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transfemstarscream · 3 years

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so in this post i said i wanted to talk/write about how interesting i think it is that in transformers, starscream doesn’t really fit in with the “big three” decepticons (of course megatron, soundwave, and shockwave) and how it’s a discussion on her femininity vs. their masculinity. this got really long so i’m putting this under read more; it came off as more ramble-y then i thought so apologies for any errors.

one thing that sticks out if you put the four together is how only three of them wear similar, cool color palettes; megatron is almost entirely grey (a light grey with darker grey in some areas) with red accents, soundwave is grey and dark blue with red and gold accents, and shockwave is entirely purple (his grey even has purple undertones!) and a yellow eye to top it off. their designs are all matching and blend in well with each other… except for starscream’s, who is not subtle at all. instead of cool, desaturated colors with warm accents, starscream is instead red, white, and blue with a bright yellow cockpit and a dark helm/face plate instead of the most common white helm/face plate.

not only is she very noticeable at first glance because of how bright and colorful she is in comparison to the rest of them, but she also looks… out of place. not only literally because her colors don't match as well as say megatron and soundwave’s do, but also because red, white and blue are most commonly a lot of the color palette G1 autobots used, most popular example being optimus of course.

there’s a lot of things to appreciate about this. starscream’s colors being in opposition to theirs can be a symbol of her deceptive and unloyal nature towards the decepticon cause and specifically megatron, as he’s almost all grey while she’s covered in colors. it also highlights just how out of place she looks while next to the three of them… in more ways than one, i believe.

although i believe the subject of their character designs is just as important as the characters themselves, let’s ask ourselves a question: who are the main four decepticons?

in theory, this question is easy to anyone with basic knowledge of transformers. megatron is the decepticon leader, starscream is the decepticon second-in-command, soundwave is the decepticons’ communications officer, and shockwave is, although varying depending on what source you’re using, the computer guy and guardian of cybertron for the decepticons. but who are they as people, and how do their acts as their respective positions define them?

i ask this because it’s very common that while megatron, soundwave, and especially shockwave will be described and defined by what they do, what they’re capable of, and what they’ve achieved… starscream will be described by who she is personality wise, not by her actions like the former three. megatron started the war, led a resistance force against the autobots, and managed to kill optimus prime. soundwave is megatron’s most loyal soldier, has his full trust, and is in general a very dangerous and smart opponent. shockwave managed the decepticons well while megatron was in statis, and essentially everything is his fault in the grand scheme of things. other than starscream’s yearn to be the decepticon leader and her several attempts at megatron’s life… what actions really describe her? sure, she’s regarded as one of the most morally bankrupt decepticons, but that’s still describing her as a person rather than what she does to earn that descriptor.

the reputation of the main four decepticons is that they’re intimidating, frightening big guys, and if you’re the big four of the decepticons then you definitely have the guns to back it up. megatron, soundwave, and shockwave do, and the story will often enforce just how dangerous they are by their actions, but starscream is often shafted in comparison. her accomplishments aren’t really considered all that important nor is she complimented as generously as the other three. her involvement in stories is very limited despite how recognizable she’s made out to be in transformers media to this very day. that’s where the subject of why i believe starscream is transfeminine coded, which is a very complex subject by itself, comes into play.

megatron, soundwave, and shockwave are regarded as masculine and are described with positive traits (associated with male villains): megatron is a strong, intimidating and ruthless war commander. soundwave is a stoic, silent but deadly spy who is also genuinely loyal and trustworthy to his leader. shockwave is an intelligent, logical scientist who is, literally, the reason why a lot of shit happens. they’re often regarded as masculine figures in both official content and fan content, praised for how “awesome” they are. they are competent and consistent villains in most of their iterations, and often play a huge part in the shows/comics they’re in with a few exceptions. their impact as villains and their actions are what make them striking.

starscream, in comparison, is regarded as feminine (the word “effeminate” is a lot more commonly used, though i personally dislike it, especially in this context) and is described with “negative” traits: starscream is a whiny, easily irritable scumbag and it’s questioned how she even got position of SIC. starscream is vain and flamboyant, more concerned with hiding behind the big guys because she’s too obsessed with her frame to damage it. she’s regarded in harsher terms as mentally, emotionally, and psychologically unstable. she is not regarded as a masculine figure but rather as a “failed” man and/or her femininity is amped up in some of her depictions, but also notably her fanon depictions (whether or not this is done in a positive light or negative light doesn’t really matter), and she is considered a controversial character among the fanbase— very loved by some and very hated by others. she is not portrayed as competent or is very consistent in her characterization to the point where stories often imply her accomplishments have happened offscreen, and despite her prevalence in a lot of transformers media she more or less never has a huge impact on the story or plot barring a few iterations at best. she’s only really made striking by her personality and comedy, not her role as a villain or actions in the story.

megatron, soundwave, and shockwave are strong, while starscream is weak. they are rightfully prideful, while starscream is foolishly arrogant. they are comfortable in their image, while starscream is obsessed and vain. they are calculated, while starscream is hysterical. they are competent and know what they’re doing, while starscream is incompetent and hides behind whatever big bot is around after causing a mess she made.

the general point i’m getting at is that despite all four of them being classified as villains, starscream is further vilified and demonized because she exhibits traits that are not traditionally masculine. “but wait, being whiny and vain aren’t inherently feminine traits!” and you’re right. in order to convey what type of character starscream is meant to be, that’s what people picture to be a “failed man”. she’s not on the same type of level as megatron, soundwave, or shockwave— she was designed to not be. she was designed to be inherently hated. she is not the cool, masculine villain figure who overpowers the heroes and succeeds in her plans. she is an emotional, hysterical failure of a villain who needs to rely on the Real, Strong Men if she even wants to succeed in something.

while megatron, soundwave, and shockwave are unsettling and creepy because of what they do and who they are—big, powerful figures of the decepticon cause who have proven to be fully capable of anything—starscream is meant to be unsettling because of what she represents. a high-pitched voice jet whose design resembles heels and a prominent chest plate who cares about her appearance to the point of vanity, is regarded as emotionally unstable and has easy to trigger jealousy; starscream is everything a non-traditionally masculine character in the 1980s could be. she’s really how gay you could make a character without explicitly saying they were gay in the 1980s. on that topic… how do the former three’s relationships with other characters contrast to starscream’s relationships with other characters?

an easy place to start is the relationship shared between the big four decepticons themselves. we know the positions they all have in the decepticons, but what do they think of each other? and here is where starscream further establishes herself as not really belonging among them.

soundwave and shockwave (to an extent) are loyal and offer their full servitude to megatron, while starscream makes her hatred and disloyalty of megatron no secret, and is disdainful of him. soundwave is megatron’s fully trusted communications officer, shockwave at the very least respects soundwave, and starscream makes it apparent she finds him annoying and is prone to trying to one-up him. shockwave is regarded as fiercely intelligent by megatron, and soundwave pays no real mind to him, and starscream finds him unsettling and often argues with him, making it fully clear she thinks he’s full of shit. and starscream’s hatred towards her peers are not one-sided! they all clearly hate her back and the respect they have for her in return is very bare bones and almost non-existent (shockwave especially in this regard). so among their relationships with each other…

megatron trusts soundwave, megatron respects shockwave, megatron hates starscream (only keeps her around to prove a point).

soundwave is loyal to megatron, soundwave respects shockwave, soundwave hates starscream (respects megatron more than he hates her).

shockwave follows megatron, shockwave respects soundwave, shockwave hates starscream (is very open about this fact).

starscream does not like any of them.

another thing to take away from this is that starscream is also the most open about her hatred of all three of them. megatron, soundwave, and shockwave are mature about their dislike towards other by keeping it hidden and only allowing it to slip through when intimidation is required— maturity is regarded as masculine in this case. starscream, however, is very loud with how much she hates them, and is not above making countless petty remarks and insults towards them— her “cattiness” and immaturity are regarded as feminine.

this extends to their relationships with other characters. more specifically the positive/complex relationships with male characters megatron, soundwave, and shockwave have— and what starscream subverts.

megatron, has many relationships with the other male characters, many of them having developed into positive ones with the introduction of autobot megatron in the IDW1 run. his most popular is of course optimus, his established arch nemesis and character foil. whether one is interested in this dynamic as romantic or not, it does not deter that optimus and megatron’s relationship in many iterations is often a lot more explored and deep, as although it depends on the continuity, you’ll get a glimpse of what they used to be to each other before the war. optimus and megatron at their very core respect each other as equals, which coming from megatron must be special to him.

and the list of relationships he has with other male characters can go on. his genuine trust in soundwave was discussed, cyclonus and him can count if you consider galvatron as megatron in this scenario, etc. IDW1 has also given him a lot more positive relationships with men, such as rodimus, minimus ambus, etc. hell, megatron even has NEW dangerous enemies to deal with because he’s no longer the decepticon leader, such as the entire DJD (overlord and tarn specifically). he’s a man many established relationships, all with variety and with respect ingrained in all of them.

starscream, in comparison… doesn’t really have any of that. in fact, although you could technically consider megatron her arch nemesis and character foil, megatron’s not solely unique to her character. in fact, he’s not that uncommon to be enemies with. she never really has a “strong” male character enemy to be foils to; she definitely parallels other male characters, but it never feels like a defined rivalry like in megatron and optimus’ case. her positive relationships with male characters in comparison to someone like megatron, soundwave (the cassettes, cosmos, etc.) and shockwave (optimus as senator shockwave, etc.) are very dysfunctional and very one-sided (at least at first). hell, even bumblebee and starscream in IDW1, despite possibly being the healthiest relationship starscream ever had in the run, was a result of the guilt and grief starscream repressed, and the two still had issues even near the end of the run.

(ah yes. it is very easy for you, a forged bot, to say this to a cold constructed body dysmorphic person.)

it’s even more interesting to note that unlike megatron, soundwave, and shockwave, starscream’s more prominent foils are female characters. this is of course about windblade specifically, though arcee and elita-one can count.

a more simple way i can explain what i’m trying to get at is this: megatron, soundwave, and shockwave have diverse and complex relationships with male characters where starscream’s is usually dysfunctional and borderlines on either hatred or unhealthy attachment on her side, this playing into the masculine figures they are and the other masculine figures they’re with. starscream is more likely to have diverse and (conceptually) complex relationships with female characters where the former three don’t/are few in-between, this playing into the feminine figure she’s perceived as in media.

this is a lot longer than i originally intended it to be, and i don’t want to further make this an incoherent ramble, so here’s a TL:DR and some more parallels i didn’t cover in detail:

megatron, soundwave, and shockwave all have designs that compliment each other, whereas starscream’s feels very out of place and way too colorful in comparison to all three of them, specifically megatron’s.

megatron, soundwave, and shockwave are described not only by their personalities but their actions. starscream’s action have very little to do with how she’s perceived, as who she is rather what she’s done is what’s most well known about her.

megatron, soundwave, and shockwave are positively portrayed well due to being perceived as masculine. starscream is negatively portrayed and incompetently because she is perceived as feminine. she is feminine in comparison to their masculinity.

megatron, soundwave, and shockwave all have various along with positive relationships with other male characters. starscream usually lacks these, and none of her relationships with male characters are ever truly functional or on the same level of respect

starscream’s more complex in concept dynamic with female characters yet seemingly having no romantic interest in any of them plays into her gay coding: her relationships with male characters are messy, though it’s also very easy to perceive as romantic feelings on her side at the very least (wheeljack, metalhawk, bumblebee, blurr, etc.).

soundwave and shockwave were forged, and megatron has a forged spark. starscream, however, was constructed cold.

megatron, soundwave, and shockwave have very little vanity nor do they ever truly worry about their frames or looks. starscream canonically has body dysmorphia in her iterations, specifically IDW1.

megatron, soundwave, and shockwave all have certain special abilities that are demonstrated or are specifically said to be unique to them. starscream does not, and it’s suggested that she was not an outlier like skywarp and thundercracker, but instead a generic seeker.

many of megatron’s, soundwave’s, or shockwave’s accomplishments were done specifically by them, and factored by them. starscream’s accomplishments are usually undermined or found out to be factored by someone else, and that it was part of a greater scheme (most notably shockwave’s tampering of starscream being “the chosen one”).

starscream is subject to many transmisogynistic implications and jokes. the former three do not, or are instead further masculinized, especially in comparison to starscream.

didn’t have anywhere specific i was going with this so. yea i think starscream was intentionally designed to not fit in with the other three and her being transfem coded plays into this. :thumbsup:

#long post #mine #yea this was the essay i was talking about. this got over 2000 words i'm sorry.#transformers #starscream #analysis #but thank you to everyone who wanted to hear me ramble about this.#:heart:

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ceciliablossoms · 3 years

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hiya! im in an angsty mood so could i request whiskey with diluc childe and kaeya? congratulations on 100 followers!!

Thank you!!

Again I'm gonna change the wording a bit so it fits a little better

Whiskey: “I’m so sick of your shit! Shut up for once!”

Warning: Angst with no Comfort

TW: Yelling, Swearing, Minor mentions of Injury

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Diluc

The air was thick and tense, hotter than normal due to the heat radiating from his body. He sat at his desk sifting through papers, his anger noticeable by everyone in the vicinity. They sat quietly on the bench close to his desk, patiently waiting for him to finish his work. With anxious eyes, they glance over at him but said nothing.

Their gaze on him only did nothing but irritate him, "Do you have something you want to say?"

His tone was calm despite the angry heat he gave off, and they jumped at the sound of his voice. Twidling their fingers out of nervousness they were hesitant to say anything. He continued to stare until they spat it out.

"M-Maybe you should take a break?" Their voice shook slightly, "You've been at it for hours. It would be best to step away and cool down for a bit?"

"If you had one inkling of sense you would know that I can't." Nothing had gone right today. Not a single thing. Every mishap set his schedule further and further back and it made him irate.

"Well-," They paused, swallowing thickly. "As much as there is to do the anger you feel will make it drag on longer. Diluc please take at least a moment to..-"

They stopped talking as the quill finally gave way under his grip and broke in two. His voice seemed to shake the room, "I am sick of hearing you speak! Shut up for once! You are but a hindrance."

They flinched and said nothing else, trying to keep their composure, and the maids stared on in surprise. After a moment they stood from the bench and hurried out the door, muttering a quiet apology. He glared at them as they left, not fully letting his actions sink in.

They left the Dawn Winery as quickly as they could, not wanting to face Diluc again. Was it solely spur of the moment because of his built-up anger? Or had he been harbouring that for a while? They didn't know.

The pain in their chest grew larger the further away they got, and they could no longer stop themselves from crying. They glanced behind them, the large building now far away. At least he no longer had to worry about them being a hindrance, right?

Tartaglia

To say that he was livid was an understatement, murderous aura radiating off of him in waves. If there was one thing he couldn't stand it was a cheater. They stared at him warily, having watched it all unfold.

A tall, muscular man had approached them on the outskirts of the harbour intending to fight. He said that he had known about Tartaglia and his fighting capabilities and challenged him to a duel. The rules were simple: 1) No weapons and 2) No visions. Tartaglia laughed in his face but accepted nonetheless. Who was he to turn down a battle, after all?

They watched quietly from the sidelines as a referee of sorts. The fight started off fair, both men following the rules without a hitch. That was at least until the man pulled out a weapon, landing a blow on Tartaglia that would have KO'd anyone else.

He stood still, spitting out some blood before looking at the man with a rage that they had never seen before. If this man wasn't going to listen to his own rules why should he? With the use of his vision, he downed the man, still swinging until they pulled him off by force and held his arms behind his back. The man was bleeding heavily but not dead.

"Tartaglia! You could have killed him!"

He laughed maliciously, knocking them over as he wrenched himself from their grip "That was the intention sweetheart."

They slid in between them as he began to approach, "Back up and calm the fuck down, Tartaglia! Just because he cheated doesn't mean anything!"

He glared at them furiously, “I’m so sick of your shit! Learn to keep your mouth shut when it's not your place to speak!”

"Learn to keep your temper in check when it's not that big of a deal! Just because someone does something petty doesn't mean you can jump to capital punishment!" They pulled the man onto their back as gently as they could, his weight causing them to hunch forward quite a bit. "Talk to me when you're fucking sane." Returning his glare with teary eyes, they ran as best they could to Bubu Pharmacy.

Kaeya

Errand after errand. Tedious task after tedious task. The more he had to deal with the more his temper grew. All-day long he had been wasting his time running from pillar to post completing insignificant, remedial tasks. He had better things to be doing.

Finally, he sat at his desk, thinking he got a break only to have stack upon stack of paperwork dropped in front of him. If he wasn't at his breaking point now, he would be soon. He glared as they dropped another stack of papers in front of him, ignoring the obvious drop in temperature.

"That should be the last of it. If you want I can help you finish it then afterwards we can go get dinner."

He said nothing, averting his eyes to read over the paper instead. Despite his lack of a response, they pulled up a chair and began to assist him regardless, occasionally trying to make small talk that led to them rambling.

The more they talked the angrier it made him. He felt his blood boiling even though the room was getting so cold that he could see his breath. They were about halfway through their stack of paper when they stopped talking and glanced up at him, and at the sound of his name in a question, he snapped.

With frightening calmness, he set down his quill, locking his fingers together and stared at them with a smile, “Quite frankly, I'm tired of hearing your run your mouth. How about you do something useful and shut it, hm?” His voice was steady but held a threat loud and clear.

A deafening silence occurred after that. They continued to help him with his paperwork but went so slowly that not even the pen would make a sound, not wanting to incur his wrath again. He relished in the silence, uncaring of how he made them feel at the moment. The only thing he wanted to do was finish with this shitty busy work.

After their stack was done, they silently put down their pen, picking up their sheets and carrying them out the door without a word. They didn't return to his office after that, instead opting to go home. Never in the time of knowing him had they heard Kaeya talk in such a way and they'd be damned if they had to be subject to it again.

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bitchassbucky · 3 years

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Ｍｅ/Ｙｏｕ

📎Word Count: 1.9k

📎Warning/s: smut! MINORS DNI. toxic relationship dynamics <3 facefucking, sloppy blowjob, facial (not the skincare one), spitting in mouth, biting?, name calling, cheating/affair (bucky cheats), mean!bucky ig, toxic & manipulative!reader (she coerces bucky into cheating... so), alcohol mention, very very very brief sam x reader was mentioned

📎A/N: this was supposed to be a quick drabble but the fic practically wrote itself sooooooo @babyboibucky @sarge-barnes-sir @borikenlove this one’s for my hoes 💛✨

📎reblogs & comments are always welcomed!

📎Masterlist || Ask || AFTERDARK

The stage lit up as the band finished with a flourish. A roar of cheers and applause vibrates through the entire room, breaking the sweaty and the smoky atmosphere of the bar.

Patrons milled around with their drinks in hand. Drunk people leaning over walls and stools, waiting for their friends to come find them.

Your black-rimmed eyes scanned the room for a viable option. You slowly gaze upon the sea of bar-goers, picking out the best of the bunch.

The girl in a pleated skirt? Still giggling with her friends.

What about the man who’s been eye-fucking you since you got here? Too desperate.

There’s someone leaning over at the edge of the room, but they’re too tall for your liking.

You finished your drink with a sharp gulp, already walking towards the bar for a refill when someone caught your eye.

He looked like a sore thumb sticking out of the crowd. His hair was cropped short, a bit frazzled. A fair shade of stubble showered his sharp jaw, lining over his pink lips.

A smirk played on your painted lips, signaling the bartender for two drinks.

“Hey Sam,” you practically purred. A handsome man tending the bar leans closer to you, bringing forth a couple of shot glasses.

“It’s on the house,” Sam said, sliding a neat square of napkins over your side before placing the drink.

You tilt your head that way and smiled in lieu of thanking. A clink—half a second later, you put the empty glass facing downwards.

“Who’s the new guy?” A genuine question. The subject of the conversation sits patiently behind you, checking his phone periodically.

“A friend,” Sam carefully approaches your question, “he’s dating another friend of mine.” Sam already knows what your game is and how... unstoppable you are, for the lack of a better word.

“Well, that didn’t stop us before, did it?”

Looking over your shoulder, you meet his gaze, beckoning him to join you and Sam by the bar.

“Hey man, what can I get ‘ya?” Sam asked his friend, laying another napkin on his end.

“Just a beer, thanks.” He’s short with words. His steely eyes darting everywhere but you.

“What’s your name?” Now you’re scooting closer, even playing up a stumble when the man behind you roared a boisterous laughter.

He then looks at you, finally, albeit hesitant, “I’m Bucky—are you okay?”

You let a small giggle out, playing coy, “Yes, Bucky, I’m okay.” You stick your hand out, a couple of silver and tungsten rings adorning your fingers.

“Nice to meet you...” Bucky prompted, his large hand engulfing yours.

“Sam’s...friend.”

“Right,” he said, letting go of your hand after a firm shake, “‘m just waiting for my girlfriend.”

Sam already moved away from your area, serving a group of girls by the far end of the bar.

“He always does that,” you pointed out. A shared tidbit of mutual interest. Bucky was close enough to get a whiff of his musky cologne. A sliver of necklace hiding beneath his black shirt.

“Yeah, that’s how I actually met him.” It was unprovoked, what he said, but you kept the conversation going.

“You were with a group of drunk girls?” Your quip made him look at you with a playfully defeated smirk, his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. An act that made your thighs clench from under you.

“No, no. Well—he thought that I was some girl’s boyfriend and he gave me a free drink to ‘apologize.’”

You bring up your best laugh, flicking your hair off your shoulder. Exposing your jewelry-adorned neck to him. He gazed down to your chest before clearing his throat.

He was nervous, you—hell, anyone—could tell. His hands were stuffed in his pants, he fidgets by shifting his weight back and forth on his left foot.

“Are you okay?” You looked up at him through your lashes, you were already a mere half a-foot away from him.

Bucky ran his hand through his hair impatiently, checking his phone again. Still no texts. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine. My girlfriend’s just taking too long.”

You shot Sam a look before putting your hand on Bucky’s chest, “I know a place where you could wait. It’s quieter in there, you could call her.” Your tone was hopeful—a mutual acquaintance helping out a friend.

Before he knows it, Bucky’s hand was in yours as you guide him through the crowd and into a dimly lit hallway.

The wall was decorated with posters and stickers; pictures of patrons and banned people too.

“In here.” You opened a door, flicking a light switch before fully opening the way to let Bucky through. “This is a rehearsal room, the walls are lined with foam so any noise is filtered—can’t really go in and out.”

The old couch on the back was surprisingly clean and comfy, Bucky settled there as you rummaged around the mini-fridge for another drink.

“Beer?” That wasn’t really a question as you pass him a cold can, sitting down beside him.

He huffed, deft fingers dancing over the screen as he composed a longer text, “she always does this. It’s fucking annoying.”

Like the good friend you are, you scooted over to him, laying a soft hand over his shoulder for comfort.

“Hey, it’s fine. She’s just probably held up right now,” you cooed, a sweet little thing. You take a sip of a drink as he does so.

You give his broad shoulder a brief squeeze and made a face, “you’re really tense, man.”

Comically, he relaxes, letting out a breathless chuckle that sent your core fluttering. “‘m sorry. It’s just—this is our first night out in a long while.”

You hum inquisitively, propping up an arm on the backrest, “have you guys been together long?”

A beat passes before you backtracked.

“Sorry, I haven’t been in a long relationship...” You trailed off, tucking a piece of stray hair behind your pierced ear. You tentatively took another gulp of your drink, your cheeks heating up.

“No, it’s okay. We’ve been together for like, maybe three years, or so?” Bucky looks at you. God, it’s like he’s trying to read you before curating his answers. “Been a long time too.”

“Anything adventurous happening?” You teased him, Bucky’s visibly more relaxed now.

“No, nothing adventurous.” He confessed - an unknown reaction washes over his face as he says it.

“I may or may not know a thing or two on how to make your relationship more exciting.”

“Really? Is that so?” Bucky’s voice dropped a couple of octaves, sending shivers down your spine. He leans over then, getting closer to your face until his face is merely inches away from you.

“Bucky,” you breathe out. Your hands flat against his chest.

He blinks—once, twice.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry—shit, I’m sorry. I- I shouldn’t be here. I’m gonna go—“ His whole demeanor changed. Bucky stands up, straightening his pants and shirt before looking down at you, still seated on the couch.

He was just three steps away from the door when you slot yourself between him and his way, “where do you think you’re going?”

“Outside. Outside, I’m gonna wait for my girlfriend outside.” He’s rambling, his ears are going red. A thin sheet of sweat glistening over his forehead.

Closing the gap between you and him, you lay a hand against his chest, over his heart. “Do I make you nervous?”

Bucky stammers out a broken ‘no.’

“No? Why’s your heart beating so fast, then?”

You reached up to his nape, pushing him down to your height to kiss him hard. He didn’t push you away yet, his hands are gripping your arms for purchase. His fingers digging in the flesh of your shoulders. It’s sure to be bruised come morning.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out as you pull away. His lips shining and swollen, “what did you do?”

“Something thrilling, really.”

Bucky didn’t know how you got on your knees, tugging his black jeans down along with his boxer briefs in a desperate manner.

“God, I knew you were packing.”

His cheeks heat up even more as you palm him, his length hot and heavy against your hand. You lean in and nipped his thigh, your sharp teeth digging into his skin.

Bucky couldn’t help himself but to hiss and slap you across the face, “don’t fucking bite me.”

He expected you to look up at him with tears in your eyes, what he wasn’t expecting is you looking up with mischief and joy glinting in your eyes as you bite him again—harder this time, “God, fuck—you slut!”

Bucky saw red and grabbed you roughly by your jaw, squeezing your mouth open, “you want me so fuckin’ bad, you’re marking me, aren’t you, huh? Such a fucking slut, look at you.”

He squeezes harder, prying your mouth open as he missed your mouth with his spit, “open your mouth—fucking open!”

You obliged, your knees scraping raw as you kneel before Bucky. You feel his spit drip down your chin, the first time he missed. The second one slid down your tongue, prompting him to forcefully tap your cheek close as you swallow.

His angry cock stood dripping with precum; prominent veins making themselves known. You scoot closer, licking his balls up to the crown of his head which earns you a grunt.

“Hurry the fuck up,” Bucky orders. He wastes no time in bunching your hair up in his fist, slapping your swollen lips and cheek with his cock. “This better than your gloss, yeah? Hmm, yeah, ‘course it is.”

Bucky squeezes your mouth again, pushing his thick cock past your lips, your warmth engulfing all of him at once. “No reflex? My god, you’ve been here before, haven’t ‘ya?”

His presumptions were proven wrong when he started to pump in and out of your mouth. You gagged and choked, your throat constricting around his head every time he hits the back. “In and out through the nose, hmm? Yeah, c’mon. You can do it, bitch.”

Once you got past your reflex and relaxing your throat, Bucky took advantage and sped up. His balls slapping your chin when he thrusts in. The neckline of your shirt wet with spit and drool as he continues to fuck your mouth like he owns it.

You hum as you feel Bucky’s cock throb in your mouth.

“Yeah, yeah—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Another set of rough thrusts, Bucky pulls out of your mouth, leaving you gasping for air. He strokes his girth with his hand, with you licking the angry crown of his length. Ropes of cum spurt out, painting a good portion of your face milky white. You managed to swallow it, catching some in your abused mouth.

He stands tall above you, catching his breath as he tucks himself into his pants once more. “The fuck did I just do?”

“Something adventurous.” You smirk, standing up on your own, wiping your face with the inside of your shirt.

Bucky pats down his pocket for his phone, landing his gaze on the couch to look for it. He saunters over, looking for any texts from his girlfriend.

“You know, I’m doubting you even have a girlfriend,” You let out a sharp quip as you smooth your hair down, drinking the rest of your beer.

“Shut the fuck up.” Bucky retorts, stuffing his phone down his back pocket. Before strutting over a desk and scribbling something.

“What? You came on my face and I can’t say shit?”

He tosses you a piece of paper, catching it on your hand. Bucky gives you a reluctant look before turning the doorknob, leaving you alone in the room.

You unfold the paper then, ‘call me when you’re feeling adventurous’ it says, along with his phone number.

#bitchassbucky writes #works: one shots #bucky x reader #bucky x reader smut #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff

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elia-de-silentio · 3 years

Text

The overarching themes of Vanitas no Carte: Identity

The Case Study of Vanitas is a very good, too little known manga (I hope the anime changes something), with some central themes than are exposed in different ways through different characters. In this meta, I want to explore one that was brought to my attention pretty recently: here a little examination on the various ways to face one's own identity in The Case Study of Vanitas.

The Stable Identity( Noè)

Let's start off with the positives, shall we? Noè has probably the most secure personal identity of all the bunch.

And this is pretty amazing, considering everything he went through. He has no memory of his birth family, but gets adopted by some nice people - who die shortly afterwards. Right at their graves, he is kidnapped by slaves, in an accident that left him injured. Then he is bought by someone who actually treats him nicely and is a good mentor for him, he finds many friends his age - and then one of them, the one he was closest to, turns out to be a cursebearer, kills all of the others and then tries to kill him; he is saved by the mentor, who beheads the friend right in front of him. The most immediate emotion is relief for being alive, and he will always feel terrible for that. Then, he has to witness his surviving friend try to cope very badly with her mourning by repressing her identity and try to substitute it with that of her dead twin. That's a lot.

And Noé reacted to all of this by becoming a confident person, kind and attentive to others, but not to the point of being a pushover. I'm not saying he walked away unscathed from the events of his childhood: he regrets the way he handled things with Louis, the way he didn't understand him, and has developed quite the savior complex as a result.

What I'm saying is that he is probably one of the very few well-adjusted people in the psychiatric ward that is Vanitas no Carte. He is still questioning himself, but in a normal way for a nineteen-years-old that has just left a sheltered environment for the big wide world. He is aware of some of his strenghts (his naivete) and is realizing others (putting unfair expectations on other people, underestimating other people due to racial biases); but most importantly, when he realizes these mistakes, he doesn't run away from them or obsess over them believing they make him a horrible person: he recognizes them, apologizes to the wronged person if necessary, and works on improving them.

This isn't to say he's completely happy-go-lucky with no regrets; he feels guilty about being relieved that he lived while Louis died, and he has a lot of uncertainties regarding his identity as an Archiviste and the impact his powers can have on other people. But he managed not to tie his entire identity to that guilt; and as for the second point, Teacher helped him rationalise that and figure out a conduit that didn't undermine him and at the same time showed respect for others. Noè went through several traumas, but received one thing most of the cast didn't: guidance and support from his environment. Whatever Teacher's actual motives are, he shaped a well-balanced person.

The Group Identity (The dhamps, appearently 99% of vampirekind)

"Us dhams are only loyal to each other!" This is what Dante says in one of the first chapters, giving us the first clues to their status as outcasts.

The war between humans and vampires ended up with each deciding to keep to themselves, but dhampires are the living exception to that silent agreement. So, both societies decide to reject them, and they can't find a place in the world unless they stick to others of their own kind. This common history of traumatic experiences of abandonment and subsequent resentment of both human and vampire society for it goes on to create a very strong group identity: the only ones they give a damn about are those like them, everyone else is a potential enemy and is only good to be exploited.

Then, we have the vampire culture. I mean ... it might be because insofar we have met almost exclusively aristocrats obsessed with their respectability ... but they have a lot of prejudices.

You're born under a uncommon moon? You're a pariah. You're mixed race? You're a pariah. Your parents committed a crime? You're a pariah, and are used as a tool. You're born as part of a set of twins? Either you or your sibling are killed at birth, because of something that is SAID, not even a certified element of vampire biology. You're stuck with a curse? You're executed, no attempts to heal you.

Their society seems to run on an ideal model of person which depends on factors outside the individual's control, and whoever doesn't fit this description and deviates from the group in any shape or form gets ridiculously fierce punishment. They make the freaking Church look good by comparison, at least their repressive and racist side is composed of extremists instead of everymen.

The Clan Identity (Chloé, and partially Noé again)

Chloé identifies with a group of people too; but it's not a race, it's a family. The D'Apchier family, the nobles who are responsible for Gevaudan. Her father made sure she had this idea in her right from the start, and she interiorized it.

And this had mixed results: while on the one hand she was chained to self-loathing by the guilt of having accidentally caused the massacre of the family and was only saved by Jeanne and Jean-Jacques reclaiming her as part of theirs, on the other she was able to resist to Naenia because of the love and responsibility she felt towards the people of Gevaudan. Chloé is, at this point, the only curse-bearer who managed to trick and attempted to fight directly against Charlatan.

Then there is Noé in relation to his Archiviste identity. He seems to think of it mainly in negative terms, very conscious of the living invasion of privacy it turns him into ... and nothing else. We have never seen him wonder about who his birth parents were, ask himself why he doesn't remember anything, why was the clan exterminated, or how he feels about being a survivor, one of the only ones if not outright the only. He sees his heritage as a burden,and hasn't thought of it in any different term. I wonder how a change in perspective could impact the above 'stable identity'.

The Someone Else's Identity (Vanitas, Dominique)

I already dedicated a whole post to this trait they share, so I'll be short: both Vanitas and Dominique hate themselves and try to become something worthy by taking elements of people they admire: Louis for Dominique, a combination of his birth father and Luna for Vanitas.

The Object Identity (Jeanne)

The very first thing Jeanne was said in her whole life was that she was an object. A vessel for something (or someone?) else, who mustn't have feelings or desires of her own. Encouraging, isn't it?

Luckily, this wasn't all she got in life. Soon afterwards, she was adopted by Eric and Louise, who loved her a lot, received kindness by Ruthven, met Chloé who became an older sister to her. Unluckily, all of this was taken away from her in the most cruel way possible.

She couldn't make any sense of her parents's betrayal and death, and the way her life suddenly changed; she rationalised it by telling herself that it was her fault, if she had been just the good object everyone told her to be nothing would have happened. So she accepts the Object Identity: she is a tool, so she doesn't feel, she exists only to obey orders, and as long as she is nobody else will ever suffer. It gets even worse after she fails to kill Chloè: she couldn't fulfill her duties, and both her and her big sis suffered for it. This mindset traps her in a world of pain, but also prevents her from facing the fact that she is subject to a senseless injustice, one she has no control over.

Vanitas managed to help her with that. He validated her feelings, and showed her that nobody had to die if she had them, solving the situation with Chloé and Jean-Jacques. This gave her a nice confidence boost, returning her to the cheerful attitude she had as a young girl; the consequences of this change remain to be seen.

The Unknown Identity (Luna)

This one is interesting because Luna themselves is pretty explicit about it. They see themselves as something 'other', who is outside commonly used categorization; starting with 'male or female' (and here I am left wondering if they had specific sexual characteristics but didn't feel like they 'fit', or were intersex and nonbinary, or had an entirely different biology from both vampires and humans).

Luna doesn't like this condition: they said they tried to figure out what they were, to understand themselves, and they regret doing so now. Why? Maybe they didn't find any answer and were left perpetually unsatisfied, or they found an answer, and they found it to be awful?

Still, this indicates Luna has never been particularly happy with themselves, and this found no resolution. And then they died. Nice, uh?

Well, I think this was all. There are other characters I would like to know more about in regard to this, like Ruthven, Marquis Machina, and Mikhail, but there is still time.

All in all, I'd say Vanitas no Carte explores the theme of identity pretty throughly; many character arcs are still in progress, and I'm interested about how things will develope especially for Vanitas, Dominique and Jeanne.

Thanks to anyone who bothered to read my ramblings!

#vnc #vanitas no carte #the case study of vanitas #vnc meta #vnc analysis #vnc noe #vnc chloé #vnc vanitas #vnc dominique #vnc jeanne #vnc luna #elia's recaps

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reidamancy · 4 years

Text

too late || spencer reid

summary: Spencer and you never got closure after you broke up. But hidden feelings and confessions reveal themselves when you’ve been abducted. Now Spencer is forced to analyze a voicemail you left for him to try and save you before it’s too late. (spencer reid x fem!reader)

category: angst

warnings: s2 spoilers, kidnapping, knife and gun usage, slight mentions of blood and drugs, plot holes, probably incorrect medical info

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this is my very first cm fic, and I’m completely new to the fandom so I hope there are still people out there who read cm fics lol

MASTERLIST

(part one | part two)

Spencer’s POV

“Spencer?” Her voice breathed shakily through the voicemail.

Y/N. I recognized her voice immediately. For a split second I was filled with bliss just from the sound of her voice, but my heart dropped when I recognized the terror laced in her words.

She paused for a bit before continuing. “Hi, it’s me. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now,” She choked on a sob, but little did she know that was furthest from the truth. “But I didn’t know who else to call.” Another pause.

I leaned forward in my seat, resting my arms on my desk while listening intently to the message.

“I... I’m in trouble Spencer. I don’t know who he is. He took me from my car and brought me here. He made me call you because he knows,” She took a deep breath before letting out a sob. “He knows you will never save me in time.” By now, her voice came out as a squeak. My breath caught in my throat as my worst nightmare came true.

“No, Spencer, wait, please listen to me.” I shut my eyes and exhaled. I pinched the bridge of my nose; she must have had to pretended I answered the phone, and I wasn’t there when she needed me most.

She sniffled on the phone and continued.

“I don’t know how much time I have left... So I guess this is goodbye Spencer...” I felt my heart shatter as tears pricked my eyes.

“When we met, I knew exactly where I was in life. But you, you changed that. You taught me so much, Spencer. I remember all the games we'd play when you were home.” Y/N paused as she left out a sigh. A sad smile crept on my face as I recalled our shared competitive nature and the countless games that sprung from it. I could only imagine her expression mirroring my own as she spoke. “You'd always win but I guess that's what happens when you play against Dr. Reid. I still think you forgot two dozen names just to let me win.” She let out a dry laugh.

“The last time I saw you was on our anniversary, June 6. 9:30 on the dot. And then you abandoned me Spencer, you left me alone in the big, cold world.” She took a breath and I let out a small gasp when I heard the sound of a gun cocking in the background.

“I told myself I'd never forgive you, but the truth is I already have. I can't leave without you knowing that. Please save me, Spencer.” She whispered the last line before the phone was yanked out of her hands, evident by the small yelp and shuffling I heard, and the voicemail ended with a low growl saying, “You’ll never get here in time.”

The voicemail ended and the fear I felt from before melted into rage. I knew exactly what I had to do. Phone in hand, I marched straight into Hotch’s office.

Reader’s POV

The man snatched the phone out of my hands and quickly hung up on the call before redirecting his gun at me. He had it pointed at me the entire call and cocked it once he was getting impatient.

The worst part was he didn’t bother to hide his face. He had bound my arms and legs together, but never blinded me. I knew exactly where I was and who he was, which only meant one thing: I wasn’t getting out of here alive.

My abductor shot at the ground and I let out a scream. “That was a bit long now, wasn’t it?” He sneered.

“You’re gonna kill me! I had to say goodbye properly!” I sobbed.

It was partly true. What he didn’t know, however, was the fact that I had an FBI agent for an ex-boyfriend, and a genius one at that. I haven’t spoken to him in months, but I prayed that he would understand the hidden clues I left in the voicemail. I hated how this was our first interaction since our breakup, but I needed him now more than ever.

I’ve wanted to call him countless times; it’s almost ironic that it took a literal kidnapping for me to finally do so. In the wake of our breakup, I found myself completely miserable. I missed everything about him, and I caught myself staring at his phone number on my screen numerous times, contemplating if I should actually call him or not. I wanted to, I really wanted to. I wanted to tell him how much I missed his voice, his touch, his love. But every happy memory we had would then be overshadowed by stronger memories of him snapping at me, being repulsed by my touch, and his mood swings. So I never got the courage to push the dial button.

It was a never ending cycle. I’d want to call him; perhaps I wanted to try to fix things one more time. I knew something was wrong, maybe I could have done more to help him. But then I would realize I couldn’t help him unless he let me. So I’d always end up deleting the digits on my screen and hope he was doing okay. But days later I’d find myself punching in those exact digits once again, only to delete them minutes later. In time, I had memorized his number by heart, which is why it was almost instinctive to dial him today.

The fact that he was an FBI agent was the last thing on my mind when I pushed call. I just needed him, I needed Spencer. It felt wrong, after months without speaking I thought we had both moved on. But he was the first person I thought of when given an instrument to cry for help. And as soon as I heard his voicemail, as soon as I heard his voice, I realized I needed more than Dr. Reid. I needed Special Agent Reid.

I tried to remember everything I could from the few times Spencer would talk to me about his cases. If I could understand this unsub like he and his team could, maybe I could survive. But the more I remembered, the quicker I realized my chances of survival were slim. He’s way too confident for me to have been his first victim. He gave me the freedom to call whoever I wanted and say whatever I wanted, and he wouldn’t have done that if he knew he wouldn’t get caught. So the phone call must be part of his signature, but why? Why give that much freedom to his victims at all? Maybe he just likes to hear the pain in our voices when we say goodbye.

No, it has to be more than that. Right before I dialed Spencer, the man told me, “Make sure they answer.” And that’s when it hit me. He must take pleasure in knowing his victim’s loved ones are aware of what’s happening but can’t save them. He’s stripping them of their power to help, to save, their loved ones. I hope that isn’t the case for me. I didn’t want to call Spencer (okay, maybe deep down in my heart, I did), because he made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with me. But if anyone could save me, it was Spencer Reid.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when my abductor leaned in front of me, his putrid breath fanning over my face. I noticed his gun was now in his holster and one of his hands was behind his back. He slowly pulled it out to reveal a knife and he placed the blade against my arm. I winced as he put pressure against my skin, but not enough to draw blood.

“Now that... what was his name? Spencer?” He let out a low chuckle. “Now that Spencer knows you’re here, he’ll try to save you.” The unsub slowly dragged the knife up my arm, still not breaking the skin, and I let out a whimper.

“He’ll tell the police, but they’ll be too late.” He taunted. “They always are.”

The man now used his knife to push hair out of my face. “While we wait... Let’s have some fun.” He sunk the knife into my shoulder and I let out a scream.

Spencer’s POV

As the case was presented to the team, I was paralyzed in my seat with the voicemail replaying over and over again in my head.

It’s me. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now.

I’ve been wanting to hear her voice for months, and when I finally do it’s because she was abducted. Even worse, she’s apologetic that she even has to call me. As if she’d ever have to apologize for speaking to me...

“Reid?” Hotch’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I looked up at him and he repeated himself. “Will you analyze the voicemail for clues on Y/N’s location?”

I silently nodded. He turned to JJ and whispered to her to stay with me. Everyone then dispersed to do everything they could to bring Y/N back.

“Kid, who is this?” Morgan stayed behind and questioned me.

“Hm?” I questioned innocently.

“Look, she could have called anyone in the world, but she called you. And you obviously care for her or else you wouldn’t be so quiet right now. So who is she?” Derek displayed concern in his eyes.

I let out a sigh. JJ took a seat in front of me and Morgan leaned against the table. My eyes were fixated on my hands, which were in my lap. “Her name’s Y/N. She was the one who got away.” I heard my voice crack, but I didn’t care. JJ and Morgan looked at me with sorrow as they listened to me open up about the love of my life.

“I met her at the library. She saw I was checking out a book about physics and she gushed about how it was her favorite subject. We went on for 20 minutes talking about the subject, and then she asked me out for coffee.” I bit my lip.

“We started dating for a few months and everything was perfect. She didn’t mind my work schedule, and she listened to all my rambles. Sometimes she even had some facts of her own to add.” I recalled all the times Y/N would add to my fact spews instead of shutting me down, and I couldn’t stop the smile resulted from the memories. “She was perfect. In every way.”

I took a deep breath as my love story took a sour turn. “But then I... I started to push her away. After Tobias Hankel I pushed everyone away, but Y/N got it the worst. I was a horrible boyfriend, but she never gave up on me. She never knew why I was acting that way, but eventually I pushed her too far. We broke up because she thought I hated her. But I don’t. I never did.” I trailed off, remembering fragments of the last fight we had. I cringed as I remembered how broken her voice was, and how I continued to tear her down. I wasn’t in my right mind. If I could go back, I’d never let her leave that door. But in hindsight, I don’t blame her for leaving.

I quickly wiped the tears off my cheeks as Morgan rubbed my shoulder. JJ got up and hugged me. She lowered her face towards me and said, “We’re gonna save her, Spence. And when we do, you’re gonna tell her all of this.” She flashed me a kind smile.

“After I got off dilaudid, I realized I lost her, so I tried to get her back. I wanted to surprise her, so I went to the cafe we went to the day we met, and I saw her there. She was there with another guy... She had already moved on and I was too late. I never got to apologize to her.”

I didn't want to meddle in Y/N's new relationship. She had every right to move on. So I tried to as well. But it didn't hurt any less, especially since I never got to explain myself to her. I had accepted the fact that Y/N had moved on from me, but her voicemail gave me an ounce of hope. In the direst of circumstances I was the one she called. Perhaps it was because of my job, but I let myself hope that maybe I misread the situation. That man could have been a friend. And I could still have a chance.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

“Reid, I know this is hard. We all want to get Y/N back safe, but you’re the only one who can understand what she’s trying to tell us here. Think you can focus?” Morgan wanted to make sure my head was clear enough to analyze Y/N’s message. The truth was, I wasn’t sure.

But I nodded and played the voicemail again.

“June 6?” I repeated once the voicemail ended.

“Is that when the two of you met?” Morgan asked.

“No, that date doesn’t have any significance to us at all. June 6, 9:30? Why would she say that?” I wondered out loud as I wrote 6/6, 9:30 on the board.

“Can you play it again?” I asked JJ.

When we met, I knew exactly where I was in life.

“There right there, pause.” I knew that was a lie. “When we met, she was a graduate student but she didn’t know what to study. I helped her with that.”

“Okay, so she knows you can catch onto her lies. What is she trying to tell us?” JJ wondered out loud.

It was then that I realized what Y/N was doing. “This entire call is full of lies. She knew I’d catch onto them, but I don’t know what she’s saying.”

Morgan jumped in, “Okay, so if you catch all of her lies, we’ll decode the message.” I nodded as JJ pressed play and I wrote down all the lies in the voicemail.

By the end of the call, my board looked like this:

6/6, 9:30

“knew where I was in life”

winning game - 2 dozen names?

“Okay, so what does this all mean, Reid?” Morgan asked.

I stared at the board, trying to make a connection. “I don’t know...” I mumbled. I knew Y/N was trying to tell me something, and if I could figure it out I could save her. The thought gave me enough confidence to analyze her diction. “But did you hear the end of the call? She said I left her alone in the ‘big, cold world.’ It’s odd that she would describe it like that.”

“So she’s somewhere big and cold?” JJ chimed in.

“Probably...” I answered as I added to the board.

“What about abandoned? Is that describing where she is or is this actually about your relationship?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t think she would use 'abandoned' to describe our relationship...” I bit my lip. I wouldn’t say I abandoned her, but I couldn’t help but wonder if that was how she actually felt. I cleared my throat. “That’s probably where she is. Big, cold, and abandoned.”

“So what are we thinking, warehouse?” JJ inputted.

Morgan nodded. “Okay, we’re getting somewhere. So does that mean when she said she knew exactly where she was in life, she meant she actually knew exactly where she was taken?”

“What about the game she talked about? What does that mean?” JJ asked.

“I never let her win any games, she insisted we both play fair and square.” I tried to think back to all the games we played. “She mentioned names... There was only one where we used names,” I held back a smile. “We were trying to see who would be the first to name all the U.S. presidents.”

Morgan and JJ looked at each other. “Why am I not surprised.” Morgan let out a small chuckle.

“But you forgot two dozen names?” JJ questioned.

“Two dozen is specific... and Reid doesn’t forget.” Morgan thought out loud.

I tried to remember more about the game. “I won that game. I was the first to put down my pencil and she teased me for it. But she wanted to finish her list so I’d give her clues to who she forgot... But there was one name she just couldn’t remember.”

“Two dozen... Did it happen to be the 24th president?” JJ wondered.

I let out a small smile. Clever girl. “Yeah, it was Grover Cleveland. The 24th president.”

I now looked at my new board, filled with new information.

6/6, 9:30

“knew where I was in life” am

winning game - 2 dozen names? ➝ Cleveland!

big, cold

abandoned

warehouse?

My head was swirling, trying to make sense of what Y/N gave me. My eyes darted up and down the board, trying to see her message. She knew where she was. She gave me a name, numbers...

“I got it!” I yelled. “It’s an address. She knew exactly where she was and she was trying to tell us! June 6, 9:30? 66930. Where’s Garcia? I bet there’s an abandoned building at 66930 Cleveland Street.”

Morgan raced out of the room to grab Garcia. Moments later she rushed into the room with her laptop and I hurriedly asked her, “Garcia, what is at 66930 Cleveland Street?”

Her fingers blazed across the keyboard then she shook her head. “No, I can’t find that address.”

JJ leaned towards the monitor. “Try Cleveland Road?”

Garcia shook her head once again, “Sorry my sweets, there’s no 66930 Cleveland Road either.”

She continued to clack at her keyboard, and moments later she lit up and said, “Wait, I see an abandoned warehouse at 6693 Cleveland Road!”

“It was probably easier for Y/N to use time to disguise the numbers, even if it added another digit...” I thought out loud.

Morgan rushed over to her computer as I felt my body fill up with hope. “What can you tell us about it, baby girl?” He asked.

“It was previously owned by a man named Hubert Roffkins, but then the trail ends 2 months ago. It looks like it was abandoned then, and oh dear.”

“What is it?” Morgan pushed.

“Hotch asked me to look into similar abductions with phone calls ending with murder.”

I swallowed harshly. “And?” I asked.

“The dates coincide with the first kidnapping.”

“Let’s go.” Morgan commanded.

Third Person POV

Hubert Roffkins had stabbed Y/N for the seventh time by the time the FBI got to the scene. He was cornered and surrounded by agents, he knew there was no way out of this. As he reached for his gun, Agent Hotchner fired a single shot to the head and Roffkins was dead before he hit the ground.

Y/N was still conscious when the agents came. She was surrounded by her own blood and dizzy with pain, but she knew once she saw those FBI vests, she’d be okay. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she heard a gunshot and saw a pair of converse running towards her. Her vision was blurring, but she didn’t need it to identify the figure who picked her up off the ground and held her face. He kept telling her to stay with him, but she couldn’t hear him. Her vision focused on his face for one second and she smiled at the familiar face. “Spencer,” she whispered, so faint he could barely hear her.

“I’m here, Y/N, I’m here.” He cried, holding her closer to him.

Her vision blurred once more and she let the darkness succumb her.

Spencer rode in the ambulance with her, and he would not let go of her hand the entire way to the hospital. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, wondering what could have been if he’d arrived just a few moments earlier.

Once in the hospital, it took an army of nurses to separate Spencer from Y/N. He couldn’t let her out of his sight, too scared of losing her again. So he settled on sitting outside her room while the doctors operated on her.

The rest of the BAU team met him at the hospital. They exchanged glances and sighs, unable to help their youngest teammate. No matter how they tried to comfort him, his mind was fixated on the well-being of his lost love.

The doctor emerged from Y/N’s room and Spencer immediately sat up.

“Her vitals are stable and he missed the major organs. She will be incredibly sore, but she’s gonna make it.” The doctor announced.

Spencer smiled. “Can I see her?” He asked.

The doctor nodded, warning him that she was still sleeping and she will be very tired.

Spencer walked into the room and sighed. He hated seeing her like this. She was pale, and she looked so fragile. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and hold her forever.

He took a seat next to her bed and grabbed her hand. His thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand while he studied her face. Finally, after months of being apart, he was finally here with her. He was both relieved and terrified, knowing that once she woke up, she would have his entire heart in her hands.

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, his voice coming out broken. He cleared his throat and continued.

“I uh, I got your voicemail.” His voice cracked and he let out a sad smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But you did so good. I understood, Y/N. I remembered everything.” His voice cracked and tears were welling up in his eyes, but he continued. “You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.” His voice was now barely above a whisper.

Spencer stopped for a moment to compose himself. It was the moment he had been waiting for. Y/N was right in front of him and all of his emotions were overwhelming. He had to tell her right now. Even if she couldn’t hear him; he needed the practice. Because the words have been bottled up for so long, and now that she was right in front of him, he felt like he was going to burst. But he just didn’t know where to start.

“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I really need to tell you something, and I can’t wait any longer.” Spencer let out a sigh and stared at her hand in his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for months, and I-I need to let the words out before I lose my confidence.” Spencer swallowed thickly. “Or I don’t know, maybe you can hear me. Studies have shown that...” He trailed off. He was rambling.

Spencer let out a deep sigh and brought his eyes back to Y/N’s face. “Y/N... You were the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I can’t believe I let you go.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You were right, you know. Something did happen to me on a case. But I didn’t want to bring you into the evil that corrupts my world, so I kept you in the dark. But then it got out of hand... It became less about shielding you and more about protecting myself.” Spencer licked his lips and lowered his eyes again. He felt ashamed. Had it not been for his own pride, perhaps Y/N would still be in his life. Maybe he could have even prevented this. But he let out a shaky breath and continued.

“I was abducted and tortured by a man named Tobias Hankel. He had multiple personalities. So when he wasn’t torturing me, he was giving me painkillers. It was dilaudid.” Spencer shook his head as the memories of his abduction came back to him.

“I... I became addicted, Y/N. I knew I needed help. But I wanted to prove I was strong. I wanted to prove that I could bounce back and show that I could handle it. But I couldn’t.” By now, the young doctor was crying. He continued through his sobs. “I guess I... I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it on my own, so I pushed everyone away, Y/N. Not just you. And I know that doesn’t make it better, but you were never the problem, Y/N. It was me.”

Spencer looked at Y/N’s face and rubbed circles on her hand. “I know there’s no way you could have known that, but I don’t want you blaming yourself for what happened between us. And I know what you would say if you were awake right now. I know what I did was wrong. I realized that you would never see me as weak for this, but in that moment I've never felt so weak. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Hot tears streamed down the Spencer’s face as he continued. “I’ve been sober for half a year now. I’ve been sober ever since we broke up. And I know drugs don’t excuse how I acted towards you, but I just needed you to know,” Spencer held onto Y/N’s hand tighter. “I never stopped loving you.”

As the young doctor spilled his heart out to his love, the words he spoke never reached their recipient. Y/N laid in deep slumber, unaware of Spencer’s confession as he sat next to her. She would stay in her comatose-like condition until the next day, never to hear the truth behind the end of her and Spencer’s relationship.

Because when Y/N awoke, Spencer had gone to get his morning cup of coffee from the hospital’s cafeteria. He had spent the entire night sleeping by her side, desperate to be the first person she saw when she woke up. By the time he returned, fits of giggles were emerging from Y/N’s room.

Spencer’s heart fluttered as he heard her laughter echo in his ears. She was finally awake, and he could finally get his confession off his conscience. All he had to do was repeat the words he had said the night before, this time to active ears.

But the words were caught in his throat once more, because when Spencer entered Y/N’s room, he was met with two sets of eyes instead of one. Y/N had lit up and exclaimed, “There’s the man who saved my life!” Her excitement and smile still brought butterflies to Spencer’s stomach. But they quickly disappeared when she spoke her next sentence, confirming Spencer’s fears.

“Spencer, I want you to meet Connor. My boyfriend.” She gestured to the man sitting next to her. Spencer had recognized him immediately, he was the man he saw Y/N with at the cafe.

Spencer’s stomach dropped and his heart broke once again.

He was too late.

---

read part two here!

3K notes · View notes

flourgirl · 3 years

Text

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you.

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time.

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.”

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

----------------

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it.

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face.

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

----------------

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you.

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat.

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.”

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

----------------

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad.

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

----------------

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.”

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before.

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up.

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore.

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

----------------

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished.

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

----------------

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

----------------

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions.

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him.

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

----------------

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

----------------

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago.

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight.

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

----------------

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn @allycat449-blog @greatpizzascissorstaco @dummiesshort @parkerpeterparker2004 @letssee2468 @parkerlovebot @alytavzla @yourbiggestspiderfan @silentium-tais-toi @jailcalledlife @orangesodafoam @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @spideydreamers @taciturnspidey @harrisonsoceaneyes

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker #spiderman #spiderman x reader #marvel #mcu #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fluff

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relaxxattack · 3 years

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ayo! (wait this might be a bit of a jumpscare dishdks i apologize) i’m op of That Post and was wondering what your opinions were on the whole woobification thing? /gen

because it’s a Tiny Bit widespread within the dream apologists to sort of,, overdramatize stuff like l’manberg hurting him. like they’re not a 100% wrong but if you look at it subjectively you can see some sort of bias going into that sort of thing that makes the character’s mistreatment a bit more blatant and intentional which,, it really wasn’t? and there wasn’t That Much of it either. especially on twitter (tumblr is much better about it) people just jump to conclusions it seems and yeah. since you brought it up i was wondering if you wanted to write a bit about it from your perspective!

we’re kinda from different corners of the fandom but i still notice that once you are too attached to a character you start taking certain evidence and giving it more weight than it actually has. there’s a blurry line between “taking away a character’s humanity” and woobification and it’s extremely difficult to find a balance when said character shows pretty much nothing of his emotional life (e. g. putting up the intimidating villain act in front of only c!tommy, pretty much everything he does making rational sense with no emotional subtext) and a lot of the fandom instantly jumps to one side or the other while it’s like.

we don’t know by far enough to say “he’s traumatized” or “he isn’t traumatized” or “he was villainized and it hurt him” or “l’manberg didn’t affect him at all”

as a very analytical person people constantly jumping to conclusions grinds my gears, but that’s about it for my own view of the situation - sorry for the rambling.

in general i agree with you that both dehumanization and woobification is Bad and i really hope getting Actual Context sorts this out (e. g. him saying he was betrayed by his friends doesn’t mean it wasn’t partially his fault or that they were allowed to leave him, but it also shows that he did care about that happening. mentioning the cat doesn’t mean anything about what happened to c!tommy but it also shows that he did care about what happened to it. it’s just always interesting to get more information about the way he feels because he usually does a very good job at hiding it.) because man.

it’s like being stuck between a rock and a hard place, especially if you also are attached to the character and are expected to automatically agree with everything the people on “your side” say. it just ends up with everyone being mad and the character being mischaracterised overall.

oh wow hello! i didnt expect the op of the post to find me you’re right lol

and yes i agree! you seem to have a lot of very good thoughts tbh.

and by woobification, i mean exactly what you’ve already pointed out— the people who will say l’manberg purposely villainized dream, the people who will say wilbur faked his mental illness to manipulate dream, the people who are pretty much always talking about how badly dream was treated by people who were acting only fairly for themselves, usually.

for example people who act like dream was a perfect peacemaker before tommy showed up, or that tommy started most conflict. these are just actual lies that are told by c!dream himself to justify his abuse of tommy, and people fall for them incredibly easily because not a lot of people watched early dsmp and know that truthfully it was chaotic even then, and that dream was chaotic too. not to mention wilbur soot tried very hard to secede peacefully with l’manberg and dream jumped directly into war with no warning. and then people say he was forced into their war when, no, he started it.

theres also people who will say like, dream and sapnap for example are such good friends. i’m sure they cared for each other, but dream on multiple occasions has done horrible things to sapnap with no regard for his feelings (like leading fundy to sapnaps pets during the petwar, leading tommy to sapnaps pets during the other petwar and encouraging him to kill them, handing mars over to tommy to use as leverage against sapnap, etc). george he’s been less awful too but he certainly spoke over him and ignored his feelings enough that george felt hurt. he had places in his hall of attachments for beckerson and mars. george and sapnap were right to walk away from being treated like that.

there’s also what you just said here — “dream puts on a villain persona for tommy”— but honestly he acts like that around quite a few people (example: eret) and it’s usually when he’s revealing crucial info, which leads me and many others to believe that ‘persona’ is actually a more truthful version of him.

there’s the fact that he really isn’t safe for people to be around (or at least he wasn't before the prison) because he was planning to come up with ways to control every single person by stealing and threatening their attachments (some of which were not items but were living animals, or a real breathing person).

and then people will say dream was doing exile to enforce rules, or to keep the peace— when it’s very clear in canon it was a deliberate plan to get tommy on his own and into the prison. (from the way he was framing tommy for multiple crimes, and having sam set up the prison, and kidnapping tommy instead of correctly exiling him, all at the same time).

not even going into how he wants to kill and revive people for fun or make tommy immortal.

it’s just— ignoring all these actual facts and saying “oh he misses his friends, let’s get him some friends now” reminds me of like. when people would put flower crowns on pictures of serial killers. and then, there’s hardly anyone on the server who wasn’t subject to dream’s plans, so there’s absolutely no one i would be okay with him interacting with.

just remembered about the torture thing, and wow i still hate it so much. it’s someone’s sick revenge fantasy twisted into a way to get a manipulative villain sympathy, and it’s just gross to me on every account. i do think dream is traumatized-- just not by l’manberg, which was a conflict he started on his own terms. i would think l’manberg did affect him, because he was scared of losing control.

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again— my ideal ending for dream would be for him to be sent far away from dsmp to an island full of therapy animals and super strong therapists who have never met him before. and for him to get a shit ton of therapy until he becomes a halfway normal person. and then eventually he could get integrated into society again; but a different one with new people. (although maybe dteam + bbh + puffy can visit him, they might still like him.)

none of the people on the server (who have all been affected by dream) should be burdened with befriending him or rehabilitating him— look how that turned out with sam! sam had a personal grudge towards dream and it ended with the poor dude being tortured every day; and sam himself falling into corruption and literally cutting off his boyfriends arm. like we can all see thats fucking awful right?

no one who was affected by dream should have to deal with him ever again. and contrary to popular belief, that includes a LOT more people then just tommy. dream isn’t just tommy’s antagonist, hes almost everybody’s.

the only person on the server who might also be able to stand to help dream is techno, and that’s from sheer lack of ability to give a shit. but techno is probably THE furthest thing from a good therapist there is lol, and dream needs better then that.

this kind of just ended up being a rant about my thoughts on c!dream, so im so sorry op. especially since it was probably negative for you. i hope you’re doing very well.

i guess in the end it’s true what you said— people will highlight or ignore things based on what characters they like, and it’s especially easy to do in this fandom, where half the content doesn’t even get watched and then we become a big echo chamber of half-truths.

considering dream has hurt so many of the characters i care about, i almost can’t understand how he could be someone’s favorite or comfort character— but he is nonetheless, and it would be unfair of me to be rude about that.

essentially it just bothers me to see someone who was a perpetrator of accurately portrayed abuse and manipulation (using both those words in their actual definitions, not just as random buzzwords lol) being given the flower crown edit effect. especially since he’s hurt the characters i care about a lot.

ANYWAY all of that being said (this got LONG im so sorry op) i am so so excited to get dream’s pov, because although i disagree with his actions strongly i actually find dream’s character very interesting and cool, and watching his POV is going to insanely fun. i cannot wait to see what theories get confirmed or denied

ALSO incase it wasn’t clear this is all /nm at you! you seem lovely and smart, and neither of us can help what characters we get attached to :]

#c!dream critical #dream meta #og post #hey guys i would actually like some feedback on this one since i worked hard on it #rbs are okay and encouraged :]#my meta

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beebrainedstudios · 3 years

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Hello! Could you tell me more about how you interpret/headcanon the sentient magic in Darker shades of magic? I read some of yours posts and I'm fascinated by the concept

Hi, and thank you! I'm glad you've found my theories interesting! This may be a little bit long and rambling, as I’m still nailing out just how I interpret the magic in this series. Some of this I came up with on the spot and some of it’s torn from previous posts, so if I later change things or contradict myself, that’s why. Enjoy!

So, magic is canonically implied to have some sort of will in the series. As Kell says it’s alive, even if it isn’t alive in quite the same way that people are, and it seems to express some sort of comprehension in the way that it has the potential to resist, act out, or flee (as is the case in White London). It seems to have the capacity to think and possess an agenda too, such as when Kell was able to perform spells he technically shouldn’t have (As Travars-ing while under the influence of a royal sword); the magic “let him in,” with the implication being it was because he asked it instead of commanding it. Now, I don’t think it’s sentient in the same way that Osaron is- it’s more like a force made of the threads of power, acting naturally, but with enough understanding to show favor or distaste. It’s not organic, it doesn’t think organically, but it can perceive and respond.

However, this kind of magic isn’t the only kind. I like to think that magic in ADSOM occurs in different types. First, there’s natural magic, the kind discussed above that is present everywhere and in everything. This kind of magic is sort of like a blanket that covers each world. Before the Split, it was able to move between each world, but regardless of where it’s from, magic develops a different “personality” depending on its relationship with the local people. Natural magic has a symbiotic relationship with humans that is supposed to be mutualistic- the magic gets used (which is its primary motivation) and people reap the benefits. In a stable world where this is happening, magic moves swiftly and readily interacts with people. However, in worlds where this relationship is disrupted (such as in Grey where it isn’t used) or where magic is abused (such as in White where magic is needed so much that they bind it), it has a tendency to leave or wither. In short, it won’t stay in a hostile or poor environment.

All people also have their own specific magic, which is really just their personal store of power that’s used whenever they cast spells and whatnot. This varies tremendously based on age, skill, luck, and other factors, but every person has access to different elements or spell types (Runes vs enchanting objects, for example). The scent also varies with each person, but only those who are well equipped in tracking magic or Antari are usually able to distinguish it.

Then there’s oshoc- AKA Osaron and Vitari. There’s no specific definition for them, but I’m going to define them as a separate chunk of magic that originated from a source and is capable of learning; basically a magic AI. Now, the books are vague on Osaron’s origins; magic appeared in Black London one day, but refused to interact with people until it grew lonely and bored enough to seek them out, and this is when Osaron first appears. Now, I’m going to take it a step further and say this was when Osaron was actually born; natural magic had already appeared, but a separate piece of it broke off due to a new desire and ceased being everywhere and in everything so it could be its own contained entity. So, Osaron can act independently of natural magic and actually works by manipulating the threads of power; he’s a catalyst that can manipulate the “equations” of spells, starting them or stopping them or changing them around. However, he still has the same innate desire to interact and change that natural magic has. He also made the Vitari stone, which is where Vitari comes from- it later developed a consciousness that is much less developed than Osaron (it is actively learning during ADSOM) but still focused on spreading and being used. As a general rule of thumb, an oshoc is able to use any magic no matter what kind it is- there’s not so much a symbiotic relationship there as a system they can access at any time. For humans, it’s a relationship; for oshoc, it’s a bunch of threads to be moved, as they don’t differentiate between natural magic or themselves and natural magic doesn’t either. All oshoc also rely on other sources of power to “jump-start” their own, typically in the form of the worlds' magic or humans.

Spells and enchanted objects are not magic- they are manipulations of magic that draw on its power, essentially chemical equations in magical chemistry, if that makes sense. So no will, no agenda, nothing- they’re just actions, but they can affect natural magic and oshoc. Normal spells are generally viewed positively by natural magic as a sign of use, but things like binding runes and the collar are seen as threats. Most spells are allowed or even aided by magic- meaning they are used easily- but anyone with a strong enough will or power will be able to use magic regardless of whether or not magic “likes” it (such as Athos with Vitari).

Finally, there’s Antari. Being a mixture of man and magic, natural magic has an innate connection with them that usually amounts to mutual affection for both parties. This bond is always present even when passive, and allows Antari to sense magic much more easily than normal humans; it is also what is responsible for the instinctual urge to travel and need to use their magic often. Antari feel a pull towards strong magic that can be compared to warmth in a cold room. The bond is stronger when an Antari likes their magic and tries to connect with it- this is why Kell (and Rowan) are typically favored by magic and allowed to get away with impossible spells, while characters like Lila or Holland have to put a little more work into it. There are a few drawbacks to this connection though, most notably a weakness in magic-poor areas and a vulnerability to oshoc, which directly prey on this connection in order to possess them. Due to the strength of this connection, humans placing large scale attacks on Antari can draw magic's ire, leading to storms and disasters as magic wields the elements to make a point. This generally only occurs when extremely powerful Antari are killed or when they die in large numbers though. On a smaller scale, it is common for flowers to grow in any earth that Antari blood touches, and an Antari's sour mood can summon rain or wind.

A few other random thoughts on the subject:

The reason Osaron and Vitari can possess Antari while Astrid can’t is due to their access to magic’s threads- oshoc can hijack the Antari-magic connection to more easily enter a mind than a human would be able to.

Examples of natural magic’s “favor;” Kell As Travars-ing while stabbed by a royal-half sword and Holland instinctually learning Antari spells with no prior knowledge of them.

It’s magic itself that Holland hears calling him when he dies.

The black plague is not a kind of magic, it’s a virus-like thing that overtakes and corrupts magic until it excites itself into nothing. Osaron is not solely capable of making it and does not consciously do so. The plague simply appears when magic is too strong and being manipulated too much; Osaron tends to cause it due to his power levels and overindulgence in using magic, but anybody powerful and overly-eccentric enough could theoretically cause it too. Oshoc however are immune.

Oshoc have access to the threads of power and can instinctively use them, but they must naturally learn about everything else, which is why neither Vitari nor Osaron had any idea what was going on when they first went to Red London. This is also why they lack many human social traits and are so easily confused by human behavior. That being said, there are some spells they can use for shortcuts, such as automatically translating things (Osaron does it in ACOL).

Osaron also feels an innate appreciation for Antari like magic does, but his consciousness also allows him to be annoyed with him; while he’d like to befriend them all, he doesn’t mind getting rid of them if they aren’t willing to do the same.

Neither natural magic nor oshoc really have any moral drive. The latter could theoretically be taught morals, but they don't look at things the same way people do, so there's less internal pressure to behave than there is for them to cast spells. Like everything else, it would be a learning curve.

And that's all I've got for now! I realize I may have strayed slightly outside the topic of the sentient magic specifically; my apologies! I guess I just got excited writing about everything and how the magic systems connect. Enjoy!

#this ended up way bigger than intended #oops #adsom #a darker shade of magic #shades of magic #adsom theory #adsom headcanons #bee rambles #ask bee #bee asks

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scriptaed · 4 years

Text

bygones of the sun. 03 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/(future)smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 7.8k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

a/n: a repost of my old fic!

His words still echo in the back of your mind, even as your professor persists to lecture the class of fifty on topics they had zero clue about only to read up by themselves at their dorms and gain surface level knowledge a night before the test. The mid-aged professor paces around the room, your eyes subconsciously following his trail, one of your ears taking in his rambles only to toss them out through the other, and your pencil twirling in your fingers to pass the time.

Nothing to apologize for? Nothing to apologize for? How about apologizing for playing you like the way he did? How about apologizing for shunning his life as the school’s renowned dance captain along with anyone whom was the least bit impacted by his undeniably bright influence? How about apologizing for disappearing behind this new tough front of his and hiding the boy you had fallen for underneath this demeanor the rest of your university now calls the latest bad boy girls have their eyes on now that they’ve been pleasantly surprised with the sudden change?

Everyone might have forgotten who he once was, but you haven’t. No, you still remember the school’s sweetheart and the way he made your heart throb because he was different than the others. He was kind, open hearted, understanding, patient, and yet he still proclaimed that quality of an edge of mystery and the smoothness of the sweet handling of his words; everything about him once made you so damn weak. Once. But all of this past tense and longing for what has clearly been long gone in the shadows of the rising eclipse of the new Jung Hoseok makes you wonder: maybe… just maybe it’s you who needs to move on and not him who needs to return to the past.

You can still remember the scoff of his down turned lips, the spite in his darting eyes that told you he meant every bit of malice presented in his glare, and the way he quickly brushed you off as someone not even worth mentioning to his friends; but in a way, he’s not completely incorrect. You aren’t someone worth mentioning, especially since you were merely a subject of his little, childish games of a dare, and even though it’s completely his fault for making you fall victim to his meaningless flirtatious gazes and brushes of the hands, you can’t help but blame yourself for being so gullible. He’s changed. And now that you’re mentally cursing yourself for not having taken the opportunity to join the dance club like he had so urged you to do so that night, the only thing that can snap you back into reality is the wincing pain as you dig your nails into your palm and the constant nudging of your friend’s elbow.

“Y/N, Hellooo…? Y/N… Y/N!” Junghwa hisses only to nearly knock you over from your chair.

You stumble to grab the armrests of your chair and desk in a successful attempt to regain your balance, “holy shit, what was that for?”

“You were blanking out,” she shrugs with pressed thin lips.

“So you nearly push me off of my seat?” you huff and cross your arms.

“Oh, c’mon! You know I only lightly nudged you! You’ve been really… odd these days. First this, and now you’re not even paying attention in class? I mean, not like you ever did, but having me tutor you? That’s a first.”

“...you’re right. I don’t know what’s going on with me lately,” you sigh, picking up your pencil to twirl it around on the tips of your finger once again; but the thing is, you actually do know what’s causing all these changes in you. It’s something—or rather, someone—you clearly don’t want to admit is the stem of the new absentmindedness in you and the void look in your eyes.

Junghwa leans her head over her desk to glance over at you with worry, “is Hoseok still bothering you…? Is he contacting you? Texting you? If he is, you have to tell me, okay? I’ll find him and give him a piece of my mind—”

“It’s nothing like that. We haven’t talked in days, Junghwa. Thanks though,” you give her a small smile.

“But something’s obviously wrong. I know you used to like him a lot, Y/N, so I understand why you’re so hurt over what he did the other day…” Junghwa pouts. “Should we go for some karaoke with Hani tonight? Will that cheer you up?”

“Nah, I think I’ll try and get some more sleep in tonight,” you hastily pack up your notebooks as the rest of the class does at the dismissal of the professor. You glance over at Junghwa who only sits there affixed to her chair, staring at you in worry. Standing up from your seat, you squeeze her hands laying on her table top and flash her a large smile. “Don’t worry about me. See? I’ll be better than ever soon. We should go out with Hani another day. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Junghwa only sighs and waves you goodbye with the pout still plastered all over her face as you give her one last grin and whirl around to walk out the door. With your back finally turned towards your worried friend, you can finally let go of your long baited breath and sigh. She can see right through you. He’s the cause of your restless nights and pent up anger. You know you’re being silly over someone—the new version of that very someone—you’ve barely known. But you keep telling yourself just one more week and this little—no, huge—crush of yours will be over… soon. As long as you don’t bump into him again and keep your mind on track for the end goal: forgetting him and burying his past along with yours.

But fate seems to have different plans than you, for when you stride down the halls leading up to the familiar room, three boys pounce at you, stumbling out of the dance room to hustle around you.

“So? How’d it go?” Taehyung eagerly asks.

“Tae…” Jimin hushes him and turns to smile his crescent shaped eyes at you. “Sorry, we should’ve greeted you like normal people do. How are you doing, Y/N?”

“No, it’s fine…” you knit your brows and shake your head. “It’s um… it’s going alright. I didn’t ask him… or tell him… about returning to the club if that’s what you’re asking me.”

“...why not?” Jungkook hesitantly questions. “Did something happen? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you brush off. “I just didn’t get a chance to ask him.”

The three boys glance at each other as if to communicate telepathically. You stand there with your hand latched to your elbow and a gulp swallowing down the knot in your throat. Were they going to further press on with their issue and why you didn’t get a chance to ask Hoseok about the club? How are you going to explain it to them? Are you really going to tell them about how you were the subject of his little dare and how you, a girl of many who fell for him back when he still danced, questioned him about his reasonings for his hiatus from the club?

“Alright. Well, do you wanna grab a drink or something?” Jimin cocks his head towards the practice room behind him. He laughs, “you don’t exactly look… well. We’ve got lots of drinks that can freshen you up.”

“Oh,” your eyes widen, surprised that they decided not to press the issue any further. “I’m not really in the mood to drink right now…”

Jungkook snorts, “oh, don’t worry. We’re not offering you alcohol. We refrain from drinking too much because it distracts us from practice… especially with the showcase coming up. We do have soft drinks and old fashion ice water, though.”

“Uh… I don’t… really know you all that well…” you mumble.

“Well, let’s get to know each other, then!” Taehyung chirps, grabbing your hand and pulling you into the room as the other two laugh at your groaning.

“I was really dying for a nap back home,” you press your lips into an unamused, thin line.

Taehyung looks back at you from over his shoulders, “please? It gets boring over here with just us three! We won’t even ask you about Hoseok if you don’t want to talk about him!”

Glancing around the room, you take note of the truth in his statement. The entire room is empty today, and with the exception of Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung, the three of which you’re sure has to be the three most active and influential members behind their absent captain, you’re not sure how you fit in… or at least now that you’ve once refused Hoseok’s offer to join the club, and now you can’t help but wonder how would things have turned out if you hadn’t turned him down?

“Alright, fine. I’ll stay for an hour,” you sigh, wondering why every member of the dance club is so damn smooth with their words and charming in their own ways.

“That’s the spirit!” the boys cheer and toss you a can of Coke.

Taking a sip from the refreshingly cold drink, a wave of chills runs down your throat and through your entire system, relieving every inch of the tensed up muscles within you to relax as you sigh out with content. With your legs laid out across the floor, you seat yourself within the circle the boys had formed in the middle of the dance room, and for one split second, you’re glad you caved into their pleas.

“So you live near here? You don’t live in the dorms?” Jungkook breaks the silence.

“Unfortunately so,” you shake your head, recalling how easy it is for everyone to crash your house, specifically him that one night the two of you had gotten into an argument. You take another sip from your can, “so where’s everyone else? It’s awfully empty in here.”

“Ah,” Taehyung’s eyes light up. “They’re all preparing for the upcoming dance boot camp. We have one a few weeks before every showcase! Camp out high up in the mountains, away from all distractions, and focusing on what we like to do the most—dance! It’s a long held tradition of ours.”

“Except this is the first year we won’t have our dance captain to guide us through the activities,” Jimin purses his lips.

“Where is he…?” you hesitantly ask, and they all look up at you with questioning gazes. “I mean, I know where he is, and I know you guys haven’t been able to get ahold of him for very long, but do you have any idea or clues as to why he left in the first place…?”

“Beats me,” Jungkook shrugs, placing his drink to the ground and leaning backwards with his hands by either side of him on the ground. “He just silently left one day and never dropped by for practice. He’d always tell us a day beforehand, text us or call us when we never answered his messages, but then even those stopped. He somehow came to the conclusion that we assumed he wouldn’t be coming back the next day… or the next after that.”

“And he’s not completely wrong,” Jimin sighs. “I don’t understand why though. We’d always try to sit him down and ask him how things went so wrong, but he’d always avoid our questions like he always does with the topic of the club. And whenever we press further, because he’s the captain for God’s sake, he just… explodes. He gets up and walks away. He ignores us for the next week—”

“He doesn’t even hang out with us anymore!” Taehyung butts in.

“I just… I don’t get it. He’s never been so irresponsible before. He was always on top of his things, especially when it came to the club. So when he told me that his grades were falling and that’s the reason for his hiatus, I didn’t believe him. I don’t believe him,” Jimin shakes his head with his eyes darting to the ground and filling with frustration.

“Did you ask the previous captain about it…? I think her name’s Keiko…?”

“We can’t get ahold of her anymore,” Jungkook answers. “Hoseok deleted her contact off her phones, so we assumed it must have had something to do with her. But whenever she drops by the dance room for a visit and we ask her about it, she simply says she has no idea and that we should ask Hoseok about it ourselves.”

“Oh…” you utter and proceed hesitantly with your next question, something you’ve been wondering for a long while now ever since the truth of his hidden intentions for taking you out on a date that night was revealed to you. “...is he on good terms with Keiko…? I mean, did he ever have a thing for her? Or maybe the other way around?”

All of the boys raise their brows at your question, and you nearly jump back in surprise at their in sync response. “Nope, no, nada,” Taehyung shakes his head. “Did you get that from the rumors going around recently? Because from what I could tell, they only had a teacher-student relationship. Nothing really beyond that… or maybe Hoseok really does have a thing for older girls… I guess Hoseok was always really cheerful around her, but then again, he’s always been especially giddy during dance practice—”

“Alright, Tae,” Jimin cuts him off when he notices the growing frown on your face. If Taehyung’s speaking the truth, then the worst possible outcome behind this whole incident you’re having with Hoseok is becoming reality. Not only did he ask you out because of a dare, but he also had the intentions of using you to make someone he couldn’t get on his own jealous? How much more twisted could he get? The fuming anger within you grows apparent as your hands become fists and the brightness of your eyes darkens to a glare against the ground when Jimin laughs it off, “I, uh, wouldn’t trust rumors. They’ve always spread the wildest things about our captain. I’d only trust whatever comes from his own mouth… if he ever speaks to us again, that is.”

“Come to think of it, Y/N, why were you with Hoseok the other day?” Jungkook curiously asks, cocking his head at you and blinking with those wide, circular eyes of his.

“Um…”

Crap, what’re you supposed to say now? That you were on a date with him? That you were foolish and gullible enough to accept his offer when you had only really started to talk to him—or rather, the new him—the night before?

“It was a mistake. We just… happened to, uh, bump into each other at the theater… and then, um…” you stare at the ceiling with one brow quirked as you desperately search for an excuse and an explanation as to why you were spotted on what seemed like, and supposedly was, a date.

The boys slowly nod at your explanation, brows furrowing and eyes trained to your questionable expression until Taehyung blurts out, “but I heard you guys were watching a Disney movie. I thought Hoseok doesn’t watch those—”

“Yeah he does,” Jungkook remarks. “Disney movies are his favorites.”

You cock your head and quirk a brow; Disney is his favorite genre? The scoff he had given you that day when you opted for a children’s movie over an explicitly adult rated one told you otherwise. Just how much did you not know about this boy? Or rather, just how much did you miss out on because of your cowardly move that day?

“I mean, he doesn’t anymore, but you know what I mean,” Taehyung insists.

Jimin brings out a two inch thick binder filled with piles and piles of paperwork from his backpack, causing you to glimpse at him as he goes about completing whatever assignment he’s working on before turning around to press your lips into a thin line and shrug at the other two boys. “Well, either way, it was all a coincidence. A mere coincidence. Nothing more.”

Taehyung and Jungkook glance at each other before nodding at your explanation, not completely convinced by it, but also not rude nor concerned enough to press you on.

“So how do you know Hoseok?” Jungkook attempts to switch the topic, although not totally successful at it; it seems like the only common thing the two lots of you share is the very boy who never fails to get at your wits end… or at least so you think.

“Um….” you hum for a while, “we actually… have been in the same class before—”

“Oh?! You’re in our club, Y/N?!” Jimin nearly yells in shock, every one of the boys’ widened eyes darting to stare at you.

“What?!” Taehyung gasps and Jungkook’s jaw nearly drops to the ground.

“What?” you nearly shout, completely stunned yourself.

Leaning over to glance at Jimin’s binder to take a look at wherever Jimin had gotten that from, you find yourself completely floored. Surely enough, your name is written in one of the many slots of names plastered across the paper. It seems like whoever had written it that day was either in a hurry or was too tired to care about their handwriting, because harsh pen strokes can still be seen etched into the paper, for you assume the pen had ran out of ink, before being replaced by a darker black pen; several hastily drawn circles entrapped your name in its bounds, and you’re not sure if your mind is playing games with you, but the drips of water stains on the same paper where your name had been written gives you a clue of when your ties with the club had been secured.

“Oh? Isn’t that Hoseok’s handwriting?”

Taehyung’s words strikes a hammer straight across your chest. The force of his name reverberates in the painful wave which causes your entire system to go cold. Did Hoseok write in your name that very night he had invited you to the club? He didn’t even wait for the next time you visited to finalize your decision to join the club? He was that eager to welcome you in that he quickly pulled out the binder filled with lists of members’ names, beads of sweat dripping from his forehead and bangs and a large, brightly radiant smile you can still remember adorning his lips as he scribbled down your name?

The thought of it all only makes you all the more guilty.

Gulping down the knot in your throat, you gather your things and stand upright, “I… I think I should get going now.”

“Wait, Y/N!” Jungkook grabs the can you had left on the ground and hands it to you. “You almost forgot this.”

“And… I’m sorry for bother you, but…” Jimin hesitantly says. Still shocked at your new foundings, you subconsciously nod to urge him on. “Do you think you can help us with preparing for the next boot camp? I’m sure you can tell by how stuffed this binder is getting, but there’s still so much paperwork to be done…”

You blankly blink at him, not even sure what he had asked you.

“O-oh, you don’t have to if you can’t or don’t want to—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll help,” you blurt out, wanting to leave as soon as possible before your shaking knees collapses beneath you.

“Hurray! The more helpers, the merrier!” Taehyung cheers with a boxy smile. “Jungkook and I will pick you up later tonight then!”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, text you my address,” you mindlessly say, brows knitted and lips frowning as you get his number and dash out of the room.

The next evening, you find yourself in the seat of Taehyung’s new car—the scent of a freshly manufactured car still roaming in the confined space of the automobile—and it’s nearly impossible not to cover your ears as the two boys sitting beside and behind you shake the car and sing, or what more accurately resembles a scream, on the top of their lungs.

“Hey, can you reserve a seat for us? Jungkook and I will look for a parking space,” Taehyung asks as you turn to raise a brow at him from the front passenger seat. “Actually, Jungkook, why don’t you go with her—”

“No, I can’t go with her,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth, and you frown at the two of them in confusion. “Your eyesight sucks and you always drive past empty spots.”

“Uh… why don’t I just go alone then…? We’re literally right in front of the library… I can walk myself there,” you mumble with cinched brows.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook hastily asks.

“Uh… yes, yes I’m sure I can walk myself down the street,” you sarcastically remark with a chortle at how odd the two are acting. Opening the door, you step outside and wave the boys goodbye when suddenly the engine roars and a sincerely apologetic pout is plastered across the both of their faces.

“I’m sorry, Y/N! I really am! We have no other choice!” Taehyung cries out.

“I really didn’t want to do this, Y/N! The other two forced me into doing this! I’m sorry! I’ll treat you to ice cream later!” Jungkook repeatedly apologizes with hands clasped together and his head sticking out of the rolled down windows, eyes staring at the ground and too afraid to look into your confused ones.

“Good luck, Y/N!” Taehyung bellows before driving the car off into the road far away from the parking lot behind the library.

“What in the world…?” you’re left behind mumbling to yourself, before turning around to discover the cause of their sudden change in behavior.

Because there right ahead of you, casually seated on the stone placard with the library’s name displayed across it in front of the towering building is the one and only Jung Hoseok. Of course, the three mischievous boys had other motives behind pleading for a helping hand; they must have set you up in an attempt for you to gain another chance at conveying their messages to Hoseok. And now that you think about it, the boys’ excuse for visiting the city’s library as opposed to your own university’s facilities, claiming that there aren’t enough seats in the cramped study rooms of your school, all of it must have been bogus.

“Oh, hell no,” you say through gritted teeth. “I swear I’m going to kill them—”

“Well if it isn’t the nosiest girl in school,” Hoseok quips and you roll your eyes as he jumps off the welcoming sign and buries his hands into the pockets of his black basketball shorts.

As much as you want to just march off in the other direction, you can’t help but glance him up and down. An oversized maroon sweater drapes over his body, whereas black shorts and sneakers complete his rather simple outfit; not that you’re surprised, because you’re sure that he, too, had been tricked into this. But even with such a casual look, one that most would look half decent in even in the comforts of their own home, it’s impossible for you not to be left in awe at how damn good he looks in them.

Gulping in an attempt to brush off the fact that your eyes are probably ogling at him, you huff, “I don’t know who you’re referring to, but it’s not like I came here with the intentions of seeing you; because if I knew you were coming, I wouldn’t even be within a mile’s radius from here.”

You wait for a snarky response from him, but all you get is a scoff that escapes him. With his head cocked ever so slightly away from you and the sharp edge of his jawline more prominent than ever, he gazes at you with the most subtle quirk of a brow and an amused smirk playing on his lips, and you just can’t help but notice that there’s still one thing which remains the same within the fallen sun and its risen shadows: he can still pull off such an effortlessly dashing charm; but the fact that you’re admitting this, that you’re actually complimenting and taking the least bit of attraction to this side of him, it all makes you fume inside with frustration at yourself for submitting to the very person who had overshadowed your bright sun.

Fists clenched and teeth gritted, you snap your head away from Hoseok and focus your line of sight directly across from him as you march your way down the rather empty streets. Your cheeks are turning red and the abundant pumps of blood which flows to your head and fills you with adrenaline hastens your footsteps, because you just know he’s staring at you and seeing right through your unflustered front with those observant eyes of his; and unsurprisingly, your suspicions are confirmed when he casually kicks his foot out right when you pass him in a successful attempt to keep you from taking another step.

You turn to shoot a glare at him, “what’re you doing?”

“Nothing much. Just standing here minding my own business, why don’t you try that yourself for a change?” he raises a brow.

“Me? Minding my own business?” your jaw slacks open in shock while you’re forced to look away in the absurdity of it all. “Ironic because, actually, you’re the one who’s in my way.”

“My foot reserved this spot before yours,” the both of you glance at his toned, long legs and you mentally scold yourself for praising him yet again. “You can always step aside. There’s plenty of space for us two on this sidewalk.”

Rolling your eyes at his egotistical remark, you figure it’s a better use of your time to step aside than argue with him further. It’s not like he’d apologize anyways; he never apologizes, not even when he’s in the wrong. But just as you take a step to the left and a step forward, you find yourself once again inches away from crashing into his chest as you peer up to shoot a death glare at the boy who only seems all too amused toying around with you.

Hoseok brushes aside your darting stare and crosses his arms with the nod of his head towards the direction you’re walking in, “where are you heading?”

“Home,” you deadpan.

“Home?” he repeats with a chuckle. “From here?”

“Yeah,” you purse your lips, knowing just how irrational you’re being.

“You’re telling me you’re going to walk dozens of miles back to school?” your silence only elicits a dark chuckle from Hoseok.

“Well…” you mumble, trailing your eyes up off the ground to sheepishly look into his. The second your gaze meets his all but dismayed one, the burning distaste you held for him returns to your conscience. You can’t believe what you’re about to ask of him—the one who had just called you nosy for being worried for him, the same one who had scorned you several nights ago for bringing up his past—but you really have no choice, not when you’re miles away from home without a ride; you could ask Hani and Junghwa for one, but you know the two are just as stranded at school as you are right now. “...do you have a ride?”

Hoseok smirks, “you mean do I have a ride that I can provide you with.”

“...yeah,” you timidly nod with your eyes shifting between him and the ground.

After a few seconds of silence, Hoseok simply shrugs, “nope. I guess we’re just going to have to wait until Jimin and the others decide enough is enough.”

It surprises you how nonchalant he’s acting over all of this; doesn’t he dislike you, too? After how much you’ve ticked him off since that night, and not even taking the rolling of his eyes and the scoffs which escape his smooth lips into account, you’ve figured by now any second spent with you would’ve been the demise for the both of you. So why does he look so amused? Is it because he enjoys seeing you flustered and fuming with annoyance like this? The theory only ticks you off even further; what happened to the sweetheart you once knew?

“Jimin brought you here?” you question, peering up at the boy whose gaze never leaves you.

“...yup,” he states before swinging his arm over your shoulders and guiding you down the streets. “So I guess we’re stuck here together. Where do you want head for first?”

“No, we’re not stuck here together,” you scrunch your nose in disgust. Retracting his arm from your shoulders, you march off towards the library and leave him behind.

“Oh, c’mon! I know you’ve been secretly wanting a second date with me,” he teases in a call to you with a low chuckle, the half chuckle half cackle that you’ve never forgotten since that night, but this time with a much darker tint to its scarred afflictions. “The mall? The skating rinks? What do they usually do in those cheesy Disney movies of yours?”

“Of mine?” you snort, recalling what Taehyung and the others have said about Hoseok’s favorite genre. But instead of addressing the question on your mind of why something as silly as movie tastes would have to be concealed in what he claims to be his past and nothing more, you whirl around and walk off into the building. “I don’t know what you’re dreaming of, but I’m going to the library.”

Without another second to waste, you enter the glass doors of the building and leaving behind the boy who only silently scoffs at your quick departure. But as you walk down the halls filled with murmurs and absent of the purring engines of cars zooming by outside, you catch yourself wondering, no, hoping for Hoseok to run after you. You don’t realize it until now, but you’re nearly out of breath after your short encounter with the boy whom you thought would do nothing but anger you after that night the two of you had gotten into an argument in your front porch. Your heart pounds and your veins are popping with thrill, and that’s when you realize your hopes have been mistaken as wonderings.

And even though you’ve come to acknowledge your secret desire to prolong this encounterance for just tonight, albeit not without any self frustration, you’re not sure if you’ve misjudged yourself, for when you hear the shuffling of footsteps following behind you, a fire reignites within you and your wavering mind. And when you finally seat yourself at a secluded table in the corner of the room only to find him plopping into the chair across from you, you’re clueless as to whether this fire is a symbol of irritant or anticipation.

“The library, really?” Hoseok quirks a brow at your choice of a destination. He leans back into his seat and sighs with his hands rested behind his head, “well, what else would I expect from you. Do all the… untainted… hang out here in their free time?”

“For the last time, Jung Hoseok, I’m not a damn virgin,” you lie in a hiss, scoffing at his avoidance of a word he knows all too well irks you to your very bones.

“Hm,” he lets out a small chortle, crossing his arms and propping one leg over the other from under the table. “If you say so.”

“Well, if you hate being misunderstood so much, why don’t you stop following me and get away from this sacred meeting spot for all the untainted across the country?” you spit.

He cocks his head and challenges you with intently watching eyes, “who said I”m not a virgin, Miss Y/L/N?”

“Whatever, we all know you’re not,” you mumble, recalling all the rumors you’ve heard and all the more believe regarding Hoseok’s promiscuous reputation both on and off campus. Hoseok only raises a brow at your remark, irking you each and every time he gave little to no effort in answering your questions and opting to remain silence. Rolling your eyes, you open a book conveniently placed beside you and begin the next few long hours, “just sit and nap quietly or something.”

...and that’s exactly what he does.

Because for the next few hours, he does every little possible thing he can to annoy you. Whether it be tapping his feet impatiently and attempting to play footsies with you or flipping a book only to topple it against the table and ever so conveniently over your own book with those piercing gazes of his as he just waits for a reaction from you, there’s nothing he doesn’t do. The only time you get a brief rest from his near silent tantrums akin to ones of a child is when he tosses his book across the tabletop, huffs a loud sigh into the thin air, and rests his head against his arms on the table to take a quick, short nap.

You can’t exactly say you’re annoyed by his actions, because as much as it irritated and confused you as to why he’s even trying so hard to garner your attention, you can’t help but admit how amusing and, dare you say, adorable he is in such an environment that fits neither his old nor present demeanor as the loud, energetic dance captain. The only thing which annoys you is the skip of your heart when he awakens from his momentary slumber, his hair disheveled but perfectly framing his face with wispy bangs and glowing brown locks as the dimming sunset shines through the windows beside you to strike at him in the most ethereal angle similar to those times you’d catch a breathtaking glimpse of him in the dance studio; his half lidded eyes and the flick of his tongue as he dampens the parched lips of his after a nap at the dry, air conditioned atmosphere of the library causes you to nearly gasp aloud with eyes widening in wonder over the angel laying before you.

“Can we go now?” Hoseok croaks, and you force yourself to gulp at the enticing raspiness of his voice. God, he might not be the same sweet boy you once knew, but there’s no way of denying just how alluring he can be.

“N-no,” you stammer. “You can leave whenever you want. It’s not like I’m your boss or anything.”

“Are you done studying for,” he ignores you and leans over to flip your book over, “astrology, princess?”

“I’m not a virgin, and I’m not your princess either!”

“You don’t even take astrology!”

“How would you know?!”

“You told me on our first date!” he throws his hands up and ruffles his hair when he realizes how loud the two of you are being in a place surrounded with hardworking students who would occasionally throw dirty glances at the seemingly bickering, playful couple.

You only scoff at his remark, biting your bottom lip when you fail to come up with a rebuttal; you don’t even believe him when he says he remembers the things you told him at the theater, because after all, that date was something he did for a dare. Because unlike you, that night was only fun and games for him, and you can’t afford thinking otherwise.

“You know what, we’re getting out of here right now,” Hoseok scoots back and stands up to reach his hand out to grab yours.

“Stop it, Hoseok! I’m not going anywhere, and especially not with you!” you hiss.

“The library’s closing in half an hour anyways,” Hoseok snaps.

“Then let’s stay until it closes! Or you can leave, and I’ll stay—”

“Shhh,” Hoseok hushes with a smirk. “This is a library, remember?”

You roll your eyes, but none of it changes his determination as he only reaffirms his grip on you with a firm squeeze of his hands; they’re unbelievably warm and soft, although at the end of his slender, lengthy fingers would be blisters, the remaining marks of his previous occupations as the captain of a dance team, and for just one second, you wouldn’t mind letting him hold you like this for a while longer. He waited long enough and the library isn’t particularly entertaining to you either, so you figure you’d let him have his way for once.

“Fine,” you gruff.

“Cool,” he coos with a grin, pulling you towards him. “Let’s go then.”

Hoseok brings you out into the open air, and the second the two of you step out of the stuffed library, you intake a deep breath of fresh air into your lungs and sigh in content. The horizon is dark and illuminated with hues of pink and golden orange, gracing the reminisces of the sun upon those who are lucky enough to catch sight of it outside instead of being cooped up in the room with noses stuffed in books.

“You know, there’s only one thing I like about this particular library,” Hoseok calls out to you as he walks backwards and away from you.

“What? The fact that you got to hang out with me for a whole day?”

“No, that’s the worst thing about this library,” he half scoffs half chuckles, eliciting a scowl from you.

He then raises his arms to his sides with a wide smile plastered across his lips, and as if on cue, blasts of water shoots out from whatever system laying underground. Lights lay across the ground in several rows, lighting up the night air now that the sun had gone down, and water which spews out next to each light spray high up into the sky in organized lines to display a spectacular show you’ve never seen before as you’ve never strayed too far off campus. A few seconds later of water droplets filling the air and falling back down in the grace of gravity’s ways, the water swiftly disappears from sight and hides underneath the ground as swiftly as it had appeared.

Hoseok jogs over to you with the widest of grins, grabbing your hand and cackling at the gape of your mouth. Dragging you over into the square marking the boundaries of where the water system lays, a tumble of worries spill from your lips, “ay, ay, ay, slow down! I don’t want to slip and get myself wet!”

His firm hands guide you right above a vent which resembled ones you’d see at the end of sidewalks, except you know it’s not just a regular vent. But before you can run off, Hoseok’s hands hold you tightly in place and all you can hear next is his giggles and all you can feel next is the freezing cold wave which spreads across your legs to your upper body as water sprays from underneath you and out of the vent. And so the next thing you know, your entire body is soaking wet after being sprayed for several seconds consecutively.

“Jung… Ho...seok!” you scream.

You’re just about to remove your wet shoes to throw at him when Hoseok knowingly runs off giggling, and you have no choice but to chase him around like two kids who should be studying rather than playing around at a library. But the chase doesn’t end anytime soon. For he runs around, and occasionally, you’d be able to trick him into nearly walking into the vicinity of the water’s sprays by feigning a cry and several whimpers only to have him escape your grips as he runs off once again, cackling at your failed attempts.

“Ahah! Caught you,” you snicker when your fingers finally manage to grasp onto his hoodie, but you know he’s all too strong for you to keep him in place with just your fingers, so instead, you pull him into a hug; your arms wrap around him and you pull his back tightly against your chest, your mind completely overtaken by your desire for revenge. And so before the two of you can reach an agreement of treaty, the water from underneath sprays the two of you for several seconds before disappearing once again.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Hoseok laughs, “now can you let go?”

“Nope,” you simply reply, holding him tight and bracing for the next several set of sprays as the two of you scream and laugh and thrash around until you’re finally content with how soaked he looks from head to toe.

With water dripping from his bangs and burning eyes brightened by the lights below and gazing at you in either amusement or spite, you nearly forget that you’re wearing a clean white shirt which could be seen straight through now that you’re practically engulfed in freezing water. Sheepishly, you quickly turn around and cross your arms in a vain attempt to cover the undergarments which you’re so sure he’s caught sight of by now.

“Y/N?” Hoseok asks, breaking the silence that ensues shortly after. “Are you mad at me? I’m sorry if I took you by surprise… or are you cold…?”

Your lips quiver and your entire body trembles at the chilly wind which breezes past you.

“...Y/N?”

“I-It’s nothing, c-can you c-call Jimin n-now?” you stutter, keeping your back turned on him.

But instead of following your requests, you hear a series of muffling and shuffling of clothes, when suddenly, an equally soaked, albeit warm from the untouched cotton inside, drapes over your head and engulfs your body in black.

“There you go,” Hoseok breathes, working his hoodie onto you. “No more worries, now, right?”

So he knows.

Did he see? Probably, especially him being the catch that he is around school. But do you care? Not particularly, or at least you don’t think, because the overwhelming gush of your melted heart can’t help but flip dozens of times over his kind gestures. Is this the boy you fell for? Or is this the boy you keep telling yourself you despise? Or perhaps, is this the same boy molted within those two same figures?

“C’mon, let’s go home,” he chortles when you nod, taking your freezing hands into his warm ones and walking you a few blocks down to where his familiar car lays in a parking lot.

“You’re telling me… you had your car this whole time?” you retort in disbelief.

“Yeah, of course,” he snorts, opening the car door for you. “I’m not letting Jimin drive me around. Who knows what they’re up to nowadays?”

“Ah, so this isn’t the first time, huh?” you mutter to yourself as you seat yourself in his car and he gets in from the other side.

“So I’m assuming you haven’t moved since last time we spoke, right?” he quips, turning on his purring engine.

“No,” you laugh, knitting your brows at his sudden question.

“Well, I wouldn’t know seeing all the death glares you’ve given me lately.”

“Oh, right,” you mumble. Only then do you recall the fuming anger you held against him which had been buried by the thrill of a water fight after a long day of ignoring and shooting what he claimed to be death glares. Right, you’re supposed to be mad at him. “You know, I still haven’t forgiven you for last time. For the dare, for saying all those things you did that night, for pretending like you’ve never danced before—”

—you stop mid-sentence when he quirks a brow at the mention of his past.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve forgiven you either,” he remarks, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel like he did on the drive to the theater that one night. “Say, do you like playing games, Y/N?”

“You’re the one who likes games,” you roll your eyes.

“...right,” he reluctantly says from the back of his throat. “I don’t want to keep things between us the way they are now…. Strained. So, would you like to make a bet with me?”

Turning your head to glance at him as he does the same, averting his gaze off the roads to glimpse at you. “What kind of a bet…?”

“Seeing how… intrigued… you are about my past, would you like to find out why I left that part of me behind?” he smirks at the way your eyes pop in regards to his question. He takes a deep breath and sighs, “you don’t like me right?”

“I guess…” you mutter. “I don’t particularly despise you either.”

“No, I meant that in the romantic way. You don’t think about me in ways other than occasional dirty thoughts, right?”

You scoff, “I don’t get wet dreams about you, and I don’t plan on anytime soon. So no, I don’t like you…”

…or at least not the current you.

“Alright, then how about...” he pauses to hum and rhythmically tap against the leather of his steering wheel. “If you don’t fall for me, then you can ask me anything you want and I’ll answer truthfully. But if you do fall for me, then you can’t mention dance anymore. And you have to stop Jimin and the others from trying to bring me back.”

Falling for him? You? Now? What a joke, you mentally tell yourself, the only person you’ve ever fallen for is long gone now. But you can’t tell him now; you need an upper hand on this silly bet of his. And as silly as it is, there’s a part of you that wants to know the story behind it all; the story behind the fallen dance captain, the heartthrob of your school, the sweetheart whom had captured your heart and never returned it.

“...sounds like an easy win to me,” you shrug, quirking a brow at his chuckle. “So what’s our time frame?”

“Don’t need one.”

“I mean, how much time are you giving me to hold out from falling for your unbelievable charms Mr. Jung?”

“I don’t need one,” he laughs again, turning to look at you with those darkened eyes of his which shakes you to your core. “If you think you can hold out for so long, why don’t you just show me? I, on the other hand, think I’ve won already.”

And as if he knows you like the back of your hand, his smooth words elicits a skip of a heartbeat. A hammering sensation thumping against your chest and your breath catching within the knot of your throat, especially when he cocks his head and peers down at you with that overconfident look of his.

“Don’t you think, sweetheart?”

319 notes · View notes

petersasteria · 3 years

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Past is Past - Peter Parker AU

Pairing: Peter x Reader, Harry Osborn x Reader Requested? Nah. It based on one of @writing-prompt-s’ prompts. 2.5k words Warning/s: character death, confusion, a satisfied ending

PP Masterlist

Big thanks to my friend @croissantwriting for the help! She’s doing a little gift-giving this Christmas, so if you want a gift from a stranger who’s super nice and friendly, check it out!

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“She’s not getting any better, Mr. Parker. I’m afraid she’ll be going soon.” The doctor told Peter with no expression on their face. The doctor kept their face neutral, so that it wouldn’t be an issue for anyone. It was also protocol at the hospital.

The doctor excused themselves and left Peter standing alone in the cold hallway outside of his wife’s room. Peter couldn’t believe that he would lose the person he truly loved; he would lose her to cancer. ‘Fuck cancer.’ He thought. He wanted his wife to live long; to see their children grow up to be the people they’re meant to be. Alas, it was just wishful thinking.

You see, Peter was immortal. In a world where 2% of the population are born immortal, he was one of them. It could be anyone, really. One’s parents don’t have to be immortal for one to be immortal. They were just cursed that way. Being born immortal was God’s cruel way of letting people stay on Earth to be His stewards of creation for eternity. Whether they like it or not, if they were born immortal, they are immediately tied up and forced into the duty of being God’s steward.

The duty of being God’s steward felt wrong. It feels wrong to watch mortals move on with their lives while some get stuck, getting caught by the sorrow of this immortality that has been given upon them.

Peter had the saddest eyes for a long time, but it all changed when he met the love of his life. Peter has seen things; someone’s last breath, some more heart breaking scenarios, etc. But everything changed when she came into his life. She appeared as someone new... and well, unexpected. She was a great surprise, though. She gave Peter a brand new purpose, she gave him happiness. Every time Peter was with her, he would forget about his curse.

Peter’s eyes held sadness again and it broke his heart to know that he couldn’t do anything to save her; his one true love. His heart broke at the harsh reality that no matter what happens, he’ll eternally stay on Earth while he watches his loved ones pass on.

Gathering up his courage, Peter took a deep breath before entering her hospital room. He quietly entered her room and slowly shut the door behind him. He observed the sight in front of him: his wife slept peacefully with their youngest son next to her on the bed while their two older children were asleep on the couch.

He silently approached the bed and held his wife’s hand as he sat on the chair that was next to her bed. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. This caused her to stir awake and look at him with a small smile adoring her face.

“Peter.” She breathed.

“Hey there.” Peter said softly as tears clouded his vision. It pained him to see her like that; weak and fragile and ill. If only there was a cure for her cancer, he would’ve given it to her in a heartbeat.

“I love you, Peter. So much.” She whispered.

“I love you more than everything else.” Peter said as tears freely streamed down his rosy cheeks.

“Please remember that my love for you is eternal. I’ll look for you in the next life just so I can love you the way I love you now. I promise you that, Peter.” She smiled softly. Peter could only nod, not trusting his voice to speak.

That was their last moment together. She died in her sleep, her youngest cuddling up to her as Peter held her hand.

The moment life left her body, God took it and gave it to the baby girl of the woman giving birth at the same hospital on a different floor.

“Baby, wake up or you’ll be late on your first day.” The man’s voice whispered in her ear. “Y/N, seriously. It’s time to get up. I’ll have the car ready for you.”

Y/N groaned and rubbed the sleep off her eyes before stretching and sitting up. She slowly opened her eyes and the sight of her boyfriend of three years greeted her. She smiled at him and said, “Good morning.”

“Good morning!” He smiled and leaned down to press a kiss on her forehead. “Breakfast is ready.” She hummed in response and got out of bed. Her boyfriend, Harry, led the way to the dining area and as soon as they arrived there, they sat down and ate their breakfast in peace.

Today was their first day in college and they decided it would be best to live together in an apartment near their university. Harry Osborn, Y/N’s boyfriend, was privileged and he was able to buy an apartment unit that suited his standards. After all, his girl deserved the best. Harry is kind and generous which surprised a lot of people considering his lifestyle. Y/N was truly lucky, but Harry claims that he’s the lucky one.

The couple parted their ways when they arrived at the university; both of them studying different courses. The rest of the day was alright. Nothing really significant happened and Y/N kept to herself most of the time. Only mingling when she’s supposed to. It wasn’t until her last subject when things started taking a turn.

Y/N sat at the back of the class and texted Harry as student after student came in the classroom. About ten minutes later, Y/N’s professor walked in.

Her professor was undeniably handsome. He had brown, curly hair and brown eyes. He wasn’t tall, but he wasn’t short either. His height was just right. He looked like he was in his thirties and he had the brightest smile. Naturally, the girls in her class swooned over him which made her chuckle. While she would admit that her professor is handsome, her loyalty remained with Harry. He was her endgame and she was sure. They wouldn’t last long if he wasn’t.

“Hello, everyone! My name is Noah Parker and I’d let you guys call me by my nickname, but that would be unprofessional. So, Mr. Parker or sir would be really nice.” Noah smiled at everyone. He wasted no time in teaching.

“Welcome to history 101 and I’ll be your professor for the whole semester.” Noah smiled and grabbed a chalk to write something on the board. Seeing as the class is for three hours, Noah started with the first lesson.

It was obvious that Noah was passionate about history. Everyone listened and he made history fun. They did some ice breakers and a short group activity and a quick game before the class ended. Noah gave them their first assignment which was really easy and it would be passed two days from now.

The class was dismissed and everyone gathered their things and left. Y/N took her time and Noah was erasing the things he wrote on the board. Y/N approached him and cleared her throat, “Excuse me, Mr. Parker?”

Noah turned around with a smile, but it quickly faded when he saw her. He dropped the eraser as his jaw dropped, his gaze remaining on her. Y/N was confused, so she just picked up the eraser and put it on his desk to avoid Noah’s gaze.

Noah shook his head and said, “I’m sorry, it’s just- mom? Is that you?”

Now, it was definitely weird

“Excuse me?” Y/N chuckled awkwardly.

“I can’t believe it.” Noah said in amusement. “I thought dad was crazy, but he’s right! You’d be in the next life after all. Well, your next life. You and dad can be together again! This is so cool. Oh my god.” Noah rambled in excitement.

“I’m so confused right now.” Y/N confessed. “I’m no one else’s mom and I don’t know who your dad is and I’m definitely not getting back together with anyone because I have a boyfriend. You must be mistaken, sir.”

Noah cleared his throat and said, “Um, was there anything you needed before?”

“Oh, yes!” Y/N’s eyes lit up at the change of topic. It was her saving grace. “I have a question about the homework, actually.”

Y/N asked about the homework and Noah happily explained it to her once more. After that, she left Noah all alone in the classroom.

Since then, everything has been awkward between them. Noah informed his father, Peter Parker, about what happened and Peter wanted to see her; to see if it was true. Now, it was Noah’s mission to get you to meet Peter.

One day after class, Noah asked Y/N to stay behind. She awkwardly sat on the seat in front of his desk and Noah sat on his chair behind his desk.

“I would just like to apologize for my behavior last time.” Noah started. “Second of all, I must tell you that I have this weird connection to you. No matter how far I stay away from you, there’s a force pulling me closer to you. Lastly, if you won’t believe me before, you might believe me now.”

Noah took out his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it. He opened his gallery and clicked on the album full of photos from his childhood, most of them had his mom in it. He handed the phone to Y/N and she gasped at the sight of the photos.

It was like she was looking at a window to the past. The woman in the pictures looked similar to her; not completely alike. She returned the phone to her professor, Noah, and gave him a tight-lipped smile.

“Um, I don’t know what to say.” Y/N said.

“Could you maybe meet my dad? It would mean a lot to him. I told you about him and he wants to see you.” Noah pleaded.

“I find this really weird, to be honest.” Y/N said. “I don’t know anything you’re talking about and frankly, I’m not curious about my past life...sir.”

“I understand, but could you maybe reconsider? My dad would love it if you’d visit.” Noah pleaded. “If you meet my dad, I’ll give you extra credit. You kinda suck at this subject, no offense.”

“None taken.” She said as she thought about it. “What if someone becomes suspicious about my grades going up?”

“I’ll just say that it’s because of your extra work and just say that you’ve been studying a lot recently. So, does this mean that you’ll meet him?” Noah asked hopefully.

“Fine. Mainly because I need extra credit.” Y/N agreed. She wordlessly grabbed her things and left the room. Later that night, she received an email from Noah.

Noah Parker To Y/N Y/L/N

Good evening, Ms. Y/L/N!

My father would like to meet with you at my childhood home at 123 Hamilton Street, this Saturday at lunch time, 12 noon. Please confirm if you’re available at this time and if not, we can reschedule.

My personal phone number is: xxx-xxx-xxxxx. Please contact me there for more details.

All information will be kept between the two of us .

Thank you and stay safe!

Lo and behold, Y/N stood outside the Parker Residence. She took a deep breath and rang the doorbell. It didn’t take long for a young man to open the door. He looked similar to Noah, but he looked younger.

“Please come in.” The man said as he looked at her. She entered the home and the man led the way to the living room. Y/N made herself comfortable on the couch and the man who opened the door sat across from her.

“Um, I’m Y/N.” She smiled.

“I know.” The man said. “I’m Peter Parker and oh my god. It’s really you.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your relation to my professor, Noah Parker?” Y/N asked innocently.

“He’s my son.” Peter answered. “And you’re my wife.”

Y/N stared at him as Peter had happy tears streaming down his face, “We can finally be together again and we’ll be happier than ever! We could be a family.”

“I’m so confused. How can you be Mr. Parker father when you look like you’re twenty-three?!” Y/N shrieked.

“I’m immortal, honey. I stopped aging at twenty, but I’m still me! I love you and you love me. We can be together.”

“I’m so sorry, but I don’t know who you are and I can’t just start a life with someone I don’t know. If you think I can do that, then you’re sorely mistaken, sir.” Y/N said.

Peter shook his head, “But you said , on your deathbed, that you’d find me in another life. I’m here! We found each other. I don’t understand why you don’t want to stay. You said that your love for me is eternal and you’d love me the same way you did then. What happened? Why can’t we pick up where we left off?”

“With all due respect, if what you claim is right; if I’m your wife in the past, then I’m sorry I can’t be your wife in this life. I have my own things going on and I’m in a committed and happy relationship. I can’t leave him for you. Besides, you’re way older than I am despite your looks. I’m really sorry.” Y/N said softly.

“This is more heartbreaking than when we found out you had cancer.” Peter chuckled bitterly and nodded in understanding. “You may go now, Y/N. I’m sure your boyfriend would wonder where you are.”

Y/N stood up and walked to him to put a hand on his shoulder, “I’m really sorry, but I’d like to get to know you… as friends.”

Peter nodded, “Alright. That’s better than nothing.”

After that encounter with Peter, Y/N saw him a few times after that even after she graduated from college. She got a decent job and her friendship with Peter and the rest of the Parker family remained. Though they never saw each other after she got a job, they all remained in contact.

Y/N and Harry Osborn finally got married after being together for so long. The Parkers were invited to the wedding, but Peter never showed up. He was crestfallen upon finding out that the woman he loved was getting married to someone else.

A year later, Y/N and Harry welcomed their first born in the world. They have been graced with a son and the couple agreed that if they were going to have a son, Y/N would name him.

As she laid there with the newborn baby boy in her arms, she racked her brains for the perfect name. After thinking about it for a long time, a smile formed her mouth as she looked down at her son. They were alone in the room, her husband was buying some food outside. This moment was very soft and peaceful.

“I know what name to give you now.” Y/N whispered and kissed her son’s forehead. The door opened and revealed her husband with a paper bag with take-out in it.

“Have you thought of a name?” Harry asked quietly as he set the food down on the table.

“Yeah.” She nodded, sure of her decision.

“What’ll you name him?” Harry asked.

“Peter.” She smiled fondly at her son. “His name is Peter.”

* * * *

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @blueleatherbag @harryismysunflower @buckys-little-hoe @sandystoriess @heeeyitskay @slytherin-chaser @quaksonhehe @yaya4302 @lil-mellow-bunbun @starlight-starks @swiftmind @alexx-stancati @sovereignparker @nerdyandproudofitsstuff @pearce14 @cherthegoddess @chewymoustachio @cocoamoonmalfoy @parkerlovebot @supred12 @peterspidey @givebuckyhisplumsnow @beverlythrillz @slutforsr

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @marvelousell @justasmisunderstoodasloki @rubberducky-jrr @allyz @osterfieldnholland @miraclesoflove @god-knows-what-am-i-doing @drie-the-derp @hollands-weasley @itstaskeen @call-me-baby-gir1 @the-panwitch @iamaunicorn4704 @geminiparkers @holland-styles @calltothewild @fancyxparker @herbatkazmiloscia @whatthefuckimbisexual @justanothermarvelmaniac @unsaidholland @musicalkeys @lost-in-the-stars03 @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @parkerpeter24 @bellelittleoff @agentnataliahofferson @aqiise @lexirv @blairscott @pearly-pisces @theonly1outof-a-billion @u-rrose @speedymaximoff @theliterarymess

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