✮⋆˙ the horizon tries but it's just not as kind on the eyes
⋆.˚ ★— as arabella
✦ ⋆ ࣪. introducing yours truly!
fifteen | she/her | bisexual | aspiring writer | spencer reid's no.1 fan | bob reynolds girl | aspiring photographer | spiderman-obsessed | arctic monkeys stan | music lover | dave franco fangirl | daydreamer | fox mulder if he was a teen girl | wallows repeater | musical theatre addict | val kilmer enthusiast | electric guitarist |
✦ ⋆ ࣪. fandoms!
marvel | pjo & hoo | x-files | criminal minds | nysm | top gun | grishaverse | + way way more |
⋆˙ ⋆⭒˚.⋆ fic masterlist | series masterlist
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── requests are OPEN !
➢ ﹔୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ requesting guidelines
| will not write nsfw | will not write problematic content (illegal age-gaps, incest, etc.)
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I like that Supergirl says it’s okay to kill someone’s abuser so long as you don’t let the thirteen year old do it and I like that Supergirl says vengeance will not solve things but neither will allowing a cycle of violence to continue
୨ৎ summary: you absolutely love your job at the daily planet without a question. you'll be the first to admit most of your friends are from work. especially clark. you just seem to click. you'd never really paid too much attention to your relationship with him, until a quip from jimmy olsen sends you spiraling.
୨ৎ pairing: clark kent x journalist!reader
୨ৎ warnings/tags: wingman!jimmy olsen AND wingwoman!lois, language, fluff, down bad clark and oblivious reader, and then reader is lwk avoidant :(
୨ৎ word count: 3.0k
୨ৎ a/n: ANNDDD another or3 inspired fic 😂😂😂😂 sorry guys I got busy building my daily bugle lego and forgot to write !! anyways first clark kent fic (so hyped for supergirl too) and enjoy! also if you are an actual journalist or educated in the field I deeply apologize because this is not accurate :( my only qualifications are two semesters of beginning journalism my bad 😞 don't mind any typos I finished this at 2 am and i'm tired
There simply never was (and probably never will be) a dull moment working at the Daily Planet. It seemed like every day, there was something new and novel to report on. In part, that’s why you loved your job. Stories cropped up all the time, and the city held endless treasures to investigate. As of late, the newest gem of Metropolis was their resident superhero, the affectionately named “Superman”. And even more recently, your dear friend Clark Kent had been getting quite a bit of recognition for his stories about Superman. After all, it was quite an impressive feat to score several interviews with the local superhero. Stories like that were headline-worthy, and you couldn’t be prouder of him.
Where exactly do you even begin with the character that is Clark Kent? To keep a long story short, he was one of your best friends. When you were first hired at the Daily Planet, Clark invited you to sit in the empty desk next to him. And with those kind eyes and even kinder smile, how could you refuse? He made easy conversation, shared bits of his lunch with you, and helped make the Daily Planet feel like home. From there, the two of you only grew closer. Quickly, there was nothing that the Daily Planet’s dynamic duo couldn’t handle. You and Clark were more or less joined at the hip. Jimmy even started referring to you as “Woodward and Bernstein” (a bit that Lois and some of the other writers picked up). It was a joke you’d smile and shrug off, and you’d never notice the pink flush that dusted Clark’s face as he awkwardly laughed.
Today, you came into the office and immediately noticed Clark’s dark curls peeking over the cubicle walls. He was engrossed in whatever article was pulled up on his screen, and then yanked out of his trance when you sat down at your desk.
“Morning!” Clark said, smiling. Like always, he seemed to be in good spirits. You were grateful for that, Clark was a breath of fresh air, somehow managing to make everyone’s day just a tad better.
“Good morning to you too! Congrats on your headliner Clark, I saw it this morning!” You said excitedly, swiveling in your chair to face him.
“Ah, it’s nothing,” he mumbled, adjusting his glasses, “How about your opinion piece that just got published? Now that was awesome,” he continued, finally meeting your gaze.
“Oh shut up and take the compliment, Clark,” You retorted, lightly smacking him on the arm as you got up to grab a coffee. You poured out two cups, one for you, and one for Clark. He took his coffee with three sugars, and a little bit of creamer. You kept that little tidbit of information tucked away in the back of your mind for whenever you needed it. Such as now. Turning back around, you almost slammed right into Jimmy Olsen.
“Woah! Hey, where’s my coffee?” Jimmy asked, peering down at the two cups in your hand, with that familiar sarcastic cadence shining through.
“I don’t even know how you like your coffee, Jimmy,” You shook your head, walking past him.
“My bad, I forgot you and Clark shared a brain,” Jimmy scoffed, glancing back at Clark. He was sitting at his desk, focused on whatever article he was looking through.
"Green's not your color Jimmy," you tease, "And besides, knowing how someone likes their coffee isn't really an impressive feat."
"Yeah, yeah. Excuses, excuses," Jimmy replied, shrugging before heading back to his desk. You didn't really mull over the implications of Jimmy's remark, it was Jimmy Olsen after all. He liked to joke. You walked over to Clark's desk and set down his coffee. The small thud of the cup onto the wood of the desk made his head crane towards you.
"Oh wow, thanks! You really didn't have to, I was going to grab a cup myself pretty soon actually-" Clark trailed off, as if he was rethinking his ramble, "Um, thank you, for the coffee." He smiled at you. For a second, you two stared at each other. You noticed the shimmer in his blue eyes, behind the frames of his glasses. Somewhere behind you guys, Jimmy coughed loudly. Clark's eyes widened, and he quickly swiveled back to his computer. For a split second, you could have sworn he was blushing. As the hours ticked by at work, you checked your emails, scheduled interviews, and were just about to continue working on another article when you heard the familiar noise of footsteps behind your chair.
"Hey! I, um, had a quick question about some of these sources I found. I just wasn't too sure if they were, well reliable?" Clark asked, a paper slip in hand.
"Yeah for sure! Here, let me see," You asked, taking the paper from Clark's hands. His fingers brushed up against yours, and Clark was eternally grateful you couldn't feel his heart jump. You scanned over the list of websites he had found. Behind you, Clark leaned closely over your shoulder. He smelled vaguely of coffee and wood, probably due to whatever cologne he was wearing. It was a comforting smell, one that you were plenty familiar with. After finishing reading through his list (a task that took way longer than you wanted to admit), you handed the paper back.
"Yeah, everything looks good!" You told Clark, running your hands over the fabric of your skirt. Something about him leaning over you with his hand on your chair, watching you so intently, made your pulse quicken.
"Perfect! Thanks a ton, uh, maybe I could repay the favor with a cup of coffee?" Clark asked, a nervous laugh escaping his throat.
"Oh it's ok, don't mention it Clark!" You replied, grabbing a stack of files off your desk, "I gotta go run these over upstairs but I'll see you soon!" You waved at Clark, a gesture that he returned with a smile on his face. Once you had disappeared into the elevator, he sat back down at his desk with a sigh.
"Damn, how many times has that gone over her head?" Jimmy's voice popped up behind him, making Clark jump, "You really suck at this, Clark."
"Jeez, I don't know what I'm doing wrong Jimmy. Y'know, maybe you were wrong, maybe she just doesn't like me?" Clark said dejectedly.
"Nah, I'm telling you, she likes you. You just gotta be more, up front about it," Jimmy reassured Clark, clapping him on the back.
"What does that mean?"
"Figure it out man," Jimmy waved his hand towards Clark, "Look, I can pick her brain about it later, alright? Have faith in me Clark."
"Yeah, I can do that…" Clark trailed off, like he barely believed what he was saying. Around a half-hour later—which felt closer to a couple of hours for Clark— you walked through the elevator doors and back into the Daily Planet. Quicker than you'd like to admit, your eyes sought out Clark's familiar face. From across the room, your eyes met his. You'd rather not think too hard about the fact that he was already looking your way. Maybe it was a coincidence? Lost in thought, you rounded the corner, where once again, you ran into Jimmy Olsen.
"Come on, we've got to stop running into each other like this," Jimmy said, falling into step next to you.
"What can I do for you now, Jimmy?" You asked, raising an eyebrow at whatever foolish remark was about to leave his mouth.
"Saw you and Clark earlier, you two looked pretty cozy. What's up with that?" Jimmy questioned innocently.
"What? I was helping him with some sources he found, it wasn't-"
"Oh please, you really think Clark needs help verifying sources? If you asked me, he just wanted to talk to you," Jimmy quipped. The smirk on his face could be classified as downright devilish.
"I mean seriously, he's like a lost dog until you come in the room-" Jimmy continued, unaware of the fact that your stomach twisted with every word.
"Jimmy! Shut up, please." You cut him off, stopping dead in your tracks, "Clark and I are friends, don't be dramatic."
"Tell him that. Just saying, you guys would be great together, maybe you should get on that-"
"Zip it Jimmy!"
You returned back to your seat, far more flustered and nervous than you should have been.
"How'd it go upstairs?" Clark asked. Your words caught in your throat when you remembered Jimmy's remark. Did he seriously like you?
"Uh, it went fine." You replied. It came out a bit more harsh than you intended, and you felt sick when Clark's face dropped slightly at your half-hearted answer.
"Oh, that's good!"
"Mhm…" The awkward silence that ensued spoke volumes. You pretended that it didn't bother you, that you were now seeing your best friend in a whole new light. Instead, you typed away at your computer, and tried your best to ignore that Clark's eyes were boring into the side of your head.
That night, you went home and couldn't sleep. Suddenly, your mind replayed every interaction with Clark, rethinking every casual touch, every totally-platonic conversation, and every last aspect of your relationship. Sometime into the night, you realized that nearly nothing about your friendship was normal. Staring at each other across rooms, always somehow sitting too close to each other, knowing each other like the backs of your hands, how could you have thought any of that was just friendly? It was actually laughable. The next morning, the only thing you could feel was a swirling pit of anxiety in your stomach at the thought of facing Clark. How could you face him?
When you walked into the Daily Planet, you made a beeline for your desk. The last thing you wanted was to have to deal with Jimmy's teasing, or worse, to have to make awkward small-talk with Clark. Ultimately, you decided it'd be easier to drown yourself in work rather than confront the unsettling reality; you were in love with Clark Kent.
Clark came in a couple minutes after you, greeting you with his bright smiles and kind words. It almost irritated you, how nice he was. It happened to be one of the reasons you liked him so much. Unfortunately, it made it way harder to stop liking him. He made every effort to be nothing but gracious towards you, and now, all you could do was respond with a frigid "mhm".
This routine dragged on through the week, and admittedly, it was the worst week of your life. One day, Clark had enough. He missed his best friend, and he felt ill at the idea that you might be upset with him.
"Are you ok?" Clark asked, concerned.
"I'm fine?" You replied, a hint of annoyance seeping through your voice.
"You sure? Because if you aren't, you can talk to me-"
"Jeez Clark I'm fine!" That time, the undertones of annoyance had become much more apparent. But the moment your words left your mouth, you regretted them. Clark hardly deserved your wrath, but here he was. You weren't, not in the slightest. However, explaining that your bad mood was a consequence of Jimmy Olsen’s dreadful commentary was absolutely not an option.
“Oh, well alright…” Clark said, almost seeming despondent. Seeing Clark so upset was rare, and there was a certain brand of guilt that crushed you, knowing that you were the one at fault. You needed air, quickly. The break-room door swung open as you ducked inside. It was empty, save for Lois drinking her coffee at the table.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Lois remarked, raising an eyebrow. You could always trust Lois to be honest, it was one of her many admirable qualities.
“That bad huh?” You sighed, sitting down at the table, “Some stuff on my mind I guess.”
“Does it have anything to do with the fact that Clark’s sulking at his desk?” Lois suggested.
“How did you-”
“Just a hunch.”
“Y’know, it’s all Jimmy’s fault,” You groaned, letting your head fall onto the table.
“Of course it is, what’d he do now?” Lois grinned playfully. She had the kind of smile where you always felt like she knew something you didn’t.
“He kept going on this stupid rant about how me and Clark would be good together, and then I freaked out about it, and now I was accidentally kind of mean to Clark, and now apparently he’s sulking and probably hates me?” You rambled. It was almost comedic, right down to Lois’s wry smile.
“If it’s any consolation, I highly doubt he hates you,”
“Come on Lois, you too?” You exclaimed, sighing in defeat.
“What’s so wrong with the idea of being with Clark anyways?” Lois asked.
“Nothing but-”
“But what?”
“I don’t know, I just don’t want to ruin a good thing y’know?” You conceded. You liked Clark, a lot, but you weren’t even totally sure if he liked you in that sense. Besides, if by some miracle he did, who knows what would happen if you guys broke up? After all, you two were coworkers. What an awkward situation that would be. By now, you’d simply come to the conclusion it was safer to not say anything. Even if it made part of your heart shrivel up just a tiny bit.
“What if something better comes out of it though?” Lois posed. You understood she was trying to be the voice of optimism, but you weren’t feeling too inclined to listen to that right now.
“I don’t know Lois, it’s not really worth it…” It physically hurt to say that part out loud, but it was still true. You sighed, throwing your cup in the trash and heading towards the door.
“You never know until you try,” Lois called out to you. She watched you leave, and stared at the spot where you sat. She’s known you and Clark for years, and all she wants is a shot at happiness for you both. Lois could only hope you listened to what she said.
Lois’s words echoed in your head as you walked back to your desk. They bounced around in your brain when you sat down, and while you worked. They still hadn’t left your mind even when you felt Clark’s eyes land on you again. You knew him well enough to know when he wanted to say something. You waited, and waited. But he never said a thing. The rest of the day ticked by, and Lois’s voice persisted. No matter how much you wanted to ignore it, no matter how much you wanted to ignore Clark, it was never that easy.
You packed up your stuff, and slung your bag over your shoulder. Clark was still sitting at his desk, and didn’t look up until you had pushed in your chair.
“Wait! Could I maybe, walk you downstairs?” Clark offered, the small glimmer of hope returning in his eyes. And against your better judgment, you felt persuaded to agree. You could never say no to Clark anyways.
The heavy quiet that fell over you two in the elevator was wholly unfamiliar. You found yourself reminiscing on times where it was impossible to get you and Clark to be quiet. But that was back before you were plagued with worries of ruining your friendship with three simple words; I love you.
Outside the Daily Planet, the scorching mornings had cooled down to more manageable nighttime temperatures. Next to you stood Clark, and once again, Lois’s advice blared inside your brain. Yet, it was Clark who spoke first.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“What? No!” You replied incredulously.
“Sorry, it’s just that you seem distant and I feel like I did something wrong…” Clark admitted, “Do you, not like me?”
That was the furthest possible thing from the truth. This all became an issue because you liked him too much. Because you were afraid of what would happen if you ever let slip just how much you liked him. It was right then and there that you could not stand it anymore.
“No Clark, not at all. Kind of the opposite actually,” You started, wringing your hands nervously, “Look, Jimmy made this dumb comment about how me and you should get together, and I freaked. Because it made me realize just how much I actually liked you, and that was really, really, scary.” There it was. Your true feelings, cast into the night air. Clark’s face changed. At first you thought it was confusion. But then his eyes softened, and you recognized it on his face. You’d seen it on his face so many times before you could sketch it from memory. Happiness.
“Y’know, I’ve been trying for years to get you to catch on how I felt about you. But nope, it takes Jimmy Olsen to get through to you,” Clark joked (only he could joke at a time like this), “I mean, I’ve been nuts about you since I’ve met you, and seriously, all I’ve ever wanted is for you to see me.”
“I see you Clark,” You said softly, looking up at him. You didn’t notice how close you were to him until you could see the flecks of gray in those beautiful blue eyes. Clark’s hand reached out for yours, tentatively, before you interlaced your fingers with his. The sounds of Metropolis surrounded you, before you felt Clark’s gentle lips on yours. You could smell his cologne again, that distinct smell of coffee and warmth, and it enveloped you as he pulled you closer. And for those precious moments, it was simply you and him.
Somewhere in the Daily Planet, Jimmy Olsen and Lois Lane sat in the break-room.
“You think they’re finally gonna cave tonight?” Jimmy asked, glancing over at Lois.
“I don’t know, I’m doubting it,” Lois mused, “Wanna bet on it?” she offered.
“20 bucks says it’s happening tonight.” Jimmy said confidently.
“Deal.”
The next morning, when you and Clark walked into the Daily Planet hand-in-hand, Lois Lane owed a very smug Jimmy Olsen 20 bucks.
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"queer love isn't natural!!!" you know what IS natural, susan? mothers eating their own babies. snakes do it, so it's totally natural! and according to your logic, if it's natural, it's okay for humans!!!!!
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cinnamon & vanilla. lace tops. iced coffee. journaling. cats. big cities. s’mores chapstick. neapolitan ice cream. scribbles on a notepad. rainy days. mary janes
༊˚ journalist!reader, who takes pride in being diligent. she never misses deadlines, never loses track of her notes, and is always put-together. unorganization gives her a headache.
༊˚ journalist!reader, who absolutely NEEDS her alone time. after a day at her job full of socializing, those crucial hours to herself are what she needs to recharge.
༊˚ journalist!reader, who devotes her alone time to her hobbies. baking, journaling, even going outside and venturing around her city is how she spends her time.
༊˚ journalist!reader, who became a journalist in the pursuit of truth. she believes in the power of giving a voice to those who don't have one. more than anything, she writes to make a difference, even the smallest one.
༊˚ journalist!reader, who frequents the coffee shop down the street from her apartment complex every morning. by now, the baristas know her like she works there.
༊˚ journalist!reader, who is most definitely a cat person. she loves her cat like they are her biological children (they may as well be).
༊˚ journalist!reader, who can be a bit of a workaholic, but she's working on it! sometimes she just needs someone to give her a helpful push.
✎ EXTRA! EXTRA! READ ALL ABOUT HER WITH...
: ̗̀➛ clark kent | spencer reid | matt murdock | bruce wayne | peter parker | and more!
hiii! i use the website postfully for the text messages, specifically second version <33 and then literally all of the pics for the posts come from pinterest!!
(5 times spencer lets reader touch him, and the 1 time he touches her first)
spencer reid x f!reader
(she/her pronouns used for reader-insert)
fluff
wc: 1819
title from: lover by taylor swift
1. It’s her first day at the BAU, and Hotch is introducing her to everyone on the team. Spencer immediately thinks she’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Her smile is radiant, and her eyes seem to shimmer. He doesn’t even hear Hotch say her name.
She’s going down the row as Hotch says everyone’s name, giving each member a handshake with the loveliest smile on her face.
Spencer is rubbing his hands on his slacks to rid them of his nervous sweat. He doesn’t want to ruin his first impression with clammy hands.
When Hotch gets to Spencer, he says, “And this is Dr. Reid. He doesn’t really do-“
He’s cut off by Spencer returning her handshake. Aaron can count on one hand the number of times that he’s seen Spencer do this in all the time he’s known him.
Everyone is even more shocked when Spencer raises his other hand and encloses hers between both of his.
“It’s nice to meet you, Doctor.”
“Spencer, you can call me Spencer.”
2 She’s only been working at the BAU for a few weeks when Spencer scrambles into the bullpen 45 minutes late. He’s never late. He was awake until the early hours of the morning, too wrapped up in a new book to notice the time. When his alarm sounded at sunrise, he turned it off and accidentally fell back to sleep.
His hair is ruffled and his tie is crooked and his dress shirt isn’t all the way tucked in. Even his messenger bag is half open and on the brink of spilling papers everywhere. He feels so discombobulated, and he just knows that this is going to ruin his entire day.
She’s the first to see him. great. She’s so beautiful, and she’s seeing him as a sloppy mess.
“Hey, Spencer! You okay? We were worried about you.” He knows that she said we, and that means it wasn’t just her who was worried, but his heart feels warm at the thought of her missing him.
He nods and tells her, “Yeah, I overslept.” He’s embarrassed and shakes his head before ducking it down. He takes in his messy appearance and wishes he could start the whole day over.
She reaches out to him and carefully tightens and straightens his tie. She then reaches up to his collar and gently folds it over. He can feel himself blushing at the feeling of her fingertips brushing against his chest and then his neck.
She almost reaches down to the hem of his shirt before she whispers, “I’ll let you take care of that part,” while shyly giggling.
“Right, yes- Um… Thank you.”
“No problem, Spence.”
“Uh… does my hair look okay?” He dares to ask her, pointing up at his head.
She’s about to reach up to smooth some pieces down when Emily calls her over to speak to her.
“You look good, Spencer. You always do, don’t worry,” She smiles before she leaves him.
He’s left gazing after her as she treads towards Emily’s desk. He’s cursing Emily in his head for pulling her away from their moment together. He smooths his shirt down and tucks it in properly as he walks to his desk.
As he traverses through the bullpen, he just barely catches his name in the conversation she’s having with Emily.
“...Spencer doesn’t really like being touched. Something about the germs bothers him.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize.” Her brows furrow, “Thank you for telling me,” and she sadly smiles.
He really wants to curse at Emily, now.
3 Weeks go by before she touches him again. Spencer is sorely missing the day that she fixed his tie. He’s starting to consider coming into work with it crooked again to see if that can tempt her to fix it for him, again.
Luckily, he doesn’t have to do that or anything more extreme.
They’re inspecting a scene together, and he’s crouched down over some papers scattered all over the floor. A piece of his hair keeps falling in his eyes as he reads them, but he’s wearing gloves, so he can’t push it back properly. He keeps trying to use his air to blow it out of his eyeline, but it keeps falling back down.
She comes over and crouches next to him, “Need any help?”
He looks over at her and sees that she hasn’t put both of her gloves on yet – she has one on and is about to put on the other.
“Actually, could you help me with this?” He blows air at the piece of hair again and gestures toward it. He’s so proud of himself for asking her.
“Oh, are you sure?” She says as she reaches toward him with her bare hand, freezing mid-air.
I hate you, Emily, he thinks.
He nods with a shy smile, so she completes her movement and tucks the piece of hair back for him.
They have twin blushes on their cheeks as they look away from each other and focus back on the documents in front of them.
4 They’re packed into the backseat of an SUV, Spencer, her, and JJ, in that order.
She climbed into the backseat after him and before JJ, and pressed her entire side against him – their arms and legs completely fused together.
After JJ climbs in, he looks over to see if she’s also touching JJ like this, and they must have at least 6 inches of space between them.
He’s absolutely basking in the feeling of her body pressed against his. He can barely contain his smile.
She softly nudges her leg against his at a red light, so he’s absolutely sure that it wasn’t an accident or a result of the car jostling. He gets the confidence to nudge her leg back, and she looks over at him with a smile. He blushes and ducks his head down.
5 He gets a call in the middle of the workday about his mom's health declining. The center needs his consent for a new medication.
He’s sitting and crying in a random hallway with his knees to his chest. He never sees anyone near here, so he thinks he’s safe to do so, just for a little bit.
“Spence! There you are, I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”
He looks up at her with red-rimmed eyes and tears streaming down his cheeks.
She crouches down in front of him and places her hands on his knees, rubbing soft circles against him.
“Spence, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” A few more of his tears fall at the endearment.
He frantically wipes his tears away. He doesn’t want her to see him like this. “I’m okay, it’s just my mom… she’s sick.”
She wordlessly moves to sit next to him, and he feels guilty that she’s settling onto the cold, hard, dirty floor.
That is, until she wraps an arm behind him and starts rubbing his back. Her hand rubbing up and down his spine is the most comforting thing he’s ever felt.
He whispers, “She has schizophrenia and lives in a treatment facility.”
She shifts her arm to wrap across his shoulder, then pulls him in closer to her. She places a hand on his head and guides it to rest on her shoulder, soothingly rubbing circles with her thumb.
♡♥♡ He finds her outside of a local precinct, sitting on a bench. As he approaches, he sees her shoulders shaking. Without even thinking, he starts unraveling his scarf to put it around her neck. He’s not sure why she’s out here at 9 pm, but he surely doesn’t want her to be cold.
He stands in front of her with the scarf draped over his hands, ready to place it around her neck, when she looks up at him, and he sees tears streaming down her cheeks.
He’s immediately reminded of how caring she was to him when she found him in a similar position, and hopes he can take care of her half as well as she took care of him.
As he drapes the knit around her neck, she whispers, “I don’t really want to talk about it. Is that okay?”
“No-yes, I mean, of course.” He’s disappointed that she doesn’t want to confide in him, but he would never push her to talk when she doesn’t want to, so he accepts that her wearing his scarf is enough of a win.
He turns on his heel to walk back inside when she stops him, “Wait, um, would you mind just sitting with me?”
“Of course,” He immediately replies.
He lowers himself on the bench next to her and thinks about when they sat side-by-side in the SUV. He wonders if he should press his leg against hers or if it isn’t the right time. That was more of a silly thing that they did, and he doesn’t want her to think that he’s not taking her feelings seriously.
“Thank you, I’m sorry, this is kind of embarrassing.” She feebly says.
“No, no, you’re fine, don’t worry,” He really hopes that he’s being reassuring enough for her. He knows how to calm down unsubs and victims and his mother, but this feels like entirely new territory.
As they sit in silence, he looks down and sees her wringing her hands in her lap. His own fingers twitch as he debates what to do. Normally, he’d fill the silence with questions or facts or statistics.
He tentatively reaches over and places his hand over both of hers.
They don’t talk much, as she requested, and normally that would make Spencer uncomfortable. Typically, he tries to avoid silence and fills it with his rants and ramblings. He even avoids silence in his own head by constantly having a book or headphones in his bag available.
This is different, though. Just her presence makes him feel calm and comfortable.
Eventually, she pulls one of her hands out from under his to wipe away her tears with her sleeve. His heart sinks at the thought that their moment is over.
That is, until she turns her remaining palm over and he realizes she’s trying to hold his hand properly.
She scoots closer to him and points up at the shining stars in the night sky.
“Are there any constellations we can see?” She asks.
He smiles at the opportunity to share his knowledge with her; this is something he knows that he’s good at.
He points out the various constellations above them and tells her about the ones that are present at other times of the year. He doesn’t notice that she’s shifted even closer to him on the bench until their hips touch and she’s lowering her head onto his shoulder.
“Is this okay?” she whispers
“Definitely,” He replies, and he bends his neck to place his head on top of hers, gently squeezing her hand as he does.
pretty pls comment and reblog if u liked! i love talking to u guys and seeing ur cute rambles in the reblog tags <3
computer how to solve overwhelming sense of dread because I haven't cured cancer and started a billion nonprofits so I'm basically never going to college 🤔🤔🤔🤔
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୨ৎ summary: as the youngest avenger, you have to be closed off, all emotions under lock and key. until you come face-to-face with wanda maximoff. suddenly, your world is flipped upside down by the loveliest girl you've ever seen. the only issue is she's fighting on the opposite side as you. what is wrong with you?
୨ৎ pairing: aou!wanda maximoff x fem!reader
୨ৎ warnings/tags: enemies-to-not exactly lovers but close enough, canon-typical references to violence, language, reader is lovesick and #doesnothandleitwell, reader does not have specified powers/abilities, reader is painfully in love and it's a lil angsty, but it ends cute so it's ok, pietro doesn't die. not proofread either
୨ৎ word count: 4.0k
୨ৎ a/n: thank god an actual fic i've been doing so many smau's I missed actually writing stuff! also this is so self-indulgent because i've been missing emo Wanda BAD lately and I can't find any non-smut fics about her 💔 AND it's based off of or3 bc what's wrong with me is my fav song on the album ! also i used Serbian for the single "sokovian" word in here
Being the youngest Avenger comes with its own unique challenges. People eye you cautiously when you walk into a room. They wonder if you’re too young to be here, they question if you have what it takes. There’s nothing more you want than to be able to prove you can hold up under the pressure of being an Avenger. As a result, you make sure you’re flawless. Whatever it takes, you never mess up, because mistakes give people reasons to doubt you. Most importantly, you keep everything locked down. You leave no room for having emotional breakdowns, or becoming too attached to anything and anyone. Because a single chink in your armor could be all it takes to take you down. The last thing you expected was for that to change.
After the fallout of New York, Loki’s scepter vanished off the map, and HYDRA settlements started cropping up everywhere. Eventually, Thor had tracked the scepter to a fortress situated in Eastern Europe, smack dab in the middle of Sokovia. It was an operation so simple it was practically textbook. Get in, locate the scepter, neutralize all targets, and get out. Banner, Nat, Clint and Steve took out the first wave outside the stronghold, while you and Stark slipped inside. From there, it was almost too easy. Floor by floor, none of them ever stood a chance. You cleared them out with the shocking precision you’d trained for.
“I’m going for Strucker, check the east wing for any strays,” Steve’s voice rang out over the comms. You fired off a couple bullets at an incoming HYDRA agent.
“Copy,” You replied, grunting as you took down a couple of agents who attempted to attack you from behind.
You turned the corner of another hallway, before you heard a resounding thud come from the next set of stairs down. You peered down the dark corridor, searching for the source of the noise. Instead, you spotted a girl. She couldn’t have been a year older than you. The first thing you noticed was her eyes. They had a subtle crimson glow that shone through the dark shadows of the corridor. Smudged black eyeliner sat around her eyes; and the glow was now gone and replaced with a piercing shade of green. Then, she spoke.
“Get out of my way,” she said, her hands coming up in front of her. Around them swirled red spirals of energy, glowing from within. It matched the glow in her eyes.
“Absolutely not,” It went without questioning, there’s no way you’d ever let a potential threat out of your sight. You stepped forward, staring her down.
“Hm. Well that’s a shame, you seem nice,” She replied, almost tauntingly. Her hands flicked upwards, shooting tendrils of red energy towards you. The next thing you felt was the cold stone of the wall, as the air was forced from your lungs. You fell to the ground, letting out a wince as you tried to get back up. She looked at you with a mocking sort of pity, before fleeing out of the doors. You let your head fall back against the wall, groaning in what was a mixture of frustration and pain. She got away, and you let her. That never happened. You could only wallow in your disappointment for so long, before Steve’s voice shot through your earpiece.
“Hey, you still with us?”
“I’m fine, but there’s a second Enhanced in the building. Female. Watch out,” The least you could do was warn your fellow Avengers about this girl. Who was she?
“You’ve met her too?” Steve asked, chuckling a little bit, “Yeah, she got to me first. Shoved me down a set of stairs and everything. Never seen anything like it.
You both could agree on that. She truly was like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
On the ride back to Avengers Tower, you couldn’t shake the mental image of the girl. The sound of her voice echoed in your head. She had a heavy accent, Sokovian most likely. It suited her quite nicely. You remembered the shape of her hands, the ones wrapped in glowing red light. They were clad with multiple silver rings. It was laughable actually, how you could remember all of that, but you remained clueless as to how you managed to slip up so bad. It wasn’t like you, you hardly ever made mistakes. Especially not ones as big as that.
“Hey, what happened back there?” Natasha’s question shook you out of your thoughts. She knew you better than anyone on that team. Which means she knew it was strange of you to make such a large blunder.
“I don’t know. She got the jump on me I guess,” You replied flatly. The truth was, you didn’t know why you were so thrown off your game by her. She was Enhanced, sure, but it was almost too easy for her to knock you down.
“I wouldn’t sweat it,” Nat reassured you, a wry smile playing at her lips, “Clint got his ass kicked by the other one.” You heard Clint protest somewhere at the front of the jet.
“Wow, I feel so much better now,” The sarcasm in your voice was evident, earning yet another scoff from Clint.
“Happy to help,” Nat said, patting you on the shoulder before heading over to talk to Banner. Once again, you were left alone with your thoughts, currently occupied by a certain brunette Enhanced that you just couldn’t get rid of.
The days following the encounter, you made it your personal mission to find out who exactly your mystery girl was. Fairly quickly, a pretty clear picture started to form. Her name was Wanda Maximoff. She was orphaned by a bomb that struck her building, leaving her and her twin brother to fend for themselves. Despite your disdain for her, you felt for Wanda. Her and her brother probably joined those trials looking for a way out. Maybe they thought it was their only option? Whatever the case, some part of you wanted to help her. Without fail, Wanda Maximoff stubbornly refused to leave your head. She haunted you, like an annoying, albeit pretty, ghost. You found yourself sketching her face into the blank margins of notebooks, which you quickly buried under your bed, like a shameful secret for your eyes only. You told yourself your fascination with the Maximoff girl was only because she got the better of you when no one else could. Maybe if you told that lie enough you’d convince yourself to believe it. It was a far better fate than any alternative imaginable.
Post the disaster that was Stark’s party, and the now emerging threat of Ultron on the rise, you were (thankfully) forced to set aside all thoughts and daydreams of your horrible, horrible distraction. Ultron had killed Strucker, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the slightest hint of satisfaction that he was dead. The team had traced Ultron’s next target back to a South African arms dealer, who dealt with Wakandan exports. A couple of the Avengers chattered about their next moves, and suited up for the possible fight to come
“I can deal with the speedster, but what about the nutcase in red?” Stark said, reloading some of the weaponry on his suit.
“There’s really no good way to neutralize her, she’s-” Bruce started, before you interjected.
“Neutralize? She’s a person Bruce, not some weapon of mass destruction or a ticking bomb for you to diffuse,” You felt weirdly defensive over Wanda. Sure, you weren’t on the same side here, but why didn’t she deserve a chance too. She’s a good person, you were sure of it. You also knew that good people were sometimes put into bad situations. You hoped that was her case.
“Yeah…sorry,” Bruce trailed off, going back to tinkering with whatever he was doing on the computer. An awkward silence fell over the room, as some of the Avengers shared looks with each other, like they knew something you didn’t.
After tracking down Ultron to a grounded cargo ship, the Avengers came face-to-face with a shiny new Ultron. And you were once again faced with your tormentor. She stared at you with what you can only assume was hatred in her eyes. Even in light of that, you still couldn’t help but notice certain things about her. Her hair was tied up in a ponytail. It looks nice like that. Her necklaces somehow laid so perfectly on her neck. What a weird thing to notice about someone. You were so engrossed with her that when all hell breaks loose against Ultron, it takes you a second to snap back into reality. Something is seriously wrong with you. You dodge a couple of Ultron’s murder bots, as you notice Wanda slipping away. You weren’t going to let her get away again. You trail Wanda back into a small walkway. The rusted metal creaks under your footsteps, and she turns around. Her gaze hardens at the sight of you.
For a second, you both stare at each other. For that second, you almost forget that you two aren’t on the same side. You snap out of it soon enough. This time, you were sure you were going to change her mind.
“Wanda, please listen. Ultron is lying to you and your brother. Don’t listen to him-” You began, trying to reason with her.
“And then what, we join your side? Because Stark is such an honest man, right?” Wanda retorted, her eyes flashing that familiar shade of red. Unfortunately, she did have a point. It was his lies that started all of this in the first place.
“Whatever Ultron is promising you, it’s not true. He’s playing you. All he’s done is hurt people, how does any of this save the world?” You take a step closer to her. You’re practically begging her to hear you out here, but all she does is scoff.
“Why would I ever listen to you?”
“You just have to trust me,” You understood better than everyone that trust is something not easily given, but for her sake, you had to try.
“Trust is a luxury I cannot afford.” She replies coldly, as she once again raises her hands. The red glow returns, but in a split second, a flash of blue zips by, sweeping you off your feet. Your head collides onto the floor, and your vision immediately starts to blur at the edges. Distant rings echo in your ears, as you lie limply on the ground. Wanda stares at you for a second, before turning her back and running away. She doesn’t make it very far before she runs into Clint. You crane your neck up in an attempt to see what’s happening. Clint slams one of his stun arrows onto Wanda’s forehead, and you watch her crumple to the floor. Momentarily, you feel a pang in your chest. But, in another flash of blue, she’s gone again. You let your head fall back onto the floor of the corridor, as you groan to yourself. You failed her. Again. Your thoughts trail off, as your eyes shut, and everything fades to black.
You wake back up on the floor of the Quinjet, a thin blanket draped over you. You try to blink away the persisting headache, and glance around. Scattered around you, the Avengers look wholly defeated. You get up off the ground, and make your way to the front of the cockpit. Clint was the only one up there, and you sat in the seat next to him.
“What happened…?” You asked tentatively.
“That girl, Wanda, she got into our heads. Messed us up. Hulk ripped apart half of the city,” Clint said solemnly, flipping a couple switches on the dashboard. He turned towards you.
“You got knocked out by her brother. I hit Wanda with the stun arrow, and then the twins vanished,” He continued, “And now we’re heading to a safe house to lay low, at least until Ultron pops back up on the map,”
You nodded, staring out the window of the cockpit.
“I’m curious though. I saw you up there, with the girl. You could have taken her out, why didn’t you?” Clint asked. The memories of the encounter flashed through your head. You pleaded with her, for what? To get knocked on your ass? She simply didn’t want to listen. Another horrible mistake, all because of one girl.
“I wanted to make her see that Ultron wasn’t the good guy. I thought she might listen,” You started, before trailing off, “Maybe it was a mistake.”
“No. You wanted to help. She’s probably scared. People like that sometimes just need a little push,” Clint replied, his eyes flicking back to Nat. She sat in the back, staring blankly at the floor. You knew their history. It gave you hope that if Nat could be saved, maybe Wanda could too.
The next morning, you landed at the “safe house” Clint was talking about. It was a humble little homestead ranch. Soon enough however, you figured out this was Clint’s actual home. He had two young kids, and his very kind wife. You peered around the home curiously. Crayon drawings were hung up on the walls, toys were scattered around the floor. It was so perfectly domestic. It was the kind of life you would have liked, in the event you weren’t an Avenger. Maybe in another life. Then again, maybe in another life you would have fallen for a girl that wasn’t the enemy.
Speaking of the enemy, Wanda Maximoff was quickly starting to take up an uncomfortable amount of space in your mind, more than she already did. You were plagued by visions of her in your dreams, with those ethereal green eyes. In those dreams, she stared at you with her green eyes full of love, not hate. You often woke up in a cold sweat, the harsh reality hitting you in an instant. You truly hated how much you thought about her. It was hardly conducive to Avenging when your opposition was that distracting. When Fury stopped by the Barton house to fill in the Avengers, you sat at the table. Fury’s words flowed in one ear and out the other. Instead, you doodled little cartoonish drawings of Wanda onto a pad of sticky notes. You swiftly crumpled them up and chucked them into the trash. Because nobody could ever know that you were infatuated with Wanda Maximoff. It was painful enough coming to terms with that yourself, so what would the team think?
That night, Nat cornered you in the kitchen. You had offered to wash the dishes, just to do something to keep yourself busy. She slid over to the counter, drying a couple damp plates.
“I saw your little sketches. Of the Maximoff girl,” Nat said, casting a knowing glance your way. You froze, and the only sound in the room was the noise of the running faucet.
“It’s not what it looks like-” You immediately began, before Nat shushed you.
“Uh-huh. I’m sure it’s not,” she said sarcastically, “Look, I don’t care about any of that. But I need to know, if it comes down to it, can you do your job?” Nat looked at you seriously, her hands drumming on the counter.
“Yes. Absolutely,” You said quickly, nodding vigorously, “You can trust me.”
“I know I can.”
You dried your hands off and bolted to the bathroom. The door shut behind you, and you set your hands on the counter. Your heart pounded in your ears, as you fought back the moisture in your eyes that you’d never dare let become tears. You told Nat that you could be trusted to do your job, and up until recently, you were positive you could. You’d screwed up twice already because of Wanda, how could you ever promise her that you wouldn’t do it again? Honestly, you couldn’t. All you ever wanted to do was help Wanda, who could blame you for that? Whether it was for your own selfish reasons, or truly honorable reasons, it didn’t matter. God, you hated loving Wanda. She was every reason why you swore to never let anyone worm their way into your heart like that. She hated you anyways, so why couldn’t you do the same? You came to the conclusion you were simply pathetic. A pathetic fool who couldn’t be trusted to grow up and do the job she signed up for. What was wrong with you?
The days flew by after that. Nat never brought up the conversation you and her had that night. Before you knew it though, you were once again suiting up to face off against Ultron. And the twins. You made a point to suppress the slight spark of hope at the prospect of seeing Wanda again.
The next time you saw her, you weren’t throwing punches at her, or firing bullets in her direction. Finally, you were working with her. She had discovered the truth about Ultron’s goal for the world, and wasted no time in abandoning his cause, along with her brother. It was humiliating how overjoyed you felt, to say the least. Your excitement was fleeting however, seeing as Ultron had successfully derailed a passenger train in the struggle. Steve directed Wanda to stop the train, while it was up to you and Pietro to usher civilians out of the way. Once people were clear, you glanced back at Wanda, who was absorbed in her efforts to stop the train. She was so, so beautiful. Her ability to distract you was probably the most magical thing about her.
Her efforts were successful, and the train skidded to a halt. You, Wanda, and Pietro all met Steve, where he was coordinating what to do with Ultron’s latest project. From what it sounded like, Ultron made an attempt to create a physical body, harnessing the power of some foreign stone found in Loki’s scepter.
“Stark’s taking care of the Cradle now,” Steve told you three. Wanda raised an eyebrow, interjecting.
“No, he won’t.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Stark’s not crazy,” Steve replied, almost incredulously. You stepped forward, opening your mouth to say something, before Wanda spoke again.
“He will do anything to make things right,” Wanda said, casting a glance over to you, “Ultron can't tell the difference between saving the world and destroying it. Where do you think he gets that?”
Steve looked at you three blankly, before sighing. You heard Clint’s voice over your earpiece, and paused. He sounded stressed.
“Anything on Nat?” Clint asked. When you looked over at Steve, he explained that Ultron had taken Nat with him. You felt sick.
“We’re on the way back to the Tower now, we’re bringing along the twins,” Steve said grimly, beckoning the three of you to follow him.
Exhausted, the three of you return to the Tower, where you find Stark and Banner fiddling around with the Cradle.
“Shut it down Stark,” Steve said sternly, staring down Stark, “You don’t know what you’re doing here.”
“And you do? Are you sure she’s not in your head?” Bruce remarked, his tone accusatory as he stared down Wanda.
“Cut it out Banner,” You retorted sharply, glaring at him.
“I know you’re angry,” Wanda began calmly, before Banner cut her off again.
“We’re way past that, I could choke the life out of you and never change a shade-”
“I said cut it out Bruce!” You snapped, as Bruce scoffed and turned his attention back to his computer.
Everyone’s voices grew louder as they bickered amongst each other. In the fray, Pietro had run around the lab, unplugging all of the equipment.
“Go on, you were saying?” Pietro asked innocently, smirking. A loud pop resounded through the lab, as the glass shattered underneath Pietro and he fell through the floor. Wanda screamed and ran towards Pietro, as a full on brawl broke out among the Avengers. Bruce grabbed Wanda, locking her in a chokehold.
“Go ahead, piss me off,” He hissed, before you pried him off of her.
“What the fuck are you doing Bruce?” You yelled, stepped in front of Wanda, “I mean seriously what were you thinking-” You never got to finish your sentence, before Thor burst through the window. He landed on top of the Cradle, before slamming his hammer down onto the lid. As electricity ran through the case, the lid blew off. A purple-ish man burst from the Cradle, slamming down Thor and flying through the air. He seemed to come to his senses, as he returned to the ground. Thor explained that the gem from Loki’s scepter was some sort of power source, called an Infinity Stone. And now the purple man had the capacity to end the world with his power. Clearly, there were some questions. He, or apparently the Vision, asserted that he was very much not on the side of Ultron (thankfully) and agreed that he should be stopped.
For what seemed like the hundredth time, you all were preparing for the fight to come. You stayed with Pietro and Wanda. Despite the previous animosity towards them, all of that was in the past. Besides, it wasn’t often you met very many people that were like you your age. Even on the Quinjet, on the way to Sokovia, you sat by Wanda. You racked your brain for a way to approach conversation with the girl you previously had fought (and also just so happened to be borderline obsessed with). Of course, you settled for the smoothest option.
“Hi…” you said, breaching the awkward silence between you two,
“Hello?” Wanda replied, almost suspiciously as she eyed you. You felt strangely exposed. Your heart felt like it was in your throat as you wrung your hands nervously.
“I don’t think we’ve actually talked, at least not without-”
“Without me kicking your ass?” Wanda offered up helpfully, smirking. You laughed, a feeling of success blooming in your chest. She wasn’t entirely opposed to friendly conversation with you, that was better than nothing, right?
“I wouldn’t say you kicked my ass necessarily…” You said. Even you sounded unconvinced, “I think we’re a pretty equal match actually.”
“Hm, whatever you say лепа,” She shrugged, smiling at you slyly. You weren’t quite sure what she said, seeing as your Sokovian was fairly rusty, but her slight smile and glint in her eyes was enough for you to not worry too much about what she said.
︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.
The fight against Ultron was exhausting. He was gone, at long last. The battle was not without its losses though, as Sokovia was long gone. At the end of it all, you found Wanda leaning against the wall of one of the SHIELD carriers, covered in dirt and grime. Still, she had never looked more beautiful to you. You sat down next to her, sighing.
“You ok?” You asked Wanda, nudging her shoulder slightly. She turned her head to look at you, giving you a small smile.
“Yes, I’m fine. Very tired,” She remarked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. You could agree, your bones physically ached from exhaustion at this point. You were itching to ask Wanda something though, despite the pit of anxiety crawling around in your stomach.
“Hey, Wanda? Y’know, maybe when we get back, do you want to grab coffee sometime? In the event we’re not faced with a world-ending crisis?” You asked, bracing yourself for the answer.
“You do know I can read minds right?” Wanda asked you, craning her neck to look at you. The smirk on her face could only be described as devilish. You could feel your face heat up at her answer (and it’s unfortunate implications).
“So is that a yes or no?” You replied, laughing awkwardly.
“I’d love to,” she affirmed. Wanda yawned, letting her eyes close. She leaned her head on your shoulder, and slumped into your side. Within minutes, she was sleeping beside you. You looked down at her, and suddenly the distant dreams of that domestic life–the ones you’d shoved down so long ago–seemed much more real. You looked up from Wanda, and caught the subtle stare of Nat, who smiled at you kindly. You felt lighter than ever, and for once, you felt relief.
