Spitfire

Pairing: Peter Parker x Vigilante!Male!Reader

Requested: No

A/N: It’s a Marvel/DC crossover because I was watching the Flash, Joker would absolutely go on a chaos roadtrip to NYC, and because I said so. Just a heads up, this one turned out long (10 pages in google docs)

—–

“I dunno, Mr. Stark,” Peter spoke quickly, his voice being transmitted through the headset in his suit, “There’s been basically no villains at all for the past two weeks, hardly even the typical muggers!”

Tony sighed, voices echoing quietly in the background on his end of the call, “Maybe that isn’t a bad thing, Parker.”

“But, Mr. Stark-” Peter protested, slumping back against the rooftop that he’d perched himself on. He’d taken up residence when he realized that his rounds were going to be pointless once again.

“Look, kid, I’m busy.” The voices in the background of Tony’s audio had grown louder, demanding his attention, “Maybe that’s the next thing that you look into? Find out why all the criminals are vanishing.”

Peter nodded slowly, determination building, “Yeah! Don’t worry, Mr. Stark, I’ll get to the bottom of this!”

—–

“C’mon (M/N), you’ve got to have some sort of idea why the crime is disappearing!” Peter whined, looking across the lunch table at his tall (h/c) friend.

The other male glanced up from his food, (e/c) eyes meeting Peter’s thoughtfully, “Most of the guys on the team have been gossiping about some new hero making his way into the spotlight. I wonder if that’s why criminals are so few and far between these days.” It always kind of slipped Peter’s mind that (M/N) was on the football team, since he was basically the antithesis of a typical jock. He was intelligent, interested in superheroes and science, in addition to being physically fit. He was tall, well-built, and his hair was always perfectly styled, but he was constantly clad in nerdy t-shirts. He had only been at Midtown High for a few months but he was as popular as the people who’d been there for years, despite never trying to be. (M/N) (L/N) was a walking contradiction.

Peter’s eyes widened, “Really? There’s a new superhero in New York?” He leaned forward curiously, intent on learning as much as he could about this newcomer.

Ned, Peter’s best friend since childhood, cut in, “Totally!” He set aside the mini-Lego Death Star he’d been tinkering with as he spoke, “I guess he’s got like, fire-powers or something? But get this; he can fly.” At Peter’s unimpressed expression, he continued, “The dude has a pair of freaking dragon wings growing out of his back!”

Peter’s eyebrows shot upwards incredulously, “What?!”

“Yeah! People are calling him Spitfire since he can literally breathe fire,” Ned gushed, voice raising slightly as he grew more invested in the conversation.

“Really?” (M/N) snorted, “That’s what they’re going with?” He glanced apprehensively at the other people sitting near them, watching as his companions’ rising excitement caught the attention of other nearby students.

“Dude, that’s so cool!” Peter exclaimed, deep brown eyes gleaming excitedly. “I hope I get to see him in action one day.”

(M/N) sighed, pushing his food away as he stood, “Look, you guys can sit and talk about this Spitfire guy all you want, but I’m getting out of here. I’ll see you later.” He swung his backpack over his shoulder and made his way out of the lunch hall.

Ned glanced at Peter once the (h/c) had disappeared, “What was that all about?” Peter shrugged, turning back to his food.

—–

Peter had done some research after learning about the new hero, so now, after he’d donned his Spider-Man suit, he was lying in wait for the appearance of the dragon-themed superhero atop one of the buildings the hero seemed to frequent. Most of the few photos that featured the masked hero showed him swooping from the very rooftop that Peter had hidden himself upon.

Peter’s legs had grown numb and he’d nearly given up when a loud thud echoed across the rooftop. His gaze jerked towards the source of the sound, eyes widening as they locked onto a tall figure holding a portly thug over the edge of the building, massive black wings unfurled slightly from his landing. “Where can I find your boss?” Spitfire snarled, gloved hand curled tight around the gang-member’s throat.

The man struggled limply, “I don’t know!” His hands scrabbled at the black-clad hero’s arm, attempting to free himself.

The (h/c) rolled his eyes, the light of the city making his eyes glow ethereally. “Why don’t I believe you?” He sighed, pondering the situation lightly, “Y’know what? I’m going to give you until the count of three to tell me what I want to know. If you don’t, well, the cops are going to have a fun time cleaning you off of the pavement in the morning.”

The thug’s eyes widened and he struggled harder, straining to get his feet back onto solid ground, “No, please!”

“One.”

“Please! I don’t know!” Peter could feel the man’s fear, frozen in place by the shock of witnessing a fellow hero threatening someone.

“Two.” Spitfire’s hold shifted, muscles in his arm flexing as he moved to let the man drop from the top of the skyscraper.

“Wait, wait! I’ll tell you what I know!” The thug blurted out, panic overtaking his features.

“Good.” A grin passed over Spitfire’s face and he set the man back on his feet on the rooftop. He stepped back, an eyebrow raising over the edge of his mask as he waited for the criminal to speak.

“The headquarters is down by the docks; if you’re going to find the Joker anywhere, it’ll be there.” The thug slumped slightly, his relief clear on his face at the thought that he wouldn’t be flung from the rooftop.

“Thank you for your compliance,” the winged male nodded slightly, turning on his heel and beginning to make his exit.

Peter’s eyes widened as the thug pulled a knife, lunging at the dark hero. The (h/c) let out a pained shout as the blade sunk into his side, his wings exploding outwards, slamming into his attacker and launching him away. The man was forced back the way he’d come, feet skidding at the edge of the roof and arms pinwheeling as he slipped backwards, over the edge.

The brunet gasped, his heightened senses allowing him to process the situation faster than an average person would’ve been able to. He darted out of his hiding place, rushing to try and save the man from falling to his death.

“Don’t bother,” The (h/c) groaned, wincing as he brought a hand up to the blade still lodged in his side, just under his ribcage. “At the force he got hit and the speed he’d have fallen at, he was dead when he hit the ground.” He turned, finally looking over his shoulder at the blue and red suited teen. “I assume you were there the whole time?”

Peter nodded, suddenly thankful for the way his mask shielded the way his eyes traced the attractive form of the dragon-themed hero. “Who was that? Why were you threatening him?”

The other male’s eyes rolled, gleaming (e/c) orbs revealed by the pointed eye-holes of his mask, “He was one of the Joker’s henchmen. He had information that I wanted and there’s no faster way to get information than threatening someone’s well-being.”

Peter’s brows furrowed, trying to place the voice belonging to the male in front of him, “Have we met before? You sound really familiar…”

The (h/c) shifted, hand curling around the hilt of the knife lodged in his side, “Doubtful; I feel like I’d have remembered meeting,” he grunted as he tugged sharply at the blade, yanking it free from his abdomen, “Spider-Man.” He rolled his shoulders, tossing the blood-covered knife to the side. “Whatever, I got what I needed.” He stalked towards the edge of the rooftop, massive charcoal-scaled wings flaring behind him, “If you need me, please hesitate to call.” He launched himself off the roof, allowing himself to freefall before his wings caught the wind and he soared upwards, disappearing into the dark New York City sky.

Peter sighed, disappointed that he hadn’t managed to find out anything about the new hero. Then his eyes locked onto the blood-spattered blade and a thoughtful grin took its place on his lips.

—–

“I’m telling you, (M/N), if someone had a pair of dragon wings sprouting out of their back, somebody would have to know who they are, right?” Peter complained dramatically, flopping back onto his bed next to the tired (h/c), a can of soda clasped in one hand.

(M/N) slowly rolled to face the brunet, “Not necessarily; what if he has a way to hide them?” At Peter’s puzzled look, (M/N) explained, “Spider-Man has his suit, right? But he’s not wearing it all the time, so what if Spitfire does the same sort of thing? Not like he can take them off or anything, but maybe he has a way of camouflaging them?”

Peter gasped, shooting upright, “That’s it!” He flung his arms outward, the soda splashing from the can and soaking the front of the (h/c)’s shirt.

He flinched from the cold liquid before letting out a pained groan at the sudden movement. “Shit,” he grumbled, forcing himself to his feet.

Peter shot to his feet, anxious about his friend’s outcry, “Are you okay?!”

(M/N) nodded, digging through his backpack for a clean shirt. “Yeah; it’s no big deal, I’m sure I’ve got a clean- ahah.” He tugged out his football jersey and dropped his backpack, stretching back to his full height. He reached to the bottom hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head.

“You and I both know that’s not what I-” Peter’s voice caught in his throat as his eyes came into contact with (M/N)’s bare back. As any normal teen’s would’ve, Peter’s eyes traced the defined muscles of his friend’s back, freezing when they caught on the massive tattoos spanning the (h/c)’s shoulder blades. His dark eyes widened as he realized the shapes defined by the midnight-dark ink, the joints of the batlike wings extending up to the upper curve of his shoulders and the lower points trailing down past the taller teen’s waist. “When, um, when did you get those done?” He asked quietly, mind still stuck on their previous conversation.

The (h/c) paused briefly, swearing under his breath as he turned to face his friend, “About eight months ago.” He forced the clean shirt on, tugging it down sharply, but not before Peter’s eyes caught on a healing wound on his side. Right where Spider-Man had seen Spitfire be stabbed.

Eight months. Before he’d moved to New York and before Spitfire had made his first appearance. “Hey, shouldn’t you be at football practice right now?” He asked suspiciously, eyes still trained on the injured area.

“I’ve been dismissed for the time being; sprained a muscle in my side and can’t play until it heals.” He flopped back down on Peter’s bed, wincing a little as it pulled at the wound before turning his attention back to his phone.

“Yeah? Was it really sprained?” At his accusatory tone (M/N) turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow warily at Peter. “Or was it cut?”

(M/N) pushed back to his feet, towering over the brunet, “What are you implying, Peter?” He grumbled, anxiety building low in his stomach.

Peter swallowed nervously, intimidated by his friend’s sudden defensive behavior, “I’m implying that I don’t think a torn muscle leaves a stab wound,” he bit back determinedly, hoping that his theory was correct.

The (h/c) huffed, tired of his friend’s accusations. He rolled his eyes, turning away and grabbing his bag as he moved to the door, “Whatever, Parker. I don’t feel like being interrogated today; I’m out of here.” He’d barely gotten the door cracked open when a string of web hit it, forcing it closed again. (M/N) turned, intelligent (e/c) eyes narrowed as they flicked from the webbing back to Peter. “You were there. That’s why you know what happened.”

Peter sighed, lowering his wrist and eyeing the webbing still clinging to the doorframe, “Well, I can’t exactly deny it after that, can I?”

(M/N)’s shoulders dropped, resigning himself to the situation. “And I guess I can’t either.” He chuckled bitterly, taking his seat at the foot of Peter’s bed. “You have questions, I can tell; you’ve got your scientist face on. Ask away.”

Peter sat down in his desk chair, trying to figure out where to start, “How- how did this happen?”

The (h/c) sighed, “It started before I moved here; back when I lived in Central City. It started when Star Labs’ Particle Accelerator exploded. I was working at an animal rescue that was pretty close to the initial blast radius. The energy wave caught a set of loose wiring and the building went up in flames. I was trying to get the last of the animals out when the ceiling crumbled.I was trapped in the reptile section and the smoke was making it hard to breathe. Eventually, I lost consciousness,” (M/N)’s eyes were troubled, distant as he reminisced. “When I woke up, I felt different; stronger, more at ease. The fire was still raging around me, but now it couldn’t hurt me. The smoke was just as natural to breathe in as oxygen, the fire brushing against me didn’t burn.” His eyes hardened, meeting Peter’s, “When I walked out of the rubble people looked at me like I was a monster and I don’t blame them; I must’ve looked like a demon, what with the wings and the flames around me. I didn’t understand what had happened, so I left. I flew off and never looked back.”

Peter crept closer, placing a soothing hand on the (h/c)’s shoulders, “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve gotten over it, I guess.” He shrugged, “Any other questions?”

Peter paused, hesitant to ask what he really wanted to, “Could I see the wings?”

(M/N) nodded slowly, tugging his shirt off again before moving to lie down on the bed, resting his head on his crossed arms. His brows furrowing as he concentrated, tattoos shifting and dancing across his skin, slowly tugging upward and outward, away from his skin. The wings lifted from his shoulders, midnight-dark scales winking into existence as the appendages stretched into existence. The wings flexed as far as they could in the small room before curling inwards to sit, folded, against (M/N)’s spine.

The brunet stepped closer, craning his neck to get a good look at the way the light glimmered across the scales, a few gleaming sliver in the fluorescence. “Can- can I touch them?”

(M/N) froze slightly, “Um, I guess so. Just be careful, okay? They’re a little… sensitive.”

Peter nodded, slipping onto the bed next to his friend and extending his hand slowly. He placed his hand gently on the wing, a ways below the joint and near the edge. (M/N) tensed and his wing flexed slightly under the brunet’s fingers, the cool scales sliding easily against his palm. Peter pressed his hand down more firmly, exploring the wide planes of scales and flesh before him. (M/N) let out a slight grunt under him as he touched the place where a wing met his shoulder and Peter froze, hoping he hadn’t hurt his friend. (M/N) shifted lightly, forcing his wing back against his hand. Peter grinned, applying more pressure and watching as the (h/c) relaxed. The brunet paused as (M/N) let out a soft churring noise, his chest rumbling gently under Peter’s touch. He smiled, happy that his friend was so content.

A loud chime rang out through the room, both boys jerking in surprise. Peter’s gaze locked onto the source of the noise and he slipped off of the bed to go retrieve his phone. “It was just Aunt May asking if I needed anything from the store.” He sat back beside the (h/c), watching in fascination as his wings melted back into their tattoo form, their bulk vanishing as he sat up and tugged his shirt back on.

“Well, now that you know my dirty little secret,” (M/N) teased, finally turning back to face Peter once he was sure that the tattoos were securely covered. “Now what?”

Peter shrugged, not entirely sure where to go from there. “Wanna watch Jurassic Park?”

(M/N) laughed but agreed, never someone to have been able to deny Peter anything.

—–

It was nothing out of the ordinary for the boys to curl up together while watching a movie, what was abnormal, however, was the look that (M/N) got in his eyes when Peter laid back with his head on the (h/c)’s lap. His eyes grew soft, admiring the way Peter’s soft chocolate curls flopped just over his eyes and the way he was so focused on the movie. (M/N) grinned softly, appreciating the way the brunet was so relaxed around him.

Peter glanced up, having sensed the (h/c)’s gaze, “What’re you looking at?” (M/N) shook his head in amusement and Peter gasped dramatically, a chuckle escaping him. “How dare you not tell me!”

Before he even realized what he was doing, (M/N) had leaned down and pressed his lips to Peter’s. The brunet froze, shocked, and (M/N) pulled back, the weight of what he’d just done fully hitting him.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” He jolted into motion, scrambling out from under Peter and to his feet, rambling as he snatched up his backpack and made his way to the window, “I shouldn’t have done that; I just ruined everything. I’m so sorry, I’m just going to go; you can just pretend that that never happened, okay?” He sighed, slipping through the window frame and out onto the fire escape before allowing his wings to flare outwards, “I’ll see you around, Peter.”

He was gone before Peter could say anything to stop him.

—–

Days had passed in a blur since the kiss and Peter had still yet to see (M/N). He hadn’t been sitting with Ned and Peter at lunch, he wasn’t showing up to their shared classes, and he’d even been missing football practices. Even his alter ego had gone silent; there hadn’t been any sightings of Spitfire since that night, not even any of the typical signs of his presence.

He was worried about his friend (or was he his boyfriend now? Peter wasn’t quite sure anymore) and (M/N) had shut his phone off, so he couldn’t even text him to talk about what had happened. If he’d started getting careless when he was Spider-Man, Peter didn’t feel like he could be blamed, however that recklessness was exactly what had gotten him into his current predicament.

He’d been facing off with some weird guy in a purple suit with his face painted in clown makeup when all of a sudden the guy had launched a bomb at him mid-swing. The bomb had exploded into a net upon contact and Peter found himself free-falling, for once unable to stop himself as he quickly approached the unforgiving asphalt. His eyes squeezed closed as he got too close to impact, trying to brace himself in vain.

Suddenly he found his descent halted and his eyes shot open again, a disbelieving smile forming when he recognized the black suit and shining scales of his friend, one of his hands clutched tight to the crossties of the net as he dragged him away from the ground and back up to the rooftops. (M/N) set him down but didn’t land, “Get yourself out of there; I’ll hold off Joker and we’ll stop him together.”

Peter found himself nodding as the (h/c) soared back down toward the street level, where he could hear the sounds of fighting ensuing. He tore his concentration back to the present and began to squirm his way out of the netting, quickly moving to rejoin the fight as soon as he’d managed to free himself.

As he swung back in, he managed to time his entrance perfectly to web one of the clown’s- Joker’s, if (M/N) was right- web bombs and toss it back at him, grinning victoriously under his mask when it burst and caught the Joker inside it.

“Gotcha now,” he heard (M/N) grin, swooping down to grab the net by part of its interlocking chains with its captive inside it before Joker could move to free himself. He quickly flew higher, until he was certain that the Joker wouldn’t move to free himself lest he fall to his death.

Peter quickly scaled the side of the building until he was at roughly the same height as the dragon-themed hero. “What now?” he called over the sound of the rushing wind and the beating of wings.

“Now we wait for Batman to show up,” (M/N) huffed. “I’ve got a call in with some contacts who know him, and they say he’s on his way. Shouldn’t be long since Gotham’s just across state lines in Jersey. Twenty minutes, maybe?”

Peter’s brows furrowed nervously as his gaze flickered between his friend and the villain held captive below him. “Can you hold him that long?”

“I’ll be fine,” (M/N) huffed, wings flapping hard to keep both of them aloft. “Just, uh, talk to me for a bit? Distract me so I’m not thinking about it.”

“O-okay,” Peter said, mind reeling as he tried to think of something to say. “Um, a-after this, would you, uh, w-would you want to go to a m-movie or something?”

(M/N) laughed, shifting his grip a little, “Are you seriously asking me out right now?”

“I-I just-” Peter stammered, “You said to talk and that’s what I thought of first!”

(M/N) opened his mouth to respond when he was interrupted by the Joker, calling up to them from the net, “My God, if I had known I would have to deal with kids having a sexuality crisis and their terrible flirting, I would’ve just stayed in Gotham and dealt with Batman and his Robin-of-the-week!”

(M/N)’s eyes narrowed, visibly unamused. He locked eyes with Peter for a moment before releasing the net and letting Joker fall. He gave it a second or two before diving after him and catching the criminal once more, “Got any other funny jokes, clown boy?” he grumbled.

“Nope, I think I’m good,” Joker said, clinging tightly to the netting with a startled expression.

“Right answer,” (M/N) growled, resuming his previous altitude and looking back to Peter. “By the way, I’m definitely up for a date if you are.”

“Absolutely!” Peter agreed, suddenly very glad he was wearing a mask so no one could see just how wide he was smiling or the blush he could feel warming his cheeks.

A relieved sigh came from the net and when the heroes looked down, they found the Joker fixated on the sleek black car speeding toward them. “I never thought that I would be gratefulto see Batsy.” The car skidded to a stop below them and the driver stepped out, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked up at them.

“Give me five minutes,” (M/N) said to Peter, before tucking his wings and diving toward the Batmobile.

As Peter watched, (M/N) handed the captured Joker over to Batman (BATMAN, holy crap that was so cool!), exchanged a few words with Gotham’s protector, accepted a small slip of paper from him, and then spread his wings again to take off. Oh his way past Peter, he held his hand out, a wide smile crossing his lips as Peter leapt from the building and took it, allowing himself to be whisked into the sky by the dragon-themed hero.

Flying was almost as big of a rush as swinging through the city, but being like this- held close, wrapped in his arms like he was precious cargo- with (M/N) could beat both. Even if they were just going to the movies, he knew this was a memory he wouldn’t give up for anything.

Grant Me A Wish (Or Just Your Time)

Pairing: Camilo Madrigal x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “OK so, Camilo x male reader where male reader and Camilo have a game where reader tries to guess when Camilo is using his ability when outside the house. 2 points if he gets it right and Camilo gets one if he fails. They agreed that whoever scores 100 points gets a wish from the other. Whoever wins is entirely up to you.“

—–

You laughed quietly as you noticed your best friend’s eyes shifting slightly toward you before snapping back to attention, the only sign that you weren’t actually looking at Abuela Madrigal. You approached the ‘old woman’ casually, grinning up at her, “Hola, Senora,” you said. “How are you today?”

“Quite well, my boy,” she smiled, happiness creasing her face. “How are you?”

You returned her smile, “Doing well. I just got two points in our little game.”

It took a second for your words to sink in before ‘Abuela’ let out a huff and Camilo shape-shifted back into himself. “Damn, I thought that I had you that time. How’d you know it was me?”

“That’s my little secret,” you laughed, reaching out to ruffle his springy curls teasingly. “If I tell you, you’ll change your ways.”

Camilo shrugged, smiling one of his little half-smiles at your fond actions and unknowingly making your heart squeeze in your chest. “Guess you’ve got a point there. This is what, fifty-eight to forty seven?”

“Just you wait, I’ll be the one making that wish,” you teased, nodding. With that, you heard someone calling your name and dismissed yourself, unaware of the way Camilo’s eyes followed you fondly as you walked away from him.

—–

Several Months Later

—–

“Maribel!” you called, hurrying up to Camilo’s cousin and dragging her out of la Casita Madrigal, hoping to catch a word with her away from the crowds. Particularly away from any chance of your best friend overhearing. “Can I talk to you about something important, please?”

She cocked her head to the side, brows furrowing over brilliant brown eyes, “Is everything okay? Why aren’t you talking to Camilo about it?”

You shrugged sheepishly, eyes dropping to the ground in an effort to hide your embarrassment, “We’re friends, aren’t we?” Granted, you and Mirabel had never been quite as inseparable as you and Camilo, but you’d always been good friends, especially when you continued to make an effort to spend time with her and support her after she didn’t receive a Gift. The two of you still hung out together once in a while, though it was harder since Mirabel’s popularity had increased dramatically since the rebuilding of la Casita Madrigal. “Why shouldn’t I talk to you when I need advice? Especially if it’s about him…” your voice trailed off at the end, struggling to get yourself to continue.

Her eyebrows raised sharply, visibly shocked. If you had been looking, you might have noticed an odd look in her eyes, “This is about Camilo?”

You took a shaky breath, beginning to pace as you tried to get yourself to say the words you’d been denying to yourself for such a long time. “I think I’m in love with him,” you finally forced out.

Mirabel stayed quiet for a long moment as she thought about what you’d told her, “Hey, what was the score in you guys’ game?”

Your brows furrowed as you thought, “Ninety-eight to ninety-nine.”

“You’re wrong,” she said, and you stopped in your tracks, puzzled.

“No, that’s definitely what the score was,” you said, turning to look back at Mirabel in confusion.

Mirabel smiled at you, though the expression was a little different to her normal beaming smile. “No, I think you’ll find that you’ve got ninety-eight and Camilo,” her lips twist up into a familiar half grin, and then her features shift and change, resettling- to your horror- into those of your best friend, “has one hundred.”

“Mierda,” you swore under your breath, instinctually considering trying to run so you wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of your confession.

Camilo looked at you thoughtfully for a few seconds and you could feel the anxiety building in the pit of your stomach, “I know what I want for my prize,” he said finally, dark eyes fixed firmly on you.

You sighed, resolving yourself. How could you have thought that you’d get away with not resolving the game before being rejected? “What is it?”

“I wish,” Camilo said, drawing it out to tease you further, “for you to kiss me.”

His words shocked you, forcing your eyes back to him. You hesitated, examining him for any hint that this was another of his practical jokes. He looked completely serious.

You swallowed hard before forcing yourself forward, one hand coming up to hold the side of his neck as you tugged him forward and up slightly, guiding him into a better position to press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. You could feel the way his lips shifted into a smile against yours before his hands came up to twist into your hair and pull you more firmly against him.

Camilo was still smiling widely when he finally released you, “I love you too, estúpido,” he teased, leaning up to press another quick kiss to your lips, like he still couldn’t believe that that was a thing he could do now. “Best prize ever,” he murmured to himself, taking one of your hands in his and intertwining your fingers. He started tugging you impatiently back toward the front doors of la Casita Madrigal.

“Where are we going?” you asked curiously, following easily behind your new boyfriend.

“We need to go see Isabella and Delores,” he said, “They need to know that they just lost a bet.”

You laughed, knowing that some people may have been upset at the fact that their romantic interest had been betting on whether or not they’d get together, but instead feeling nothing but fondness and amusement at your new novio’s antics. “Whatever you say, amore,” you said, and you knew it was true; anywhere Camilo asked you to go, you’d be happy to follow him.

Marching Orders

Pairing: Peter Pevensie x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request(s): “Peter pensive x male reader with the prompt “you look like you’re going to fall asleep on your feet.” And if you can add that he’s an archer I will love you forever ’’ + “Dude the ‘you look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet’ gives me major peter pevensie vibes” + “Could I request a Peter (chronicle of narnia) where male reader goes to narnia with Peter and his siblings but takes place after defeating the white witch and they are all the kings and queens. Maybe Peter or the reader are having a hard time with all the pressure of ruling and they comfort and encourage each other and regain confidence”

A/N: I had a few similar prompts so I decided to combine them. I ended up going with before the witch’s defeat since it fit a little better for all of the prompts.

—–

Things had been… strange… since you and the Pevensie siblings had arrived in Narnia, and that went beyond the fact that animals had started talking and magic was real. As startling as those things had been, things had changed so quickly that you didn’t know what to do.

Edmond had been kidnapped by the White Witch and Aslan had given his life to get him back and now the five of you were expected to lead a war and eventually rule the country.

You’d excused yourself from the bonfire in the center of Cair Paravel, making the excuse of taking a turn keeping watch, if only to get away from the crowd for a few minutes. You took up post atop a hill a short way from camp, fingers trailing absent-mindedly across the feathers of the arrows in your quiver as you watched the horizon for any sign of the White Witch’s troops making a move before dawn brought the start of the battle between the Narnians and the White Witch’s army.

You sat there for what felt like a long while, though you weren’t sure whether it had been hours or minutes, before a rustling in the brush behind you startled you from your reverie.

Without a second thought, you nocked an arrow into your bow as you whirled to face the threat, tension easing from your shoulders as your best friend emerged from the shadows with his hands raised placatingly.

“Sorry,” Peter said, directing his usual warm grin at you, charming as always without ever even knowing it. “Didn’t mean to startle you; I just wanted to talk to you.”

You huffed, releasing the pressure on your bow string and replacing the arrow into your quiver. “Probably shouldn’t sneak up on someone with a weapon,” you said, turning back to the area you’d been overlooking.

Peter chuckled, moving to sit beside you. “Probably not,” he agreed easily, the setting sun gleaming off his hair and making it look almost like a halo. You shook off the thought, knowing that even if you were planning on telling Peter how you felt about him, now certainly wasn’t the time. Not with everything looming ahead of you.

“It’s kind of strange, isn’t it? It wasn’t so long ago that we were playing hide and seek and croquet and now…” he trailed off, sounding a little wistful at the thought of how easy your lives had been.

You nodded, trailing a finger over the smoothed wood grain of your bow, “I don’t know how to do this,” you said quietly. “I don’t know how to be a general or defeat a witch or rule a country.”

“I don’t either,” Peter agreed, scooting a little closer and resting his head against your shoulder.

As close as the two of you had always been, this was a side of Peter that you’d never seen before. He’d always been confident and brave and smart and kind, but he’d never been very open about his feelings. You suspected that he worried that he wouldn’t be taken seriously if he was, especially by his siblings. You knew that back in the real world, Peter was always straining to be a man that his father would have been proud of, but now as you looked at him, you knew that he was.

You tensed a little as you felt his fingers brush against yours and your breath caught in your throat as he took your hand in his. Heat rose in your cheeks as you felt his eyes on your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down at him, not knowing what you might find in his brilliant blue eyes.

A long moment passed as you let yourself enjoy the closeness before you finally forced yourself to speak. “You should probably go to bed,” you said softly, slowly withdrawing your hand from his and shifting away slightly. “You’ve been looking like you’re going to fall asleep on your feet for days.”

Peter nodded slowly, straightening up with an odd look on his face as he looked at you. He took a deep breath, seemingly hesitating over whether to say something or not. Eventually he seemed to make his decision, “Come with me?”

It took you a moment to realize what your best friend had asked you, but your surprised look must have been enough to have him needing to explain himself.

“I-” Peter stammered, “With everything that’s going on- I just worry about everyone- especially you, and I think I’d feel better having you closer and-”

You chuckled a little at Peter’s increasingly frantic explanations, “Pete?” you interrupted, grinning as he stopped, looking at you. “It’s okay, I’ll come with you.”

Peter smiled at you, ducking his head to hide the light blush coloring his cheeks and leading you back through the camp and into his tent.

Once the flap of the tent fell closed behind the two of you Peter seemed to hesitate, standing frozen in the middle of the space like he was lost in his thoughts. You left him to his thoughts, busying yourself with setting aside your bow, quiver, and armor. Eventually you turned back to look at him once you were down to your tunic and breeches, unsure as to what he would want from you now that he had you here.

Peter shot you a weary grin as he sat down on the edge of his bed, kicking off his boots before moving to lay down the rest of the way. He faltered for a moment before patting the space next to him, clearly nervous.

You moved slowly to lie beside him, like you expected him to change his mind. He didn’t, instead shifting onto his side to face you with a faint smile, blue eyes looking almost electric in the dim lighting.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he said softly, reaching out to take your hand in his again. “I don’t know that I’d have been able to do this without you.”

“Yeah you could have,” you replied, lips twisting up fondly as you looked at him. “You’re the strongest person I know.”

Peter let out a disbelieving laugh, tucking his face against the pillow sheepishly, “I’m only strong because I know I’ve got you watching my back.” He trailed off after a moment and the two of you drifted into a comfortable silence. After a few minutes Peter shifted closer to you, resting his head on your chest. “In case tomorrow doesn’t go well, I just want you to know how I feel about you.” He took a deep breath and you could feel his hand shaking slightly in yours, “I love you.” He was quick to backtrack, “Not just as a friend, but as more than that. You’re my best friend, my partner in crime, the one person I can count on no matter what. I’ll understand if this-” he gestured between the two of you slowly, “isn’t something you’re interested in, but-”

You cut him off with a soft huff of laughter, leaning in to kiss him gently. It only lasted a few seconds before you pulled away, tugging your joined hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles. “I love you too, Pete,” you grinned.

A stunned smile crossed his lips as he looked at you, adoring blue eyes tracing over your features like he couldn’t believe you were really here. “I’m not dreaming, right?”

You shook your head, laughing quietly. “No, you’re not dreaming.”

“Good,” he hummed, stealing another quick kiss before helping pull a blanket over the two of you and settling back down with his head on your chest again. “If I was, I wouldn’t want to wake up.”

“No, this is real,” you smiled, bringing a hand up to run gently through his hair, “We’rereal.”

Peter yawned quietly, curling closer to you. “After we beat the witch tomorrow, I’m gonna take you on a date- a real one. Dinner and candles and all of that.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you replied, smiling as you watched Peter’s breathing slow and him drift off to sleep. Eventually his breathing and warmth coaxed you off to sleep as well, letting you both have a few restful hours of sleep before dawn would bring with it the battle against the White Witch’s army to decide Narnia’s fate.

Cute Faces

Pairing: Jake Dillinger x Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “Do you still do Be more Chill? Cause I would like to request for Jake with the Sweaters prompt. [sweaters- “Don’t show that cute face to just anyone.”]

—–

You were no stranger to the massive parties hosted at Jake Dillinger’s house, but this was definitely the first time that you’d found yourself to be the center of attention at one. You’d just been lounging on one of the large couches that had been pushed up against one wall of the living room having a conversation with Brooke when Jake came and dropped down to sit next to you, throwing an arm over your shoulders.

Brooke hesitated for only a moment, but something in Jake’s gaze must have solidified her decision as she quickly muttered something about finding Chloe and abandoned her place beside you, leaving you alone with Jake.

“Some party, huh?” You said eventually, more to break the ever heavier silence than anything else.

Jake shrugged, studying you intensely. “It’s the same as the rest,” he said dismissively. “What’s going on with you and Brooke?”

You blinked, surprised by his question. The two of you talked now and then, but there’d never been more than a casual acquaintanceship between you and Brooke. You’d assumed that was as plain to see from the outside as it was to you. “Nothing? She’s nice and we talk sometimes, but I’m not sure how that’s your business anyway?”

Jake’s usual smile returned, cheeks dimpling with his happiness. He shrugged, tightening his loose hold over your shoulders to draw you a little closer to him. “I just don’t want you to show that cute face to just anyone.”

You opened your mouth to reply but found yourself stopping short. Cute? Jake Dillinger thought you were cute?

Your confusion must have been clear because Jake let out a boisterous laugh, leaning in to press a sweet kiss to your cheek before standing up from the couch. His hand slipped down your arm until he could take your hand in his and tug you gently to your feet. “Dance with me, cutie?” he asked imploringly, wide brown eyes fixated on you.

And really, how were you supposed to say no when you had someone like Jake Dillinger asking you for a dance?

Watch Me Burn

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “Something with Jaskier flirting with a rival bard?”

A/N: Me, listening to Burn, Butcher Burn for several straight hours to write this? No, never.

—–

You were no stranger to dingy bars and bards with something to prove, but it had been a long day of traveling and you just wanted to drink in peace, not be met with your old nemesis strutting about the place with his damned lute.

“I hear you’re alive; how disappointing,” his voice called as the weathered oak door thudded open before you and your adventuring party, “I’ve also survived, no thanks to you-”

You rolled your eyes, shaking off your party mates’ pointed looks and taking a seat at the bar, easily sweet talking your way into a free ale from the flustered barmaid. Your companions settled into the seats at your sides and you were grateful, hoping, for once, not to be noticed so you wouldn’t have to put on your performance persona yet again.

“All those lonely miles that you ride, now you’ll walk with no one at your side-” Jaskier sang, eyes fixed a million miles away from his audience. “What for d’you yearn? It’s the point of no return…”

Even as you tried to avoid him spotting you, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from your rival. The pain in his eyes was real, a far cry from his usual wide smile and the exaggerations and hyperboles that his tunes were normally filled with. His hair, typically clean and well-kept, hung shaggy and lank in his face.

“At the end of my days when I’m through,” Jaskier’s voice came in a rough growl as emotion began to consume him, “No word that I’ve written will ring quite as true as buuurn, burn Butcher, burn.” He fell back to sit on the edge of the stage, voice beginning to trail away as his fingers began to slow on the stings of his lute. “Watch me burn all the memories of you…”

As his voice echoed through the tavern, you realized exactly who this song was for; Geralt of Rivia, a witcher also known as the White Wolf and the Butcher of Blaviken. He was the same man that Jaskier had been traveling with the last time you’d bumped into him. You’d seen the way Jaskier had looked at the blond, the love in his eyes. You knew what that look meant; after all, it was how Jaskier made you feel.

You pushed yourself to your feet as his song ended, leaving your friends to their drinks and conversation as you prepared to make your exit. You paused as you passed the stage, pulling a gold coin from your coin purse and tossing it toward the downtrodden bard without a word.

“Much obliged, kind sir-” he started, catching it and lifting his eyes to look at his newest benefactor. His eyes hardened as they locked with yours, “The hell do you want?”

You bit out a sigh and shook your head, turning on your heel and making your way out of the tavern. You ignored the sound of Jaskier calling after you as he scrambled to his feet, following quickly behind you.

Eventually you came to a stop on the small porch looking out toward the forest path that led into town and took a seat on the step, resting your arms on your knees as you watched the trees.

“You did always have a flair for dramatic exits,” Jaskier said as he pushed through the tavern door and moved to sit beside you.

The corners of your lips twitched up into the barest hint of a smile, “You always had a flair for writing dramatic songs about your ex.”

Jaskier’s brows furrowed as he shot you a confused glance, “My ex? Who, Geralt?” He let out a bitter laugh, “No, no, we never-”

“So you write songs like that about all your friends then?” you prompted, jerking your head back toward the bar pointedly. “Should I be offended that I haven’t heard my ballad yet?”

A shocked laugh escaped your companion and you couldn’t help a slight feeling of accomplishment taking root. “I don’t know how I would even begin to write about you. There’s so much-” he trailed off, but you could understand. All the years of trying to out-perform each other and the insulting stanzas that you would improvise in your more competitive meetings.

“History?” you prompted.

He nodded, “Yeah. There’s just so much to say, I don’t know where I could even start.”

“You could always use that line about my voice sounding like a raven with a sore throat again,” you supplied with a grin. You’d never been particularly offended by his jesting, and that line had always been a favorite of yours.

He snorted, flipping the coin you’d given him between his fingers idly. Jaskier stayed quiet for a long moment, “You know I never actually meant that, right? I hate to admit it, but you do have a rather good voice.”

In all the years the two of you had known each other, you’d never heard Jaskier pay you an honest compliment before. It was… kind of nice, actually. “You’re quite talented yourself, Jaskier. Among other things.”

Jaskier perked up at the compliment, clearly curious about the ‘other’ as well. “And what might those other things be, hm?”

You faltered, suddenly aware of what you’d said and that there was no taking it back now. You knew that your friends would be laughing at you if they could see what you’d gotten yourself into. “Talented and creative, clearly. Funny, sometimes,” you started quietly, eyes fixed firmly on the horizon, even as his gaze remained fixed firmly on you. “Handsome, perpetually.”

Jaskier’s eyebrows raised and a smile spread over his lips, “You think I’m handsome?”

“Obviously,” you said, fingers tightening against the rough material of your trousers.

“Wish I’d known that sooner,” he said, “I’d have been nicer in the verses I wrote about you. Seen if I could’ve won you over in the first place.”

You laughed, pushing to your feet, “You say that as though you didn’t have my heart from the beginning.” You shook it off, preparing yourself to head back inside the tavern and up to the small room you’d rented for the night.

“Your… heart?” Jaskier sounded confused and you figured you might as well throw it all out into the open. If your heart got broken at least you could start healing.

“My heart, Jaskier,” you confirmed, sucking in a shaky breath before pressing on. “I’ve been in love with you for years. I just never said anything because I doubted you’d be interested.” He stayed quiet and you sighed, scrubbing a hand over your face as you made for the door. “Forget I said anything; good night, Jaskier.”

It took him a moment to process what you’d said, but then Jaskier was up on his feet and scrambling after you. He managed to catch your wrist before you could duck inside, tugging you back to face him and hesitating for only a few seconds before lurching forward to kiss you.

He pulled away after a moment with a fond smile, cocking his head to the side as he studied you. “Well then, are you going to invite me up?”

You couldn’t stop an answering grin and you nodded, taking his hands and lacing your fingers with his. “Sure. We’ll see what you’ve got for that ballad come morning, yeah?”

As the two of you ducked back into the building and up the back stairwell, you ignored your friends’ excited whoops as they caught sight of you, too busy laughing at the silly lyrics your new beau kept proposing between eager kisses.

Bad Day Bouquets

Pairing: Hamish Duke x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “[Information removed for privacy] so can I get a fic with hamish duke just telling his boyfriend he’s proud of him.”

A/N: I think we could all use a bit more of our fictional s/o’s telling us they’re proud of us. I hope that situation gets better soon, anon.

—–

Hamish Duke knew he wasn’t always the most observant man, but he always knew when something was bothering the love of his life. He always found himself feeling anxious- like there was a heavy weight on his shoulders and a tightness in his chest- when there was something going on and he was more often right than wrong. So when the familiar sensation crept up on him as the class he was auditing was nearing its end, Hamish knew what to do.

The moment the professor dismissed the class he was up out of his seat and on his way to the small flower shop that both of you loved.

Hamish had become familiar with the little old woman who ran the shop with her wife, both of them having taken a liking to him and his boyfriend when they’d come in looking for a few houseplants to liven up their apartment. Agnes, one of the women, smiled widely when Hamish entered, greeting him fondly. “And where’s (M/N), then?” she prompted, pulling out a sheet of paper to wrap the bouquet in. “Studying for another test? That boy works too hard.”

“Not today,” Hamish replied with a fond chuckle, “Something’s telling me he’s not having a great day.”

Agnes nodded sagely, understanding immediately. “Take a look around for a moment while I whip up something special for him. Edith made cookies earlier today; we’ll send some with you for him too.” She moved quickly for someone of her age, selecting flowers and colors that she’d come to know were your favorites in the year you and Hamish had been frequenting the shop and spinning them together into a gorgeous spiral shape. When she was satisfied she gave a sharp nod, tying a bit of twine around the stems of the flowers to hold them in the proper place before handing them over to Hamish, the time faded tattoos across the backs of her hands and lower arms shifting with the movements.

At that moment, her wife Edith made her way down the stairs from the small apartment above the shop with a small parcel in her hands. The bright fluorescent lighting made the small flower-shaped stud in her nose flash brightly as she stopped in front of Hamish, “You tell that boyfriend of yours to come visit us soon; we miss him.”

Hamish nodded, thanking them and paying them double what Agnes told him the flowers cost since he knew she always tried to give the two of you a steep discount. “I will.” He left, consciously ignoring the fact that he knew he’d never heard Agnes call for Edith to bring cookies downstairs. He had more pressing matters to attend to.

His next stop was your favorite coffee shop, where an order he’d placed online was already waiting for him. He thanked the barista as he slipped an extra twenty dollars into the tip jar, before ducking back out onto the street and making his way back toward your shared apartment.

His hunch was proven right as soon as he stepped into the door. The lights were off and the drapes had been pulled across the wide windows. His brows furrowed as he looked around, searching for what might have caused your day to go so south. A soft sigh escaped him as his eyes found your phone, lying abandoned on the floor at the base of the wall where you must’ve thrown it. Without any further investigation Hamish knew exactly what the cause of your bad mood was.
He toed off his dress shoes and locked the door behind him, making his way further into the apartment, stopping only to arrange the flowers in a vase of water before entering your bedroom. He set the flowers and your go-to drink on the nightstand before settling onto the edge of the bed beside the boyfriend-shaped lump of blankets.

“Agnes and Edith send their regards,” he murmured quietly, reaching out to run a gentle hand down your back. “And the barista, Alex, wanted me to tell you she was very grateful for the notes you lent her last week.” He smiled a little as you pushed the blankets back just far enough to reach for the warm to-go cup and examine the flowers. “There are a great many people in this city that care about you, myself obviously included.”

You sighed, taking a long drink from your cup and snuggling deeper into your pile of blankets.

“As someone that cares about you deeply,” Hamish started slowly, hand resuming its slow trail up and down your shoulders, “Can I ask what’s got you feeling so down?”

The to-go cup thunked back onto the nightstand and you disappeared back under the heap of blankets with a huff. “My mother called.”

Just like that, Hamish understood. Your relationship with your mother had always been… complicated. The two of you were like two sides of the same coin- night and day, magic and mundane, wrong and right. In all the time Hamish had known you, all you’d ever done was to try and make her proud but all she could find in you was faults. You chose to attend her alma mater, but she didn’t think your grades were high enough. You found someone that you loved, but that person was a man. “Ah,” he murmured quietly, brows furrowing as he tried to think of what to say. “Well, one shouldn’t take stock in the sayings of the ignorant, I suppose,” he said finally.

“Even if the ignorant is your mom?” you prompted, lowering the blanket far enough that Hamish could see one of your lovely (e/c) eyes peering up at him.

He nodded slowly, reaching down to thread his fingers through your hair comfortingly. “Even then,” he said, moving to lie down next to you and taking your face in his hands to make you look at him to know he was serious. “As much as she doesn’t know you, I do. I see how hard you try at everything you do; how many late nights you’ve had to work on your homework, how many job interviews at companies we both know you’d hate, and how many blind dates you went on with girls your mother chose before we found each other. She may not be, but I am so incredibly proud of you every single day.”

As Hamish spoke, he could see the weight of his words beginning to resonate within you. He knew that your mother’s approval meant the world to you, but you meant the world to him and he would do anything, bring you so many bouquets for your bad days and your good that you’d perpetually be wading through a field of flowers, to make you see that. But for now at least, the slight smile that his words brought to your lips would have to be enough.

Clumsy Confessions

Pairing: EJ Caswell x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “Hi if you are still taking hsmtm requests could you do a ej x male reader where the reader is clumsy and whenever he flirts with him and he becomes a blushing mess and gets more clumsy like running into doors and all that.”

—–

Every Friday night since the three of you were kids, you and your best friends met up at one of your houses for a night of video games, snacks, movies, and mischief. These “Best Bro Nights” as they’d been dubbed had always been a place for you, Ricky, and Big Red to hang out and be yourselves without any fear of judgement.

When Ricky and Nini had broken up, you and Big Red spent the night curled up on either side of Ricky offering support and distractions as he dealt with his emotions. When Big Red was struggling to think of something special to do for Ashlynn for opening night of High School Musical, the three of you stayed up all night together brainstorming ideas and piecing together potential plans.

Unlike those situations though, tonight you’d just been expecting the usual action movies and popcorn fights. You were laying sprawled out on your back on the couch in Big Red’s basement, tossing a football up in the air and catching it while Ricky and Big Red argued quietly. You had shrugged it off when they started, assuming it was just over whose turn it was to pick the first movie.

“Hey, (M/N),” Ricky called out suddenly, “What do you think about E.J.?”

You nearly fumbled as you caught the ball again, hesitating for a brief second too long before tossing it into the air again. “We’ve been over this, R; I agree that him deleting your voicemail to Nini was shitty, but it’s been months. You need to let that go.”

Big Red let out a snort of laughter as Ricky scrambled to protest, “That- that’s not why I was asking- I just- we’ve all had to spend a lot of time together because of rehearsals. I was wondering what you thought about him.”

Another toss and easy catch. “He seems like a nice guy.”

“Just… nice?” Big Red prompted gently, moving toward you as Ricky slipped upstairs to answer the door.

You shrugged, throwing the ball a little higher than you had been previously, “I mean, I hear that he’s a pretty good water polo player and he’s a good actor. He’s always been kind to me, even though I can’t seem to get a word out around him unless it’s from a damn script.” You rolled your eyes, throwing the ball again, “And he’s got those stupid pretty blue eyes and-” You cut yourself off as your hands clapped back onto the ball. “Yeah,” you said sharply, launching the football higher still, “He’s just nice.”

“So, you won’t mind that I went ahead and invited him over?” Ricky asked, grinning widely as he made his way back down the stairs and into the room with E.J. trailing quietly behind him.

“Nice try, Ricky,” you replied without looking over. “I know you’re just trying to fuck with me again. You want me to get all frazzled and panicked and it’s not going to happen.”

“That’s an odd way to say hi,” E.J. called from his place beside Ricky.

The sound of his voice startled you into sitting up and looking over, eyes going wide as you realized your best friend wasn’t actually messing with you. Just then the football came down from your last throw, slamming hard into the side of your head. “Fuck-” you exclaimed as you brought a hand up to clutch at the new ache.

E.J. rushed toward you, dropping to kneel next to the couch and taking your head in his hands. He turned your head slightly so he could see the wound. “It’s not too bad; it’ll probably only bruise. Are you okay?”

Some absurd part of you that wanted to say something cheesy like ‘I am now’ but you were quick to squash it. “Fine,” you forced out after a long moment, “You just, uh, surprised me.”

There was a long moment of quiet between the two of you, before Big Red finally broke it by clearing his throat. “Well, uh, me and Ricky are gonna go grab you an ice pack. You two just, uh, have fun?”

With that he turned to head upstairs, dragging Ricky along behind him. The door clicked shut behind them, just after Ricky bit out a cheeky “But not too much fun!” and left the two of you in increasingly awkward silence.

“Did you really mean all those things you said about me?” E.J. said quietly after a long moment.

You considered denying it, but knew there was really no way to talk your way out of what you’d said. “Yeah,” you replied, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.

“Huh,” he said, sitting back on his heels with furrowed brows. “I always just kind of figured you didn’t like me.” At your confused stare, he explained, “I just- well, I kind of assumed because you only ever respond to me with a couple words, if that, and you always seem to be in such a hurry to leave.”

You huffed out a bitter laugh, finally forcing yourself to pull away from where he’d still been cradling your face in his hands. “Well, now you know why.”

“I’m not sure I do.” He said slowly, pretty blue eyes narrowed as he looked up at you. “If you don’t hate me, then why…?”

“I like you, okay?” you snapped, drawing your legs up to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “I like you a lot, and you make me nervous, which is why I stayed mostly quiet or left; so I didn’t make a fool out of myself.”

“You should’ve just said,” E.J. let out a disbelieving laugh as pushed himself back up to kneel before you, setting his hands on your knees to give himself enough leverage to lean up and kiss you. He pulled away after a moment, giving you just enough time to realize what was happening before it was over. “D’you think that Ricky and Big Red would mind terribly if I stole you for the night and took you out on a date?”

You laughed as your best friends whooped loudly, clearly having been listening in through the door at the top of the stairs. “No, I really don’t think they will. They’ll just make me tell them all about it during our next boys’ night.”

And really, you couldn’t help but think as E.J. leaned in to kiss you again, you owed them that much for helping the two of you finally get together.

Love Languages

Pairing: James Potter x Ravenclaw!Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: “James Potter falling for his sweet gay Ravenclaw tutor?”

—–

James Potter had never really been all that concerned with his grades. Brewing potions practically ran in his blood and he was a natural study when it came to Transfiguration and Charms, but apparently skating by with decent grades in most of his classes didn’t mean that McGonagall wasn’t willing to remove him from the Quidditch team if he was failing a class, even if it was one as pointless as Muggle Studies tended to be. He’d asked what he could do to avoid being barred from the team, but Minnie’s response had been a deadpan “find a way to raise your grade” and suggested that he look into finding a tutor before the test the following week.

His first thought had been to ask Evans, but he’d abandoned that idea almost immediately when he thought about how awkward it’d been between them since they’d broken up a few months prior. Then he thought of Remus, but he knew that meant that Sirius would be around and if Sirius was around then they’d be too busy planning their next prank to get any studying done at all.

Once he realized that looking for a tutor outside of Gryffindor was probably for the better, the answer to his problem made itself obvious. He slung his messenger bag over his shoulder as he headed for the portrait hole.

You were in James’ year, but not in very many of his classes, since you tended to prefer the more academically inclined classes, while he stuck with pretty much anything else. He’d run into you several times though as you were leaving the library or one of your classes and he was running from Filch or one of the professors after a prank. He couldn’t say that he knew you well, but he knew enough to not be surprised when the Marauder’s Map led him to a small table hidden behind several towering bookcases in one corner of the library.

As James rounded the corner you looked up from one of the massive tomes spread out before you, visibly puzzled by his presence and seeming even more befuddled as he dropped into the seat across from you and set his book bag in front of him.

“Um, hello?” you said slowly, brows furrowed as you looked at him. “Can I help you with something?”

James smiled, that same mischievous grin he always had when something was going exactly as he’d hoped, “Well, now that you mention it, I could reallyuse some help with my Muggle Studies homework.”

The unimpressed look on your face wasn’t exactly what James had been expecting though, “I’m not doing your homework for you, Potter.”

James blanched, waving his hands in front of him frantically, “No, no, no, you’ve misunderstood me.” He laughed, flustered by the assumption, “Honestly, I just need some help. I missed some classes and now I don’t understand what’s being covered. Their world is so different from what I know it’s like another language.”

“So you just need a… translator?” You asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

He nodded slowly, an embarrassed flush prickling at his cheeks. “I mean, I was going to say tutor, but yeah. I suppose I should’ve just led with asking you like a normal person, shouldn’t I?”

“That would’ve probably worked a little better, yes,” you replied with a grin, “But lucky for you, you’re cute and I’m feeling generous, so I’ll help you anyway.”

James’ eyes widened and he moved to push up his glasses to hide his darkening blush, “You think I’m cute?” He fumbled with the clasp on his book bag and pulled out the first textbook he touched.

He hadn’t ever really thought about other people romantically aside from Lily Evans before they’d gotten together, but ever since the break-up he found himself attracted to guys as well as girls. But to hear that people- that you- had had similar thoughts about him-

“Tell you what,” James started, lips twitching up into a pleased grin as he tousled his hair, “You help me pass Muggle Studies so McGonagall doesn’t boot me from the Quidditch team, and I’ll take you out for butterbeer on the next Hogsmeade trip? Maybe, um, maybe as a date? If that’s something you’d want too?”

“Sure, Potter,” you said, “I’ll let you take me out. But, uh, if you want to pass Muggle Studies, you might need a book other than your Transfiguration textbook.” You bit out a quiet chuckle as you nodded toward the book in his hands, before turning back to your own schoolwork.

James flushed further as he realized that he really had grabbed the wrong book- too busy trying to woo you to pay attention to the details. “My bad,” he said. James retrieved the right book and forced himself to keep his eyes on the page, even as much as he wanted to look up at you. Maybe having you as a tutor wasn’t going to be great for his grades, but when he chanced a look up at you and found you smiling at him, he knew it would be worth it either way.

Scare Factor

Written for my 2021 Halloween event.

Pairing: Randall Carpio x Scare Actor!Male!Reader

Prompt: Randall + Scare actor with “Don’t you dare say ‘let’s split up’’ and “Oh, don’t worry. The blood is fake.”

A/N: This was the final prompt for my 2021 Halloween event! I hope that you had as much fun reading the pieces as I did writing them.

—–

When Lilith had suggested that the Knights of Saint Christopher take a little field trip to their local haunted house, Randall had expected it to be much more mild than this. He had anticipated crappy fog machines, guys in cheesy masks, and barely-functioning animatronics- nothing at all compared to the things he and his companions faced on a daily basis.

Except that the fog machines weren’t crappy- they worked well enough to obscure even his wolf-enhanced vision. The animatronics were genuinely terrifying; jolting forward unexpectedly and letting out ungodly shrieks whenever he thought it was safe to look the other way. And the scare actors…

The actors would come out of nowhere, popping around corners and appearing from dense clouds of smoke as though out of thin air. They would yell and swing fake weapons, using their sudden appearance and loud noises to spook the guests passing through.

Randall hated to admit it, but he was quickly finding himself increasingly anxious as he and his friends wound their way through the maze of hallways and themed rooms. He found his heart rate picking up with every jumpscare, a nervous sweat prickling across the palms of his hands and the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

Right as he was considering the benefits of just leaving, their group crossed the threshold into a room so dark that Randall couldn’t see anything even with his werewolf senses and the door slammed closed behind them. A group of actors emerged from the darkness with a scream and rushed the group, which split in the confusion.

At some point Randall’s hand brushed against the soft fabric of someone’s shirt, and he clutched onto it, dragging who he assumed was probably Hamish with him in the direction that he assumed the exit would be.

When he finally found the door and shoved it open, he couldn’t help but gasp in a relieved breath, chest heaving as he tried to get his breathing back to normal.

“So… the exit was actually the other way,” drawled a man’s voice from behind Randall.

Randall whipped around, lurching away as he came face to blood-splattered face with one of the scare actors. His eyes widened as he realized that he must have grabbed this zombie guy instead of one of his friends in all the chaos, “You… aren’t Hamish.”

The stranger huffed out a surprised laugh and Randall was hit by the sudden realization that under all the blood, the (h/c) was actually pretty handsome. “No, no I’m not. The name’s (M/N), actually.”

“Right,” Randall murmured, averting his eyes awkwardly; still embarrassed by the whole situation.

(M/N) grinned, running a hand through his hair. “Oh, don’t worry. The blood’s fake.”

Randall’s lips twitched up into the barest hint of a smile, knowing that he’d have been able to smell if it was real from a mile away. “Right, yeah. Of course it is.”

“Look, your friends took off down the main hallway,” the scare actor said, gesturing off in the direction of the path. “We’re in the back halls right now; I can take you through a couple of shortcuts and get you back with your group, or you can head back through the door and try and catch them yourself.”

“Don’t you dare suggest we split up,” Randall snapped. He faltered as he realized how that had sounded, “Sorry, it’s just- I’m a little bit-” he gestured uselessly back toward the room they’d come from.

“Of a ‘fraidy cat?” (M/N) teased, the corner of his lips twitching up in amusement, “Don’t worry; I already knew that.” He chuckled a little, before tilting it toward one of the ends of the hallway, “C’mon, I’ll take you back to your friends.”

Randall brightened, grinning so hard that he knew his dimples would be visible, “R-really? Thank you!”

The (h/c) smiled, the movement making the fake blood and makeup crinkle a little at the corner of his lips in a way that had Randall itching to kiss it away. He reached out to take Randall’s hand in his and Randall could feel Graybeard preening appreciatively under his skin. “Don’t want you getting lost,” (M/N) explained, though Randall couldn’t help but pick up the faint blush on his cheeks.

“Definitely not,” Randall replied, an answering flush heating his face as he twisted his fingers with the (h/c)’s and allowed himself to be tugged along through the dark scarers-only hallways that ran alongside the guest paths.

Eventually they came to a stop just behind a door disguised as a painting. “Your friends should be entering this room within the next minute, so you can hop through here and meet back up with them.”

“That’s amazing,” Randall grinned, watching through a hidden hole as his friends trailed into the room beyond the door, talking amongst themselves and trying to figure out where he’d disappeared off to.

“I like to think so,” (M/N) grinned, reaching out to press the button to unlatch the hidden door before hesitating. “I don’t know if you’d be interested at all, but, um, if you maybe wanted to see me again, I get off at midnight?”

Randall was surprised to hear that his attraction was reciprocated, but he definitely wasn’t upset to hear it. “Yeah, I- yeah, definitely! We could maybe go to the Blade and Chalice for a drink?”

“That sounds amazing,” (M/N) nodded, grinning widely. “I promise I’ll be less bloody for our date.”

The Knight smiled as he moved to duck through the doorway, “I dunno, I think it’s a pretty good look on you.”

Randall couldn’t quite figure out whether his good mood was from scaring his friends with his sudden reappearance or the sound of (M/N)’s raucous laughter echoing behind him and the plans for tonight looming ahead of him.

Hearts on Fire

Written for my 2021 Halloween event.

Pairing: Ben x Male!Reader

Prompt: Dragon Ben stealing the reader away for part of his hoard.

A/N: This was the fourteenth prompt for my 2021 Halloween event! The final piece will be posted on Sunday, October 31st.

—–

When your day began, you hadn’t expected it to go like this. Honestly though, how could you have? You’d been on your way to your classes at Auradon Prep, the same as every other day, when something huge swooped out of the sky and closed its massive claws around your middle, dragging you off into the sky with it.

As the creature’s grip tightened around you and its wings shifted to begin its descent a large mountain appeared out of the clouds before you, and you realized that the deep fissure in its face must have been where the beast had made its den. You were proven right as it swooped down through the crevasse, landing easily, even with one great paw preoccupied with holding you.

The creature released you as soon as it landed and you were quick to scramble away, watching in a terrified sort of awe as green smoke consumed the dragon (now that you were able to see more than the scaled paw that had snatched you, you were able to be sure) and concealed it from your sight.

When the smoke finally dissipated, you were shocked to see a stunned-looking brunet about your age rather than the massive dragon that had taken you.

“Well,” he said after far too long spent in silence, examining his hands as though he’d never seen them before, “That’s certainly new.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to force yourself past your shock, “That’s- not a normal thing for dragons?”

He shrugged, a sheepish glint in his warm chocolate eyes, “I wouldn’t know; I’m not exactly a normal dragon.” When you were too confused to respond, he pressed on, “I tried to break up with my ex a few years ago because I didn’t see us working out and cursed me. Ever since then I’d been, well, like that,” he gestured vaguely in the direction he’d brought you from.

“Then how did you change back…?” you gestured toward him, clearly curious about what had happened to him.

“My name’s Ben, by the way.” He let out an amused little huff, grinning at you, “Y’know, the funny thing is that she said that the spell would only break when I met my true love.”

“True love, huh?” you said, an embarrassed flush heating your cheeks. “Let’s start with a date and go from there, yeah?”

Ben smiled widely, pushing a dark curl behind his ear, “As much as I’d like that, how about we start with how to get down since I can’t fly anymore?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, smiling so widely that your cheeks began to hurt. Yeah, you found yourself thinking a while later as the pair of you picked your way down the mountain, if the rest of your relationship with Ben was like this, you were sure you’d be happy.

Pumpkin Patch Pictures

Written for my 2021 Halloween event.

Pairing: Alex x Male!Reader

Prompt: Alex + “The phantoms and the reader doing a fall photoshoot, and everyone keeps telling Alex how adorable his boyfriend is with his camera and photos and Alex is just like I know he’s a keeper.”

A/N: This was the thirteenth prompt for my 2021 Halloween event! The next piece will be posted on Friday, October 29th.

—–

Alex couldn’t help but smile as he watched you work; effortlessly guiding Reggie and Luke into the proper poses and making sure the sheets that made up their ghost costumes draped in such a way that would make the lighting look even more impressive before stepping back to snap a few photos.

“Is that your boyfriend?” A woman’s voice snapped Alex out of his thoughts and he turned to face her with wide eyes. After a moment, he recognized her as the woman who owned the pumpkin patch that they had come to take photos at.

It took him a moment to process what she’d asked, and then another to determine whether it was a genuine question, but Alex finally managed to respond after what felt like entirely too long. “N-no. We’re just, uh, just friends.”

The woman laughed, her amusement making her eyes crinkle up at the corners ever so slightly. “Maybe you should think about asking for more,” she suggested with a grin, “The way he was looking at you when you were getting your photos has me thinking that you’re not the only one thinking this would’ve been a fun place to come on a date.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but at that moment you turned and shot him the most brilliant smile and the setting sun caught your eyes in a way that made them seem to glow and he could feel his heart seize in his chest. “Yeah, I think maybe I should.”

“He seems like a keeper,” the woman said quietly, nudging Alex forward. “Best of luck, dear. And bring him back next year; we’re going to have a corn maze.”

Alex stumbled forward at her push, grinning sheepishly as he got closer.

“Oh, good, I was just about to ask you to come over here,” you said, gesturing with your camera toward a cluster of large pumpkins, “I need you to sit on this one, kick your legs out in front of you, and tip your head back a little like you’re laughing.”

Alex hesitated, shooting a glance back at the woman before steeling his nerves, “Hey,” he started quietly, as he moved to the spot you’d directed him to, “Um, would you maybe wanna go get hot chocolate with me after this?”

“Yeah, we can all head over once I get these last couple shots of you,” you responded, clearly distracted by getting the right lighting and framing.

“No,” Alex said slowly, flushing a little as you finally looked up from your camera and met his gaze, “I meant just you and me. Like… as a date?”

“Oh.” You said, visibly surprised. “Oh! Yeah, definitely!”

Alex grinned widely at your response, a light blush dusting across his cheekbones as he looked up at you, pointedly ignoring the excited whoops from Reggie and Luke, who had de-ghosted themselves when they realized what they were witnessing. “Okay, sweet.”

After that, he was more than happy to let you take as many pictures as you wanted, because when you were done taking your pumpkin patch pictures, he finally got to take out the guy of his dreams.

Home Safe

Written for my 2021 Halloween event.

Pairing: Ben x Male!Reader

Prompt: Ben + “Good luck explaining your new fangs to the dentist.”

A/N: This was the twelfth prompt for my 2021 Halloween event! The next piece will be posted on Wednesday, October 27th.

—–

While you had always known that Audrey was a bit of a bitch you’d never expected her to actually turn evil, let alone for her to be able to command Maleficent’s scepter and take over the school. You’d been with Mal, Evie, and Uma when Audrey had trapped you inside, and you had known that you were in a dangerous situation, but you couldn’t help but worry more about what was happening to Ben; after all, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend since this whole mess had started.

You supposed that was why you felt such a rush of relief when the girls broke the spell on the cottage and Celia looked out the window, turning to face you with a grin, “Hey,” she’d said, “It’s your bae!”

You’d rushed out of the cabin without a second thought, hurrying to embrace him. “Oh god, I was so worried about you,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around him and holding him close. “I wasn’t sure what she would do to you and I-” you trailed off, arms tightening around Ben’s waist reflexively.

“I’m okay,” he replied softly, hugging you back and tucking his face against your shoulder. “She- um, she turned me into a beast. Like my dad. I’m only okay because Jane and Carlos had water from the Enchanted Lake.” He took a shaky breath, and the movement made you notice the odd texture of his jaw against your skin- like he hadn’t shaved in a few days.

You pulled back to look at him, eyes widening as you took in his altered appearance. You took his face in your hands, remaining quiet for a long moment as you studied him. “It’s kind of a good look for you,” you said eventually, trying to coax a smile out of the forlorn brunet.

It worked, and the sight of his amused grin was enough to help ease the tension in your chest.

“What about those?” Uma asked from behind you, gesturing to the newly revealed fangs protruding from your boyfriend’s lips.

You paused, a little stunned at the new additions, “Well, those are new.”

Ben’s grin widened and he bared his fangs at you playfully, “I kinda like them. I’m sure we could put ‘em to good use.”

“Good luck explaining your new fangs to the dentist,” you teased with a roll of your eyes, but you leaned in to press a light kiss to his cheek.

Ben just laughed, tucking himself comfortably against your side and grinning up at you. He knew that your teasing was just your way of showing that you loved him, and that you were relieved that he was safe. He really couldn’t fault you for that though; with you he was finally home, safe and sound.

Strange Events

Written for my 2021 Halloween event.

Pairing: Jack Morton x Male!Reader

Prompt: Jack and Scooby gang!Reader + “You’re about as scary as a golden retriever. You know that, right?” + “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to scare me.” + “Sane people don’t go into abandoned houses for a reason and this is it.”

A/N: This was the eleventh prompt for my 2021 Halloween event! The next piece will be posted on Monday, October 25th.

—–

There was something strange going on at Belgrave University. The first few weeks of your new college life had been relatively normal, but recently people had been dying terrible bloody deaths and then the stories seemed to have been rewritten into simple, easy-to-digest mundane endings like bike accidents and overdoses by the next morning with no one to remember what happened but you and another freshman by the name of Jack Morton.

“So,” you started, swatting a tree branch out of your way as you trailed after Jack through the woods surrounding the university. “A werewolf hunt is really what we’re going with here?”

Jack shrugged, stumbling a little over a root. “Got any better ideas?”

“Honestly? No.” You huffed, hesitating as you heard something rustling through the bushes behind you. “I mean, a magical underground society makes more sense than most of my previous theories. I just wouldn’t have pegged it as a werewolf society initially.”

Jack turned to shoot a grin over his shoulder at you. “At least it’s a lead, right? It’s something-” His voice cut off, eyes widening as they locked onto something behind you. “(M/N), run!” he called, already beginning to stumble backward.

You rolled your eyes, chuckling a little at what you assumed was nothing more than a practical joke, “You’re gonna have to try harder than that to scare me, Jack. We might be hunting mythical creatures here, but I’m not a coward-” you were interrupted by the feeling of hot breath ghosting over the back of your neck and a low growl echoing behind you. The sound had you scrambling forward after Jack, too focused on getting away to worry about looking at what was trailing the two of you.

You ran for what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes, eventually breaking through the tree line and onto the front lawn of a somewhat dilapidated house. You shared a brief look with Jack before the sound of thundering footsteps behind you spurred the both of you forward once more, sending you crashing through the front door of the house.

With your panicked state, you barely had time to glance around at your surroundings (What kind of shady house in the woods had a rock climbing wall?!) before the sound of another of the creatures upstairs had the two of you fleeing down the basement stairs and into a small room with five large chests, barricading the door behind you.

Almost immediately two of the chests began to shake, rattling within their chains and finally snapping open- releasing a swirling mass of fur from each, which quickly engulfed both you and Jack.

—–

When you finally came to you were naked and covered in blood, tangled in a mess of limbs with Jack where you lay sprawled across the floor of the living room in the creepy old manor house in the woods and surrounded by strangers.

“Wha’ happened?” Jack murmured from beside you, turning over to curl closer to your side.

You huffed out a laugh, gaze flickering from the brunet to the group of people standing before you, “Sane people don’t go into abandoned houses for a reason and this is it.”

Jack’s eyes cracked open at the sound of your voice and he tried to take in his surroundings. “What the hell?”

“Dude, it’s me; Randall,” said one of the strangers, stepping forward and crouching down in front of Jack, “Your R.A.?” He rolled his eyes, shooting a disbelieving look at you, “Anyway, I’m Randall. This is Hamish and Lilith, and together we’re the Knights of Saint Christopher. We’re werewolves,” he grinned widely, like he was just excited to have the opportunity to make a new friend.

You huffed out a quiet laugh, grinning in embarrassment when everyone’s eyes drifted to you, “Sorry,” you said, by way of explanation. “It’s just- we were looking for werewolves. I guess I just didn’t think we’d find them by joining the pack,” you chuckled, your amusement plain to see.

“I’m just glad you weren’t afraid of us,” Randall said, plopping down on the ground in front of you with his legs crossed in front of him, “A lot of people tend to have reactions a little more like Jack’s.”

The brunet looked a little like he was about to hyperventilate, but he looked up at the sound of his name. Some color crept back into his face when you reached over to take his hand and lace your fingers together.

“I’ll be honest with you, Randall,” you said, grin widening as you felt Jack squeeze your hand gently, “You’re about as scary as a golden retriever. You know that, right?”

He laughed, leaning forward to shove you playfully, and in that moment, with Jack’s hand in yours and your new packmates laughing with you, you knew that you would be happy here. Your college life definitely wasn’t what you had expected, but some mysteries were even better once they were solved.

Capitol Costume Parties

Written for my 2021 Halloween event.

Pairing: Cato x Male!Reader

Prompt: Cato + “You have a tail. And ears. Pleasetell me those aren’t real.”

A/N: This was the tenth prompt for my 2021 Halloween event! The next piece will be posted on Saturday, October 23rd.

—–

In the time since Cato had won the Hunger Games, he had started to get used to the specific brand of extremism that came with a visit to the Capitol. He’d grown… not comfortable, but accustomed to the dyed skin and hair that was popular with the Capitol’s citizens. The odd beings had always made him a little uncomfortable, but with the discomfort of their presence came the blessing of yours.

You’d been the escort sent by the Capitol to accompany Cato and Clove on their way to the Games and in the days leading up to entering the Arena and in the weeks on the Victory Tour, Cato had grown close to you. You’d been a breath of fresh air; virtually untouched by the all-around weirdness of the Capitol- normal, despite having lived your whole life in the city.

Cato supposed that was the reason that seeing you across the room at a crowded Capitol party was so shocking. Well, seeing you wasn’t so surprising, he mused, Those were.

Emerging from your (h/c) locks were a pair of pointed wolf ears, which flicked and jolted at the varying noises of the party. At one point, you turned to speak to someone behind you and Cato caught a glimpse of a matching tail swishing behind you.

Eventually Cato managed to catch you when you were on your own, over near the bar lining one edge of the room.

“Oh,” you’d said, eyes widening as you turned to head back to your companions and came face to face with Cato. Your expression brightened as you recognized him, “Cato! It’s been ages since you’ve come to visit! How have you been?”

Your pleased reaction had a small smile teasing at the edge of Cato’s lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to focus on anything but your new… appendages. “You… have a tail. And ears. Please tell me those aren’t real?”

A bright laugh bubbled out of you, eventually settling into a fond grin, “No, Cato, they’re not real. A stylist friend of mine made them; they’re programmed to respond to sound. You realize this was meant to be a costume party, right?”

Cato blinked, and then again, turning to look around him. After a moment, he shrugged and turned back to you, “If I’m being honest, everyone here looks just as weird as they always do.”

“Do you think I’m weird too?” you asked, a teasing glint in your eye as you looked up at him.

He blanched, trying to figure out how to respond in a way that wouldn’t completely blow his chances with you.

You laughed, waving off his silence and setting a hand on his shoulder, “Look, I chose to live in the Capitol instead of taking a residentially stationed job in one of the districts. I know I’m not normal.” You trailed your hand down his arm until you could lace your fingers with his and tug him after you onto the dance floor, “Let me show you that being strange isn’t so bad?”

With you looking up at him like that, Cato was sure that there wasn’t anything you couldn’t get him to do.

Under the Canopy of Trees

Written for my 2021 Halloween event.

Pairing: Werewolf!Riven x Male!Reader

Prompt: “werewolf riven x male reader were the reader is walking through the woods and one day Riven corners him. Reader happens to be his mate and they kinda fall in love after he changes back to human form”

A/N: This is the ninth piece for my Halloween event. The next piece will be released Thursday, October 21st.

—–

The road home from Alfea College had always been a little eerie with towering pine trees boxing you in on all sides and making the trail seem dark and isolated. You’d made the trek through these very woods for the last several years as you worked towards your degree, but in the last few weeks you had begun to feel as though you were being watched whenever you came too close to the treeline. A few times you had thought you’d caught sight of a large animal, but it always vanished too quickly for you to be sure.

Even now, as you were on your way home from a study group that ended far later than normal, the weight of eyes on you had the skin on the back of your neck prickling uncomfortably. You found yourself walking faster than you typically did and wincing whenever you heard a bush rustle or a twig snap.

After the third false alarm, you finally forced yourself to ignore the sounds of the forest and focus instead on making your way home before night fell. Your plan seemed to be going rather well actually, until a hand caught you by the strap of your backpack and tugged you to a stop just before you crossed the treeline.

“And where do you think you’re going?” A deep voice murmured, deep and smooth and far too confident, warm breath ghosting over the shell of your ear as he spoke.

You tensed at the sensation, heart sinking as you realized that all those suspicions of being followed had been correct. “I’m going home.”

“Then you’re going the wrong way,” the voice teased, grip shifting from your bag down your arm to take hold of your wrist and tug you around to face him.

Your eyes widened as they locked with a pair of dark chocolate ones before taking in the rest of the stranger’s appearance, from his wild brown curls and pale skin to the way his clothes seemed to have been torn and mended many times over to the light dusting of stubble across his jawline. He was undeniably attractive and you felt a strange sort of pull toward him, though you weren’t sure why.

Your brows furrowed as you glanced over your shoulder in the direction that you’d been heading, “I’m pretty sure that I know the way back to my own home,” you retorted.

“I don’t know that you do,” he said, grinning widely as he looked at you. You tensed as his smile revealed the sharp points of a set of fangs where a normal person’s canines would be. “Because you seemed to be under the impression that you’d be able to leave this forest.”

If the appearance of his fangs hadn’t been enough to set you on edge, his words certainly were. You less-than-subtly tried to pull your hand away, and his hold tightened reflexively. “Trust me,” you said, hoping that your voice sounded more confident than you felt, “I will be.”

“Trust me,” he echoed, smirk deepening as he looked at you, “You won’t be,” the words escaped him in a low growl.

Your eyes narrowed and you jerked your hand away, a rough breath hissing out of you as a sharp claw tore through the skin of your wrist.

“Fuck-” The stranger jerked forward reflexively, taking your hand in his and examining your wound. “I’m sorry- This wasn’t supposed to happen.” He huffed releasing you with one hand in favor of digging through one of his pockets and eventually pulling out a bandage.

“You say that like you had a plan?” you murmured, raising an eyebrow pointedly as he began to loop the fabric around your forearm.

He let out an embarrassed chuckle, dark eyes flitting up to meet yours, “I did.” He was quiet for a moment as his gaze dropped back to your wrist, “I thought I’d come up to you and say something suave and you’d fall for me.” He huffed out a despondent laugh, “Hell, if I hadn’t been watching you long enough to know that whatever this was wasn’t going to work.”

You were understandably confused, eyes darting between the brunet and the careful way his fingers were dancing over your arm. “Why were you watching me?”

He opened his mouth as though to say something before thinking better of it. “You’ve already noticed that I’m not… normal. People like me- werewolves- tend to find people that we’re drawn to. It’s kind of like fate, y’know?” He kept talking, like his question was more rhetorical than anything, “I think you’re that for me, but I just hadn’t gotten up the nerve to talk to you until today.” He glanced up at you with a flustered blush clouding his cheeks, fingers still toying at the end of the gauze, though he’d finished tying it off several moments prior. “I kept telling myself ‘tomorrow, Riven; you’ll talk to him tomorrow’ but then today you were so late that I was scared I wouldn’t get the chance at all.”

You couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at the corner of your lips, “You could’ve just asked me out for coffee,” you teased.

The stranger- Riven, you figured- looked up at you, shocked. “Would you have said yes?”

“Dunno,” you shrugged, a sudden playful mood striking you, “Maybe you’ll have to ask me on my walk tomorrow and find out.” With that you tugged your hand out of his grasp and turned back down the trail, shooting him a wink as you left the forest and a dazed werewolf behind you.

There was no way you could’ve known it, but as Riven stood there for a few long minutes after you took your leave, he came to realize that meeting you had firmly cemented what he had long suspected; that you really were the one he’d been Meant to meet. He had already begun to count down the seconds until he could see you again by the time he turned to head back to his own home deep under the canopy of trees.