#plus these tags are a safe space for my rambles

[crypticreid]

KINKTOBER DAY TWO

October 6 -- Phone Sex

masterlist

author's note: first of all, I've been so overwhelmed with the amount of support I've received so far on my first post. Truly, it means the world to me, so thank you! 💖💖💖Also, I've started a tag list for kinktober. If you would like to be added, please reply to one of my posts or message me!

summary: after injuring yourself, you've been forced to stay home from a case and you miss Spencer more than you'd like to admit. Lucky for you, he's missing you just as much.

warnings: female reader, masturbation, guided masturbation, horny ramblings, a little bit of spencer dominance, dirty talk

word count: 2.8k

this is adut content. 18+ plus only. minors do not interact!

Your apartment was spotlessly clean. You’d spent almost the whole day organizing and scrubbing and even rearranging furniture. You hadn’t been able to sit still all day, distracted and bored at the same time. 

While on the last case a few days ago, you had sprained your ankle pretty bad. At least bad enough that Hotch had basically forced you to take a few days of leave. You argued that you could work the current case from the office with Garcia, but he’d simply leveled his ‘this isn’t up for discussion’ look at you, and you shut your mouth. Reid had offered to drive you home and then spent the entire night pampering you and not even letting you lift a finger. Then he had to leave for this case, and you were alone. Which had been okay while your ankle throbbed, but now your ankle was perfectly fine, and you were dying being stuck at home. 

You were restless, but nothing you did helped. And now you’re frustrated. 

You bite down on your bottom lip as you try to think of literally anything else you can do to keep your mind busy. Your eyes fall onto the clock hanging on the wall, and you notice that it’s almost midnight. 

There’s barely a slim chance that he’ll pick up, but you grab your cell phone anyway and call Spencer. It rings for several seconds until his automated voicemail picks up. A sigh falls from your lips. 

“Hey, Spencer. It’s me. I know you’re busy. I just – I just miss you.” You sigh again and feel slightly annoyed at how pitiful you sound. But it’s true. 

It’s been hard to sleep since he’s gone, both because you’ve realized you spend too much time worrying about him and because the bed feels so empty without his long limbs taking up an unfair amount of space. You miss laying on the couch with your feet tucked under his thigh as you both read in comfortable quietness. And you hate how empty your apartment feels without him here. “Anyway, stay safe. And I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.” 

You hang up the phone and slump onto the couch with a groan. After a few minutes of trying to read, you give up and decide to take a shower and head to bed. You toss your cell phone onto your bed as you take off your clothes and grab a towel. In the bathroom, you turn on the shower, and as you wait for the water to warm up, you glance at the mirror. 

You see your naked body, the body that Spencer spends so much time worshiping. Your hands graze up your thighs, remembering how his hands grab onto them when he holds you pressed against his mouth as his tongue brings you to orgasm after orgasm. You continue your journey upwards across your stomach where he presses kisses and murmurs how much he loves you, to your breasts where he licks and nips and takes your nipple in between his teeth. 

A warmth begins to gather low in your belly, and you feel the beginning twinges of need in your core. Quickly, you blink away the images of Spencer and drop your hands to the cool counter of the sink. You take a few deep breaths as you lean against the counter. 

In the shower, you can’t help it when your hands caress your skin, paying special attention to your breasts. You moan out loud alone and realize why you’ve been so restless today. There’s a slight blush coloring your cheeks at the understanding. You rush through the rest of your shower and dry off with the towel so you can throw back the comforter of your bed and settle into the freshly cleaned sheets. 

You start to rub your thighs, massaging and focusing on the sensation against your skin. With your eyes closed, an image of Spencer emerges, leaning over you, touching you. No, now he’s lying next to you, he’s breathing against your neck right after he kisses below your ear, and his hands leave your thighs and travel across your stomach. Just the fingertips, almost tickling, raising the anticipation, and he smiles when you take a sharp intake of breath before he reaches your breasts. Your hands are smaller than his, so it isn’t exactly the same sense of pleasure, but it works for now. 

If he was here, Spencer would be kissing your neck, so gingerly, and then he’d laugh lightly against your skin when you’d squirm impatiently. But since he isn’t here, you don’t have to tease. Release was only a few minutes away. Your fingers gather the wetness at your core and glide upward toward your clit. 

Instantly, you sigh at the contact and begin leisurely circles on the sensitive bud as your imaginary Spencer looks into your eyes. He would lean down to kiss your lips, just as slowly as his fingers moved on you, his tongue teasing your lips, but never giving himself over to you fully. Not yet. You moan his name and speed up your fingers. 

The pleasure rises deep within you, your hips moving in tandem with your fingers, and you apply just a little more pressure. Another sharp intake of breath, and you can tell you’re close. 

Your phone rings. You freeze your motions, unaware of your surroundings for a split second, but then you force your eyes open and scramble off the bed. The ringtone is somewhere in the room, but you can’t remember where you left your phone. 

The phone rings incessantly as though it’s mocking you as you feverishly search for it. When you pull the comforter off the bed harshly, a loud clang on the floor confirms the phone’s location. You grab it and answer breathlessly, “hello.” 

“Why are you out of breath?” Spencer asks on the other end, a thousand or so miles away. 

You press a hand to your sweaty forehead and then push sticky strands of hair off of it. “Oh, I was in the shower, and I heard the phone ringing in the bedroom.” You lie even though Spencer is a genius profiler and would most likely see right through it. But the idea of admitting to him that you were touching yourself to the thought of him made your stomach do somersaults. 

There is a small pause before he replies, “I’m sorry for interrupting your shower.” 

“I was done. It’s fine.” You chew on your bottom lip.

“Oh, good. I got your message.” 

“I’m sorry for bothering you.” You sit on the edge of the bed. 

“Don’t apologize. It was nice to hear your voice.” His words make your heart flutter. “I miss you.” 

You sigh, “I miss you too,” and lie back horizontal across the bed, your feet dangling off the edge. 

“I’ll be home tomorrow. We wrapped up the case about an hour ago, but there’s a bad thunderstorm, and flights were grounded.” You picture him alone in a hotel room holding his cellphone up to his ear, his long body across the bed. 

“How was the case?” 

“I’d rather talk about you. How was your day?” 

You turn on your side so you can fiddle with the top sheet that was left askew by all of your frantic movements earlier. “Nothing exciting.”

“And how’s your ankle?” 

“Perfectly fine. Not even sore.” 

“I’ll see about that. Don’t think I won’t take a look at it tomorrow.” 

“You’re not a medical doctor, Spencer.” You roll your eyes with a small smile playing on your lips. He laughs lightly. 

There is a soft silence between the two of you for a few moments. It isn’t awkward but comforting. Almost as if he’s lying beside you and the two of you are simply resting in the presence of each other. “What were you really doing before I called?” He inquires. 

You smile. He’s too smart for his own good. “Exercising,” you quip. 

“The kind of exercise that requires your hand between your legs.” 

“Spencer!” You gasp. 

He laughs again, and you wish he was next to you because you’d kiss the laugh off his lips. “Am I wrong?” 

“How did you know?” 

“I’m a profiler.” 

“No, really tell me,” you demand. Profiling isn’t a magic trick, and Spencer isn’t a psychic. 

“I guessed.” You roll your eyes because you can see his face in your mind, the sly almost smug smile and the eyes full of amusement. 

“Bullshit.” 

“No, truly. I figured you missed me just as much as I missed you.” His voice lowers to almost a whisper, and it sends a shiver down your spine. “That you’ve been thinking about me just as much as I’ve been thinking about you.” 

“You’ve been thinking about me?” You murmur. 

“I can’t get you out of my head. It’s quite distracting, to be completely honest.” 

“Me? Distracting the brilliant Dr. Reid?” You ask innocently. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” His voice has taken on that husky tone that sends wet heat straight to your core. 

“Tell me.” You repeat your earlier demand, your hand rubbing mindless patterns across your skin. 

“I’m hard just from hearing your voice. It’s taking everything in me to not to unbuckle my pants and fuck into my hand like I’d fuck into you.” 

You can’t help but bite your lip at his words because it’s rare for him to curse like that. “Do it.” 

“Only if you do it too. Can you do that for me, baby? Can you touch yourself and make yourself come just from my voice.” 

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, your hand traveling lower. 

He hums low and deep in the back of his throat. “You’re already doing it aren’t you, sweetheart? Couldn’t even wait for me to undo my belt. Needed it that bad, didn’t you?” 

“I need it.” 

You’re about to reach your aching center when he makes a quick tutting sound. “Don’t touch yourself yet.” You instantly pull your hand away. “Go get your earbuds and connect them to your phone. I want to be right in your ear, and I want both of your hands free.” 

You comply quickly, putting in your earbuds and then laying back down on your bed. You set your phone beside you. “I’m ready.” 

“Are you? What are you ready for?” He teases. He wants you to vocalize exactly what you want even though it makes you blush or maybe because it makes you blush. He wants it despite not being here to see it. 

“To touch myself.” 

“And?” 

“To make myself come from just your voice.” 

“Good…” he starts, but you have one more thing to add. 

“And I want to hear you come too, baby.” 

In the distance, you can hear the clanking of his belt as he undoes it and the shuffling of him taking off his pants. “I’ll do anything for you.” You settle into the bed, anticipation buzzing across your skin. “Are you comfortable?” 

“Yes.” 

“Perfect. Close your eyes and just focus on my voice and your breathing. Take a deep breath for me. And let it go, just like that. Where do you need me most, sweetheart?” 

“Everywhere.” You answer instantly. 

“No, baby, I know, but focus for me. Where is that ache? Where do you need me to touch you?”

You take a deep breath. “My breasts.” Your entire body is aching with want, but your breasts are desperate to be touched. 

“I want so badly to touch you, I wish I was there. I want to put your breasts in my hands. Do that for me, please.” You do as he asks, kneading your breasts. “Open your mouth, baby, and take one of your fingers and get it wet. Now play with your nipple, tease it, circle it.” 

You moan as you tease yourself. “Yes. I want to hear you, tell me how good it feels. Show me how much you miss me.” 

“I need you, Spencer.” You groan as you lightly pinch your nipple. 

“I know, I know. I need you too.” On the other end of the phone, you can hear the sounds of him touching himself, slowly. He’s teasing himself just as much as he’s teasing you. “When I get home to you, I’m going to show you just how much I need you. I’m going to make you come with my fingers. With my tongue. Over and over again. And then I’ll finally give you my cock, just when you think you’ve had enough. And I’ll make you come one more time on my cock. Is that what you want, baby?” 

Your back arches off the bed, still playing with your breasts and nipples. “Yes, oh my god. I want it so bad.” 

“How bad, honey? Tell me, is your pussy dripping for me? ‘Cause you need me that bad.” 

Your dominant hand moves to your core, and you feel how soaked you are. “Yes. Yes. I need you. I’m so wet.” 

“Touch your clit, baby. Slow, do it slow for me at first. You know, just like I would.” 

Even though your eyes are already closed, you squeeze them closed tighter when you make contact with your clit. It’s practically throbbing and you exhale a sharp breath. “Oh my god, Spencer. I can’t. I need –” 

“Slow, yes you can. Take a deep breath, focus on my voice.” 

An uncontrolled moan escapes your throat, but you do as he says. You concentrate on his breaths over the phone, and you match yours to his. Then you match the rhythm of your hand to the sound of his as he ruts into his hand. You listen to his grunts and whimpers, both of you racing toward a needed release. 

He lets out a guttural sound. “Do you feel empty? Do you need to be filled?” 

“So bad, so bad.” 

“I’d fill you so good if I was there.” He groans, and you hear him lose his rhythm for a second as his hips falter. “Slip one of your fingers in. But with your other hand. I need you to keep rubbing that beautiful clit.” 

As you slowly push one finger into you, he continues to ramble. “I wish I was there to taste you. You taste so good, baby. I love how gorgeous you look when I’ve got my mouth on you. The way you grind your clit against my tongue because you’re so needy. So desperate to come.” 

Your finger pumps faster into you, the need and pleasure climbing higher within you as you buck your hips in time with the movement of your hands. You’re breathless, but you tell Spencer, “I’m so desperate.” 

“I know you are.” He groans. “Do you know how bad I need it too? Can you add another finger for me, baby? Fill yourself even more.” You clench against your two fingers. He’s panting into the phone, and you can picture the way his hair would be stuck to his forehead as he pounded into you, completely lost in the feeling of you squeezing him.

“I’m gonna come, baby.” You gasp out. You feel like you have no control over your body as though Spencer was completely in control even though it’s your fingers frantically stroking. 

“Are you? Are you going to make yourself come all over your fingers?” 

“Yes, I have to. I –” 

“Yeah, you do. You’re doing so well. I need to hear you come. I need to hear you be so good for me. Coming all over your fingers, all by yourself. But you’re thinking of me aren’t you?” 

“Yes… yes. Always.” 

“I can make you come so hard even when I’m not there. And you’re going to make a mess, a beautiful, perfect mess as you finish.” You moan loudly. “That’s it. Just like that.” He’s groaning and muttering, and you know he’s close too. “I wish I was coming in you, feeling you clench around me. And I’d rub that needy clit of yours, your nails would be scratching against my skin because you just can’t help yourself. Please come, baby. I need it.” 

You come with his name on your lips, your body clenches and shakes, and you listen closely to his climax. He lets out a shaky breath after a few moments. “I love you.” He says, and you hate that you can’t kiss him. 

“I love you too.” Your breathing slowly returns to normal. 

“Are you okay?” He checks in with you, and you smile as you roll onto your side and settle deeper into the bed, suddenly very tired. 

“I’m great. Are you?” You yawn. 

“Yes. Get some sleep, sweetheart.” 

“Come home soon.” 

“I’m coming home to you as soon as I possibly can. I can’t be apart from you like this.” 

“Neither can I. Talk to me until I fall asleep?” 

“Of course. Anything for you.”

tag list: @spenciesprincess @catalinasroom @tylevx

[wordsinhaled]

hi there! I started following you after seeing your essay-long answers to DBD things in tags, and it made me very happy to see someone as deeply analytical as me about this show.

I wanted to ask you: if you were given the final say, how would you want the show to confirm both Charles' bisexuality and his romantic feelings towards Edwin (as both can be done at different points)?

Personally, I can't get the idea out of my head that it will be done with some kind of tragic goodbye, somehow Charles and Edwin have to separate, and Charles either verbally confirms it or kisses Edwin goodbye. Not saying that's what I want, but it's what I expect the writers to do.

Hope you're having a good day.

btw, would love to hear you talk more about timerogue (Fifteen/Rogue), I need more essay-long analysis about those two.

Hi there! <3 I am so happy you have enjoyed my tag rambles! And thank you so much for asking this great question, I had a lot of fun thinking through it!

I have many thoughts on this! Sticking them under a cut eventually because it is a long post!

Re: Charles' bisexuality: So the thing is I think that the DBDA universe generally seems to eschew labels in favor of showing rather than telling the audience what the characters' identities are. For example Jenny is interested in dating women, which is clear from her dialogue, and she goes on a date with Maxine, but she's never labeled anything. Edwin is never labeled anything by anyone in the narrative, either, but the narrative shows us that his only love interests and his desires and romantic feelings are for other boys. I would argue that we have been shown textually that Charles is bi, already, the same way the show shows-not-tells us other things. Charles by the end of the first season feels bi enough to me in a way that just feels like someone... living a bi life, and not yet realizing they might in fact be in love back with their best friend. I don't know how else to put it but I hope that makes sense. (My alternate, slightly sappier version of canon is that Charles fell for Edwin the first night, but has shoved it down for the duration of their friendship, but the former feels more likely as the direction I think we see on screen.) We are being told Charles is bi:

In the way Charles himself draws parallels between why he likes Crystal (his romantic love interest) and Edwin, pointing out they share the exact same traits

In the way he gives Crystal and Edwin the same genre of deep, loving gaze

In the way he thinks Crystal is fit, and he checks Edwin out, on multiple occasions, but only flirts with Edwin overtly in episode 8 ("My smile is pretty convincing," plus more than the usual amount of physical touch/proximity and less plausible deniability) once he can be assured by Edwin's recent confession that doing so will not be poorly received

In the different kinds of softness and masculinity he displays around both Crystal and Edwin

In the way that, despite not knowing the ending, he draws a parallel between himself and Edwin & a pair of lovers from classical mythology as though it is the most natural thing in the world to bring up the story of Orpheus & Eurydice, making overt the romantic potential of his relationship with Edwin

In the way he is so quick to write off that the two jocks were "just best mates" the way a person does when they are recognizing their own queerness in themselves and have to keep themselves safe from it, because of the environment that they are in (Charles being the Sports Lad, needing to fit in with other sports lads, and needing to avoid the censure/violence of his father)

And coming off the above, in the way that Charles navigates along the toughness-sensitivity spectrum within the social constructs of being "the brawn"

In the entire sparring scene in episode 1, tbh. The rituals are very intricate /drops mic

I understand the importance that's been placed by fandom spaces on "confirmed canon" queerness that is spelled out in so many words, given a label that can be pointed to to say "This character is definitely this!" but I think (and this is just my personal opinion) it can be reductive sometimes, and I don't really want Charles to label himself in that kind of way, just as much as I don't think the other characters needed the labels to "confirm" the queerness of their relationships or indeed of the show; having him be the one to do it for being bi would set him apart. I also think taking into account the time period that he grew up in, Charles would care more about living by the truth of how he feels and how he can use those feelings to connect with the one he loves, than what to call it. I just don't think we're gonna get like a "Hello my name is Charles Rowland and I am a verified bisexual"-type scene in season 2, and I think that's okay, and I don't really think that's the way for the show to 'confirm' it. Mind you I would love to see Charles talk about how it makes him feel to realize his feelings, and how his feelings for Edwin are different compared to how other people make him feel, because god, I love Charles so much and I just know such a scene would both destroy and heal me. FEEL YOUR FEELINGS, CHARLES <3

I think it says something really important that many, many, many people took one look at Charles Rowland and said: "Oh, he's bi." Not like... he has bi energy, or could plausibly be bi, or whatever; for so many people he just resonated as being bi, in a very organic way. (I know there are people who do read Charles as being straight/having rejected Edwin in s1, and I respect that, but they probably will not like my ideas about Charles very much, then, tbh.)

For what it's worth, though, Jayden's acting choices playing Charles, and the way Jayden (and George) have addressed the 'straight best friend Charles' line of questioning during interviews, both make it seem to me that Jayden is intentionally playing Charles as bi and we are already supposed to understand this for what it is, based on Charles' actions—just as we understand similar things about other characters inner worlds we are shown. Whether Charles is consciously aware of it yet is more the up-for-debate part to me, personally. It's like he is dancing right on the edge of the revelation, or something, but his actions (and his EYES) are speaking for him pretty loudly already.

As for how he confirms it more obviously? Hmm. Well, I'll admit i think a kiss between them would be lovely, if only because I think it would quite possibly be the Most Kiss a kiss could be, with all of Charles' tenderness and adoration for Edwin poured into it. I also think it would be in-character, given Charles canonically misses kissing, and wants to do it with people he's interested in romantically (see Crystal).

Charles struggles with being able to admit romantic feelings out loud because he is scared of his own capacity to hurt Edwin; after all the only example of "romantic" love he has seen was his parents' marriage. Charles is a person who acts first, thinks later, but in this process of understanding what he feels for Edwin he's taking his time and being the opposite of impulsive. This shows how important his relationship to Edwin is to him and his commitment to Getting It Right. Even with that deliberateness, though, I think it would still be easier for him to express himself through a tangible action like a kiss than through words—at least at first.

It reminds me of this scene from the first draft of Maurice between Maurice and Alec. Alec is struggling to verbalize his feelings for Maurice, although he does know he feels them. He can say other things, but naming love for what it is is the challenge; and in the end they use a shared memory of a time Alec showed his love through actions (running through the rosebushes just to see Maurice's face) to communicate and mutually understand their love for each other. Similarly, Charles finds it difficult to admit a deep romantic love aloud, but his actions speak louder, in his determination to retrieve Edwin from hell ("There's no one else—no one else—I would go to hell for") and he can allude to the romantic implications of the act, by referencing the Orpheus & Eurydice myth. It similarly becomes, I may not be able to say the words, but you and I both know the lengths i would go to for you.

Maurice : "I love you, sir be damned." Alec: "Maurice"—never before had the word been spoken—"you're an angel." Maurice: "I don't want to hear that." Alec: "Maurice, Maurice" his voice failed also; he had once said the rest to a woman. "Maurice - what you've said I feel. Understand?" M: "I think so, but I want to be sure. Remember those rose bushes in the other rain? - Look at me hard - That's right. That'll do. It's settled."

As far as the catalyst for Charles revealing his feelings... a tragic goodbye—gosh, as heartbreakingly compelling as I know seeing George and Jayden act that out would be (I know they would crush it), I really hope the writers don't do that to them! The thing about Payneland that is so refreshing to me is how they manage to subvert trope expectations and break out of the tragic narratives they are placed in, and I think they would ultimately defy any attempt at separation. As Edwin says, "I will make sure that doesn't happen," about them ever being split up. I am rooting for a happily ever after for them, because they have both been through enough, and have fought tooth and nail to stay together.

Steve Yockey has mentioned potentially having Desire of the Endless cameo on the show and I also think having them and Charles interact would be a fascinating way to bring to light some of the deep-rooted stuff Charles struggles with around love (and would nicely parallel Edwin's experience with the Cat King which catalyzed his Charles-feelings realization). I also like the idea of the team maybe meeting a couple during a case who parallel Edwin and Charles and are romantically involved. Seeing that would allow Charles to externalize the way he feels for Edwin by seeing it reflected back to him by other people; sometimes things are easier to pick up on in others than in ourselves. I think that would be a fun way to get him to see what's been there under the surface for some time :)

Oh my god this got so long asfhlgkjhg SORRY

(I'm sure the Doccy Who fixation will come back in time for the Christmas special! :D)

[softmeetscreatureplz]

My name is Enea, nice to meet u? :]

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Some stuff about me!

○ Demiromantic & Demisexual Lesbian

○ She/her/xe/they [xe/xer/xem neoprounous]: Demigirl; gender = fem nebula most of the time. [New pronouns page!]

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○ [Step] Mom to @thatoneguyfromtheantivoid amazing awesome adorable child.

○ Nerudivergent in some type of way, probably social anxiety at the least, plus possible 'tism and smth else. I really dunno what for sure, though, so. 👍

○ Please please please please pleaaaaase tell me if I make make a social mistake or accidently make you feel uncomfortable. Pls.

○ Tired as fuck 88% of the time

○ Anime. Youtube. Ao3. The best trio. (*^^*)

○ Nebulae are fucking awesome and I'd rather be one so so so fucking hard (might be a nebula-kin tbh-)

○ Bears are also awesome. So awesome.(will probably post bear memes every once in awhile-)

○ I will post about stuffed animals because I fucking love them. Not as much as i should, but I fucking will don't worry. ( ＾ω＾ )

○ Writing. I fucking love it but I'm also procrastinationy as hell, so feel free to send me shit to write and pester me about it

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Nice to meet yall.

I can't socialize for shit half the time. Please be nice to my dumbass.

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(Post of things to do on a bad night/boring night)

> Common tags: #eneas rambles <3 , #eneas poor mental health jumpscare :] , #eneas photography :] , #useful tips!!!

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[krysmcscience]

Intro post I will prolly edit later, lol

Figured I needed to make a pinned post at some point for people checking out my page.

Here's my ko-fi - And yes, I do commissions. The prices are based on the time and effort it takes me. If you want something cheap and low-effort, I offer '$1 per minute' sketches. I can do more with that time than you might think. (Granted, I also worry way less about pesky things like anatomy and outfit details.)

Here's my Ao3 - My stuff is dark and unpleasant, because my life has been dark and unpleasant, and thus what I write is not meant for either children or people who think censoring dark and unpleasant things helps anyone. :) My stuff is also Pretty Dang Queer.

Here's my original art tag - I tend to stick to just a few hyperfixations, and rotate between them, sometimes with overlap. Current hyperfixation is Breach, and a bit of Heavenshine. On hold is The Spirit Marauder, Starlight Killer, and Bleached Canvas, among other stories that I may or may not have posted about. Sometimes I forget to tag character and story names and such, though, because I am bad at tagging.

Here's my fanart tag - Again, I tend to stick to just a few hyperfixations, and rotate between them, sometimes with overlap. Current hyperfixation is Cult of the Lamb, and a bit of Among Us. I may sometimes still draw for Pokemon, Zelda, Sailor Moon, Dragon Ball, and Tokyo Mew Mew, among other things, but most of my older stuff doesn't have the fanart tag (because again - I am bad at tagging). I no longer draw for Homestuck, though I may still reblog posts about it that I find funny, and while I don't think I ever posted art for it here, anyway, my InuYasha hyperfixation died the moment my comfort character was turned into a pedophile. It is liable to never recover. u_u

Here's my art reblog tag - I very rarely reblog other folks' art. Not because I don't like it, but because if I reblogged every bit of art that I liked, I would probably overwhelm all my followers' dashboards. 8|; If you want to see all the stuff I like, anyway, my likes are public.

Here's my everything else tag - I'll usually stick this onto my ramblings, or on reblogs of stuff that isn't other folks' art.

Quick n' dirty deets about me: Filthy socialist (meaning ACAB, fuck MAGA, terfs can GTFO, from the river to the sea, and so on). Also, gendervoid aro-ace aegosexual with rampant AuDHD.

FAQ:

NO, I do not do drawing or writing requests. I do not have the time or energy. I may do random gifts for other artists or writers if I get the inspiration for it, but that's at my own discretion.

NO, I will not mark any of my posts as mature. I do not post smut art, I make clear what my writings contain in both the writings and posts themselves, and the internet is not a safe space for children. If you're a minor, best to steer clear of my page, and if you choose not to - because goodness knows I would have done the same at that age - then heed the provided warnings and proceed with caution. I am no one's parent or babysitter, and no one on the internet should expect me to be.

NO, I will not turn on anonymous messages. The moment my InuYasha comfort character was turned into a pedophile and I spoke out about it, I was harassed en masse by the grossest part of the fandom. If you want to be an asshole at me, you can do it with the full knowledge that I'll be outing you for your assholery the second you do. :)

YES, you can message me, provided you've been following me for more than a week. I don't always know what to say, though, so if I don't reply, that's on me and not you. (It tends to take me a while to reply to things, anyway. I am consistently tired and overwhelmed, plus a massive introvert.)

YES, you can draw or write stuff based off of what I've drawn or written! Of course you can!! Please do!!! Just share it with me first!!!!! OuO

YES, you can spam me with likes and reblogs, I do not mind at all. I don't even care how old the post is, so go nuts, my dude - like and reblog to your heart's content.

Krys is pronounced the same as "Chris", not "cries". If we start chatting and get to the point where we start talking over mics and you call me "Cries", I can promise that I while I WILL roll with it, I will also NEVER let you live it down, so if it's easier for you, just call me Terri. It's pronounced like normal, but short for Terrible.

I know it says 'she/them' in my bio, but gender is a nebulous void for me, so I don't actually care what pronouns you use for me.

As of June 17, 2024, I am 36. And yes, I feel fucking old.

Don't bother me with pro/anti-shipping garbage. I do not care about shipping wars. I cannot possibly care about shipping wars, not when half of my own ships are toxic garbage. What I do care about is whether or not a toxic garbage ship is framed correctly, especially when it's aimed at a young and impressionable audience. (LOOKING HARD AT YOU, YASHAHIME.)

If you know me from DA, NO YOU DO NOT. I just went through all my old posts on there, and good GRAVY was I fucking annoying. I should show all that shit to my mom and be like, 'Are you SURE I didn't have ADHD growing up??? Cuz it sure READS like I had ADHD growing up!!!'

I don't know what else to add here at the moment, so I'ma go back to recovering from weeks worth of working on comic stuff now. <:]

[inbetweenknacksandnooks]

Oh, hello there

General Info:

Hello, this is a sideblog where I can post whatever I want to my heart's content, it's like me being an anon, since I haven't told anyone about this blog.

I'm not sure how often I'll come to check on it, but I'll likely do 2-3 times a month minimum.

I'm 18 years old, female, and am going to start college real soon, so life may be busy and draining during this blog's lifetime sometimes.

Please DNI if you are homophobic, transphobic, or a man since I want this to be a safe space for the people I cater to (primarily women).

If you decide to ignore the message above me, then I guess you can be a lurker or something, but if you give any sort of comments or asks that make me uncomfortable you can and will be blocked.

If you are a male-lurker, then don't interact with any of my DNI if you're a guy posts. This is because those posts are usually a bit more spicy in nature and involve graphic or heavily suggestive lesbian/womenXwomen content, and I don't want men to fetishize those posts, so stay away from things marked as Men DNI.

The people I cater to tend to be women, lesbians, sapphics, MTF, and AFAB. So long as you're pretty chill, and don't come around hating a bunch of the things I stand for, you can feel free to message me and have a good time reading up on my stuff!

I won't be doing any kind of Male!Reader things, and will usually have it be Fem!Reader or GN!Reader, since I'm comfortable with that, and I know how to write for them.

I won't be writing about dudes from fandoms I'm interested in, since the gals feel better to write about and they hold my interest more than the guys do. Plus, I'm mostly making this a WLW blog.

I'm not very good at writing for characters, so most of my things are definitely OOC, though I try my best to make them accurate.

I'm also probably not going to write much smut or anything, and if I do it'll probably be angst rather than fluff, or it'll be non-graphic, mostly focusing on the POV, rather than the sensations or anything in detail.

Oh, speaking of which:

I'll likely mostly just be writing angst and fluff. I love both, angst has a tendency to get me sad irl if I think about it too much, so I probably won't be writing too much angst in a row. My angst will also usually have happy endings and fluff in them towards the middle and ends.

Fandoms I write for (and current interest status)

Honkai Star Rail (High Interest Level)

Zenless Zone Zero (Decently-high Interest Level)

Links and other important junk

Rules

Umbrella Masterlist

HSR Masterlist

ZZZ Masterlist

Common Tags + What they mean

#Nack's Lists = My Masterlist + stuff involving my masterlist

#Nack's [Abreviated Fandom] Canons = These are my headcanon works. The abbreviation will be in the middle, such as #Nack's HSR Canons, being my headcanons for HSR character(s).

#Nack's Reposts = things I reposted. I'll likely have additional comments in the form of tags there, too. Usually contains ramblings and/or squee-ings.

#Quick Nack-cess = Things that I want to be "quick access". Usually things I'll want to go to to regularly check on. Mostly personal indulgences.

#Nack-dates = My blog updates. Usually important as it notifies changes or fixes.

#Nack Rants = me ranting. Sometimes it's a lot, sometimes it's not.

I put most of the tags listed here at the bottom of this post so that anyone can click on them and navigate the content.

My lovely Anons~!

🔺️

There's not many as of now, if you want to become an anon, just ask!

[benschwartzcinematicuniverse]

Here’s the intro post that no one asked for! Hopefully I’ll figure out how to pin it to the top 😆 💕🎉🤝🎭👻🐸📝🌱🖤🎶

Edit: adding a break because this post is so long. I ramble fyi

Scroll to the bottom for one of my favorite Ben interview answers 💕

Me

I am leading, yet again, with the fact that I am a child of the 80s friends, so please remember that. I won’t be posting any 18+ content, but it’s always good to know who you’re talking to online. My kids are on here and I want them any everyone to stay safe. That being said, always feel free to engage. Some days I’m chatty, somedays I’m a ghost

I’m a communications major, a writer, I work retail, and I volunteer. LGBTQ+ family. Pantheist. Leftist. My birthday is on Halloween. I have ridiculously shitty music taste. I love the rare times it rains here in AZ and would happily move somewhere where it rained all the time. I love space and good conversation and my kids more than anything. I live with bouts of depression and anxiety. I also picked up grief at a young age and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone

I have no creative links to share, but I do have a private portfolio, a music blog I abandoned, and an ao3 account that hasn’t been updated in yeeears

Fun stuff

This blog is 99% Ben Schwartz content. I love him. I respect the hell out of him. And he’s just so, so silly. I cherish the things that make me smile when it feels impossible. He’s also super cute?? The other 1% is the socialism that’s on the label. More on that later.

On Schwartz:

Favorite character: Anthony Scarapiducci (don’t ask me why, I still don’t know. So much of him is such a facade. Ben said Tony “wants to show that he's not just a piece of s*** and that what he's doing matters.” I’ll do a whole post on Tony someday ILHSM

Favorite movie: I am a huge Sonic fan (since the 90s!), so those movies are huge. Standing Up, Falling Down is way up there

What made me a fan: he’s always made me laugh, but sharing some videos with my kid had me falling down the IMDb rabbit hole. It’s hard to watch so much content in a row and not fall in love with the guy. I’m also a big fan of ridiculous stories with authentic characters. Give me a good work of fiction with the most believable people running around in it. Ben is so endearing that, no matter how over the top he is, I totally buy what he’s selling every single time. Plus I’m a big improv fan and that boy can sing, so whats not to love

I also randomly started tagging “any excuse for a Josh Bath gif” and have had a few people tell me they watched the Earliest Show because of that and I cannot explain how happy that made me

On Socialism:

Socialism is the framework of a government that takes care of its people. I could break off into facets of leftism and talk theory all day - but my stance is literally “take care of each other.” The phrase “from each according to their ability, to each according to their needs” (popularized by Karl Marx) means a lot to me, as does the Spanish idiom “hoy por ti, mañana por mi” (today you, tomorrow me). I volunteer with a kindness organization (feel free to ask me which one). I have been working together among local folks to build and strengthen mutual aid hubs in our communities. I also do water distro and deliver other Heat relief supplies to unsheltered folks

This space will not be used to preach (but I am an ordained minister if you’re needing one 😆), nor will or be used much to educate. The socialist side of this page is more about being actively present in the world I believe in

Tl;dr

I’m always up for meeting new comrades. Asks are open. Feel free to chat and also definitely tell me what your favorite favorite Schwartz moment is

And finally

I’ll leave you with this moment from Ben’s Mythical Kitchen Last Meal interview that I hope makes you smile

[mossyotherkin]

Welcome

Hello! My name is Mossy or Oren I go by they/them pronouns and neos I dont want to list so heres a link to my pronouns page. This is a side blog for my therianthropy and otherkin related things! My main blog is an agere blog so I follow from there, that being said, there will most likely be things that could be scary to people who are regressed on this blog.

Some info:

• Minor

• I am a shapeshifterkin (main forms of fox/cat) and gobelinkin.

• I have autism, C-PTSD, anxiety, depression, fibromyalgia, sjogren's syndrome, and many other things that are currently in the process of being figured out

• I am native american, specifically Sihásapa Lakota or Blackfoot Sioux (both are names for the same thing)

• I speak English and a little bit of ASL and have been trying to learn Japanese and Lakota

• I love everything that has to do with forests and leaves and moss (hence my name)

• I also love liminal spaces

• My friend is in the process of raising money to get a trained service dog, you can support them here or by reblogging this post

Resource Lists:

I love doing list of resources for people! Feel free to request one based on your kintype. If you want to include specific things on the list go ahead! Or if you want specific things not on the list thats cool too. Sometimes I cant find specific things for certain kintypes so please be patient with me.

I may decline requests due to feeling uncomfortable or other factors. In that case I will dm you, the cause may be explained or may not. Before making a request check to see if I've already made it.

Masterlist

Resource lists typically include:

• Documentaries and shows

• Gear

• Video games

• Conservation projects on your kintype (if applicable)

• Picrews or other maker things

• Comics, books, or legends

• General info and ways to feel more connected to your kintype

• Really just anything that might be useful or give you species euphoria!

Things I will NOT put in or make resource lists about:

• nsfw

• living people

∙ South Park

(this section may be expanded)

My tags:

#mossys art - my art on this blog

#mossy rambles - random little things and textposts

#mossys sources - alterhuman resources

This blog is SAFE for:

• those with disorders such as DID, OSDD, BPD, ASD, ADHD, OCD, (C) PTSD, schizophrenia, anxiety, depression, clinical lycanthropy, ect.

• those with delusions and hallucinations

• alterhumans

• BIPOC

• those of any religion (my dni says christians but its only if you post christian content, it just makes me uncomfy because of things I've been through)

• sfw furries

• those with eating disorders as long as they are trying to recover and not spread unhealthy body image

• those who are plus size/fat (fat is not a dirty word!)

(will add to this)

DNI (uncensored):

• MAPs of any variant (even NOMAP)

• kin for fun

• trans-abled

• racist

• ableist

• sexist

• xenosatanism

• homophobic or exclusionist

• transphobic

• terf

• anti-therian/otherkin/fictionkin

• anti-sfw furry (this is only if you are against them, I dont want to interact with people who are actively hateful)

• anti-system

• thinspo or proana

• anti-agere/dre

• anti-petre/dre

• ddlg, abdl, or related things (even "sfw")

• post christian content

• post about anything nsfw

[udaberriwrites]

Fic Writer Self Rec

Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Oooh, a chance to ramble about my fics, I see, well let's do this! Thank you, @sliebman10!

Let's tag... @mikaharuka , @alpaca-clouds , @thememoryofthatday , @sapphosewrites , @axolotlsupremacyowo , @0nelittlebirdtoldme , @kayedium-writes and @tsunderewatermelon !

Ok, ok, so... as usual, I'm going to be jumping around, because you guys know how my attention span can be xD

1. Life is a Rollercoaster; or Tao Xu's Fight Against the Big Butterfly of Doom (Heartstopper | 11.1k | Fluff, Humor, Time Travel)

Tao got the chance to go back in time and undo his worst mistake. Tao prevented Charlie from being outed or bullied. Tao changed things enough that, the second time around, Charlie didn't get assigned the seat next to Nick Nelson in form.

…Fuck.

Or: the Butterfly Effect sucks, and if Tao has to take desperate measures to ensure his friend's happiness, he will. He draws the line at Iron Man 2 though, someone has to keep some standards around here.

I binged the show and immediately got the urge to write something for it, but I didn't expect it to blow up as it did! I had fun with this one, and the readers were super nice and encouraging, plus sharing this one is what led me to eventually meet @mikaharuka as we rambled over our fics, so for that alone it's always going to have a special significance for me 😁

2. Neither Grief Nor Glory (TSOA/Hades | 7.6k | Angst, Smut)

Dying had been a relief, but death is turning into its own kind of torment.

Dying was just the beginning. Achilles' journey back to Patroclus is a long and twisted one. Along the way he'll have to confront his unaddressed grief, face his many regrets and learn to truly become a man worthy of Patroclus' unconditional love.

But like all journeys, eventually he'll reach his safe harbor.

My first yuletide! This one took months and a couple of minor breakdowns, but the end result is something I am very proud of, both in terms of the prose and the worldbuilding. And my giftee left the loveliest comment ☺️

3. All That Matters (Asterix the Gaul | 2.6k | Character Study, Queerplatonic Relationships)

Asterix has always felt different, but he has Obelix, and that is usually enough. Everybody else has questions, however, and he grows tired of answering.

"He wants to shout, even if he still doesn't know what he wants to say, even if he knows that if he lets his frustration take hold of his tongue, he will regret the harm he will cause."

This was... very, very cathartic to write. I remember rewriting sections of this so often, and I am humbled by the response it had. It was a very validating experience.

4. Life is a Flower, Love is the Honey (Deep Space Nine | 9.5k | Romance and Fluff)

“I don’t think Julian would like that,” Leeta said, without pausing to think about it, but… “We could ask him,” Rom had replied. And wasn’t that an interesting idea?

(A self-indulgent, mostly Rom-centric, Julian/Leeta/Rom fic because I was re-watching ‘Bar Association’ and this happened. I have no regrets.)

The one that brought me back into writing, after several years of hiatus... and the one that gave me confidence to push on, even if I nearly backed out due to it featuring a strange rarepair. This story is always going to be special for me <3

4. When You Speak, I Hear Silence (Deep Space Nine | 1.8k | Friendship)

Terok Nor is no more, and strange new aliens are coming to the newly named Deep Space Nine. Nog doesn't expect life to change; but then he finds a friend, who gives him the greatest gift he will ever receive.

If there's a fic where I wouldn't change a single word or a moment of the writing process, it has to be this one. I'm so glad I didn't go with my initial idea, because this version with Jake&Nog just made things click for me ^_^

[white-nolse]

Hello! You can call me Mape (or in any way, don't mind nicks). Mexican - She/Her - Adult.

This blog is mostly used for random reblogs of the fandoms I'm into (plus other different topics I might feel like sharing and memes).

Oc blogs:

JJBA: @stardust-3saders

Fandoms you'll see here:

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure (Biggest hyperfixation atm, mostly what this blog is about).

Demon Slayer: Slowly becoming a big interest, anime only tho, so please no spoilers.

RWBY: fanarts of characters and ships, and gifsets and theories when the new volumes come out. RWBY spoilers will always be tagged up to one week after they come out, under #rwby spoilers and #rwbyX (the x being the number of the current volume).

Different videogames: TLOZ, Fire Emblem, Resident Evil, The Evil Within, etc.

Slasher content: I like slasher movies and my brain rots for some of the characters, so be mindful of that!

Might share things from different animes/shows, but not as much/not so plot relevant stuff.

I don't really tag stuff, just a few things from time to time. (I'm always open to tag things if they're triggering tho! Don't be afraid to ask)

Frequent Tags:

#mape talks. Just random thoughts I get sometimes and asks.

#mape plays. Gaming content! Expect random screenshots and rambles about games I'm playing.

#mape's silly vents. While I try to not use that tag too much as to not bother followers, there's times when it'll happen.

#mape talks: liakyoin. Used for random thoughts about my main Oc x canon ship.

#mape talks: kiralia. Same as above, but for a different ship of an alternative timeline.

#mape talks: JoLiaYoin. Used for the poly ship between Lia and her two lovely boys.

#mape talks: LiaTaro. Same as above, but without including Noriaki.

#mape talks: fankids. Tag used to talk about the fankids for my oc x canon ships!

#mape talks: Ocs. Tag for random posts about my Ocs from different fandoms (that don't have a blog for themselves)

#we yearnin' 💕. Images and f/o themed posts. Either rebloged or mine.

Any tag with "beloved" in it: Ramblings about characters I love, fanarts of said characters and other things related to them.

Note: While I don't share nsfw stuff too often, I still do. I have nothing against minors following me as long as they behave, so please make sure to block #n/sfw and #n/sfw ish if you're a minor or are uncomfortable with said content.

This blog is runs over the "don't like, don't look" rule. Be mature and don't bring discourse about other people, ships, hc or anything, this is a safe space for people to gush and talk about what they like!

And for god's sake! Please don't dm me just to try convince me to commission you! (Because yes, it has happened before)

However, I have the right to block whoever I want, whether they make me feel uncomfortable or not. Nothing personal! I'm just curating my online experience.

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[cowboycherry]

hi, i’m cherry! welcome to my blog!

i’m nineteen! i hope that you can find some comfort in my blog, whether it be through the rambles that i post or the fics that i reblog.

i’m going to start writing my own fics on here! for right now they’ll probably be marvel or stranger things, but i’ll accept any requests!

requests are very important because otherwise i’ll write very self-indulgent fics (autistic reader, plus-sized reader, socially anxious reader, etc.), so be sure to request anything else that you want to read and i’ll try my very best to write it!

i will be writing smut, so i feel the need to point out that i will never kink shame anyone, but i personally don’t like some kinks. however, my blog is a safe space for everyone and i’ll do whatever i can to make you feel included!

some of the characters that i’ll write for will be listed in the tags! i’ll also write for (most of) their actors!

basic dni - no racism, homophobia, transphobia, or ableist comments! i do not tolerate hate of any kind on my account, and you will be blocked immediately.

love you all lots!

~ cherry

[grudgecollector]

Hi! I'm not a follower or anything but rather someone just browsing the tags and I saw your request guidelines and boundary list and I'd just like to thank you for being so public and firm about having morals in a section of fandom that very frequently defends that kind of gross harmful content. It was really refreshing to see a writer who does fanfiction who very clearly states that they're not cool with things like pedophilia or abuse or any kind of non-con stuff. I know that can be very intimidating particularly when people can be really cruel if you have any kind of a boundary or care about your own comfort, so I just wanted to commend you for being normal LOL. It gives me hope for fanfic and x reader scenes that there are writers whose content I and others can feel safe reading and knowing that the content they enjoy isn't coming from someone who gets off on abuse. Have a wonderful day!

pt. 2

"Ah previous anon regarding boundaries! Also thank you for the bare minimum of not writing underage characters. People are so gross and creepy about that here, especially regarding Stranger Things, and it was so so refreshing to see someone reject that entirely. Thanks for giving me hope that there are normal fanfiction writers still! I feel at times like we're dying breed.💜"

-

Thank you so much for your kind words! I tend to put my boundaries at the forefront of my writing when it comes to requests and stuff, I lay my foot down hard. There's no chance I'm going to go out of my way to fulfil some ones desires when it makes me uncomfortable and I'm the one that has to write it. And I typically like people to know where I stand on stuff like this.

Especially when it comes to underage characters, it literally makes my skin crawl when I see people writing romantic stories about the Stranger Things kids (who are canonically underage even if the actors may no longer be), or Five in the Umbrella Academy who canonically is stuck in the body of his thirteen year old self while mentally being in his 50s, like... You guys gotta be kidding right... Like if it's other minors writing this stuff then yeah that's fine, but I myself am not a minor and I'm sure I don't have to explain why I wouldn't want to write for them lmao.

There's such a huge problem in fandom spaces though when it comes to more risky fics. Like I understand when people say it's for healing purposes regarding trauma, but I don't exactly think you're going to do much healing when there's fifty to hundreds of people reblogging or leaving comments about how hot your fic about violent sexual assault is. That's just a personal opinion though. Plus you have to be mindful of all the minors in fandom spaces too, we all know they don't give a shit about it saying 18+ in the tags. And a lot of the time they have a tendency of being exposed to some really dangerous or fucked up ideas that definitely are not safe for a minor to be exposed to, especially at ages like 13-16 when you're already in such a fragile state of development.

But either way sorry for rambling for so long lmao, thank you again for your asks I really do appreciate it!!

[averlym]

Hi question, are there any ships involving my girl Anna of Cleaves? I love her and I just... want her to be have a girlfriend ok

ANNA OF CLEVES DESERVES SO MUCH LOVE

The ship I’ve seen the most of is of cleves and howard, but there’s also some stuff with boleyn I think! maybe a bit with aragon? (I’m fairly neutral with ships so I’m probably not the best person to ask)oh and talking about ships! @existencialvoidofexistence​ has a pirate ship AU and you did want anna with a girlfriend so uhm here’s her with katherine but pirate-y! (they’re plotting on the Hullbein :D)

[pathsofoak]

Ok so I like the cave-adventure better than the "almost get eaten by a Crank one"

but

I still need Justin to yell at Gally uninterrupted because character development on both sides

and

Now there's a gap of two chapters in my outline because it can't be about earning trust as much

[flourgirl]

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.

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

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[jinx-jade]

AWBE Chapter 13: to be seen without pity.

Marinette let out a huff as she laid on top of her bed, staring at the ceiling.

She had begun to envy her time at the temple and League.

Marinette knows that it’s a horrible thought to have and she should never want to willingly go back there.

What were they expecting from her with the way people are treating her.

At least while she was with the league or at the temple, people weren’t treating her like she was someone to pity. Like she was a cracked glass, ready to shatter at any given moment.

The feelings of pity radiating off of anyone and everyone she has had contact with the past month were driving her insane.

Doctors.

Nurses.

Therapists.

Police officers.

The Police commissioner.

Aunt Penny.

Uncle Jagged.

The list goes on and on, even though the people she's allowed contact with are very limited.

She hasn't even had the chance to say hi to her older brother, her fox, or her cat.

She couldn't help but wonder if those three would treat her like this as well.

How much was she asking of people to treat her like a regular person?

How much was she asking of people to treat her with more than just pity and sugar-coated words?

She was getting sick and tired of being treated like this.

Of course, Marinette doesn’t plan on telling one that this is how she feels.

She couldn’t ‘tell’ anyone anyway. Even if she wanted to because her voice still wasn’t back.

Okay, that’s a lie.

Her voice works just fine when she speaks to the kwamis.

Her voice works just fine when she’s talking to herself.

Her voice works just fine when she’s talking to plants and animals.

Her voice doesn’t work with anyone else.

Marinette had tried to talk to people by not looking at them, not saying anything about the league, the temple, Hawkmoth, or the miraculi, but it didn’t work.

In addition to that any time someone is within a five-mile radius of her, Marinette’s magic picks it up and her voice disappears.

It's not like she could just turn her ability to sense people off. It is a skill that has become the same as the skill to breathe. It was a skill you don't even think about when you're doing it, and a skill that you can't just stop doing.

Marinette let out another huff before sitting up off the bed.

She quickly changed into a pair of leggings and a wrap shirt she had made in her spare time. Jagged and Penny being happy to buy her whatever fabrics, supplies, anything she needs or wants really.

Grabbing a backpack, Marinette placed her sketchbooks, Pens, Pencils, and erasers inside the bag.

Marinette sent a quick text message to her Aunt and Uncle, letting them know that she will be in the garden, before placing her phone in the bag with the rest of her things.

The gardens were always rather calming and quiet.

Just not today.

Marinette had already been in the garden for ten, fifteen minutes when a dog came barreling into her.

She tried to coo at the great dame but her voice caught in her throat.

It made sense since the owner was probably nearby. 

Except this was the backyard of Stone Manor.

How did the dog even get back here in the first place?

Her question was answered when a man around her age slipped through a person-sized gap in the fence. The area was covered in vines and soft plants so it made sense that she hadn't noticed it before.

Marinette let herself appear, uncaring to the man as she giggled at the dog that was nosing her for attention.

She observed his energy and had to stop herself from physically freezing.

Her neighbor is the bartender?

He seemed to freeze upon seeing her playing with his dog. The man simply awkwardly stood there until the dog, Titus the name tag read, ran over to him and gave him a push.

The man walked a bit closer, leaving more than enough space for her not to feel crowded, and cleared his throat. She pretended to notice and looked up at him, blinking a few times before offering a smile.

"I apologize for Titus. I hadn't even known there was a way he could get out of our yard." The man said as Titus ran back to her for more pets.

Marinette nodded her head as she scratched behind the dog's ears.

The man watched her play with Titus for a bit before she realized that she never gave him her name.

Taking out a spare sheet of paper, she quickly scribbled down her name before offering the paper to the man.

He looked at her questioningly before reading the paper.

He paused to look at her before looking at the paper again.

"Marinette?" The man questioned.

Marinette simply nodded her head and pointed to herself.

That made the man furrow his brows.

"Can you not talk?" The man questioned, clearly confused.

Marinette nodded her head.

"But you talked at the bar." The man stated.

Marinette nodded again.

"Why can't you talk now?" The man questioned.

Marinette looked at him, really looked at him, observing his body language and energy.

He didn't pity her.

He was simply confused.

He didn't quite lack social skills, they just weren't easy for him.

Almost as if he hadn't learned them till much later.

Marinette paused when she could sense the Lazarus pits on him, but he most likely hadn't been in contact with them for at least a decade with how faded the energy was.

The energy made her want to try something.

Taking out another piece of paper, she asked for his name.

"My apologies, that was quite rude of me. I am Damian Wayne, and that's my dog, Titus." The man, Damian, introduced himself.

Marinette looked at him for a few moments before pointing to her throat, then at her head.

She proceeded to draw a symbol on the paper, writing something down next to it.

When Damian looked at the paper he tensed, reading it out loud to make sure it was correct.

"The doctors said I was traumatized by the bad people." He read, turning the paper to face her. "This symbol belongs to the 'bad people?" Damian questioned, receiving a nod from Marinette.

Damian looked at her with a new weariness, as if she was a weapon instead of a cracked glass about to shatter, and kwami was it nice to not feel someone's pity.

"Why are you telling me this?" Damian questioned cautiously.

Marinette handed him another piece of paper.

"You have the Lazarus pits energy on you. It's faded, so my gut says you're safe." Damian read out loud again.

He looks at her for a bit before letting out a sigh and taking a seat next to her, Titus happily laying his head down in Damian's lap.

Damian took one of her pencils and wrote a number on the paper before handing it back to Marinette.

She looked at the paper with curiosity.

"You'll run out of paper if you keep talking like that. Texting would be more effective." Damian said as if that train of thought wasn't missing a few details.

Marinette took the number and added it to her phone.

_______________

+1(***)-***-****

: Why do I need your number to talk to you?

_______________

Damian looked at her confused before releasing his mistake.

"You just got out of the League. I'm originally from the League. If you want to talk about something that happened there I would be the best person to talk to." Damian explains.

Marinette tilted her head in thought before shrugging with a nod of her head.

_______________

Marinette

: but why would you do that?

_______________

Damian looked up from his phone and raised a brow at her.

"You said it yourself, your gut feeling is that I'm safe. Plus I've probably been through something similar to you." Damian said with a shrug.

Marinette thought about it for a moment before shrugging.

They ended up sitting in somehow comfortable silence for the next hour or two.

Marinette only left to head back inside when she got a text from Penny that it was time to eat, so she has to go back inside.

Titus let out a whine when she stood up to leave.

_______________

Marinette

: it was nice to meet you again

_______________

" you as well Marinette."

With that Damian and Titus went back to their side of the wall, and Marinette back into the manor.

tag list:  @liquid-luck-00 @lunathealphafemale @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @dorkus-minimus @istoleyourcookies @itsmeevie01 @ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole @miraculousfanfic127 @macncheesemonster @fan-written @moonlightstar64 @the-one-woman-army @remy-289 @ramos123 @jjmjjktth @ash-amg @glastwime859 @alysrose-starchild @elizabeths-rambles @animegirlweeb @iamabrownfox @northernbluetongue @thecaptainthunder @meismu @nyx-in-line @sunflowers-and-mooncakes @m3owww @icerosecrystal @legends-live-in-memories @salty-fang @a-marlene-s @savagenutella46 @elliebelliegirl @fangirlfox12 @miraculouspenta @t1dwarrior-of-earth @alittlemelody716 @charme-de-malchan @what-even-am-i-tho @raven-campanile @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @iamabrownfox @maskedpainter @our-preciousss @jayjayspixiepop @kking13 @stainedglassm @always-a-fangirl146 @corporeal-terrestrial

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Hey! I always loved your writing and you actually inspired me to write some myself so I want to request if it’s alright…

Can I have Hanako x f!reader who doesn’t believe in love (this having to due with her parents never getting along). She says that it’s just a little word people say to make them feel better about themselves and it’s a waste of time.

But she can’t help but fall in love with Hanako and gets on flustered when he’s around but tries to tell herself it’s not love. Oneshot please!

Thank you and feel free to ignore if you want!

hanako x f!reader

a/n: hello hello!! thank you so much for the compliment- that’s really sweet, and it genuinely means the world to me;; but, sure thing! (ahh, the fact that i wrote a rengoku fic about the reader feeling that way not long ago- this is a topic I’m familiar with, so I hope that it makes it turn out even better? haha) thank you so much for requesting, and I hope this turns out alright!!! <333 also, if you ever want to share your writings, do feel free to tag me/let me know somehow! I’m sure they’re amazing, and I’d love to read them, should you be comfortable with it!! :DD

bro i guess this request resonated with me bc i genuinely like,,, went off. So it’s,,, pretty long- i hope that’s alright haanofnaoinf-

warnings: implied parental issues?

word count: 2,363

Love was ridiculous. It was a stupid idea. An overused word, thrown onto any situation in which you felt something other than anger, fear, sadness, or disgust. If something made you even a little happy, you’d claim to love it. If someone showed you basic human decency, you’d claim to love them.

You hated it. It made you feel sick.

It’s not like you could control what everyone else did, you supposed. So, you’d continue on normally. If you didn’t fall in love, then there was no worry about falling out of it- that’s what you figured. That’s what you told yourself. Love wasn’t real in the first place- how could such an overused word hold any true meaning? It was like a 1st grade pinky promise. It was easily broken, as if it held any truth to it when the kids exchanged a deal. No matter how much either part of it trusted the promise, it made it no more real or true.

Yep… love was best put as a 1st grade pinky promise.

Maybe not-

Still, such a strong opinion on love, an unmoving opinion, with your own “proof” to back it up… made it hard when you thought that it may be put to question. You walked near the bathroom, the girls’ bathroom, and heard a girl from your class shout something. You couldn’t tell what, but you did notice her slightly annoyed expression as she left the bathroom.

Ah, the girl who seemed to be constantly head-over-heels for boys- particularly Minamoto-senpai, you had noted. It wasn’t like he’d return the feelings, you figured. It’s not like her “love” was anything more than an obsession.

Still, you figured there must have been some other girl in the bathroom. Yashiro probably had friends- she talked to Aoi a lot. Maybe the school’s princess was teasing her friend. You pushed open the door, noticing that all the stalls were empty. The only other entity in the bathroom was… a floating, slightly-transparent boy. He was laughing, and you went ahead and assumed it was at Yashiro’s annoyance.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Honestly, you just needed to pee, but it shouldn’t have surprised you. Little mokke running around the school constantly, weird things happening, a boy in the girls’ bathroom wasn’t life-changing. Or so you figured.

You grumbled, making some comment you weren’t even sure you got, as you stepped into a stall. Not acknowledging him would surely be best. You were fairly new to the school, and it wasn’t like you were insanely fond of public restrooms anyway. You’d never have to see him again. Plus, if he was anything like the other supernaturals, you were sure he’d be a handful. That was your thought process, as you washed your hands, glimpsing up at the mirror hung above the sink- you caught another glimpse at him.

An old uniform. Brown, almost shaggy, hair. His eyes were amber, and rather large- the way he held his hands, you silently compared him to a puppy. Innocent face, playful eyes- almost too alive for a ghost. He turned his head, nearly making eye contact, but you continued to study his appearance. A white… bandage? Sticker? Something- stuck to his face, the kanji for “seal” written in red.

Weird.

“My, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” He spoke, bringing a hand to his mouth, as a mischievous smirk came to his face.

A pain in the neck.

Your eyebrows furrowed, as you looked back down, turning off the sink and drying your hands.

“Oh? Gonna pretend you didn’t see me? How cruel,”

Still, you ignored him. He couldn’t be serious. How was he so sure you didn’t simply think you caught something out of the corner of your eye? Was he messing with you, or trying to lighten the mood?

“I don’t think I want to associate with a pervy ghost,” You said, shutting the door behind you. As if right on time, the bell rang, signaling that lunch was over. With that, you made your way to class, hoping to not have to deal with any more paranormal things.

…

Unfortunately, things don’t always go as planned. As the rest of the day took it’s sweet time to pass, you sat, spacing out as you thought about that boy. He was one of the first humanoid supernaturals you had seen at the school- honestly, you half-hoped that all of them were cute little bunnies. Not… strangely eye-catching boys… how weird.

You sighed, clicking your pen, letting the quiet sound drown the teacher’s ramblings out a bit. Ca-click, click-click, ca-click, click-click.

“Y’know, people find that little sound annoying sometimes. It never bothered me, but teachers seem to be so sensitive about it.”

Jumping, you turned your head a bit, only to be practically nose-to-nose with the boy from the bathroom. Your heartbeat increased from the surprise, but you placed your hand on your chin, pretending to not have seen anything. Not only did you not want to give him much of your time or energy, but you definitely didn’t want to attract negative attention from the normal kids around you. Your eyes scanned the room, and you noticed Yashiro looking in your direction, most likely at the boy. Yes, she definitely saw him too.

“Waaah, Yashirooooo, the new girl’s totally ignoring me!” He sighed, floating over to her. She looked away as well, focusing intensely on whatever the teacher had to say. You weren’t even sure by this point, watching the two out of the corner of your eye. You stopped clicking your pen, watching as he stood behind Yashiro, leaning against her as he peered at her notes.

He glanced at you again, and you looked away. The boy, who you were now curious as to what his name could be, floated back over to your desk, glancing at your notes.

“You really aren’t paying attention, huh! Yashiro’s not much better- her page is mainly doodles. How on earth do you plan to pass like this, haha?”

You glared at him slightly, before lifting your pen, and clicking it open. Annoyed, you flipped to another page, and scribbled something down. He leaned forward a bit, looking at whatever it is you wrote.

“Leave me alone, toilet boy.”

He laughed, patting your back. “Toilet boy? What’s with all the insults, I barely know youuuuuu- plus, I have a name. I’m Hanako. School Mystery Number 7, Hanako-san of the toilet! Not ‘toilet boy’, nor a pervy ghost.”

You raised your eyebrows, writing once more.

“Wonderful. Now leave me alone, ‘Hanako-san of the toilet’.”

Days passed, and he certainly didn’t leave you alone. In fact, you grew to find yourself spending more time than you expected to with him. You assisted with supernaturals from time to time, even meeting his two other friends properly- Kou Minamoto and Yashiro Nene. You all slowly, but surely, became friends.

“I’m done wiping the mirrors,” You said, tossing the dirty rag into the bucket.

“I’m done mopping!” Yashiro exclaimed, sighing as she leaned against the mop.

“I’ve finished dusting too,” Kou added.

Hanako nodded, clapping cheerfully. “Great job, everyone! Can’t wait to see the same enthusiasm tomorrow!!”

The three of you collectively groaned, rolling your eyes. “Yes, yes, just like that,” Hanako laughed, moving his legs to sit in the air in a criss-cross fashion. Light conversation picked up, Kou talking to Yashiro, and Hanako throwing in a comment every so often. You stood, leaning against the sink, watching your friends look so happy. Hanako glanced at you, closing his eyes as he grinned.

Your heart rate picked up, and you felt your face grow warm. Your eyebrows furrowed just slightly, as you glanced away. It wasn’t the first time a little action like that made your heart go haywire. Not just your heart- your stomach, your legs, your arms. The moment Hanako grinned at you, hugged you, or emptily flirted, you felt as though you lost the ability to function. It couldn’t be love… no, you didn’t want to fall in love.

“Right, but it's getting late, guys. I should really head home,” Yashiro spoke, putting the mop up as she did so. Kou nodded, glancing over at the clock. “I’ve got to get home and work on dinner,” He said, putting the duster away, and grabbing his things.

Hanako glanced at you.

“I don’t really have any plans. I finished homework in class, so I think I’ll linger around for a bit more.”

“Alright! Be safe when you head home, (Y/N)! I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Yashiro spoke, waving as she left the room. “Bye guys! Be safe!” Kou added, leaving not long after she did. Silence filled the room for a moment, the only thing breaking it being the sound of your shoes as you made your way to the window seal. Taking a seat, you looked at Hanako expectantly.

“Well? Any more stories of the things I missed out on?”

...

“The Confession Tree?” You questioned, the other two humans long gone by now, leaving Hanako to recount to you previous adventures they had gone on.

“Yep! Yashiro and I took care of that one- it was honestly easier than most of them were. He’s still around, just nothing bigger than one of those pre-cut broccolis. The rumor was, you’d confess under him, and he’d make the feelings mutual~, buuut, it obviously got way out of control.”

“That’s so stupid.”

Hanako raised his eyebrows, not expecting such a distasteful tone of voice. “What is?”

“A supernatural forcing some kids to ‘fall in love’,” You made air quotes, before continuing, “it’s pretty gross. Love’s nothing more than some overused word. It’s tagged onto everything, and it’s basically used to make you feel better. It’s all a waste.”

For once, he was silent. Several questions began to circulate in his mind, but a part of him was… somewhat hurt.

“But what if I love you?” He questioned, tilting his head. His face felt warm, but he tried to steady his heartbeat. It wasn’t a direct confession. No, just a question. A ‘what if.’

You blinked, your face feeling warm. You understood- of course, it was nothing more than a ‘what if.’ “It wouldn’t be love. You’d be interested in me, only for the interest to go away eventually- even if it took a week. Even if it took years. Just… trust me, Hanako. I’m not the smartest person in the world, but- once you see it happen to the two people who are supposed to be there for you forever, you get the memo. It isn’t love. Never was, never will be.”

Those words you spoke… you didn’t like the fact that you questioned their sincerity. Especially when you were blushing, the boy who made you question those words looking at you with his big, rather beautiful eyes. “Or… that’s… what I think,” You added, the heat rising to your face only making you feel worse, as he blinked. His undivided attention on you- on what you said- made your heart beat much faster than you wished it would.

And suddenly, he was closer. Too close. Way too close. His eyes began to shut, as his face drew closer to yours. Your heart began to beat quicker than it had before- your face grew hotter than it already was- your eyes widened, as you silently questioned what on earth he was going.

One of his hands grabbed your wrist, and you looked over at your arm he was holding, then back up at him. His face was still close, so close you were sure you’d smell him if he still had a scent. So close he could probably feel the heat radiating off of your face, if he could still distinguish hot from cold.

“Then why is your heart beating so fast?” He finally questioned, thumb pressed against your radial artery, as if the warmth of your face wasn’t enough of a sign.

“Because- you’re… way too close.”

“But you aren’t pushing me away? I’ll scoot back if you want. I’m not a mind reader though, so just use your words.”

Your mouth felt dry. Why weren’t you saying anything? You could speak. Open your mouth and tell him to move. Take your free hand and shove him.

But… a part of you didn’t want him to move.

Hanako smiled once more, his eyebrows drawn together slightly, as if he were saddened by something. “I’m sorry that you were dealt a hand like that in life. It’s easy to look around and find all the negatives in life. But,” He leaned forward a bit more, nose nearly touching yours, “you aren’t your parents. You don’t need to follow in their footsteps. Don’t let their problems influence you so heavily to where you miss out on potentially great things. It’s okay to be sad about it. It’s okay to be scared. But it’s still your life, not theirs. If everyone’s overuse of it bothers you, then only say it when you mean it. Still, if you feel love, embrace it.”

Your eyes felt slightly prickly, as they watered up a bit. His sincerity… your racing heart. Maybe, just maybe… you were in love.

“I… think I love you, Hanako,” You muttered. You were scared. You were scared that he’d tell you he was joking- or that maybe this wasn’t love. Scared of so many things, stemming from one little word. Yet, you tried to embrace it.

“I love you, (Y/N). And nothing will change that,” He said, his smile widening. Quickly, he closed his eyes, closing the distance between the two of you. His lips were… cold. His touch was the only thing that reminded you that he wasn’t alive. Still, the warmth of his words made up for it, as you closed your eyes into the kiss.

His encouragement wouldn’t drown out the fear completely. He couldn’t take the memories away. But he tried… he told you that he loved you, so… you’d believe him. After all, you hadn’t heard him overusing the word. It only made that moment feel that much more genuine.