like there was in his apartment. But, that was his home. This…used to be, for a time.
Spotless tile and an insistent amount of shampoo later, and you were on the Manor's library. Sitting comfortably on the couch, it was the perfect quiet atmosphere to read. And read you did, until the sound of footsteps echoed in from the hall.
The figure of Jason Todd silhouetted the doorway. Hardly two steps into the room and his smile faltered. Eyes widening, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, and one of his knees gave out.
You had looked up in time to witness it all.
An attempt was made to conceal his stumble with an animated swing of his arms to exaggerate a jolly demeanor in his approach.
"Are you okay?" You giggled.
"Yeah, of course," he waved off your concern with a flick of his wrist. "And hello to you too, by the way." Grinning, Jason sat promptly beside you. With a minor twist of his torso, he faced you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"Hi…Also…what are you up to?" You questioned him. The playful narrowing of your eyes sent him into dramatics.
"Such an accusation," he threw a hand to his chest. "You wound me."
"Alfred told you about the mixer incident, didn't he?" You asked plainly. Sometimes he was just too easy to read. For you, at least.
"I'm just disappointed that I missed seeing that happen to Dick," he snorted, lounging an arm over the back of the couch.
"Oh, really?"
"Yeah, and…um." He searched through his thoughts, like trying to decide between a blue or a red wire. "Uh, it looks like you got all of the flour out of your hair."
"It wasn't without effort," you frowned at the thought.
"Not much effort to get into my shirt though," he nearly mumbled, an unsure smirk lurking at the corner of his lips.
"Alfred said that you wouldn't mind," you shook your head.
"And I don't," he leaned closer. "Not one bit."
"Really?" You asked, your voice sounding smaller than intended.
Without a word, Jason smiled. It was soft and sure, with eyes to match. "Maybe we--"
"Hey, Jay!" Dick Grayson entered the room with a lively step. "Back so soon?"
Jason's head dropped, nearly clipping your shoulder in the process. "You've got to be kidding me."
"Isn't that Jason's shirt?"
"Dick."
Halting in his tracks at the tone, his eyes squinted in investigative confusion. "What's wrong?"
"Read the room."
"A little difficult," he crossed his arms over his chest. "Being that there's so many books in here."
Jason's head turned to look at him like a perterbed bird. "Seriously?"
"Yeah." Dick gave a small shrug of his shoulders, still waiting for an explanation.
"You're being serious? Right now?"
"Yes, Jason!" He laughed in the absurdity of the situation. "What am I missing here?"
Before Jason could open his mouth again, you placed a hand on his own. Your touch could substitute for a pause button at times.
Seeing the rise in agitation, you could not simply keep looking between them. "Sorry, Dick," you apologized slowly. "Jason and I were just having a private conversation, that's all."
His expression softened with bright eyes that glanced between you and his brother. "Oh. Why didn't you just say so?" He grinned. "No problem. You two kids have fun!"
You laughed as he turned to head back out of the room with a wave.
"Don't forget your cane on the way out, old man!" Jason called after him.
"One of these days, Jason!" Dick's voice echoed in the hall.
Their lighter banter sent you into a small fit of laughter. Enough to have you setting your book aside.
Jason sighed, though a smile played at his lips. "Sometimes I think he does that on purpose…or has some sort of natural radar that makes him gravitate to situations he shouldn't be a part of."
Ceasing your laughter, you twisted in your seat and leaned forward to plant a kiss to his cheek. It was far too enticing not to. His profile was much too handsome for his own good when he smiled like that.
Feeling the surprise touch to his cheek, Jason's eyebrows rose. Like a cautious bird of prey, he turned his head to you. "You…uh," he licked his lips subconsciously, "you said that we were gaming a private conversation?"
"Yes," you smirked, pecking the tip of his nose with your lips.
His mouth hung in a lopsided smile. "What--uh, what exactly were we talking about?"
Loosely, you hooked a finger on the collar of his shirt and gave it a couple of tugs. "Just your shirt."
"Uh-huh," he nodded, drawing closer to you in his captivation.
"You said that you don't mind me wearing it," you whispered. With all your might, you dared not to giggle at the sight of Jason.
Eyes hooded over, they kept dropping down to gaze at your lips. "A true statement," he murmured, lips remaining parted. "It's you--you can wear it anytime. Whenever."
"Yeah?" You grinned too teasingly.
"Yes. Please," he all but whimpered.
Not expecting an open invitation to a small part of his wardrobe, you nearly shook your head at the thought. It was a rare sight of him, to be absolutely entranced with you. He was comfortable and safe. The few important variables to equal into such an equation. One, that you would never take for granted.
Pressing your lips to his, you smiled at his reaction. Under your palms that found their way to his chest, sinked as he sighed most contently. The sound hardly registered in your ears.
Jason's arm slipped off of the back of the couch and nestled between you and the cushion. Both arms coiled around you, unyielding. He needed you close. To feel you breathe with each expand of your lungs. To feel your heart beat under the pressure of his grasp. To feel you there with him. It's all he ever needed most days. And even as he lost all sense of time and place when you dove your into his hair, he would not have it any other way.
Warnings/Notes: gender neutral insert reader, established relationship, embarrassed/anxious Simon, kissing, nicknames (sweetheart, love), Reader comparing Gazerbeam to Simon, teeny tiny angst, fluff/reassurance. Also, I finally wrote it!! Honestly, I'm surprised that I didn't just make Simon faint at some point...
Summary: After concluding that Simon is Gazerbeam, the Reader is prepared to show Simon what evidence they've come up with.
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It had been a few days since your literal run-in on the streets of the city. Days of knowing, absolutely convinced, the secret identity of the Super Gazerbeam.
As the days had passed as usual, you kept to your routine. You were by no means avoiding discussing such a delicate topic with your partner. Oh, no. There was not even a hesitant bone in your body about the matter. No. This was something important. Highly classified. There was only one thing to do.
"Hi, Simon," you beamed as you welcomed him into your home.
"Hello, sweetheart." Simon smiled, pressing a loving kiss to your lips. "I hope I did not keep you waiting too long. There was more traffic that I anticipated."
"Not at all," you assured. Taking his hands in yours, you leisurely lead him over to the couch. "How was your day, today?"
"Quite well," he mused at the thought. "Continuing with organizing a defense for my client."
You smiled, stopping in front of the furniture. "You're too good, Simon."
A breath of a laugh left his lips from the surprise of your compliment. He shook his head, searching for the right words amongst the couch cushions. "I only do what I can."
"And what you can do is amazing," you practically cooed at him. "Here, take a seat, and I'll be right back."
Once Simon sat down, you pecked a kiss to his lips. "You have something to show me?" He asked, a curiosity lifting his features.
"Yes, I do." With a growing grin and an extra pep to your step, you left the room.
Once you were out of sight, the sound of your bedroom door closing changed Simon's demeanor entirely. The at ease posture that was unconsciously sinking him into the couch, stiffened. His back became so rigid, someone could have pasted paper on him and it would be perfectly straight.
Had this man been dating you exclusively for quite some time?. Yes. Absolutely. But Simon J. Paladino had no training whatsoever. Not in his assumption of what you could have been up to. In any respective romance novel whose pages he has ever touched, such an interaction was always followed by a further exploration in the narrative couple's relationship. What else could it possibly be? You had even shut the door behind you.
The pulsing anxiety grew with each passing moment. He brought a hand up to his neck, only to find a throbbing heartbeat under shaky hands. Surely there was no reason for him to be reacting in such a manner. There was a cool, calm, and collected nature about himself. No matter the situation. No matter who was involved. And yet, somehow by such a small action, he was rendered completely incapable of any sensible thought.
When the bedroom door is opened once again, an unfamiliar panic shoots through Simon's veins. In a flail of limbs, he covered his eyes, shutting them completely from whatever he was not prepared for. The sound of your footsteps echoed in his ears as you made your way back into the room. What could he have possibly gotten himself into?
An adjustment and a small shift to keep upright, everything was finally in place. "Simon," you giggled, "I didn't mean for you to cover your eyes. It's not exactly a surprise…just something that I wanted to show you."
And it was a rather cute sight. Simon sitting so properly, eyes actually shielded behind his hands. "I…I was not sure," he said, his voice shaking in the slightest. However hesitant, he lowered his hands.
Despite his initial anxious quivering, his brows bundled in confusion and study over the frame of his glasses. "What…"
A few feet in front of him, you stood beside a full presentation board. Held up by a small easel and some hope. "I present to you…my partner, the Super. A visual presentation by me."
Across the board was a well labeled and organized collection of images and bullet point lists. From newspaper clippings to carefully placed personal photos, it appeared very thought out.
"Exhibit A," you pointed to a set of photos with a prominent yellow ruler that he had failed to notice, "body type."
Simon slowly shook his head in disbelief. Deep in the bright irises of his eyes, a different emotion began to take hold. Panic.
"Here, we have a newspaper photo taken roughly one year ago. In this unobstructed image, we can clearly see the overall body shape of the Super, Gazerbeam. Wide shoulders in comparison with the ratio to his hips. A detail noticeable with the well-fitted suit."
On the couch, Simon sat silently. His eyes looked intensely at your hardwork, bouncing between images and even underlined words. How was he to deny any of this? Odd coincidence? Overactive imagination?
"This is an image of you, Simon Paladino, graciously helping with the dishes about two months ago. Admittedly, I wanted to capture the moment because it was a sweet gesture…but also, your torso without your blazer made me lose the ability to speak for a good five minutes." You tried to hide the smile spreading over your lips, but the tint of blush over Simon's cheeks was no help at all.
You could only imagine what must have been going through that mind of his. There were a variety of ways that he could react to it all. Maybe even something that did not occur to you one of the late nights you were working on the presentation. However, beyond the moment of him blushing at your comment, you could not let yourself get distracted.
"And now…for the most obvious and undoubtedly raw evidence from a close, and dare I say intimate space," you announced, accidentally slapping the ruler on a set of portraits. "Facial features."
Behind his lenses, Simon's eyes widened a fraction. He did not know how long he was going to last. Much less, what he was going to say.
Raising his hand slowly, he asked, "May I interject?"
Catching a word before you began the next section of your presentation, you looked to him. "No," you said softly. "Not yet."
"Sorry," he apologized quietly.
Hearing such a small voice from your partner tugged at your heartstrings. He was always so sure of himself. Albeit, cautious at times. You hoped that the whole display was not making him uncomfortable. But you could not phantom any other way to communicate such a topic with him without it being brushed off somehow.
"There's no need to apologize, you wonderful man, you," you assured. "Where was I?" You mumbled, peering back at the board. "Facial features! Have you seen your jawline? Granted, I'll keep it simple. The angle, the tappering, the little thing that your chin does--it's cute--but that's beside the point."
Simon soon found himself smiling. There was no harsh or finger pointing accusations. No. His partner was pointing out details, yes, but comparing photos of himself to Gazerbeam with such tenderness and familiarity. Not even in his wildest late night thoughts did he imagine you taking the time to create and meticulously gather your own evidence.
Letting out a laugh, you pointed briefly at him. "And don't get me started on your lips, Mister Paladino. I think I've stared at those lips longingly enough to know them on sight. Chapped or not."
His entire face flushed. Even up to the tips of his ears. The rush of nerves coursed through him in a sudden warmth. Compliments, especially such intimate ones, were still so foreign to him. And never did he recall you admitting a statement quite like that. "Longingly?" He asked, hands smoothing down the fabric on his thighs as if he did not know what to do with them.
You nodded firmly. "Yes, longingly. When we first started to date. It had hardly been a week before I thought about kissing you."
"Oh," he breathed out quietly.
"And finally…in the most unprofessional manner… How could I not recognize a voice that I've heard so closely to my ear? A voice that I have so keenly listened to for hours at a time, if I'm lucky."
Silence hung unbearably between you. It was starting to feel like the longest minute of your life. And if you did not step up the courage to break it now, you might have lost all hope.
Setting down the ruler, you clasped your hands together. "Listen," you began softly, "I know that this is…a lot, but I can't let this go. If this is a part of your life, then you won't have to make yourself uncomfortable with digging up an excuse to leave or cancel plans that we've made. I've accepted every reason that you've ever given me."
Simon shifted on the couch cushion. It was true that he had given one reason it another to leave just as a date was going well. He was just surprised that beyond a second date that you continued to pursue and preserve the relationship blooming between you. The thought, your understanding gesture, made his heart warm his entire chest.
"I know that this is a secret for a reason. Obviously. But I'm your partner, Simon, of course I want you to be safe and happy. I want to be there for you in all aspects of your life like you are with mine." You ran a hand over your hair to take a breath, not realizing your heartrate rising. "I care about your well-being, so why in the world would I ever tell or even remotely hint at knowing or sharing your identity? I care about you too much to ever consider it."
The tears brimming your eyes tore at Simon. His eyes kept flicking back to the genuine honesty within them. But how could he ever handle what may become of such an acknowledgement? He found his hands trembling again before he sucked in a breath and finally stood. "I am Gazerbeam," he said with a wave of confidence that sent a chill up your back.
You sighed, your shoulders dropping in the relief you felt wash over you. "That certainly explains a few extra details."
In his confusion, his brows knitted together in a way that was too cute for you not to smile at. "Extra things?"
"Yes," you took two short strides to reach him. A smirk quirked up the corner of your mouth. "A few specific physical details," you emphasized by placing your palms on his chest. The warmth of his body radiated through his blazer. Though your fingers itched to reach his crisp button down shirt underneath.
"I…um…" The bashfulness hitting him tore away his usually articulate vocabulary. Reducing him to a flutter of eyelashes in his attempts to blink his way back to his senses.
"And believe me when I say that I have no problem having a strong lawyer for a boyfriend." You grinned playfully up into his blue eyes even as they shifted their focus away from you and back again. "I just don't think that I ever can comprehend how you make time for everything. Even me, somehow…"
Concern flashed over his eyes, the space between his eyebrows crinkling from your words. Gently, he reached up to cradle your face in his hands. "I have--want to make time for you," he said, hardly above a whisper. "I…care too much to even phantom ruining the relationship we have… And now that you know…"
Cutting off his pause of thought with a kiss, you bumped the tip of your nose to his. "I will love and understand you all the more."
A small gasp left Simon's mouth as he gazed at you for a short moment with tears welling around his lids. "You're, uh, quite a discerning individual," he mused with a joyful grin. "I think your capacity for empathy is most admirable."
"Yeah?" You asked, fingers trailing up the collar of his blazer.
"Yes," he nodded quickly. The way he kept looking around your face with increasing speed sent his heartrate up gradually. But it was your nearing closeness that had his head already spinning before your lips pressed to his in a soft exchange of kisses. One of his hands slid away from your cheek, curving around the back of your neck gingerly. To have you so close to him made him simaltaneously dizzy and elated. As if everything was right with the world at an expodential level.
Pulling back slightly, you giggled at Simon's expression. His eyelids were heavy, a contrast to his parted lips. And the blissful sigh that slipped out made you all the more pleased at how your presentation turned out.
"Admirable, was the last thing you were saying," you reminded with a brush of your lips to his.
"Right," he sighed again, his forehead leaning against yours. "As much as I like that you set up an entire presentation…it would be best to dismantle it as soon as possible."
"I know." You pursed your lips, not wanting to take apart all of your hard work just yet. But, you knew it needed to be done eventually. A glimmer shone in your eyes at his other acknowledgement though. "Did you really like it?"
The pad of his thumb smoothed over your cheek. How was he to formulate the correct words to fully articulate the depths of how he felt? "I do."
The most giddy of grins took over your face. Not only did he trust you with his secret, but he liked how you portrayed your evidence to him. As silly as it may have been, you found yourself bursting with joy. Diving your fingers into his well-kept hair, you tilted your head just enough to deepen the next kiss. And the many others to follow after.
Between the rising heat of kisses, Simon spoke complimentary of you. "I can't believe…you figured it out… You're so perceptive," he murmured, lost in the very essence of you. "Only you could have come to this conclusion."
"I would certainly hope so," you snickered. "I'm the only one who gets to be this close. At least in this way."
"That is true."
"And Simon?"
"Hmmm?"
"Your baratone and speech pattern aren't exactly common, love." You pointed out softly, adjusting his tie slightly.
"I…suppose you're right about that as well." He mumbled, his frown not lasting a single second as your lips met his once more. "But…now that you know, I must confess that I do have a meeting to attend."
"So soon?"
"If you wish it of me," he took a steadying breath, "I can return later. Though it will be night by then."
"Simon," you smiled at him fondly, "I'll give you a spare key. You can come over whenever you're ready tonight."
"Thank you. I will try to return at a reasonable hour, but if that's not the case," he swallowed thickly, "I will be quiet, as to not disturb your night."
"You can't possibly disturb me," you laughed gently. Patting his chest, you forced yourself to step back. "Now don't be late. You have important things to do, Mister Paladino."
As he made his way toward the door, you held up an index finger. He indeed waited while you hastily darted into the bedroom to retrieve the spare key and return to him.
"I'll keep this safe," he assured, placing the key into a pocket.
"You keep safe," you pecked your lips to his.
With a confirming nod, Simon left.
And though you did not know what exactly he would be doing, or if it were to be dangerous, you knew one thing for sure: your favorite Super would do everything in his power to return to you that evening.
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Thank you for reading!
✨ I fully intend to make more fanfics for Gazerbeam next year ✨
