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niningtori · 3 months ago

Text

an iron man | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: beomgyu has only ever known how to live function as a rental sexbot. he fucks whoever and whatever comes his way with a forced smile plastered on his face. that is, until you, a self-proclaimed trainwreck, come along.

genre: android!au, sexbot!au, angst, romance, fluff (more than i ever thought i could ever write i fear...), skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

warnings: very brief and vague mentions of beomgyu being forced to engage in sexual acts he does not want with previous clients, skippable smut at the very end (will be marked)

smut warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, praise, dacryphilia, sub!gyu

word count: 14.7k (trust i will not be writing this much again if this flops BWNWJSJEJDK)

notes: terrified to post this one because this is probably my favorite thing i've ever written and if it gets a bad reaction i might die :,) also very unsure if this is the best time to post it since it's during kinktober so i'm not sure if the demand is there but i love this work so so much i pray you all like it. if you don't read anything else from me, i hope that you read this bc i rlly care ab it :,) please don't be mean i beg

beomgyu doesn’t know how long he’s been living like this. living is an odd term, too, and it’s not just because “life” is ill-defined for an android, but because to call what he experiences a life feels like a bastardization of the term. his power is turned on at some point, usually late at night, he fucks or gets fucked by somebody he probably doesn’t know, then he does the same shit all over again. so yes, he may be “alive”, but he wouldn't dare to call what he experiences living. living is too precious of a term to be used so cheaply on a sex android who’s made available for rent for the highest bidder of the night.

he’s seen how people live through his scattered vignettes of human life. he only gets them when he’s powered on, but he soaks them up with pleasure because they’re the only thing he’s ever known. some people do it wildly, living unattached to everyone and everything. their lives are not completely dissimilar to his, in a way, except they have a choice in the matter. they have time to find themselves, what their likes and dislikes are, and they get to connect with people in a way he will never have the power to. others, though, live the kind of life he really wants. they live by loving and being loved, knowing and being known. he wonders what it’d be like to know somebody outside of whatever secret deviant sexual pleasures they have. he wonders what it’s like to be known, too, but he guesses you would need to have something for someone to care enough to know about in the first place. he has no such thing.

it’s a night like any other when he’s powered on by a total stranger. he briefly takes in his surroundings and notices that it’s a really nice place, but you wouldn’t be the first rich person to rent him — not by a longshot. next, he takes you in. now, there’s no reason for you to dress up, really. you have no need to tempt him, as he will be able to feign attraction no matter what you look like, but he still finds it odd that you seem to have forgone any effort to appeal to him, if only because most people’s fantasies require them to look and feel sexy; but you don’t look sexy at all. you look like you’ve just gotten home from a long day at work, and honestly? you kind of smell like it, too.

“do you think you could do the dishes for me? i’m exhausted,” you ask with a perfectly-timed yawn. what… ?

he short-circuits for a moment as he tries to think of an appropriate response. he’s never had anyone try to get him to do chores for them, but maybe this is some sort of weird roleplay? maybe you want him to act as a house husband for you before doing the deed, which isn’t necessarily a problem since he’s well-versed in acting, but there’s just one issue.

“i don’t know how,” he tells you honestly.

“you don’t know how to do dishes?” you ask curiously,

“it’s not in my programming,” he replies. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s embarrassed because of the way he hesitates and looks away from you when he says it. he can’t possibly feel that, though, so it must just be your imagination.

“oh… that’s alright. okay, do you know how to clean a room? mine’s kind of dirty,” you try.

“n-no,” he says, and he wishes the earth would just swallow him whole. he’s never failed at living up to expectations, and never so badly, at that. just what kind of fetish is this?

“that’s okay,” you sigh, and he may not fully understand it, but he can sense your disappointment. “well, what can you do?” and the question is not asked maliciously, but with what seems to be genuine wonder. ah. he knows how to answer this one. slowly, he walks up to you and loosens your hair. you look up at him in shock, but he just cups your face, swiping his thumb across your lower lip.

“i can do whatever you want me to, baby,” he whispers alluringly. “just tell me how you like it.” you’re so stunned at his switch in demeanor that you forget how to speak for a moment, but you quickly recollect yourself and pry his hands off of you.

“i don’t want you to do anything,” you insist. “i’m just tired. if you can’t help me clean, that’s alright. you can watch something if you’re bored. i think that’s it. well, goodnight.” beomgyu is malfunctioning at the moment. he thinks the gears in his head might be sparking while he tries to understand this new development. you don’t give him time to process it, though. you just slam your bedroom door shut behind you. he thinks he hears you lock it, too.

genuinely at a loss at the thought that he has nothing and no one to do, he sits himself on your couch. he tries not to make himself too at home at first, just barely making a dent on it and scooting to the very edge of the cushion as to not appear to be too relaxed. what if this is some sort of test? what if you’re actually going to come out soon so you two can fuck? until then, what should he do next? thoughts like this plague him until he accepts the fact that you are actually sleeping. your obnoxiously loud snoring is a dead giveaway, and he finally, finally feels brave enough to fiddle with your remote control.

he scrolls for something to watch. movies and shows have been on as background noise during sex before, so he’s somewhat familiar with them, but he’s never gotten the opportunity to pick for himself or actually pay attention to what's happening on screen. he settles on a romantic movie about a robot who joins human society. the robot falls in love with a human girl, but in the end, the robot has to leave the girl because the town won’t accept him, even after using him. she marries a human man and has children, and eventually grandchildren, too. she still loves the robot even though he’s gone, which he thinks is supposed to make him feel sorry for her, but all he can feel is pity for the robot, who spends the rest of his life alone.

it’s enough to make him cry, which he shouldn’t be able to do in a non-sexual setting, but he does it, anyway. it’s just so unfair to him. the girl is able to live a normal life while the robot is doomed to be alone forever. why? because he was born different? it’s not his fault that he was invented, but he spends the rest of his time on earth paying for the crime of existing in a world not built for him. the more beomgyu thinks about it, the more wronged he feels. he’s outright sobbing by the time you plop down on the couch beside him. he jumps up and straightens his posture while trying in vain to regain his composure.

“yeah, this movie makes me cry, too,” you quietly remark. he’s silent, not because he didn’t hear what you said, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to act after being caught red handed.

“can i ask you something?” you ask in lieu of his lack of a response.

“yes,” he feebly answers.

“why are you crying?” you question with a tilt of your head, but something in him tells him that you already know.

“because the movie made me sad,” he admits after a pause.

“are androids supposed to feel things like that?”

“... no,” he replies after a pause.

“then why can you?”

“i… i don't know. just please don’t say anything to my owners,” he pleads. he knows that if the company that owns him were to find out about this, he’d be scrapped in a heartbeat. or worse, they’d analyze him like a labrat to try to find the anomaly within him. his “life” as a sexbot will be over, and he’d really rather be a box of scraps than live as a case study in a lab somewhere.

“it’s okay,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you watch him trying not to spiral. “i won’t tell them. it’ll be our secret.” beomgyu has never had a secret to share with anyone before, so he feels an overwhelming amount of excitement at the idea that he will finally have one. his chest feels warm at the thought.

“thank you,” he says with a grateful smile.

“no problem,” you reply with a yawn. “i’m tired, so i’m heading back to bed. i just wanted to get some water. goodnight, for real this time.”

“goodnight,” he murmurs softly. you return his words with a sleepy smile and go back into your room. he finds that he’s smiling even when you leave.

he spends the night consuming as much media as he conceivably can before he has to leave. usually, he'd be powered off after he’s done being used, so he greedily savors every moment he can. who knows if he'll ever get this chance again. when you wake up, you're surprised to see that he's exactly where you left him, still watching the screen intently.

“good morning,” you say while stretching your arms.

“good morning,” he replies.

“are you ready to be returned?” you ask.

“... yes,” he lies.

“okay. i think somebody will be here to pick you up in an hour or so. you hungry?”

“i don't really eat,” he bashfully answers. for some reason, he's embarrassed at the fact that you're treating him like a human while he's unable to fully act like one.

“oh. i guess that makes sense,” you nod.

things are quiet until he’s picked up, but it’s not an awkward silence. you sit next to him on the couch as you wolf down some breakfast and let him watch whatever he pleases. when he eventually hears knocking at your door, he feels an incomprehensible sense of dread.

“i think that's them,” you remark, breaking the silence.

“y-yeah,” he replies.

“well, it was nice to meet you,” you say, reaching out your hand for him. he’s unsure what to do with it. not missing a beat, you gently grab his hand and shake it. he's stunned at the physical contact, and he's still reeling when you let the man from the rental company in. you have a brief conversation with him before he walks towards beomgyu.

“goodbye,” you tell the android with a smile and a little wave.

“... good—” and the man switches him off.

the next time beomgyu is powered on, he’s in your house again. relief floods him when he realizes it. you don’t seem as exhausted as the last time he saw you. when that was, he has no idea, but if he had to guess, he’d say it was just last night because of the fact that he’s so popular he’s rented almost every day.

“hey,” you greet him with a smile. he’s still feeling relieved before he realizes that tonight might be the night where you ask him to have sex with you. maybe you were just tired last night and had no desire to fuck, but he can tell that you’re feeling more energetic tonight.

“i didn’t catch your name,” you add.

“... beomgyu. i’m part of the choi line, but i’m a custom model, so they gave me a name,” he tentatively replies.

“nice,” you nod, and you briefly introduce yourself before asking if he wants to watch a movie.

“watch… a movie?” is this some sort of euphemism for fucking? it wouldn’t be the first time he’s heard of something like this. as mentioned before, some people like movies as background noise.

“yeah, you can pick,” you say, casually plopping down on the couch and patting the cushion next to you. he hesitantly takes your cue, and he’s mentally preparing himself for what comes next before you take a blanket and cocoon yourself in it so tightly, it’d be impossible for him to touch you.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, and he jolts a bit when he realizes that he’s been staring in disbelief. “oh, are you cold? do you want a blanket, too?”

“‘m fine,” he replies.

“are you sure? the clothes they make you wear look a little thin,” you observe with your nose wrinkled, and he feels impossibly small under your surveying eye. “here, i’ll get you some sweats. i think soobin left some the last time he was here.”

“who’s soobin?” he asks a little too quickly. so quickly, in fact, he doesn’t even have time to process why he even asked.

“my friend. stay here, i’ll grab them for you.”

when you return, you have a long pair of sweatpants in hand and a big t-shirt.

“you can change in the bathroom. it’s down the hallway and to the left, okay?” he nods in response.

he strips his clothes off as best as he can, and it feels like he’s shedding a second skin. when he’s finished undressing, he pulls on the clothes you gave him and stares in the mirror. it’s in his programming to always be mindful of how he looks, but he feels especially self-conscious now that he’s wearing a normal outfit. he fixes up his hair and clears his throat before exiting your (messy) bathroom and making his way back into your living room. he finds you fiddling with your phone before you look up at him.

“took you long enough,” you tease, and he blushes, which stuns you. just how human is this guy?

“s-sorry, i —”

“hey, i’m just kidding. you’re fine. you look pretty good in those clothes — soobin would be jealous,” you chuckle. his ears perk up at the mention of soobin again. is he your boyfriend? he must be. why else would he have clothes at your house? is that why you don't want to sleep with beomgyu? because you have someone already? if that's the case, why rent him at all? but he is not brave enough to ask these questions, so he settles for a soft “thank you” and returns to his spot on the couch.

you toss him the remote and he catches it with ease before unsurely flipping through your streaming services. he finds something that piques his interest and turns to you with an uncertain look before you nod encouragingly. he selects it and lets it play. he doesn’t mean to, but he finds himself sinking further and further into the cushions as it progresses.

it’s a sweet movie — a romantic comedy about an amnesic woman whose memory is wiped clean every morning, but a man falls in love with her, anyway. she never remembers him, so he has to make her fall in love with him in a new way every day. he finds himself smiling throughout it, but a particularly funny scene has him actually laughing for the first time. it’s a squeaky sort of thing, and he has never laughed before, so he’s somewhat surprised as it leaves his throat. he looks to you in trepidation, but you just smile warmly and respond with a soft chuckle of your own. he finds that he looks to you every time a new development occurs, and you always answer encouragingly.

the end of the film surprises him. it’s bittersweet in that she never does get her memory back, but the man makes a video recounting their entire love story for her to watch every time she wakes up. it ends with them living happily together in spite of everything, and it’s enough to make him sob. he turns to you and sees that you’re teary-eyed as well, but you seem to be enjoying his reaction so much that there’s still a grin on your face. after the film ends, you can tell that he has something on his mind.

“what’s wrong? didn’t you like it?” you gently ask.

“i did. i just don’t understand,” he replies timidly.

“don’t understand what?”

“why he would do all of that for her, i guess,” he says.

“because he loves her. when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you always find a way,” you tell him, and the sentiment seems to strike a chord within him.

“even if they’re that different?”

“of course.”

beomgyu spends the following nights with this same routine. he’s switched on, sees you standing in front of him with a smile, gets comfortable, and watches as much media as he possibly can while you two chatter away about every scene. he learns much more from it than he ever did from experience with his previous renters, and he finds himself becoming more and more emotional by the day. you never try to question him or press him to explain any of his feelings, and it just makes him feel even more comfortable with you.

one day, he even feels comfortable enough to ask you a question. the question.

“can i ask you something?”

“of course! what is it?” you reply in earnest. beomgyu has never directly inquired about you.

“why do you rent me? i mean, i know we watch stuff together now, but why rent me in the first place?” and even when he feels exponentially more at ease with you than he ever has in any other context, he’s still nervous when he asks it.

“oh, my friend did it as a joke, i guess,” you shrug. “he thought i needed to get laid or something, but i’m not into stuff like that, so i just thought i’d ask you to help me clean. obviously, that’s what i actually need,” you giggle. what he feels at your words can only be described as disappointment. “stuff like that”? so you’re not into sleeping with sexbots? is it because you find them disgusting? is it because you find him disgusting? he’s not sure what he expected, but this wasn’t it.

“oh. so why don’t you buy a cleaning bot?” he asks softly, and while you are usually pretty perceptive of his emotions, you don’t register the fact that he’s at a loss right now.

“i dunno. my parents were always against that sort of thing. they thought it was wrong, i guess, so i didn’t grow up with them like everyone else did. i didn’t really have an opinion on them until i met you,” you tell him while grinning and lightly nudging him with your elbow. he tries his best to smile because, in theory, your words are really sweet. you see him as more than just another android, so why does he feel like that’s not enough?

the fragile connection you two have made seems even more fragile now. at least, it does to him. you only met each other because of a joke your friend just so happened to make, not because of fate or the divine intervention that he always sees in the movies. maybe in another world, your friend rented a different sexbot. maybe you’d even treat them the same way you treat him. the thought alone makes something ugly burn in his chest.

still, you are oblivious to the internal war raging within beomgyu.

“hey, i’ve got an idea,” you tell him, and he perks up a bit. “have you ever listened to music?”

“not really,” he replies solemnly. people have played it in the background of their sexual escapades, but he hasn’t really gotten the chance to listen the same way humans do. you finally register his crestfallen appearance, but you chalk it up to him feeling like he’s missing out.

“why don’t we listen to some? i can play a bunch of different genres so you can find what you like,” you suggest, and he agrees to it. truthfully, he doesn’t fully understand how music can be better than movies and shows, but he is curious to find out what makes it so special.

and special, it is. he doesn’t like every song you play, he realizes, but that’s only natural given how different they are from each other. he finds himself being drawn to the more emotional and moody ones, but he can’t help but enjoy the way you quietly sing and nod along to the more upbeat tunes.

as you continue to sit together, you begin to fiddle with your hair. you’re scoffing and loosening it for the umpteenth time before you’re about to give up, but beomgyu stops you.

“let me do it,” he says.

“do you know how?”

“i think i can. i’ve been watching you,” he says simply.

“... okay.”

you turn your back to him to give him access to your hair and he scoots closer to you. closer than you’ve ever been. his touch on your head is careful as he gently gathers your hair and begins to braid it. you’re not sure how much time passes because he’s actually quite slow, but it’s relaxing all the same. you find yourself softly humming to the tune of the song playing. the lyrics are a little dark, but you follow along in earnest, and beomgyu thinks he finally understands why people like music so much. for moments like this. he tries to soak up every detail he can, from the way the light hits your frame to the melody you hum, and he wishes this moment could last forever.

but you only have so much hair, so the moment does have to end, eventually. he ties up your hair and you pull out your phone camera to admire his handiwork. admittedly, it’s a lot better than anything you could’ve done. it seems that he’s a fast learner.

“this looks perfect! thanks, beoms,” you say warmly. he’s stunned for a second at the nickname.

“beoms?”

“yeah, like beomgyu. beoms,” you say with a casual shrug, and something in his chest blossoms. “i give all of my friends nicknames.” and something in his chest explodes at the title of “friend”.

“you do?” he asks excitedly.

“yeah. like, i call soobin ‘soobinie’ or ‘soobie’, sometimes,” you giggle, and the bloom of hope in his chest dies with it.

“are you two close?” he asks, even though he knows the answer will probably hurt him.

“very. he’s my best friend,” you answer fondly. oh. you’re beomgyu’s best friend — you’re beomgyu’s only friend, and tentatively at that. the idea that the deep connection he feels with you is even deeper with someone else, at least in your eyes, makes him feel sick. do you let soobin play with your hair? do you hum along to songs you’ve shown him while he does it? do you smile at him after he’s finished and compliment him on his skills? probably, probably, probably. the ugly feeling that was previously completely foreign to him now takes its usual place in his chest, and it makes his stomach hurt so much that if he could vomit, his metaphorical dinner would be all over the floor.

“oh,” is all he can say.

days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, but every time beomgyu awakens, he finds you smiling up at him. this can’t be good for your bank account — he’s quite expensive to rent, after all — but he’s far too afraid to actually bring it up. what if you realize just how much money you’re sinking into him and want to stop renting him? what will he do if you don’t want him anymore? he feels an incomparable sense of dread at the thought.

he prepares to sit on the couch and watch something, listen to music, or even play a video game with you. you two have gotten into them recently, and he’s discovered that he very much enjoys playing with you, even when you’re yelling at him and demanding that he stop letting you win. he can’t help but grin when he thinks about it. you start playing a song, and you do, indeed, invite him to sit on the couch, but you don’t sit down next to him and start babbling away about your day like you usually would.

“do you think you could do me a favor?” you ask.

“what, do you want me to wash your dishes?” he jokes, and you share a laugh before you say your next words, but all laughter and joy is profusely sucked out of him when you say them.

“no, smartass, but can you braid my hair for me? i’m going over to soobin’s tonight, and i want it out of my way.”

“soobin’s?”

“yeah, it’s been a while since i’ve stayed the night, and he said we’re way past due for it,” you tell him, and the world as beomgyu knows it comes crashing down around him.

“you’re staying the night with him?”

“mhm. he’s right, it’s been too long; but don’t worry, i bought a pass so you can play video games online. there’s even a headset so you can talk to people, if you want. maybe you’ll even make some friends,” you say while playfully waggling your eyebrows. beomgyu’s silence is pensive, to say the very least, and you worry that he’s apprehensive of making a friend that isn't you.

“seriously, you might like it. it’ll be good for you to meet more people, honestly. i’m sure it’s driving you crazy to only have me to talk to,” you jokingly add, but to beomgyu, it’s the worst joke he’s ever heard. no, it does not drive him crazy to only talk to you every day. in fact, even though he’s not conscious during the time you spend away from each other, he thinks, deep down, that he still somehow misses you when you’re apart. and no, he does not think he needs to have anyone but you. you are more than enough for him, so how could you ever think he needs more? again, he is taunted by that same strange and implacable feeling he’s been having ever since he met you, yet he can’t quite put his finger on it, even when he nods and tells you that he’ll try making new friends.

but as he brushes out your hair and you sing along to the words:

"i’m glad i didn’t die before i met you

but now i don’t care

i could go anywhere with you

and i’d probably be happy"

he finally understands what that feeling is. that warm, all-consuming feeling. that feeling of comfort, safety, and unconditional understanding. that feeling of infinite curiosity about the other person. that feeling of wanting to known and be known in a way so profound it physically aches.

yes, as he gathers your hair and ever-so-gently twists it in his hands in preparation for you staying the night with a man you clearly prefer over him, the feeling becomes clear as day. love. what he feels for you is love — an emotion he should never be able to even fathom, yet he does.

and it makes him loathe himself to a degree he never thought he was capable of.

he’s so put off by this sentiment, he almost can’t finish the braid because his hands are shaking so much, but somehow, he finishes, anyway.

“are you done?” you ask as you fiddle with your hair and look back at him.

“mhm,” he replies.

“yay! thank you!” you say giddily.

“you’re welcome,” he mumbles. you’re not stupid, so you notice that something is off about him, but you just assume it’s because he’s nervous about being left alone to make new friends. you feel guilty in a certain sense, but it’ll be good for him to branch out and meet new people, so you tuck the feeling away as best as you can before packing your nightly essentials and getting ready to leave.

“i’ll be back tomorrow morning,” you tell him, and he only nods with his lips pursed, which makes your heart feel sour.

“try not to miss me too much,” you tease, but it doesn’t seem to cheer him up in the slightest.

“have fun,” he replies weakly, and your previously sour heart now kind of aches, but you have to do this for him. you can't always be beside him for everything, right? besides, it's only for the night.

you open the door to leave, but before you go, you turn back to him and he senses hesitation in you. before he can question it, you’re opening your arms, and his eyes widen when he realizes you’re inviting him in for a hug. you almost regret doing it as soon as you open them for fear of making him uncomfortable, but he embraces you before you have time to process such feelings. on beomgyu’s end, he has always been wary of touch for obvious reasons, but he gravitates towards your open arms like he was meant to be in them.

he rests his chin on the top of your head for a moment and you spend an unknown length of time just standing with your arms wrapped around each other.

“i’ll miss you,” you admit, and before you can smack yourself for being so dramatic and sentimental over what will ultimately only be one night, you can swear you feel his grip tightening even more around you.

eventually, you break away and look up at him with a smile. you ruffle his hair and promise to see him later, and he answers you with a nod. then, you're leaving and locking the door behind you.

immediately, beomgyu feels a sense of loss he’s never felt before. after all, to experience loss, you must have something worth losing in the first place, and he has never had anything like that. at least, not until you. so he stands at the door for who knows how long, just like a puppy waiting for his owner to get home.

soobin can sense you’re out of it before you even finish crossing through his doorway, and it puts a halt to your typically overdramatic greeting.

“what’s the matter? are you feeling okay?” he questions concernedly as he pulls you in for a hug. you nod before you break apart from him and walk through the threshold.

“y-yeah. it’s just, i don’t know, i guess i just feel bad about leaving beomgyu all by himself,” you tell him as you plop down on his couch.

“the android you’ve been renting?” he asks incredulously. “i’ve been meaning to ask you about that, actually. why’re you renting it so much? i barely even see you anymore. is the sex that good?”

“you know i don’t use androids like that,” you snap in annoyance, partially because he’s calling beomgyu “it”.

“i know, which is why i’m so confused. why rent it in the first place if you’re not getting anything out of it?”

you struggle to answer his question. you promised beomgyu you’d keep his secret, but you trust soobin, and you know he won’t judge him, or worse, report him. besides, it’ll be good to have an unbiased third party weigh in on the situation. with this in mind, you tell him about beomgyu, skipping over some of the more personal details. he’s in disbelief at first and actually thinks you’re just fucking with him, but as you tell him more and more about the time you’ve spent together, his smile falls and his face turns serious.

“so that’s why i feel so guilty about leaving him alone,” you finish with a deep sigh. he’s silent for a few moments before collecting his thoughts.

“god, i can’t believe this is actually happening,” he whispers.

“i know. it’s insane, but it’s true. he’s just so… human. you should've seen the way he looked at me when i told him i was leaving. i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone look so sad before.”

“well, you’re right about him needing to make friends,” he says with a nod, and it validates all of your misgivings about leaving him alone. “but don’t you think you should, i don’t know, think about what all of this means?”

“what do you mean?” you ask, and in that moment, he knows you have no idea about the way beomgyu probably feels about you. he’s not 100% confident in his deductions, but the way you describe how beomgyu acts around you pretty much tells him everything he needs to know.

“i mean, you basically have a completely sentient creature who relies on you for everything. if he’s as human as you say he is, then he can probably feel everything that we do. right now, i’d guess that he feels like you’re all he knows.” and the sneaking sense of guilt that was previously threatening to creep up on you is now completely overwhelming. you’re all he knows. and you left him all alone to fend for himself and make his own friends. yes, he needs to learn how to make connections, but how could you expect him to know how to do that? it took weeks for him to finally seem comfortable around you, so how could he possibly know how to make them on his own? moreover, even though it's nothing to you, you're his entire world. he must feel like you abandoned him.

“i’ve gotta go,” you mumble.

“what?” he asks.

“i–i’ve gotta go home,” you repeat as you hurriedly stand up and hug him goodbye.

“wait! i think you should —”

“love you, bye!” you shout as you book it out of the doorway.

when you return home, you open the door to see beomgyu listlessly staring at the television screen. when he hears you, he turns to look at you with watery eyes. he looks so lost in this moment, and all of your suspicions are confirmed.

“beoms, i am so sorry,” you tell him as you rush over and throw your arms around him.

“for what?” he asks with a gulp as he stays in your embrace, shakily wrapping his arms around your waist.

“i’m sorry for leaving you all by yourself. i thought it was just for one night, so it’d be alright, but you don’t have anyone but me right now; and i realize that it’s unfair for me to expect you to meet other people all on your own when you’ve never had to do it before. if you want friends, i’ll help you, okay? i’ll be there with you as you do it,” you tell him, and you feel his body trembling.

“i-i’m sorry. i know it’s not a big deal, but when you’re not with me, i feel so scared. i… i don’t know how to do anything by myself. i’m s-sorry i need you so much,” he whispers, and your heart breaks.

“don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “how about this: i’ll join you online and we can talk to people together. then, when you’re ready, you can start hanging out with my friends in person, too, okay? we can keep going until you don’t need me anymore.” beomgyu outwardly agrees, which seems to put you at ease, but there’s just one issue: he’ll always need you.

gaming online is actually really fun, but making friends is hard for someone like beomgyu. he’s quiet and a little awkward at first, but after a few nights and with your help, he finally warms up to the people he games with. he gets so comfortable, in fact, that he’s even able to shit talk with them a little.

“fuckkk, that’s so unfair!” his new friend, kai, wails over the headset.

“it’s not unfair, you just suck,” beomgyu chuckles, and kai whines again. you laugh at their interaction before kai continues.

“how are you so fucking good at this game? you’ve only been playing for a few nights, and you’re already better than me!” he pouts.

“i’m just gifted,” beomgyu boasts.

“very true,” you add, and he beams, but kai’s next words throw him off-kilter.

“whatever. stop asking your girlfriend to argue with me — you two make me sick,” he jokes with his signature maniacal laugh, but the two of you are too stunned to laugh along. you look at each other in sheer embarrassment, and you can see beomgyu’s ears turning bright pink beneath his blond hair. you’re not sure why you feel so mortified, but you do. this is beomgyu, for god’s sake. there’s no earthly way you could ever see him in anything other than a purely platonic way, so why does your heart feel uneasy at the notion? while you’re still too stunned to speak, beomgyu tries to pipe up and respond.

“sh-she’s — we’re not, uh —”

“damn it!” kai yells as his character dies yet again, and any momentum beomgyu previously had to clear up the misunderstanding is killed stone dead in its tracks.

he turns to look at you unsurely, but the awkward moment seems to have passed for you as you laugh at kai’s character’s death. if only he could be as unfazed.

after kai goes offline, you two decide to quit gaming for the night. you turn to beomgyu nervously, and he immediately knows that you’re going to say something serious. he hopes beyond hope that it’s not about what kai said.

“can i ask you something?” and his heart sinks. oh god, you probably caught onto his feelings. he’s not sure he has the confidence to tell the truth, but how could he lie to you?

“y-yes,” he replies, voice a bit unsteady.

“okay, you can say no if you want, but soobin invited us to a get together he’s having pretty soon. it’s not anything too crazy, so there’ll only be a few of us. i think it’ll be a good start for you. maybe you’ll even make some new friends, you know?” he’s silent at your words just out of sheer shock. he’d definitely missed the mark when guessing your intentions.

“it’s okay to say no,” you hurriedly add, “but my friends are really nice, and i’d be with you the entire time. even if you don’t talk to anybody, you can talk to me.”

“okay,” he agrees before he can even really think about it. he guesses he’s just relieved that you still don’t know about his feelings, but part of him aches even still.

“really?” you ask incredulously. “oh my god! i have to tell soobin — he’ll be so excited!” you babble, and his lips curl upwards at how happy you are. he wishes he could always make you happy like this, and it seems that he’d agree to absolutely anything if you were the one asking.

work has been especially taxing today, which is nothing new, but you have this insatiable suspicion that something feels… off as you finish up for the day. as you’re about to head out for the night, you wonder what beomgyu will want to do once you get home. maybe he’ll want to play games with kai, or maybe he’ll want to watch a movie with you. maybe he’ll let you cuddle up to him for warmth, which he’s been very willing to do, lately. the unspoken rule that you two will never touch has become blurry for some reason, but you’re pretty touchy with all of your friends, so it only feels like a matter of course to you.

you’re thinking about all of the potential ways tonight could play out when it hits you: you didn’t reserve beomgyu. you spit out a curse and hurriedly take out your phone to book him, but it’s too late. he’s already assigned to someone for the night. fuck.

when you get home, you’re anxious beyond belief. you haven’t spent a night without beomgyu in months, but more importantly, he hasn’t spent a night without you. you try not to think about how scared he will be when he’s powered on in a stranger’s home. you hope he’s able to just switch back to his initial programming, but somehow, you just know it won’t be that easy. you feel sick with worry when you think about how someone so human will have to involuntarily turn his feelings off and pretend to enjoy something he’s being forced to do — with no compensation, no less. he must think you abandoned him. he must think you don’t care about him. how could you forget to reserve him when he needs you so much? fuck how busy you were with work, his wellbeing should have been your first priority.

so you sit and watch the hours tick by. you try to relax. you try to tell yourself it’s only for one night, and he’s been doing it for years, but something just feels wrong, wrong, wrong. you’re about to try to force yourself to go to sleep so the night ends more quickly when you hear a rapid knocking on your door. it’s strange for someone to call on you so late, indeed, but when you look through your peephole, you see none other than the very boy you’ve been worrying about.

“beomgyu?” you say incredulously when you swing open the door. immediately, he embraces you, and you feel hot tears streaming down your neck as he nuzzles his face into it. you hold him as best as you can as you rub circles into his back and try to shush his cries.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” you tell him, and he whines. you try to break away to get a good look at him, but he just pulls you in even closer, as if you’re his only lifeline in this world, and in a way, you are.

after his breathing slows and his sobs die out, he reluctantly parts from you, so you hold his hand and lead him to your couch. his eyes are swollen and bloodshot while his nose is a bright pink, but he never once takes his eyes off of you for fear of letting you out of his sight. in his mind, you can’t leave as long as he can see you.

“are you alright?” you tentatively ask, hand still holding his and soothingly caressing it in an attempt to calm him down. he goes to nod before stopping himself and shaking his head in the negative. your eyes soften even more at the action.

“do you want to talk about what happened?” you try, and he nods before clearing his throat.

“i, um, i woke up and i was at this woman’s house. she… she wanted me to get undressed, but i didn’t want to, so she started doing it for me.” you wince at his words, but he’s not finished yet.

“she kept touching me, and it was so disgusting i just — i just couldn't stand it, so i ran away and came here. i don’t mean to make your life harder, and i won’t ask for you to stay the night with me anymore, but if you could just let me stay here, i promise i’ll learn how to clean or do anything you want. please, just don’t make me —”

“beomgyu, stop it,” you say softly, but firmly. “you are not making my life harder. you can stay here as much as you want and do whatever you want while you’re here. i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean for this to happen. i was just so busy with work, and by the time i realized it, somebody had already booked you. i promise you that it’ll never happen again, okay? so you don't have to be afraid. i’m not leaving you, and i won’t let anyone hurt you, either.”

you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone look so relieved before. it looks as though you just saved his life, and to beomgyu, you essentially did. he holds your hand even tighter, as if you’re the only thing keeping him from falling off the face of this planet.

“wait here, i’ll get you some clothes,” you say gently, but as you go to leave, he holds you even tighter. your eyebrow quirks in a silent question at his actions, and he looks sheepish for a moment before saying his next words.

“c-can we just stay like this for a bit? just for a little while? i’m still scared,” he mumbles, and your heart melts.

“of course. come here,” you beckon, and he falls into your arms and rests his head on your shoulder, breathing your scent in as he tries to imprint this moment into his hardware. you stay like that for a while before you finally convince him to change out of his uncomfortable clothes. he reluctantly lets you go, and his eyes follow you everywhere you walk.

that night, you stay up later than usual to spend more time with him. he stays glued to your side and ensures that he’s always touching you in some way, which is endearing in a way you can’t seem to put into words. when you’re about to head to bed for the night, you swear you hear him whimper, but he lets you go, anyway. as you lay your head down and get comfortable under the covers, you hear a timid knocking on your door. you call him in, and his gaze shyly flickers between you and the floor.

“c-can i stay with you tonight? i won’t bother you, i swear. it’s just — i just still feel weird. y-you can say no! i just thought that —”

“come here,” you softly interrupt, and he doesn’t hesitate to listen. he closes the door behind him and shuffles towards you, stopping uncertainly at the edge of the bed in a silent plea for permission to enter it. you feel a weird, warm feeling in your chest when he does it. you scoot over and pat the open space next to you before he gathers enough courage to slide in. you cover him with your blanket, and he stiffly accepts it. you giggle at his awkwardness and cuddle up to him, placing your arms around his waist before thinking better of it. how could you just invade his personal space when he’s clearly traumatized? you go to remove your arms and scoot away before he firmly locks you in place.

“it’s okay,” he whispers, settling himself into your embrace and mindlessly toying with the ends of your hair.

“are you sure?” you ask.

“i’m sure.”

it isn't long before beomgyu hears your breathing slow down, and eventually he hears you begin to snore. he smiles at the sound. he can't really sleep, but he's perfectly content with watching you rest. he continues to play with your hair, and you nuzzle into his touch every so often. he doesn’t want to repeat the events leading up to tonight, but he would do it all over again — any number of times — with a smile on his face if it meant he got to be with you like this again.

the next morning, beomgyu waits for the usual delivery guy from the company to pick him up, but it’s currently way past the usual pickup time. he’s most certainly not complaining, but you don’t seem even remotely fazed by the matter. however, while you’re casually flipping through your streaming catalog literal hours after he’d already be gone, he can’t stop himself from asking:

“um, d-do you know when i’m being picked up?” you pause, and he worries that he may have said the wrong thing before you turn to him.

“do you want to be picked up?” you ask solemnly.

“n-no! of course not. it’s just, you know, i’d usually be gone by now, so i —”

“do you want to stay here? with me, i mean,” you interrupt.

“i… i do,” he replies with a gulp. usually, that’d be all you get from him, but it feels like the perfect opportunity to be honest about his feelings. “i always want to stay with you, but i know i’m expensive, and i don’t want to be a bother.” he looks ashamed as he admits it, but if he had the courage to look in your eyes, he’d note the fondness that lies within them.

“i told you that you’re not a bother to me. i also told you that you could stay here for as long as you want, remember?” and he does, so he nods.

“alright. i meant it when i said it last night, and i mean it now. if you want to be here, you can stay for as long as you’d like. you don't have to worry about your owners anymore, i promise.” and he thinks he’s never seen you as serious as you are now. he wonders what you mean before it dawns on him.

“you… did you buy me?” he asks in disbelief.

“y-yeah. i’m sorry, it sounds so gross when i hear it out loud, but that doesn’t mean that i own you or anything. what i really wanted to buy was your freedom, so you can stay as long as you want, but that also means that you can leave whenever you want, too.”

“i’m so sorry,” he says in a hushed, hurried tone. “i know i'm expensive. i’m really sorry.”

“money is not an object to me,” you dismiss in faux arrogance with a wave of your hand in hopes that it’ll lighten the mood, but beomgyu can’t stop the tears from falling over his waterlines, and you’re afraid your attempt to help him only made him feel more indebted to you. all worry is promptly washed away when you feel him pull you into his arms.

“thank you,” he just barely breathes out. “i don’t know how i’ll ever pay you back, but i’ll try, i swear.”

“you don’t have to do anything for me, beoms. i should’ve done it a lot sooner, but i’m just a little slow, i guess,” you muse, and he chuckles softly into your neck.

sleeping with beomgyu should’ve only happened once, but every night when you say you’re heading to bed, he looks at you with puppy eyes and you find yourself inviting him to come along. each time, he looks so excited that if he had a tail, it would most certainly be wagging. he obediently follows you to your room and settles into the empty space next to you before holding you in his arms as you drift off. he’s even taken to humming the tunes of songs he likes when you struggle to settle down, and his baritone voice lulls you to sleep like a charm every time. he spends his time by just looking at you and trying to reconcile with his new reality. this is real. he gets to spend however many nights he wants next to you, as per your own words. even if you didn’t mean them, he plans to take them seriously. he is perfectly content with spending the rest of his life just sleeping with you, looking at you, being with you.

soobin’s get together is tonight, and you look different than usual. your typical look is very casual, which makes sense because you’re only ever at home when you’re with him, but you are now primped and ready to be seen, and it makes him anxious because you look even more lovable. he knows these people are your friends, so they must’ve seen you dressed up before, but that only makes him all the more uneasy; they know a side of you he is only now seeing, and it makes that same old ugly feeling he's grown so accustomed to sprout in his chest.

when you arrive at soobin’s place, the first thing you do when soobin swings open the door is jump in his arms like you didn’t just see him a week ago. he spins you around with a dimpled grin that’s so sincere, beomgyu feels emotionally decimated by it. you both giggle as you break apart, and the jealousy beomgyu feels brewing within feels unpacifiable.

“is this beomgyu?” soobin asks, grin still very much apparent.

“yes! you’re gonna love him,” you answer giddily.

“it’s nice to meet you,” soobin says warmly while stretching out his hand, which beomgyu awkwardly shakes while he tries to force his lips to curl upwards in what he prays is a believable smile.

“nice to meet you,” he mumbles.

“everyone’s already here, but you’re late as always,” soobin playfully chastises, and you pout in response.

everyone greets you when you walk in, mostly by hugging you and lightheartedly scolding you for not coming out anymore. they’re very clearly bantering with you, but each reproach feels like a knife to beomgyu’s heart. he’s the reason you haven’t seen them in so long.

clueless to it all, you introduce him as your friend to everyone, which only makes him feel worse, somehow. he is just one friend out of many, meanwhile you’re his entire world. you’re far too caught up in the joy of seeing some of your favorite people after so long to notice his dismay, however.

you lead him to soobin’s couch to have a seat with you and one of your friends, taehyun maybe, offers him a drink, to which he awkwardly declines. you quickly follow up with something to the effect of “he isn’t much of a drinker,” and beomgyu nods in affirmation. you try your best to include beomgyu in conversation, but they’re all talking about people and places he doesn't know. all he knows is you, and the world you two built together seems smaller and smaller with every new topic of conversation.

he notices that soobin seems to be eyeing him somewhat strangely, though he tries his best to play it off. he could just attribute it to surface level curiosity, but his intuition tells him it’s much deeper than that. is soobin sizing up his competition? maybe so, but there’s not much to see. beomgyu is handsome, and he knows it, but soobin knows a side of you beomgyu has only ever heard stories about. you’ve told him about your friends and the goings on between you and your coworkers, but it pales in comparison to actually meeting them. he makes an internal note to ask even more questions than he usually does the next time you’re telling him about your day. until then, he sits as close to you as humanly possible and clings onto your arm, which is so second nature to you, you don't even notice that he’s doing it.

soobin, who is usually not the inquisitive type, can’t help but question the dynamic between you and beomgyu. at first, the lingering glances and intimate gestures were innocuous enough to be written off as mere friendliness, but when you whisper something in beomgyu’s ear and he flushes a bright pink, soobin knows he can’t ignore it any longer. he especially can’t ignore it when you turn away from beomgyu and he raises a hand to the ear you just whispered into as if he’s reliving the moment. well, time to test his theory.

soobin slides into the open cushion next to you and begins excitedly chattering about how pretty you look tonight, and he even takes your braided hair into his hands and twirls it between his fingers.

“your hair looks pretty,” he muses.

“beomgyu did it, actually,” you grin, and soobin glances over to said boy, who is currently glaring daggers at him. the look in beomgyu’s eyes is so intense, he almost wants to back off, but he has to get to the bottom of this.

“did he? you know, it’s been a while since you stayed over. wanna have a sleepover tonight? you have some clothes here from last time, and we can cuddle, i know you like that,” he says as innocently as he possibly can.

before you can even reply, beomgyu is slamming his hands on the coffee table. you turn to face him in surprise, and the look on his face is the angriest you’ve ever seen him. his eyes are dark and his nostrils are flared as he heavily breathes. he’s never been angry at all in front of you, actually, so to say you’re taken aback is the understatement of the century.

“beoms? what’s wrong?” you ask concernedly, completely turning away from soobin. your voice is enough to somewhat placate him, but before he can fully calm down, soobin is saying his next words.

“i’m sure he’s fine. beomgyu, you can find your way home tonight on your own, can’t you?” beomgyu is positively seething at this. before you can question him again, he’s gripping your hand so tightly it’s like it’s the only thing keeping him from drowning, so you excuse the both of you and drag him to the bathroom for some privacy.

“are you alright?” you ask, frantically scanning his figure for some sort of sign of pain or discomfort.

“i-i’m fine, i just, uh, i don’t feel good,” he says flatly.

“what’s wrong? is it too much? do we need to go home?” he’s so flustered, he barely registers that you’re calling your house “home”, but he still notices it in spite of everything, and it’s like a balm on his aching heart.

“y-yeah, can we go home? please?” he pleads, and you hurriedly nod.

“of course, just let me say bye to everyone before we leave, okay?” and he wants to say no, but he’s as weak as ever in front of you, so he relents.

that doesn’t stop him from gripping your hand, though, as you say goodbye to everyone. you go to give soobin your usual hug, but beomgyu pulls you back to him even more tightly. you write it off as him not feeling well and just wanting to leave as soon as possible, to which you oblige, and before you know it, you two are scurrying out of soobin’s place like there’s something chasing you.

as you’re driving home, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket, but it isn’t until you’re walking through your doorway that you check it.

soobie: we need to talk. call me as soon as you get home

you’re worried beyond belief at his serious tone, so you tell beomgyu that you’ve got to make a call before ducking into your bedroom. you don’t shut the door behind you, because why would you?

you quickly call soobin and the line connects after just one ring.

“what’s wrong?” you ask anxiously, and soobin just sighs, which makes you all the more anxious.

“we have to talk about beomgyu.”

“beomgyu? what about him? is something wrong?” you question.

“yeah, i mean, maybe. this might sound crazy, but i think — i know — he likes you.” you’re stunned silly for just a moment before bursting into laughter.

“likes me? what the hell are you talking about?” you dismiss, and you sense his agitation even through the phone.

“i’m serious. i had a feeling before, but tonight just confirmed it. he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment, just trying to process his words, but once your mind somewhat clears, you can’t help but deny, deny, deny.

“you’re wrong. it’s not like that at all. i’m just the first person who’s ever treated him nicely, and i —”

“you’re not listening,” he cuts in irritatedly. “he looked like he wanted to skin me alive tonight. how else do you explain that?”

“soobie,” you sigh. “you’ve got it all wrong. maybe you’re right and maybe he was feeling insecure, but that’s probably because i’m the only person he knows. he most likely just felt like you were stealing my attention away.”

“you’re always so dense about these things, you know?” he groans. “okay, look, i’m not sure how they came about, but i do know that he has feelings for you. maybe it started out as dependence, i’m not sure, but it’s definitely much more than that now.”

“that’s impossible,” you snort, actually feeling a bit impatient now. how could he possibly think that your relationship with beomgyu was anything other than platonic?

“why? because he’s a robot?” oh, that shuts you up. “just think about it. if he were a human, would you still be saying the same thing? like i said before, if he’s as human as you say he is, he can feel the same way we do, and he’s definitely capable of feeling love, too.” you are, again, stunned into silence. suddenly, as if there was a fog that covered your brain before, things that you never really considered become clear to you. the soft touches, the gentleness. sleeping in the same bed and waiting for you to get home. wanting you — needing you — around all the time. the way he plays with your hair. the way he’s so interested in everything you have to say. the clinginess, the dependence. it all makes so much more sense to you.

“i —” you begin, but you just so happen to glance up and see beomgyu right outside of your doorway… looking absolutely devastated.

“i’ve gotta go,” you tell soobin as you hang up, not even bothering to say your usual goodbye.

“beoms, did you hear us?” you ask tentatively, and he flinches a little bit before looking down at the floor and nodding.

you’re unsure of how to navigate this situation from here, but while you’re still trying to figure it out, beomgyu speaks.

“i-i’m so sorry,” he says hurriedly. “i understand if you don’t want me anymore.”

“w-what? no, i —”

“i’m just really sorry,” he says, looking as ashamed as a person ever could. “i know it’s wrong, i know it’s disgusting, but i —”

“beomgyu.”

“but i can’t help it. i wish i could, but i just can’t; and i understand if you want to return me or whatever, but if you could just —”

“beomgyu, stop it,” you interrupt firmly, no room for argument. he stares at you with defeated eyes, and you feel your heart break in two. “i am not disgusted, and i don’t want to return you.” his eyebrows furrow as if he doesn't quite understand, so you continue.

“your feelings are not disgusting to me, don’t ever say that again, okay? please? it makes me sad,” you plead, and he hesitantly nods. “i think it’s normal, actually. you don’t really know anybody else other than me, so of course you’re confused.”

“confused?” he asks incredulously, eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“confused,” you nod. “it'll change once you meet more people, i swear.” you try to smile reassuringly, but suddenly, you see tears welling up in beomgyu’s eyes.

“beoms?” you carefully try.

“i don't need to meet more people. i just need you,” he chokes out. “don't tell me i'm confused because i'm not. i-i'd rather you just say you don't want to be with me than tell me that.” your heart clenches at his words, but he continues.

“i just want to be with you, no one else,” he tells you desperately. “i can understand if you don't feel the same way, but i can't stand to hear you say i don’t love you, because i do. i really, really do.” and as if you're dissociating, your mind is bombarded by times where he's shown you this exact sentiment. again, you go back to every intimate moment you two have ever shared. it was easy to just chalk it up to his lack of experience, but when he's telling you that's not the case so earnestly, is it truly possible to still believe it’s nothing? after a while, you decide that it most certainly is not.

the question is: do you feel the same way? you try to put a name to the feelings you have when you’re with him. the trust you have, the understanding. the desire to share everything you know and like with him, no matter how mundane it may seem to others; and consequently, the endearment towards him when you see how eager he is to listen. more than that, the intimacy between you two. how you like waking up to him smiling down at you, and how when something happens, he’s the first one you want to tell, good or bad. how when you listen to new music, you feel excited at the prospect of sharing it with him.

you realize you want to know more about him, the happy things and even the sad things. why he is the way that he is, why he thinks the way he thinks. the peace you feel when he’s running his fingers through your hair and holding you close when you watch the same film for the dozenth time. you try to picture a world where somebody else rented him. a world in which somebody else got to see him as soon as they wake up or as soon as they get home from a particularly grueling day at work, and you finally understand that you wouldn’t like that at all. but why? you’ve only ever thought of him as a friend, right? so why does it matter to you?

your eyes focus on beomgyu again, and you notice how utterly defeated he looks. his heart is on full display for you — and you alone — as tears stream freely down his pretty, doll-like face. are these tears just for you? you think so. is it safe to trust that these feelings he has for you are real? you’re not sure, but you want to. still, there’s something stopping you.

“i think… i think i feel the same way,” you admit, and his previously downtrodden appearance immediately lights up with hope. “but we shouldn’t.” and the words are like lead in your mouth.

“why not?” he asks, clearly distressed. you just gave him an inch, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t take a mile. he never in a million years would have thought that you’d ever reciprocate his feelings, so he can’t just let them go so easily.

“i just… it’s just not something that i can —”

“is it because i’m an android?” he questions, voice teeming with self-loathing.

“n-no! i mean, we’re just so different,” you tell him, trying to skirt around the topic as best as you possibly can, but he won’t have it.

“whatever it is, i’ll change it. please? i can do anything,” he pleads.

“it’s not like that. i want to, but we can't. i-i'll get older. i won't look the same — i won't be the same,” and it’s embarrassing as hell to admit it out loud, but you mean it. beomgyu’s urgent gaze softens, and he inches closer to you before he’s standing before you. he reaches out to gently cup your face and tenderly pushes your hair behind your ears.

“and what about me?”

“what about you?” you scoff, but you don't pull away from his touch, though your eyes do dart away. “you’ll still be you, and i’ll be old and —”

“what about when my parts start creaking? what about when i don’t remember things like i’m supposed to? you’ll still love me then, right?” he asks, but he already knows, and your eyes snap back to his.

“th-that’s different. you can get repairs. i can’t —”

“then i won’t. you’ll get old and gray and i’ll get rundown and out-of-date. i don’t care what happens, as long as i’m with you.” you’re silent in the wake of his heavy words, so he quickly continues.

“you told me that when you love somebody, you’d do anything to be with them. you said you always find a way, and i want to find a way to be with you.” your heart simultaneously warms and aches at this sentiment.

you consider what it would be like to be with him. things would be difficult, yes, but not impossible. maybe you’ll come to regret it someday, but you don’t want to think about that right now. you feel like the luckiest girl in the world when you think of the fact that somebody so beautiful, inside and out, wants to be with you. you don't think you’ve done anything particularly special for him, but he still wants and accepts you for everything that you are and ever will be.

“okay,” you say shakily, and you finally recognize that his hands are still very much cupping your face, fingers lovingly rubbing against your cheeks. he smiles in pure relief at your answer, but he makes no move to break away his hold on you.

you notice how his gaze flicks between your eyes and your lips, and you decide you'll have mercy on him as you lean up to him and press a chaste kiss on his pouty lips before parting. he’s visibly red at the action, and you grin at how flustered he looks. on beomgyu’s end, he feels another bloom of excitement and swell of hope threatening to overcome him. when he looks at the playfulness in your eyes, he smiles even wider.

“i love you,” he whispers affectionately.

you pause before you tell him:

“i love you, too, beoms.”

that night, beomgyu is even clingier than usual. he sticks like gum to your side. when you head to sleep, he eagerly nestles in your bed and holds his arms wide open. you follow his lead and settle into his warm embrace. he sings you one of his favorite songs you’ve ever shown him. the last words you hear before you sink into sleep are:

“to die by your side

is such a heavenly way to die

to die by your side, well

the pleasure, the privilege is mine”

notes pt. 2: sfw work ends here!

you and beomgyu have been “together” for a few weeks now, so the relationship is still very new. surprisingly or not, things seem more or less the same. you guess you never realized just how intimate you two have always been until you put a label on things. the only tangible differences are that instead of just a mere hug when he greets you, he plants kisses all over your face before finding his ways to your lips. and when you’re watching movies or even just talking, he’ll steal a kiss or two. and when you head to bed, you know you can expect him to catch your lips like a man starved before you sleep. things get heated, sometimes, but they never lead to anything besides labored breaths and promises to calm himself down. you take his hesitancy as him wanting to take it slow and treasure your first time together, and you realize he still may be traumatized from the years he spent as a sexbot.

you have apologized to him for telling soobin his secret. you let him know your reasoning for telling him, and he accepted your apology quite graciously. honestly? he was never mad, and he tells you that very clearly, but you still feel somewhat guilty even when he says he understands. your guilt is only absolved when he says he’s thankful you told soobin because things may have never changed without his wise input. he says that he’s grateful to soobin for being a voice of reason in the face of your emotional density. you blushed when he told you this, and apologized for being so slow on the uptake, but he just assured you that he wouldn’t have you any other way, which made you love him even more, somehow.

you’re now about to go to soobin’s again for another get together with your friends. second time’s the charm, you cheekily told him when you brought it up, and he blushed in response. when you two walk through the doorway, everyone cheers. you greet everyone as usual, and beomgyu tries his best to keep his searing jealousy at bay, but his anxiety starts clawing at him as soobin seats himself next to you and asks you how you are.

you giggle and tell him you’re doing well, and he responds by updating you on his tumultuous work life. beomgyu immediately wonders why you haven’t told soobin about your new relationship. are you embarrassed to be seen with him? it’s not like he doesn’t understand, what with him technically being made out of wires and machinery. of course a human like you wouldn’t want to be seen with a metal man like him. you could have the entire world in your hands if you wanted, so what’s the point of playing pretend with a fake like him? maybe, if he were you, he’d be embarrassed, too. he likes to think that maybe you aren’t like that, but at the end of the day, how could you not be? he’s nothing more than a robot masquerading as the real thing.

his anxiety worsens the more in depth your conversation with soobin gets. you try to include him by briefly giving him context about the stories soobin tells, but he can’t stop himself from worrying. again, he feels like soobin is stealing you away from him, and his mood sours.

your other friends try to talk to him, too, but he’s very obviously in a bad mood as he watches you two continue to laugh together. when you finally do turn to beomgyu, you immediately notice how awful he looks.

“beoms? are you alright?” you ask gingerly, but beomgyu’s discomfort is not at all placated even at the term of endearment.

“‘m fine,” he mumbles, and you’re genuinely in shock at his change of attitude. soobin looks very concerned, but he excuses himself to get a drink so you two can work it out, though he has an inkling of an idea of what’s triggering beomgyu.

“what’s wrong with you?” you ask concernedly, but he shakes his head sulkily.

“do you wanna go home?” you offer, and he immediately nods. you look torn for a second, but when you see how sad he looks, you know you can’t deny him.

you say your goodbyes to your friends and apologize for leaving early, but everyone says they understand. soobin makes you promise to host the next get together, though, to which you happily agree.

the ride home is mostly silent, but you look over to beomgyu in concern every so often. you grab his hand and squeeze it in a way you hope is comforting, but he doesn’t look any better at all.

when you enter your house, you immediately head to your bedroom, and he follows you in silence. you sit on the bed and pat the space next to you.

“beoms, what’s the matter?” you ask pleadingly as you grab his hands, and his heart, which was previously aching, is (a little) soothed by your concern.

“i-it’s nothing,” he answers, but you can tell that he’s lying because of the way he refuses to make eye contact with you.

“baby, i can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong,” you say. you’re right, and he knows you’re right, but you’re already doing him the favor of a lifetime just by deigning to be with him. how could he dare to ask for more? he’s ashamed at the thought, but you look so sincere, and he knows in his metaphorical heart that he needs to be able to communicate with you if you two are going to have any shot at a lasting relationship.

“i-i’m just j-jealous,” he sputters.

“oh, baby, why?” you ask.

“because i’m not like you,” he admits after a pause. “i already feel like i’m not good enough for you, so seeing you with someone who actually is makes me feel awful.”

“who? soobin?” and you’re absolutely petrified when he sheepishly nods.

“honey, it’s not like that at all,” you tell him. “we’re just friends, i promise.”

“but it would be so much easier to be with him. you wouldn’t have to be ashamed about telling everyone you’re with an android,” he argues.

“beomgyu, i am not ashamed of you. i just wasn’t sure if you felt comfortable with me telling everyone. if you want me to tell them, i’ll happily do it. you’re so good, how could i ever be embarrassed of you?” his eyes soften.

“do you mean it?” he asks, and you nod.

“do i not show it enough? how much i love you, i mean.” he furiously shakes his head no, but you know it’s a lie. beomgyu himself will admit that he needs more validation than most people, and it’s going to take him a while to ever get over it because of his own issues. that doesn’t mean you can’t try to help him, though, so you brush his cheek with your hands before wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

“does this make you feel better?” you ask after you pull away, but he still looks somewhat depressed, so you pull him in again before pressing your lips against his. this time, you swipe your tongue on his pout, which makes him gasp. you tease your tongue against his and electricity thrums between you two when you do it. he reciprocates your enthusiasm immediately, and before long, you’re both sucking and teasing each other until you’re out of breath.

you pull away again and rest your forehead against his.

“better?” you question.

“a little,” he says. “m-maybe a little more?” you grin at his coquettishness, and you go in for another kiss. your tongues tangle, but you don’t stop there. your mouth travels, peppering kisses down his jaw to his sensitive neck. he shivers at the contact when you swipe your tongue over his unmarred skin before lightly sucking. he lets out a broken moan when you do it, and it reverberates throughout your entire body and straight to your core.

“better?” you ask again.

“m-more,” he pants.

“anything you want, baby,” you tease before your lips hungrily capture his. one of your hands snakes its way up his shirt, and he gasps when you roll his hardened nipple between your fingers. beomgyu is more sensitive than most people, as is the nature of his model, so every little touch drives him crazy.

you seem to have noticed this, so when your other hand palms his hardened length through his sweatpants and he almost screams, you have to bite back a giggle.

“d-don’t tease,” he begs, and you’d do anything for beomgyu, really, but not this time.

you palm him even more harshly and his breath catches in his throat.

“more?” you ask, and he fervently nods. you oblige, sliding your hand under his waistband and teasing the sensitive skin around his length. your fingers brush against it every so often, and he involuntarily bucks every time you do.

“c-can i touch you?” he practically implores.

“of course, my love,” you tell him as you remove your devious hands and pull your top off before unclipping your bra.

his mouth waters when he sees you, and you can see him gulp almost comically as his big hands meet your breasts. he copies your movement from earlier, rolling your sensitive buds between his very clearly experienced fingers. you let out a contented sigh at the action, but you won’t let this be all about you, so your hand sneaks it way back down his pants. this time, you grab his girthy cock and give it a harsh tug. his actions stutter, and you smirk devilishly at how fucked out he is when the fun part hasn’t even begun.

you pull at his waistband, and he eagerly tugs his pants and boxers off as soon you do it. he even goes as far as to tear his t-shirt off over his head before he pulls your half-naked body flush against his, falling onto the bed as he desperately kisses you for everything that you’re worth. eventually, he situates himself on top of you, rutting his thick, long cock onto your still clothed thigh. you didn’t really get a chance to get a good look at him before, but you’re able to look down at him now, and you realize his dick is gorgeous. just like every other part of him. it stands tall, blushing profusely at the tip and practically weeping precum. it’s a bit hooked, too, no doubt to elicit the most pleasure out of his clients. your pussy is drenched just thinking about how it’ll feel when it’s inside of you.

he almost rips your bottoms off of you and his mouth waters even more at the sight of your pussy, all slick and glistening in anticipation for what’s to come.

“so gorgeous,” he whispers as he prepares to lay himself between your legs, but you hook them around his waist before he can do so. tonight will be all about him, you’ve decided, so you tug him closer and put one of his pretty nipples in your mouth, swirling your tongue on it and occasionally nipping at the sensitive skin. your other hand continues to tweak the other one before you alternate between the two, causing him to let out a low, guttural groan.

eventually, he goes in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth and saliva, and you take one of your hands and harshly clench around the base of his throbbing cock.

“is this what you needed, beoms?” you tease, and he nods pathetically as you tug again, harder this time, and let your hands stroke all the way up to his reddened tip. your thumb glides over his slit, and he’s seeing stars.

“i don’t know why you’re so jealous of someone else, my love. you’re so perfect,” you praise, and his ears get even redder, somehow, in spite of the situation you’re both in.

“i — nghh — i don’t like when you’re with him,” he pants, in spite of everything you're doing to him. “only want you with me.”

“oh, baby, you have me,” you coo. “always.” and with that, you begin to feverishly jerk him off with one hand while the other returns to his nipple. his hips buck with every movement, and his eyes are screwed shut. you can tell he’s about to come before you completely take your hands off of him.

“n-no! w-why?” he asks with a crack in his voice, watery eyes shooting open at the sudden action.

“don’t you wanna come in my pussy, instead? it’s warmer and wetter than my hand,” you ask with faux innocence with a tilt of your head, and his previously aggrieved demeanor morphs back into pure lust.

“that’s what i thought,” you giggle as you grab his length and rub it against your slickness. he groans at the feeling, but you don’t immediately take him in, opting to instead roll your hips up, just barely letting his flared head catch against your entrance.

“baby, please,” he whines, and with a smirk, you finally wrap your legs around his waist and line him up with your entrance. you just barely take the tip in, easing it into your pussy, before you force him out again. he gasps raggedly at how tight you are, and he’s wound up so much, he feels like he’s on the brink of exploding. he’s about to take matters into his own hands before you guide him back inside of you, and he feels your walls struggling to accommodate him.

“s-so tight! h-how are you so tight?” he hisses, eyes reddened and face strained, but you’re far too busy with the euphoric feeling of him finally inside of you to reply. he eases in inch after throbbing inch, and it is a snug fit, indeed. he almost wonders if he’ll even fit, but though the stretch burns you, the pleasure is too great to ignore. finally, your walls slightly relax, and he’s able to completely sheath himself in you. you both moan as his tip pulsates against your cervix, and he considerately gives you time to adjust, walls contracting wildly around him, before he attempts to pull out and really begin.

“stop,” you command before he can do so, and his eyes fill with worry at your words.

“w-what’s wrong?” he stutters.

“oh, nothing,” you say between pants. “i just want to see how long you can last.”

“w-what do you —”

and you interrupt him with a kiss. he ravenously reciprocates it, and he can’t help but unconsciously thrust his hips, tapping deliciously on the deepest parts of you, but you prevent him from ever fully pulling out. you tangle one of your hands through his hair and grip it — not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make him groan into your mouth.

“c-can i move?” he pleads, but you shake your head no.

“why?” he whimpers, but you just smirk as you kiss him again and bite his bottom lip.

he doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, but it’s far too long for his liking. he feels his dick swell, and you still refuse to let him move, but you teasingly scrape your fingers against his balls and it’s all he can do not to come.

“p-please let me move, it hurts,” he cries, tears now flowing from his eyes. for once, sex is all about beomgyu and what feels good to him. he could cry just from the sentiment alone, but his current tears are the direct result of how you’re teasing him.

“and where does it hurt, baby? use your words, i know you can.”

“h-hurts, my c-cock hurts,” he sputters out.

“and would pounding my pussy make you feel better?” you goad, and he whines even louder at the imagery.

“y-yes,” he sobs, and you smile as you say your next words.

“such a good boy. you can move.” and that’s all it takes, really, before he’s pulling out despite your cunt’s attempts to suck him back in, and ramming himself back inside of you again and again.

the curve of his cock hits places previously untouched, and your walls spasm around him at the sensation.

“does it feel good, beoms?”

“s-so good,” he mumbles as drool pools off of his tongue and out of his mouth, eyes rolling to the back of his head. “so warm and t-tight.” you clench against your will at his filthy words, and it makes a strangled cry leave his throat.

“pussy so good, baby. your pussy is the b-best,” he babbles, and your lips meet his again before your mouth travels down, sucking a blooming hickey onto his neck. he trembles at the pain that comes with the pleasure, but somehow, he still has the presence of mind to roll his skilled fingers against your clit. just a few touches, and you already feel your orgasm approaching. he can feel every spasm of yours, and it makes his dick twitch inside of you as he wildly fucks you open.

he’s drilling into you so hard, you have to dig your fingernails into the skin of his back to keep yourself grounded. with each thrust, you feel more and more like you’re about to burst.

“gonna come!” you whine.

“do it, baby. c-come all over my cock,” he pleads.

“come inside? want it so bad,” you mewl.

“of course, my angel. a-anything for you,” he tells you as he tenderly brushes your hair out of your sweaty face, and he hammers himself into you at an inhuman pace as you feel the pressure in you crescendo into a searing hot orgasm. you clench even tighter around him while you come, gripping him so forcefully he can barely pull out, so his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated before he rams himself into you one last time and paints your inner walls with his cum.

you two stay like that for a while, just panting and basking in the feeling of closeness you feel. he presses a kiss on your forehead as he relaxes his arms and lays on top of you. you giggle at the intimacy and he finds himself sharing your laughter, your joy.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says between breaths, nuzzling his face into your neck and sighing. “i love you.”

“i love you, too, beoms,” you tell him, and you do love him. unconditionally.

notes pt. 3: :,) :,) :,)))))) i'm very sorry if this was disappointing but i hope it was worth it! i would love to hear your thoughts or answer any questions you may have about this fic/universe. feedback is needed to a disgusting degree bc i need validation to survive #sorry

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ellecdc · 8 months ago

Note

hi!! i saw that you had your request open and i was thinking maybe poly! marauders + lily taking out (or asking) reader on a first date? i think it would be cute.

i read your last fic on them and i loved how you wrote for them! also i just want to say i love your writing!!

poor shy reader - thoughts and prayers fr

marauders + lily x shy!reader who go on a date

pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // pt 5

CW: continuation from this fic, fem!reader is in Hufflepuff, some nerves/anxiety, fluff

You’ve made a mistake.

You’ve made a mistake and think it might be too late to do anything.

“Are you almost ready? The Gryffindor’s bullied a first year into letting them into the common room and now they’re downstairs waiting for you.” One of your roommates advised you in a bored tone as she moved to sit on her bed.

You’ve made a mistake.

“Can you tell them I’m poorly or something?” You begged; tone inlaid with a shrill quality you tried to clear away. “I can’t do this.”

She looked at you like you had grown three heads. “What? You can’t go on a date with four of the hottest people in our year? Get a grip.”

“Please.” You tried again.

“I’m not a bloody owl, L/N.” She spat as she opened up a magazine, effectively shutting you out.

You stared at yourself in the mirror again; the fourth outfit you tried on for your date with the four Gryffindor’s you’d stupidly agreed to while still sat in Remus’ lap at the Gryffindor party where you’d actually sodding kissed Lily Evans.

You’ve made a mistake.

“Hey gorgeous.” You heard at your dorm room door, causing your room mate to groan dramatically as she fell backwards on her bed.

Lily’s auburn eyebrows furrowed at her before her eyes flit back to you; any tension immediately melting into a look far too soft to be for you. “Are you ready to go?”

No.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time; you were about to be escorted to Hogsmeade by the most beautiful people to grace the halls of Hogwarts arguably ever and you couldn’t help but feel entirely too plain.

Lily breathed out a chuckled through her nose and moved to stand behind you, looking at your reflection in the mirror as she moved a lock of your hair behind your shoulder. “As much as I too would love to sit here and admire your reflection, I’m afraid it’s not wise to leave the boys alone unattended for too long.” She murmured as she pressed a kiss to your cheek.

They were going to be the death of you.

As if punctuating the end of Lily’s sentence and your thoughts, you heard a faint popping sound from the common room and the sound of chuckling.

“We ought to go.” Lily said, casually (for her…not for you) taking your hand and all but dragging you out of your room.

When you got downstairs, it was to the sight of first year Hufflepuffs glaring as menacingly as first year Hufflepuffs could as they all marched past the Marauders.

“What did you boys do now?” Lily chided playfully as they all turned to see you.

Their mischievous smiles quickly turned soft and sweet as they took you in.

“Oh my gods!” James exclaimed as he stepped towards the two of you. “My sweet Lily flower, where did you find this angel?”

Your gaze dropped immediately to your feet as Lily - the traitor - moved away from your side to stand near Remus.

“I’d ask if it hurt when you fell from heaven but, I don’t see a single imperfection, Gorgeous.” Sirius continued.

You huffed and crossed your arms as you looked across the room to see the first years still glaring at the group of you as they shed their - quite ashey - robes.

“Erm, why are the first years shaking ash off their robes?” You asked cautiously.

As if they had only just remembered that they’d been causing mischief a mere few moments ago, James and Sirius stepped into action.

“Oh right!” James said with an awkward laugh. “We, uhm, we should get going.”

And before you could ask any follow up questions (or ask to reschedule, perhaps), you had Sirius on one of your arms and James on the other and were being ushered from the Hufflepuff common room.

Helga help me.

The other four did most of the talking on your walk to Hogsmeade, which you were eternally grateful for. But you were now standing in line at Zonko’s - to which the boys insisted they go and Lily had left it up to you and…well…have you seen those boys? How were you expected to say no? - and you felt like every other student’s eyes were on you.

What is she doing with them? You could imagine them snickering to each other.

Think this is one of their pranks? Their friends would respond.

Evans usually isn’t the type but… it could be funny to watch anyhow.

Your body was itchy and your skin felt hot; you needed to get out of the store.

“Hey.” James murmured quietly, resting his chin on your shoulder as his body created a barrier between you and the other patrons of the store; strong arms wrapping protectively around your front as the other three pretended not to notice. “I think we lost you there for a second; you okay?”

You nodded, not quite trusting your voice not to betray your anxiety.

“Do you regret agreeing to come out with us?” He asked quietly; no ire or contempt detected in his voice. He truly was just trying to check in and make sure you were okay.

“No.” You responded firmly, quickly. Clearing your throat and responding again. “No, I don’t.”

You could feel James smile as he pressed a chaste kiss to your cheek. “We’re almost done here and then we can go wherever you want.” He promised; and though that had been the end of the conversation, he stayed glued (what certainly felt like possessively) to your side until you had all exited the joke shop and stood on the cobble stoned roads of Hogsmeade.

“So where do you wanna go, Princess?” Sirius asked as everyone paused to face you in a semi-circle.

For the ground to swallow me up, maybe?

“Erm, I…I’m not sure, I didn’t…really think about it.” You admitted awkwardly, wrapping your arms around your middle as if trying to shield yourself from your dates’ gazes.

Sirius looked like he was going to make a teasing remark when Lily elbowed him.

“Do you like sweets? Why don’t we head to Honeydukes; Moony needs to restock his chocolate stash anyway.” James offered jovially, turning towards the direction of the sweets shop without waiting to see if anyone was following him.

Sirius winked at a blushing Remus as he and Lily followed James and Sirius offered you his hand.

“Come on; I’ll buy you a pack of those sugar quills you like.” He said as he swung your hands between the two of you playfully, slowly following your little group towards the shop.

“How d’you know I like sugar quills?” You asked quietly, earning you a snort from the black-haired boy.

“Do you know Lily’s favourite lolly flavour?”

You felt your cheeks heat but nodded. “Cherry.”

He made a quiet proud sound as he carried on. “And James? What does he like from Honeydukes?”

“Jelly Slugs - particularly the watermelon flavour.”

Sirius hummed in acknowledgement and bumped into you before continuing to swing your arms together. “And mine?” He asked; and if you weren’t mistaken, there was a hint of vulnerability in the notoriously cocky boy's voice.

You smiled up at him at that. “The Peppermint Toads.”

That caused him to beam at you, looking down at your lips before his brows furrowed slightly and he dropped his gaze shyly to his boots.

“And how do you know our favourite sweets?”

You grumbled and went to pull your hand away from him, but he held fast. “Because I’m a creepy tosser.”

He let out an offended scoff at that and pulled you over to him, tickling at your sides in punishment. “You are not a creepy tosser, you little minx!”

He relented his attack on your sides as you fought to catch your breath; staring up into his silver gaze in anticipation - for what? You weren’t sure.

“Is it because, perhaps, you fancy us?” He offered.

You lowered your head to his chest; embarrassed at being known, perceived, caught in your obvious affections for them - notwithstanding the fact that you’d actually accepted an invitation for a date with them which should have tipped them off anyways.

“So,” Sirius continued, resting his chin on top of your head and pulling you in tighter to his chest. “Shouldn’t we know the same of you if we were to fancy you?”

You sucked in a deep breath - definitely not savouring the smell of sandalwood and mint emanating from Sirius’ chest - and pulled away.

“It would have been quite brash of me to assume so many Gryffindor’s could possibly fancy me.” You admitted quietly as you carried on towards the shop where James was waiting rather impatiently as Lily tried to convince him to stand still.

“Then be brash, darling.” Sirius drawled. “‘Cause it’s true.”

“Don’t kill the poor thing before we’ve a chance to spoil her, Pads.” James called as Lily and Remus smiled at you.

“I’m not, I’m not.” Sirius grumbled as he swatted James’ arse and all but forced him into the store.

“Can’t believe you didn’t kiss her.” Lily hissed as they walked ahead of you and Remus.

“I was nervous!” You heard Sirius whisper back.

“Nervous!?” James and Lily bawked; you and Remus sharing a shy, awkward smile as you pretended you couldn’t hear them.

“Come with me.” Remus finally offered, motioning towards the wall of Chocolate Frogs with his head as he took your hand. “We’ll find them later.”

You and Remus walked through the aisles as he told you stories of Sirius, James, and Peter trying each and every one of the sweets (even the silly ones). Apparently, they learned Peter was allergic to earthworms due to an unfortunate selection of Berties Botts Every-Flavour Beans.

“How was that the thing that tipped him off? Did he never try picking one up as a kid?” You asked through a laugh.

“Right? What kid doesn’t spend time making mud pies and catching earthworms? We figured just for that, the sod almost deserved to go anaphylactic.” Remus joked with no real malice.

You approached a stand of sample chocolates that caught Remus’ eye.

“Hm, nutmeg Cauldron Cakes; that looks good.” You commented as you considered the pastries.

Remus’ mouth tipped up in a mischievous smile as he quickly picked up one of the small samples and held it in front of you.

“Open.”

You stared at him dumbly. “I…I’m sorry?”

His smirk only grew as he kept his eyes on your lips. “Open.” He instructed again.

Not willing to stand here with a pastry held in front of your face asking stupid questions any longer, you acquiesced and allowed Remus to feed you the pastry.

He moved, likely slower than necessary, and just as you went to close your mouth, he paused his movements and slowly slid his thumb between your lips, pulling your bottom lip down as he went.

You didn’t realise you’d been standing there in shock until he raised an expectant eyebrow at you, prompting you to chew the treat now sitting idly on your tongue.

“Good girl.”

Merlin’s fucking tits, he was going to make you choke.

Apparently you weren't the only one, if the sound of James’ strangled groan echoing from where he, Sirius, and Lily had been standing and staring at the two of you.

James looked like he couldn’t tell which of you he was most jealous of, Sirius stood staring with his eyebrows up near his hair line and his mouth wide open, and Lily watched with a knowing smirk adorning her face.

“Was it good?” James whispered over to you.

You nodded dumbly, looking up at Remus as if you were somehow asking for his agreement.

“Better let me confirm.” He murmured as he leaned down; one hand cradling the back of your head and the other tilting your chin up to meet his lips, though he stopped just before they connected.

You could feel the gentle puffs of Remus' breath hitting your lips from where your eyes were glued to his mouth. When it became obvious you were at a stalemate, your eyes flitted up to meet him.

His eyes were on yours as they danced with a mixture of mischief and questions.

Questions.

...“Is it okay if she kisses you, pretty girl?”...

And you weren’t a Gryffindor; you weren’t brave or bold, nor were you daring. But dammit, you were a Hufflepuff; you had a propensity for hard work, and you could do hard things!

So, you let your eyes fall back to Remus’ lips before you closed the distance between you two.

You felt him smile into the kiss before he deepened it, finally pulling away with a pleased hum though he kept his hands on either side of your face.

“She wasn’t lying, Prongs; it was good.” He called over, gaze never leaving your face.

You heard what you could only imagine was Sirius’ boot stomping petulantly from his place as Lily barked a laugh at him. “I was this close to being the second one to kiss her!”

You dropped your head into Remus’ chest only for him to chuckle as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Better luck next time, Pads.” He taunted.

You officially knew your suspicions were correct: the Gryffindor’s really were trying to kill you.

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kyseya · 4 months ago

Text

Ancient Mummy

Imagine working as an archaeologist for a museum. However things hasn’t been going so well lately and there are hardly any visitors during opening hours. Sadly, you’ll be forced to close multiple exhibitions and if conditions are not met, the entire museum might have to shut down.

But by some miracle, a new tomb has been discovered in Egypt; undisturbed, unexplored and completely untouched by humans for centuries. It’s said to be the grave of an ancient king- a pharaoh- who was betrayed and murdered by his own cousin.

It’s the perfect opportunity! Maybe you’ll find something that can bring back interest and by extension, save the museum.

You go along with a few other colleagues to the site in Egypt. The journey was a bit tough but it was a hindered percent worth it. With avid curiosity you explore alone and with the others, the different things to find inside the tomb; artifacts and additional discoveries. It’s all very interesting. Wanting to save the best for last, you finally get an in-person look at the grave itself- the sarcophagus.

You have already heard the main tale of the pharaoh within, so you are a little surprised that there is more to the story than you previously believed.

Over the entire stone coffin were multiple hieroglyphs, each one helping and becoming a story together. Your collegue read some inscriptions and told you a basic summary of what it’s about.

Centuries ago there was a king. He had a wife whom he adored more than anything. She was provided with riches, glory and honour. There was nothing he wouldn’t accomplish for her. The people saw the care he held for his wife and therefore both respected and feared her as well, since any ounce of rudeness might end up with their heads spiked on a pole. It was a punishment fitting for those who dare disrespect his queen.

Unfortunately tragedy struck- a disease, more specifically. It took the lives of many and left whole villages empty. That hardly mattered to the pharaoh though, all his focus went to his ill wife; she, too, had been snatched by death. Up until the moment of her demise the pharaoh spent all day and all night at her side, attentively worrying about her needs. When she was gone he was ruined. He didn’t eat, he didn’t sleep, he didn’t even have the energy to clean himself. What was the point? His beloved was gone so there wasn’t really anything left for him.

It was after this that everything took a turn. It appeared that the king had enough with laying around and decided to do something. There were records of him behaving strangely- even by ancient standards- and drabbling in dark magic. He was later overthrown by his brother, who ordered him to be buried alive. It was quite the terrifying penalty go give one’s sibling. The brother didn’t want the darkness to spread out into the world from the old pharaoh, so he locked him inside the sarcophagus and sealed him far away.

What a tragic story, you thought. Well it was back in the old times and a lot of things were practiced then that aren’t okay in modern day. You suppose it wasn’t the most horrible incident that have happened.

It hadn’t been long since your colleague told you the backstory of the tomb and its inhibitor, but now the others wants to get to the good part and open up the stone coffin. You don’t think it’s the best idea in the world- of course something like this needs to be examined closely and so on, but there is something special about the tomb.

Ever since you’ve arrived, you have had a strange feeling following you around. It’s hard to explain. You feel almost drawn to the sarcophagus or perhaps it’s because it feels as if it is looking back at you. You tried ignoring it, however, the feeling came back stronger than ever the moment the others began preparing to open it up.

You should have told them of your concerns. If you did, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

The first few seconds after opening it everything was fine. All was as it should be; people flocking around to see the discovery and fawn over it while being mindful of its fragility. Then it changed. Your colleague who had been the closest had suddenly been strangled by the thin, dirty arm belonging to none other than the ancient corpse that previously had been resting in death. Everyone was silent as her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen. It was only after she fell to the floor dead that people began panicking. It was hard to process what had just happened, after all.

There was chaos.

Folk ran around like chickens fleeing from a fox that’d managed to get inside the coop. In a way, that was exactly what was going on, though. You had watched as the mummified corpse sat right up and climbed its way out of the cold coffin. It stumbled on its bony legs and quickly found a cornered man and approached him. He screamed when the mummy grabbed ahold of his face and brought it before its own. The creature started sucking the life out of the man- literally.

The man who had previously been a healthy and active person was now shrivelled up like a raisin. His face was dry and wrinkled. He died soon afterwards, only a soft wheeze leaving his lips as he passed.

The opposite seemed to happen to the former-corpse, though. It attacked more and more people and for every kill, it appeared to revert to its original state- a man, pharaoh of an ancient kingdom. The flesh grew back and filled up in the right places and he seemed human again.

How can that be? He had been dead for centuries. Although, just about everything was pretty fucked up in this moment, so his make-over is the least important factor.

You backed into a corner. Your eyes followed the mummy’s every move, it was impossible to look away. There was hardly anyone left apart from you. The one person that was still there was getting attacked by the monster and it wasn’t long until they were reduced to nothing.

Now it was just you and the creature, and it appeared it knew that too.

It turned to look at you. The mummy had now completely reverted back into a man and he was nothing short of breathtaking(and very naked, but you tried not to think about it). It pained to to admit it but it was the truth. He was easily the most handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on. His long, dark hair flowed when he stalked towards you. Despite his outer beauty, you couldn’t forget what you’d just witnessed him do.

Trembling, you pressed yourself against the wall. “Stay away.” you weakly mumbled.

‘This is it. My time is over.’

You closed your eyes in fear and braced yourself for the pain that would undoubtedly come; only it didn’t. Instead of death, a hand grazed your cheek. It was a light touch, one reserved for something valuable and fragile.

A raspy voice talked, “…My love..it is you..”

You had no idea what he said, it sounded like an ancient language. You had studied hieroglyphs but did not know anything about what speech might’ve sounded like. You decided to be brave and slightly opened your eyes.

The mummy was staring at you, but there was no malice or hatred in his expression. In fact, the only emotion you could find on his face was amazement, shock and….love? No, that can’t be. This is not some ‘lovers reunited’ situation.

“How can this be? Death took you and left me all alone- not that I hold you accountable, of course. I know you would never seek to hurt me.” the mummy kept muttering to himself. “Perhaps….the magic worked after all?”

His face brightened and he smiled gently at you. Whilst he happily went on about something, you became more confused than earlier. What the hell was going on? He committed multiple murders in one swoop and now, suddenly, he is acting like you’re friends talking about your day. He isn’t even human! Or at least not anymore, not really.

You voiced this opinion weakly, “Ummm, could you let me go?” You tried pulling away from his touch, uncomfortable at his caresses.

His brows furrowed at your reaction. From the look of it, he didn’t understand you any better than you did him. He focused at the subtle way you attempted to peel his hand off your arm. You let out a yelp when his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you into his embrace.

He leaned down and whispered into your ear, petting your hair at the same time. “Wife, why do you seem unhappy at my presence? I do not understand. Are you not joyous at our reunion? I love you so, I cannot comprehend any reason why you would not wish to see me.”

Even if you didn’t know what he was saying, you could hear the sadness in his voice. The pain and desperation. No! You couldn’t feel sad for him. He had murdured multiple of your colleagues, he’s evil! Although, why hasn’t he killed you yet? It’s very strange indeed.

The mummy continued, “I can sense things are not as they used to be. Things are different now. Although I do not know the extent of it. However I am most certain of one thing; I have miraculously been reunited with my love and I do not plan on letting you fall through my grasp again.”

He held you in an almost suffocating hug.

“I shall make you my queen once more.”

#kyseya oc #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #yandere mummy #mummy yandere #Egyptian yandere #archaeologist reader #ancient Egypt yandere #pharaoh yandere #yandere pharaoh #Yandere monster #reincarnation #yandere Egyptian king #wife reader #yandere mummy x wife reader #yandere mummy x reader

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erwinsvow · 8 months ago

Note

how would rafe be when he’s at kelce’s house hanging out with friends and he brought shy reader with him when it’s late and she’s yawning and starts tugging on his arm whispering in his ear ‘i’m sleepy’ but trying not to interrupt

this was soooo lovely ♡ theyre such cuties

true to form—you're an early sleeper. there's no reason to stay awake so late, not when you're always home and your favorite baking show airs early. it was a habit, one that you had been feeding for years, and now that you were dating rafe, he was feeding into it too.

dates ended early, always coming back to tannyhill with ice cream for dessert before the sun had even finished setting. you rarely went to parties with him, but even when you did, he'd find a way to get you home or a locked room to sleep in while he finished selling.

and though you appreciated it like nothing else, you didn't want your boyfriend to get upset that you could never do anything that he liked. that's why you'd sucked it up today, accompanying rafe to kelce's for a 'hang out'—code for beer, pizza, and every person that the three boys knew.

curled up next to rafe, you drink the apple juice from kelce's fridge. it belongs to his little sister, but beer is disgusting and there's nothing else besides hard liquor. rafe's on his second, but still completely sober, while top is drunk already.

the sun set maybe an hour ago—and you've been yawning ever since. you think for a second, listening to the boys talk, that if you close your eyes, you might not be able to open them again. heavy lids flutter shut as you take in the conversation.

"i took out that girl. the one she introduced me to," kelce says, and though your eyes are closed, you know he just gestured to you.

"how was it?" rafe asks, his grip around your shoulder getting a little tighter. it feels warmer, and you snuggle in, finding sleep increasingly hard to evade.

"she was nice-"

"i had a girl once," topper drunkenly slurs, interrupting.

"shut it, top. yeah, kelce?" rafe asks, and even in your state, you feel yourself smile a little. making sure people finish their sentences after they've been interrupted is a habit you have passed on to rafe.

"it was good. she's a little quiet, but-"

"takes some time to open up," you mumble sleepily against rafe's arm. you don't know if they heard you, but your boyfriend did, leaning in to brush some hair away from your face, pushing it behind your ear. you hear top and kelce talking in the background.

"tired, kid?" he asks, quiet and into your ear. you blink a little, steadying yourself with the arm you'd been leaning on.

"no," you lie. "i'm fine. keep talking."

"late for you, huh?" rafe says, and though you don't want to admit it to him and be a buzzkill, nothing sounds better than going home and sleeping next to him right now—no matter how much you want to make sure kelce asks your friend out on another date.

"just sleepy," you mumble back. "but we don't have to go."

you look up at rafe, and you suddenly feel incredibly awake, when you take in how he's looking down at you—concerned eyes, a soft smile, all his attention on you with two friends and a bunch of people waiting for their turn near him.

"c'mon. grab your stuff." he turns away from you, doing that goodbye handshake thing that boys do with each other to kelce, topper too drunk still and instead getting a hard pat on the back. "we're goin'. see you tomorrow, and make sure no more beer for this one."

rafe takes you home, and though somewhere inside you feel bad for making him leave early, you begin to realize he's not mad about it. with that thought in mind, you fall asleep in the passenger seat of his truck.

he carries you upstairs.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

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luveline · 1 year ago

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I NEEEEEED MORE STRIPPER!READER X SPENCER

fem, 1.2k

You and Spencer aren't dating, but he thinks you might be in the before.

"You're home!" you say, clambering at the door to slip out of your shoes. You throw yourself at him as soon as you're close enough, the salted caramel and sandalwood of your new perfume washing over him. "You're here! I missed you."

Spencer tries not to blush. He wishes you weren't so close —his hair is lank from two days unwashed, his five o'clock shadow obvious and embarrassing. If you notice anything unappealing about him you don't give the slightest inclination, your arms crossing over his back as you drive your face into his neck.

"I can't believe how much I missed you, Dr. Reid," you say warmly.

"I missed you too." Morgan would laugh at him for being this earnest, maybe comment on his lack of charisma, but Spencer doesn't know how else to show that he's interested beyond sincerity.

You step back but work your hands up his neck and into his hair, raking it away from his cheeks. "That's better. I can see you better now."

Spencer thought he remembered only horrible things from being a teenager, but he remembers this feeling, sweaty-palmed, heart-racing want. You tilt his head gently one way and then the other like you're following the motion of a wave, fingertips scratching in his hair, the sensation stirring the very pit of his stomach. No trace of tiredness remains on your face, only spritely joy to see him.

"That feels nice," he confesses. He's not weird about it, more friendly.

Your aswering grin tells him he nailed the casualness he was aiming for.

"You've been working hard," you say, tucking his hair behind his ears and dusting down his shoulders, "I can tell. You look tired."

"You don't. Short shift?"

"Is it weird that bad weather genuinely keeps people home? I guess they prefer their wives when it's cold."

"No, really? Who could ever pick the woman they married over you and those silver shorts?" he teases, peeling out of his sweater.

The shirt underneath is rumpled, but he doesn't care about that. Anything to be seen between you has been seen. Spencer has, unquestionably, seen you half naked. You've seen him in his boxers, so you're just about square. "Idiots, all of them."

You're staying with him again while a security company fits your apartment with the appropriate trappings. Or, that was the initial reason. Spencer went with you to assess after it was done, discovering black mould in the corner of your bedroom and spreading its evil way across the bathroom ceiling.

What is that? he asked, knowing what it was, hoping you'd at least pretend to be concerned.

That's fifty bucks off a month, Spence. Don't look so horrified.

"I missed you," you say for the third time in as many minutes. "And I hoped you'd be home, so I brought Chinese food for two."

You and Spencer change into pyjamas, and it's cliche but whatever, you look beautiful undone —he's not stupid enough to lie to himself about how he feels when you're wearing your little outfits, but he prefers this side of you a thousand times over because you like it better. You wear your prized baseball tee, white with blue sleeves, and a pair of sweatpants pushed up high on one leg while you ice your sore knee. He sits cross legged opposite, jabbing his chopsticks into one of your crispy spring rolls just to watch you gasp.

"Can I ask you something too personal?"

You rub down the length of your naked calf, sighing as some of the tension releases. You're more bruise than girl lately, splodges of tender skin patterning the inside. "What don't you know about me, at this point?" you ask.

Like it's a good thing. Like you're glad for it.

"Are you making enough money?" he asks.

You steal back your spring roll, answering him through rice paper and greens, "Kind of. Not tonight, but enough for dinner. I'll be okay."

"Did you think about it?"

You shovel through your waxy box of rice, shrugging. "I thought about it, but… it's not realistic. What office would take me? What drug store?"

"I could loan you the money while you apprentice, and get some experience, you could go back to school–" He says it all in a rush and you still knock him down.

"It's real sweet of you, Spence, it is, but I couldn't let you do that. That makes me your charity case, and not your friend."

"What else do you do for the people you care about?" he asks. Let them stay at a job they don't like, even if they're good at it, one that puts them statistically at higher risk for femicide or assault?

"I wouldn't need a loan, Spencer, I'd need more than you have," you say gently. "I'd have to start my life from scratch. How would I pay rent? You couldn't afford to keep us both."

"You could stay with me again."

You shake your head. "You're the best friend I've ever had, which is why I'm saying no."

He doesn't get what you mean, but you finish your dinner and help him clean up. He more than trusts you to stay here alone while he's on a case, you've honestly left it in better condition than you found it, and he insists you sleep in his bed again while you're here.

"Don't be silly," you say, throwing a sheet out over the couch. "This is your place. You need to sleep in your own bed."

The disaster is that it smells like you. Spencer says goodnight to you reluctantly and leaves you on the couch with every throw blanket he owns, climbing into his own bed and pulling the comforter up to his nose. He imagines you here at night, your body wash still clinging to your skin from a late night shower, your hand tucked under his pillow. There are so many things he'd like to give you, if you'd just let him.

He spends a quiet thirty minutes like that, missing the warmth of your skin and your casual touching, wishing he could offer you the fresh start you desire, even if it meant he wasn't involved.

The couch springs creak as you toss and turn, the sound finding it's way down the short hall from the living room slash kitchen to his bedroom. Hesitant, Spencer shifts in bed, hitting that one coil in his mattress just right, the twang resounding.

You appear in his doorway with your borrowed pillows crushed to your chest not long after that. You don't need to ask, Spencer doesn't need to answer. He can't give you everything that you want, but he can give you a quiet, comfortable night next to someone who loves you.

Ever well-tempered, you slip into the sheets beside him and curl up toward him, your fingertips brushing his side. You don't look at him in the dark, but you mumble sleepily, fingers twitching, "Night, Spence."

You're out like a light.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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just-jordie-things · 7 months ago

Text

friendly neighborhood spiderman - fushiguro megumi

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

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

___

With great power comes great responsibility…

To that, Fushiguro Megumi said; no shit.

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

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

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

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

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

“Late again, Fushiguro”

There were, however, challenges that Megumi faced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Megumi spent his lunches alone.

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

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

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

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

Unapproachable was an understatement when it came to Megumi.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello”

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

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

“I’m sitting with my friends”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you… alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what!?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll try my best, Spiderman”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nothing”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She always wondered if he truly didn’t care about his ranking. He certainly acted like he didn’t, rolling his eyes at her comments if he wasn’t ignoring her completely. But was it just an act?

(y/n) made it an effort not to think any more about Fushiguro Megumi than she had to. But sometimes he made that difficult for her. Like now, when he’s sitting in the back of the class with his blocky headphones on. She can’t help but peek over her shoulder at him, eyeing the way he actively took notes from what was on the whiteboard at the front of the class. But how well could he learn if he wasn’t even listening?

He catches her staring not a second later, his bored blue eyes landing on hers and holding her stare. His expression is unchanging, completely neutral as he stares back at her, but it still feels intense. (y/n’s) quick to shoot her eyes forward and begin scribbling messy words in her otherwise neatly kept notebook. Was it just intense because he’d caught her staring right at him? Her face feels warm, her heartbeat kicks into an anxious pattern.

Clearly, whatever his issue was, she needed to just ignore it completely. He seemed to do just fine doing the same, maybe it was time for her to take a page out of his book and give him the same treatment.

Still, her eyes catch him in every hallway, every class, every moment he’s around, she spots and scans him as if there’s going to be some hint as to what brought on his change in behavior. ___

A couple of peaceful weeks were well appreciated, but Megumi must’ve taken them for granted, because tonight was a rough one.

He could enjoy a good fight, he’d grown up a fighter, so it all came naturally to him. Right hook, dodge, web, kick, swing- there were just a few extra steps to his hand-to-hand that came from the spider bite’s abilities. To him, that made the act of fighting all the more fun. He wasn’t afraid to admit he got a certain rush out of beating someone up. When it was justified, there wasn’t a feeling like it.

Getting beat up, however, sucked.

Maybe the guy was on steroids, maybe the adrenaline got to his head and his fight or flight kicked into high gear, Megumi wasn’t sure what his deal was, but he certainly took a beating before finally knocking the petty handbag thief out and getting him webbed up for the cops to take care of.

It wasn’t till he got away and found an alley secluded enough that he was able to check his injuries. He didn’t have to take his mask off to know his head had taken most of the damage. He could taste the blood of his split lip, and feel the hot throbbing behind his eye.

Great. Going to class with a black eye won’t draw any attention.

With a groan he leaned back into the brick of one of the surrounding buildings, trying to even out his labored breathing. It wouldn’t be a surprise if he found his torso littered with black and blue, too. As much as it hurt, Megumi was more irritated than anything. Hiding injuries was the worst part of his secret double life. College kids always wanted to hear the gnarly stories behind visible cuts and bruises. Megumi only hoped his shitty reputation would be enough to keep people away.

He couldn’t sit around for long, there was still a city that needed patrolling, so Megumi kicked off the wall and took a few deep, harsh breaths as he left the alley, ready to go for a swing around the next few blocks to make sure everything was as it should be. Quiet. It was almost one in the morning, most people should be turned in for the night by now.

Just as he reaches the sidewalk and before he can fly off into the air, however, he’s met by a not-quite-stranger.

(y/n) almost runs right into him, speed walking down the sidewalk with her head down, clearly on a mission. Had he stepped out a second later she might’ve crashed into him, but it’s hard for her to not notice the six foot tall man in a head to toe black suit.

For half a second she looks alarmed- rightfully so, a strange man just came out of an alley, if she had half a mind she’d turn and run without thinking. But as expected, Megumi finds she has no sense of self preservation as she looks at the block in her path with a grin.

“You again” She greets him like she knows him now. (She does know him, but she doesn’t know she knows him, you know?) And her smile is so genuinely bright that Megumi starts to feel sick.

“Again,” He sighs, the groan in his voice not going unnoticed. “Didn’t I tell you not to walk around alone this late at night?” His voice still sounds weird, and it’s shortly after that (y/n) notices his hand hovering over his ribcage.

“Did you get hurt, or something?” She ignores him completely, all the while putting her phone in her pocket to give him her full attention.

“I’m Spiderman, I don’t get hurt” Megumi argues, but the wince in his voice is obvious, and (y/n) somehow sees right through it.

“Okay… well… even Spiderman has to go to urgent care sometimes, right?” She tries to be lighthearted, but her smile is wavering now, concern seeping into her features.

Megumi can barely stand to look at her. What is she doing? Staring at him like that, like she knows him, like she cares about him. Can’t she just go the fuck home where it’s safe and more importantly: away from him?

“Tch, I don’t think so” He mutters.

(y/n) frowns.

“Spoken like a true idiot man,” She scolds. Jeez, last time they crossed paths like this she’d said she was a fan, now this? “What is it with you guys and your reputations, huh? You’re not any stronger for toughing out an injury without help, you know”

“I’ll keep that in mind, mom” Megumi argues back. She scoffs, but it turns into a small laugh shortly after.

“You could at least put ice on it, you know” She says, stepping past him and continuing on her way down the sidewalk. Megumi tosses his head back to silently curse at the sky.

“Did I not make myself clear that you should go home?” He calls after her.

“Ice is this way” Is all (y/n) says, and all she has to say to get him to groan at nothing in particular and follow after her.

It’s a good thing it’s so late at night, there’s no one to see Spiderman walking around with some random girl. Surely the papers would have a hay day if even a photo was snapped… he doesn’t even want to think about what kind of headlines they’d come up with.

“I can buy my own ice” He tells her after a minute of walking in silence.

“I know,” (y/n) shrugs. “But so far it seems like you’re letting me hang out with you, so I’ve gotta enjoy it just a little bit longer”

“We’re not hanging out,” Megumi replies dryly. “You’re refusing to go home when it’s the middle of the night and I’m…” He trails off, not wanting to say what he’s thinking, but he doesn’t have to.

“Awe, Spidey’s lookin’ out for me?” She’s smiling at him again, holding her hands behind her back as she looks up at him. “You starting to like me?”

“You’re starting to bother me,” Megumi quips back, but it’s followed by a chuckle he can’t help, and it only seems to endear (y/n) further. “I don’t usually give people follow up warnings,” He mutters with a shake of his head. “What’re you doing out this late, anyways?” He asks before he can help it. “Don’t you have, like, school, or something?” It’s difficult to act like he doesn’t know she spends her nights studying herself to death.

“Maybe I’m going to a party” (y/n) shrugs.

“Tch, no you’re not”

“How do you know?”

“Not dressed like that” Megumi comments, making a point to look her up and down.

(y/n) huffs, but there’s no denying the evidence right in front of them both. She’s wearing leggings that were at least a couple years old, and a large sweatshirt that was teetering the line of well loved and ratty.

“Okay, well, maybe this time I’m not” She says, and Megumi bites back a smile. He’s pretty sure that a girl like (y/l/n) (y/n) has never stepped foot in a house party. And he knows because he hasn’t, either.

“Still not an answer” He reminds her.

“I was going to pick up some energy drinks,” (y/n) finally admits. “It’s a short walk from my apartment to the corner store, I do it all the time. Even without Spiderman watching over me”

He chuckles at that, wondering just how many times she’s made the walk, no matter how short, in the middle of the night. Couldn’t she just get them before she goes home for the day?

“And you just have to go in the middle of the night?” He scolds her, but she doesn’t seem too affected by it.

“That’s when I need them the most” She replies with a shrug.

“You always drink energy drinks that late?”

“What, you worried about me or something?” She fires back, a curious look on her face. “Y’know, I haven’t heard much about you talking to people”

“I don’t”

“You’re talking to me” She points out matter of factly, a tone of hers that Megumi was already far too familiar with.

“You’re kind of leaving me no choice”

(y/n’s) quiet for a moment, and it seems like she’s contemplating something, but whatever it is she doesn’t let him in on, instead smiling and turning her attention to the sidewalk as they walk.

Megumi ducks into the alley next to the convenience store when (y/n) goes in. He’s unceremonious as he drops himself to the ground, sighing in relief to be off of his feet. His hand presses into his ribcage at a weak attempt to relieve the pain as he twists to try and find a comfortable position to sit in. He doesn’t want (y/n) to come back and see him in any sort of pain- it wasn’t a good look for Spiderman to show any sign of weakness.

She’s quick to return, a plastic bag in one hand and a frozen bag of vegetables in the other. Even behind the mask she must understand that he’s pulling a face at her, because she huffs in annoyance.

“They didn’t have ice” She explains, inviting herself to squat down next to him and offer up the vegetables.

“No no, you’re not sitting here,” Megumi bites back a whine when he sits upright in an attempt to urge her to leave. “You need to go back home”

“And miss a personal Q&A with Spiderman?” She replies, a small smile on her face when he finally snatches the vegetables out of her hand. He grumbles a string of incoherent curses as he rests it over where the bruising feels the worst.

“That’s not happening” He mutters.

“This is why I never hear about you talking to people,” (y/n) sighs. “You’re boring”

“I’m not boring,” He argues. “I just don’t have anything to say”

“Well, you could start by thanking me for the veggies” (y/n) replies, tilting her head at him.

Megumi glares at her from behind his mask. He didn’t need to reminder of her insufferable personality. But… watching her smile so softly at him, like she would love nothing more than a thank you from Spiderman… maybe it’s just because he’s injured, but Megumi caves.

“Thank you” It comes out from behind his teeth, and she must know it, but Megumi swears he sees stars in her eyes.

“You’re welcome, Spiderman,” She murmurs back.

It comes out so genuine, so sweet, that there’s a pang in Megumi’s heart. He doesn’t think any of the bruising spread so far up his chest, but it must’ve for him to feel such an odd sensation.

“I have to ask… cause I probably won’t see you again…” Her eyes land on the way his hand tenses and presses the frozen vegetables further against himself. “Why do you do it?”

When he doesn’t answer, she blinks at him, moving her head just enough to tell him that she really wanted him to say something.

Megumi figures she won’t leave him alone if he doesn’t say anything, so he goes with the truth.

“It’s the right thing to do”

He shrugs lamely, and it takes a second for her to react at all. At first it’s a furrow of her brows and a knowing smile, as if he just had to have an answer better than that. But she didn’t know him as well as she liked to think, because she didn’t know Megumi.

When he has nothing else to say, her expression slowly softens, and she hums thoughtfully.

“That’s it, huh?” She muses. “You’re just… a good guy?”

Just a guy, Megumi mentally corrects. He might have heightened abilities, and a better sense of right and wrong than those around him, but he’s never considered himself a hero. Just a guy trying to make things right, trying to keep people safe.

“Guess I try to be” His answer is as lame as his movements.

If he were a superhero, he’d need some help with PR, but somehow, this makes him all the more special to (y/n). She brightens, leans in closer and sets her hand over his, where he’s still holding the cold vegetables.

“Can I tell you something, Spiderman?”

Hasn’t she been talking to him this whole time? If it wouldn’t hurt, Megumi would laugh. Instead he just nods his head and waits for her to continue.

“I want to be a journalist because of you,”

What? Megumi’s face warps into shock at the confession. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. She was on track to be a graduate of the sciences, whichever one she ended up choosing anyways. He always saw her becoming some wealthy astro-physist or some shit. She wanted to give up all of her work in those programs to… write?

“An investigative journalist,” She corrects. “I want to write about the things that matter, and- and I want to be honest, you know? I want people to read my articles and know they’re being handed the truth. There’s not a lot of that around these days…” She trails off.

She didn’t have to tell him about the light Spiderman was painted in. Let’s just say him and Megumi would share the popularity rankings… except no one was raising pitchforks and torches in Megumi’s direction.

“You want to do that ‘cause of me?” Megumi asks, curiosity getting the best of him.

(y/n) nods, trying to bite back her smile but it was still as clear as day.

“I’ll write my first article about you,” She promises, and Megumi’s eyes widen at her sincerity. “If you’ll let me”

“Well you’re not getting an interview” He says, only half joking. (y/n) laughs quietly.

For a moment, he gets that glimpse into her again. The same one he felt the night of the convenience store robbery. There was something in her eye he’d never seen before. Something soft, and real. It dawns on him that he very well may be the only person she’s told about this dream of hers. He wants to ask, but it feels wrong, like he’s prying for something.

“I won’t need one,” She tells him. “Can’t have the people knowing I know you”

“You don’t know me” Megumi replies, maybe too quickly, but he can’t help it.

He tilts his head at her as she gazes at him with too much fondness. Was his reminder that he’s a stranger to her not enough? Sure, she could trust him because he was Spiderman, her safety wasn’t compromised, but that didn’t mean she needed to go confiding in him like this.

Besides, the look she was giving him was making him feel hot, like he was about to break into a sweat.

“I don’t know…” She murmurs thoughtfully. “I just have this feeling… like I do”

That has him leaping into panic mode. That was it, this was done. If he saw her again while he was in this suit, he was going to turn and swing the other direction. She couldn’t be saying things like that, she couldn’t be trying to put the pieces together in her mind. If she were to figure him out, he’d be done for. She put a lot of trust in him tonight, but could he trust her for even a minute? Megumi wasn’t sure, and he didn’t care to find out.

As far as he was concerned, this was the last time he was going to talk to her. He was right to avoid her after the first time- it should have been the last time, but it was too late for that now.

“You should go” He says, pushing himself to stand even through grunts of pain. She looks at him with worry, brows knitted and lips in a frown as she follows him up to her feet.

“Wait,”

She calls to stop him, despite having nothing else to say to him. Well, there were a million things she wanted to say to him, but none of that felt appropriate now. She didn’t really expect him to stand there and hear her out, but he is, and now her mouth is running dry and she’s standing before him frozen. He radiates impatience, without having to say a single word.

“I… I didn’t thank you,” She stammers out. It’s unlike her, but it can’t be helped. She’s always had a little fan-crush on Spiderman since he made his appearance on the news, but after actually being around him that seemed to blossom into a very real crush, even if she’s never seen his face. She can feel a blush heating up her face when she speaks. “For the other night, with- with the robbery,” She clarifies, even though she didn’t have to. “So… thank you”

Megumi hesitates a moment longer, almost expecting her to say something else. She looks like she wants to, her face is growing pink and her hands have begun fiddling with the bag of her energy drinks. But she remains quiet.

He gives her a nod, before handing over the bag of vegetables. (y/n) laughs under her breath as she takes it. It’s lost all of it’s cold, merely a room temperature bag of carrots and peas by now. She’s not sure what she’s supposed to do with it, but she supposes it wouldn’t look good for Spiderman to swing around with it.

“You’re welcome,” He tells her, and it sounds like the most earnest thing he’s had to say to her. He’s always come across as blunt, something (y/n) was surprised by when they first met, but now it’s a blessing. She knows that he means it. “Get home. Don’t make me have to tell you again, alright?”

To Megumi, this is a goodbye. He doesn’t intend to see her again, not like this. It was… interesting, while it lasted, but it could never actually last. It needed to be over before things could get any worse… or she could get any closer to figuring out his identity.

“I’ll try my best, Spiderman”

It’s the same thing she’d left him with before. She wonders if he catches it. With that, Megumi shoots a web and swings off into the night, his black suit blending easily into the night sky.

He did. ___

(y/n) was always punctual, to everything, not just class. But today she found herself in her favorite seat a whole ten minutes early. She hadn’t meant to show up before the professor, but she just couldn’t contain her energy today. She’d woken up before her alarm, got showered, dressed and dolled up in record time, ate a small breakfast on her walk to school, and now here she was. Full of energy as if it wasn’t eight in the morning. Call it waking up on the right side of the bed…

… or having an interesting night that she couldn’t get out of her head.

Never in her wildest dreams did she think that she’d run into Spiderman again. The first time was a little embarrassing, she’d come close to being called a victim, but the second time just happened by chance. It had her heart racing, her face warming, her lips smiling- hell, she was giddy.

He wasn’t anything like she’d thought he’d be, but that just made him all the more enticing to her. He was blunt, maybe even a little crass for a masked hero, but every interaction she’d had with him drew her in more.

She’d meant what she said about getting into journalism, she’d even been looking into transferring her credits next year, even if it meant starting over in a completely new program. Last night, she’d spent her time in bed staring at the ceiling and replaying events in her mind. When she wasn’t doing that, she was mentally writing her first article about The Spiderman.

The Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman had a nice ring to it, she thought. Although she had a feeling that he would laugh at the title of Friendly. Or maybe roll his eyes. It was hard to tell with the mask.

Before she knew it, she found herself doodling said mask at the corner of a fresh page in her notebook. She lifted her pen instantly, surprised at just how zoned out she’d become. There were never doodles in her notebooks. They were perfectly kept, clean, organized, conside, and without any extra graffiti.

She supposes this doodle can stay, though… she had done a rather good job at drawing it, it would be a pity if it went to waste…

Students begin to file into the class and setting up their laptops and notebooks at the desks surrounding her. Without any friends in this class there’s no one for her to talk to, or share the story of her night with.

Then again, she’s not sure she wants to tell anyone about her run in with Spiderman. She hadn’t mentioned it before… although that was because she didn’t need anyone fussing over her being out so late and putting her safety in jeopardy. This time was different, but still…

It felt more special if she kept it to herself.

Today, Megumi comes to class twelve minutes late. She eyes the clock above the doorway just as he ducks in to check the time, but her eyes just as quickly dart back to his figure. It’s hard not to, with the dark purple shiner standing out against the pale skin of his face.

Her eyes flit around the room, just to see if anyone else noticed the state of their late arrival, but every other student seemed too wrapped up in the lesson, and their professor was too deep in his lecture to give Megumi the slightest of attention. To everyone else, Megumi was late as usual. As (y/n) looked at him again, she had an inkling he was the only one who noticed his black eye.

He knew he was going to draw attention, clearly, seeing as his hoodie was up over his unruly hair and his head was down. But he must’ve sensed (y/n’s) eyes on him, because when he looked up it was directly at her.

He was moving to the back of the class again, probably to take that corner desk with the graphite engravings all over it. It would be alarming if she were to say anything to him, although she’s not even sure what she would say. Asking him if he was alright felt weird, and it’s not like she could just shout ‘what the fuck!?’ in the middle of class.

All she could do was stare at him as he took his seat, pull out his notebook, and begin notetaking as usual, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. She’s completely turned around in her seat now, still watching him, even though she was missing valuable points of the lesson now. It was hard to pull her attention away- it was weird that no one else seemed to notice him at all.

Where could he have possibly gotten that from? She frowned, despite Megumi ignoring her completely. She was sure that she would’ve heard about him getting into another fight on campus- last time she was getting texts about it while she was reading all the tweets about it. Fights were hot news around here, and if Megumi was involved in a second one, she surely couldn’t have missed it.

Right?

Finally, his eyes catch hers. She doesn’t turn away from him like she had in the past, she holds his stare, trying to communicate with him in silence.

It’s obvious to him, she’s looking at him with that same worried face she’d worn last night. She just didn’t know she was worried about the same person. He raises his eyebrows at her expectantly, as though asking ‘what?’. As though nothing were out of the ordinary at all.

Her lips curl into a frown, almost a pout, and Megumi has half a mind to flip her off to get her to leave him alone. Even in silence, even from opposite sides of the room, she seems to find some way to get under his skin.

He doesn’t, though. Just holds her stare for a minute longer before putting all of his attention into his notetaking.

Megumi told himself that he was done with her, and he was going to be true to his word. Whether he was in the suit or not, he couldn’t have anything to do with (y/l/n) (y/n). Being around her just made things feel… complicated. He couldn’t pinpoint why, but he didn’t want to. He just wanted the feeling to go away.

She sits turned around in her seat even once he’s clearly begun to ignore her again. He can feel her eyes on him, see her watching him out of his peripheral vision as if she was going to figure him out through her stare alone.

He was only pretty sure that she couldn’t.

Eventually she turns around in her seat, but the bouncing of her leg is driving him insane even from across the class. It was like all he could hear- the faint tap of her shoe tapping the linoleum floor. It was louder than the lecture, than the squeak of the marker on the whiteboard, or the students smacking their gum or tapping their desks. His ears focused on it for the remainder of class, effectively ruining his note taking ability.

He’s out of his seat once class is over, snatching his things and not bothering to put them in his bag as he bolts for the door. There’s an itch in his mind telling him to distance himself from (y/n) as fast as he can. The inkling was right, because he doesn’t make it far in the hall before his name is being called.

“Fushiguro!”

A few surrounding students glance in her direction, some even snicker in passing. Megumi wasn’t someone anyone chased after, and certainly never a girl. If this were still high school, his sister would ooh and ahh at him before skipping away, plotting to tease him for it later. But this wasn’t high school, and when he turned around to face (y/n), anyone who was watching made themselves scarce fast.

He doesn’t say anything as she approaches him, the strap of her messenger bag held tight in both hands against her chest.

She opens her mouth, ready to make a smartass comment, but it comes out awkward, not quite right.

“Late to class again cause of a fight, or something?” Even her scoff comes out wrong, sounding like a nervous laugh, strangled and weird. She shifts her weight between her feet.

Megumi’s silent for a long few seconds. Every one that passes feels like eternity, and (y/n) deflates a little more under his stare.

“Sure” He shakes his head, not caring what she wanted to assume about him. If she wanted to think he was that kind of guy, all the better. Spiderman didn’t get into fights before going to class, so the further he could separate himself from him in her mind, the better.

She frowns at his answer, and it looks like she’s actually upset when she stares directly at his dark eye. It looks pretty bad, he knows that. The swelling he could take care of, but the dark purple was another thing. Right now though, he’s more concerned about the way she seems to worry.

“Seriously, Fuhiguro,” She says quietly, hoping to get through to him.

She’s not sure what it is that came over her, but something about seeing him walk into class looking like this made her heart lurch in her chest.

“What happened? Who did that?”

“I fell,” He says dryly, earning a short glare from her. He sighs, shutting his eyes to mask his annoyance before it got the best of him. “Sorry I don’t have an interesting story for you- can I go to class now?”

“Suddenly Mr Punctual?” She snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest. Megumi huffs, shakes his head, uncaring toward her attitude.

“Whatever” He starts to turn away, but she catches him off guard when she rushes to block his path again.

Megumi actually startles when she budges in front of him, having to step back to remove her from his personal space. His wide eyes land on hers, annoyance furrowing his brows as he stares down at her. She’s defiantly raising her chin towards him, eyes narrowed and everything.

“I’m actually asking, you know,” She tells him. “Because no one else is walking around with black eyes-”

“Who cares?” Megumi tries to step out of her way, but she slides in front of him again. The traffic in the hallway is thinning, they would both be late for their next class if she kept this up. “Don’t you have a class to be early for?” He hopes that’s enough to get her to back off.

“I don’t care,” She says with enough assurance that Megumi’s actually surprised. He figured being late to class would throw her into a full breakdown. “Why are you being such a dick about this?”

He scoffs, a bitter smile tugging on his lips, only making him wince as it tears the healing wound.

“Why are you?” He fires back.

“Because,” She says it with such certainty, only to fall short with the rest of her reason. She didn’t know exactly why she felt like someone needed to check in on him, but she knew that she did, and maybe she was the only one who noticed anything was wrong in the first place. “Because… because it’s the right thing to do”

Megumi freezes up at that. All of his muscles go rigid, his jaw tightens, and his eyes flicker over her features rapidly, trying to find any crack in her sincerity. Was she seriously throwing his words back at him right now? Just because of a black eye?

Meanwhile (y/n) feels good about her answer. She’d picked it up from a man she admired so much and it felt right. There was no real reason, just a feeling. She had no idea what emotional turmoil she was putting him through right now.

“(y/n), seriously…” Megumi shakes his head at her. He steps to the side again, but doesn’t leave right away. Her eyes follow his, waiting for him to continue. He hates that she looks so genuinely worried about him. Hates the way it makes his heart race and his fingers tremble. He has to force words out of his throat. “Leave me alone”

Her face falls, but he’s quick to leave once he says it, and this time, she doesn’t chase after him again. ___

In the rest of their classes, she doesn’t try to talk to him again, and does her best not to look his way. Megumi’s relieved… he thinks. It’s for the best that everything returns to normal. Whatever compelled her to reach out to him today was clearly Spiderman’s doing, and he couldn’t have that. Things couldn’t change. His feelings of distaste towards her couldn’t change. He couldn’t start feeling… differently.

With his hood on and his headphones blasting music enough to drown out the noise of the cafe, Megumi tries to catch up on what he’d missed during his first lecture, which was the entirety of his first lecture. Luckily his professor tended to drone on word for word from the textbook, and he could catch up by reading.

Unluckily, it doesn’t take much for him to get sidetracked from his studies. He wants to kick himself when something compels him to look up, only to find (y/n) at Fratboy’s table again.

This again, he tells himself, certain he’ll go right back to his textbook. But he doesn’t move. His focus stays entirely on the table of jocks, without a shred of discretion, to make things worse.

“Not today” (y/n’s) saying when he tunes into the conversation. Does this guy always ask her to sit at his table for lunch? Is he that oblivious? Megumi chews on the inside of his cheek. You’d think he’d try to avoid the idiot jock stereotype a little better.

“C’mon princess, it’s never ‘today’. Why don’t you just say yes to ‘tomorrow’, hm?” Fratboy leans out of his seat, reaching his hand out towards her. (y/n) takes a step backwards, but he’s faster, snatching her by the wrist and pulling her towards the table again.

Megumi bristles, watching the situation with the eyes of a hawk. If looks could kill, this would’ve been enough to get Fratboy’s hand off of her. Even if he wasn’t hurting you, it was unwanted, that much was clear just by watching her body language.

“I really don’t feel that way about you,” (y/n) snaps, tugging her arm to get herself out of his grasp. He doesn’t release right away, and Megumi almost gets to his feet, but with a second tug he lets go of her, and (y/n) takes a large step back, keeping both arms close to her body in case he tries to reach for her again. “Leave me alone” She barks at him, turning to walk away.

If Fratboy says something else to her, Megumi misses it. His focus is dialed up to one hundred, and as soon as (y/n) separated herself from him, Megumi hadn’t paid a second glance to Fratboy at all. He wonders how long she’d felt his watchful eyes before she actually turned towards him. Her eyes skirt around the cafe for a second, trying to find where the prickling feeling of being watched was coming from, and it doesn’t take long for her to find him. Her bitter expression softens when she spots him, an odd feeling replacing the discomfort of being talked down to and manhandled.

Maybe because as soon as Fratboy follows her line of sight and sees Megumi’s hard stare set in his direction, he turns towards his table again and quickly engages himself with his friends, not bothering (y/n) with even a second glance. She watches this unfold, before looking back at Megumi again, curiously. Despite her being left alone now, he’s still staring at her, maybe waiting to see that she’ll get to her table without being bothered again, she’s not sure.

Either way, she grows still under his direct gaze. She didn’t know how to describe it, but she’s sure she’s never had anyone look at her like that. With an otherwise neutral expression, there was so much anger behind Megumi’s eyes that if she didn’t know better, she might be just as afraid as Fratboy. However something told her not to be, something told her that the anger wasn’t directed towards her. It takes a great deal of effort for her to turn her back on him and head towards her table, but even as she walks away she can’t help but glance back at him again. He’s already returned to his book by then, but her intrigue doesn’t end there. She spends the rest of her lunch in near silence while surrounded by her friends, her thoughts too busy for her to keep up with meaningless chit chat and gossip.

That night (y/n) wanders the sidewalk between her apartment and the convenience store up and down until her feet are too tired to carry her anymore. She walks the familiar path, back and forth, over and over, between the hours of ten and two, her eyes fixed on the sky, peeking down alleyways, her fingers crossed, her heart racing. Nothing comes of her walk. She returns home with a sense of disappointment, and a will to try it again. ___

Megumi’s growing tired of this game of hers. He’s not sure why she insists on doing this every night, it had been four nights now and she had nothing to show for it, so why was she still out there pacing the sidewalk like a maniac?

It took all of his energy to patrol the streets and keep an eye on one particular sidewalk- one particular girl. He was one guy. Did she really think this was safe for either of them? He very well could be missing a crime happening two blocks over because he’s too busy checking in on where she’s chosen to wander. Did she really think this was enough to capture his attention?

Well, it had caught his attention, seeing as every other five minutes he was swinging back in this direction to make sure she was still alive down there.

Was she trying to learn a lesson the hard way? Megumi spent his time watching her with bitterness. She was smarter than this, he knew it, so what the hell was she thinking?

Deep down he’d already confirmed his worries, but he’d hoped that she’d give this stunt up eventually. He still saw her around school, even if she’d stopped bothering him, he could see the toll that staying up like this was taking on her. She always had an energy drink or a coffee on her desk, and Megumi doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so disheveled. It had him wondering if this was starting to impact her grades, too.

This is why he shouldn’t have spoken with her the last time. He should’ve swung off in the opposite direction. Because now she was on his mind, she had him worrying, swinging all around the block she was pacing while trying to keep an eye on the rest of the city- it was exhausting for him, too.

He shouldn’t be sitting here worrying about her sleep, or her grades. His bottom line should be safety. And she was safe. So why couldn’t he just leave her be?

With a groan he stops his swinging to land on one of the surrounding buildings. He rips his mask off his head, groaning through his irritation before raking his hands through his already messy hair. She was driving him crazy, and he was sure that she knew it too. This little back and forth walk of hers, she was taunting him with it.

Throwing himself down to sit on the edge of the building, Megumi peers over his knees to check on her yet again. She’s slowed her pace, which hopefully means she’s getting tired and will return to her apartment soon.

With a huff, he props his head in his hand, wondering what he was going to do about this. It wasn’t as easy to make her hate Spiderman as it was to make her hate Megumi. Hell, it might not be a bad idea to just reveal his identity to her, she’d probably want to forget about Spiderman all together, then.

Of course, that was a stupid idea, but Megumi was fresh out of good ones.

When he lifts his head again, compelled by some invisible force to check just one more time that she was alright, he’d looked just in time. He barely had the time to pull his mask back on his head before he was leaping off the building and swinging down towards her, half flying and half falling through the air as fast as he could to get to her before whatever figure lurking around the corner could.

Shit, shit, shit.

It happens so fast, she’s lucky she didn’t pee herself from the whole thing. She’d just reached the end of her pace, about to turn around and wander the other direction when she finally saw a very unsettling figure come around the corner. With disheveled clothing and a stagger that sent up warning flags of intoxication, (y/n) instantly stopped in her tracks, and started to shuffle backwards.

He never said a word to her, but from looks alone she got the feeling of what he was thinking. Nothing good.

However before she could get herself to start running, someone else came into view.

There’s barely a second for her to show her relief when Spiderman shows up, seemingly out of nowhere. She’s not sure his feet even touched the ground before he had an arm around her and was swinging off again. He doesn’t have to tell her to hold on, she just clings, with all her might, she winds her arms around his neck and keeps her knees locked on either side of his hips.

The sensation of swinging through the air is not the one she always dreamed of enjoying- the wind is harsh, whipping her hair around all directions and snapping against her face unpleasantly. Even with her face buried against her savior’s chest, the cold air nips at her.

Even once he’s clearly landed, it takes some prompting for her to let go of him, and open her eyes.

When she does, she barely gets to open her mouth before he’s laying into her, and she should’ve seen it coming, but she can’t help but deflate.

“What the hell were you thinking!?”

He’s yelling, and at first she wonders if he’s worried about people seeing, but a quick glance at her surroundings and she realizes they’re on the roof of a building. No one would be hearing them here.

“Were you seriously trying to get yourself into trouble? Because you were about this close to it,” He raises his pinched fingers for emphasis, but gives her no time to answer. “You better not have done something so stupid just cause of me-”

“I didn’t- well- well I didn’t necessarily” (y/n) tries to explain, but the words just aren’t coming as fast as her mouth is moving and she’s left gaping at him.

Megumi was not putting up with it. What did he have to do to get it through her head?

“I can’t be spending my nights keeping an eye on just you because you feel like putting yourself in harm’s way for a fucking rush,” He snaps. “You pull shit like that again (y/n) and I’m not going to be there next time, you understand?”

Her mouth shuts. She nods her head.

“Jesus Christ,” Megumi puts his hands to his head, turning and walking off as if they weren’t stranded on top of a building.

Well, (y/n) was stranded. Spiderman had the means of getting himself anywhere.

She wants to follow him, but instinct tells her to stay put while he paces and continues to scold her.

“You’re goddamn lucky I was there, you know that?” He’s not even looking at her, but she nods her head again anyways. She knows. “I should really go back there and beat the shit out of that guy” He starts to mutter to himself, going on incoherently, and (y/n’s) blood starts to run cold.

“He- I mean, he didn’t do anything” She mumbles, her voice hardly above a whisper, but he seems to hear her just fine, stopping in his tracks and turning his head towards her.

“Are you serious?”

Her mouth opens and closes a few times before any words come out.

“It’s not like he… he said anything, or did anything to me” She clarifies. Spiderman’s mask is incapable of expression, but she had a feeling the man behind it was glaring at her. She could feel that familiar prickle of a harsh stare.

It’s silent for a long moment before he finally turns completely towards her and walks back in her direction. She keeps her feet firmly planted, willing herself not to back away or cower, but having him come stand so close to her had her throat closing up. He towered over her so much she had to lean her head back to look up at his mask. If he was going to yell, she was bound to flinch.

“You have no idea what he was capable of doing,” He doesn’t yell. In fact his voice is so eerily low she almost shivers. “If you want to gamble your life on some drunken lowlife’s imagination, that’s your business,” He adds, and she blinks away the tears welling up in her eyes as the gravity of the situation really sunk in with his words. “But at least have the decency to do it far away from me. Because if it were up to me I’d go back there and kill that guy right now”

She blinks a few more times, but still, a tear slips down her cheek.

“I-I’m sorry,” She whispers shakily, the lump in her throat growing hotter when she tries to speak. “I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to- I-”

Megumi sighs as more tears begin to fall from her eyes. Her brain was playing catchup and it was clear she was too tired to handle any of this right now.

“It’s alright,” He says, but it’s obviously not enough to calm her down, so against his better judgment, he tries his hand at comforting her. “Hey, c’mon, you’re alright,” Reaching out to her, he hesitates before placing his hands on either side of he face, wiping her tears away on the soft material of gloves. “Breathe,” He instructs quietly, and waits as her shudders slowly morph into slow, heavy breaths. “There you go, that’s it. You’re alright,” He tries to remind her that where she is now, she’s safe. “You’re here”

It takes a few more deep breaths, but eventually he steers her clear of a full blown panic attack, and her heartbeat returns to a normal pace.

With one last deep breath, (y/n) closes her eyes on her exhale, and Megumi finally drops his hands from her head, sure that she isn't going to start back up again.

“I have trouble sleeping,” She tells him quietly, her eyes focused on the ground. “It started in high school, I uh… I’m kind of a nerd, I guess,” She admits. “My parents really cared about my grades and success and I guess I just… went with it. Started staying up through the night to study and get ahead the rest of my class and… never dropped the habit”

Megumi softens, although she’d never know it.

“That doesn’t sound so healthy,” He says quietly, not knowing what else to say. She scoffs, smiles bitterly, shakes her head back at him. “We should get you back home, yeah?”

Realizing what he meant, she looks back at him with a wince, and he can’t help the small chuckle at her reaction.

“It’ll be alright. I’ll take it easy, promise” He says, crossing his finger over his chest for emphasis.

“What, like I’m gonna find some way to sue Spiderman?” She mutters back.

He holds his arms out to her, carefully grabbing her by the forearms to loop them around his neck.

“Just hold on and keep your head down, it’ll be over before you know it”

Her face heats up when his arm comes around her back and he presses her even closer. She can’t stop her squeak of surprise before it comes out, and it must startle him, because he’s quick to ask her if she’s okay.

“Yeah I- I’m fine” She stammers back, feeling her blush grow hotter.

Megumi takes off without a warning, thinking it’ll be easier to rip it off like a bandaid than to count down before a jump. All of her limbs tighten around him, forgetting about modesty as soon as they’re in the air. She presses her face as far into his shoulder as she can to keep herself blinded from the surrounding area. Until now, she wouldn’t have said she was afraid of heights.

She’s at least able to give him her address, a shaky whisper in his ear before she’s buried into his shoulder again.

When he lands on her fire escape, he helps her to her feet, trying not to chuckle at how wobbly she is.

“Don’t get sick on the suit, you have no idea how much of a pain it is to dry clean this thing” He tries to lighten the mood, and is surprised that he’s successful in doing so, earning a small laugh from her.

“You say that to all the girls you swing home, Spidey?”

“Not a fan of the nickname. Or the insinuation” He’s back to his usual dry self in no time.

“Well you have to have a nickname, we’re friends now, aren’t we?”

He’s supposed to leave now. He should leave now. This was exactly what he was afraid of happening, her getting attached. That burden was only on her of course, there wasn’t a chance Megumi was going to get drawn in when it comes to her, not when he knew the consequences.

“Spideman already is a nickname” He mutters like it’s obvious.

(y/n) let’s out a breathless laugh, and tosses her messy windswept hair behind her shoulders.

Megumi hasn’t left yet, why isn’t he leaving?

“Well, then there must be some other name I could call you..?” She trails off with her question, stepping forward and eyeing him curiously.

Megumi’s frozen. Was she really suggesting he reveal himself to her? Obviously he couldn’t do that…

“I’d just like to thank you, again,” She says, a small smile on her lips as she takes another step forward.

If he’s not leaving, Megumi knows he most definitely needed to step away from her before she could press any closer. Carrying her to swing her home was one thing, that was closeness out of necessity, but this- this was too much, and he was freezing up.

“And, um, properly,” She adds in a soft murmur, her eyes flickering over his mask.

He briefly wonders what she’s looking for, but it’s quickly answered when she reaches up towards him, her fingers brushing the space between his mask and the rest of the suit. It’s fitted so well it’s nearly impossible for someone to find the disconnect between the two- unless of course you’re standing directly in front of him, which she was.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, but the gulp he swallows is visible to her with how close she is. The tips of her fingers barely slip under the material of his mask, they graze his skin in a touch featherlight yet searing hot.

Without any indication from him that she should stop, curiosity gets the best of her and she carefully begins to slide the mask upwards, her eyes excitedly watching the expanse of his now exposed neck. Almost as pale as the moonlight, she drank up the sight of his skin as if it was a completely new sight to her.

When she gets to his chin, his hand snatches her wrist. It’s a quick action, but surprisingly gentle. He barely grips her arm, his touch merely a warning.

“You shouldn’t” He says, the lump in his bobbing throat preventing him from saying anything more.

She looks up into the expanse of white that made for the compelling eyes of the mask. Wondering if she was making proper eye contact with him, she shakes her head reassuringly.

“I won’t go too much further,” She murmurs. Followed by an even softer, “Promise”

His better judgment clean out the window, Megumi lets go of her hand, and allows her to proceed.

Using both hands now, she bunched up the end of the material until she was able to gather it at his nose where it would stay put, leaving everything from his neck to the tip of his nose on display for her.

She smiles at him, almost knowingly, and it makes him nervous. Everything about this makes him nervous, this cold sweat she was putting him through was torture. Even more so when her fingers begin to softly trace over the exposed parts of his skin.

“I knew you were handsome” She whispers shyly, but her eyes glimmer with excitement.

Megumi chuckles, the corners of his lips barely quirking into a smile, prompting her to hover the pad of her thumb over them as well. She doesn’t quite touch his lips, too cautious of the healing cut over the bottom one.

“How could you know such a thing?” He mumbles, keeping his voice low out of worry that she’d recognize it without the muffle of his mask.

“I don’t know,” She giggles softly. “Your voice, maybe. And you’re tall”

“I don’t think you have very good standards” Megumi murmurs.

“I think it’s completely fair for a girl to have a little crush on the man who saved her,” She replies, face warming up from such a confession. To her delight, it gets another smile out of him. “Who knew you smiled so much under there?” She says before she could think twice about it. “I was starting to think you were that stoic, mysterious type”

“I could be” He mumbles, and he finds himself taking her hand before she could finally touch her fingers to his lips.

She’s more than enticed to, with how pink and alluring they were, she’d been dying to kiss them since she’d lifted his mask, and hoped he’d give her the chance, seeing as he hadn’t tried to cover the bottom half of his face just yet.

She’s never looked at him like this before. And to be fair, Megumi had never looked at her like this either. He’d had no idea how pretty she was, like this, with her eyes half lidded and half focused, staring intently at his lips, giving away all of her thoughts without having to voice them. Her long lashes seemed to grow heavier with every slow blink. She’s hardly looking up at him now, all of her attention on just one thing, and Megumi was starting to run out of reasons why he shouldn’t indulge her.

The hand that he’s not keeping away from him reaches out again, fingers skimming his jaw before curling around it with the softest touch. She doesn’t pull him with much force, but Megumi finds himself following her movements as she guides him down, closer to her height.

It wasn’t right to kiss her. It was actually the exact opposite of what he’d been trying to do here. How the hell did he wind up in this situation?

“Thank you, Spiderman” She whispers, her lips ghosting over his with every syllable.

Ah, fuck it.

His hand releases hers only to reach for the back of her head and pull her in the rest of the way, his lips capturing hers passionately. Not expecting him to make the first move, she’s delayed in reacting, her hands sliding around the back of his neck and kissing him back with just as much fervor.

So lost in the kiss and how softly his lips move over hers, she almost forgets about the minor detail that his identity is still a secret to her, but even if it crosses her mind, she doesn’t care.

Her fingers press into the small strip of skin exposed at the nape of his neck, and while she longs to dig them under the back of his mask and lift it off of his head, it's not out of a desire to expose his identity. It’s purely because she’d love to run her hands through his hair, followed by a curiosity of what that would feel like.

Was his hair long? Soft? Coarse? Was it shaggy? Was it shaved? The mystery of it all had her mind buzzing and her feet pushing her to the tips of her toes to meet his lips in one last kiss before he could pull away.

The final kiss is softer than the rest, so gentle and slow, it was the perfect first, and last, kiss.

Not that she could tell the difference, but Megumi had a hard time opening his eyes again when he pulled away. He didn’t move far, his hand still cupped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. A part of him hoped they’d be so knotted together that they wouldn’t ever have to leave this moment.

When he does find the courage to look at her, he’s mentally kicking himself.

Megumi’s sure that the reason the sky was so dull tonight was because all the stars were trapped in her eyes, now being gifted to him under her precious gaze. Her lips curled into a slightly swollen smile, her cheeks pink with color despite the sun being nowhere in sight, it was perfect, she was perfect, and he can’t believe he’s spent so long missing out on it.

Shit, shit, shit.

“You…” He starts, but he doesn’t know where he’s going. His head is in the clouds, beyond the clouds, he was completely unreachable. (y/n) giggles softly at how quickly he’d become tongue tied. “You should pursue the journalist thing, alright?”

Brows slightly drawn together from the seemingly random comment, she nods back at him in a small motion.

“You think?” She murmurs back, her hand squeezing his. It sends a wave of warmth through his arm and into his chest, and Megumi has to fight the urge to frown, because his mouth was still exposed.

Pulling his hand from hers, he touches it gently to her jaw, then her cheek. She leans into his touch, welcoming it completely. Her smile only grows upon feeling the warmth of his palm through his glove.

“I have a feeling that you’d succeed at anything you put your mind to,” He says, and it’s sort of cheesy, but it’s the absolute truth. Her lips part in surprise at the sudden seriousness in his tone, but she doesn’t say anything, just lets his words linger on her mind. “No more middle of the night walks, though, alright?” He says, shaking her head just a tiny bit to make sure it would get through her thick skull. “If you can’t sleep, just put something on tv, like a normal person”

Her hand raises to cover the back of his, cradling it against her face sweetly. Megumi thinks the sight will be ingrained in his memory for the rest of time.

“Then how will I see you again?” She says, only half teasing. Her eyes are wide and hopeful, and Megumi stalls by brushing his thumb over her cheekbone a few times.

“I’ll be around” He murmurs, nodding his head through his uncertainty. Was it a good idea to see her again?

(y/n) nods back at him, before letting his hand go and reaching for the bunched up material of his mask, pulling it back over his face.

It was hardly a good idea to see her this time, and she’d actually needed his help. Look where that had lead him.

“I hope so,” She mumbles, seemingly just as uncertain as he was.

He finally drops his hand from her head, fingers carefully detangling themselves from her hair so as not to irritate her head, or maybe he just needed to linger near her a little longer.

Who was he kidding. He was going to find himself in this position sooner or later, wasn’t he?

“I guess… you know where to find me,” She says, wrapping her arms around herself, even though it was a nice night with no breeze. She squeezes herself for comfort.

When did it start, exactly? Was it the little secrets she confided in? Or her worry when he’d shown up to class a few days ago with a black eye? Megumi struggled to pinpoint when things took a turn down the path of no return.

“If you change your mind on that interview…” She adds with a soft smile. She hopes he’s smiling back at her.

He is.

“I’ll know where to find you,” He repeats, hoisting himself onto the railing of her fire escape, and standing up on the thin bar with complete balance. He made it look easy. “Goodnight, (y/n)”

“Goodnight, Spiderman”

He took off then, completely silent as he leapt from the escape and swung off, nearly invisible in the darkness.

(y/n) couldn’t help but sit outside her window a little longer, replaying the events of her night yet again, and wondering just how he figured out her name. ___

Megumi had resigned to sitting in the back of all of his classes for the rest of the year.

It’s not a huge deal, he can learn fine from any seat in the class, and as he realizes this he comes to realize that there was never really a good reason why he chose to sit near (y/n) before. All of his complaints that she was an obnoxious bother had dissolved into… nothing. He chose to sit near her every day. Whether it was right behind her or two seats away, he couldn’t ignore the fact that he always chose to be near.

And now that he wasn’t, it was driving him crazy. He longed to be closer, to sit behind her again, maybe even right next to her. Had he really been so dense all this time?

Though their interactions had been swindling since he’d put more focus into Spiderman than he had in school, (y/n) hadn’t spoken a word to him since their argument in the hall, and that was almost two weeks ago now.

The last thing she’d said to him, she’d said to Spiderman, not Megumi. Still, he tries to keep the soft, precious way she’d bid him goodnight in his memory. He didn’t want to forget a single moment of the last time he’d spoken with her, not the things she said, not the way she touched his skin so delicately, and certainly not the kiss.

Megumi leans his chin into his hand now, fingers covering his mouth nonchalantly. However when he presses the pads of his fingertips against his lips, it’s not the same.

They caught eyes here and there, but that wasn’t the same either. He’d come into class late, she’d cast him a short glance, but it was always quickly returned to the front of the room. Not so much as a taunting glare was directed his way. It was safe to say he’d finally gotten her off his back… and he’s never felt like such an idiot.

It was worse outside of classes.

He’d spend his nights swinging around town, lazing through patrol, busting perps when they came around, but crime was dwindling by the day, it seemed. He liked to think that Spiderman was making a difference, but he’d been a little rough around the edges lately, and he knew deep down his reputation was morphing into a ruthless fighter.

Spiderman wasn’t just keeping peace, he was keeping criminals in fear. Not that Megumi was perturbed by this- for one, he’d long held that reputation already, so living with it as Spiderman felt no different. Secondly, the quiet nights were comforting.

The free time was starting to become a problem, though. He couldn’t stop himself from trying to visit her. He’d be aimlessly swinging and the next thing he knew he was on her block, near her building, almost approaching the very fire escape at her window where they’d last seen each other. It’s difficult to make himself turn around and swing the other way, especially on the clear nights when he can see her light is on, and he knows she’s awake.

She’d kept her promise, it seemed. He’d swing by often enough to notice the flicker of a tv screen, just close enough to know she was home and safe, but he tried not to linger too long. He didn’t want her seeing him checking in, and he definitely didn’t like the idea of sitting outside her window like a creep.

More than that, he feared that she’d be delighted to see him again.

It had been a week since that night on her fire escape- with the rescue, the kiss- and Megumi really tried to keep his distance. He indulged himself in passing by her window more times than he could count, but he was careful to keep himself hidden, so she would have no idea his watchful eye was never too far. If he kept this up, he hoped that she would forget about it altogether. That’s what would be for the best.

Sitting across the street perched on the roof of a building like it was the most natural place in the world to sit, Megumi dropped his chin in his hand as he stared longingly at the only lit up window in the apartment building across the street. At this point, he’d probably spent more time looking at that window than he had in his own home.

He didn’t want to forget about what happened. He didn’t want her to forget about what happened.

His mask crumpled in his other hand, he tore his gaze away from the window to stare down at it, cursing it mentally for giving him everything only to ruin it.

It wasn’t Spiderman’s fault, though. Megumi was just as much responsible for the rift he’d put between himself and (y/n), long before that damned spider bite. He’d always pushed her off, kept her at arm’s length or further, if he could help it. He was the one stubborn enough to never let anyone in. He was the one that pushed her into treating him with the same insufferable attitude he’d directed at her, way back then. So much could change within a year, he supposed that was true for everyone, but he couldn’t ward off the self pity that came over him, thinking he’d surely changed too much within a year.

At the feeling of the first raindrop hitting his exposed head, he sighed, running a hand through his hair to dry the following drops of water before pulling his mask over his head again. Of course it’s going to start raining on him when he’s sitting here feeling bad about himself.

He doesn’t intend to get any closer to her building, being right across the street already felt too close, but with the extra cover of the rain starting to pick up, Megumi thought maybe tonight he could get away with being just a little closer. Just close enough to make sure she was okay in there. He might not be able to do anything about her sleepless nights… but it couldn’t hurt to check, right? He would leave as soon as he was sure, and then he would try not to return.

He’s not stupid enough to climb directly onto her fire escape- but then again his being here was pretty stupid already so what was one more idiot move? Instead Megumi perches himself on the one above it, opting to hang over the bottom of it just enough that he could peek through the window.

To his surprise, even though her tv is on along with the rest of the lights in her room, (y/n) is nowhere in sight. He doesn’t think much of this at first, she very well could be in the bathroom, or the kitchen. But just as he tries to rationalize her disappearance, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, and in the next second her window was sliding open.

“Boo!”

Her whisper yell as she leans out the window and towards his dangling head is comparable to that of a child’s. Completely un-scary, and followed by a string of delighted giggles.

Megumi freezes, and he would’ve fallen right off the fire escape if his reflexes didn’t have him shooting out a web of safety to hang by. He’s still upside down, swinging in front of her, but (y/n) leans out further to steady his movement by his shoulders.

“Scared ya good, huh?” She muses. Her grin was a sight for sore eyes. “Serves you right, stalking a girl like that”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking”

“What would you call it then?”

Her hands are still pressed against his shoulders. Megumi’s not sure if it’s to keep him from swinging, or if she was keeping her own balance as she leaned the upper half of her body out her window.

“... is it a crime to visit people?”

“Usually when they’re trying to creep in through a window” She quips back. Her smile only seems to brighten the longer she looks at him- even if she did sort of just call him a creep.

“For the record I wasn’t trying to get in” He corrects, his own smile beginning to grow under his mask. He couldn’t deny how good it felt to see her like this again, to be able to talk to her, even just look at her.

“Just spy from the outside?”

“I don’t like the narrative you’re spinning,” Megumi scoffs. “What happened to honest journalism, hm?”

She giggles at that. The corners of her eyes crinkle as she gazes at him fondly. He liked this side of her banter- the playful side. It was fun.

“So you think you can honestly say you missed me, Spidey?” She asks in a voice made of pure sugar. It rots his teeth, melts his insides, and makes all his senses go fuzzy.

“I thought we weren’t going the nickname route” He deadpans, avoiding the question.

With her smile pursing to the corner of her lips, something about her demeanor changed then.

“It’s only fair, since you know my name,” Her tone is just as light, but her eyes are calculating, and Megumi knows he’s slipped up. And again just now, by not having a quick enough response. “And I’m certain I didn’t give it to you… so… how do you explain that one?”

“Did you think I wasn’t going to have an interest in figuring that out?” Megumi chuckles, hoping he could play it off.

(y/n) presses further out her window, far enough now that the rain starts to dampen her hair, but she appears to pay it no mind.

“I don’t like it when you’re cryptic, Spidey” She huffs.

Again, Megumi laughs.

“It sort of comes with the whole anonymity thing” He answers.

She tilts her head at him, as if she could study him even with the mask on. Megumi couldn’t deny the paralyzing effect it had on him.

“Why does it feel like you’re a stranger to me… but I’m not one to you?” She asks him slowly, as though still debating on asking him at all. “Why does it feel like you know me?”

“You do talk a lot”

Megumi’s grasping at straws now, but at least that gets a small laugh out of her. He hopes it’s enough of a distraction, hopes that she lets things go back to the way they were. He didn’t need her trying to put together the puzzle that was Spiderman, it couldn’t lead to anything good.

“You know what I mean,” She murmurs. She raises a hand off of his shoulder, reaching for the hem of his mask in a way that wasn’t supposed to feel familiar to him. “You think you’d ever tell me?” She asks as her fingers toy with the material’s edge.

“Who I am?” Megumi asks dumbly. Besides the raindrops slowly running down her face, there’s no change in her expression. There’s a glimmer of hope in her eye as her fingers slip under the mask, not quite lifting it yet, but holding it with the clear intention to do so.

The silence lingers until she has her answer, and Megumi thinks this might be the damning moment that he’s been trying to brace himself for. She’ll probably rip his mask right off, and then who knows how she’d react upon seeing it was him all this time. He knew he was faster than her, he could easily swing away before she could have the chance.

A nervous, breathless laugh breaks tension, and she gently peels the mask towards his chin.

“I guess I’ll just have to figure it out on my own, then” She muses playfully.

“An investigative journalist now, are we?” Megumi asks, but there’s no time for further banter when she’s got his mask bunched up at his nose and that’s all the further it needs to go before he’s meeting her lips in a wet kiss.

The rain was not a welcomed experience, it had (y/n) shivering and it was irritating Megumi’s now exposed nose. It made their kiss slippery and messy, and with him still being upside down it didn’t exactly make things any easier.

Neither of them cared.

All of (y/n’s) interests lied in kissing him and then kissing him again- she couldn’t help it, even if he outright refused to tell her his name, he kissed her like a dream.

Shaky, wet palms steadied on either side of his face, trying to pull him even closer. He follows her direction as best he can, but with his hands still occupied with the web to keep him from crashing onto her fire escape, Megumi’s left with his neck craned as far forward as he could push. If he hadn’t held onto the last scrap of his sanity he would’ve dropped down from the railing and crawled right through her window.

He was getting carried away.

“(y)- (y/n)-” Her name is whispered soft and broken into her lips, and she knows this is his way of ending whatever this is, but she can’t help but leave him with one last lingering kiss. He doesn’t push her away, doesn’t even go still against her kiss. He waits, all too patiently, until she has to lean back and catch her breath.

“You’re going to leave,” She says softly. It’s not a question, she already knows. He might think that he’s difficult to read, with his monotone comments and the mask that’s easy to hide behind, but he wasn’t as great of a mystery as he might think.

He frowns. It looks a little awkward upside down. (y/n) gives him a sad smile and carefully maneuvers his mask back into place. It doesn’t take long before she misses the small glimpse of his face that she was allowed to see.

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m not going to see you again?” She sighs.

The raindrops on her face could easily be mistaken for tears. Megumi slides his hand out of her hair to dry her face, and he can’t keep away the memory of him drying her actual tears.

“You will,” He assures her, but the nagging feeling doesn’t quite go away. “You just… might not know it”

A lump forms in Megumi’s throat when he says it, and it only grows when her eyes light up with intrigue.

“Is that a hint, Spiderman?” She muses, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Get some sleep” He encourages, already lifting himself onto the fire escape of her upstairs neighbor. Disobediently, she pushes herself further out her window to follow his movements.

“I will see you again?” She asks as she looks up at him, not minding the pelting of raindrops soaking through her clothes and hair.

Against his better judgment- as things always seem to be when it comes to her- Megumi nods his head. He doesn’t say a word before swinging away, knowing he’d overstayed his welcome by a longshot. Even without looking back, he can feel (y/n’s) eyes on him as she watches from her window.

And when he thinks about it, he can still feel her lips against his. ___

(y/n’s) not sure of the last time she walked into her 8am class and saw Megumi had gotten there before her. It stops her in her tracks, still in the doorway, staring at the boy hunched over his desk in the back of the class scribbling in his notebook at an alarming rate.

Wait… was he cram studying for their test today?

She scoffs, and he lifts his head to give her a bored glare. Of course he’d noticed her when she’d come in- he’d heard her coming from the hallway- but he wasn’t about to give her the reaction she wanted.

And it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his expression hardened and neutral when it came to her, so Megumi had been trying to avoid looking at her completely.

Keyword, trying.

“Don’t tell me you actually didn’t study” She says, a knowing little grin tugging at the corners of her lips as she looks him up and down.

Megumi holds his blank stare for as much longer as he’s capable of before turning his attention back to his notebook, pen scrawling loudly yet again. (y/n’s) brows raise at the intensity at which he was writing, shocked that her assumptions seemed to be proven correct.

“Wow” She mumbles to herself, before walking straight to the back of the class.

Megumi tries to ignore her, she probably just wanted to click her tongue at him in disapproval before she’d go pick out her favorite seat and ignore him for the rest of the period. But she’s approaching so quickly and suddenly she’s leaning over his desk and he has half a mind to cover his work, as if there was any kind of damning evidence there.

She eyes the messy notes before glancing up at him, his gaze already set on her. For a moment it pins her in place, has her freezing up just as she had a moment ago, but the feeling melts before she could question the severity in his eyes.

“If you want to borrow my notes, you’ll have to ask” He tells her, his voice unwavering and devoid of any emotion. She rolls her eyes at the typical behavior.

“Unlike you, I cared enough to study last night” She replies, and she’s just about to turn on her heel when the unexpected happens, and Megumi actually has a response.

“That so?”

His change in tone irks her, and she can’t put her finger on why. But the tilt of intrigue matched with the way he smirks has her heating up.

Out of irritation, of course.

“Duh,” Her arms cross over her chest defensively. “I’ve been studying all week”

Even as Megumi resumes his note taking, his stupid smirk is still plastered on his face. If she was more inclined to violence, (y/n) would’ve wanted to smack it right off.

“I’m sure you have” He mumbles, watching out of his peripheral vision as her arms shoot down to her sides, hands balled into fists as she gasps and gapes at him. Clearly, she took offense to the comment, and he had to bite back the chuckle at it.

“What are you trying to say?” She snaps at him, but she’s not nearly as intimidating as she wants to be.

“Didn’t really say anything,” He replies, tone holding no emotion again. “You just started freaking out”

“I’m not freaking out,” Her eyes narrowed. “God, why do you have to be so-”

Before she can finish he looks up at her again, and again it’s like he’s stunned her with the way his gaze seems to pierce right through her. He looks pleased with himself, too, as if he was just dying to hear what she was going to come up with.

Peculiarly enough, her throat goes dry, and she can’t quite remember how she was going to finish that sentence. Megumi must figure her out, too, because his smirk almost resembles a smile now, and her heated skin was starting to become unbearable.

“So…?” Megumi repeats curiously, hoping to egg her into finishing her thought.

(y/n) huffs, shaking her head in her agitated defeat before turning around and marching towards her usual seat.

Megumi returns to his work with a smile on his face. Her preference for Spiderman might’ve been clear as day, but there was something satisfying about knowing one way or another, he had a knack for getting her worked up.z

___

Despite her hopes reaching impossible heights, (y/n) hadn’t gotten another visit from Spiderman in quite some time. It had been about two weeks now, and she hadn’t noticed even a shadow outside her bedroom window.

She gives him the benefit of the doubt, because for some reason unknown to her she’d grown to care for him enough to make every excuse necessary. He was doing important work out there, she’d tell herself while sitting at her window, longing eyes looking for any sign of life out in the sleeping city. It wasn’t like he had all the time in the world to spend on her.

Or while wandering the halls from class to class, while her eyes were trying to catch every stranger that walked passed, she hoped to find some flicker of familiarity in anyone. It might’ve been naive of her to think he could be as close to her as being another student at her school, but she couldn’t help herself. She couldn’t stop the ‘what ifs’ from plaguing her mind. She was so full of hope it was rotting her from the inside out.

Her focus was never quite all there. In class she’d mindlessly take notes, her attention shifting about the room, trying to catch the feeling of being watched, but she always came up empty handed. There were no eyes on her, she concluded after days of paranoid searching. It was just a placebo effect her mind had come up with in her hoping to find him.

As if she was just going to happen upon him as easily as looking at him and knowing.

It was the same even around her friends. The usual group she’d sit with at lunch had noticed her change in demeanor, but not knowing how to bring it up to her they tended to continue on conversing as if she wasn’t actively ignoring them as she searched the cafe.

“What are you looking for?” One of them had asked one day, a slight wince on their face when she startled and turned towards them again, as if she’d completely forgotten where she was.

“Oh, nothing,” Her reply was less than convincing. “Just spacing, I guess”

Maybe that part was sort of true, but it wasn’t a good enough excuse for anyone to take her seriously anyways. So she was left alone to barely pick at her lunch and scan the cafe with an undeniable skip in her heartbeat.

(y/n) was starting to think she was going crazy, but it was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She just had a feeling that she was close, and to stop her from chasing that feeling would take a force her lunchtime friends weren’t able to muster up.

Her grades had yet to be affected, but her uptick in strange behavior wasn’t going unnoticed. Her participation had dipped dramatically, some of her classes actually dragging on in near silence as no other students filled the gaps of her incessant questions and comments. It was clear to her professors and peers that behind her wandering eyes was a void of class-related thoughts. Whatever was occupying her every passing minute, had nothing to do with her studies. But she maintained her perfect grade point average so effortlessly it was difficult to reprimand her for her lack of attention in each class.

Megumi had watched from the background as her sanity seemed to slip further and further. At first, it had been a bit amusing. He’d noticed right away, the way her eyes caught every guy walking into class, the way she seemed to pick each one apart with only her eyes. She must have been gauging whether or not she deemed every one of them capable of being Spiderman. It was hard not to smile to himself when she’d ultimately look away from each one, unconvinced.

One was too short, the next too tan, another just didn’t have the right vibe, Megumi wished he could read her thoughts as she scrutinized each passerby in silence. He was never too far from her, so it was easy to watch the hope radiating off of her as she tried to find the source of the eyes on her. Luckily for Megumi’s rapid senses, he was always facing another direction when her gaze flickered his way. Not that she ever quite looked at him the way she looked at the others. He could feel her eyes sweeping right past him, pausing on a boy sitting just a few seats to his left instead. But yet again she was facing away and trying to come up with someone else.

Megumi wondered why it was that she felt so sure Spiderman was in this very school with her. Tokyo was a heavily populated place, and he knew she was smarter than to assume he was this close to her all this time.

(Of course… he was… but how could she have any idea of that?)

With every passing day she seemed a little more dazed. Which was an interesting look on a know-it-all like her. Her interest in the world around her took a nosedive, and it was obvious to a watcher like Megumi. She looked like a gray spot surrounded by the bright yellow of her lunch table. She stuck out like a sore thumb in every class, finally having learned to pipe down and retreat in on herself. She didn’t look depressed, it was just clear as day that her interests were on anything but what was going on around her.

Again, he’s entertained by this for some time. There’s a swell of pride and something warm and new in his chest whenever he sees her so openly looking for him. Hopeful eyes scanning every crowd, every class, only to never properly focus on him. He should feel relief that he doesn’t seem to be even a passing possibility to her. Instead, all he feels is a few skips in his heartbeat knowing she thought he was someone worth searching for.

Well, Spiderman was someone worth searching for, at least.

But the entertainment drains fast when her preoccupied mind lands her crashing into someone in the cafe. A freezing cold iced coffee is dumped all over the front of her pretty blouse, ruining it instantaneously. Megumi happens to look up just as the incident takes place, the hair on the back of his neck standing up on alert and his eyes finding her in the crowd in a moment’s notice, just in time to watch her crash.

And just as she steps away from the person she’s crashed into, her focus shifted to her soaked and stained shirt, an unsettled feeling crawls over Megumi’s skin as he notices who it was she just so happened to run into.

The frat boy that had been bugging her not too long ago. The annoying guy, yeah, that one. Megumi was pretty damn sure this run in wasn’t as accidental as it looked, but he stayed seated at his empty table, with faux attention on the book in his hand.

His eyes hadn’t returned to the page since his little sixth sense had drawn them towards the whole situation. It’s upsetting that he isn’t surprised to see that when (y/n) hurries out of the cafe, Fratboy follows.

He huffs, shutting his book without marking it and tossing it haphazardly into his bag. He hadn’t even gotten to finish his lunch. Maybe he could sneak a few bites in his next class.

(y/n’s) trying not to tear up as she rushes into the empty corridor outside of the cafe. It wasn’t like her to cry over a stained shirt, but it was just so embarrassing to have to go the rest of her day with the obvious mark. Not to mention it was cold and wet and sticking to her skin and- jesus, of course it was soaked through enough that the black bra she wore was visible now.

Even as she pried the material forward off of her skin, she could still feel the sticky remnants of coffee underneath. It wasn’t like she had a spare outfit in her car, and she still had three classes left in her day. Was she really stuck in this wet shirt until then?

“Sorry princess, it was an accident, swear!”

And to make matters worse, it appears she’d been followed.

(y/n) can’t help the groan of frustration as she releases the material of her shirt, letting it stick to her torso again.

“It’s… it’s fine, it’s whatever” She grumbles, waving off the guy she recognized as the cafe bother, or so she coined in her mind, never having gotten his name during all the times he’d hit on her. There’s not much sincerity in her words, but she doesn’t need him lingering around while she tries to decide what to do.

“I did try to dodge ya, but you really weren’t looking where you were going,” He continues, despite her obvious disinterest in his entire presence. “Is there anything I can do?”

He comes closer and on instinct she backs away. Her expression alarmed and eyes cautious when he pressed closer anyways. It’s not that she thinks he’s going to hurt her, but she doesn’t want him any closer than arms’ length. Ten feet would be nice, but unless she wanted to draw more attention to herself by turning and booking it down the hall, arms’ length would have to do.

“No” She answers, as firm as she can get herself to be. To her, this is the part where he should walk away.

He looks apologetic as he steps forward again, but this time her step backward has her almost up against a wall, and now her senses are on high alert. Discomfort courses through her, a feeling worse than the cold coffee sticking to her skin.

“C’mon, I could at least help you get out of your-”

Fratboy doesn’t get a chance to finish his statement when a harsh grip lands on his shoulder and pries his body to move with ease. His initial reaction is to fight back against the force, but he doesn’t get to do that either, as he’s spun around and shoved into the wall.

Even the snarl on his expression disappears when it’s Fushiguro Megumi that presses in close and keeps him pinned to the wall. His bruising grip is replaced by his entire forearm caged against his collarbone, just barely pressing against his throat.

A yelp dies in the back of (y/n’s) throat as the whole thing happens in a matter of seconds. It’s as if she blinks and suddenly Megumi’s there prying this guy out of her personal space as if he was personally offended by the act.

“H-hey man, what the hell is your problem?” The waver in Fratboy’s voice is embarrassingly clear. Megumi would laugh if he was in a joking mood. He’s not.

His hard expression is terrifying up close. (y/n’s) standing just a few feet away and even she feels a slight shiver go down her spine.

“Pricks like you,” Megumi mutters, and Fratboy swallows a fat lump in his throat. “Skipping around like you’re hot shit and get to have anything you want. Pretentious pricks” He spits the last part out through clenched teeth.

All (y/n) can think about were the rumors from last year. The guy Megumi supposedly put in the hospital. Those rumors had been enough to have people steer clear from him. She didn’t even let herself get too close when pressing his buttons, even if intrigue plagued her mind.

“I didn’t- I didn’t do anything!” Fratboy tries to raise his voice, a pitiful attempt at puffing his chest and making him appear more of a fighter than he really was. His head swivels, wide eyes landing on (y/n), who was stuck frozen watching it all unfold. “Tell him!” He shouts at her, and she startles just a little. Not because she was afraid of the demand, but because as soon as it came out of his mouth, Megumi’s foot brought enough force to have the guy’s legs straighten up, which in turn kept him further back into the wall.

If Megumi could push the guy clean through the white painted brick, he’d be a bloody mess stuck inside of the concrete already.

“Don’t look at her,” The command comes out in a growl. Megumi didn’t need to raise his voice to sound tough. His brows are furrowed tight and low over his piercing eyes, which were half the force keeping Fratboy against this wall. “Humor me, prick,” Megumi asks, making sure his attention couldn’t be drawn back towards (y/n) a second time. “How come your shirt’s so pressed ‘n clean?”

The guy’s lip wobbles a bit before he manages a small “H-huh?”

“Your shirt,” Megumi’s voice is colder this time for having to repeat himself. “How come it’s so clean?”

“I- I- because I do my laundry?” He asks weakly.

Megumi rolls his eyes, letting them fall shut as his head tilts towards the high ceiling. This guy had to be joking.

“Wrong answer,” He huffs. “I’m gonna let you go, and you’re gonna go buy yourself another overpriced pretentious fucking coffee, got that?”

Fratboy’s brows furrow, but he nods his head shakily in response. Perhaps Megumi’s arm was pressed too hard against his chest, and he was finally out of air. Megumi could only hope.

“And you’re gonna take that coffee and dump it over your head”

“What!? I’m not-”

“So you’d rather take the beating?” Megumi asks before the guy could protest too much. His brows are raised, his interest genuinely piqued. He had no problem with either option. Having this prick walk around with a broken nose or an expensive shirt with a big brown coffee stain seemed like a win-win situation to him.

It’s clear that Fratboy remembers the last prick that pissed off Fushiguro Megumi, and he must remember that he wasn’t given options, because the back of his head defeatedly hits the wall behind him when he mutters out his choice.

Megumi gives him a solid nod, and he only pushes him a little bit when he drops his arm and steps back so he was free to leave.

Fratboy only takes a step and a half.

“Forgetting something?” Megumi barks, hard eyes freezing him in place before he could get close to re-entering the cafe.

Fratboy awkwardly maintains the eye contact, confusion clear in his features. Megumi jerks his head towards (y/n), who’s silence evidently hadn’t made her invisible to the two.

“Oh, s-sorry- I’m sorry”

It’s a weak ass apology, but Fratboy assumes it’s acceptable enough because when he rushes himself back into the cafe Megumi doesn’t stop him again. He gets a few odd stares as he gets in line for a coffee with apprehensive eyes and his hands anxiously buried in his pockets, but he keeps his head down the entire time.

“Wh- why did you do that?” (y/n’s) mumble is the only sound in the empty hallway. Her voice wants to stay stuck in her throat, but when it’s clear that Megumi isn’t going to give her an explanation- or say anything at all- she forces herself to ask.

His eyes fix on her, and an odd sensation settles over her. All the previous fear and anxiety melts away. She’d gone so rigid, her sense of fight or flight disappearing completely and keeping her stuck in place hoping she wasn’t going to be witness to a nasty fight. But she hadn’t expected that. Megumi’s intensity had been terrifying, even if it wasn’t directed at her, standing by and watching it had her throat closing up and her heart racing.

But he’d hardly even hurt the guy, just… humiliated him. Still, it was just as shocking to watch.

And now, being alone with him and trapped under his stare, what she feels isn’t fear. It’s… curiosity.

His eyes wander over her, reassuring himself that she was fine, maybe just a little shaken up by the whole thing. She was probably more embarrassed than anything. He could live with that, as long as she was safe. He just couldn’t have placed his trust in that frat prick.

“I don’t like assholes” Megumi answers, his voice as monotone as ever, as if he hadn’t just scared the shit out of that guy for her.

The lump in her throat grew hot as the realization struck her. He’d done all that for her?

“Well- well yeah, but…” Her brows furrow, her head shakes ever so slightly as she tries to put her thoughts to words. “But he didn’t do anything, just… was an asshole”

“You don’t know that” His reply was quick but his tone didn’t shift.

(y/n’s) eyes widen, the furrow in her brow smooths out, and she’s at a loss for words as she keeps staring at him.

You have no idea what he was capable of doing. Spiderman’s words repeat in her mind now as if he were standing right there saying them to her. It’s uncanny how similar his warning was to Megumi’s just now.

“He probably would’ve fucked off if I told him to” She makes a weak argument in an attempt to fill the overbearing silence.

Megumi doesn’t say anything, just beckons her to follow him as he takes off in quick strides down the hall. She should probably tell him to fuck off, but her curiosity gets the best of her, and she finds herself hurrying to catch up to him. He’s not walking all that fast, but his stride is significantly longer than hers, and she finds herself out of breath as they round the corner and he enters the first empty classroom they come across.

“Maybe next time you’ll learn the lesson and tell him to fuck off, then” Megumi grumbles, more to himself than to her, but she takes offense nonetheless.

“Well sorry I wasn’t expecting you to show up out of nowhere and threaten the guy” She mutters back.

Megumi scoffs before shrugging his backpack off his shoulder. (y/n) watches his every movement as he opens it up and digs around inside of it. She wants to ask what he was looking for, but her words are stuck in her throat again, and this time she can’t get them to come out.

“I didn’t threaten anybody, relax,” He tells her in a voice that could’ve been more comforting, but it was at least steady and sure. “It should make you feel better that he’s probably gone and made a fool of himself, now” He adds.

“Oh, thank you for that” She replies sarcastically.

“You’re welcome” Megumi replies in complete seriousness.

She opens her mouth, gaping at him, probably about to lay into him for taking her clear mockery as sincerity, but before she can he finally produces what he’d been looking for.

A tee shirt.

She blinks in dumbfounded silence as she stares at the plain black material in his hand. His brows are raised in an impatient expression, but she doesn’t take the offer right away.

He sighs. He’ll just have to do all the work, huh?

“Would you rather go the rest of the day in that?” He asks, nodding to the obvious mess of her shirt.

“It- it’s not that bad” She argues, her stubbornness forever getting in her own way.

“It’s going to reek of coffee”

“I happen to like the- the coffee bean scent-”

“It won’t be anything like that”

“It’s not even that wet anymore”

“I can see your whole bra now”

That does the trick in shutting her up, her head snapping downward to reassess the damage done. The groan she lets out morphs into a whine before she looks up at the balled up shirt in his hand. He vaguely stretches it towards her, and with a huff she snatches it right out of his hands.

As soon as he turns his back to her, busying himself with closing up his backpack, she’s peeling the ruined shirt over her head and quickly shrugging into the fresh tee shirt.

Besides the ridiculous proportion, she’s quick to notice the scent that clings to it. She dips her head once it’s covered her, trying to place a name to the smell of fresh laundry. Pine? Is this what pine smelled like? A part of her hated how good it smelled, how addicting it was to keep taking small sniffs.

“I’m… dressed” She says quietly when she’s gotten enough sniffs in and realizes that Megumi’s still just standing there.

When he turns, his eyes wander over figure not so subtly, but his expression is unchanging. Even if his brain is going haywire seeing her in his clothes. It’s just a tee shirt, but he takes a mental picture.

He realizes she must not wear black very often. It’s striking on her. It must be why his mouth has gone dry and he has to force himself to look her in the eye.

“Good?” He asks, already turning to leave the classroom.

She can’t believe he’s going to leave just like that. It felt like nothing had been resolved here- and if anything, she only had more questions. She doesn’t know what to say to make him stay, she’s not even sure he would stay if she asked him to. He didn’t exactly seem to have any interest in being around her… ever… but then why had he put himself through all this trouble? Her muddled mind was a mystery, but the puzzled look on her face gave Megumi enough of an inclination to linger for just a minute longer.

“What?” He sighs, but her confusion is still plastered on her face.

“I… I don’t know…” Her voice is barely a mumble. It doesn’t match the way her face tilts and shifts into something different. She takes a step closer to him, a bold and large one, putting herself far closer to him than she ever would’ve imagined doing before. She was supposed to keep a certain distance, Fushiguro Megumi had a reputation after all… but something was different.

This wasn’t the Fushiguro Megumi that she knew and despised. In fact, this was a completely new person. He was… familiar.

Megumi doesn’t step back when she draws in closer, but his neck leans backwards with apprehension, chin tilting lower to keep his eyes on her every movement. It’s not like she’s able to do anything, there’s no mask to be ripped off, no secret identity to be figured out just from her stare alone, and yet something makes a pit grow in his stomach when she gets too close for comfort.

He’s never been this close to her. Not without the wall of protection that was the Spiderman mask.

There’s nothing stopping him from walking away. There was no harm in leaving her stranded in a classroom. But something keeps him there anyways. Something keeps him waiting for her to explain herself.

Her eyes drop his gaze, but they don’t fall far. They land just a few inches lower, he can feel the prick of the daggers they stare against his lips. Subconsciously he licks over them to soothe the ache of their sudden dryness. Her look wanders just a little bit, but never too far. Mapping out his chin and jawline, quickly down his neck and then back up again to his lips.

“What the hell are you doing?” He finally finds his voice when she leans in a little closer. Not quite close enough to kiss him, but close enough that she could lean in if she wanted to.

(y/n) snaps out of it instantly, her eyes wide and her cheeks flushing when she looks at him properly again and realizes what she’d been doing.

Fushiguro Megumi? Spiderman? God, what was she thinking?

“N-nothing” She stammers out, and before he could call her out and further her embarrassment, she brushes past him to make a quick exit out of the room.

Megumi’s left alone, his own cheeks flaring up with heat, but he can’t pinpoint what exactly causes the blushing, and he doesn’t really want to stand around to figure out why. ___

Megumi doesn’t show up to the last few classes of the day. (y/n) notices.

Her fingers pinch at the hem of the tee shirt he’d given her, rolling the soft cotton over the pads of her fingers in contemplation. Her focus on uncovering Spiderman’s identity during class has dwindled, but she’s not paying any attention to her studies, either.

For the last few hours of her day, she replays the events of the day in her mind on fast forward and rewind, over and over, trying to find something she felt she missed.

When had Megumi followed her out of the cafe? Had he seen what happened? Why was he so angry? Why was he so kind to her? Why was he so…

It’s on the tip of her tongue, the timing of it all, the peculiarity of it all. She knew she just had to be missing something.

Her trip home is quicker than usual, her steps as fast paced as her racing mind. What was it? What was it that she wasn’t seeing?

It was so close she could feel it looming right over shoulders. ___

Never before had she sought out Fushiguro Megumi. But (y/n) couldn’t get the feeling to go away no matter how hard she tried, and she feared the only way out was through.

She didn’t want to confirm her assumptions without any proper evidence to base it all on, and she had a feeling that he was a pretty good liar, so she’d have to get creative with catching him. The best way to start, she figures, is by getting him alone.

It takes longer than she hopes. Megumi’s not an easy person to approach and he appears to like it that way. She stares him down when he comes in late to their first class, and his eyes catch hers for a moment longer than usual, but without a change in his expression it’s hard for her to get a good read on him. He takes his seat in the back of the class and she can’t get him to look at her again, no matter how many times she turns her gaze over her shoulder to steal another look at him.

After a few more classes with the same outcome, she supposes she’ll just have to wait until they break for lunch. He’s always sitting alone there, so she has her hopes up that it will be easier to sit down and prove it then.

But of course today is the day he’s not seated at his usual corner table all to himself. She waltzes into the cafe with nothing but confidence, and it’s ripped away from her when she sees that gloomy table empty. She lingers for a few minutes, hoping to catch him walking in later than the rest, but he never comes.

With her confidence boiled down to irritation, she storms out of the cafe on a mission to have this ended once and for all. She couldn’t possibly wait any longer, so one way or another, she was going to find and corner him.

The courtyard is empty at this time of day. The weather was cloudy and with the high chance of rain in the next hour, no one wanted to spend their free time eating lunch or studying out there.

Ever the outlier, that’s where she happened to find Fushiguro Megumi.

She’s not sure if she should grin or grimace when she approaches the tree he’s sitting under. He’s wearing his usual oversized headphones, and he’s got both his textbook and notebook opened. He was the perfect image of don’t bother me. (y/n) feels adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream as she rushes over to him.

It’s sort of strange. Just a few days ago she would duck her head and keep walking if she happened to cross his path. But it was like all of his intimidating qualities had just… disappeared. Despite the vibe he was trying to put off, he didn’t seem as unapproachable anymore. He didn’t seem as scary, although when she thinks about it long enough, (y/n) figures she’s probably the only person on this campus that interacted with him. Even if it was to antagonize him, she’d never seen anyone else speak to him.

A few days ago, he was Fushiguro Megumi, the boy with the bad reputation and even worse attitude. He was her academic rival, a thorn in her side that reminded her of faults just by existing. Today, she thinks he might just be the boy she’s been falling head over heels for. The one with careful words spoken by gentle lips. The first person in a long time that actually made her feel seen, and a feeling of being understood could work wonders on a stubborn heart.

“Hey!” She hollers, and Megumi jolts as he looks up to find her walking up to him. His expression scrunches up as he pulls his headphones down around his neck, and lowers his dual books.

“What do you want?” He asks, but the words aren’t nearly as harsh as he wants them to be.

She stops just before him, and invites herself to sit down beside his outstretched legs. He wants to tell her that he’s busy, that he’s studying out here alone because he wants peace and quiet, but he’s silent as she drops her backpack in front of her and opens it up.

“Thought you’d want this back” She says, pulling out a familiar black tee shirt. She hands it to him folded in a neat square. He almost laughs, knowing that when he’d offered it to her it had been a crumpled up ball.

“Right” He says, but before he takes it, she pulls it back towards herself, unfolding it. Megumi watches with furrowed brows. Was she not giving it back?

“I’ve just had this weird feeling lately,” She explains as she opens the shirt up completely. Megumi’s confused expression flickers between her and the shirt. “So I wanted to see something”

She starts bunching up the black material then, which Megumi watches with growing bewilderment. Why even fold it? What was this?

“Okay…?” His voice trails off when she looks up at him again, and the next thing he knows she’s leaning in close, holding his tee shirt up to his face. “What the- (y/n), what the hell are you doing?”

She ignores his questioning and the way he tries to swat her hands from getting any closer, but it doesn’t stop her from doing exactly what she aimed to do. Holding the black material up to cover half his face, from the bridge of his nose up, all that was left to see was his mouth down.

She couldn’t deny that it wasn’t a familiar sight, but it was hard to prove her theory on that alone, and she sighs.

“(y/n), this is annoying. And weird,” Megumi starts, his hands wrapping around her wrists in a careful hold, but enough to start to pull her and the tee shirt she was trying to blindfold him with away. “Can I have the shirt back or not- mmph!”

Just as he thinks he’s put a stop to her weird antics, she takes him by complete surprise when she darts forward and presses her lips against his. Megumi’s eyes go wide, although he’s still half hidden behind the shirt, he can’t help but keep them open as her soft lips move over his with familiar gentle passion. His confusion melts away the longer she holds the kiss, and by the time he thinks he should put a stop to it, it’s already too late. He’s connected the dots and so has she.

He sighs against her mouth, his fingers twitching around her wrists, unsure as to whether or not he should let her go or pull her in closer. (y/n) breaks away from the kiss just as she releases his shirt. They both let it drop to his lap, and she finally gets to see the whole picture.

His features have fallen to soft surprise as he gazes back at her, waiting for whatever was about to come. He doesn’t know if he should brace himself for something good or something bad, but he does his best to put his walls up anyways.

Her own eyes are wide with recognition, flickering between his own troubled eyes and the lips she’d just spontaneously kissed. Her tongue darts over her bottom lip thoughtfully, and for a second, Megumi thinks she’s going to give it a second try just to be sure. She doesn’t have to say anything right away for him to know exactly what she was thinking. She knew those lips. She knew that kiss. He’d gotten his cover blown over a kiss, of all things.

What he doesn’t expect is for (y/n) to let out a breathless laugh of delight, once the gears in her mind start to turn again. Her eyes are glimmering with an excitement she couldn’t contain.

“I told you I’d figure it out!” She keeps her voice hushed, which he can tell takes a great deal of effort.

“You always go around kissing random people?” He mumbles, thinking maybe he can play it off, maybe there was still a chance of gaslighting her into thinking he wasn’t the masked webslinger that had been slowly sparking up a romance with her.

There’s not even a small chance, though. (y/n) pulls her hands out of his gentle hold just to reach for his face, curiously skimming over his jaw, and then down his shoulders. His attempts at reaching for her hands again to stop her from practically running them all over him are weak, and it’s easy for her to ignore his clear attempts at stopping her.

“Wow, I almost can’t believe it,” She begins to mumble to herself, her eyes moving at rapid speeds as she puts the picture together in her mind. The lips she’d memorized in the hopes of finding them again, only to find they were on Megumi’s face, she lets out a delirious string of giggles. “I mean, it makes sense now, but it also doesn’t- why did you keep coming to see me?”

Megumi opens his mouth, but he doesn’t get a single word out before she’s throwing more questions at him.

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t figure it out? I’m top of the class you know, and you’re not exactly great at hiding things-”

“Second to the top,” Megumi reminds her with a slight roll of his eyes. “And it took you quite a while, you know”

“Yeah, well, the secrecy thing was fun for a bit,” She argues. “But you barely tried to hide it. Coming into class looking like you got hit by a bus? What were you thinking?”

“That you hated my guts and didn’t care if I did get hit by a bus?” He replies with a smartass smile. Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes.

Her hands fall still against his collarbones, fingertips barely tapping against the base of his throat with her excitement.

“It was you this whole time…” She murmurs, but she doesn’t sound as disappointed as Megumi expects. Her gentle eyes feel piercing as they stare at him thoughtfully, as if this was the first time she was really seeing him. In a way, it sort of was. “Were you ever going to tell me?” She asks quietly, and this time she does wait for him to say something.

Megumi sighs, regarding her soft expression with thoughtfulness. There was no coming back from this now. She figured him out and he barely even tried to cover it up. That was a hard thing to do once she’d kissed him, though. She must’ve figured out his weakness, and happily used it against him.. Typical brat.

“I thought about it,” He says honestly. “Just didn’t seem like a good idea,”

The corners of her lips barely turn into a frown, and Megumi can’t help himself from reaching out to her, cradling her jaw in as light of a touch as he could bear. It was different now, feeling her warm skin against his without hiding in a suit, behind a mask. He knows she must feel it, too.

Everything was completely different now. She must be upset with him, right? She must at least be discouraged in finding out it had been him all along. Not someone with a better track record, maybe someone more attractive, or at least nice to her. He wonders if she had her hopes up for a specific person.

“Are you upset?” He asks. He doesn’t want to know all the answers to his questions, but he asks before he could shove down the curiosity and avoid it forever.

“Upset?” She repeats, brows furrowing momentarily with her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Y’know,” He mumbles, long lashes flickering as his eyes fall to her lips for a moment. He looks at her again before continuing. “That it’s me. That it’s been me”

“Oh,” She hums, thinking for a second. “Well… did you mean it all?”

“Mean it all?” He repeats her now. “You mean while I was Spiderman?”

(y/n) nods in a small motion.

“Yeah… did you mean all the stuff you said… and did?” She adds the last part in an even quieter whisper than the rest, but the look in her eyes is so full of anticipation it speaks volumes over her voice.

“Yeah, of course,” Megumi answers without a shred of hesitation. “Of course I did,” He says it again, leaning forward with emphasis, his eyes never leaving hers. “(y/n), I didn’t want you finding out because I didn’t… I didn’t know that I would…” He trails off, his nerves starting to crawl up his throat for having to admit so many truths in one sitting. This one seemed to be harder than the rest. “I didn’t know I’d like you so much”

She laughs, breathless and sweet, humored by such an honest confession. It finally makes a real smile creep over his lips, relieved to see that her reaction was anything but negative. His heart skips a beat, and his thumb trembles as he reaches to stroke it over her cheekbone. He can’t help but want to pull her in closer, hold her properly, maybe even kiss her again. It should scare him, that she knew the truth now, that he was vulnerable to her now, but right now all he feels is a weight lifted off his chest, and the lingering taste of her chapstick on his lips.

“I definitely didn’t plan on liking you so much either,” She admits softly, her cheeks burning with color. Megumi can feel the heat in her skin when he presses the pad of his thumb further against her cheek. “Are you mad about it?”

“Mad?” He laughs, his smile becoming a full blown grin now as he leans in closer to her. Her fingers curl into the material of his shirt as he draws her in closer, too. Anticipation has her eyes flickering between his lips and the deep blue eyes that haven’t left hers since she’d kissed him. “Mad about what? Getting to know you? The real you? And falling for you?”

Her eyes grow wide as she stares back at him. For a guy that hid behind a mask for weeks, he sure got comfortable putting his cards on the table fast.

“No, I’m not mad about it,” He answers her properly, closing enough distance in between them that his nose prodded against hers. Her eyes fluttered shut before she could stop herself, her chin tilting forward to meet him the rest of the way. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to be with you, like this, for real, since you brought me that dumb bag of vegetables”

“It wasn’t dumb, there wasn’t ice” She argued. Her lips had just been brushing over his in the ghost of a kiss before she jerked away to argue some more. Ever so stubborn, he thinks with nothing but fondness for her.

Megumi doesn’t let her go far, pulling her right back in until her lips landed on his, and all further arguments died on her tongue. Her hands relaxed their hold on his shirt as her lips moved against his with muscle memory. Soft and so pliable, she melted right against him, leaning closer and closer until they were chest to chest, and Megumi moved his free arm to wrap around the dip in her back, keeping her tucked as close to him as he could without disconnecting their lips.

She finally gets to card her hands through his hair, scraping her nails over the nape of his neck before pushing the longer strands between her fingers. It becomes impossibly messier than usual, but Megumi only hums in delight as she messes it all up. He must’ve always wanted more, too.

Her fingers tangle in his hair and she doesn’t let up even when they part to catch their breath. Megumi stays close, his forehead resting against hers as he pants over her lips, leaving her still wanting more.

“You know I still have a million questions, right?” She murmurs, and Megumi can’t help but place the softest of kisses against her lips as she speaks, even if he was still breathless.

“I don’t feel like sitting and talking right now” He mumbles, chasing her lips for another kiss. She giggles, kissing him back but not nearly as long as he would’ve liked. Pulling away all too soon, she stares at him with wide eyes.

“I mean, how do the webs work?”

“(y/n), we have class in ten minutes, that’s not nearly enough time to get into it all,” He sighs, his hands smoothing over her hips and trying to draw her closer again. “Can’t we just enjoy this a little longer, and talk about all of that later?”

Huffing, (y/n) leans back in, and it makes Megumi smile if only for a moment. She stops short just before her lips could touch his.

“So… did Spiderman put that guy in a hospital last year?”

Megumi groans, dropping his head back against the trunk of the tree. She wasn’t going to let this go, and that reputation was going to follow him forever, it seemed.

“Alright. C’mon, we’re headed to class,” He prompted her to grab her things and stand with him, but she kept her hands in his hair too secure for him to want to stand up. “(y/n), I promise I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, later-”

“Let’s just skip class” She suggests, all too eagerly for a girl that bragged about being at the top of their class.

“Yeah, right,” Megumi scoffs, but when her expression doesn’t waver, his face falls and he stares at her bewildered. “You’re not serious…?”

“Why not?” She replies. “We can afford to miss a couple classes,” It’s not a bad argument, Megumi’s just shocked to hear her say it at all. “And.. I want to be the first one to get an exclusive interview with Spiderman” She giggles, and Megumi huffs, giving her a bored look.

“I’d rather go to class”

“And we can make out”

“... I guess some catching up isn’t a bad idea”

It takes them some time to gather their things and get going, only because (y/n) insisted on keeping her hands on him in one way or another, but even if Megumi pretended to be annoyed it wasn’t a believable performance. He kept her close with his arm wrapped firm around her as they made their way off campus quickly, hoping to beat the rain.

“You know, I’m thinking of calling you the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman when I write about you,” (y/n) tells him on their walk to her apartment. “Has a nice ring to it”

Megumi laughs humorlessly.

“Not sure it paints a very accurate picture,” He tells her, brows raised as he watches her pout up at him. “But you’re kinda gonna be my publicist, so I guess I’ll take what I can get”

“Hey! I thought you said you were falling for me” (y/n) sasses back. Megumi bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too hard. He tosses his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer as they walk.

“That was off the record” He mumbles.

She beams up at him, he pulls her a little closer into his side, keeping an eye on her only from his peripheral vision. He couldn’t be getting too sappy with the way he looked at her now, he’d grown too used to having a mask to hide the dreamy look in his eye. Now though, it was completely on display for her to see.

(y/n) quite liked the view that she got now that he was mask-free. She’d always had her suspicions that Spiderman was handsome, and quite the victory it was to be proven right in that department. The stubborn, monotone, boy with a reputation part was just… an added bonus, she supposed.

She also supposed that she’d come with her own reputation now, too. With Megumi never far behind he took on a role akin to guard dog. She couldn’t deny she grew to like the feeling, melting at the protective way he kept close whether he had the mask on or not.

He had a certain responsibility to uphold when it came to keeping Tokyo safe, but he had a responsibility to those he loved, too.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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solxamber · 3 months ago

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Trash Novel Chronicles: I Want to Retire - Idia Shroud x reader

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it. Now, as the villainess you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

Series Masterlist

You’ve lived a life. A noble life, full of honor, glory, and caffeine-fueled late-night writing sessions.

You're an aspiring author.

An aspiring author who, unfortunately, just created the most stupid novel plot of all time.

At least, that’s how it feels. You sit back, staring at your screen, utterly defeated as your latest creation flickers mockingly before you.

You’ve named it: "The Battle for Genius Prince Idia’s Hand" (working title, don’t judge). And wow, it’s a mess.

Here’s the breakdown of your disaster:

You’ve got your heroine—a girl so sweet she’s practically made of sugar, like one of those cookies that look good but crumble the second you bite into them. Naturally, she’s fighting for the affection of your male lead, Prince Idia, who is a socially awkward, genius mechanic prince (because you thought it’d be fun to make him hot and bad with people).

Then there’s the villainess. Ah, the villainess. She’s smart, sharp-tongued, and has enough sass to level a small city. Her entire personality? Sabotage. And she’s also after Idia—because apparently, that’s the only thing women in this story care about. (You regret this immensely.)

But oh no! Plot twist! Idia gets kidnapped by some unnamed evil force (you’ll figure it out later). The heroine? Well, instead of rescuing him, she falls for some Bland Prince. You don’t even know why. You think his name might be Greg. Or Gerald. Honestly, he’s that unremarkable.

Meanwhile, the villainess doesn’t even care anymore about Idia. Instead, she’s full-on dedicated to ruining the heroine’s new, bland romance because… well, that’s her whole schtick.

It’s… awful.

You sit back, hands in your hair, groaning aloud. “What is this? Who would even read this?”

You glance at your notes. They’re a chaotic mess of random scribbles: “Idia = genius, but hates people,” “Villainess needs more fire,” and “Heroine? Too boring. Spice her up. Maybe dragons?”

Yeah. This isn’t working.

You slump in your chair, utterly defeated. The characters are good, great even! But the plot? Oh, the plot is a dumpster fire. No, worse. It’s a flaming dumpster floating down a river of bad decisions. You can’t believe you spent hours writing this.

That’s it. You’re scrapping the entire thing. You’ll keep the characters, sure. But the story? Gone. Deleted. No one needs to suffer through this mess.

Determined, you crack your knuckles and reach for the keyboard, ready to hit the big red “DELETE” button on your disasterpiece.

“Say goodbye to this trash heap,” you mutter, “and hello to some actual good writing.”

But, alas, the universe has other plans.

Just as your finger hovers over the delete key, the worst possible thing happens. Your elbow, as if possessed by the forces of chaos itself, nudges the precariously balanced coffee cup on your desk. The liquid inside, which you had so carefully placed right next to your laptop like a ticking time bomb, tips. In slow motion, you watch the dark, caffeinated doom spill over the edge and land directly onto your keyboard.

“No, no, no, no, NO!” you shout, lunging forward, but it’s too late.

The coffee floods your keys like a tidal wave of misfortune. Your laptop makes a sickening little noise, a soft bzzt, and the screen flickers ominously. You sit there, frozen in horror, watching your computer sizzle as if it’s been cursed by the gods of terrible life choices.

And then—just when you think it couldn’t get worse—it gets worse.

There’s a small, but very real, spark. You flinch back, because nothing good ever comes from sparks. The screen flickers violently, the keys start to buzz, and then—before you can even process what’s happening—you feel it.

ZAP!

Electricity courses through your body. Your vision flashes white, your muscles seize, and in one horrifyingly comedic moment, you realize you’re being electrocuted by your own laptop.

You’d scream if you could, but all you manage is a high-pitched whimper before everything goes black.

Dead. You’re dead. Killed by your own coffee and a poorly thought-out novel. Fantastic.

You blink your eyes open, your head pounding like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks—or, more likely, an electrical charge. Slowly, your vision clears, and you find yourself… staring at an unfamiliar, ornately decorated ceiling.

Where the hell are you?

You sit up with a groan, and that’s when it hits you: the bed. It’s massive, plush, and absurdly luxurious—definitely not your usual ratty mattress. Panic sets in, and you scramble out of bed, only to catch your reflection in a nearby mirror.

It’s not your reflection.

Oh.

Oh, Shit.

Staring back at you is her. The villainess. The sharp-tongued, drama-fueled antagonist of your novel. The one with a penchant for ruining lives and stealing the spotlight. The one you made up.

You gasp, gripping the sides of the mirror. “No. NO.” You stare at the dark hair cascading over your shoulders, the perfectly arched brows, and the terrifyingly intense smirk that seems to have a life of its own. “Why am I her? Why this of all characters?”

You step back from the mirror and slap your cheeks, half hoping that’ll wake you up from this fever dream. It doesn’t. You’re still stuck in the body of the villainess, and with each passing second, reality—or whatever twisted version of it this is—sinks in deeper.

“Of course,” you mutter, throwing your hands up in frustration. “Of course this is my life now. I write the dumbest novel in existence, and this is what I get.” You pace in front of the mirror, ranting to no one in particular. “Who even thinks it’s a good idea to make me the villainess? Me?! I didn’t sign up for this!”

After a few minutes of thoroughly berating yourself—and by extension, the cosmic forces that brought you here—you finally stop, resting your hands on your hips.

“Okay. Fine. FINE. I’ll play your stupid game, universe.” You throw one last glare at your reflection. “But I’m not tormenting the heroine. Nope. She can have her stupid one-sided rivalry for all I care. I want nothing to do with this mess.”

The decision made, you shake your head and take a deep breath. “Alright, what’s next?” You glance around the villainess’s extravagant room, trying to figure out your next move. And then, a lightbulb goes off in your head.

Prince Idia.

In your novel, he’s socially awkward, reclusive, and definitely doesn’t deserve to get caught up in this disaster. He’s just collateral damage in your sorry excuse for a plot, and honestly? You feel kinda bad about it.

You snap your fingers. “That’s it. I’ll find Prince Idia. Save him or something. Maybe I can even get a reward for rescuing a royal!” You’re feeling pretty good about this plan—much better than sticking around and causing drama with the heroine, at least.

With a dramatic flourish (you are still the villainess, after all), you head for the door, ready to track down Idia and redeem yourself in whatever twisted way you can manage. Who knows, maybe this whole situation won’t be as bad as you thought.

Or… maybe it’ll be even worse. But you’ll cross that bridge when you get to it.

After what feels like hours of arguing with your stubborn, uptight butler—who is absolutely convinced that your decision to head straight for the abandoned palace at the edge of town is the worst idea you’ve ever had—you finally break free.

“If anyone was kidnapped, that’s where they’d be!” you shout over your shoulder as you march toward your carriage, ignoring his protests about "safety" and "reckless behavior."

Butler or not, you’re on a mission. And after a bumpy ride to the palace, here you are, standing at the entrance, waiting for the traps or menacing guards to pounce.

...Nothing.

It’s strangely anticlimactic, actually. You push open the door, expecting maybe a cackle or some ominous fog. But no, just dust and an eerie silence. You frown, stepping cautiously inside.

“What kind of royal abduction is this? Budget cuts?”

Just as you’re about to chalk this whole thing up to a monumental waste of time, you hear it—a low curse, followed by the distinct sound of tinkering. You freeze, listening closer.

Definitely someone messing with something.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your trusty gun (bless past-you for deciding guns belonged in this novel), and with practiced ease, you pull it out and slam open the nearest door.

"Hands up!" you yell, pointing the barrel directly at—

A very, very scared Prince Idia, crouching beside what looks like a half-assembled mechanical gadget. His wide, shocked eyes meet yours, and he lets out a startled yelp, nearly knocking over the tools scattered around him.

"Wh-What the hell?!" you blurt, lowering the gun slightly. This was not the daring rescue scene you imagined.

Idia flinches, awkwardly raising his hands. “I—uh, I don’t know who you are, but how did you even find me?!” he stammers, looking at you like you just kicked his favorite gaming console.

"How did I—? Are you kidding me?" You gesture dramatically with the gun, still in shock. "I’m one of the people you were supposed to choose from! Remember? The whole ‘Battle for the Hand of Prince Idia’ thing?”

He blinks at you, deadpan. “Oh… Oh, no,” he mutters, more to himself than you. “Absolutely not. I’m not going back. I staged this whole thing for a reason.” He crosses his arms, stubborn. “I’ll just stay here with my gadgets. You can go back to… whatever you do.”

You stare at him, flabbergasted. “What do you mean you staged this?” You glance around the dusty, decrepit palace. “This is your brilliant escape plan? Hiding out in the palace equivalent of a haunted IKEA?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s quiet, it’s out of the way, and no one bothers me here. I didn’t get kidnapped, okay? I just—didn’t want to deal with all the royal court nonsense.” He shrugs, as if staging a fake kidnapping is the most logical thing in the world.

“You do realize that Ortho is still at the palace, right? Your little brother? Alone? Without you?” You raise an eyebrow, watching the slow dawning horror creep across Idia’s face.

“Yeah, so?” He huffs. “He’s the Crown Prince now. I’m sure he’s fine—"

“Bro,” you interrupt, “have you seen high society? Ortho’s gonna get eaten alive. Not to mention the other princes aren’t just gonna let him waltz around with a crown on his head without making his life miserable.”

Idia’s eyes go wide, his brain clearly working overtime as the realization hits him like a ton of bricks. “Oh… Oh no. I didn’t think of that.”

You nod sagely. “Yeah. Big oops.”

He stares at the ground, looking like he’s physically shrinking under the weight of his own bad decisions. And then—something unthinkable happens.

“Help me,” he says, his voice desperate. He looks up at you with pleading eyes. “Please. I’ll—I’ll make you anything you want, build you gadgets, whatever you need! Just help me navigate high society while I… hide in the shadows or whatever.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Are you… Are you asking me to pose as your fake fiancée?”

Idia flushes crimson, his hands flailing. “N-No! Well, maybe? Yes. I mean, yeah, but it’s not like I want to—" He groans, burying his face in his hands. “Just… ugh. Yes. Please.”

You cross your arms, tapping your chin. “Hmm. Fake engagement, huh? Alright, but only if you give me a beach house when this farce is over and Ortho officially takes the crown.”

Idia looks up at you, blinking in surprise. “A beach house? That’s your condition?”

You smirk. “Hey, I know what I want. So, do we have a deal?”

He hesitates for a moment, but then sighs, defeated. “Fine. You get the beach house. Just… make sure no one talks to me. Or atleast, you have to handle almost all the talking.”

With a satisfied nod, you extend your hand. “Deal.”

Idia, still red-faced and awkward, shakes your hand. You can’t help but wonder what sort of chaos you’ve just agreed to—but at least you’re getting a beach house out of it.

Sneaking Idia back to your manor wasn’t the most glamorous affair. He insisted on wearing a cloak, “for dramatic effect,” even though the streets were practically empty.

"You know, for a guy who's supposed to be a genius, you're real bad at blending in," you deadpan as he stumbles over his own cloak.

"It’s supposed to make me inconspicuous," Idia mutters, pulling the hood down further. "People see a cloak, they assume you’re some weirdo and leave you alone. It’s basic stealth mechanics."

“Uh-huh. And tripping on it helps too?”

“Shut up.”

Once inside the manor, you sit him down to discuss the details of how you’re going to spin this whole ‘rescue’ thing. Idia, now a little more at ease, starts fiddling with some gadget he pulled from one of his cloak’s hidden pockets. You can't tell if he's actually paying attention, but you figure you’d better get started.

"Okay," you say, leaning in like you’re about to hatch the greatest scheme of your life. "We need a story. Something grand. Heroic. Full of intrigue, mystery—"

“Or we could just say I, uh, got lost?” Idia offers halfheartedly. “And you happened to find me by accident. That sounds more plausible.”

You shoot him a look. "Idia, this is high society. No one ‘just gets lost for 3 months.’ We need something more exciting. Like, I fought off a band of rogue kidnappers—"

“Did you now?”

“And there was this epic battle—"

“With what? Your sense of direction?”

You glare. “Focus. We need an alibi."

Idia sighs. “Fine, whatever. Make it sound cool, but not too cool. If it’s too impressive, people will start thinking I owe you something.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I already have an idea of what you owe me,” you say, smirking.

His eyes narrow in suspicion, but you move on.

"Alright, so I 'bravely' tracked you down to the abandoned palace—"

"Because obviously that's where I'd be hiding," Idia interrupts sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

"—and I singlehandedly defeated a gang of ruthless kidnappers, saving you from a life of captivity. You, overwhelmed by my gallantry, are forever in my debt—"

Idia snorts. "Forever in your debt? Yeah, right. You're more likely to find me dead than in your debt."

“Just go with it. It’s a good story.”

Eventually, you both settle on a suitably ridiculous tale where you, after days of tireless investigation, heroically rescued him from an evil plot to overthrow the royal family. It's unnecessarily elaborate, full of conveniently absent witnesses and a dramatic escape from a non-existent dungeon. The whole thing’s so ridiculous, you almost feel bad for making anyone listen to it.

“Right,” you say, standing up. “Now we just need to sell this at court.”

When you arrive at the palace, Idia hangs back while you step forward, playing your part as the "heroic rescuer." Ortho’s the first one to spot you, and when his eyes land on Idia, they widen with shock and excitement.

“Brother!” Ortho shouts, practically flying over to tackle Idia in a hug. “I knew you’d come back!”

Idia, not really one for public displays of affection, awkwardly pats Ortho’s head. “Yeah, yeah, don’t make a big deal out of it,” he grumbles, though you can see the tiny smile tugging at his lips. “I was, uh, working on some top-secret stuff. Y’know, important genius-level projects.”

Ortho beams. “That sounds just like you!”

You have to hold back a snicker. Yeah, real “top-secret.” Like avoiding social interaction at all costs.

Soon, you’re ushered into the royal court. The king—who clearly knows something is up—doesn't look remotely surprised by the "revelation" that Idia was never actually kidnapped. But, because royal politics are weird, he plays along.

“So, Prince Idia,” the king says, raising an eyebrow, “I suppose you’ll want the Crown Prince title back now that you’ve returned?”

Idia freezes, panic flashing in his eyes. "Uh, absolutely not. Hard pass. Nope. Ortho’s got it handled, right? He can keep the whole… crown… thing.”

Ortho nods eagerly from behind him. “I’ve got it covered!”

The king sighs but nods. “Very well. And what about you?” He turns to you. “Surely, a brave soul such as yourself deserves a reward.”

Here it comes. You’ve rehearsed this with Idia, but now that you’re on the spot, you can’t help the dramatic flair in your voice as you clasp your hands together and say, “All I ask… is for Prince Idia’s hand.”

The king looks thoroughly amused, while Idia, beside you, is turning a very interesting shade of red.

“What?” Idia hisses under his breath. “That was not the line.”

You grin, leaning closer. “Yeah, but you have to admit, it’s funnier this way.”

To his credit, Idia doesn’t collapse on the spot, though he does look like he’s reconsidering his life choices.

Meanwhile, from across the room, you catch the third prince—your so-called "male lead"—glaring daggers at you. He looks like he's about to burst a blood vessel, while the heroine next to him is scandalized beyond belief.

“B-but Idia’s hand was supposed to be won!” she protests, clearly flustered.

You tilt your head innocently. “Oh? Not satisfied with the third Prince?” you ask, batting your lashes at her.

Her face goes red, and the Bland Prince—whoever he is—looks equally scandalized.

Next to you, Idia quietly high-fives you behind his back.

“Nice one,” he whispers.

As you both walk away from the court, Idia glances over at you, his usual sarcasm softened by relief. “You know, I really thought I’d end up hating this whole scheme, but you’re not bad at playing the part.”

You chuckle, nudging him. “Told you it’d be fun. And now I get a beach house, so it’s a win-win.”

Idia sighs but can’t hide the smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make me go to any more parties, okay?”

“Deal.”

You’re sitting across from Idia in the study, supposedly "spending time together" to prove to the world how deeply smitten you both are. In reality, though, you’re plotting out your beach house retirement plan, while Idia is hunched over his latest gadget, muttering like a mad scientist.

"Okay, so if I tweak this—boom, self-repairing AI drone. Easy. The idiots at court would never get it," he whispers to himself, eyes glued to the wires and gears he's fiddling with.

You’re busy doodling floor plans of your dream beach house, adding an extra pool for fun. “Yeah, totally, sweetheart,” you mumble, pretending to listen. This fake relationship thing is going swimmingly.

That’s when the door flies open, and in waltzes the male lead—of course he doesn't knock. The guy practically drips entitlement as he saunters in, admiring himself in the reflection of a spoon he’s for some reason carrying.

Without missing a beat, you and Idia scramble to look like actual lovers. You slide closer to him, casually tossing an arm over his shoulders, and he—already flustered—just stiffens like he’s been caught in a trap.

“I see you two are enjoying each other’s company,” the male lead says, not even looking up from his spoon reflection. “I came to invite you to the tea party. You know, with all the nobles. The whole ‘Idia’s too traumatized to socialize’ excuse isn’t gonna fly anymore. It’s been three months.”

Idia’s eyes widen, and you can practically hear his soul leave his body. You give him a reassuring nudge.

“Don’t worry,” you whisper. “I’ll do all the talking. You just have to sit there, sip tea, maybe nibble on a pastry, and nod at Ortho. I’ve got the rest covered.”

Idia doesn’t look convinced, but he nods anyway. “Sure, sure, as long as I don’t have to, like, interact.”

The two of you arrive at the tea party, and the moment you step into the garden, you realize you're absolutely screwed. It’s not a tea party at all—it’s some weird medieval Olympics with archery targets set up, and a bunch of nobles are taking turns shooting arrows while their wives cheer them on.

“What… is this?” you whisper, horrified. “Why are there archery targets at a tea party? Is this... a misogyny power trip?”

Idia looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. He’s already backing away slowly, trying to make his great escape, but you grab him by the back of his cloak before he can bolt.

He shoots you a look like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal. “This... is not a tea party. You said tea and pastries. Where are the pastries?!”

“I didn’t know!” you hiss back. “I thought we’d just sip tea and gossip about whose cousin married whose horse!”

Before either of you can make another move, the heroine spots you and immediately latches onto your arm, dragging you to the tea table. At the same time, the male lead grabs Idia and hauls him over to the archery side.

"Wait—no—uh—" Idia stammers, but he’s already been thrown into the testosterone-fueled chaos of nobles trying to outdo each other.

Thinking fast, you impulsively declare, “I’ll be the one doing the archery! For my fiancé, of course. You know, because those thugs that kidnapped him? They had bows too!”

Idia, catching on, immediately puts on his best terrified expression. “Y-Yeah! Bows! I’m… I’m still traumatized! Please don’t make me relive it.”

The crowd collectively gasps, and you inwardly pat yourself on the back. Nailed it.

Somehow, despite knowing absolutely nothing about archery, you end up winning the whole thing. Turns out, none of the nobles have actually seen a bow before. You didn’t even hit the bullseye—you just got the arrow near the target, which was apparently enough to impress them.

The prize? A complex-looking mechanical device, something straight out of Idia’s dream workshop. You look at it, completely clueless, before handing it over to him.

“Uh, here. I have no idea what to do with this.”

Idia stares at the device, his eyes wide in disbelief. “You’re… giving it to me?” He looks touched but also suspicious. “You’re not gonna ask for some crazy favor in return?”

You shake your head. “Nah. It’s all yours. Consider it a thank-you for not leaving me to deal with this disaster alone.”

He blinks, clearly not used to receiving gifts without strings attached. “Well… uh, thanks. And… good job on the archery. You, uh, really sold the ‘traumatized fiancé’ bit.”

Before you can respond, the rest of the nobles start talking about "true love," and you can practically feel the heroine’s eyes boring holes into you. She’s fuming, glaring at the male lead—who, by the way, didn’t win—and looks like she’s about five seconds away from tearing out her hair.

You shoot her a smug grin, thoroughly enjoying her frustration. Idia, who’s been watching the whole thing with mild amusement, lightly bumps you with his elbow.

“Thanks for… you know, saving me from whatever that was. And for giving me this… thing,” he says, holding up the device.

“No problem,” you reply, smirking. “I think we’re pulling off this whole ‘smitten lovers’ thing pretty well.”

Idia snorts, trying to suppress a smile. “Yeah, well, if you keep dragging me to ‘tea parties’ like this, we’re gonna need to come up with a better plan. Preferably one where I don’t have to socialize with archery-obsessed nobles.”

“Deal,” you laugh. "Next time, I'll find a real tea party."

"Please don't."

You’re lounging on a comfy chair, lazily chatting with Ortho, who’s happily explaining some new contraption he and Idia worked on. You’re half-listening, more focused on sipping tea and enjoying the rare moment of peace in this chaotic castle.

That is, until Idia suddenly appears in front of you, looking unusually determined. He stands there, awkwardly shifting his weight, before thrusting his hand out in front of you.

Without thinking, you blink up at him and, in your confusion, place your chin on his outstretched palm. You give him a questioning look, waiting for further instruction.

Idia’s face immediately flushes a deep red. “W-What are you doing?! That’s not—I didn’t—gah!”

Ortho’s trying not to laugh, but it’s clear he’s barely holding it together.

“What?” you ask innocently. “You held out your hand, so I thought…”

Idia runs a hand through his hair, clearly flustered, before spluttering, “I—no, I was asking for your gun!”

“Oh. Right.” Without hesitation, you hand him the trusty weapon you always keep on hand, because at this point, you’ve learned to never question what Idia needs. It’s always better that way.

“Thanks,” he mutters, grabbing it like he’s on a mission and rushing off to whatever secret lair he retreats to.

You glance at Ortho, who’s giggling to himself. “Do you think I should be worried about that?”

“Nah,” Ortho says with a cheerful shrug. “He’s probably just making modifications. He’ll be fine!”

The next day, your luck runs out. Just when you were hoping for another peaceful afternoon, the heroine arrives for a surprise visit, dragging along her little posse of noble followers. You’re seated in a stiff parlor chair, forced to endure the barrage of small talk and fake smiles, feeling as if the universe is punishing you for all the nonsense you wrote in that novel.

One of the heroine’s cronies leans in with a sickeningly sweet voice, “Oh my, Lady Heroine, I just love your new gown. You look positively radiant. Unlike some people who seem to… dress for comfort, I suppose.”

You shoot her a withering glare, but it’s hard to focus when the heroine herself joins in, adding with a falsely sympathetic tone, “It must be so difficult for you, pretending to fit into high society. I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be, keeping up appearances.”

You’re just about to snap back when, suddenly, the door bursts open. In comes Idia, holding your gun, looking both determined and completely out of his element. For a brief, terrifying moment, you wonder what kind of chaos he’s about to unleash.

Before you can ask, he walks straight over to you and hands it to you, his expression serious. “Here. I finished the modifications.”

Your jaw drops as Idia starts rattling off a list of improvements. “So, I increased the firepower by 30%, added a cooling mechanism so it doesn’t overheat, and now it’s got an auto-targeting system that can scan multiple threats at once. Oh, and I swapped the trigger to be more responsive, so you won’t have any lag—”

You can’t help but notice how animated he looks. His usual deadpan expression is replaced by a lively spark in his eyes as he talks about all the intricate details. He’s completely in his element, and you find yourself enchanted by the way he speaks. It’s rare to see him so passionate, so alive.

The moment is shattered when he finally notices the others in the room. His face drains of color, and he gives a forced smile that screams I don't want to be here. Without another word, he turns on his heel and flees the room. But you notice something strange—he had been holding your hand the entire time. His grip, tight and warm, leaves a lingering sensation even after he’s gone.

You’re left holding your newly modified gun, your face heating up as you process what just happened. The heroine's entourage are all staring at you with wide eyes, as if they’ve just witnessed the most romantic moment of the century. Even the butler, who’s usually the epitome of professionalism, is grinning like he’s just uncovered the secret to eternal happiness. The maids nearby are giggling behind their hands, clearly entertained.

You glance down at the gun, then back to where Idia disappeared. Great, you think to yourself. How am I supposed to survive this?

As if reading your mind, the heroine gives you a smug smile. “It seems your fiancé is quite… attached. How charming.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to your cheeks. “Yeah, he’s a real romantic,” you mutter sarcastically.

But even as you try to brush it off, your thoughts keep returning to that sparkle in Idia’s eyes, the way he had held your hand, and the way his enthusiasm had made your heart skip a beat. Maybe this royal con is going to be more complicated than you expected… but also, maybe not as bad as you feared.

Dragging Idia to get fitted for the imperial ball is like trying to drag a cat into a bathtub. He’s actively resisting, feet planted as you haul him toward the tailor with all the enthusiasm of a man being led to the gallows.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” he groans, leaning back so far you think he might just throw himself on the floor in protest. “An angel loses its wings every time you make me do this. Do you want heaven to be wingless? Is that what you want? To singlehandedly destroy heaven?”

“I’m aiming to open a black market for wings, yes,” you say, deadpan, yanking him forward. “The profits will be incredible.”

“You’re a menace,” he mutters, shuffling along behind you, still resisting like a particularly stubborn mule. “Just put me in a broom closet with a bag of chips and leave me there. I don’t need to go to this ball. No one wants to see me.”

“I do,” you quip. “I’m dragging you into society, one unwilling step at a time.”

By the time you actually manage to get him dressed, you feel like you’ve aged five years. But when you take a step back to admire the result, it’s worth it. Idia looks stunning, even if he’s fidgeting like his clothes are secretly made of fire ants. He’s basically the human version of a rare collectible: usually hidden away, but absolutely jaw-dropping when you finally get to see him.

“Alright, Prince Drama,” you say, exhaling, “I’m going to get dressed. Try not to set anything on fire while I’m gone.”

When you return, you immediately notice something’s up. Ortho’s whispering something to Idia, and whatever it is, it’s causing a nuclear-level blush to spread across his face. He’s stiff as a board, and when he turns around and sees you in your ball attire, he goes straight from “mildly panicked” to “catastrophic system error.”

Without warning, he chucks a flower at you. Just full-on throws it like it’s a projectile weapon.

“Here,” he croaks out, his voice cracking halfway through.

You blink, catching the flower mid-air with one hand. “Uh, thanks? Were you... trying to plant this on me?”

Idia’s face somehow manages to get even redder. “No—I mean yes—I mean—” He looks around for help, but Ortho just gives him an unhelpful thumbs up from the corner.

You grin, deciding to help the poor guy out. “Why don’t you pin it in my hair instead?”

His hands shake as he fumbles with the pin, and you’re pretty sure he’s using every ounce of self-control not to stab you in the scalp. You bite your lip, trying not to laugh, but the whole situation is just too funny. Especially when Ortho gives you a conspiratorial wink from behind Idia’s back like he’s this close to winning a bet.

The ball itself is, as expected, a social hellscape. You and Idia survive by sticking together like conjoined twins, fending off the waves of nosy nobles and fake smiles. You can practically see the stress radiating off of Idia, his expression one of pure misery.

And then, the king makes his grand address, signaling the start of the first dance. You feel Idia stiffen beside you.

“Oh no,” he mutters, “Oh no. This is where it all goes downhill. I’ll trip, I’ll break my leg, and then they’ll throw me in the royal dungeon for embarrassing the family.”

“Relax,” you say, squeezing his hand. “It’s just one dance. I’ll lead, you follow. Easy.”

“I hate this,” he mumbles as you drag him onto the floor. “I hate everything about this. I should have just set myself on fire and gotten out of it that way.”

But despite his protests, you manage to lead him through the first few steps of the waltz. To your surprise, he’s not completely hopeless. He stumbles a little at first, but with you guiding him, he starts to get the hang of it.

“You’re doing great,” you say encouragingly.

“Stop lying,” he grumbles. “I’m one misstep away from taking us both out like a bowling ball hitting pins.”

The music continues, and with every turn and spin, you notice the room around you fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just you and Idia, navigating the intricate steps of the dance together. He’s still anxious, but he’s keeping up, and more importantly, you can tell he’s starting to trust you. He’s letting you take the lead, and for someone like Idia, that’s huge.

From Idia’s perspective, this entire ball is a waking nightmare. He’s completely out of his element, surrounded by people he’d normally go to great lengths to avoid. But then there’s you. You’re handling everything with this... ease, this grace that he can’t even begin to comprehend. You’re not just dancing with him, you’re actively navigating the minefield of court politics like it’s no big deal.

And you don’t need to do this. This isn’t your problem—it’s Ortho’s succession, not yours. But you’re here, by his side, going all out to make sure Ortho’s future is secure. Idia’s heart twists in his chest. He doesn’t get it. You’re way too cool for this. Too cool for him. You wink at him mid-spin, and he feels like his brain’s short-circuiting.

"Oh no. I like them. Like, really like them. And soon, they’ll be gone. This whole engagement is just for show. After Ortho’s investiture, we’ll go back to our separate lives, right?"

He swallows hard, trying not to freak out, but it’s too late. He’s in way too deep.

After the dance, you lead him off the floor and start mingling with the other nobles, making alliances and doing your whole “political mastermind” thing. Idia stands awkwardly to the side, trying to blend into the wallpaper, but his eyes keep following you. You don’t have to do all this for Ortho, but you are. And that’s... that’s really cool. He admires you, he can’t help it.

And then—oh no. The lower nobles. They spot him and beeline toward him like sharks smelling blood. Before he can make a break for it, they swarm around him, throwing party invitations at him like confetti.

“Prince Idia, you simply must attend our garden soirée next week,” one of them gushes, eyes sparkling.

“And our evening gala!” another pipes up. “You’ll be the guest of honor, of course!”

Idia’s face goes pale, and he shoots you a look that screams, HELP ME.

You swoop in like a knight in shining armor. “Ah, yes, well, unfortunately, Idia can’t attend. He’s... uh... allergic to sunlight.”

The nobles stare at you, blinking in confusion. Idia stares at you too, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“Allergic to... sunlight?” one noble repeats, frowning.

You facepalm. Smooth. “I mean... it’s a joke! Ha! Obviously! What I meant to say is... uh...” You scramble for an excuse. “I need a nap.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“I—uh—can’t sleep without him,” you blurt out. “It’s, uh, a couple thing.”

The nobles blink at you again, thoroughly bewildered.

You grab Idia’s arm, muttering, “We’re leaving,” and make a quick exit, practically dragging him behind you.

As soon as you’re out of earshot, you let out a groan. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I said that. ‘Allergic to sunlight’? Really?”

Idia is doubled over laughing, completely losing it. “You what?!” he howls. “You need a nap? And you can’t sleep without me?!”

“Shut up!” you say, cheeks burning. “I was trying to save you!”

“You saved me? More like doomed me!” He wheezes between laughs, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, you are terrible at this. You make me look good, and that’s saying something.”

You glare at him, but his laughter is so infectious that you can’t stay mad. And honestly? He looks free. Unbridled, even. It’s the first time you’ve seen him laugh so openly, so without reservation, that it almost makes you forget how embarrassing the situation was.

Almost.

It's finally time for Ortho's investiture, and to say you feel unprepared would be an understatement. Not for any political reason—you've long since mastered the art of navigating court intrigue. No, the issue is far more personal, far more heart-wrenching. After today, once Ortho is declared Crown Prince, Idia will no longer have any excuse to stay in the spotlight. He'll retreat, back into the shadows, probably even fake his own kidnapping to get out of any future public events. And you?

You'll finally get that peaceful beach house you’ve been dreaming about.

But the thought doesn’t feel like a reward. It feels bitter. You don’t want that beach house—not if it means losing Idia. The man who’s wormed his way into your heart with his sarcasm, awkwardness, and hidden kindness.

But you know he’s not someone you can tie down. Idia doesn’t do well with permanence. And as much as your heart begged to hold on to him, you also know he’d likely slip through your fingers if you tried.

So you do what any self-respecting person would in this situation: put on a brave face, slip into your formal attire, and prepare to smile your way through heartbreak.

When you walk out to greet Idia, he’s already dressed in his formal robes, looking every bit the reluctant royal. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you, but he says nothing, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.

You muster up the strength to smile and reach for his hand. “Ready?”

He nods, but neither of you can meet the other’s eyes.

From Idia’s perspective, today should feel like a victory. He’s been planning for Ortho’s investiture for months, and now that the day is finally here, he should be feeling nothing but relief. But no—he’s filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. It’s not about Ortho. His little brother is brilliant, and Idia knows the kingdom is in good hands.

No, what he’s not ready for is letting you go.

If someone had told him a year ago that he would care about someone—want someone—so desperately, he would’ve locked them up in a mental facility. But here he is, standing on the precipice of his worst nightmare.

You, who shine in every public setting, who effortlessly charm everyone around you, are going to move on. He knows he can’t tie you down with his reclusive lifestyle, his constant desire to escape from the world. How could he? You’re everything he’s not—bright, resplendent, beloved. He can’t ask you to give up your life for him.

But when you come out and take his hand, his heart skips a beat. Neither of you are able to look each other in the eye, but the gesture says more than any words could.

The investiture itself goes off without a hitch. Ortho’s speech is flawless, full of the hope and wisdom of a ruler who will no doubt lead the kingdom into a golden age. You’re so proud of him—of the boy who’s become like a little brother to you.

But even as you smile and clap with the rest of the court, you feel a heaviness in your chest that has nothing to do with the political spectacle unfolding before you.

A few tears slip down your cheeks, and you don’t even know if they’re from the overwhelming pride you feel for Ortho or the quiet heartbreak you’ve been trying to suppress all day.

Before you can wipe them away, Idia silently hands you his handkerchief. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look at you, and that just makes the ache in your heart a little worse.

You take it with a quiet, “Thanks,” dabbing at your eyes, and you both stand there in tense silence, watching as the formalities continue around you.

Once the investiture concludes and the guests filter out, you and Idia retreat to a balcony to catch your breath. The sky is darkening, and the cool evening breeze does little to soothe the heaviness you feel in the pit of your stomach.

Idia breaks the silence first. "I've, uh... already arranged the beach house. It’s in your name now."

You blink, looking over at him. His voice cracks slightly, and when you finally turn to face him fully, you realize that he looks like the very picture of heartbreak. He’s not meeting your eyes, staring out into the distance as if it’ll keep him from falling apart.

You swallow hard, trying to keep your voice steady. “Idia... do you want me to leave?”

He freezes, still not looking at you. "I... I want you to be happy. I mean, that's the whole point, right? The beach house, everything—you’ve been wanting that for ages."

“I didn’t ask if you wanted me to be happy,” you say quietly. “I asked if you want me to stay or go.”

The silence between you stretches, heavy and suffocating. You hold your breath, waiting for him to answer. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

“I... I don’t know what I’m gonna do if you’re not here anymore.”

That’s all the confirmation you need. Before he can say anything else, you step forward, cupping his face and pulling him into a kiss. For a split second, he stiffens, shocked, but then he melts into it, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

It’s everything you needed and more—sweet, desperate, and filled with all the words neither of you have been able to say. When you finally pull away, you rest your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily.

“Come with me,” you whisper. “To the beach house. We can... we can figure everything out from there.”

Idia lets out a watery laugh, one that’s half-disbelief, half-relief. “You really want a shut-in like me hanging around your dream house? You’re gonna get sick of me in a week.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “I don’t think I could ever get sick of you. So... what do you say?”

He hesitates for a moment, then gives a small nod, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Yeah... okay. I’ll come with you.”

And just like that, the weight that’s been pressing down on your chest all day lifts. It’s not the end—it’s a new beginning. One where you and Idia don’t have to part ways, where you can move forward together.

As you both stand there on the balcony, holding each other close, the world feels a little less daunting, and the future a little brighter.

The grand hall is slowly emptying out, nobles drifting away after offering their congratulations to Ortho. You and Idia maneuver through the lingering crowd, dodging overly-friendly dukes and avoiding eye contact with barons hoping to extend the festivities.

Idia clings to your arm like a cat being dragged to the vet, mumbling, “Please tell me we’re not about to be emotionally ambushed again.”

You smirk. “Relax. It’s just Ortho.”

“Yeah, that’s what you always say before things get sentimental and I have to deal with ‘feelings.’”

You spot Ortho standing near the dais, still wearing the ceremonial robes from his investiture. Despite the long night, he looks bright-eyed, waving cheerfully at some departing courtiers. When he catches sight of you two, his face breaks into the biggest grin, and he hurries over like an eager puppy.

“There you are!” Ortho beams, practically glowing with excitement. “I was worried you left without saying goodbye.”

“Us? Leave without saying goodbye?” you tease. “What kind of villains do you think we are?”

“Exactly the kind who would sneak away in the middle of a banquet,” Idia mutters under his breath. “And you know what? That plan still sounds great.”

Ortho rolls his eyes fondly. “You’re impossible, brother.”

“Only when I’m awake.”

“Anyway,” you cut in, shooting Idia a playful glare before turning back to Ortho, “we wanted to talk to you before we go.”

Ortho’s smile falters, just a bit. “You’re leaving already?”

You nod, squeezing Idia’s arm. “Yeah. We’re heading to the beach house.”

Ortho tilts his head, curious but not upset. “You’re moving there?”

“For a while, yeah,” you explain gently. “Idia and I need a break from all the court politics. But don’t worry. We’ll visit you. Often.”

Idia shifts beside you, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh... It’s not like I’m leaving forever or anything. Just... you know, temporarily escaping society.”

Ortho laughs, but there’s a softness in his gaze now. “I get it. I don’t blame you for wanting to leave all this behind for a bit.”

You take a step closer, voice lowering. “And hey... I know you’ve got a lot on your plate now. But we’re still family. If you need anything—anything—we’ll be here for you.”

Ortho’s grin returns, full force. “I know. I’m really glad you two have each other. Honestly, I was worried for a long time that Idia might never find someone willing to put up with him.”

“Gee, thanks,” Idia deadpans. “Glad my personal development arc has been so inspiring for you.”

“But seriously,” Ortho says, his expression softening again. “Thank you. You’ve done more for us than you had to. I know you could have just... gone back to your world or left things as they were. But you stayed. And you helped him.”

Oh no. Not this again. That suspicious prickle starts in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to fend off the tears. Not now. Not in public.

“You’re not... making me cry,” you insist, even as your voice wobbles. “This is just... allergy season.”

“Oh no, it’s happening,” Idia groans dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t cry. If you cry, Ortho’s gonna cry, and if Ortho cries, the nobles will definitely blame me.”

“Shut up, you big baby,” you sniffle, swatting his arm before pulling Ortho into a hug. “Come here, you. Group hug, now.”

Ortho barely has time to react before you’ve wrapped him up in your arms. He laughs, squeezing you back. You reach out blindly and grab Idia’s sleeve, yanking him into the fray.

“Wait—wait, what—!” Idia stumbles forward, sandwiched awkwardly between you and Ortho. “This is... I don’t...”

“Shhh,” you whisper, patting his back. “Feel the love.”

“This is emotional ambush!” Idia protests, voice muffled against your shoulder. “I want it on record that I was forced into this.”

“Noted,” Ortho says with a laugh, hugging both of you tighter. “But you’re not getting out of it.”

For a moment, the three of you just stand there, huddled together in a ridiculous knot of limbs, nobles glancing your way but tactfully avoiding comment.

Idia mutters into your ear, “This... this is basically treason against introverts.”

You grin. “Consider it penance for being emotionally stunted.”

“You’re both the worst,” he grumbles, but his arms stay wrapped around you.

Eventually, you pull back, wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand. “We’ll be back soon, Ortho. I promise.”

“I know.” Ortho smiles warmly, giving you one last squeeze. “And when you do, I’ll make sure you never have to attend another dull court event again.”

Idia perks up at that. “Oh. Now that’s what I call incentive.”

With one last shared laugh, the three of you break apart. Ortho steps back, standing tall and proud in his new role, though his smile still holds all the warmth of a little brother seeing his family off.

“Take care of him,” Ortho says quietly, glancing meaningfully at you.

“I plan to,” you reply, meeting his gaze with a small, reassuring smile.

“And you,” Ortho adds, looking at Idia. “Don’t screw this up.”

Idia gapes, indignant. “I—why does everyone assume I’m the one who’s going to screw it up?!”

You and Ortho exchange amused glances before both of you answer in perfect unison:

“Because you will.”

Idia groans. “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

With that, you bid Ortho one final goodbye, tugging Idia along before anyone else can rope you into small talk. As you leave the grand hall and step out into the cool night air, the weight on your shoulders feels a little lighter.

Idia sighs in relief. “Well, that’s over. Time to hibernate for the next decade.”

You chuckle, lacing your fingers through his. “Hibernation in the beach house?”

“Hell yeah.”

And with that, the two of you set off into the night, leaving the court behind—for now.

Oh, what happened to the heroine and the male lead, you ask? Let’s rewind a few months before Ortho’s investiture—back when they were still blissfully unaware of the elaborate downfall that awaited them.

You knew that the heroine and the male lead would try to make a spectacle of themselves during Ortho’s rise to power. The way they pranced around, flaunting their superficial charm and good looks like they owned the place—it was insufferable. And, of course, they were always scheming in the background, hoping to secure power and glory for themselves. You couldn’t stand it.

So, you set up the perfect trap.

It began at a lavish gala, one of those unnecessarily extravagant events where nobles gathered to network, gossip, and throw subtle insults at each other. You arrived fashionably late, as any proper duchess would, with Idia reluctantly in tow, mumbling under his breath about how every social event felt like “one of those long quests with zero rewards.”

“The rewards are emotional, Idia,” you whisper, linking arms with him.

“Yeah, emotional damage,” he mutters.

You suppress a smile, but your mind is elsewhere. Tonight is the night. You had planted the seeds weeks ago, a few well-placed rumors, some whispered insinuations, and a letter you’d accidentally left behind in a well-trafficked corridor. It was all coming together like a beautifully chaotic symphony, and now, the climax.

You spot the heroine first, her radiant smile masking the venom beneath. She’s making a grand entrance, arm-in-arm with the male lead, who, as always, looks like he’s stepped straight out of a romance novel. His hair is perfect, his jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. But you know better. They’re both so predictable.

“They’ve arrived,” you murmur to Idia.

He gives you a blank stare. “Yeah, cool, I’m just here to not die of social exhaustion. Whatever you’re planning... don’t tell me. I don’t wanna be involved.”

“Suit yourself,” you reply with a grin.

You watch them mingle, waiting for the right moment. And there it is—the heroine, attempting to cozy up to the king, laughing a little too loudly at one of his mediocre jokes. You slip through the crowd, making your way to where a certain nosy noblewoman is holding court. A noblewoman known for her love of gossip and her even greater love of ruining people’s lives with it.

Perfect.

You lean in, feigning concern. “Oh, My Lady... I probably shouldn’t say this, but I heard the strangest thing about the heroine. You won’t believe it.”

Her eyes gleam with curiosity. “Do tell, my dear.”

“Well,” you drop your voice to a whisper, “there’s talk that the heroine and the male lead are involved in some... unsavory business dealings. Something about embezzling funds from the royal coffers for their own gain? I don’t know how true it is, of course... but it would explain some things, wouldn’t it?”

You leave the rest unsaid, letting her imagination do the rest. The best part? It’s all technically true. You had orchestrated it so well, the heroine and the male lead had no idea that their “private” meetings and “innocent” financial maneuvers were anything but secret.

She gasps, her fan snapping shut. “I knew there was something off about them! Oh, the gall! I must inform the king immediately!”

And just like that, the gossip spreads like wildfire. Within minutes, the entire room is buzzing with scandalous whispers. The heroine and the male lead notice the shift, the way people start looking at them, and for the first time, they’re on the back foot. They try to smile, but their unease is palpable.

You sit back, watching the chaos unfold, sipping your wine as nobles begin to distance themselves from the pair, shooting them suspicious glances.

Idia sidles up next to you, looking around at the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What... what did you do?”

“Who, me?” You bat your eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He gives you a side-eye. “You’re terrifying.”

“You knew that when you asked me to be your fake fiancée.”

The next day, official inquiries are launched into the heroine and the male lead’s finances, and though they try to clear their names, it’s no use. The damage is done. Their reputations are ruined beyond repair, and they’re forced to withdraw from court life entirely. A fitting end for their ambitions.

Which brings you to the present...

It’s a peaceful morning in your beach house, and you’re sitting on the veranda, enjoying your coffee while the sun rises over the horizon. The sound of waves crashing against the shore is your only company, and for once, there’s no looming political intrigue or royal drama to worry about.

That is, until Idia stumbles out of the bedroom, his hair a messy blue cloud, his eyes half-closed with sleep. He groans as he sees you, one hand on the wall to steady himself. “Why are you up so early? It’s like... the middle of the night.”

“It’s 10 AM,” you reply with a laugh.

“Exactly,” he grumbles, shuffling over to you. Without another word, he flops down beside you, his head immediately finding its way to your neck. He nuzzles into you, muttering something unintelligible, and you chuckle softly, patting him on the cheek.

“You’re such a big baby in the morning,” you tease, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

Despite being married for the past two years, Idia’s face turns tomato-red every time you do something affectionate. He blushes furiously now, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide it.

“Y-You’re unfair,” he mumbles, voice muffled. “Saying stuff like that... it’s embarrassing.”

You grin. “But you’re so cute.”

“I’m not cute. I’m a grown man. And you’re a villain for making me get up before noon.”

You laugh, running your fingers through his messy hair. “Maybe, but I’m your villain. So deal with it.”

Idia groans dramatically but makes no effort to move away, too comfortable where he is. You continue sipping your coffee, enjoying the moment of peace, when he finally speaks again, a little softer this time.

“Y’know... you really did a number on the heroine and the male lead. They’re still laying low, huh?”

“Maybe the rumor I spread was truly a masterpiece,” you say with a smirk, remembering how perfectly everything had gone according to plan.

Idia snorts. “A masterpiece of destruction, maybe.”

You chuckle, pressing another kiss to his forehead. He sighs contentedly, the two of you basking in the quiet comfort of your shared life. It’s moments like this that remind you just how far you’ve come together, from court intrigue and scandal to peaceful mornings at your beach house.

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Series Masterlist ; Masterlist

For the next part,

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x you #idia shroud #idia #idia x you #trash novel chronicles

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