“Save Me, Robin!”

ɞ While trying to get home at night, a few thieves harass you, but luckily, Robin is there to save you. After such an eventful night, you simply have to tell your friends Damian and Jon about what happened.

ɞ Warnings: This is the first time I've ever made a request. I hope you like it, anon!

The streets of Gotham were never particularly kind after midnight. You knew that.

You had grown up hearing stories about muggings, robberies, and the occasional appearance of one of the city's masked vigilantes. You had learned which streets to avoid and which train stations were safer after dark.

Usually, you were careful. Tonight, however, you had made one mistake. Your phone had died. Completely. The black screen reflected your own worried face as you pressed the power button one more time. Nothing.

“Great,” You whispered. Your breath appeared faintly in the cold air. You had been stupid enough not to charge it before leaving campus. You had even forgotten your power bank, despite usually carrying it everywhere. And the last train you could have taken had departed nearly twenty minutes ago.

You slipped the useless phone into your coat pocket. "Brilliant, Y/N."

You pulled your coat tighter around yourself and continued walking. Your apartment wasn't terribly far away. Fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty if you walked slowly. You could manage that. This wasn't the first time this had happened to you. You knew the route, you knew the streets. And, most importantly, you were going to be fine. What could possibly happen? That question would haunt you later.

The night air was cold, and the streets were quieter than you liked. The lights in almost all the apartments were off. It was as if the street had grown pitch black specifically to make you afraid. Streetlights illuminated patches of pavement while leaving the spaces between them in uneasy darkness. It was another wonderful night in Gotham.

You kept your eyes forward. You were trying to soothe yourself by humming one of the pop songs that have been trending lately. You glanced over your shoulder.

Nothing, just a deserted street. You exhaled slowly.

"It's fine," You whispered to yourself. You weren’t usually frightened easily. But Gotham at one in the morning was different and you weren’t Batman.

You were halfway through a narrow street when you heard footsteps behind you. You glanced behind you without being noticed. Two men. They weren't walking particularly quickly, but they were following the same direction.

Your heart began to beat faster. Don't panic.

You crossed the street in a rush. The footsteps crossed too. Your breathing became shallow. As you walked faster and turned the corner, a man blocked your path. You could feel the two men behind you right on your heels.

He smiled, revealing the chipped front teeth that had blocked his path. “Well, look what we have here.” He was broad shouldered, unshaven, and wearing a dark jacket that looked several sizes too large.

You instinctively stepped backward. “Please,” You said quietly. “I don't have anything.”

“Didn't ask what you had sweetheart.” Said the one in the back. Apparently, they were operating as a gang, cornering defenseless, solitary people in the streets.

Your hands trembled. You hated this, hated how helpless you suddenly felt. There was no power inside you waiting to awaken. No secret ability. No miraculous strength. You thought for a moment: if these three men attacked you, what could you really do? Could you handle all three of them at once? You were simply you. An ordinary university student standing alone in a Gotham alley at nearly midnight.

“Give me your bag.”

You tightened you grip around it. “Please, just take it.”

“Smart girl.” The man reached toward you. You flinched for a moment, and then something dropped from above. It was something quite hard. It struck the man's shoulder with enough force to send him crashing sideways. He hit the pavement with a groan, before he could touch you.

A figure clad in black stepped between you and the other men. The unmistakable silhouette of Robin. The remaining thieves froze. Robin slowly straightened.

“Three against one?” His voice was young, much younger than you had expected. Cold, controlled, and edged with unmistakable arrogance.

He stepped forward. “You're either incredibly stupid or remarkably confident.

One of the men pulled a knife. Your breath caught, but Robin didn't even hesitate. The faintest hint of annoyance crossed his face. "You chose the stupid option."

The attacker lunged and Robin moved. You barely saw what happened. He caught the man's wrist and twisted. The knife clattered onto the pavement. A sharp strike to the ribs. Your eyes were darting about, trying to follow his quick movements. You had seen Robin on television before. Everyone in Gotham had. But seeing him in person was completely different. He was terrifying, efficient and almost frighteningly calm.

The man slammed against the wall. The second attacker charged from behind. Robin bent down and kicked the man in the knees so hard that you winced. He couldn't even make a sound as he crashed face first onto the ground.

The third man was smarter than the others, so he started running. Robin sighed. "Really?"

He disappeared after him. You stared, what the fuck had happened? Three seconds later, the man was dragged back by the collar. Robin dropped him beside the others. "Running makes this embarrassing for both of us."

Within seconds, all three men were on the ground. Robin turned toward you. You immediately took a step backward. It was completely instinctive, and Robin seemed to know it too. Even though the self assurance in his voice remained the same, there was no trace of that harshness. “Are you hurt?”

You swallowed. “No.” Your voice came out barely above a whisper.

Robin studied you carefully. “Are you certain?”

“Yes.”

Robin’s gaze drifted to your hands, and he noticed how they were trembling. It was infuriating. You, being alone in a back alley in the middle of the night, terrified like that... Damian tried to compose himself, but you were the one standing right there, how could he not be furious? What if he hadn't made it in time? What if he had arrived too late? He didn't even want to think about those possibilities.

“You shouldn't be walking alone this late.”

You lowered your gaze. “My phone died.”

You pulled it from your pocket and held it up as evidence. Robin stared at the black screen. "And you decided the logical response was to walk through Gotham alone."

You frowned slightly. "When you say it like that, it sounds like a bad idea."

"It was a bad idea."

You looked at him. "You're not very reassuring."

"I'm not attempting to reassure you." Well, Robin really had a sharp tongue. The absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh.

And of course, Damian noticed the small smile forming on her lips. It was one of his favorite things, how could he not notice? His expression shifted for half a second.

Then he asked, “Where do you live?” It was hilarious of him to ask that, as if he didn't know. He had spent countless nights at your place during midterm weeks.

You hesitated, and he noticed that too. “I am not going to hurt you.”

“I know.” The answer came immediately.

Robin paused. “You do?”

You looked up at him. “You're Robin.” You said as you were pointing out something very obvious.

Something strangely warm moved through Damian's chest. You trusted him. Even without knowing who he was. Even without knowing the person underneath the mask.

“Yes,” he answered.

“I'll take you home.”

“You don't have to.”

“I wasn't asking.” There was the familiar Robin arrogance in his voice.

“Okay.” You smiled at him while saying thank you.

Damian looked away before you could notice how much that smile affected him.

He didn't understand why it did. It was simply a smile. People smiled at him all the time. Usually because they were nervous. Sometimes because they wanted something or because they were afraid. Yours had been different. It had been genuine. Damian felt that your smiles were meant for him.

You gave him the address he already knew by heart. Even though you tried not to let it show, it was as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. The fact that you wouldn't be walking home alone brought you great relief.

The way home was quite quiet. He walked beside you. It was far enough not to cross the line, yet close enough to feel you. You thought life was pretty strange. You were heading home with Robin in the middle of the night, after he had saved you.

You glanced at him occasionally. His muscular arms, revealed whenever his cape shifted, looked truly impressive. Not to mention his confident stride and his shoulders. “You really do this every night?”

“Something like that.”

"You don't get tired?"

"I do."

You looked surprised. "You admit it?" You hadn't thought he would accept it so easily.

"I am not incapable of experiencing fatigue." You laughed softly.

Damian stared at you. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You were laughing."

"I know."

"Why?"

"Because you sound like a ninety year old man."

His eyebrows drew together. "I do not."

"You kind of do."

"I assure you, I do not."

You smiled again. "Okay, Robin."

He looked forward again. A faint warmth had begun spreading through his chest. He didn't understand that either.

After another few steps, you asked, "Doesn't it scare you?"

"What?"

"This." You gestured vaguely at the city. "The fighting. The criminals. Going out every night knowing someone might be waiting for you."

Damian was quiet. It took only a few seconds to think about it, then he answered honestly. "No."

You looked at him. "Never?"

"Fear is useful."

You frowned. "That wasn't my question."

He glanced at you. "No."

You smiled faintly. "I think I'd be terrified."

"You're not trained."

"That is true."

"You have no combat experience."

"Also true."

"You would not last five seconds against someone properly trained."

You shot him a look as if you were offended, but both of you knew it was feigned. Damian knew because he had learned long ago how much you enjoyed pretending to be offended by the things he said.

"Was that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No."

"You're terrible at comforting people."

"I have never claimed otherwise."

You laughed again. This time Damian allowed the corner of his mouth to lift almost imperceptibly. Neither of you noticed. You continued walking in silence for a few more minutes. Walking alongside him in the flickering moonlight felt pleasantly strange. It felt safe and comfortable.

For Damian, this silence was everything. He had spent years surrounded by violence, expectations, bloodlines, missions, and people demanding that he become something. But walking beside you beneath the Gotham streetlights felt simple. He didn't need to be anyone. He only needed to make sure you got home safely.

When you reached your building, you both stopped. “This is me.”

Robin nodded. “Go inside.”

You hesitated, but before opening the building's door, you turned around one last time. “Robin?”

“Yes?”

"Thank you."

Damian looked away. "You don't have to thank me."

"I do."

"No."

"Yes, I do."

"You were in danger. I intervened."

"That's exactly why I'm thanking you." He didn't have an answer for that, so he said nothing. But you were looking at him as though the answer were obvious.

"Goodnight, Robin." And before Damian could respond, you disappeared through the doors. He remained standing on the pavement. For several seconds, he didn't move, then he slowly looked up toward the Gotham skyline. The clouds had begun to thin, allowing a few stars to appear above the city. His expression remained unreadable, but then very faintly a reluctant smile touched his mouth.

The following morning, you walked into the university lecture hall with a coffee in one hand and your books in the other. You were exhausted. Not ordinary, I stayed up too late studying exhausted. It felt as if you had shouldered the entire world during the night. You had barely slept.

Every time you closed your eyes, you remembered the alley, and then Robin. The blur of black armor dropping from the darkness. The calmness in his voice. The impossible speed of his movements. The way he'd looked at your trembling hands. Are you hurt?

You had replayed that moment so many times that you had eventually stopped trying to sleep. You took another sip of coffee. It was already lukewarm.

You grimaced. "Of course." Apparently, even your coffee had decided to betray you.

The lecture hall was already filling. Students were scattered across the rows, some talking quietly, others scrolling through their phones while they waited for the professor. Pale morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows, painting long golden rectangles across the wooden floor.

You looked toward your usual seat. Damian Wayne was already there. Of course he was. He seemed incapable of being late to anything. He sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his dark hair perfectly in place, his expression suggesting that the entire lecture hall had personally offended him by continuing to exist.

Beside him sat Jon Kent. Jon was the complete opposite. Where Damian looked as though he had been personally summoned to judge humanity, Jon was smiling at something on his phone.

The moment he noticed you, his face brightened. "Morning!"

You managed a tired smile. "Morning."

You slipped into the empty seat beside them and let your books fall onto the desk with a heavy thud. Then you sat down, and immediately slumped forward.

Jon stared at you. "Wow."

You lifted your head slightly. "What?"

"You look..." He paused. "Dead."

You gave him a flat look. "Thank you, Jon."

"You're welcome."

Damian's eyes had already moved toward you. He said nothing, but he noticed. The faint shadows beneath your eyes. The slight messiness of your pretty hair. The way your fingers curled around the coffee cup as though it were the only thing keeping you conscious. And, more importantly, the exhaustion you were trying very hard to hide.

"You didn't sleep."

You turned your head toward him. "How did you know?"

"You look tired."

"That's incredibly insightful."

"I have many talents." Jon snorted, and Damian ignored him.

You took another sip of coffee and immediately regretted it. "How do you even look this awake at eight in the morning?"

Damian raised an eyebrow. "I went to sleep."

"When?"

"At a reasonable hour."

You narrowed your eyes. "You're unbearable before coffee."

"I am unbearable regardless of coffee."

Jon glanced between you. “Did something happen?”

You spoke in a lowered voice, as if sharing a great secret. “Something happened last night.”

Damian's posture changed instantly. His arms unfolded. “What?”

You leaned closer to the two of them. "I was walking home."

Damian's jaw tightened. "Alone?"

"Yes."

Jon immediately looked concerned. "Y/N..."

You continued. "My phone died, and I missed the last train."

Damian stared at you. "You walked home?"

"I didn't have much choice."

"You had several choices."

You frowned. "Such as?"

"Calling someone."

"My phone was dead."

"Finding a public place."

"It was almost one in the morning."

"Then you should have stayed where you were."

You blinked. "Damian, are you lecturing me?"

"No."

Jon looked at him. "You are absolutely lecturing her." Damian ignored him.

You sighed. "Anyway..." You lowered your voice further. "Three men tried to rob me."

Jon's expression immediately changed. "What?"

You nodded. "They cornered me in an alley."

His smile disappeared completely. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No."

Damian's voice was quieter. "Did they touch you?"

"No," You said gently. "They didn't."

Damian's hand curled into a fist beneath the desk. Even though he knew perfectly well that you were fine, he couldn't help but check again. He had to force himself not to ask too many questions. Three men. He remembered every face. Every movement and every word.

Jon was still looking at you. "How did you get away?"

"Robin saved me."

Jon's eyebrows shot upward. "Robin?"

"Yeah." Damian stared straight ahead. His face became perfectly expressionless. Jon slowly turned toward him. There was a spark of unmistakable amusement in his blue eyes. Damian caught it, and he turned his head slightly. The warning in his eyes was unmistakable. Don't. Jon's lips pressed together. God, he knew that what you went through last night was terrible, but the situation was so absurd that it was very hard not to laugh.

He looked away for approximately three seconds. Then his curiosity won. "What was he like?"

You thought about it. "He was..." Your smile softened. "Kind."

Damian's eyes flickered toward you. You continued. "Very serious. He walked me home."

Jon couldn't help but laugh. "Who could have known Robin was a gentlemen?" Damian looked as if he were literally going to kill him with his glare.

"I think Jon is right. The media portrays him incorrectly. He was really nice."

Damian's eyes immediately moved toward you. "Nice?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

"He is a masked vigilante."

"That doesn't mean he can't be nice."

"You don't know him."

"I know he saved me."

"That doesn't mean you know who he is."

You tilted your head. "You sound strangely invested in this."

"I'm being rational."

After Damian's absurd words, you looked at him for a few seconds. Then a mischievous smile slowly appeared on your face. "Damian, are you jealous?"

Damian nearly choked. Jon immediately covered his mouth. You still stared at Damian. For perhaps the first time in your life, you saw the great Damian Wayne genuinely lose his composure. His eyes widened, and his lips parted.

He looked almost offended by the very concept. "I-" He stopped. It was as if he had suddenly forgotten how to speak.

You touched Damian's hand, laughing. "I'm joking."

Damian looked back at you. "Obviously." But there was a faint flush at the tips of his ears. You noticed that.

"Relax."

"I am relaxed."

"You look angry."

"I always look angry."

Jon nodded. "That's true."

You leaned back in your chair. "Besides, Robin was just helping me."

"Exactly." Damian answered too quickly.

You raised an eyebrow. "Exactly?"

He paused for a second. "Yes."

"Then why were you so defensive?"

"I wasn't defensive."

"You absolutely were."

"I was merely pointing out the dangers of trusting strangers."

You smiled. "You're strange, Damian Wayne."

He looked at you. "And yet you continue to sit beside me."

"Because Jon saves me a seat."

Jon raised a hand. "Finally. Recognition." Damian rolled his eyes.

You laughed softly. The sound caught him off guard. He looked at you for a moment longer than he should have. There was something almost unbearably gentle about you. Even exhausted, even after what had happened, you were still smiling. Still laughing, still trying to make everyone else comfortable. And Damian wondered how someone could remain so kind after the world had given them every reason not to be. His gaze dropped to the desk.

He is in love with you.

The realization wasn't new. It had been growing quietly for longer than he cared to admit. But sitting there beside you, listening to you talk about Robin without knowing that Robin was sitting less than two feet away from you...

It was almost painful.

You thought Damian Wayne was merely your arrogant, difficult, strangely protective classmate. You didn't know that every night, beneath Gotham's rooftops, Robin watched over your neighborhood. You didn't know that the boy who had walked you home through the darkness was the same boy sitting beside you now.

You didn't know that Damian had memorized your address long before last night. You didn't know that, when he patrolled Gotham, he noticed whether the lights in your apartment building were on. You didn't know that he had quietly added your street to the list of places he checked more frequently.

And Damian intended to keep it that way. For now, you didn't know. For now, you didn't have to. He could keep the secret. He could remain Robin beneath Gotham's moonlit skies and Damian Wayne beneath the fluorescent lights of the university.

Two identities, two lives. And one girl who had somehow become the most important person in both.

ɞ English is not my first language! So please do not hesitate to politely point out if I make a mistake. Thank you for reading! 🤍

ɞ Anon, after reading this, send me a dm so I can find out what you thought of it!

THE SIN:BLISS IS OUT IN 15 MINUTES EVERYONE PLEASE STREAM IT AND GIVE THEM LOVE🩷🩷🩷🩷

THIS ALBUM IS SO GOOD OMG SHEUQIDJ

After two listens, highlight might be my favorite next to two fools, but the rest of the songs omgggggg their vocals were AMAZING, especially in Bad For you, literally who did the adlib near the end????

Guys I’m crying with two fools😭😭 it makes me so sad for some reason

Anywho stream the sin bliss !!!

⋆˚cherry wine

⋆˚꩜｡ unearth writing event

. ۫·spencer reid x fem!reader

summary - When your daughter's biological dad crashes her dinner with Spencer, he turns to Garcia to help him figure out what it is you're not telling him about your ex.

word count - 3.5k

content warnings - stepdad!spencer x mom!reader, previous domestic violence, descriptions of threats against a child, descriptions of injuries, mentions of stalking and harassment. hurt/comfort.

read more step-dad!Spencer here.

Thursday nights had become something of a ritual for Spencer and Lily. Surrounded by the scent of fryer oil, grease stained walls, and the warmth radiating from Lily’s smile as she munched on her fries, Spencer watched the sky fade from a dusky pink to a twilight blue. Lily was intently focused on dipping her nugget into the cardboard carton of ketchup, one knee tucked up under her chin, the heel of her light-up sneakers resting against the red vinyl of the booth. Spencer had the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, the top button undone and his tie loosened now he was no longer on profiling duty. 

SLEEPER BUILD —.☘︎ spencer reid x fem!BAU!reader

You have had your share of near-death experiences.

Occupational hazard, as you like to joke whenever you tell your friends about the stories behind your injuries, as if joking about them would lessen the weight of the memory. How you had, for a suspended moment, almost crossed over to the threshold of whatever afterlife awaits.

The moments after always leaves you in a state. Half discombobulated, half numb, a star thrown off your orbit. Always, a shrill ringing dulls the rest of the world. Importunate laughter bubbles from your throat, the body's strange way of reassuring itself you're fine, you're fine, you're alive.

zayne has a certain fascination with romance anime.

you and i are polar opposites is one of his favorites. he secretly headcanons to himself that that’s what your relationship would’ve been like had you started dating earlier. tani is basically his mini-me, after all. 

the ice guy and his cool female colleague is another good one, mostly for its relatability. he, too, can cause a bit of an indoor snowstorm when he gets flustered by your charm. 

and he would do absolutely anything to try rintaro’s family’s sweets in the fragrant flower blooms with dignity. he has to watch that one on a full stomach, or else his mouth will water. 

every season, there's always some fluffy show with a noble girl who goes to marry a prince. they’re all so similar, it’s really not worth trying the new ones. watch, he’ll prove it! episode 1, starting now. 

…before he knows it, he's imagining himself as the prince and you as the princess, overcoming evil dragons and misplaced envy from female adversaries [zayne shaking his head when there’s internalized misogyny in romance anime so you know he doesn’t support it]. but in the series finale, when the characters seal their love with a kiss, he finds the good moments outweigh the bad.

in some shows, when the hero is being particularly stubborn, refusing to acknowledge his overflowing feelings for the heroine, he gets the rare urge to throttle something. can you just tell her you love her already? he thinks. there are only three episodes left. we don’t have time for you to second-guess yourself! as he runs his hands through his hair, somewhat ashamed to be so invested in a romance between cartoon characters, a sudden thought makes him reconsider all his life choices. 

closed off and aloof despite being in love…does he behave that way around you? 

the next time he sees you, a bouquet will be necessary.

zayne likes romance shows because they’re fun, silly, and sweet. but even more than that, they teach him a lot about love that he missed growing up. as he streams each new episode, watching and learning, he gets a million more ideas of how to express his affections—how to be the loving man and partner that you deserve. 

i take writing my sexy statistics man very seriously

do you see how intensely I labor for you guys

clovers - osamu x reader || wc: 9.9k || tags: childhood friends -> lovers, pining osamu and pining reader, growing up together, hidden relationship, fluff || this is a gift fic for @earth-0 as part of @sodaneko's summer gift exchange! thank you for being so patient in waiting and i hope you enjoy it <3 I had so much fun being a part of the exchange! || masterlist || taglist form

Rain pattered gently on the sidewalk, giant puddles pooling in the dips of the road. Excited eyes watched the droplets as they raced down the pane of the glass to mesh together somewhere along the bottom. Just past the corner of your street is another house, similar to your own except the shiplap is an off-white while the ones of your home are a dulled yellow.

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧

Things between you and Peter change with the seasons. [17k] 

c: friends-to-lovers, hurt/comfort, loneliness, peter parker isn’t good at hiding his alter ego, fluff, first kisses, mutual pining, loved-up epilogue, mention of self-harm with no graphic imagery

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ

Fall 

Peter Parker is a resting place for overworked eyes, like warm topaz nestled against a blue-cold city. He waits on you with his eyes to the screen of his phone, clicking the power button repetitively. A nervous tic. 

You close the heavy door of your apartment building. His head stays still, yet he’s heard the sound of it settling, evidence in his calmed hand. 

“Good morning!” You pull your coat on quickly. “Sorry.” 

“Good morning,” he says, offering a sleep-logged smile. “Should we go?” 

You follow Peter out of the cul-de-sac and into the street as he drops his phone into a deep pocket. To his credit, he doesn’t check it while you walk, and only glances at it when you’re taking your coat off in the heat of your favourite cafe: The Moroccan Mode glows around you, fog kissing the windows, condensation running down the inner lengths of it in beads. You murmur something to do with the odd fog and Peter tells you about water vapour. When it rains tonight, he says it’ll be warm water that falls. 

He spreads his textbook, notebook, and rinky-dink laptop out across the table while you order drinks. Peter has the same thing every visit, a decaf americano, in a wide brim mug with the pink-petal saucer. You put it down on his textbook only because that’s where he would put it himself, and you both get to work. 

As Peter helps you study, you note the simplicity of another normal day, and can’t help wondering what it is that’s missing. Something is, something Peter won’t tell you, the absence of a truth hanging over your heads. You ask him if he wants to get dinner and he says no, he’s busy. You ask him to see a movie on Friday night and he wishes he could. 

Peter misses you. When he tells you, you believe him. “I wish I had more time,” he says. 

“It’s fine,” you say, “you can’t help it.”

“We’ll do something next weekend,” he says. The lie slips out easily. 

To Peter it isn’t a lie. In his head, he’ll find the time for you again, and you’ll be friends like you used to be. 

You press the end of your pencil into your cheek, the dark roast, white paper and condensation like grey noise. This time last year, the air had been thick for days with fog you could cut. He took you on a trip to Manhattan, less than an hour from your red-brick neighbourhood, and you spent the day in a hotel pool throwing great cupfuls of water at each other. The fog was gone just fifteen miles away from home but the warm air stayed. When it rained it was sudden, strange, spit-warm splashes of it hammering the tops of your heads, your cheeks as you tipped your faces back to spy the dark clouds. 

Peter had swam the short distance to you and held your shoulders. You remember feeling like your whole life was there, somewhere you’d never been before, the sharp edges of cracked pool tile just under your feet. 

You peek over the top of your laptop screen and wonder if Peter ever thinks of that trip. 

He feels you watching and meets your eyes. “I have to tell you something,” he says, smiling shyly. 

⊹ ࣪ ˖ The Scientific Method of Flirting ─ Spencer Reid.

୨ৎ ──── flirting lessons. 6,4k. fem!reader. such a slow burn that it doesn’t even burn. flirty reid. english isn't my first language. main masterlist.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Head Made Of Wax ─ Peter Parker.

୨ৎ ──── memory loss. 6,1k. fem!reader. fluffy & chaotic. imagine whatever peter you want, but harry and mj/mary jane shows up for the sake of the plot. college au. friends to lovers. english isn't my first language. main masterlist.

it makes me sick how people try to make this about themselves, the fandom or niki. whether it's an anti weaponizing the poor girls de*th to blame the group, an insufferable fan saying "im leaving the fandom!!" or someone sending threats to ni-ki. how can you react this way after watching someone get cyberbullied to the point they literally kts? this isn't about you or enhypen. someone lost their LIFE. have some sympathy for once

BLACK TIE

Between teaching, research, and consultations, there's not much time on your schedule left for shopping. Unfortunately, shopping is exactly what you have to do, as your best friend's wedding is creeping ever closer and the dresses in your closet are comically unfit for neither theme.

A Winter Ball.

WIRED TOGETHER

"You have a degree in engineering, right?"

Spencer blinks, setting his mug of coffee down before he nods.

"Why's this relevant?" he eyes the pile of 19th century research spread across your side of the table in the cafe as if he's already calculating how to link those two topics. It's not unusual at this point—you've found ways to discuss subjects that seem even more unrelated. But the structural integrity of 19th century buildings and their textual symbolism isn't what you're worried about right now.

One-shot! "Dare Me".

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: ~19,6K (I know it's quite long, but once I started I couldn't stop.🫦)

Setting: Sixth year, during the Triwizard Tournament

CW: discussion of parental abandonment, anxiety around abandonment/attachment, brief mention of a parent leaving a family, a slut-shaming comment (challenged, not dwelt on), a panic-attack-adjacent moment, angst, a few kisses, one shirtless-adjacent scene (nothing explicit), swearing, emotional hurt/comfort, a misunderstanding trope, a brief argument, happy ending.

Summary: Everyone at Hogwarts knows two things: Fred Weasley is hopelessly, publicly, embarrassingly in love with you, and you don't do relationships — only casual, only temporary, only safe. So when you bet him he can't last a month as your boyfriend without losing his patience, you expect an easy win. You've never lost a bet in your life. You didn't expect this one to cost you your heart.

Masterlist here!

Director's note: Maybe some of the days or timeframes of the bet sound incoherent(? I'm not good with numbers and I got a little confused in the middle, but I think it turned out well. Anyway, please think of it as fiction! I loved how this one-shot turned out, and I'm planning a themed series of one-shots with Harry Potter characters. I hope you like it!

i am SICK

𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐰

wc: 1.5k

summary: after all, Peter just needs a friend

masterlist

warnings: spoilerss, mention of body insecurity (this is really self-indulgent, okay?), written in third person. It’s a really short one I wrote after watching the movie. I’ll write something better over the next few days, but I think it’s worth sharing

Peter felt strange at the thought of what he was about to do.

This is the cutest :((( he’s such a sweetheart awwww