#to win. again. again. again. to come back in turn. because anything else would be unthinkable

[floralettered]

dressed in sunlight / warmed the cold that lived inside me ꒰ ﾟ ׅ caleb ♡ ﾟ ꒱

summary. “anything,” he says, and that’s everything, isn’t it? you set the tin on the table behind you. wipe the hair from his eyes and trace a path to his jaw. caleb shudders, canting to follow your touch. “god,” he murmurs, “anything."

tags. mc!reader, my belated interpretation of no-return night bday sex, mc's grief over losing caleb is very much present and so is his trauma so there's some minor angst, first times, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv, fluff, love confessions, praise, overuse of "baby", dacryphilia, unsafe sex acknowledged without much care from either party, they want the cookie too bad sorry, caleb pushed my smut vocabulary beyond limits i previously believed i was capable of, etc. this is my first post so support is super appreciated :3

word count. 6.1k

The last minutes of the day stretch midnight blue across the walls, and somehow it feels like if it doesn’t change now it never will. You’ve tiptoed around it a lifetime. You’ve wrapped yourself in him, warm at his hearth, cool at his headstone. You’ve mourned him, watched him slip away and then return to you, not with a moment of his absence where you were anything less than half of him — How many people can say that? How many people can weep in the arms of someone they once weeped over the grave of?

You turn in what should be sleep but can’t be. There’s too much of him and too little, things you thought once not to want for but what is one impossible wish granted above getting him back? It’s hard not to be greedy. The sheets smell like him, and he smells like you: fresh laundry and the shampoo he’s been buying you since high school, stolen back-and-forth in a played out excuse to visit and steal it again. Once-empty shelves are now lined with photos, books, hard-won plushies and badges encased, model planes you built at his table. So little belongs to him anymore, and he’s filled all of it with you.

Still something is missing. It doesn’t feel like absence in the way losing him did, the numb waking and sleeping and seeking answers to make sense of existing without him — and you don’t think you ever would have. This is anticipatory. It’s one of those things, you guess, like your stolen shampoo; you’ll dance around what you both know so that there’s always a reason to come back.

That’s the game. It’s good sportsmanship to lie here and let it play out.

But then is it losing to make the choice in a second, breathless at your own daring, your overwhelming need to grab the tin beside you and march to the door? You hope not. It’s seven minutes to midnight; if you think about it any longer you’ll stop yourself, and it’ll pass with the day. Maybe this is winning, then.

Or maybe he’s waiting for you like he knew you’d come, your necklace dangling in his hand, his fingers twitching over something that isn’t you — and for Caleb, everything else is, foremost, defined by its lack of you. Because he doesn’t stop, shocked, arrested by the sight of you at the foot of the stairs, candy tin dumbly in hand like either of you still believe that’s why you’re here. His lips curl in a way someone else might not notice. Your necklace falls against his chest. It rises with his steady breath, buttons on his blazer undone. That’s the game: you notice everything, and he knows.

“Hey,” you say, voice small, tired. You’re still in your dress. It’s clear you got no more sleep than he did. “I thought you might still be up.”

“Yeah.” And his smile stretches to something full, sunshine in the dark.

“Not ready for the day to end, huh?”

“Mm, not yet. You did good, Pips. Don’t want it to go to waste.”

“Good?” You mimic offense.

“Amazing,” he rectifies teasingly, “Perfect, brilliant, the best—”

“Yeah, yeah. Suck-up.”

“For you.”

He wears it like a badge of honour. Not like his Fleet awards, Colonel cap and insignia, sports trophies and a thousand other achievements (because he is perfect, brilliant, the best). It’s like you said. They’re things defined by their lack of you. There’s nothing he’s prouder of being than yours.

“Want your final gift?” you ask, waving the tin at him.

“Come here,” he says, quietly, and it’s an answer to something else.

You do. Of course you do. In the steps it takes to reach him, you feel weightless, like the sensation of his Evol softly suspending you, pulling you hazily toward him. His power has never made more sense than this moment. He is the gravitational force you orbit — yours no more than you are devastatingly, wholly, infinitely his.

You stand before him, not quite between his legs but too little is in the way of you now not to know you’ll get there. Your fingers, slightly shaky, ring against the tin as you twist it open. He steadies your hand with his, and you know he’s looking at you but your eyes stay fixed on the array of colours, not quite ready for what you’ll find when you meet his. A second. That’s all you need. You pretend to consider the flavours. He’s patient with you, brushes the skin of your fingers and waits.

Caleb is good at waiting for you. Would wait for you forever, take whatever you gave him, follow you anywhere.

You fish a yellow candy from the corner, smile mischievously when you press forward and hold it to his mouth. He opens for you. The look in his eyes is exactly what you thought it would be, and it’s hard to keep your smile as much as it’s hard to stay upright when you press the candy to his tongue and feel it graze your finger.

He winces somewhat, then laughs, slides the lozenge to his cheek to talk. “Lemon flavour? You always give me the sourest ones.”

“You said they’re your favourite like a hundred times!”

“Uh-huh, but you test me by going sourer each time, don’t you? Findin’ excuses to torture me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You let me, you masochist.”

“And now you’re being mean to me on my birthday.”

“Hardly.” You glance at the clock, shudder on a breath you hide in a cough. “Only two minutes left, so it doesn’t count.”

“Yeah? You gonna go back to being mean to me tomorrow?”

“No,” you say without much thought. There’s something about his voice when he gets like this, unfair of him to call you mean when he says it in that tone. He’s mean. Dizzying. “Maybe,” you add quickly, “if you deserve it.”

He hums, glances over when the clock ticks. “You’ve got a minute to decide. Maybe you can be nice to me in the meantime. Make up your mind at midnight.”

“And what could I do in a minute to know?” you ask, but it’s half a sigh. You’re inching between his legs now, spread open, anticipating the moment you fully fill the space. Carefully, you oblige him. His knees bracket your hips but don’t touch. You could be held another way if you wanted, how you imagine it sometimes — too often and for longer than you’d like to admit.

Slowly but surely, a knee brushes your hip. When you only skip a breath but stay, his eyes slip down, and he takes the chance, brushes against the other until you’re snug between his thighs.

“Anything,” he says, and that’s everything, isn’t it?

You set the tin on the table behind you. Wipe the hair from his eyes and trace a path to his jaw. Caleb shudders, canting to follow your touch.

“God,” he murmurs, “anything.”

So you climb into his lap like coming home.

It feels like it: soft and warm and sturdy, his arms coming up to hold you without a second’s pause, and you love him. You kiss him. He welcomes you in.

If midnight strikes, you’re beyond caring the moment his lips are on yours. The days could blur like this, a thousand birthdays in a week, all the years you spent wanting this made up in the time you swear you will have it. Caleb, fortunately, seems to be of a similar mind. One hand lingers at your back as he cradles you closer, the other twining up your waist to the nape of your neck, your jaw, big palm swallowing your cheek with the brush of his thumb. He holds you there. Only lets you squirm if it’s to push forward, and you have no intention of going anywhere else. And he’s loud. God, don’t you know he is; you’ve tried following his workouts before, the one-handed pushups, the military precision, sweat trickling down the neckline of his tank top to territory untreaded. But to feel his sounds against your mouth when you’re only kissing — and fine, sure, your hips are rolling somewhat on instinct — is so intensely foreign that you’d stumble if he wasn’t holding you so tight.

You pull away to breathe. It stings. Pathetically, you literally ache to part from him. But you’d frame the image of him dazedly chasing your lips if you could, and that alone is worth it.

Caleb slumps back against the couch with a half-lidded gaze and cheeks already flushed, shaking his head like he’s not sure you’re real. “Wanted you — needed you like this for —”

“How long?” you whisper, mouth dry.

He laughs. It sounds verged on a sob. “All my life.”

“Oh.” You still, and you hope he knows it’s because your mind has gone too fuzzy to come up with anything better. “Okay, you — you can have me. As long as… Can I have you?”

His head falls back with a broken sigh. “Can you have — You kiddin’ me? Baby, you do. Please.”

You nod, kissing him again, guiding his hand to your shoulder while you copy the way he said baby over again in your head. He traces the ribbon there and pulls back when you loop his fingers through it to tug it free.

“God. Are you sure?”

“Mhm,” you say, and scatter your confirmation in kisses up his neck. He curses, free hand cupping your thigh now, squeezing as if to steady himself. “Want you.”

And then the ribbon is as undone as he is, cascading down your dress with all of its jewels, cool air prickling the skin of your chest when he follows suit on the other side. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, engulfed in an instant by Caleb’s warmth. His mouth traces the new skin available to him. He moans when your hands grip his hair. Spurred on, he kisses lower, as reverent as he is curious, as loving as he is hungry. You can’t help but tug when his tongue grazes your nipple, and he hums in satisfaction, drags you by the hand under your thigh so that you’re straddling him properly, as if you weren’t before. His hard length presses perfectly between your legs.

You grind against him and he stops, keeps you still. “Fuck — not yet. Gotta wait for me, baby.”

“But you’re —”

“I know, I know, no fair. Too much I wanna do with you first, though.”

“Caleb…”

His mouth traces lower as he hoists you up, Evol pressing in now, the pressure colder, but familiar, part of him like everything else, and you want everything. “Let me be greedy? Wanna be good to you. Please.”

You suppose that’s it — everything — offered to you plainly. What are you going to do but take it?

You nod. Small, first, reeling somewhat from the fact that this is happening, then earnest when his eyes tell you it isn’t enough.

“Thank you,” he says. Sighs it into a kiss at your navel as his fingers work their way to the insides of your thighs and dig like he knows to expect your shudder. You wrap your arms around his shoulders. He presses closer, feather-light, just the tips of his fingers now, relenting his grip to his Evol in favour of testing the grounds of your skin, how the goosebumps raise on the round, soft shape of your bare thighs. You’d considered wearing stockings that morning. Dreamed of this moment but not dared believe in it, and abandoned them regardless in the same eager hope you always have for him. Thank god.

“Caleb,” you breathe again, the word dry, sticky when your mouth tries to shape it right. “Let me down — I want — need to feel you.”

He groans, shakes his head with your hands on his cheeks, tilting his face so that your sweetest eyes might make him give in like he always does, but even then he denies you. He has to grit his teeth through it. Can’t linger on your gaze too long before pulling you down just enough to bury his face in your neck but not to feel him firm between your legs again.

His fingers find their way there instead, and you’re jolting over his lap when they graze the juncture of your thigh just as his teeth come down softly on your collar, soothing the sting with his tongue. But even Caleb’s patience wanes. He’s got his spare hand pushing your dress up around your waist, trailing the lace band of your underwear with restraint you’re not sure he would’ve had if you’d done this years ago, when you probably should have. It’s something to think about, rocking as far as you can against the weight of his Evol — Caleb in his college years, with you, swallowed by the size of him in a little dorm bed as he pants above you, his fingers —

His fingers pushing aside the fabric of your panties and finding the wetness there, moaning into your neck at the feeling, the sound you make with him. You gasp, blink open eyes that were blissfully, painfully shut, dream discarded. The reality is better. You claw at his shoulders.

“Caleb, please —”

“Fuck, okay, so pretty like this. Knew you would be.”

It’s too good. He’s too good. All at once, half-suspended, his mouth kissing a necklace on your throat while his fingers curve upward to find your clit. You don’t know where it comes from. Thoughts of him in college? Your Caleb, tall and pretty and ever-so-wanted? You can’t help it.

“How are you… Have you — ah — done this before?” you ask, but it’s strangled, caught in his hair, stuck to your open mouth.

He stops. It’s not even a fair question. What would you tell him if he asked you the same? That despite his best efforts, you’d kissed and been kissed, fumbled around to touch, been touched before retreating, too uncertain even with kind hands on tall pretty bodies, terrified to feel them and think only of him?

“I told you,” he says, and his voice is so breathy now, rasped like it gets on your favourite mornings, “Wanted you all my life. Why would I?”

You nod, feeling dizzy. “Just — just good at it. Guess I could’ve said that better.”

A surprised, satisfied little laugh escapes him. Scowling at his self-congratulation, you shut him up with your lips. So he’s yours, good, conversation over, thank you. But Caleb is smiling so proudly against your silencing kiss, fingers right back to work, and the first delicate circle he draws over your clit has you keening, stuttering into him.

“Too much, honey?”

“Fuck, Caleb —”

“That’s okay. You can do it.” He sounds so sincere. Sugar-spun. Your sweet Caleb, looking up at you with dewy eyes and pink lips. “God, you’re wet. Gotta let me in.”

“Uh-huh,” you exhale, nodding limply into his neck.

“I can?”

“Please.”

“Oh, you’re —” His thumb keeps its place but two fingers trail down, curl at your entrance and you lurch helplessly against his Evol to meet them — “Too good to me, baby.”

His ring finger presses in first. There’s some symbolism lost on you you’ll smile sleepily about later. Not now. Now he slides into you, enveloped without resistance, and you curse. You’d be writhing if you had the movement, squirming to push him deeper. Caleb is muttering something, both of you at the beating pulse of the other’s throat, and it feels like a mantra he’s etching to your skin. It sounds like the sort of patterned speech someone repeats to themselves to wake up from a dream.

“More,” you plead, and with anyone else you’d be embarrassed at the desperation in your voice, but you don’t think it could be anyone else. You don’t think anyone else could be made so broken just by pleasing you.

“More?’ he rasps in awe, like he isn’t obliging you already, finger sliding in to the knuckle. A warm pressure builds steadily inside you. He coils so nicely against it, the friction blinding. Your vision dances.

It’s something beyond instinct to bite down on him harder than he did you. It starts with grazing teeth, and then you’ve never been content just having some of him, have you? So you latch around the skin, summer-gold, fresh from the shower. You can’t help it. You need to. 

“Fuck —” His spare hand scrambles from thigh to hip, grabbing tight, twitching at the shallow indent of your teeth in his neck. His Evol loosens enough for your shoulders to slump, cocooned around his torso. You pant, kiss, almost as wet and messy on his Adam’s apple as you are on his fingers, and he sounds like he’s struggling to hold on.

Good, you think. In the heat haze of your pleasure and his faltering control, your trembling hand reaches down and wraps around his clothed length.

Caleb’s Evol slips completely, second finger barely tipping into you when you sink down on his lap and ease it to the hilt.

It’s something about the evidence of his desire and the way he grips you harder. Something about the sight of his hand buried between your legs, fingers vanished to the knuckles in the warmth of your cunt. The added friction of his thighs under yours, grinding frantically against him while he’s still blinking over some fired circuit in his brain. If it’s all too much for him you don’t notice in any way that matters. The rope grows taut and snaps, and only when you come do your teeth finally unlatch from him, crying into his flushed ear instead.

You’re shaking so hard it’s difficult to process the moment he returns to you. This. Here. Your body spilled over him, panties to the side and thighs spasming over his clenched wrist. But he does. Oh, he does — the focus comes back to your eyes in time to catch his darkening, burning, sweeping down to the mess you’ve made of his lap. It’s hard not to relish the look in his eyes and the twitch of his cock, imagine how good this is for him, memorize the bead of sweat trickling down his cheek. 

Caleb doesn’t want you thinking about how it feels for him. Caleb doesn’t want you thinking at all.

Wordlessly, he flips you over. Tugs your dress up by the ribbons and lays you on the couch all while you’re still panting. It’s you who can’t quite cling to reality enough to play even, keep the control you so narrowly won when you’re still coming down from his fingers. And then the absence of them is suddenly so overwhelming that you’re pushing up on wobbly elbows to catch the moment he’ll surely curl them into you again.

That’s not what you find him doing.

Instead, he’s sliding your panties down legs he wrests open despite their jerking, kissing his way back up from your ankles until his breath is warm against your cunt.

“Said you’d let me be good to you,” he breathes, bitter but without any bite.

“You —” He kisses the inside of your thigh, licks a stripe up the residue of your orgasm — “Oh, you are good to me.”

“Uh-uh, baby. I told you I wanna do more and you’re bein’ greedy. You don’t even know how much I wanna do. Don’t have a damn clue, do you? Can’t make me come yet or I won’t get to do it all.”

You’re swallowing instead of talking, mouth dry, head progressively lighter but apparently not light enough for him because you’re still mustering the urge to argue.

“You’d come from that? Me on your lap?”

You don’t pose the question to embarrass him, and he isn’t.

“I can’t believe I have you,” is what he says, so raw, so suddenly unabashed in the wake of all the shame he carries that you don’t know what to do with it but hold your breath. “Just you is enough. Don’t think you’d have to touch me at all.”

“Oh.” Stupid. You’re stuck on the syllable again.

“But,” he goes on, “You told me you’d be nice.”

And he presses his lips to your clit as if to test your word, a little whine in his throat when you gasp and buck your hips. He forces them back down. No Evol. Just his hands now. Maybe to prove he can.

“That was — ah — think it’s tomorrow now, Caleb.”

“Today, baby. Your head’s all dizzy, huh?”

You nod feebly.

“Poor thing. Gotta let me take care of you then.”

Again. Your head copies the motion without thinking, hips struggling against his hold, his mouth inches from where you need him.

“Ah,” he tuts, “Tell me, please? Tell me I can take care of you.”

You fall back onto a pillow, unsure when he placed it there, but warmth spreads in the place you feel his absence at the knowledge that he did. He’s already taking care of you. Always has. 

“You can take care of me, Caleb — baby, please.”

Maybe the word does to him what it does to you, because he hitches your thighs over his shoulders with a low groan and does. He takes care, tongue laving against you and then in, fingers right back on your clit in case his mouth gets too busy lapping at whatever you’ll give him. And you’re remiss to hold back. As if you had a choice, your body wound in the throes of his touch. He’s making more of a mess of you than he’s cleaning up the last. His moans reverberate against you. At a point, startled from your steady, shallow panting when he slides two fingers back in and presses your clit from both sides, you realize he’s as lost as you are. Consuming you and consumed. You thrash helplessly as the feeling rises again, hands weaving through his hair as you peer down from your heaving chest.

He’s moving. Not just his mouth and the quick joints of his wrist with every curl of his fingers — Caleb is moving somewhere lower, hips desperately grinding against the couch as he eats you out. You fucking mewl. High and wanting, face immediately turning over to bite the pillow he set for you. 

He stops with a jolt. Stiffly, pulls away, a scratchy sound at the back of his throat, movement suspended as your necklace swings beautifully across his chest. You squirm in pathetic display for his mouth to latch onto you again, his name spilling tenfold from your lips. The pillow is damp where it drools out of you.

“Fuck. Stop, stop.”

You try, less effort on your part than his, grip tight on your thighs as his eyes wrench shut.

“W-Why?”

“Almost came. Fuck. Give me a second.”

He did say just you were enough.

Still, it’s a devastating thing to know. Maybe you could come from just him too — hands on your thighs, yes, but nothing of him anywhere else but the inches he’s retreated away from you, mouth glistening, hair mussed from your desperate fingers.

“You can,” you say, babbling somewhat, your voice entirely shot. “Want you to. Come back.”

“Jesus, baby, don’t do that.”

But with his hands on your thighs, yours are free to push through his hair again, stroke the messy strands from his face and brush your trembling thumb over his wet lip. He curses, lets you graze his teeth with glossy eyes before slapping the palm down and away like it’s enough to unravel him. When he pins your hand to the cushions, a new freedom is offered to buck your hips, and the last of his resolve vanishes with the provocation. It’s not on purpose. It’s his fucking fault, really, he’s completely possessed you. That doesn’t seem to matter much to him. 

Caleb burrows into your cunt with something too ruined to be anger but animalistic all the same, Evol seizing you, and you come a second time, fixed against his mouth without an inch for escape.

His ministrations are unfaltering. He isn’t wasteful and he isn’t forgiving — tongue fucking into you even when you stutter in the comedown. You think you’re speaking, begging, aware enough to try to muffle your moans with a bite to the pillow but his Evol takes that from you too. He doesn’t stop. Must have conjured some impossible determination because you make the same noise that almost destroyed him before but it does nothing to cease his pace now.

“Can't,” you whine, “Too much — ah, Cal-uh-uhb —”

His mouth departs from you only for the time it takes to deny you. “Can, honey. So good for me.” 

“Need to hold… something…”

So generous, your Caleb, he relents control of one of your hands. It immediately winds its way back to his hair and pulls. Your chest is still heaving, body twitching with all the movement it has available as his mouth finally salves its assault, licking at the soaked skin of your inner thighs instead. But it gives you a moment. A breath.

He looks up at you, staring in some sacred way while you struggle to keep your eyes open. Even when the pleasure begins to fade to a calm, steady buzz, legs slumped under the caress of his hands, you moan softly at his fingers pulling free. Time seems to still to just this. You lock your heavy-lidded gaze on his, find him, keep him there with sudden urgency. You’ve had him as long as you can remember and yet you’ve spent your whole life looking for him.

“Promise me you’re real,” he breathes, like he’s done nothing but look for you too.

Your eyes go hot. Blurring at the corners until nothing is clear but him. “I thought I lost you.”

“No,” Caleb says quickly, Evol gone again, inching up your torso to wipe your tears before they fall. “No, it’s you and me, Pips — I couldn’t… I would’ve found a way back to you.”

“I looked for you everywhere.”

He presses his lips to your forehead. “I know.”

“I never would’ve stopped.”

Your cheek. Hand on the other. “I know.”

“You’re really here?”

“I’m here.” He kisses you. “I love you.”

You nod, smiling, crying, laughing maybe. “I love you too.”

His breath catches in his throat, blinking rapidly. The cool quiet of his apartment is warm in a way it’s never been before. “I dreamed about you. I’d wake up… reachin’ for you. If I didn’t have you like this, it’d be enough; you know that, right?”

It’s your turn, pulling him down, kissing his forehead. “I know.” You wrap your arms around him. “But I’m glad it’s like this.”

He sighs contentedly, squished against you, hands trailing reverently down your waist. And you know he’d sleep like this, still fully dressed, still hard — clean you up a little before you doze off — and that would be more than he’d once allowed himself to want. It’s long past midnight now. You owe him nothing and never have. There’s no transaction here. You just love him. You just want him in all the ways he can be had.

“Can you…” It’s ridiculous to be shy now. You grumble into his neck nonetheless, still putty from the hips down. “I don’t wanna sleep yet, Caleb.”

“You—?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck. Are you s—”

“I’m sure, dummy.”

He twitches at your thigh. “How are you so mean to me when you’re bein’ so nice?”

“That doesn’t make any — ah —” His hand wedges between your legs again — “Sense.”

“Mm, you know exactly what I mean.”

“Shut up.”

“Like I said.”

You get to work on his buttons. 

“You love me,” you say as you descend to his navel, skin revealed by the inch.

He isn’t shy to repeat himself. “I love you. More than anything.”

“Forever?”

“Forever. Longer. However long you’ll have me.”

His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, flexing on instinct at your touch, the muscles tanned and corded. You squeeze and pull him closer. Don’t want anything separating you. Want him to be part of you.

“I love you,” you murmur between kisses, low as he’ll let you go before his abdomen clenches and he’s pushing you back up the cushions and unbuckling his belt.

“I can’t — Need to be inside, baby.”

Point proven: his cock slips free from his briefs, painfully hard, flushed for you. You reach for it, mouth watering. Caleb grabs your wrist and groans in a hoarse, fragmented way when you part your legs instead. His head falls to the crook of your neck.

“Fuck. I don’t have… I didn’t want to assume…”

Oh. Right. Protection. You’ve only been warned a thousand times. “I don’t care.”

You don’t care? Point proven, in a terribly honest way: you cant your hips up and slide filthily slick against him. It would be so easy to guide him where you want him. You shudder under his glorious weight, digging your fingers into his biceps while his clutch white-knuckled at the cushions on either side of your head. There goes that mantra again, more like a prayer now, like begging for you and mercy as if they’re one in the same. But he’s not holding you down anymore and that has to mean something. 

You’re grinding up, a bit hard on your sensitive thighs but you’re no quitter. You’re inviting him in, warm and welcome, and you’ve been home to him too long to stay waiting at the door.

“Okay, okay,” Caleb gasps. He shifts to squeeze your waist and lift your hips nice and snug around his. His other hand wraps around his length, weeping from the tip, wet enough at the apex of your thighs to rub through and lubricate. You keen at the feeling. “I’ll be slow, baby. You okay?”

“Uh-huh. Please.”

“So good,” he praises, not sinking in yet but lined up just right. “Can you — ahh, keep bein’ good so I can get one more from you, honey, please? All I want.”

“Y-yeah.”

He eases the tip in. “Yeah?”

“God, I can’t —”

“Can’t? — Oh, fuck — I know, I know, but y’can’t clench around me like that, baby. Said you could do it so I need you to keep your word.”

“M’trying. Need more.”

“Gimme a… give me one second, pretty. God, you’re so…” 

Warm. Warm, you want to finish. Blistering at how perfectly he sinks in, forehead sticking to yours as you inhale each other’s hot gasps. You want to wrench your eyes shut at the pressure as much as you need to immediately wrest them open again. You can’t look away from him. Then you don’t know which part of him to look at; his eyes are volcanic, more pink than violet in the sunset hue of the lights you strung for him, fluttering as he presses deeper, but — then there’s the point of contact where he does it, lapsing from sight like his fingers did, burrowed steadily inside you.

There’s the initial sting but he’s so sweet, your Caleb, patiently murmuring praises into your mouth: so good, like I dreamed it, please and please and please. It’s more overwhelming than anything else, the need to be as familiar with this part of him as you are the rest, shuddering around the foreign stretch as he slowly pushes to the hilt. Your hands scrabble at his shoulders for purchase and his head falls. Soft, dark hair curtains your vision. It’s less sweet, less patient when he teeths your jaw and mutters, “Mine.”

For a moment you stay like that, testing the air, the feeling of skin, marks of old scars and new, all senses to prove it’s real. You asked him already. He promised he was. And you don’t think you could conjure this — never dreamed him quite right when you did.

Then he moves. Your nails carve moons in his skin you’ll kiss better later.

“You’re — ha —”

“Please,” you sob, reduced to the word, unsure of exactly what you’re even asking.

Caleb’s cock twitches inside you. “You cryin’, baby? It’s okay.”

Are you? You don’t think you care. His thumb is at your cheek to wipe the tears, your old bite mark faded between the fingers, and you whine a soft, “More.”

“Yeah? You want me to keep going?” It’s a strained question, a needy thing, like he’s always tried not to be for you. It’s hard for him to imagine parting now — and you know that because you grab on tighter at the thought — but he would without blinking. Clean you up and carry you to bed, talk it through in the morning, love you no matter how you have him. 

But how many more ways can you tell him you want him? Grind into his hips, flutter around him so his teeth clench on a moan? You are his mirror, comprised of his best and worst parts, and he’s never turned away. You never will either.

“Stay,” you plead, taking his hand. 

With the lights shadowed by the veil of his hair, his eyes are the same soft purple you look for in every sunrise. Tears pearl in them, a gaze that doesn’t shine like this for anything else, and he’s cradling you by the hips, loving you — the best thing his hands have ever done — whispering it in a jagged, barely-there voice as he pulls back and thrusts in again.

“I love you,” at the column of your throat.

“I love you,” between kisses that slope to your chest.

“I love you,” in your open mouth, tasting him, too gone to say it back but he knows.

Caleb holds your trembling thighs open around his waist every time your body tries to squeeze them shut, manoeuvres you to fit him deeper, praises never ceasing even when you can’t muster the energy to rock to meet him anymore. He’ll do the work for you, tell you how good you are, how sweet, his perfect girl. Leave it to him, he says, so eager to please you. And the pressure builds again. Your head is too fuzzy to know what words are spilling from your mouth but his name. 

“You’re gonna give me one more, baby?” he groans, awed like he didn’t swear to bring you there.

You attempt to agree.

“Yeah, you are — fuck, I can feel it. Please.”

And he’s babbling on as the feeling rises to something almost unbearable, the blurry edge of all your senses tangled, fizzling wires all coiled together. The weight of him on you and in you. You’ve never known where you end and Caleb begins, but this is something else. You gasp for comprehension, nowhere to turn, nothing in the world but the shape of him.

The wire snaps. He doesn’t last through it.

His back must be bleeding with the toll your fingers have taken on his skin, squeezing him dry in more ways than one. He spills into your cunt, pulsing, pace quickening like it isn’t enough. You’re blindingly hot underneath him, spasming through it. Your thighs are drenched. You are crying, you must be. The pleasure is undoing, the kindest way you’ve ever been unraveled, thoughts gone to him how he wanted. Your shared release pools between you as his thrusts finally slow. The sound is lewd. Impossibly, you want more. You’d tell him to stay again if you could form the word.

He knows. He’s yours.

“You did so good, honey,” he sighs in your neck, still stuttering gently into you. “Thank you.”

“I know, I know. Don’t…” You swallow. Your mouth is painfully dry. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Caleb laughs breathlessly as he engulfs you in his arms. He presses a kiss to your temple. “Think you need some water, Pips."

You grumble wordlessly against his chest.

“So you are bein' mean again? That’s the official decision?"

“Mhm."

“Huh," he hums with another kiss, grinning at the little shudder you give as his lips trail down your jaw, “How about I get up — yeah, yeah, I know, baby, don’t look at me like that. How about I get you some water and then come back inside?"

"Caleb." You blink, gasping when his tongue sweeps over your breast. “Again?”

“…Pretty please?”

With a glance over his broad shoulders, you debate whether the seconds it’ll take him to get to the kitchen and back are worth it when you’ve already got him nice and warm and wrapped around you. But his eyes gleam luringly with promise, sweaty and messy and pink in the face. 

God, you love him.

“Hurry up.”

He’s never moved faster in his life.

[juliettejwnewinesa]

hihi! I love ur fics so much can I request a suho fic? like a one-sided suho x si-eun? Y/N is si-euns older sister by a year and suho likes her while si-eun likes suho and the night that he wants to tell suho his feelings, he catches suho and Y/N together making out. Can there be like slight smut of suho and Y/N when they hang out with the friendgroup, beomseok there aswell. but suho always loved Y/N, when he first came to si-euns house for water after dropping of the wrong delivery and he saw Y/N walk past? and si-eun tries to win over suho out of jealousy but fails very badly. so it’s basically like heartbreak, onesided relationship, small smut and drama kindaa. whenever u have time to do this and if u do tysmmmmm I would appreciate it a lot since im not good at writing😣

It started with a delivery.

Suho had the wrong address. He stood outside the door with the box of drinks and snacks, irritation prickling his skin under the summer heat. It was Beomseok's idea to order food and chill together, but of course, the app had bugged out, and now Suho was here, sweating.

He rang the doorbell of the unfamiliar house. And then he saw her.

Y/N. She walked past the open hallway in shorts and an oversized tee, phone in hand, headphones over her ears. She didn’t look his way. Didn’t even know he existed. But Suho forgot to breathe.

It was the first time he felt it—that punch of quiet, stunned want.

A girl who didn’t look at him like a threat. A girl who looked like music.

And from that moment on, she was all he ever noticed.

Suho and Si-eun became friends a few months later, bonding over silent lunches and shared bruises. Suho liked his quiet, his steadiness. Si-eun thought Suho was the only one who didn’t expect anything from him.

But Suho kept coming over more often. At first, it was for water, then for homework, then just to hang out. And Y/N was always there, somewhere in the background. Laughing on the phone, cooking in the kitchen, legs tucked under her on the couch.

Suho watched her like a prayer.

Si-eun noticed.

At first, he ignored it. Then denied it. Then hated it.

Because somewhere along the way, Si-eun had started to feel something too. Something heavy in his chest when Suho smiled, when Suho sat too close. And then it wasn't just jealousy anymore. It was longing. Raw and awful.

-

Beomseok invited everyone over to his place. A rare night without adult supervision.

Y/N came too. "Why not?" she said, shrugging on a hoodie over her tank top. "Free snacks."

Si-eun sat with Beomseok and the others in the living room, watching Suho with sharp eyes. Suho wasn’t drinking. Neither was Y/N. But they kept disappearing.

So Si-eun got up. Quietly. Slipped down the hallway and stopped at the half-open bedroom door.

There they were.

Suho's back was against the wall, his hands curled around Y/N’s waist as she straddled him, knees on either side of his thighs. His lips were on her neck. Her fingers were in his hair. Soft, breathy gasps filled the air between them.

“You’re driving me insane,” Suho whispered.

“Good,” Y/N murmured, dragging her hips against his. “You make it hard to behave too.”

Si-eun turned away before he could throw up.

The days after were worse.

Suho didn’t act different. Still laughed with Si-eun. Still ate lunch with him. But now Si-eun knew. Knew every touch meant nothing. Knew Suho’s eyes were only searching the halls for someone else.

Y/N didn’t even seem to know the damage she’d done. Or maybe she did. She’d always been oblivious. Or cruel.

Si-eun tried to change. Started dressing better. Started copying her laugh. Her walk. Once, he touched Suho’s hand too long during a card game. Suho blinked.

Then pulled away.

It was raining the night Si-eun saw them together again.

He stood by the window, lights off, pretending to study. Outside, Y/N stood by the gate. Suho was in front of her, soaked to the skin, hair dripping.

They were fighting. No—talking. Close.

And then she cupped his face and pulled him in.

Si-eun closed his eyes when their lips met.

He imagined it was him. Just for a second. But when he opened them again, they were still there. Real.

Y/N. His sister.

Suho. The boy he thought he could love.

Together in the rain.

He never stood a chance.

[verstappenverse]

All This Time

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: Max was your first everything, first friend, first heartbreak. Now years later he’s world champion, and you’re standing in front of him like no time has passed at all. (Requested)

3.1k words / Masterlist

You didn’t expect him to remember.

Not after all this time. Not after the years had passed like train cars speeding in the dark, loud, fast, and gone before you could even wave.

You’d stayed in motorsport, of course. Racing had been in your blood too once. You never fully pursued it like Max did, but you’d carved out a place for yourself behind the scenes, making a name for yourself in strategy, development, coaching, anything that kept you close to the world you loved. Anything but Formula 1. You avoided that part like a wound you never let scab, too afraid it might tear open the second you saw his name on a garage wall.

But today when you finally step into the Red Bull garage and your eyes meet his, those same ocean-blue eyes that once squinted against the sun as he begged you to race him down some dusty backroad the world doesn’t just pause. It stops entirely.

Max Verstappen freezes like he’s seen a ghost.

“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper. Because really, what else can you say after almost ten years, multiple countries, and the ache of being forgotten?

He blinks once. Then again. His jaw tightens.

“You came.”

You nod, nervous under the weight of his gaze. “Yeah. I mean, your mum invited me, and… it felt like time.”

Time. That strange, cruel thing that unraveled the knot you’d once tied so tightly between you, a knot built from scraped knees, shared dreams, and the kind of trust that only comes from growing up side by side.

Time turned summer sleepovers into unanswered texts. Turned secret handshakes into blank stares across a room you no longer shared. It turned “always” into “used to.” You had been inseparable. Velcro. Chaos in a two-person unit. Trouble, always in pairs and never quite as brave alone.

You’d kept up with his career of course. You knew his stats, his wins, the way the crowd chanted his name now. But the Max you remembered the one with grass stains on his knees and ice cream on his chin felt like someone else entirely.

You grew up in karting garages together, your laughter bouncing off concrete walls louder than the engines. You were twin shadows slipping between toolboxes and tyre stacks, dodging mechanics and stealing zip ties like they were gold. Oil-smudged fingers. Greasy fries in one hand, tyre pressure gauges in the other. Max taught you how to kick-start an engine before you’d even mastered telling the time. You taught him how to tie a tie, how to tape a blister, how to calm down after a bad lap.

You used to sneak snacks off each other’s trays and pretend neither of you noticed. You fell asleep shoulder to shoulder in the back of his dad’s van, watching old F1 races on a cracked iPad and whispering commentary until one of you snored. You had a notebook, battered and dog-eared, where you’d both sketch ridiculous helmet designs, all glitter paint and fire decals. He always said he’d wear yours if he ever made it. You still have that page, folded and faded.

After every race, whether he won or crashed out, he’d find you. Every time. He’d pull off his gloves and jog toward the barriers just to hear your opinion. When you raced his face would light up when you crossed the line whether first or last didn’t matter. You were his best friend. That was enough.

But then life did what life does. You moved. He kept racing. You said you’d write. He said he’d call. And you did at first, but life moves fast and somewhere along the way you stopped.

Now here you are standing in the Red Bull garage as if no time passed, as if the world hasn’t changed, as if you’re still those two sunburnt kids who thought karting trophies and fizzy drinks were all that mattered.

Max looks at you like you might disappear if he blinks again.

His gaze flicks over your face with an urgency he’s trying to hide, like he’s checking to see what’s changed and what’s stayed the same. Like he’s afraid to find too much of one or the other.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you around here again,” he says finally, voice low and rough-edged, like it’s scraped up from somewhere buried.

You swallow the lump that rises instantly in your throat. “Didn’t know if you’d even remember.”

His mouth tilts not a smile, exactly. More like the ghost of one, soft and haunted around the edges. “You’re kind of hard to forget.”

And just like that, something inside you, something carefully packed away for years, twists, sharp and sudden. An old ache, familiar and stupidly alive. He used to say things like that all the time, back when the only people in your world were each other.

Max shifts like he wants to say something else. Instead his eyes catch on your features again, and he frowns faintly.

“You look…” he starts, then trails off. His lips part like he might keep going, but nothing comes.

You don’t press him. You’re not sure you could handle it if you did.

So you offer a crooked smile. “Older?”

He snorts, a low, almost fond sound that slips past his defences. “Still short.”

You roll your eyes and shove at his arm. “Still rude.”

Then he laughs. Really laughs. It hits you in the ribs like a punch, that sound because it’s the same. Deeper now, with age and wear, but still the same boyish rasp that used to echo through paddocks and across bunk beds and over midnight walks when the world felt too big and all you had was each other.

For a second, it’s like no time passed at all.

You don’t realise how long you’ve been staring, locked into the space between who he was and who he is, until his voice drops lower, softer.

“I missed you.”

Three words, barely breathed.

They land like a stone in your chest.

Your mouth opens, but no sound comes at first. Your fingers twitch at your sides, aching to reach for something that might no longer be yours.

“I missed you too,” you whisper finally, and the truth in it feels like something dangerous.

Because now you’re not just remembering him.

You’re feeling him.

The next morning, the paddock is alive with chaos, engineers buzzing, cameras swiveling, drivers darting past like comets. But all you can think about is the message from Max that was left at your hotel for you.

Come by the garage in the morning, before FP?

Your fingers tremble slightly as you enter the paddock. You’ve barely slept, head full of things you almost said and things he nearly did. It’s like a door opened yesterday, and now you can’t stop looking inside.

He’s waiting by the back of the garage, half in uniform, half in thought.

His face softens when he sees you.

“I was hoping you’d come.”

You nod, trying not to stare at the way his fire suit clings to his frame. “I figured if I didn’t you’d just track me down.”

He smirks. “Yeah probably. I know where you’re staying.”

You laugh, but there’s a tightness in your chest.

You watch as he fiddles with the velcro of his gloves, not quite meeting your eyes. “There’s something I want to show you. Maybe it’s stupid.”

He leads you to his driver room, past engineers, down the corridor with controlled chaos humming all around you, and when the door clicks shut, it’s just you and him.

He opens a drawer. Pulls out something that makes your breath catch in your throat.

A photo.

Faded. Bent at the corners. But unmistakable.

You and him. Teenagers, around fifteen. Covered in dirt and grease and beaming like idiots. You’ve got a bottle of water in one hand and Max is mid-squint, arm slung over your shoulders.

“I’ve had it since that last race before you left,” he says, voice low. “I kept it in my wallet for years. Then it started to fall apart, so I moved it here.”

Your fingers graze the edge of the picture.

“We look ridiculous.”

“You look happy,” he corrects quietly.

You don’t ask how often he’s looked at it. You don’t have to.

Because you remember that day too.

The air had smelled like petrol and hot asphalt, and your heart was still pounding from the race. You were grinning, practically vibrating with adrenaline. Because for the first time ever you beat Max.

He pulled off his helmet slowly, curls a sweaty mess, and sulked like someone stole his dog.

You plopped beside him in the pit lane, holding out the fries you’d bought from the food truck near the gate. “Truce?”

He gave you the side-eye. “You cut me off on turn six.”

You shrugged. “You left the inside line open. Rookie mistake.”

“I hate you.”

You popped a fry into your mouth. “No you don’t.”

He didn’t say congrats, but the way he smiled when he thought you weren’t looking that said enough.

You offered him the last fry without looking at him. “For your bruised ego.”

He took it, but didn’t eat it right away. “You’re gonna win a lot of races,” he said quietly.

“So will you.”

“But I’ll always remember this one.”

You turned to him, confused. “Why this one?”

His gaze met yours, and something in his expression shifted, a flicker of hesitation, like a thought stumbled too close to the surface.

He leaned in.

It wasn’t fast or sudden. It was slow, careful, uncertain.

Your breath hitched. The grease-stained paper bag slipped from your fingers onto the ground. You felt the sun on your skin and the heat of his body so close, his mouth a breath away from yours.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

Your noses nearly brushed. His eyes flicked to your lips. You could count his freckles.

But then, footsteps. Loud. Sharp.

You both jolted back like the moment hadn’t happened at all.

His father walked past, barely glancing at either of you.

You looked down. Max rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly very interested in his shoelaces.

And just like that, it was over.

Not a kiss.

Just an almost.

An almost that would live quietly in the silence between you, never spoken about, never quite forgotten.

You didn’t expect to be invited to the RedBull motorhome for lunch. And you definitely didn’t expect Max to sit across from you the entire time, answering questions from media with one eye always flicking back to you.

After the interviews, he corners you in a quiet hallway.

"Come for a drive with me."

You blink. “Now?”

He nods. “Yeah. I need to clear my head. I think… I think we need to talk.”

You hesitate for only a moment before you follow him out into the sun.

The car is fast, obviously, and expensive, a blur of black and blue. But inside it everything slows.

“I tried calling once… recently, I mean” he says, not looking at you.

You swallow. “I changed my number.”

He nods. “I figured. I just, you were gone. One day you were there, and the next…”

“I didn’t want to leave Max, I was a teenager I didn’t get a say.”

Silence. Then, “I know, but I really didn’t want you to. I wished I could’ve done something.”

“You were just a kid too. It was no ones fault.” You take a deep breath and then add. “I waited for you that last night, you know. I kept thinking… maybe you’d come find me.”

You’d gotten the news on a late afternoon: your family was relocating. New country. New start. It felt like the world cracked open beneath your feet.

You’d ran to him heart pounding with the knowledge that your whole life was about to split in two.

“I need to tell you something,” you’d said, voice shaking.

He looked up instantly. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated. Then forced the words out.

“I’m leaving.”

Max blinked. “What do you mean, leaving?”

“My dad got a job offer. We’re moving.”

He stared at you. Completely still. “When?”

You bit your lip. “Soon.”

His soda can crumpled slightly in his grip.

You hated the silence that followed. You wanted him to fight it. You wanted him to shout, to say no. Instead, he looked down.

“For how long?” he asked quietly.

You couldn’t lie. “I don’t know.”

He nodded once. Too slowly. Too carefully. Like the movement itself hurt.

You waited. You waited for him to reach for you, to say anything, that he’d miss you, that he was angry, that you meant something. But he just stood there, like his body had shut down and left only a shell behind.

So you swallowed your tears, your pride, and your heartache and whispered, “Guess I’ll see you around.”

You wanted to throw your arms around his neck and say you’d fight this, that you didn’t want to leave, but your throat burned and your eyes were wet and you couldn’t force the words out.

Then you turned and walked away.

“I should’ve said something,” Max says quietly. “Anything. I was a coward.”

You look at him.

You don’t say me too.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for a decade.

It’s quiet after that. The kind of quiet that lives in the space between memory and regret.

He drives to a lookout over the sea. It reminds you of a place you used to sit together as kids, eating fries from a greasy paper cone and talking about what you’d do if you ever made it.

“You made it,” you say as you climb out of the car.

“So did you,” he replies.

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Not in the same way.”

He doesn’t argue. Just leans against the hood of the car and looks at you like he’s trying to memorise you.

“I thought about you,” he says quietly. “All the time.”

Your breath catches.

“Max…”

“I kept waiting for you to come back. For years, I’d look for your face in the stands. I kept thinking maybe today.”

Your throat tightens. You remember all the times you wanted to reach out, to send a letter, an email, anything. But something always stopped you.

Fear. Pride. Guilt.

“I didn’t know if you’d care.”

He turns fully to you then, and his eyes, older, sharper, but still that same ocean blue burn into yours.

“Of course I’d care. You were everything to me. You still are.”

The air between you shifts.

“Max,” you whisper, and this time your voice trembles. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know what it means anymore. It’s been years.”

“I know,” he says, stepping closer. “But you’re still the only person I’ve ever felt like this about.”

You’re too stunned to speak.

He exhales, eyes flicking to your lips before dragging back up. “I don’t expect anything. I just… I needed you to know.”

For the first time in a decade, you let yourself touch him, your fingers brushing against his, slow and tentative.

“I still feel it too,” you whisper.

His hand closes around yours like he’s afraid to let go again.

That night, you sit on the edge of your hotel bed and stare at your phone.

A message from Max.

Come up. Roof bar. Just us.

Your heart is in your throat as you ride the lift.

When the doors open, he’s already there two drinks in hand, back turned to the city view. He turns as you approach, something soft and aching in his smile.

“You came.”

“You asked.”

He hands you a drink. “For old times?”

You take a sip. “Something like that.”

You stare at him. At the man he’s become. Stronger. Sharper. Quieter, somehow. But the boy you knew the one who always gave you the last bite of his sandwich, who held your hand during thunderstorms, who whispered secrets to you in the dark he’s still there.

“Do you think we can go back?” you ask, your voice barely audible over the city noise.

He steps close. Not touching, not yet. But close enough that you feel the pull in your chest like gravity.

“I don’t want to go back,” he says. “I want to start again.”

His next words crack something open.

“You know how often I used to write texts I never sent. Every race, every flight. I’d delete them before takeoff like an idiot.” His voice breaks, just slightly. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you again?”

You nod, because you do. Because every stupid highlight reel of his wins made your heart ache. Because you once screamed into your pillow after seeing him kiss someone else in the paddock and you thought you’d missed your chance for good.

He reaches out. Not touching you yet, just hovering. “I’m never losing you again.”

Your breath catches.

“Max…”

“No. Don’t.” His fingers find yours. Threaded. Familiar. “Please. I’ve won everything I ever wanted. Except this.”

Your forehead presses to his chest before you can stop yourself, and he holds you like he remembers exactly how to. Like he’s angry at the space between you. Like if he squeezes tight enough, you’ll forget the wasted years and remember everything else.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper.

“Don’t ever leave again,” he mutters into your hair.

You don’t answer with words. You don’t even think you just act on instinct.

You kiss him.

Desperate but somehow gentle. A question.

He answers with a hand on your waist, the other on your cheek, anchoring you like he used to when the world spun too fast.

And just like that, you’re fifteen again. And twenty-two. And every version of yourself that ever loved him.

Later, when he walks you back to your room, he doesn’t try to come in.

He just stands there in the hallway, thumb brushing your knuckles.

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” you promise.

His eyes soften. “Stay. In Monaco. Just for a while.”

You bite your lip. “Max…”

“Not just for me,” he says quickly. “For you. For us. Let’s see where this goes.”

You look at him, this man who waited years, who still looks at you like you hung the stars and you know the answer, you’ve always known.

“Okay.”

And when he leans in, forehead resting against yours, everything feels still.

You were always meant to find your way back to him.

It was always Max.

Always you.

Even after all this time

Taglist: @shigarika @bunnisplayground @thecoolpotatohologram @ymrereads @alexxavicry @gigglepre @esw1012 @satorinnie @percysaidnever @osclerc @sainzluvrr @autumn242 @shadowreader07 @joyfulpandamiracle @inmynotes63 @athanasia-day @embonbon @waterdeeply @shadowsoundeffects13 @fastandcurious16 @odegaardlia @skzvibes-blog @iambored24601 @e10owmaks @painfromblues @brokenvines-wiltingflowers @leo-twins-3107 @rxx-eegh @treatallwithkindness @lewishamiltonismybf @mara1999 @armystay89 @ramonaflwsr @zazima @valevv30 @mischiefmxnxgedhp @yoonessa @wordskeeper @freyathehuntress @brumstappen @irenkaproszepana @butterkaput @lenamds

[pythonmoth]

cw: post-traumatic stress disorder. paranoia. anxiety. panic. overthinking. reader is traumatized and unreliable. explicit suicidal thoughts. mentioned depersonalization. the voices. jealous simon. kissing the homies pt2. author was angry while writing.

× framed traitor f!reader x lt ghost. poly tf141.

text is heavily styled to show reader's panic. if it's difficult to read, I can share the normal version tomorrow. ♡

Part 8

Slow.

That's the only way you can describe how the progress has been for you.

Ever since you fell asleep with Simon on a call, you've been feeling so calm. It's like all the problems disappeared. Your therapist is confused, but glad to see you all happy and content, like never before. Your appetite has come back, your nails have been growing nicely. You give yourself a chance to try on comfortable shoes, a little hesitant to make your toenails hurt, but you can actually walk with them now. They're still a little sensitive, but you're running your errands on your own now. No need to be dependant anymore.

To feel like yourself again has given you so much comfort that you find yourself texting the team properly. Even Gaz has been taking your calls when he's available, which has been great for your mental health, and your heart. Price has been mostly quiet, but you're not surprised, as he's always busy; he mostly just shares updates on missions, like Simon. Johnny has been incredibly funny on the phone, sharing silly things and your mutual hatred towards a new movie has been helping you bond again.

Simon, however...

"Hey, I'm serious! Don't you dare using that fucking tea bag!" Simon grunts from the phone.

You turn to him, laughing as you see him frowning. Simon's unmasked face covers your phone screen, his distaste for the cheap tea bags completely clear. His eyebrows are furrowed together, his mouth curled in a little disgusted snarl. You can only grin, mocking him, lazily patting your hands dry on your pants.

"I've no energy to prepare anything else!" you sigh, dropping the tea bag on the mug, getting closer to the phone to turn the volume up.

Your phone is fighting for it's life resting against a little cookie jar on the isle, your hands still a little damp from doing the dishes.

"Well, if you didn't try to do everything at once, you would" Simon voice retorts. His forehead is covering nearly half of your screen, making it hard to take him seriously.

"I can perfectly do multiple things at the same time".

"The stove".

You turn around to see the stove still on. With a grimace, you turn it off, ignoring his little chuckle as you reach out for your tea and your phone, walking over to the living room. The couch is cozy and fluffy, making you sink into it as if it were a cloud. You drag a blanket over your legs as you smile at the screen, staring at Simon.

"Whatever. Now, what did you have for dinner?"

Ever since that night, this has been your new normal. He has time off, you have a videocall. Really, it's a win-win situation, and it makes you happy, so that's fine. He tells you all about everyone, he tells you about how much he misses you and how much he wants to see you. It makes you smile, genuinely so.

The therapist isn't convinced you're okay yet. She says you're still jumpy, still flinch around people, and she even said you're hyper vigilant. But there's nothing wrong with being precautious, so you don't understand how that's a bad thing. However, you can admit it's a little hard to do things with your hands. It's not that you can't use your hands, because you can, but it makes you feel as if you were in a simulation, as if you were part of a game and you're the point of view for someone else.

Perhaps you should've kept that to yourself.

That's probably why the therapist refuses to allow you to go back. She probably thinks you're crazy, when it happens to everyone. She just doesn't understand.

It's no matter, because they're coming.

Price told you a few days ago that they're finally free, and will be having a few months off unless they're strictly needed. It's been nine months since you last saw them in person, so it makes you feel excited, content!

Tomorrow. They're coming tomorrow.

The best part is that you don't even need to ask what they feel like eating. You know them well enough to know just how much they love meat, so you just have to go out and buy everything.

The air is a more than chilly now, your birthday month coming right up, so you decide to put on your favorite jacket and take your car keys. The drive to the store is calm, the music absolutely blasting your ears, though, your enthusiasm sky high with how much you've missed them these past few months. It makes you giddy, to welcome them, to see them again.

Your therapist has been helping you to identify your emotions, helping you to understand how you are genuinely feeling. And having them over... it makes you a little anxious. Only because you haven't gotten any visitors outside your family and friends, really. Of course you want them there, it's just gonna be new.

In just a few minutes, your car if parked and locked at least five times just to make sure, canva tote bags in hand and then you're walking in the store. You're always making sure to come at a time when there's less people, and you're glad it's keeping up the same. Headphones over your ears, music gently playing on then, you move with practiced ease.

Meat. Vegetables. Pasta.

Meat. Fruit. Meat.

And meat.

They would die if you gave them anything but meat, truly.

You smile to yourself as you carry your things back to your car, your headphones now curled around your neck so you can pay attention to your surroundings, your eyes slyly looking around, turning smoothly whenever you feel someone is looking at you from your back. Your eyes wide open, you fill your car with the groceries, quickly closing it once you're done.

Just for precaution, you look around again before looking inside your car, and as soon as you open the door, you're inside and lo ck in g the car.

Just precaution.

It's dangerous out the re.

You're home the rest of the day, preparing the meals you'll be giving them tomorrow morning. Price did say they'll be arriving at 2pm, so you make sure everything is perfect before going to bed.

That night, you sleep with Simon's breathing next to your ear again, your heart pounding in your chest. The an xie ty keeps on growing, but you're sure it's just giddiness. Really, you're just too excited you can't wait.

The next morning, you almost don't want to get up. The woodpeckers are going crazy with the tree just outside your window, the sunlight hitting your face perfectly from between the curtains and it feels peaceful. Your bed is empty, except for your pillows —and a big plushie of a dragon Johnny got for you a few years ago—, and it's so, so warm you just don't want to get up.

With a sigh, you stand up and quickly get ready to welcome the day, and your friends. You're thankful you made sure everything was ready the day before, because just as you're done blow drying your hair, there's a firm knock on your door.

Surprised, you turn to look at the clock. You didn't even realize you spent so long just staring at yourself in silence. You lost so many hours, when you could've been doing something else!

"Coming!" you yell from your room, jumping down the stairs to the kitchen and turning the stove on.

When everything is already getting heated up, you stand in front of the door, your body suddenly frozen. You're sweating, your heart slowing and then racing in your chest as if it couldn't choose what to do. Your throat is closing up.

You can't move.

Don't open the door.

Run.

Why?

What is happening?

Run.

Another knock makes you snap out of it, but your hands are still shaky as you finally open the door. Your shoulders relax as your eyes fall on Gaz, strong arms instantly wrapping around your middle as Price, right behind him, presses the door against the wall so they can all get in.

Gaz lifts you just enough to make room for the rest.

"Hey, sweetheart. Looking good" Gaz says, beaming, pressing a soft kiss to your cheekbones before letting go of you.

However, you're instantly shutting off again. You don't understand why your legs feel like jelly, why your healed fingernails are throbbing. You don't understand at all why the sudden urge to run, far, far away.

Leave.

Price grins down at you, patting your head and gently gripping your shoulder before side stepping you. "Thank you for having us, kid".

When you look up at Johnny, he's grinning down at you, but you can see the way he quickly catches on your reaction, the way your forehead is covered in sweat, and the way your lips are pursed.

Danger.

"It's good to see you" Johnny says gently, nodding down at you and moving past you very carefully, trying not to touch you.

It feels odd. It feels incredibly off. And there's something weird in the air.

Your stomach is twisting and churning. It's confusing. It's weird. Sulfur? Acid?

Fully focused on trying to understand what happening to you, you're suddenly aware that the burning smell you can perceive is coming from your deep in your stomach.

Fear? Pain? Panic?

Your throat is so closed up you can barely breathe. The fear is making your sight turn a little blurry, your breathing shaky.

Bile. You want to throw up.

When you look up at Simon, your hands clench on your sides, swallowing thickly. It feels so, so wrong to look at him like this, especially when you two are supposed to be okay again, but for some reason, you can't handle looking at him. It's making you feel... off. Odd.

You give him a tight smile and a nod, the giddiness turning ice cold in your stomach.

You bring your hand to your mouth, nibbling on your fingernails.

As soon as they're all inside, door closed behind them, Simon takes his mask off, his eyes fixed on you, frowning.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm okay. Yeah, come on" you reply, maybe a little too quickly, but you don't give him, or any of them, a moment to think about it as you move to the kitchen.

You check on everything by the stove as Johnny fills glasses with wine. It's too early for wine, but with your teeth destroying the growing fingernail on your thumb... you don't really care right now.

"It smells amazing" Price comments, inhaling deeply. He's sitting at the head of the table, looking ready to sink his teeth in anything. If he's oblivious to the tension in your shoulders, or if he's choosing to ignore it, you can't tell. "This is what having a wife at home feels like. All we're missing is a little one".

That manages to make you smile slightly, your shaky hands relaxing at the friendly tone. You reach out to mix the pots, turning to look at him.

"The only little one any of you will be seeing from me is my knee on your balls. Now, be useful and set the table" you grunt. Price raises his hands in surrender and pats Simon's shoulder so they can do as you asked.

It's not the first time they've come, anyway, so they don't have to ask you where you keep things. Johnny stays by the table, claiming he already poured the wine, but he ends up helping Simon and Price with the plates anyway.

Gaz leaves the table to stand right next to you, suddenly smacking the hand on your mouth firmly.

"Stop that shit" he whispers angrily. He's quiet, even gentle with it, so rest don't hear.

"Sorry. I'm... feeling weird" you mumble, forcing yourself to stop.

"Go sit. I've got this" he hums, nudging you with his shoulder until you let go.

You make sure to sit by the isle, just because that ridiculous anxious feeling isn't getting any smaller. If anything, you can jump and cover yourself with the isle, so this place is fine.

As Gaz serves for everyone and they start sitting down again, you nearly jump off the chair when you realize Simon's sitting next to you, instead of where he was sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"Hey, that's my chair. Go sit over there".

You look up to see Simon glare at Gaz, the two of them staring each other down, a silent conversation between the two of them. In the end, Simon simply let's go of the chair and sits away from you again. It helps you relax, but you keep quiet, reaching out to grab your glass of wine.

"Really, though. If you had a kid running around..." Price starts again, his mouth filled with food.

"Back off" Johnny complains, nudging Price still. Price rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "What a prick".

Simon, however, can't look away from you, paying attention to all of your movements, the way you lean on Gaz, the way you barely seem to be listening.

"If she's marrying anyone here, that's me" Gaz says, suddenly wrapping an arm around your shoulders. "Y'all stand no chance".

It makes you relax, but only a moment, feeling suffocated by their eyes on you, especially with the way Simon's gripping his fork. You hit Gaz on the ribs with your elbow, only to make him let go. He grins, his eyes gentle. You know he doesn't mean it like that, but it's making you uncomfortable again.

"Oi, watch your—" Simon starts, his eye twitching.

"Not playing house by choice, I've been forced to. I'm pretty sure we don't wanna talk about it, so eat up and shut the fuck up" you snap, your tone just shy from screaming at them.

That makes Price's teasing smile die, nodding solemnly, and finally shutting up. You refuse to look at the way Simon and Johnny's faces drop, both of them staring at their plates, suddenly feeling no appetite.

It's an awkward meal, everybody afraid to make a single noise. You can hear the way Simon's munching on the vegetables, you can hear Price's breathing slowing down just the way he does when he's on a mission, and Johnny... he's only mixing his food together, stabbing an innocent carrot.

After a while, when nobody's chewing and nobody even dares breathing, Gaz breaks the silence.

"So..."

The rest turn to him.

Gaz grins.

A movie.

The sun is still high up, but Garrick suggested to watch a movie, and you said yes. In a heartbeat. Really, Simon shouldn't complain if he gets to see you for a little longer. Whatever that means, anyway, because you don't want him near you at all. Fuck, you didn't even let him sit next to you.

All these months, he thought he'd been helping you, he thought therapy was going well, because during the constant videocalls you've been cheerful, your old self. You smiled at him, you laughed. He had made you laugh at his fucked up jokes again.

But this?

Johnny went with Price to buy crisps, soda, more drinks, and sour candies for you. Those two bastards really couldn't handle a single comment and bolted immediately. Pair of cowards. Simon wasn't stupid, he had seen the way Johnny nearly burst into tears, the way Price's jaw clenched, felt his own heart break inside his chest, but he has to sit here and take it. Because he wasn't a coward.

And this?

You're leaning on Garrick. Heavily.

Simon eyes the way Garrick interlocks your hands together, checking on your fingernails. His eye twitches as he hears you talk, both of you fully focused on each other, as if he wasn't there. It's not that that's a new concept for him, he often only talked so much.

But this?

His heart pounds in his chest when Garrick grips your jaw with a hand, kissing your cheek loudly after you pout at him.

It makes you smile.

That's it, he thinks. I'm getting up and I'm beating him up. Who the fuck does he think he is? Stealing my girlfriend right in front of me.

In the end, he only shifts, his face betraying nothing, looking down at his beer, hoping the other cowards arrive soon so he doesn't have to see the way he keeps losing you.

Losing you, all over again. Over a fucked up mistake, for following an order. And the worst part is that he genuinely gets it. Garrick is the only one who didn't hurt you, of course you're okay with his touch and not the rest.

Fucking hell. He wants to stab himself in the gut to end his misery.

But no.

He did that.

There's no changing it.

Simon looks up at the two of you.

His anger dissipates when he hears your soft laugh, Garrick's hand on the back of your neck, keeping you steady as he pokes your side, clearly sharing a silly moment. Simon grimaces and turns away again, sipping his beer.

It takes Price and Johnny half an hour to come back, and Simon couldn't be happier to see them.

With the snacks covering the coffee table and their laps, Simon genuinely tries to ignore the fact that you're still pressed against Garrick's side, happily munching on your sour candy. Johnny's sitting on the floor right between his legs, occasionally feeding him orange gummy bears or crisps. Price, between Garrick and himself, is staring at the movie, seemingly content with sipping on his beer, and stealing some of Simon's gummy bears.

Every time he hears your low laugh, Garrick's hands on you, Simon wants to die. He grips Johnny's shoulder, his nails digging slightly into his skin, trying his best to pay attention to the movie, but he isn't able to understand what it is about. He doesn't know what's happened in front of him for the past hour. He knows how many times Garrick's lips were pressed to your cheek. He knows how many times you laughed with Garrick. He knows how many times you've shifted, closer and closer to Garrick.

He can't do anything but dwell on his own regret, on his anger. His pain.

He doesn't blame you, he doesn't blame Garrick. Hell, he doesn't even blame Price, or Johnny, or anybody else. Just himself.

He could've done this so much better, but there's not much he can do. He needs to be alone with you so he can talk properly, apologize again, but every time he looks at you, even without the mask, you flinch. It doesn't matter how hard you try to hide it, he can see it.

Johnny gets up, snapping him out of his thoughts. He sees him take the empty plate, walking towards the kitchen.

Not even a minute later, Johnny's cursing and there's a shattering sound echoing on the house. Simon stands up, moving to go check on Johnny, but he freezes when you stand up abruptly, your face in complete shock as you walk away, your arm bumping onto the walls as you rush away.

He's torn for a whole second too long, thinking if he should follow you or check on Johnny first, and that's enough for Garrick to beat him to it. Simon can only stare at Garrick follows after you, sprinting.

After a moment of hesitation, he walks over to Johnny. Simon finds him picking up the shattered plate, grimacing when he sees someone walking in.

"Ah, it's you. I tripped" Johnny grumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You hurt yourself".

"Just a tiny cut, 's nothing. Where did she go?" Johnny questions, bringing his thumb to his mouth, sucking a little on the blood.

"I don't know. Practically bolted when you dropped the plate".

Johnny stares at him, blinking. "And what are you doing here? I must've scared her" he sighs, standing up. "Where to?"

"Garrick already went after her".

"So?"

"They're getting along. A lot".

Johnny blinks again.

Smack.

"What the fuck? What was that for now?" Simon growls out, rubbing his head. Johnny shakes his head, still expecting an answer. Simon sighs. "Over there. Come on".

Simon guides Johnny, their feet barely making any noise, used to being quiet and, also, because they don't want to spook you any longer. He finally spots you, the door of the guest bedroom ajar.

He freezes.

Johnny's hand grips his arm, his whispered curse falling on deaf ears.

Simon stands there in complete silence, his blood, and stomach, and his heart and his brain falling to his feet as he can only stare.

Your cheeks are wet with tears but it's barely visible because Garrick's hands are covering them, his lips on yours.

It looks peaceful.

And Simon wants to die all over again.

Johnny quietly shuffles away, but Simon can't look away. Not now.

Garrick pulls away and kisses your cheek, then your forehead, then grips your nose, making you huff, a small smile on your lips. He's grinning, rolling his eyes, as if that kiss didn't just happen.

Simon isn't breathing. He's not even sure he's here anymore. Perhaps he did die, and this is his personal hell.

Must be.

chingue a su madre emilia pérez y todos los involucrados. I was pissed writing this and I wanted chaos.

-ˋˏ✄——————————————————

Masterlist | Part 9

Buy me a coffee

anyway, so there's that ♡ thank you so much for reading!!!

taglist: @euphoricn @lilg101010 @enfppuff @carolchaotic @silas-fanfic-favs @nina-from-317 @an-ever-angry-bi @kittygonap @dorothy-rainbird-deactivated202 @adventurerabby @defronix @sheepispink @iambuttwodaysold @blackhawkfanatic @malevolentghoul @thriving-n-jiving @literallegendicon @echo9821 @angel-bugz @ssc7514 @clickbait-official @hades--baby @blackhawkfanatic @sirbonesly @saki---chan @skeletonsucker @nnsissys @kukavittu @tessakate @honestlymassivetrash @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @rayrayyio @diseasedclitoris @alex1011sdzfgh @thebumbqueen

[jojojoy1]

Hey!! can you do a lando x driver y/n. Your writing is amazingggg! <3 have a good dayyy

I'm sorry I won - Lando Norris

Lando Norris x reader

You climbed out of your car seething with anger. There was only one word you could think of to describe that race: shit. You'd been leading the race for Every. Single. Lap. Until you weren't...

You'd managed to hold off the McLarens up until the last lap, when you hit a piece of debris on the track. The papaya cars flew past you, leaving you in P3. Not a bad result, but not what you wanted.

You stormed past all the reporters after getting weighed. FIA and team personnel ambushed you, pushing you to do the post-race interview and podium.

Lando watched as you argued your way to the exit. There was no way you were going to talk about that shitshow. So you didn't. No interview. No podium. You just left.

Everyone knew of your relationship with Lando, so everyone knew how tense the next few days would be. He wanted to run to you after the race. He wanted to apologise and comfort you. Tell you it wasn't personal, just racing. But he had duties, the same ones you ignored. So he couldn't.

When he finally got back to the hotel, he could feel the argument brewing. He opened the door slowly, hoping you were asleep and trying not to wake you. You were laying somewhat peacefully in bed, but you weren't asleep.

"Fuck off. Find a different room to sleep in tonight." Your monotone voice made Lando feel like he was being stabbed with your words. You didn't look at him, facing the wall with your back to him.

"Baby, please, don't be like this. I'm so-"

"Don't say you're sorry. You won. You were very fucking happy, and you should be. Well done." It was the blandest 'well done' ever. No joy in your voice. You didn't sound proud of him, not that he expected you to. He knew how angry you could get sometimes when it came to racing. "I don't hear you leaving."

"The hotel is packed, they definitely won't have an extra room for me to stay in just because you're mad at me." Lando didn't want to say too much, not knowing what might set you off.

"Well you're not sleeping in the bed," Finally, you rolled over to face your nervous boyfriend. "You can sleep over there." You gesture towards the tiny leather sofa on the other side of the room.

"Seriously?" He questioned, his slightly annoyed expression quickly changed with the sharpe glare you sent him. "Fine. If that will make you happy."

"Winning would have made me happy."

"No need for the sass, y/n. It's not my fault you hit that debris." You didn't respond to that, just rolling over again to ignore him. "And seriously, you're the only person that ever holds anything that happens on track against me. Everyone else just brushes it off because that's racing. You know I love you but you also know I can't just go easy on you because I love you. So I'll sleep on the sofa tonight but you need to let this go. I'm not sleeping on the sofa when we get home."

"Ugh..." You roll back and sit up, looking at your boyfriend. "I'm sorry, you're right. It's just racing and I should leave it on track." That response shocked Lando. He expected you to blow up at him. Screaming and shouting, so an apology is not at all what he had prepared himself for.

"Does that mean I can sleep in the bed?" Lando asks, hopeful. You consider it for a moment.

"Fine. Come cuddle me, mister winner." Your arms outstretched to welcome him for a hug. Lando flops into your arms as if he'd just turned to liquid.

"How much trouble were you in for skipping everything?"

"Oh so much."

[gojover]

end of beginning.

the world’s ending, the air is toxic, and here you are, sitting on the floor of your childhood room, contemplating a heist.

— pairing: caleb xia x fem!reader — contains: romance, angst, smut (breast play, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex (please stay safe irl!)), childhood friends to lovers!au, apocalypse!au, hurt/comfort. inspired by djo’s end of beginning and iu’s love wins all music video. — word count: 6.8k

The world is about to end, and you’re eating instant noodles on the living room floor when he tells you.

“The government fucked up,” Caleb says. He’s sprawled on the carpet next to you, his thigh pressing against your knee and his arms crossed behind his head. He hasn’t gone to work in weeks—and it’s a pity, you think, because he’s the best pilot they had.

But then again, you suppose, what use would a pilot be when the skies themselves are poisoned?

You slurp a noodle, unbothered. The taste is bland, and you wish you’d sprung for the spicy kind last time you went to the store. It’s too late now.

Caleb exhales a long, slow breath through his nose, eyes tracing lazy circles across the ceiling like he’s looking for constellations that aren’t there anymore. His hair is too long, curling over his forehead, a leftover from the time when days still mattered.

“They tried to fix it,” he says. “But it just made everything worse.”

You swirl your fork through the soggy mess in your bowl. “Of course they did.”

It comes out sharper than you mean it to, but he doesn’t flinch. Caleb never flinches. Not even when the emergency sirens first started going off. Not even when the newsfeeds turned to static.

Outside, the sky is the colour of an old bruise—yellow, purple, sickly green at the edges. You stopped checking the forecasts. They always said the same thing anyways: hazardous, do not breathe, shelter indoors.

“How long?” you ask after a while, setting your bowl aside. It doesn’t matter, really, but you want to hear him say it.

Caleb tilts his head towards you, just slightly. His eyes catch the dim light. “A few weeks. A month, tops.”

You hum, as if he had told you it might rain tomorrow. The silence stretches out between you, heavy and companionable. He shifts closer, his ankle pressing against your calf, and you don’t move away. You wonder if he’s scared. You wonder if you should be. Instead, you glance at him, at the grim set of his jaw, the lazy sprawl of him on the floor like he’s sunbathing in a world that’s already gone cold.

“Guess we picked a good last meal,” you say dryly.

He laughs, and it’s the best sound you’ve heard in days.

“Wanna do something stupid?” Caleb turns his head, resting his cheek against the carpet so he can look at you properly. He grins at you like you’re kids again, like you’ve got all the time in the world.

“What kind of stupid?” you ask.

“Does it matter?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think it over, but the truth is you’d say yes to anything right now. “What do you have in mind?”

Caleb sits up, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up in soft, messy tufts. He looks like a boy again—trouble and charm and wild ideas stitched into his bones.

“There’s a museum downtown,” he says. “The one with all the… old stuff. Paintings, sculptures. They abandoned it when the first evacuation orders went out. Bet no one even bothered locking the doors.”

“You want to steal art?”

“Why not? It’s not like anyone’s going to miss it.”

Well. That is kind of true.

You sit back on your heels, eyes narrowing in thought. It’s absurd, but then again, everything feels absurd these days. The world’s ending, the air is toxic, and here you are, sitting on the floor of your childhood room, contemplating a heist.

“You’re serious?” you ask, half-laughing, half-asking for reassurance.

Caleb grins, leaning forward to push himself up to a sitting position. His hair falls messily over his forehead as he straightens his back, giving you a look of fond exasperation. “Who else is going to do it?”

The idea starts to settle in, like it’s meant to be this way. A last hurrah, the sort of thing you’d see in movies before the credits roll. Except this isn’t a movie, and you know it. This world is real, and it’s dying. But somehow, it still feels like you’ve got a chance at doing something ridiculous.

“And you think there’ll still be something worth taking?” you ask.

“Maybe not. But I bet it’ll still be beautiful. Art’s supposed to last forever, right? Guess we’ll see if it actually does.” His voice softens at the last bit, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.

You nod, almost absentmindedly. “Alright. Sure. Let’s go steal some art.”

Outside, the air burns the back of your throat, thick and metallic, but you don’t care. The streets are empty, ghost-town still, your footsteps the only sound as you walk side by side towards the heart of the city. The asphalt sticks to your shoes, tacky from the heat, but you keep moving. Caleb matches your pace, close enough that your sleeves brush every few steps. He hums a low, tuneless song under his breath.

You turn a corner. The skyline, once proud and glittering, leans crooked now, buildings half-shrouded in the jaundiced haze. Billboards flap limply in the dead air, advertising a future that never showed up.

“Feels like we’re walking through the end of a movie,” Caleb says.

You glance at him. His face is set in a strange kind of calm, the kind people wear when they’re past fear and deep into acceptance. His hands are shoved into his jacket pockets, shoulders loose.

“Except no dramatic soundtrack,” you mutter.

He huffs a laugh. “Guess we’ll make our own.”

You let the quiet settle between you again, breathing shallowly through your mouth. Every now and then, a birdcall splits the thick air—sharp, jarring against the hush—and it makes you both flinch, just a little.

You pass by a coffee shop you used to go to sometimes, back when things were still normal. The door hangs open. Someone left a cup on the table inside, a ring of brown staining the paper lid. You wonder, absently, if they ever got to finish it.

Caleb bumps your shoulder with his, pulling your attention back. He’s smiling at you—small, lopsided, a little tired.

“We’re almost there,” he says, nodding up ahead.

The museum looms ahead, its glass façade cracked, vines curling hungrily up the walls. The banners that used to advertise new exhibits hang shredded from the columns, fluttering lazily in the poisoned breeze. You stop at the bottom of the steps, tipping your head back to look up at the building properly. It’s massive and empty, the kind of thing you used to call haunted before everything turned into a shell of itself.

“Ready?” Caleb asks.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat and nod. “Yeah.”

Caleb grabs your hand and starts up the steps two at a time, dragging you along. You let him. At the top, he kicks the door open with a flourish, bowing low.

“After you, milady,” he says, with a wink.

You roll your eyes but smile, stepping past him into the dim, echoing coolness of the museum. It smells like dust and old paper and metal. Inside, the marble floors stretch out in wide, empty corridors. The exhibits are still there: paintings, sculptures, relics from a thousand different lives that had nothing to do with yours.

It’s so quiet that you can hear the blood rushing in your ears.

Caleb whistles low. “Whole place is ours,” he says, voice bouncing off the cavernous walls.

“What do we even take?” you ask, almost to yourself.

He swings his arms out wide, spinning in a slow circle, loose and child-like. 

“Anything you want,” he says, grinning. “Steal the Mona Lisa for all I care.”

“That’s in Paris, dumbass.”

He shrugs, unbothered, and ambles towards a nearby painting: a silhouette of a woman, painted in bruised blues and splashes of red. He tilts his head at it. “She looks kind of pissed.”

“That’s because it’s a landscape,” you say, and he lets out a bark of laughter that echoes all the way up into the broken rafters.

You drift through the museum together, your steps turning lighter with every ridiculous comment Caleb tosses over his shoulder. He narrates the paintings in stupid voices, poses beside marble statues, pulls a face and says, “That’s the face you make when you’re judging me for my driving skills.” You’re laughing before you can stop yourself, covering your mouth with your sleeve.

At some point, you wander into one of the grander halls, where the skylight above is cracked like a spiderweb, letting in a sickly light that pools across the floor. Dust floats through the air in thick, lazy motes.

Caleb stops at a sculpture of two dancers frozen mid-twirl, their hands barely touching. He looks at it for a long moment; then says, “I bet we could do that better.”

“You don’t know how to dance,” you remind him.

“It can’t be that hard.” He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. “C’mon, pipsqueak. One last dance.”

You hesitate, then laugh and place your hand in his. His palm is warm, a little calloused, and he gives you a clumsy twirl that nearly knocks you over. You’re giggling helplessly by the time he dips you, exaggerated and wobbly, and he’s laughing too, bright and breathless, his forehead falling against yours for just a second.

You stay like that—forehead to forehead, hands tangled together—for a moment more, breathing in the same thin, dusty air. Caleb’s laugh dies into a smile, and for a second, you can almost forget the world crumbling outside.

“You’re terrible at this,” you mumble.

“I’m incredible,” he corrects, not moving away.

You give him a gentle shove on the chest and he finally moves back, albeit reluctantly. His hands catch on your elbows like he doesn’t want to let you go.

“At least you didn’t drop me on the marble,” you say, but you’re smiling too, and he beams like he’s won something anyway.

The museum stretches endlessly in every direction: gold-framed portraits, ancient jewelry, fossilised bones arranged in careful displays. Caleb pauses here and there to point out something absurd—a crown so heavy, it looks like it could crush someone’s neck; a medieval tapestry that, upon closer inspection, includes a diagram about medieval-era contraceptive measures. It’s stupid, and a little reckless, but for the first time in weeks, you feel something like lightness thread through your chest.

You slow near the entrance to a small gallery tucked into a corner. It looks emptier than the others, the walls bare except for a few faded posters peeling at the corners. On the floor, near the cracked tile, something catches your eye.

A crumpled ticket stub.

You crouch down, brushing your fingers over it gently. The print is worn and the edges are curled, but you can still make out the faded words: A Night at the Museum – Summer Gala. There’s even a little gold star printed beside the date.

You could take anything here—paintings worth millions, artifacts that only belong in textbooks—but somehow, this feels more important. A piece of someone’s normal night, a memory left behind like a breadcrumb trail.

“What’d you find?” Caleb asks, crouching beside you.

You hold the stub up between two fingers. “This.”

He studies it, then you, and a smile curves slowly at the corner of his mouth. “Good choice,” he says. “It’s beautiful, too.”

You slip it into your jacket pocket, smoothing it flat with careful fingers. Caleb bumps your shoulder lightly with his again.

“Sentimental,” he teases, but there’s no heat to it; only something fond and quiet.

You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”

He stands first, offering you a hand. You take it without thinking, letting him pull you to your feet. 

You take a detour on the way home, because Caleb says he wants to cook you a meal. A proper one, he’d said. Not one of those stupid instant noodles packets you like.

Instead of the community centre he usually breaks into, he steers you towards the old supermarket on the Fifth, the one with the dilapidated sign and boarded-up windows. You shoot him a look as you approach, but he simply nudges you forward with his elbow.

“Trust me,” he says. “We’ll eat like kings tonight.”

You roll your eyes but follow him anyway, your footsteps crunching over broken glass and gravel. The front doors are still stuck half-open, warped with heat and time. Caleb slips through the gap. You duck in after him.

Inside, it’s dark and humid, the air thick with the smell of rot and old paper. A few broken fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, casting the aisles in feeble strips of greenish light. You can hear the slow drip of water somewhere in the back, as if the building is still trying to bleed itself dry.

“Alright, shopping list,” Caleb says, clapping his hands together. “Pasta, sauce, anything that looks even remotely edible.”

“And a can opener,” you add. “I lost the one at home.”

He nods and gives you a sloppy salute before disappearing down an aisle, the sound of his sneakers scuffing against the sticky floor fading as he goes.

You wander in the opposite direction, picking through the remains. Most of the fresh stuff is long gone, spoiled and soupy in abandoned carts or smeared across the floor. But in the canned food aisle, you strike gold: tomatoes, corn, beans—stuff that’s probably still edible if you squint and don’t think about it too hard.

Caleb jogs back into view, his arms overloaded with supplies: a bag of rice, a half-smashed box of cereal, two grimy jars of pasta sauce.

“You’re hoarding,” you point out.

He shrugs, unrepentant. “It’s the apocalypse. Finders, keepers.”

You stuff your finds into a battered plastic basket and follow him to the front of the store. Every once in a while, he tosses something in: a packet of gummy worms, a bottle of some bright blue sports drink, a tin of instant coffee with the label half peeled off.

“For morale,” he says, dead serious, when you give him a skeptical look.

It’s dumb, the way he says it, but for reasons you don’t want to look at too closely, your chest aches with it.

By the time you’re done, you’ve amassed a dragon’s hoard of nearly-expired groceries piled high in a stolen shopping cart. Caleb steers like a drunkard, ramming into shelves and cackling like a maniac when you shush him.

“Stop it, Caleb,” you hiss, ducking low out of instinct, even though you know no one’s going to come yelling at you.

He only grins wider, pushing the cart through the broken doors.

Outside, the sun has almost fully collapsed behind the ruined skyline, leaving the streets bathed in a blemished orange-coloured sunlight. You grab one side of the cart to help him steer, wheels rattling unevenly over the cracked asphalt. 

Neither of you says it out loud, but you’re both thinking it: this haul will keep you fed for weeks. It’s an idiotic, lucky victory.

You stop at the old playground one street away from your house before heading home. Caleb says it’s because you’re already outside, anyway, so what’s a few minutes more?

You let him pull you towards the rusted swing set after hiding your stolen cart behind a cluster of metal sheets, and ignore the way your throat itches and your lungs burn because of the poisoned sky.

The swing groans under your weight when you drop onto it, the chains shuddering like they might snap if you so much as breathe too hard. Caleb claims the one next to you, giving himself a running push so he rocks back and forth, shoes kicking up dust from the cracked ground. You hook your fingers around the chains, scuffing the toe of your sneaker against the dirt.

The sky above is smothered, thick with the smoke and haze that never really clears anymore, but here, tucked away in the hollowed-out bones of the world, it almost feels like time has paused. Like if you just sit still enough, you could almost trick yourself into thinking you’re just two kids killing time before curfew.

Caleb leans back so far, the chains creak in protest, tipping his head toward the sky like it could swallow him. His hands are loose around the rusted metal, and when he speaks, it’s almost too soft to hear over the sigh of the wind.

“If the sky wasn’t poisoned,” he says, “I’d take you flying.”

You glance over at him and he’s still looking up, like he’s imagining it—a world where the clouds are white instead of ash-grey, where the stars are something you can actually see and not just rely on childhood memories to remember.

“I’d take you so high, you’d forget the ground ever existed,” Caleb goes on, voice low and far away. “I’d show you the stars. All of ‘em. I’d fly us so far out, the city lights wouldn’t drown them anymore.”

Your chest aches in that familiar, hollow way it always does whenever he talks about the sky. Caleb used to dream about it out loud when you were kids, lying side by side on your driveways in the summer, naming constellations you could barely spot through the streetlights.

He was always the one who believed there was more waiting for you, just past the horizon.

“You’re still a show-off,” you say, a little hoarsely, trying to smile.

He cuts his gaze towards you then, his smile lazy and warm despite everything. “Yeah, well. Some things survive the end of the world.”

You duck your head, hiding your grin. Your fingers tighten around the swing’s chain. For a second, you can almost feel it—the slipstream pulling at your hair, the stars crowding in close like they belong to you. Almost.

You want to tell him you’d go anywhere with him. That you’d climb into whatever battered plane he dragged out of a hangar and not even ask where you were headed. That it doesn’t matter if the sky’s poisoned or the stars are gone—you’d follow him anyway.

But instead, you just scuff your shoe harder into the dirt, stirring up little spirals of ash, and hope somehow he already knows. 

The swing chains clink together lightly, the sound as delicate as wind chimes. You look up at the sky, at the thick clouds smearing the sun into that disgusting blur, and wonder how long it’s been since you’ve seen a real sunset. You wonder how nice it’d feel to sit here with him and watch the sky turn pink and purple instead of this endless, brassy gold.

Your throat feels tight.

“I think…” you start, then falter, twisting the frayed edge of your sleeve around your finger. You can feel Caleb’s gaze on you, steady and patient.

“I think I would’ve liked it,” you say a little too fast. You swallow and force yourself to keep going, even as the words stick to the back of your dry throat. “If things were normal. If I could… marry you.”

The confession hangs in the air, fragile and trembling like the gossamer silk of a spider’s web. You immediately look down, too cowardly to see whatever’s written on his face. Embarrassment prickles up the back of your neck, hot and awful. Maybe you’ve ruined everything. Maybe you’ve said too much.

But then Caleb’s hand brushes against yours, and carefully, he lifts your left hand from your lap. You glance up, startled, just in time to see him lower his head and press a soft, gentle kiss to your ring finger, right where a gold band might have sat in some other life, in some better world.

Your breath catches so sharply, it hurts your chest.

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression uncharacteristically serious, though his smile is still there, small and steady.

“We don’t need the world to be normal for that,” he says. “Registrar’s closed anyway. Who’s gonna stop us? Some dead fucker in a suit?”

You let out a shaky laugh, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes. “You’re serious,” you say, your voice wavering.

“Dead serious.” Caleb presses another kiss to your knuckles for good measure, warmer this time. He leans in a little closer, so close you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “I’ll find you a ring. Steal it from a jewellery store if I have to. We’ll do it ourselves. We’ll make up vows, find a spot under the stars—hell, we can carve them into a tree if you want.”

The grin he flashes you is crooked and a little bashful, like he knows how ridiculous he sounds and means every word regardless. 

“We’ll be the most illegally married people left alive,” he says.

Something in you shudders, fragile and aching, and you squeeze his fingers tighter without even thinking about it.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I’d like that.”

Caleb’s smile softens. He shifts, standing up from his swing with a rustle of fabric, and pulls you to your feet, hands still tangled together. He holds your hand between his like it’s something precious, something he can protect through sheer stubbornness alone.

“Then it’s settled,” he says. “You’re stuck with me now.”

You let out a watery laugh, the kind that feels like you’re almost crying, and nudge his shoulder with yours. “You’re stuck with me, dummy.”

“Best decision I’ve ever made,” he says, smiling so widely now that you can see the dimples bracketing his mouth.

Dinner, that night, is a giddy affair. 

Caleb finds some excuse to touch you. You pretend you don’t like it but lean into his arms anyway. He kisses your cheek when you accidentally smear pasta sauce over it and smiles when you shyly turn your head away. The food isn’t even that good—the pasta is overcooked, and the sauce is too runny, and it’s bland because you couldn’t find onions or garlic—but these days, when even finding proper meals is a luxury, you find yourself enjoying it.

You find an old candle hidden away in one of the living room drawers, and you place it in between your plates and let the wick catch flame. It’s a parody of a meal you’d find at a decent restaurant before the world went to shit, but Caleb says it’s perfect and you believe him.

Later, you pile the dishes in the sink, telling yourself you’ll wash them tomorrow, and leave the candle burning down to a stub between you. Caleb stretches out on the battered couch, one arm flung lazily behind his head. You sit down on the space next to him, legs tucked under you.

“You look like you’re about to fall asleep,” Caleb says.

You hum. You are tired, but it’s a good kind of tired. Full-bellied, warm-skinned. You rest your head on the back of the couch and close your eyes. When you open them again, Caleb’s watching you with that look he gets sometimes—fond amusement, something quieter you’ve never been able to place. He doesn’t look away.

“Come here,” he says, voice low, roughened by the kind of exhaustion that’s too deep to sleep off.

You don’t think about it.

The couch sags under your weight as you crawl over, knocking his knee with yours. He shifts to make space, but not much. Just enough that when you sit beside him, your thighs press together, warm through the fabric of your jeans. Your heart knocks around in your ribs like it’s trying to find a way out. Caleb looks at you, his eyes flickering down to your mouth and back up again, almost as though he’s waiting for permission he doesn’t really need.

So, you lean in first.

It’s awkward, at first—a bump of noses, a quick breath of laughter you swallow between your teeth. Then Caleb’s hand finds your jaw, steadying you, and the laughter fades into something slower.

The kiss is soft, careful and testing; like you’re both trying to memorise this, in case it slips away just like everything else. Caleb tastes like tomato and burnt bread and something stubbornly, stupidly sweet—like the boy who used to drag you down the street by hand when you were late for school, and the man who learned how to fly because he thought it would make him brave.

Your hands find his shirt, bunching the fabric at the sides. His fingers thread into your hair, tilting your head to kiss you deeper, slower, like there’s no need to hurry.

You shift, climbing into his lap without thinking, and he catches you with a low, surprised noise against your mouth. His hands settle at your waist, pulling you closer.

The candle burns lower still, forgotten, wax puddling onto the chipped table. The world outside stays exactly where it belongs: outside your old, dusty window panes with no way of bleeding into the walls and floorboards of your childhood home.

Caleb kisses you again, deeper this time, like he’s given up on pretending to take it slow. His hands roam, slow and certain, slipping under the hem of your shirt where your skin is warm. You shiver at the contact—not because it’s cold, but because it’s him.

His mouth trails lower, pressing hot, open kisses along the line of your throat, your collarbones. You lift your arms without thinking when he tugs at your shirt, letting him pull it over your head and toss it aside. He pauses—just for a second—to look at you. His eyes are dark, not just with want, but like he’s letting the fact that you’re here sink in, that you’re real and here and his.

He reaches behind you and unclasps your bra, letting it drop onto the floor. You reach for him in return, fingers finding the hem of his shirt and tugging until he helps you strip it off too, leaving both of you half-dressed and breathing hard.

When he leans down again, his mouth finds the top of your breasts, lips dragging slowly over the swell of it, tongue licking experimentally. It makes you shiver, even in the thick, heavy warmth of the room. His hands cup them fully now, thumbs brushing over your nipples in slow, deliberate strokes that send sparks racing under your skin.

You gasp, arching into him, and Caleb groans before closing his mouth around one nipple, sucking gently. His tongue laves over the sensitive peak, teasing, while his hand kneads your other breast with a slow, steady rhythm. Every touch feels unbearably good, like he’s learning you by heart, piece by piece.

“Caleb—” you breathe, nails scraping lightly down his back.

He switches sides, giving the same slow, thorough attention to your other breast, while his free hand starts to drift lower, tracing the line of your ribs, your stomach, until he’s slipping just under the waistband of your jeans, thumb stroking the skin there. 

The anticipation coils tight in your belly, a sweet, aching heat building between your thighs.

Caleb lifts his head to kiss you again, and you realise you’re both trembling, holding on to each other like the world outside has already ended—and maybe it has, but here, in this bubble you’ve made together, there’s still something left.

He nips at your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look at you, chest heaving. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You shake your head, pulling him back and kissing him hard, greedy for the taste of him, for the solid weight of his body pressing you down into the couch cushions. His hands are everywhere—your hips, your waist, the curve of your ribs—sliding under the remaining layers of clothing with barely restrained urgency.

When you fumble with the button of his jeans, Caleb groans into your mouth, low and desperate, and lifts his hips to help you push them down. You tug them down to his thighs, leaving him in just his boxers, the outline of his cock thick and heavy against the thin fabric.

You palm him through it first—slow, teasing—dragging your hand up his length until he shudders, forehead dropping against yours. His breath stutters out hotly against your lips.

“Please,” he says, voice wrecked and trembling with the effort not to just take.

You press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, small and secret, and then nudge him gently back against the couch cushions. He follows without protest, legs sprawling open, watching you with wide, dilated eyes like he’s helpless to do anything but obey.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and peel them down torturously slowly, the fabric catching slightly around his thighs before you finally free his dick. It’s flushed deep pink at the tip, a bead of wetness already glistening there.

You wrap your hand around him first, stroking from the thick base all the way to the leaking head, feeling the way his cock twitches at your touch. Caleb’s hips jerk involuntarily, a moan torn from his throat, and his hands grip the couch so tightly, his knuckles bleach white.

You lean in and swipe your tongue along the underside, tracing the thick vein there, savouring the way he trembles for you, the way he bites back a curse that still spills from between his clenched teeth.

“Fuck,” Caleb mutters, barely more than a rasp.

You flatten your tongue and take his cock into your mouth, inch by slow inch, feeling him throb against your tongue. His whole body goes rigid. You work him deeper each time; your jaw aches slightly but you don’t stop, hollowing your cheeks.

“You feel—fuck, you feel so good,” Caleb pants, his thighs trembling under your hands.

You pull back a little, letting the tip slip free from your lips, and swirl your tongue around it, teasing the slit until he’s cursing again, hips bucking despite himself. You take him back in deep, relaxing your throat, swallowing around him. Caleb moans, one hand tangling in your hair—not pulling, just holding your head in place.

You bob your head steadily, letting him fuck into your mouth with shallow thrusts, slick sounds filling the otherwise silent room. You moan softly around him, feeling his dick twitch against your tongue in response, the sound shooting straight through him like a lightning bolt.

When you pull off with a wet pop, your lips are swollen and your eyes are glassy. You look at him through your lashes, and he looks completely unlike what Caleb normally looks like—chest heaving, hair mussed, mouth slack with want.

“Jesus Christ,” he chokes out.

“You okay?” you tease, thumb brushing over the slick tip just to see him flinch.

“Come here,” he says instead.

He hauls you onto his lap, kissing you deeply, not caring about the mess. One hand slides between your bodies to undo your jeans. He works them down your thighs with clumsy urgency, dragging your underwear with them. Then he flips you onto your back, kneeling between your legs, spreading your thighs open with both hands.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mutters under his breath, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud, like the words tore themselves from him.

You barely have time to whimper before he leans in, pressing his mouth to your folds with one stripe of his tongue up your centre. You arch off the couch instinctively, a broken moan spilling from your lips. Caleb groans low in his chest, and he does it again, slower this time, dragging his tongue from your dripping entrance to your clit.

He settles his broad shoulders between your thighs and locks his arms around them, anchoring you there, helpless against his mouth. His tongue flicks lightly over your clit, teasing, coaxing, until you’re gasping—then, he sucks it gently between his lips, rolling it with the perfect pressure that makes your thighs tremble against his ears.

You can feel yourself dripping onto his chin, his mouth, but Caleb doesn’t seem to care. If anything, it spurs him on. He groans against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.

When you buck against him, desperate and overwhelmed, he only tightens his grip, one strong hand pinning your hip down while the other trails between your legs. His fingers glide through your slick folds, teasing your entrance before he sinks one thick finger into you, slow and careful, stretching you open.

You moan his name, shameless, fisting the couch cushions. Caleb watches you like there’s nothing more important than the way your face twists with pleasure under him.

He pumps his fingers in and out slowly, curling it just right, while his mouth stays locked on your clit, tongue relentless, driving you higher with every stroke. When he slips a second finger inside, scissoring them carefully to stretch you, you sob, writhing against him.

He builds you up mercilessly, mouth and fingers working in tandem, coaxing you towards the edge so expertly that it feels euphoric. Your thighs clamp around his head, but Caleb just groans again, fucking you deeper with his fingers, sucking harder on your clit.

You come with a cry of his name, thighs trembling and walls clenching tightly around his fingers. Caleb doesn’t stop. He licks you through it, drinking down every shudder and gasp, prolonging it until you’re a boneless mess sprawled across the couch.

Only when your body stops jerking does he finally pull back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his cheeks flushed and his lips shiny.

He doesn’t give you time to recover. He kisses his way up your body—your thighs, your belly, your chest—murmuring your name like a prayer against your skin. By the time he reaches your mouth, you’re already pulling him in. He kisses you deep, filthy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Want you,” you whisper against his lips. “Please.”

He nods, once, twice, frantically. “Yeah. Yeah, I—”

“Please, Caleb.”

“Fuck.”

When Caleb finally pushes inside you, it’s slow—agonisingly so. His hand finds your waist, digging into your skin, and he presses his lips to your forehead. His eyes flutter shut. “You okay?”

You nod, swallowing thickly, still a little breathless. You can’t form words, but your hips move instinctively, rolling up to meet his thrust halfway. He inhales sharply, pulling back and thrusting back in, starting slow.

You pull him closer, your hands wandering over his skin, finding purchase on his shoulders, his arms, his back. You feel the muscles in his body coil, tense with each stroke, but he doesn’t falter. He’s focused, his eyes never quite opening fully.

His hand slides down your body, finding your hips, and he pulls you up against him. Your legs lock around his waist as you move with him, desperate for more. He groans at the way you meet him, each thrust growing deeper, faster, as you push him harder, pulling him closer with each movement.

The sound of your skin slapping together fills the room, punctuated by the wet, breathless gasps that escape both of you. He pulls you closer still, each movement becoming more urgent, more demanding. You can feel every muscle in his body tighten as he drives into you, his grip tightening as if afraid you might slip away.

Your breathing comes in sharp, erratic bursts, and every thrust feels like it’s taking you higher, until your vision blurs and you��re not sure where you end and he begins. You can’t focus on anything but him — the weight of him on top of you, the rough cadence of his movements, the desperate way he groans your name between each thrust. You’re drowning in it, lost in the rhythm, in the sensation of him moving inside you.

You’re so close—the heat building between your legs, the tight coil of anticipation so ready to snap. Your hips meet his in sync, rocking against each other in a slow grind that has your pulse thundering in your ears. Every second feels like an eternity. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks behind as your legs tighten around him, pulling him in deeper

The tension in your body snaps, and your breath catches in your throat as your climax hits you, sending shockwaves through every inch of your body. You cry out, fingers gripping his back as you clench around him. Caleb follows right after, his own groan of your name rough. He pulls out just in time and spills on your stomach.

For a long moment, neither of you moves. You both lay there, panting, your bodies still connected, struggling to regain some semblance of breath, of control. His forehead rests against yours, your fingers tangled in his hair, his chest rising and falling against yours with each ragged breath.

He doesn’t pull away immediately. Instead, Caleb presses lazy, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, to your collarbone, trailing his lips to the curve of your jaw.

You thread your fingers through his hair, cradling him close.

There is only one tree still standing in your neighbourhood, though its branches have long been stripped bare and its bark crumbles if you brush against it wrong. It’s a wonder it’s survived at all, gnawed at by the poisoned air and years of neglect.

Caleb finds it when he goes out hunting for a ring for you—a battered silver band scavenged from a pawnshop’s ruins, dull with age until he painstakingly polished it against the sleeve of his jacket.

He comes back with dirt on his jeans and a quiet kind of brightness in his eyes, the kind he used to have when you were kids and he’d found something he couldn’t wait to show you.

“We should do it properly,” he says, holding out the ring in the cradle of his palm. “Or… as properly as we can.”

You don’t have a dress. He doesn’t have a suit. There’s no music, no flowers, no one to witness you but the empty street and the sick, churning sky.

Still, you walk hand-in-hand to the tree.

Still, you smile at him like the world hasn’t ended.

Still, when Caleb takes your hands—rough and calloused, but shaking a little anyway—you think you’re the happiest you’ve ever been.

Neither of you has vows prepared. You fumble through promises, your voice catching and trembling in the thinning air. Caleb laughs under his breath, wiping at the corner of his eye with the back of his wrist like he can pretend it’s just dust.

His own voice is hoarse when he tells you three simple words, eight simple letters.

He slips the ring onto your finger—too loose, cold from the wind—and kisses you before you can start to cry, cradling your face between his palms. It’s a kiss like a vow in itself: steady, certain, and chosen.

The world around you is broken and hollowed out, but right here, right now, you are whole.

When you finally pull away, Caleb digs into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a bent, rusted nail. Without saying anything, he turns to the tree and presses the nail into the bark, dragging it slowly. You step closer, peeking over his shoulder, heart aching at the simple, stubborn act of it.

The bark flakes away under the nail, the lines rough and uneven, but it doesn’t matter. It’s yours.

A mark. A memory. Proof that even at the end of the world, you chose each other.

Caleb steps back, dusting his hands on his jeans, and looks at the carving like it's the most important thing he's ever made.

Then he turns to you, grin tilted and familiar, and says, "Now it’s official."

You laugh—real and bright, like it bubbles up from somewhere you thought was long dead—and pull him in again, arms winding tight around his neck as the grey sky rumbles overhead.

The end of the world feels like falling asleep in your beloved’s arms, your mouth pressed to the pulse at his throat and his lips pressed to your forehead.

Exhibit: “Testaments of Survival” – Section II: Personal Histories

Object: Piece of Bark from an Apple Tree (Malus domestica) Date: Estimated circa 2074 Location Found: Sector 18, Northern District (Formerly Linkon City) Condition: Severely weathered; fragment only. Hand-carved inscription partially preserved.

Background: This artifact is a remnant of the environmental and societal collapse commonly referred to as The Withering. Following the ecological chain-reaction of 2070–2075, flora across most continents experienced mass die-offs. Very few plant species, including domestic apple trees, survived the acidification of the soil and atmosphere.

Recovered from a once-residential area, this bark fragment bears a simple, hand-etched inscription:

“CALEB XIA AND ████████ WERE MARRIED HERE.”

It is believed to mark an unofficial wedding ceremony held during the height of The Withering.

Personal ceremonies like this, often improvised and undocumented, served as acts of resilience and resistance against the dissolution of traditional societal structures.

The names etched into the bark are a rare human touch from a time otherwise dominated by loss—a stubborn act of hope carved into a dying world.

[smallandsundry]

more of the bishova rugby au

plus some incredible ficlets from @simplykorra , @thecousinsdangereux and @strangelythirsty <3

Ficlet 1, by simplykorra:

"Kate?! What was that??" Clint's mad, like...sure, Kate shouldn't be suprised. She had a wide open run in front of her and just completely fucking dropped the ball and turned it over. But in her defense she did NOT know that the other team was allowed to cheat. Because that's absolutely what that was, cheating. Who the fuck flips their hair like that mid match? Who wipes the sweat off their forehead with the bottom of their shirt, showing off their insane abs in the middle of a match when it is quite obivous that someone on the other team is pathetically gay and crushing. That's the worst part, she has an insane crush and she really shouldn't. Because Yelena Belova is the enemy, or so has been said in every practice leading up to this game. She's the best player on that team, one of the best they'll face all year, and Kate had this big, annoying speech about how she could handle her. Then one peek of abs and Kate's losing her shit, dropping the ball and now getting yelled at by her coach - who is still yelling, right. She needs to pay attention. "Sorry!" She grins, because smiling always gets her out of stuff. "Butterfingers or whatever, you know? It's hot out here today. Sweat and...stuff...you know how it goes." Clint eyes her, then looks over her shoulder to something on the other side of the pitch. When Kate looks back, Yelena is looking right at her, with the most annoying smirk on her face. Then, like she KNOWS Clint is also looking, Yelena winks at her. "Oh my god." Clint says and Kate turns in a hurry to see him rolling his eyes. "Seriously? That's why you dropped the ball? Natasha's cranky little sister?" Kate takes a deep breath, a thousand excuses coming and going through her head. She could pluck any one of them and it would probably be enough to put an end to this conversation. But she knows that she has to go back out there again and will probably look into Yelena's eyes again and will DEFINITELY do something else stupid when that happens. "I don't know what you want me to say, coach. She's really hot." "Yeah, and we're really losing. Do you think she's gonna want to buy you a drink if you go out there and keep fumbling the ball like your hands are made of butter?" Kate shrugs, "I mean, dopey and gay has kinda worked for me so far, you saw the wink." "Okay, look, it's my fault for starting this conversation but I'm not the one to talk to about your crush." "Whoa, who said anything about a-" His raised eyebrows puts an end to her sentence. "I'll just...close my eyes whenever she's in my field of view." "Or you could get your shit together and just play the game." The whistle blows as the timeout comes to an end and Kate looks back just in time to see Yelena trotting out onto the field, not once taking her eyes off of Kate. When she looks back to Clint, she grimaces. "I'll close my eyes." It doesn't work. They lose the game. But Kate manages to get that drink afterwards. One more win for dopey and gay.

Ficlet 2, by thecousinsdangereux:

Kate had done a really admirable job of keeping her focus.

This is, at least, what she keeps telling herself at the half. Or maybe, probably, more like reminding herself, with the explicit objective of convincing herself not to look over towards the opposing team's bench. Because looking over towards the opposing team during warm-ups is what had gotten her in this mess in the first place, if said mess could be called a mess because really! she'd done a super admirable job of keeping her focus in the face of the absolutely fucking smoke show on the other team. The one with the thighs and the hair and the skills and general overall attractiveness that Kate had definitely not been distracted by at all.

(During the game, specifically. Never mind warm ups. Or now.)

"It's like you can hear her thoughts," Greer says, ostensibly to Franny, but mostly to fuck with Kate.

''Don't look at number two, don't look at number two, don't look at number two.'"

“'No matter how many times we sensually locked eyes in the middle of a competitive match.’"

"Number two is not showing the same restraint," Franny comments, dropping the mocking internal commentary quickly. "She is looking right over here and — yeah, okay, damn —  she's lifting her shirt to wipe the sweat off her face. Jesus."

Kate twists her neck with enough speed that something pops and fine, she's not doing a great job with that whole focus thing and who cares? Hot blonde has abs and Kate is gay and there were more important things than rugby and winning and pride and... other stuff that Kate would definitely be able to list if number two hadn't — at that exact moment — decided to look up and (without dropping her shirt! which! fuck!) smile, too crooked to be anything but smug.

"Yeah, okay, we're going to lose," Greer declares. "Pack it in, folks! Kate is too gay to function! Might as well call the game now!"

She definitely says it loud enough to be heard across the field. Kate sneaks a peek and, yeah, number two definitely hears it.

"You're the worst friend I've ever had."

Except maybe not, because the blonde doesn't exactly look put out by any of it. She's (mercifully) dropped her shirt, and this time when she holds Kate's stare, she lifts a hand to wave, with just the tips of her fingers. It's short-lived, because the team's coach (a redhead who — it has to be said — also has a lot going for her) yanks the girl back over to the bench by the back of her shirt and begins to lay into her in a language that sounds Slavic. The blonde rolls her eyes, but is (apparently) not especially deterred, because she looks back over at Kate with an expression that's full of dry humor.

('Do you see what I put up with for you?' Kate imagines her saying, in that accent that she'd definitely noticed on the field and had definitely found attractive and would definitely like to hear in other contexts. Such as for example — )

"Holy shit, Kate. You're drooling."

"I'm not drooling." She's not, but does wipe at her mouth as she pulls her stare away, back towards her own bench.

Ficlet 3, by strangelythirsty:

Kate thanks the gods, and more specifically, the athletic commission, who okay’d each teams’ uniforms. Previously it was because the new board leader agreed for her team to change out the old fashioned cotton for the good moisture wicking material. Which is its own thing. But this?

She hasn't seen as good an argument against the old cotton shirts as this one.

“The ball!” A distant voice says, but that's not important right now. What is is the expanse of abs she's seeing — which is currently beading with sweat, and okay she's heard the arguments, abs are for vanity more than function, yada yada yada. But who can argue with these results?

“The ball!” The voice says, now closer than it was.

She blinks because the shirt (which was hiked up to be used as a towel) has dropped back down. Oh right, the game. She picks up the ball at the last possible minute, the rival team had come close to grabbing it where it fell from her hands only a second ago. No need for her coach to be looking like he was going to have a stroke, that was a little dramatic.

It doesn't matter because she grabs the ball anyway, side steps the tackle, and takes off back down the field.

By the time the first half is over, they're still down two points, a simple goal would put them over the edge.

Later, she'll blame the coach for making the call for the play, and maybe, a little bit could have been the way she's completely distracted with Captain Belova tackling her.

The pass was clean, the team nearly in place for her to throw the ball, but she sees the streak of short blonde hair and white and red getting closer. Instead of looking for the next best teammate to throw the ball to for the score, she looks at Captain Belova, expression intensely focused, full lips pulled back exposing beautiful teeth in a snarl (beautiful teeth? She’ll later think, get it together, Bishop). But right now? Belova’s shoulder meets her midsection in a perfect tackle, the air leaving her lungs and the ball flings from her grasp as she goes — right into the rival team’s number two, who runs it down the line in a game clenching score.

The rest of the teams take off down the field to follow the action, but Yelena sits up, legs straddling hers. “Distracted, Kate?”

“Oh fuck off, Yelena. You didn't tell me you were working on your abs.” Kate laughs, poking her stomach through her shirt, feeling the warm skin and wet shirt.

She's going to get her back for that, somehow.

[mmisosoupp]

Things I think the haikyuu boys would do before dating you

(Karasuno ver.)

Hinata

•Most definitely confides in you.

•does anything that he can do to attempt to impress you. Weather being trying extra hard in his classes, trying a super cool new attack, or even just talking about things that he did that he deems a cool.

•is pretty touchy, not in a weird way. But he tends to somehow get his hands on you one way or another.

•He gets so hyped up seeing you at any sort of volleyball game, and he tries extra hard to do something cool and / or win.

Kageyama

•I personally believe he pays a lot of attention to things that aren't volleyball and that transfers to you. You tell him about a show you liked once three weeks ago? Yeah, he remembers and asks you about it when a new episode comes out.

•He tries his best to compliment you. He's not very good at it though, but I promise he tries.

•usally isn't a good listener, but for you he is, it's like a switch clicks on when you talk that has him zeroed into your rants and rambles

Yamaguchi

•He LIVES to complement you. There isn't a day where he isn't saying you look amazing or that he likes the way you did your hair that day.

•he's not very fond of touching. Like he would normally be very uncomfortable If someone tried to hug him. But every time you hug him, he melts into your touch, like he could be there all day.

•He will NEVER, and I mean never let you feel left out. He knows what it feels like to be left out and he wouldn't ever wish that on you.

•(metaphorically) dies when you get too close to him. His freckled face turns a bright shade of read.

Tsukishima

•somehow gets snarkier with you. But not in a bullying sense, he doesn't tease you more than anyone else. If you can tease him back, OH he has a field day.

•not only does he get snarkier, but he's also nicer to you. Especially if it's around other people who annoy him (hinata and kageyama)

It's kinda scary how nice he becomes.

•takes geuine interest in the things you talk about, especially if you do the same for him.

Tanaka

•you get the kiyoko treatment I fear. So if you don't like that, sucks to be you.

•another one who tries his hardest to impress you. He tries his best fo score extra points during a game or just look cool.

•is incredibly bashful. Dude, in private, he's internally panicking because he doesn't want to embarrass himself in front of you.

Nishinoya

•literally says I love you to you. "I love you, yknow that?" Good morning and goodnight texts "Goodnight, I love you" "Good morning, love youuu"

•gets you things that reminds him of you, a pair of socks with your favorite animal. Bought. A bracelet with your favorite colors on it. Also bought.

Sugawara

•flirts I don't care. you both have definitely made out "as friends"

•uses nicknames on you like "darling" or "my love" again just as friends, right? (No he's deeply in love with you)

•takes so many pictures with you. Like he has an album just of selfie with him titled: K + (your initial), he would die if you saw that folder name

Daichi

•pays extra attention to you, another one who buys things that remind him of you. He's gotten you a key chain of your favorite character that you cherish now.

•is protective of you but not OVERprotective. But he's always making sure you don't get hurt. (Not that he wouldn't mind taking care of you) He's a natural care taker due to being the oldest of his siblings.

•is always subconsciously bringing you up in conversations with the other third years. Poor guy doesn't even realize it.

Asahi

•is always showing you his sketches of outfits he's drawn, somehow they're always very close to your style (I wonder why that is..)

•He reassures you anytime you feel down. He never wants you to feel upset. I mean if he knows what it feels like to not be happy with himself why would he want you to feel the same?

•cuddlebug even before the relationship, you two are latched to each other's hip. Always touching each other.

•let's you play with his hair a the time. Usally he wouldn't let people touch his hair but he can make an exception.

[just-jordie-things]

friendly neighborhood spiderman - fushiguro megumi

word count: 25k i need a lobomy warnings: swearing, men making reader uncomfortable, some blood n bruises summary: besides being morally gray, megumi has never crossed any personal boundaries while protecting the city disguised as the spiderman. that is, until it comes to her. a thorn in his side, a plague to his mind, and a skip in his heart. wait, what?

notes: SPIDERMAN AU! rivals to unknown friends to unknown lovers to..??

___

With great power comes great responsibility…

To that, Fushiguro Megumi said; no shit.  

Living a double life wasn’t always the easiest thing in the world, but the justice part came to him naturally.  He didn’t like to call his abilities superpowers, there was something too childish about it, but since gaining them, Megumi had known there was some kind of reason.

Maybe it was because he had a stronger sense of right and wrong than most of the people he knew.  His peers at the college he attended seemed to have more interest in alcohol poisoning than anything else, so he supposed it made sense that if a radioactive spider bit had to give someone powers… it might as well have been him.

Besides, he was kind of a loner, so it wasn’t hard to hide his double life.  Every day he followed the same routine.

Wake up early to work out and do a quick patrol of the city, try to get to his classes on time, study in between lectures, study through lunch, and then as soon as his last class of the day was over he was off to swing through the city and keep an eye on things.

There had been an uptick in crime in Tokyo lately, and Megumi hadn’t quite put his finger on why.  It had never been the safest city in Japan, but since taking on this role it seemed like criminals everywhere were crawling out of the cracks and shadows to challenge him.  Not that anything had proven to be too challenging for The Spiderman… petty criminals made it easy.

“Late again, Fushiguro” 

There were, however, challenges that Megumi faced.

(y/n) swiveled around in her seat just as he’d sat down behind her.  To think he’d patted himself on the back for only being three minutes late today.  He should’ve known she was counting down the minutes to rub it in his face.

Resting her elbows on the back of her seat so she could smirk at him, she plops her chin on her fists and eyes him curiously.  Megumi can’t even be bothered to roll his eyes, he’d grown too tired of the same banter every day.

If she couldn’t take his place at the top of the class, (y/l/n) (y/n) would have to find some other way to antagonize Megumi- and she took that job all too seriously.  Unfortunately their class schedules were almost identical, seeing as they were both enrolled in as many accelerated courses as they could be, so Megumi spent most of his day in her vicinity.  And hell, she never let him forget it.

When he barely even looks at her, (y/n) turns back around in her seat, seemingly already prepping her notebook for her notes of the day.  She’s probably one of those girls that makes every page pretty and aesthetically pleasing, Megumi finds himself frowning at his own train of thought.  He only had seven more hours of putting up with her competitive attitude, and then he’d be free and far from it.

Nothing cleared his mind like swinging around the city.  She couldn’t possibly plague him once he was in his suit.  He tried to tell himself that through the rest of class, everytime her hand shot up in the air and she bragged her way through perfect, textbook answers.

It was no doubt that she’d be successful after graduation.  Megumi would rather die than admit it out loud, but he wouldn’t be surprised in the least if she ended up a millionaire- billionaire- with how well studied and determined she was to win.  If she put half the effort into her future career that she did just by bothering him, she’ll probably earn herself some title of youngest most successful woman. 

Hopefully by then she’ll be too busy to bother him anymore.  Although Megumi assumes that by the time graduation rolls around, he’ll never see her again.  

She was probably counting down the days until then, too. ___

Megumi spent his lunches alone.

This didn’t really bother him.  He didn’t have much interest in making friends, and never put much effort into it.  He liked to think he was kind, but he knew he wasn’t the most approachable guy in the world.  If he was honest, he kind of liked it that way.  So long as he kept his clothes dark, his face expressionless, and his hair untamed, then he seemed to ward people off.  No one approached his usual small table in the corner of the lunchroom unless they needed to borrow one of the extra empty chairs.  Even then, people seemed nervous to ask, and more often than not someone would scurry over and take one without a word, rushing it back to their table before Megumi could say something untoward.

The way he dressed himself wasn’t the only thing keeping people away.  His reputation might have something to do with it as well…

But that fight wasn’t his fault.  Not necessarily.  So what if someone got sent to the hospital? Megumi was a believer in consequences being served… and if no one else was going to deliver, then he supposed it came down to him to do the right thing.  This was before the spider bite, before Spiderman, so his strong sense of justice had nowhere to be channeled.

To Megumi, all that mattered was the guy learned his lesson.  And by the way, he did live.  He just had to spend a week in Intensive Care to pull through, is all.

Unapproachable was an understatement when it came to Megumi.

Maybe that’s why he found (y/n) all the more obnoxious.

He minds his business during his lunch hour- although he’d argue that he minds his business all the time.  Sitting in the corner with headphones large enough to make the point clear that he didn’t want to be bothered, his nose was always stuck in a book.  He’d eat with one hand and scribble in his notebooks with the other.  Even if he could afford a laptop he didn’t want to use one.  His time was better utilized if he could study and eat  simultaneously.

The corner of his eye twitches when he catches a glimpse of her in his peripheral.  He hates that the hair on the back of his neck stands up when she shows up, all of his nerves tingling like a warning.  His grimace is obvious as he finds her walking through the cafe with the little lunch box he knew was perfectly organized in multiple compartments.  She probably didn’t let any of her food touch.

She’s stopped on her mission to get to her table of know-it-all friends, and Megumi shouldn’t care that some guy called her over to his table to talk to her, it’s a bit of a boring scene, honestly.  He should get back to his studying now, but for some reason he’s compelled to watch from the back of the room as (y/n) drags her feet over to the guy’s table.

Megumi doesn’t recognize him, or really any of his surrounding friends, but by the looks of it they seemed like the kind of guys that wouldn’t have gotten into the classes he’s taking.

A year ago Megumi wouldn’t have been able to hear their conversation, not from across the busy cafe where a hundred other conversations are happening, but now he finds it easy to tune out all the other noise and eavesdrop on (y/n) and this frat boy.

“You always walk by without saying hello.  You tryin’ to hurt my feelings, princess?” The frat boy feigns heartbreak, holding his hand to his chest all the while grinning at her.

“Hello”

(y/n’s) reply is rigid.  She sounds as bored as Megumi feels watching her.  He almost scoffs at himself for even paying this much attention.  Clearly his little warning sense was misfiring, because nothing of interest is playing out here.  He was starting to consider this a waste of his heightened abilities.

“Awe, c’mon now gorgeous, you can do better than that,” Fratboy clicks his tongue in mockery.  “Why don’t you come sit?” 

“I’m sitting with my friends” 

Once again, her tone is as flat and dry as could be.  Megumi starts to wonder what Fratboy even wants with her.  Besides her personality being insufferable, she clearly isn’t interested in whatever he’s offering.  How many hints can this guy possibly miss?

“Rain check?” Fratboy asks hopefully.  It could almost be endearing if it wasn’t for the slimy grin he wore.  Megumi hated to think it, but (y/n) outranked this guy on every scale.

“Yeah.  Maybe” (y/n’s) voice falls to a mumble before she turns and walks away, this time at a faster pace than before.

As she finds her place at her table, she glances over her shoulder, feeling the prickle of someone’s eyes following her.  Megumi’s senses are one step ahead, and he’s quick to drop his head to focus back on his studies again.  He’d already lost five minutes to watch a pointless interaction, he didn’t need to lose more time by facing her evil eye if she’d caught him staring at her.

Idiot, he thinks as he takes a more aggressive bite of his food than necessary.  Getting behind on schedule for (y/n) of all people.  

He pushes the whole thing as far from his mind as he can as he gets back to work. ___

Tokyo had been rather quiet this evening.  Not that Megumi was complaining.  It was refreshing to see the streets peaceful, even this late into the night.

Eleven o’clock might not be the ideal dinner time for your average person, but for Spiderman, it was the norm.  And Megumi liked having a quiet night where he could have a quick street food dinner at the skyline overlooking the whole city.  It was peaceful up there.  With all the stars out, a perfect breeze coming in, and without the noise of pedestrians out and about down on the streets, Megumi could positively say this was his secret piece of heaven.

Most things about his life were a secret- but this especially he held this place close.

As expected there wasn’t a single pesky thought of school on his mind.  Like the sky, it was clear and peaceful.

At least it was, until he was mid-bite of his sandwich and he caught sight of something sketchy in his peripheral.

The familiar sensation of the hair on the back of his neck prickling rises when he turns to watch the scene unfold.  An unmarked car with blackout windows pulling up behind one of the many small 24-7 convenience stores and a few men with various clown masks getting out of it.  He huffs in annoyance, already swinging down and dumping the remainder of his perfectly good sandwich in the trash.

When were these idiots going to learn that robbing a convenience store was never worth it? He wonders as he lands on the roof of the building the men had just gone into.  He finds there’s only one guy left in the car, the getaway driver he’s sure.  Pulling his mask over his face he’s swift and silent in webbing up the door handles and tires of the car.  He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Just as silently, he drops to the ground, and enters the store.

It’s not the first time Spiderman has made an appearance during a stick up.  And Megumi’s sure it won’t be his last, seeing as no one ever learns.

“Well if it isn’t Spiderboy” One of the three clowns, Megumi assumes the ringleader, taunts him with a laugh.  He cocks his gun and aims it at him, but Megumi’s not the slightest bit threatened by a gun.  Typical, he thinks.

He barely acknowledges the silent threat at all, instead scoping out the store quickly.  

There’s one man behind the counter, his hands raised and shaking.  It appears he hasn’t handed over any money yet, which is good.  It makes for a quicker and cleaner exit for Megumi.

A couple is cowering behind the first aisle of snacks, trying to peek over the shelves without being seen- they’re not doing a very good job, but with Spiderman here now Megumi figures they’ve assumed their safety is guaranteed.  They aren’t wrong.

And then there was a girl in the very back, two aisles behind the couple, and apparently far less brave as well.  She’s crouched all the way to the ground, her hands clasped tightly over the back of her neck as if this was a tornado drill and not a robbery.  At least her head is down, Megumi thinks.  It’s not often he comes across civilians with a decent sense of self preservation.

“Did you hear me, Spiderboy-?” The ringleader’s second taunt is barely finished before there’s two webs flying at him.  One aimed for the barrel of his gun, covering his mask, gluing it straight to his face and muffling his mouth.

“Yeah yeah, I fuckin’ heard you,” Megumi grumbles.  Criminals loved to call him all sorts of names, he figured it comes with the job, but man did it get old.

There’s two other clowns, lackeys, he supposes.  These types hardly worked alone these days.  Megumi always wondered if they thought being in numbers would protect them from Spiderman.  Again, they never learn.

It takes him all of five seconds to web up their weapons as well.  Some glued to their hands and chest, rendering them useless, others so tied up in the sticky string that they couldn’t move any limbs if they tried.

“You think you can go around playing hero and people will respect you for it?” One of the lackeys snarls when Megumi tears the mask from his face.  He does the same for the other, but the second clown seems too afraid to speak.  Good.  “People ‘round here don’t give a shit, Spiderboy.  You think they’ll thank you? Heh? You think they’ll throw you a nice parade and chant your name?” 

Megumi rolls his eyes, patting down his pockets in search of any identifiable information.  Like he presumed, he finds a phone and wallet.  Sometimes it felt like these guys weren’t even trying to get away with their crimes.

Paying the lackey clown no mind, he turns over his shoulder and motions to the couple behind the shelf.  They raise their heads a little further, eyes wide and seemingly surprised Spiderman was addressing them.

“It’s safe to go,” He tells them with a wave of his hand.  “Go straight to the police station to report this” 

Does he have faith they’ll listen? No, he assumes they’ll be likely to go home.  Megumi doesn’t care much.  The police weren’t exactly his allies.  But if he was going to do their jobs for them, he was going to have to at least act like he was playing by their rules.

“Playing nice with the cops, tch,” The loudmouth lackey continues on.  “When they show up, they’ll take you before they take any of us- mmph!” 

“Much better,” Megumi sighs when his webbing does just the trick to shut the guy up.  Will he suffocate with it covering his mouth? Of course not, “Breathe through your nose,” He grumbles when the lackey’s face starts to take on a blue hue.  “Fucking idiots, you’re all the fucking same” He sighs, dropping the guy’s phone and open wallet on the ground before him, making sure it’s on perfect display for when the cops arrive.

“Th-thank you, Spiderman,” The shopkeeper behind the counter finally begins to lower his hands.  It appears he’s still shaking, but Megumi’s sure it’s the adrenaline rush he’s coming down from.  He’ll be fine in no time.  Especially once the police arrive and whisk these guys away.  “I- I don’t know how I can repay you” 

“It was nothing” Megumi replies, monotone as ever, but it’s the truth.  The whole ordeal was over in the matter of three minutes.  A robbery had barely begun when he’d shown up and shut it down.

The shopkeeper looks startled by the less-than-friendly attitude of his savior, but he doesn’t say a word, just picks up his phone to dial up the police.

Megumi’s on the move heading out of the store, ready to make himself scarce before law enforcement shows up, but of course he can’t leave just yet.

“Hey,” He calls towards the last civilian in the shop, the girl crouched on the ground, still covering herself.  “Hey,” He calls again when she doesn’t react, taking a few steps towards her.  “You’re good to go now,” He says, but even still, she doesn’t move.

It takes a tap on her shoulder for her to startle, finally uncovering the back of her head and looking up at him.  She stays on the ground, but now Megumi’s stunned to silence as well as he stares back at her.

(y/n)? He’s grateful for his mask for the millionth time but in a whole new way now.  What the hell was she doing out here in the middle of the night? 

She doesn’t say anything as she stares up at him with wide eyes.  He can’t tell if she’s still in shock, but the longer he waits for her to say something, she doesn’t.

“Are you… alright?” 

It’s a normal question to ask, he probably says it a hundred times a night, making sure no one’s left hurt or afraid.  But this time, asking her, it felt foreign coming out of his mouth.  He’s never been put in a position to… care… about her wellbeing before.  But now’s as good a time as any, seeing as she’s still got her knees to her chest and a shell shocked look on her face.

“You’re- you’re Spiderman” Is the first thing she says, her voice barely above a whisper.  Megumi could roll his eyes, but he’s too busy waiting for her to get up and get moving.

“And you’re not sitting around here all night, c’mon” He beckons her upwards, and to his surprise she takes it as an offer to grab his hand, and he finds himself pulling her up to her feet.

“You’re a lot taller than I thought you’d be” She mumbles, and if she could see his face she’d watch a look of puzzlement befall him.

“Get that a lot” He mutters, making an obvious motion to eye the hand that she still has gripping his gloved one.

“Oh, sorry,” She’s still quiet, quieter than he’s ever heard her speak before, and it’s starting to intrigue him.  

Was she this afraid of a pesky little robbery? He wondered, looking her up and down.  She wasn’t trembling, she showed little to no sign of distress at all.  For a girl that had nearly gone full armadillo just a few minutes ago, she didn’t seem all that afraid.

“I’m just- uh-” She clears her throat, and Megumi thinks it’s the first time he’s ever heard her stammer, or misspeak at all.  “I’m a big fan” She finishes, her quiet voice sounding more shy now than anything else.

Wait, what!? 

“A fan?” Megumi repeats in disbelief, and (y/n) smiles softly as she nods her head.

“You don’t get that a lot too?” She asks, inching towards speaking at a normal volume.

This is the part where he leaves, and he knows it.  The authorities were bound to be close now, and it’d give him more trouble if he was still around when they got here.  He couldn’t be wasting his time, especially on her.

But he lingers there for a second longer anyways.  There was an undeniably curiosity creeping under his skin.  Never would he have pegged (y/l/n) (y/n), regular goody-goody, as a Spiderman fan.  It had him wondering if there was more to her than met the eye.  

Maybe she was… a normal person…? Could it be true? 

Flashing lights interrupted his thoughts, his head swiveling to see approaching red and blue

“Fuck!” He cursed, and behind him (y/n) covered her mouth to stifle her giggle.  Jeez, did she expect some squeaky clean guy to be under the mask? “You’re fine, right?” He asks her, already stepping away to make his escape.

(y/n) nods her head, still giving him an awestruck look.  It makes his face feel hot under his mask.  Could she really be this enamored with Spiderman? So much so she’s rendered speechless.

“Right- well- maybe stop shopping in the middle of the night and you find yourself in these situations” He tries to be serious, but she grins as she nods back at him in agreement.

“I’ll try my best, Spiderman” 

With that he’s out the door and swinging off just before the cops round the corner to the building.  He’d just narrowly missed them, but that was the closest he’d come to getting spotted by them in quite a while.  Until then, he’d done a good job making a clean getaway.

He huffs and tugs his mask off of his head when he finds a fire escape distant enough to rest at.  Of all the crimes he’s interrupted, that was definitely one for the books.  And it had nothing to do with the tacky clown masks or shitty execution.

His chest felt tight, an odd feeling creeping into his bones.

Shit.  He still hadn’t had a proper dinner. ___

Megumi’s exhausted the next morning when he strolls into class.  He’s five minutes late today, but he tells himself that ten is his limit so he’s still doing just fine.  He never gets a second glance from the professor anyways- with his grades? His professor wouldn’t care if he didn’t show up to class at all.

(y/n), however, cares very much about Megumi’s punctuality.

“Who taught you to be so disrespectful of other people’s time, Fushiguro?” She mocks a pout at him, already turned around in her seat to bother him as usual.

Megumi gives her a bored look, maintaining eye contact as he opens his notebook to a fresh page.  (y/n) raises a brow impatiently, waiting for some kind of response, but Megumi remains silent.  This is fitting for him, he rarely engages in her banter these days, but his silence feels different today.  Something about the way he looks at her makes her feel like he’s sizing her up, or something.

“What?” The word comes out in a mumble, her brows furrowing as he meets his inquisitive stare with a confused glare.

Megumi purses his lips, shakes his head, taps the eraser of his pencil rhythmically against his notebook.

“Nothing” 

It’s all he has to say, and for once (y/n) doesn’t have a snarky remark.  She just gives him a weird look and faces forward in her seat again.  Maybe he’d caught her off guard by actually speaking to her, even if it was just one word, it’s more than he’s given in a while.  Pretty much since the spider bite.  Engaging in petty arguments seemed pointless after that.

As he takes notes on the lecture of the day, he can’t help but be drawn to the back of (y/n’s) head.  He didn’t like the idea of giving her any of his attention, but his thoughts were drifting out of his control, and he couldn’t stop replaying last night in his mind.  The way she looked at him, smiled at him, like he was her hero.  And now today he was reduced to the dirt under her perfectly clean shoe.  It was like he had a secret about her now.  There might not be a way for him to dangle it over her head openly… but he knew, and for now, that was enough.

By the time class ended, Megumi already had his bag packed up, and he was the first out the door.  If he got to the next lesson before her, he could claim a seat in the back where she wouldn’t dare be caught sitting.  Maybe then he wouldn’t get so distracted.

Even with his heightened senses however, he doesn’t notice the way (y/n) watches him book it out of the classroom, a knot between her brows at his odd behavior.  Because since when has Fushiguro Megumi rushed to class? ___

It’s hard not to notice Megumi is avoiding her more than usual.  She shared almost every class with him, besides one art course she took, (y/n) saw him every hour of the day.  It also helped that being the top two of their class they were always seated somewhere near the front, and closer to each other than either one of them would like.

It doesn’t bother her that Megumi’s been sitting in the back of the class with the other slackers.  She couldn’t care less if he decided not to come to class at all- in fact it would be wonderful for her.  If his grades slipped just a little bit she could take his spot as top student, a position that was rightfully hers seeing as she was punctual and present in every class.  Unlike Megumi, who hardly participated unless asked to, and acted like he couldn’t care less about his status.

She always wondered if he truly didn’t care about his ranking.  He certainly acted like he didn’t, rolling his eyes at her comments if he wasn’t ignoring her completely.  But was it just an act? 

(y/n) made it an effort not to think any more about Fushiguro Megumi than she had to.  But sometimes he made that difficult for her.  Like now, when he’s sitting in the back of the class with his blocky headphones on.  She can’t help but peek over her shoulder at him, eyeing the way he actively took notes from what was on the whiteboard at the front of the class.  But how well could he learn if he wasn’t even listening? 

He catches her staring not a second later, his bored blue eyes landing on hers and holding her stare.  His expression is unchanging, completely neutral as he stares back at her, but it still feels intense.  (y/n’s) quick to shoot her eyes forward and begin scribbling messy words in her otherwise neatly kept notebook.  Was it just intense because he’d caught her staring right at him? Her face feels warm, her heartbeat kicks into an anxious pattern.

Clearly, whatever his issue was, she needed to just ignore it completely.  He seemed to do just fine doing the same, maybe it was time for her to take a page out of his book and give him the same treatment.

Still, her eyes catch him in every hallway, every class, every moment he’s around, she spots and scans him as if there’s going to be some hint as to what brought on his change in behavior. ___

A couple of peaceful weeks were well appreciated, but Megumi must’ve taken them for granted, because tonight was a rough one.

He could enjoy a good fight, he’d grown up a fighter, so it all came naturally to him.  Right hook, dodge, web, kick, swing- there were just a few extra steps to his hand-to-hand that came from the spider bite’s abilities.  To him, that made the act of fighting all the more fun.  He wasn’t afraid to admit he got a certain rush out of beating someone up.  When it was justified, there wasn’t a feeling like it.

Getting beat up, however, sucked.

Maybe the guy was on steroids, maybe the adrenaline got to his head and his fight or flight kicked into high gear, Megumi wasn’t sure what his deal was, but he certainly took a beating before finally knocking the petty handbag thief out and getting him webbed up for the cops to take care of.

It wasn’t till he got away and found an alley secluded enough that he was able to check his injuries.  He didn’t have to take his mask off to know his head had taken most of the damage.  He could taste the blood of his split lip, and feel the hot throbbing behind his eye.  

Great.  Going to class with a black eye won’t draw any attention.

With a groan he leaned back into the brick of one of the surrounding buildings, trying to even out his labored breathing.  It wouldn’t be a surprise if he found his torso littered with black and blue, too.  As much as it hurt, Megumi was more irritated than anything.  Hiding injuries was the worst part of his secret double life.  College kids always wanted to hear the gnarly stories behind visible cuts and bruises.  Megumi only hoped his shitty reputation would be enough to keep people away.

He couldn’t sit around for long, there was still a city that needed patrolling, so Megumi kicked off the wall and took a few deep, harsh breaths as he left the alley, ready to go for a swing around the next few blocks to make sure everything was as it should be.  Quiet.  It was almost one in the morning, most people should be turned in for the night by now.

Just as he reaches the sidewalk and before he can fly off into the air, however, he’s met by a not-quite-stranger.

(y/n) almost runs right into him, speed walking down the sidewalk with her head down, clearly on a mission.  Had he stepped out a second later she might’ve crashed into him, but it’s hard for her to not notice the six foot tall man in a head to toe black suit.

For half a second she looks alarmed- rightfully so, a strange man just came out of an alley, if she had half a mind she’d turn and run without thinking.  But as expected, Megumi finds she has no sense of self preservation as she looks at the block in her path with a grin.

“You again” She greets him like she knows him now.  (She does know him, but she doesn’t know she knows him, you know?) And her smile is so genuinely bright that Megumi starts to feel sick.

“Again,” He sighs, the groan in his voice not going unnoticed.  “Didn’t I tell you not to walk around alone this late at night?” His voice still sounds weird, and it’s shortly after that (y/n) notices his hand hovering over his ribcage.

“Did you get hurt, or something?” She ignores him completely, all the while putting her phone in her pocket to give him her full attention.

“I’m Spiderman, I don’t get hurt” Megumi argues, but the wince in his voice is obvious, and (y/n) somehow sees right through it.

“Okay… well… even Spiderman has to go to urgent care sometimes, right?” She tries to be lighthearted, but her smile is wavering now, concern seeping into her features.

Megumi can barely stand to look at her.  What is she doing? Staring at him like that, like she knows him, like she cares about him.  Can’t she just go the fuck home where it’s safe and more importantly: away from him?

“Tch, I don’t think so” He mutters.

(y/n) frowns.

“Spoken like a true idiot man,” She scolds.  Jeez, last time they crossed paths like this she’d said she was a fan, now this? “What is it with you guys and your reputations, huh? You’re not any stronger for toughing out an injury without help, you know” 

“I’ll keep that in mind, mom” Megumi argues back.  She scoffs, but it turns into a small laugh shortly after.

“You could at least put ice on it, you know” She says, stepping past him and continuing on her way down the sidewalk.  Megumi tosses his head back to silently curse at the sky.

“Did I not make myself clear that you should go home?” He calls after her.

“Ice is this way” Is all (y/n) says, and all she has to say to get him to groan at nothing in particular and follow after her.

It’s a good thing it’s so late at night, there’s no one to see Spiderman walking around with some random girl.  Surely the papers would have a hay day if even a photo was snapped… he doesn’t even want to think about what kind of headlines they’d come up with.

“I can buy my own ice” He tells her after a minute of walking in silence.

“I know,” (y/n) shrugs.  “But so far it seems like you’re letting me hang out with you, so I’ve gotta enjoy it just a little bit longer” 

“We’re not hanging out,” Megumi replies dryly.  “You’re refusing to go home when it’s the middle of the night and I’m…” He trails off, not wanting to say what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t have to.

“Awe, Spidey’s lookin’ out for me?” She’s smiling at him again, holding her hands behind her back as she looks up at him.  “You starting to like me?” 

“You’re starting to bother me,” Megumi quips back, but it’s followed by a chuckle he can’t help, and it only seems to endear (y/n) further.  “I don’t usually give people follow up warnings,” He mutters with a shake of his head.  “What’re you doing out this late, anyways?” He asks before he can help it.  “Don’t you have, like, school, or something?” It’s difficult to act like he doesn’t know she spends her nights studying herself to death.

“Maybe I’m going to a party” (y/n) shrugs.

“Tch, no you’re not” 

“How do you know?” 

“Not dressed like that” Megumi comments, making a point to look her up and down.

(y/n) huffs, but there’s no denying the evidence right in front of them both.  She’s wearing leggings that were at least a couple years old, and a large sweatshirt that was teetering the line of well loved and ratty.  

“Okay, well, maybe this time I’m not” She says, and Megumi bites back a smile.  He’s pretty sure that a girl like (y/l/n) (y/n) has never stepped foot in a house party.  And he knows because he hasn’t, either.

“Still not an answer” He reminds her.

“I was going to pick up some energy drinks,” (y/n) finally admits.  “It���s a short walk from my apartment to the corner store, I do it all the time.  Even without Spiderman watching over me” 

He chuckles at that, wondering just how many times she’s made the walk, no matter how short, in the middle of the night.  Couldn’t she just get them before she goes home for the day?

“And you just have to go in the middle of the night?” He scolds her, but she doesn’t seem too affected by it.

“That’s when I need them the most” She replies with a shrug.

“You always drink energy drinks that late?” 

“What, you worried about me or something?” She fires back, a curious look on her face.  “Y’know, I haven’t heard much about you talking to people” 

“I don’t” 

“You’re talking to me” She points out matter of factly, a tone of hers that Megumi was already far too familiar with.

“You’re kind of leaving me no choice” 

(y/n’s) quiet for a moment, and it seems like she’s contemplating something, but whatever it is she doesn’t let him in on, instead smiling and turning her attention to the sidewalk as they walk.

Megumi ducks into the alley next to the convenience store when (y/n) goes in.  He’s unceremonious as he drops himself to the ground, sighing in relief to be off of his feet.  His hand presses into his ribcage at a weak attempt to relieve the pain as he twists to try and find a comfortable position to sit in.  He doesn’t want (y/n) to come back and see him in any sort of pain- it wasn’t a good look for Spiderman to show any sign of weakness.

She’s quick to return, a plastic bag in one hand and a frozen bag of vegetables in the other.  Even behind the mask she must understand that he’s pulling a face at her, because she huffs in annoyance.

“They didn’t have ice” She explains, inviting herself to squat down next to him and offer up the vegetables.

“No no, you’re not sitting here,” Megumi bites back a whine when he sits upright in an attempt to urge her to leave.  “You need to go back home” 

“And miss a personal Q&A with Spiderman?” She replies, a small smile on her face when he finally snatches the vegetables out of her hand.  He grumbles a string of incoherent curses as he rests it over where the bruising feels the worst.

“That’s not happening” He mutters.

“This is why I never hear about you talking to people,” (y/n) sighs.  “You’re boring” 

“I’m not boring,” He argues.  “I just don’t have anything to say” 

“Well, you could start by thanking me for the veggies” (y/n) replies, tilting her head at him.

Megumi glares at her from behind his mask.  He didn’t need to reminder of her insufferable personality.  But… watching her smile so softly at him, like she would love nothing more than a thank you from Spiderman… maybe it’s just because he’s injured, but Megumi caves.

“Thank you” It comes out from behind his teeth, and she must know it, but Megumi swears he sees stars in her eyes.

“You’re welcome, Spiderman,” She murmurs back.

It comes out so genuine, so sweet, that there’s a pang in Megumi’s heart.  He doesn’t think any of the bruising spread so far up his chest, but it must’ve for him to feel such an odd sensation.

“I have to ask… cause I probably won’t see you again…” Her eyes land on the way his hand tenses and presses the frozen vegetables further against himself.  “Why do you do it?” 

When he doesn’t answer, she blinks at him, moving her head just enough to tell him that she really wanted him to say something.

Megumi figures she won’t leave him alone if he doesn’t say anything, so he goes with the truth.

“It’s the right thing to do” 

He shrugs lamely, and it takes a second for her to react at all.  At first it’s a furrow of her brows and a knowing smile, as if he just had to have an answer better than that.  But she didn’t know him as well as she liked to think, because she didn’t know Megumi.  

When he has nothing else to say, her expression slowly softens, and she hums thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” She muses.  “You’re just… a good guy?” 

Just a guy, Megumi mentally corrects.  He might have heightened abilities, and a better sense of right and wrong than those around him, but he’s never considered himself a hero.  Just a guy trying to make things right, trying to keep people safe.

“Guess I try to be” His answer is as lame as his movements.  

If he were a superhero, he’d need some help with PR, but somehow, this makes him all the more special to (y/n).  She brightens, leans in closer and sets her hand over his, where he’s still holding the cold vegetables.

“Can I tell you something, Spiderman?” 

Hasn’t she been talking to him this whole time? If it wouldn’t hurt, Megumi would laugh.  Instead he just nods his head and waits for her to continue.

“I want to be a journalist because of you,” 

What? Megumi’s face warps into shock at the confession.  He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that.  She was on track to be a graduate of the sciences, whichever one she ended up choosing anyways.  He always saw her becoming some wealthy astro-physist or some shit.  She wanted to give up all of her work in those programs to… write? 

“An investigative journalist,” She corrects.  “I want to write about the things that matter, and- and I want to be honest, you know? I want people to read my articles and know they’re being handed the truth.  There’s not a lot of that around these days…” She trails off.  

She didn’t have to tell him about the light Spiderman was painted in.  Let’s just say him and Megumi would share the popularity rankings… except no one was raising pitchforks and torches in Megumi’s direction.

“You want to do that ‘cause of me?” Megumi asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

(y/n) nods, trying to bite back her smile but it was still as clear as day.

“I’ll write my first article about you,” She promises, and Megumi’s eyes widen at her sincerity.  “If you’ll let me” 

“Well you’re not getting an interview” He says, only half joking.  (y/n) laughs quietly.

For a moment, he gets that glimpse into her again.  The same one he felt the night of the convenience store robbery.  There was something in her eye he’d never seen before.  Something soft, and real.  It dawns on him that he very well may be the only person she’s told about this dream of hers.  He wants to ask, but it feels wrong, like he’s prying for something.

“I won’t need one,” She tells him.  “Can’t have the people knowing I know you” 

“You don’t know me” Megumi replies, maybe too quickly, but he can’t help it.  

He tilts his head at her as she gazes at him with too much fondness.  Was his reminder that he’s a stranger to her not enough? Sure, she could trust him because he was Spiderman, her safety wasn’t compromised, but that didn’t mean she needed to go confiding in him like this.

Besides, the look she was giving him was making him feel hot, like he was about to break into a sweat.

“I don’t know…” She murmurs thoughtfully.  “I just have this feeling… like I do” 

That has him leaping into panic mode.  That was it, this was done.  If he saw her again while he was in this suit, he was going to turn and swing the other direction.  She couldn’t be saying things like that, she couldn’t be trying to put the pieces together in her mind.  If she were to figure him out, he’d be done for.  She put a lot of trust in him tonight, but could he trust her for even a minute? Megumi wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to find out.

As far as he was concerned, this was the last time he was going to talk to her.  He was right to avoid her after the first time- it should have been the last time, but it was too late for that now.

“You should go” He says, pushing himself to stand even through grunts of pain.  She looks at him with worry, brows knitted and lips in a frown as she follows him up to her feet.

“Wait,” 

She calls to stop him, despite having nothing else to say to him.  Well, there were a million things she wanted to say to him, but none of that felt appropriate now.  She didn’t really expect him to stand there and hear her out, but he is, and now her mouth is running dry and she’s standing before him frozen.  He radiates impatience, without having to say a single word.

“I… I didn’t thank you,” She stammers out.  It’s unlike her, but it can’t be helped.  She’s always had a little fan-crush on Spiderman since he made his appearance on the news, but after actually being around him that seemed to blossom into a very real crush, even if she’s never seen his face.  She can feel a blush heating up her face when she speaks.  “For the other night, with- with the robbery,” She clarifies, even though she didn’t have to.  “So… thank you” 

Megumi hesitates a moment longer, almost expecting her to say something else.  She looks like she wants to, her face is growing pink and her hands have begun fiddling with the bag of her energy drinks.  But she remains quiet.

He gives her a nod, before handing over the bag of vegetables.  (y/n) laughs under her breath as she takes it.  It’s lost all of it’s cold, merely a room temperature bag of carrots and peas by now.  She’s not sure what she’s supposed to do with it, but she supposes it wouldn’t look good for Spiderman to swing around with it.

“You’re welcome,” He tells her, and it sounds like the most earnest thing he’s had to say to her.  He’s always come across as blunt, something (y/n) was surprised by when they first met, but now it’s a blessing.  She knows that he means it.  “Get home.  Don’t make me have to tell you again, alright?” 

To Megumi, this is a goodbye.  He doesn’t intend to see her again, not like this.  It was… interesting, while it lasted, but it could never actually last.  It needed to be over before things could get any worse… or she could get any closer to figuring out his identity.

“I’ll try my best, Spiderman” 

It’s the same thing she’d left him with before.  She wonders if he catches it.  With that, Megumi shoots a web and swings off into the night, his black suit blending easily into the night sky.

He did. ___

(y/n) was always punctual, to everything, not just class.  But today she found herself in her favorite seat a whole ten minutes early.  She hadn’t meant to show up before the professor, but she just couldn’t contain her energy today.  She’d woken up before her alarm, got showered, dressed and dolled up in record time, ate a small breakfast on her walk to school, and now here she was.  Full of energy as if it wasn’t eight in the morning.  Call it waking up on the right side of the bed…

… or having an interesting night that she couldn’t get out of her head.

Never in her wildest dreams did she think that she’d run into Spiderman again.  The first time was a little embarrassing, she’d come close to being called a victim, but the second time just happened by chance.  It had her heart racing, her face warming, her lips smiling- hell, she was giddy.

He wasn’t anything like she’d thought he’d be, but that just made him all the more enticing to her.  He was blunt, maybe even a little crass for a masked hero, but every interaction she’d had with him drew her in more.  

She’d meant what she said about getting into journalism, she’d even been looking into transferring her credits next year, even if it meant starting over in a completely new program.  Last night, she’d spent her time in bed staring at the ceiling and replaying events in her mind.  When she wasn’t doing that, she was mentally writing her first article about The Spiderman.

The Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman had a nice ring to it, she thought.  Although she had a feeling that he would laugh at the title of Friendly.  Or maybe roll his eyes.  It was hard to tell with the mask.

Before she knew it, she found herself doodling said mask at the corner of a fresh page in her notebook.  She lifted her pen instantly, surprised at just how zoned out she’d become.  There were never doodles in her notebooks.  They were perfectly kept, clean, organized, conside, and without any extra graffiti.

She supposes this doodle can stay, though… she had done a rather good job at drawing it, it would be a pity if it went to waste…

Students begin to file into the class and setting up their laptops and notebooks at the desks surrounding her.  Without any friends in this class there’s no one for her to talk to, or share the story of her night with.

Then again, she’s not sure she wants to tell anyone about her run in with Spiderman.  She hadn’t mentioned it before… although that was because she didn’t need anyone fussing over her being out so late and putting her safety in jeopardy.  This time was different, but still… 

It felt more special if she kept it to herself.

Today, Megumi comes to class twelve minutes late.  She eyes the clock above the doorway just as he ducks in to check the time, but her eyes just as quickly dart back to his figure.  It’s hard not to, with the dark purple shiner standing out against the pale skin of his face.

Her eyes flit around the room, just to see if anyone else noticed the state of their late arrival, but every other student seemed too wrapped up in the lesson, and their professor was too deep in his lecture to give Megumi the slightest of attention.  To everyone else, Megumi was late as usual.  As (y/n) looked at him again, she had an inkling he was the only one who noticed his black eye.

He knew he was going to draw attention, clearly, seeing as his hoodie was up over his unruly hair and his head was down.  But he must’ve sensed (y/n’s) eyes on him, because when he looked up it was directly at her.

He was moving to the back of the class again, probably to take that corner desk with the graphite engravings all over it.  It would be alarming if she were to say anything to him, although she’s not even sure what she would say.  Asking him if he was alright felt weird, and it’s not like she could just shout ‘what the fuck!?’ in the middle of class.

All she could do was stare at him as he took his seat, pull out his notebook, and begin notetaking as usual, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.  She’s completely turned around in her seat now, still watching him, even though she was missing valuable points of the lesson now.  It was hard to pull her attention away- it was weird that no one else seemed to notice him at all.

Where could he have possibly gotten that from? She frowned, despite Megumi ignoring her completely.  She was sure that she would’ve heard about him getting into another fight on campus- last time she was getting texts about it while she was reading all the tweets about it.  Fights were hot news around here, and if Megumi was involved in a second one, she surely couldn’t have missed it.

Right? 

Finally, his eyes catch hers.  She doesn’t turn away from him like she had in the past, she holds his stare, trying to communicate with him in silence.

It’s obvious to him, she’s looking at him with that same worried face she’d worn last night.  She just didn’t know she was worried about the same person.  He raises his eyebrows at her expectantly, as though asking ‘what?’.  As though nothing were out of the ordinary at all.

Her lips curl into a frown, almost a pout, and Megumi has half a mind to flip her off to get her to leave him alone.  Even in silence, even from opposite sides of the room, she seems to find some way to get under his skin.

He doesn’t, though.  Just holds her stare for a minute longer before putting all of his attention into his notetaking.

Megumi told himself that he was done with her, and he was going to be true to his word.  Whether he was in the suit or not, he couldn’t have anything to do with (y/l/n) (y/n).  Being around her just made things feel… complicated.  He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he didn’t want to.  He just wanted the feeling to go away.

She sits turned around in her seat even once he’s clearly begun to ignore her again.  He can feel her eyes on him, see her watching him out of his peripheral vision as if she was going to figure him out through her stare alone.

He was only pretty sure that she couldn’t.

Eventually she turns around in her seat, but the bouncing of her leg is driving him insane even from across the class.  It was like all he could hear- the faint tap of her shoe tapping the linoleum floor.  It was louder than the lecture, than the squeak of the marker on the whiteboard, or the students smacking their gum or tapping their desks.  His ears focused on it for the remainder of class, effectively ruining his note taking ability.

He’s out of his seat once class is over, snatching his things and not bothering to put them in his bag as he bolts for the door.  There’s an itch in his mind telling him to distance himself from (y/n) as fast as he can.  The inkling was right, because he doesn’t make it far in the hall before his name is being called.

“Fushiguro!” 

A few surrounding students glance in her direction, some even snicker in passing.  Megumi wasn’t someone anyone chased after, and certainly never a girl.  If this were still high school, his sister would ooh and ahh at him before skipping away, plotting to tease him for it later.  But this wasn’t high school, and when he turned around to face (y/n), anyone who was watching made themselves scarce fast.

He doesn’t say anything as she approaches him, the strap of her messenger bag held tight in both hands against her chest.  

She opens her mouth, ready to make a smartass comment, but it comes out awkward, not quite right.

“Late to class again cause of a fight, or something?” Even her scoff comes out wrong, sounding like a nervous laugh, strangled and weird.  She shifts her weight between her feet.

Megumi’s silent for a long few seconds.  Every one that passes feels like eternity, and (y/n) deflates a little more under his stare.

“Sure” He shakes his head, not caring what she wanted to assume about him.  If she wanted to think he was that kind of guy, all the better.  Spiderman didn’t get into fights before going to class, so the further he could separate himself from him in her mind, the better.

She frowns at his answer, and it looks like she’s actually upset when she stares directly at his dark eye.  It looks pretty bad, he knows that.  The swelling he could take care of, but the dark purple was another thing.  Right now though, he’s more concerned about the way she seems to worry.

“Seriously, Fuhiguro,” She says quietly, hoping to get through to him.  

She’s not sure what it is that came over her, but something about seeing him walk into class looking like this made her heart lurch in her chest.

“What happened? Who did that?” 

“I fell,” He says dryly, earning a short glare from her.  He sighs, shutting his eyes to mask his annoyance before it got the best of him.  “Sorry I don’t have an interesting story for you- can I go to class now?” 

“Suddenly Mr Punctual?” She snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest.  Megumi huffs, shakes his head, uncaring toward her attitude.

“Whatever” He starts to turn away, but she catches him off guard when she rushes to block his path again.  

Megumi actually startles when she budges in front of him, having to step back to remove her from his personal space.  His wide eyes land on hers, annoyance furrowing his brows as he stares down at her.  She’s defiantly raising her chin towards him, eyes narrowed and everything.

“I’m actually asking, you know,” She tells him.  “Because no one else is walking around with black eyes-” 

“Who cares?” Megumi tries to step out of her way, but she slides in front of him again.  The traffic in the hallway is thinning, they would both be late for their next class if she kept this up.  “Don’t you have a class to be early for?” He hopes that’s enough to get her to back off.

“I don’t care,” She says with enough assurance that Megumi’s actually surprised.  He figured being late to class would throw her into a full breakdown.  “Why are you being such a dick about this?” 

He scoffs, a bitter smile tugging on his lips, only making him wince as it tears the healing wound.

“Why are you?” He fires back.

“Because,” She says it with such certainty, only to fall short with the rest of her reason.  She didn’t know exactly why she felt like someone needed to check in on him, but she knew that she did, and maybe she was the only one who noticed anything was wrong in the first place.  “Because… because it’s the right thing to do” 

Megumi freezes up at that.  All of his muscles go rigid, his jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker over her features rapidly, trying to find any crack in her sincerity.  Was she seriously throwing his words back at him right now? Just because of a black eye? 

Meanwhile (y/n) feels good about her answer.  She’d picked it up from a man she admired so much and it felt right.  There was no real reason, just a feeling.  She had no idea what emotional turmoil she was putting him through right now.

“(y/n), seriously…” Megumi shakes his head at her.  He steps to the side again, but doesn’t leave right away.  Her eyes follow his, waiting for him to continue.  He hates that she looks so genuinely worried about him.  Hates the way it makes his heart race and his fingers tremble.  He has to force words out of his throat.  “Leave me alone” 

Her face falls, but he’s quick to leave once he says it, and this time, she doesn’t chase after him again. ___

In the rest of their classes, she doesn’t try to talk to him again, and does her best not to look his way.  Megumi’s relieved… he thinks.  It’s for the best that everything returns to normal.  Whatever compelled her to reach out to him today was clearly Spiderman’s doing, and he couldn’t have that.  Things couldn’t change.  His feelings of distaste towards her couldn’t change.  He couldn’t start feeling… differently.

With his hood on and his headphones blasting music enough to drown out the noise of the cafe, Megumi tries to catch up on what he’d missed during his first lecture, which was the entirety of his first lecture.  Luckily his professor tended to drone on word for word from the textbook, and he could catch up by reading.

Unluckily, it doesn’t take much for him to get sidetracked from his studies.  He wants to kick himself when something compels him to look up, only to find (y/n) at Fratboy’s table again.

This again, he tells himself, certain he’ll go right back to his textbook.  But he doesn’t move.  His focus stays entirely on the table of jocks, without a shred of discretion, to make things worse.

“Not today” (y/n’s) saying when he tunes into the conversation.  Does this guy always ask her to sit at his table for lunch? Is he that oblivious? Megumi chews on the inside of his cheek.  You’d think he’d try to avoid the idiot jock stereotype a little better.

“C’mon princess, it’s never ‘today’.  Why don’t you just say yes to ‘tomorrow’, hm?” Fratboy leans out of his seat, reaching his hand out towards her.  (y/n) takes a step backwards, but he’s faster, snatching her by the wrist and pulling her towards the table again.

Megumi bristles, watching the situation with the eyes of a hawk.  If looks could kill, this would’ve been enough to get Fratboy’s hand off of her.  Even if he wasn’t hurting you, it was unwanted, that much was clear just by watching her body language.

“I really don’t feel that way about you,” (y/n) snaps, tugging her arm to get herself out of his grasp.  He doesn’t release right away, and Megumi almost gets to his feet, but with a second tug he lets go of her, and (y/n) takes a large step back, keeping both arms close to her body in case he tries to reach for her again.  “Leave me alone” She barks at him, turning to walk away.

If Fratboy says something else to her, Megumi misses it.  His focus is dialed up to one hundred, and as soon as (y/n) separated herself from him, Megumi hadn’t paid a second glance to Fratboy at all.  He wonders how long she’d felt his watchful eyes before she actually turned towards him.  Her eyes skirt around the cafe for a second, trying to find where the prickling feeling of being watched was coming from, and it doesn’t take long for her to find him.  Her bitter expression softens when she spots him, an odd feeling replacing the discomfort of being talked down to and manhandled.

Maybe because as soon as Fratboy follows her line of sight and sees Megumi’s hard stare set in his direction, he turns towards his table again and quickly engages himself with his friends, not bothering (y/n) with even a second glance.  She watches this unfold, before looking back at Megumi again, curiously.  Despite her being left alone now, he’s still staring at her, maybe waiting to see that she’ll get to her table without being bothered again, she’s not sure.

Either way, she grows still under his direct gaze.  She didn’t know how to describe it, but she’s sure she’s never had anyone look at her like that.  With an otherwise neutral expression, there was so much anger behind Megumi’s eyes that if she didn’t know better, she might be just as afraid as Fratboy.  However something told her not to be, something told her that the anger wasn’t directed towards her.  It takes a great deal of effort for her to turn her back on him and head towards her table, but even as she walks away she can’t help but glance back at him again.  He’s already returned to his book by then, but her intrigue doesn’t end there.  She spends the rest of her lunch in near silence while surrounded by her friends, her thoughts too busy for her to keep up with meaningless chit chat and gossip.

That night (y/n) wanders the sidewalk between her apartment and the convenience store up and down until her feet are too tired to carry her anymore.  She walks the familiar path, back and forth, over and over, between the hours of ten and two, her eyes fixed on the sky, peeking down alleyways, her fingers crossed, her heart racing.  Nothing comes of her walk.  She returns home with a sense of disappointment, and a will to try it again. ___

Megumi’s growing tired of this game of hers.  He’s not sure why she insists on doing this every night, it had been four nights now and she had nothing to show for it, so why was she still out there pacing the sidewalk like a maniac? 

It took all of his energy to patrol the streets and keep an eye on one particular sidewalk- one particular girl.  He was one guy.  Did she really think this was safe for either of them? He very well could be missing a crime happening two blocks over because he’s too busy checking in on where she’s chosen to wander.  Did she really think this was enough to capture his attention? 

Well, it had caught his attention, seeing as every other five minutes he was swinging back in this direction to make sure she was still alive down there.

Was she trying to learn a lesson the hard way? Megumi spent his time watching her with bitterness.  She was smarter than this, he knew it, so what the hell was she thinking?

Deep down he’d already confirmed his worries, but he’d hoped that she’d give this stunt up eventually.  He still saw her around school, even if she’d stopped bothering him, he could see the toll that staying up like this was taking on her.  She always had an energy drink or a coffee on her desk, and Megumi doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so disheveled.  It had him wondering if this was starting to impact her grades, too.

This is why he shouldn’t have spoken with her the last time.  He should’ve swung off in the opposite direction.  Because now she was on his mind, she had him worrying, swinging all around the block she was pacing while trying to keep an eye on the rest of the city- it was exhausting for him, too.

He shouldn’t be sitting here worrying about her sleep, or her grades.  His bottom line should be safety.  And she was safe.  So why couldn’t he just leave her be? 

With a groan he stops his swinging to land on one of the surrounding buildings.  He rips his mask off his head, groaning through his irritation before raking his hands through his already messy hair.  She was driving him crazy, and he was sure that she knew it too.  This little back and forth walk of hers, she was taunting him with it.  

Throwing himself down to sit on the edge of the building, Megumi peers over his knees to check on her yet again.  She’s slowed her pace, which hopefully means she’s getting tired and will return to her apartment soon.

With a huff, he props his head in his hand, wondering what he was going to do about this.  It wasn’t as easy to make her hate Spiderman as it was to make her hate Megumi.  Hell, it might not be a bad idea to just reveal his identity to her, she’d probably want to forget about Spiderman all together, then.

Of course, that was a stupid idea, but Megumi was fresh out of good ones.

When he lifts his head again, compelled by some invisible force to check just one more time that she was alright, he’d looked just in time.  He barely had the time to pull his mask back on his head before he was leaping off the building and swinging down towards her, half flying and half falling through the air as fast as he could to get to her before whatever figure lurking around the corner could.

Shit, shit, shit.

It happens so fast, she’s lucky she didn’t pee herself from the whole thing.  She’d just reached the end of her pace, about to turn around and wander the other direction when she finally saw a very unsettling figure come around the corner.  With disheveled clothing and a stagger that sent up warning flags of intoxication, (y/n) instantly stopped in her tracks, and started to shuffle backwards.

He never said a word to her, but from looks alone she got the feeling of what he was thinking.  Nothing good.

However before she could get herself to start running, someone else came into view.

There’s barely a second for her to show her relief when Spiderman shows up, seemingly out of nowhere.  She’s not sure his feet even touched the ground before he had an arm around her and was swinging off again.  He doesn’t have to tell her to hold on, she just clings, with all her might, she winds her arms around his neck and keeps her knees locked on either side of his hips.  

The sensation of swinging through the air is not the one she always dreamed of enjoying- the wind is harsh, whipping her hair around all directions and snapping against her face unpleasantly.  Even with her face buried against her savior’s chest, the cold air nips at her.

Even once he’s clearly landed, it takes some prompting for her to let go of him, and open her eyes.

When she does, she barely gets to open her mouth before he’s laying into her, and she should’ve seen it coming, but she can’t help but deflate.

“What the hell were you thinking!?” 

He’s yelling, and at first she wonders if he’s worried about people seeing, but a quick glance at her surroundings and she realizes they’re on the roof of a building.  No one would be hearing them here.

“Were you seriously trying to get yourself into trouble? Because you were about this close to it,” He raises his pinched fingers for emphasis, but gives her no time to answer.  “You better not have done something so stupid just cause of me-” 

“I didn’t- well- well I didn’t necessarily” (y/n) tries to explain, but the words just aren’t coming as fast as her mouth is moving and she’s left gaping at him.  

Megumi was not putting up with it.  What did he have to do to get it through her head? 

“I can’t be spending my nights keeping an eye on just you because you feel like putting yourself in harm’s way for a fucking rush,” He snaps.  “You pull shit like that again (y/n) and I’m not going to be there next time, you understand?” 

Her mouth shuts.  She nods her head.

“Jesus Christ,” Megumi puts his hands to his head, turning and walking off as if they weren’t stranded on top of a building.

Well, (y/n) was stranded.  Spiderman had the means of getting himself anywhere.

She wants to follow him, but instinct tells her to stay put while he paces and continues to scold her.

“You’re goddamn lucky I was there, you know that?” He’s not even looking at her, but she nods her head again anyways.  She knows.  “I should really go back there and beat the shit out of that guy” He starts to mutter to himself, going on incoherently, and (y/n’s) blood starts to run cold.

“He- I mean, he didn’t do anything” She mumbles, her voice hardly above a whisper, but he seems to hear her just fine, stopping in his tracks and turning his head towards her.

“Are you serious?” 

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before any words come out.

“It’s not like he… he said anything, or did anything to me” She clarifies.  Spiderman’s mask is incapable of expression, but she had a feeling the man behind it was glaring at her.  She could feel that familiar prickle of a harsh stare.

It’s silent for a long moment before he finally turns completely towards her and walks back in her direction.  She keeps her feet firmly planted, willing herself not to back away or cower, but having him come stand so close to her had her throat closing up.  He towered over her so much she had to lean her head back to look up at his mask.  If he was going to yell, she was bound to flinch.

“You have no idea what he was capable of doing,” He doesn’t yell.  In fact his voice is so eerily low she almost shivers.  “If you want to gamble your life on some drunken lowlife’s imagination, that’s your business,” He adds, and she blinks away the tears welling up in her eyes as the gravity of the situation really sunk in with his words.  “But at least have the decency to do it far away from me.  Because if it were up to me I’d go back there and kill that guy right now” 

She blinks a few more times, but still, a tear slips down her cheek.

“I-I’m sorry,” She whispers shakily, the lump in her throat growing hotter when she tries to speak.  “I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to- I-” 

Megumi sighs as more tears begin to fall from her eyes.  Her brain was playing catchup and it was clear she was too tired to handle any of this right now.

“It’s alright,” He says, but it’s obviously not enough to calm her down, so against his better judgment, he tries his hand at comforting her.  “Hey, c’mon, you’re alright,” Reaching out to her, he hesitates before placing his hands on either side of he face, wiping her tears away on the soft material of gloves.  “Breathe,” He instructs quietly, and waits as her shudders slowly morph into slow, heavy breaths.  “There you go, that’s it.  You’re alright,” He tries to remind her that where she is now, she’s safe.  “You’re here” 

It takes a few more deep breaths, but eventually he steers her clear of a full blown panic attack, and her heartbeat returns to a normal pace.

With one last deep breath, (y/n) closes her eyes on her exhale, and Megumi finally drops his hands from her head, sure that she isn't going to start back up again.

“I have trouble sleeping,” She tells him quietly, her eyes focused on the ground.  “It started in high school, I uh… I’m kind of a nerd, I guess,” She admits.  “My parents really cared about my grades and success and I guess I just… went with it.  Started staying up through the night to study and get ahead the rest of my class and… never dropped the habit” 

Megumi softens, although she’d never know it.

“That doesn’t sound so healthy,” He says quietly, not knowing what else to say.  She scoffs, smiles bitterly, shakes her head back at him.  “We should get you back home, yeah?” 

Realizing what he meant, she looks back at him with a wince, and he can’t help the small chuckle at her reaction.

“It’ll be alright.  I’ll take it easy, promise” He says, crossing his finger over his chest for emphasis.

“What, like I’m gonna find some way to sue Spiderman?” She mutters back.

He holds his arms out to her, carefully grabbing her by the forearms to loop them around his neck.

“Just hold on and keep your head down, it’ll be over before you know it” 

Her face heats up when his arm comes around her back and he presses her even closer.  She can’t stop her squeak of surprise before it comes out, and it must startle him, because he’s quick to ask her if she’s okay.

“Yeah I- I’m fine” She stammers back, feeling her blush grow hotter.

Megumi takes off without a warning, thinking it’ll be easier to rip it off like a bandaid than to count down before a jump.  All of her limbs tighten around him, forgetting about modesty as soon as they’re in the air.  She presses her face as far into his shoulder as she can to keep herself blinded from the surrounding area.  Until now, she wouldn’t have said she was afraid of heights.

She’s at least able to give him her address, a shaky whisper in his ear before she’s buried into his shoulder again.

When he lands on her fire escape, he helps her to her feet, trying not to chuckle at how wobbly she is.

“Don’t get sick on the suit, you have no idea how much of a pain it is to dry clean this thing” He tries to lighten the mood, and is surprised that he’s successful in doing so, earning a small laugh from her.

“You say that to all the girls you swing home, Spidey?” 

“Not a fan of the nickname.  Or the insinuation” He’s back to his usual dry self in no time.

“Well you have to have a nickname, we’re friends now, aren’t we?” 

He’s supposed to leave now.  He should leave now.  This was exactly what he was afraid of happening, her getting attached.  That burden was only on her of course, there wasn’t a chance Megumi was going to get drawn in when it comes to her, not when he knew the consequences.

“Spideman already is a nickname” He mutters like it’s obvious.  

(y/n) let’s out a breathless laugh, and tosses her messy windswept hair behind her shoulders.  

Megumi hasn’t left yet, why isn’t he leaving? 

“Well, then there must be some other name I could call you..?” She trails off with her question, stepping forward and eyeing him curiously.  

Megumi’s frozen.  Was she really suggesting he reveal himself to her? Obviously he couldn’t do that…

“I’d just like to thank you, again,” She says, a small smile on her lips as she takes another step forward.  

If he’s not leaving, Megumi knows he most definitely needed to step away from her before she could press any closer.  Carrying her to swing her home was one thing, that was closeness out of necessity, but this- this was too much, and he was freezing up.

“And, um, properly,” She adds in a soft murmur, her eyes flickering over his mask.  

He briefly wonders what she’s looking for, but it’s quickly answered when she reaches up towards him, her fingers brushing the space between his mask and the rest of the suit.  It’s fitted so well it’s nearly impossible for someone to find the disconnect between the two- unless of course you’re standing directly in front of him, which she was.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, but the gulp he swallows is visible to her with how close she is.  The tips of her fingers barely slip under the material of his mask, they graze his skin in a touch featherlight yet searing hot.

Without any indication from him that she should stop, curiosity gets the best of her and she carefully begins to slide the mask upwards, her eyes excitedly watching the expanse of his now exposed neck.  Almost as pale as the moonlight, she drank up the sight of his skin as if it was a completely new sight to her.

When she gets to his chin, his hand snatches her wrist.  It’s a quick action, but surprisingly gentle.  He barely grips her arm, his touch merely a warning.

“You shouldn’t” He says, the lump in his bobbing throat preventing him from saying anything more.

She looks up into the expanse of white that made for the compelling eyes of the mask.  Wondering if she was making proper eye contact with him, she shakes her head reassuringly.

“I won’t go too much further,” She murmurs.  Followed by an even softer, “Promise” 

His better judgment clean out the window, Megumi lets go of her hand, and allows her to proceed.

Using both hands now, she bunched up the end of the material until she was able to gather it at his nose where it would stay put, leaving everything from his neck to the tip of his nose on display for her.

She smiles at him, almost knowingly, and it makes him nervous.  Everything about this makes him nervous, this cold sweat she was putting him through was torture.  Even more so when her fingers begin to softly trace over the exposed parts of his skin.

“I knew you were handsome” She whispers shyly, but her eyes glimmer with excitement.

Megumi chuckles, the corners of his lips barely quirking into a smile, prompting her to hover the pad of her thumb over them as well.  She doesn’t quite touch his lips, too cautious of the healing cut over the bottom one.

“How could you know such a thing?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low out of worry that she’d recognize it without the muffle of his mask.

“I don’t know,” She giggles softly.  “Your voice, maybe.  And you’re tall” 

“I don’t think you have very good standards” Megumi murmurs.

“I think it’s completely fair for a girl to have a little crush on the man who saved her,” She replies, face warming up from such a confession.  To her delight, it gets another smile out of him.  “Who knew you smiled so much under there?” She says before she could think twice about it.  “I was starting to think you were that stoic, mysterious type” 

“I could be” He mumbles, and he finds himself taking her hand before she could finally touch her fingers to his lips.  

She’s more than enticed to, with how pink and alluring they were, she’d been dying to kiss them since she’d lifted his mask, and hoped he’d give her the chance, seeing as he hadn’t tried to cover the bottom half of his face just yet.

She’s never looked at him like this before.  And to be fair, Megumi had never looked at her like this either.  He’d had no idea how pretty she was, like this, with her eyes half lidded and half focused, staring intently at his lips, giving away all of her thoughts without having to voice them.  Her long lashes seemed to grow heavier with every slow blink.  She’s hardly looking up at him now, all of her attention on just one thing, and Megumi was starting to run out of reasons why he shouldn’t indulge her.

The hand that he’s not keeping away from him reaches out again, fingers skimming his jaw before curling around it with the softest touch.  She doesn’t pull him with much force, but Megumi finds himself following her movements as she guides him down, closer to her height.

It wasn’t right to kiss her.  It was actually the exact opposite of what he’d been trying to do here.  How the hell did he wind up in this situation? 

“Thank you, Spiderman” She whispers, her lips ghosting over his with every syllable.

Ah, fuck it.

His hand releases hers only to reach for the back of her head and pull her in the rest of the way, his lips capturing hers passionately.  Not expecting him to make the first move, she’s delayed in reacting, her hands sliding around the back of his neck and kissing him back with just as much fervor.

So lost in the kiss and how softly his lips move over hers, she almost forgets about the minor detail that his identity is still a secret to her, but even if it crosses her mind, she doesn’t care.

Her fingers press into the small strip of skin exposed at the nape of his neck, and while she longs to dig them under the back of his mask and lift it off of his head, it's not out of a desire to expose his identity.  It’s purely because she’d love to run her hands through his hair, followed by a curiosity of what that would feel like.

Was his hair long? Soft? Coarse? Was it shaggy? Was it shaved? The mystery of it all had her mind buzzing and her feet pushing her to the tips of her toes to meet his lips in one last kiss before he could pull away.

The final kiss is softer than the rest, so gentle and slow, it was the perfect first, and last, kiss.

Not that she could tell the difference, but Megumi had a hard time opening his eyes again when he pulled away.  He didn’t move far, his hand still cupped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair.  A part of him hoped they’d be so knotted together that they wouldn’t ever have to leave this moment.

When he does find the courage to look at her, he’s mentally kicking himself.

Megumi’s sure that the reason the sky was so dull tonight was because all the stars were trapped in her eyes, now being gifted to him under her precious gaze.  Her lips curled into a slightly swollen smile, her cheeks pink with color despite the sun being nowhere in sight, it was perfect, she was perfect, and he can’t believe he’s spent so long missing out on it.

Shit, shit, shit.

“You…” He starts, but he doesn’t know where he’s going.  His head is in the clouds, beyond the clouds, he was completely unreachable.  (y/n) giggles softly at how quickly he’d become tongue tied.  “You should pursue the journalist thing, alright?” 

Brows slightly drawn together from the seemingly random comment, she nods back at him in a small motion.

“You think?” She murmurs back, her hand squeezing his.  It sends a wave of warmth through his arm and into his chest, and Megumi has to fight the urge to frown, because his mouth was still exposed.

Pulling his hand from hers, he touches it gently to her jaw, then her cheek.  She leans into his touch, welcoming it completely.  Her smile only grows upon feeling the warmth of his palm through his glove.

“I have a feeling that you’d succeed at anything you put your mind to,” He says, and it’s sort of cheesy, but it’s the absolute truth.  Her lips part in surprise at the sudden seriousness in his tone, but she doesn’t say anything, just lets his words linger on her mind.  “No more middle of the night walks, though, alright?” He says, shaking her head just a tiny bit to make sure it would get through her thick skull.  “If you can’t sleep, just put something on tv, like a normal person” 

Her hand raises to cover the back of his, cradling it against her face sweetly.  Megumi thinks the sight will be ingrained in his memory for the rest of time.

“Then how will I see you again?” She says, only half teasing.  Her eyes are wide and hopeful, and Megumi stalls by brushing his thumb over her cheekbone a few times.

“I’ll be around” He murmurs, nodding his head through his uncertainty.  Was it a good idea to see her again? 

(y/n) nods back at him, before letting his hand go and reaching for the bunched up material of his mask, pulling it back over his face.

It was hardly a good idea to see her this time, and she’d actually needed his help.  Look where that had lead him.

“I hope so,” She mumbles, seemingly just as uncertain as he was.

He finally drops his hand from her head, fingers carefully detangling themselves from her hair so as not to irritate her head, or maybe he just needed to linger near her a little longer.

Who was he kidding.  He was going to find himself in this position sooner or later, wasn’t he?

“I guess… you know where to find me,” She says, wrapping her arms around herself, even though it was a nice night with no breeze.  She squeezes herself for comfort.

When did it start, exactly? Was it the little secrets she confided in? Or her worry when he’d shown up to class a few days ago with a black eye? Megumi struggled to pinpoint when things took a turn down the path of no return.

“If you change your mind on that interview…” She adds with a soft smile.  She hopes he’s smiling back at her.  

He is.

“I’ll know where to find you,” He repeats, hoisting himself onto the railing of her fire escape, and standing up on the thin bar with complete balance.  He made it look easy.  “Goodnight, (y/n)” 

“Goodnight, Spiderman” 

He took off then, completely silent as he leapt from the escape and swung off, nearly invisible in the darkness.

(y/n) couldn’t help but sit outside her window a little longer, replaying the events of her night yet again, and wondering just how he figured out her name. ___

Megumi had resigned to sitting in the back of all of his classes for the rest of the year.

It’s not a huge deal, he can learn fine from any seat in the class, and as he realizes this he comes to realize that there was never really a good reason why he chose to sit near (y/n) before.  All of his complaints that she was an obnoxious bother had dissolved into… nothing.  He chose to sit near her every day.  Whether it was right behind her or two seats away, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he always chose to be near.

And now that he wasn’t, it was driving him crazy.  He longed to be closer, to sit behind her again, maybe even right next to her.  Had he really been so dense all this time? 

Though their interactions had been swindling since he’d put more focus into Spiderman than he had in school, (y/n) hadn’t spoken a word to him since their argument in the hall, and that was almost two weeks ago now.  

The last thing she’d said to him, she’d said to Spiderman, not Megumi.  Still, he tries to keep the soft, precious way she’d bid him goodnight in his memory.  He didn’t want to forget a single moment of the last time he’d spoken with her, not the things she said, not the way she touched his skin so delicately, and certainly not the kiss.

Megumi leans his chin into his hand now, fingers covering his mouth nonchalantly.  However when he presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips, it’s not the same.

They caught eyes here and there, but that wasn’t the same either.  He’d come into class late, she’d cast him a short glance, but it was always quickly returned to the front of the room.  Not so much as a taunting glare was directed his way.  It was safe to say he’d finally gotten her off his back… and he’s never felt like such an idiot.

It was worse outside of classes.

He’d spend his nights swinging around town, lazing through patrol, busting perps when they came around, but crime was dwindling by the day, it seemed.  He liked to think that Spiderman was making a difference, but he’d been a little rough around the edges lately, and he knew deep down his reputation was morphing into a ruthless fighter.  

Spiderman wasn’t just keeping peace, he was keeping criminals in fear.  Not that Megumi was perturbed by this- for one, he’d long held that reputation already, so living with it as Spiderman felt no different.  Secondly, the quiet nights were comforting.

The free time was starting to become a problem, though.  He couldn’t stop himself from trying to visit her.  He’d be aimlessly swinging and the next thing he knew he was on her block, near her building, almost approaching the very fire escape at her window where they’d last seen each other.  It’s difficult to make himself turn around and swing the other way, especially on the clear nights when he can see her light is on, and he knows she’s awake.

She’d kept her promise, it seemed.  He’d swing by often enough to notice the flicker of a tv screen, just close enough to know she was home and safe, but he tried not to linger too long.  He didn’t want her seeing him checking in, and he definitely didn’t like the idea of sitting outside her window like a creep.

More than that, he feared that she’d be delighted to see him again.

It had been a week since that night on her fire escape- with the rescue, the kiss- and Megumi really tried to keep his distance.  He indulged himself in passing by her window more times than he could count, but he was careful to keep himself hidden, so she would have no idea his watchful eye was never too far.  If he kept this up, he hoped that she would forget about it altogether.  That’s what would be for the best.

Sitting across the street perched on the roof of a building like it was the most natural place in the world to sit, Megumi dropped his chin in his hand as he stared longingly at the only lit up window in the apartment building across the street.  At this point, he’d probably spent more time looking at that window than he had in his own home.

He didn’t want to forget about what happened.  He didn’t want her to forget about what happened.

His mask crumpled in his other hand, he tore his gaze away from the window to stare down at it, cursing it mentally for giving him everything only to ruin it.

It wasn’t Spiderman’s fault, though.  Megumi was just as much responsible for the rift he’d put between himself and (y/n), long before that damned spider bite.  He’d always pushed her off, kept her at arm’s length or further, if he could help it.  He was the one stubborn enough to never let anyone in.  He was the one that pushed her into treating him with the same insufferable attitude he’d directed at her, way back then.  So much could change within a year, he supposed that was true for everyone, but he couldn’t ward off the self pity that came over him, thinking he’d surely changed too much within a year.

At the feeling of the first raindrop hitting his exposed head, he sighed, running a hand through his hair to dry the following drops of water before pulling his mask over his head again.  Of course it’s going to start raining on him when he’s sitting here feeling bad about himself.

He doesn’t intend to get any closer to her building, being right across the street already felt too close, but with the extra cover of the rain starting to pick up, Megumi thought maybe tonight he could get away with being just a little closer.  Just close enough to make sure she was okay in there.  He might not be able to do anything about her sleepless nights… but it couldn’t hurt to check, right? He would leave as soon as he was sure, and then he would try not to return.

He’s not stupid enough to climb directly onto her fire escape- but then again his being here was pretty stupid already so what was one more idiot move? Instead Megumi perches himself on the one above it, opting to hang over the bottom of it just enough that he could peek through the window.

To his surprise, even though her tv is on along with the rest of the lights in her room, (y/n) is nowhere in sight.  He doesn’t think much of this at first, she very well could be in the bathroom, or the kitchen.  But just as he tries to rationalize her disappearance, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, and in the next second her window was sliding open.

“Boo!” 

Her whisper yell as she leans out the window and towards his dangling head is comparable to that of a child’s.  Completely un-scary, and followed by a string of delighted giggles.

Megumi freezes, and he would’ve fallen right off the fire escape if his reflexes didn’t have him shooting out a web of safety to hang by.  He’s still upside down, swinging in front of her, but (y/n) leans out further to steady his movement by his shoulders.

“Scared ya good, huh?” She muses.  Her grin was a sight for sore eyes.  “Serves you right, stalking a girl like that” 

“I wouldn’t call it stalking” 

“What would you call it then?” 

Her hands are still pressed against his shoulders.  Megumi’s not sure if it’s to keep him from swinging, or if she was keeping her own balance as she leaned the upper half of her body out her window.

“... is it a crime to visit people?” 

“Usually when they’re trying to creep in through a window” She quips back.  Her smile only seems to brighten the longer she looks at him- even if she did sort of just call him a creep.

“For the record I wasn’t trying to get in” He corrects, his own smile beginning to grow under his mask.  He couldn’t deny how good it felt to see her like this again, to be able to talk to her, even just look at her.

“Just spy from the outside?” 

“I don’t like the narrative you’re spinning,” Megumi scoffs.  “What happened to honest journalism, hm?” 

She giggles at that.  The corners of her eyes crinkle as she gazes at him fondly.  He liked this side of her banter- the playful side.  It was fun.

“So you think you can honestly say you missed me, Spidey?” She asks in a voice made of pure sugar.  It rots his teeth, melts his insides, and makes all his senses go fuzzy.

“I thought we weren’t going the nickname route” He deadpans, avoiding the question.

With her smile pursing to the corner of her lips, something about her demeanor changed then.

“It’s only fair, since you know my name,” Her tone is just as light, but her eyes are calculating, and Megumi knows he’s slipped up.  And again just now, by not having a quick enough response.  “And I’m certain I didn’t give it to you… so… how do you explain that one?”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to have an interest in figuring that out?” Megumi chuckles, hoping he could play it off.

(y/n) presses further out her window, far enough now that the rain starts to dampen her hair, but she appears to pay it no mind.

“I don’t like it when you’re cryptic, Spidey” She huffs.

Again, Megumi laughs.

“It sort of comes with the whole anonymity thing” He answers.

She tilts her head at him, as if she could study him even with the mask on.  Megumi couldn’t deny the paralyzing effect it had on him.

“Why does it feel like you’re a stranger to me… but I’m not one to you?” She asks him slowly, as though still debating on asking him at all.  “Why does it feel like you know me?” 

“You do talk a lot” 

Megumi’s grasping at straws now, but at least that gets a small laugh out of her.  He hopes it’s enough of a distraction, hopes that she lets things go back to the way they were.  He didn’t need her trying to put together the puzzle that was Spiderman, it couldn’t lead to anything good.

“You know what I mean,” She murmurs.  She raises a hand off of his shoulder, reaching for the hem of his mask in a way that wasn’t supposed to feel familiar to him.  “You think you’d ever tell me?” She asks as her fingers toy with the material’s edge.

“Who I am?” Megumi asks dumbly.  Besides the raindrops slowly running down her face, there’s no change in her expression.  There’s a glimmer of hope in her eye as her fingers slip under the mask, not quite lifting it yet, but holding it with the clear intention to do so.

The silence lingers until she has her answer, and Megumi thinks this might be the damning moment that he’s been trying to brace himself for.  She’ll probably rip his mask right off, and then who knows how she’d react upon seeing it was him all this time.  He knew he was faster than her, he could easily swing away before she could have the chance.

A nervous, breathless laugh breaks tension, and she gently peels the mask towards his chin.

“I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own, then” She muses playfully.

“An investigative journalist now, are we?” Megumi asks, but there’s no time for further banter when she’s got his mask bunched up at his nose and that’s all the further it needs to go before he’s meeting her lips in a wet kiss.

The rain was not a welcomed experience, it had (y/n) shivering and it was irritating Megumi’s now exposed nose.  It made their kiss slippery and messy, and with him still being upside down it didn’t exactly make things any easier.

Neither of them cared.

All of (y/n’s) interests lied in kissing him and then kissing him again- she couldn’t help it, even if he outright refused to tell her his name, he kissed her like a dream.

Shaky, wet palms steadied on either side of his face, trying to pull him even closer.  He follows her direction as best he can, but with his hands still occupied with the web to keep him from crashing onto her fire escape, Megumi’s left with his neck craned as far forward as he could push.  If he hadn’t held onto the last scrap of his sanity he would’ve dropped down from the railing and crawled right through her window.

He was getting carried away.

“(y)- (y/n)-” Her name is whispered soft and broken into her lips, and she knows this is his way of ending whatever this is, but she can’t help but leave him with one last lingering kiss.  He doesn’t push her away, doesn’t even go still against her kiss.  He waits, all too patiently, until she has to lean back and catch her breath.

“You’re going to leave,” She says softly.  It’s not a question, she already knows.  He might think that he’s difficult to read, with his monotone comments and the mask that’s easy to hide behind, but he wasn’t as great of a mystery as he might think.

He frowns.  It looks a little awkward upside down.  (y/n) gives him a sad smile and carefully maneuvers his mask back into place.  It doesn’t take long before she misses the small glimpse of his face that she was allowed to see.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to see you again?” She sighs.

The raindrops on her face could easily be mistaken for tears.  Megumi slides his hand out of her hair to dry her face, and he can’t keep away the memory of him drying her actual tears.

“You will,” He assures her, but the nagging feeling doesn’t quite go away.  “You just… might not know it” 

A lump forms in Megumi’s throat when he says it, and it only grows when her eyes light up with intrigue.

“Is that a hint, Spiderman?” She muses, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Get some sleep” He encourages, already lifting himself onto the fire escape of her upstairs neighbor.  Disobediently, she pushes herself further out her window to follow his movements. 

“I will see you again?” She asks as she looks up at him, not minding the pelting of raindrops soaking through her clothes and hair.

Against his better judgment- as things always seem to be when it comes to her- Megumi nods his head.  He doesn’t say a word before swinging away, knowing he’d overstayed his welcome by a longshot.  Even without looking back, he can feel (y/n’s) eyes on him as she watches from her window.

And when he thinks about it, he can still feel her lips against his. ___

(y/n’s) not sure of the last time she walked into her 8am class and saw Megumi had gotten there before her.  It stops her in her tracks, still in the doorway, staring at the boy hunched over his desk in the back of the class scribbling in his notebook at an alarming rate.

Wait… was he cram studying for their test today? 

She scoffs, and he lifts his head to give her a bored glare.  Of course he’d noticed her when she’d come in- he’d heard her coming from the hallway- but he wasn’t about to give her the reaction she wanted.

And it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his expression hardened and neutral when it came to her, so Megumi had been trying to avoid looking at her completely.

Keyword, trying.

“Don’t tell me you actually didn’t study” She says, a knowing little grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she looks him up and down.

Megumi holds his blank stare for as much longer as he’s capable of before turning his attention back to his notebook, pen scrawling loudly yet again.  (y/n’s) brows raise at the intensity at which he was writing, shocked that her assumptions seemed to be proven correct.

“Wow” She mumbles to herself, before walking straight to the back of the class.  

Megumi tries to ignore her, she probably just wanted to click her tongue at him in disapproval before she’d go pick out her favorite seat and ignore him for the rest of the period.  But she’s approaching so quickly and suddenly she’s leaning over his desk and he has half a mind to cover his work, as if there was any kind of damning evidence there.

She eyes the messy notes before glancing up at him, his gaze already set on her.  For a moment it pins her in place, has her freezing up just as she had a moment ago, but the feeling melts before she could question the severity in his eyes.

“If you want to borrow my notes, you’ll have to ask” He tells her, his voice unwavering and devoid of any emotion.  She rolls her eyes at the typical behavior.

“Unlike you, I cared enough to study last night” She replies, and she’s just about to turn on her heel when the unexpected happens, and Megumi actually has a response.

“That so?” 

His change in tone irks her, and she can’t put her finger on why.  But the tilt of intrigue matched with the way he smirks has her heating up.

Out of irritation, of course.

“Duh,” Her arms cross over her chest defensively.  “I’ve been studying all week” 

Even as Megumi resumes his note taking, his stupid smirk is still plastered on his face.  If she was more inclined to violence, (y/n) would’ve wanted to smack it right off.

“I’m sure you have” He mumbles, watching out of his peripheral vision as her arms shoot down to her sides, hands balled into fists as she gasps and gapes at him.  Clearly, she took offense to the comment, and he had to bite back the chuckle at it.

“What are you trying to say?” She snaps at him, but she’s not nearly as intimidating as she wants to be.

“Didn’t really say anything,” He replies, tone holding no emotion again.  “You just started freaking out” 

“I’m not freaking out,” Her eyes narrowed.  “God, why do you have to be so-” 

Before she can finish he looks up at her again, and again it’s like he’s stunned her with the way his gaze seems to pierce right through her.  He looks pleased with himself, too, as if he was just dying to hear what she was going to come up with.

Peculiarly enough, her throat goes dry, and she can’t quite remember how she was going to finish that sentence.  Megumi must figure her out, too, because his smirk almost resembles a smile now, and her heated skin was starting to become unbearable.

“So…?” Megumi repeats curiously, hoping to egg her into finishing her thought.

(y/n) huffs, shaking her head in her agitated defeat before turning around and marching towards her usual seat.

Megumi returns to his work with a smile on his face.  Her preference for Spiderman might’ve been clear as day, but there was something satisfying about knowing one way or another, he had a knack for getting her worked up.z

___

Despite her hopes reaching impossible heights, (y/n) hadn’t gotten another visit from Spiderman in quite some time.  It had been about two weeks now, and she hadn’t noticed even a shadow outside her bedroom window.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt, because for some reason unknown to her she’d grown to care for him enough to make every excuse necessary.  He was doing important work out there, she’d tell herself while sitting at her window, longing eyes looking for any sign of life out in the sleeping city.  It wasn’t like he had all the time in the world to spend on her.

Or while wandering the halls from class to class, while her eyes were trying to catch every stranger that walked passed, she hoped to find some flicker of familiarity in anyone.  It might’ve been naive of her to think he could be as close to her as being another student at her school, but she couldn’t help herself.  She couldn’t stop the ‘what ifs’ from plaguing her mind.  She was so full of hope it was rotting her from the inside out.

Her focus was never quite all there.  In class she’d mindlessly take notes, her attention shifting about the room, trying to catch the feeling of being watched, but she always came up empty handed.  There were no eyes on her, she concluded after days of paranoid searching.  It was just a placebo effect her mind had come up with in her hoping to find him.

As if she was just going to happen upon him as easily as looking at him and knowing.

It was the same even around her friends.  The usual group she’d sit with at lunch had noticed her change in demeanor, but not knowing how to bring it up to her they tended to continue on conversing as if she wasn’t actively ignoring them as she searched the cafe.

“What are you looking for?” One of them had asked one day, a slight wince on their face when she startled and turned towards them again, as if she’d completely forgotten where she was.

“Oh, nothing,” Her reply was less than convincing.  “Just spacing, I guess” 

Maybe that part was sort of true, but it wasn’t a good enough excuse for anyone to take her seriously anyways.  So she was left alone to barely pick at her lunch and scan the cafe with an undeniable skip in her heartbeat.

(y/n) was starting to think she was going crazy, but it was like an itch she couldn’t scratch.  She just had a feeling that she was close, and to stop her from chasing that feeling would take a force her lunchtime friends weren’t able to muster up.

Her grades had yet to be affected, but her uptick in strange behavior wasn’t going unnoticed.  Her participation had dipped dramatically, some of her classes actually dragging on in near silence as no other students filled the gaps of her incessant questions and comments.  It was clear to her professors and peers that behind her wandering eyes was a void of class-related thoughts.  Whatever was occupying her every passing minute, had nothing to do with her studies.  But she maintained her perfect grade point average so effortlessly it was difficult to reprimand her for her lack of attention in each class.

Megumi had watched from the background as her sanity seemed to slip further and further.  At first, it had been a bit amusing.  He’d noticed right away, the way her eyes caught every guy walking into class, the way she seemed to pick each one apart with only her eyes.  She must have been gauging whether or not she deemed every one of them capable of being Spiderman.  It was hard not to smile to himself when she’d ultimately look away from each one, unconvinced.  

One was too short, the next too tan, another just didn’t have the right vibe, Megumi wished he could read her thoughts as she scrutinized each passerby in silence.  He was never too far from her, so it was easy to watch the hope radiating off of her as she tried to find the source of the eyes on her.  Luckily for Megumi’s rapid senses, he was always facing another direction when her gaze flickered his way.  Not that she ever quite looked at him the way she looked at the others.  He could feel her eyes sweeping right past him, pausing on a boy sitting just a few seats to his left instead.  But yet again she was facing away and trying to come up with someone else.

Megumi wondered why it was that she felt so sure Spiderman was in this very school with her.  Tokyo was a heavily populated place, and he knew she was smarter than to assume he was this close to her all this time.

(Of course… he was… but how could she have any idea of that?) 

With every passing day she seemed a little more dazed.  Which was an interesting look on a know-it-all like her.  Her interest in the world around her took a nosedive, and it was obvious to a watcher like Megumi.  She looked like a gray spot surrounded by the bright yellow of her lunch table.  She stuck out like a sore thumb in every class, finally having learned to pipe down and retreat in on herself.  She didn’t look depressed, it was just clear as day that her interests were on anything but what was going on around her.

Again, he’s entertained by this for some time.  There’s a swell of pride and something warm and new in his chest whenever he sees her so openly looking for him.  Hopeful eyes scanning every crowd, every class, only to never properly focus on him.  He should feel relief that he doesn’t seem to be even a passing possibility to her.  Instead, all he feels is a few skips in his heartbeat knowing she thought he was someone worth searching for.

Well, Spiderman was someone worth searching for, at least.

But the entertainment drains fast when her preoccupied mind lands her crashing into someone in the cafe.  A freezing cold iced coffee is dumped all over the front of her pretty blouse, ruining it instantaneously.  Megumi happens to look up just as the incident takes place, the hair on the back of his neck standing up on alert and his eyes finding her in the crowd in a moment’s notice, just in time to watch her crash.

And just as she steps away from the person she’s crashed into, her focus shifted to her soaked and stained shirt, an unsettled feeling crawls over Megumi’s skin as he notices who it was she just so happened to run into.

The frat boy that had been bugging her not too long ago.  The annoying guy, yeah, that one.  Megumi was pretty damn sure this run in wasn’t as accidental as it looked, but he stayed seated at his empty table, with faux attention on the book in his hand.

His eyes hadn’t returned to the page since his little sixth sense had drawn them towards the whole situation.  It’s upsetting that he isn’t surprised to see that when (y/n) hurries out of the cafe, Fratboy follows.

He huffs, shutting his book without marking it and tossing it haphazardly into his bag.  He hadn’t even gotten to finish his lunch.  Maybe he could sneak a few bites in his next class.

(y/n’s) trying not to tear up as she rushes into the empty corridor outside of the cafe.  It wasn’t like her to cry over a stained shirt, but it was just so embarrassing to have to go the rest of her day with the obvious mark.  Not to mention it was cold and wet and sticking to her skin and- jesus, of course it was soaked through enough that the black bra she wore was visible now.  

Even as she pried the material forward off of her skin, she could still feel the sticky remnants of coffee underneath.  It wasn’t like she had a spare outfit in her car, and she still had three classes left in her day.  Was she really stuck in this wet shirt until then? 

“Sorry princess, it was an accident, swear!” 

And to make matters worse, it appears she’d been followed.

(y/n) can’t help the groan of frustration as she releases the material of her shirt, letting it stick to her torso again.

“It’s… it’s fine, it’s whatever” She grumbles, waving off the guy she recognized as the cafe bother, or so she coined in her mind, never having gotten his name during all the times he’d hit on her.  There’s not much sincerity in her words, but she doesn’t need him lingering around while she tries to decide what to do.

“I did try to dodge ya, but you really weren’t looking where you were going,” He continues, despite her obvious disinterest in his entire presence.  “Is there anything I can do?” 

He comes closer and on instinct she backs away.  Her expression alarmed and eyes cautious when he pressed closer anyways.  It’s not that she thinks he’s going to hurt her, but she doesn’t want him any closer than arms’ length.  Ten feet would be nice, but unless she wanted to draw more attention to herself by turning and booking it down the hall, arms’ length would have to do.

“No” She answers, as firm as she can get herself to be.  To her, this is the part where he should walk away.

He looks apologetic as he steps forward again, but this time her step backward has her almost up against a wall, and now her senses are on high alert.  Discomfort courses through her, a feeling worse than the cold coffee sticking to her skin.

“C’mon, I could at least help you get out of your-” 

Fratboy doesn’t get a chance to finish his statement when a harsh grip lands on his shoulder and pries his body to move with ease.  His initial reaction is to fight back against the force, but he doesn’t get to do that either, as he’s spun around and shoved into the wall.

Even the snarl on his expression disappears when it’s Fushiguro Megumi that presses in close and keeps him pinned to the wall.  His bruising grip is replaced by his entire forearm caged against his collarbone, just barely pressing against his throat.

A yelp dies in the back of (y/n’s) throat as the whole thing happens in a matter of seconds.  It’s as if she blinks and suddenly Megumi’s there prying this guy out of her personal space as if he was personally offended by the act.

“H-hey man, what the hell is your problem?” The waver in Fratboy’s voice is embarrassingly clear.  Megumi would laugh if he was in a joking mood.  He’s not.

His hard expression is terrifying up close.  (y/n’s) standing just a few feet away and even she feels a slight shiver go down her spine.

“Pricks like you,” Megumi mutters, and Fratboy swallows a fat lump in his throat.  “Skipping around like you’re hot shit and get to have anything you want.  Pretentious pricks” He spits the last part out through clenched teeth.

All (y/n) can think about were the rumors from last year.  The guy Megumi supposedly put in the hospital.  Those rumors had been enough to have people steer clear from him.  She didn’t even let herself get too close when pressing his buttons, even if intrigue plagued her mind.

“I didn’t- I didn’t do anything!” Fratboy tries to raise his voice, a pitiful attempt at puffing his chest and making him appear more of a fighter than he really was.  His head swivels, wide eyes landing on (y/n), who was stuck frozen watching it all unfold.  “Tell him!” He shouts at her, and she startles just a little.  Not because she was afraid of the demand, but because as soon as it came out of his mouth, Megumi’s foot brought enough force to have the guy’s legs straighten up, which in turn kept him further back into the wall.

If Megumi could push the guy clean through the white painted brick, he’d be a bloody mess stuck inside of the concrete already.

“Don’t look at her,” The command comes out in a growl.  Megumi didn’t need to raise his voice to sound tough.  His brows are furrowed tight and low over his piercing eyes, which were half the force keeping Fratboy against this wall.  “Humor me, prick,” Megumi asks, making sure his attention couldn’t be drawn back towards (y/n) a second time.  “How come your shirt’s so pressed ‘n clean?” 

The guy’s lip wobbles a bit before he manages a small “H-huh?” 

“Your shirt,” Megumi’s voice is colder this time for having to repeat himself.  “How come it’s so clean?” 

“I- I- because I do my laundry?” He asks weakly.

Megumi rolls his eyes, letting them fall shut as his head tilts towards the high ceiling.  This guy had to be joking.

“Wrong answer,” He huffs.  “I’m gonna let you go, and you’re gonna go buy yourself another overpriced pretentious fucking coffee, got that?” 

Fratboy’s brows furrow, but he nods his head shakily in response.  Perhaps Megumi’s arm was pressed too hard against his chest, and he was finally out of air.  Megumi could only hope.

“And you’re gonna take that coffee and dump it over your head” 

“What!? I’m not-” 

“So you’d rather take the beating?” Megumi asks before the guy could protest too much.  His brows are raised, his interest genuinely piqued.  He had no problem with either option.  Having this prick walk around with a broken nose or an expensive shirt with a big brown coffee stain seemed like a win-win situation to him.

It’s clear that Fratboy remembers the last prick that pissed off Fushiguro Megumi, and he must remember that he wasn’t given options, because the back of his head defeatedly hits the wall behind him when he mutters out his choice.

Megumi gives him a solid nod, and he only pushes him a little bit when he drops his arm and steps back so he was free to leave.

Fratboy only takes a step and a half.

“Forgetting something?” Megumi barks, hard eyes freezing him in place before he could get close to re-entering the cafe.

Fratboy awkwardly maintains the eye contact, confusion clear in his features.  Megumi jerks his head towards (y/n), who’s silence evidently hadn’t made her invisible to the two.

“Oh, s-sorry- I’m sorry” 

It’s a weak ass apology, but Fratboy assumes it’s acceptable enough because when he rushes himself back into the cafe Megumi doesn’t stop him again.  He gets a few odd stares as he gets in line for a coffee with apprehensive eyes and his hands anxiously buried in his pockets, but he keeps his head down the entire time.

“Wh- why did you do that?” (y/n’s) mumble is the only sound in the empty hallway.  Her voice wants to stay stuck in her throat, but when it’s clear that Megumi isn’t going to give her an explanation- or say anything at all- she forces herself to ask.

His eyes fix on her, and an odd sensation settles over her.  All the previous fear and anxiety melts away.  She’d gone so rigid, her sense of fight or flight disappearing completely and keeping her stuck in place hoping she wasn’t going to be witness to a nasty fight.  But she hadn’t expected that.  Megumi’s intensity had been terrifying, even if it wasn’t directed at her, standing by and watching it had her throat closing up and her heart racing.

But he’d hardly even hurt the guy, just… humiliated him.  Still, it was just as shocking to watch.

And now, being alone with him and trapped under his stare, what she feels isn’t fear.  It’s… curiosity.

His eyes wander over her, reassuring himself that she was fine, maybe just a little shaken up by the whole thing.  She was probably more embarrassed than anything.  He could live with that, as long as she was safe.  He just couldn’t have placed his trust in that frat prick.

“I don’t like assholes” Megumi answers, his voice as monotone as ever, as if he hadn’t just scared the shit out of that guy for her.

The lump in her throat grew hot as the realization struck her.  He’d done all that for her? 

“Well- well yeah, but…” Her brows furrow, her head shakes ever so slightly as she tries to put her thoughts to words.  “But he didn’t do anything, just… was an asshole” 

“You don’t know that” His reply was quick but his tone didn’t shift.

(y/n’s) eyes widen, the furrow in her brow smooths out, and she’s at a loss for words as she keeps staring at him.

You have no idea what he was capable of doing.  Spiderman’s words repeat in her mind now as if he were standing right there saying them to her.  It’s uncanny how similar his warning was to Megumi’s just now.

“He probably would’ve fucked off if I told him to” She makes a weak argument in an attempt to fill the overbearing silence.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, just beckons her to follow him as he takes off in quick strides down the hall.  She should probably tell him to fuck off, but her curiosity gets the best of her, and she finds herself hurrying to catch up to him.  He’s not walking all that fast, but his stride is significantly longer than hers, and she finds herself out of breath as they round the corner and he enters the first empty classroom they come across.

“Maybe next time you’ll learn the lesson and tell him to fuck off, then” Megumi grumbles, more to himself than to her, but she takes offense nonetheless.

“Well sorry I wasn’t expecting you to show up out of nowhere and threaten the guy” She mutters back.

Megumi scoffs before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder.  (y/n) watches his every movement as he opens it up and digs around inside of it.  She wants to ask what he was looking for, but her words are stuck in her throat again, and this time she can’t get them to come out.

“I didn’t threaten anybody, relax,” He tells her in a voice that could’ve been more comforting, but it was at least steady and sure.  “It should make you feel better that he’s probably gone and made a fool of himself, now” He adds.

“Oh, thank you for that” She replies sarcastically.

“You’re welcome” Megumi replies in complete seriousness.

She opens her mouth, gaping at him, probably about to lay into him for taking her clear mockery as sincerity, but before she can he finally produces what he’d been looking for.

A tee shirt.

She blinks in dumbfounded silence as she stares at the plain black material in his hand.  His brows are raised in an impatient expression, but she doesn’t take the offer right away.

He sighs.  He’ll just have to do all the work, huh?

“Would you rather go the rest of the day in that?” He asks, nodding to the obvious mess of her shirt.

“It- it’s not that bad” She argues, her stubbornness forever getting in her own way.

“It’s going to reek of coffee” 

“I happen to like the- the coffee bean scent-” 

“It won’t be anything like that” 

“It’s not even that wet anymore” 

“I can see your whole bra now” 

That does the trick in shutting her up, her head snapping downward to reassess the damage done. The groan she lets out morphs into a whine before she looks up at the balled up shirt in his hand.  He vaguely stretches it towards her, and with a huff she snatches it right out of his hands.

As soon as he turns his back to her, busying himself with closing up his backpack, she’s peeling the ruined shirt over her head and quickly shrugging into the fresh tee shirt.

Besides the ridiculous proportion, she’s quick to notice the scent that clings to it.  She dips her head once it’s covered her, trying to place a name to the smell of fresh laundry.  Pine? Is this what pine smelled like? A part of her hated how good it smelled, how addicting it was to keep taking small sniffs.

“I’m… dressed” She says quietly when she’s gotten enough sniffs in and realizes that Megumi’s still just standing there.

When he turns, his eyes wander over figure not so subtly, but his expression is unchanging.  Even if his brain is going haywire seeing her in his clothes.  It’s just a tee shirt, but he takes a mental picture.

He realizes she must not wear black very often.  It’s striking on her.  It must be why his mouth has gone dry and he has to force himself to look her in the eye.

“Good?” He asks, already turning to leave the classroom.

She can’t believe he’s going to leave just like that.  It felt like nothing had been resolved here- and if anything, she only had more questions.  She doesn’t know what to say to make him stay, she’s not even sure he would stay if she asked him to.  He didn’t exactly seem to have any interest in being around her… ever… but then why had he put himself through all this trouble? Her muddled mind was a mystery, but the puzzled look on her face gave Megumi enough of an inclination to linger for just a minute longer.

“What?” He sighs, but her confusion is still plastered on her face.

“I… I don’t know…” Her voice is barely a mumble.  It doesn’t match the way her face tilts and shifts into something different.  She takes a step closer to him, a bold and large one, putting herself far closer to him than she ever would’ve imagined doing before.  She was supposed to keep a certain distance, Fushiguro Megumi had a reputation after all… but something was different.

This wasn’t the Fushiguro Megumi that she knew and despised.  In fact, this was a completely new person.  He was… familiar.

Megumi doesn’t step back when she draws in closer, but his neck leans backwards with apprehension, chin tilting lower to keep his eyes on her every movement.  It’s not like she’s able to do anything, there’s no mask to be ripped off, no secret identity to be figured out just from her stare alone, and yet something makes a pit grow in his stomach when she gets too close for comfort.

He’s never been this close to her.  Not without the wall of protection that was the Spiderman mask.

There’s nothing stopping him from walking away.  There was no harm in leaving her stranded in a classroom.  But something keeps him there anyways.  Something keeps him waiting for her to explain herself.

Her eyes drop his gaze, but they don’t fall far.  They land just a few inches lower, he can feel the prick of the daggers they stare against his lips.  Subconsciously he licks over them to soothe the ache of their sudden dryness.  Her look wanders just a little bit, but never too far.  Mapping out his chin and jawline, quickly down his neck and then back up again to his lips.

“What the hell are you doing?” He finally finds his voice when she leans in a little closer.  Not quite close enough to kiss him, but close enough that she could lean in if she wanted to.

(y/n) snaps out of it instantly, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushing when she looks at him properly again and realizes what she’d been doing.

Fushiguro Megumi? Spiderman? God, what was she thinking? 

“N-nothing” She stammers out, and before he could call her out and further her embarrassment, she brushes past him to make a quick exit out of the room.

Megumi’s left alone, his own cheeks flaring up with heat, but he can’t pinpoint what exactly causes the blushing, and he doesn’t really want to stand around to figure out why. ___

Megumi doesn’t show up to the last few classes of the day.  (y/n) notices.

Her fingers pinch at the hem of the tee shirt he’d given her, rolling the soft cotton over the pads of her fingers in contemplation.  Her focus on uncovering Spiderman’s identity during class has dwindled, but she’s not paying any attention to her studies, either.

For the last few hours of her day, she replays the events of the day in her mind on fast forward and rewind, over and over, trying to find something she felt she missed.

When had Megumi followed her out of the cafe? Had he seen what happened? Why was he so angry? Why was he so kind to her? Why was he so… 

It’s on the tip of her tongue, the timing of it all, the peculiarity of it all.  She knew she just had to be missing something.

Her trip home is quicker than usual, her steps as fast paced as her racing mind.  What was it? What was it that she wasn’t seeing? 

It was so close she could feel it looming right over shoulders. ___

Never before had she sought out Fushiguro Megumi.  But (y/n) couldn’t get the feeling to go away no matter how hard she tried, and she feared the only way out was through.

She didn’t want to confirm her assumptions without any proper evidence to base it all on, and she had a feeling that he was a pretty good liar, so she’d have to get creative with catching him.  The best way to start, she figures, is by getting him alone.

It takes longer than she hopes.  Megumi’s not an easy person to approach and he appears to like it that way.  She stares him down when he comes in late to their first class, and his eyes catch hers for a moment longer than usual, but without a change in his expression it’s hard for her to get a good read on him.  He takes his seat in the back of the class and she can’t get him to look at her again, no matter how many times she turns her gaze over her shoulder to steal another look at him.

After a few more classes with the same outcome, she supposes she’ll just have to wait until they break for lunch.  He’s always sitting alone there, so she has her hopes up that it will be easier to sit down and prove it then.

But of course today is the day he’s not seated at his usual corner table all to himself.  She waltzes into the cafe with nothing but confidence, and it’s ripped away from her when she sees that gloomy table empty.  She lingers for a few minutes, hoping to catch him walking in later than the rest, but he never comes.

With her confidence boiled down to irritation, she storms out of the cafe on a mission to have this ended once and for all.  She couldn’t possibly wait any longer, so one way or another, she was going to find and corner him.

The courtyard is empty at this time of day.  The weather was cloudy and with the high chance of rain in the next hour, no one wanted to spend their free time eating lunch or studying out there.

Ever the outlier, that’s where she happened to find Fushiguro Megumi.

She’s not sure if she should grin or grimace when she approaches the tree he’s sitting under.  He’s wearing his usual oversized headphones, and he’s got both his textbook and notebook opened.  He was the perfect image of don’t bother me.  (y/n) feels adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream as she rushes over to him.

It’s sort of strange.  Just a few days ago she would duck her head and keep walking if she happened to cross his path.  But it was like all of his intimidating qualities had just… disappeared.  Despite the vibe he was trying to put off, he didn’t seem as unapproachable anymore.  He didn’t seem as scary, although when she thinks about it long enough, (y/n) figures she’s probably the only person on this campus that interacted with him.  Even if it was to antagonize him, she’d never seen anyone else speak to him.

A few days ago, he was Fushiguro Megumi, the boy with the bad reputation and even worse attitude.  He was her academic rival, a thorn in her side that reminded her of faults just by existing.  Today, she thinks he might just be the boy she’s been falling head over heels for.  The one with careful words spoken by gentle lips.  The first person in a long time that actually made her feel seen, and a feeling of being understood could work wonders on a stubborn heart.

“Hey!” She hollers, and Megumi jolts as he looks up to find her walking up to him.  His expression scrunches up as he pulls his headphones down around his neck, and lowers his dual books.

“What do you want?” He asks, but the words aren’t nearly as harsh as he wants them to be.

She stops just before him, and invites herself to sit down beside his outstretched legs.  He wants to tell her that he’s busy, that he’s studying out here alone because he wants peace and quiet, but he’s silent as she drops her backpack in front of her and opens it up.

“Thought you’d want this back” She says, pulling out a familiar black tee shirt.  She hands it to him folded in a neat square.  He almost laughs, knowing that when he’d offered it to her it had been a crumpled up ball.

“Right” He says, but before he takes it, she pulls it back towards herself, unfolding it.  Megumi watches with furrowed brows.  Was she not giving it back? 

“I’ve just had this weird feeling lately,” She explains as she opens the shirt up completely.  Megumi’s confused expression flickers between her and the shirt.  “So I wanted to see something” 

She starts bunching up the black material then, which Megumi watches with growing bewilderment.  Why even fold it? What was this? 

“Okay…?” His voice trails off when she looks up at him again, and the next thing he knows she’s leaning in close, holding his tee shirt up to his face.  “What the- (y/n), what the hell are you doing?” 

She ignores his questioning and the way he tries to swat her hands from getting any closer, but it doesn’t stop her from doing exactly what she aimed to do.  Holding the black material up to cover half his face, from the bridge of his nose up, all that was left to see was his mouth down.

She couldn’t deny that it wasn’t a familiar sight, but it was hard to prove her theory on that alone, and she sighs.

“(y/n), this is annoying.  And weird,” Megumi starts, his hands wrapping around her wrists in a careful hold, but enough to start to pull her and the tee shirt she was trying to blindfold him with away.  “Can I have the shirt back or not- mmph!” 

Just as he thinks he’s put a stop to her weird antics, she takes him by complete surprise when she darts forward and presses her lips against his.  Megumi’s eyes go wide, although he’s still half hidden behind the shirt, he can’t help but keep them open as her soft lips move over his with familiar gentle passion.  His confusion melts away the longer she holds the kiss, and by the time he thinks he should put a stop to it, it’s already too late.  He’s connected the dots and so has she.

He sighs against her mouth, his fingers twitching around her wrists, unsure as to whether or not he should let her go or pull her in closer.  (y/n) breaks away from the kiss just as she releases his shirt.  They both let it drop to his lap, and she finally gets to see the whole picture.

His features have fallen to soft surprise as he gazes back at her, waiting for whatever was about to come.  He doesn’t know if he should brace himself for something good or something bad, but he does his best to put his walls up anyways.

Her own eyes are wide with recognition, flickering between his own troubled eyes and the lips she’d just spontaneously kissed.  Her tongue darts over her bottom lip thoughtfully, and for a second, Megumi thinks she’s going to give it a second try just to be sure.  She doesn’t have to say anything right away for him to know exactly what she was thinking.  She knew those lips.  She knew that kiss.  He’d gotten his cover blown over a kiss, of all things.

What he doesn’t expect is for (y/n) to let out a breathless laugh of delight, once the gears in her mind start to turn again.  Her eyes are glimmering with an excitement she couldn’t contain.

“I told you I’d figure it out!” She keeps her voice hushed, which he can tell takes a great deal of effort.

“You always go around kissing random people?” He mumbles, thinking maybe he can play it off, maybe there was still a chance of gaslighting her into thinking he wasn’t the masked webslinger that had been slowly sparking up a romance with her.  

There’s not even a small chance, though.  (y/n) pulls her hands out of his gentle hold just to reach for his face, curiously skimming over his jaw, and then down his shoulders.  His attempts at reaching for her hands again to stop her from practically running them all over him are weak, and it’s easy for her to ignore his clear attempts at stopping her.

“Wow, I almost can’t believe it,” She begins to mumble to herself, her eyes moving at rapid speeds as she puts the picture together in her mind.  The lips she’d memorized in the hopes of finding them again, only to find they were on Megumi’s face, she lets out a delirious string of giggles.  “I mean, it makes sense now, but it also doesn’t- why did you keep coming to see me?” 

Megumi opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get a single word out before she’s throwing more questions at him.

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t figure it out? I’m top of the class you know, and you’re not exactly great at hiding things-” 

“Second to the top,” Megumi reminds her with a slight roll of his eyes.  “And it took you quite a while, you know” 

“Yeah, well, the secrecy thing was fun for a bit,” She argues.  “But you barely tried to hide it.  Coming into class looking like you got hit by a bus? What were you thinking?” 

“That you hated my guts and didn’t care if I did get hit by a bus?” He replies with a smartass smile.  Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

Her hands fall still against his collarbones, fingertips barely tapping against the base of his throat with her excitement.

“It was you this whole time…” She murmurs, but she doesn’t sound as disappointed as Megumi expects.  Her gentle eyes feel piercing as they stare at him thoughtfully, as if this was the first time she was really seeing him.  In a way, it sort of was.  “Were you ever going to tell me?” She asks quietly, and this time she does wait for him to say something.  

Megumi sighs, regarding her soft expression with thoughtfulness.  There was no coming back from this now.  She figured him out and he barely even tried to cover it up.  That was a hard thing to do once she’d kissed him, though.  She must’ve figured out his weakness, and happily used it against him..  Typical brat.

“I thought about it,” He says honestly.  “Just didn’t seem like a good idea,” 

The corners of her lips barely turn into a frown, and Megumi can’t help himself from reaching out to her, cradling her jaw in as light of a touch as he could bear.  It was different now, feeling her warm skin against his without hiding in a suit, behind a mask.  He knows she must feel it, too.

Everything was completely different now.  She must be upset with him, right? She must at least be discouraged in finding out it had been him all along.  Not someone with a better track record, maybe someone more attractive, or at least nice to her.  He wonders if she had her hopes up for a specific person.

“Are you upset?” He asks.  He doesn’t want to know all the answers to his questions, but he asks before he could shove down the curiosity and avoid it forever.

“Upset?” She repeats, brows furrowing momentarily with her confusion.  “What do you mean?” 

“Y’know,” He mumbles, long lashes flickering as his eyes fall to her lips for a moment.  He looks at her again before continuing.  “That it’s me.  That it’s been me” 

“Oh,” She hums, thinking for a second.  “Well… did you mean it all?” 

“Mean it all?” He repeats her now.  “You mean while I was Spiderman?” 

(y/n) nods in a small motion.

“Yeah… did you mean all the stuff you said… and did?” She adds the last part in an even quieter whisper than the rest, but the look in her eyes is so full of anticipation it speaks volumes over her voice.

“Yeah, of course,” Megumi answers without a shred of hesitation.  “Of course I did,” He says it again, leaning forward with emphasis, his eyes never leaving hers.  “(y/n), I didn’t want you finding out because I didn’t… I didn’t know that I would…” He trails off, his nerves starting to crawl up his throat for having to admit so many truths in one sitting.  This one seemed to be harder than the rest.  “I didn’t know I’d like you so much” 

She laughs, breathless and sweet, humored by such an honest confession.  It finally makes a real smile creep over his lips, relieved to see that her reaction was anything but negative.  His heart skips a beat, and his thumb trembles as he reaches to stroke it over her cheekbone.  He can’t help but want to pull her in closer, hold her properly, maybe even kiss her again.  It should scare him, that she knew the truth now, that he was vulnerable to her now, but right now all he feels is a weight lifted off his chest, and the lingering taste of her chapstick on his lips.

“I definitely didn’t plan on liking you so much either,” She admits softly, her cheeks burning with color.  Megumi can feel the heat in her skin when he presses the pad of his thumb further against her cheek.  “Are you mad about it?” 

“Mad?” He laughs, his smile becoming a full blown grin now as he leans in closer to her.  Her fingers curl into the material of his shirt as he draws her in closer, too.  Anticipation has her eyes flickering between his lips and the deep blue eyes that haven’t left hers since she’d kissed him.  “Mad about what? Getting to know you? The real you? And falling for you?” 

Her eyes grow wide as she stares back at him.  For a guy that hid behind a mask for weeks, he sure got comfortable putting his cards on the table fast.

“No, I’m not mad about it,” He answers her properly, closing enough distance in between them that his nose prodded against hers.  Her eyes fluttered shut before she could stop herself, her chin tilting forward to meet him the rest of the way.  “I’ve wanted nothing more than to be with you, like this, for real, since you brought me that dumb bag of vegetables” 

“It wasn’t dumb, there wasn’t ice” She argued.  Her lips had just been brushing over his in the ghost of a kiss before she jerked away to argue some more.  Ever so stubborn, he thinks with nothing but fondness for her.

Megumi doesn’t let her go far, pulling her right back in until her lips landed on his, and all further arguments died on her tongue.  Her hands relaxed their hold on his shirt as her lips moved against his with muscle memory.  Soft and so pliable, she melted right against him, leaning closer and closer until they were chest to chest, and Megumi moved his free arm to wrap around the dip in her back, keeping her tucked as close to him as he could without disconnecting their lips.

She finally gets to card her hands through his hair, scraping her nails over the nape of his neck before pushing the longer strands between her fingers.  It becomes impossibly messier than usual, but Megumi only hums in delight as she messes it all up.  He must’ve always wanted more, too.

Her fingers tangle in his hair and she doesn’t let up even when they part to catch their breath.  Megumi stays close, his forehead resting against hers as he pants over her lips, leaving her still wanting more.

“You know I still have a million questions, right?” She murmurs, and Megumi can’t help but place the softest of kisses against her lips as she speaks, even if he was still breathless.

“I don’t feel like sitting and talking right now” He mumbles, chasing her lips for another kiss.  She giggles, kissing him back but not nearly as long as he would’ve liked.  Pulling away all too soon, she stares at him with wide eyes.

“I mean, how do the webs work?” 

“(y/n), we have class in ten minutes, that’s not nearly enough time to get into it all,” He sighs, his hands smoothing over her hips and trying to draw her closer again.  “Can’t we just enjoy this a little longer, and talk about all of that later?” 

Huffing, (y/n) leans back in, and it makes Megumi smile if only for a moment.  She stops short just before her lips could touch his.

“So… did Spiderman put that guy in a hospital last year?” 

Megumi groans, dropping his head back against the trunk of the tree.  She wasn’t going to let this go, and that reputation was going to follow him forever, it seemed.

“Alright.  C’mon, we’re headed to class,” He prompted her to grab her things and stand with him, but she kept her hands in his hair too secure for him to want to stand up.  “(y/n), I promise I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, later-” 

“Let’s just skip class” She suggests, all too eagerly for a girl that bragged about being at the top of their class.

“Yeah, right,” Megumi scoffs, but when her expression doesn’t waver, his face falls and he stares at her bewildered.  “You’re not serious…?” 

“Why not?” She replies.  “We can afford to miss a couple classes,” It’s not a bad argument, Megumi’s just shocked to hear her say it at all.  “And.. I want to be the first one to get an exclusive interview with Spiderman” She giggles, and Megumi huffs, giving her a bored look.

“I’d rather go to class” 

“And we can make out” 

“... I guess some catching up isn’t a bad idea” 

It takes them some time to gather their things and get going, only because (y/n) insisted on keeping her hands on him in one way or another, but even if Megumi pretended to be annoyed it wasn’t a believable performance.  He kept her close with his arm wrapped firm around her as they made their way off campus quickly, hoping to beat the rain.

“You know, I’m thinking of calling you the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman when I write about you,” (y/n) tells him on their walk to her apartment.  “Has a nice ring to it” 

Megumi laughs humorlessly.

“Not sure it paints a very accurate picture,” He tells her, brows raised as he watches her pout up at him.  “But you’re kinda gonna be my publicist, so I guess I’ll take what I can get” 

“Hey! I thought you said you were falling for me” (y/n) sasses back.  Megumi bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard.  He tosses his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as they walk.

“That was off the record” He mumbles.

She beams up at him, he pulls her a little closer into his side, keeping an eye on her only from his peripheral vision.  He couldn’t be getting too sappy with the way he looked at her now, he’d grown too used to having a mask to hide the dreamy look in his eye.  Now though, it was completely on display for her to see.

(y/n) quite liked the view that she got now that he was mask-free.  She’d always had her suspicions that Spiderman was handsome, and quite the victory it was to be proven right in that department.  The stubborn, monotone, boy with a reputation part was just… an added bonus, she supposed.

She also supposed that she’d come with her own reputation now, too.  With Megumi never far behind he took on a role akin to guard dog.  She couldn’t deny she grew to like the feeling, melting at the protective way he kept close whether he had the mask on or not.

He had a certain responsibility to uphold when it came to keeping Tokyo safe, but he had a responsibility to those he loved, too.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

[zorange13]

— love island, enhypen edition

enha as the islanders x afab reader (hyung line). | maknae line

warnings/content. suggestive content, got WAYYY carried away with jake’s part, slowburn, reality tv au, YEARNINGGG, romantic competition, half-cheating, angst, light e2l, swearing, jealousy, insecurity, drama-heavy (duh)

lightly proofread, i did NOT sleep to write this lmao.

word count: 7.2k

inspired by the aot edition from @rynfiles, pls check them out!!

Heeseung 이희승

def a smooth ass talker, so charismatic 

such a heartthrob

would be a fan favorite at first

an OG and would partner up with whoever he wants

also prob have a kiss by the end of the first episode 

knows he’s hot and would honestly use that to his advantage to get to know everyone, esp in early days

genuinely so funny and would be one of the guys that gets along well with both the boys and girls

however, he would be a lil bit of a fuckboy, but he would feel so bad about it after watching the show back at the end.

being a libra, hee is naturally (and sometimes unintentionally) very flirty to the point where a girl might think she is being led on. even if he’s just trying to be nice. 

cue one of the girls saying, “idk like heeseung and i just seem to have a good connection.”

10 minutes later he’s tonguing down another girl.

so him and his first pairing would just end in a pretty messy situation

fans start to not fw him

he would be in couples and stay throughout the whole show just because he’s good tv. 

he’d be on the chopping block a few times but would somehow the producers would find something to save him (rob cough cough)

fans love to hate him

but wouldn’t truly fall head over heels until about week 3 and really hit it off with a girl. no one else matters to him at that point

you’d be a bombshell (duh)

but by the time casa amor comes around and he wants to close things off, the girls would be gone by that point

he’d be fuming

but then when the casa girls come, he’d be like ‘nah, i miss my girl’

but his head would be slightly turned by one of them

maybe a kiss or two, heavy petting unfortunately

but then when the girls are sent the video of what the boys have been doing…

best believe heeseung would get his ass handed to him at the recoupling

wouldn’t be able to look at you, once he sees the look in your eyes was when it hit him.

he wouldn’t bring anyone back though!!

you would put a pillow between them

fans kinda hate him at this point, like bro is public enemy #1

but he would do anything to win you back

i’m talking on HIS KNEES, yearning !!

a clip on tiktok would go viral of him for that

“if i have to show you why you’re the one for me, i’ll do it again. over and over again until you want me. i don’t care what it takes. i can’t let you go.”

fans would swoon, then hate themselves for liking him again (real asf)

kordell and serena coded as far as the casa situation

days of nice gestures until you felt you wanted him to stop

he would (try to) make you breakfast and bring it up to the beauty room; giving you a kiss on the side of your head as he left. saying “i know you like your eggs scrambled and your coffee light and sweet”

it would prob taste terrible it’s the thought that counts

the girls would giggle after he got far enough from the door, but you didn’t pay much mind

making you cheese toasties in the middle of the day when he “just so happens” to hear that you’re hungry.

after days of groveling, you cave when he enlists jay and jake to help him make your favorite food for candlelit dinner by the beach.

“i know i fucked up, i know that i hurt you badly. but please, if you give me this chance to prove that i’m not just some asshole, i will be the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

“boyfriend?”

“boyfriend.”

would have the hideaway for the night

would def make use of the toys in there

can see y’all being in the final 4

final date is horseback riding and dinner at one of the luxury resorts in fiji

his finale speech would send twitter in a spiral

“i came in here not expecting anything from this, just a fun time. just a free vacation and beautiful women. i seriously thought that i was on my way out because i had burnt all of my bridges. but when you showed up, i just—” sighs, trying not to let himself get choked up. “I knew you were so out of my league. even now you are, i felt like a guy like me didn’t deserve a woman like you. you’re not scared to call me out on my bullshit, you make me laugh, you made me earn you. despite all of the bullshit i put you through, you extended grace and there’s nothing more i could ask for from you and that will be the last time i ever ask you to extend me that much. but that look in your eye told me everything that i needed to know. watching that clip of you cry in the girl’s arms during movie night was all that i needed to know that i will never in my life, do anything to make someone i love feel like that ever again. you’re it for me, and no matter what happens tonight, win or lose; i’m a winner because I get to walk out with you.”

“love?”

“love.”

would have the whole villa in TEARS

reformed fuckboy™ + the queen who tamed him = they don’t even need to win

runners-up!!

Jay 박종성

the most chill one there tbh

og and would pair with who he liked 

but they would burn out not from drama, but they realized there was a lack of chemistry

wouldn’t stir much drama but WOULD PULL for sure

he knew what he signed up for of course but is more of slow burner

he doesn’t like to entertain someone he isn’t interested in if he knew there was someone else he might like more

if his heart isn’t in it, he’s not gonna waste your time or his own

so he’d just be honest and the girls would love him for that

grows close with a lot of them and even offers advice when needed

blunt, but transparent and the fans like him

such a breath of fresh air from all of the weird, sneaky boys

the type that you would def know if he liked you

would somehow end up making out with one of the bombshells in soul ties, they couple up

the chef™

is always the one helping out with dinner

the girls always ask him to make them something because they know he’d never say no

isn’t the life of the party but is never a buzz kill

knows how to have fun and will always be there to have a good laugh.

would fizzle out with that bombshell

“you’re cool and so gorgeous. i just don’t feel anything deeper and i’m sorry.”

bombshell would be understanding not take it personally, she’s more into heeseung anyway lmao

kinda goes on aimlessly

would end up kissing one of the og girls (you) during a challenge in week 2 and holy shit

he liked it a lot more than he’d expect

wouldn’t know how to handle it and would feel like shit

i mean it’s only week 2 but weeks here feel like months

so technically, everyone’s been dating for 2 months !!

would talk to jake and would eventually just approach you about it. better to live with no regrets

“hey, can i pull you for a chat?” he says to you as you’re lounging on one of the day beds.

“of course,” you stood up and he ruffled your hair with a smile as y’all walked to one of the swinging benches.

“so remember when we kissed earlier? in the challenge?”

“yeah? i’m sure i’d remember who i kissed.”

oh…he liked this girl for real now

your own couple wouldn’t be too solid either seeing as it was so early but not

still wanted to be respectful though !!

nonetheless you end up recoupling and that guy gets sent home

sad to see a friend of his go home but very happy that he could love on his girl openly now

so head over heels, still makes the girls food because he’s a gentleman

but he brings you full on meals!! steaks, ribs, chicken (fried, baked, grilled, doesn’t matter !!! your wish is his command) the most they were getting out of him was a cheese toastie, they’ll be lucky if they get a piece of meat on it

you would def have a ‘my man, my man’ attitude after that which he lowkey loved

the girls made jokes about how they lost their personal chef and would start hassling their men to cook for them

you left a note on your mirror for him before you dipped for casa. 

“i’m not the best at goodbyes, but i didn’t want to leave without saying something. thank you for being so good to me, for being real with me, and for making me feel like i matter here. i know things aren’t always easy to say, but i’m happy with you. i hope you’re doing okay while i’m gone, and i’ll be thinking about you. can’t wait to come back to you.

p.s. the food’s not the same without you here.”

then left a kiss in his favorite lipstick of yours on the mirror next to the note

he was irritated at no goodbye but tried to maintain some sort of sanity 

after all the guys all filed out of the beauty room, he kissed the mark you left on the mirror and considered that his parting kiss

grab the note to put it in his pocket and keep by his bed to look at

he also saw you left the lipstick right on the vanity so he took that too

TWITTER WOULD SPIRAL !!!

the casa girls came and they came with the heat let me tell you

but he didn’t give in no no no

though he WAS tempted

he was chatting by the firepit with one of the casa girls and she leaned in to kiss him

he ALMOST fumbled

but he was solid, the plastic component of your lipstick in his back pocket a reminder of who was gonna be waiting for him on the other side

gently shoots the girl down for giving her the wrong impression, “i’m sorry if it seemed like anything else but i miss my girl and i just don’t think kisses outside of challenges are appropriate.”

very respectful

but the girl does not take too kindly to it

he doesn’t care because he likes you

he’s not trippin because like…can she fight? lmao

makes it back to the villa in one piece !!

is running back to you

fidgeting at the firepit because didn’t want to stand there to wait for y’all to officially full on be a couple again

kissing you down when he gets to you

making everyone hold their hearts at the cuteness

closes off with you that night and are the first ones to get in the hideaway !!

everyone voted you guys to go

you wore this amazing baby blue lingerie and he almost lost it

he put you in them fuzzy pink handcuffs that night 

everything is smooth sailing 

in the final 4 

final date is dinner on a yacht then jet skiing on the sunset

then at the finale he would also give a speech that is so cute but so him!!

“i’m not good at words but that’s not an excuse to give a subpar speech because you deserve more than that. you have been so solid and wonderful through this whole experience. i never expected after 2 weeks it’d be me and you but i’m glad we got to harvest a friendship first.” He blushed, looking away from you as you laughed and gave him his time to simmer down. “i’d fall in love with you in any universe. the same way how i’d cook you anything you’d ask me to because you simply deserve it. you deserve to be treated like royalty and you know with me, i’m gonna deliver. you don’t have to lift a finger. you don’t have to worry about anything. not money, not my loyalty, my honesty. you came here to get the man you deserve and i’m here to give you that, baby.” would lift your hand to kiss it as he asked, “will you let me be your boyfriend?”

twitter meltdown—simple as that.

the producers picked good men this season…

y’all won and split—well actually, he gave you all of the prize money !!

every. last. dime.

there’s nothing other to describe him as perfect—he was patient, didn’t hoe around, had intentions and pursued you when it mattered the most. 

ofc he’s the fan favorite and y’all are talked about online for forever as one of the best couples to come out of love island

Jake 심재윤

one of the sweetest guys there like seriously

cinnamon roll™ 

another og

it’s physically impossible to hate him

fans are swooning because they’ve never seen this many hot guys on love island at once

especially when all of them are heartthrobs and have so much potential

jakey is so beloved by the guys because he’s just…a bro

BUT HE GIVES GREAT ADVICE and is pretty chill

also knows how to have fun and is usually the one (besides heeseung) to like initiate a game or something fun to do

the villa can get boring when y’all are just sitting around all day

as for the girls, he gets along very well

he knows he’s good-looking but he doesn’t do too much

that accent gets them

very humble

all of the girls have wanted a piece of him at one point and quite frankly none of them were his type ???

“hey…bro…” he’d say to them, as he sat down with them during chats

so the girls just stayed his friend and didn’t want to embarrass themselves further

went through a depressive period for a few weeks

coupling with girls just to stay alive

until a bombshell, you,—came in.

he legit had all of the guys come to the firepit so he could tell them you were off limits

they listened, except for one

that bastard

some drama arose as there was gonna be a recoupling that sent one of the guys home

this only further incentivized jake to pursue you harder

“hey, can i steal you for chat?” he approaches you as you sat in the kitchen talking to the other guy

he didn’t feel bad, as you said “of course,” he made sure to give the guy a sly look as he placed his arm around your waist as you followed him up to soul ties. 

fans loved him even more now: “ok jakey going after what he wants!!!!” “nah ngl if a cinnamon roll looked at me like that i’d self eliminate fr lmao” “well he said she was off limits *shrug emoji*” “he can’t even be mad at jake like he hasn’t had not one connection the whole time. let him get the girl he wants !!”

he knew he couldn’t sit on his ass and wait for you to come naturally

as he got to know you, he realized you were like him

a hot geek!!

you loved math and science just like him 

you were always correcting people

and somehow you loved the same shows and movies

it’s like you’re him, just the girl version!!

needless to say, he falls fast and hard

he knew how to cook pretty well, so he would make you breakfast every morning 

hot chocolate, with big marshmallows and a waffle

all made from scratch of course!! he took some pointers from jay ;)

the other guy continued to pursue you, to which he encouraged you

he knew what he was there for but who was he to limit you to one connection?

“i’m here for you and i know what i want. but i’m also never gonna tell you to put me above you; if you feel you want to explore then go handle that.” he told you as you settled in between his legs, back against his chest on one of the daybeds. you had your eyes shut as you leaned your head on his shoulder as gently caressed your leg with one hand and your arm with another. relishing in the serenity of the feeling and the waves crashing against each other.

this is right when you knew you weren’t going anywhere

fans also ate this up: “i just need someone to hold me like jake holds her and i’ll be ok, i promise” “i would let him do the most unspeakable things to me, Lord forgive me” “just give me 3 minutes.”

was some part of him anxious as hell? absolutely, but he meant what he said

it was up to you, either way someone was going home

so when you got a text later that afternoon, you read it aloud to everyone (basically screaming it but it’s ok) 

“it’s almost decision time! you must decide where your heart lies. tonight, you will choose who you want to couple up with, and one guy will be sent home. solve for x and see where you end up! #toobadsosad #makingupforlosttime #gotmyanglesonyou”

you flustered at the reminders of the conversations you and jake were having

but it was funny nonetheless

that night at the firepit, you had never see jake so distraught

he spaced out which he like never does but now it was time for you to make your choice

you stood up in your heels, almost shaking but maintaining composure

“i would like to couple up with this boy because he has been so amazing and consistent since my time here.” jake listened to you intently as you spoke, hopefully trying to pick up on something that could indicate that you’d pick him.

“we also get along really well and i feel that in the short time that i’ve been here, we’ve been able to get on pretty well. i know that if we have a chance to further this connection, then something great will be able to come from it.”

ok, he was getting hopeful

“we bond over so many things, and i feel like we mirror each other. people say that it’s hard to be with someone that’s just like you. however, studies show that 89% of couples share the same values and similarities, making them successful and at a lower rate of divorce.”

your fellow islanders laughed at your random, yet endearing factoid

jake just tilted his head as he stared at you lovingly, “that’s my girl,” he whispered to himself

“so the boy i’d like to couple up with is…” 

fingers crossed

surprise. “jake.” you said with a bright smile on your face.

jake wanted to run to you and kiss you until his last dying breath

BUT he had some sort of couth 

he dapped up the guy that he was standing by, he didn’t want to because he felt he was an asshole but still. respect.

then he walked over to you with the brightest smile in the world and hugged you so tight you almost complained but you let him have his moment. “you’re so amazing, baby. you’re mine now,” his whispered into your ear. the mic just barely picked it up.

he pulled back and gave you the gentlest kiss you’ve felt in your life, that you barely even felt

viral moment

it was hard to watch the guy pack his stuff 

yes, he knows that he got you now but after coming to his senses in a way, the guy just wanted to find love the same way they all did

they ended up having a conversation before he left and they squashed the beef

later that night, you and jake showered together

made sure to lock the door, there was like 8 other bathrooms in this big ass house

the others could use another one

BUT it was nothing freaky deaky

just gentle, intimate

you detangled and washed his hair for him 

granted it was very hard to keep his hands off of you

just this perfect body in front of him in this big ass shower where he had ample room to do what he wanted

but he kept it cute, only letting his hands slide south when you let him

but a little kiss didn’t hurt

his hand wrapped around your neck as pulled you to cover his lips with yours. the familiar taste of your lips sending jolts through his body. he groaned at the sensation as you followed. “should’ve done this at the firepit, right in front of that bastard. that way he would’ve known you were really mine all along.”

he left a lil hickey

nothing too crazy

y’all def did it in the bed with everybody there that night though

casa amor rolls around

y’all are doing good even before then

challenges were fun, vibes were on point!!

but just like the others, you bounce without a word. but you also left a note just like heeseung’s girl

“hi jakey !! i’m gonna be gone for a while but not to worry. distance makes the heart grow fonder. i trust you, and i hope you honor me while i’m away because i will do the same for you <3 p.s. i sprayed my perfume on our bed so if a bitch even tries to lie there she’ll be getting a piece of me. hugs and kisses xoxo !!”

he audibly laughed at your note, some tears threatening to escape him but quickly sucked it up

he missed you already, his baby

his little einstein

he tucked the note in his pocket for safe keeping

remember what i said before, the casa girls are coming in hot!!

and jake being the fun—and nice—guy he is, makes the girls feel welcome 

until one of them pulls him for chat and he accepts

she came onto and him for some reason something came over him

to this day he can’t put his finger on if it was the excitement of a new face after seeing the same ones every single day for, what felt like, forever 

or just lack of self control

maybe both

but he fucks her

when the guys found out they were jarred

even heeseung, the resident fuckboy™ wasn’t that wild

needless to say, jake has never felt more disgusted with himself

the support he amassed over the last few goes down the drain as this was one of the biggest twists of the season

i said hee became public enemy #1 before but no, jake was hated BAD!!!

fans were hurt themselves: “bro i feel so bad for y/n, she was everything and more and he just shit on her, fuck jake” “i really don’t believe in love anymore, this is wild” “imagine going thru ALL THAT with a girl that was made for you just to hook up with a random casa girl bc of a ‘minor slip up’ what a loser”

going back to the villa was…a journey to say the least

but when he got back you were smiling

hard

like…you couldn’t wait to see him

him, along with the boys were confused as they all thought that you’d seen what happened due to heeseung just getting heat

but no

you seemed to know nothing

and jake just played along, he didn’t bring anyone back and neither did you

“hello, my einstein,” he hugged you as he spun you around before gently placing you back on the wooden deck of the firepit.

the silence amongst the boys was deafening, there were already tensions due to heeseung’s situation, but the girls still tried to be happy for you and cheer you on. them clearly being oblivious to what really went down.

a few days passed and jake carried along as normal as he could, still consulting jay about this hole in chest called guilt that he couldn’t shake. he had to tell you.

until sunghoon’s girl got a text, she beckoned all of them to front

“islanders, it’s time for movie night! watch some exclusive clips from your time in the villa and casa amor! grab your seats and watch some dirty truths be unveiled. #nosecretshere #lightscameradrama”

everyone looked at each other with unsure looks, the boys getting glared and cold stares left and right. 

you felt terrible, “i feel so bad, i know [heeseung’s girl] went through so much the last few days. i’d hate for her to have to almost relive it, you know?” you said to jake, to which he hugged you with a small ‘yeah’

everyone gathered around and it was time to pick which “movie” y’all wanted to watch

they chose ‘experiment gone wrong’

and that was when you saw it

jake tonguing down this girl, which stung, but ok this was during a challenge so nothing crazy

the next clip cut to them talking at the firepit and he was just giggling it up

then they kissed

which was more than enough to make your heart feel like it smashed into a million pieces

then the next clip was of them making out on yours and his shared bed

then he covered both of them with the comforter as the camera moved to a new angle where they threw their clothes onto the floor from beneath the sheets

then on the outside on the firepit right where they were, laid the note you left for him before you left

then it faded to black

the silence was deafening

the girl’s right by you sat in shock as you were all equally.

the first to break the silence was jungwon’s girl “so y’all knew?”

the boys were all looking down in shame

silence. crickets.

you wanted so badly to say something but your voice simply wouldn’t allow you

you just remember breaking down into jungwon’s girl’s arms as she rested her hand on your head, stroking your head to give you some consolation as the rest of the girl’s cursed them out.

jake just sat there, tears in his eyes as croaked out, “i didn’t mean to—”

“what didn’t mean to do what? she trusted you, we all did! y’all are some grimy ass people for not even letting one of us know. like you didn’t have to tell her. at least one of us and we could’ve done something!”

“jake you are such a piece of shit”

“i know,” he whimpered, leaning back into the couch

“if you’re capable of keeping some shit like that from her then you’re capable of anything.”

he knew what the girls were saying was true to some–well, a huge extent. but he wasn’t looking at them. 

he was looking at you break down over something that he did out of pure tactlessness

the producers didn’t let you get up until the clips were done being shown but as soon as they were done, you sped walked right inside

knowing jake was hot on your tail

before you can ever get past even the middle of the yard space he catches up you

“y/n please,” he says, pleading. “i can explain,”

you looked at him, with nothing but pure pain and desolation, “explain what? your dick just somehow slipped inside her on accident?”

he shook his head, “baby—”

that was when you snapped, yelling at for the first time ever. “no! you lost the privilege to call me that! i’m nothing to you, do you hear me? nothing! you are a sick and twisted individual. nevermind the hooking up thing because a part of me expected it. men will be men, but for you to have days to tell me and you let me find out along with everyone else?”

“please, can we just talk about this somewhere else?” his voice cracked as he began to sob, not caring if all of your peers were watching

“you’re such a con artist, you made me believe you. made me believe that everything was fine and dandy between us and that i was like the one for you—”

“but you are, you are—” he grabbed his hair, pulling it from stress and frustration. “gosh, you are! i just fucked up—”

“i gave you my body, jake. does that not mean anything to you?”

he sobbed loudly, not even caring how he looked anymore. “yes! it means everything just please understand me!” he grabbed your shoulders to hopefully make you listen. “i fucked up. i know i’m a shitty person for doing that and i know i’m even shittier than lying to you like this and keeping you in the dark. but please trust me when i say that it was a mistake and will never happen again.”

“you’ve shown me who you are, jake. i’m taking it for what it is. you’ve made your choice and it wasn’t me.” you said, cold and distant

choking back sobs as he tries to reach for you again. “y/n, please. i’m begging you. don’t do this. i’ll do anything. i’ll make it right, just give me a chance.”

“fuck you, jake.”

jungwon’s girl ends up sleeping with you outside that night

jake cries himself to sleep, even though he could barely do that

the next day you were more angry than hurt

when he brought you breakfast, you threw it out the window right in front of face

you’re like 60% sure bits of the eggs ended up in the pool

everytime he tried to talk to you, you ignored him

if he asked to pull you for a chat while you speaking to someone, you continued talking as if he wasn’t standing there, literally begging you for a conversation

he was vapor to you and it wasn’t fun being like this but he needed to be punished

until one recoupling, he decides to self-eliminate

this rippled shock throughout the villa, even you

during his final speech, “i felt like i came here to find a connection. i did, and regardless of how it turned out, i’m so grateful for the time that i did get with that person. i know i did the most…distasteful things but i also know that forgiveness comes with time and it shouldn’t be on your terms.” he looked at you with longing eyes, “y/n, i love you,” 

the L word in love island is like…unheard of almost like oh my god ??/?/?/ so your stomach was in knots

“and i will do anything to see you happy, baby, always. if that means being free from me than i’ll do it and i will let you have the experience you so rightfully deserve, so…that’s why i’d like to go home. i got what i came here for.”

there were definitely tears from everyone in the villa

jake had been everyone’s best friend so to see him go was hard

you and him exchanged longing glances and a gentle nod before he walked out and the ‘loves me not’ sign flashes

you ended up leaving the following week

you just wandered about aimlessly

bombshells came but none of them compared to jake 

you were eliminated and was actually glad to go home and see your family after all these months

definitely sad because at this point, you spent so much time and gotten along well with everyone that they considered you an og at this point

but you left with your chest held high

but as soon as you got your phone back you saw you sat at a good 2M followers on instagram, which was like 1,999,900 million more than you came in here with.

you took a look at your dm’s and saw a familiar face text you:

“hey gorgeous,

i know you probably won’t see this for a while, but i couldn’t just leave things unsaid. i’ve spent so much time thinking about everything, and i know there’s no excuse for what i did. i messed up, badly. i hurt you, and i’ll never be able to fully fix that, no matter how much i wish i could. but i need you to know that i’m truly sorry. not just for what i did, but for letting you down in ways that went beyond just that moment.

i was selfish. i let my insecurities and confusion get the better of me, and in doing so, i betrayed your trust. i lied to you, and i let you believe things were okay when they weren’t. the worst part is, i knew better. i knew what i was doing was wrong, but i still did it. i don’t expect forgiveness from you, not after what i did, but i hope you can eventually find it in yourself to heal from this.

you deserve someone who values you and respects you, someone who sees you for who you truly are, not just in the moments when things are easy. i failed you in that regard. i let you down in front of everyone, and i’m sorry for that. but i want you to know that i will always think of you, and no matter what happens, you’ll always be important to me.

i don’t know if you’ll ever want to talk to me again, and honestly, i wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. i’m not asking for forgiveness, and i’m not asking for anything except that you take care of yourself, y/n. you deserve the world. and i’ll keep working on becoming someone better, even if it’s too late for us.

i hope that wherever you are, you’re finding peace and happiness. i’ll be here if you ever want to reach out, but i understand if you need time or if you don’t ever want to. just know i’m thinking of you, and i’ll always be rooting for you. i wouldn’t change a thing if it meant i got to experience the beauty that is you.

take care of yourself. you were more than everything to me. i love you einstein.

your jakey <3

ok that felt like a gut punch

you sat there, on your bed wondering your next move

then you got to typing

Sunghoon 박성훈

he’s for sure a bombshell

one of the bombshells that comes in the blind kissing challenges to confuse all of the girls

he’s had his eye on you for a while 

so when he gets to kiss you, he’s more than prepared to rock your world

he takes his time with you as he runs a gentle finger down your lips to the valley of your breasts as he pulls you closer by your hips

then he pulled you in so your lips could meet his and it was up from there

everyone was so confused 

“jake?” “nah that's not him”

“heeseung?” “nah he’s not as aggressive”

the boys were in complete shock, some of there were dying laughing

others bitter because he was kissing their girls lmaooo

when the girls took their blindfolds off, they were screaming in shock

you laughed something serious!!

but when you got a look at sunghoon, you were also very shook

he was…scarily beautiful, like he almost made you feel insecure lmao

but he couldn’t stop looking at you

you and the girls congregated after that to discuss details

“yo, he’s hot as fuck” “he’s gorgeous” “y’all don’t even know what to do with all that”

the fans were thrown. they were gagged. 

TWITTER WAS SCREAMINGGG “#needthat”

the guys all whispered about him, impressed that he came in with such a bang

others, whose couples weren’t so steady in their couples were worried

but they saw how he kissed you

he wanted you

during the challenge where america weighs in on what they feel about them

he gets voted to be like the biggest fuckboy

which again, makes heeseung laugh because he was that was his thing™ 

everyone even voted him too, so to hear america’s thoughts made the girls think the world knew something they didn’t

but back to sunghoon

his feelings were a little hurt

he wasn’t sure if it was the way he looked that gave people that impression

but he never kissed any girls outside of challenges so it didn’t make much sense

sure he had his fun outside of the villa

but he knew that he was going to be on national television, so he did try to dial it back

you were very turned off by this

you admitted in the confessionals, “i’ve had my fair share of fuckboys. i even knew by coming here that i wasn’t exempt from them! so to be real, i’m not shocked. i mean look at him. i’d be hurt if he wasn’t sharing the fun with other people.”

he’s annoyed by it but doesn’t let it phase him

now onto you guys

at this point, you’re pretty solid in your original connection

sunghoon didn’t really gaf lmao

he was a bombshell, he wasn’t supposed to be peaceful 

he had a talk with your connection in front of the guys

“i’m sorry but i’m here to step on toes and i really don’t care if you don’t like that. i’m not here to make friends.”

your connection nodded with a ‘challenge accepted’ type of smile

so let the games begin

he pursued you down

a solid week and a half of him and your partner fighting for you

until heeseung is bored one night and wants to play a game: truth or dare

“y/n, truth or dare”

now you knew better than to accept a dare from any of these hooligans, “truth.”

“do you think your connection is solid enough to survive me being here?” he leans forward, resting his head on his hands with a smile

wow

so you didn’t have anything to say

you literally plead the fifth 

and that caused some drama and needless to say, you and your partner argued that night

“so, one guy just comes around and all of a sudden i’m not enough for you?”

“i never said that, you’re just insecure and plus it’s not that serious. this is love island. i came here for me, who are you to hinder me from my experience?”

he slept outside that night

sunghoon slept with a smile on his that night

the next morning, he asked around what you liked for breakfast and brought it to you while you were doing your makeup

you thanked him politely, not liking him for basically prophesying your couple’s misfortune

he knew what happened and was capitalizing off of it

fans easily saw this and thought the same, not entirely liking sunghoon and calling him a little bit of weirdo

“he’s hot but something about bro seems sketchy”  “is he a witch or sumn??? does bro have crystals and sage in his suitcase??? wtf is going on” “i agree with the discourse but why am i kinda eating this up tho”

you were chatting with jay’s girl and then he pulls you for a chat, to which you agreed reluctantly “sure”

y’all went to the chairs by the beach. he sat on one and you sat across from him

“so? rough night?” 

“do you have a problem with me?”

“no. i just want you.”

“you’re so weird, i mean i appreciate that you’re trying to be nice to me in your own sick way. but i don’t play games.”

he smiled, “i’m not playing with you, though. i just held up a mirror.”

“you’re serious?”

“think about it, i didn’t do anything. i just asked you one question and he did the rest.”

you resigned

ok he was right, i mean

your partner was bugging out because he was threatened by another man

“obviously i’ll leave you alone if you want me to but it won’t exactly help your situation.”

“you some type of mind reader or something?”

“i don’t need to read minds. i just need to pay attention. and i’ve been watching for a while. what i’m seeing isn’t really about me, it’s about what you’re not saying.”

fuck it

you stood up and walked toward to him as you straddled his hips

he smiled gently as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. and yours around his neck as you kissed officially

some of your fellow islanders were eavesdropping and and watching from behind the deck and they silently cheered

as you pulled back, “did i say enough?”

biting his lip, he nodded as he rested his hand on the back of your head. “yeah,” the other head rubbed your thighs on either side of him.

you pulled away from the kiss and the tension lingered but he kept his grip on your thigh. as if he was scared you’d pull away. 

“what are you thinking, pretty girl?” his voice took on a new tone. that sarcastic, patronizing inflection long gone. 

“i think you knew exactly what you were doing.” you laughed

he smiled, your laugh actually giving him butterflies “maybe,” the head that rested on your head moved to your cheek as he stroked it gently. “just want to make you feel wanted,”

your connection ended up getting eliminated at recoupling (womp womp)

since sunghoon came late, casa was only a week later

a part of him was excited to explore more options

you didn’t leave a note, which kinda stung

but there wasn’t anything to do about it so he just continued as normal

he kissed a few girls, brought one back :(

definitely pissed you off!!

lowkey he got your frustration but it’s only been a week!!

“it’s not like we’re married or anything, i’m just tryna explore my options.”

to which you understood, didn’t make the embarrassment any easier

you were so mad you didn’t bring a guy back either

fans felt validated that their suspicions were right “see??? i knew i wasn’t buggin. he’s a hoe.” “i get that it’s been a week but he could’ve been a little nicer about it like damn” “the audacity to chase her and put her other connection at risk when he could’ve just kept it cool?? he just wanted screen time fr” “this sounds crazy but not even heeseung is this bad” “he wants to be heeseung sooo baddd LMFAOO”

not hated, but not liked either

y’all fizzle out and he partners with the casa girl 

you get eliminated at that recoupling

you guys hug before you leave and reconcile

no beef

no static

he’d def reach out after everything tho

Copyright: © zorange13. 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[rindreamery]

drive it real far.

michael kaiser finds it hard to focus on the race when he's got you beside him, and a burning jealousy after seeing you talk to another racer. street racer!michael kaiser x reader ─ suggestive, w.c. 600+ ─ content: extremely unsafe driving, not a manual car or else this would not be possible, kaiser is toxic but are we even surprised

note. puri and i spend 90% of our time talking abt kaiser and coming up with potential drabbles, and this is the fruit of one of those conversations (inspired by sports car by tate mcrae 🤭)

with another sharp turn of the car, kaiser’s grip on your thighs tighten.

the way he drives is reckless, like he’s always been— but something is different tonight. he’s tearing down the street with more speed than usual, drifting wide through corners, with the tires of the car screeching loudly in your ears. there’s zero hesitation behind his movements, zero regard for the way he wears his tires thin, zero regard for the way he’s putting unnecessary strain on his transmission. his face remains unchanging, eyes on the road ahead, gleaming with that dangerous focus you’re all-too-familiar with. 

dangerous, from the fact that he’s got half of his focus on winning, half on something else. 

you can tell he’s ticked off— infuriated, even. as much as he tries to keep his face neutral, his anger always slips through the cracks. you can see it in the way his lips press into a tight line, not a single sound slipping past. the flirty, fun, quick-witted banter is, instead, replaced with an unfamiliar silence. and the way his jaw clenches, hard, emphasizing the shadows on the side of his face. 

but you can also feel it in the way his hand lingers on you.

while kaiser’s got a hand on the wheel, the other remains on you. unmoving, unyielding, no matter how many times you remind him to drive with two hands. his fingers are digging into the plush of your thigh, pressing so hard that you can almost feel the heat seeping through the fabric of his gloves, that you can almost imagine the feeling of his skin on you. searing hot. pressing so hard that it almost feels painful, like he’s holding onto you as if you would slip from his grasp. 

it's so unlike him.

“mihya,” you call out to him, voice laced with concern, as you try to pry your way into his mind. “tell me what’s wrong.”

but he doesn’t answer you immediately, choosing to press harder on the gas, sending the car lurching forward. the street lights blur into streaks of red, orange, and blue outside your window. they warp and bend with each miniscule change in the car’s direction, fleeting, and something you can’t grasp onto. you can feel the adrenaline in your veins, thick and surging with each rapid shift of the car, and you can barely keep your breath steady. 

in a breathy, surprised gasp, you call his name again. 

his eyes flick over to you for a second, before they’re back on the road. and even when the corners of his lips curl into something that’s barely a smirk, there is not a hint of amusement in it— it’s so dark, so possessive. 

“saw you getting real cozy with isagi earlier.” kaiser finally answers, his tone low and accusatory.

your brows pinch together, because while it gives reason for his anger, it doesn't make sense to you. “it wasn’t anything like that—” you try to reason, and he scoffs.

the grip on your thigh loosens momentarily. a foolish part of you thinks, for a brief second, that he might’ve actually, somewhat, believed you. but your thoughts are cut off by the feeling of his hand sliding up your thigh, slow and testing, fingers forming a trail of embers on your skin as they go. they inch up, and then more, your heart starting to beat erratically as they inch dangerously close— waiting for you to grab his wrist and stop him.

you can hear the rapid thud of your heart in your ears as he thumbs at your skin, kneading, toying with the pressure. "mihya—" you look at the turn up ahead, and then him, a nervous look in your eyes.

"i find that hard to believe when he was making heart eyes at you." he's practically sneering at the thought, pressing even harder on the gas. "i hate it when he wants something that's mine."

© rindreamery, 2025

[cherbii]

VELVET!

ft. Toji Fushiguro

summary -> being a mob wife comes with its perks; riches, glamour, and your smitten mob husband who would do anything to prove his love for you, even if that’s taking you in the middle of the casino!

warnings -> language, violence, deaths, murder, dead dove do not eat, smut! p in v, creampie, fingering, multiple orgasms, public sēx, voyeurism, mdni

Smooth jazz played on the gramophone in the casino, the dim lights match, creating a warm ambiance. It all bounces off the gold of Toji's thick ring, wrapped around his ring finger.

Toji Zenin had many titles: godfather, kingpin, mob boss, don, capo. It didn't matter, because to you, he was your husband, and you were his pretty little wife he'd kill for.

You'd sit next to him when he gambled, like as of now, sat in a dazzling dress, makeup done right, eyeing the way his muscles bulged in his shirt or the way he sucked on the cigar.

God, you were a lucky woman, but Toji was a lucky man.

You didn't whisper a word of what he did to anyone, not the suspicious cases of money he had, or the blood stains you'd find on his clothes, none of it mattered, because you love the man too much to let him go.

Another mob wife sat next to you, one of a lesser clan, sipping on a dry martini. "I get bored sitting here, I'm not good at gambling so I don't play, if I were, I still wouldn't." She told you through her glass.

The corners of your lips turned up. "You don't have to tell me twice, but in a way it's nice. I get drinks and a great show of my husband winning." You replied, raising your own glass to your lips, a boulder of a diamond shimmering in the ambiance.

"Tch, you're such a kiss ass. I bet you are just waiting for the moment he loses and snaps." The other woman commented. She had a slight smirk on her face as she took another sip.

Meanwhile, Toji continued to play poker, he kept winning hand after hand, showing no emotion or signs of trouble, as if it were all simple.

A noise of amusement left you, your drink rippling in the glass. "Oh, darling. Please don't get this twisted, you see, my husband never loses." You said before finishing your drink.

The woman beside you scoffs as she finishes her drink as well, "So you're just his pretty accessory then."

You could hear the click-clack of the cards hitting the table. Toji was yet again winning another round. "Or rather, he's mine, don't you think?" You shot her a grin.

She grits her teeth, seemingly growing irritated, "I bet you're only with him cause of his money." She spits back.

Again, Toji kept winning round after round, not even breaking a sweat.

Your lips pursed as you attempted to suppress your grin. "You're right, I'm in it for the money," you said. "Definitely not because there's love, or passion, or orgasmic sex, no."

Her jaw dropped, completely frozen on the spot from your words, meanwhile Toji turned to look at you, his eyes filled with a devilish look and a smirk on his face. He continues to play poker, however, he seems rather entertained.

A few men at the other tables also look over in shock by the sudden bluntness to your response.

You could hear another man make a comment, "Jesus, I wonder what else that mouth can do." They snicker, earning a glare from Toji that made them shut up rather quickly.

You gesture by tipping your glass in the direction of the woman's husband. "Why? Does he not fulfil or fill you? Poor thing, must be why you're so stuck up." You murmured to her.

A sharp inhale was heard from the woman, you had clearly struck her ego, she knew that. Her cheeks flushing in anger.

Toji smirked as he continues playing, he just knows this won't be good. He was rather enjoying it, he was entertained.

The woman takes a small sip, clearly pissed but trying to keep a calm demeanor, "That isn't the point. But I wouldn't expect someone like you to understand." She says sharply, still with a tone of anger behind it.

Toji could be seen smirking, clearly showing that he isn't even listening to his poker game anymore. His attention completely stolen away by the bickering. You raise a brow, watching as she flagged down another waiter. "To understand what? That I'm not fulfilled, nor filled?"

She scoffs once again, she clearly didn't pick up on you throwing her words back at her on purpose.

Toji couldn't deny that he enjoyed when you defended yourself, it made him proud, it fueled him. He also couldn't deny that he loved watching you fight back, cause it was a turn on. He was a man of power and influence, but no one had a tighter grip on him than you.

"Please, I bet he doesn't breathe your way," she huffed. "Probably to busy getting with other woman than to pay attention to some gold digging whore."

"Oh don't call me such names," you wave a hand dismissively in the air before your voice dropped. "It's only reserved for my husband in the bedroom."

The other woman seemed stunned once again by your words, Toji nearly choking on his cigar. He began coughing loudly, though it was mostly to cover up his laugh. He was clearly amused. He then quickly regains his composure.

Before she could reply, you turned to look at your husband. "Baby?" You pouted.

He slowly glances, his lips slightly curling upward, he could see that you were planning something to piss the woman off even more and he was quite excited. He hums while he replies, "Yes, doll?"

You let out a sigh. "The bitch next to me doesn't think you fulfil or love me? Isn't she right?"

Toji grinned as he licked the scar on his lip. "She's right." Toji sarcastically said.

The woman's jaw dropped once again, this time in pure shock. Her own husband was now glaring at Toji, however, Toji simply smirked, continuing with his sarcastic response.

The other customers had their own reactions, some shocked, some holding in their laughs.

Other people had now been paying attention to the interaction, rather than Toji's gambling. They were all shocked by your boldness and Toji's response. Toji seemed excited, loving the little show that was playing out.

"You don't fulfil me? Ah well, guess I'll have to find someone who does," you feigned a look of sadness. "Maybe Shiu will."

Toji chuckled lowly, the game discarded, with the hand closest to you, he reached up and grabbed your chin. "No, doll, Shiu won't, but, let's play a game."

"What game?" You asked. His grip on your chin was gentle yet firm, you could see a smirk across his lips yet also a dangerous glint in his eye, his own type of way to say he was being serious, but also excited.

The others who were watching simply watched in curiosity, this was quite the show.

Slowly, he forced your head to turn, until you were staring at the woman's husband. "You're going to tell me if you think these men here can fulfil you, alright? Let's start with him." Toji told you.

Toji's voice was low and firm, the other woman was now staring at you, she clearly couldn't believe this was actually happening. The husband of the other woman now had a scowl on his face, he wasn't pleased by Toji using his wife to prove a point.

However, Toji's tone changed to a more loving one, as you could tell his grip on your chin was gentle, not wanting to hurt you by mistake.

You let out a hum as you thought, eyeing the man and ignoring the copious amounts of glares you got. “I mean, I guess but he doesn't seem like he has stamina, y'know. Not someone who could last more than a round."

The other woman could be heard making a choked noise as the other men burst out laughing at your comment, some were shocked by how blunt you were being.

Toji didn't even try and hide it, he laughed. He found it all hilarious, he loved every moment of it. He loved watching all the men look at you, some seemed jealous, others intrigued, and some shocked. He took pride in that, they could look but never touch.

Toji could see the scowl on the man's face, clearly pissed. He knew you were still going to go off, Toji was loving this whole thing, but he was also very much aroused by it.

You felt him steer your face until you faced another. "And him?"

Toji held your chin in place, letting you look directly at the man. The man seemed a bit older, a well dressed fancy man, probably some sort of office worker or something.

That's when you heard the loud choking noise once again, Toji had to stop himself from laughing, this was amusing to him. The older man sat slightly frozen, looking directly at you and then at Toji.

You smiled at him. "I'm sure he could, he has grey hair so he's older, and must be more experienced."

The other woman couldn't speak, she was in complete shock that you kept going and now it seemed you were actually considering it. Toji smirked, feeling his grip on your chin slightly tighten.

The older man had a surprised look on his face, though he was more smug now, he did like the idea.

"One more, doll," Toji said before moving your head until you faced the last man. "Now him."

Now you faced the last man, a younger man with blonde hair and a well dressed suit on as well, who was trying to control his expressions.

"No, too young," albeit him looking your age. "Probably would last three seconds."

You could hear the two other men laughing once again, the other woman was completely speechless at this point, probably ready to snap at any minute.

Toji couldn't stop himself from laughing along with the men, it was like watching a train wreck. He then made the game just a bit harder, pulling your chin back to him.

"Okay, now the actual last one. What do you think? Think I can satisfy you?" He asked, staring into your eyes.

You could see the glint in his eyes, it was clear he loved having all the other men looking at you, as if you were his possession.

Toji was excited, he loved seeing the faces on the other men and loved the way you spoke to them.

"You might have to show me, Toji, once we're home."

Toji smirked, letting a small chuckle slip from his lips, he knew he had it in the bag. His hand moved from your chin to your thigh, patting it gently. He was getting a little hot and heavy from the current scenario.

This entire show had the whole casino intrigued, men were beginning to stare at you as if they had any shot.

"Oh, doll. Why wait? Clearly these people think I'm...subpar." The word tasted like poison in his mouth.

He glared at all the men, though he had his signature smirk still on his face. He began to rub his hand up your inner thigh, his gaze never once leaving you as he spoke.

Toji chuckled lowly, as if he was mocking the men. He knew they never had a shot with you anyway.

"Right now?" You whispered, a gasp caught in your throat as his hand moved higher.

His smirk grew wider, you could see the lust in his eyes now, he loved the way you spoke, he loved how you were playing along now.

He leaned in close to you, his voice a low tone as he replied. "Right now, doll."

Almost out of reflex, your legs spread, giving Toji more access to where you yearned him.

Toji loved watching the reaction from everyone else, how they were all still watching. Meanwhile, his fingers grazed you through your clothes, he was a tease.

He felt himself beginning to grow excited from others looking at you and the fact he knew you were also being turned on from it.

Toji glanced around, noticing the men were starting to stare more and more at you. He loved knowing that they all wanted you, but it was clear that you were his. It was only his touch that you could feel, only his eyes that you could look at.

He continued to rub his hand on your inner thighs, keeping his fingers barely touching you. He then leant back before grabbing the crystal glass and downed the drinks, at the same time his fingers shifted, now running over your clothed core before he slammed the glass down.

With a long sigh, Toji reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out the shiny, black gun. "If anyone here tries to object or even stand up, I'm putting a bullet between your eyes. Now we wouldn't want the lovely ladies to see that, now would we?" Toji said to the men.

The men sat quietly, seemingly intimidated by the threat, though their eyes remained on you. You could see them staring, they had a mixture of jealousy, sadness, and shock.

Toji loved the current scenario, the men's reactions to you, watching all of them squirm in their seats, just because they knew they couldn't have you. It was exciting for him.

You groaned, feeling the patch in your underwear and the pressure Toji applied grow.

Toji smirked. You were his, and it was clear no one could take you away. He could see the other men begin to shuffle in their seats, as if trying to hide their obvious excitement.

He turned his head to look at one of the many bodyguards Toji hired. "Kick everyone out but these at this table." He briskly said to one.

The bodyguard began to herd the rest of the men along with their wives out the casino. Some of the men were still shooting glances your way, but others were trying to avoid making eye contact with Toji. It seems his reputation as a mafia boss is still well known.

Toji smirked once again, looking back at you, his fingers continued to rub you through the fabric.

Now it was quiet, except for your soft whines, having pairs of eyes watch you, or avoid you.

"I don't feel very fulfilled, Toji." You whined, raising your hips to push yourself closer to his fingers. Toji chuckled, loving how you sounded, how desperate you were for his touch. He loved seeing the other men react to your noise, they wanted you as much as he did, yet he had you all to himself.

He then began to rub you even more, he wanted to see the other men become jealous.

"So greedy." Toji tutted, sliding his hands to the edge of your panties to pull them to the side.

He licked his lips as you continued to make small whimpers. You could tell by the look on his face that he loved how this whole scenario was playing out, he loved watching all the men stare as his finger teased you.

He knew how jealous they were, he also knew that only he could give you what you wanted, not them.

A loud curse flew from your lips when his calloused fingertips found your aching clit. "Fuck, Toji."

Toji smirked, the other men were completely jealous as they watched the scene. He chuckled as he began to rub you in small circles, enjoying the sounds you made.

You could see by their faces how they wished this was them, but it wasn't, it was Toji, only him. And that drove him wild, as did those noises that flew from your mouth.

Toji continued rubbing you, loving how you kept making noises for the men to hear. The men still had their eyes on the scene, seemingly not knowing what to really say or even not daring to say anything at all, lest they meet Toji's wrath. A few men tried to move their attention elsewhere from you, but it was obvious that it was difficult.

"Come here baby, sit on my lap."

He removed his hand, glistening with your arousal, and allowed for you to climb on his lap, back facing him, before your legs spread and his fingers went back to the previous actions.

Now on his lap, Toji could see and hear everything the men were watching or not reacting to. You could see their faces, filled with jealousy, sadness, and pure anger that it wasn't them with you. You were all his.

As Toji began to rub you again, his lips landed on your neck. He wanted to mark you in front of all of them, to show you belong to him and him alone.

"Open your legs for me wider, doll. Let them see that fucking pussy." Toji instructed as his other hand went to hike your dress up your hips.

You could hear the men shift in their seats as they watched, some of them were trying to get comfortable, you could see by their flushed faces that they were completely jealous, but wouldn't even dare look away.

You moved the way Toji asked, his fingers sliding along you, as the other men watched the display. Toji loved being the only man you could ever want or

His fingers moved down, now prodding at your weeping hole before pushing in two of his thick fingers, cold ring pressing against your thigh.

Toji let out a groan at the sound it made. "Hear that boys? That's the sound of fucking success."

The other men watched as you made noises of pleasure that Toji earned.

You moaned, feeling his fingers curl and push against that delicious spot within you. "Oh my god, Ji!"

You could feel his smirk against your neck, he loved seeing the men's expressions on their faces. The way they saw what you could do for him, how you could moan for him.

He chuckled lowly, not wanting to make a loud noise. He loved that they watched, unable to help but stare.

Your soft lips fell open and your back arched. Toji groaned, you squirming against him was providing some pleasure to his aching erection.

He continued to thrust his fingers in your pulsating cunt. Toji knew the other men wanted you as much as he did, and loved every second of this, it sent him on a power trip.

"Mm, my pretty little wife," Toji purred into your skin, tongue dotting out to lick over the teeth indents on your skin. "Show these boys how I make you feel real good."

The men watched as Toji began to tease your skin, some of them wishing they were Toji, but they weren't. They could watch, but they could never have. Toji loved calling you his, he loved being able to call you his wife, he loved doing it all while the men watching, seeing what you did for him, what you provided for him.

Your head fell back. "You're so good to me. I—ah—love how you make me feel!"

His grip on your thighs tightened, enjoying how you fell against. Toji loved showing off how you couldn't be anyone else's no matter what anybody thought.

"My good little wife, you sound so pretty." His fingers pumped in and out of you at rapid speed, wet sloshing sound echoed into the velvet of the casino.

Toji eyed the man to his left, seeing he was visibly turned on.

"You. Are you enjoying my wife's reactions? Does seeing her get pleasured arouse you?"

The man's face turned a deep red, completely caught in Toji's gaze, as the other man noticed what was happening, he shot a small glare at the other. However, you could see the mans eyes were completely on what you and Toji were doing.

He remained quiet, not daring to admit his arousal, but also unable to turn away. Toji clicked his tongue. "I asked you a question, boy."

The man swallowed, a lump in his throat as he spoke, in a quiet voice, as if ashamed. "Yes..." He said, not making eye contact with anyone, not even looking away from the display, unable to turn away.

Toji nodded, a grin splitting his face. "Good, and you?" He turned to ask the older man who'd been staring at his lap.

The older man sat there, his face flushed as if embarrassed or ashamed. He gulped before answering, knowing if he didn't that he would suffer the wrath of Toji. He cleared his throat, "I...am." He replied, his voice barely holding it together. He couldn't look away either, he had grown attached to how Toji and you were.

"Yeah, how could you not?" Toji asked rhetorically, fingers still ramming into you, sending waves of pleasure to course through your veins before he looked at the woman's husband. "Now you, are you enjoying the sight of my pretty wife?"

The woman's husband sat in his seat, trying to avoid everyone's stares and not look at the lewd display the two of you were showing. He cleared his throat as he replied, a small tinge of bitterness behind it. "No, absolutely not." He said, though he was completely lying.

Toji knew it, you knew it, and everyone who saw could tell. Toji wanted a reaction.

Toji let out a sound, it was almost a growl. "No? You don't like my wife?"

The man swallowed, clearly lying. "No, I don't." He continued to lie, though his eyes seemed to move to look down a bit, the sounds of your pleasure as Toji worked you filling the air, filling that man's ears.

"To…ji…l want to cum!" You whined, withering on his lap, feeling a fire burn in your lower tummy.

Toji smirked, he could tell that it was starting to drive the man mad, his eyes couldn't keep away. Toji wanted to rub it in, so bad as he continued to please you.

You could hear the man groan as you moaned, the men all began to have flushed appearances on their faces.

Toji loved it all, all the jealousy, jealousy from men watching his wife be pleasured by him, it made him feel powerful. You could hear Toji chuckle low as he whispered to you, leaning to your ear as he kept his voice low, so only you could hear you. "Say it louder for me, doll?"

You mewled, your vision going hazy, making the casino lights blue into one bright mess. "I wanna cum, Ji! Need to cum on your fingers—aw fuck— please!"

Toji loved how you reacted, but he loved more how the men were jealous. As you said your response, all could see they were getting antsy.

One by one their eyes darted to different locations, some of them even began to bounce their legs slightly, as if getting impatient.

"Shh, doll, I got ya. But first I need to talk to this gentleman, okay?" He said to you, planting a kiss below your ear before facing the woman's husband again. "So again I ask, do you have a problem with my wife? Do you not like her?"

The man continued to look away, he knew you were off limits, so was his wife. He kept his expression as best as he could. He cleared his throat, "I don't find her attractive, nor do I like her." He replied.

The other men were all growing frustrated, one of them shifting in their seat almost every other minute, as if they wanted to leave.

Toji chuckled, his fingers curled into once more, having you see stars. "Ya hear that, doll? He doesn't like ya. What a fool."

All you could see in that moment was stars, pleasure coursing through your body as Toji hit your sweet spot without mercy.

The woman was beginning to get jealous as well.

“'Ji! ‘Ji! so close!” You moaned.

Toji loved the way you called his name as you felt pleasure, it drove him wild.

Toji could see the men were growing envious, he loved seeing their glances, the way their fists were clenched. He loved the way their legs were shaking in their chairs, desperate to give into the pleasure they saw you in.

"I hear ya. Cum for me doll."

You knew Toji wasn't going to deny you. Meanwhile, all the men could hear your call of pleasure as your body tensed on his lap.

Some of them could see a bulge growing as they sat, trying to hide the fact it aroused them to watch. The whole ordeal made Toji feel in charge, made him feel like he was in control, he was addicted to it.

"Fuck!" You screamed, orgasm crashing down on you like a tidal wave. As you cried out, a low groan from many of the men were heard in the room, you could tell by the sounds of men shifting in their seats that they were getting antsy. Toji was loving you and the attention the men were giving, he knew that you were only his.

There was a look of pure jealousy in the woman's eyes as you cried out, the man's wife trying to hide her jealousy with a poker face, but Toji could see right through it all, loving every second of showing you off to

Everyone, you were his and he loved showing it off to people. The men were growing jealous, their faces red, their fists clenched, the sounds of groans and grunts filling the room, the woman had a jealous expression on her face, as did the other ladies who arrived before the situation started.

Toji pumped his fingers in and out of you until you slumped, blissed out. He extracted his hand, fingers glossed with your cum, craning his neck to look at the man.

“Ya sure ya got a problem with her?”

The man couldn't control his facial expressions, jealousy apparent in his eyes as he stared at the gloss on Toji's fingers.

The men seemed to grow antsy, some seemed angry that they couldn't have you, others jealous and annoyed by the situation. However, it was a mixture of both from the man who sat before Toji, his words slipping out before he could think.

"I said she isn't that attractive." He said in a snappy tone.

"That's unfortunate." Toji sighed, hand shooting out to grab his gun, flicking the safety off before cocking it to the man and without a blink of the eye, shot him in the chest, the sound resonating in the casino.

You could hear the men shout as the sound of the gun rang out, blood hitting the ground. A dead body laid limply on the chair, however the men didn't seem to move, as if in shock at the sudden turn of events. Though some of their eyes drifted to the sight, as if they were happy he was no longer the threat.

Toji placed it back down, the gunmetal wet with your arousal now before his lips found your neck. "For the record, doll. I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world." He whispered to you.

Your heart fluttered. "Thank you, baby. I think you're the most handsomest man ever." You replied, twisting your body around to face him, legs cradling his waist.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you close as you sat on his lap. A small hum of appreciation escaped his lips as you called him the most handsome man. He had a small smirk on his face, loving the fact that the men sat there and watched him hold you, loving how you belonged to no one other than him.

"I'm the luckiest too. Not everyone gets to have a wife like you." He raised a thumb to caress your cheek

His words sent you crashing forward, slamming your lips onto his, fingers curling around his collar while his around your waist and in your hair.

Toji could taste the lipstick on your lips, the taste he had fallen in love with over the years, the way your taste is mixed in with his. The way your fingers curled around his collar and in his hair, your body against his. He loved every second, he held you close, he held you so only he could have you.

Not a single man could touch you without suffering a fate similar to the man laid on the ground.

Toji held you close, his tongue dancing with yours, his hand on the back of your head holding you, making sure you didn't slip away. "Hmph...Toji?" You asked softly, pushing yourself closer to him.

His eyes stared into yours, he hummed to let you know he was listening, though he didn't remove his hand from the back of your head.

"I don't think they got the message enough. Show them how you really pleasure me." You purred, reaching a hand between the two of you to squeeze at his clothed bulge.

His breath hitched, you could feel him twitch as you did. A smirk grew on his face, loving you, loving how you felt against him. And most of all, his gaze drifted to the men, who had all seemed to still stare.

He would make sure they got the message, that you were his, and only his. He moved his hands, pulling your face close to his as he whispered into your ear, low enough so only you could hear.

"How would you like it, doll?" His breath tickled the skin of your neck as he spoke, though he didn't hesitate to continue the moment. He knew exactly what he was planning, but would see what you wanted first.

A shiver ran through you. "I want it rough, ‘Ji. I don't want to walk for days, and l'd like everyone here to never forget...if they make it out alive."

He smirked, loving the way you answered. "My good wife, of course, I'll satisfy you." He spoke softly into your ear, before his hands slid down. He ran the tip of his fingers up your thighs while locking eyes with the men.

His fingers found your dress and in one fluid movement, he ripped it almost in two, exposing more of you to him. "Toji! I liked this dress." You huffed, looking at the slit that ran almost over your whole stomach.

Toji chuckled, his eyes staring at your almost ruined dress. "I'll buy you as many dresses as you want, doll. I’ll get them custom made if I have to." He replied as his hands moved to your thighs. He began to gently caress them, rubbing small circles, as his gaze remained on your now exposed body.

You sighed, raising your hips to access his belt. He kept a firm grip on your thighs as you raised your hips, and moved his own, as if helping you in your quest.

His eyes moved to all the men watching, his smirk still on his face. He had so much power in this moment, that only he knew.

Hastily you unbuckled his belt, desperately wanted to free him. His breath hitched with every small movement, every small pull of material that you did towards his belt. He wasn't in control of his actions, all he cared about was you. He helped you by pushing himself at just the right angle, helping you along as you unfastened his belt.

You sighed when it came undone, now tugging his pants down, boxers somewhat going with, now exposing the tuft or hair he had at the base.

He groaned, the sight of it was making it hard for him not to do anything just yet. He could see the excitement in your eyes, and could tell by the looks on the other men's faces how they wished they had this.

"Help me, 'Ji." You huffed, leaning back.

Without hesitating he lifted you up a bit, not lifting his hands from your thighs as he did so. He then began to help, pulling his pants down a bit, but leaving his underwear for the moment. "There ya go, doll." He said, his words filled with a deep tone.

You grunted, hands flying for his boxers and yanking them down, exposing his long, thick girth. It swayed back and hit his stomach, angry red tip weeping with precum.

He groaned with a slight chuckle from his lips. His breathing began to get heavier, every movement you were making was getting him more riled up.

He was starting to get excited from showing off, as well as showing how in power he was, and how you never had to worry for anything, because no one could take you from him. Your eyes moved to his, you could see his usual eyes, but also a sense of danger behind them.

You felt yourself clench at the sight, already hiking your hips up to take him.

Toji then adjusted his grip and you, shifting you so you were more on top of him and able to take him more. You could see the men's hands gripping tighter to anything as they watched the two of you.

Toji stood up with a grunt, holding you with his muscular arms as if you weighed nothing. "You ready, doll?"

You could feel the power behind those muscles, the fact he could hold you up so easily was a turn on to you, and clearly to the men. Toji kept you close and secure as he asked you.

"Uhuh, show the-show me how good you make me feel."

With a smirk on his face, he pulled up and down slightly, and then thrusted upward. He wanted to let out a groan, but was fighting it back, at this point he didn't care much how you felt, he wanted to show the men watching how he could please you, how you were his.

He held you close to his chest as he began to raise you by your thighs, using them to do most of the moving as he kept you close so he could hold onto you. The men watched closely, the way you and Toji were acting with each other, the way you seemed to melt with everything Toji did.

He used you like an object. Cock slamming into you, balls slapping against your ass, having you cry out.

"Fuck, yes!"

Toji grunted in pleasure as he continued, wanting everyone to hear you, hear how good you feel, hear how good he makes you feel.

If you looked up, you could see the looks on the men's faces, how a few of them were shifting in their seats, how they wanted to be the one getting you to make these sounds.

He held you under your shoulders, fingers flexing against your skin. He held you so securely, yet his grip was firm, like he was afraid you'd slip away. He wanted to pull you close, kiss your neck, but he also wanted the men to see everything.

So, Toji took a step forward before placing you on the betting table, cock still relentlessly bruising your cervix. One hand moved to your waist while the other swiped over your breast and pulled at the fabric of your dress, freeing your bouncing breast.

Toji's mouth watered at the sight. He brought his calloused thumb over your peaked nipple.

You could see Toji's smirk, he was almost loving watching the men who were jealous. How you had that effect on him, even as the jealous onlookers glanced your way, he still was obsessed with you.

"So gorgeous. So goddamn gorgeous." Toji praised, hand trailing over your stomach before it returned between your legs, thumb sticking out to rub away at your aching clit.

You could see Toji's eyes rake over your body as if he was taking everything in, how he felt so deeply about you. The men's eyes were also trailing all over you, how your body reacted to every small movement and touch Toji made

Your arms flailed around, crashing into the chips, sending them jostling down. "F-Fuck, 'Ji! Just like that!"

A few gasps were heard, though it mattered nothing to Toji. All he wanted to do was to make you feel good, and make the men feel as inadequate as possible because they had no chance.

His gun lay by your hip, still coated in your previous arousal, it way almost symbolic, dare I say, of the situation.

Quick, rapid gasps left your lips, you choked on moans at the same rhythm his thumb flicked your bundle of nerves. "Hah—ah—won't last long—!"

In the moment, Toji could tell you were close, that was all Toji could focus on. He wanted to show the men how you were only his, to make them jealous, to make it clear you belonged to him, only him. He kept his eyes on you, seeing pleasure roll through your body. He loved all of this, loved every second of his actions

"I know, doll. You wanna make a mess for me?" He knew he was going to bring you to a release soon, he knew you were going to be in complete bliss under him. He could still hear the sounds of discomfort from the men watching.

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" You changed like a mantra, nails digging into the material of the table.

Hearing you, feeling you, watching you, it was a complete turn on for Toji.

His breathing was heavier, not as heavy as yours, but heavier. He wanted to see you like this all the time, like this in front of everyone so they all knew they didn't really know anything and weren't worthy of a chance

He added his forefinger with, now pinching your clit. "Cum for me, doll. Need to feel my wife cum on my cock." He grunted, only for you, he knew he owned every second of this, and it was driving him wild

Pleasure wracked through you and your whole body shook as you came hard, getting your cum over Toji's cock, thighs and even the table below you.

Toji grunted as you came, you could see his eyes dark as he watched you. The other men's breathing grew harder as they watched, some of them shifted, they just couldn't look away.

You could hear the way most of them were breathing, like they were holding back from something, like they wished they were Toji, but couldn't be, they weren't worthy

"Fuck, doll. Gonna fill this greedy cunt up." Toji grunted, fingers digging into your hip before he spilled inside you.

When Toji finally reached his peak, you could hear a few sounds of relief from some of the men. However, they were all still jealous, how they wanted to be the one who was able to do this, yet they weren't.

Toji didn't move for a moment, he wanted this moment to last forever, the look on the men's faces, all of it, only for you. He let out a small grumble as he held you close, his breath could.

You could see Toji's breathing hard, he could keep going if he wanted, but he felt he had his fill. He wanted to show everyone around that they had nothing on him, all the men in the casino watched you both with jealous eyes. You could still feel his hands against your thighs, still holding you close.

With a wince, Toji pulled out, his grip grew a bit tighter around your thighs. His eyes were low, trying to catch his breath. You could hear some of the men let out groans, trying to disguise it as a cough, though it was obvious.

Toji's breathing was still heavy, his eyes still dark from the whole ordeal. He began to pull himself up to be standing, and began to pull you with him

He looked to the side, at the young man next to him, seeing he had a large wet patch on his crotch. "Shit, doll. Fucked ya so good the boy creamed his pants, heh."

The man’s face was bright red, the fact that he had made such an obvious reaction, but couldn't hide it very well, was obvious. You could see the men trying so hard to maintain their composure, but it was obvious to tell some of them were jealous as well.

Toji began to gently straighten his clothes up as he held you, still making everyone watch, and still showing off your body

He then grabbed you and spun you around to face the woman, even though you were dripping cum, tit still out, makeup running down your cheeks. "Tell me, girl. Does she look fulfilled to you?" He asked her.

The woman was shaking. "You killed... my husband." She whispered, trying not to look at her husbands body that limply sat next to her.

Toji clicked his tongue, and let out a chuckle, ignoring her words. "That's not answering my question,” Toji replied, his grip tightening on you slightly. "Just answer the damn question." Toji said, his tone was harsh, almost threatening.

The woman flinched at Toji's harsh tone, and let out a shaky breath. "...Yes." She muttered

Toji smirked, it moved his scar. “That's fucking right,” he turned back to you. “Come on, doll. Let's get out of here.” He slid his jacket off him, before he threw it around your shoulders.

As he slid his jacket around you, Toji began to walk, guiding you out of the room, showing you off to the men in the process. You could see the men watch you all the way out, they looked upset, envious, desperate, though they said nothing.

"Oh, one more thing," he turned to face you, one hand reaching for his pocket, other cradling your jaw. "Kiss me, doll"

You could see his eyes, still the dark, possessive eyes he had only for you. You knew he liked showing you off, but he still wanted something only he got.

When you looked at him, you thought you saw his gaze become softer, only for you. You were the only one who could see him like this, the only one who could see Toji like this. You knew you were the only one in the world who could get his attention, and he wanted a kiss.

Your lips were bruised, but still beautiful, the lipstick he loved was smeared slightly. He could see how you looked still a little dishevelled, but perfect in his eyes, to him, you were perfection. You were the only thing he would ever call perfection, he smirked softly as he waited for you to kiss him.

So quickly, you threw your arms around him and crashed your lips onto his. He kissed you back, his one free hand resting on the back of your waist. He pulled you close, still in front of everyone in the casino. Toji wanted everyone to see how you belonged to him, how he was the only one who got your kisses, your time, your everything.

"Don't turn around." He murmured to you, and that's when you heard it. The cocking of a gun, the screams, gunshots, then silence, all while you devoured the whiskey you could faintly taste on your husband's lips.

You ignored the mess behind you, focused on how his mouth moved with yours, how you could taste him through it all, how his other hand rested on the back of your jaw, how you heard his breath mix between kisses. While Toji seemed cool and calm, you could tell he was just as into the kiss as you were.

Then, he broke the kiss. "I love you, doll." There you stood, outside the casino, the cold air hitting your face, you could still feel your lipstick smeared, your legs shaky after everything, your legs slightly numb.

Toji held you close, he didn't want to let anything happen to you, he wouldn't allow it. He loved you, he had for years. You were his, only his, and he would tear anyone who got close to you to shreds.

God, did you love your mob boss husband.

on Pinterest and what do I see? crazy coincidence

&& if anyone saw how the “” looked different, it’s coz I copied this from my wattpad book i made specifically for this account 😼

[caitlinbueckers]

fuck it.

caitlin clark x reader type beat

deadass this is just a mindless blurb but i CANNOT get shy yet cocky caitlin clark meeting a rivaling fan in an elevator outttt of my mind soooo enjoy (thanks @sellawrites for being my beta fr)

SLIGHT NSFW , DIALOGUE HEAVY , BULLSHIT RAMBLINGS

18+ regardless

it would come to you as a surprise. a shock, really.

it would feel almost too crazy to be true.

you don’t think you’re losing your mind or anything, which could be a super viable option if it wasn’t for the fact that you had just left the court, game fresh in mind, still wearing an oversized UCONN t-shirt, typing quickly at your phone to express your distaste with the win that IOWA just pulled over your favorite team.

the elevator doors open and close standardly— you hadn’t realized until you’d booked the hotel just how fucking busy it is, not taking into account that it was one of the nicer hotels in the city, elite only in the sense that it took a lot of fucking flight points to even book here, exclusivity aside.

it doesn’t register to you until you’re finished with an almost exaggeratedly dramatic description of the game to your friend, corner of your lips raising slightly only in jest of your words, that you manage to glance upwards, eyes flickering quickly from the back of the hooded figure, back down to your phone. well, that is, until your eyes flicker upwards again, remaining there with a studying gaze as you try to place just where the fuck you’ve seen that hoodie before, embarrassingly candid in your incessant stare—

until the figure turns, and your suspicion is confirmed, and it kinda fucking feels like karma, or maybe some sick joke from the universe that of course the hooded figure just somehow happens to be the very player that disrespected your team the most— caitlin clark.

you’re sort of gobsmacked, so it’s silent for a beat before caitlin, almost apologetically, rushes to speak.

“sorry, i just— i saw you looking, so—“

“no, no— that’s my bad, like- i just didn’t, um, realize that i like, recognize your hoodie…?” it sounds as painful as it is to say, and somehow caitlin, despite the looks of aggression, fierceness and fervor that she displays on the court, somehow melts into this weird, sort of embarrassed looking smile that makes something foreign tingle within you. it’s endearment, surely, but interest nonetheless.

“no, that’s okay— i wasn’t, like, complaining, or anything.” it’s only then that caitlin’s eyes flicker down to your tee, and suddenly, it feels a little fucking ironic. “did you make it to the game tonight?”

self consciously, your arms cross over your chest, attempting to cover the logo, but you find an awkward, sort of quiet chuckle bubble out of you, “i did,” and, because despite the fact her team sort of fucked over your favorite team, it doesn’t take away the respect you have for her because she is tough, so you even go on to say, “you played really fucking well, by the way.”

then, it’s your turn to be surprised again, because america’s hardest basketball player is fucking blushing in front of you, ducking her head like she isn’t six feet, practically demanding to be seen, and it makes you grin despite it, admiring that even now, in her claim to fame, she’s humble.

“dude, that’s- that means a lot to me, really. it was… super fucking close, but—“ she stops herself, right as the elevator dings for your floor, right as she remembers she’s talking to a person, not a conference room, and clears her throat a little. “it was… hard.” she says, and it feels so achingly honest that it makes you pause for a second, biting the inside of your cheek. “looked hard.” you remark, watching as the smile on her face returns, timid, but there nonetheless.

then, the elevator gives another warning ding, and you feel like a fucking idiot because the doors are open and you won’t just go, and leave it at that. because, when else do people just get chances to meet people like this?

the time on your phone reads 1:24 AM.

not like you had anything else to do, anyway.

“sorry, am i like— in the way…?” caitlin is almost overly apologetic as she stands aside, and you’re quick to shake your head, mostly because yeah, she sort of was in the way, but also, because you didn’t really wanna get off yet.

“no! you’re fine, um, i was just gonna suggest maybe we could, like, i dunno— grab a drink or something, y’know?”

jesus, you felt like an idiot as soon as the words are out, and you wince, eliciting a chuckle from both you and her.

you rush to explain, “sorry, that’s like— super fucking weird, i just like, fly out tomorrow morning so i just— wanted to offer, i guess?”

but for some reason, it’s mingled with the sound of caitlin’s quick reassurance, eyes wide almost as if to make sure she’s being understood, as she says, “no, no— that’s not weird, i don’t… have anything else to do, anyway.”

the answer, though only slightly backhanded, makes your lips twitch into a real smile, and you snort, shrugging a bit. “is it gonna ruin your reputation to drink at a hotel bar?”

she’s ruthless. a fighter. a winner.

she smiles again, and it’s soft, before she shakes her head, “what reputation?”

-

you both end up too fucking drunk— the bartender only a little starstruck as you both pretend under some unspoken agreement that caitlin’s name was totally debbie and she’d never heard of women’s basketball in her life. it’s stupid, and ridiculous, and somehow you want to think it’s too good to be true that one person can be so insanely talented, and somehow not be a piece of shit— caitlin seems to prove you wrong at every point.

“dude, fuckin’— god, kate’s gonna be pissed.” the words leave caitlin’s lips in a breath of laughter, the elevator shutting behind you as your hand presses to the wall for register, shoulder bumping against her arm due to the height discrepancy that isn’t totally still making something within you stir in awe.

kate martin. you’re aware of her team enough to identify who that must be, and for only half a second do you remember that this isn’t some chick you’d met at a hotel, this was caitlin fucking clark, and it fills you with a sense of astonishment, and then, weirdly, a surge of pride.

not for any posterity reasons, but because this absolute beast was fucking giggling and smiling and feverbright from the alcohol and you’re staring for way longer than you need to because, holy shit, why didn’t you realize how fucking pretty she was earlier?

“fuck it—“ you proclaimed, loopy and still a little too unsteady on your feet as you stumble, before her hand, long and firm, calloused and warm, flies out to grasp your shoulder, “my rooms like, fuckin’ empty, dude,”

she seems surprised, almost as much as you are that you’d even offered. “is that like—? are you like, sure?” and as if to make sure she has your attention, she pulls you to her, and your eyes flutter upwards, lips parted without a sound escaping because she’s looking down at you, her hair falling from its weakly tied ponytail, and she doesn’t realize that she’s holding you tight, but you can’t pull away because you don’t want to.

your response is immediate. “duh.”

she grins. your stomach flips, for the second time that night.

and really, truly, after that it should’ve been a lot more innocent. caitlin stumbles in and collapses on your bed, looking not even the slightest tired, but with a look on her face that makes you snicker out, “what?”

it escapes her in a breath of laughter, eyes lolling from the ceiling to you, standing almost idly beside the bed as your fingers caress the bedsheets, warm only from the presence of her body a few inches away.

“wish i could do this all the time.”

it makes you frown, but your lips are still upturned, giving her a look of amusement. “get drunk?”

her own hands are twiddling with each other, before she reaches up, caresses your arm with the subtlety of an elephant, tracing over the red lines she’d left on your bicep from the elevator. it makes you fucking shiver. “no, like— meet new people and stuff. just, talking to you is like— awesome, y’know…”

you don’t know, because you’re not a college athlete, but you nod anyway, leaning over her only slightly because the last vodka cranberry is settling nicely within you, and caitlin’s starting to grin, eyes hazy and cheeks pink, as you respond, soft and just for her, “consider this a prize then? winners trophy?”

she doesn’t answer, she just laughs and then she kisses you, uncoordinated and sloppy, nothing like how she is on the court, calculated and unwavering. like this, she’s loose, strong, but wobbly as she pulls you down over her, and it’s like a fucking sixth sense that you scramble atop of her, swinging a leg over her hips like you’ve done it a million times.

though, it’s more recognizable that she’s quick, her hands racing up your oversized shirt, thumbs hard as they press against your stomach, your ribcage, the lining of your bra.

she scoffs, soft and husky against your mouth, “take this shit off.” and it’s only then, that you remember cognizantly the UCONN shirt you’re wearing, and for some fucking reason, this sudden show of confidence, the liquor somehow fueling her, makes you blush.

“fuck off— “ you’re panting, but the shirt is tugged over your head regardless, a smirk on your face, “two point wonder.”

caitlin all but fucking growls, but she’s grinning, wolfish and proud, as she thumbs over your nipples, hard and pert through the lace as she presses her hips up against you, “two fuckin’— i’ll show you two fucking points.”

and she does.

maybe her post victory adrenaline had been surging, or maybe it was just all the beers she’d housed, but you’re surprised at her energy— which was stupid considering you were looking at a girl known for her endurance, her unlimited stamina.

but holy hell, she’d just rocked the fieldhouse for all it was worth— seemed like you were next on her agenda.

it’d be hard to recount all the details. you guys were drunk, and she was like a driving, pushing force— hands snuck down the front of your shorts, fingers impossibly dexterous as they curled into you, inducing every embarrassing and pitiful sound to rip from your throat, to breathe it into hers.

you probably wouldn’t remember her voice either, husky and low, gravelly with overuse, as she asks you, “hm? how’d i do tonight? tell me.” and in a sense, it’s fucking filthy. in another, it’s almost sort of sweet. the way she says it in your neck, the way she kisses you when you trip up to say, “good— so fucking good.” because neither of you are really talking about the game, and you both know it.

you pretend like you won’t remember the way she’s gone in the morning before you wake up, nothing but a warm reminder of her body on the haphazardly arranged bed, fixtures of the night surrounding you, like your littered clothes trailing off the bed, or your body under the sheets, like the pillow she’d used as leverage when she pressed open mouth kisses against the inside of your thigh, the way she’d taken you apart with her tongue and that’s all.

you do, however, remember the number she scrawls on a napkin, with an almost laughable signature that looks worlds away from her usual, coveted autograph.

instead of her looping cursive, a simple ‘cait’ sits scratched beside it, like she isn’t the award winning, competitively, aggressively ambitious beast that you used to know her as.

for now, it’s just caitlin.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

Combat trained reader (fellow vigilante, ex-hydra experiment, whatever) who, sometimes, when Matt needs to blow off steam, will coerce him into a "friendly" sparring match- and whoever wins gets to be in charge. Sometimes it's reader, who spends the night getting matt absolutely pussy drunk, just begging to get you off one more time, whining and pleading when he can manage to put words together. Sometimes it's matt who absolutely manhandles you, needing to be touching as much as possible- hard and demanding until the noise in his head quiets and hones in on just you.

a/n: i INSTANTLY thought of that moment when you sent me this request... oh boy... what I wouldn't give to be nestled in between those thighs...

word count: 1502

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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“What? No. Why would you even suggest something like that?”

“Because, we both know it’s a sure-fire way for you to blow off some steam,” you exhaled before cocking your head, “well, that and something else…”

“Sweetheart–,” Matt went on, though when his lips parted once again, your fist was already soaring through the air. Narrowly dodging the throw, he swiftly exclaimed, “hey!”

“Just get out of your head, Matty,” you raised up both your fists, although the stubborn beast before you still stood his ground.

“I’m not gonna fight you,” he refused.

“What, you scared you can’t take me on?” you tried to egg him on, though only caused him to let out a sigh, “come on, it’s just some friendly sparring.”

His fingers briefly floated up to pinch the bridge of his nose before he then pointed out, “you do know that I could just put on my mask and hit the streets if I wanted to brawl, right?”

“You could,” you tilted your head, “but then you wouldn’t be able to immediately follow it up with the only other method that works at getting you to calm down,” a smirk twitched on your lips before you threw another punch, though this time the vigilante was faster and caught onto your arm as he blocked your attempt. Spinning you around, Matt then pinned your back to his chest, making the smile on your lips only widen, “my suggestion is that if you win, then I will do anything you want me to for the rest of the night…” you slowly guided one of his palms down over your frame, gliding it across your covered boobs to get your point across.

“And if you win?” his low voice tickled the shell of your ear.

Dragging his hand further south, you swiftly cupped his touch against your clothed core as you uttered, “then I get to have you whatever way I want…”

Slipping out of his hold just as the touch of your haven caused him to lower his guard, you then whirled around and attempted to kick him, although he dodged once again.

He was hesitant at first, reluctant while you kept on begging him to let go, reminding him of how you could take it, assuring him that he didn’t have to pull his punches. But even so, it took a while before he finally snapped and began to fight back.

However, eventually when you found yourself pinned to the ground with his weight atop of you, when all hope seemed lost, you managed to turn the tides by teasing him, tilting your head up till your lips nearly met, and just as the pending kiss sank into his soul, you flipped him around and straddled his hips.

As you caught his hands and planted them on the floor above his head, a low exhale flowed from his lungs at your victory, “you fucking cheater…”

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” you teased before leaning down to actually kiss him.

And as your fingers stayed enveloped around his wrists, you heard him murmur against your lips, “best out of three?”

“Nice try,” you chuckled as you let the tip of your nose ghost against his own, “but how about you instead just make me cum three times.”

And that’s how you ended up first sitting on his face, with the comfort of your soft thighs trembling on either side of his skull. You remained there till you had him begging to let you cum with something other than his tongue.

As you sank down upon him and his torso rose off the floor, sitting up to be adjacent to you, the manner in which you rode him at times felt more like you were just hugging him. Your pace was slow and gentle as you bounced in his lap, your arms tangled firmly around his frame so that it wasn’t just your cunt that embraced him tight.

“Alright,” you sighed as you rose from the couch, “get up,” you gestured exhaustedly to Matt in the armchair across from you, “come on, up.”

Fume was essentially puffing out of his ears at this point, as if he were a kettle about to start whistling. Slowly, he rose with a sigh, exchanging no further words as you first crossed an arm over your chest to stretch out your shoulder, warming up just ever so slightly before you then lunged at him.

You half expected him to be hesitant this time as well, but just as you tackled him and encouraging words nearly flowed from your lips, he suddenly began to fight back.

Bumping into furniture, a lamp was knocked to the floor from the tornado of your wrestling, though none of the mess managed to put a pause to either of your efforts.

And when the apartment was a mess around you both and you were rolling across the floor, Matthew managed to get a few decent hits in as he lost himself to the scuffle, clocking you across the jaw just hard enough to make your bells ring and grant him the opening to whirl you around, slotting himself in behind you on the floor, and tangling his legs around your head.

With his thighs persistent and flexing against the sides of your neck, the rest of his long legs curved over the rest of your torso, keeping your wiggling at a minimum. The pressure stayed fast as you stubbornly scrambled your brain for a way out of the hold, but just as your lights began to dim, your palm finally shot up to tap against the thick tree trunk of his thigh.

As he unfurled you from the hold, coughs cut up your panting a moment as you waited for your balance to come back to you.

“Well…” you soon uttered breathlessly as fair was fair, “how do you want me, Matty?”

Chest still heaving, his words came out as a whisper as he then murmured, “come here,” before he then grabbed ahold of you and pulled you in for a kiss.

His hands were scorching across your form as he soon plucked you up into his arms and carried you with him as he got up and began to march into the bedroom.

Dropping you down to kneel on the edge of the bed, his grip stayed rooted in the hair on the nape of your neck, fingers close to the roots as he withdrew from the fevered kiss and kept your face dangerously close to his own.

“Take this off,” he commanded in a gravelly tone, faintly gesturing to your clothing as you shared his hot breath. And once you’d scrambled to fulfil his wish, scatting your clothes to the floor, he then hazily pointed to his own attire and added breathlessly, “this too...”

It wasn’t till he was nude as well that he finally lightened his grasp in your hair and let you kiss him once again.

Growling against your lips, his fingers soon swept around to grab your jaw, though when his touch slid across your blossoming bruise, a small wince couldn’t help but rush out of your lungs.

“Are you okay?” he instantly pulled back, pausing for a second.

“Yeah, I’m good, promise,” you uttered, confident that you weren’t the only one who’d be sore in the morning after that little match, “now,” you smiled and attempted to shift his focus back upon the matters at hand, “what else do you want me to do? Let me make you feel good, baby.”

And as the corners of your lips curled up, Matt soon mirrored the expression, grinning back at you before he playfully tossed you back onto the bed.

Shadowing you onto the mattress, your feet were up by his face as he then seized your head, and grunted, “open your fucking mouth...” before muffling your whimpers on his cock.

Slobber dribbled out of the corners of your stretched lips and leaked down over his heavy sack as he held your skull with both of his hands, bobbing your head up and down like a fleshlight for him to get off with.

And as he layed back more to rest on the pillows behind him, just as his fingers began to fade from your hair, his legs instead took their place, tangling up around your head and pushing you further down upon his fat dick.

Gagging gently around him, he began to fuck your throat, though kept his strong legs locked around your skull, keeping you down, as his hips below your nose began to move, twisting up and sloppily thrusting deeper into the warmth of your mouth till your brain turned into mush.

He then twisted a bit as one of his hands shot out to split your legs further apart, making room for his touch and he swiftly sought out that little pearl, swirling it under the rough pads of his fingers till your moans vibrated around his cock in your throat.

© 2025 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[izzih22]

Write one where Paige is wrapped as a gift to azzi

The Bueckers Bundle

Note: I finally did it… hope you like it

Azzi should’ve known something was up the moment she walked into the locker room and everyone went quiet.

Not like… normal quiet. This was the kind of silence that screamed “we did something,” followed immediately by the kind of suspicious grinning that made her pause mid-step.

Caroline was sitting on the bench looking way too proud of herself. Aubrey was recording something on her phone. KK and Ice were doubled over in the corner, trying (and failing) to keep it together.

Azzi blinked. “What’s going on?”

Caroline grinned. “We have… a delivery for you.”

“A delivery?”

“Yup. Straight from the UConn elves. Very exclusive. Limited edition.”

KK practically wheezed, “One-of-one.”

Aubrey turned her phone toward the hallway. “Bring her in!”

There was shuffling. Then squeaking. Then—rolling?

Azzi turned toward the door, and her jaw dropped.

Because coming around the corner—being pushed on a rolling chair by Jana—is Paige.

Except Paige isn’t just sitting on a chair.

She is completely wrapped in shiny red-and-white snowflake wrapping paper. Chin down. Arms crossed under the paper like she’d been mummified by festive chaos. There’s even a giant gold bow stuck dead center on her chest. And a gift tag on her forehead that says:

“To: Azzi

From: The Girls

DO NOT SHAKE”

Paige’s expression is pure deadpan. “I lost a bet.”

Azzi blinks. “You… you let them gift-wrap you?”

“She didn’t ‘let’ us,” Caroline pipes up. “She said, and I quote: ‘If I lose, you can wrap me like a Christmas present, but I draw the line at glitter.’ So. No glitter.”

Azzi walks over, covering her mouth with one hand, trying not to laugh. Paige is stuck like a giant, miserable burrito of holiday cheer.

“Oh my God, babe.”

“Just take the damn bow off so I can breathe again.”

“No,” Azzi says, giggling. “This is the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

“You’re not supposed to keep your presents hostage,” Paige groans.

“But you’re so cute like this.”

“I swear to God if you say ‘unwrapping you later’ in front of everyone—”

Azzi leans in close, eyes dancing. “I was gonna say ‘unwrap you with care.’”

“Same thing.”

Caroline fans herself with her hand. “I’m physically sweating.”

KK laughs. “This is why we don’t let them sit together on bus rides.”

Jana pulls out her phone too. “Can we take a picture before we set her free?”

“No,” Paige growls.

“Yes,” Azzi says at the exact same time.

The team bursts into laughter as Paige sits there helplessly, the wrapping paper slightly crinkling when she shifts.

Azzi kneels beside her, adjusting the bow slightly. “You really went through with this for a bet?”

Paige shrugs under the paper. “I said I would. Plus, I figured you could use a win after this week.”

Azzi looks at her, something softer moving beneath her amusement. “You are the win.”

“Oh my God,” Paige mutters. “Free me before I cry and the paper rips.”

Azzi carefully peels the tape from the front, undoing the paper just enough to reach her hands. She unwraps her slowly, like she’s handling something delicate, even though everyone around them is still giggling and snapping photos.

When Paige’s arms are free, Azzi gently pulls her into a hug. “Thanks for letting yourself be the joke.”

“Anything for you,” Paige mumbles, half-grinning against her shoulder. “But next time? I’m wrapping you.”

Azzi grins, pulling back just enough to kiss her cheek. “Looking forward to it, babe. But for the record? No one else is allowed to unwrap you but me.”

The team loses it.

And Paige just sighs, leans into her girl, and mutters, “I love you.”

[ablobwhowrites]

Baker y/n shenanigans

(some silly stuff I wanted to write for baker y/n as this office worker who's underpaid and overworked needed to be written again.)

I imagine when baker y/n was put into the new world. They thought it was a dream at first until later on realizing it wasn't as they where happy that it wasn't then the panic set in on that y/n's body changed into a cookie and that everything they own is now in this world and their pets as well but turned into animals that fit the cookie world. Y/n wonders why they didn't just leave back to their world without taking them and the cookies just keeping making excuses to try and justify taking y/n to their world and they definitely didn't have a whole plan that y/n is now declared dead in the human world so that they have no problem of keeping y/n here forever. Baker y/n is basically powerless in the cookie world as like they were just a regular ass human and they haven't gotten any magic or special movies like all the other cookies but rye cookie gave y/n a gun for protection but every cookie was against it but rye didn't want y/n walking around defenseless plus they have something of hers to keep so she sees it as a win win and y/n comes over to have the cookie help the use it.

Y/n cookies palette also changed as the jelly's now taste like meat which freaked out y/n because certain sugary foods that would be absurdly sweet and absolutely horrible to eat now just taste like regular meals y/n has eaten and y/n finds this very weird and off putting sometimes but y/n can't get away with eating like how they use to as the health cookies are bascially horrified and concerned on how y/n was able to scarf down 3 cup noodles and call that dinner and no water but a sugary drink!? That won't go unchecked any longer as y/n is forced to have three healthy meals or side dishes every day and if y/n decides not to eat sometimes like they use to back in their world to save money. They will sit down with y/n to watch them eat and the plate will be clean.

Y/n also had their office uniform on when coming into the cookie world so they wanted to have comfy clothes but didn't want to burden the cookie with a meaningless task but every fashion making cookie saw that y/n had one outfit and that is a absolute no go for them. The baker should have outfits that would make them absolutely stunning, so y/n was forced to go to every fashion boutique, tailor shop, ect, that the cookies had to fill this wardrobe and now y/n has punk rock styles from Currant Cream Cookie, the trade mark [A.C.I.D] clothes from Sour Belt Cookie, Hand made, hand embroidered suits, gowns and anything she sees that will be absolutely stunning on the baker from Chocolate Bonbon Cookie, Y/n then has outfits that are absolutely amazing but are more in the area of the brand Romantic Sugar by Pastel Meringue Cookie and y/n wears it sometimes by is scared of accident tearing it or getting something on it and staining it, the only fashion cookie who would listen to y/n's requests was Mont Blanc Cookie listened with the utmost attention and made some casual clothes for y/n but she couldn't resist and made some of her extravagant outfits for y/n but she still keeps her sketches of y/n around her shop. Y/n's closet is filled with clothes and y/n always has to choose carefully or else they'd have the fashion cookies argue amongst eachother of which of their clothes is the best (and in the cookie cities, y/n gets swarmed by paparazzi because well they are the baker and that makes them oddly famous somehow. Y/n doesn't understand it.)

Y/n doesn't have a car anymore or any way to have quick transportation and the kingdoms aren't very walking distance friendly as many go for horses and carriages or other means of transportation but one cookie always offers, Street Urchin Cookie as she does carry a helmet now because of y/n and sometimes drives a bit more fast on purpose cause y/n being terrified of going so fast will cling to her for dear life.

Y/n gets invited to hollyberry's celebrations a lot and y/n once tried berry juice and then ended up them getting drunk and basically shit talking their boss then ended up getting emotional because they never felt so nice at a place before then passed out later into the night. Thats the night y/n slept over at the kingdom cause bro wasn't making it back to their house.

The beast also tried to kidnap y/n when they first came to the cookie world but where unsuccessful but will try again.

(that's it for my yap session today! Hopefully you guys enjoyed but if you want more please don't be shy and request any ideas for stories or y/n's you have! But for now please stay safe and drink water!)