#and the shouting is js one thing

[platonicmoonwater00]

tw sort of(talking about a parent shouting)

this bitch js made history

for context i was in the bathroom(for like 3 minutes to brush my teeth and use the bathroom) and she started like banging on the door and yelling at me cos by brother js got home from work and needed the shower(again i took 3 minutes in total, i didnt even finish the song i was listening to and when she started banging on the door my mouth was literally full of toothpaste) so i was like im brushing my teeth. and she was like idc get out of the fucking bathroom. and then she like took me to my room later and was lecturing me about being considerate and that we have a second bathroom and i shouldve used that.

context: our second bathroom is outside and only has a toilet, not even a sink, it was 9:30pm, my brother wasnt even home yet and i needed to brush my teeth so obviously my first thought wasnt to hall my ass outside.

and i said that and she was like oh but your brother js got back from work so you shouldve done that or used the bathroom before and i was like i literally went into the bathroom bc i was like oh i should get ready for bed now so the bathrooms free for when my brother gets home(im so nice like that). anyways she yelled at me more and then js texted me this^ like ten minutes ago(unheard of. i dont think ive ever heard her say sorry).

[b3achysurfur]

ngl seeing ppl who hate me talk ab me is so funny . WHY ARE YALL HC ME AS ABLEIST WTF!!??

[hearts4hughes]

what abt a weirdo touching reader w/out her consent and rafe beating him up over it and reader js gets overwhelmed & hurt in the process of it but after it she just clings on to him cuz shes scared af!!🤭

more like this

you don’t notice him at first.

the crowd is thick. bodies pressed too close, sweat clinging to your skin, bass thumping so loud it rattles your ribs. lights strobe overhead, casting everything in blue, pink, and red like some warped dream. rafe had just slipped away, said he’d be back in five with water and something sweet. you’d nodded, barely listening, too high on the music and the moment.

you keep dancing.

your hair clings to your cheeks and your arms sway above your head. there’s a buzz beneath your skin, and you’re smiling, lost in it all, until—

a hand.

not rafe’s.

bigger, rougher, not careful.

it grabs your waist—low, too low—and pulls.

you freeze. your heart stutters.

you twist, shoving the hand away, blinking fast to make sense of the face in front of you. he’s older, grinning, not drunk but leering.

“relax,” he says, like it’s a joke. like you’re the crazy one. “you were begging for it, dancing like that, baby.”

your stomach twists. your mouth opens but your throat constricts. the pet names makes you nauseous. rafe never makes you feel that way.

“what the fuck did you just say?” the voice slices through the crowd like a whip. and there’s rafe, storming through the mass of people, water bottles dropped, eyes locked on the guy with a look that could burn a hole through steel. he grabs him by the shirt and yanks him back hard.

“you fucking touch her again,” rafe growls, voice low and venomous, “and i swear to god i’ll fucking ruin you.”

the guy tries to shove him off. but it’s over in a second. rafe lands a punch, then another. there’s shouting, hands trying to hold him back, but he doesn’t care.

you can’t breathe. your hands are shaking. your throat feels too tight. the lights spin and the music warps, everything sounding far away and wrong.

you flinch when someone grabs your arm, but it’s rafe. only rafe.

his knuckles are split, his chest rising too fast, but the second he sees you, everything in him softens. “hey. hey. it’s me. baby, i’m right here.”

you fall into him like instinct, and he catches you without hesitation, wrapping you up in his arms like it’s the only thing keeping him sane.

you press your face into his chest, fingers curled in his shirt, whole body trembling. you can still hear your heart pounding in your ears. you can feel the burn of that man’s hand on your skin, even though it’s gone.

“you’re okay,” rafe whispers, over and over. “you’re safe. i’ve got you.”

and you believe him.

taglist ~ @ren-ni @bungurus @kayperrysinging @cupids-diner @13hischiers @babygirlboeser @makiplan @ladyatwalmart @qversazex @favbrxnette @xoxosblogsblog @nothingtosee333her @soft-starr @f10werfae

[moonstruckme]

hi mae!! may i get a poly marauders x reader where reader just completely becomes quiet and stuff around negatively raised voices? like if two of the others (not necessarily reader) are arguing and suddenly theyre arguing in raised voices and reader has grown up in that kinda household so she js makes herself absolutely scarce in fear of one of them snapping at her or smth? sorry if this is very specific or if its not something ur comfortable with lol have a great day :)

Thank you for requesting <3

cw: implied trauma around shouting/aggression

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“You didn’t think to look for a sign?” 

“I didn’t see any sign.” 

“There was a sign less than ten feet away.” 

“Okay, I saw that one.” Sirius reaches up into your cupboard, shuffling things around until he gets to the sleeve of biscuits in the back. His attention is noticeably not on Remus. “I thought it was only for the spot it was posted in front of. They ought to make those things more clear.” 

“The rest of us always manage to interpret them fine.” There’s no bite you can find in Remus’ tone. He’s not standing stiffly, or crossing his arms. But deep in your chest, there’s a small coil of tension brought about by something in your boyfriend’s demeanor you can’t identify. It has you lingering at the edge of the room. You think Remus is more upset than he’s letting on. 

Sirius seems to sense this, too. “Oi, it’s nothing to get your knickers in a twist about. It’s being handled, isn’t it?” 

“It is being handled,” Remus says. He rubs his thumb into his temple. “I’m beginning to wonder how many times it’ll have to be handled before you learn how public parking works.” 

“I did think after three tickets we’d be done with it,” James jokes, oblivious to the rising tension. “Surely at some point the towing company must start giving us a discount.” 

Sirius pops a biscuit in his mouth. He folds his arms, speaking around it. “I’m taking care of it, alright? I’ll pay the ticket. I’ve already paid the towing company and gone to the lot to get the car back—which ate up a good chunk of my day, by the way, so I don’t really fancy coming home to be lectured about it.” 

“Sirius.” Remus sighs harshly, eyes closed as if this is all giving him a headache. “Do you really want me to feel bad for you about a mess you got yourself into?” 

“I just don’t see what’s left for you to be pissy about!” 

“Right, well, you’re not the one who’s going to have to go to court for it, are you? This is our fourth parking violation, and the car’s in my name. I’m going to have to use a sick day for it.” 

“Just let me go instead, then.” 

“That’s not how it works, Sirius.” 

You find yourself retreating from the room on silent feet, disappearing down the hall. 

“Would you stop saying my name like that? I can’t bloody well help what’s already happened. I’ve said I’m sorry, what else do you want me to do?”

“I’m not sure you have said that, actually.” 

“I’ve said I’ll go to court for you!” 

“Hold on,” James cuts in, “let’s just—” 

“Doesn’t sound quite like the same fucking thing, does it?” 

You shut the bedroom door with a soft click. It deadens the voices, though the sharp tones seem to pierce the wood. You push out a breath, forcing it around the tension in your chest. 

Everything is fine. Nothing truly bad is going to happen, not with these boys. You feel caught between pressing your ear to the door to hear every word and putting in your earbuds to drown it all out. 

It doesn’t take terribly long for the tones to soften into something safer. Not kind, exactly, but less jagged. James’ voice chimes in more often. You hear more sighs than scoffs. The feeling in your chest stays, primed. 

When Sirius comes to find you, you’re scrolling aimlessly on your laptop. 

“Hi,” he says, giving you a little smile as he slips in the door. 

You smile back. “Hi.” 

“It’s all clear out there, just so you know.” Sirius sits at the end of the bed, a gentleness in his features that makes you feel sheepish. “Safe to come back out if you want to.” 

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly. 

“We’re okay, baby.” 

“And you and Remus…” 

“He’s still a bit miffed with me,” he admits, “but we’re alright. I’m going to see if they’ll let me go to court for him since I was the one using the car.” 

You nod. The inside of your cheek finds its way between your molars. “I’m sorry you got a ticket,” you say. 

Sirius smiles, gray eyes soft with fondness. “Thanks, sweetness. It’s okay. It happens, you know?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Some could argue it might happen less if I was perhaps a bit more cautious.” 

Your lips quirk. “They could.” 

“But it’s all fine. Everything’s really alright, we’ve made up. Do you want to come have dinner?” 

“Oh.” You get up. “Yeah, sorry.” 

Sirius tsks. “What’re you sorry for?” 

“I didn’t mean to hide.” 

He hums, pulling you close to press his lips to the side of your head. “I don’t blame you,” he murmurs. 

James is stirring a pan of vegetables in the kitchen, his arm wound snug around Remus’ neck. They appear to be speaking quietly between kisses. When Sirius pulls out a chair for you at the table, James turns with a smile. 

“Hey, lovie.” His voice shines with affection. 

It’s not a scene you’ve always been used to after an argument. Smiles and a shared meal, all of you in the same room together without a sharp look exchanged. 

“Hi,” you say back, trying to smile in the same way. Your feet come up onto your seat, legs folding into a pretzel. 

Remus leans around James to see you better. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to drive you off.” 

“You didn’t drive me off,” you reply. You both know it’s a lie. Remus’ mouth slants sympathetically. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah,” you say, honestly. Sirius rubs your thigh like he’s going to make sure of it. “You?” 

Remus smiles softly. “I’m alright. Thanks, sweetheart.” 

“I think we should institute a new system.” The vegetables hiss as James pushes them around in the pan. “Whenever two of us are having a row, the other two get to vote on who’s right, and that’s the end of it.” 

“But,” you hesitate, “there’s four of us? What if it’s a split vote?” 

“Then that’ll be the least of our problems.” You can practically hear the eye roll Remus is holding back. “Taking sides would never work.” 

“Agreed,” says Sirius. “I vote that James doesn’t get to institute new systems.” 

“What?” James sulks. “You always take Remus’ side.” 

“Clearly not.” 

“Well, you always do when it’s against me!” 

“I’m going to leave again,” you joke, gratified when James instantly apologizes and Sirius puts his hands over your ears. 

“You heard her.” Remus smiles, dropping a light kiss to James’ hair. “No more bickering, you two. Honestly, I’ve no idea what possesses you. Can you believe them, dove?” 

“Nope,” you say, smiling. 

Sirius fixes you with a look. “I’m going to start bickering with you next if you’re not careful.” 

[sh4nksslvt]

Imagine Gear5!Luffy And normal luffy fighting over reader.......

wait! this is so smart! i like ur idea! dahaha

Double Trouble

When a freak accident splits Luffy into two, chaotic Gear 5 Luffy and sweet Normal Luffy — both versions hilariously compete for your heart, dragging the entire crew into the madness until everything returns to normal… mostly.

LUFFY X GN!READER | ONE SHOT

tags: fluff, sfw, love triangle(both are luffy lol)

a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe

word count: 1.1k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

It all started with a bang — literally.

One moment, you were helping Nami reorganize the treasure room. Next, the whole Thousand Sunny lurched with a loud BOOM, rattling the floorboards and sending gold coins scattering like fireworks.

"What now?" Nami groaned, hands on her hips.

You rushed topside with the others, weapons drawn or fists clenched — expecting an attack.

Instead, you got... two Luffys.

One perfectly normal, grinning Luffy. And one... not so normal.

The second Luffy floated lazily above the deck, hair glowing brilliant white, pupils swirling hypnotically, laughter bubbling from his lips like music.

"Y/N!!" both Luffys shouted at once when they saw you.

You took an instinctive step back.

"Nope," Zoro said immediately, reaching for his swords.

"Is it a mirror fruit?!" Usopp yelped.

"Did the Captain eat himself?!" Chopper wailed, clinging to Sanji's leg.

Robin tilted her head, studying the scene with polite interest. "Fascinating..."

Franky just laughed, "SUUUUPER confusing!"

"Focus!!" Jinbei barked, trying to corral the chaos.

But it was already too late. Both Luffys made a beeline for you, tripping over each other and crashing into your legs like toddlers desperate for attention.

Nami pressed two fingers to her temple. "I need a raise," she muttered.

You quickly learned that having two Luffys was both better and worse than you could imagine.

Better, because they were extra affectionate — offering you food, carrying your things, cheering whenever you smiled.

Worse, because they were in full competition mode.

Gear5!Luffy (as Chopper breathlessly called him) kept showing off — stretching his limbs into ridiculous cartoonish shapes, bouncing around like a rubber band on crack, pulling faces until you doubled over laughing.

"Look, Y/N!" he crowed one afternoon, turning his whole head into a massive heart, complete with a squeaky heartbeat sound.

Normal Luffy was no slouch either. He stuck to his strengths — stubbornness and sincerity.

"I don't need crazy powers," he told you solemnly, handing you a slightly squashed rice ball he'd made himself. "I'm already the best for Y/N!"

You bit into the rice ball, smiling despite yourself.

Meanwhile, the crew took sides — shamelessly.

"I bet the crazy one wins!" Franky announced loudly.

"No way," Sanji scoffed. "Y/N deserves normalcy."

"Technically," Robin mused, "both versions are Luffy."

"Yeah, but one’s glowing," Usopp said. "Glowing automatically makes you cooler."

Zoro snorted. "Idiots."

Brook just laughed. "Yohoho! Twice the Captain, twice the chaos!"

You wanted to protest — this isn’t a contest! — but then you’d look up and catch two sets of hopeful, sparkling eyes gazing at you, and the words would die on your tongue.

At first, it was cute.

They followed you everywhere — two shadows glued to your heels. They fought over who got to sit next to you at dinner, who got to carry your stuff during island stops, who could make you laugh harder.

Gear5!Luffy once turned the entire galley into a giant bouncy castle trying to impress you. Sanji screamed for three hours cleaning it up.

Normal Luffy responded by dragging you up the mast one night, pointing proudly at the sea of stars and whispering, "I wanted you to see somethin' only I can reach."

You sat there, high above the world, heart hammering against your ribs, wondering how you were supposed to choose between them.

But the tipping point came one evening.

The crew was gathered on deck — a rare, peaceful moment under a pink-streaked sky. Dinner plates were scattered everywhere, Brook strumming a soft tune on his violin.

You leaned against the railing, smiling at the sight.

Then — disaster.

Gear5!Luffy and Normal Luffy both lunged at you at once, trying to hand you a flower they'd picked from a nearby island.

Their arms tangled. They tripped. And with a yelp, they toppled overboard — dragging you with them.

The splash was enormous.

You resurfaced, spluttering and coughing, the two Luffys flailing beside you.

"Y/N!! Are you okay?!" they shrieked in perfect unison.

From the deck, Sanji was screaming bloody murder.

"YOU IDIOTS!! YOU COULD'VE DROWNED THEM!!"

Chopper was already tossing a lifesaver. Usopp was sobbing dramatically. Zoro just sighed, clearly contemplating letting you all drown to solve the problem.

Somehow, you all clambered back aboard, dripping wet and exhausted.

You sat there, shivering slightly, as the two Luffys crowded you again, guilt written all over their faces.

"I’m sorry," Normal Luffy whispered.

"Me too," Gear5!Luffy mumbled, his glow dimming.

You sighed heavily, wringing out your clothes. "You guys can’t keep fighting over me. You’re the same person, you know?"

They blinked at you.

"You both care about me. I care about you too. But... not if you hurt each other."

The deck fell silent.

Then, very slowly, the two Luffys turned — and smacked their foreheads together in a show of stubborn apology.

Thump.

You couldn't help it — you burst out laughing.

The tension shattered instantly. The crew joined in, cheering and clapping, Brook playing a jaunty tune.

"Looks like the Captain(s) learned their lesson," Robin said, smiling.

"Finally," Jinbei rumbled, folding his arms.

"Can we have just one Luffy now?" Nami pleaded.

You grinned, ruffling both Luffys' wet hair. "I'll take both for now."

They beamed at you — two idiots, one heart.

That night, you fell asleep curled between them on the deck, watching the stars wheel overhead.

For the first time in days, everything felt peaceful again.

You woke to soft snoring against your shoulder.

Blinking sleepily, you sat up — and found just one Luffy curled against you, straw hat sliding down to cover his eyes.

His hair was black again.

No swirling pupils. No crazy glow.

Just your Luffy.

You stared at him for a long moment, heart pounding in your chest.

The rest of the crew was stirring around the deck, yawning and stretching.

"Looks like whatever split him wore off overnight," Chopper said, checking Luffy’s vitals. "His heartbeat’s normal again."

"Amen," Sanji muttered, dragging a broom across the ruined galley.

Zoro shot you a sidelong look. "Guess you don’t have to choose anymore, huh?"

You smiled softly, brushing Luffy’s hair back from his forehead.

"No," you murmured, "I already chose."

Because whether he was wild or serious, glowing or not — he was still Luffy.

Yours.

Always.

And even if he didn’t remember everything that happened while split... The way he instinctively curled closer to you in his sleep said enough.

You leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

"Idiot," you whispered fondly. "I love you too."

The sun rose over the horizon, golden and bright, as the Thousand Sunny sailed on, carrying you, your crew, and the boy who had somehow, impossibly, stolen your heart twice over.

[kxsagi]

hellooo kxsagi!! idk but i think my tumblr is crashing out bcs none of my asks have been able to send so i have to send this anonymously as a test 💔

may i requestt rin with a kindergarten teacher gf?? and when he goes to visit her all the kids js surround hin and start asking questions and he doesn't know what to do 🙊 i personally think he would be cute like that ngl (god i love rin)

if u see this thank u sm and i love u 💗

“𝐬𝐢𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧”

a/n: hiii, omg i hate when tumblr crashes out too, sometimes people's asks disappear and then reappear later idk

this request is too cute as well, i love you so much!!! 😭🫶🏻

you told him you worked with kids, but rin definitely didn’t expect this. 

he walks into the brightly colored classroom, ducking slightly under a string of finger paintings hung from the ceiling. he’s wearing all black (as usual), has his headphones looped around his neck, and carries a distinctly unapproachable energy. but the second one child notices him, it's over. 

“WHOAAAAA.” 

“who’s THAT?” 

“he’s so TALL.” 

“is he your boyfriend???” 

rin stiffens. immediately. 

he thought maybe he’d sit at the back, wait for your class to end, maybe pass you your lunch and leave quietly. he was wrong. because suddenly, there’s a swarm of tiny humans around his knees, tugging on his pants and looking up with huge, sparkly eyes like he’s some kind of alien celebrity. 

“do you play soccer like miss [name] said?” 

“do you have a puppy?” 

“why are your eyelashes so long?” 

“do you know what a megalodon is?” 

“did you kiss her yet???” 

“uh,” rin blinks. “yes… no. i mean– i don’t know about the shark thing.” 

he looks over to you with the panic of a man who just stepped on a lego. you’re across the room by the cubbies, giggling into your hand as you watch him, this six-foot wall of cold silence now reduced to a bewildered babysitter surrounded by children. and gosh, he’s trying so hard not to show how overwhelmed he is, but one of the kids just poked his butt and another is wrapping their tiny hands around his leg. 

“he looks like a villain, but he’s not mean!” one of them announces. 

“he’s like batman,” another nods sagely. 

rin flinches when someone hands him a crayon drawing. it’s a purple blob with angry green eyes. 

“that’s you,” the kid says proudly. 

“... thanks,” rin mutters, taking it like it’s a trophy. 

you finally come to his rescue, crouching down next to the group and placing a gentle hand on one of the kids' heads. “okay, okay, give him some space! this is my boyfriend, rin. he’s a little shy, but he’s very nice.” 

rin’s ears turn pink. 

“is he your husband?” 

“do you love her?” 

“are you gonna get married and have a DOG?” 

he has never been interrogated this intensely in his entire life, including media press conferences. 

he leans in closer to you, mutters under his breath, “they’re relentless.” 

you laugh, slipping your hand into his and squeezing it. “they’re, like, five. and they like you.” 

“they attacked me.” 

“you’re their favorite now.” 

“... fuck.” 

“rin! language!” you whisper-shout, eyes wide. 

rin sighs, defeated, as a girl starts braiding his sleeve and another boy tries to climb him like a jungle gym. “i don’t know how you do this every day.” 

you smile, absolutely delighted. “with love. and snacks.” 

he looks at you, your soft laugh, your gentle voice talking to the kids, and how effortlessly you handle the chaos like it’s second nature, and yeah. he’s completely in love. 

“hey,” you say quietly, brushing his hair from his face, “thanks for visiting.” 

“yeah.” he exhales, still holding the crayon drawing like it’s sacred. “worth it.” 

a kid sneezes on his shoe. he doesn’t even flinch this time. 

he’s adjusting. slowly. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[cameronsbabydoll]

i have a question! when she was experiencing deep depression after birth, you mention that rage would go to deep lengths into helping her.. but what if she went too far and she like passed or smth(really dark ik im sorry 😔), how would he react to losing her (like js a scenario ik it won’t really happen)?

okay i’m not making her die for the sake of my mental health….. im sorry but i did make her get sick !!

you faint in the hallway.

tbat’s what the doctor tells him later. but all rafe knows is that one moment you're there, quiet and pale and holding the baby monitor to your chest like a lifeline—and the next, you’re on the floor, eyes fluttering, mouth barely forming his name.

he doesn’t even remember shouting. just the scramble. calling sarah. telling the kids to stay upstairs. blood roaring in his ears while he pressed a cold cloth to your forehead, his hands shaking as he tried to remember what to do.

you’re fine, the doctor says. exhaustion. malnourishment. dehydration.

words that shouldn’t ever apply to you.

“did she talk to you?” the doctor asks. “did she mention anything? mood, appetite, anxiety?”

and rafe just sits there, dumb. his jaw clenched, arms crossed, heart split between guilt and blind rage.

because no—you didn’t say a word. and he didn’t notice.

when he gets to your room, you’re half-awake, hooked up to an IV, hair messy, eyes dull. you look up at him, weak and already apologizing. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”

“stop,” he says, voice breaking as he sits down beside you. “don’t —don’t do that.”

he runs a hand over his face, then down your arm gently, like you’ll disappear if he touches too hard. “i didn’t see it. i should’ve seen it. i thought you were just tired.”

“i am tired,” you whisper.

“i know,” he murmurs. “i know, baby. i’m gonna fix it.”

and this time, he means it.

not just the soft promises and fruit bowls left on your nightstand. no. this is full-on restructuring the entire way your life looks. he’s calling in help, easing off work, booking appointments, even sleeping with the baby monitor on his side of the bed now.

because seeing you fall like that—seeing how far gone you’d really gotten behind the walls of your pretty smile—was like watching the whole house he built with you start to collapse.

and rafe cameron may be many things, but the man you married would rather burn down the world than let you fall apart again.

[bombiikki]

𝖆 𝖇lessing 𝖎n 𝖉isguise ⸝⸝ 𓂃₊ ⊹

⋆˙⟡ — non idol!hanni x spidergirl!reader

♯ 𝖘ynopsis : hanni didn’t understand why she began to care for you. maybe, it was because of the mask you wore as you risked your life for others. or maybe, she really had fallen for the cute loser that carried around her camera. but, she knew she loved you and couldn’t help but smile every time she saw her reflection in your soft gaze.

𝖈ontains : fluff, blood mentioned, wound cleaning, hanni worries a lot, lwk js a lil angst but its js cuz hanni cares, reader is NOT a peter variant, but a lot of spiderman characters exist bc i cant be bothered coming up with new names, hanni is the pepperspray warrior… theres a break up, character death BUT ITS NOT ONE OF THEM, not proofread

𝖜ord 𝖈ount : 20.5k

𝖆uthor's 𝖓ote : i changed it up a lil from the preview i posted like…. a motnh ago. no longer an enemies to lovers story cuz ik i wouldve dragged it longer than it is alreaedy and also i wtached andrew’s spiderman movies and it changed me. i barely consumed any spiderman content beforehand lowkey… IM A FAKE FAN IM SORRY (itsv and atsv r still my goats tho and im an og TRUST)

. ♬ ݁˖ 𝖓ow 𝖕laying — reflections by the neighbourhood

< to the spidergirl series masterlist

alright, let’s do this one last time.

you stood at the edge of a twenty-story building, toes curled against the ledge like they didn’t fear gravity. the wind tangled in your suit—cold, sharp, insistent. it clawed at your ribs and whispered through the mask stretched across your face. your fingers twitched, aching to move, to swing, to do something. your brain hadn’t shut up all day, but up here… things finally stilled.

you’d been bitten by a radioactive spider. no, really.

you got sick. nearly died. and when you didn’t, the world cracked open like an egg. suddenly, you were stronger. faster. you stuck to walls. your skin hummed with something just beneath it—something wild, something alive.

and for the past week, you’ve been the one and only spidergirl.

not that anyone called you that. the suit hugged your frame tight, shadows folding over what little curve you had left under the binder strapped to your chest. your voice was low. your silhouette sharper than soft. and to the outside world, that meant one thing: spiderman. same old story.

but it wasn’t. 

it never sat right in your gut, hearing them say it. and when you could, you corrected them. when some guy mid-crime blinked up at you, dazed and breathless, and muttered, “spiderman?”— you always dropped in close, face just inches from theirs, voice low and clear.

“girl. spidergirl. c’mon, man. it’s not that hard.”

they didn’t always listen. but you said it anyway. like the word itself stitched you back together.

you let out a breath through your mask. then stepped off the building like it meant nothing.

the fall only lasted a heartbeat before instinct kicked in. you shot a web toward the nearest billboard, the line catching with a satisfying thwip. you swung wide and fast through the city, the wind slicing past your ears. lights smeared into gold and red—your heart beat somewhere behind your teeth.

you dipped low over a row of rooftops. pigeons scattered in a panic. a guy on a balcony dropped his vape as you somersaulted over his head.

“hey—watch it!”

“don’t vape next time!” you called, mid-air, voice upside down.

then you heard it—sharp and jagged. a scream, somewhere east. not the startled kind. the help me kind.

your body moved before your thoughts caught up. one quick swing toward the sound, a launch off a fire escape, and you landed hard on a brick wall overlooking the scene.

below, two figures stumbled out of a corner store. one carried a crowbar while the other shoved crumpled bills into his jacket. the store clerk shouted after them, desperate and shaken. your hands were already moving. 

you dropped from above like a thrown knife.

your web snagged the crowbar mid-swing and yanked it out of the first guy’s grip. it clanged into a dumpster with a hollow crash. before he could react, your feet slammed into his chest. he hit the pavement with a grunt and you didn’t wait—you pinned him to a car with a web, arms and legs wrapped tight like a burrito of poor life decisions.

the second guy ran for it. you gave him a five-second head start.

then you launched after him, your feet skimming the pavement before you used a light pole to catapult forward. you landed right in front of him, crouched low, arms loose at your sides.

he skidded to a stop, shoes screeching on the sidewalk.

“hi,” you said. “wanna try that again?”

he swung. you ducked. he turned to run—again—and you let him, just until he passed under the next streetlamp. then: thwip.

web snapped tight around his ankle, dragging him face-first to the ground with a wheeze. 

you strolled up to him slowly with your hands on your hips, casually wrapping his arms and legs in webbing like it was a hobby. he wriggled, furious. you crouched beside him, head tilting.

“you know, stuffing money up your jacket just makes you look bloated,” you said. “duffel bags exist. might wanna invest.

he groaned something unintelligible, probably a curse. you patted his head like a dog. 

“language.”

sirens started wailing in the distance—close. you glanced back at your handiwork. two gift-wrapped criminals waiting for pickup. a job well done.

you didn’t stick around. you never did.

a few swings later, you were perched on the lip of another rooftop, higher this time, with the breeze in your face and the adrenaline still prickling your arms. you yanked your mask halfway up, letting the cold night air kiss the sweat on your skin. your breathing slowed, but your thoughts didn’t.

seven days.

you thought maybe it would feel easier by now—this double life thing. but it hadn’t. not really. you still flinched in hallways when someone brushed your arm. still turned your head too fast when someone laughed behind you. still waited for someone to say your name and mean it.

maybe they never would.

you stared down at the sidewalk below, and your breath caught in your throat.

there—walking beneath a flickering streetlamp, phone in one hand, jacket shrugged up against the breeze—was her.

hanni pham.

you knew her from school. everyone did. smart, soft-eyed, warm in a way that lit up rooms without trying. she laughed into her phone, head tilted, dark hair catching the light just so. she had no idea you were up here. had no idea what you’d just done. had no idea you watched her walk past every day and thought: maybe if i wasn’t like this…

but you were. and she didn’t know you.

you pulled your mask back down, quietly. you stood up as the sun began to set, then vanished into the wind once more.

school was the closest thing you had to a buffer.

not a safe space exactly, but a kind of… neutral zone. no explosions, no rooftop chases, just squeaky sneakers, gossip like background static, and a cafeteria that somehow always smelled like burnt pizza and wet cardboard. you blended in just enough to survive. not popular, not invisible—just inconvenient to ignore.

people knew you, kind of. not your name, not really. just camera girl. you’d hear it float down the hall now and then.

“hey, camera girl—yearbook shot?”

“yo, she’s in the AV club, right?”

“ask her, she’s got, like, fifty lenses or something.”

your old canon hung around your neck like a security blanket. clunky and secondhand, the strap fraying, the autofocus laggy. it wheezed when you zoomed too fast, like an old man catching his breath. you loved it anyway. at least it noticed you.

you weren’t much to look at—hoodie too big, jeans cuffed too short, glasses perpetually smudged. people didn’t really talk to you unless they needed a club photo or a new profile picture. but that was fine. you preferred to watch. easier that way.

you liked moments no one else cared about. sunlight catching in someone’s braces. the way people’s faces softened when they thought no one was watching. someone mouthing the words to a song in their headphones. you didn’t want attention. you wanted honesty. and your camera was the only way you knew how to ask for it.

when the lunch bell rang, you drifted outside like a ghost, hoodie pulled over your head, sleeves half-covering your hands. the courtyard buzzed with voices and laughter and the occasional poorly-timed tiktok dance attempt.

you scanned the scene automatically. light, color, movement. then your eyes landed on her.

hanni pham.

alone. again. she sat on a stone bench with her back straight, notebooks lined up like little soldiers. her pen moved in steady, decisive strokes, head tilted just enough to let the sun catch her earrings. she looked like she belonged in a painting. you didn’t even think. you just—click.

the shutter caught her mid-thought—brow furrowed, lashes casting long shadows across her cheeks, ink smudged on her hand. the picture wasn’t perfect. a little crooked, a little harsh on the lighting. but she looked real. soft in a way the rest of the world forgot how to be.

you stared at the preview screen for a second too long. then someone bumped your shoulder hard enough to jolt you back.

“watch it, loser,” someone muttered, already walking past.

typical.

you were about to slink off to your usual lunch spot—behind the vending machines near the gym, where no one cared if you ate with your knees pulled to your chest—but then shouting broke through the air, sharp and sudden. a fight. of course.

you winced, clutching your camera tighter, and followed the noise. not because you wanted to intervene. you just knew someone would ask for pictures later. probably the yearbook team. or that one teacher who treated drama like free content.

you pushed through the crowd slowly, apologising under your breath each time someone elbowed you. someone’s drink sloshed onto your shoe. great. finally, the circle opened up.

flash thompson. again.

he had some poor kid by the collar, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. he shoved the kid closer to a plate of soggy spaghetti, grinning like a cartoon villain.

you sighed.

“hey!” you called, louder than usual. “that’s not funny.”

flash looked up, a smirk already curling at his lips. “look who it is,” he sneered. “camera geek wants a front row seat.”

“take a picture, l/n!” flash barked. “make sure you get my good side.”

you didn’t lift your camera. instead, your eyes narrowed.

you folded your arms. “not here for pictures.”

“then scram.”

you winced. “just let him go.”

“or what? you gonna blind me with your flash?” he snorted. “get it? flash?”

he turned to the crowd like he expected applause. a few chuckles. mostly pity-laughs. you stepped forward anyway. your hands shook a little, but you were too annoyed to care.

“c’mon, eugene. drop the middle school bully act.”

his face darkened. “what did you say?”

“eugene. it’s your name. figured someone should say it like a person.”

his fist came fast. you ducked.

“seriously?” you said. “hitting a girl? real classy.”

“you don’t count,” he snapped.

he lunged again. this time you caught his arm. being spidergirl came with perks, but you had to fake the struggle. couldn’t look too capable. then, one hit landed. right to your face. your glasses cracked straight down the middle. they slid off your nose, hanging lopsided.

“dude,” you groaned. “do you know how expensive glasses are?”

flash snorted. “maybe ask your camera for a refund.”

“maybe stop punching me?”

another swing. you ducked. this time, you tapped his ribs—gentle, barely a warning. still made him stumble.

the fight wasn’t elegant. it was sloppy. more about pride than power. you kept it messy on purpose. couldn’t risk anyone asking too many questions.

finally— “enough!”

a teacher stormed in like an angry tornado. the crowd scattered. you and flash were both grabbed by the collar and dragged off.

you sat side by side in the nurse’s office, arms crossed, bruises blooming quietly. a cold pack squished against your cheek. your cracked glasses sat in your lap like broken wings.

“you’re lucky i didn’t try,” flash muttered.

you glanced at him. “you’re lucky i didn’t. couldn’t have the star football player have his ass handed to him by a girl.”

he glared. you offered a lopsided, smug little smile—the kind you usually saved for mirror practice. he looked away.

you leaned back in your chair, fingers tapping your camera gently. yeah. you were a nerd. a loser. just the weird photo girl.

but today? you were also the one who stood up. not bad for a nobody.

you returned to class with your pride cracked clean down the middle—like your glasses, which were now taped clumsily at the bridge with a strip of scotch tape from the nurse's drawer. your jaw ached, your ribs protested every step, and your backpack felt heavier than usual—like it, too, had taken a punch to the face.

you slid into your seat at the back corner of the classroom, your usual post. tucked far enough from the board that no one asked to copy your notes, but close enough that you could still squint your way through a lecture. not that it helped much today. the left lens of your glasses kept fogging from your breath. you looked like a science fair project someone gave up on halfway.

you let your arms fold over the desk and buried your forehead in them, exhaling slow. the pain in your jaw pulsed gently like a bad song on repeat. the teacher was already droning on—something about the war of 1812, or maybe the war of “i really don’t care.” your brain was a blur.

chairs scraped behind you. someone coughed. a pencil dropped. the world moved like static.

then—soft. feather-light.

“psst.”

you lifted your head, groggy.

hanni pham was turned around in her seat, just a few rows ahead. she tilted her head toward you, dark hair falling over one shoulder, her fingers playing with the zipper of her pencil pouch.

“you’ve got guts,” she whispered. “going toe to toe with flash like that.”

you blinked at her. her voice was low and warm, a secret passed in the space between heartbeats. her lashes fluttered slightly when she spoke, and you could swear there was something teasing behind her eyes. something almost impressed.

your throat tightened. you felt about as cool as a melted popsicle.

“he got me good,” you croaked. it came out two octaves higher than you meant.

her gaze flicked to your face and she winced, just a little. “yeah, no kidding. your eye looks like it’s trying to escape your skull.”

you huffed a laugh, half self-pity, half pride. “you should see him. i got in a solid hit to the ribs. he probably won’t be laughing without wheezing for a week.”

she raised her brows. “wow. humble and violent. a rare combo.”

“i contain multitudes,” you mumbled, then immediately regretted saying something so weird.

a pause. her grin widened.

“are you… bragging about beating up a guy?”

you shrugged, trying to play it off cool even though you were ninety percent sure your ear was bleeding from how hard your heart was pounding. “depends. is it working?”

hanni tilted her head. her earrings caught the light—tiny silver moons that danced when she moved. “working on what?”

your mouth opened. no words came out. your brain was a tv with bad reception. you tried again. “i… uh… like your hair.”

what.

hanni blinked.

you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

but then—she laughed. not a mean laugh. not the kind that people used when you tripped walking into class or spilled your lunch tray or wore mismatched socks (which you had, incidentally, done today). no, it was soft. genuine. like she wasn’t laughing at you. just… around you. close enough to warm you up.

“you’re funny, y/n.”

your name in her mouth sounded like a melody. you weren’t sure anyone had said it that nicely before. it made your stomach do something unpleasant and fluttery.

“you—you know my name?” you blurted.

she smiled, tilting her head. “do you not know it yourself? did flash give you a concussion or something?”

you snorted—actually snorted—and rubbed the back of your neck. “no, i know it. i just didn’t think you did.”

“why wouldn’t i?”

you didn’t have an answer for that. you were the weird kid with a camera and fraying shoelaces. the one who always ate lunch under the bleachers with a sandwich that smelled vaguely like regret. no one knew your name. you were just camera girl. tolerated, not remembered.

the teacher cleared her throat sharply. “pham. l/n. unless you’re the reincarnation of a certified historian, which i doubt very much, zip it.”

you sat bolt upright. hanni turned forward again, but not before pressing her fist to her mouth to stifle a giggle. you caught it—just barely—and had to bite your lip to keep from laughing too.

when the teacher’s attention turned elsewhere, you risked a glance at hanni again.

she was already looking back.

just a flick of her eyes over her shoulder, quick and quiet, but there. like a camera flash in the dark. and for a moment, time held its breath. nothing loud or dramatic—just her, and you, and the quiet hum of maybe.

you looked away first, heart hammering, ears hot.

your fingers reached down to your bag. your camera was tucked safely inside, and suddenly you wished you’d taken a picture. just one. something to hold the moment still. because the way she looked at you—that softness, that sparkle—you were pretty sure no one had ever looked at you like that before.

not even through your own lens.

it was another school day. another school day that moved like honey. sticky, slow, and sweet in that weird, annoying way. you were running late again—mostly because your backpack had eaten your chemistry notes and refused to give them back until you threatened to reorganise everything.

the science lab was tucked into the far corner of the school like a forgotten thought, but you liked it. it always smelled faintly of graphite and lemon cleaner, and the overhead lights flickered like they were winking at you. comforting. in a strange, broken-down kind of way.

you slipped in just before the bell rang, glasses slipping down your nose, cheeks a little flushed.

and there she was.

hanni.

she was already seated—already grinning.

"you made it," she said, chin propped up on her hand, black hair spilling over her shoulder like ink on a page.

you coughed. "barely."

"did you wrestle a bear on the way here or is your backpack just really angry at you again?"

you blinked. "how’d you know?"

"you mutter to yourself when you're digging through it. kind of like a mad scientist with stage fright."

you gave a weak laugh. “well, it bit me again. stole my notes.”

“poor y/n,” she said with faux sympathy. “defeated by canvas and zippers. truly tragic.”

you groaned and flopped into the seat next to her, tugging out a pen with too much force and accidentally flinging it halfway across the table. hanni giggled.

“you’re cute,” she said, just loud enough for your heart to short-circuit.

you choked on air. “i—what?”

“i said you’re cute,” she repeated with a teasing smile. “when you do awkward little things. it’s charming.”

your ears burned. “i’m not awkward.”

“sure,” she said. “and i’m not flirting.”

you stared at her. she winked.

the teacher cleared her throat and started passing out lab instructions. something about chemical reactions and balancing equations. normally, your brain would light up like a christmas tree. today, it just short-circuited again every time hanni tapped her pen against her lip or leaned a little too close to read your notes.

"so," she whispered as she scribbled something down, "which is cooler—plasma or antimatter?"

you blinked. "...are you trying to distract me or start a nerd fight?"

"why not both?"

you bit your lip, trying not to smile. “plasma.”

“wrong answer. antimatter is literally the coolest.”

“plasma’s literally in stars.”

“and antimatter could destroy the universe.”

“you’re a menace.”

“you’re adorable when you’re mad.”

you looked at her, stunned silent, pen frozen mid-equation. her grin widened, and your brain might as well have melted into a puddle of caffeine and regret.

the assignment blurred. your handwriting got messier. hanni kept leaning close, brushing shoulders, her perfume soft and citrusy—like sunlight and some kind of spell.

at one point, you knocked your water bottle off the table. she caught it with one hand, smooth as ever.

“thanks,” you mumbled.

“you owe me your life now,” she said solemnly.

“guess i’ll have to pay in lab notes.”

“nah. just sit next to me again tomorrow.”

you looked up, surprised. her expression was easy, light, like it wasn’t a big deal. like it didn’t make your pulse race just hearing it.

“…okay,” you said, way too softly.

she heard it anyway. and she smiled.

it was a moment so small, it could’ve slipped between seconds. but you held onto it like gravity. tightly, quietly. like maybe—just maybe—you were both orbiting something brighter than this classroom.

like maybe she saw something in you.

night poured over the city like ink, slick and heavy. neon signs flickered in and out of existence below you, colors bleeding into puddles on the sidewalk. the rooftop was cold beneath your boots, wind tugging gently at your suit, like the sky itself was trying to pull you away.

you sat crouched, masked and still, watching a man fiddle with the handle of a beat-up sedan down the block. he wasn’t subtle. too twitchy, too nervous. and he had something in his hand—some sort of gadget. probably stolen tech. you tilted your head, curious.

the lock clicked.

you moved.

he slipped into the driver’s seat with the grace of a raccoon in a dumpster. you let him get comfortable, let him think he was safe. the moment he leaned forward to start the car, you were already in the backseat, legs crossed, fingers laced in your lap like you were waiting for a late taxi.

“yo,” you said, voice smooth like silk, a lazy smirk in your tone. “cool gadget. did you forget your keys or something?”

he shrieked, jerking so violently he almost hit the roof of the car with his head. his wide eyes met your lenses through the rearview mirror. “spiderman?!”

you sighed, running a hand through your already messy hair. “really? spiderman? do i sound like a man to you? it’s spidergirl, buddy. get with the program.”

he scrambled for the door handle, but as soon as he pulled it—thwip—a web shot out and sealed it shut. he tried the other one. same result. thwip.

he paused, panicking.

you leaned forward, resting your elbows on the front seats. “window’s always an option. come on. think outside the box.”

he hesitated. then, with an annoyed grunt, started crawling out the window.

“yes! now you're thinking,” you said brightly, clapping once. “look at you, using your little brain.”

the moment he hit the pavement, he bolted.

it was a short chase. he wasn’t fast. too many donuts, probably. you trailed behind with the ease of a cat stretching after a nap. he didn’t even make it halfway across the car park before you overtook him. honestly, it was kind of pathetic. you almost felt bad. almost.

you dropped from the shadows and landed in front of him like you’d been summoned by embarrassment itself.

he skidded to a stop, panting, sweating, looking like someone’s out-of-shape uncle. then, he pulled out a knife—a small, pocket knife.

you blinked. then gasped—loud and horrified, clutching your chest like you’d been struck by lightning.

“oh no,” you cried, staggering back a step. “a small knife! my only weakness!”

his hand twitched.

you dropped to your knees, still clutching your chest. “i... i can’t... stop... the knife… it’s too powerful…”

you fell dramatically onto your side, legs curling in, one gloved hand reaching weakly toward him like a dying heroine in a soap opera.

he looked confused. like he was trying to figure out if you were mocking him (you were).

and then—thwip.

you shot a clean line of web straight to his wrist, yanking his arm back and slapping it flat against the nearest brick wall with a wet smack. he yelped.

“gotcha,” you said sweetly, chin in your hand now like you were watching your favorite saturday morning cartoon.

he cursed, spitting pure rage at you. but you were already up again, brushing imaginary dust from your hip and strolling over like this was a spa day.

you spun another web around his ankle and yanked it upward, flipping him off his feet. he hit the wall with a grunt, fully pinned now—limbs spread, dignity gone. he cursed, spitting rage. you danced backward, spinning a lazy web with your fingers, your laughter echoing down the street.

“you really thought this was a good idea?” you said, walking a slow semi-circle around him. “like… you couldn’t just—I don’t know—apply for a loan like a normal person?”

he tried to spit at you.

you webbed his mouth shut with one flick of your wrist.

“uh-uh. no rude words,” you tsked, wagging a finger. “you’re in timeout.”

then you hopped up on the hood of the closest car, crouching with a soft click of your heels.

“super serious crime,” you muttered, mock-inspecting your gloves. “honestly? golden felon award material.”

and all the while, he struggled against the webbing, growing more muffled and furious by the second. you just grinned under your mask, the thrill of it buzzing warm in your veins.

he wasn’t going anywhere.

and you were so keeping that award line for later.

then—sirens. your gut twisted.

you didn’t hate the cops. but they sure didn’t love you.

“damn,” you muttered, standing up just as headlights sliced through the alley.

squad cars screeched to a halt, tires screaming against asphalt. doors flung open. guns raised. fast, practiced.

“put your hands up!” one of them shouted.

you raised your hands slowly. “guns? for the one who tied up the bad guy? creative. real creative.”

“who are you?” barked another.

you tilted your head. “people just don’t seem to grasp the concept of the mask. it’s like—what do you think this is? a fashion statement?”

then you leapt, firing a web to the rooftop—only to feel a sharp crack bloom in your shoulder. heat. pain. white-hot.

“ah, shit—” you face-planted into a brick wall with a grunt, one hand gripping your bleeding arm.

you forced yourself up, wobbly but standing, voice shaky but loud. “hey, watch the goods! making this suit was not easy or cheap!”

they aimed again. you didn’t wait.

your other arm—non-dominant—snapped up, webbing you to safety. you swung through the air like a crooked comet, trailing blood and sarcasm. bullets kissed the air behind you, but none found you again.

you didn’t stop until your limbs trembled and the pain in your shoulder blurred the edges of your vision.

finally, a few blocks away, you dropped into an empty alley.

you landed hard.

the world tilted. you gritted your teeth.

“damn,” you breathed, crumpling to the ground, the echo of sirens long gone.

your suit clung tight, stained now with red. the night above was endless. and somewhere out there, the city still breathed, still called for you.

you leaned back against the wall, legs pulled in, head resting on your knees.

funny, you thought. this was the part no one ever saw.

the night was thick with the hush of a sleeping city. windows dim, sky bruised purple, and the occasional flicker of a neon sign blinking like a tired eye.

hanni walked with her hoodie half-zipped and a carton of eggs tucked in one arm, the plastic bag crinkling softly against her wrist. her mom wanted eggs, said something about breakfast and pancakes. but hanni, if she was being honest, just wanted to breathe under the stars for a bit.

dangerous? sure. but she had pepper spray and a healthy distrust of everyone. that had to count for something.

she turned a corner, sneakers brushing against uneven pavement, when she heard it—a loud bang. not like a firework or a car. it sounded like something... someone... falling. she froze.

then, because her survival instincts were garbage and she’d always been too curious for her own good, she stepped toward the alley.

it was dimly lit, just barely kissed by the yellow glow of a distant streetlamp. brick walls boxed the space in. and there—slumped near the edge like a discarded shadow—was someone in red and blue. spiderman?

hanni’s breath caught.

he was curled in on himself, a shaky arm pressed to his shoulder, blood darkening the suit around it. the mask still clung to his  face—but then, with a grunt, fingers tugged it off. curls tumbled out, messy and damp with sweat.

and under the mask— “y/n?!” hanni’s voice cracked into the silence.

you flinched, eyes widening like you hadn’t realised anyone was watching.

“what the hell—” hanni blinked fast. “you’re—no. no way. you’re spiderman? no, spider...girl?! no. that doesn’t even make sense. you're... you. and spidergirl is... not you.”

you squinted through the pain, hair sticking to your forehead. “i’m not—i mean—this isn’t—” you gestured vaguely to your bloodied suit. “costume party. yeah. i just... came from a really intense costume party.”

hanni narrowed her eyes. “you. went to a party.”

you swallowed. “...okay, rude.”

“no offense, but like. you? got invited to a party?”

you sighed, the sound shaky, like it was trying not to fall apart. “fine,” you muttered, pressing a palm to the wall to steady yourself. “i’m spidergirl.”

the silence that followed was thick and disbelieving. hanni took a few slow steps forward, eyes wide, lips parted like she couldn’t figure out whether to laugh or scream.

then her gaze dropped. “you’re bleeding—why are you bleeding—jesus—”

“the whole vigilante thing, it’s not as cool as it looks,” you joked, voice wobbling just a bit. “i mean, does this look cool?” you waved weakly at your shoulder. blood smeared your hand. your arm trembled. “very edgy. very tragic. i know.”

“y/n.”

you forced a grin. “yeah?”

“you’re actually insane.”

you shrugged with one shoulder—the only one that didn’t feel like it’d been stabbed. “thanks.”

she crouched beside you, worry furrowed deep into her brow. then she noticed the backpack at your side, half-zipped. “what’s in that?”

“spare clothes,” you said, like it was obvious. “i can’t go anywhere without this backpack.”

“wait—you carry that everywhere? even when you’re fighting crooks?”

“no. i usually stash it. rooftops. alleys. duct-taped to fire escapes. i always pick it up before heading home.”

“home,” hanni repeated, eyeing you.

you blinked. “...what?”

“do you have one?”

you hesitated. then looked away. “not really.”

she nodded like she already knew that answer. then stood, brushing her hands on her jeans.

“get changed.”

“...why?”

“because,” she said simply, “you’re coming back home with me.”

“what.”

“you heard me.”

“hanni, your dad’s the chief of police.”

“yes. that’s why we’re gonna be very sneaky.”

“your dad. the chief. of police.”

“i’m aware.”

you narrowed your eyes. “hanni.”

she crossed her arms. “y/n.”

the city shimmered behind you like a sleeping beast. neon signs blinked lazily through the mist, casting long reflections in the puddles at your feet. above, the apartment building stretched into the sky, a quiet monolith, its windows like sleepy eyes. you stood with one hand pressed to your side, blood damp and sticky beneath your hoodie, the heat of it sinking through the fabric. hanni stood beside you, clutching a carton of eggs like it was the last piece of normalcy she had left.

“so… how exactly are we doing this?” she asked, her voice low.

you tilted your head. “fire exit?”

“my apartment’s on the twenty-second floor,” she deadpanned.

you shrugged, then winced. “i’ve climbed worse.”

hanni stared at you like you’d just confessed to liking pineapple on pizza. “you’re bleeding out of your shoulder. and the apartment is on the twenty-second floor. you think you can climb that right now?”

“i think i can do a lot of things when i’m in pain. adrenaline is magic.”

she let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. “and what? i’m just supposed to wave at you from the window like a confused house cat while you scale the building like some goth tarzan?”

you grinned. “pretty much.”

you stared at each other for a moment, the night stretching long and dramatic between you.

“you’re not doing that,” she finally muttered. “you’ll pass out halfway and fall to your death.”

“woah, i didn’t know you could be dramatic. you should consider working in theatrics or something.”

“as if i could ever let go of science.”

“i hear some crazy nerd behavior,” you teased.

“did you make your own webbing?”

“yep. and my own webshooters. it was a bit difficult but i made it out of an old watch i found and—”

“and you’re calling me the nerd?” she scoffed. “don’t talk to me about being a nerd.”

you leaned against the cool brick wall and shrugged—then immediately winced. “let me climb up the wall. i’ll be fine.”

hanni stepped closer, her gaze searching. her fingers hovered near your arm, not quite touching. “what if you’re not?”

you didn’t answer. your eyes traced the fire escape winding up the side of the building like a metal spine, disappearing into the clouds.

she huffed. “fine. apartment 2207. try to find it from the outside if i’m not waving out the window when you get up there. if you make it up, climb in. don’t be stupid.”

“got it,” you murmured, and then you were gone—vanishing into the night like a shadow with a heartbeat.

she didn’t even have time to stop you.

the metal of the fire escape was cold beneath your fingers. your muscles screamed in protest, but you kept moving. one hand over the other, each step deliberate, your breath shallow and sharp in your chest. the city watched from below, uncaring. the wind whispered past your ears like it was warning you to turn back, but you didn’t listen.

you never did.

twenty-two floors blurred into one long, aching climb. you weren’t sure how long it took. your vision swam. everything smelled like rust and blood. the window was open, just like she promised. you slipped through it with the last of your strength and collapsed onto the carpet of her room, face-down, breathing like someone who’d just outrun death.

meanwhile, hanni pushed open the heavy front doors of the building, blinking as the cool lobby light washed over her. the marble floor was spotless, too clean for how late it was, and the soft hum of the heater filled the silence like a lullaby for the walls. 

mr. kim, the doorman, was half-asleep behind his desk, head bobbing gently like a buoy in calm water. she gave him a small wave, careful not to startle him.

the elevator chimed low as she stepped inside, the mirrored walls catching the curve of her face, the dark strands of hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail. she looked tired. or maybe it was just the lighting. or maybe it was the weight of everything she wasn’t ready to name yet.

by the time the doors slid open on the twelfth floor, the scent hit her before she even stepped out. garlic, onion, a hint of sesame oil—home, in every corner of her lungs. she padded quietly down the hall, the paper bag of eggs cradled in her arms like something fragile and secret.

the door to the apartment clicked open with a soft twist of the knob. warmth spilled out like light from a cracked jar. she didn’t say anything at first. just stood there for a second, letting it wrap around her like a blanket.

“hey, mum,” she said at last, voice soft. “i got the eggs.”

her mother looked up from the stove, hair pulled into a bun, glasses perched on her nose. the corners of her eyes crinkled with the kind of tired love that only comes from long days and longer nights.

“thank you, sweetie,” she said, smiling as she wiped her hands on a dish towel. “your dad’s still at the station.”

hanni nodded, setting the bag on the counter gently, like it might shatter.

“cool,” she murmured.

but her voice caught just a little. not enough to notice—unless you were listening closely

hanni slipped into her room with quiet urgency, the door clicking shut behind her like a held breath. the soft thud of her footsteps melted into the rug as she moved across the floor, the hum of the hallway fading into the hush of familiar walls. her heart still beat a little too fast—like it hadn't caught up to the safety of home just yet.

she turned, eyes scanning the dim corners of her room, where the pale glow of streetlight spilled in through the open window, slicing the dark into long, silver ribbons. and there, half-shadowed and crouched low by the windowsill, was a figure—still and waiting, like a ghost caught mid-step.

“hi there, spidey.”

you turned, hoodie half-draped over your injured arm. “hey, hanni.”

you both giggled, a little breathless, like the world outside couldn’t quite reach this small, quiet room.

“you’re such a freaking idiot,” she whispered, kneeling beside you.

you cracked one eye open. “but i made it.”

“barely.”

“my dad’s not home yet,” hanni said, “but we should still be quiet. take off your top.”

you gave her a cheeky look. “so you’re telling me to strip already? bold move.”

hanni blushed and threw a pillow at you. “strip the hoodie, dumbass. i need to check your wound.”

her hands were already working. she helped you sit up, fingers brushing your waist as she eased the hoodie off. you obediently helped pull it off with a hiss. 

“what type of wound is it anyway?” she asked.

you hesitated. “um… a bullet wound.”

hanni’s face dropped. “you got shot at?!”

“no, hanni. a cop just stabbed me with a bullet. of course i got shot at. that’s how you get a bullet wound.”

the bullet wound was angry and red, the skin around it dark and sticky. hanni’s breath hitched when she saw it.

“jesus, y/n…”

“hey,” you mumbled, your voice soft and woozy. “don’t look at me like that. it’s not like i got shot on purpose.”

she didn’t say anything. just pressed her lips together and opened the first aid kit from under her bed. the air between you buzzed with something sharp and quiet. 

“are you seriously wearing a binder under the suit?”

you rolled your eyes. “ok, god forbid a girl doesn’t want her tits flying around while fighting crime.”

“y/n, that’s dangerous,” she said, her voice dropping. “it’s really restrictive. especially with how much you move. it could damage your ribs.”

you looked away, quiet for a moment.

then hanni muttered under her breath, “no wonder people think you’re spiderman.”

you snorted. “well, i’m spidergirl. and a binder’s not gonna kill me.”

“yeah, but a bullet might.”

“nah, i’m invincible.”

“says the one with a bullet wound…”

“well—”

“oh shut up,” she said as she gently pressed a hand over your mouth.

you tried not to smile, but failed. she was cleaning the wound with one hand and pinning your nonsense with the other, her brow furrowed in pure concentration. and even though you were in pain, even though your ribs ached, you couldn’t stop the grin from stretching your face.

she felt it.

“why are you smiling?” she asked, confused.

you grinned, dazed. “you’re really pretty when you’re serious.”

“and you’re really annoying when you’re bleeding,” she muttered, dabbing gently around the edges.

you hissed. “ow.”

“sorry,” she said, even softer. her hands trembled a little. “i’m just… you scared me, okay?”

you blinked. “you were worried?”

“of course i was,” she said, exasperated, like it should’ve been obvious. “i find you bloody in an alleyway and then you tried to scale my apartment like a lunatic. what part of that wouldn’t make me worry?”

you chuckled under your breath. “admit it. you were impressed.”

“i was terrified,” she said. “and yeah. maybe a little impressed.”

her fingers lingered as she wrapped your shoulder. you watched her closely, the way her lashes brushed her cheeks, the way her jaw tightened when she focused. the room felt smaller now, quiet in a way that felt like holding your breath before a first kiss.

“just don’t push yourself too hard. i know you like pretending you’re invincible, but you’re still human. you get hurt. i care if you get hurt.”

that last part made something flutter inside you, deep and sudden. you looked away.

she left the room to wash her hands. “change into something else. i’m not letting you bleed all over my sheets. take anything from my closet.”

you slipped into one of her hoodies. it smelled like something warm and familiar—vanilla, fabric softener, and the faintest trace of her shampoo. when she returned, you were curled up on her bed, looking out the window like the night still had something left to offer.

she sat beside you, her legs tucked beneath her. the space between your shoulders hummed with electricity.

“i’m one lucky girl if i’ve got you worrying about me,”you murmured with a lazy smile.

hanni chuckled and sat beside you. “flirting and sleeping in my bed already? i should announce to the public that spidergirl’s got game”

“so,” you said. “me being spidergirl…”

“yeah?”

you turned to face her. “why did you help me?”

“because i like you,” hanni said casually, as if it were the easiest thing to say in the world.

“like, you like like me? or is it ‘cause i’m a vigilante?”

she met your eyes without flinching. “y/n. i like you. the dorky science nerd who tries to be funny and fails half the time but still makes me laugh. spidergirl’s cool but she’s not all that. but y/n—now she’s cute and definitely all that.”

you stared at her, stunned. a little dizzy. you stared.

“you know i’m spidergirl too, right?”

“i’m just saying,” she smiled, “i really like you, y/n. the whole spidergirl thing is just an added bonus.”

she leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against yours. “so… if you wanted to ask me out or whatever… you know. i wouldn’t say no.”

you swallowed hard. “noted.”

and in the quiet hum of her room, the city glowed faintly behind the window—your heart finally slowing in your chest.

hanni leaned against the brick wall of the little corner cafe, her hands tucked into her jacket pockets. the sky was the color of soft steel, clouds curled like smoke above the rooftops, and the glow of the setting sun painted the sidewalk gold. she glanced at her phone for the third time in five minutes, not really expecting a new message—just needing something to look at that wasn’t the empty space beside her.

in the distance, sirens wailed. sharp, high cries that echoed off glass windows and fire escapes. hanni turned her head, eyes narrowing.

and then—there you were.

a blur of red and navy slicing across the skyline, swinging between buildings with that effortless kind of recklessness only spidergirl could manage. trailing behind you, a small parade of flashing red-and-blue lights raced through the streets like angry toy cars. hanni sighed through a tired smile and shook her head, a soft, amused laugh slipping out as she muttered to herself, “…what the hell have i gotten myself into?”

still, she stayed where she was. she wasn’t really surprised anymore.

her fingers brushed the edge of her purse absentmindedly, eyes drifting up toward the clouds—until someone bumped into her hard, rough and sudden.

“hey—!”

but it wasn’t an accident. the guy grabbed her purse, tried to yank it clean from her shoulder and take off into the street like a coward in sneakers.

unfortunately for him, hanni wasn’t built to freeze. her hand gripped the strap tight, yanking it back so hard the guy stumbled. he turned with a grimace, about to swing at her, maybe thinking she’d flinch.

but she didn’t.

from the pocket of her jacket, she pulled out a small canister of pepper spray like she’d rehearsed it a hundred times in a mirror. no hesitation. one quick press.

pshhhhhhhht

“my eyes! fuck, you bitch!!” the man howled, stumbling back, clutching his face like she’d sprayed acid and not just store-bought justice. he staggered around blindly, voice rising to a pathetic pitch.

then—fwip.

a thread of silk zipped through the air and slapped across his mouth. another wrapped around his torso. he was yanked up and left dangling like a wriggling, miserable piñata from a lamppost. muffled curses fizzled through the webs as he kicked uselessly in the air.

you dropped down beside hanni like you’d been summoned by coolness alone. you brushed your palms off against your suit, then clapped once, sharply.

“welp,” you chirped, looking up at the human chandelier above you, “that was easy.”

youturned to hanni with a slight tilt of your head.

“good work, young lady i do not know. very impressive use of civilian weaponry. okay, bye now.”

and with that, you zipped off again into the clouds, cape-less but dramatic as hell.

hanni blinked, then laughed under her breath, soft and bright.

a minute later, someone jogged up the sidewalk, breathless and sweating slightly under her oversized hoodie.

“sorry i’m late,” you huffed, scratching your head sheepishly. “i couldn’t take the binder off.”

hanni gave you a flat look and smacked your non-dominant arm. “i told you not to wear that.”

“what else am i supposed to do with my tits? chop ‘em off?”

“girl,” she said, already exasperated, “just wear a sports bra.”

you paused. blinked. “…oh yeah.”

hanni paused for a second. she looked you up and down then tilted her head slightly.

“…you wore a hoodie,” she said slowly, brows raised. “to our date. at a restaurant.”

you scratched the back of your neck, suddenly very aware of your outfit. “i, uh… yeah. i didn’t know if we were going, like, fancy fancy…”

she stared for a beat longer, then let out a small sigh that dissolved into a chuckle.

“god,” she muttered, lips twitching. “let’s go eat.” 

hanni began to walk off slowly, her hands rested in the pockets of her jacket.

“wait!” you fired a quick web to her wrist and gently reeled her back toward you. she stumbled into your arms, eyes wide and faintly amused.

“i, um…” you stammered, pulling something from behind your back. “i got this… for you.”

a bouquet. a very broken one. some petals were smooshed, a few stems were bent, and one of the roses had given up entirely.

hanni looked at the disaster in your hands and beamed.

“they’re so nice!” she said.

“they were nice,” you muttered. “they were very nice.”

she touched the flowers gently, as if they were the most delicate thing in the world. “i love them. no matter how broken they are.”

you grinned, eyes soft. “…me too.”

and just like that, the tension melted. she laced her fingers through yours and tugged you along, across the street and toward the restaurant she’d picked out two weeks ago. it was warm and cozy with twinkle lights in the windows and everything smelled like fresh bread.

before you reached the door, you paused, held up your old camera.

“wait—just one,” you said.

hanni turned to you with the flowers in her arms, her smile catching the light like it belonged in a photo album.

click.

it was a good picture. the kind you’d look back on months later and still feel the warmth in your chest.

the city was quieter in the mornings. not completely still—never completely still—but soft in a way that made everything feel slower, gentler. the kind of quiet where you could hear the buzz of lights above your head in the hallway, the faint scuff of sneakers on linoleum, and the low hum of voices from classrooms still waiting to be filled. school hadn’t fully woken up yet. neither had hanni, really. but she was awake enough to notice the way her heart jumped when she spotted you standing by your locker.

you were there like always—hood up, eyes half-lidded, fiddling with the zipper of your bag like it owed you something. but when you looked up and saw her, something shifted. your whole face softened, just a bit. it wasn’t a smile, not exactly, but something adjacent. something only hanni seemed to recognise. and maybe that was the strangest part of all—that she could read you now. not fully. not yet. but enough.

she walked over without needing to think twice, her bag bouncing slightly against her hip.

“you’re here early,” she said, leaning casually against the locker beside yours.

“you’re here earlier,” you replied, voice low, words dragging like you’d only just climbed out of bed.

“i like the mornings,” she said, eyes flicking toward the window at the end of the hall, where sunlight was barely peeking through the clouds. “less people. less noise.”

you gave a quiet hum of agreement, zipping your bag closed, your fingers brushing hers as you reached for the same notebook on the side.

neither of you moved for a second.

hanni’s hand pulled back first, like she’d touched something hot. her laugh came out airy. “we’re getting good at this.”

“what, synchronised awkwardness?”

she looked up at you, surprised by the joke—soft and self-aware. and then she smiled, full and unbothered. “yeah. that.”

you both stood there like that, letting silence fill the space between sentences. but it wasn’t awkward. not like it used to be. it felt comfortable now, like an extra layer of air only the two of you existed in. you weren’t dating—not really. there hadn’t been a conversation, no confession, no kiss. just you showing up. just her waiting. just the steady warmth that lingered in her chest when you sat beside her in class, when your shoulders bumped, when she caught you looking and you didn’t look away.

hanni walked with you to class that day. something she usually didn’t do. it wasn’t intentional—it just happened. you both ended up in step, falling into rhythm like it had been rehearsed. your elbow brushed hers again and again, but neither of you pulled away this time.

“so,” she said, halfway down the hall. “that hoodie’s still holding up?”

“barely,” you said. “i think it’s older than i am.”

“you wore it on our date,” she teased, nudging you lightly.

“you said it was casual.”

“i said dinner.”

“...a casual dinner,” you muttered, eyes flicking toward the floor like maybe it’d swallow you whole and save you from her amused smile.

hanni let the laugh escape, soft and bright. “you’re lucky you’re cute.”

you didn’t reply. but your ears were red.

later, during chemistry, hanni found herself glancing at you more often than her textbook. your face was tucked into your arms, eyes following the words on the page like they were trying to escape you. her fingers tapped lightly against the edge of her notes, but her focus was elsewhere—on the little frown between your brows, the way your leg bounced when you were deep in thought, the way you sat a little straighter when you realised she was looking.

you turned your head just slightly. “what?”

“nothing,” she said too quickly, smiling at her paper. “you just look like you’re gonna set that textbook on fire with your mind.”

“i wish.”

by the time lunch rolled around, your seats were beside each other again. not across, not diagonal. beside. like it was natural. like it’d always been that way. and it was strange, maybe. how something so simple could feel like a quiet declaration.

she offered you half of her sandwich. you accepted without a word.

you gave her your last piece of chocolate. she took it without asking if you were sure.

and after school, when the bell rang and students spilled out like a flood, hanni didn’t rush. neither did you. you both lingered by the bike racks, talking about nothing. and in that nothing, something bloomed.

you spoke about a science article you read the night before. she listened like every word mattered. she spoke about a dream she’d had—something weird and nonsensical—and you laughed until your eyes crinkled.

and when the wind picked up, brushing her hair into her eyes, you reached out and tucked a strand behind her ear. it was so quick, so instinctive, that even you looked surprised.

hanni’s cheeks turned a soft pink. she didn’t say anything. just looked at you with something warm in her eyes.

“sorry,” you mumbled, hand already halfway back in your pocket.

“don’t be,” she said, brushing her hair down again. “i liked it.”

you smiled then, just barely. just enough.

and when you walked off in different directions that afternoon, it felt like something small had shifted again. a slow orbit. a steady pull.

no titles. no confessions. but something.

something that looked a little like love, even if neither of you were ready to call it that.

it had been a month since your bruised knock on hanni’s window—the night your shoulder had been punctured by gunfire and your grin had been crooked with pain. in that time, the city had grown tense, its breath shallow, every siren a jolt in someone’s chest. and on every screen, day and night, flickered the name that scared even the toughest hearts: the lizard.

they said he was an urban legend until you’d seen him tear through concrete with claws like razors. but worse than him was the army he summoned—dozens of smaller lizards, skittering through alleyways at dusk, slipping beneath storm drains like they knew some secret route into the city’s veins. you had seen them too many times to ignore.

so you prepared.

years of late-night reading had taught you how vibrations travel through metal and stone. you replicated the trick with your own science—webbing stretched taut across sewer tunnels, silk threads anchored between pipes and broken brick, all tied to a sensitive web of lines that would hum with the slightest disturbance. you crouched in the darkness, mask on, senses sharpened, waiting for that tremor beneath your fingers.

the stench of rot and diesel oil pressed in on you, the air thick and damp. every drip of water from overhead pipes echoed like a warning. your heart thrummed in your ears louder than any scream.

and then it began—a soft scuttle, dozens of feet pressing against the tunnel floor, claws clicking in unison. you held perfectly still, fingers grazing a web strand.

one. two. three.

the thread buzzed.

you drew a deep breath, testing your muscles for a moment of calm.

then the roar came—low and guttural, a sound you’d dreamed about since your first night on these walls.

out of the gloom he lunged.

the lizard was massive, a hulking nightmare stood too tall for this tunnel. emerald scales glistened under the flickering sodium lamps, claws hooked like broken promises. his jaw unhinged, revealing rows of jagged teeth, and his yellow eyes burned with something ancient and furious.

your first thought was shock—then reflex.

you kicked off the wall, launching a web that snapped across his snout. he roared, a sound that rattled the pipes overhead, and snapped at the silk.

you ducked, rolling across the damp floor, sending water splashing in every direction. your palms found a vertical pipe and you flipped upward, propelling yourself between two broken walls. you fired off another web to a loose support beam, swinging past him like a shadow.

“still trespassing in my domain, spider?” he spat, voice thick as swampwater.

you let your mask absorb his words. the tunnel walls closed in around you, the smell of mold creeping into your throat. you didn’t answer.

a spray of webs flew from your wrists—aimed at his wrists, ankles, tail—trying to slow his advance. for a moment, it looked like you might succeed: his limbs tangled in silk, claws clicking uselessly against the webbing.

but he only growled.

with a rage-fueled yank, he tore free, claws shredding silk like paper. he advanced, each step heavy, jarring the ground beneath you. you backed away, pain blooming in your shoulder where the skin had already been weakened by earlier skirmishes.

you knew you needed a distraction.

your hand dove into a pocket for a small canister of experimental taser fluid—another one of your homemade tricks. you sprayed a quick burst at the wall near him. the fluid hissed, sparks erupted, and the tunnel lit up in a sudden blue glare. the lizard recoiled, momentarily blinded by the electricity.

you seized the moment. two web lines, one to a valve wheel overhead, another to the floor drain. you yanked both, sending a jet of superheated steam roaring down the tunnel. the blast struck him square in the face, steam hissing across scales and drenching your mask in fog.

he roared again, shaking his head, steam rising like smoke around him. you scrambled away, breath ragged. your back throbbed—each heartbeat a burst of white-hot pain. the sludge at your feet fizzled under the steam.

you couldn’t win. you weren’t built to match his raw power. you turned around briefly, keeping your eyes off the lizard for barely a second.

then, you felt a white-hot sting ripple down your spine as the lizard’s claw ripped across your back, tearing flesh under its razor edge. you gasped, the air exploding from your lungs as warm blood seeped through your suit.

so you ran.

you ran up the crawlspace ladder you’d installed weeks ago, muscles screaming in protest. the metal bars scraped your gloves raw, and you could feel your ribs protesting every heave of your breath. half your vision swam red from the blood on your suit. but you climbed.

a final web shot to a grate overhead, you yanked it free and hauled yourself into the dank alley above. the night air hit your lungs like a promise—cold and real. you staggered away from the grate, boots sloshing in a puddle tinted crimson.

you paused, head hung low, chest heaving. the city lights glimmered on rain-slick pavement. distant sirens cut through the quiet.

with a final groan, you forced your legs to carry you toward the nearest fire escape. each step was a gamble—your body trembled, spine a wildfire of pain. but you mounted the ladder anyway, web line to railing, and climbed until the open window you knew so well came into view.

you knocked once—half your strength—hating that you were weak, but too spent to care.

inside, a faint click. curtains rustled. and then, at last, you saw her face. silhouetted against the lamp-light, bright with relief and worry and something you couldn’t name.

in that moment, pain and fear fell away. you were home.

your fists knocked against her bedroom window, weak but urgent. your knock was soft, but hanni heard it instantly. a light flicked on. the curtains pulled back. she blinked, startled, then her face broke into a crooked, sleepy smile—the kind only she could give, the kind that made everything ache in a good way.

she cracked the window open. “you know,” she whispered with a chuckle, “you could just come through the front door like a normal person.”

“could,” you said with a pained smile, pulling yourself through, “but this way’s more romantic.”

you barely landed on the floor before your legs wobbled. her hands steadied you, gentle and fast. 

“what happened?” she asked, eyes already narrowing, already serious. 

then, you turned around and she saw it. the claw mark down your back was deep. red. angry.

her expression dropped. “oh my god,” she muttered. “sit. stay. don’t move.” she was already grabbing the first aid kit, voice rising just a little. “i told you to be careful. you can’t keep doing this.”

“you’re scolding me again,” you said softly.

“someone has to.”

you sat on the edge of her bed, pulling the top half of your suit down to your waist, and there it was—your binder, shredded and blood-stained. she knelt behind you, her hands ghosting the edges of your binder. she paused. 

“you wore it again?” her voice was sharper now. “i told you not to.”

“i know,” you murmured, looking away. “i won’t anymore. kind of hard to wear something when it’s got a lizard-sized rip in it.”

hanni rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. instead, tried finding a way to clean the wound without making things worse.

“can’t clean you up with it on. can you take it off?” she asked quietly.

you winced. “it’s… not gonna come off easy. can you just cut it?”

her scissors hovered by the fabric.

“oh yeah,” you added casually, “i’m not wearing anything under, so, uh—stay behind me if you don’t wanna get flashed.”

a silence. then:

she let out an exasperated sigh, cheeks glowing pink. “i can tell. you’re not supposed to wear stuff under it anyway.”

you grinned. “just reminding you i’m about to be half-naked in your bedroom.”

“shut up,” she muttered, swatting the back of your head gently.

she was quiet as she snipped the binder away, careful not to jostle the wound too much. then came the sting—cold antiseptic over raw skin. you hissed. her hand paused. “sorry,” she whispered, “you know this is going to scar, right?”

“kinda hot, honestly.”

“you’re impossible.”

her hands steady. her eyes weren’t. they were flickering with thoughts she hadn’t said yet. until she finally spoke.

“this… this scares me,” she said softly. “i spent every day of my life wondering if my dad would come home. i mean, he's the chief of police so his life is always in constant danger. and now... now i’m doing the same thing with you. what if you get yourself in trouble? what if… you don’t come back home?”

you turned slightly, meeting her eyes.

“hanni…”

“i know what this means for you. and i know you’re trying to help people. but i’m always gonna be afraid. that one day you won’t come back. just like i used to be with him.”

the silence was thick for a moment. you felt hanni pause with her hands hovering over your open wound. then you reached for her hand.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said. “not if i can help it.”

her fingers squeezed yours. “you better not.”

the silence lingered for a moment longer, but it wasn’t as thick as it was before.

you felt hanni exhale before moving her hands again, continuing her work on your wound.

you clenched your teeth. her hands were steady. every dab of gauze was a whisper, every breath between you was thick with unsaid things. when she wrapped the bandage around your torso, she didn’t move from behind you—just circled it around your body, arm to arm, shoulder to rib, like she was holding you without actually doing it.

you closed your eyes.

“done,” she murmured. “i’m gonna wash my hands. take whatever from the closet again if you need.”

“thanks,” you whispered, and she was gone.

you stood slowly, wincing, and wandered to the closet with one hand on your ribs. you pulled the door open—and there it was.

a hoodie. black. stitched with red and blue, a familiar spider design curling up the chest.

a spidergirl hoodie.

you stared at it, blinking in disbelief. when hanni came back in, you were already wearing it, hands tucked into the sleeves, hood up.

“i didn’t know you were such a fan,” you teased, grinning. “where’d you get this merch?”

she froze in the doorway, lips parting in quiet embarrassment. “i made it,” she admitted. “had to hide it from my dad. you know. chief of police.”

your heart swelled. “it’s spidergirl approved,” you said.

“is it y/n approved?”

you blinked. “well… yeah. i mean, spidergirl approved.”

she stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “but does y/n approve of it?”

you gulped, heat rushing to your face as she stopped just in front of you, close enough that her breath stirred the air between you. you nodded quickly, voice small. “...it’s very y/n approved.”

she smiled. lingered. then flopped back onto her bed and grinned at the ceiling. “that’s good. ‘cause y/n’s just the most amazing person in my world, so her approval means everything to me.”

you blinked. “ok whatever…”

your cheeks were burning. your back still throbbed. but for the first time all night, you forgot the pain.

you forgot the lizard.

you forgot everything but her.

you smoothed the front of your button-up for what felt like the tenth time in the elevator. the fabric clung oddly against your skin—not quite uncomfortable, but definitely unfamiliar. dress pants. a pressed shirt. clean shoes. you felt like you were playing pretend in someone else’s closet. still, it was a fancy dinner, and hanni invited you. so of course, you said yes.

the doorman gave you a nod as you passed—a step up from sneaking in through the fire escape—and now you were patiently going up to the apartment. 

the elevator dinged at the twenty-second floor, and your heart thudded once, hard. the hallway was quiet. carpeted. sterile in the way all upscale apartments were. apartment 2207 stood just ahead, and you knocked with only a second’s hesitation.

the door opened to reveal a tall man in a dress shirt tucked perfectly into his slacks. sharp jaw, tired eyes — the kind of face that had seen far too much for one lifetime. chief pham.

“who are you?” he asked flatly.

you gave a small, nervous chuckle and scratched at the back of your neck. “uh... y/n. hanni invited me.”

his expression didn’t change for a moment. then, with a huff that might’ve been a chuckle or a sigh, he stepped aside. “ah, yes. the famous y/n. come in.”

you stepped inside quietly, trying not to gawk at the place — clean, modern, and warm in the way that told you hanni’s mum probably picked most of the furniture. voices floated in from the kitchen, the clink of plates, soft laughter. it felt like a real home.

“you're early,” came hanni’s voice as she peeked out from the dining room, blinking in surprise.

you offered a sheepish grin. “figured i’d make a good impression.”

her eyes were wide before a slow smile tugged at her lips. “you look…”

you tilted your head. “good?”

“yeah,” she said, cheeks slightly pink. “you look good.”

a smaller figure darted into the room, dark hair bouncing as she rushed past. jasmine, hanni’s younger sister—around thirteen, if you remembered right. she looked at you, then at hanni, then back again with a little smirk.

“so you’re y/n,” jasmine said, crossing her arms. “the one who’s always making hanni blush when she’s on her phone.”

“jasmine,” hanni hissed.

you laughed, rubbing the back of your neck. “guilty, i guess.”

hanni’s mother joined then, warm and smiling, as she set the table. the table was already half set, bowls and cutlery neatly placed.

“oh good, you’re here!” she beamed. “i’m so glad you could join us. hanni’s been talking about you for weeks.”

you glanced at hanni. she looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

they ushered you to sit, everyone gathered around the table. the dinner began soft—light conversation, clinking utensils, jasmine making little jokes that had her mum giggling and her dad sighing.

the meal was already laid out: braised beef, rice, sautéed greens, and bowls of steaming soup. you murmured your thanks as everyone sat and started to eat.

you knew it would be risky. stupid, even. but you couldn’t help it. you cleared your throat, gaze drifting to mr. pham. 

“so, mr. pham,” you started, stabbing a piece of beef with your chopsticks, “i’ve seen the news. how’s the manhunt for spidey going?”

he looked up from his food, stern eyes narrowing. “don’t call that vigilante ‘spidey’. and we’re getting closer. very close to uncovering his identity.”

you tilted your head, teasing. “well, maybe you should change the posters. it’s not ‘spiderman.’”

he frowned. “what?”

“spidergirl. spidey’s a girl,” you said simply, like correcting someone on the weather.

hanni dropped her chopsticks. “y/n,” she hissed under her breath.

his brow twitched. “spiderman, spidergirl—it doesn’t matter. what matters is that she operates outside the law. and what matters is that we’re very close to identifying who she is.”

your pulse skipped, but you just nodded slowly. “must be tricky. she’s pretty clever.”

hanni lightly kicked your shin beneath the table, her warning glance screaming shut up. you bit back a grin.

mr. pham narrowed his eyes. “clever? maybe. but, what this ‘spidey’ vigilante is doing is reckless. it is dangerous and delusional.” 

mrs. pham interjected quickly. “so, y/n,” she said, cheerfully oblivious or maybe just trying to diffuse the tension, “i hear you and our dear hanni have gotten quite close lately!”

you glanced over at hanni, who was suddenly very interested in her rice. jasmine, however, grinned wickedly.

“they’re always whispering and blushing,” jasmine said. “i think they’re in loooove.”

“jasmine!” hanni hissed.

“what?” she shrugged. “you are.”

you blinked, then smiled, glancing at hanni who was now red from the neck up. “yeah. she’s… really great to be around. i’m lucky to know her.”

mrs. pham looked overjoyed. “that’s so lovely to hear! she works herself to the bone with school and her internship. it’s nice knowing someone’s looking out for her.”

“mum,” hanni muttered, face buried in her hand.

jasmine didn’t miss a beat. “sooo, when’s the wedding?”

you choked on your water, and hanni let out a groan.

“jasmine!”

the rest of dinner passed with small laughs and a lot of teasing, the tension easing into something warm and familiar. hanni’s family was… kind. even mr. pham had softened by dessert, asking about your studies and nodding at your answers.

after the table was cleared and the dishes were washed, hanni nudged your arm. “come on. let’s go to the rooftop.”

you nodded, and together, you slipped out onto the rooftop.

the night air was crisp above the city. you stood at the edge of the rooftop together, side by side, the lights below twinkling like grounded stars.

“some dinner, huh?” you said, nudging her gently.

“you were causing trouble on purpose,” hanni accused, though she was smiling.

“ne? cause trouble? never,” you chuckled. 

you glanced at her, suddenly nervous. you looked at they way her hair slowly swayed in the night’s breeze, your heart catching. “but, uh… i have something to tell you.”

her brows lifted. “okay?”

“i mean, i want to tell you, but it’s—i don’t know. kind of a lot. and i don’t know if—” you paused, flustered.

she turned, already walking away. “if you won’t tell me, i’m leaving.”

“wait—”

you aimed and fired.

the web shot out, sticking to her wrist. hanni turned in surprise just as you tugged, gently pulling her toward you. her breath caught when she stopped barely inches from you — close enough that you could count the lashes framing her wide eyes.

“okay, okay,” you said, heart racing. “i like you, hanni. i love you. i’m—infatuated with you. when i’m with you, i feel like the best version of myself. like i’m finally allowed to just… be.”

hanni’s lips parted. then she tilted her head, a small smile blooming. “oh really?”

you swallowed, eyes not leaving hers. her reflection shimmered in your gaze — the world narrowing to just this moment.

“i think i love you too, y/n,” she said softly, smile growing. “you’re kind of hard not to love.”

your knees wobbled. you laughed, breathless. “you think?”

she winced. “okay, okay. sorry. terrible wording. i’m absolutely in love with you. no thinking. it’s definite.”

a quiet silence stretched between you. not awkward. just full. full of all the things you didn’t have to say out loud. your forehead brushed against hers, and time seemed to still. the wind blew gently across the rooftop, teasing the ends of her hair, but she didn’t flinch. her eyes searched yours—wide, dark, unreadable. you could barely hear anything over the pulse in your ears.

“can i kiss you?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. it came out shakier than you intended, breath warm against her lips.

she didn’t answer with words.

instead, she leaned in—slowly, almost cautiously, as if testing the waters. her nose nudged against yours, soft and tentative, and your breath caught in your throat. then, finally, her lips touched yours.

and it felt like falling into sunlight.

her kiss wasn’t rushed. it was gentle, careful, but full of something real—something that made your knees give just a little beneath you. she kissed like she’d wanted to for a long time but didn’t know if she was allowed. like this moment had been quietly growing between you both, inch by inch, heartbeat by heartbeat.

your hand moved to her waist, fingers curling gently into the fabric of her shirt, grounding yourself in the feel of her. her hands slid up around your neck, hesitant at first, then surer, like she was learning the shape of you all over again. her fingers found the back of your hair and stayed there, gripping just enough to make your heart stutter.

her mouth was soft—slightly sweet, like lychee or strawberry. every part of you was buzzing. the rooftop, the sky, the buildings below—they all faded. it was just her.

her lips moved against yours with quiet intent, slow and tender, as though she was memorising you. and you let her. you kissed her like she was the first breath after drowning. like she was something you’d been aching for without realising it.

when she finally pulled away, it was gradual, her forehead staying pressed against yours, both of you panting lightly. her hands were still tangled behind your neck, and your arms stayed around her like letting go wasn’t an option.

neither of you spoke at first. your eyes stayed closed, your smile stretched wide across your face, dazed and warm.

you opened your eyes to see her grinning, cheeks flushed pink. you blinked, still a little stunned, still catching your breath. “i… wow.”

she giggled. her laughter vibrated softly against your chest.

“yeah,” she said. “wow.”

you felt dizzy in the best way—like you’d just stepped off a rooftop and landed somewhere soft.

and all around you, the city kept moving, unaware that two people had just quietly fallen in love somewhere above it.

“could i have the honor of being your girlfriend?” you asked, dazed.

“okay, fancypants,” she grinned. “yes. we’re dating now. i’m yours.”

and then — the wail of sirens down below.

hanni tightened her grip on you. “don’t go.”

you close your eyes briefly, focusing on keeping hanni in your arms. 

“i have to,” you whispered.

“you didn’t even bring your backpack. how’re you gonna—”

you stepped back, slowly undoing the buttons of your shirt. her eyes widened.

beneath it, the red and blue suit clung to your skin. ready. waiting.

“i never leave home without it.”

hanni blinked. “you have a home?”

you groaned. “shut up, hanni.”

"you're not wearing the binder anymore," hanni murmured, her gaze slipping down, soft and curious.

"why are you looking at my chest, you perv," you gasped in fake outrage, throwing your hands over yourself like some scandalized movie star. hanni blinked, a little startled, a little judging too.

"but yeah," you added with a lopsided smile, "i’m not wearing it anymore. not after the lizard basically shredded the whole back."

she laughed, light and easy, and leaned in to press one last kiss against your cheek. it was quick, but it stayed.

"go save the city again, spidey," she whispered.

you pulled your mask down, heart still buzzing where her lips had been, and gave her a wink she couldn’t see.

"always," you breathed, before diving off the rooftop and into the waiting night.

you were perched high on the roof of some aging apartment building, letting the breeze cool the sweat on your brow. the city hummed softly beneath you, cars dragging their lights across the concrete like lazy fireflies. your suit clung damp to your skin. it was supposed to be a quiet evening. but quiet never stayed long in your city.

then it came—the sharp, guttural screech of twisting metal. and the silence shattered.

your head snapped toward the sound.

smoke was rising.

before you could even process it, your fingers were moving, web-shooters clicking into place. you tugged down on your mask then launched forward, slicing through the dusk with practiced grace. the closer you got, the louder the panic grew—the sirens, the honking, the chorus of terrified voices all blending into a single, chaotic scream.

and then you saw it.

a suspension bridge torn open in the middle. traffic crumpled like paper. flames licking up the hood of an overturned car. and there—massive, reptilian, and snarling—was the lizard.

his scales glistened like armor in the fading light. his tail carved arcs in the air, each swing flinging debris and smoke. he was bigger than before. meaner. wild in the eyes.

he wasn’t attacking anything specific—not yet. but people were scattering. screaming. running in every direction, except the right one.

and then you saw her.

hanni.

she was near the front of the bridge, halfway between safety and disaster, her backpack halfway off her shoulder like she’d been running before she froze. her face was lit with firelight, pale and terrified. too close.

your stomach dropped.

“no, no, no—” you whispered, shooting a web and flinging yourself forward. you zipped between cars, landing hard near her just as the lizard's head snapped in her direction.

you stepped in front of her, crouched low, your body tense like a coiled spring. the mask couldn’t hide the panic surging beneath your skin. your heart hammered like a war drum.

“get back,” you ordered her, voice sharp, trembling.

but she didn’t move. her mouth opened like she was going to say your name—your real one—but it didn’t come out.

and that’s when he charged.

the lizard came crashing forward, each step an earthquake. you leapt up just in time, webbing his jaw shut mid-roar. he thrashed, slamming his claws down where you’d just been. the pavement exploded beneath his weight. you twisted in midair, slinging another web around his wrist and yanking hard, but he was heavy—too heavy. he tore through it like it was nothing.

he lunged again. you ducked under his swing, slid across the bridge, and webbed his legs together. it slowed him for a second. long enough for you to spring toward him, deliver a hard punch to the side of his head. his scales cracked under your knuckles.

but he didn’t fall.

instead, he roared again and swung his tail—it hit you square across the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. you slammed into the side of a bus, cracked the window with your back.

pain seared up your spine, but you pushed yourself up.

you had to keep him away from her.

“you don’t have to do this!” you shouted. “leave her out of it!”

he paused for half a breath. and then—to your horror—his voice, twisted and warbled, came through.

“i need her.”

your eyes widened behind the lenses. “what?”

“she can help me.”

“she’s not part of this,” you growled.

but it wasn’t a threat. it was something else—a plea. you didn’t have time to process that, not now. because he came for her again.

you moved before you could think, firing a web to the side and using it to fling yourself between him and hanni once more. you spun midair, kicked him across the jaw. he staggered. you landed in front of hanni, breathing hard, adrenaline flooding your veins.

“go,” you said, not just an order this time—a desperate whisper. “please, hanni. run.”

she stared at you, trembling, before finally backing away. her eyes were glassy, chest heaving. she turned and ran, disappearing into the thick smoke.

you stayed, squaring your shoulders.

the lizard hissed again, but this time, he didn’t chase. he looked at where she’d gone, then back at you—and there was something new in his expression.

desperation.

then he leapt over the edge of the bridge and disappeared into the shadows below.

the sirens returned, echoing louder now. you didn’t stay to see the response teams.

you swung away—fast, sharp, shaky.

you found her huddled near a stairwell downtown, curled into herself, arms wrapped tight around her knees.

when your feet touched the ground beside her, she looked up, startled.

“spidey,” she breathed, and you weren’t sure if it was a question or a prayer.

you crouched in front of her, chest still rising and falling too fast. “are you hurt?”

she shook her head slowly. “you…you came for me.”

you reached out, fingers gently brushing her wrist. “i always will.”

and for a moment, the smoke and fear fell away. 

she leaned forward slightly, and you didn’t move — just let her come closer, let her rest her forehead against your shoulder. your arms wrapped around her gently, careful not to squeeze too tight.

then, as she pulled back, her gaze caught yours again. her reflection was soft in the curve of your eye lenses — a fragile, beautiful thing. the streetlight lit up her face in gold.

“i’m lucky to have you,” she said, voice barely more than breath. “i don’t say it enough…but i am.”

you swallowed. the words pressed into your chest like a weight, warm and sharp all at once.

“you don’t have to say it,” you said. “i know.”

but even as she smiled and tucked herself into your arms again, something cold settled at the back of your mind — a small, quiet fear.

maybe this wasn’t safe for her. maybe loving you meant danger she couldn’t ever escape from. maybe — just maybe — one day, you wouldn’t be fast enough to save her.

you didn’t say it. you didn’t even think it fully.

but the spark had lit. and it was there now, flickering in the dark.

the sky was gray that afternoon, the kind of overcast that pressed heavy against the windows. outside, the city moved like it always did — horns, voices, and footsteps blending into something vaguely distant. but inside hanni’s bedroom, everything was still.

you sat cross-legged at the edge of her bed, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands, staring down at a spiral notebook filled with scribbles and crossed-out names. next to you, hanni was curled under her blankets, head resting against your shoulder, her body warm against yours like a quiet lighthouse in the fog.

“i still don’t get it,” you muttered, tapping your pen against the page. “he said he needed you. like, actually needed you. not like a hostage thing.”

hanni didn’t answer right away. she’d been quiet ever since that night on the bridge. not withdrawn — just slower in the way she moved, like something had shifted and hadn’t quite returned to place yet.

“there’s something i should probably tell you,” she said softly, her voice muffled slightly by your sleeve. “i wasn’t going to, but… i think it matters now.”

you glanced down, waiting.

“i’ve been interning at oscorp,” she said, eyes flicking to yours. “it’s all official—dad even signed off on it. i was working under dr. curtis connors. he was kind of brilliant. a little weird. really into regenerative biology.”

you blinked. “curtis connors?”

hanni nodded. “he was trying to cure disabilities. like, real big-picture thinking — using reptilian dna to encourage regrowth of limbs. he talked about progress like it was this beautiful, terrifying thing. and he meant it. he believed it. even when everyone else was skeptical.”

you stared at the wall, a pit opening quietly in your chest. “and now he’s missing.”

“yeah.” hanni sat up a little, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “he got let go about a month ago. i think he’d been doing unauthorised experiments, and they didn’t want to be associated with it anymore. after that, no one saw him again.”

“and no one told the police?” you asked.

“oscorp likes to keep things buried,” she said, almost bitterly. “it’s not like i could do anything about it.”

your jaw tensed, thoughts racing. connors. reptilian dna. a disappearance. and the lizard… saying he needed hanni.

you exhaled slowly. it wasn’t confirmation — not yet. but it was something. it was a direction.

“thank you,” you said quietly.

hanni looked at you. “for what?”

“for telling me. for trusting me.”

she smiled, faint but real. “i always trust you.”

there was a pause. not awkward. not uncomfortable. just a hush that settled between you, soft and warm. then hanni tugged the blanket down a little, patting the space beside her. you didn’t hesitate. you climbed under the covers, letting her tuck herself into your side like a puzzle piece that had always been meant to fit.

you stayed like that for a while — her legs tangled with yours, her hand resting lightly on your stomach, the world outside blurred behind raindrops on the window.

your fingers toyed with the edge of her sleeve, and her thumb traced slow circles against your hip through the fabric of your shirt.

“you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“mmhm,” she hummed. “just thinking.”

“about?”

“how nice this is.” she leaned her head on your shoulder again. “how quiet.”

you tilted your face toward hers, breathing in the scent of her shampoo — soft like vanilla and something else you couldn’t name.

“you make the noise stop,” you said. “everything else… disappears.”

hanni turned toward you just enough to kiss your forehead, slow and lingering.

and for a moment, everything truly did disappear.

there was no lizard. no danger. no spiraling thoughts of what might come next.

just her.

just this.

her arms around you. your body tucked safe against hers. two hearts, steady and warm, wrapped in silence and the hum of rain.

and maybe that was enough — even if only for tonight.

the tunnels below the city were a maze of concrete and decay. darkness pressed in, broken only by the flickering light from your flashlight and the occasional reflection from the damp walls. your heart pounded in your chest, but not from fear—more from the weight of the discovery that had been pressing on you ever since the bridge encounter. curtis connors. the name echoed in your mind like a drumbeat. the lizard... he was the same man who’d been helping hanni with her internship. it felt like the world was tilting, spinning out of control, and you were stuck in the middle of it.

your spider-senses prickled sharply, warning you before you even heard the footsteps. someone was coming. fast. you didn’t have time to think—only to react.

quickly, you ducked behind a pile of rusted metal pipes and crouched low, holding your breath. your heart raced as you strained to hear, the soft shuffle of boots reverberating off the tunnel walls. not good. the lab, hastily constructed with materials that had no business being used in science, was just a few feet away. it looked like a ghost of what it used to be, cobbled together with desperation. a clutter of half-finished projects, scribbled notes, and vials of unidentifiable liquids scattered across tables.

but none of that mattered now. what mattered was that you had confirmation. the lizard is dr. connors.

the thought was sickening. it felt wrong, like the ground had been pulled out from under you. how had this happened? how had someone so close to hanni—someone who’d been so kind to her—become this monster?

you were still processing when your spider-senses flared again, louder this time. you barely had time to react before you heard footsteps closing in, rapid and steady. too close. you bolted, pushing off the ground with a force that sent you flying through the air, swinging from the pipes above.

you didn’t stop until you were back in hanni’s apartment.

you didn’t even knock.

you had no time for formality. your hand hit the window with a quiet thud, and before hanni even had time to react, you slipped inside, mask still on, heart still pounding. your movements were quick, purposeful, but the mask—it felt suffocating. for the first time in a long while, you just wanted to be y/n. you wanted to shed the weight of spidergirl, if only for a moment.

the moment you removed the mask, you saw hanni’s eyes widen. she took a step back, still in her pajamas, rubbing at her eyes like she wasn’t sure she was awake.

“y/n?” she whispered, sounding almost unsure, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

“he’s dr. connors,” you said, the words tumbling out with more force than you’d intended. your voice was a little strained, even to you. “the lizard is dr. connors. like, confirmed.”

hanni froze, her eyes wide, the disbelief flickering in them before she quickly masked it with a frown. “you confirmed it? but... but how?”

you felt your shoulders sag, the weight of it all finally hitting you. “i found his lab. it’s a mess, but it's all there. he’s the lizard. i don’t know how, but... that’s him.”

hanni took a slow breath, her eyes narrowing as if trying to process the news, then something clicked. she stepped forward. “what can i do to help?” her voice was steady, even though her face was clouded with concern.

you chuckled lightly, despite the ache in your chest. “unless you have a comically large pepper spray, i don’t think you can do much.” you let the words hang between you, trying to keep the distance, to keep her at arm's reach. you didn’t want her to get involved in this—not yet. not when the danger was this real.

but she wasn’t having it. she frowned at you, the curve of her lips twisting in quiet frustration. “i know i can help more than you think, y/n.”

you looked at her for a moment, your heart tightening in your chest. it wasn’t that you didn’t want her to help. it was that you couldn’t bear the thought of her getting hurt because of you. you hadn’t told her yet, not directly, but you felt it now—the way your world had started to shift when you realized just how dangerous this was. and the more she got involved, the harder it would be to keep her safe.

but instead of saying it, you just smiled and nodded, trying to mask the unease in your eyes. “come on,” you said, stepping inside her room. “i’ve got to change.”

hanni didn’t protest. you grabbed your backpack, the familiar weight of it comforting in your hands. there was something comforting about being here, in her space, even though you were so acutely aware of how dangerous everything was.

you quickly changed into your normal clothes, the fabric of your hoodie feeling like the last semblance of normalcy in your life. you couldn’t help but glance at hanni, still standing by the window, watching you with a quiet intensity. her gaze was searching, like she wanted to know everything. but you didn’t have the words to explain. not yet. not until you could figure it out.

“are you okay?” she asked softly, breaking the silence.

you paused, halfway through pulling on your jacket, and turned to her. “yeah. i’m fine,” you said, even though you felt far from it.

but you smiled, and it seemed to make her feel better. she smiled back, the edges of her lips turning up in that gentle way that always made your heart flutter.

“okay, good,” she murmured. she hesitated for a second before adding, “you know... i’m really glad you came to me.”

you felt a warmth in your chest, a small, steady thing. “i’m glad too, hanni.”

the quiet lingered between you for a moment, comfortable and full of meaning. then hanni, with that soft smile still on her face, walked toward you.

“hey,” she said, her voice lower now, as if she was sharing something more private. “can i... do something?”

you looked at her, confusion crossing your features. “what?”

and before you could respond, she kissed you on the forehead, her lips brushing softly against your skin. the action was gentle, full of affection, and it made your chest ache. you closed your eyes at the touch, just a moment of peace amid everything else.

and for a brief, fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to forget about the lizard. forget about the danger. forget about the fact that you might not be able to keep her safe. because in this moment, it was just the two of you. just hanni and y/n, standing in the quiet of her room.

it had been a quiet thursday night when it started again. the pattern, the cycle that kept repeating itself over and over. you could feel it—a cold creeping feeling in your chest, the dread that formed like a knot in your stomach. your mind had been restless lately, too full of thoughts of hanni and the danger that seemed to follow you wherever you went. but tonight, it was different. it was worse.

you knew what you had to do.

you couldn’t keep doing this to hanni—letting her get so close, so deep into your world. the closer she got, the more it hurt to think about the dangers she faced just by knowing you. just by being in your orbit. what if someone found out? what if a crook got it into their head that hanni was a way to get to you? it was only a matter of time before someone connected the dots. and if they did, hanni would be in danger. she’d be the first target.

you couldn’t let that happen.

so you had to distance yourself. again.

it didn’t come with words. never with words. it was always something subtle—a shift in the way you looked at her, a little more distance when you hugged, your smiles a little less bright. you’d started talking less, responding with fewer words, your mind always somewhere else. it was for her safety. it had to be.

hanni noticed, of course. she always did. but she never said anything right away. she didn’t have to. you could see the way her shoulders would drop slightly, the way her eyes would lose their spark just a bit. and it broke you each time, but you couldn’t let it stop you. not now. not when her safety was on the line.

tonight, you were sitting on the couch in her room, looking out the window at the city lights, pretending they were something less intimidating. you could hear her moving around behind you, the rustle of blankets and the soft click of her phone as she scrolled through something. you hadn’t said much since you arrived. just a quiet “hey” when you came in and a soft smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

she didn’t press you, not yet. but you knew it was coming.

after a long silence, hanni’s voice broke through the stillness, soft but with a little edge. “y/n, what’s going on?”

you didn’t look at her. didn’t dare. because if you did, you’d see the hurt in her eyes, and that would make it harder. “nothing,” you said, your voice quiet, almost too quiet. “just... tired, I guess.”

she was silent for a moment, probably trying to figure out if you were telling the truth. when she spoke again, her voice was soft, but there was something else in it—a tenderness that cut straight through the distance you’d put between you. “you don’t seem tired,” she said. “you seem...” her voice faltered, as if she was searching for the right word. “distant.”

you finally turned your head, just a little. you could see her sitting on the edge of the bed, her legs crossed, looking at you with those big, wide eyes that always made your heart ache. she was studying you carefully, like she could see through the mask you put up.

"i’m fine," you said, the lie hanging between you like smoke. "really. i just... i just need some space."

hanni blinked, processing the words, and then something in her face shifted. there was a quiet sadness there, something you couldn’t shake. "y/n," she said, her voice quiet but firm. “please don’t shut me out. not again.”

you hated this. you hated seeing her look at you like that. like you were the one thing she couldn’t understand, the one thing she couldn’t get close to. and yet, you knew it was for her own good. you couldn’t let her get hurt. not because of you.

“it’s not that i want to shut you out,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “it’s just... it’s dangerous. the closer you get, the more danger you’re in. you don’t deserve that, hanni.”

there was a long pause before hanni spoke again, and when she did, her voice was a whisper. “i don’t care about that. i care about you. i don’t want you to push me away just because you’re scared. i’m not scared of you.”

you swallowed hard. it was hard to hold onto the distance when she looked at you like that, when she said things that made your chest ache in the best and worst ways. the longing in her eyes was undeniable, and it made your heart hurt. but the fear was still there—still creeping, still gnawing at you from the inside.

you wanted to reach out to her. wanted to close the gap and pull her close, tell her everything, kiss her like you always wanted to. but you couldn’t. not when the consequences were so real, so dangerous.

"you don’t get it, hanni," you said, voice cracking a little. “if anything ever happened to you because of me—because of us—i couldn’t live with that.”

hanni frowned, but she didn’t push. she didn’t argue. instead, she just stared at you, her eyes soft with something that felt like understanding, but also something much deeper. she wanted to be there, wanted to fix things, but she couldn’t. not like this.

the silence stretched between you again, but this time, it was different. it wasn’t just distance—it was heavy, weighted with the unspoken things that neither of you knew how to say.

then, just as suddenly as the space had opened up between you, you found yourself standing up, crossing the room toward her. you didn’t say anything. you didn’t have to. instead, you dropped down beside her, your hand reaching for hers. it was a quiet plea for connection, a silent surrender. and when you looked at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of the hurt you’d just put her through, she simply looked back, no judgment, no anger—just... love.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, squeezing her hand. “i don’t want to hurt you. i never want to hurt you.”

hanni shook her head, her thumb brushing over the back of your hand, a soft smile pulling at her lips. "you never will," she said quietly. “i’m not going anywhere.”

it was always this way, the cycle of distancing and pulling back, of pushing and then surrendering. you couldn’t seem to help it—every time you pulled away, it felt like your heart was breaking. and yet, every time you came back to her, every time you found yourself in her arms, you couldn’t help but feel like maybe you were doing the right thing. maybe it wasn’t perfect, but it was love. messy and imperfect, but it was love.

hanni had been sitting at her desk for hours now, the glow of her computer screen casting soft shadows in her room. stacks of papers, old research notes, and forgotten textbooks were scattered around her, some open, others tossed aside in frustration. the weight of everything—of him, of what needed to be done—was heavy on her shoulders. but she couldn’t stop. she couldn’t let herself stop.

she needed to find a solution. for him, for her.

dr. curtis connors had taught her so much over the months she had spent under his internship at oscorp, and now, she was trying to piece together what he had shown her, the lessons that had seemed innocent then, but now held a terrifying weight.

the serum. the one he had once mentioned—a device capable of releasing a genetically-engineered serum across the entire city, one that could combine animal traits with human biology, creating new, dangerous creatures. it was supposed to be a breakthrough in human medicine. supposed to be a way to cure the sick, the damaged. but now... now, it was a weapon.

the lizard—the monstrous, mutated version of dr. connors—wasn’t just a scientist gone wrong. he was someone who had lost control. and it terrified hanni, more than anything, that she might be the only one who could help him. she had to stop him, had to find a way to make an antidote, something that could reverse what he had done—not just to him, but to the people he planned to infect.

and yet, the more she researched, the more she realised how little she truly understood. the experiments, the genetics... it was all too complicated, too dangerous.

the sound of a soft knock at her door broke her focus, and she looked up, a little startled. it was her father.

mr. pham stepped into the room, his face drawn with worry. he’d never looked at her like this before, like she was a delicate thing, like he had to protect her from something far beyond his reach. he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room with a strange intensity.

“can i talk to you for a moment?” he asked, his voice low.

hanni nodded, pushing herself out of the chair. “yeah, sure, what’s up?”

he took a slow breath before speaking again, his tone serious, almost cautious. “i’m worried about you, hanni.” he paused, watching her carefully. “there’s been a lot going on lately. and i... i want to know what your relationship with y/n is.”

the question hung in the air, heavier than she expected. hanni froze, her mind racing, trying to find the right words. she had always known this conversation would come, but now that it was here, she felt caught off guard.

"what do you mean?" she asked, her voice more hesitant than she wanted it to be.

mr. pham’s gaze softened, his eyes searching hers. “i’ve seen the way you two look at each other, hanni. it’s more than just friendship, isn’t it?”

the words caught in her throat. she couldn’t lie to him—not completely. but she didn’t know how to explain it, either. not yet. not like this.

“it’s... complicated,” she murmured, avoiding his eyes.

there was a long pause, filled only with the sound of her quickened breath. finally, her father stepped closer, his presence comforting in its quiet strength.

“hanni,” he said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder, “you can tell me anything. i’m always going to be here for you, no matter what. but if you love y/n... then so be it. she’s... well, she’s a character, for sure. but if she’s the one you want, i can’t stop you.”

his words—so simple, so sincere—had a way of grounding her, of pulling the fear out of her chest. it was as if the weight of everything, all the tension, all the uncertainty, had suddenly been lifted just a little. she felt her chest tighten, and before she knew it, tears welled in her eyes.

“dad...” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“she seems to care for you a lot,” mr. pham added, a soft smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “and if she’s the one who makes you happy, i’m glad for that.”

hanni couldn’t help it. the tears fell, silently, as she nodded, overwhelmed by the unexpected warmth of his words. “yeah,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “she does care for me a lot.”

and just as the moment seemed to settle, the door creaked open again.

hanni turned, surprised to see a figure standing in the doorway, holding a bouquet of flowers in their hands. there was an awkward, hesitant smile on their face—y/n.

the moment hung in the air.

“who cares for you a lot?” you asked, your voice teasing, though the smile never quite reached your eyes.

hanni’s gaze flicked from her father to you—and she could almost see the quiet understanding between the two of you. it made her heart skip a beat.

her father, however, didn’t seem to have the same hesitation. he stood up, walking past you with a firm nod. “your girlfriend is very talented in loving you,” he said, his voice matter-of-fact. “i had to hear all about it before i came in to talk to you.”

hanni’s eyes widened, a look of shock crossing her face. “...so this was a set up?”

mr. pham smiled, giving you a final nod, his hand patting you on the back as he passed by. “i just want what’s best for my daughter,” he said with a wink before he turned to leave the room.

you and hanni stared at each other for a long, awkward moment, the flowers still clutched in your hands. you were suddenly feeling a little more self-conscious, but hanni’s soft, surprised smile helped ease the tension.

“so...” you began, glancing down at the bouquet in your hands, “guess that was... all part of the plan?”

hanni nodded, still trying to process everything. “yeah. i guess it was.”

you handed her the flowers, offering an apologetic smile. “i’m sorry for being distant, hanni. i... i just didn’t want you to get hurt.”

hanni’s eyes softened, her fingers brushing over the petals of the flowers. “you don’t need to apologise,” she said, her voice quiet. “but i’m glad you’re here. both of you.”

and in that moment, despite the chaos of everything, she felt a little lighter. maybe things were complicated—maybe they always would be—but at least, for now, everything felt a little bit more... okay.

hanni’s room had become a sanctuary of half-spilled coffee mugs and crumpled notes, the gentle hum of her laptop the only thing louder than your own pounding heartbeat. you two had claimed every flat surface—desk, floor, even the small dresser—piled high with dr. connors’s old journals and oscorp prototype schematics. against the hush of the city night, the soft scratch of pen on paper was almost deafening.

you sat cross-legged on the floor, notebook in your lap, nibbling on the end of your pen as you stared at hanni’s sketches. arrows connected words like “enzyme” and “vector,” little doodles of dna strands winding up the margins. every so often, you tapped a line of text and whispered, “so if we reverse the insertion point here, maybe the cells revert to human sequence?”

hanni leaned over, her hair brushing your shoulder. she tapped the page with a fresh pen, eyes bright behind her glasses. “exactly. he wrote about an inhibitor compound—something he never tested on himself. if we adapt that, we could neutralise the reptile enzyme.”

you glanced toward the window, where distant city lights blinked through the curtains. “and then the device,” you murmured, smoothing your hoodie sleeve over the edge of the sketch. “we have to override connors’s aerosoliser. upload our cure instead of his serum.”

she nodded, voice soft with determination. “i remember the control panel layout. we saw it during the lab tour. if we can hack the override sequence, the reactor will disperse our enzyme payload citywide—and stop him from turning everyone.”

your chest tightened. the idea of an entire city exposed to mutant serum was still too chilling to imagine. but right now, tucked into pillows and surrounded by notebooks, it felt possible.

you shut your eyes for a moment, picturing the bridge attack and hanni’s pale, terrified face. you opened them, resolve hardening inside you. “we’ll break in at dawn. i’ll bypass security cameras. you handle the override code.” you reached out, squeezing her hand.

“together,” hanni whispered, and you nodded.

for the next hour, you pored over every note: refining compound names into casual bullet points, sketching rough diagrams of the reactor’s intake vents, color-coding steps for your midnight heist. sometimes, you caught hanni’s wrist in writing, her knuckles white on the pen. you met her gaze and smiled, and she returned it, the world narrowing to just the two of you.

then, the moment came when hanni slammed her notebook shut and sat back, eyes shining. “we did it,” she said, voice soft with relief. “we found a cure.”

you let out a breath you didn’t realise you’d been holding. “we actually did.”

the desk lamp felt warmer then, as if celebrating with you. you pushed yourself up and wrapped hanni in a fierce hug. she laughed, a bright, tired sound against your chest, and you realised neither of you had moved in hours.

without speaking, you both tumbled onto the bed, papers fluttering like oversized confetti. pillows launched in every direction. blankets pooled at your feet. you landed against hanni’s side, breathless and dizzy, the frantic scribbles of the night swirling overhead like a snowstorm.

for a moment, you lay still, heart thumping in time with hanni’s pulse underneath your ear. you traced the curve of her cheek with your finger, memorising the soft swell of her lips.

“we make a good team,” you said, voice muffled by her hair.

“the best,” she replied, turning to press a light kiss to your temple.

in the hush that followed, the two of you drifted into peaceful silence, heads together, legs tangled. the city noise was a distant murmur—sirens you barely noticed, traffic you couldn’t hear. it felt like you were floating in your own little world, safe in the bubble of her room.

and then—tap, tap—a gentle knock on the door.

you and hanni exchanged sleepy glances. hanni slipped off the bed and padded to the door in bare feet, the hem of her pajama shorts whispering against her legs. you followed, curiosity mingling with the last rush of adrenaline.

mr. pham stood in the hallway, cradling two steaming mugs, the sweet scent of hot chocolate drifting into the hallway. he offered you a shy smile. “thought you might need this.”

hanni’s face lit up like sunrise. “dad!”

you stepped past her, accepting the mug with both hands. warmth spread through your fingers. “thank you.”

he nodded, eyes tired but kind. “i’ll be back in a bit,” he said, before slipping away.

you and hanni closed the door and leaned against it, mugs clutched to your chests. the chocolate was sweet, thick, comforting—just the thing to soothe frayed nerves.

hanni nudged you, creamy mug wobbling. “so… midnight formulas?”

you laughed softly, tapping your mug against hers. “midnight formulas.”

you sipped, the warmth settling in your belly. hanni leaned her head on your shoulder, and you rested yours against hers. together, you watched the steam curl from your mugs, the notes and sketches spread out on her desk.

you didn’t yet know how the dawn raid at oscorp would go. you didn’t know if the cure would work as planned. you didn’t know if dr. connors could be saved, or if he’d punish you for trying.

but for now, in this sliver of time, you had each other—hearts racing, minds alight, and two mugs of hot chocolate to ward off the night.

you wrapped your hands around the mug’s warmth, and hanni leaned in, her head resting against yours. outside, the city’s lights shimmered, but here—surrounded by notes, formulas, and the promise of a cure—it felt like the world had slowed just for you.

and with hot chocolate in hand, you knew you were ready for whatever came next.

the rain began softly, at first, barely a whisper against the city’s hum. but as the storm crept over the rooftops, it turned into something fierce—relentless, angry. thunder split the sky, low and growling, shaking the very bones of the city. the downpour came crashing down in sheets, soaking the asphalt, the metal, and you.

you landed hard on the oscorp rooftop, your heart still hammering in your chest from the battle below. the air felt thick with the weight of everything—of what you’d done, of what had almost been lost. dr. connors lay a few feet away, curled on the cold concrete, his body slowly changing back. the scales were gone, the grotesque features of the lizard vanishing as his skin smoothed back to human flesh. he was breathing—barely—but he was breathing.

the cure had worked.

but then your gaze slid to another form on the ground, and the relief that had surged through you like fire began to choke.

mr. pham.

he was slumped against the edge of the roof, his blood staining the ground around him in dark pools. his shirt was torn, his side ripped open by the lizard’s claws. the steady flow of blood was a cruel reminder of just how close he was to slipping away. you couldn’t think. you couldn’t breathe.

“mr. pham!” you called, panic creeping into your voice, cracking it. without a second thought, you were at his side, your hands trembling as you pressed them against the wound, feeling the warmth of his blood seep through the fabric of his shirt. the rain plastered your suit to your skin, and for a moment, everything felt too heavy, like you were drowning in it.

he blinked up at you, eyes glassy, his breath coming in shallow gasps. but his gaze was sharp, unwavering.

“spidergirl…” he rasped, his voice thin like paper, but there was no mistaking the recognition there. your stomach dropped, heart hammering in your chest. he knew. he knew who you were.

you shook your head, pressing harder against the wound, trying to slow the bleeding, but there was too much blood. his blood.

“no, no, no,” you whispered, voice shaking as tears blurred your vision. “you can’t— please, stay with me. help’s on the way, just… just hold on. please.”

he let out a wet cough, his hand weakly reaching for yours. the touch was too cold, too unsteady. “it’s… too late, y/n,” he murmured, his voice catching, as though it cost him everything to speak.

your chest tightened, your breath coming in short, jagged bursts. “don’t say that. don’t— don’t say it’s too late. i’m here, mr. pham. i won’t leave you. not like this.”

but he only smiled, a small, broken thing, like he had accepted his fate long before. and then, as if the world itself had come crashing down around you, he spoke again, each word slow and painful, like it took everything he had just to breathe:

“promise me something.”

you barely registered the words. you felt the edges of everything blurring—his words, your tears, the rain soaking through your suit, the blood on your hands.

“what?” you whispered. your voice cracked, thin and trembling.

he didn’t look away. there was a kind of peace in his eyes, a finality that twisted your heart into knots. “promise me you’ll stop seeing hanni. the life you’re living… it’s too dangerous. i don’t want her getting caught up in it. don’t want her life in danger because of you. please.”

your breath hitched, and you pulled your hands back from his wound, even as your body screamed at you to keep trying, to do something, anything.

but it was too late.

“no…” you choked out, shaking your head as if the words would somehow stop the bleeding, stop the truth from sinking in. “i— i can’t. i can’t just… i can’t leave her. i—”

he gripped your wrist, his fingers cold and weak, but he held you there, his gaze never wavering. there was something in his eyes now, something tender and painful. a kind of acceptance, like he was ready for this, like he had already known how it would end.

“promise me,” he repeated, voice hoarse but insistent.

you were shaking now, tears streaming freely down your face. your heart felt like it was shattering, breaking into a thousand jagged pieces. you didn’t want to make this promise. you didn’t want to say it, but you knew what was at stake. you knew what would happen if you didn’t.

“i promise,” you whispered, barely a breath, barely audible over the howling storm.

mr. pham’s eyes fluttered closed. the grip on your wrist went limp, and you felt the finality of it all—he was gone. the storm raged on, louder now, as if the heavens themselves were mourning.

you didn’t know how long you stayed like that—kneeling in the downpour, your knees aching against the cold rooftop, the rain threading through your hair, mixing with the blood and the quiet stream of tears on your cheeks. time felt distant, like it had stopped altogether, suspended in grief.

then, softly, footsteps. faint. approaching.

you stood slowly, the weight of your soaked suit clinging to your skin, your mask hanging limply in your hands. the city stretched before you—endless, echoing, uncaring. lights flickered through the mist, distant and dull.

you pulled the mask back over your face, fingers trembling, and without looking back, you vanished into the storm.

you didn’t sleep the night after.

even in the stillness of your room, with the city distant and muted behind the windows, everything felt too loud. your ribs ached like they were holding in a scream. your hands shook every time you thought about the way mr. pham had looked at you—eyes dark with pain, voice thin, breath catching on every word.

“promise me.”

his voice lived in your ears now. wouldn’t leave. not even for a moment.

your suit was still damp from the rain. it hung limply over the back of your chair like it had collapsed there too, the red and blue dulled to something quieter, something mournful.

you stared at it for a long time. didn’t move. didn’t blink.

you weren’t sure how long it had been since you'd come home. maybe hours. maybe the entire night. your hair was still tangled and wet against your skin. your eyes burned. you felt hollow, like someone had scooped the soul right out of you and left the shell to sit in the dark.

it wasn’t supposed to be like this. none of it was.

you thought about hanni.

her laugh. the way she used to look at you like you were something rare—like you were someone she could believe in. how her eyes always searched for you in a crowd. how her hands had once held your face, so gently, as if you were the most fragile thing she'd ever seen.

you pressed your knuckles against your lips.

you loved her. you still loved her and you were never going to stop.

and that was the worst part.

because loving her meant danger. it meant a bullseye painted on her back just because you cared. meant villains would use her name like a threat. meant hospital beds and apologies and blood on your hands.

mr. pham had seen it before you did.

and in those last seconds—when he was looking at you, not with hatred, but with something like understanding—he’d asked you for one last thing. not for himself, but for her.

“please, promise me you’ll stay away.”

you hadn’t wanted to say yes. every part of you had screamed against it, but you looked in his eyes and nodded. now the promise sat in your throat like poison.

you leaned your head back against the wall and stared at the ceiling. you could still feel her fingers in your hair, the way she used to hold you like she was afraid to let go. you could still hear the way she whispered your name.

but that had to end. because loving her meant putting her in danger. and losing her—no matter how much it shattered you—was better than seeing her hurt.

you let out a shaky breath.

this wasn’t about what you wanted anymore. this was about what she deserved. and she deserved a life that didn’t come with sirens and shadows and bleeding hearts.

you closed your eyes. tried to memorise the sound of her laugh in your head before it faded completely.

you were going to break your own heart to protect hers.

and god, that had to mean you loved her. right?

it was raining again. not the soft kind that made windows weep quietly—this rain was heavier. cold, grey, steady. the kind that made the world feel like it was grieving too.

black umbrellas bloomed across the cemetery like mourning flowers. heads bowed. hands trembling with tissues. hanni stood in front of the casket, unmoving. her eyes were glassy, red-rimmed, and fixed on the polished wood like she could memorise every grain. her mother clutched her hand, and her sister leaned close, but hanni’s mind was miles away. or maybe just a few rooftops.

you watched from afar, body stiff beneath the soaked fabric of your suit. raindrops rolled off your mask, dripping silently from your chin. your fingers curled tight around the ledge of the building you crouched on. you didn’t breathe. you barely blinked. just watched. just stayed.

you’d thought you were doing the right thing. the promise you made still echoed through your bones, heavy like chains. stay away. keep her safe. don’t let her get pulled into the wreckage you always left behind. but seeing her down there, standing alone in the rain, her heart split wide open for the world to see—it broke something in you.

she looked up once, toward the sky. and for a split second, you swore she saw you. like she could feel the weight of your stare through the storm. but she didn’t move. she just turned away.

after the ceremony, people left in clusters. wet shoes slapping mud. umbrellas collapsing. a car door slamming in the distance. you started to back away from the edge, heart twisted in your chest, when you saw her again.

she was alone now, lingering near the stone that bore her father's name. and then her head snapped up. you didn’t know how, but she saw you.

you should’ve left. should’ve vanished into the skyline like you always did. but your feet didn’t move. your heart beat too loud in your ears, and by the time you thought to run, she was already there.

“where have you been?”

her voice hit you harder than any punch you’d ever taken. it was small, cracked around the edges, but sharp.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t.

“do you know how long it’s been?” she asked, stepping closer. “since you disappeared?”

your mouth opened, but nothing came out. raindrops hit the ground between you like little explosions.

she looked at you, really looked, and whispered, “take off the mask.”

you flinched.

“please,” she said, quieter now. “just take it off. let me see you.”

your hands twitched, but stayed at your sides. silence spread between you, thick as smoke.

hanni stared at your face—no, your lenses. the wide white eyes that always kept her out. she saw herself reflected there. small, soaked, shattered. and she hated it.

“you’re right in front of me,” she whispered, “but i’ve never felt so far away from you.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, tried to speak past it. “i can’t see you anymore.”

she blinked. “what?”

“i’m sorry,” you said. “but i… i can’t.”

her mouth parted like she was about to say something, but then she closed it. her jaw tightened.

“and what, y/n couldn’t tell me this herself?” she snapped. “you couldn't take of the mask in the one moment where it mattered? i mean, did spidergirl seriously telling me my relationship is over?”

you looked away.

“at least look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me anymore.”

you didn’t move.

“well?” she said, louder now, chest rising and falling fast. “say it. tell me you don’t love me.”

“i can’t do that.”

her breath caught. “what, you can’t take off your mask?”

“i can’t tell you i don’t love you.”

the words hit the air like thunder. and then everything went still.

“then why are you doing this to me?” she asked, voice barely a whisper now. “why?”

you hesitated, heart threatening to tear your ribs apart. but then she answered her own question. “it’s my father, isn’t it?” her voice cracked. “he told you to stay away. to keep me safe.”

you didn’t speak. just nodded.

she laughed. short. hollow. “so that’s it? you’re gonna let him decide what’s best for us?”

you shook your head. “no. i’m choosing. i’m choosing what’s best for you.”

“don’t,” she whispered. “don’t do that. don’t act like you know what’s best for me.”

you looked at her, your heart tearing at the seams. “you deserve a life that’s… peaceful. without danger. without me. i’m sorry, hanni.”

she didn’t reply.

you turned, fired a web to the building behind you, and launched yourself into the rain.

she stood there, motionless. her reflection still shimmering in your lenses, even as you disappeared into the clouds.

[chr0llossexygf]

IN RUINS 2

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

IMPORTANT COMMENT!!!!: hi my pumpkin cupcake stinky wonky pookie bears. IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN A FRAUD! 💔💔 jokes but I’m rlly sorry I haven’t been writing for the past months ive been to the hospital multiple times and also had someone close to me pull a ‘I’m dead’ card on me and then I was oh! BUT I think I’m okay I think I’m better and I’ll start posting more I have a lot of ideas but tbh this one was a draft before allat happened so it’s shit but and I wanted to get rid of it cus it js reminded me of everything that happened before 😭 BUT I’m rlly rlly sorry ITS SO LATE

" why is your mom calling you she hasn't called you in 7 months " scott anderson says rubbing his face repeatedly his fingers shaking, his other hand is in a fist digging his nails in the palm of his hand. he walks away from jj who's tied up on the floor with her feet and hands wrapped in rope. the grip on your phone tightens.

" she's calling me because it was my aunts birthday scott." you say looking at scott in the eyes. he stands up biting his nails. " your lying to me." he says walking to you, his eyes dark. you wish his eyes at-least looked like they had nothing behind them, but his eyes definitely have something behind them.

his eyes look determined. they looked commited. and he’s looking at you. your eyes widen. your hands become sweaty. you take a step back. “ i’m not lying to you scott.” you respond back gently shaking your head. you raise your eyebrows softly smiling at him. “ i wouldn’t lie to you scott.” you say the grip on your hand tightening to the point where your hand is shaking.

his gaze softens for a second, his eyes aren't so dark now. his eyebrows soften. " you wouldn't lie to me y/ n?" he whispers gently walking up to you. you nod gulping, " ¡ wouldn't lie to you scotty" you whisper smiling. he smiles. taking another step towards you. you take a deep breath in.

"y-your doing a great job y/n" spencer's shaky voice speaks into the phone. it's the only thing keeping you sane right now. he sounds nervous. you can hear him gulp repeatedly. he's stuttering a lot right now. he's probably blinking a lot. a habit he has when he's nervous. a habit you've absorbed from afar. " your doing a really really great job y/n. i'm so proud of you." no he shouldn't have said that. he should not have said that. he shouldn't have said that. you tear up. why are you tearing up? you can't tear up right now. not right now. please not right now.

your throat feels heavy. your heart feels heavy. a part of you feels funny. your ears feel funny, never having heard those words before. your brain is trying to process the words. it can't process them. it's funny though. no matter how much insane messed up stuff you've heard on the job none of it really ever seemed to take a toll on you. but hearing those 5 words. it's taking a toll on you. and it's not the right time. why are they so triggering. what are they triggering? the inner child inside of you who never got to hear those words? the teen inside of you who never got to hear those words? or is it adult you who still hadn't heard those words up until now? it's too much. why are you tearing up?

“ why are you crying.” scott says. something in his eyes has changed. oh god. his eyes darken. his eyebrows tighten. he’s shaking his head smiling. “ what is your mom saying? why is she making you cry? do you want me to kill her?” he says with pleading eyes smiling. he’s taking a step towards you. “ or are you not talking to your mom right now…” he mumbles. your eyes widen. you shake your head. “ or…your not calling your mom you bitch!” he shouts taking another step towards you. you don’t have time to react. he grabs you by the neck slamming you against the wall. his hand tightens around your neck.

you choke on your words. the tears that gathered up finally start to fall. your free hand wraps around scott's arm thats choking you. you repeatedly hit his arm. " please stop." you plead shaking your head. his grip tightens on your neck. " your a liar. your just like him." he spits his gaze darkening. he grabs your phone throwing it across the room. it knocks over a glass vase.

"¡'m not like him." you choke out shaking your head. " shut up! yes you are!" he shouts in your voice, spit getting on your face.

" let her go!" ji shouts from the floor. her voice cracks mid sentence. probably due to fear. watching you struggle is affecting her. just watching you struggle makes her feel as though she is the one struggling.

scott turns his head around. " what did you just say?" he says slowly releasing you. you take a deep breath in. you look at scott. another wave of fear hits you. what's he gonna say to jj? what's he gonna do to jj? she shouldn't have said anything. she should've kept quiet. he can't hurt her. you have to do something.

" i said let her go. you can't hurt her. she's what you want right? you can't hurt her. why would you hurt someone you love?" jj says her eyes darting between you and scott. to scott she looks desperate, to you. you know what jj's trying to say with her eyes.' we will be fine. seeing ji look at you like that. a rush of adrenaline hit you. you have got to do something. why are your hands so weak. why do you feel as though you don't have control of your body. why do you feel as though you can't control anything. damn it.

" you show love by hurting the ones you love." he whispers. you slowly reach for the gun in your pocket, trying not to alert him. and god is it hard " y/ n would know." he says chuckling. your so close to the gun. " isn't that right y/n?" he turns around to look at you. he sees your hand. he sees the hand thats reaching for the gun. he grabs your gun. your hand immediately forms into a fist, you punch him in the jaw. he falls back. holding his jaw. " you bitch!" he shouts.

you run to jj. you drop down to your knees. your shaky hands immediately start to undo the knots of the rope. "jj you need to get out." you say out of breathe. your trembling hands making it harder to undo the rope quickly. " no- what. y/n dont. i'm not leaving without you. the team is coming t-they're on their way y/n. ji says shaking her head in denial. her hands are untied. " god jj! i always follow your orders! just follow mine! just this once." you snap back moving onto her legs. you untie her. " get out of here now jj! he wont hurt me jj. hes obsessed with me he wont. trust me." you say nodding.

jj hasn't been a profiler for a long time. anyone else on the team would've called you out for your bullshit right now. if he wanted to hurt you. he definitely would. he would do anything to get you to be obedient. he could probably kill you if he wanted to. but jj doesn't know that. she thinks he's just a stalker who's obsessed with you and probably wouldn't seriously harm you. but you know unsubs like him all too well.

ji stands up running to the door. she opens the door. she turns to look at you again. you look at her and smile. " just go." you mouth. she quickly nods running out and closing the door. a wave of relief washes over you. jj is fine. jj is okay. jj is safe. he can't hurt jj anymore.

your not fine. your not okay. your not safe. he can keep hurting you. you turn around. he's standing right behind you. he's looking down at you. he's standing tall. his eyes are on you. his expression is dark. his eyes are empty. not a single thought behind his eyes. you were wrong. his eyes without a single thought behind them is scarier. because now you know, there's nothing really stopping him. there's no determination. there's no commitment. there's absolutely nothing behind those eyes. those eyes that are just about to do you harm.

“ me looking down on you…does this remind you of anything?” he says tilting his head to the side smiling. you shake your head. but oh boy do you know exactly what he’s talking about. your dad. “ oh right sorry. let me do something that will surely make you remember.” he says chuckling. he crouches down. he punches you right in the eye, your left eye. the one with the healed over stitches. you stiffen at his touch. not just because your scared of him. yeah of course your scared of him. but also because you’ve never had someone touch you in such an intimate place. you’ve never had someone grab your cheek and gently caress your scars.

he starts laughing. " oh my god let me see that" he gently grabs your cheek. tilting your head up towards him. he runs his finger on the scar. " he did that didnt he?" he whispers gently rubbing the scar. " he gave you this scar didnt he? i read it.. in one of your hospital records. he gave you this 2 weeks before he left right?" he whispers gently caressing the scar. your shaky hands reaches for his cheek.

he stiffens at your touch. he's just like you. " he gave this to you..right?" you whisper, gently caressing the cut on his lips. scott nods. " you and me.we are the same y/n. we both grew up in the same households. we both put up the same abuse. we..we are meant for each other y/n. your meant for me. and i'm meant for you." he whispers caressing your cheek gently. you nod.

" yeah.yeah we belong together." you mumble nodding gently.

i thought so too..until i saw a picture of you and your co worker spencer reid together." he whispers softly still smiling. your eyes widen. " w-what." you mumble. he chuckles, " yeah.i saw a picture of you two together. it was when you and your team were working that case in chicago." he whispers tightening his grip on your cheek. you shake your head.

" s-spencer? spencer reid? he-he means absolutely nothing to me." you say gently reaching for his hand. " don't lie to me." he whispers tearing up. " i'm not lying to you scott." you whisper rubbing your thumb gently against his arm. " your lying to

me. all you do is lie. your just like him." he whispers tears rolling down his cheeks. " i'm not like him scott." you whisper shaking your head, trying to calm him.

" your just like him.you lying bitch." he shakes his head standing up, forcefully pulling you up with him. his fingers dig deeply into your cheeks, surely 100% going to leave a mark. but who cares at this point.

" scott just listen to me-' he cuts your desperate cries with a punch to the mouth. you fall down to the floor, on purpose however. you want him to think your weak. your worn out. he can easily control you. he can easily throw you around like a rag doll. so he can feel some sense of confidence and have a sense of control. something he probably never experienced.

"i'm not listening to you. now you listen to me. you... you listen to me y/n. we are both the same person. we deserve absolutely nothing. we deserve everything our fathers did to us-"

" you know that's not true scott." someone speaks up from behind scott. their voice is strong and stern. it brings you comfort. never would you have thought, laying on the floor with blood dripping down your chin that the sound of someone's voice would bring you comfort. your heart feels warm. you can feel the familiarity of having control over your body come back. you smile. how could you be smiling at a time like this? your smiling. really hard while looking down at the floor. you refused to look up at scott. you refuse to do so.

because deep down you know you would be staring at the version of yourself that's buried deep inside you. that part inside you that keeps you wondering everyday, if you didn't take the path you took would you be like that. would you have done the same thing he had done? what makes him so different from you. just because you carry an id that gives you power over any normal civilian and a gun that's supposed to protect you and others. that doesn't make you any different though. because even though you have those things, you still think like scott. what if you truly don't deserve anyone in this world that would treat you with respect? what if you truly deserve someone as messed up as fucked up ad you are? because then they wouldn't understand right? they wouldn't understand how your mind works. but..like scott said. you probably deserve someone like scott, someone so sick and twisted-

why are you like this. why are you taking his words to heart. are you really that desperate and pathetic that you start taking an unsubs words to heart just because he shared an intimate moment with you. why? is it because you never in your life had experienced something like that and now you yearn for it? you start to believe every word he's said. your so naive. and your so vain. how can you be so gullible. why are you the way that you are. none of what scott said is true. none of it, absolutely none of it.

your too preoccupied with your brain breaking you down too notice two people coming over to you. your zoning out. your thinking hard. really hard. something like this requires a lot of thinking. but it shouldn't though. your supposed to just shrug off his words. not pay any mind to them. he's a mentally ill unsub who's murdered 5 women. nothing he says should make you reason with his thinking. there's nothing to reason with. he's insane. your not insane. your not insane. your just a girl who's seen some insane things.

" hey. your okay. i got you." morgan says gently grabbing you by the arms. "i got you y/n." he whispers picking you up gently. you stand up looking at the wall infront of you still zoned out. " hey y/n." emily pats your shoulder gently tilting her head to the side looking at you with such pain. you shake your head and look at both of them. " hi emily." you respond looking at emily blinking repeatedly. " hey you." she says smiling. " we've gotta get you to the ambulance come on y/n." morgan says wrapping his arms around you, pushing you into him.

" j-i don't need medical care morgan." you say trying to push your heavy head away but finding it way too hard. he feels too comfortable. too comforting. he feels too nice. his cologne smells masculine. really masculine. why is it comforting? why does it bring you comfort? you close your tired eyes for a second. " hey hey don't close your eyes on me I/n." morgan says tilting his head around to take a look at you, you shake your head softly. " i'm not dying morgan." you groan.

emily chuckles. " morgan's probably enjoying this." emily says wrapping up arm around her shoulder helping you walk, " cant have derek enjoying himself too much we all know how cocky he'll get and how high his ego will sky rocket." emily adds on looking at you smiling. her words make you chuckle. a painful chuckle. when your lips curve to let out a laugh a wave of pain washes over your face. "ow ow." you chuckle closing your eyes. morgan shakes his head,

"yeah you wish you can have a bit of this ego." morgan replies.

rossi opens the house door. his eyes immediately look to you. " it's alright i've got her." he says running to you. " derek go take care of reid he's in the ambulance." rossi says putting his gun away. morgan slowly and gently lets you go. rossi quickly replaces morgan. your head immediately shoots up. that hurt. you didn't even know you could do that. why did your head shoot up so quickly? just a second ago you were leaning into morgan for support because you couldn't bare to hold your head up and now suddenly you have all the energy in the world to shoot your head up.

"w-wait whys reid in the ambulance?" you ask your eyes wide, your pretty sure your eyes are half closed though. you can't bare to hold them open. you can already feel your left eye bruising. you can taste blood in your mouth. and you know there's blood dripping down from your eyebrows, from the healed over stitch. rossi and emily push you forward helping you walk. why aren't they answering you? what happened to reid? whys he in an ambulance? is he injured? what's wrong with spencer? what happened to spence? " i think that's a question he should answer." rossi says. what does that mean?

your quickly brought out of the house, thank god. you feel like if you spent another second in there you would go ballistic and break down crying. your heads down, your too tired. you see a pair of shoes infront of you. who's shoes are those? who is that? and why did they stop right infront of you? it's not spencer. spence would never wear those shoes. he was wearing converse earlier. dark blue converse. why do you remember all of this? don't you have some sort of concussion? how do you remember what pair of shoes spencer wore? god...

you feel emily and rossi's grip weaken around you. the unfamiliar person infront of you reaches forward and takes you. they lead you away from rossi and emily. your too tired to even care. they lean you against them. " where's...what's wrong with dr spencer reid?" you mumble stumbling in their hood barely having the energy to hold yourself up. " it's alright i°ve got you. here." they sit you down on something. there's bright red lights flashing around you. an ambulance.

" ma'am i'm gonna get an IV bag started is that alright with you?" the medic asks opening a cabinet. you nod your head hazily. you lean your head against the walls of the ambulance. he takes your arm rolling your sleeve up. you feel the soft pinch. your thankful for it though. it's stopping you from dissociating and falling asleep. you don't wanna fall asleep until someone tells you why spencer is in an ambulance. why do you care for him? why do you care for him after everything's he said- oh right. after what he's said. why do you care for him after he just publicly embarrassed you? that's so stupid. why are you so pathetic and desperate. did he publicly embarrass you? half of the team probably already knew. it's not that hard to figure out. it’s probably why you are the way that you are. they’re profilers. of course they would figure that out. what he said was true. they all probably agree. oh god..

" let me go! let me go! i don't need medical attention she needs it more than me! let me see her!" you hear a voice shout from the distance, you recognise it. your heartbeat quickens. not like earlier though. not in the way your heartbeat quickened earlier. that was in fear. no. this. this is in relief. your stomach starts to stir. in nervousness. your still leaning your head against the wall, but your looking down. your hair covering your face. you stop hearing his voice.

" ma'am i need you to lift your head up." the medic says gently placing a tray next to you, a tray your guessing is full of medical supplies and alcohol. you softly nod your head sitting up. the medic grabs one of the medical instrument opening the wrapping. he moves to the side to quickly put on gloves.

“ oh my god y/n..” you hear him say your name, in so so much pain. he sounds so upset. is he in pain? why does he sound so upset. what happened to him. is he okay. you look up. you see him. you look into his eyes. and suddenly all the words he’s said earlier rush buck into your clouded messy mind. but they don’t hurt as much. your so used to men blurting out hurtful words to you and you having to get over them, what else do you do? ask them to apologise? expect them to apologise?

no. they don’t do that. they’ve never done that. best thing to do is just get over it, because you probably deserve it right? that’s what you were taught.

he looks tired. his eye bags look darker than what they usually would look like. his hair is messier then usual. the two buttons on his dark blue vest are unbuttoned. he’s wearing his fbi vest. his dark blue pants have wet stains on the side of them. your guessing because he would repeatedly wipe his sweaty hands on them. a habit he has when he’s nervous.

he looks into your eyes. he sees the bruise that's already forming in your eye. the trail of blood rolling down your eyebrow from what he can see, that scar you have. you have blood rolling down the side of your face. your neck is red. an imprint of a hand already appearing. his heart hurts. it hurts so much. seeing you like this. but how dare he right?

how dare he feel pain in his heart? the pain your feeling physically and mentally is probably 10x worse than what he’s feeling. he wishes he was feeling it though, he wishes that right in this second all your pain would be transferred to him. add it on to his pain. he feels so guilty. you don’t deserve this. this is his fault. this is his fault. this is all his fault. your never gonna look him in the eye again. whenever you do your gonna remember this day. and how much pain he put you through. he hates it. he hates it so much. he hates himself so much.

"y-y/n." he's out of breath. he doesn't know where to start. he didn't have time to think of an apology, spending the entire car ride panicking nervous about you and wether you were safe or not. but now he can't think of anything.

he can't think of anything when looking into your eyes, the only thing he's thinking of is how badly he wishes he can go back in time and prevent all of this from happening. or make all of this happen but only put himself in your shoes. make him go through all this pain instead of you. You don't deserve this. you don't deserve him. you don't deserve his stupid apology that's about to come, that is if he can even muster up an apology right now. you deserve so much better than him.

"y/n i'm so sorry." spencer starts shaking his head his eyes wide. he can't think of anything. his iq of 187 has suddenly dropped down to 20. spencer who seemed to never stop his rambling suddenly can't think of a single thing to ramble on. you just made him stupid. and not in the way it's supposed to be. you make him stupid when you smile at him. not like this. he can't think of anything. he doesn't know where to start. he shakes his head.

" god can't you do your job!" spencer snaps grabbing a medical wipe and pouring saline solution on it. he stands infront of you. his angry demeanour quickly vanishes once his infront of you. something just hit him. he freezes infront of you. it's like all the color, the little color he already had in his face has drained.

you look at him in confusion. all though your upset at him it doesn't stop you from caring and growing concerned. " w-what?" you say blinking repeatedly looking at him. hes still looking at you. his lips part. he blinks repeatedly. he shakes his head.

"i-i'm just..i got scared." he stutters his voice cracking. " why?" you ask tilting your head to the side. " i'm scared your gonna flinch once i touch you." he replies quickly. really quickly. any normal person wouldn't catch it. but you did. vou've learnt to keep up with spencer's quick rambling. oh. oh. whys he so considerate? y/n stop. you can think that. you look down at your thighs. unable to think of anything to say. if he did touch you. would you have flinched? would you have reacted? you don't know. but spencer's not him. right?

" i'm not gonna flinch spencer." you say looking up at him. he nods his head gulping, "a-alright." he says. he lifts his shaky hand up. he gently dabs the medical wipe on your cut. disinfecting it. ouch it burns. your nails dig into the palm of your hand. his eyes are stuck on the cut. the scar. he knows where it's from. he might've been with garcia when she did her usual background snooping on new members of the team 2 years ago. he remembers how guilty he felt after it. finding out about such a dark part of your life without your knowledge or permission.

but that guilt doesn't compare to the guilt he's feeling right now. he feels tremendously guilty, he caused the scar to re open. all because of his foolishness. if he just shut his mouth earlier and wasn't such a smart ass. if he maybe was the one to go with you to scott anderson's house and not jj he would've been able to protect you. he probably would've shot scott anderson the second he would've laid his hands on vou.

he doesn't trust himself aorund vou. atleast not from the harm of unsubs and has the need to shoot any of them if they ever did you harm. he would probably lose his job. if he was there he probably would've lost his job. but he doesn't care. for your safety. he doesn't care.

" i'm so sorry y/n-" you can feel the medical wipe shake on your eyebrow, from spencer's shaky hands.

" it's fine spencer." you mumble looking into his eyes. is it fine though? is it really fine? whys he apologising? he's not supposed to be apologising right? this is new. this is so very new. they never apologise after hurting you. this is so unfamiliar? how are you supposed to react? do you tell them how you really feel? do you immediately accept their apology? they never apologised to you when they hurt you. whys spencers apologising? what do you say?

" it's not fine y/n. i-i hurt you. i c-caused this." he says spitting his words out in a shaky manner. what do you say or do? you've never made it this far whenever something similar to this happened in the past.

" spencer it's fine. i shouldn't have egged you on earlier anyways-" why are you taking the blame. y/ n stop. it's not your fault. it never is your fault when something like this happens. y/n please. it's not your fault. stop taking the blame. his heart aches even more. his throat feels heavy. who hurt you like this? who broke your heart like this? who messed up your image of love like this? who hurt you this bad. he hates them. he hates them for making you like this.

" y/n i know you have the personal need to justify everything i've said but y/n stop, just stop. i hurt you okay. and even though saying that out loud and accepting the fact that i said that it thr worst thing i've ever done in my entire life it's nothing compared to what you felt when i said that. i don't wanna be like him y/n. i don't wanna be him. i don't want you to think i can be him. i don't want you to see him everytime you see me y/n. because that would kill me even more. y-you don't have to talk to me anymore y/n i just don't want you to flinch or have this horrible feeling of rememberence whenever you see me. please just.. just don't take the blame for this because it's my fault. this entire thing was my fault and i put you through this y/n. you don't deserve this. i'm really sorry.”

spencer rambles. trying to push the heavy feeling in his throat away. he can't cry. he doesn't deserve to cry right now. he's nervous though. he's nervous about what your gonna say. he doesn’t have the right to feel nervous though. he should accept whatever it is. he did this to himself. whatever the outcome is. he just hopes you don’t have a sense of fear wash over you whenever you look at him and get memories of this day. that is if you ever look at him after this day.

no one's ever said that to you. you feel your tired eyes tear up. your about to cry. oh no. spencer panics. does he comfort you? do you even want his comfort? he doesn't deserve to touch you, he thinks. he drops the medical wipe.

" n-no please don't cry. ill go call

over emily or jj or morgan or hotch just p-please dont cry. i'll go-" it physically aches him to leave you like this. but he has to. he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable. he just made you cry. you must really hate him. he understands though. he just wishes you understand how sorry he is. but you probably will never know. because you probably don't expect him to feel sorry, you probably think he's faking it. he just needs you to understand that he's not him. he's not your dad. spencer actually feels sorry. he feels so so sorry for everything he's done and said. but you had to put up with years of your dad taking apologises you probably don't believe his. he hates himself.

you stand up. you barely have room to think clearly before a tear rolls down your cheek. spencer immediately removes his fbi vest, you bury your head against spencer's chest. you wrap your hands against his chest. he doesn't wrap his hands around you though. he's scared to touch you. your not sobbing. your too tired to sob. you just let tears slowly roll down your cheeks. " your not him spencer." you say out loud. spencer's heart skips a beat. he slowly wraps his hands around you. " i'm still mad at you. you shouldn't have said that earlier. b-but i forgive you spence." you mumble against his chest. he shakes his head, " you shouldn't forgive me y/n. your supposed to be mad at me. your supposed to be yelling at me. or-or hitting me." he says.

" i am mad at you spencer." you say pulling your head away wiping the tears.

"alright. good." he says

looking down at you. " oh god- im sorry that was stupid i shouldn't have hugged you-" you immediately start apologising shaking your head. you immediately sit back down. oh god your so stupid. why did you just hug him? your so embarrasing oh god. did you feel the need to hug spencer because you just needed to make sure that spencer wasn't him.

not that you would know what your dads embrace would feel like. but you just needed to make sure.

" no please don't apologise. d-do you mind if i sit next to you?" spencer asks pointing at the space next to you. you look at him and slowly nod your heart. he sits next to you. " once ive healed i'm yelling at you spencer." you say looking down at your legs, your tired eyes aching. " alright." spencer says nodding. you should yell at him. and you will. he had no right. but your too tired right now. you just hope. you really really hope that spencer doesn't spiral once your back in quantico and probably will forcefully be taken into the hospital by emily and jj. you really hope he doesn't drown himself in guilt and spiral. why are you so caring? does spencer care about you the way you care about him? that's foolish right? he wouldn't right? does he feel his heart quicken when he sees you? does he care the way you care? that's stupid god y/n you probably have a concussion just shut up.

yeah how stupid y/n. because if you knew the way spencer cared about you or the way his heart quickens when he sees you. you wouldn't believe it. it will take time though. it will take time for you to believe it. he's willing to work hard during that time. he just hopes you know even the slightest bit. but he wont say anything right now. you've already been through enough. he wont say anything for a while. though when the time is right. maybe you'll finally know how much he cares about you. for now, he'll settle for this just for now. until he can gain your trust back and make his feelings known. he'll settle for this. because just being next to you makes him happy.

@corpsebridenightamare

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[tiramissyoucake]

HIIII!! i js read ur thing ab the different roles w the variants (the bakery one n the idol one) and they were so good!!

i was wondering if u could write the mohawk (OF) one n the shiesty (streamer) mark ones??

love ur writing <33

Heeey thanks! I had a feeling someone would ask, I'm not rlly proud of Shiesty Mark's part here since I didn't know what to do wit it but I hope ya'll like it.

MINORS + AGELESS BLOGS DNI, this has nsfw on Mohawk's part (shocker!)

CW: masturbation, dildos, nsfw videos

Based on this

Pt. 1 here

Mohawk Invincible:

There always was a certain guilt that gnawed at him whenever he spent money on not safe for work content, though Mark never had an issue shoving aside his conscience, he had an issue shoving aside the discomfort when the content wasn't catered to him enough, did people on OF just forget how to be sexy?

One thing he dislikes for 2 seconds and he scrolls. It turns him off immediately. He spends more time cringing at his phone with his dick in his hand trying to find someone, *anyone* that can scratch that itch just right.

So imagine his pure euphoria when he spots your face, gets through your paywall and sees just how well you cater to him.

God, your angles, the setting and your noises, he has to pace himself and refrain from fisting his cock so quickly and cumming to soon, he wants to savor your videos and pictures.

He has notifications turned on for all your socials, he's the first to pay for your content, the first to comment. Anytime his dick hardens even a little bit he immediately pulls up your page.

Mark sees you take commissions and practically works overtime to make his request happen, a grin tearing through when the payment is accepted and in less than 3 days, a video was already up labelled 'commissions'

This time, he didn't have to get through a paywall because it was sent to him the moment it was finished.

The details were simple: he wanted a personalised boyfriend experience video, you had to use a dildo as a replacement but fuck, you were so good at convincing him it was real when you moaned his name.

He was glad he let you post it, these chumps needed to know who was your best supporter.

"Missed you all day, Mark..." he bit his bottom lip harshly at the whiny tone from the video, watching you fuck yourself to please him gave him such an ego trip. Money well spent.

The way you called out his name repeatedly and so sweetly was enough for him to coat his stomach in white spurts, hissing in pleasure when he realised that he timed his orgasm with yours just right, thank God he tipped you.

. . .

Hearing a cry for help from a desecrated building, a blood-thirsty smile came across Mark's features as he followed the shouts asking for anyone to help. This was his favorite; pose as a helping hero, outstretch a hand to help before killing them shamelessly.

Something about that voice was familiar, like he heard it before. He blamed it on the acoustics of the surrounding rubble and smoke, he found the source, a store toppled over and broken into bits of concrete, he could see a head of hair and one outstretched hand

"Please! Anyone! I'm stuck!!"

"Are you now?" His boots came into your view as you strained to look up, not exactly Invincible himself... "have no fear, citizen." He mocked with a grin, effortlessly removing a large chunk of stone and throwing it God knows where, lifting you out from underneath.

He paused, looking over your physique and expression, the voice was freaky but this was... freakier. Something stirred in him.

"... Oh. Ooooh." He laughed, holding you closely as his eyes raked over you. "Holy shit, you have no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

Perplexed, you tried to separate from him only to be met with an unmoving grip. "You went off the grid in my dimension, y'know? Just. Poof! But damn! No one could really make me cum like you did!" He almost sighed romantically

Your face contorted to a cringe as you tried to shove him away. "What're you talking about?! Let go of me, you pervert!!"

"Oh, you have no clue." He grinned, his hands branching out to grip you wherever, landing on your ass his fingers squeezed and kneaded the flesh as he looked over your shoulder, hissing through his teeth as the memories came flooding back "I could never forget this ass either.."

Your face flushed in embarassment, his grip too tight for you to break free. "Mmh, this is better than that vid I commissioned. I threw so much money at you, baby!" Mark was well aware you didn't know what he was referring to, you weren't the same person but this was definitely the same body. Like you were made from the same mould.

"Let's go somewhere private, I'll show you just how well I know you."

♡

Shiesty Mark:

College was boring, studying was worse. Music did not help him focus and podcasts on topics he cared about just ruined his focus, Mark scoured the Internet for any sources, anything that he could play while absentmindedly focusing.

It was only when he came across a tiktok of yours playing some overly pixilated game that his interest was piqued, nonsensical commentary was everyone's cup of tea nowadays, so, by pure coincidence, he found you were live when he looked for your channel.

You were playing a horror game, Poppy bedtime or whatever, he didn't. The way you reacted to the scares, your cocky attitude when you solved a puzzle, the way you focused on boss fights was charming. It wasn't long before he managed to go through all the slides needed for his quiz and you were still going, vowing to finish the game. A comment wouldn't hurt.

MarkG_: I finished studying for my quiz and ur still playing lol

To his surprise, you noted his comment through the handful of viewers. "You finished studying? Oh, good luck on the quiz! I'm actually happy this chapter is longer, The last one was so short!"

Maybe a few more comments wouldn't hurt, soon enough he was a regular who commented game suggestions or simple friendly jabs, he never really crossed a line with you given you started as a distraction and he insisted you still were.

You played the games he recommended, greeted him when he made his presence known, his heart pounded in his chest every time you did because it meant you were keeping him in mind during these long streams, not those other losers, but him.

Someone did cross a line at some point, a self-proclaimed and entitled 'fan', putting your safety in danger and ultimately causing you to apologise and go offline for a while for your safety. That time was painfully quiet, other streamers were too boring or too loud, he understood your need to put some distance between you and entitled fans but fuck, he was tired of watching old vods.

It didn't really matter, being Invincible soon swallowed up so much of his time he didn't check back to see you when you returned.

. . .

Another pathetic squirming hero, another embarrassing defeat. Mark held the 'hero's wrist with a bored expression behind the loose face covering as he crushed the hero's wrist. "Seriously? You guys are lame, y'know there's like 20 of us?"

He didn't wait for a response as he lifted and launched them into whatever structure was in view, grinning at the impact as the hero crashed through a building and succumbed to the debris. "C'mon! Is nobody in this shithole worth it?!" He almost shrieked, waiting for a beat to see if anyone would try to refute him, the destruction can wait.

A rock flew through the air and decked him in the back of his head, it didn't hurt but it pissed him off, eyebrows furrowing and turning to look.

You stood with an arm outstretched, holding a metal pipe from where he was sure was the destroyed city, you looked terrified. "... this some kinda joke?"

You lifted the pipe, if you'll die you'll go out fighting like hell, no man impersonates your close friend without you beating the shit out of him. "What?! Hotshot alien too scared to take on ONE human?!"

He noted your features, you looked different without a camera at one fixed angle. Realisation came to him, you were that cute streamer he followed back in his world.

"No shit, of course you'd be here." He came closer, asfalt and dirt crunching under his boots as you readjusted your grip. "Back off!"

"Of fucking course, because why not? Let's make it more of a pain in my ass! Give me someone I don't wanna kill in this stupid town!" His rambling unnerved you, but you stood your ground. The moment he lifted a hand to grab you, your arms reacted and swung as hard as you could, the pipe connecting with his head. Nothing.

Mark stayed quiet, the resounding echo of the pipe connecting with his skull disappearing as his hand clutched it and tore it from your hands, bending it in his grip like it was some pretzel and throwing it aside. "Got it outta your system?"

"Fuck you!" You spat out immediately, you were more hostile here, that's for sure.

"Maybe let's get to know each other first." He grinned behind the cloak-like covering. "Don't struggle."

You gasped as he bent down and easily threw you over his shoulder, your fists immediately beating his back. "Let go of me! I'll kill you!" You were so cute.

"Sure, I'd love to see you try to wrestle me down, hun." He chuckled, glancing around the ruined town. "Hold on tight, I fucked this place up too good."

He'll find a little corner to be able to talk to you properly, he hadn't heard your voice in so long, he almost felt guilty taking pleasure in your screaming as you held onto him while he soared through the sky.

"We'll get real close and personal this time, alright?"

[acyberspadesworld]

as a follow up to previous pride month post, shouting into the aether again: it was never the femme trans men or masc trans women or enby folks that were the reason we were denied rights. it was never the folks using xe/xem or fae/faers that are the reason why ppl hate the community. it was never the ppl who use xenogenders or what have u that are why things are so royally FUCKED rn. the reason we are still getting anti lgbtq bills passed to this day is bc of transphobic assholes. to them, its all js a scapegoat to keep finding reasons to disrespect anyone until theres none of us left. u do no favors trying to be "one of the good ones".

take the rest of this month to love ur queer siblings. times like these genuinely call for it.

[inkirasity]

HOW DO THEY KISS

♱ includes: takakura "okarun" ken, enjoji "jiji" jin, ayase momo, zuma unji

♱ warnings: character/s from the manga

OKARUN

he was nervous at first. he overthinks every aspect of the kiss. okarun is the type of person to rehearse how to lean in, how to angle his head, and whether he should close his eyes. all of that just to fail his kiss to you. it was messy, he couldn’t stop shaking and sweating as his lips were puckered out while touching yours, his eyes were shut closed too scared to open it ever again. and after the kiss he would blush crazy, red as a tomato. he would shout (unintentionally) “was it okay?!”

JIJI

oh don’t even expect a non-funny way for him to kiss you tbh. jiji’s kisses are unpredictable and loooves to catch you off-guard to see your embarrassed expression. like he would kiss you on the cheek quickly following to your lips. though at times he is actually an endearing guy, brushing your hair away and cup your cheeks before leaning into a sweet kiss. he’s also cheeky afterwards, saying, “see, told ya i’d make your heart race”

MOMO

momo’s kisses are actually straightforward yet sincere. not a person with big gestures or any of those super romantical kisses. she kisses you as if she’s anchoring you to the moment, her lips warm and steady against yours. momo might hold your hand or gently brush her fingers along your jaw. she is also a tease, “i think you’ve got something on your lips”

ZUMA

he has this old school romantic thing where he’ll hold your hand or place his palm on your waist. his kisses are slow and gentle, taking both of your time like no one’s around and he makes sure you feel cherished. after the kiss, he would rest his forehead against yours and says something like, “you deserve everything”

a/n: hey y'all thank you sm cuz i js got back to tumblr from a busy week and my notifs were BOMBARDED. it's super short tho i have some drafts waiting. but anws thanks again! about adding Saint-Germain, it might take a while since we haven't known him a lot in the recent manga just a couple chapters of him so it'll be a little tricky trying to make a fic about him, tho he's in my list already!

[starstruckgrrl]

CAn u do one for dr stone

Senku tbh js do anything

a/n: i came out of hiding to make this 😛 also i did get another request at the exact same time for a senku x reader so i’m hoping this was also you bc i don’t wanna do 2 in a row 😭

‧₊˚ ෆ synopsis: you came to visit your favorite future nobel prize winning scientist in the school chemistry lab, but you were bothered on your way there.

~ warnings: smut, afab!reader, no pronouns used on reader, reader has a crush on senku, senku knows, kissing, oral (f receiving), seniors in high school, sweet!senku, confession

as you walked towards the grand science lab at the end of the hall (aka senku’s lair), you fished out a pocket mirror from your backpack to check on how you looked at the moment.

“checking your appearance before you see the mad scientist?” taiju asks you, and you nod in response.

“i’m gonna try to tell him today, so i need to look perfect.”

“good luck!” taiju shouts, “i’m gonna tell yuzuriha tomorrow!”

“i believe in you!” you reply as he runs off to find her.

you swing open the door to the science lab where you find senku writing notes as a solution bubbles before him.

“hello, y/n.” senku greets.

you greet him back and sit next to him, and he finishes his writing and closes the notebook. he turns to face you, looking at you seriously.

“y/n, we should talk.” he says.

oh no… isn’t that YOUR line? you’re the one who came to confess! is he mad you intruded on him? he looks so serious too… this can’t end well.

you immediately begin to worry, and he picks up on that.

“don’t overthink, i’m not upset with you!” he says to stop your train of thought.

“not even one millimeter?” you reply teasingly, looking at him through your lashes with a sly smile.

he grins back at you and shakes his head.

“y/n, you know i’m not one for formalities and tradition. i believe in innovation and science. having a partner always seemed like one of those stupid traditions to me…”

tears begin to well up in your eyes. he knew about your crush, and was trying to let you down easy, you thought.

“but, even so, i am human, i can’t deny how i feel.”

senku grabs your hands and holds them in his, a complete change for the usually non-physically intimate man he is.

“y/n, i… like you. i can tell you like me too, and you just understand me in a way other people don’t.”

senku cringes before he finally says, “will you be my partner?”

“of course i will, senku!” you reply, throwing yourself onto him to wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close for a hug.

he hugs you back, relishing in the moment for a while. he pulls back to look at you, face to face, before he says, “we’ve been together for 52 seconds.”

you smile wide and laugh, sweet and genuine.

“are you going to be keeping count from now on?” you asked.

“obviously. i will have to know when to buy you anniversary presents.”

you reach up to cup his face and leaned in to kiss him. it starts slow, experimental from the both of you. senku begins to get more passionate, though, to have confessed in the first place, he must be pretty passionate about you. he only involves himself in things he truly believes in or cares about.

senku breaks the kiss to breathe, your foreheads still connected as you inhale and exhale quickly. he let his hands rest on your sides, above your ass, and pulls him towards you, gesturing for you to sit on his lap.

the two of you kiss again, and you begin to feel the familiar heat pool in your lower half as you grind on his thigh, ever so slightly. however, senku being as attentive as he is, of course notices.

putting his hand on your inner thigh and rubbing your core through your pants, he says, “let me help.”

~

you end up laying on your back on an empty table in the science lab, with senku between your bare legs, your pants and underwear laid next to you.

senku is, for once, vulnerable looking as he sits on his knees. you don’t have time to tease him at the sight, though, because his fingers are working so well at your clit, rolling the sensitive bud and drawing circles on it. his mouth is too occupied to tease you for the way your face is so flushed, as his tongue is drawing figure 8s in your cunt.

the two of you are lucky everyone is gone from the school, as the moans you’re letting out would immediately notify anyone nearby.

~

[tragedybunny]

Something Like Love - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion has failed to seduce you, but even so, a bond has begun to grow between the two of you. It all comes to a head when Astarion almost loses you.

You infuriated Astarion. At first it was because stopping to help every person you happened upon was delaying dealing with his problems. Now that you had been traveling together for some time, not only were these little side adventures a delay, but you didn’t seem to be careful about how much they took out of you and how tired they left you. Even your other companions didn’t seem to care, letting you agree to solve every problem that you came upon and even adding to the pile.

But not him. Astarion was always right there at your side with a glare and a snapping refusal, which you’d usually brush off, but at least he tried. The rest of them just smiled and nodded, without noticing the circles under your eyes, or how slow you moved some mornings, or how thin you’d gotten. Protector wasn’t a position he normally found himself in, but you were different, you were kind to him, without expecting anything in return, as far as he could tell anyway. The two of you hadn’t even slept together, not for lack of trying on his part. The couple times he’d tried you firmly refused, and yet somehow you stayed kind to him, even still offering him your blood. In fact you didn’t seem to want anyone in camp. That was also exasperating. How could he expect your continued kindness, and protection which he desperately needed, without repayment? And what was he better at than sex?

So he resolved he’d give you whatever small gestures he could. Whenever you tore an item of clothing, he’d mend it at first chance. When the group made camp for the night, he always made sure your tent was up first, in whatever spot you wanted, and helped you pack when it was time to move on. Every battle, he stood at the backline with you while you cast spells, aiming arrows at anyone who got too close to you, his first priority keeping you safe. And he still tried to keep you from overextending yourself, despite no one ever listening to him. Which had led to the shouting match with Halsin earlier. Well it wasn’t really a shouting match, the Druid had remained frustratingly placid in the face of Astarion’s blustering. He’d already been vocally unhappy about looking for this Thaniel or whatever, but you’d found him, and still Halsin asked more. “We need to worry about Thorm, we don’t have time to keep bothering with this!”

“Curing the land could help break Thorm’s hold. I know you all don’t owe it to me.” Gods why did he ask like that, all humble and dissembling. You would cave to that for sure,

“You’re right, we don’t.”

“But…”

“Hells, can’t you see how much all of this is taking out of her!” Astarion had exploded, voice loud enough that some of your other companions jumped.

“It’s fine Astarion,” you’d gently placed a hand on his arm, “let’s finish this.”

With a frustrated growl, he’d yanked his arm away, regretting the hurt on your face. “Fine.”

That all led to this moment, you’d fended off the creatures summoned by the corrupted spirit, and Astarion watches as you calmly approach it. Speaking softly, your words soothe it, and he could see it starting to trust you. As always, you amaze him with your ability to solve things with your words, but he feels a twinge of something else, a want for something like those kind words that fell from your lips so easily. The spirit vanishes and Astarion finally feels a bit of relief it seems over. That is until your knees give way and you collapse to the jagged paving stones beneath you.

He's at your side instantly, a scream tearing itself from his throat. “Somebody fucking help her.”

Shadowheart js the first to respond, hands peeling away the light armor you wear, revealing gashes left by one of those shadow creatures that had gotten close. Teeth bite down into his lip to hold back a sob, he hadn’t even noticed, he’d failed the one duty he had. That ire finds a new target easy enough though, as Halsin attempts to join Shadowheart in tending to you. He’s barely started to kneel next to you when Astarion lunges, hissing and fangs flashing. “No you stay the fuck away from her, this is your fault!” For a second his face falls with guilt, but Astarion is in no state for empathy, all blame now on the Druid in his mind.

Hands fight to grab hold of him, to get close enough to tear his thick throat out. A pair of strong arms wraps around his waist, pulling him back from his murderous goal. “Easy Fangs, she’ll be alright,” Karlach tries to reassure him.

He struggles against her iron hold, still flinging curses and furious words. “That’s not the point, this shouldn’t have happened. But no one wanted to listen to me, none of you selfish idiots care when you’re asking too much!”

That was it, they’d all turn on him now, especially without you aware enough to defend him. To his surprise, Karlach just holds him slightly tighter, and keeps whispering that it was going to be fine. Wyll comes over to lay a hand on his shoulder, face stoic. "Shadowheart has this.”

At least Halsin has stepped back, expression troubled. Good, let him suffer. A spell glows in Shadowheart’s hands, suturing back together your skin, and your eyes flutter open, hazy and unfocused, for a moment before closing again. Karlach wisely releases him, leaving him free to hover over you and ward off Halsin as he takes a hesitant step toward you. He’d be damned if anyone else was carrying you, the lot of them were untrustworthy. Reverently, he leans down, taking you in his arms, and lifting you from the ground. Gods, you were so small, there was almost nothing to you. How did you seem so imposing most of the time?

Silently, the group makes it’s way back to camp, Astarion holding tightly to you the whole way. When they reach the cluster of tents, he goes straight to yours to lay you down gently in your blankets. Turning back to the rest of the party he snarls in their direction. "All of you better stay the hells out of this tent until she's properly healed," he snaps the tent flap shut and wishes he had a door to slam on their faces.

Sitting down next to you, he pulls your hand into his and tried to forget about the stinging in his eyes. "You're going to be alright Darling. You have to be."

For hours he sits there, hand holding yours, waiting, watching your chest rise and fall, the reassurance he hadn’t lost you. Losing you, he can’t even fathom it. His protector, companion, he'd even go so far as to say friend. Even if you didn't notice how he was always at your side whenever you stayed up to launder your clothes, or how you never took a turn to cook alone, or how he was always walking right next to you on the road.

You sigh in your sleep and he feels a tug in that place that sometimes wonders if you could be more than friends. Which was stupid, you hadn't even wanted sex with him. Besides, what you already gave him was more than he deserved considering what he had been planning after sleeping with you.

Finally, exhausted, he drifts into meditation, still holding onto you, until your sleep heavy voice pulls him out of it. "Astarion?"

His eyes are wide immediately and without a second thought, he throws himself into your arms, nuzzling into your neck. "You're awake." Then he starts crying like an idiot; ugly, undignified sobs against your skin. "I was worried," he tries to explain leaping on you and his ridiculous tears.

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you." You put your arms around him, accepting him without question, like always.

"You silly, silly girl, you were the one that almost died. Don't apologize to me." He's trying desperately to stop bawling uncontrollably.

"I know, but I don't like to see you upset." Ever so lightly, he can feel your hand brushing through his hair.

"Why," he's managed to get himself somewhat under control, but doesn't move from where you've let him lay. "Why are you like this? Always giving, even when it's too much for you?"

You hesitate for a moment. "Because I care about you."

"You do," he asks, unwilling to let himself believe what he's heard.

"Well, I care about everyone," of course he should've realized, "but I care about you a very great deal, Astarion."

Astarion freezes, the words leaving warmth in that secret place inside that he's been trying to keep from himself and you. "I don't understand."

"I see you. I see how hard you try and how far you've come, and how much you try to do for me." There's a smile in your voice and impossibly he thinks it has something to do with him.

"Why didn't you say anything?" His hand searches yours out and your fingers interwine.

"I didn't think you were ready to hear it. But today it was almost too late to tell you." You've placed both of your hands over your chest and he can feel your heartbeat.

"I…I don't know how I feel." Inwardly, he quails, worried that will drive you. "But this is nice."

"It's alright Astarion, there's no rush to this." Impulsively, he leans up to leave a feather light kiss on your cheek, grateful for you in ways he can't understand.

[sh4nksslvt]

Confined Hearts

A routine supply run turns chaotic when you and Law get trapped below deck — but maybe being stuck alone isn't such a bad thing after all.

Law X gn! reader | ONE SHOT tags: fluff, sfw, secret relationship, trapped a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ffs a bit cringe word count: 1.4k

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The steady hum of the Polar Tang was strangely comforting. Somewhere above, the Heart Pirates went about their usual routines: cleaning, charting, fixing whatever needed fixing after their last chaotic encounter with a Sea King. You lounged lazily against a stack of crates in the storage bay, a small smirk tugging at your lips as you watched Trafalgar Law pick through supplies, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance.

He looked… good. Way too good for your heart to handle.

Denim jeans that hung low on his hips, simple white t-shirt slightly damp from the humidity, his tattoos curling like secret messages down his arms and up his throat. You tried not to stare, but it was hard when you knew just how warm and soft that skin was under your fingers.

Not that anyone else could know. Not that the crew — bless their oblivious souls — had the faintest idea.

Being in a secret relationship with your stoic, sharp-tongued Captain was its own kind of dangerous thrill. One wrong move, one wrong look, and Shachi or Penguin would never let you live it down.

Law glanced over his shoulder at you, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.

"You planning to help, or just stand there like a useless lump?"

You snorted. "Bold talk from a guy who's been glaring at the same box for five minutes."

"Planning," he drawled, straightening up and cracking his neck. "Unlike you, who specializes in doing absolutely nothing."

You tossed a rag at his head. He dodged it with irritating ease, a faint smirk flashing across his mouth before it disappeared into his usual deadpan stare.

You fought a grin. God, you loved being able to push his buttons.

"Fine, Captain," you said dramatically, hopping off the crate. "Tell me what you want, and I'll do everything in my power to serve you."

There was the tiniest flicker in his expression — a shift only you would notice. The kind that made your stomach flutter and your mind race with all the things you could do if you weren't surrounded by supplies and crates and the whole damn crew upstairs.

Law turned back to the stack, voice low enough that you almost missed it. "Later," he murmured. "If you're good."

A shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard and tried to act normal.

You really, really hoped no one was coming down here anytime soon.

.

.

The moment it happened, it was pure chaos.

One second you were moving a particularly heavy crate like Law asked — the next, the ship rocked violently. Somewhere far above, there was a muffled shout and the shriek of metal. The crate slipped from your grip, slamming into the wall with a loud THUD.

Before you could react, the heavy storage door — that was supposed to stay propped open — swung shut with a bone-shaking bang.

You froze.

Law cursed under his breath, lunging for the handle. You rushed to help him, heart hammering in your chest.

He yanked on it. You yanked on it. Nothing.

"Locked," he growled, rattling it harder. "Dammit."

"No way." You shoved at the door uselessly. "We're stuck?!"

Law's face was grim. He jiggled the handle again, then pulled a Den Den Mushi out of his pocket. Static crackled. No signal.

"Great," you muttered. "Metal walls. Thick metal walls. We're basically in a fridge."

"It's temporary," Law said, though even he sounded annoyed. "Someone will notice we're missing."

"Yeah, after they realize we’re not up there helping fix whatever the hell broke!"

You leaned against the door, groaning. Being stuck alone with your secret boyfriend was not the worst thing in the world. But being stuck with Law, who was a menace when he got bored? Dangerous.

You felt his eyes on you and cracked one open.

"What?"

He was studying you in that way he did sometimes — silent, sharp, as if he was dissecting your entire existence.

"You panicking already?"

You huffed. "No. Just… strategizing."

"Mm."

You shifted awkwardly. "And you? Cool as a cucumber, huh?"

He shrugged. "Trapped with you? Could be worse."

You blinked, thrown off by the softness in his voice.

You opened your mouth to reply — but then he moved, striding toward you with that slow, deliberate gait that meant trouble. The kind that usually ended with you pressed against a wall, dizzy and breathless and wondering how a man so outwardly composed could make you feel like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Law stopped inches away, tilting his head slightly.

"No crew," he said lowly. "No interruptions."

Your pulse spiked. "Y-Yeah?"

He smirked — slow, devilish, rare.

"An advantage."

.

. Before you could react, Law's hand was sliding up your arm, slow and deliberate, sending sparks shooting across your skin. His other hand braced next to your head, caging you in.

"Cold?" he murmured.

"A little," you managed, your voice breathy.

He leaned in closer, nose brushing your temple, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"Good," he whispered.

You shivered, and not just from the temperature.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, and you closed your eyes, savoring the rare moment. Law wasn't usually this openly affectionate — not where anyone could see. But here, with only the dim overhead lights and the smell of metal and salt around you, he was different. Softer. Greedier.

"You smell like engine grease," you teased, voice shaking.

He chuckled — a low, rare sound — and nipped lightly at your earlobe.

"Not complaining when you're the one who started this."

You laughed — and Law grinned, wide and boyish, before capturing your mouth in a kiss that stole every coherent thought from your head.

God, he kissed like he owned you. Deep, slow, unhurried. Like you had all the time in the world.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the solid weight of him against you. His hands skimmed down your sides, lingering at your waist, before sliding under the hem of your shirt to rest against bare skin. You gasped softly against his mouth.

"Law…" you murmured.

He pulled back just enough to look at you — really look at you. His thumb brushed your cheekbone, tender.

"You okay?" he asked, voice rough.

You nodded. "More than okay."

He kissed you again, softer this time. Almost reverent.

Minutes slipped by — slow, honey-thick minutes where all you could feel was the heat of his mouth, the calluses of his fingers, the way his heart thudded against yours.

Eventually, you broke apart, resting your forehead against his.

"I can't believe we're stuck," you whispered, laughing a little.

He smirked. "Best damn accident this ship's ever had."

You laughed again, biting your lip.

Law tilted his head, studying you. "You think the crew suspects?"

You thought about it. "Honestly? They're either oblivious or think we're mortal enemies."

Law hummed thoughtfully. "Maybe we should give them a real show after this."

You gawked at him. "You? Public affection?"

He shrugged. "Shock value."

You grinned wide. "You're evil."

"And you love it."

"Yeah," you said, softer now. "I do."

Something shifted between you — something heavier, more real. Law's expression softened. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, gentle in a way he never was with anyone else.

"I love you too," he said simply.

Your breath caught.

Law rarely said it. He didn’t have to — you saw it in every careful look, every small touch, every stolen moment. But hearing it out loud still sent warmth flooding through you.

You cupped his face, smiling.

"Guess being trapped isn't so bad," you said.

He kissed your palm.

"No," he agreed. "Not bad at all."

.

. Hours later, when Shachi and Penguin finally managed to force the door open — sweaty, out of breath, and triumphant — they found you and Law sitting side-by-side on the floor, looking suspiciously flushed and suspiciously content.

"Uh, Captain..." Shachi said, blinking. "Everything good?"

Law stood up smoothly, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. "Fine," he said blandly. "Just trapped."

You fought the urge to giggle.

Penguin narrowed his eyes. "You two sure you didn’t kill each other?"

Law smirked — a private, dangerous thing — and tossed an arm around your shoulders with casual ease.

"Not yet," he said.

You caught the startled looks the two crewmates exchanged — and laughed all the way back to your shared cabin, tucked securely against Law’s side.

Maybe being trapped wasn’t such a bad thing after all.