#and of course both the ones on the playlist are by | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lividstar · 3 days ago

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ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ THE CITY OF LOVE

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎ Chapter Twelve: Ma Meilleure Ennemie

ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ ㅤ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎< previous | next >

masterpost

៚ wc: 10k (total: ???)

៚ fluff, angst, fashion designer!hongjoong x model!reader (ft. personal assistant!seonghwa & photographer!wooyoung), slowburn, strangers to lovers, soulmates au if you squint, do french people actually say bonjour irl?

៚ playlist !

៚ The night is electric, filled with fleeting glances, moments of tension, and unspoken words hanging in the air. You find yourself caught in a delicate dance between the past and the present, as old wounds resurface in the most unexpected ways. But just when you think you’ve built a wall strong enough to keep it all out, everything comes crashing down. Who can you trust when even your own heart feels like a stranger? Will you finally face what’s been lurking in the shadows, or will you keep running, hoping the past will stay buried? The answers are closer than you think—but are you ready to hear them?

a/n: the way you can tell this is a belated new yearʼs special... also peep the references hehe

tags: @beabatiny @babymbbatinygirl @vcutparis (ik youʼre not actually on my taglist but i wanted to add you here haha 😅)

Paris glowed as if it were at the very edge of heaven. Streets lined with twinkling fairy lights stretched endlessly, shimmering like stars brought down to earth. The chill of winter softened by the warmth of countless candles flickering in shop windows and the golden glimmer spilling out of bustling cafes. Children darted between the legs of laughing adults, their giggles carried on the crisp evening breeze. Couples strolled hand in hand, their faces illuminated by both the soft light of the decorations and the sheer joy of the season. Fireworks were being prepped along the Seine, their bright colors barely restrained, waiting for the stroke of midnight to explode into celebration.

Yet, amidst all this joy and revelry, there was a quiet heaviness—a void that neither the beauty of Paris nor the energy of the celebrations could fill.

You sat at the edge of your bed, the faint hum of the heater in your apartment the only sound breaking the silence. The festive cheer of the city below felt like a mockery of the hollow ache in your chest. The loneliness that clung to you was suffocating, made worse by the distance between you and Hongjoong. You tried not to think about him, but every laugh that slipped in through your window or every stray cat that crossed the street below brought him to mind. He was everywhere and nowhere all at once, his absence more palpable than any presence could ever be.

Seonghwa’s name suddenly flashed across the screen of your phone, pulling the anchor of your thoughts back to the shore. For a moment, you considered ignoring it altogether—you werenʼt in the mood to do anything at all today, anyway, let alone celebrate the upcoming year. But knowing him, he wouldn’t just leave it at one call—he’d keep trying until you answered. With a shaky breath, you swiped to accept.

“Hello?” Your voice came out quieter than you intended, and you cursed yourself for the way it wavered.

“Hey, I missed you!” Seonghwa’s voice was warm, almost too warm. ��I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”

You forced a small laugh, but it sounded hollow even to your own ears. “As if I could. But… why the sudden phone call?”

There was a pause, brief but charged, before he spoke again. “We’re having a New Year’s Eve party here tonight—and you should definitely come!”

Your heart sank. Of course, he’d call about that. You already knew the agency’s New Year’s event was a big deal, but you hadn’t planned on going. The thought of being in the same room as Hongjoong, pretending everything was fine when it very clearly wasn’t, was almost unbearable.

“I don’t know, Seonghwa...” you began, but he cut you off.

“Listen,” he said gently, “you’ve been cooped up for too long. It’ll be good for you to get out, be around people.”

You bit your lip, your grip tightening on the phone. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. Being around people wasn’t the problem. Hongjoong was the problem.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” you said, hating how weak you sounded.

Seonghwa sighed, and you could picture him running a hand through his hair, the way he always did when he was trying to be patient. “Itʼs because of Hongjoong, isnʼt it?”

Your breath hitched, and the silence that followed was damning. Of course, he knew. He always knew.

“He’s not going to bother you,” Seonghwa said softly. “I’ll make sure of it. You can stick with me the whole night if you want. Hell, I’ll even block his line of sight if it’ll make you feel better.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, though it was brief and tinged with sadness. “I don’t think that’s physically possible, Seonghwa.” Your fingers tightened around the edge of your desk, your chest tightening. “And it’s not just that,” you admitted. “I don’t know if I can handle pretending to be okay. I feel like I’ll just ruin the mood.”

“Ruin the mood? Are you kidding?” Seonghwa’s laugh was light but not dismissive. “You’re the highlight of any room you walk into. Trust me, no one’s expecting you to put on a show. Just be there.”

Before you could respond, Wooyoung’s voice burst through the receiver. “Hey, I know this phone number!” he beamed before straight up snatching the phone from Seonghwa. “How come youʼre picking up Seonghwaʼs calls and not mine?”

Your eyebrow went up in confusion. “Youʼve been calling me?”

“No, but you should be able to telepathically sense my soul whenever I want you to call me.”

“Wooyoung, give me back my phone!”

“No way! She’s laughing now, thanks to me.”

Despite yourself, you smiled, warmth seeping into the cracks of your heart. “Well, hello to you too, Wooyoung.”

“Hey there,” Wooyoung greeted. “Now, listen up. You’re coming tonight. No arguments. We’re saving you a seat and everything. And you know what? If you cross paths with Hongjoong and things get weird, just yell my name, and I’ll come running. Deal?”

Your smile faltered at the mention of Hongjoong yet again, but Wooyoung didn’t give you a chance to dwell on it. “I mean it,” he continued. “You’ve been MIA, and honestly, we miss you. So, get dressed, look stunning, and show up. That’s an order.”

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa scolded lightly, “let her decide on her own.”

“Nope,” Wooyoung countered. “She’s coming. End of discussion.”

You wanted to go. You really did. But the thought of walking into that office, of seeing Hongjoong and pretending like everything was fine... It felt impossible. The wound between you wasn’t just fresh—it was still bleeding, raw and unhealed.

What if he ignored you again? What if he didn’t?

That was the cruelest part. You didn’t know what was worse—his cold indifference or the possibility that he’d look at you with anything resembling regret.

Your thumb hovered over the screen, contemplating an excuse to end the call. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Seonghwa. You knew he’d keep his word, stay by your side, shield you from whatever awkwardness might arise. But it wasn’t enough.

Because no matter how much you wanted to deny it, this wasn’t just about Hongjoong avoiding you. It was about the hollow ache in your chest, the way your mind kept replaying that almost-kiss, that devastating moment when he stepped away.

You hated how much you missed him. How much you still cared, despite everything.

But maybe you were being selfish. Maybe you needed to stop wallowing in your own misery and try to move on. Maybe—

“Still there?” Seonghwa’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft but insistent.

“Uh… yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he said, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone. “Just think about it, okay? I really think it’ll do you some good. And if it gets too overwhelming, I’ll take you home myself. No questions asked.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, though you weren’t sure you meant it.

“Promise you’ll think about it?”

“Promise.”

“Good,” Seonghwa said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “And hey, Wooyoung wants to say something to you.”

Wooyoung’s voice came back, loud and chipper. “If you don’t come, I’m eating all the desserts. Every single one. You’ve been warned—mind you, half of these are your favorites!”

You laughed, a genuine one this time. “Noted.”

Meanwhile, at the office, Hongjoong found himself standing beside a table, his hands busy arranging patterned fabrics, though his thoughts were anything but focused on the task at hand. Wooyoung’s voice carried across the room, loud enough to be heard by everyone nearby, including him, making Hongjoong look up in mild surprise, only to see him and Seonghwa engaged in a phone call.

As soon as a laugh echoed faintly through the air from the other line, Hongjoong’s entire world seemed to grind to a halt. It wasn’t even loud—just a soft, almost timid sound—but it hit him like a hurricane.

That laugh.

It was yours.

There was no mistaking it, even after the days of silence that stretched between you like a vast ocean. His hands froze, the patterned cloth he’d been meticulously arranging slipping from his grasp as his breath caught in his throat.

It was ridiculous, really. He’d heard your laugh countless times before, in moments both mundane and extraordinary. But now? Now it felt like a lifeline, a fleeting tether to something he’d been desperately trying to push away yet couldn’t help but crave.

God, how long had it been since he’d heard it? Days? Weeks? It felt like a lifetime. And to think, he’d spent all that time convincing himself that distance was the right thing to do, that staying away from you would somehow make things easier for both of you. What a joke. He wasn’t sure what hurt more—the hollow ache of missing you or the self-inflicted wounds of his own stubbornness.

As your voice murmured something indistinct on the other end of Seonghwa’s phone, Hongjoong felt the sharp sting of longing cut through him like glass. He wanted to hear it more clearly, to hold onto every word, every inflection, as if they could somehow fill the empty spaces you’d left behind. And damn it, he wanted to be the reason you were laughing. Not Wooyoung, not Seonghwa—him. He wanted to be the one who could coax that sound from you, the one you’d turn to when the world felt too heavy or too bright.

For a fleeting, irrational moment, he wanted to march across the room, grab Seonghwa’s phone, and press it to his ear. He wanted to say your name, hear how you’d respond, even if it was with confusion or anger. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t.

What good would it do? What could he possibly say to you that would make up for everything? For the cold shoulders, the deliberate avoidance, the way he’d pulled away just when things had begun to shift between you two? He was a goddamn hypocrite, and he knew it. He hated himself for it.

Because the truth was, he didn’t want to keep you at arm’s length. Not even a little. Every fiber of his being screamed against the distance he’d forced between you, begged him to close it, to reach out, to pull you back into the space he’d so selfishly carved out for you in his life. But then that ugly, insidious voice in his head would creep back in, reminding him why he’d done it in the first place.

What could he offer you? He was a man with flaws, with baggage he wishes not to let you carry. And you... you deserved more than he could give.

So he kept his distance, even though it killed him. Even though he could feel the cracks widening in the carefully constructed wall he’d built around himself. He told himself it was for your own good, that he was protecting you, even as the lie twisted like a knife in his gut. He didn’t believe it anymore—not really. But admitting that would mean admitting how badly he’d messed up, and he wasn’t sure he had the strength for that.

Hearing you laugh again, even from afar, was both a balm and a wound. It reminded him of everything he was missing, everything he’d willingly let slip through his fingers. He wanted to fix it, to fix everything, but the fear of making things worse kept him rooted in place.

The voice of another employee of his—Yunho, broke through the fog in his mind, pulling him back to the present. “Hongjoong? You okay?”

He nodded stiffly, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah. Just... tired.”

But as Yunho turned back to his task, Hongjoong’s gaze lingered on Seonghwa. He watched as his friend smiled faintly, clearly amused by something you’d said. And for just a moment, the ache in Hongjoong’s chest flared into something sharper—something dangerously close to jealousy.

He shook his head, forcing the thought away. This was his choice, wasn’t it? He’d made his bed. Now he had to lie in it, no matter how much it hurt.

The call ended with Wooyoung’s playful taunts still echoing in your mind, the warmth and humor of his voice a stark contrast to the silence that quickly reclaimed your apartment. You lowered your phone, letting it rest loosely in your hand as your gaze wandered to the window. Outside, the city lights twinkled in celebration of the approaching New Year, but their brightness felt muted, distant. The faint hum of life beyond the glass only highlighted the silence around you, the stillness wrapping itself around your shoulders like a heavy, unwelcome shawl.

You leaned against the window frame, staring out at the faint reflections of your own eyes in the glass. How long has it been since you let yourself enjoy anything? Since you’d laughed without reservation, without that ache trailing behind it? Days? Weeks? The timeline blurred in your mind, consumed by the fog of isolation.

It wasn’t just the absence of Hongjoong that weighed on you, though his presence—or lack thereof—was an unshakable specter. It was the guilt of shutting out Seonghwa and Wooyoung, the two people who had always been there for you, unwavering and unrelenting in their support. They didn’t deserve your cold shoulder, yet you had given it to them anyway, consumed by your inability to process your own emotions.

But even that guilt paled in comparison to the ache you felt for Hongjoong.

You missed him. There was no denying it, no point in pretending otherwise. You missed his laugh, his rare but heartwarming compliments, the way he’d tilt his head when he was deep in thought. The void he left in your life felt insurmountable, and yet you had no idea how to bridge it. Every attempt at reconciliation seemed doomed from the start, the tension between you so thick it felt almost tangible.

What if I go and ruin everything? The thought sliced through you like a blade, sharp and unyielding. Would your presence at the party make things worse? Would it sour his mood, dampen his excitement for the New Year?

But then, Seonghwa’s voice came back to you, his gentle encouragement echoing in your mind. He was right—you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. You couldn’t keep hiding away, letting the world pass you by while you drowned in your own sorrow.

With a sigh, you pushed away from the window and headed toward your closet. Each step felt like an act of defiance against the part of you that wanted to stay buried under the covers, but you forced yourself forward. You weren’t going for Hongjoong, you told yourself firmly. You were going for Seonghwa and Wooyoung. For yourself.

As you scanned your closet, fingers brushing over the fabric of your clothes, you tried to suppress the part of you that hoped—prayed—that Hongjoong might notice you. That he might see you, really see you, and understand just how much you missed him.

But that was just wishful thinking, wasn’t it?

Before you could dwell on it further, you grabbed an outfit and set it aside, picking up your phone to send a quick message.

I’ll be there.

Thank you for the encouragement :)

Tell Wooyoung we’ll be competing on who can eat the largest amount of food by the end of the party!

The response came almost instantly.

knew you would cave in lol

this is woo btw

and don’t be too confident, i won’t even give you a chance to win >:)

A small smile tugged at your lips as you read the message. You set your phone down, grabbed your outfit, and headed to the bathroom. Tonight, you weren’t going to let the weight of the past hold you back.

But deep down, you couldn’t deny the truth.

You wanted to see him. Even if it was from a distance.

—

The clatter of chairs and tables echoed through the expansive room as Hongjoong stood at the center of the chaos, his sharp eyes tracking every movement. Employees walked around, fixing decorations, adjusting lights, and arranging catering setups. The air was filled with the subtle hum of excitement, yet he felt oddly detached from it all. He issued instructions left and right, his voice professional and commanding, but beneath his composed exterior, his thoughts churned relentlessly.

The memory of Seonghwa’s phone call from earlier kept replaying in his mind, an endless loop of voices and laughter that wasn’t meant for him to hear. He had caught snippets of Wooyoung’s playful banter, the sound of your distant chuckle, faint but unmistakable. He’d wondered if they were trying to convince you to come to the party. He prayed they were. The idea of you not being there made his chest feel hollow.

He tried to focus on the present, on the tasks at hand, but his mind stubbornly returned to you. Were you debating whether or not to show up? The last time you spoke, things were left unresolved, painful and raw. He knew you had every right to avoid him. Hell, if he were in your shoes, he wouldn’t blame you for staying as far away as possible. But selfishly, he wanted to see you.

No, he needed to see you.

His stomach twisted at the thought of you deciding not to come. He couldn’t bear it. He imagined what you might wear tonight, how effortlessly stunning you’d look, and the ache in his heart deepened. If things had been different—if he hadn’t been such an absolute asshole—he would’ve spent the evening showering you with compliments, unable to hold back the admiration he always felt when you were near.

But he’d ruined that.

The guilt gnawed at him, almost unbearable in its intensity. He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. Were you going to take the bus? He hated the thought of you braving the crowded streets alone on a night like this. A part of him toyed with the idea of showing up at your apartment unannounced, offering to drive you himself. But he dismissed the thought almost immediately. You hated him—he was certain of it. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse.

Still, the worry lingered. He had no idea if you were okay, if you’d even decided to leave your apartment.

“Hyung, do you mind? You’re in the way,” a sharp voice interrupted his spiraling thoughts. Hongjoong turned to see Wooyoung, sleeves rolled up as he adjusted the trays of pastries on the table. The younger man’s expression was irritated, though that was nothing new.

“Hey, wait—”

Wooyoung turned with an exasperated look, his brows furrowing as his eyes landed on Hongjoong. “What now?” he asked flatly. “I’m busy, you know.”

“Please,” Hongjoong began, his tone unusually soft, almost pleading. “Just hear me out.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his face. “This better be worth my time. What is it?”

Hongjoong swallowed hard, his throat feeling dry. “I wanted to apologize,” he said quietly. “For that day. For how I acted. I was out of line, and I feel fucking horrible about it. I shouldn’t have taken my frustrations out on you, and I know everything I said was unjustifiable. I understand your behavior towards me, and I—”

Wooyoung studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed and shrugged. “I didn’t really mind your attitude that day. You were being a jerk, yeah, but I’ve dealt with worse. What really bothered me then, though, was the way you were treating her.”

Hongjoong flinched at the mention of you, guilt hitting him like a tidal wave.

“So, if we go by my logic,” Wooyoung continued, crossing his arms, “since you’re still acting like a bastard towards her, I’m still mad at you.”

Hongjoong nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. “I know. You’re right.”

Wooyoung’s gaze softened slightly, though his tone remained firm. “So, what’s the catch, then? What do you want from me?”

“I just…” Hongjoong hesitated, glancing away. “Is she coming tonight?”

Wooyoung blinked, clearly taken aback. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

Hongjoong exhaled slowly, struggling to find the right words. “Because…” He paused, his shoulders slumping. “Because I need to know. If she’s here, I—”

“You’ll stay away from her,” Wooyoung cut in sharply, his voice cold. “I’m not letting you ruin her night. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Hongjoong nodded without hesitation. “I understand.”

Wooyoung studied him for a moment before his expression softened just a fraction. “If my guess on what youʼre so worried about is correct—Seonghwa will be picking her up. She won’t have to worry about the bus or anything like that.”

Relief flooded Hongjoong’s features. “Thank you.”

As he turned to leave, Wooyoung grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Listen to me, hyung,” he said, his voice low but firm. “This is your only chance to fix things with her. If you screw this up, you’re going to lose her forever. Do you understand?”

Hongjoong’s chest tightened as he nodded. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Wooyoung said, releasing his arm. “Don’t waste it.”

—

You stood in front of the mirror, your reflection staring back at you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. The sleek fabric of your outfit hugged your beautiful form in all the right places, the color complementing your complexion perfectly. Your hair fell just the way you wanted it to, framing your face delicately. Yet, no matter how much you adjusted the hem of your dress or smoothed down nonexistent creases, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Your hands nervously fidgeted at your sides before moving to smooth your hair again. “Does this even look good?” you muttered under your breath, biting your lip. The anxious energy buzzing inside you was unusual—normally, you weren’t the type to obsess over your appearance. You had a certain confidence about these things, but tonight felt different.

You turned to the side, checking the outfit from another angle, then turned back to face the mirror. Why were you so worked up over this? It wasn’t like you were trying to impress anyone. But the longer you stood there, the more the answer lingered just below the surface, teasing you with its obviousness.

Deep down, you knew.

Hongjoong.

You shook your head at yourself, scolding the foolishness brewing in your heart. Why did you care so much about what he might think? Why were you secretly hoping he’d notice you? You let out a humorless laugh, pressing your fingers against the cool surface of the vanity. You didn’t even know if you wanted him to approach you tonight. The memory of your last interaction was still fresh, a wound that hadn’t fully scabbed over.

But some small, ridiculous part of you hoped—prayed—that maybe, just maybe, things could be different tonight. That maybe he’d look at you the way he used to, with that spark of admiration in his eyes. Maybe he’d find the courage to talk to you, to apologize properly, to explain why he’d hurt you the way he did. Maybe he’d—

Your thoughts were interrupted by the buzz of your phone on the countertop. The screen lit up with Seonghwa’s name and a message that read:

I’m outside.

Walking to the window, you peered outside and saw him leaning casually against his car. When his eyes caught yours, he grinned and waved enthusiastically, his free hand raised high above his head. The sight of his childlike excitement made you chuckle softly, and you returned the wave.

Grabbing your purse, you cast one last glance at the mirror, adjusting your earrings before slipping on your heels. As you made your way out the door, you kept telling yourself to stop overthinking. Tonight wasn’t about Hongjoong—it couldn’t be. This was your chance to let go of everything, if only for a few hours.

Inside the elevator, you leaned against the wall, staring blankly at the buttons as the floors ticked by. When the elevator stopped on the third floor, Madame Dupont stepped in, her sharp eyes immediately lighting up when she saw you.

“My dear!” she exclaimed, her voice warm with surprise. “Look at you! You look stunning.”

Her genuine excitement brought a shy smile to your lips. “Bonsoir, Madame Dupont,” you greeted, inclining your head politely.

“What’s the occasion? You don’t usually dress up like this,” she teased, though her tone carried more curiosity than mockery.

You hesitated for a moment, shifting your weight. “My friends invited me to a New Year’s party. I thought… maybe it’s time I went out and let myself breathe a little.”

Her expression softened, her wrinkled eyes glimmering with something akin to pride. “That’s wonderful to hear, my dear. You deserve it, truly.” Before you could say anything else, she pulled you into a brief but firm hug, her perfume—sweet and floral—wrapping around you like a blanket.

When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, she squeezed your hand gently. “Have fun tonight,” she said with a smile. “You’ve earned it.”

You nodded, touched by her words. “Merci, Madame Dupont. I’ll try.”

The cool night air greeted you as you stepped outside. Seonghwa was quick to spot you, his entire face lighting up as he waved like an overexcited child. “There she is!” he called out, his voice laced with exaggerated enthusiasm.

You laughed, walking toward him. “You didn’t have to make it that obvious that you missed me, you know.”

“Oh, but I did,” he said with a grin as he opened the passenger door for you. “It’s been far too long since we hung out properly.”

You slid into the car, murmuring a soft “thank you” as you adjusted your dress. But as you settled in, the familiar setting triggered a memory you weren’t prepared for—the last time you were in Hongjoong’s car. You remembered the way he’d glanced at you during that drive, how the silence between you had been heavy but not uncomfortable. How things had been… easier.

The smile you’d been wearing faltered slightly. You really missed him.

But tonight wasn’t about him. You couldn’t let it be.

Seonghwa slipped into the driver’s seat and immediately noticed the change in your demeanor. Though he didn’t say anything, his brows furrowed slightly in concern. “So,” he began, steering the conversation away from whatever was on your mind, “you’ve missed a lot lately.”

“Oh?” you asked, forcing your focus back to him.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone turning light and teasing. “You missed Wooyoung accidentally sending a mass email to the wrong group. He meant to send it to the marketing team, but instead, the IT department got a very detailed report about catering options.”

You chuckled softly. “Let me guess—he blamed it on the system?”

“Of course he did. And don’t even get me started on Mingi and his latest prank. He replaced all of Yeosang’s post-it notes with ones that had motivational quotes in Comic Sans.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the image. “Sounds like I’ve missed quite a bit of chaos.”

“Oh, you have,” Seonghwa agreed with a grin. But as the conversation lulled, your curiosity got the better of you. “What about Hongjoong?” you asked hesitantly.

Seonghwa’s expression softened, a knowing look crossing his features. “He’s… different lately,” he admitted after a pause. “Not as talkative as he used to be. He’s professional, sure, but there’s something missing. He’s not himself.”

Worry gnawed at you, but Seonghwa reached over to pat your arm reassuringly. “Don’t think about it too much tonight, okay? Let’s just focus on having fun.”

You nodded, though his words did little to ease the tightness in your chest. You wished it were that easy. You truly did.

—

Hongjoong’s fingers curled around the edge of the sink, his reflection staring back at him with a mixture of frustration and nervousness. The soft hum of the fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, matching the unsettled rhythm of his thoughts. His hair refused to cooperate, each strand mocking his futile attempts to tame it. He combed his fingers through the dark locks for what felt like the hundredth time, letting out a low growl of irritation.

“Why now?” he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes at the rebellious strands. Of all nights, it had to be this one where he couldn’t look as put-together as he wanted.

But deep down, he knew it wasn’t just about the hair. No amount of fixing or adjusting could cover up the restlessness gnawing at his chest. Tonight was different. Tonight, you were here.

The thought made his stomach twist in an uncomfortable knot. His gaze flickered down to his hands, knuckles white against the sink’s edge.

“Why do you care so much?” he asked himself, the question lingering in the air like a stubborn shadow. He already knew the answer—he just didn’t want to say it out loud.

You hadn’t spoken in weeks, not properly. Not since the argument that had left things hanging in the air, unresolved and heavy. And yet, here he was, fussing over his appearance like a teenager before their first dance.

It was foolish, wishful even, but a part of him hoped that tonight… maybe things would be different. Maybe your eyes would find his across the room. Maybe you’d exchange even just a glance.

The muffled sound of Wooyoung’s voice drifted through the door, jolting him out of his thoughts.

“You’re finally here!”

His body stiffened.

You were here.

“Shit,” he hissed, running a hand over his face before straightening his posture. He took one last look in the mirror, smoothing out the creases in his blazer. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

The moment he stepped out of the bathroom, the atmosphere shifted. The harsh fluorescent lights dimmed, replaced by the soft glow of multi-colored LEDs that washed over the venue in a dreamlike haze. Music played faintly in the background, mingling with the hum of conversations and the occasional burst of laughter.

But Hongjoong wasn’t focused on any of that. His eyes darted through the crowd, scanning the sea of faces for one in particular.

Before he could spot you, the stage lights flickered on, illuminating the small platform he had set up in the center of the room. Seonghwa stood there, microphone in hand, his presence commanding attention as he greeted the crowd.

“Good evening, everyone!” Seonghwa’s voice was warm and inviting, drawing cheers and applause from the guests. “Thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate not just the end of the year, but also the incredible milestones we’ve achieved together. It’s an honor to have so many talented and inspiring individuals gathered here.”

The applause swelled, and Seonghwa smiled, pausing for effect before continuing. “Now, I won’t keep you from enjoying the night, but before we get started, I’d like to call up someone very important to say a few words—our host, the man behind it all… Kim Hongjoong!”

The room erupted into cheers as Seonghwa gestured toward him, and Hongjoong felt a surge of anxiety spike through his chest. He wasn’t one to get stage fright, but the thought of speaking while you were out there, somewhere in the crowd, made his throat tighten.

He forced a small smile as he stepped onto the stage, his usual confidence faltering under the weight of his own thoughts.

“Thank you, Seonghwa,” he began, his voice steady but lacking its usual vibrancy. “And thank you all for being here tonight. This year has been nothing short of extraordinary, and it’s all thanks to the hard work and dedication of everyone in this room.”

His words were genuine, heartfelt, but as he continued, his eyes couldn’t stop flickering across the crowd, searching. He tried to keep his composure, but the way his gaze kept shifting didn’t go unnoticed by a few observant guests.

“Tonight is not just about reflecting on our successes but also about looking forward to the future. I hope this evening will serve as a reminder of the creativity, passion, and drive that brought us all together. Let’s welcome the new year with open arms and make it even better than the last.”

The applause was loud, appreciative, but Hongjoong barely heard it. His eyes finally landed on you.

And you were looking back at him.

For a moment, everything else seemed to blur—time, sound, the crowd around you both. His heart stuttered in his chest, and his grip on the microphone tightened.

“I…” He paused, clearing his throat to steady himself. “I hope you all have fun tonight. Thank you.”

The crowd cheered again as he stepped off the stage, but the moment had already left him shaken. Across the room, Wooyoung nudged your shoulder gently. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts, and turned to him with a faint smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Wooyoung didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? You kind of zoned out there for a second.”

You hesitated, your eyes flickering toward the stage where Hongjoong had stood moments ago. “It’s just… there are so many high-profile people here. I feel like I don’t belong.”

“Bullshit,” Wooyoung said bluntly, earning a surprised laugh from you. “Sorry for the language, but yeah, that’s total bullshit. You belong here just as much as anyone else.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not.” He crossed his arms, giving you a pointed look. “Look around. People are literally noticing you left and right. You’re the star tonight.”

Before you could respond, a nearby conversation caught your attention.

“Who’s that stunning mademoiselle over there?” a woman whispered, her gaze fixed on you.

“She’s one of Mr. Kimʼs newest models,” her assistant replied, earning a smile of approval from the woman.

Wooyoung grinned triumphantly. “See? I told you.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile. “You’re reaching, Woo.”

Before he could argue further, someone from across the room called out his name, and you turned to see a tall man waving enthusiastically.

“Soobin!” Wooyoung called back, his face lighting up.

You nudged him gently. “Go say hi.”

Wooyoung hesitated, glancing back at you. “Are you sure? My priority tonight is—”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. “Go. Catch up with your friend.”

It took a little more convincing, but eventually, Wooyoung relented, leaving you alone in the crowd, telling you to stay safe before heading towards the other corner of the room. And as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted the chance to see Hongjoong—keeping Wooyoung around would lower your chances. You weren’t sure what you’d say or do, but the pull was undeniable.

The music swelled, filling the air with a hauntingly beautiful melody that sent shivers cascading down your spine. You recognized the song instantly—Ma Meilleure Ennemie.

Its delicate notes carried a tension that mirrored the one steadily growing in your chest. Each rise and fall of the rhythm felt like it was echoing the flutter of your heartbeat, unstable and erratic.

The lights dimmed and flickered in sync with the music, casting shifting hues of red, blue, and purple over the crowd. The once vibrant room was now a kaleidoscope of moving silhouettes, their faces obscured by the moody lighting and the fog created by the haze machine. You moved cautiously through the throng of people, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

With every step, you felt smaller. The towering presence of high-profile figures, their laughter and animated conversations, created an invisible barrier that was difficult to breach. These were people who belonged here—artists, designers, and models who were not only established but celebrated. They mingled with ease, their confidence palpable, while you felt like an imposter wandering through a world you didn’t quite belong to.

You clenched your fingers around the fabric of your dress, the smooth satin offering little comfort against the gnawing self-doubt creeping into your thoughts.

“Excusez-moi.”

A deep voice startled you, and you turned to see an elegantly dressed man with salt-and-pepper hair and a sharp, tailored suit. He looked every bit the part of a veteran in the fashion industry.

“You are one of Monsieur Kim’s models, no?” he asked, his French accent rolling off his tongue smoothly.

You forced a polite smile, nodding. “Yes, I am.”

“Ah,” he said, his smile warm but scrutinizing, his eyes scanning you as if evaluating your worth. “I thought so. You have a certain... presence. Unique.”

His words, though intended as a compliment, made your skin prickle with unease. You managed to thank him before he moved on, but the encounter left you feeling even more out of place.

As you continued walking, more people stopped you. Some were kind, their words of admiration genuine, but others were probing, their questions sharp and loaded.

“How long have you been modeling?”

“Which agency represents you?”

“Do you think you’re prepared for a career this demanding?”

The last question lingered in your mind long after the conversation ended, gnawing at the cracks in your composure. Am I prepared?

Someone brushes past you, stepping on your foot in the process. You hissed in pain, stumbling back and clutching your arm to steady yourself.

“Apologies!” the person called out over their shoulder, but their apology was lost in the sea of voices and music.

You backed away further, retreating to the edges of the room where the lights weren’t as harsh, and the crowd wasn’t as suffocating. The thrum of conversations and laughter seemed louder now, drowning out the melody of the song that once comforted you.

Your breathing grew shallow, the edges of your vision narrowing as anxiety took root. Your hands trembled slightly as you pressed one against your chest, trying to ground yourself.

Maybe you shouldn’t have sent Wooyoung off…

The thought barely formed in your mind before you decided to leave the crowd altogether. You turned, intending to slip away unnoticed, when a warm hand closed gently around your forearm.

“Wait—”

The touch was familiar, so much so that your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

It was Hongjoong.

Slowly, you turned to face him, and the sight that greeted you nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

Even under the shifting, dim lights, he looked strikingly handsome. His dark hair, though slightly tousled, framed his sharp features perfectly. The tailored blazer he wore fit him impeccably, accentuating his slim build and exuding an understated elegance. But it wasn’t just his appearance—it was the way he held himself, a quiet intensity in his gaze that felt almost magnetic.

He was slightly out of breath, his chest rising and falling as if he’d been rushing. You couldn’t help but wonder—had he been searching for you? The idea made your heart clench with conflicting emotions.

“I…” You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come. You had hoped to catch a glimpse of him tonight, to admire him from a distance and leave it at that. But now, with him standing this close, your resolve crumbled.

Hongjoong’s grip on your arm loosened, but his hand lingered as if afraid you might vanish if he let go completely. “Please,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the music and chatter around you. “Can we talk? Just for a moment.”

You hesitated, glancing around at the crowd before meeting his gaze again. “Hongjoong, I don’t think this is the time or place—”

“Then tell me when,” he interrupted, his voice firm but laced with urgency. “Tell me where, and I’ll be there. Just… don’t push me away like this. Please. I’m begging you.” His hand tightened ever so slightly on your arm, his desperation evident in the way his brows furrowed, his lips pressing into a thin line as if to hold back words that might spill out too quickly.

Your hesitation deepened, your heart warring against your mind. This is a mistake. He’s a mistake. But… why does it hurt to see him like this?

“I donʼt…” you began, your voice faltering as your resolve threatened to give way.

“I know I’ve hurt you,” he continued, his voice trembling with emotion. “I know I’ve failed you in ways I can’t even begin to explain. But if you walk away now, if you don’t let me fix this—” His voice broke, and he exhaled shakily, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Don’t let this end here. Just one conversation. That’s all I’m asking for.”

You bit your lip, your chest tightening at the rawness of his plea. You wanted to say no, to walk away and preserve the fragile walls you’d built around yourself. But the sincerity in his eyes, the cracks in his usually composed demeanor, made it impossible.

This is dangerous, you thought, your mind screaming at you to pull away. But your heart had already decided.

You sighed, nodding slowly. “Fine,” you whispered, the single word barely audible over the noise around you. Relief washed over his face, and for a moment, you hated how much it softened something inside you.

The moment Hongjoong’s hand tightened around your arm and he led you toward the nearest exit, your feet faltered. Panic mixed with confusion, and you instinctively pulled back, halting him in his tracks.

He turned to face you, a flicker of concern flashing in his eyes as he noticed your resistance. His brows knit together, and his lips parted to question you, but you spoke first.

“Hongjoong,” you began, your voice a mixture of firm and hesitant, “you have guests. This is your event. You can’t just leave them here like this. What if they notice you’re gone? What if it leaves a bitter taste in their mouths? They’re—”

“I don’t give a damn about what they think,” he interrupted, his tone sharp yet desperate. His voice cracked ever so slightly, and it was enough to make you pause. “To hell with it if they think I’m irresponsible. I don’t care if they’re disappointed, or if they whisper behind my back. All I care about is you—just you. I need you to talk to me tonight—that’s all that matters. So, please…”

The intensity in his gaze, the way his voice broke on the word please, made your chest tighten painfully. You sighed, defeated by his resolve but unwilling to make this easy for him.

When he reached for your arm again, you took a step back, hiding it behind you as you shook your head. “You don’t have to drag me with you,” you said, your tone cold but your heart racing. “I have two feet that function perfectly fine, you know.”

For a moment, his face fell—hurt flashed across his features so quickly it was almost imperceptible, but you saw it. And as much as it made guilt twist in your stomach, you knew you had every right to set boundaries. After all, he had been the one to build the fire between the two of you, only to extinguish it when you were most vulnerable.

Still, he nodded, accepting your terms without argument. A couple of minutes later, you found yourself stepping into his office on the highest floor of the building.

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of the city lights seeping in through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Papers were scattered across his desk, some even littering the floor. It wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t the meticulously organized space you remembered from your last visit. The disarray was a stark contrast to the Hongjoong you knew—or thought you knew.

He closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the silence. For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to suffocate.

��I know,” he began, his voice low and rough, “that I’ve been a mess. That I’ve been unfair to you.” He turned toward you, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “I’m not going to stand here and pretend like I haven’t made mistakes. I have. I’ve made so many mistakes.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leaning against the desk to steady yourself. “Then why?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended. “Why did you do it? Why did you build this thing between us only to tear it apart?”

Hongjoong’s shoulders sagged, and he ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “Because I was scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “That night… at your doorstep… I almost kissed you. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But I was standing at the edge of a cliff, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to fall.”

His words sent a sharp pang through your chest. “So you weren’t scared to fall when you were dancing with me at the flower shop?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “When you’d look at me like I was the only person in the world? When you kept lighting the fire between us? You weren’t scared to do all of that, but the moment we almost kissed, suddenly you’re scared?”

He flinched at your words, and for a brief moment, you saw the guilt etched into his features.

“I was scared of what it meant,” he confessed, his voice rising slightly in desperation. “I was terrified, because I didn’t know what would happen if I let myself fall for you. I thought if I stayed away, I’d be sparing you—”

“Sparing me?” you interrupted, your voice rising as tears stung your eyes. “Sparing me from what, Hongjoong? From feeling like I was nothing to you? From crying myself to sleep because the one person I trusted to stay decided to leave? You weren’t sparing me. You were sparing yourself.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. “I know, and I hate myself for it. But I couldn’t—”

“Couldn’t what?” you snapped, your chest heaving as the floodgates burst. “Couldn’t handle the thought of being vulnerable? Couldn’t deal with the possibility of getting hurt? Newsflash, Hongjoong: you hurt me. You left me to deal with everything on my own while you ran away. What are you so scared of?”

“I’ve spent so much of my life building walls, focusing on my work, convincing myself that I didn’t need anyone. But you…” He took a shaky step toward you. “You made me want more. And it terrified me.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” you snapped, your voice cracking as tears burned at the corners of your eyes. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt me? You pulled me in, Hongjoong. You made me believe in something I didn’t think I could have. And then you pushed me away like I was nothing.”

He winced, his head hanging low. “I know,” he said softly. “I know I was an asshole. I know I shouldn’t have waited this long to talk to you. But—”

“It’s not too late,” you cut him off, your voice quieter but no less firm. “It’s just that you could’ve done this sooner. You had every chance to speak to me, and you didn’t. Why only now?”

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours for a sign of forgiveness. “Because I’ve realized that I can’t keep running from this. From you. I don’t care how long it takes or how hard it is—I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. Just tell me how, and I’ll do it. Please…”

His voice broke, and the raw emotion in it shattered the last of your defenses. All the pain, resentment, and longing you had bottled up came rushing to the surface.

“You don’t get to just say that and expect everything to be okay!” you cried, your voice rising as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Do you know how many nights I stayed up thinking about you? About what I did wrong—and why I wasn’t enough?”

Hongjoong reached for you, pulling you into his arms despite your attempts to push him away. You pounded your fists weakly against his chest, but he didn’t let go. His hands cradled the back of your head, his lips pressing softly against your temple as you sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’m so, so sorry. You were always enough. More than enough. This is on me. All of it.”

Your fists stilled against his chest, and you let out a choked sob, clinging to him as all the anger and frustration poured out of you.

He held you tighter, his presence grounding you even as your emotions threatened to drown you. And in that moment, you realized that as much as you wanted to hate him, as much as you wanted to push him away—you couldn’t. Not entirely.

The silence between you stretched thin, taut like a wire ready to snap. Hongjoong’s arms remained firmly around you, his hands gently gripping your arms as if afraid you might slip away. His gaze bore into you, raw and pleading, but you couldn’t look at him without feeling the sting of all the nights you cried over his absence.

“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he began, his voice hoarse as though the words clawed their way out of him. “But I’m here now, and I’m begging you. Just—please, let me fix this. Let me fix us. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You pulled back slightly, enough to meet his eyes, and the sight of him broke your heart all over again. His eyes were glassy, brimmed with tears he was clearly fighting to hold back. The vulnerability in his expression was a stark contrast to the confident, composed man you thought you knew.

“And what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if no matter how hard you try, it won’t erase the pain you’ve caused? Do you even realize what you did to me, Hongjoong?”

“I do,” he said quickly, embracing you even tighter as though afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “I know I broke you. I know I left you alone when you needed me most. And I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I swear, I’ll never make that mistake again. Just tell me how to fix this—tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You say that now, but what about when things get hard again? Will you run away then too? Will you leave me to pick up the pieces while you figure out how to handle your emotions?”

“No,” he said firmly, his voice rising with desperation. “I won’t. I know I’ve been a coward, and I know I don’t deserve your trust, but I’ll earn it back. I’ll prove to you that I’m not the same person who hurt you. I… Iʼll admit I really thought placing a wall between us was the solution. I thought I was doing the right thing. But I was wrong. So fucking wrong. I’ve spent every single day regretting it, hating myself for the pain I caused you. And I’m here now because I can’t keep living like this—I can’t keep living without you, goddamnit.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave, threatening to pull you under. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into the safety of his arms, but the scars he left on your heart made it impossible to trust him fully.

Still, you wanted to.

“I hate you, you know,” you said, your voice trembling as the words spilled out like shards of glass. Each one was sharp, cutting through the silence, through the air that seemed too thick to breathe. Tears ran down your cheeks in an unrelenting stream, and you didn’t bother to wipe them away. Your fists clenched at your sides, the tremor in them betraying the rawness of your emotions.

“I hate how you left me in the middle of a path I was unfamiliar with,” you continued, your tone rising with every syllable. “I hate how much of a coward you are. I hate how you made me believe there was something between us, only for you to act like there wasn’t. I hate how you kept me wondering why I wasn’t enough for you to stay.”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you felt yourself breaking all over again, like a dam collapsing under the weight of too much pressure.

“But…” You paused, choking on the lump in your throat. “But mostly, I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.”

The admission hung in the air, a fragile truth that seemed to silence everything around you. And as the words left your lips, you let your arms find their way around his figure, clinging to him with a desperation that mirrored the ache your heart felt.

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. His arms came around you almost instinctively, holding you tightly as though afraid you might slip away if he loosened his grip even slightly. The faint, familiar scent of him—the one you’d tried so hard to forget—engulfed you, pulling you deeper into the spiral of emotions you’d fought to keep at bay.

You idiot, you thought to yourself, you absolute fool.

You had come here tonight to forget him, to push the memories of him into a corner of your mind you could lock away forever. Yet here you were, sobbing into his chest like the heartache of the past weeks hadn’t been enough. You hated how much you’d missed him, how much you still craved the safety of his arms even after everything he’d put you through.

Hongjoong held you close, his own chest tightening with every sob that wracked your body. He rested his cheek against the crown of your head, his breath hitching as he tried to steady himself. How could he have done this to you?

The sight of you like this—so fragile, so broken—was a knife to his heart. And knowing he was the one who had caused this pain made the guilt nearly unbearable. He’d spent weeks convincing himself that pushing you away was the right thing to do, that he was protecting himself, protecting you. But standing here now, with you trembling in his arms, he realized how horribly wrong he’d been.

The fears that had haunted him for so long—the fear of being abandoned again, of opening his heart only to have it shattered—no longer mattered. Because nothing, no ghost from his past, no amount of uncertainty, was more important than you.

He didnʼt care anymore. He didnʼt care about anything but you.

He closed his eyes, his lips pressing softly against your temple. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “For everything. For hurting you, for being a coward. I’m so sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You sniffled, lifting your head slightly from his chest. His hands moved instinctively, one cupping your face while the other rested on your waist, steadying you. His thumb brushed away the tear tracks on your cheek, and when you finally met his gaze, the raw vulnerability in his eyes made your breath catch.

Hongjoong looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, his own tears threatening to spill over. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came out. He didn’t need to speak; the emotions in his eyes said everything.

And against your better judgment, against every ounce of self-preservation you’d tried to cling to, you found yourself leaning in.

The moment your lips met, it was as though the world outside ceased to exist. The kiss was slow but full of urgency, a culmination of every unspoken word, every suppressed feeling, every moment of longing that had built up between you.

Fireworks exploded in the distance, the sound echoing through the air as the clock struck twelve.

The kiss was not rushed, nor was it perfect; it was trembling, raw, and unpolished. It was the kind of kiss that could only come from a place of deep yearning, a place where words had failed and only touch could suffice.

Hongjoong’s lips were soft against yours, moving with an unspoken gentleness that contradicted the storm of emotions swirling between you. It wasn’t about passion or desire—it was about connection, about pouring every unsaid word and buried feeling into this single, fragile moment. His touch was tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, but when you didn’t, he kissed you deeper, his hands steadying you as if to anchor you both.

The world around you seemed to dissolve into nothingness. The distant sound of fireworks faded into a muffled hum, the sharp chill of the night forgotten. All that remained was the warmth of his lips and the way your heart thundered in your chest, not from nerves but from the overwhelming sensation of being wholly, undeniably seen.

His hand cupped your cheek with a reverence that made you feel like you were something sacred, something he was terrified of breaking yet couldn’t bear to let go of. His thumb brushed against your skin, a subtle, tender movement that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

For the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest began to ease, replaced by a bittersweet warmth that spread through your entire being. The kiss wasn’t just an apology; it was a confession, a plea, a promise. It carried every moment you’d spent apart, every sleepless night, every tear you’d shed. It was as though he was trying to stitch back together every broken piece of your heart, not with grand gestures but with the simplicity of his presence and the sincerity in his touch.

And you kissed him back just as softly, your movements hesitant but full of meaning. It wasn’t forgiveness—not yet—but it was a surrender. A quiet acknowledgement that no matter how much he had hurt you, no matter how hard you had tried to let him go, he was still there, embedded in every corner of your heart.

You could feel his tears against your skin, hot and unrelenting, as they mixed with your own. Yet, he didn’t pull away; he stayed, pressing closer as though afraid that even a breath of space might shatter this fragile moment. His lips trembled against yours, betraying his vulnerability, his desperation, his overwhelming relief.

It was soft, painfully so, like the brush of a feather or the first tentative notes of a love song. And yet, it carried the weight of everything—the pain, the longing, the fear, and the undeniable truth that no matter how broken the two of you had been, you were still standing here, together, trying.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads nearly pressed together, both of you breathing heavily, as though the kiss had stolen every ounce of air from your lungs. His eyes met yours, glistening with unshed tears, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw him—truly saw him. Not the man who had hurt you, not the coward who had run away, but the boy you had once fallen for, the boy who was still fighting to be worthy of you.

Coming to terms with what just happened, your cheeks flushed, and it seems he still noticed it despite the dim, ambient surroundings engulfing both of you, given the way he smiled.

And in that moment, as the bright hues of fireworks lit up the sky, you realized something: this wasn’t an ending. It wasn’t even a beginning. It was a moment suspended in time, a fragile, imperfect truce between two hearts that refused to let go of each other, no matter how much they had tried.

🎞️ — lividstar.

#౨ৎ﹒ノ﹒lividstar．#ateez fluff #ateez x reader #hongjoong #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong x reader #ateez angst #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong x reader #hongjoong ateez #hongjoong angst #park seonghwa #jung wooyoung

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sarcasticsweetlara · 1 day ago

Text

If The World Ends We Go Together

Hunger Games au! District 7 Rebel! Jihoon x Female District 7 Rebel! Reader

Summary: Jihoon and you knew how to survive together, it was simple and steadfast, all throughout the years since your childhood to the harvest of tributes to the beginning of the Rebellion. You meant to keep it that way, even if it meant ignoring your feelings, but how long can it last as the dangers around you make you question how you could ever live without Jihoon?

Warning and Contents: Suspense, friends to lovers, both Jihoon and Reader think being in a relationship will put them in danger. Fluff. Reader is taller than Jihoon. Reader has aphasia (mutism due to damage to the brain language centers) and Jihoon and her communicate mostly through sign language. Jihoon with an axe; Bisexual! reader (if you are biphobic then dni), Reader with dark skin, appearances of Park Sunyoung of F(x) and Seokmin, Minghao and Seungkwan of SVT. Blood, non graphic flashback of a beating as a child, fights with guns and knives, hunting, Jihoon and reader hunt a bear together; burnings, almost drowning, and not accurate mention of CPR.

- xxx - oral dialogue

"xxx" sign language

*xxx* written notes

{xxx} flashback

Word count: 11,251

Image credit to: @vitaminkyeom

This is Part of the SVT CATCHING FIRE COLLABORATION

Playlist: Born to die - Lana del Rey; Ruby - Woozi; Cardigan - Taylor Swift; Snow on the beach - Taylor Swift; All my love - SVT; Dust - SVT Vocal Unit; What Kind of Future - Woozi; Die with a smile - Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars; Cinnamon Girl - Lana del Rey; Find you - Ruelle; War of Hearts - Ruelle; Margaret- Lana del Rey

MY MASTERLIST

You would never say you were a doctor. As much as you knew how to avoid certain herbs in case someone tried to poison you, how to brew concoctions and remedies, you could never truly diagnose someone.

That’s why at this moment, you were mad at Jihoon.

He had brought over to your shared home/office whose space could barely fit two people, a little girl whose bleeding left eye needed a specialist not a mere learning herbalist of medical plants.

- She needs the care Y/n, I wouldn't ask you if I wasn't sure you can handle it - while you were flattered by his words it also conveyed a little self-doubt given you barely knew how to keep people alive and how to heal some ailments, but you guessed you would have to act quick to help the poor child who did not deserve at all what happened to her.

And that’s how you found yourself going over the books you had stolen from a rebellious doctor killed by peacekeepers.

The book seemed to have more than 1000 pages and even if you were not an expert on how to treat eye ailings you really wanted to help her.

Finally you landed on the page you needed and tilting your head while turning to look at Jihoon you signaled for him to lay the girl on the small bed of your room that actually only fitted two persons so you had to move carefully to not startle her and not drop your herbs while you took your time analyzing the words to understand them better.

You put the bottles you were carrying on Jihoon’s hands and squeezed his hands turned fists to assure him of how important they were… and of course they were since inside of them were many ingredients essential for this specific concoction; sitting on your small desk you began chopping ingredients one by one signaling for Jihoon to put them back in place, then a while after giving your new patient a glass of water for her to drink as you put all of them together on a pot letting it boil with half a cup of water, adding on them a drop of another bottle you turned to look at the girl again but this time you saw the look on Jihoon’s face as well, he was staring at your little patient in an aloof way as if he was remembering something.

You couldn’t help but grimace. You knew what Jihoon was reminiscing, you woke him from his stupor touching his shoulder and indicating with a nod for him to take a seat by your side, as he sat, you moved to gently open her left eye and drop with a small dispenser two drops of the concoction you prepared.

"I'm here" Jihoon blinked and you made sure he looked at your eyes as you admonished him. "You are fine, I am fine" your hands were steady and your eyes never left his, your gazes were locked untilJihoon blinked again and sighed and let his head fall in the air.

"I know" he lifted his head as he signed "It's just" his hands were trembling "it's so unfair, she's only a child!" He signed quickly, which indicated how frustrated Jihoon felt.

"But you helped her" you squeezed his hands "she will be fine" Jihoon finally relaxed his posture and squeezed your hands back as he gave you a small smile. Jihoon didn't like touching people, but with you it was different, it always was.

It was fair to say that since meeting Jihoon and his father who worked as lumberjacks, your best friend Sunyoung and you were amazed by Jihoon's skills with the axe and soon the three of you became friends, while Sunyoung preferred to watch his axe skills and learn how to climb trees and create traps, and Jihoon knew how to defend himself with an axe you learned how to brew remedies.

It was hard for Sunyoung and you to read and be aware of your surroundings since at a young age you both had been beaten by a peacekeeper which ended up costing your abilities to speak and to keep balance and fully comprehend reading and writing, but soon Sunyoung and you learned how to ground yourselves through touching things, while Sunyoung always carried leave bracelets and anklets to ground herself by touching them you did the same but with a small chunk of wood. You would never admit it but it was one of the parts of the log Jihoon had once cut (also because you had fallen and spent a long while trying to get up as you felt you no longer had equilibrium).

You used it as a necklace and below your clothes, so that no one would try to take it from you.

"What do you think?" Sunyoung asked you as both of you were in her cozy room preparing to head out for work and Sunyoung was discarding what to wear that would not make the peacekeepers pay her any mind, right now she was wearing a new leather jacket she most likely had made for herself while you laid on her bed playing with her covers. As you pretended to ponder Sunyoung gave you a small pout which made you chuckle and in the end you gave her thumbs up in approval.

"It's good, you outdid yourself this time" Sunyoung grinned and with that you headed out towards the forest, you worked as part of the lumberjacking industry and helped move the wood logs to the factories. Since people older than 18 were no longer able to present as tributes, and therefore couldn't get more food according to how many times you wrote your name in the baskets, you had to work for Panem now to buy a little bit of food, though only the Capitol and the Privileged Districts truly ever got the gains of the labour.

Once you got to the forest you caught a glimpse of Jihoon as he was flexing his biceps to finish cutting a tree, before he could see your flustered expression you turned around to take the first logs to the factory as Sunyoung smirked at you teasingly while you rolled your eyes at her antics .

“Don't get lost admiring Jihoon’s muscles, focus on earnings money right now” she playfully moved her fingers “after all you can always see them when you two are together” that last statement which made you smack her arm as she cackled and your eyes popped up for her implication.

“Jihoon and I are just friends” you declared

“Best friends who want to kiss each other” Sunyoung attacked

“That's not true, and you better focus on your work if you want us to go back home without any punishments or beating” your hands were firm as you gestured with your eyes to the peacekeepers who were always eager to give punishments.” You warned her as the peacekeepers were looking at you

“Okay mom” she scoffed.

It was not as if you never fell asleep hoping to one day feel his lips on yours, of course not.

As you kept doing your part of the job: transporting piles of logs to the factory around 10 to 20 times per a day, you noticed the peacekeepers growing restless as they kept getting close to all the workers.

- I NEED YOU ALL TO LISTEN NOW! - One of the peacekeepers shouted when you were amid your 18th takeover making you still - There will be a curfew tonight, so when you are finished go back home immediately! There will be no considerations!- You looked around the area to catch Sunyoung but she beat you to it as she touched your elbow and then your shoulder.

"Don't worry about me, I will take the shortway, focus on going home soon". You wanted to argue and tell her you would take her but then her roommate Minghao approached you.

- It's okay Y/N, we will leave together, I won't leave her. -

Once you finished Jihoon and you got on his car to go back home and as soon as you arrived the two of you nodded, the agreement to bar everything and keep an eye on your weapons and the door, you held your revolver while Jihoon angled the rifle to fit between his toned arms... And wait, until the frequency in the radio finally changed. News about the Rebellion.

The rebels had found new ways to communicate indoors as protests and actions were done outside.

- We will mobilize from district to district- an off and cracky voice mumbled.

- You all need to keep this secret so listen carefully, start the journey towards District 13, grab maps to guide yourselves and take everything you need, but beware any peacekeeper, be as discreet as you can, District 13 will receive us as refugees, they have the power to end the Capitol from within, if we burn they will burn with us.-

Jihoon and you looked at each other, you would need to act carefully from now on.

The next day, as you were with Sunyoung you were tense, you felt as if the surveillance had increased by the amount of peacekeepers watching over you. There were 5 more than the usual 3. But even then, that didn't stop you from getting to quietly retreat further into the forest and find Sunyoung who was sitting in a wood log across Minghao, Jihoon and Seokmin. You waved at them and they returned it while Sunyoung acknowledged you with a nod as she turned to look at you.

"Did you listen to the radio last night? Many rebels are heading towards District 13 to join Katniss Everdeen" Sunyoung exclaimed. "We will need to leave in a few days - Seokmin looked around to see if there was someone close to you." The other day I heard a group of rebels who plan on making a trap to kill peacekeepers this week, it's risky but the distraction will buy us time to escape.

"It will" Sunyoung chuckled while grinning. "I helped creating it, it will give them a surprise in the mines"

"We can do this" Minghao signed, expanding his hands widely. "but we need to be discreet and gather everything we can, as soon as possible."

"I say we do this in a week, that will give us time once the trap is set."

"What do you think of this Jihoon?" You walked towards him to touch him with a wood stick as Jihoon looked at his shoes while leaning against a tree, he lifted his gaze to meet yours holding his head high to look at you and then sigh.

"We need to bring weapons with us “

...

As you had promised it, a week later the journey towards District 13 was set off. You were going to take different routes, Seokmin, Sunyoung and Minghao went together, with Jihoon and you then following 2 days after. It had been decided like that so you could cover for them in your shifts and deviate attention.

"Take care" were the last words Sunyoung said to you after hugging you tightly and leaving in the dawn.

After the trap set in the mine lands peacekeepers were less than before and that was an advantage and Jihoon and you started the journey then. However the already set beginning was delayed when the peacekeepers saw Jihoon getting into the forest when he wanted to get rid of the traps and beat him up, taking him to jail, he was only able to communicate with you by using the radio he always hid in his jacket.

-Y/n, in short words I'm in prison, they caught me when I was trying to destroy the traps, I need you to get me out of here. - when you listened to his words back at home you were horrified, remembering how creative the peacekeepers could get when it came to punishing citizens.

So here you were, sneaking into their District prison at night one week after he had been captured, wanting to memorize the place and know its weak points. You had managed to get in through a cord and a window and slithered until you saw the back of a peacekeeper. Slowly you got close to him and hit his head with a baseball bat, after taking his gun and his keys you looked for Jihoon, not minding the whistles from the other prisoners and when you saw his hair your waved your hand that was carrying the keys to him making him aware you were here for him. After opening his cell and hugging him you two went back home where you were attending to his wounds. As he hissed when you were cleaning a cut in his cheek you felt a little dizzy so you had to exhale and touch the edge on the little raspy gray sofa you were on to calm yourself.

“Sorry”

“Don't be sorry, I would still do it” Jihoon refused “if anything I'm sorry for worrying you.” he apologized

“Don't say that, I actually liked getting to hit a peacekeeper and taking his gun.” You chuckled at the sweet memory earning a laugh from Jihoon as well.

“You know with me escaping they will be looking for us, right?” he asked after some minutes but you two already knew the answer.

“Then we have to get everything ready for tomorrow.”

And that is how the next day you two sneaked through a barb wire border to avoid being seen by the peacekeepers. You were carrying a map and a dagger in your backpack alongside other tools, like binoculars, books, needles and lighters, while you were no warrior you knew a stab could be lethal and with Jihoon's guiding you at least knew how to hurt someone who tried to harm you, and he was carrying an axe alongside the gun you had stolen. Which was useful when you used one of the bombs Minghao designed to get rid of the peacekeepers of the border of the district.

The rebellion had started as all of you had seen how Katniss Everdeen had won the 74th Hunger Games alongside Peeta Mellark and displayed an attitude and compassion that soon became the symbol of resistance: Hope, in the form of the mockingbird.

The rebels had begun communicating through radios and in one moment, District 13 was able to communicate back and give instructions on what to do to defeat and overthrow Snow as well as indications about what to expect before the coup could be started.

Both Jihoon and you admired Katniss, after having to bury your last relatives due to starvation and the abuse of the peacekeepers, he was all you had left, and you wanted to protect him as much as possible. Even if you sometimes disagreed it was worth it as Jihoon had become your rock after all the years you spent together.

"Here you go" Jihoon gave you a piece of meat he had brought after hunting and you set a fire to heat yourselves as the autumn was starting to fade into winter. "It's deer meat, I hunted it, you should have seen me" He said with a smug smile.

"Show-off" you chuckled as you munched it and he laughed.

"Did you bring your concoctions?"

"Of course I did," you scoffed. "How else are we going to survive? I also brought my books in any case"

"That's good"

As you got up, you got dizzy and almost fell but you touched your shins with a hand while your dominant one went for the leaf necklace, tapping it three times to regain balance. Jihoon slowly showed you his hand, when you recovered you lifted your gaze and thanked him as he finally reached out for your hand and laid the dagger on your palm, squeezing your other hand which made you fluster but you hoped it would not be obvious with the little light of the sun in that moment that your cheeks had a garnet tone now as you lowered your gaze and walked hastily past Jihoon while he set the fire off and you continued marching.

As what you thought were 2 weeks passed you could conclude that the sky view was beautiful, getting to see the blue sky and the high mountains with no stop was a blessing and Jihoon and you frequently ended up admiring it, back home no one had the time and even less the idea of looking up to the sky, and even if the circumstances were not the best, you loved sharing these moments with Jihoon as you also admired his profile during the afternoons.

"How do you think the others are?" He asked you one night as you both stared into the fire lit in front of your mini camp.

"I hope they are okay, though probably Seokmin and Sunyoung must be talking a lot for Minghao" you said giggling at the thought of the two golden retrievers talking non-stop. Jihoon laughed and smiled at you as you settled into a quiet atmosphere, the flames were the only sound in the forest, letting you see the crisps in the air which made Jihoon's skin shine and in Jihoon's mind it made your russet skin glow as well.

You never admitted it since you were always focused on protecting the both of you, but you harbored feelings for Jihoon, it was love, which made you even more alert to any risks. You never thought about the possibility but the fact you two were doing this journey together made you realize even more how much you wanted to protect Jihoon.

“The sky looks beautiful this evening” Jihoon’s fingers emulated an explosion at his statement and it was true, it was a combination of orange, red and pink, secretly he thought that the colors in the sky made you look like an angel but that was a thought for himself as the red tones in the air and the forest gave you an air of a fairy in his mind.

“It is” you agreed, looking above as well and then your gaze shifted to look at him.

"Have you thought about what we will do when we get to District 13 Hoon?" You asked him with shaking hands hoping he doesn't see how you've suddenly gotten nervous.

"I guess" His fingers get fidgety "We can finally join the Rebellion and fight against Snow." You mentally palmed yourself at his answer, though you agreed with the plan, you meant what would happen with your lives after that.

"Yes, but what else will we do once everything is done?" Your eyes are focused on his. "We can get to live freely" He says after a while. "We could build a new house and have all the things we always wanted" you gestured quickly. "Create the garden you wanted and plant new kinds of plants." Your heart is beating fast as you look at him and gulp. "That would be nice" he says calmly as you keep staring at each other.

"We could still keep our weapons, just in any case" he chuckles, his eyes still on you. "Of course we can"

"And ... " He pauses, his lips trembling "get a new fresh start"

"You are right, for you and I" you wrapped up as you got closer to the fire to get more heat for your hands.

...

Three more weeks passed as you traveled when you came across a river whose current waters were flowing swiftly and gushingly fast in what seemed to be the border with District 9, and you had to think about how to cross it without damaging the radio Jihoon was carrying.

"You could keep your backpack and jacket above the water and in any case it gets wet then we put it into rice" you stated which made Jihoon hesitantly agree.

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh

"Ready?" Jihoon asked as you both were about to dive into the cold water.

"Readier than ever" and then you jumped, the water splashing on the surface and then Jihoon jumped as well.

‘Splash! Splash!’

The current was strong, you could not deny it, and it was hard to advance but you could not give up just now, as you kept yourself floating on the backpack you turned to look at Jihoon who was focused on his own task and then noticed the zipper of his jacket on the backpack that contained the radio was open and you lowered your head to see that indeed the radio was flowing down the river, which made you discard your own backpack to dive further into the water to retrieve it.

Swimming below water was not easier either, but you had to try and were close to catching it but as soon as you got it in your hand pulling it close to your chest you let out a breath which made you swallow water prompting you to cough and sink more into the water, you tried to swim above but your strength failed you and you could feel more air leaving you; you cursed yourself for failing Jihoon and not being able to keep going and were closing your eyes when a gush of water came in your direction. Jihoon. He had stopped swimming when your backpack collided against him prompting him to look for you and then realize his jacket was open and the radio was missing.

As soon as he spotted you he grabbed you from your shirt and impulsing himself with strength but care as he swam the both of you above the water and towards your backpacks, tying them tightly to support your weight upon them closing the jacket zipper, your limbs were longer than his which made him keep a distance to not end up drowning the two of you; once you were finally on the other side and finally on the District 9, dragging you to lay on the soil he made pressure on your chest to make first aid and expel the water from your lungs, as well as doing mouth to mouth resuscitation which he was not sure about but thought maybe could help.

Jihoon sighed in relief when he saw your chest rising up but frowned when he saw your lips and nails were turning gray, and he then remembered that was a sign of hypothermia from what you had told him once, so he was quick to pull you out of your cold damp clothes and covering your body with blankets after he started a fire to keep you warm. Jihoon would not let you leave him, he would protect you.

As Jihoon pulled your clothes from you he turned around to respect your privacy and tried to do it as quickly as possible to then place you in the two warm blankets. The newly begun fire was warm enough for now but then he would need to go for more logs. Good idea to bring his axe. However, he wanted to make sure at first that you were okay as you had fallen unconscious after being able to breathe. While sleeping you looked peaceful, from your parted lips to your eyelashes and garnet cheeks and the glow of your russet skin. Admitting to himself that he was in love with you was already hard enough, Jihoon didn't want to lose more people he cared about after his dad had been murdered by peacekeepers for daring work when there had been a curfew years ago; you were the only thing he had left and didn't want to lose you over feelings he was not sure would truly work out in a relationship and then you two drifting apart and dying away from each other.

No, Jihoon was completely fine with denying his feelings if that meant you two stayed together alive.

...

{Jihoon and you had met when you were both kids, you were 7 and he was 5, and it seems your very first encounter had already determined what your future dynamic would be.

You had stolen a slice of bread from one of the peacekeepers who had actually taken it from your friend Sunyoung and had hit her in the head leaving her unconscious for a week and from thereafter mute.

Your plan was simple, you wanted to distract him by sending a dog to chase him while you took the bread. But you never counted with him coming back so quickly, in your defense you would say the 7 year-old you barely knew about the running time of an adult thus you were surprised when he yanked you by your hair to the floor before you could even truly go away, at the end of the day you learned how he had left Sunyoung unconscious as he hit you with a metal tube over and over again.

Sunyoung and you gained more scars for life and you knew you had to always check every detail now. It was during your unconscious days that Jihhon came into your life. Jihoon and his father worked as lumberjacks and he usually sold log charges to people, and when he gave a charge to your father he saw the state you were in, all sprawled over your bed in the living room, seeing you like that stirred something in Jihoon's heart and that led him to teach your dad how to place the logs in a way the fire would keep itself and draw heat towards your sleeping silhouette; that had been the same advice he had given to the family of Sunyoung before, when her parents had told you about the kind boy who helped keep Sunyoung warm during her most vulnerable moments had melted your heart, just like Jihoon did when your parents told him why it was you now who was unconscious.

When a month passed after you woke up and Sunyoung was visiting you with her parents, Sunyoung and you were seated resting and when your mother called your name you noticed there were 2 people with her, she told you Jihoon was the lumberjack who helped both of you to survive your unconscious slumbers each one, when Jihoon tried to give you a writing of his working technique he frowned at seeing neither Sunyoung nor you were truly reading, to you it was like the letters were there but could not actually make any sense of it, therefore Jihoon opted for teaching you through watching.

- This is what you have to do -Jihoon said while placing a log of wood on the grass of the yard of your house, as he tilted his head he looked at Sunyoung and you.

- You might need to step aside - as Sunyoung and you looked at each other you did as he told you.

CHOP

The wood log was now split in two logs, they had cuts on the edges from where Jihoon cut it, your eyes were widened in surprise, you had never seen something similar, and to you it was the coolest did ever which made you give Jihoon the widest smile you could master making him smile in the process as well.

Since that day Jihoon and you became friends and made the promise you would always keep each other safe, which eventually made the two of you develop feelings for one another.}

‘Crack crack crack’

The sound of a fire aroused you from your sleep and made you shift your weight on your left side, making you groan when you could no longer fall asleep and reluctantly open your eyes slowly, frowning when you saw the night sky and the forest and hear owls tweeting, you turned your head to the right side and then saw Jihoon asleep on his own mattress across the fire, as well as the radio put in a rice cup and your clothes drying themselves in the branches of some tree which startled you once you became completely self-aware at the realization you were only covered by a blanket and that must likely Jihoon had to do it, which then made you cover your face with the covers. Great. Now how would you look him in the eyes after this?

If Sunyoung was here she would never let you live it down by teasing you. You thanked whatever deity was up there for at least sparing you that shame.

But not enough since the deed was already done. What bothered you was the fact of how embarrassing the situation was and that you nearly could have put Jihoon at risk, it was not like you weren't grateful but you just wished the circumstances for you lying like this had not affected him.

A shiver in your back interrupted your thoughts though making you hold the blanket tighter and then you saw how there was a gray tone to your nails, you then realized Jihoon had acted quickly to keep you warm. You cheesily thought it worked as more warmth settled on your chest then. He really took care of you.

You really were lucky to be here with him, and with that new warmth on your chest you fell asleep again.

Once the dawn broke you felt a hand stroking your right cheek making you drowsily open your eyes as Jihoon's warm fingers quickly left your skin.

"Sorry" he fidgeted and quickly drifted his stare away making you chuckle.

“It's okay” you stretched a little and then remembered you needed to put new clothes on and moved your hand through the soil beneath you to catch his attention and when he did you gestured for him to pass new clothes to you.

“Yeah, sorry, I will turn around so you can change”

As a headache was beginning to form you focused on the tweeting of the birds and how the wind felt against your hair and skin while putting your clothes on, once you finished you got out of the blankets and finally stretched all your limbs which had been a little numb in the end groaning as your kneecaps rattled.

As you walked towards your wet clothes Jihoon turned around and grabbed your wrist earning himself a questioning glare from you down to his face as you felt his warm skin against your cold one and he picked up your fingers extending them enough so you could see your nails still were gray. You had hypothermia.

“We can not leave yet, you need to get warm enough to recover”

You tried to protest but Jihoon lifted a hand making you stop.

“You almost drowned and I had to resuscitate you so you could breathe so if I say we need to wait for you to recover then we do it.” He declared and above his deep stare you felt yourself complying, even if you did not want to admit it. And he felt the need to make you understand because he had been so scared, you almost died leaving him alone and that was an experience he did not want to repeat.

“But what will we do then? Our arrival will be late, our friends are waiting for us.” you exclaimed.

“That doesn't matter” he rebuked “You need to be healthy and I will not risk it” it was then that you knew Jihoon was being serious. “We will stay here until you are healthy enough”

Easier said than done.

While Jihoon could use your books to look at the plants and see the instructions on how to prepare remedies he was not an expert at cooking but during 3 weeks he did what he could which you thanked him for as he made the efforts to do this for you.

“Hoon” you signed the shortened version of his sign “I think we could try to keep going, I've gotten better” which was true, your nails and lips were no longer grey “we can keep marching and in any case stop to see a doctor in District 9.”

“I'm not sure y/n” he rebuked

“But I am sure Jihoon” you insisted, “we could find some more herbs, the entire district is big enough to hide and take care of ourselves” you pleaded looking into his eyes that it was fine and that you desperately needed to keep going. Shutting his eyes and exhaling Jihoon finally gave in and let himself fall into your arms and as you rubbed his back you deepened the embrace not wanting to let go of him.

“Okay, but I’ll let you know if something goes wrong then I will say I told you so” he scoffed as you grinned at him. Jihoon may not admit it but he loved watching you smile, maybe that's why Seokmin and Minghao always pointed at him when you did it.

And that's how you two started marching again in search of wheat, edible fruits and somewhere to stay while you measured the unguarded areas of the District.

“I think we can get to sleep in an abandoned house, what do you think?” You inquired

“That is if we ever get to find an abandoned house first, we need to simply find an abandoned alley” was his answer which made you roll your eyes.

You walked and walked, only stopping to pick some fruits “you never know, Hoon” you told him when he stared at you questioningly.

And you kept leading the way, it was not that boring, actually it was nice to look at the sky and walk side by side in silence and admire how the sunlight made the trees look redder and more abundant.

“The sunset looks beautiful, don't you think? You exclaimed with your back in front of him, and Jihoon held his breath, he couldn't see your face but looking at how your figure was embraced by the light and the breeze made his face heat. An adorable view, even more adorable when you turned to look at him.

“Yes, it looks beautiful” he signed quickly at you. Your eyes were connected and you could feel like you were drowning in his chocolate eyes, feeling as if they took the air from you.

“It is” you straightened your relaxed position “for the meanwhile we can start another fire to sleep here” it was an abrupt change of topic but you needed it.

“Sure” Jihoon answered, scolding himself for blurting out like that.

…

The next day after Jihoon slept on Heejin's couch and you on the floor, you inspected the map to guide yourselves in where to go now as you were eating breakfast on the table.

-You should go northeast - Heejin's voice woke you up from your focused state making Jihoon and you looked at her as she walked down the hall, she had seen you from the end of the hall struggling to understand the map while Jihoon rubbed your back and gave you water.

-If you are going to District 6 then you should march to the northeast, it's the least watched part of this District - She mentioned

-How can we be sure?- was Jihoon’s answer-question which made you frown at him.

-Just like I was sure I would trust you to stay with me, also, I have friends there who could house you, it's a green colored house with an apothecary, it's in a mountain next to a river, you would be arriving there in 2 weeks - Jihoon had to admit that was a good answer.

In the end Jihoon and you agreed to listen to her and started marching.

“She was cute” you told him once you spent 1 hour walking

“I think she was average” Jihoon quickly signed, dismissing your flattering of the woman.

“Okay, I guess we all have different opinions, but don't worry, you are handsomer than her if that's what worries you.” You chuckled as you saw Jihoon’s arms flexing as he stopped for a while to tie his backpack tighter, but at your words Jihoon suffered a shortcut at you thinking he was handsome. Jihoon knew he was an attractive guy but seeing you think the same hit harder than ever before.

You turned around when you saw he was not walking next to you, finding he was looking at you perplexed.

“I mean” you nervously shifted “you don't need to compare yourself to anyone, and trust me when I say you are handsome not only because I'm your friend but also because you are very handsome, stunning and strong” you felt you were digging your own grave as you just rambled in front of him hiding your face with your hands, uncovering it when you heard Jihoon's steps and semi-lifting your head.

-Thank you, you are kind y/n and I do believe you.”

At his words you gave him a small smile and hugged him, as his tiny frame was wrapped by your arms he felt himself smiling as well by how affectionate you were and the fact he loved having all your attention for himself.

When you separated from him you quickly composed yourself.

“Sorry, but also thank you for everything Jihoon, like saving me from drowning and having taken care of me.” you looked at your shoes.

“It's okay, I would do it again if I had to.” Jihoon would always make you swoon more than anyone else.

As the days passed you finally found yourselves in front of the house of Seungkwan, Heejin's friend.

Though Seungkwan was not amused with the idea of sharing his house.

-I'm not into sharing my things so keep your hands to yourselves and follow my rules: 1. You eat when I cook 2. You will share the guest room 3. You will help me with my plants while you stay here, that's the only way you will get wheat to survive once you leave. - even though it didn't amuse you either to follow so many rules you knew you had to follow them if you wanted somewhere to sleep plus food.

“Don't worry, it'll be over before we notice” Jihoon tried to comfort you when Seungkwan went back to his apothecary he noticed your distress over having to stay for more time than you anticipated at first but it was necessary if you wanted to survive the winter so you would stay here for at least 1 to 2 weeks.

“It’s okay, I guess this is a chance for me to learn how to harvest, right?” You mentioned, trying to lighten up the mood.

Entering Seungkwan’s apothecary was nice, there were so many kinds of plants, drawings and concoctions in his shelves, and many plant books in his battered table.

-What are you doing here?- you got startled at the sudden voice of Seungkwan but quickly grabbed your notebook to respond to him.

*I'm sorry, I just was curious about your apothecary.*

-Well go be curious somewhere else unless you seriously like apothecary- his words were blunt and dry but you beamed shrugging at the last statement.

-Do you really like plants?- Seungkwan questioned in surprise and you nodded with a smile.

-Ok then you can observe - Seungkwan hummed - but don't touch anything.- He warned.

-I won't - you typed down and resumed your activity of trying to identify the different kinds of plants around you, and tilting your head you tried to focus on the words on the book to comprehend what it said about harvesting and health. You truly would learn how to harvest now.

2 days later Seungkwan let you borrow one of his books and sows after pleading for hours with the condition of returning the book once you were done.

…

Spinach, radish and carrots were aplenty in his greenhouse, and if Seungkwan was going to give you some of his harvest to survive then Jihoon and you would return the favor by helping him harvest more, and of course you would take this opportunity to learn more about harvest and make concoctions.

-Remind me to always travel with you from now on- Jihoon whispered amazed at how many pots you had already sowed.(5 which in your opinion was low).

“No, this is nothing.” You replied unsure

-Are you kidding me?- He blurted out -this is awesome! You do have a green thumb y/n- simple flattery.

-He’s right- now it was Seungkwan too -you are doing well, your boyfriend is only telling the truth- Boyfriend? Did Seungkwan think Jihoon and you were dating?

-What?- Seungkwan asked when he saw how the two of you froze in your tracks -I thought you two were a couple, aren't you?- he arched an eyebrow

Why couldn't you answer? It was simple, you were not a couple, just friends.

-Well then, you two are just very close friends, never mind- and with that Seungkwan focused on his other pots to your left.

-So, uh, - Jihoon cleared his throat “This is a good job” He told you even though his eyes were not meeting your eyes.

“Thanks Hoon” you also didn't meet his eyes.

As more days passed you could slowly see the growing of the plants which delighted you, and in turn delighted Jihoon too.

Seungkwan was perceptive about your bond being a really close one, if it was one way or another he was happy for the two of you.

Later on after you ate dinner Jihoon and you were out in the forest hunting, as winter got nearer every day you would need coats to endure the cold weather.

“Hunting down a bear will be enough” you were nervous about doing this, but you needed to do this and Jihoon was here so you had faith he knew what to do.

Jihoon was crouching on the ground where he set a trap with goose meat and fish.

-Alright, this will attract them.- He stood up and walked further from the trap with your gun in his hands.

An hour passed before Jihoon and you heard a growl in the distance which made you both tense in awareness, and then the bear slowly got close as he smelled the goose and fish (Jihoon identified the bear as a male) and grunted, however he soon felt something was off as he lifted a big paw and growled once again coming close to where Jihoon and you were standing, Jihoon was ready to shoot if it came to it signaling for you to move away so you would not get hurt, but then the bear lifted himself in his rear paws and his growl made Jihoon slip and dropping the gun which alerted the bear eliciting more grunts and growls as he put his paws back on the soil and ran towards him but you whistled calling his attention and waving to him as you ran further from him making snarl and growl at you giving Jihoon time to take the gun and stand up once again shooting the bear in the back before he had the chance to attack you, however the blood still got to splash on your clothes which left you shocked staring at Jihoon.

-Do not ever do that again- He scolded you as you only could breathe out your relief.

Back at Seungkwan's house you received another lecture to both of you. To Jihoon for not paying attention to where his feet were standing, and to you for having been so reckless in drawing a bear’s attention towards you.

“I'm sorry but back at the moment I didn't know what else to do” you rambled and Jihoon was the one to translate to Seungkwan as you were in front of Seungkwan's house with the body of the bear.

-Be more careful next time, I don't want the death of 2 people in my subconscious. - Seungkwan bemoaned as he saw you two skinning the bear making him gag in disgust.

-Do not worry, if it ever happens again when we are with you we will be more careful then - Jihoon blurted out.

-Thank you, now don't make me regret having you guys here- Seungkwan mumbled as he entered his house to sleep the thought of your hand skinning the bear away.

That night after you went to sleep the events that occured that evening did not leave you alone, images of the bear getting to and slashing at Jihoon did not sleep at all, prompting you to wake up after you dreamt with the bear. From your position on the floor you saw Jihoon sleeping, and you sighed at seeing he was okay, he was still alive. You knew Jihoon was skilled in shooting but the experience of this day of seeing him face such a beast had shakened you but it seemed he was okay.

However Jihoon was not okay, he stirred in his sleep and woke up when he could not forget the memories of you putting yourself in danger to save him, he had hunted plenty of times before but this time he got so worried about you getting hurt that he did not fully register where his feet stood nor checked if the material was secured enough, and as he woke up he noticed you were up as well and sighed waving at you and you let out a breath you were holding.

“I'm glad you are okay” Jihoon said

“Me too, I will never doubt your skill with a gun ever again” You replied

“Wait, did you ever doubt me?” He questioned your reply, astonished.

“No” you quickly reassured him “but today made me see you can handle anything. I just got worried, but I'm glad we got to hunt today” Jihoon chuckled and you did as well.

“We make a good team, you can not deny it”

“True” Jihoon acknowledged it “let's just plan out any scenarios from now on, don't you think?”

“Yeah” You breathed out, taking in his face, you leaned your body towards him and Jihoon cupped your face, and in a matter of seconds his soft lips were on yours, you were breathing into each other and your lips engaged in a chase for each other, Jihoon gave you repeated small pecks and you caressed his cheeks. When you pulled away you stared into his eyes and smiled at him which he returned.

The next day however, Jihoon and you were happily pretending the kiss never happened, and were acting as if it was any other day and in a silent agreement you would never talk about it again dismissing it as a result of the adrenaline of the day. It was not because of feelings.

As the days passed soon Jihoon and you had gathered everything you needed to keep going, which meant it was time to say goodbye to Seungkwan.

-Thank you for receiving us and having left us sow plants to compensate for what we took from you- Jihoon was translating for you to Seungkwan as you thanked him for everything he had done for you these days. -Oh, and also thank you for not kicking us out after you saw us skin a bear- Jihoon snickered as Seungkwan scoffed.

-I’m still traumatized, you two owe me therapy, you know- Seungkwan whined but even then he could not hide his smile -Also, of you two are going where I think you're going then take this- he took from his pocket a mockingbird pendant handing it over to you - you are gonna need it- you couldn't say you were surprised Seungkwan was part of the Rebellion and that you two were part of it as well, clenching your fist you put it into your backpack, its meaning bigger than you could ever know about.

-Wait but- Jihoon grimaced - do you not want to come with us? - He questioned

-I have a duty to protect my parents’ house and my District, I do not judge you but my fight is here- Seungkwan answered and his answer made sense, he needed to protect his home.

-Either way, thanks for everything Seungkwan, it was a pleasure- Jihoon sincerely thanked him.

-It was an honor to have you here, minus the bear of course - you would miss his sass.

…

Jihoon and you had advanced enough now to get close to the train station of District 9 which transported wheat to the center of District 6. The plan was simple: you would have to jump to the train while it was moving.

Its reigns were moving quickly as the smoke of its motors flowed through the air.

“I go first” you commanded. Running backwards and then forward to gain impulse to then jump, your backpack softening your fall in the empty wagon. “NOW YOU!” You expanded your palms in the air quickly for Jihoon to do it now who was running and at your command he leaned into the side running and jumping towards you, his legs thudded as he fell, breathing hard but then relaxed letting his body rest besides you.

As the train moves, Jihoon and you opt to stay in silence and enjoy the rest from all those stressful days, aware you need to let off part of the pressure you’ve been feeling.

Jihoon and you were laying next to each other, his head resting on your shoulder as he slept and you looked at the view and his face, smiling at how peaceful he looked right now.

…

As the days passed, Jihoon and you were finally in District 6.

Now you would have to remain low, not drawing any attention towards you, so Jihoon and you were using hoods to hide your faces.

Unlike District 9, you would have to remain away from the people as there were so many factories that were guarded by peacekeepers, thus, you needed to lay low to survive while you were here and bought water, seeds, batteries, knives and two tents to sleep in with the little money you had and then go to the forest to sleep there.

“I have an idea” Jihoon informed you that evening while you two ate dinner in front of the fire. “One of us can sleep while the other one watches if a peacekeeper is close.” It was a great idea, since that way you could take care of him and vice versa while the other one watched over your little camp.

When your second turn of watching over the camp happened it seemed mostly calm, until you heard the snapping of branches in the distance, as well as circumference cuts in your radio.

‘SNAP SNAP’

You quickly turned around trying to make the minimum sound possible looking at all sides of the forest, turning off the radio and hiding it under a bush, and taking your dagger and two knives with you, the gun would make a lot of noise, as you saw from if Jihoon's tent was open you quietly sighed after seeing it was closed, and you got further into the forest trying to see where the sound was coming from.

‘SQUEAK SQUEAK’

Now you heard and saw some squirrels running around, and they rarely did so during winter. There was definitely someone else in the forest. You crouched trying to look where they were with the binoculars you were carrying. To your far right side you saw three peacekeepers, you looked at Jihoon's tent again and you knew you had to distract them from getting to him.

Quietly you went to where the fire was lit and grabbed a log, hissing in pain when the heat burned you but still kept it in your hand, leaving cinders fall when you were more into the forest thus drawing the attention away from Jihoon, once you were away enough, you whistled and hummed the mockingbird song and drumming in a tree to then move next to another one and do the same again and again; it took less than ten minutes for you to hear the sound of a gun.

‘CLICK’

Holding your breath and using your binoculars you attacked him, launching your dagger at his throat, the sound of the slash spreading through the air, treading carefully you took your bloodied dagger from his throat and his gun as well draping it around your shoulder, going for the next two.

…

‘SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK’

Jihoon shifted his weight on his mattress

‘SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK'

‘HOO HOO’

Jihoon stirred over his covers until he sat after having his precious sleep disturbed and rubbing his eyes as he got out of his tent, growing alarmed as he saw you were not there. Sure, as it was your turn watching over the camp you would have to walk around but he saw that the radio was flipped over a bush and turned off. Worried, Jihoon took his axe and tried to follow for any hint you might have left behind.

Indeed you did after he saw footprints in a corner to his left, but getting close to them he saw the size and width of the footprints were not similar to yours at all and when he turned around he saw a peacekeeper pointing his gun at him. And then he shot but Jihoon moved quickly running and hiding behind a tree. Breathing and gaining courage Jihoon screamed to his right side

-AAAGH!!!-

But Jihoon actually moved to the left and threw his axe aiming at a forest hoping to scare the peacekeeper, which he did and when he turned around Jihoon took his axe back and pressed it into the head of the peacekeeper. Jihoon breathed hard as he removed his axe and from the peacekeeper’s head and groaned when a little bit of his blood fell over his shoes. Great, Jihoon would have to wash them now. But now you were on his mind, Jihoon needed to find you, and with that thought he turned to his left side to keep looking for you.

…

The heat of the log was still burdensome and you feared the fire would eventually burn your head but you tried to ignore it as you were looking for the other two peacekeepers, your binoculars helping you see in the darkness, as you lowered your head you saw a liquid body on the soil, crouching to touch it you felt the iron smell that was now on your index and medium fingers: blood.

Looking ahead for a body you found a dead peacekeeper with a nasty wound on the head but as you looked at the edges you saw that it must have been the result of an axe. Which meant Jihoon killed him.

…

Jihoon got tackled to the ground as a peacekeeper had found him on his way to a nearby river hoping to find you. Jihoon had caught the peacekeeper off guard kicking him on the shin and was able to elbow him and take his gun, but his foil had grabbed him from his knees and tackled him and in the struggle Jihoon let go of his axe; smart move, Jihoon would have to give him that, but at least Jihoon was able to throw the gun into the frozen river, cracking the ice and falling into the water which made the peacekeeper yell at Jihoon in rage.

-AAAHH!!- And he then overpowered Jihoon grabbing his neck and squeezing it with astounding strength making Jihoon choke, feeling his vision go blurry but then a slash cut through the air landing in the side of the torso of the peacekeeper making him scream in pain. Jihoon then saw how the peacekeeper launch himself at you, making you let go of a gun and a lit log, but you responded by taking the log with your bare hands and pressing it into the peacekeeper's chest, rolling him over to the ground, though even then the peacekeeper was able to kick you in the stomach but you were also able to stab him with a knives in his shoulder blade.

As you were fighting Jihoon got up and with the strength he could master went for his axe and plunged it into the peacekeeper's back and then lifted him him up dropping him off into the ground and plunged the axe again into his head, his blood splashing into both Jihoon’s face and your face.

Letting go of his axe, Jihoon helped you get up and you covered his frame with his arms, embracing and smelling his hair and you tried to both explain and apologize for the situation.

“There were three of them, I'm so sorry Hoon, I should have been more aware” you sobbed but Jihoon shook his head. “No, no, don't apologize, we are fine now okay, we both are fine.” And with that you two hugged again.

The next day after you woke up you were cleaning your wounds in the river, though the contrast of the cold water with the burnt skin of your hands made you hiss in pain. You needed to do it but it was agonizing, it was then that Jihoon got into the river, taking your hands into his and letting the water do it's work as he let your head fall into his shoulder as you breathed in and out; once the pain subsided you let him bandage you and your stomach fluttered when he kissed your hands.

You looked into his eyes and melted at his eyes watching you with adoration and love, his left hand went to your cheek and then he stood on his toes to kiss you, expressing his love and longing for you with each peck, bite and caress of your lips; after Jihoon pulled his head to breathe you kissed his cheek which made him chuckle.

“I love you Jihoon, I always have” You confessed

“Me too y/n, I can't believe I let this go on unsaid for so long, I don't want to imagine a world in which you are not there, I'm afraid to lose you one day.” He signed in flowy movements.

“You won't” you promised, hugging him and letting his head fall onto your chest.

3 Weeks later you finally made it to District 13, your relationship with Jihoon having evolved, no longer concealed by dreams or avoidance you just let it be.

-S, S, M, Y/n and I are here.- Jihoon muttered to the radio as well as sending the Morse code of arrival.

-Got it J, we will go for you- Seokmin's voice flowed through the air, you missed hearing his voice.

1 hour and a half later an elevator from the earth lifted itself, revealing to be carrying Seokmin and 2 soldiers.

-Hi guys, sorry I got late, but needed to bring security and the procedure to come for you.- His smile was bright and it was nice since it was like seeing the sun in the winter and Jihoon seemed to share the feeling.

-It’s okay Seokmin, after all, we need to catch up, don't we?- Jihoon muttered and Seokmin’s eyes traveled to your joined hands with Jihoon, the surprise and glee in his eyes pouring out through his expressions.

-I agree Jihoon, I agree.- Seokmin beamed

However after Coin proved to be just as corrupt as President Snow , the Rebellion was torn if it was right to keep living in District 13 but Katniss Everdeen made a speech about the importance of the spirit of resistance and to live the life our lost loved would have wished for us.

And thus, Jihoon and you chose to stay in District 13 and live together in a better house. Soon Jihoon got to work as a civil engineer and bioengineer, flattering you when he said he got inspired by you with your knowledge, whereas you had become a healer and owner of your own apothecary, assisted by Jihoon and Sunyoung.

Sunyoung had teased you endlessly when she learned about Jihoon and you, having mentioned how she always knew it would eventually happen and that she expected to be your maid of honor in the wedding flustering you.

Jihoon and you were finally able to accept you could survive together if you were in a relationship and finally be able to simply live and give yourselves a better life because of it, and even considering the option to adopt a child in the future.

“We are happy, aren’t we?” Jihoon asked you one day when you were out in the forest, after it got treatment for sowings, enjoying the feeling of the sun now it was spring.

“We are Jihoon, more than we could ever be before” you told him smiling and as he returned your smile you kissed him, enjoying the feeling of being with him and finally being able to love yourselves freely without fear.

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hoeforsungie · 6 hours ago

Text

💌 … ( 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 ) 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 — stoned sex w/ Hannie

best friends to lovers! Hannie x fem reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ teasing, lots of tension, Hannie and reader are both horny for each other, drug usage (don’t!) wc ・‎ ‎tbd ‎| ‎ ‎[library link here]

[ ۫ ꣑ৎ author’s note ] here’s my first ever preview for a work i’m working on! tbh, the fic is loooong and i’m still writing. i decided to post the preview bc the actual fic is kinda sad, depressing, and dark. i’m worried people wouldn’t actually like that part until it gets to the filth, however i wanted to write a hurt/comfort with some smut for a while… and i may or may not have stoner hannie brainrot. i may post just the smut and loving bits as its own thing, as well as the whole fic when i finally finish? idk i’m rambling… well here enjoy this preview for needy stoned Hannie x reader.

oh btw, here’s a playlist w songs i listened to while writing this

divider by @v6que

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🕊️ ⋅ ˚Jisung was happy to see her smile, even if it was small and her eyes were still red and puffy from crying. A win is a win in his book. So, he happily followed along. The pair grabbed their shoes and the umbrella before leaving the building. The walk to their normal smoking hang out was pretty calm, despite the rain. At least, the rain had died down again into a steady drizzle, saving them from the monsoon-like downpour earlier. The only unfortunate thing was that the wind had picked up, blowing the rain sideways. This left her with no choice but to cling to Jisung as the bitter wind whipped around the two of them. It was about 10 minutes before they spotted the treehouse her parents had built when they were children. All their normal stuff was still there, pictures from their youth hanging on the wall. Now there was an old beat up couch (where their stash was hidden), a bed with a few pillows and blankets where many hours cuddling had been spent, and a projector.

Jisung climbed up first and turned around to offer his hand to y/n. After getting pulled up, she beelined towards the couch to pull out the bud as well as the lighter and the wraps. After wrapping the blunt, she handed it to Jisung as he flopped down onto the couch next to her. “Ladies first.” She giggled. He took the blunt with a begrudging look and held it in his mouth, waiting for her to light it. Y/n obliged and elbowed him “Don’t take all of it, make sure to leave some for me. You hog.” She elbowed her friend then rubbed at her eyes, probably trying to diffuse some of the puffiness remaining from her tears.

Jisung, of course, only offered her a punch to the arm instead and a snarky remark about how he ‘wasn’t the one who finished 70% of the last blunt.’ Y/n rolled her eyes and plucked the blunt from Jisung’s lips harshly. “Shut up, besides,” y/n says as she pauses to take a drag. “You said this was to smoke the depression away. Right now I think I need it more than you.” She stuck her tongue at Jisung, to which he replied by flicking her in the forehead. Y/n took another big drag and coughed. “Goddamn, it’s been a while since I smoked with you Jisungie.” After coughing for a bit, y/n tucked her legs under her and turned towards Jisung. She took a few more drags before putting it in between her two fingers and passing it to Jisung to take. He gladly took the blunt and took a large drag himself. Somehow, he didn’t cough like her, much to y/n’s dismay.

“Bro, are you fucking kidding me? You’re such a show off. Ugh, fuck you!” Y/n squeaked and started punching him anywhere she could hit. “You’re the worst.” She sighed and plopped her body forward so she could lean onto Jisung. Cuddling between them wasn’t something new by any means. She’d never admit it, but cuddling with Jisung recently has been giving her new thoughts to think about. She didn’t know when it happened, but one day she began to notice the way her heart beats louder when she feel jisung’s broad chest caging her in, as his arms wrapped around her. She’d especially take this one to the grave, but she really started noticing it as she slipped away to excuse herself to use the bathroom in a panic. It was pretty obvious when she slipped her underwear down to see the pearly string that attaches itself to her lips and her panties. It was slowly becoming clear to her that she was attracted to Jisung. Perhaps, in more ways than one.

Jisung chuckled at y/n’s cute little outburst and reached over to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Looked like it was getting in your lip gloss, y/nnie.” He said with a honey-dripped voice. He smiled as he noticed as a small blush crept along y/n’s cheeks, down towards her neck. His eyes trailed below as they followed the path the blush was burning on her skin. He swallowed thickly as his eyes reached below her collarbone where his white band t-shirt stuck to her skin snugly. The white had become similar to gossamer, her skin and black bra shining through, thanks to the rain. Taking a sharp inhale, Jisung unconsciously began digging into her arm tightly as he drank in the sight. As if on cue, he broke the spell and suddenly snapped his eyes back into y/n’s. He hoped that she hadn’t noticed, although he knew the chances were entirely too slim. He couldn’t even blink as he peered into y/n’s eyes. Now it was Jisung’s turn to blush, a warmth spreading across his own cheeks. He sputtered something about ‘needing space’ and ‘why are you over here when there’s the entire couch?’ then promptly shoved y/n across the couch, turning his head away from her to hide the blush that was igniting his skin.

Y/n, of course, wouldn’t stand for being pushed away from her heat source as the cold from the rain blew into the tree house. “Sungie, fuck off! What the hell was that for? You know it’s cold out.” She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. After a few seconds of pouting silently she reached her arm out to grab the blunt that Jisung was holding in his hand, half forgotten. He yelped in surprise and moved his arm up in the air out of y/n’s reach. She slapped his shoulder and laughed as he grunted. After a few seconds of pretending to give up, she smiled and lunged even harder at Jisung. Launching herself off the couch and smiling in victory as she was able to reach the blunt Jisung held over his head, she failed to notice her miscalculation as she was now sitting in Jisung’s lap with her face very close to his own. He glared at her unamused but she still noticed the blush dusting his cheeks. The clock on the wall continued to tick on as the air around the pair thickened. Jisung’s own shocked expression melted into something much needier as she felt him try to physically run away from her hold. But with her sitting on his lap, he had nowhere to go. He pinched his eyebrows and turned his head, bringing his fist up in a feeble attempt to hide his teeth digging into his bottom lip at the suggestive pose the pair are in. With the way in which her arm is still frozen in the air at her attempt to get the blunt for herself, she begins to blush as bright as Jisung and feel a familiar slowly knot tying itself in her stomach. Y/n never thought she’d get turned on by such a small act, let alone from a simple mistake she made.

More time passed as the pair stared deeply, albeit curiously, into each other’s eyes. Jisung’s hands which were thrown around her waist in shock began to grip tighter at her hips, the fingers leaving indents in the milky skin where they were also splayed on her thighs. She parted her lips and he heard a small, breathy “Oh.” leave her. It was hard to deny, but this had a larger impact on y/n than she would have liked. She inhaled sharply as she felt her clit throb gently at the feeling at Jisung’s hands deliciously digging into her sides. It was her turn to look away in embarrassment as she quickly dismounted herself off his lap and back onto the couch with a pout. Stupid Jisung and the way he doesn’t realize the impact he has on me! She internally curses him as all she places the blunt back in between her sticky strawberry lips and inhales. After taking a long drag, and much to her enjoyment, the lack of a coughing fit, she crosses her hands back over into her lap and closes her eyes. She felt the beginning of her arousal begin to fade as she tried to be one of God’s stronger soldiers and put the thoughts flashing behind her eyes deep down into her subconscious. Something about the way Jisung’s fingers stung ever so slightly as he pushed into her plush thighs and waist with his soft hands threw her for a complete tailspin. Of course she’s had sex before, but never had she felt so ignited by such a small and subtle touch. It was as if a jolt of electricity had gone through her the second he laid his hands on her. Shaking her head vigorously to rid the sinful thoughts before they overwhelmed her and she could only imagine the way in which he would handle her, she tried to rid the unholy thoughts once more. Deciding to say “fuck it” and take another large drag from the blunt, end goal of becoming as high as possible in the fastest manner becoming clearer and clearer in her head. It was during this time in which she was so in her own head, she missed the golden opportunity to peek open her own eyes and see the disheveled state Jisung was in, similarly to her own.

If she were to peer over and turn her head towards Jisung, she would have had a heart attack and simultaneously seen the way he desired y/n so bad it was almost tangible. His head was reeling and chest heaving as he shut his eyes and flopped it back against the couch, staring up into the ceiling. His hair flopped with him and covered his eyes, but his own arousal was still apparent to any outsider. The way in which his bottom lip is still trapped between his teeth as he tries to catch his breath. The blush on his cheeks spread down to his chest where the slight dew of sweat began to gather. He pinched his nose bridge as he tried to will the thoughts and his raging boner away. The way in which y/n’s body looked so small on his lap, the way in which her thighs were so soft and plump in his hands. Her small, breathy, ‘oh’ that made his heart hang onto the idea that she was into him enough to find him sexually attractive, and the way in which her wet clothes clung to her form; it all made him go insane. He needed the weed to kick in any second now, hoping he could instead get lost in the sensation of being high rather than hopelessly longing for the feeling of y/n’s pink sugary lips gliding against his own. Heaving a heavy sigh, he looked over to y/n on the couch and slowly peeked his eyes at her form on the couch. Thanking whatever deity was allowing her to look so perfect before him, and luckily she was in her own world with her eyes closed. He let his eyes slowly drag down her body, a little more unashamedly now that he knew he didn’t have an audience to judge his own indulgence.

Jisung flitted his eyes down to her chest once again, running them along the valley of her collarbones, down to where her cleavage just faintly peeked out above the low collar she cut on his shirt, now claimed for herself and neatly stored in Jisung’s drawer for their impromptu sleepovers and other clothing emergencies. He dragged his eyes back up to her lips. He internally groaned as he saw the way her gloss smudged slightly from the blunt, the sugary pink tint shimmering softly in the light. After admiring her lips for a while, Jisung trailed his eyes down to her hips and smiled softly at what he saw. The grey sweatpants that they both owned as a matching set were sitting snugly on her hips. The ones with a little black star and the word “Youtiful” under it, that both of them got as a gift on graduation day from one of their closest friends. The ones that matched his very own. Thanking God and the people he saved in his last life, he smiled at the fact that even if y/n had so many other bottoms to choose from, she chose those special ones. Now here they were, both matching. As he thanked the universe for giving him this win, he stilled as he saw y/n inhale and slowly open her eyes before yawning and sitting up, lashes getting slightly wet from the unshed tears the strong yawn brought to her eyes. He sat up straighter, eyes still trained on her as he followed her every move. Imagine his surprise as he feels y/n shove the blunt between his lips and her hand on his cheeks, pushing into them lightly as she forces his mouth open (much like the kissy face a fish makes) to take the blunt. After she’s satisfied that the blunt remains lodged in Jisung’s plush lips, she withdraws her hand and whips her head away. He held his breath when the words y/n whispered met his ears.

“Mm feelin’ it slowly. It’s your turn to catch up now. Don’t wanna be high alone, Hannie.” Y/n mumbled out through pouted lips. She felt her cheeks heat up as she admitted to already feeling the pleasant sluggish feeling enveloping her body. After she was satisfied by seeing Jisung take a few drags himself, head laid back with one hand in his hair behind his head as he peered up at the ceiling, she let her own head flop back on the couch. Sighing with contentment, she snuggled further into the couch, allowing the comforting feeling of her incoming high roll onto her slowly. It was a few minutes that had passed before y/n’s eyes blink open again slowly as she sat up quickly realizing she had dozed off for about 30 minutes.

Embarrassment painted her features as she quickly realized where Jisung had been when she dozed off. She looked down and nearly yelped as she saw Jisung with his plump lips, open and spit-slicked, laying in her lap. She felt his hair tickle her thighs through the material of the sweatpants as she sucked in a breath and shook him gently, worried what would happen if he stayed there any longer. Now it was her turn to bite her lip as she felt him stir ever so slightly, and instead of waking up, he then wiggled his face deeper into y/n’s lap, grabbing at her and mumbling something incoherent except for the one word she caught. ‘Warm.’ Jisung burrowed in again, his nose nuzzling along her thigh as he breathed out peacefully, his breath fanning across her tummy, where her shirt had risen in her short slumber. Y/n’s breath caught as she let out a little hiccup when one deep sigh let out just the right amount of air to feel a small bead of arousal leak out of her hole and into her panties. After freezing in fear when she felt Jisung nuzzle impossibly deeper, almost driven in his sleep by his body’s unconscious drive to feel her closer. It was over for her though when she felt the tip of his nose nuzzle in just right so that it barely traced over her clothed clit. With a squeak she felt her clit throb more strongly this time and the arousal continued to pool in both her underwear and belly before she’d decided she’d had enough. She grabbed Jisung by the hair and lifted his sleeping body up.

Jisung awoke with a start and a yelp as his hands reached up to where y/n’s were caught tangled in his brunette locks. His bracelet jangled as he looked up at y/n with unshed tears and a pout on his lips, making them look so kissable. After a few seconds y/n smoothed her hand back over his hair and massaged it. She let her hands begin to knead into Jisung’s neck, trying to work out any sore spots as an apology for waking him up so urgently. With the pout still on his lips, he peered up at y/n as he felt his body begin to melt into her touch. “Why did you even do that anyways?” She shook her head and did something which Jisung did not expect at all. She leaned down and pressed her glossy lips to the tip of his nose gently. As his brain was short circuiting he looked up at her with his big boba eyes shining in the soft light and another pout formed on his lips. “W-what was that for?” He asked, his eyes trailing away to look at the posters and photos on the wall, a testament to the brilliance of your youth that you two shared together. Y/n simply smiled and retracted her face from Jisung’s. She twinkled out a laugh, eyes turning into little crescents, and flicked him in the forehead.

#skz x reader #stray kids #stray kids han jisung smut #han smut #han x reader #jisung smut #stray kids smut #kpop x reader #kpop smut #skz hard thoughts #skz hard hours #skz reactions #── 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖗 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊𝖘 ★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

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charred-slime · 2 days ago

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clingy

summary:

It makes no sense for the moment to be so gloomy. You’ll be back in two weeks, and you’ve gone longer without seeing Charlie due to his oftentimes wonky schedule with his job, but there’s just something in the air that weighs heavily on you both. Charlie’s arms stay loosely wrapped around you, and it pains you to pull away. “I’ll call you once I arrive, yeah?” You reassure him. He nods, and before you know it, you’re on the road, driving away from home. Or, reader goes away for a couple weeks, and Charlie's a clingy bastard about it

pairing: charlie x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

a/n: this is reeeally cheesy, but i hope that works out and makes it overall better! i really enjoyed writing this one^^ (time to get to the other requests-)

ao3 link, if you prefer. otherwise, the story's under the readmore!

It was early morning. Way too early morning. The reason you’d gotten up so early was that you were going to visit some family a couple states over. The way there would either be a long drive or a short flight, and you decided the extra expense of the flight was worth it. What you hadn’t realized was that the flight was at 7 in the damn morning.

Charlie’s place was a decently short drive to the airport, so you’d decided to stay the night there instead. You’d woken in your partner’s bed to the sound of your alarm by your head, reading 3 A.M. Luckily he hadn’t roused to it, because he could sleep through an atomic bomb, and stayed tightly wrapped around your form. Everything about him was tempting. Comfortable. His light snores, his warmer than hell body heat, his expensive ass mattress—but you managed to resist.

With some experienced wriggling, you get out of his grasp and head to the kitchen.

All of your stuff was packed and by the front door, ready for leaving at any moment. All there was left to do was get ready and head out.

After washing up and changing into some semi-presentable clothes, you get to frying a couple eggs while the coffee brewed. A playlist plays softly in the background, nothing loud enough to wake Charlie (you’d know from much experience waking before him), so you’re shocked when you feel vibrations of walking headed your way.

Soon enough, there are familiar arms wrapped around your waist, and a familiar weight placed on your shoulder. His messy hair flops forward and tickles your cheek, especially when he nuzzles his head like a cat.

“Why’re you ‘wake?” He grumbles, barely audible with the combination of being muffled by your shoulder and his gravelly morning voice.

“Visiting my family, remember?” You answer, getting to plate your freshly fried eggs then turning the fire off. There’s no telling how this interaction would end, and you’d rather not burn the building down by accident.

You feel his head tilt to one side, as if considering this oh so new information (you’d told him a week ago, and he was the one who suggested sleeping over the night before), then his grip around your waist tightens.

“Nuh uh. Gotta stay here with me.” His hands go to yours and unarms it of the spatula before immediately going back to holding you. “Come back t’bed.” He clumsily pulls at you in the general direction of the bedroom, and you roll your eyes fondly before turning around in his arms.

You push him until he’s leaning against the kitchen island and take in the glory that is post-sleep Charlie. His eyes are a little swollen and barely open, covered even more by the rat's nest he calls a bedhead. His entire demeanor is loose, muscles lacking the usual extreme energy found in his videos, leaning forward more into you than the island. And of course, he’s pouting.

With a fond sigh, you comb your fingers through his hair a little until it’s out of his eyes, though no less messy. He leans into the touch, and juts his bottom lip out even more when you take your hand away.

“I can't back out of this one, sweetheart. You know I would if I could.” You whisper, hand caressing the side of his face and thumb lightly running over the apple of his cheek. He leans into that too. You could've sworn he had golden retriever energy, but he seems to become cat-like when he's sleepy with all of his clinginess.

“I wanna be mad but I can't be mad when you call me that,” he whines, as if he doesn't absolutely adore it when you use pet names.

“I know, baby, that's why I said it.” When his pout gets deeper (how was that even possible?), you lean in for a quick peck on the lips. When you pull back, his eyes are already more awake, and his bottom lip has retracted to a more reasonable level of grump.

He leans back in for another kiss, and who are you to deny him? Your lips meet in a chaste kiss, both of you far too tired to bring anything more into it. The surrounding air is cold in the way that homes are at dawn, but kissing Charlie warms you from inside that no heater could ever accomplish. Cheesy, but undoubtedly true considering the sparks that continue to fly so far into your relationship.

This time, as you pull away, Charlie’s pout has fully transformed into a familiar goofy grin. So easy to please.

“Think you can let me go now?” As much as you’d like to stay there forever (or, even better, crawl back into bed as Charlie suggested), the digital clock on his wall already read 3:57 AM, and you needed to get going to ensure that you wouldn’t be late.

He groans dramatically, pulling you closer into another hug. Everything about it screams “do you really have to go?” and the way you pat his back says “I don’t like it any more than you do” in response.

Eventually, his brain apparently comes around to the idea, albeit reluctantly, because he asks, “how long’re you gonna be gone for?”

“Just two weeks.”

“Two whole weeks?” Charlie groans again, although this one was evidently more for show than anything. You give him a soft laugh in response, nudging his shoulder.

“Alright, big guy. Enough with the act.”

You turn back to the kitchen counter and start packing a couple things to bring with you. Protein bars and fruits for a light breakfast since you won’t have time to finish your eggs, a tumbler for your coffee, and a roll of the eyes for extra measure when Charlie won’t let go of his contact with you throughout all of it.

At the door, once all of your stuff is on your back and in your hands, you turn back to him for one final kiss goodbye. He wraps you in another hug like the koala of a man he is, and the touch lingers even after you pull back.

“I’ll call you once I arrive, yeah?” You reassure him.

He nods, and before you know it, you’re on the road, driving away from home.

________

Beyond the visit to family, travelling a little was nice. You treated yourself to some desserts you might not usually allow yourself to have, got some alone time during later hours, and even met some old friends from your hometown. All in all, it was quite the successful trip.

None of that mattered in your mind as you drove back home from the airport. Two weeks of only seeing Charlie on a screen. Only hearing his voice through the crappy tinny speakers of your phone. Not being able to touch him.

You’d poked fun at him for being so dramatic about the duration of your trip, but you quickly ate your words.

Once your car is parked safely and your luggage is jammed into your arms (you’d rather break them than take more than one trip to take stuff in), you’re rushing to Charlie’s door. You didn’t expect him to be available immediately, because you knew it was a streaming day, but wanted to be inside as soon as possible.

You’re fumbling with your keys when the door suddenly opens in your face, and your feet are no longer touching the floor. You yelp as Charlie picks you up, dropping everything to wrap your arms around him as he swings you around in a big circle.

“Charlie! What the fuck?!” You scream, but can’t help the laugh of absolute glee that escapes you. The wind whips in your hair, and you’re only put down when you have a few too many close calls with the doorway.

Even after you’re placed back on the ground, you’re at a loss for air as Charlie immediately pulls you back into a lung-puncturing bear hug. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, one band going to the back of your head to cradle it closer. You’ve never felt so welcome in your whole life.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

You hum in response and lean into the hug more, patting his back as affirmation.

For the rest of the day, Charlie doesn’t let go of you. He claims it’s necessary to “charge his boyfriend battery,” whatever that means, but you’re just happy to be by his side.

#charlie slimecicle #slimecicle #charlie slimecicle x reader #charlie slimecicle fic #charlie slimecicle x gn!reader #charlie slimecicle x gender neutral reader #fluff

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nayru-s-clay-tablet · 1 year ago

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youtube

Just a little reminder that the comic is on break today but will be back next week!

Been listening to this a lot while writing and drawing this chapter, to the point that it's been added to the comic playlist. Couldn't find a decent video with a translation of the lyrics -- but they're kind of embarrassingly on the nose, so that's fine.

And it definitely wasn't because I wanted another Arijit Singh song on the playlist.

#listen it's not my fault the man has the voice of an angel #also the songs DO work #and of course both the ones on the playlist are by #pritam #I swear it was unintentional #his stuff is a bit more repetitive than ar rahman but I still prefer it #without that repetition we never would have had the amazing 7 near-identical cuts to the villain's bemused face in Dastaan-E-Om Shanti Om #the song is like 6 minutes or so so that's more than 1 cut per minute #AMAZING #I sound like I'm kidding but I'm not

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kismetmoon · 5 months ago

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I’d do anything for you, Mrs. Highness

[ID: a digital painting of two original stylised Flatland characters, named Atlas and Chief Jr.

Atlas is a stone grey isosceles triangle with a navy tail with a V-shaped end, navy limbs, one eye with a star-shaped pupil, a bushy black eyebrow, chipped top and bottom right corners, and scars on his left side and eye.

Chief Jr. is a light grey and dark purple circle with a crescent moon pattern on his body, dark purple limbs and a tail that ends in a C-shaped tip, a glossy eyelid and long beaded eyelashes. He is wearing a black crown.

Chief is walking in front of Atlas on a dirt path and looking over to the left, as if looking back at Atlas. He is posed mid-stride and both of his hands are held away from his body. His left hand is loosely pointing the index finger at nothing in particular, and his right hand is held out to catch a falling raindrop. Atlas is running towards Chief and holding out a black umbrella to cover him with. He is looking straight at Chief and has a slightly panicked expression.

The background is a dirt path cutting through a lush meadow. The sky is blue, but fades to white closer to the horizon. Some green hills are in the distance. There are some light raindrops falling from a cloud just out of view at the top right of the scene.

End ID].

detail close-ups / small symbolism explanation / silly thing under the cut

[ID: four close-up shots of the above image. The first shows Atlas’s arm. The second shows Chief’s leg and arm. The third shows the umbrella. The fourth shows the grass and shadows. End ID].

Obviously the biggest and most prominent aspect of this is Atlas doing his best to shield Chief from the rain with the single umbrella as quickly as he can, at the expense of being soaked himself. He sees Chief’s comfort as being far more important than his own, so he’ll be the one to provide that comfort to him. He could choose to cover both of them with the umbrella, but he prioritises getting Chief completely covered first (or even just partially covering both of them).

Another thing being their placements; Atlas is farther away, and thus seems smaller than Chief. Something something smaller = less important, despite the fact that Atlas is physically much larger than Chief when stood side-by-side.

The grass near Atlas is yellower than that near Chief. Chief is surrounded by dark green grass. In essence, the grass is in poorer condition near Atlas, while it is healthier near Chief to symbolise the different paths in life they’ve led thus far.

also some potential endings especially for my two pathetic little guys <3 romantic walk through the meadow ruined by natural causes

[ID: two digital monochrome doodles of Atlas and Chief Jr. on grey backgrounds.

In the first image, Atlas is holding onto the umbrella, that has turned inside-out due to strong wind, while being dragged along and scrapping his heels on the ground. His eye is closed and he has a strained expression. Chief is stood in the back with an unimpressed look.

In the second image, they are stood together with Atlas holding the umbrella over Chief. They are both looking at one another and blushing, with Chief’s tail wrapped around Atlas’s. The rain is hitting off the umbrella and Atlas. Under this illustration is a smaller one, showing Atlas and Chief in the same poses but with their tails separated and their umbrella obliterated after being struck by lighting.

End ID].

#long post #TOXIC SHAPE YAOI !!#practiced both perspective AND backgrounds for this one ARGGHHHHHH #two birds with one stone ig #struggling for a title for this one lads so to the Atlas playlist i went #this took way too long it was done over the course of like. 3 days #or maybe it was 5 days #i don’t remember #anyways it took a long time. the longest i’ve ever spent on a piece i think #flatland #oc #atlas huntsworth #chief jr.#tw scopophobia #📎#i’ve literally drawn these two together like three times max.#despite saying that they are almost never seen without each other. fixing that rn

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dimensionhoppr · 6 months ago

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they were so so right when they said bkdk is a gay ship for gay people

#i have THOUHHFGBTTS and IDEAAASS but theyre all vague abstract feelings so im just pacing around feeling INSAAANE #im listening to songs and thinking of thrm i cant keep doing this dawg i CANNT. GRRR #RIPS OPEN MY SHIRT TO REVEAL ANOTHER SHIRT THAT SAYS I ❤️ COMPLICATED AND MESSY RELATIONSHIPS. GRAAARRUHHHH.#ive come around to them hardcore in my rewatch. in part because as ive gotten older i live for complicted rocky relationships #But Also. i am a bakugo lover harrrddcore now i must admit.#GRWUGG. NOBODY GETS THIS VERY POPULAR SHIP THE WAY I GET THIS SHIP OKAY. OKAY.#do i think they're in love with each other. no. well. ok ''in love'' in the way that you're in love with your best friend.#so no i don't think they're IN love but. there's something there.#there's love in the i hurt you and regret it way. in the you make me want to be better way.#''love'' in the way that if you've had someone in your life for that long of course you love them you have to.#i think that the way mha does a lot of relationships is ''youre my hero. you make me want to be better'' which is really good. i like that #grrrghh. thinking about the way they look at each other in some of the recent chapters. UHHHGGGGG #the amount of unspoken things between them makes me insane.#anyway i have to be done i have to.#.txt #brought to you by that one post i saw that was like krbk is a gay ship for straight people and bkdk is a gay ship for gay people.#whatever. starts a playlist.#they both have so much growing and changing to do before they can be ready to bury the hatchet and be in each other's lives and watching #it happen over the seasons grrhrhrg it makes me a little insane. WHATEVER THATS ENOGJH GN

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dont-hug-me-its-yuri · 6 months ago

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Exclusive royal canterlot wedding playset…dead end job coded…

#“I love your doll plastic eyes I hope you never see through my disguise”#<- specifically from Coffins pov #I need to make a dead end job playlist by this point cause I have so many songs for them #I need to find more from Briefcases pov though #Cause it’s mostly Coffins pov including this song #Mainly because I want to represent how they both look at each other because they have two very different perceptions of their relationship #Not in like a “one sees the other as a friend” more as like one of them is thinking “Wow they’re pretty I wish I could dissect them.”#In a romantic way of course #dhmis #:3 #dhmis dead end job #dhmis briefcase x coffin #coffinz inzane hourz of inzanity!!!

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froyocorp · 2 years ago

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i love being incredibly self indulgent about characters <- put so many gorillaz plastic beach songs in both of these playlists

#shut it frosty #toontown #toontown corporate clash #rainmaker #deep diver #mary anna #misty monsoon #i love both of them sometimes i jus walk around barnacle boatyard so of course i needed to make #playlists of these two first #i remembered some songs that might work for gatekeeper so illmaybe do one for her soon. idk #Spotify

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palin-tropos · 2 years ago

Audio

#disco elysium #harry du bois #thought I'd share my playlist I finally ordered it the way I want #it sort of tells a story but not perfectly #my tastes are either very good or very confusing. I need validation #the sea power songs are obligatory of course #in my universe ostentatious orchestrations is electric light orchestra not ABBA. i feel this strongly #my favorite choice is probably You Win Again which you'd think is about a creepy obsessive love for Dora #but to me it's ALSO about a creepy obsessive love for Kim <3 #I have literally mapped every line of that song to one of harry's skills. im fucked up #the kindest song on here might be vienna teng Level Up. its me petting harry very tenderly on the head #or maybe volition or maybe kim or maybe both

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fushitoru · 2 months ago

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infect me with your love

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you have always existed in gojo satoru’s shadow. he is a physics prodigy, a person that everyone endlessly admires for his intelligence and charisma, and you hate him for taking the spotlight that you deserve to share with him. but it all changes one day at 5:07AM at your starbucks job when gojo barges in, ordering ridiculously sweet drinks and posing existential questions. is there more to gojo that meets the eye, and is it linked to the vigilante swinging around New York City?

warnings ⸺ college au, academic rivals to lovers, SMUT, tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, basically the holy trinity, reader works at Starbucks (BOYCOTT tho), set in NYC, both reader and gojo are physics majors, mentions of SA, attempt at SA on reader but nothing too graphic, some violence, gojo swings reader across NYC so might trigger fear of heights?. SPIDER-MAN KISS SPIDERMAN KISS, injury and mentions of blood, mentions of gun, inappropriate use of webs LOL, fingering, oral, p in v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

a/n thank you for @avaults my POOKIE for beta reading this. this has been a journey and my first longfic and i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it it's my baby:')

if u don’t wanna read the smut just skip the part after they make up, it’s not necessary to the story and is the ending scene. but just to be clear, minors dni.

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.

of course, that depends on your local hours and where you live, but in the campus starbucks you worked at, your manager fortunately didn’t really care if you showed up to your opening shift a bit late. after all, no professor or undergrad is waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a fuckin coffee; if they really needed a pick me up, they’d go to get the free alcohol at one of the frats that was still partying.

matter of fact, your manager didn’t really give a fuck what you did as long as you didn’t get the shop blown up or the matcha spilled (it was expensive). this meant you could leisurely wake up at 4:45am and set up the display muffins and cake pops when you arrived in the shop at 5:20am. really, the manager ought to reduce the hours because all you do is finish your readings for your gen ed history classes on the canvas app on your phone. so, really you get paid for doing your homework on your shifts—not that you’re complaining or anything.

that is, until gojo satoru.

first, let’s get the record straight about who gojo is. gojo is a physics second-year—same as you–who is the bane of your existence. up until a few months ago, you never saw gojo satoru outside of classes (where he was dozing off) unless you happened to show up at a frat party, which was only a few occurrences when you got peer pressured by your friends. clearly, he was a “work hard, party hard” type person because he frequents the frats more than the library while having the grades to make up for it because he’s a prodigy. he’s charismatic and smart as fuck; right out of middle school he was studying manifolds and abstract algebra while the rest of the high school freshmen were learning the quadratic equation and the concept of variables. he probably learned what gravity was at age of two and was doing research in quantum field theory by the time he got into college.

take the last time you saw him outside of class, at office hours with professor yaga.

the air in professor yaga’s office is thick with the scent of old textbooks, the hum of the overhead lights adding to the familiar quiet. you’ve been waiting all week for this chance, and you’re armed with a question that’s supposed to signal i’ve done my homework. you lean forward, trying to project confidence as you ask, “i read in your last paper that you’re working on optimizing error correction in quantum computing systems. is there a reason you prioritized stabilizer codes over surface codes?”

professor yaga’s brow lifts, impressed, and you can feel the warmth of his approval starting to settle around you. “ah,” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised, “you’ve actually read it. that’s... a complicated question.” he leans back, launching into an explanation, and for a second, you think this might actually be it—the moment he notices you for your dedication, your depth of knowledge.

but then, the door creaks open behind you.

you tense, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach even before you turn around. of course, it’s gojo satoru, strolling in like he owns the place. his bag is slung over one shoulder, and he’s flashing that easy grin that never seems to falter. he spares you the briefest glance before zeroing in on professor yaga.

professor yaga’s face shifts instantly, a mixture of annoyance and resignation flashing in his eyes as he sighs, “gojo. nice of you to join us.”

“hey, i was just passing by,” gojo says casually, though he’s clearly anything but. he doesn’t pass by anywhere without making an entrance. “thought i’d check in on how everyone’s doing.”

the glint in yaga’s eyes sharpens, and he fixes gojo with a look. “when’s that last problem set coming in, satoru? i’ve had enough late assignments from you for one semester.”

at this, another professor at a nearby desk chuckles, casting an amused glance at gojo. “don’t push him too hard, yaga,” he says as if gojo’s delinquency is something charming, a shared inside joke. “kid’s already got the department’s highest scores without trying.”

oh, for god’s fucking sake. you force yourself not to roll your eyes, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag as you sink back in your chair. of course, all it takes is for him to show up and somehow you’re rendered invisible. just minutes ago, professor yaga was engaging with you, treating you as if you might actually belong in this room with your carefully constructed question. now, he’s utterly distracted, entirely absorbed by whatever pseudo-flattering insults he’s throwing at gojo. and, for the record, that stupid, balding professor is wrong. you have the same fucking scores as gojo, so you’re equals.

you’re not even sure gojo realizes he’s doing it—that he has this magnetic, obnoxious effect on everyone in a room. but that’s exactly what grates on you the most. he pulls all eyes to him, like he’s some cosmic force everyone’s compelled to admire. and you? you’re just… there. not that it’s any different than the usual experiences you’ve had as a woman in stem, always feeling like you have to prove yourself five times over. but somehow, gojo makes it worse.

and he does it all effortlessly, like physics is some sort of playground where he can breeze through research and exams, sprinkling charisma wherever he goes. he’s probably off writing his own theories on manifolds while everyone else is struggling to keep up with quantum mechanics. meanwhile, here you are, clawing for every shred of recognition, only to watch it fizzle as soon as he steps into the room.

he flashes a grin at professor yaga. “i’ll get it in,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “i’m just, you know, prioritizing. some of us have… extracurriculars.” he doesn’t wink, but he might as well.

you resist the urge to scoff, sinking deeper into your seat as the frustration bubbles up, sharp and hot. it’s not like you’re jealous. you’d rather endure anything than admit that. but watching gojo waltz in and immediately siphon off any attention you’d managed to earn feels like a slap. if he could just stop showing up, or better yet, stop pretending to be so casually brilliant, maybe—just maybe—you’d have a chance at something other than this routine invisibility.

you let out a huff, pretending to check the time, imagining you had somewhere better to be. you have brilliant, observant blue eyes following you out the door, but you’re too busy trying to keep yourself together until you reach your dorm, where you ugly cry it out.

which, of course, brings you to mornings like this one, where you actually do have to be somewhere. namely, behind the counter at the campus starbucks, opening up shop while most of the world is still asleep. you catch sight of the green mermaid logo ahead, just visible through the dim haze of a 5:07 a.m. chill.

and right beneath it, there’s a familiar head of silver hair.

your eyes have to double take on the man who seems to be looking a bit slouched, tired and leaning against the light pole while tapping his foot. the muscular yet tall stature and white hair are unmistakable; it’s the same ones you’ve dreamed about throttling. but you’re so confused as to why he’s there that you just decide to wordlessly walk towards the store and open up, ignoring his presence until his voice cuts through the morning silence.

“doesn’t this store open up at 5?” his voice sounds tired and groggy, you notice.

“uh, yea,” you answer tentatively, shrugging. “but, um, no one comes until 7 so i show up late.”

his eyes narrow and somewhat playfully (well, as playful as he can sound at the ass crack of dawn anyways), he asks, “don’t you know time is of the essence? seems pretty irresponsible to me that you’re not showing up on time.”

you just stare at him for a bit because, after all, this is the guy you’ve been having the murderous equivalent of wet dreams about for the past year talking to you in a friendly, joking, familiar way. needless to say, you’re at a loss of words in your slightly flustered state, so all that comes out is a short “sorry” before you’re walking in, getting ready to put on your apron and setting the oven on to heat up the croissants.

gojo follows in after you, choosing to sit at the table closest to the counter. he sets the backpack he had on his back down, rummaging through and whipping out his laptop and plugging it in. it’s a heavy old thing, and gojo’s biceps strain as he pulls it out and you almost snort when looking at it in its entirety. a gaming laptop.

but you don’t do that, because laughing at someone who’s a stranger to you would be mean, no matter how much you hate him, so you resort to setting up the counter and getting some powders out. bending over, you get the newly shipped box of cake pops, deigning to put them out on display until you’re interrupted with a cough.

you turn, looking inquisitively at gojo until he points down to the counter, indicating that he wants to order. you mumble, “just a second!” before you continue hauling the box to put it on the top counter where you can easily unpack it and brush your hands, walking up to gojo and getting the system ready to take his order.

and your fingers are poised on the buttons until you realize that no order is coming out of his mouth. you blink, and he blinks, keeping a stoic face that nevertheless poorly conceals an amused expression.

“…what can i get you?”

at that, he pouts. “no good morning? no chirpy hello?”

you just stare at him for a good second. what the fuck?

“what?” gojo frowns. “shouldn’t you do that to every customer?” you realize belatedly you’ve said it out loud in your shock, but shake it off nonetheless.

the silence lingers after gojo’s teasing comment, making you acutely aware of the odd situation: you’re standing there in your work apron, face-to-face with the man you’ve imagined taking down in your head a thousand times, and yet here he is, tired but playfully trying to chat you up. you should hate this—he’s getting under your skin, but for some reason, you just feel unsettled, disturbed that he’s so human.

you don’t trust your voice to not crack while making eye contact with him, so, instead, you focus on your screen. you settle on a simple, flat, “morning,” without a hint of cheerfulness, staring down at the register like it’s your lifeline.

gojo’s eyebrow quirks at your half-hearted greeting, but he says nothing, opting instead to study you with an amused glint. you can feel his gaze, like a weight on your skin, and it almost makes you shiver. he leans forward a little, propping his elbows on the counter, his posture loose but expectant. his playful energy is barely masking something beneath it, something harder.

gojo's grin is wide, almost boyish, and it makes your stomach churn more than it should.

“see? was that so hard?” he says, leaning forward on his elbows like he’s settling in for a chat. his tone is too friendly for someone who’s never exchanged more than a glance with you in class—someone you’ve been actively avoiding whenever possible.

you scowl, moving to the register to finally punch in his order. “what would you like?”

“hmm...” he taps his chin, dragging out the silence. he’s enjoying this, that much is obvious. “surprise me.”

you blink, fingers still poised over the buttons. “surprise you?”

“yeah,” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “you work here. you know what’s good.”

you want to throttle him. really, truly throttle him. there’s no way this is real—no way the gojo satoru is sitting in front of you at 5:07 in the morning, asking you to surprise him with a starbucks order like he’s some quirky regular.

and yet, here you are.

“fine,” you mutter, punching in the order for the sweetest, most ridiculous concoction you can think of. caramel drizzle, extra whipped cream, a pump of every syrup in the back room—you’re not going easy on him. “that’ll be eight dollars.”

he doesn’t blink at the ridiculous price. of course, he doesn’t.

pulling out his phone, he taps it against the card reader and flashes you another grin. “thanks, i’m sure it’ll be great.”

you barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “uh-huh.”

as you move to make the drink, the silence between you stretches uncomfortably. you’ve spent so much time thinking about gojo, despising him, that now that he’s here, right in front of you, you don’t know how to act. and the worst part? he seems perfectly at ease, completely unfazed by the fact that you’ve spent the better part of a year dreaming of his downfall. he’s back to looking at his stupid heavy ahh gaming laptop, and as you move over to put in copious amounts of caramel pumps, you notice that he’s on cool math games playing fireboy and watergirl and almost snort out loud. he’s locked in on his game, his legs moving up and down anxiously, reminiscent of an ipad kid.

after a few minutes of assembling his monstrosity of a drink, you slide it across the counter. “here,” you say, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.

gojo raises an eyebrow at the drink, the sheer volume of whipped cream threatening to spill over the lid. “wow,” he says, sounding genuinely impressed. “you really went all out.”

“you said to surprise you.”

“i did,” he admits, grabbing the cup and taking a slow, deliberate sip. his eyes widen slightly at the overly sweet taste, and for a brief moment, you think you’ve won.

but then he smiles again, that same irritatingly carefree smile, and you know you haven’t.

“so,” gojo begins, leaning back in his chair like he’s settling in for a long conversation. “what’s a genius like you doing working the early shift at starbucks?”

your hands freeze mid-clean, and you glance at him sharply. genius?

you can’t tell if he’s being sincere or mocking you—probably the latter, considering who he is—but the word still lingers in the air between you, unsettling.

you scoff, trying to brush it off. “gotta pay the bills somehow,” you mutter, going back to wiping down the counter. but gojo’s gaze is heavy on you, and you can tell he’s not letting it go.

you glance up at him. “look, i like having time to think in the mornings. it’s quiet. besides, no one’s lining up for coffee before 7, so it’s not like i’m missing anything.”

gojo chuckles softly, but there’s something off about it. “thinking time, huh?” he repeats your words, but there’s a strange edge to them, like he’s mulling them over. in fact, you think you just realize that he’s been acting oddly this entire morning, restlessness evident in his figure. he taps his fingers on the table, his eyes flickering to the window, watching the gray morning light spill into the shop.

“doesn’t it ever feel like…” he trails off, brow furrowing slightly. “i don’t know… like you should be doing something else? like… something more?”

his question hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken, but you get the feeling he’s not talking about you. there’s something in his voice, something that sounds like he’s grappling with his own thoughts, with his own place in the world.

for a moment, you’re tempted to brush him off. to tell him he’s overthinking things, that he’s gojo satoru and he already has everything laid out for him. but something stops you. maybe it’s the way he looks—his usual confidence slightly cracked at the edges, his playful tone masking something else. something deeper.

you shrug, turning back to the counter. “i mean… it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”

there’s a pause, and you can feel the weight of your words sinking in. gojo goes quiet, really quiet, and when you glance back at him, his usual smirk is gone. he’s just… staring at you, eyes narrowed slightly like he’s trying to figure you out.

“just… showing up, huh?” he repeats softly, almost like he’s testing the words. his fingers stop tapping, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze unfocused, like he’s somewhere else entirely. somewhere in his own head.

you don’t say anything else. you’ve said your piece, and somehow, you know it hit deeper than either of you expected. there’s a strange silence between you now, not uncomfortable, but heavy with understanding.

gojo stands up after a long pause, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. he looks at you, his usual grin slipping back into place, but it’s softer now. less cocky. more real.

“maybe you’re right,” he says, and this time there’s no teasing in his voice. “sometimes it’s enough just to show up.”

and with that, he gives you a small nod, turning and heading out into the cold morning. the door swings shut behind him, and for a second, you just stand there, staring after him.

something’s shifted. you don’t know what it is, but it feels like the start of something. something bigger than just a rivalry.

you shake your head, turning back to the counter. it’s too early for this shit.

…

“you know, i didn’t get your name.”

gojo’s voice cuts through the low hum of the espresso machine as he leans against the counter, that same insufferable grin plastered across his face. he’s here again, of course, only this time it’s during your closing shift. the place is quiet, almost deserted except for the occasional customer who swings by for a quick coffee before heading back out into the cold.

you look up from the equipment you were cleaning, already annoyed. “i’m pretty sure we’ve shared at least one class every semester.”

you weren’t trying to hide the pettiness. gojo, for all his academic genius, clearly couldn’t be bothered to remember you—a recurring face in his orbit. it’s not like you were expecting him to remember you, especially among the sea of faces in lecture halls, but something about the way he strolled in, acting like this was just some cute, quirky meet-cute, got under your skin.

gojo quirks an eyebrow in confusion, his gaze drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching the recesses of his mind for your name—only to come up empty. “are you a grad student?”

you flash him an exasperated look. “just for that, i’m not telling you.”

grabbing a towel to wipe your hands, you step out from behind the barista counter, heading towards the trash can just behind him to restock the straws. as you make your way to the supply room, you can feel his eyes following your every move. to your surprise, gojo starts walking toward you, his presence looming as you dump the straws into the container.

it isn’t until you turn around that you realize he’s standing right next to you, bent comically at the waist and squinting at something on your chest. heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks as you realize his proximity and move to take a step back.

he wasn’t ogling you (thank god), but instead, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron.

"ah," he says, straightening up with a triumphant grin. “there it is. y/n, huh?” the way his mouth rolls over your name slowly makes you feel a bit weird, because after all, this is the guy you’ve shit talked about in your diary finally acknowledging you existed, but before you can reflect on the feeling, you bristle again in annoyance.

“really? you had to get that close just to read my name?”

gojo doesn’t seem fazed by your annoyance, in fact, it only seems to amuse him further. “hey, i was just trying to be thorough. gotta make sure i get it right, you know?” his grin widens, and you swear he’s enjoying this way too much.

“thorough. sure.” you turn away, trying to busy yourself with the straws again, but the heat still lingers on your face. his proximity had been… unexpected. and a little too close for comfort.

when you’re done with the straws, you steel the courage to turn your body so you’re facing him, making an indication with your hands for him to move out of your way. instead of him giving you space to leave the cramped corner, he leans against the counter now like he practically owns the place. in doing so, he effectively pins you against the corner of the coffee shop, leaving you no option but to fiddle with the straws while pointedly avoiding his gaze, but not before you see the pout on his face. “you’re not going to ask me for my name?”

“i know it. it’s gojo.” you immediately curse yourself for letting your lips loose.

fuck. he squints his eyes in what you perceive as suspicion. “how do you know my name?”

“i saw it on your credit card information.” you couldn’t exactly tell him how you’ve stalked him (as well as how inefficient you found a function in his 6th grade robotics code), so that would be a plausible enough reason.

but gojo, of course, doesn’t let up. “so, y/n,” he starts. “you going to the party next week? you know, for halloweekend?”

ah, halloweekend. the ultimate weekend for getting excuses to dress slutilly, excessively drink, and get laid. at your college, it was an even bigger deal, with people partying for all three days of the week’s end as well as the weekend before and after halloween. you shook your head. “i don’t think so.” that phys 321 assignment was not going to finish itself, nor were parties really your scene.

“what?” he immediately crosses his arms across his chest, frowning and leaning closer to you to squint at you. “why?”

you sigh inwardly, awkward at the prospect of him bugging you further about your life. “i’m bu—”

you’re interrupted by the sound of the door opening and instinctively move to get behind the counter to take the new customer’s order; at first, you thank the heavens that you got a distraction from gojo, that you’re not alone anymore, but seeing who the customer was, the hope extinguishes like a candle face with wind.

you both see a man swagger in, the same guy you’ve noticed hanging around far too often lately. his eyes immediately lock onto you, and a slow, sleazy grin spreads across his face.

“hey, look who’s still here,” the man says, sauntering over to the counter like he owns the place. “my favorite barista.”

you tense, forcing a smile. “what can i get you?”

he doesn’t answer right away, his gaze sliding down your body in a way that makes your skin crawl. “i was thinking…” he drawls, leaning in closer than necessary, “you and i should hang out. you’re always here, and i’m always here, so it’s like fate or something, right?”

your stomach churns, and you take a small step back, maintaining your composure. “i’m good, thanks.”

but he doesn’t let up, leaning further across the counter. “come on, don’t be like that. just one drink. you deserve it after a long day.”

“i really can’t—”

“don’t be shy,” he interrupts, a grin spreading wider. “i’m a nice guy, i promise.”

before you can think of another polite rejection, gojo steps forward, his body language shifting entirely. the playful air around him evaporates, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. he positions himself squarely between you and the guy, effectively cutting off the man’s view of you.

“she said no,” gojo says, his voice firm, low. “so why don’t you fuck off?”

the sleazy guy blinks, clearly not expecting the sudden shift. his smile fades, and he glares at gojo, sizing him up like he’s considering pushing back. but one glance at gojo’s unwavering stare, and the guy decides it’s not worth it. with a muttered curse, he turns and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. the guy’s been bothering you routinely; part of you thinks that he’s still not going to leave you alone, but the rest of you visibly relaxes, the weight of this guy’s harassment lifting off your shoulders under gojo’s protection.

gojo turns back to you, the usual teasing smirk creeping back onto his face, though his eyes are still sharp. “you okay?”

“yeah,” you manage, though your voice is quieter than you’d like. “thanks for that.”

“don’t mention it.” he shrugs it off like it was nothing, but there’s something different in the way he’s looking at you now—something protective. “i know you’re perfectly capable of handling yourself, but i figured i’d speed things up a bit.”

you roll your eyes, trying to shake off the tension. “you’re such a hero, gojo.”

“always,” he replies with a wink. and just like that, the moment’s lightened again, the balance between you restored, though there’s a subtle shift in the air. something unspoken between the two of you—an understanding, maybe.

you don’t acknowledge it out loud, but as you go back to restocking, you find yourself glancing at him more than before. and for the first time in… well, ever, you don’t completely mind his presence.

…

fast forward a few hours, and after a bit of conversation, gojo finally leaves the fine institution that is your campus starbucks. right now, you’re alone and finishing cleaning up. you lock up, the starbucks finally closed, finishing your last task for the night. it’s quiet—too quiet, actually, with the usual streetlights casting strange shadows across the empty sidewalk. the air feels heavy, like something unseen is lingering just out of reach, watching from the dark. you shake it off, telling yourself you’re just tired and letting your nerves get to you.

as you start your walk back to your dorm, the feeling only grows. the street’s nearly empty, and with each step, the silence presses in closer. it’s fine, you tell yourself, picking up your pace. but then you hear it: the echo of footsteps, faint but unmistakable. heart pounding, you speed up, every instinct telling you to just get back. almost there. you just have to cross the alley—

“hey there,” a voice drawls, and your stomach sinks. a hand moves to grab at your shoulder, making you turn quickly. what meets your vision is the same guy from earlier, his grin widening in a way that makes your skin crawl.

you try to move out of his grip, but he grabs you harder, cutting off any escape. “aw, don’t be like that. i just wanted some company.”

your throat’s dry, but you manage, “i said no.”

he doesn’t even pretend to listen, his gaze trailing over you with that same leering interest. “no need to be so uptight. i could make this fun for you.”

your back hits the wall of the alley. trapped. he leans in, his breath warm and sour against your face, one hand reaching out as he says something sleazy that you can barely hear over the pounding in your ears—

and then a voice cuts in from above, all easy humor. “y’know, i always thought this city’s trash problem was bad, but this is something else.”

your heart leaps in your chest at the small flicker of hope, that someone has the balls to try to rescue you. but as you—and this creep—turn, you find no evidence of another party present, only his mysterious presence.

“who’s there?” the guy snarls, his grip tightening so much that you wince. “why don’t you get lost if you know what’s good for you—”

“dude, don’t you have any rizz?” the mysterious boy retorts.the stranger has a youthful voice, someone of your age. “the way you have to resort to sexual harassment is just sad. you guys are always sooo predictable, you’re so gonna tell me to scram or something.”

the man scowls, hand leaving your arm in an effort to search for the stranger in the dark. “why don’t you mind your own business, punk—”

and he’s interrupted, because a shiny, silver something flings out in the darkness and lands on his face, sending his arms in a frenzy to uncover what it is. the man rips the sticky, silver webbing off his face with a growl, looking around wildly, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. his eyes dart through the dark alley, searching for the source of that cocky voice, but there’s nothing—just shadows and the faint flicker of a streetlamp somewhere down the block.

“who the hell are you?” he snaps, twisting his neck as if he could scare whoever’s hiding out there into the open. “show yourself, you bastard!”

a chuckle echoes from the darkness, bouncing off the brick walls. “wow, real tough guy, huh? but you should work on those anger issues. they’re, uh…a bit unbecoming.”

the man spins around, and another burst of webbing flies out from somewhere unseen, sticking to his shoulder this time. he yanks it off with a frustrated grunt, his head whipping from side to side as he tries to locate the stranger.

“you think this is funny?” he spits, voice raised in a mix of fear and fury.

“depends. do you?” the voice is closer now, almost like the stranger is right above you, yet no one’s there. “or is this just a big overreaction? all i did was suggest you rethink your approach. go to therapy or sum’.”

the man snarls, fists clenched, starting to look downright unhinged. “get down here and say that to my face, punk!”

“as you wish.”

with a soft thump, a figure drops from above, landing directly in front of the guy in a low crouch. in the dim light, all you see at first are the blue and black accents on the otherwise white suit, his head tilting up, illuminated just enough that his white, wide eyes glow with a certain playful menace. and then, your eyes widen as you gasp to yourself.

you’ve seen him before.

okay, pause.

you’re a busy college student, one who stays entrenched in the bubble of upcoming exams, assignments, and problem sets that you don’t check the news often. in the off chance you do turn from your usual consumption of social media during your breaks to the news, you only have time to read the big headlines.

so you did read somewhere that in your university’s city of new york city, there was a masked menan—vigilante that had beat up a few guys near a shawarma joint or prevented some shootings at a nightclub. new york city was full of incompetent cops that were on the lookout for him (a/n acabbbbbb) since this guy was a vigilante, some kind of superhero slinging around on webs. some name—spiderman.

but before you could read more into the article, your soul almost left your body when you got a canvas notification saying your midterm was graded, so that was the end of that.

alright, pause over. back to now.

“hi!” spiderman chirps, giving him a friendly wave before ducking just as the man throws a punch. the swing goes wide, and spiderman straightens up with a disappointed sigh. “see, this is why i’m the one with the web powers. you’d hurt yourself with these moves.”

without warning, the man charges again, swinging in rapid succession, but each one misses as spiderman easily sidesteps, practically dancing around him. “oof, dude, how did you make it this far in life with reflexes like that?” he ducks another blow, slipping behind the guy to give him a light tap on the shoulder as he passes.

the man stumbles, eyes flashing with frustration, and lets out a roar, reaching down to pick up a loose brick from the alley floor. he raises it above his head, face twisted in a snarl.

“oh, so we’re improvising now?” spiderman quips, and before the man can bring the brick down, a strand of webbing shoots out, sticking to the brick and yanking it from his grasp. it flies off somewhere into the alley, landing with a dull clatter.

the guy stumbles forward, off balance, and spiderman takes the opportunity to web his feet to the ground, immobilizing him in place. the man struggles, pulling his legs, but he’s stuck fast.

“ever heard of boundaries?” spiderman asks, tilting his head with mock innocence. “or, like, self-restraint? you should look into it.”

the man glares, seething, still struggling against the webs. “you think you’re some kinda hero?” he sneers.

spiderman shrugs, glancing over at you, catching your gaze in a way that makes you feel both strangely comforted and seen. “nah, hero’s a big word. i’m just your friendly neighborhood guy with slightly above-average reflexes.”

with a frustrated yell, the man finally wrenches one arm free and makes a desperate lunge, his fist connecting with spiderman’s side. spiderman lets out a small grunt but only wobbles slightly before grinning. “okay, buddy, playtime’s over.”

before the man can even react, spiderman sends out another web, this time at his wrist, effectively pinning him to the alley wall. he struggles, face twisted in anger, but spiderman just raises a gloved hand to his lips as if hushing a child. then, in the lull that follows, you remember the thick quantum mechanics textbook in your bag. without thinking, you yank it out and, in a burst of adrenaline, swing it at the man’s head. the book lands with a solid thud, and he slumps, finally, into silence.

spiderman looks at the unconscious man, then at the textbook in your hand. he lets out a low whistle. “you know, i’ve always thought textbooks were a weapon of choice, but that’s next-level dedication.” that’s when you realize just how tall he is compared to you, and you can’t help your excitement when you realize that he’s here in the flesh.

“nice hit, by the wa—”

“it’s you!” you exclaim.

“what?” he sputters, white eyes widening almost comically. “me? oh,” then he straightens up, “yea, yea. just your friendly neighborhood spiderman. rescuing pretty girls from creeps, kinda my thing. ” he shrugs.

you continue, excitedly, “right, you’re the one on the news—” you move your hand to point at him but quickly wince, the pain of the man’s grip catching up to you.

he doesn’t miss the movement, eyes squinting at you. “hey, we’ll have to get you home. do you trust me?”

you look at him, clutching your arm in pain, and really take a moment to check him out. he’s saved you, he’s probably six feet tall, and his ass looks fantastic in his suit. at this point, you’re looking at him with heart eyes. but you can’t exactly tell him you want him to propose, so all you utter out is a “y-yeah. my dorm’s randall.”

he doesn't waste any time. with a quick nod, he hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he aims a webline up toward the buildings. “hold on tight, randall’s just a swing away,” he murmurs, his voice light but steady. his hand settles on your hip, and you can't stop the way your stomach flips at the contact.

before you can even process what’s happening, he launches the two of you into the air, the city blurring beneath your feet as you cling to him, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit for dear life. his arm stays solid around you, his grip somehow both gentle and strong. he lands lightly on the roof of your dorm, setting you down carefully like you’re something fragile. and he steps back, dusting his hands off in the most nonchalant way possible, like he didn’t just take you on the most exhilarating ride of your life.

“this is your stop,” he says, that signature, almost cocky smile playing in his voice.

“uh… yeah. thanks. for the rescue,” you manage, your voice a little shakier than you’d like. you don’t know if “thank you” is enough—it doesn’t even come close to covering what you feel.

but he just shrugs, taking a step back. “all in a day’s work,” he says. “or night’s work, i guess.” he pauses, giving you a quick once-over. “get some sleep, yeah?”

and just like that, he gives you a small, almost playful salute and vanishes, swinging off into the night as easily as he’d appeared, leaving you standing on the rooftop with your heart still racing.

back in your dorm room, you drop onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling as tonight’s events replay in your head: the alley, his voice cutting through the dark, that cocky smirk, the way he felt holding onto you as you soared over the city lights. a tiny part of you wonders if you imagined the whole thing—if maybe you’re just the victim of some wild, sleep-deprived hallucination.

but no, your arm still aches from where the creep grabbed you, and you can still feel the ghost of his hand on your waist, steady and reassuring. you bite your lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself.

just before sleep finally claims you, you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. “the city’s vigilante, huh?” you murmur, as if he’s somehow still listening.

the thought is wild, a bit surreal—and strangely comforting.

…

“one caffe americano!” you call out, reading the label on the cup before handing it over with a small nod. the customer takes it with a quick thanks, and you return to the counter, barely holding back a yawn. the events of last night flicker through your mind—a web-slinging hero, an alley, the lingering ache in your arm—and you shake it off. there’s no room for distractions. life as a college student means the grind never stops, especially on a morning shift right before class.

when your coworker finally arrives, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, grab your bag, and step out into the brisk morning air. the chill helps wake you up as you make your way across campus, hoping to catch up with your friends before the lecture starts. just outside the building, you spot utahime, sitting on a bench, waiting with her usual tired smile.

“hey, finally off the clock?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, barely,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “i’m still running on fumes from last night. you guys save me a seat?”

“of course. nanami’s already inside,” she says, gesturing toward the building.

you sigh. “you won’t believe the things that happened last night.”

she gives you a look, in the traditional utahime protective-mother-hen type way. “what happened?”

you give her the rundown of what happened, the guy (who she bristles at, gives you a slap at your hand to tell you that you should’ve told her earlier, kento would’ve been able to beat his ass if she hadn’t gotten to it first) and how spiderman saved you. “i would give him what he’s missing,” you sigh, dreamily.

utahime looks at you in a judgmental way. “and that’s all you got from this? for fucks sake, he’s a vigilante, you don’t know if he’s started to tail you or not. pooks, he could literally be dangerous. try to convince your boss to let someone else get your night shift.” as soon as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off immediately. “and no, i don’t give a fuck about your people pleaser tendenci—”

“we’ll revisit this conversation later.” you give her a sweet smile as you start to speed walk, door of the lecture hall of the 9am section of phys401: intro to quantum algorithms, falling in with the usual stream of students after you hear an irritated “yea, cause i’m gonna kill you otherwise.” the familiar chatter and echo of footsteps make the day feel almost normal, grounding you as you weave through the hall.

inside, you quickly spot kento’s shining, disney prince-like blonde hair, who has saved seats for the three of you near the middle of the hall, away from the ugly, smelly grad students who always crowd the front. he gives you a quick nod as you settle down beside him, flipping open your notebook. the reliable calm on his face helps ease the lingering jitters you hadn’t realized you were carrying.

“long night?” he asks, glancing at the dark circles under your eyes.

“you could say that,” you mumble, not quite ready to get into details. instead, you wave it off. “just work assignments, and getting jumped, the usual.”

nanami breaks into a series of shocked coughs, and you hurry to pat his back as he undeniably burns his tongue on the coffee he was taking a sip of. “what?”

his rather loud exclamation sets off stares from people sitting closer to you both, so you give utahime, who lets out a quiet groan as she’s settling into her seat beside you, a knowing look. “it’s a long story, i’ll tell it to you later.”

he reluctantly settles in after that, not because he has a choice but because yaga is starting to address the class by asking about the weekend and getting his usual blank stares in return until a voice you recognize as suguru geto’s is saying something to undeniably piss him off, but you don’t register quite what it is exactly because the door opens and any attention on geto is directed to the boy with white hair and blue eyes tiredly walking into class.

he’s about ten minutes late to the lecture, which is already weird because he’s usually about 27 seconds late, not that you keep count. but also, normally gojo is the picture of confidence and cockyness, making some of the female grad students whisper things about him that you don’t think they should be for the five year gap between them and gojo.

but today, he looks different—messy, unkempt, with shadows under his eyes and a weird angle to his torso, the way he walks, and the way his opposite hand is subconsciously hovering around his side.

your brows knit together as he heads to an empty seat rows behind you next to geto, ignoring the stares of half the room. it’s so out of character for him that you can’t help but wonder what’s going on. you shoot utahime a knowing look, and she stifles a laugh, barely managing to keep a straight face as she watches gojo slink to his seat. nanami’s usually impassive face exchanges a look with you as well before he turns his attention back to professor yaga’s opening remarks. gojo slides into the row behind you without a word, avoiding everyone’s gaze—or so you think, until you feel it.

as you attempt to listen to professor yaga, you can’t shake the sensation of eyes boring into the back of your head. you resist the urge to turn, telling yourself it’s probably nothing… except the feeling lingers, so strong that your pulse ticks up a notch.

“okay, now that we’re all here,” yaga says in a dry tone, barely able to hide his irritation as he glances pointedly in gojo’s direction, “let’s begin with today’s lecture on grover’s.”

professor yaga taps the board, and the projector switches to a set of slides titled quantum speed-up and the grover search algorithm. he launches into his explanation, voice clipped. “grover’s algorithm provides a quadratic speed-up for unstructured search problems, a notable advantage in quantum computing. but can anyone tell me why this isn’t considered an exponential improvement?”

you raise your hand, as does nanami. a subtle shift of movement in your peripheral vision draws your eye to gojo, who’s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. yaga’s attention lands on nanami first, and he gives a succinct answer about how grover’s algorithm yields only a quadratic speed-up in terms of computational complexity. as he answers, you swear you catch gojo watching you, again, through the corner of your eye.

determined not to let him get under your skin, you lean over to whisper to nanami. “what’s with him today?”

nanami, still watching yaga, raises a brow. “maybe he finally realized that he can’t get by without skipping class today.”

utahime snickers quietly. “doubtful. more like he thinks it’s funny to waltz in whenever he likes and still ace every test.”

“exactly.” you sigh, drumming your pen against your notebook. gojo’s rare absences don’t even seem to faze most professors. and despite his unpredictable attendance, he’s always managed to stay miles ahead. today, though, something’s… different about him. like he’s made a life changing decision in the past 48 hours.

“moving on,” yaga says, pointing to the board where the next slide materializes. “the heart of grover’s algorithm lies in its use of an amplitude amplification technique, where we iterate a search oracle along with an inversion process. pay attention—this concept of iterative improvement will become key when we start covering variational quantum algorithms.”

as yaga delves deeper into amplitude amplification, you manage to focus, jotting down notes on the necessary steps in grover’s search. yet each time you settle into the lecture, you feel gojo’s gaze pricking at you. the first time you turn around, there’s nothing there—just him slouched, seemingly absorbed in whatever he’s staring at on the ceiling. but then, you sense it again and, on your second glance, you catch his blue eyes meeting yours, and he quickly looks away.

what’s his problem? you give him a questioning look, but he’s adamantly not looking at you, trying to look nonchalant as he’s pulling out his laptop. he might look like a student taking latexing notes of what yaga’s yapping about, but the way he’s using his mouse more than he is his keyboard tells you that he’s probably on papa’s freezeria instead.

you decide that you’re going to waste your time wondering how gojo’s brain functioned, so you instead focus back on the lecture. after all, you didn’t understand any of the lecture notes you took notes on before and what it said about the diffuser in the circuit.

“now,” yaga’s voice sharpens, pulling you back into the room, “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of being late.” his eyes slide back to gojo, who remains oblivious, leaning back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as the sound of his name brings him back to the lecture.

gojo doesn’t even look phased. instead, he raises a hand casually, like he’s about to ask a simple question. you can feel the anticipation ripple through the room—half the students are waiting to see if he’ll fumble, and the other half already know better.

“professor yaga,” he drawls, “don’t you think amplitude amplification is a bit of an oversimplification? the way it’s typically presented, you’d think grover’s algorithm was just… guessing with style.” he flashes an infuriatingly smug smile, drawing out the pause before continuing. “but we both know it’s more about quantum phase inversion, right? the oracle reflects about the mean state, iterating with a precision that isn’t just luck. or maybe that’s all too technical?” he leans back, feigning innocence.

the smugness in his tone makes something flare up in you, and before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots up.

“actually, gojo,” you interject, your voice louder than you intended, “calling it “guessing with style” is a very gross oversimplification. grover’s algorithm isn’t about intuition or luck. it’s about optimization. it’s not just about spotlighting a target like a rando guess, it’s more like rotating the probability in a controlled manner—with iterations—to amplify the correct solution. not just some quantum trick or guess.” you cross your arms, leaning back in your chair as you stare him down. “it’s not even that bad, compared to what we have classically.”

as soon as you spoke, it seems that the fight and mischievous look in gojo’s eyes fades, replacing it with something that shockingly looks like him being flustered as he averts your gaze, looks to the ceiling, and murmurs something like “yea, that’s basically most of quantum computing, desperately trying to prove we’re not just wasting our time” but yaga interrupts him, clearly a bit annoyed at the two know-it-alls that you and gojo were acting like.

“now,” yaga says, shifting back to the lecture as if nothing happened (probably because he wasn’t paid enough to deal with this shit), “these iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attention—especially those of you who have a habit of missing lectures.”

you’re just left confused as to why the conversation didn’t escalate like the typical academic rivals in movies, because you’ve definitely seen gojo bully some people who didn’t know what the fuck they were talking about instead of just blushing like some schoolgirl. regardless, you can’t help but notice the thrill that you felt, having finally argued with him, having been seen as someone worth arguing. you try to temper it as yaga continues onto the rest of the lecture.

…

“i can’t believe you’re making me go.” you tug at the hem of your white corset, paired with a matching skirt, still incredulous at how utahime managed to talk you into attending one of the infamous halloween frat parties. the night air is crisp against your exposed shoulders, and despite your complaints, you shiver more at the thought of wasting the next few hours among sweaty strangers than the actual cold.

utahime, walking beside you in a devil-red version of your outfit—complete with horns perched precariously on her head—looks far too satisfied with herself. she adjusts the horns with one hand, giving you a sidelong glance that practically drips with smugness.

“stop pouting,” she chides. “i’m not going to let you waste another night holed up in your room, buried in manhwa or quantum physics. i’m pretty sure there are cobwebs growing in your—”

“utahime,” you hiss, cutting her off with a mortified glance around.

“pussy,” she finishes, completely unbothered. “i’m going to find you a guy to hook up with. i’m not saying you have to go all the way, but flirting? kissing? maybe something more? very healthy. highly encouraged.”

your mouth falls open in protest, but before you can get a word in, she fixes you with a sharp glare, her dark eyes flashing with all the authority of a disappointed parent. “don’t even think about arguing with me. i swear, if you don’t at least try to enjoy this, i’ll make it my personal mission to find someone for you.”

“i can’t believe this,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “you’re supposed to be my friend, not my pimp.”

“oh, i’m your friend. that’s why i’m doing this. you’ll thank me when you’re sixty and not crying about how boring your college life was.”

“i’m not boring,” you counter. “i’m selective.”

“sure,” utahime drawls, clearly unconvinced. “and whatever weird sexual tension you’ve got going on with gojo doesn’t count.”

you scoff, stopping in your tracks to stare at her. “what tension? we’ve literally talked once this week. and that was the first time we had a conversation.”

she doesn’t respond, already scanning the scene ahead. the street of frat houses looms just ahead, glowing with gaudy orange lights strung up across balconies. the bass from the nearest party reverberates through the pavement underfoot. it’s already crowded, hordes of people shuffling in and out, laughing, shouting, and showcasing their half-baked halloween costumes.

you follow utahime’s gaze to the nearest house, packed with enough people to make the windows fog up. just the thought of squeezing into that humidity makes your stomach churn.

“looks crowded,” you mumble. “maybe we should—”

before you can suggest retreating, utahime grabs your wrist and practically drags you toward the house. “nope. you’re coming in. no backing out now.”

the moment you step inside, the smell hits you. sweat, stale beer, and an undercurrent of what you can only describe as frat-house musk. your nose wrinkles, and you instinctively recoil, pulling your arm free from utahime’s grasp.

“god, it smells like a gym locker in here,” you say, covering your nose.

utahime doesn’t seem fazed. she’s already scanning the room, her eyes landing on a beer pong table set up in the corner, surrounded by cheering students. “this is perfect!” she says, beaming.

“for what? contracting a fungal infection?” you mutter.

but she’s no longer listening, her focus shifting as a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a makeshift cowboy hat approaches her and then stops in front of both of you, his stare fully enthralled by utahime. “hey,” he says, a bit suavely, in the way that makes you inwardly roll your eyes because you know she’s going to eat it up. she likes it when they’re a little ugly, and this guy fits the bill.

“hey,” and she giggles, making you have to physically fight the urge to puke, “what’s up?”

they exchange a few words, and before you know it, she’s smiling in that way that tells you she’s found her entertainment for the night.

“go ahead,” you say dryly, waving her off. “i’ll just fend for myself.”

utahime starts to protest, but you’re already beelining for the kitchen, trying to get a drink that’s not too crazy to survive the night. it’s surprisingly less chaotic in the kitchen, though the counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and some questionable punch that looks radioactive. you scan the room, your eyes landing on a cupboard that might hold something simple—like water. a series of ding! ding! ding!’s go off in your mind as you find the pack of plastic water bottles.

standing on your toes, you reach for the handle, but it’s just out of your grasp. you huff in frustration, shifting to get better leverage when a hand way bigger than yours suddenly appears above yours, effortlessly grabbing the item you were reaching for.

“let me get that for you.”

you turn to thank the person, the words dying on your lips when you see who it is.

gojo.

he’s standing impossibly close, his signature smirk firmly in place, but there’s something almost casual in the way he looks at you, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. you swear you’re so close that you can see like the two open pores on his otherwise flawless skin, as his eyes inevitably drag themselves downwards to scan your outfit for the night—a shitty angel without wings and halo (you couldn’t be paid two shits to put in the effort; both of the top and skirt were utahime’s, anyways.) then, his eyes meet yours again, a bit of playfulness in them.

“well, well,” he drawls, handing you the water bottle. “never thought i’d see you here.”

you take the bottle, trying to ignore the brush of his fingers against yours. “didn’t have much of a choice. utahime dragged me.”

his grin widens. “classic. let me guess—she’s off trying to find her soulmate at the beer pong table?”

“something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. twisting the cap off the bottle, you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.

“so,” he says, tilting his head, “i heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that spider-man guy this week.”

that makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in kirkland signature natural spring water. you’ve only told like, three people outside of kento and iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. the memory of spider-man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “it was amazing. he’s—he’s incredible, honestly. the way he just swooped in and handled everything? so fast, so precise. he’s like a real-life superhero.”

you’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. he’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “sounds like you’re smitten.”

“maybe i am,” you admit, laughing. “i mean, who wouldn’t be? he’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. it’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” you also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare gojo the details.

“untouchable, huh?” gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “don’t be ridiculous.”

“i’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. superheroes are overrated.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and what, you’re not?”

he grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “i’m better. i’m real.” he then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “i can prove that to you.”

and you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “god, you’re insufferable.”

“really?” he teases. his hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. the motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. and your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.

"yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds.

it seems to have an effect on gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "wastin' your time on that spiderman guy."

maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "who should i spend my time on instead?"

he gives you a little smile as he stares down at you, eyes raking over your face, catching at your lips and then going back up again to meet yours. “i don’t know, someone who’s as smart as you,” he murmurs.

“yea?” you laugh out breathlessly. your faces are so close that in normal circumstances, you would worry about how you both looked so close together, one hand on your thigh and the other splayed on your waist. “and how would you know how smart i am?��

satoru starts, lips coming closer and closer. “because i—”

but he’s interrupted, because you both hear a “satoru” and pull apart, breathing heavily as you both turn to look at the offender standing in the entrance of the kitchen: suguru geto, gojo’s best friend, looking more tired than anything as his eyes catch on you, then going to gojo with a pointed look. it’s not hard to figure out what was going on based on how disheveled you both look, your skirt crooked and his shirt crumbled, and your cheeks heat. before you can say anything, however, suguru sighs and says to gojo, “there’s a burglary happening nearby.” then, he turns but not before giving you a nod. “make sure to stay safe.”

he promptly leaves, leaving you confused standing there. was this such an emergency worth noting that he interrupted his best friend?

you try to seek the answer in gojo’s face, but he has this conflicted, annoyed countenance and you suddenly feel kinda of insecure because he’s raking his hand through his hair, staring painfully at the ceiling then at you. at the same time you utter out a “uh–” he says “i have to go.”

“oh.” you blink. a why brews on top of your tongue, but you temper it, reminding yourself that you’re not close to gojo like that. needless to say, you feel a little embarrassed as you watch him jog out of the kitchen with a little wave to you. you want to overanalyze gojo’s last look to you, the one that looked a bit like disappointment and yearning, but you shake it off, staring at the 16.9 oz plastic water bottle in your hand that you forgot about.

taking a sip, you cringe as you become more aware of your surroundings and the state you’re left in because of gojo. that your panties are a bit more sticky—you reach under your skirt to adjust them so they don’t stick to your crotch so much—and you’re hot all over.

then reality comes crashing back. what the hell did you and gojo just do right now?

you groan out loud, banging your head against the fridge, but as you reel back, in your peripheral you see someone there. your head shoots to see the guy who’s now looking at you with a weird expression as he undeniably waits for whatever freaking out you were doing to gain access to the fridge.

“sorry,” you blurt out, and gather yourself to beeline for the exit. god, you needed to find utahime.

…

the soft hum of a tv in the corner of satoru’s apartment provided the only sound, save for the faint rustle of suguru flipping through a textbook. the remnants of takeout—boxes of half-eaten pad thai and a pile of discarded chopsticks—littered the coffee table between them. satoru leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he hadn’t thought to ask yet. he held a small foam ball, tossing it up and catching it over and over. his mind, however, wasn’t focused on the ball but on you.

it was starting to feel like an obsession. he’d always been able to compartmentalize things—his studies, his friends, his other responsibilities. but you? you’d broken through the usual barriers in his head, wedging yourself firmly into every free thought he had.

“do you think she likes me?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

suguru glanced up from his book, his expression unreadable. “who, starbucks girl?”

satoru scoffed. “she’s not starbucks girl. she’s…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers against his knee. your name lingered on his tongue, oddly weighty in a way that felt almost unfamiliar.

suguru smirked. “oh, she’s got a name now? progress.”

“shut up.”

but he couldn’t shut his mind off, not when you kept taking up space in it. it wasn’t just that he’d noticed you now—really noticed you, for the first time. it was more than that.

satoru had always known who you were. you weren’t exactly easy to miss. in a program full of ugly guys who didn’t shower and loud personalities, you had carved out your niche by being the cold, unreachable one. the one who didn’t bother with group projects unless she had to, who barely engaged in conversations beyond what was strictly necessary. other guys in the program talked about you, of course. they always did.

“frigid,” they called you. “too serious. probably thinks she’s better than us.”

they weren’t entirely wrong. you were better than most of them, but not for the reasons they assumed. satoru had read your work—papers that brimmed with insights that most of their half-baked theories could only dream of. he could tell you put in the effort in your classes and research, while all the guys left shit-talking had to rely on their grad student mentors to be able to write a legible paper. for fucks sake, he doesn’t even thing anyone could code in qiskit or cirq like you could; he had skimmed your notes once, left them behind after a lecture, and found them meticulous and sharp before he turned them into the professor to return to you.

and yet, despite the brilliance you carried with you, you had never given him a second glance.

that day at starbucks, though.

satoru rolled his head to the side, gaze drifting toward the window. he hadn’t expected to see anyone at five in the morning, let alone you. he’d been desperate for answers then—he had spent his night staring at his hands, which had seemed to keep ejecting spider-like webs after he’d been horribly sick. he knew he shouldn’t have gone fooling around in new york’s subway tunnels at 3am with suguru and shoko, but after a seemingly-harmless spider had bit him, he had been reeling from the discovery of his newfound powers and grappling with the weight of what they meant ever since.

and there you were, unlocking the starbucks, bleary-eyed but no less composed.

you’d handed him his coffee, not interested in him the entire time, and he remembered blurting something out—something ridiculous about fate or responsibility, his usual bravado faltering in the quiet of the moment. he had been spiraling, unsure of who he was anymore, and you’d said something.

what was it again?

“it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”

the words had stayed with him, carved deep into the corners of his mind. you didn’t know it, but they had pulled him back from the edge that day. since then, he’d started noticing you in ways he hadn’t before.

the way you brushed your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. the furrow of your brow when you argued as respectfully as you could with a professor (gojo knew you were holding back, though, and the thought always made him smile to himself because if he wasn’t an idgafer he would be incensed like you at the idiotic teacher). the smile—rare, fleeting, but utterly disarming—that occasionally lit up your face when you talked to utahime or that guy you were too friendly around, nanami.

“you’re doing that thing again,” suguru said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“what thing?” satoru asked, sitting up straighter.

“brooding. you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“no.”

suguru arched an eyebrow. “you’re a terrible liar.”

satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine. maybe i am. but it’s complicated.”

“how is it complicated?”

“she doesn’t like me,” satoru said, shrugging. “at least, not as me. she likes spider-man.”

suguru blinked, clearly unimpressed. “you’re being stupid bro.”

“i’m not being stupid,” satoru argued. “she thinks spider-man’s this amazing, selfless hero. she doesn’t know i’m just some guy who can’t even figure out how to flirt with her without making an ass of himself.”

suguru leaned back in his chair, regarding satoru with an almost pitying look. “so let me get this straight. you’re worried that she only likes spider-man, even though spider-man is you. like it’s some kind of split personality thing?”

“well, when you put it like that—”

“it sounds dumb,” suguru finished. “because it is dumb.”

satoru glared at him, but suguru only shrugged. but how could he not think about you? even now, the memory of your voice—calm, steady, and unexpectedly warm—echoed in his head. you had this way of looking at him, like you were peeling back layers he didn’t even know he had. and that smile... he groaned inwardly. he wasn’t supposed to be so drawn to you, wasn’t supposed to imagine what it’d feel like to have you smile at him like that all the time.

“look,” suguru continued, “if you like her, shoot your shot. you’re already overthinking this, and you haven’t even done anything yet. what’s the worst that could happen? she says no?”

“or she laughs in my face,” satoru muttered.

“which would be deserved, honestly,” suguru said, smirking. “but seriously, you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.”

satoru didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the takeout boxes on the table. he wanted to believe suguru was right, but there was a small, stubborn part of him that wasn’t so sure.

because it wasn’t just about rejection, or even whether you liked him as satoru or spider-man. it was about what came after. if he let you in and something happened to you—if his double life brought danger to your doorstep—he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.

but then there was suguru’s voice in his head, steady and persistent: you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.

…

amidst a week of endless projects upon projects and other miscellaneous assignments from your research group partners (since the grad students loved to pile their work on top of you, the helpless undergrad), you find yourself nursing a hot chocolate while on top of your dormitory building’s roof.

you find sanctuary, coming on here for time to yourself whenever you find yourself stuck in a busy week. quiet, solitary, with a view of the city lights flickering like scattered fireflies. you hugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you stepped onto the roof, your laptop tucked under one arm, a mug of tea precariously balanced in the other hand. the air was crisp, biting just enough to sting your cheeks.

setting your mug down on the ledge, you perched beside it, pulling up your knees and balancing the laptop precariously as you typed. the words on the screen blurred after a while, blending into the chaos in your mind. frustrated, you closed it with a snap and leaned your head back to gaze at the stars.

“rough night?”

you startled, spinning your head around so fast your tea nearly toppled. but you can’t find anyone, just the sound of soft footsteps landing somewhere not visible to you.

“you scared the hell out of me,” you sighed, clutching your chest.

“sorry,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound all that apologetic. “didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“then maybe don’t sneak up on people like that,” you muttered, still trying to calm your racing heart.

he chuckled, and the sound was warmer than you’d expected. “noted. so, what’s got you out here at three in the morning? don’t tell me you’re pulling an all-nighter.”

you sighed, the initial shock fading into a dull thrum of shyness. “it’s not an all-nighter if the night isn’t over yet.” then, you squint at a random spot, pretending it’s him. “besides, why are you here? shouldn’t you be out stopping robberies or saving cats from trees?”

“done and done,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ledge. “now i’m just enjoying the view.”

you turned your gaze back to the skyline, hoping the darkness hid the faint heat creeping up your neck. “so, what’s a guy like you doing on a random rooftop at three in the morning?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he countered.

you hesitated. for some reason, admitting the truth to him felt easier than admitting it to anyone else. “just…needed a break.”

“from?”

“everything,” you said, exhaling slowly. “classes. expectations. people.” you paused, then added with a faint smile, “not you, though. you’re an exception.”

“oh?” his voice lightened, carrying a hint of playful intrigue. “should i feel honored?”

“maybe,” you said. “it’s not every day you get to meet a real hero.” then, “okay, but why do you always hide in the dark?”

his voice is smug, meant to be playful. “it adds to the mystique?”

you pout. “what if i call the police?”

“it’s not like the cops can catch me anyways, baby. their shitty coffee and donut filled asses aren’t enough to keep up with me.”

you really try not to flush when he calls you that pet name. “is success getting to you?”

“what success? most i hear is everyone debating whether or not i should be experimented on.”

“really?” you teased. “that’s not what i saw on my for you page last time. there are girls out there who want you to sign their tits after you rescued that baby.”

then, you hear the soft thud of nimble feet dropping onto the ceiling and turn your head to see him in all his glory. he has a muscular figure highlighted in his white suit, blue and black lines traveling their way across his body. casually, he stretches and then drops down to the floor, sitting cross legged from across from you as if joining you in a regular gossip sesh. he puts his elbow on his knee and rests his head on his hand. “are you one of those girls?”

you laugh sheepishly, turning away as heat creeps up your face again and your heart hammers, because you can’t exactly tell him that, yes you’re absolutely enamored with him after he saved you that day and yes, you do indeed want him to sign your tits.

“you should do that more,” he said.

“what?” you look back at him, wide eyed in confusion.

“laugh.”

the way he said it, low and almost reverent, made your cheeks heat. you busy yourself with toying with your cardigan, scooting yourself away from the edge and closer to him. “and you should stop being such a flirt,” you said, though there was no bite in your voice.

“can’t help it,” he said, leaning closer. “it’s kind of my thing.”

“is that right?”

“mm-hmm.” he paused, then added, “you know, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“take my mask off.”

the words hit you like a gut punch, dissolving the playfulness that had filled the air seconds ago. you blinked up at him, searching his face—or at least what you could see of it—for any sign that this was some elaborate joke. but there was no hint of humor, no smirk tugging at his lips. he meant it.

your fingers hovered at your sides, hesitant. “are you sure?” the question came out soft, barely audible, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet night.

“never been more sure of anything,” he murmured, voice low and steady.

you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. slowly, almost against your better judgment, you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask. the fabric felt smooth, warm under your touch, but your nerves were anything but.

with a deep breath, you peeled it back. bit by bit, his face came into view—a shock of white hair, impossibly sharp features, and finally, those eyes. those unmistakable, infuriatingly familiar blue eyes. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.

“gojo?”

the name fell from your lips before you could stop it, unsteady and disbelieving. your mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle that had just landed in front of you.

he grinned—that grin, the one that always made you want to slap it off his face and yet somehow managed to disarm you every single time. “hey.”

“hey?” your voice cracked as you took a step back. “that’s all you have to say? hey?”

“would you prefer, ‘surprise’?” he quipped, his grin widening as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

you laughed, the sound a little hysterical but real, like you couldn’t contain the storm of emotions rushing through you. “surprised? you’ve been… you’ve been spider-man this whole time?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, like they didn’t belong in the same sentence as gojo satoru—the one you’d argued with in class, the one who had no problem making you want to tear your hair out. and yet here he was, standing in front of you, the last person you ever would have suspected to be the city’s most infamous masked hero.

gojo gave you that crooked grin, the same one he wore when he thought he had won—when he thought he had it all figured out. “i know. it’s a lot to take in.”

you stared at him, trying to make sense of it, but no amount of logic could bridge the gap between the gojo you knew—the guy who drove you up the wall in class and always had a cocky comeback—and the masked hero who had saved you and the one you had a crush on.

you didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or cry.

you take a shaky breath in, still trying to process everything. “you... you saved me, gojo. you’ve been right there, all these times, and i had no idea it was you.”

“guess i’m just that good at keeping secrets,” he said, his tone playful, but there was something more there, something softer, that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. his eyes held a flicker of something—maybe vulnerability, maybe uncertainty.

the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between you, and for a long second, you didn’t know what to say. this revelation was like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, and you were left staring into an abyss that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

finally, you shook your head, letting out a short breath. “this is insane.”

he didn’t seem bothered by your reaction, though his eyes darkened just slightly, the smirk still there, but with something a little more honest creeping into his expression. “yeah. but you’re handling it better than i thought. kinda thought you would faint, or something.”

the world had shifted, but somehow, with gojo now sitting in front of you like this, with the mask off and the man behind the myth revealed, it felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. even if they didn’t make perfect sense yet.

and yet, something about his presence—his undeniable realness—felt oddly grounding. he wasn’t the invincible spider-man anymore. he was just gojo. the gojo who had somehow become more than just your academic rival, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than that.

something in gojo’s facial expression shifted to something a bit more hesitant, a little nervous as he stands and extend his arm out to you. softly, he asks, “do you trust me?”

“yes.” you took his hand, standing up as he flashes you a charming, yet mischievous grin, one so shit eating that you regret saying that. “why?”

“i’m taking you for a ride. consider it an apology for freaking you out earlier.”

you hesitated, looking between his outstretched hand and the city skyline just beyond your college campus. “i don’t think this is a good idea—”

“you trust me, don’t you?”

and somehow, against all logic, you realized that you did.

“fine,” you said, stepping closer to him to cling onto him.

he pulls you closer, and as he does so, he cranes his neck down to meet your eyes, smiling giddy. “anywhere you wanna go?”

you think for a moment, but know immediately the place where you’d like to visit that’s open at this ungodly hour. “do you know that one shawarma joint—-”

before you can even finish, the wind whips around you as gojo slips his mask back on, pulls you closer to him, and uses his free hand—that is, the one that’s not clinging onto your firmly—to shoot a glistening web, one that you saw when he used it on the man who harassed you in the ally. it clings onto a nearby building, and then you’re off the ground, soaring through the air.

you let out a scream of terror against gojo’s chest, tightening your arms around him. you can feel a laugh rumble in his chest, a boyish chuckle as he peers down at you and shouts, “are you having fun?”

“gojo,” you whine, burying your head into his chest further. despite your initial fear, exhilaration creeps its way into you as you the city blur, skyline jumping and dipping as gojo effortlessly swung you both around.

when he finally stopped, landing gracefully on a secluded rooftop, you were breathless—not just from the ride but from the way he was looking at you.

“you good?” he laughed, panting from the exertion and tenderly using his hand to rake his hand through your hair, which, you note out of embarrassment, must’ve been messed up from the wind passing through it.

“i hate that you made me dizzy, but yea, i’m good,” you mumble, pulling out your phone to open your camera, fixing your hair.

when you’re done, gojo looks at you with the manic buzz you can only have at 3am. “ready to get some shawarma?”

…

the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence only a city at 3am could have. just the two of you, your footsteps echoing against the pavement, the occasional glow of a streetlamp painting your path.

“okay, that shawarma was like, mid at best,” gojo walks alongside you. he’s thrown on a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants over his suit, walking alongside you on the street. your stomachs are full, and you suggested a walk to be able to digest the bigass bowl you both ate.

“nothing tastes better than something you’re eating when you’re supposed to be studying, instead,” you shot back, hiding your little smile as you cross your arms while strolling. the shift between you and gojo was so jarring that you’re still reeling at it, but what is 3am if not for big life changes?

“yea, that’s fair,” he sighs, crossing his hands behind his head as he continues strolling beside you. “so,” he continues, “now that i’ve officially blown your mind with my secret identity and fed you some incredibly mid shawarma, what’s next? should i fly you to paris, or is that too cliché?”

you roll your eyes, but deep inside, you’re really biting back a grin. “relax, bugboy. maybe first let me recover from being swung like a human pendulum.”

gojo stopped walking, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “you’re still thinking about that, huh? admit it—you loved it.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i screamed into your chest for a solid ten seconds. does that sound like love to you?”

he tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “i dunno. there’s a fine line between terror and thrill. and judging by how tightly you were holding onto me…”

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, but your voice lacked bite.

“and yet, you’re still here.”

his words hung in the air, the playful edge softening into something quieter, more sincere. your steps faltered, and you looked up at him, the absurdity of the night fading into the background as your gaze held his.

“guess i’m curious,” you admitted.

“curious, huh?” he said, taking a step closer. “careful. curiosity killed the cat.”

without thinking, you blurted, “at least i’ve got a fifty-fifty shot, right?” the words barely left your mouth before the regret hit, your inner voice screaming at you for making a lame quantum mechanics joke at a time like this. schrödinger would be proud, you thought bitterly.

but then gojo laughed—not the teasing, obnoxious kind of laugh or the weird look you’d expect, but a genuine, boyish chuckle that reached his eyes. he smiled at you, soft and unguarded, and suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink.

the flickering streetlamp cast a warm, uneven glow over the two of you. in that moment, the sprawling city felt impossibly small, narrowed down to just him and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

gojo reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “you know,” he murmured, his voice low, “i’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”

your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest. “do what?”

“this.”

before you could respond, he closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft, yet electrifying. for a moment, time seemed to stop, the city around you fading into nothing as the warmth of his touch anchored you in the moment.

when he finally pulled back, his grin was back in full force. “so, was that better or worse than shawarma?”

you blinked at him, still trying to find your footing in the aftermath of what just happened. an immediate feeling of bashfulness crept over you because not only did you just kiss spiderman, you just kissed gojo. there are girls who would kill to be in your position, and that makes you flustered as you turn your head away from him so you don’t have to make eye contact. “i hate you,” you mumble half heartedly, cheeks burning.

gojo doesn’t let you off so easily. his thumb brushes gently along your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. his touch is warm, deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“oh my god,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “are you embarrassed? you’re so cute.”

when the warmth of his hand leaves your chin, you open your eyes, shocked as you find out that he’s nowhere to be seen. you call out a tentative, “gojo?”

somewhere behind you, to the left, comes out a muffled shout. “i’m here!” you whip around, your brows furrowing as you follow the direction of his voice. it’s coming from an alley just off the street, dark and bathed in shadows.

“seriously?” you mutter under your breath, your annoyance half-hearted, making your way toward the sound. you find yourself at the mouth of the alley, the dim glow of a distant lamp barely illuminating his silhouette.

gojo’s perched on the side of the wall like it’s the most natural thing in the world, one leg propped up, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal that damn smirk. “you’re slow,” he teases, his tone light and infuriatingly smug.

“what are you doing?” you ask, crossing your arms.

he gestures toward himself. “you came looking for me, didn’t you?”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “what, did you think i’d just leave you lurking in some alley like a creepy insect?”

“well,” he says, shooting a web to stick on the bottom of some stairs of one of the buildings to hang upside down, “you could’ve left, but i had a feeling you wouldn’t.”

before you could retort, he shoots his web closer to something on top of you, now dangling upside down yet again but his proximity even closer, stealing the air from your lungs. his fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just long enough to make your knees feel unsteady.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “are we doing this again, or are you gonna keep pretending you hate me?”

your heart stutters, but before you can overthink it, you pull his mask down even further to uncover more of his lips, and you join them together—this time, softer, slower, as if savoring the moment. you grab at his chin to pull him closer to you, you both sighing into the kiss, and then smiling giddily each time you pull back, only to come back in.

and just like that, you start to fall into…something with not only the vigilante that’s swinging around new york, but also gojo satoru, your long-time rival.

…

when satoru swings by your dorm next, he doesn’t expect his heart to lurch so much at the view of you so cozy.

it’s undeniable; you and satoru have been dancing around each other. you’re not exactly a hook-up to each other—you two haven’t had sex—but you’re not exactly girlfriend and boyfriend. and it’s not something casual, either. he doesn’t reveal that he’s spiderman just to get into girls’ pants.

you’ve both developed a sort of rapport, he supposes. it’s been stolen glances during phys401 and late nights spent talking or, occasionally, making out. you’ve even started to nurse his wounds, if he ever shows up with bruises and blood matting his suit. one of the perks of you having a single.

he’s even fallen asleep overnight, especially on friday nights when he doesn’t have lecture in the morning. some of his things, like some spare equipment and suits, have even found their way into your closet.

you’re both on a dangerous roller coaster, and satoru is closing his eyes on the fall down.

but right now, he’s perched outside your window like a creep. you’re sitting on your bed, cross-legged and squinting at something on your laptop, and satoru smiles to himself as he sees your tank top and shorts and just how homey you look. you probably know satoru is coming, but you’re so comfortable around him that it makes his heart ache. he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop.

satoru lightly taps on your window, his knuckle brushing against the glass softly, not wanting to startle you. you glance up, catching sight of him, and there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

you get up, and satoru follows the movement of your bare legs with his eyes as you slide the window open. “you know, most people knock on doors like normal humans,” you say.

“i like to keep things interesting,” he shoots back, climbing in effortlessly. the faint chill from the night clings to him, and his hair is slightly disheveled from the wind.

he glances around your room, catching sight of your scattered notes and the distinct look of frustration etched across your face. “what’s got you looking so miserable?”

“phys401,” you reply with a resigned sigh, flopping back onto your bed. “this problem set is impossible.”

satoru smirks, peeling off his gloves and mask and plopping down beside you. “let me see.”

acquiescing, you hand over your notebook, watching as he scans your work with intent, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to understand the statement to prove. he makes a few thoughtful noises, before grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. “here,” he says after a moment, “you’re overcomplicating this step. instead of doing the tensor product you did, you could just make this zero by taking an inner product, since they’re orthogonal states. the rest will fall into place.”

you squint at his messy, rushed handwriting, and sure enough, the proof seems to come together. “how are you so good at this?”

“physics prodigy, remember?” he teases, leaning back on his hands as he lays down on your bed.

“thanks for the help,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him a beat too long. he’s kind of dreamy, you think. the moonlight filters across your window, giving his platinum hair a sheen as his cerulean eyes look into yours with kindness.

his smirk fades, replaced by something softer, something unspoken. “anytime.” he then makes a show of stretching out his limbs, purposely bumping into you with one eye open smugly to observe your reaction, to which you glare at him. he spots your notebook, picks it up, and flips through it. “you know, for someone who complains so much about phys401, you’re not half bad at it,” he teases, scribbling something in the margin of your notes by grabbing a stray pen next to him.

you roll your eyes, shifting so you’re cross-legged on the bed, facing him. “not all of us are physics prodigies, satoru. some of us actually have to work hard.”

he chuckles, handing the notebook back to you. “hard work is overrated when you can just charm your way through everything.”

you snort and joke, “if charm was all it took, i’d have aced the midterm.”

there’s a beat of silence as you glance down at his notes. he’s corrected a mistake you hadn’t even noticed, and his scrawled proof flows so effortlessly it makes you a little envious. “how do you do that?” you ask, more to yourself than him.

“do what?”

“make it look so… easy,” you say, frowning slightly. “everything. physics, life, swinging through the city.”

satoru leans back on his palms, his smirk softening. “trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks.”

you glance up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “what do you mean?”

he shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze flickers away from yours. “i mean, everyone sees the guy with the jokes and the perfect test scores, but no one sees the late nights or the bruises.” he gestures vaguely to his chest, where you know the bruises from his spider-man escapades hide. “guess i’m just good at pretending.”

you sit with his words, the weight of them settling between you. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say softly.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask—the real one—drops. “i know,” he says, just as softly.

the air between you feels heavier, like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, the faint smell of the night clinging to him, the way his knee brushes against yours.

“thanks,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “for letting me be here. for…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up.

your breath catches. “satoru…”

“yeah?” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice lower now.

“i…” you trail off, not even sure what you were going to say.

he leans closer, and it feels like everything around you stills. his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “can i?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

you nod, and then his lips are on yours.

the kiss starts tentative, almost shy, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building for weeks—months, maybe—finally snaps, leaving nothing but heat and want in its wake.

his weight presses you back into the bed, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pins you to the bed, now on top of you. his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and as his thumb traces shapes into your circle and closer to more sensitive areas, a sigh escapes you.

that’s when he freezes.

he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide and filled with something like fear. “we can’t,” he says, his voice hoarse.

your heart drops into your chest.

“why not?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.

“because,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair and he’s heaving. “because i’m spider-man, and you—” he breaks off, looking anywhere but at you. “you deserve better than this. better than me.”

you sit up, pulling your shirt back into place and looking at him, hurt. “that’s not your call to make, satoru.”

“i’m trying to protect you!” he says, his voice rising in agitation. he sits back onto his heels, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at the ceiling, as if in pain.

you can’t believe him. his self-righteousness irritates you to no end, especially after you’ve bared your soul, and now your body to him, something you considered intimate. you feel conflicted—whatever you had, it didn’t have a label. but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want that to be true. badly.

“and who asked you to?” you snap back. “i’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving.”

“i know that,” he says, his tone softening. “but if something happened to you because of me…” he shakes his head. “i couldn’t live with that.”

the anger bubbling in your chest boils over, and you snap. “so what? you’re just going to walk away? after everything?”

he stands, his expression pained. “i’m sorry,” he says, heading for the window.

“don’t you dare apologize,” you say, your voice trembling as you stand by the foot of your bed, hating how your eyes brim with tears. “if you leave, don’t bother coming back.”

he pauses, his hand on the window frame, before glancing back at you. “i’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, before slipping out into the night.

the window clicks shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence, the ache in your chest threatening to swallow you whole.

…

the whir of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of background music fill the mostly empty starbucks, the occasional customer wandering in like clockwork. it’s a quiet shift, the kind you’d usually relish—except today, the quiet only makes the knot in your chest tighten.

you’re stationed behind the counter, staring blankly at the milk steamer as it hisses, lost in your thoughts. that is, until utahime’s voice breaks through.

“alright, spill,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you.

you glance at her, eyebrows raised. “spill what?”

utahime rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “oh, please. you look like someone stole your favorite pen and broke it in half. what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you lie, turning back to the steamer. “i’m fine.”

utahime’s skeptical gaze bores into you. “you’re a terrible liar. nanami, back me up.”

from his spot at a nearby table, nanami looks up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto you. “it’s boy trouble,” he says flatly, like he’s solving an equation.

your head snaps toward him, a glare already forming. “excuse me?”

“it’s obvious,” he says, setting his book down and regarding you with his usual piercing gaze. “you’re distracted, you look upset—it’s boy trouble.”

utahime perks up, leaning closer. “wait, is he right? is this about a guy?”

you let out a groan, leaning your elbows on the counter. “can you two not gang up on me right now?”

“so it is a guy,” utahime says, her tone turning smug.

“i didn’t say that,” you retort, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection. “you might as well just tell us. it’s not like we’re going to let it go.”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “fine. it’s… someone i liked. someone i thought liked me too. but he freaked out and said it was too…dangerous to keep going.”

utahime frowns, her curiosity replaced by concern while kento snorts. “dangerous? what does that even mean?”

“that’s what i’d like to know,” you say bitterly, the frustration bubbling up as you speak. “he acts like he cares, but the second things get serious, he bolts. like i’m some fragile thing that can’t handle it.”

nanami leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “he might not be scared of you. he could be scared of what it means for him. of responsibility and commitment. some people run when they feel too much.”

utahime nods, her hand resting gently on your arm. “whatever his problem is, it’s not fair to you. if he can’t get it together, that’s on him, not you.”

you glance between them, the weight of their words settling in your chest. “i know that,” you say quietly. “it just… sucks.”

“of course it does,” utahime says, her voice soft but firm. “but you’re not the problem here. don’t let him make you think you are.”

nanami picks up his book again but pauses before opening it. “and don’t let him live rent-free in your head. if he can’t see what he’s giving up, that’s his loss.”

their support feels grounding, like a steady hand in the middle of a storm. you manage a small smile, nodding. “thanks, guys.”

“anytime,” utahime says, flashing you a reassuring grin. nanami simply nods, returning to his book but keeping an eye on you like always. for the first time all week since gojo left your room, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.

…

the knock at your window is faint, almost timid, but it jolts you out of your daze. you sit up in bed, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the window. it’s late—so late it’s early—and for a moment, you think you imagined it. you hate to admit it, but because of your boy troubles you haven’t been able to sleep all week. you’re also no stranger to imagining ants crawling up your body or phantom noises, so you adjust in your bed, trying to go back to sleep.

then it comes again, a little louder this time.

you throw off the blanket and pad over, the chill of the floor biting at your bare feet. when you pull the curtain aside, your breath catches.

satoru.

he’s crouched outside, his suit torn in places and soaked with blood. his head lolls slightly, like he’s barely holding himself up, and when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, it’s tired and pleading.

you don’t think—there’s no time for that. you unlatch the window and shove it open, reaching out to help him inside. “satoru, oh my god,” you breathe, your voice shaking.

“hey,” he mutters, his grin weak but still so unmistakably him. “sorry for the mess.”

“shut up,” you snap, guiding him onto your bed and setting him down with gentle hands, ones that contrast your tone with him. “what the hell happened?”

“nothing i couldn’t handle,” he says, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter and flashes you a sheepish smile. “you should see the other guy.”

“you’re bleeding everywhere, satoru. you clearly didn’t handle it.” you grab your first aid kit from under the bed and yank it open, your hands trembling.

“i’ve had worse,” he murmurs, but his bravado is thin, cracking at the edges.

“stop talking,” you say, your voice trembling and cracking. “just—just stop.”

for once, you thank the gods that he listens.

you work quickly, cutting away the shredded fabric of his suit and cleaning the worst of the wounds. it’s not pretty—his torso is littered with bruises and gashes, the kind that make your stomach turn—but you keep your focus.

when you press a disinfectant-soaked pad to a particularly deep cut, he hisses, his hand flying to grab your wrist.

“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him with a tender look in your eyes. his expression matches yours, and your faces are so close to each other that you can’t bear it anymore, going back to your work.

his fingers loosen but don’t let go, his grip warm and grounding. “you’re good at this,” he says softly, his voice rough.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. “you’ve given me plenty of practice.”

the silence stretches as you finish bandaging him up. when you’re done, you sit back, your hands still trembling as you place them in your lap. “you’re an idiot,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

he laughs, soft and hoarse. “yeah. i get that a lot from this girl i know.”

you look up at him, and the weight of everything—his injuries, his secret, the distance he tried to put between you—crashes over you. “you can’t keep doing this, satoru. you can’t keep pushing me away just to show up like this.”

his smile fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know, but…”

“but what?” you demand, your voice cracking. “you’re spider-man? you think that’s an excuse to keep shutting me out?”

“it’s not an excuse,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair, matted with even more blood. his or someone else’s, you’re not sure. “it’s a reason. i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“you think i’m not already hurting?” you snap, the anger bubbling to the surface yet again. “you think it doesn’t kill me to see you like this and know i can’t do anything to stop it?”

his eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost and unsure. it is then that it hits you that he’s just twenty. a college student, not someone who’s wanted by the cia or someone who’s battled terrorists. for fucks sake, he can’t even legally drink.

and your heart can’t help but melt as he says, “i just… i don’t want to lose you.”

“then stop trying to,” you say, your voice softer now. “stop pretending like you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length. let me in, satoru.”

he stares at you, his breath hitching like he’s holding back a thousand words. then, in a rush, he closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead to yours.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.”

you exhale shakily, your hands finding their way to his wrists. “just stop being an idiot, okay? stop trying to do this alone.”

he nods, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “i promise,” he says, and for the first time, you believe him.

…

a cramp gripping satoru’s entire leg is what wakes him up.

he winces in memory of the injury; one of those stupid terrorists had too good of an aim, grazing his leg while he was mid-air. it hurts like a bitch now, and he moves to lay on his back, until something stops him. roses.

he looks, bleary eyed, to you. the floral scent coming from you, making him dizzy. his body cocooning yours.

you both unconsciously moved in your sleep so that you were spooning, your fragrant hair, soft from shampooing, tickling his throat with your ass in his crotch.

nestled right against his morning wood.

good fucking lord, he groans to himself, then starts to panic because if you wake up and realize he had a raging hard-on while you were sleeping, you would definitely think he was a creep. he’s already on thin fucking ice. so naturally, he starts to recite the star spangled banner while trying to will his boner away.

oh, say can you see—

to no avail, because you huff softly in your sleep, soft and warm body unconsciously leaning back to grind your ass against his lap, turning his dick to steel.

“oh, fuck,” he curses out loud, using his hand to cover the lower half of his face and clench his eyes shut. you feel so sweet, innocently adjusting while he can’t even control his lust for you.

but once the grind seems to continue for a bit too long, more than what can be chalked up as adjusting in your sleep, he peers down at you. you’re awake.

and because satoru’s selfish, his hands creep up your tank top, settling on your bare stomach, where he knew you were ticklish. as a result, you wiggle, and he uses this opportunity to pull you even closer to him, right up against him.

“baby,” he says, making his voice all deep and sighs on purpose, just to be unfair to you. “is this okay?”

you whine, and he settles his face in your hair, the strands of it tickling his skin as he inhales in the scent of you. “i thought it was a dream.”

he smiles into your hair. you make him feel like sunshine incarnate, and the rush he’s getting right now is akin to the one he gets jumping off the empire state building. “no, this is very real.”

“hm,” and you continue to drag your ass into him, murmuring in a soft voice that makes him want to take you right there and then, “it still feels like a dream. like you’re not real, right now.”

oh, what he would do to make you say his name in that same voice; he wants to whisper all the things he wants to do to you right now. “i know, baby. you feel like a dream.” his hands continue to slide up and up your torso, groaning at your sharp intake as he gently fondles the softness of your breasts.

you overwhelm his senses, teasing him, and when you let out a whine of his name, satoru snaps.

“i’m going to make you feel good right now. tell me if it’s a fucking dream,” he grits out, ignoring whatever cramps that were screaming at him to get on top of you.

you gasp out a “satoru,” wriggling in his grasp, and he can’t take it anymore. he brings up one of his hands. shoots a web that lands right on your left hand. then your right hand.

satoru just tied you up using his webs.

you look at him in whatever version of shock you can muster in your tired state. “satoru, what the—” but you’re muffled, because he’s kissing you, hard, roving his hands up and down your body and grabbing whatever he can as if he’s devouring you while making out with you.

“do you know,” and his eyes flash dangerously while looking down at yours, “how you’ve teased me with these shorts?” his hands trails down to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing, pulling it to make it snap against your skin. you jump, looking at satoru desperately, who’s left you bare at his mercy, subject to his super human strength as he grabs your shorts with both his hands again. “every fucking time i’ve sneaked up in to your room, it’s been so hard to not fuck you senseless in these flimsy things. it’s only fair you pay the price, right baby?”

it’s not like you have anything to answer him with, having lost all brain cells being fucked out like this. he pulls them down, and if he had laser vision, he would have stared through your panties long ago, eyes fixated on the crotch that was nearly translucent with the amount of slick going through it. burying his face right in between your thighs, he noses at your cunt before groaning. then, he uses his teeth to grab onto the middle and pull. until your pussy is bare to him.

“oh, fuck you’re so pretty,” he curses, lapping at your sweetness. his tongue roves up and down your folds, and if your hands could, they would be pulling at his hair solely because you were so sensitive. but you were trapped, thighs gripped in his strong hands and your arms trapped by his ultra-strong webs. “my good girl.”

then, you feel pressure at your opening. “sato—” you squeal but are immediately interrupted by your own moan as he curls his long, thick fingers, eyes observing your every movement as you squirm, electric shocks running up and down your body as he hits your spot dead-on.

and he notices, because the motherfucker chuckles. “oh, so that’s the spot, huh?” he purrs, visibly pleased as he memorizes it and abuses it, hitting it with every stroke. you barely notice him add one finger, add two fingers as he starts to suck on your clit. overwhelmed with pleasure, you’re only brought back to reality when he rips all contact away from you.

“what—” you mumble mindlessly, until you see what he’s doing. he pulls his sweatpants down. and he’s not wearing boxers, so you drool when his cock springs out, leaking copiously and hard. without taking his eyes off you, he pumps it to its fullest length, and you’re just staring in awe at its sheer length.

“what’re you looking at, baby?” he teases, using his hand to wiggle his cock in front of your face to mock you. “want it so bad, isn’t that right?”

you glare at him half-heartedly, but whine regardless. “just put it in, gojo.”

“oh,” and he flashes you a smile that makes a big danger sign in red flash across your mind. “it’s gojo, now is it?”

“satoru,” there are tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, the ones that make satoru even more aroused at your want, “please. i need it.”

a boyish grin and a forehead kiss that has you reeling at his duality. “anything for my woman in stem.” with that, he pushes in, both of your eyes rolling back as his cock is engulfed by your gummy walls. soon after, he starts thrusting, desperation fueling both of you as you cross your legs behind gojo’s back, the deeper angle making his thighs shake while fucking into you.

he grabs your face, gives you a tender kiss. “fuck, i love this pussy. so sweet for me.”

you give him a wanton moan in return as he continues to thrust deep, tender strokes into you. “satoru, ‘m not gonna last long.” with the amount of foreplay he’s done alongside how sensitive you are, you’re steadily reaching your orgasm already, and with the way satoru’s now tightly gripping the sheets beside you while thrusting inside you, he is too.

wet squelching noises echoes across the room, and you know the neighbors can hear the obscene plap! plap! plap! coming from skin meeting skin, your hips against his. he buries his face into your neck, panting at your ear until he uses his hand to wrench your face towards his.

“i love you,” he groans, forcing your eyes to meet his. “i love you forever and will do so. so you can’t break my heart,” and he’s desperately thrusting again, “and you can’t leave me. please.”

at his confession, you break, back arching as you also squeal out a iloveyou while gasping loudly, hips rolling to rise against his as he fucks you through your orgasm. quickly, his thrusts veer into overstimulation and you whine. “toru.” he takes one look at your state—face impossibly flushed, hands tied, and pussy absolutely engulfing his cock, and his orgasm hits him like a truck, making him gasp and bend and break as he goes to heaven and back with the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy clench around him so beautifully. his cum enters you in hot spurts, making you exhale sharply at the feeling as he comes down from his orgasm, collapsing next to you.

for a few minutes, heavy breathing fills the room, both of you catching your breaths. until satoru breaks the silence. “so, what’s it like to fuck a superhero?”

you take one look at him—all smug and propped up on his elbow—and spidey sense be damned as you try grab a pillow. key word is try because you’re then wrenched back with a reminder that you’re still bound. “satoru,” and you give him a sickly sweet smile, the one that he knows means he’s in trouble, “when are these going to dissolve?”

and satoru pretends to be deep in thought, but you can see him trying to inch off the bed slowly, as if to escape your wrath after his answer. “uhm…maybe five hours?”

if it weren’t for the damn spidey sense that he had, he wouldn’t have been able to escape the swing of your legs as you looked at him murderously. “satoru gojo you will unhand me from these webs this instant—-“

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, shit eating grin in his face. “you look kinda sexy in bed like this. mad at me.” but when your eyes flash with anger, he hiccups nervously, telltale of the fact he won’t mess with you.

“i hate you,” you groan out, pouting like a petulant child while you glare at the ceiling.

satoru comes close to you to bend at his waist and give you a forehead kiss. “no, you don’t.”

you give him a pointed glare, telling him not to be testy. “clean me up. now.”

at your expression, his eyes widen in fear and he salutes. “anything for you, ma’am.”

at his retreating form, you giggle and sigh to yourself. you never would’ve known that spider-man would be the one fetching a clean up rag for you after fucking the shit out of you, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

when satoru comes back, he cleans you up, tenderly, as if he is afraid that you will break. you’re a little drowsy when he returns to you, but he doesn’t dare try to wake you up when he hears little breaths from your nose indicating you’ve fallen asleep. after he finishes his job, he admires your features.

satoru lingers for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. the weight of his responsibilities presses on him, as it always does, but tonight, it feels heavier—like a tether pulling him between the life he’s chosen and the life he craves.

you, so peaceful in sleep, represent something fragile, something precious. and that terrifies him. because what if he fails? what if the cost of being spider-man is losing the one thing that feels real?

still, he knows he can’t walk away—not from this city, not from you. with a deep breath, he leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, a silent promise lingering in his chest.

“i’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs, barely audible. “no matter what.”

instead of leaving, satoru settles down beside you, careful not to disturb your rest. the city can wait, just for a little while. for now, he wraps an arm around you, grounding himself in the warmth of your presence. as your breathing evens out against him, he lets his own eyes drift shut, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting. today, he chooses to stay.

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a/n ok if you're ever curious what being fucked in the ass with a wooden dildo no lube is like, just try to write this fic or any longfic. it's 4am, this a/n is short and unintelligble just like most of this fic but it's been a journey, im very sentimental because of this fic and i hope you guys like it. ok im going to pass out so pls ignore all typos xoxo but please flood my inbox im excited to see yalls reactions when i wake up

plspls pls comment and reblog!!!

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