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yandere-class-1a · 1 year ago

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Also can you do normal yandere class 1a head canons if that's ok? (and can u add mic and aizawa)

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to complete this ask, I got burned out about halfway through and needed to take a little break. I hope you like them though! I wasn't exactly sure how you wanted me to do them so I did all of class 1-A (+ platonic Aizawa and Mic) separately, they do have some connections in them though. There are a lot of words (3,895 to be exact) so I'm gonna be adding a read more button.

Shoji is absolutely the type of yandere to try and protect you from the bad in the world. If anyone so much as looks at you wrong he will turn into a big guard dog. He wraps you up in his arms and death glares at the person that looked at you funny. If you comment on it he will turn back into the big teddy bear that you know and love. He will not limit your internet access but you bet he will watch over you if you look up triggering or problematic things for your mental health. He won't restrict it but he will have a big talk with you about how it's better to consume positive media instead of negative media. He loves to cuddle you with all his arms, and it's absolutely heavenly. He might be the tallest in class, but no way does this man not like being the little spoon. He loves feeling you wrapped around him actually a little bit more than him being wrapped around you, he just loves the comfort you give him.

Koda is absolutely a cinnamon roll yandere. He doesn't want to hurt you or anybody else for that matter. He feels like the type of yandere to worship the very ground you walk on. If you give him a gift he will put it on a special shelf and cherish it forever. Once he accidentally forgot to put it up on his shelf and one of his animal friends accidentally broke it, he cried for hours until you managed to calm him down. Whenever you can't sleep Koda will send over a bird with a beautiful song to lull you to sleep. If you confront him about it he will try and deny it at first but end up cracking under your gaze. He tells you how he just wants to make sure you get a good amount of sleep, he didn't mean to upset you. If you aren't angry at him he will be so happy, if you are he will honestly turn into the poutiest baby you've ever seen.

Sato is the type of yandere to give you anything and everything you want, especially if it's something to do with baking. He and you probably have a designated day to bake at least one thing. If you don't feel like baking that day Sato will definitely sit you up on the counter and just talk to you well he bakes. If you love to lick the spoon he will definitely bakes the batter specially without eggs so you can eat as much of it as you want. He might look big and scary to some people but he is actually a absolute sweetheart. If you get tired from walking, even just a little bit, Sato will pick you up and cradle you like a baby so you don't have to walk. He feels like the type of boyfriend that will give you his shoes if yours are hurting your feet. Either that or he will carry around a extra pair of shoes in his bag. He doesn't care what people think when he does stuff for you, your his precious angel and he's willing to do anything for you.

Ida's obsession with you stems from a deep-rooted sense of duty and responsibility. He becomes fixated on protecting you at all costs, believing it's his duty to keep you safe, even if it means resorting to extreme measures. Now Ida does not want to hurt anyone, however if they were to hurt you then he most definitely would be willing to bend his morality a little bit. He is smart enough to do full background checks on anyone close to you and is willing to use that against them if they try and hurt you. He will have Aizawa set up security cameras all throughout the dorms saying he wants to protect his classmates as class representative. He does use the cameras for that, however he mostly uses them to keep tabs on you. On a side note he keeps the kitchen stashed with all your favorite foods so you never go hungry.

Sero is the type of yandere to be possessive of you but still lets you have friends (He definitely doesn't have Ida run background checks on them or anything like that... oh who am I kidding he most definitely does). He will definitely get close to all your friends and family if you want. If someone you grew up with shows him your baby pictures you he will definitely internally fan boy. He has a pretty laid back attitude, so he's not super controlling or manipulative. However this man definitely makes up for it with his obsessive ways. He will definitely want to do the spiderman kiss at some point or another, once you start dating it happens all the time. ⚠️Next part of Sero's headcanons continues slightly suggestive things, just thoughts and not actually doing anything⚠️ He's best friends with denki so we can guarantee he's at least a little bit of a pervert, at least to you. He would love to either see you shirtless or in a sports bra depending on your gender. He knows you're not ready for the next step so he's not gonna force you, for now he's fine with just resting his head on your chest or sitting you on his lap.

Todoroki is the type of yandere to be so obsessive for you that it hurts his heart to not be with you. He can be so possessive sometimes that he'll lock the two of you in a room and hide the key. He knows it's a bit over the top, he just can't help it. To him you are a living breathing God, you are so amazing that he just has to be next to you. However he does know that you might try and grow distant if he gets too possessive... To make up for this he tries to be as lenient with you as possible in most things. He will definitely stalk you, but he's pretty open about it. He will be like "He darling! You went to the ice cream shop yesterday and left your notebook. Don't worry though, I picked it up for you". Him and the class decide that kidnapping was out of the question... but sleepovers with the class that "accidentally" last for a week aren't uncommon. Todoroki will invite you over to his dorm all the time, sometimes just to cuddle. He desperately craves physical affection... Please give him some.

Momo is one of the yanderes with more common sense. She makes sure to match how fast she eases you into her yandere tendencies and how well you take them. If your reactions are on the more positive side she will move up a few levels in about two to three weeks. However if you seem uncomfortable she will ease them onto you slowly, conditioning you so it all feels normal. She feels like the type of yandere to invite you with her instead of stalking you, though she's not against it either. Like if she goes to the Mall or even the Library she will definitely invite you. If you don't really want to go she will tell you that you can get your favorite food or stop at your favorite place on the way. If she goes shopping by herself you can 100% guarantee that she returns with at least two gifts for you. If you go shopping with her however you both will definitely come back with bags full of gifts.

Bakugo is on the extremely possessive yandere side. He used to want you to be only his, but after a lot of convincing from the class he realized that they all loved you as much as him so maybe just maybe they could share you. He still can't be in the same room when Izuku's or Todoroki are being lovey with you though, he's working on it though. He used to call you only his and use words like my darling, now he calls you the only theirs and names like our darling. If anyone that isn't in class 1-A gets too close to you, even simple things like brushing against you in the hallways, he will quickly and without thinking grab your hand and not let go until he feels better. Bakugo here is definitely not shy about pda (public display of affection). He will hug and kiss you all he wants no matter where you are, though it's a bit more rough out in public to keep up his tough boy appearance.

Kirishima is the type of yandere to obsess over every little thing you do. He notices every little detail about you and points them out to other classmates. Like one day you came into class and Kirishima just casually tells the bakusquad that your breath smells slightly different than it normally does, probably because you ran out of your favorite scented toothpaste and had to replace it with your second favorite. They all looked at him funny. Not because of the obsessive sound of that sentence, but because he somehow managed to notice something that no one else did. The minute you walk into the room Kirishima's eyes find you. He can somehow keep a good conversation with a person well-watching. He is always telling you how manly you are, even for the littlest things. He is almost constantly wanting to give you affection. His affection ranges from quick kisses on the nose to cuddling for hours. He wants to wash you in the bath soooo badly. Not in a perverted way of course! He just wants to take care of you, you're his darling after all! He would have Momo make a bathing suit to cover up your privates so he could even just wash your hair for you.

Ojiro is the type of yandere who literally just wants to take care of you. He will buy you whatever snacks you want, no matter how hard they are to find. He hates to see you sad so he will almost always have a funny or cute video saved on his phone to cheer you up. He honestly buys the most thoughtful gifts in all of class 1-A. He will teach you martial arts if you ask him to, though he's absolutely gonna baby you if you get hurt during training. He likes when you play with his tail. He will definitely wrap his tail around you while you're both sitting down. He is extremely shy about telling you his love for you. Him and Koda can sit together for hours and just talk about you, but when it comes to actually telling you about it he gets all shy. He once managed to get out the words I like you but before you could even respond he tried to cover it up with a like a friend.

Aoyama is the type of yandere to constantly compliment you and not be shy about his obsession. He loves to do Mini fashion shows for himself and You. He will invite the whole class and they all show up. Bakugo might take a bit more convincing but he cracks when Aoyama shows him one of the dresses/suits you will be wearing. If your having a self conscious day where you don't like something about yourself fo to Ayoama. He is always ready with a list of things he loves about you. The list doesn't have only things about your body either... It has little habits you do, your tone of voice, your passions, your different styles, your personality, ect. He is always ready to make you any type of clothes you want. He can make the comfiest bra's and/or panties if your comfortable with that. He knows how to make binders and breast forms for trangender darlings as well. He gives you your favorite type of cheese randomly, and if you don't like the taste of cheese he buys cheese scented candles for you.

Denki is the type of yandere to follow you around like a lost puppy. He is super duper protective of you to the point that he will do his best to remove anyone and anything that has the potential to harm you. At some point you got a splinter in your foot and this boy convinced everyone that soft carpeted floors were a necessity to have in the dorms. He may not be good at numbers or other academic things, however he is amazing with people. He would never hurt you, that includes manipulating you, but he'a not above manipulating other people. Half the time nobody even notices he's manipulating them, and if they do, Denki will manipulate them more to think it's all in their head. Denki is a naturally cuddly person so cuddle sessions are a must have. If you ask him for cuddles he will drop everything he's doing and cuddle you. He isn't the type to get jealous cause he knows you love class 1-A and only them romantically. He is more the type to get to show the other person that you belong to him.

Izuku is the type to know everything about you, even things you don't know. Izuku definitely has at least 3 notebooks full of all your information. The first one starts of pretty standard, just your name and quirk, same as everyone else. It then gets more in detail about your quirk until it's basically entirely explained as far as to your family tree to compare the quirks to your own. It then sorta just kept on going from there. He definitely has a secret shrine to you. It has little things like pens that you left behind up to pictures of you at all times of the day. He keeps it hidden in a locked drawer so no one can find out about it. He’s a huge stalker. He almost always knows where you are and when he doesn't he panics and searches the entire city for you. He likes to watch you sleep secretly, only for about half an hour though.

Mina is the classic type of stalker that watches you from a tree. She will absolutely positively have a wall covered with photos of you in her room. Now she's not a complete idiot, so she buys a pretty tapestry and covers up the pictures with it. She is super bubbly and friendly so she has no problem talking to you. She will listen to you talk about something you love for hours if it would make you happy! Of course if you preferred to listen she has tons of stories to tell you, even if she might bend them a little bit to make herself sound more amazing. She definitely sends you good morning and good night texts, just not at normal times. Her good morning texts range from 4:00 in the morning to 12:00 noon. Her good night texts are around 10:00 in the nighttime to 2:00 in the morning. She definitely posts all about you on her social media's. If your not comfortable with pictures she will just post all about how amazing and beautiful/handsome you are. If someone says something like "Oooo what's their number" or "I bet I could date them" Mina will instantly block them. If they something more, suggestive to straight up filthy, Mina will not hesitate to break their online profile. She has a passion for coding and knows how to hack into accounts without leaving a trail.

Tokoyami is the type of edgy but soft yandere. Tokoyami loves it when you listen to his poetry. He could go on for hours with edgy (yet very cute) poetics about how you are his beautiful Shining star. Darkshadow also likes to talk to you. However theirs are more asking you questions and listening to your answer so they can store it in their mind. Tokoyami is really shy when it comes to physical affection, Dark Shadow is definitely not though. Tokoyami will be sitting next to you in the common room and Dark shadow will just pop up and be like "Tokoyami wants to hold your hand but he's too scared to ask". Tokoyami isn't that great with speaking words, mostly prefering to write instead. He will write cute little notes for you and leave them on your desk. He makes handmade black envelopes and seals them with a red wax stamp. Dark shadow likes to put little random questions at the back of the card, like what's your favorite color or do you have any pets. Dark shadow likes to write in pretty pink glittery gel pens just to mess with Tokoyami.

Uraraka is the type of yandere to be so caring that you hardly see the obsessiveness because you're too happy from all the love she gives you. But let me tell you that the obsessiveness is 100% there. She's very careful that nothing can hurt you. If you do somehow manage to get hurt she will take care of the wound extremely tenderly. It could range from a splinter to a broken leg, it doesn't matter because she treats you so sweetly it's impossible to top it. At times she will become quite clingy, wanting cuddles and kisses galore. If your just not a touchy person or maybe you don't like skin on skin contact she will try and back off. However she needs some type of contact or she gets super pouty and sometimes depressed. If you want to bring her out of this state all you have to do is link your pinkies. It's not much but it makes her super happy that you're even touching her. Be careful as when her emotions get super high her quirk gets out of control and you might float up to the ceiling.

Jiro is like the edgy to everyone except you girlfriend. Once you found a cute and fluffy pink key chain and gave it to her. She paused for a second and you panicked thinking you messed up. When you offered to take it back she snapped out of it and hugged it to her chest tightly. She gently smiled at you and said she absolutely loved it. After that she placed it on her bookbag and hasn't taken it off since. She is super flirty to you but if you so much as say she looks pretty she will turn into a blushing mess and not be able to look at you for at least 10 minutes. If you ask her to teach you and instrument she will absolutely agree. If you are a slow learner it's ok, She has all the patience in the world for you. If you learn quickly she will eventually start playing musica with you. It doesn't matter what type of music you like she definitely has a playlist of all your favorite songs that she listens to when she misses you.

Hagakure is definitely the type of yandere to stalk you any chance she gets. She would have major problems approaching you cause she thinks you're too good for her. She honestly thinks that you are absolutely one of the most perfect beings in the universe. Her quirk literally makes her invisible so she could stand directly next to you and you would never know. It may sound a bit creepy, and she is well aware of this, but she likes to watch you sleep. She loves how peaceful you look when you're having a good dream. If you were to sleep walk/sleep talk she will let you do whatever it is you do as she finds it adorable. If she thinks you might hurt yourself in your sleep she will gently lead you back to bed and tuck you in tightly. She will sometimes follow you for hours. When people ask her what she likes to do her reponse is "being with y/n". It sounds normal enough to not cause suspicion but it's still the truth, she does love being with you! You just Don't know she's there most of the time...

Tsu is the type of yandere to be extremely sweet to almost everyone but if they so much as look at you wrong that switch flips fast. So basically Tsu is overprotective central. She will protect you from any harm that comes your way. She has a dead serious glare that is honestly scarrier that original Bakugo. She loves to cuddle up next to you in the sunshine on a warm day. She doesn't like intense heat but she loves sunlight. She will curl up next to the pool and just sunbathe with you if you want. If you love swimming she will take you swimming all the time. She uses her excuse of being able to breath under water as a way to kiss you. Let me explain, she will press your lips together and blow air into your mouth so you can stay underwater with her. She will 100% take selfies with you any chance she gets. She actually has a locked folder on her phone called 🐸 ~ My Darling ~ 🐸 with over 500 pictures of you.

Aizawa is like a father type yandere to you. He's gonna be super duper protective of you. If a villain tries to attack you while your in class (because Class 1-A is just a villain attack magnet) you’re the first one he thinks about protecting. He knows it's wrong to have a favorite student but he just can't help it. Your just such an amazing person to him how could he not favorite you?! He absolutely is not afraid to show his favoritism to anyone. If Nezu comments on it aizawa will just be like "What are you gonna do, fire me? Who else would be willing to take care of those problems children?". If you accidentally mess something up he will just simply forgive you and tell you it's ok. Like once you and denki had a sleepover and forgot to do homework... Denki had to do 10 laps around the field and you got asked if you needed help on any of the questions. He definitely teaches you privately different skills that aren't related to your quirk.

Present Mic is like an extremely proud father. At any game or contest that he announces he scream out praise at every little thing you do. He's been asked about it before and his answer was just pure confusion. He doesn't understand that he might be focusing more on you than the actual thing he's supposed to be announcing, he just thinks that you're doing amazing and wants everyone to know. Mic is extremely handsy with you, of course in a fatherly type of way. He will often be seen with some type of contact with you. He will pat your back, ruffle your hair, hold your hand in crowded areas, ect. He will hangout with you and Aizawa in your dorm room as you all take turns picking a song to listen to. If you really like a certain band or singer Mic will get you both tickets to one of their concerts.

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itsphoenix0724 · 1 year ago

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Hold Me Gently (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel knew exactly what he signed up for when he became the court's spymaster, but sometimes everything gets too much for him to handle.

Warnings: Smut, angsty, negative thoughts about oneself, some dark stuff mentally

Word count: 1.6k

Bonus Chapter!

A/N: Hi loves! I'm excited to put this out for you guys I've been working on it for kind of a hot minute. Please read the tags carefully. I hope you all enjoy it, and as always constructive criticism is welcome. Plus I've got a special surprise coming in December that I may announce later this week so keep a look out. <3

Azriel swore sometimes he could still hear the screams that echoed off the stone walls of the Hewn City rattle around in his brain for days. Rhys had been clear this time.

Get the information through whatever means necessary, no matter what.

So that’s exactly what he had done, and it had taken hours. He sent Rhys a message with the information and winnowed directly into your bedroom. He knew you were downstairs in the kitchen because he had sent his shadows earlier to watch you, but he couldn’t bear to have you look at him right now. To have you look at him like he was the most amazing thing in the universe when you had no idea what horrors he committed just an hour earlier. Azriel hides his shame from the portrait of his mating ceremony, turning away from even your painted adoration. He is not the smiling male in that picture. He is not the male who deserves to put his blood-stained hands around your waist. He doesn’t deserve any of it. Not your kindness, not your comfort, not your kiss, or your smile. Not when he spent half the day ripping a man apart.

Maybe that male had a mate waiting at home too.

He sneaks carefully into the bathroom, turning the bathtub's faucet to boiling and letting the tub fill. Az peels off his leathers layer by layer, and they hit the clean white tile with a sickeningly wet sound, none of the blood is his. As he watches the red slowly seep onto the floor he knows that the tile’s just another thing he’s ruined.

He wishes he could peel his skin off as well.

Azriel sinks slowly into the tub, letting the sting of the hot water work every muscle. He wanted to erase everything, to let the water cleanse away his disgusting actions. His shadows send a whisper of you humming quietly from the kitchen and he almost bursts into tears. How had the cauldron given him someone someone so gentle? How did you wake up in their bed every day and not know you slept next to a monster? Az sinks under the surface, unable to bear the rushing in his head, and doesn’t come back up until his lungs are screaming for air.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You knew something was wrong when your mate didn’t immediately come to see you after returning from his mission. You had heard the faucet start to run while chopping vegetables for dinner, and you assumed Az was quickly rinsing off before he joined you. After half an hour had passed you started to become concerned. You knew your mate, and even though he never told you specifics, he sometimes needed time after his return from the Hewn City. You silently creep up the stairs of your home, avoiding all the creaking floorboards that might tip Azriel off. You swing open the bedroom door, but he is nowhere to be found the only evidence of him is a trail of blood that sends your heart into overdrive. You follow it to your bathroom door, now more worried about his safety than anything. The bond beating in your chest is dark, and it has been since Az left your bed this morning. Throwing open the door you’re met with a wall of crushing darkness. You fight through the swirling blackness, trying to call Azriel’s name, but you can’t see two feet in front of you. A rouge shadow comes to circle your wrist dragging you to your mate’s hunched form in the bathtub, base instinct takes over as you climb into the water hissing as the burning water scalds your thighs. “Azriel,” You call his name, taking his head in your hands. His hazel eyes seem unfocused like he’s looking through you than at you. “Az,” you rush out again. “Are you bleeding? Are you hurt?” You tilt his head this way and that way before scanning the rest of his body. You shake him at the shoulders trying to get him to see you. Finally, as if Az just realized you were there, he looks at you.

“The blood isn’t mine.” is all he says before his head thumps back against the porcelain as if it’s too heavy to hold on his own. Your shoulders sag in relief. “You shouldn’t be in here. Go back downstairs I’ll be there in a minute.” He runs the wet silk of your nightgown in between his fingers. You have no intention of leaving this bathtub until you figure out what's wrong with your mate.

“What’s happened?” You push running your fingers through the threads of his inky black hair. “Did the mission not go well?” Azriel scoffs, looking unbothered, but you can see the muscles in his throat tightening with effort to keep something hidden. You try to pull at the bond again, begging him to lower the obsidian shields he builds around himself, his hands shake with the effort of keeping them impenetrable. He still avoids your eyes, yet you try again refusing to yield. “Sweetheart…” you whisper softly and the Shadowsinger cracks before you. His walls rush down and crash against you like a tsunami, the wave of self-hatred that he had been holding in barrels against you with enough force to bring down the mountains. Silver lines his hazel eyes and your heart almost cracks in two. Wrapping your arms around Azriel you cradle him to your body, his hands tighten around your waist seeming torn between pulling you closer and pushing you away. His shoulders shake with the force of his sobs and all you can do is keep stroking his hair and make soothing sounds, trying to calm him down enough to speak. Az takes a shuddering breath, but the tears still stream down his face. You chase them away with the pads of your fingers.

“I do not deserve you,” he grinds out, voice rusty from the tears. You rub soothing circles into the joints of his shoulders and it makes Azriel want to throw up. “I am the monster mothers warn their children about at night. I’ve committed horrors that should make you run away in terror” You shake your head with feverance.

“I would never run from you Azriel. There is nothing too dark or too ugly that would make me love you any less. I promise you I can handle it.” Azriel does nothing but collapse back against you shaking his head back and forth. “Just talk to me please.” He takes a deep inhale, trying to calm his racing heart.

“I bled a male dry today. Rhys needed information, and he was harder to break than anticipated.” It’s all the information Az is willing to give. You have to stamp down the fury rising in your own chest. Both at Rhysand for putting your mate through this and at the Hewn City itself.

You’d tear this court apart brick by brick for making Azriel feel like he’s less than deserving of his life.

You’ll have to talk with Rhys later because for now, your focus is Az and Az alone. You refuse to allow him to continue to carry on like this, cursing yourself for not realizing the effects of this position wearing on him sooner.

“Look at me.” You pull his jaw towards you, forcing him to meet your eyes “There is no universe where you are not deserving of happiness. You have a job to do, and I understood that when I accepted this bond. I do not fear you, I do not balk from you, and I do not love you any less because of that.” The bond sings with light as the weight finally starts to leave your mate's shoulders. Golden eyes study you intensely before he hauls you against him in one fluid motion and crashes his lips to yours. He tastes like burning whiskey, and kisses you so fiercely you’re afraid your lips might bruise. You hold him together the best you can, afraid that if you let him go he will shatter into pieces before you. “Are you sure you want this right now?” You ask, you’ll give Az whatever he needs, and if he needs a distraction from his head then you’re happy to provide it to him. He nods, leaning down to press his lips to your collarbone. You run your hands along his back grinding yourself into him, and pour love and devotion down your side of the bond to him. His hardness presses against you as he nudges aside the scraps of lace before sheathing himself into the hilt. You let Azriel take what he needs, fucking you on his length, rocking you back and forth. He’s hitting the spot inside you that makes you see stars with such force water sloshes over the edge of the tub, washing away the blood from Azriel’s leathers. You run your hands along the edge of his wing and he roars, one hand almost cracking the porcelain of the bathtub. He changes his pace to pure brutality, using you like no more than a toy. Your thighs shake with the effort to keep yourself upright. He’s ruthless in the way he moves like a hungry predator finally tearing into its kill. Your orgasm tears through you with blinding energy, and you unravel faster than you’d like to admit, but Az always manages to have that effect on you. He loses himself soon after you, tumbling over the edge with so much force he rips the bottom of your nightgown into ribbons. You stare at each other for a long moment, relishing in the afterglow and grateful for the hot water in the tub.

“I’m sorry for ripping your nightgown,” Azriel rumbles and you laugh a beautiful golden sound.

“You can buy me a new one later,” you promise, “but for now let me wash your hair.”

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

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spiderm444rk · 3 months ago

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hi guys, i didn’t really have the strength to come here and speak up about the taeil issue yesterday, but it’s extremely important to address this so i definitely have something to say about it.

i was at work yesterday, and i found out about the whole scandal during my 30 minute break, and i was half convinced it’s not real and he didn’t really get kicked out for like the first half of it - it was a shock, to randomly find out a person i stanned and supported for 4 years would be capable of doing something like this. once i realized it’s actually happening and sm kicked him out without a second thought, i understood how serious the scandal is and that no one is exaggerating.

i understand the whole situation makes us all feel disappointed and disgusted, and that it’s a sensitive topic, but i think it’s very important to educate ourselves about this and hold taeil accountable. let’s go over it together.

i saw too many kpop stans spreading misinformation, which in the end negatively affects the victim of this case the most . by making up fake stuff for clout, you only take away the attention from the actual victim who is trying to tell her story and get her justice. we don’t do that over here.

first of all, i hope everyone is aware that this is a REAL issue and that it actually happened. this isn’t a rumour, he’s an actual criminal. the police literally charged him with a sex related crime. sm, who is known for giving problematic people a second choice kicked him out IMMEDIATELY. no hiatus, no nothing. he’s just out of the picture. his bubble got terminated today. he’s being removed from nct zone. all of his album photocards are getting replaced by group photocards as we speak. sm is working hard to separate him from the group image asap. if this doesn’t speak volumes about how serious this scandal is, i don’t know what does. i hope NO ONE supports that man anymore. unfollowing him isn’t something to brag about, it’s just common sense. rapists deserve to rot behind the bars.

i saw a lot of people say they won’t believe it until it’s proven, but what more do you need? it already is proven. the whole group unfollowed him - not only 127, but dream and wayv too. taeyong deleted every picture with him while being in the military. this isn’t sm kicking him out because it will make the group look bad, they kicked him out because he’s a confirmed criminal. “i’m gonna wait until he’s proven guilty” he already is. hold that pathetic mistake of a man accountable.

but what i wanted to talk about the most - for the sake of the victim. let’s not blindly believe every lie we see on the internet and disregard the victim’s story.

- THE ONLY THING CONFIRMED IS THAT TAEIL IS CHARGED WITH A SEX RELATED CRIME. they didn’t specify anything. we don’t know what exactly it is, but i think we can all picture how terrible it needs to be for sm to kick him out of the company without a second thought.

- the investigation has been going on since june, but no one except the police and the victim who reported him knew. taeil of course knew he’s guilty, but he didn’t know he’s under investigation, and neither did sm or the rest of the nct members. they all learned about it - according to sm - in the middle of august, AFTER the last 127 fan meeting. so no, it’s not like they knew and included him anyway. it’s not like taeil knew he’s being investigated and went there to meet fans with a big smile on his face.

i’m obviously not saying this to protect him, but let’s not make it seem like all of the neos already knew and just kept being best friends with a rapist, especially in front of people who support them and love them. they didn’t know, and neither did the company. as soon as sm found out (from the police), he was out of the group.

- none of the rumours are confirmed. i’m not saying they can’t be real, but since it’s not confirmed, let’s focus on what we know (let me repeat myself) - taeil is guilty, sm and nct learned about it in the middle of august, he got kicked almost immediately. the police also confirmed the victim A is an adult woman, and no underage victim of the same gender is involved in this case. they said they won’t reveal any information about the progress of the case so the victim’s identity stays anonymous.

that’s it.

but what does it really mean ? there was a rumour about taeil raping an 11 year old girl to the point where she’s now permanently disabled, and abusing her for 6 years and hacking her phone so she couldn’t report him- NOT CONFIRMED. this case also isn’t about her. the victim who reported him is an adult woman. this doesn’t mean it can’t be real, or that there aren’t more victims out there, but it’s not the case that is being investigated right now.

people are also saying that taeil’s car accident didn’t actually happen, and that it was this girl’s grandpa/family member who broke his leg when they went to beat him up for what he did to the girl and that the car accident was just a cover up - also not confirmed. people are probably just trying to gain clout.

the @ agnes_121430 instagram account has been commenting on taeils ig posts since june, but she also posted about her case getting closed today, so she isn’t the actual victim in this case. she also said she never actually met taeil face to face (?).

taeil also isn’t involved in the burning sun scandal (yet, because once again, it’s not confirmed by any relevant platform) but this doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t bring it up again, because the chance that he or other male idols are involved is still there. korean women are suffering, we need to keep bringing this up.

same thing is with the Nth room, or any other similar telegram group chat. the Nth room is a group chat where you need to PAY a high fee to even get in, and the members of this group chat literally record women without their consent and even without them knowing and then sell the videos in that gc. random women, but even their FAMILY MEMBERS. they also make deepfakes of women - their sisters, mothers, they don’t care. they also target schools and the girl students in there. they threaten the girls to record themselves doing really fucked up stuff and then send it to the group chat, or just straight up drug them, touch them without consent, rape them… you can look this up. this scandal is about taeil, but this is also about what do the korean women have to go through, the mentality in south korea is insane. it’s not only a kpop issue, but also a human rights issue, and we need to address it.

also, there’s a rumour the Nth room members are getting exposed tomorrow. this isn’t true. if you see anything, it will be 99% made up, and bored kpop stans will just drag idols without any proof.

everyone needs to understand that we don’t really know these people and we never know who else is involved in stuff like this - i really hope no one in nct knew about this and that they aren’t involved, but this is such an unexpected reality check that it’s still hard for me to grasp it and decide what to believe or not. in no way i support taeil, but wow. it’s crazy what men are capable of, while acting like they’re the biggest sweethearts in front of other people.

let’s hold all rapists and people who SA people of any gender and in any way accountable, and expose all celebrities if they ever did something like this. no one wants to support criminals. taeil needs to pay for what he did.

please spread the word and don’t believe everything you see. if anyone wants the source of what i’m saying, i can dm it to you. i hope everything will get better with time and this isn’t the definitive downfall of nct 127, but i guess we’ll have to wait and see. i know this is difficult to deal with. i hope the victim will get her justice, and everyone please take care. i’m with every nctzen out there. stay strong.

#nct 127 #ot8 #nct #nct u #nct dream #taeil #moon taeil #men continue to disappoint me every day

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artist-issues · 14 days ago

Note

Okay here are some questions that are all related but could have different answers depending on the slightly different phrasing.

Do you think that Paladin Strait is gonna be the point-blank end of the saga? The final message will just be, 'the cycle continues' and their next album will be totally something new? (gosh i HOPE not that would be the worst) But if they do this, do you think they'll 'justify' it to their fans?

If it does continue, how do you think THEY will continue/end it? (positively, what we [you + me and maybe others who have similar worldview] WANT)

If it does continue, how do you think THEY will continue/end it? (negatively, what we FEAR they will do)

How do YOU wish they would continue/end it? (99% sure i know the answer but im curious how you'll phrase it exactly)

What do you think the biggest strengths of the Clancy story have been?

Biggest weaknesses?

What are you still drawing question marks on for the whole thing?

About Paladin Strait:

Okay, I hope and tentatively believe that that’s not what they’re doing. I don’t believe they’ve ever been pointing to a big “You’ll Always Struggle Forever” theme. It’s been almost fifteen years, I just have never gotten that impression (until this last album, but I still don’t believe it.) But, if that is somehow the hopeless message they’re perpetuating? I don’t think they’ll have to “justify it” to their “fans” at all. The majority of the twenty one pilots fandom justifies everything the band does, for themselves. Unless it comes to the band refusing to speak on social issues that the fandom has decided are important, and unless it comes to the fans not getting to stand where they feel special in an arena. I’ve seen the fans demand an explanation for those sorts of “lack of action” from the band. But I’ve never seen the fans get upset about any song or performance. They basically make the songs mean whatever they want them to mean, like the majority of fandoms do. So they’ll say “that’s a beautiful message,” no matter what the message actually is.

I don’t know how they’ll end it. They’ve always stopped short of a resolution. They go, “There is a problem (acknowledge it;) here’s how I feel about the problem; here’s what keeps me in the problem; and here’s how I’m crying out for help with the problem—“ but they’ve rarely, ever, said, “here’s how that cry for help is answered, definitely.” Taxi Cab and March to the Sea get the closest (of their “canon” stuff.) Everything else ends with the cry for help, never the answer. So, if I were to respond to “what do you think the answer will be, if they finally tell us about the answer?” I would say: they’ll point out that it has to be “Someone Outside Yourself, Who Knows You Better Than You Do, Answers the Cry For Help.” I hope the Torchbearer will, in some way, save Clancy. Even if it’s pulling his body out of the towers after he’s defeated so it can’t be seized. Some kind of saving. Because that’s what Taxi Cab and March end with; the spaceship takes Tyler up and shows him who to follow instead of the Dead Line, but he has to keep choosing that New Direction every day until the march is over. Or the Three Men hijack the hearse, pick the lock on his casket, and take the Dead Man to the Morning Sun. See, even when the Cry For Help is Answered By Someone Outside of Yourself, they end it on “but the journey isn’t over.” But at least there’s new direction in those songs, not the same old direction. Death-to-Life direction. I don’t know, though, and that’s what has me biting my nails.

About How I Think They’ll End It (Negative)

I don’t love thinking about this because my emotions are real tied up in whether they do or do not step out in faith. But I will point out that the worst-case scenario is, just to answer this question: the worst-case scenario is that Josh has decided there is no One True Faith and he’s into Eastern pagan religion that he associates with Christianity now, and Tyler has decided that whatever might be true about Christianity, the organized-religion Church is wrong about it all, starting with the LGBTQ+ stuff, and so he doesn’t know what’s right but he’s happy with that because it means he can keep “searching” and “imagining.” Like the “journey is the destination, we’ll never really know,” stuff. Which is not Christianity. It’s not true faith.

C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce

Because faith is focused on something bigger than and totally outside of yourself, yet real and knowable. Faith in “I dunno what it is, but there’s somethin big out there I guess I believe in, but we’ll never know what it truly is” is just a cheap disguise for “faith in my own understanding and control.” If you don’t know exactly what the object of your faith is, then you can pick and choose the things you like out of vagueness. Whatever, I can make a post about that later.

But if that’s where they’re at—I am not enjoying thinking through this right now—then the thing that makes most logical-story-sense coming out of that mindset, to me, would be “Clancy becomes the new leader of the Bishops, but ushers in an era of sunshine and imagination instead of the cold bleak walls of the city. What they burn down is the organized-religion analogue aspects of DEMA.” I think that would be a super stupid way to end it but maybe.

That’s worst-case. I think second-worst case would be “the cycle continues.” Clancy wakes up in his old room, the Banditos are gone, the neon gravestones are glowing, and then he like looks down and sees a flower, indicating that the Banditos are still out there and he has the chance to re-start the cycle and do it all better this time… or give up based on the idea that nothing will ever be better. And we end on a twenty-one-pilots-esque “Pick One” ending. I think this is the most likely ending, because it’s not an ending at all, and it will keep the religious crowd and the secular crowd both happy. Plus, as far as the story describing Tyler’s wrestling match with doubt and dark thoughts? It would mean he gets to keep wrestling, which, I hate to say it, has produced lots of successful music so far. But you know what, so would a winner to the wrestling match, because truth is worth more than success.

Third-worst-case scenario—Clancy “dies,” taking down the Towers of Silence with him. And all the Glorious Gone zombies fall over Phantom-Menace-style, leaving battered Banditos standing. And they live to fight another day; Nico is still out there, probably ready to seize and rebuild; but the Torchbearer goes to Clancy’s body and looks somber and takes the mask off of him and carries it away, or some other type of nod to that old performance of Time to Say Goodbye—but the point is it’ll end with the idea that Clancy goes on, but “Clancy” was always a character, an idea, a belief, that anybody can embody if they’re willing to sacrifice themselves so that others can get their focus off of Dark Thoughts. You know, kind of like how Tyler Joseph gets them to focus their ability-to-hurt-myself-energy on him, as a performer, instead of on themselves (Guns for Hands.) This is semi-fine because it’s about some form of self-sacrifice, but I don’t like that the emphasis is on “if I just sacrifice myself for the hope that things can get better, it’ll somehow help people, even if I don’t know what the Hope is.” It would obviously be better if someone outside of Clancy brings about the resolution to Clancy’s story.

FOURTH-worst case scenario—as in, the least bad of all of them—Clancy fights and wins against Nico by using his ability to “seize” Nico, and burns down the towers, and dies or disappears doing it. This is good because Nico dies, and good because of self-sacrifice, and cool because he uses “seizing” his Dark-Self-Focus and puppetting it, rather than letting it puppet him, is very close to what they’ve always been saying: the Biblical Idea of Taking Your Thoughts Captive, and using art as an introspection-weapon. BUT it’s bad, because then it makes Music the Savior, in a sense.

I wish they would end it like this:

Clancy is seized by Nico, who pilots Clancy’s body over to the window of the tower and shows the Banditos, fighting, that their hero has been defeated and is being used. It’s super disheartening, because the implication is maybe this was always going to happen, Clancy was never going to escape, or worse, Nico knew the plan and it was always doomed to fail, because somehow Clancy was always under his power, and Clancy is doing some kind of demonic dance or demonstration with yellow eyes showing that he’s nothing but Nico’s vessel now—but Clancy’s still fighting Nico’s control, on the inside, mentally. (In a music video I guess they could cut-away, between what’s happening outside of Clancy’s head as Nico shows the Banditos that he’s been defeated, and then cut-away to Tyler singing and fighting a battle in Clancy’s mind, trying to re-take control.) But Clancy’s losing the mental fight, too. He just manages to get a kind of moment of control back—maybe his eyes go back to being their normal color instead of seized-yellow—and he basically does this as a cry for help. Then Nico takes over again.

Clancy is seized, he can’t save himself, he’s tried everything and followed the plan of the Banditos up until this point…and it didn’t matter. This defeat is where it’s led. He’s overpowered, seized, back in the same grip of the Bishops, and the Banditos could look, lose heart, and be disheartened, and lose, even after all this work. So he’s managing to fight off Nico just long enough to get that “I CAN’T DO IT” message to the Torchbearer. And the Torchbearer understands. Because he’s not down there on the ground with the Banditos. He’s up in the tower with Nico and Clancy, and has been all along, and now that Clancy flashes the help-I’m-in-here-but-I-can’t-do-it message through his eyes or however they want to do it—THEN Torchbearer saves the day. I don’t much care how, as long as Torchbearer saves the day. I think the best way for him to do it would be to straight-up kill Clancy and that kills Nico. Because they were always connected. And then it seems sad, like Clancy was always going to be the sacrifice, as DEMA burns up. But then at the last second in the music video (or however they end it) he opens his eyes, and the Torchbearer helps him up. And the Clancy mask is burning along with Nico’s robes in the background, something like that. Because if Nico is Self-Focus (which leads to anxiety, depression, and most of all insecurity) then Self-Sacrifice, death of the Self, so that you stop considering yourself so much, is the only cure. And we both know only Jesus can kill your old self and raise you up a new creation.

But they don’t have to do it exactly like that. Torchbearer could beat the Nico out of Clancy, like Jenna Joseph does in the Tear in My Heart music video. That would be acceptable, because it would go with the idea of “Someone Outside of You Who Loves You Despite Your Imperfections Can Beat Your Insecurity About the Imperfections Out of You.” You see, the reason I want Nico to seize Clancy is because this whole time, Clancy has been relying on his ability to seize the bad guys as a method of defeating them.

Using Music, getting inside your darkness and then making it work for you, is the closest twenty one pilots has ever gotten to a functional-savior in their story. But the truth is that only works for a moment. It’s just a bandaid solution. Music can help you see what’s wrong, and help you feel control over what’s wrong by virtue of understanding it and making it work for you…but then eventually, you know what happens? The thing you’ve created becomes what you place your faith in, and then it has power over you.

But in like layman’s terms I guess you could just say: “Boy Feels Darkness -> Instead of Giving in to Darkness, Boy Makes Music About His Darkness -> Darkness Works for the Boy; Others Hear and Like the Music -> Darkness Appears to be Controlled by the Boy as a Way to Connect, Inspire, and Be Successful -> Boy Can’t Stop Focusing on Darkness or Writing About Darkness, Because That’s What Made Him Famous -> The Darkness is Not Defeated, and It’s More a Part of His Identity Than Ever. Who Is He Without The Darkness, Now? It’s Not Gone, and It’s In Charge”

You see? I know I’m saying it five different ways but at this point I’m wishing I was saying it to him.

Demons don’t care if you think they’re powerful, or if you think they’re powerless. They just care that you’re not thinking rightly about them, either way. It’s not “Ignore the Darkness,” and it’s not “Make Everything About the Darkness,” either. It’s “There is Darkness, and it is powerful, and acknowledging that just makes the LIGHT LOOK EVEN MORE POWERFUL.”

So Nico has to seize him. When all along he thought he’d be doing the controlling. And then someone from the outside has to save him.

What do I think the strengths have been?

The idea of seizing. That is so good and perfect. Because creativity is what gives Clancy the ability to seize, but it’s not a perfect solution. The Bishops can use that, too—and guess what, they did, they used Scaled & Icy.

Even Trash the Dragon, who was supposed to represent limitless imagination, is the symbol of that Bishop-Propaganda album—which is interesting, because it makes limitless imagination look like a bad thing, if it’s being used by the bad guys. But also, it’s dead, because the dragon was able to be seized, meaning it was a corpse. So Limitless Imagination was dead all along? Oh but wait, its corpse can still be used—by Keons, who is a bad guy? No, because he betrayed the other bad guys and freed Clancy using Creativity to Revive Limitless Imagination for one specific purpose. And if it’s for one specific purpose, then it’s not limitless. Imagination shouldn’t be limitless, or else you can imagine you’re worthless. It should be used for one specific purpose instead—setting you free from the bad thoughts. UUUUGH that’s so good.

And the contrast between Natural Light (fire, which also happens to be destructive and can get out of human control) and Man-Made Light (neon, which is stale, sterile, and totally under human control.) Goes perfectly with the contrast between a wild, green continent called Trench—and a lifeless, concrete, circular (cyclical) city made by man.

Plus, of course, Torchbearer. Torchbearer being three-and-one. Torchbearer being the leader of a group who wear yellow, a color the bad guys cannot see—and he’s also only able to be seen by Clancy when Clancy’s imprisoned. But sometimes he’s not seen by Clancy and Clancy doubts. But ultimately Torchbearer has always been with Clancy, and always had a plan, and even the Bishops can’t escape being made part of his plan. Torchbearer having an X that lands over his heart made of yellow tape—which looks like a tilted cross. Torchbearer having tape wrapped around the knee where Josh Dun has Tyler Joseph’s name tattooed. Torchbearer having a yellow bandanna that covers his face in the same division mirroring where the Bishops have black smeared.

Also, the fact that Clancy, as a character, is never sure what’s going on. When the whole story is about trying to decide where to go, and why. It’s about a journey and whether or not the destination is worth it. And the main character himself wrestles with that so constantly. He doesn’t know if the Torchbearer’s plan is going to work. He doesn’t know if the Bishops are really all bad, or if the safety they provide makes up for it. He doesn’t know if he’s having dreams or if he’s somehow seizing vultures and seeing real things. He doesn’t know if he wants to leave the city, or stay—and when he figures that out, he doesn’t know how any of this could’ve been planned. He;s constantly trying to separate the good from the bad and figure out which side he’s on, where the attacks are coming from. That’s his whole character.

Polarize is taking your disguises Separating 'em, splitting 'em up from wrong and right It's deciding where to die and deciding where to fight Deny, deny, denial

Domingo en fuego I think I lost my halo I don't know where you are You'll have to come and find me, find me

I'm navigating, I'm navigating my head Give me some advice I am wasting all this time My, oh my Don't know how long it's been My, oh my

And then on the other side? Torchbearer’s role is to guide? They're the perfect pair. Clancy never knows what’s real or not real, what’s going to work or not work, who’s right or wrong, or even what his role is. The world is a dark map and he can’t find himself in the “You Are Here” Dot. But TORCHBEARER lights the way.

Biggest weaknesses in the Clancy Story?

I don’t know because I’m not sure what the Point is yet. I could try to pick apart where the story isn’t doing well with “form” (everything used to deliver the point, the mood, the character design, the pacing, the dialogue, all that) but this is a story embedded in a series of albums and music videos and lots of mixed media. So it’s told in basically the most engaging way it can be told, it’s genius, I have noticed no weaknesses.

…unless you want to say, “the story is too unclear and vague; you can’t understand what they’re trying to say because they’re not really saying anything.” You could make an argument for that. I would be able to pick that argument apart more easily than I would be able to make that argument, though.

Endings mean concluding. Conclusions mean a Point. You can’t end a story without revealing whether or not you had a point. So we’ll find out, I guess!

What Are My Question Marks?

What’s going on with Keons? I can’t figure out Keons at all. I can’t figure out why Keons betrayed the other bishops, what led to that, how he’s connected to Ned.

What’s the Car representing? The car at the beginning of Heavydirtysoul and Jumpsuit—it’s burning onstage for the whole Trench era. It’s a Cadillac, it looks like a charred up version of the one from the No Phun Intended album, so is it supposed to represent a former mindset? It keeps recurring, so it means something, I just haven’t figured out what. The closest I get is “that’s the music, or how he used to use the music.” But I’m not sure.

What does the smearing have to do with the Glorious Gone? The letters make it sound like it’s just for dead people, but Clancy’s been smeared in the music video for Levitate and in Jumpsuit. Am I supposed to believe he was dead all along and being seized by someone this entire time? If that’s the case, he hasn’t been aware of that, according to his letters.

Who was Clancy talking about in that one letter when he was captured by the Bishops and said “He was never there, I would have felt him?”

Above all, what does Tyler think of God now? Where’s he at in his faith? Is he still struggling with the same stuff I am or is it a different blend?

I think that’s all for now.

#asked #answered #twenty one pilots #top #tumblr clique #twentyonepilots #Tyler Joseph #Josh dun #Clancy

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muzanswaifu · 2 years ago

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A Step Ahead - IV

Part I | Part II | Part III

Yandere! Tomioka x Fem! Reader

18+

Previous Choice: "Apologize for running away from him in the woods"

This is the fourth round of the game. Census has determined that you shall apologize to the man for running away from him earlier. Danger. Danger. Danger. Tread carefully.

Warnings: Yandere, Slow Burn, Awkward Interactions, Smut later on

“Uhhh- about earlier…,” you began, “s-sorry about… running away from you… back in the forest. I was scared you were… some creep. No offense-”

You swallowed nervously as he made an actual expression for the first time, and not a good one. His feline eyes narrowed, mouth thinning. He gave a small hum of acknowledgement, a negative mood excluding off of him. Was… he actually mad about it?

A deeper uneasiness befell you, a dark thrill running up your spine. You cowered a bit from such worry, already beginning to retreat yet again and stepping back slowly.

“Where are you going?”

His voice shocked you from its sudden interruption, your ears unprepared to hear him utter any words that were above a whisper.

“Oh,” you gave, “I-I was just… going for a walk around here, so… byeeeee-”

Shuffling to the side, you tried to maneuver around him, but his eyes followed you like that of an old painting. Even as you started walking he pursued you, keeping by your side as you continued your stroll. The air was thick enough to cut with a knife and just moving was a challenge as every bone in your body begged you to fawn.

You both wandered down together on the old, pebbled road, an awkwardness eternally damning you as the man had about as much charm as an ornament. Pretty on the outside but only meant for decoration and not function. But you were nervous. And when you were nervous… you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, unfortunately.

“Sooooo, that’s some interesting outfit…” You were referencing his black uniform and haori, the ladder a strange and not very flattering pattern. “Is it for work?”

You heard him lick his lips for a moment before answering.

“Yes.” No explanation whatsoever.

“... What do you do?”

“Hunt.” Again, no context. He wasn’t very good at this.

“You hunt… what?” People? The mood? Your time?

“Demons.”

You laughed at this, assuming his ridiculous answer had to be a joke. Or moreover, you were hoping it was a joke. But after you’d resumed silence and observed his reaction, that of pure indifference, you soon realized he wasn’t. He was absolutely serious.

You stupidly continued, “Like… like predatory animals… right?” He couldn’t possibly mean actual monsters. That would mean he was not only horrible to talk to, but also insane. He gave a sigh and nodded.

“Fine,” he said, as if it were a compromise. Like you were negotiating his prey. At this point you were just going to let it be. It’s not like you were dying to continue talking about it.

You resumed your silence, realizing it was probably for the best. He didn’t seem much for talking. He didn’t seem much for anything. It was getting pretty late, the sky pitch black and empty, all the stars gone and hiding. You wish you could hide away too.

“What’s wrong with your family?”

You were taken aback by the question, not expecting him to have remembered your initial statements to him. “J-just some stuff with my mom,” you hesitantly replied, “We don’t exactly get along.”

“Why?”

“...She doesn’t like me very much.”

“Why?”

He sounded like a broken record. Or a child who couldn’t stop asking questions. Suddenly you wished you could go back to silence.

“We just never bonded, I suppose. It was a tough pregnancy for her.” You offered up that ladder piece of information in hopes that he wouldn’t pester you for any further evidence. At least you hoped it did.

“... I see,” he mumbled, looking off again. He seemed very distant, you realized, like his mind was somewhere else. Like he was planning something. And perhaps it was rubbing off on you as you finally noticed that you were several yards into the woods, far more off path than you would have liked to be.

“Uhhh, s-sorry, town is more… this way,” you pointed out, backing toward said direction. The look in his eye made your blood run cold.

“Come.”

He commanded it, almost like you were a dog waiting for an order. He sounded far too pressuring for your taste.

You questioned, “Where?” but he gave no response, only looking on at you, as if daring you to take one more step from his direction. You felt the deja vu of his sight fill your mind as you remembered your fear in the woods. He looked horrifying in the dark. You only blinked once, and he was already right in front of you, his large hand wrapping around your forearm and guiding you back toward the thick of the woods. “Come.” he told again, although it was pretty useless as he’d already had you quite literally in his hands. You felt frozen, unsure of what to do in such a scenario. On one hand, you didn’t want to go rushing home to get in trouble, but on the other, you didn’t want to follow this guy into the forest either. If you go home, you know for a fact there was punishment waiting, but what did he have in store? Fun? An escape? A break? Or did he have something more sinister? Just because he was attractive didn’t mean he couldn’t be a danger too. What if he wanted to hurt you? Or worse?

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romance-rambles · 2 months ago

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modern* cael | a guide to handling your girlfriend's amnesia

Whilst attempting to recover your memories of your father, you end up losing your memories of the past few years instead—including the part about how you're on your way to be the future Mrs. Anselm.

8.1k, mostly fluff + slight angst + some suggestive stuff, flashbacks + amnesia, takes place sometime after hot springs event, reader is mc, series: none

"WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I lost my memories?"

A question, innocently asked. Cael thinks nothing of it at the time—thinks nothing at all, actually. The sky is blue, the grass is green, you love him, and he loves you. Therefore, there's only room for one answer, the same one as yours.

"I'd help you get them back," he says. Gently. Patiently. Though you seem to have come to terms with the fact that the amnesiac Cael you saw was your own doing, the experience seems to have to left you clingier than normal. "I'd tell you about all that we've seen and done together. The good, the bad, and—"

Even in the darkened room, he thinks he can see you grin.

"And the weird?"

He chuckles softly. "It sounds like you have ideas."

You start exactly where he expects you to, with the man who was once Darya's lover. An orb-shaped third wheel that gave relationship advice—and pestered Cael every chance he got. When it came time to part ways with him, you were rather sad.

As if, to you, Darya's lover was no different from a friend you made on one of your own journeys.

Next on the list is the time they both spent in White City, as beautiful as it was when it stood tall and proud. But rather than the cleansing ritual that demanded all travelers leave their negative emotions behind, or Darya coming to destroy the city, having lost her mind after the loss of her lover, what sticks out to you is—

"And you were so young! And this tall." you exclaim, gesturing in the dark. A dreamy sign gives way to a fit of giggles. "You were so cute."

Trying to fight back a smile in your presence is a fool's endeavor. It spread across his face anyways, warm and fond—and though you likely can't see it either, he feels as if you simply know. You snuggle closer and hum in satisfaction.

"I see," he says, amusement dripping from every syllable. "So, in your eyes, I'm no longer cute."

A muffled protest escapes your lips, though undoubtedly half-hearted. From your voice alone, he can tell you're pouting, happily unhappy—an oxymoron, if he's ever heard one—that he's derailed the conversation.

"You're always cute," you murmur, and he takes his victory with a faint laugh.

MEMORIES ARE A FICKLE THING, fragile yet everlasting—it takes great skill to painstakingly manipulate every element of someone's past to offer them a coherent illusion. To this day, Cael isn't sure how his senior managed to wipe your memory so thoroughly that no traces of your father remain. Even he, arguably an equally skilled prefect, cannot manage such a feat.

And yet, here he is, against his better judgement, fiddling around with your memories in hopes that he can undo Prefect Crimson's finest work.

Fitting for such an endeavor, a pile of notebooks containing information he compiled on the subject sits nearby, on the floor beside your bed. The pillow cushioning his knees, though unnecessary, deflates as he stands up, wiping the sweat of his forehead awkwardly. You insisted upon it, though he's half-certain you were teasing him for his age, and he found he couldn't deny you in that moment.

The thing is, one hand rests on top of your forehead, though the ritual has long since concluded. The other hand holds onto yours, having never given up your warmth for even a moment. Even when he felt his ponytail loosen, he merely gritted his teeth and soldiered on.

As he watches your peaceful form, he can't help but sigh.

When you brought up the possibility of re-tampering with your memories, he'd been hesitant. You did not remember the times your heart could not forget Godheim, but he did. And from then on, he simply had no reason to mess around like that.

All this to say, he, Prefect Silver of the Thousand Empires, is afraid of messing up—not for the first time, in these past few months.

"Cael…?" A groan—and the faint squeeze of your hand—draws him out of his thoughts. You blink blearily, your free hand coming to rest on your forehead as well. "What…"

"That's right," he says, squeezing your hand back, "How are you feeling?"

"My head…" You complain. "Where exactly did I fall from?"

Almost immediately, you attempt to sit up. Cael presses down on your forehead gently, quietly reminding you to rest for a bit longer. You comply, without complaint, though a frown tugs faintly at your lips. In his heart, he harbors no doubt on whether you consider him fussy; still, he accepts your silence gratefully.

"Cael—" After a few minutes have passed, you call his name again. "—where are we? This doesn't look like my room. It doesn't seem like a hotel either."

And with that, his heart drops.

If you aren't pulling his leg, it means something definitely went wrong. The fact that you remember him at all is a good sign. That narrows the amount of explaining he'd need to do by a lot. There's also the simple fact that he's not sure he'd be able to keep a straight face if you forgot him.

"What's the last thing you remember doing?" he asks.

You frown, watching him as though he's the one who's lost his mind. "We were about to go to France for the summer. For Van Gogh, remember?"

"What year do you think it is?"

"2022…?" This time, you actually do sit up, your hand removing his own before he can make a move. It goes back to where it sat on your forehead, your grimace saying much about the state of you. "Did something happen? You look…pale."

Cael bites back a grimace.

"I'm fine," he says reassuringly. "I simply…wasn't expecting that answer."

Raising one eyebrow at him, you joke, "How hard did I hit my head? What is it, 2035?"

Somehow, it manages to pull a weak smile out of him.

YOU'RE STILL A GIGGLY MESS, by the time you let him go.

And if someone is to assume that phrase implies that his limbs are no longer bound, they would be incorrect. Though his hands are now free, you waste no time in throwing your legs over and in between his own. He thinks he should snap a photo of this moment, for the next time you complain that Beanie feels more like his cat than yours.

Like owner, like pet seems to ring true in this situation.

"You know—" The words come out with a gasp, a brief prelude of silence before you devolve into another fit of giggles. You're laying on your back, and the start of your next sentence is marked by the sound of your hand hitting the mattress. "—I think the first thing you should do is tell me that we're dating."

He quirks an eyebrow, well aware of your motives. And though you can't see his expression, he knows you've read him correctly when you shift your head onto his shoulder. Your hair is soft, and tonight, it smells the same as his own.

These days, he can understand your shy mood during hotel stays when the two of them would use the amenities offered, instead of bringing their own.

"After all, I used to write Mrs. Anselm on the margins of my notebooks."

Cael snorts, shifting his arm to accommodate the way your hands insist on wrapping around it. "And now you scribble it every else."

And he does mean that.

He's seen his last name traced on napkins at a restaurant and on the base panel of your laptop. On the fabric of your tights underneath a table—and on the smooth pages of your textbook during class. Your phone case is not immune to the treatment either, and by now, half the student body must be convinced you're in a tragic love that will never be reciprocated.

"Well, it's not like we can let anyone know!"

The vision of you, with your lips pulled into an angry pout and your cheeks puffed, comes to him easily. It becomes the catalyst for his laughter, soft and gentle—enough to disarm you completely. Yet, by then, you've already pinched the inside of his arm.

You rub at the spot gently, as though a pinch from you has ever left him wounded.

"In a few years," Cael promises.

CONTRARY TO YOUR WISHES, CAEL does not start with the part about their relationship.

Understandably, you have questions, and many of them center around your college of choice. From the day you learned of his workplace, St. Shelter Academia became the school of your dreams—you were hardly subtle about it, and perhaps you never intended to be.

For the you facing him now, the thought of them going their separate ways may as well have be a nightmare. One carefully concocted to attack your worst fears, head on. So, Cael softens his tongue the best he can, hovering somewhere between the man he is now and the man he once used to be, and you look at him as if he hung the stars and the moon.

And in the middle of his detailed explanations, which he suspects you've half-tuned out, you notice something tucked away in your desk drawer.

You've been fluttering around the room in a daze for a while now, thoroughly enraptured by the design sense of your future self. It was only going to be a matter of time before the topic began shifting towards Godheim—and all that entails.

"What is this?" you ask, flipping through the pages of volume three of your manga. The curiosity in your eyes dims the more you make sense of its pages, until you look upon your creation with dread. "Is this…my manga? Why is the heroine with the emperor?"

Cael is sitting on the edge of your bed, his legs crossed neatly at the ankles. He lets you run through your thoughts out loud. Some of them are borderline conspiracy theories, and others make his smile falter, though not enough for you to be able to see his grimace.

His favorite one, in a dark humor sort of way, is mind control.

You—the one from 2025—would find it quite funny.

"No to all of those," he cuts you off.

You've been pacing around the room, with your hands in your dark hair. They form little pigtails, the kind you always complain you can never get right. He worries for your hair. For you, and the headache you'll have later.

"Quite a bit has happened in between," Cael says calmly, as the memories of that time flood his mind. What he remembers most is that meteor shower, the moment when the cracks seemed to begin repairing themselves. "There was a period of time when you and I did not speak to each other."

You bite your lip.

"But we're fine now." There is no question in your words. Only a statement, spoken in a distressed tone. And the answer you seek is a resounding yes. "Or you wouldn't be here."

As if sensing his owner's emotions from downstairs—or perhaps Beanie is simply tired of being excluding—a meow sounds from outside the door. A question, and the sound of his paws scratching at the door.

Let me in, a voice that sounds remarkably like your rendition of the cat's human voice yowls in his ear.

"Is that…a cat?" you ask. Your earlier worries seem to have disappeared, replaced with pure, unadulterated excitement at having a furball of your own. "Do I get a cat?"

With an exasperated sigh, he opens the door for Beanie.

The spoiled cat walks in, rubbing his chubby cheeks against Cael's leg. To him, the scene feels not unlike the first time you met Beanie. You crouch down beside the cat, eyes sparkling in delight. This time, Beanie does not spurn you.

Instead, he merely looks at you curiously, as if he can sense that you aren't quite the same human who feeds him every day.

"Hi kitty," you whisper, your hand hovering in the air, above his fur.

"This is Beanie." As he introduces to you the second love of your life, Cael mimics your sitting position and smooths over Beanie's fur. "He's yours."

FOR A FEW MINUTES, THERE is silence.

Then, the discussion begins once more. The subject, this time, is Beanie. A long-running joke in their relationship is that Cael happens to be the favorite parent—and you are simply someone who feeds Beanie every so often, with startling regularity.

Every time you bring it up, he becomes more and more convinced that it's perhaps rooted in an actual insecurity. Like now.

"Do you think Beanie will still like me?" you ask, a yawn interrupting you halfway.

Cael suppresses his instinct to mother you in favor of answering your question. Telling you to go to sleep has never actually worked—he's not so much of an idiot that he can't figure out why you're always tired in the morning, even when he's not staying over.

"I don't see why not," he says sincerely, remembering how despondent the little guy was when you were in the infirmary for three days—all thanks to Cael's most obnoxious colleague. "He adores you."

"Mhm, I know." Your voice is soft. He thinks you might be thinking of the same thing, or the other times you returned from your long journeys. "I won't make him worry."

The silence that follows tricks Cael into thinking this is the end, once again.

But you still have more to say, and he wonders how much of your own worries have yet to be revealed. You must've worried about how to break the news to Beanie—that perhaps Cael wouldn't be in his life in the same way as before.

"I won't make you worry either," you promise.

His gaze softens. "I know."

WHEN YOU REPEAT HIS WORDS back at him, it becomes easy to see why you're skeptical of the truths he's revealed to you. The first time around, when he informed you of your mother, you had already witnessed the depths of his cruelty and learned of his mission. Your travels through Godheim—through its past and its future—also lent him much credibility.

Right now, Godheim is simply the nameless otherworld of your manga. And its trio of protagonists—the maiden, the emperor, and the knight—exist only in its pages, as a mimicry of the love triangle that actually existed.

Or, from the perspective of someone stuck in 2022, the love triangle that will one day exist.

"So, you're actually an alien," you repeat slowly, as though it may make him reconsider his words. It's the same tone he used on you when you mixed up the laundry detergent with dish soap. "I'm also an alien, but only half. And I tried to stop you from destroying the world?"

Unfortunately, as he happens to be very correct, it does nothing to hinder him. Rather, he feels a childish part of him that once went dormant with the fall of White City quietly urge him to be, in your words, a smartass.

"A world," he corrects.

You shoot him a withering glare before proceeding to match—and perhaps exceed—his energy. "Right. A world. The world of my manga, which I wrote."

Cael nods thoughtfully, ignoring the way your glare transforms into the most incredulous of expressions. "That sounds right."

"I'm starting to wonder if you're the one who hit your head."

"LET'S SAY THIS DOES HAPPEN, and you do lose your memories," Cael says, pressing his lips into a thin line. "Would you believe me if I told you about what transpired in Godheim?"

You've wrapped yourself around half of him like an octopus, in such a way that the only comfortable place to put his other arm is over you. The digital alarm clock to his right reads 1:00 AM, but the only symptom that can be attributed to your sleepiness alone is your vaguely nonsensical declarations.

Like the one you shoot off in response to his question, one paired with a snort and, he imagines, a roll of your eyes.

"If I can land you as my boyfriend—" Taking a moment to nuzzle into his shoulder, you pause. "—aliens kind of seem…more realistic, don't they?"

Raising an eyebrow, he parrots your words back at you, in a tone that makes it plainly obvious what he thinks. "Aliens. More realistic?"

To the average human living on Earth, aliens are fantastical creatures of all shapes and sizes—some with, and some without, the intelligence they themselves possess. The most common are colored green, with a penchant for shapeshifting. And if not, then it means they usually do not possess a humanoid body.

Cael, as someone who might be considered an alien himself, would argue that you getting a boyfriend is a far more realistic option for a girl who knows nothing of travelers and prefects—and the empire they belong to.

"Trust me on this one," you say, your voice half-muffled. "It might come in handy one day."

He thinks of his own devastation in Godheim, when the timeline would renew, leaving only the memories of a past that no longer existed in his mind alone. That must be the closest to what you felt when the Cael of your own creation could not recognize you. If he never witnesses such a thing again, it might still be soon.

"I hope not," he mutters.

You laugh. "Me too."

There's a joke at his expense waiting to be made. And you're hardly one to disappoint. Your voice pitches higher, taking on a distinct quality that can only be described as baby talk. You let go of his arm and lay your head down on your hand, propped up by your elbow.

"Can you imagine forgetting about the cutest—"

The positions flip.

As he pins you in place, you giggle, unaffected by the implied threat. It takes kissing you—on the lips, on the cheeks, on your eyelids, and anywhere else he can find—to get you to abandon your train of thought, but even so, his hard-won peace is only temporary.

The moment you pause to catch your breath, undoubtedly smiling up at him with a mischievous grin, is the moment it goes away.

"Sometimes, he even gets jealous of himself."

AFTER FORCEFULLY CHECKING FOR ANY bumps on his head and finding nothing at all, you observe him suspiciously. Beanie has already left by now, having realized that there's nothing of importance for him in the room. It's just the two of them, and whatever dialogue that must be going on in your mind right about now.

At some point, the two of them had swapped positions. You sit on the edge of the bed now, and Cael stands nearby, one hand in his pocket. Every so often, you remember to kick your legs in the air aimlessly.

In this way. an eternity seems to pass.

Cael waits for your verdict with all the eagerness of a man heading out to the battlefield, one wrong move away from losing a limb. He's taken back to the months when the two of them were only cordial, hardly as close as they once were—and definitely not as close as they are now.

Finally, you seem to reach a consensus with yourself.

"What else?" you ask, with a sigh. "I've never known you to pull my leg. Any other riveting stories you have for me?"

By his calculations, the next time that he can fix his mistakes will be a week from now. The cooldown has nothing to do with any energy exerted on his part, but rather, what your body is able to handle. In theory, the procedure itself should be a quick fix.

And, well, he did promise you he would tell you about your relationship status, if you ever happened to forget.

"You have a boyfriend," he says carefully, keeping a close eye on your expression.

"Oh," you say, sounding disappointed. He wonders about your reaction to his next words—if you'll perk up like a dying flower exposed to magic. "That's nice. I'm sure he's nice."

"It's me," he adds.

The current expression on your face speaks much about the state of your mind. You blink rather forcefully, and your tense smile seems to be permanently frozen onto your lips.

"…It's not nice to pull someone's leg like that, Cael," you chide him. "Aliens, I can believe—"

He quirks an eyebrow. "You can believe aliens?"

"But this is—" Sputtering, you begin to gesture wildly in the air. "Is this April Fools' day?"

Your words from before echo in his head. Aliens kind of seem…more realistic, don't they? To think you would be right about that—Cael watches the current you comb through your hair and wonders, not for the first time, about your priorities.

By now, you've started searching for your phone. It occurs to him that perhaps you weren't joking when you asked him that. But, by the time he opens his mouth, you've already learned that it's actually March right now.

"It is not," you mutter, sounding shocked. You don't even seem to have the strength to point any more. "You—we—we're dating."

"That's right," he says gently. "If you're curious, I—"

"Prove it." You cut him off, all of a sudden, your words carrying an intensity he doesn't often see. "If we're dating…then you've probably kissed me before, right?"

"HAVE I EVER TOLD YOU that you're a good kisser?"

"A few times," Cael says, sounding faintly amused. "What brought this on?"

You have your arms wrapped loosely around his neck. From where his hand rests just below your shoulder, he can feel your chest rise and fall. Every so often, a small exhale escapes your lips, when you remember that holding most of your breath in is bad for you.

You shrug. "I was just thinking, if lost my memories, I wouldn't know you were a good kisser."

He waits for you to continue your train of thought. But you offer him nothing more in regards to your stray thought—instead, you're oddly silent. Still, he knows better than to assume the discussion's end.

Burying his face in the nape of your neck, he waits.

"I think—" Your hands assume a more comfortable position on his back. "—that might be the first thing I check."

Cael raises an eyebrow. "And nothing else?"

It's said that a person's personality is often tied to their memories. So, upon losing their memories, it's entirely possible for them to act like a different person. Assuming the premise of the situation you've put forth involves you entirely forgetting him, he can't help but doubt the validity of your claim.

If you retain your memories of him, however—that may be a different story.

"You can be the responsible one." As you giggle, your hands curl into fists. And as you begin to count, you put down a finger for each number. "One kiss. Maybe two."

"I can't imagine that an amnesiac faced with a man claiming to be her boyfriend would be so quick to jump into my arms," he says dryly.

You hum one of the love songs that have been playing everywhere recently. It's your politest way of telling him that he may be correct, but he is also very wrong. On his back, your thumbs and index fingers form the shape of a heart, after a few clumsy attempts at drawing one instead.

"Why not?" you say finally. "As I recall, someone else we know seemed to really like me."

Cael can point out that it was his adult self, with his adult self's feelings, all he wants. The truth is, he isn't really sure if that's the case. It's evident that there's much he doesn't know about his life before the Empire—and then there's the complicated matter of you traveling back in time to meet him.

If the day comes where it turns out his younger self was somehow involved with you, Cael doesn't think he'd be surprised.

"I think I'd really like you too," you murmur. "If there's such a thing as soulmates, I'd like to think that's us."

LUNCHTIME SEES HIM IN THE kitchen, his hair still tied up and an apron tied at his waist.

Yesterday, you said you would want something unhealthy and easy to cook. Something greasy and fried, so thoroughly awful for your body that it would help you cope with what you'd lost. So, he bought a frozen pack of fried chicken and french fries—and he decided against getting buns, just to keep things simple.

He's in the middle of frying the first batch of chicken—having gotten himself out of the previous situation by half-jokingly instituting a one kiss per day limit—when you poke your head into the kitchen.

"So…boyfriend." You step out from behind the wall. "Can I help in the kitchen?"

The gleam in your eyes only promises disaster upon him. It's almost as if you never lost your memory at all. Muscle memory prompts you to tie your hands behind your back and lean forward, the very picture of innocence—in a few minutes, he suspects your arms will be wrapped around his waist.

Your definition of helping tends to be loose at times, but you've spent enough time in the kitchen that he feels comfortable assigning you to the chopping station.

It is then he remembers once more that this simple moment of domesticity is all too new to you.

There's a smile on your face, giddy and uncontrollable. Ordinarily, you'd feign a pout. Insist there are other ways you can help—ones that involve holding his hand, leaving you to grab whatever is he can't at the moment.

His lips thin into a straight line, a compromise to the frown that wants to come out instead.

You don't notice. You're already reaching for your designated apron. Once you've tied it around yourself, you flash him a bright grin, and he can hear your thoughts—the very same words you said the first time you wore it.

We match.

A week, he reminds himself.

Soon, lunch is fried. The unhealthy aroma of frozen fast food wafts through the first floor of your house, and he suspects the same is true for half of the second floor. He did make sure to close all the doors in the house so the rooms, he figures, should be fine.

And as he's setting up the table, you seat yourself in your chair and stare. More of that muscle memory, Cael thinks. He's used to being stared at—you've never hidden your thoughts on his beauty.

And yet, somehow, a simple compliment leaves him at a loss.

"Have I ever told you," you whisper, as he walks away to grab something, "that you look beautiful with your hair tied up?"

There's a lump in his throat. It stops him from offering you a snarky Often. So, he smiles faintly at you and hopes you don't notice what it's meant to hide.

EVEN WITH GREASY FAST FOOD in front of you, you can't seem to take your eyes off of him.

There's something almost reverent about the way you watch him. It takes him back to a time when you knew nothing—and believed wholeheartedly that Cael would always be there, no matter what.

Enough time has passed that the knowledge of how the next week will play out has begun to settle in. Part of it still feels like a dream, as though he might wake up and you'll chase the faint ache in his heart away with a steady stream of kisses.

When he vowed to be his most authentic self in front of you, you had already seen the worst he had to offer. The only place to climb, at that point, was to climb up.

In the present, Cael isn't sure how much of the world-destroying alien part of his explanation has stuck.

"Cael," you speak up suddenly, setting down a half-eaten piece of chicken down on your plate. "Are you really my boyfriend?"

Upon finishing up the piece in his own hand, he asks faintly, "Is it that hard to believe?"

You snort. "You've seen yourself in the mirror, right?"

At the end of the day, you are his girlfriend. It isn't so much of a surprise that the you in front of him and the you locked away in your memories are so painfully alike. Even down to the way your gaze changes, a hint of incredulousness swimming in your purple eyes.

He regrets not asking what he should do if you remember him—just not as your boyfriend. It should be fine to treat you normally, right? You've only lost your memories, and nothing else.

And in the event that he can't get your memories back, it might be a good idea to start getting used to this.

"You're beautiful," Cael offers, his longing evident in every syllable of his confession.

Scarlet blooms across your cheeks. Suddenly, you're a bit shy, tucking a strand of dark hair behind your ear. For a moment, normalcy seems to return to the household.

Coughing politely, you mumble, "I wasn't fishing for a compliment."

The thanks that follows your words comes out as a whisper, almost imperceptible, if not for the fact that he knows you so well. He feels himself relax a bit as he bite into a singular fry.

He's not giving you enough credit—you've already proven you're willing to love his flawed self. More than that, you seem to take an immense amount of glee in finding out that he is, in fact, not perfect. Even now.

And then, you open your mouth, and it's enough to startle him into forgetting what it is he was worried about.

"Does that mean I get an extra kiss?" you ask eagerly, your earlier shyness having vanished in only a moment.

Almost automatically, in a bland tone, he answers, "Ask me tomorrow."

"Okay!" you reply cheerfully, as if you didn't believe, for a moment, he'd say yes.

WHEN NIGHT FALLS UPON HARP island, and you begin to yawn, it becomes increasingly obvious that they must discuss living arrangements. And the opportunity comes when you rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.

For most of the day, he helps you familiarize yourself with your current friends and acquaintances—and lets you mourn the loss of your old ones. And then, there's the matter of your tstudies. You deliberately chose a weekend after your midterms, when your load would be the lightest.

But you need to know where your classes and what they're for, with only a day in between today and Monday.

Needless to say, you're incredibly spent.

If the expression on your face is not enough to sell it, the way you cling to him does.

Affection has always come easy to you. And when your walls are at their lowest, it comes pouring out of you, aimed at the nearest you hold any ounce of affection for. When Cael first properly entered your life, he deduced that allowing such a thing would increase your trust for him.

So, for you, his only boundary was meant to ward off any romantic pursuit.

It worked spectacularly—that is to say, not at all.

"Cael…" you mumble. "I'm sleepy. Can we stop?"

The clock reads 11 PM. Though you act differently, he's aware that this is perhaps the earliest you'll be sleeping in a while. Holding back a sigh, he turns off his laptop, then turns to you.

"You've had a long day," he says, finally, his tone gentle.

"Mhm, can you carry me up? And…" You yawn, cutting off his exasperated response. "Can you stay?"

Cael wonders what might be going through your mind right now. Without his deduction abilities, he feels oddly vulnerable—a notion he hasn't related to in months.

"Alright. It might be good for you to have someone familiar with you tonight," he says, painfully aware of how much he misses his own version of you. "I'll sleep on the couch. So, come get me if you need anything."

"No…" The noise you make vaguely resembles a whine. You wrap your arms around his neck, hands grasping at the fabric of his collar. "Stay. A little longer…"

He can only smile weakly. "Just for a little bit."

"Mhm…I'm not gonna—" A yawn cuts off your words. "Don't wanna wake up."

In the end, Cael must concede to you and your vice grip.

When he sets you on the bed, you cling to his shirt and refuse to let go. You've done this before a few times, mostly after you began dating him—and he, a Prefect of the Thousand Empires who could easily remove himself from your grasp, has never had the heart to escape.

In the week that follows, all his nights happen to follow a similar pattern.

HERE ARE THE FACTS: CAEL goes to sleep with one girlfriend and one cat. He wakes up with one of them laying on top of him. Given their distinctly human-shaped form, it is definitely not the cat. In addition, he locked Beanie out, in case it could be overwhelming to wake up to that.

Therefore, Cael's girlfriend is, for some reason, laying on top of him, their legs tangled together and her intense gaze boring holes into him.

"Good morning." You've stacked your hands on top of each other—and on top of him—which is the base upon which you rest your chin. "…boyfriend."

Bleary violet eyes blink up at the woman trapping their owner in place. Cael's arms, however, are the only part of him that can freely move. And move they do, of their own volition, gingerly wrapping around your waist as they do every morning.

"Good morning," he croaks out, vaguely aware of the troubles awaiting him for the next week. Liore will almost certainly know that something is wrong with you, as will the paragons. That, however, is for future him to worry about. "Go back to sleep."

You ignore him, and the very clear message his closed eyes send. Poking his cheek, you tell him, "Let's go on a date."

Cael cracks one eye open. "Right now?"

"I have to get used to things at St. Shelter, don't I?" Your eyes are sparkling. They're beautiful, like amethysts in the sun. You're beautiful. He wants to sleep. "You're the only one who can help."

He has to be responsible.

With a sigh, he opens his eyes. "I'll make breakfast. Give me a minute."

The world immediately goes dark. Cael is, of course, aware of the dangers of leaving you unattended when you're brimming with energy. Tiredly, he drops a kiss on your forehead and tightens his grasp on you.

Not another word escapes you for the next hour.

THE CUP OF COFFEE IN HIS hand is still warm, by the time the two of them find a bench to settle down on. To call the whole experience a date, in Cael's opinion, is pushing it—interrogation is, perhaps, the better word for it.

For example, on the way to the park, you asked him about how he slept in today.

In your memories, he wakes up as the sun rises, and he's at your house before you even wake up. You once told him that you sometimes pretended he stayed the night. That if you came down at 3 AM, you would find him snoozing on the couch.

You never did, because he never stayed.

In some ways, at that time, you were a nine-to-five and he wasn't keen on working overtime. And when it did become appealing, he justified his distance with the impending goodbye. Wendy would soon no longer need Peter Pan.

Another thing you seemed to be curious about was his suddenly snarky personality. He was still the same gentle Cael you remembered, but different. Even now, as Cael analyzes your words, it seems clear you didn't mean different in a bad way.

Just different.

"So, what else do we usually do on a date?" Although your coffee is already on the cooler side, you still blow air into the cup. "Lunch?"

"Sometimes," he says. "Maybe a movie that's playing right now."

You hum. He wonders if you're remembering the time you tried to scare him by taking him—or, more accurately, begging him to take you—to a horror movie. What happened instead was that Cael had to check the backyard for any serial killers and groggily comfort you at 4 AM via the phone after you woke up from a nightmare.

"That movie would never have scared you, huh?" you ask.

He grimaces, thinking of all the inaccuracies he could've pointed out back then. "I've seen much worse."

At this point, the only horror story he can't tolerate is the thought of losing you. Not through a break up, or even in this way, with you having lost your memories, but through death—something so permanent he would have to take over the Empire to bring you back.

He thinks you—the 2025 you—have caught on, especially after the fiasco that was Spirit World.

You bob your head up and down rather seriously.

Birds are beginning to gather near their bench, likely recognizing you from all the times you've fed them before. Before leaving the house, Cael made sure to grab some breadcrumbs for your bird friends, knowing how you tend to be. Even before coming to Harp Island, this was a habit of yours.

Having taken a sip of his coffee, he's about to start digging through his bag when you ask a different question. Predictably, one that he chokes at, already anticipating how you might tease him.

"Am I the only girlfriend you've ever had?"

BARRING A FEW INCIDENTS, MOST of the week goes by quietly.

The threat of being possibly exposed leaves you hesitant to leave the house more than strictly necessary. So, although Cael went through the specifics of an average week in your life, you make use of approximately a quarter of that information.

You pass half the time by going through your stuff. The other half is devoted to pestering him for dates, usually in remote places, where the chances of running into someone are nil.

You seem to really like Greece.

You tell him it'd be nice to have the time to hunt down a flight and sit tight for hours—and there's a wistful tone to your words when he allows himself to scrunch his nose. It makes you laugh too.

And, three days before the deadline, Cael is in his office, preparing a few things for his next lecture, when a familiar ring tone cuts through the silence. Right now, you should be on your way back from your last class of the day.

The contents of your call could be anything from being "kidnapped" by Lars to actually being in trouble to having no explicit purpose at all.

"Hello?" he answers, glancing distractedly at the email from his TA about a question from one of the students. "Is something—"

"You're Emerald?" a familiar voice half-shrieks in his ear. "The award-winning artist Emerald? My favorite artist ever, Emerald?"

As usual, he lets you run through your thoughts out loud. Your chatter serves as the backdrop to his prep work. He catches the words idol, boyfriend, and dream crop up a few times. It's only when you drop Liore's name that he pieces together what might've transpired.

The local art gallery is hosting an event where they'll be showing off some of his newer works, post-hiatus. It isn't for another month, but the tickets for it were given to him in advance—a fact that you mentioned to the older woman when she offered to buy you the tickets.

You did, of course, exclude the part about it being a date.

"It slipped my mind," he responds apologetically. "I'm sorry."

And it was, in fact, a genuine mistake on his part. Given that his identity as an artist rarely cropped up in his day to day life—unlike, say, the fact that he was a Traveler—he hadn't seen the need to bring it up.

You're silent for a few minutes.

"I'll forgive you," you finally respond. "But only if you give me another kiss."

"You know I made that up, right?" he asks, unable to contain his amusement. Cael pulls his phone away from his ear. "You don't have to barter for a kiss."

Your silence soon turns into sputtering.

That's the only response he gets out of you for the next five minutes.

SOON, THE PROMISED DAY COMES, bringing with it a light drizzle.

You settle down on the bed, eyes closed, with all the bravery of a soldier going to war. Your only request is a kiss—and whatever thoughts are swirling in your head, you don't say. And as for holding his hand, you don't ask; your fingers simply grasp his hand tightly, like they had week ago.

The next time you open your eyes, Cael gets a sense of deja vu.

"Cael…?" You blink blearily, your free hand coming to rest on your forehead—where, once again, his own hand sits. "What…"

Squeezing your other hand tightly, he asks, "How are you feeling?"

"My head…" You complain, attempting to sit up. Once more, he gently forces you back down. "Where exactly did I fall from?"

As you grumble about being able to sit up and that you're absolutely fine, Cael breathes a sigh of relief. At the very least, you still remember him. And given how freely you can complain about him, he suspects that you might've recovered all of your memories back.

"What year do you think it is?" he inquires carefully.

You look at him like he's an idiot. Cael doesn't budge on requiring an answer. Instead, he squeezes your hand encouragingly, the expression on his face quietly asking you to humor him. A long-suffering sigh escapes your lips—and that's when any doubts about your memories wither and die.

"It's 2025. We were—" As a realization dawns on you, the blandness in your tone transforms into disappointment. "It didn't work."

"What do you remember about the last week?"

The expression on your face implies much about your thoughts at the moment. You open your mouth, undoubtedly prepared to give him the wrong answer, and then you seem to realize something.

Eyeing him warily, you ask, "What happened last week?"

It's as good a confirmation as any that you don't remember losing a few years worth of your memories. Cael settles down on the edge of the bed and recalls how clingy you were in that time.

As it so happens, you often tend to be all bark and not bite—until you're so used to the action in question that it becomes instinct.

"Well…" he starts, a faintly amused smile on his face. "For starters, you really liked calling me your boyfriend—"

THE NIGHT BEFORE IT ALL ends, you ask him a question—one he suspects you've been holding onto for a while.

The two of you are lying in bed, separated by the eternal third wheel that is Beanie. And if ever there's a reason to stop sneaking him treats, it would be for this. But, for a destroyer of worlds, as you like to point out often, Cael is surprisingly soft-hearted.

One distraught mewl, and it's game over for him.

On the bright side, you no longer have the twin bed he prepared for you, back when you first moved into this house. After the first couple of sleepovers, it became evident you needed a bigger bed, especially if Beanie would keep crawling into bed halfway through the night.

So, you went out and bought yourself a bed—and when Cael came over the next time, the layout of your room had changed drastically.

Never let it be said that feeling shy about something has ever prevented you from doing said thing.

"Cael…" you whisper, and rustling sounds ensue. In your attempt to shift onto your side, he hears your elbow hit the backboard. "What if—what if my memories don't come back?"

His gaze is fixed onto a point in the never-ending darkness, where the ceiling should be. In the silence, he can clearly hear your soft exhales—small reminders that you seem to have forgotten how to breathe. He shifts onto his side, and sure enough, his hand finds yours, curled loosely into a face on top of your pillow.

"Then you'll still be my girlfriend," he says carefully, then pauses. "Just—with a few holes in her memory."

Cael has pondered that same question as well. Many times, in fact; whether over a cup of coffee or in the middle of a lecture, the reminder that you've lost your memories has a tendency to creep up on him.

How will they explain it to everyone, knowing that you haven't left Harp Island in quite a while?

What would be the easiest way to help you relearn the basics of your life, knowing that you nearly fell asleep the first time?

Going forward, will living together—as addicting as it is—be the new normal? Should he start looking for an apartment the two of you can share? How would they explain it if anyone asked?

And sometimes, a little voice creeps into his mind, and it asks, What if you change your mind?

But you haven't yet. In fact, Cael suspects those same thoughts have been running through your head as well, down to the little insecurities that he can't seem to shake.

"More than a few," you murmur softly, squeezing his hand.

He closes his eyes and squeezes your hand back. "Hopefully, not more than right now."

"I think you'll be fine," you say, your words succeeding a nervous giggle. "You have a very pretty face."

A sense of deja vu washes over him and, along with it, a familiar kind of sadness. He's reminded of your previous predictions—and of the way he has to remind you of them. For as long as their relationship grows, the number of inside jokes they accumulate will grow as well.

But the ones they already had might be lost.

He can't imagine his mocking impressions of his past self will land quite as well. This, in a nutshell, perhaps describes perfectly the answer to your next question.

"What's it like to have someone forget about you?"

"Strange," he says, condensing his rapid fire thoughts into only a single word.

It is neither a good thing nor a bad thing. Except it is a bad thing, because this whole fiasco occurred due to his mistake. But that's not your fault. If anything, the blame lies with him. But if he said that, you would deny until your face turned blue.

When you ask him to qualify his single-word statement, Cael naturally struggles to describe his feelings—in a way that won't make you feel bad.

Eventually, he settles on:

"You still remember who I am, don't you?"

In your voice, he can hear the slight downward curve to your lips and the way they flatten every so slightly into a straight line. And with a sigh, you flop onto your back loudly, sending a shockwave through the mattress. Your hand slips out of his grasp and makes room for its twin instead.

"I'll put that down as 'undecided'," you say, and sigh #2 soon follows.

But silence does not.

You call his name once more, still in that fretful and plaintive tone. "What if I get my memories back, but I don't remember this past week at all?"

"Then I'll tell you all about it," Cael answers easily.

For a moment, you ponder his words. If he could look into your eyes, as though the room was illuminated by the lamp in the corner of your room, what sort of emotions would he see?

"Okay. Don't let me forget about it, okay?" you tell him sternly. He's about to ask what that entails, in a teasing tone that's sure to have you reaching for a pillow, when you add, jokingly, "I can live without the embarrassing stuff."

He smiles and lets his silence do the talking.

You acquiesce to your fate rather easily, with a sigh. "Then, let this be the last time we have to deal with any memory shenanigans…"

"Indeed," Cael says, and hopes for it with all his heart.

— happy (very belated) birthday to the local caelmc art dealer, @nekonyaniii!

#fics by aya #lovebrush chronicles #lovebrush chronicles x reader #for all time #for all time x reader #cael anselm #cael anselm x reader #lovebrush cael #lovebrush cael x reader #lbc cael #lbc cael x reader #rambles from here on ->#i love amnesia arcs <3 #amnesia arcs my beloved <3 they always just hit so right #i did go back and forth about whether she should lose her memories or keep them or what #and in the end i figured this was a decent compromise #also in line with mc's fears which. what if i wrote mc's pov. a new fic #in two months when it's my birthday!#tune in then folks (maybe)

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yesimwriting · 1 year ago

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Hi! I'm so exited that you asked for request for tasm Peter Parker, the second I saw it all I could think of is him being like, assertive..does that make sense? I don't know he's just so sassy and lovely, and I believe whole heartedly that when it comes to people he cares about he can be very pushy with them.

So like I don't just like a scenario for you to build off of, like domestic assertiveness like making his s/o take breaks when they're over working themselves like gently but firmly "suggesting" they eat something or take a nap or go out side, get fresh air you know anything. This is just something for you to go off but I'd love anything you'd make. I hope you have a lovely day :)

a/n omg i hope i captured the vibe that you described bc it's just SO GOOD like so in character and cute,, he's just meant to be a bf

----

It's so much like clockwork that you don't even need to look up from your notebook to undo the latch of your fire escape. Which is a good thing, because the day has somehow managed to crawl by at a snail's pace and still slip through your fingers too quickly.

All of your homework has piled up through no fault of your own. At first, only two classes decided to share a deadline, but then another teacher assigned you an essay and another added a test on the math chapter you've understood the least. At first you thought you'd be able to push through and finish off most of your work today, giving you a decent amount of time to try to decode your calc. But now it's been hours and your eyelids are feeling heavy and you've just started a pre-test worksheet that you had forgotten about.

The now familiar groan of the fire escape being pulled open barely registers. Despite how hard you're trying to keep all your focus on the study guide, a warmth you've gotten much too used to roots itself in your stomach.

"Always unlocked." Peter's already pulled himself into your bedroom, the shift from the outside world to your room a transition he could complete with his eyes shut. "As Spider-Man, I should tell you not to for safety reasons, but it does make it easier when I'm tired."

Your eyes tear away from the page long enough to look at him. Peter's mask is already pulled up his face.

"I don't--you're tired?" You blink hard, trying to focus. "Was it..." The whole Spider-Man thing being so open is still relatively new to you. Peter's never made it feel like a particularly sore or easily triggering issue, but you know how much trust he's giving you by being this casual about it. And you're prone to worrying, to pushing and doting and wanting to wrap Peter in bubblewrap. "...Eventful?"

Peter frowns, leaning forward on the window sill. "That gets a reaction?"

You retrace your words, wondering if you've said something wrong or overly sappy. You can't find any mistakes. "What?"

He relaxes at the genuine confusion in your voice. He gives himself a second to really look at you, at the notebook on your lap. "Are you still doing homework?"

"Uh..." It's almost like the papers surrounding you are embarrassing. "Yeah, a lot of stuff's coming up." You let out a breath that doesn't exactly work as a laugh. "And I wanted to finish it early so I'd have time to ask Gwen to go over some calc stuff with me."

Peter stands slowly He's not used to this, to feeling unsure in your room or around you in general. Maybe you're trying to be passive aggressive. Did he forget something? Or stand you up or do something to upset you? He can't remember anything negative about any of your interactions, but that could just be his side of things. Maybe he's been taking advantage of you knowing his secret. It's easy to become less attentive when he can just fall back on blaming everything on Spider-Man.

"I know about calc." It feels small, almost shy.

"I know." You swallow, hoping to hide any insecurity in your voice. Peter's the most important person in your life and on days like this you don't feel like you deserve to even run in the same circles. All of the stuff you're struggling with comes naturally to him and on top of that he's a freaking superhero. Complaining about not getting math and school stress has to sound stupid and unimportant to someone who literally fights crime. "But I was going to see her tomorrow morning anyway, and it's just some basic stuff I want to make sure I get before the test on Friday."

You don't want his help. He tries not to take your reaction personally. Gwen's your friend just as much as he is and there a lot of reasons you could be waiting. Maybe you're frustrated and over trying to understand it today. Or maybe the way Gwen summarizes things makes more sense to you.

Peter stands, consciously telling himself to let it go. It's been awhile since the two of you have just gotten to peacefully co-exist. Okay, only awhile by your usual standards considering that he had hung out for awhile after school before his usual patrol. But that was mostly studying, and he misses you more than he can justify.

He picks up a notebook and a few papers scattered next to you, shuffling them neatly before sitting next to you.

"Peter."

"What?"

The amount of innocence pushed into the word forces you to look up. "I'm--" He's closer than you thought he'd be, staring at you with a partial pout. "I'm trying to do homework."

His hand shifts, pinky touching the side of your hand. "Take a break." Your head snaps up. "You've been doing it for way too long."

Your chin comes up a fraction of an inch. "Because I need to."

"You're going to burn yourself out." You want to listen, to at least pretend to be considering his opinion, but your tired and his tone is so contradicting. A touch of actual annoyance is in there, but it's undercut by an exasperated softness. Equal parts stress and a concern that'd better fit a parent correcting a child for their own good. It's too genuine and oddly nice. You smile. "I'm serious."

You recover quickly, forcing yourself to frown, "I know, but I'm seriously okay." You wish there was a way to physically prove it. "I just..." You wipe your eyes with the back of your palm, "I have to do this sometimes." Something about the way your voice softens tells him that you're not talking about just homework. "It's not always natural."

Peter turns too quickly, his knee bumping into yours. "Hey." He doesn't know where he's going with this. Doesn't know how to talk to you about these kinds of things without melting and fully exposing himself.

"You are so smart and-and good at so many things." The praise hits you straight in the chest, making warmth rush to your face. "But taking care of yourself isn't one of them."

You roll your eyes, finally finding it in yourself to look at him. "Which one of us messed up their hip two weeks ago and wouldn't go to the doctor?"

Peter sighs, "It was not messed up."

"It so was." You crane your neck to better glare at him. "You could barely walk."

He presses his lips together, fighting down a smile. "It was not that bad."

"I had to help you get to my bathroom." You keep your tone light, partially teasing, but it still doesn't feel that casual. That was the first time you had seen him that injured. It had turned your stomach so much you couldn't even overthink about how close the two of you were physically as you helped him.

That was almost your breaking point. You wanted to get him to a hospital. The two of you could have come up with some kind of story to justify the injuries that wouldn't have outed him as Spider-Man. But Peter practically begged you to let it go, to just patch him up like usual and let him crash in your room for the night. You wanted to push, but he had been so insistent and nice as he tried to comfort you. You caved. You always cave.

"I was--a little sore." The admission is reluctant. You tilt your head, eyebrows raising as if to say that you've made your point. "Not the same." He says it like that should take away from your feeling of victory, but it really doesn't. "I'm serious, you can't work yourself sick."

You let out a small sigh. If it was coming from anyone else, you'd be annoyed enough to tell them off. But this isn't anyone, it's Peter who's trying to mother hen you to death for no other reason than worry.

You reach for his arm, fingers gently squeezing just above his wrist. "I'm not sick." He turns his hand over. "It just--it's not always natural to me...and I have to make up the difference."

"Don't do that." Your pointer finger drags down the face of his palm. "You're too smart not to see it." Peter 's hand shifts into a fist, trapping your pointer finger. "And you're too smart to burn yourself out."

There's no way for you to get any response out, so you just stare at where your fingers tangle together. "I'm okay, I just need to keep my calc grade up."

He's close enough now that when he lets out a tired breath you can feel it against the side of your head. You can't remember moving closer. "And if you fall asleep in class or can't focus because you're exhausted."

"That doesn't--" You don't know what to say. That that doesn't count, that that kind of thing doesn't happen to you. You know that Peter's just trying to help, but you're not in the mood for reason and understanding. You just want to feel like you have it together the way everyone else seems to. "You get less sleep than me."

You push yourself further onto your bed, creating some needed space. The closer you are to Peter, the easier it is for you to melt. One inch too far and before you know it you're holding hands or his head is on your shoulder and your fingers are gently combing through his hair.

A part of it feels petulant and a little silly. He's your best friend, you don't know why you're starting a competition over whose worse at self care.

"Yeah," he admits easily, leaning back so that he can better look at you, "That's how I know it's hard." Peter shifts again, the movement has your notebook almost falling forward. "And I don't--" He sighs, eyes dropping down to the mess of papers between you. "I don't want that for you." The words are mumbled quietly, his attention focusing on organizing your notebooks and paper.

It's enough to get you to visibly soften. He's just looking out for you the way you want to look out for him. "I know, it's just--" You watch Peter tap his pile of your notes against his leg, straightening them out. "It all has to get done and I--I see everyone just getting it and doing all these other things and I'm barely holding on to the bare minimum."

Peter stops. "What?" He immediately sets down your notes in favor of reaching for your hand. "You can't--" He squeezes your fingers, more for his own sake than more. "Getting the grades you do isn't the bare minimum and you're--" Peter stops himself from gushing over how smart he thinks you are. "Is that why you don't want me to help you with calc?"

Spider-Man has made his life harder in a lot of ways, but he never thought it'd hurt his relationship with you. It's been a conscious choice. You're a priority.

Maybe he's been talking about it too much...coming off like he thinks he's that in important when in reality he just wants to impress you. Is that it? Have his attempts to seem cool and brave and like a guy worth your attention come off as ego?

"Is..." He isn't sure where to start. "Is this because of..." Peter can't bring himself to say it, so all he does is lift the hand still holding onto the mask.

"No," you blurt out a little too quickly, "I-I mean I don't think so, at least not fully." You sigh, embarrassed that this even needs to be a conversation. "It's that you're balancing that and your grades perfectly and Gwen's got her internship and one week of extra assignments is all it takes to throw me off. And it feels like I always need help with this stuff." You briefly squeeze your eyes shut, unsure how you even admitted that. "And now I'm officially terrible friend. I suck."

Peter pulls your intertwined hands forward, settling your fist on his knee. "No, you're not." You give him a look that says you don't buy a word of it. "You do so much, even if you don't see it." He drags his thumb across your knuckles. "You help me a lot."

You don't feel like you do. Peter's the one going out and taking the hits every night. The most you do is research certain local crimes and patch him up the best you can. That's nothing compared to everything he does for everyone. It's not a competition, but you definitely don't feel okay adding to his work load. "Peter--"

"I'm serious, do you think I could do everything I do without knowing that you're here?" Peter's expression blanks. Too much. Way too much. "And that--that you're ready to help clean me up and-and research all that--" He cuts himself off again. There is no good way to comfort you without accidentally admitting how much he cares. "Crime stuff."

Despite yourself, you smile, "Crime stuff?"

Instead of taking the bait and falling for your slight teasing, he holds onto his point. "You get what I mean." He lets go of his mask in order to squeeze your hand between both of his. "You're important and so smart, even if you're not always smart enough to see it."

Heat rushes to your face. "Okay." A reluctant retreat. Peter secretly indulges in his victory. "Help me with calc?"

"Okay," Peter agrees easily, "Tomorrow, though, because you need sleep."

You roll your eyes, "You are such a mom sometimes."

"You're the one that wants to get Spider-Man a jacket."

You let out a mock gasp. That suggestion had been a joke. Kind of. "First off, I was kidding." Eh. "And second, it gets cold in the winter and your suit's so thin."

Peter grins before taking his hands back. You frown a little at the loss of contact, but try to recover quickly. "Can I stay over?" He wraps his arms around himself, exaggerating the chill in the air by moving his hands up and down his arms. "Because it's so...cold?"

You fight down a laugh, reaching over for a pillow to hit him in the shoulder. Honestly, Peter's found some lame excuses to sleep over, but recently it's like he's not even trying. Which is perfectly okay with you--if he's tired, he's tired. And also, it's always kind of nice when Peter stays over. Nicer than it should be. "I should lock you out and let you freeze."

"Mhm," he hums, pushing himself to his feet, "Do I have any--"

You pick up your homework so that by the time he gets back from changing, Peter will have space to lay down. "Top drawer, I threw your sweatpants and some of your shirts in the laundry the other day, so they're good to go."

Peter lets himself smile once his back is into you. He can't remember ever giving the whole domestic thing much thought before he started crashing here kind of regularly. Your parents are rarely an issue, both of them have long commutes to work which means they're usually asleep by the time Peter can swing in and they leave for work in such a rush that if they do check on you before leaving, Peter only has to worry about hiding for a second, and his extra sense always warns him in time. They're a lot less likely to catch him bruised and injured than his aunt.

"You're perfect." The honestly of his words leaves his face hot. It's a good thing he's still not facing you.

You're still too busy organizing your school stuff for tomorrow morning to notice the way that sentimentality swells in his throat. "Mhm."

"I mean it," he pulls open the drawer, taking out what he needs to sleep, "You need to give yourself more credit or I'm going to do it for you."

Warmth begins to crawl up your chest. Why is your best friend the kindest, most understanding, overwhelmingly pretty person you've ever met? "That's the worst threat I've ever heard."

Peter shuts the drawer and turns towards your bedroom door. Your bathroom is just down a short hall, and as long as he's quiet, he won't get caught. "That's because it's not a threat."

You move to sit at the edge of your bed, "Oh, are you--" Asking if he needs any kind of patching up still feels awkward. You're not sure why...there's nothing even remotely feely about it even though it's overly touchy, even by your standards. "Did you get hurt at all, or--?"

"Oh," he shakes his head once, "No, I'm--" Peter knew you'd ask, you always do because he doesn't always love showing you the more tolerable bruises and cuts until you give him those soft, worried eyes. But he's actually fine tonight, which means that he didn't really have an excuse to stop by and sleepover. "I'm good tonight, just a little tired."

You nod, expression so casual Peter can't read much from it. Maybe you're so used to him crashing by now that you don't even need to think through the reasons. "Good. I like when you're safe."

Fondness tugs at Peter's chest. "I'm always safe."

You roll your eyes as he slips out the door. A few minutes later, Peter comes back. You're already laying in bed, beneath the covers, face only illuminated by your small, bedside lamp and cell phone screen.

"I know I said you need sleep..." You push yourself to sit up a little straighter. "But if you wanted to watch something for a little bit..."

He trails off, trying to push against the slight guilt of selfishness. Most nights when he stays over, Peter tries to time his arrival to give you two enough time to watch something on TV. The two of you usually fall asleep too quickly to care what's on, but it does make it easier to get close to you. If you guys watch TV first, he can find a window to hold your hand or pull an arm around your shoulder.

But you really do need sleep tonight.

"Yeah," you grin, "Sounds nice." You push yourself a little more to your side of the bed. "Just for a little." Both of you know that the TV will be on until whoever falls asleep first has drifted off. The one that's still awake will have to search the bed for a remote.

"Cool," Peter agrees, walking around your bed to turn the bedside lamp off, "Wanna watch the show from last time?"

You nod lazily before finding the remote. Peter gets into bed as you adjust the volume before opening the right streaming service. With a few clicks, your show is on. As the intro roles onto the screen, you drop your head onto Peter's shoulder.

"Hey," he whispers, knowing you're half asleep, "You can't let yourself get stressed out like that and not--" He trusts you so much, and he wants you to be able to feel the same way for him. "Not tell me about it, okay?" He finds your arm in the dark, fingers instinctually drawing patterns against the inside of your wrist. "Please?"

You try to sit up a little straighter, but all you actually do is just read your head more fully on him. "Okay." It's a fair request considering the way you bully him into admitting to every new cut and bruise, no matter how small. "I promise." He trails his nails down your arm, "I'd pinky promise, but I'm too tired."

Peter lets out a partial breath, amusement trying to disguise itself as annoyance. He moves his hand, taking his time to find your pinky. He bends his around yours. "Do you only keep me around to do things for you?"

Even though the joke is the complete opposite of everything he's just said, you still smile as you let out a mock gasp. "No, I keep you around 'cause you're pretty."

The teasing comment is worse than the kind of response you'd throw at him if you were more awake. He's suddenly glad he turned off your bedside lamp before laying down. "I'm pretty?"

A second passes and no response. Not even a hum of acknowledgement. Carefully, Peter leans forward and sees that your eyes are shut and your breathing has evened out.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter x reader #tasm! peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #tasm!spiderman x reader #spiderman fic #andrew garfield x reader

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