#i was an hour and a half late to class in the end and i had to take this godawful bus which was too hot and the driver drove like a lunatic
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
He wanted to go the flower. Telling her that he would care of her, watching the teenager bloom under his wing.
But he couldn't. He was stopped by a barrier of vines, no matter how much Poli tore into them; Countless more would stand in his way.
Useless, an useless boy he was. A mistake of an adult.
'I'm sorry, Jin', A helpless voice pleaded. Poli couldn't stay there any longer. He could already feel the heavy footsteps of their teacher approaching. The forget-me-not was in trouble himself,
Starting to wilt too.
He'll apologize profusely when she gets home.
Poli swiftly takes a turn to the exit, repeating apologies in his head. Why couldn't he stand up? The girl looked like she wanted to cry. The daisy's petals got plucked off with brutal force, disallowing them to show their beauty.
. . .
The rookie was sure he ran through some red lights. An half hour late at his lecture. Andras wasn't gonna be happy. His year was already going down fall, and it was heading towards his end too at late spring.
Will this flower pass?
Upon arriving of his dreadful class, he felt the same eyes follow him while he walks to his seat. Some from his peers had painted worried looks for him. (But they were laced with amusement, they couldn't care less if he were to wound up dead. The justice wouldn't care for an useless addition like him.)
S--... Poli pants. So--
Andras stares at him, a look like the winter; Cold. Enough to make the flower die, unable to withstand such weather.
You're late, Poli. I do not need a pathetic excuse of an apology. You're pathetic yourself already, Andras plays with his nails, not bothered with his words of poison filled Poli's mind. You don't want to make yourself more of a clown, will you?
Be like your peers.
The classroom was quiet. Many wanted to snicker, but they had to keep the image of caring for the officer. Putting their cents in for him due to pity. Some of that pity already gone.
Poli lowers his head, muttering a simple 'Got it', and sat down onto his seat. Eyes set on the work for today. Words that he didn't understand. English was always a blur to him.
He wished he would become the space he always dreamed of.
@daily-jin-madebygenius
Worriness is a trait that could cause doom to some.
The rookie always worried. About everything. About everyone. But he seemed to cast a blind eye when it came to himself. He was a functioning adult of society, Poli did have the image that he could take care of himself just fine.
The inner child that dreamed upon the stars disagreed, however. He didn't like it whenever the adult on the outside left trash bags rot inside the complex. He hated when food was not an important fuel to the officer.
The child cried when the thoughts of reaching the galaxy came around.
Poli rests his head against his desk, filled with paperwork to the brim. It had about been a week or so since the teenager found a place in his home.
Some time from the incident, too.
The academy forced Jin back into the system, up and working. Poli despised it. A young girl, so brutally brought to look at the injury a wilted rose caused, an injury that engraved itself into her.
Painful reminder, is what they say.
Now that the girl lived here, obvious changes twisted his home around. Trash to machinery that still needed to be worked on in his room, bags that found themselves in the corner.
Jin still hasn't warmed up to the star, so she sustained to making her own little corner in the apartment. He didn't mind. Poli did state several times that the inventor didn't feel the need to speak to him, just to paint him as a ghost he views himself as on the canvas.
The girl still made some attempts, and he certainly did find these attempts grateful. It was hard. Hard for her to cope. Poli was angry when the academy discarded her injury, only batting an eye to her studies.
Threatening her with failing grades if she wanted to rest. His academy was familiar, but for a reason that he, himself found unknown too;
He cared for her more than himself.
Poli sighs. He had been dreaming again while dozing off from the big binder of English he had been teaching himself with. He couldn't focusâ
His focus regrains when he notices books that weren't his onto the bed. Weren't thoseâ
Jin's books! She forgot to take them with her!
He jolts out from his chair, clumsily stumbling onto his knees. The rookie groans, picking himself up and practically crawling to the pile of unforgotten books.
Jin just left. He still has time.
Shoving the books into a navy blue shoulder bag, he faces the door.
And save her from a failing grade. Poli heads out, a duty to start his day off.
@daily-jin-madebygenius
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
QUACK
#ruby rose#weiss schnee#whiterose#white rose#rwby#my art#lmao i've been so unproductive#a little inspired from that one video where weiss called ducks chickens lol#they are water chickens#also i read the timetable wrong for class today and ended up a bit late hjhhjh#it was like 5 mins something and i thought it starts a half hour later lmao#the timetable confuses me so much đ#im glad i always get to school early being super late on the first day would be crappy#ducks chonky
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
About to present my thesis! The love affair between the usage of folk culture in Polish media and I is insane.
#Last final of undergrad was also today!#My professor showed up half an hour late for it#and I ended the class by showing him how the tags on tumblr work#No better conclusion tbh
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
.
#rlly not looking forward to tmrw ughhh#it's almost 3am.. and i need to get up at 8am...#then i have to call the surgery clinic at 9. hopefullt i get thru immediately nd can have my obligatory pre surgery phone call#then i have to hurry and WALK to school (around 1hr) bc i dont have a buss pass#nd they have started using controllants who are dressed in civil clothes so we cant recognize them. i dont need to be fined again.#it's like $150. half my monthly moneyyyy. so yeah i cant risk taking the buss. im gnna walk...#i will be late for class bc class starts at 10. but i have to call before bc class ends at 12.30. and their call times end at 12 lmao#so thats gonna be fun!!!!#then i have to sit in class and try to concentrate bc if i dont send in assignments in each class they're gonna suspend me :((#but ig then i can go home and crash#i just have to force myself to do it and endure it even if it will suuuuuuck#ugh i wish i could at least get sleep before that.. but i just cant fall asleep. nd the hours pass me by whoops#well.. life sucks a lot sometimes thats just how it is i gotta power thru it#why cant nothing ever be easy sigh
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
i thought splatfest was next week (& only found out it was this week because i happened to check splatnet) so i missed half of it ⊠really disappointing
#i probably would have known it was this week if i checked my dash but i haven't been on all week#because classes give me limited phone/computer time & lately I've been using that time to read comics or code#i'll probably be back soon but it's also nice to take a break for a few days. i literally only got on now because i wanted to complain abou#missing half of grand fest LOL. i wanted to see the performances while fighting against my joycon gyro#now i have to look them up instead⊠it's just not the same#i at least played for like an hour this evening tho. but tomorrow I'm out all day TT-TT they should have held it at a time convenient for m#such as next week. Oh well goodbye splatoon 3#i guess it's better than missing it completely tho. that would have been extremely disappointing#it's also bittersweet that 3's already at end-of-life because it came out my first semester of college and now I'm graduating this semester#and then moving on to a different college next semester⊠life comes at you fast. and makes your game lifespan feel infinitely shorter#fiftytenpost#splatoon
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Late Autumn Graveyard
#mona rambles#kind of anyway#spent half of the day in the huge graveyard in my city because first we had a tour from class through a memorial site#then i visited my grandma's grave at the other end of it which is an hour-long walk#it was so cold and lovely and i'm exhausted to my bones but god was it a good day I need to do this more often#there's just something about late autumn. and graveyards. and just.. yeah. yeah anyway#nature photopragpy#love is stored in art
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
what if capitalism is making the one job i thought was possible for me feel unattainable not because i havenât literally been doing it since age 13 but because itâs not well paid enough so until you get into a higher position you have to work multiple jobs and i knew that i always knew that but. fuck. why is adulting going to be so exhausting. what if this really is the best time of my life? being a depressed college student? what if itâs downhill from here?
#I love my quiet getting high nights cause they let me unlock my thoughts#i HATE my quiet getting high nights cause they let me unlock my thoughts#like bestie I was just watching critical role why did I pause it to write this down#anyway in other news I have a ten hour tech day and Iâm âšscaredâš#technically itâs nine and a half though because they moved the call by a whole half hour#and honestly Iâm going to get breakfast for meal swipes so I might end up being late cause breakfast doesnât open until 10#but like fuck if Iâm gonna try to make food here#I want to pack my bag tonight but also I just laid down after doing dishes and Iâm exhausted#Iâve had such a long day too I had two normal classes (one of which I basically led the class. I interviewed two professionals in front of#the whole class. FUCK I probably need to send them a thank you email. thatâs gonna be a tmrw issue or I might draft hifh but like not sendin#but anyway after that I had one hour for lunch and then three hour lab which was fun!! because we went ride pooling but like we walked a#shit ton and in the sun#oh and my roommates mustâve forgotten I come with today cause they left me behind (which is totally fine cause I didnât get up but it did#mean I had to catch the on campus transport and that takes forever and so I was late to meet my friend for breakfast and dining hall was#closed so I had to get food elsewhere which literally cost the same as the dining hall in the morning which is dumb but it took waaay longer#anyway hifh boom takes tumblr diary entries too seriously idk why I channeled my whole life into this post lmao#i think itâs cause Iâm self-isolating HARD (despite being fairly social at the moment? itâs a surprisingly cool balancing act im pulling off#quite well as a busy bee) so I felt the need to pretend to have human connection without actually breaking my self-imposed isolation lmao#boom blogs high
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
do you ever have someone like/reblog your post, so you check out their blog because why not, and then realize that the things they reblog/post are actually right down the alley of things you would like, so you follow them and then you start to scroll through, and then after liking like 15 things in a row worry that they're gonna think "hmm, thats odd"
#i've done this a lot of times#and every time it happens i always get so worries it will make me seem annoying or whatnot#which i know is very not true (hopefully)#anyways#today has been incredibly not good#i got to school 10 mins late#then forgot my locker combo and had to go to the office#so i was around a half hour late to class#then in english the teacher said âhey so this massive end of semester project? yeah that's due this thursdayâ#and she gave us no warning before break so that's fun#(speaking of that project i should probably definitely be doing that right now instead of youtube and tumblr lmao)#and also there's lots of snow and i'm not a big fan of snow so not very happy about the snow
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
in-school-suspension was honestly so extremely funny because i had undiagnosed Problems Disorder and unironically i LOVED being sent to ISS.
average day of ISS (sent there for 3 days because i was late to a class three times within a 9-week period):
arrive at school and say a silly dramatic farewell to my besties
stop at each of my classrooms to receive makeup work from my teachers which always ends up being some bullshit worksheet or textbook busywork
arrive at ISS portable and go through the daily rigamarole intro of "you are Bad and you should Feel Bad. welcome to Bad Class, a confirmation that you will never make anything of your life, you horrid creature. you are not allowed to speak, eat, or feel joy. no doodling or reading, if you don't have makeup work or homework i will assign busywork to you. fuck you. *spits*"
spend the next 4 hours doing my busywork. it is QUIET. i can CONCENTRATE. the work gets DONE EARLY.
the work only took 2 hours maximum, i spend the other 2 hours writing fanfiction manually in a composition book pretending that I'm doing textbook work. i am having the time of my life.
our lunch time is the 10 minutes between the two lunch periods. there is no line, because there's only ever 5-15 ISS students. i get to EAT instead of STANDING IN A LINE for half an hour and only having 4 minutes to scarf down my garbage.
at the end of lunch, we are led in a big duck line through the school and we each get to stop off at our usual classes and pick up work to do. i already did this in the morning, so i use my time to say hi to my friends and figure out what the homework will be tonight.
for the last 2 hours of the day i do my homework. IT GETS DONE. this is the ONLY time during high school where homework gets done. zero exaggeration. i never did homework unless i was actively in a classroom with no choice but to do homework.
we get the usual outro of "this has been your day in Bad Class, because you're a Bad Child. some of you will be here tomorrow, some of you will not, but i'll see you again in a couple of weeks, because you are Bad and will always be Bad."
the school day is over, i did not encounter any of my bullies, i did not have to 'participate in class'. i got all of my work done and then some. i got to work on my fanfics. i hang out with my friends after school and talk to others on myspace/facebook.
it is the best three days i have in recent memory.
i will be there again, probably on purpose.
17K notes
·
View notes
Text
we love spending the entire day trying to prepare for something just for everything in the day to go wrong that you end up not doing the one thing you spent all your energy on today preparing for
#i woke up early and did my hair i bought clothes beforehand bc i didn't have any professional ones i ironed my fucking clothes#i printed resumes i came up with this whole stupid plan to fit all of my stuff into this tiny bag so i could go to class and then change in#the bathroom into the professional clothes later it took me like half an hour just the figure out how to pack the bag so everything fit#i spent half of my first class researching companies and writing scripts so what to say so i could try to make a good impression#i feel like i bent myself fucking backwards to try to make this work and in the end#i burned my leg by hot soup i cried for an hour i forgot to actually eat lunch i went to buy some because i didn't have energy to make any#the fucking train got in my way on the way to pick up my food and i got every traffic light possible so i didn't make it home until 5:30#and at that point i had come up with a new plan to get to the stupid fucking career fair but by the time i got home i realized.#it ends at 6. they start packing up about a half hour before. everyone i saw outside was leaving not going there. i was too fucking late#so now i'm sitting in bed not having accomplished anything eating my shitty lunch/dinner hoping this will all be worth it in the end#like i swear to god if i end up graduating college unemployed i might actually kill myself. i've worked too fucking hard to be a failure#shut up hanna
0 notes
Text
â đđđ đđđđ đđđđđ đđđđđđ đđ đđđđđ (đđđ đđđ đ'đ đđđđđđđđ) â
â PROF. GETO IS SO HOT AND NOW HEâS A DEPARTMENT HEAD !! â
⧠pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part four of the prof geto series)
⧠summary: you and suguru enter a new phase in your relationshipâ long distance. the two of you work hard to keep your relationship alive and well â but what happens when distance and work starts to weigh on your time together?
⧠warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, but also angst depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, long distance relationship, phone sex, shower sex, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, yuta appears *gasp*, fanart found on pinterest (if anyone knows the og artist, pls let me know)
⧠wc: 14,288 | part one | part two | part three
âBaby,â you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek, âcâmon, you have to wake up, we canât be late,â your boyfriend groans, pulling the covers over his head, and you giggle, gently tugging at the comforter held taut over his head.
âNo,â heâs murmuring, as you roll your eyes, âa few more minutes,â
âA few minutes for you will turn into a few hours,â you chuckle, as your fingers finally find the inside of the comforter.
And youâre finally able to pull it off, Suguruâs long locks askew as his pretty obsidian eyes flutter half open, and your lips curl.
How did you get so lucky?
Your fingers run over his cheek, before you press a kiss to his forehead, âCâmon Mr. Department Head, youâre going to be late at this rate â you have to get the keys to your new apartment today and you have a meeting with the staff too,â
Suguru groans, his lips in a rare pout â mornings were truly his most vulnerable times, âDoes it have to be today?â He draws close to you, burying his face in your neck, and your fingers slowly rake through his locks, gently easing the knots that formed in the night.
âUnfortunately yes,â you murmur, your fingers tucking a few locks behind his ear, âbut Iâll be visiting you in two weeks, it will pass by quick,â it did feel like forever â but you knew it wouldnât be. The summer would end one way or another and now he was leaving for Kyoto â officially three weeks before classes start, âand weâll be spending the whole week together â we can explore a little more than we got to before,â
âI know,â he still is surely unconvinced, moving back to look up at you with certifiably the cutest purse of his lips, his warm hand finding your cheek, âbut then why does every minute without you feel so much longer?â
Your lips find his in a lazy kiss, your hand sliding to the nape of his neck, his soft locks brushing against your knuckles, âBut that will make the minutes we do spend together that much more special, right?â
He hums, pressing his forehead against yours, âhow are you so positive about this?â And you sigh, your nose bumping against his, as you press a chaste kiss to his lips again.
âBecause itâs the only way I can not completely break down,â you sigh, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you back into his embrace, your head resting on his chest, heart thudding nearly right under your ear, âwhat time do you have to leave?â
He glances at his phone, ânot for another two hours,â and you curl up, fingers sliding against his smooth skin.
âThen a few more minutes wouldnât hurt,â you murmur.
And youâd take any minute that you could get with him, especially now.
~~~
âDo you have everything?â Suguru never knew quite how much you could fuss over him, until the last few days. You seemed to obsess over every detail â his credentials, his electronics, his clothes â itâs as if you wanted everything squared away â and you simply couldnât focus on anything else.
Because, you probably didnât want to.
âI do, I have everything â I have things I didnât need that you put in the car,â you pout as he chuckles, and he canât help but lean in and kiss the pout from your lips, âIâll be okay, Iâll call you as soon as I get there,â he murmurs, âcan you pack yourself up and get in the car? Then Iâll really have everything I need,â
You blink rapidly, as if to ward off tears, as you canât quite meet his gaze, âI wish I could,â you murmur, as your arms wrap around him, and his do the same, pulling you into a tight hug, âhow am I going to survive the next two weeks without you?â
âItâs just two weeks right? Like you said it will pass by quickââ
You shake your head, âI just said that to make you feel better,â you look up at him, glassy eyed, âI changed my mind, stay here,â you whine, and he laughs, running his fingers through your hair.
âThink itâs a little late for that sweetheart,â he sighs, his fingers sliding under your chin, âafter all, you packed up the rest of my things into my car, so unless Iâm living out of itââ
âYeah, yeah,â you mutter, as you rub your eyes, and he pulls your hands away gently, kissing your tears away, âIâll miss you so much,â
âNot as much as me,â and you lean up to kiss him, a sweet kiss that only leaves him aching for more. Why was it the more he had of you â the more he always needed? He knew these first two weeks would be the hardest, but honestly, heâs not sure if it would ever get easier.
Because he needs you. Always.
âAh wait,â you smile, reaching into your pocket, âyou forgot one thingââ and you pull out a key, and he tilts his head, âitâs a key to my place,â
And he blinks, âYou donâtââ
âI want to,â you kiss him again, even softer somehow, âplease take it,â so he does, as you place the piece of metal into his palm, âplus, itâs practical, if Iâm not around, you can let yourself in,â
âMake myself comfortable?â his lips quirk.
âVery comfortable,â you press your forehead to his again, âGo,â you murmur, you pull away reluctantly, his body already mourning the loss of your touch, your fingers still intertwined, âotherwise, Iâll just block your car with my body to get you to stay,â
He rolls his eyes, smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, âIâd like to see that,â he presses his forehead to yours, âpromise youâll stop me from ever accepting a job that makes me be away from you for any amount of time again?â
âNow thatâs a promise Iâll keep,â you squeeze his fingers one last time, âI think itâs whatâs owed to us isnât it?â
He knows he would never be able to repay what he owes you for everything youâve done for him â how happy youâve made himâ
âIt is,â he smiles, one last kiss to your lips, as he slips into the driverâs seat before he can change his mind.
âBut he would try.
~~~
When you go back to your apartment â it feels far too empty. Even though Suguru didnât live with you â it felt as if he had made a place for himself here, and he had, but he had left it. For now, you remind yourself. His place would be here for him, when he came back.
But it turned out two weeks was a lot of time to kill when you still hadnât started classes â your days filled with nothing but time for you to spend. None of your friends from class had made it back yet either â so you were stuck trying to find things to do. Suguru was busier than expected â dragged to meeting after meeting and showed off more than a show dog to the departmentâs professors, alumni, and donors. Suguru often fell asleep on the phone with you, his soft snores filling your ears, as you fell asleep along with him.
And you couldnât help but wonder if all semester would be like this â especially once his classes started. You understood â you did â this is what you signed up for and it was far from Suguruâs fault. But you couldnât help but miss him. And that wasnât surprising â but what was surprising was how much you missed him.
Your bed was bought for one, but now it felt empty with only you occupying it â a cold barren front without your usual refuge in his arms. And the days werenât bad â you found things to keep you busy â but the evenings and weekends that you usually had spent with Suguru dragged like a child dragged their feet at the grocery store â reluctantly and without patience.
So maybe you needed to do the same that youâd do for a restless child â a distraction.
âDo you know of any organizations I could join?â You had asked Suguru on one of your video call dinner dates â and he hummed thoughtfully as he picked up soba noodles between his chopsticks, âI just feel like I need something to fill my time,â
âThe semester hasnât even started and youâre already thinking about other things to do?â He raises an eyebrow, and you suppress a giggle at the sight of a bit of the soup that remained on the side of his chin. The very same you wished that you could thumb away for him, âmy favorite student is as ambitious as always,â
âYour girlfriend is even more so,â you roll your eyes, as you gesture to your own face to signal, and he wipes his, âcâmon, I know my favorite professor must have something to recommend. I know how he looooves to give me suggestions,â
And he snorts, setting his chopsticks down on his bowl as he finishes his meal, âThen I suggest you think about joining the student government â they have a specific section for graduate students and professors, it would be a good opportunity for you to branch out, and put the philosophy departmentâs brightest on the map,â
Your lips curl at the compliment, âyou think Iâm the brightest?â
âI was talking about myself,â and you roll your eyes, as he smirks at you, as he picks up his phone and his dishes to clean up, âI think it would be perfect. Why donât you speak to Yaga about it? He was trying to goad me into recommending some students,â
âSo this really is self-serving, huh?â the water of the sink runs in the background, as you do the same, placing your dishes in the sink â tomorrowâs problem â as you washed your hands, âwhat would I even know about student government anyway?â
âPhilosophy has a lot to do with governance, you know that â Cicero, Plato, Aquinas, Machiavelliââ
âSaving the most benevolent philosopher for last,â and you can hear him chuckle, as the water squeaks shut, and he picks up his phone, a smile playing on his lips, âdo you think I could help?â
âI think you can do anything, sweetheart, except get a 100% in my class,â and you gape at him, as he laughs, and your heart aches for that sound, more than you thought was possible, âyou should do it, whatâs stopping you?â
And you bite your lip â yes, you wanted to be busier, but you didnât want to be too busy for this. To spend time with Suguru â no matter how little it was. But you knew it would be good for you â for both of you. The last thing you wanted was to be needy â even if this week was proving that you were needier than you thought you were.
âNothing I guess,â you sigh, as you make your way to your bedroom, âIâll email Professor Yaga in the morning,â
âGood,â Suguru is sat on his bed as well now, his phone propped up, âand your boyfriend has another suggestion,â and you raise an eyebrow, âI suggest my favorite student brings my favorite t-shirt with them when they come to visit me,â
You gasp in mock shock, âYou gave this shirt to me,â
âNo, I asked you where it was and you said you packed it already, but I see you pilfered it away when I wasnât looking,â he tilts his head, ânow take it off,â
âProfessor, thatâs not a proper way for a department head to speak to a student,â you still let the shirt ride up as you lean back against your pillows, âhave you not gotten your ethics training yet about appropriate behavior?â
âThatâs interesting, you didnât seem to mind last night when you asked me to send you a very improper picture of my lower half fresh out of the shower,â and you canât help the giggle that escapes your lips, but your expression grows more serious.
âSo itâs all about quid pro quo, Professor?â you sigh exaggeratedly, before pulling the shirt off, âIâll take it off, but how about if you let me keep it, Iâll give you something else?â
God, you know that look in his eye, and you just wished he could do what he wanted â his fingers would find your waist and your back, pulling you quick and eager into his lap â his hard-on pressing through the thin material of his sweatpants he wore around the apartment.
âAnd what would that be?â And the shirt finally up and over, a soft gasp leaving his lips at the sight of your bare body, only your shorts left on. You smile.
âMe, of course,â and heâs adjusting his phone, face up, a small groan leaving his lips, âsir?â
âIs that all youâre offering, sweetheart?â and you hear the slight shuffle of fabric, âbecause that shirt is quite special to me,â
You roll your eyes, a smile tugs at your lips as you see him come back into focus with his phone in hand, his eyes drifting from your eyes to your chest and back, âIs it?â
âIf you remove your clothes, Iâll forgive this small transgression,â and his other hand is out of sight, no doubt stroking himself, though you were no better, fingers toying with your cunt through your drenched panties.
âI think that price might be too high, Professorâ you might have to give me something in return,â you smile, toying with the elastic of your shorts, and he bites his lip, gaze heavy even through the screen of your phone.
âAnd what do you want, princess?â
âI thought it was obvious,â as you slip off your shorts, propping up your phone on the pillow designated usually for him, nothing else underneath, âI want you.â
âFuck,â heâs hissing, as you can hear the distinct sound of the squelch of his hand running up and down his cock, âsweetheart, do you have any idea what youâre doing to me?â
And your fingers are teasing your wet folds, imagining it was his own, his thick fingers sinking into one by one, heâd fill you so much better than you do â âshow me, Suguru,â He does, flipping the camera to show his erection â flushed red and pretty â beads of pre-cum dripping from the tip, âall this just for me?â And your fingers push past your entrance, a gasp leaving your lips, âmy fingers arenât enough for me, Suguââ
âshow me now, let me tell you how to fuck yourself,â and youâre nodding, hand shaking as you flip the camera around to show your fingers notched inside, gleaming with your pre, dripping down your knuckles, âmove,â and you do, slowly at first, and his hand moves too, starting to fuck his fist, âfaster, curl your fingers just like I would,â and you do, a whine leaving your lips, âgood girl,â he grunts.
The sounds of both of your pants and moans fill your ears, your eyes fluttering open to watch him touch himself, âTease the tip for me, baby,â you murmur, fucking yourself deeper, when you see him thumb his slit, âwish I could taste you, suck you off, until youâre cumming down myââ
âPrincessââ you know heâs close by the way his dick twitches in his fingers and the way his lips moan your name, âadd another finger,â and you do â fuck, the stretch is nothing like his cock, but you can almost imagine it is, âIâm sure youâve gotten tight without me to fuck you â have you been touching yourself when Iâm not around?â You bite your lip, your hesitation was all the answer he needed, âwhat do you think about?â
âThink about you,â youâre fucking close too, your fingers drenched in your own precum, âthink about you coming back, about you kissing me at the door before pinning me against it,â And heâs groaning, the sounds of his hand pumping his cock ringing in your ears, you canât hang onâ âSuguruâpleaseââ
âBe a good girl, and cum for me, sweetheart,â and you do, your toes curling and eyes squeezing shut as you do, phone slipping from your fingers, as you hear him groan too, the distinct sound of his cum splattering against his sheets.
You both come down from your highs, pulling your fingers from your cunt, grabbing tissues from your bedside table to wipe off your hands.
âSugu?â You pick up your phone, and your boyfriend does the same, his cheeks flushed a gorgeous red, slightly more rumpled than before. And you canât help but wish you could lean over and kiss him as you would, running your fingers through his hair, âI miss you,â
He sighs, gaze filled with affection and longing, âI miss you too, so much â you have no idea, princess,â as you tug his shirt back on, and you lie back, turning on your side, âjust one more week,â
âIâm counting the days,â you murmur
âIâm counting the seconds,â and you snort, his lips curled in the damned smile that dragged you into his mess.
âAlways have to one up me donât you?â you bury your nose in the fabric of the shirt, the scent still very distinctly him.
âIt is my job after all,â and you smile, âI love you,â
âI love you too,â but you know where this is going â as it always did almost every weekday night.
âI should hang up â I have to clean up andââ
âReview for meetings before bed, I know,â you finish and he raises an eyebrow, âvery predictable, Professor Geto,â
âIâll work on that â watch, Iâll surprise you,â and you chuckle, but you canât help but frown, âwhat is it?â and you shake your head, âsweetheart,â and you know he wonât let it go.
âJust call me after youâre done, before bed, okay?â you sit up, glancing at your shorts on the floor, shifting uncomfortably with the wetness between your thighs, âI have to change my shorts and my sheets,â
âYouâre welcome,â and you roll your eyes, his lips curled in a small smile reserved just for you, âlove you, sweetheart.â
âI love you too,â the call ends, and youâre left looking at your lock screen, a sigh caught in your throat.
Just one more week.
~~~
You stood before the door of one of the university's conference rooms â on one of the floors you did not tend to frequent. You spent most of your time in the classrooms if not the library â but you had attended a few meetings up here for one reason or another. But this was the first time you were walking into a room in quite a long time that you didnât know anyone.
The student government met once before the semester started â a getting to know you forum for new members, such as yourself. There was no real formal election process for your position as senator â as long as other students were not vying for the position. And luckily for you, no other philosophy graduate student had chosen to volunteer for this entirely optional and unpaid position â a mystery really.
But the nerves still remained â though there was nothing more to do than enter. So you did â opening the door and finding the room filled with quite a few faces, but none of them familiar. You took a seat in a relatively empty section, but adjacent to enough faces, an empty seat on either side of you. The people around you chatted, while you pulled a notebook and pen out â your phone face down on the table, before you grab it and shoot Suguru a quick text.
You: in my first student government meeting! wish me luck!!
The meeting started without much formalities â a simple round table introduction that had you close to going last, but you had a chance to learn more about the other graduate students â most of them were students representing different departments, as you were, while there was also the traditional roles of president, vice president, secretary, and treasurer.
Eyes slid to you now, the president gesturing to you, her name escaping you, âAnd our newest member,â
They finally turned to you as you waved to the group, introducing yourself by name, âIâm a graduate student in the philosophy department, Iâm a third year in the program, and I heard about the group from my department headââ
âProfessor Geto?â one of the girls piped up, a literature graduate student who you didnât recognize, but you were sure had taken Suguruâs class or at least had heard about him.
You shook your head, forcing a polite smile on your lips, âProfessor Yaga actually told me about it,â she nods, and the president claps her hands together.
âAlright, this meeting is just to mingle and get to know each other, so please enjoy the refreshments and food provided,â and her eyes flicker down, âI think weâre only missing one person from the groupââ
And the door bursts open, âSorry, sorry! I didnât mean to run lateââ a student with dark black hair that rested past his chin, bangs that framed his face on either side, and a small smile on his lips.
âStudents keep you again, Yuta?â the president asks, and the dark haired boy known as Yuta slipped into the room, and took a seat beside you, sighing with a nod, as he set down his things, âgood timing, you can help our newest member get acclimated,â
His eyes flicker to you, a smile pulling at his lips, âIâd be happy to,â and the group begins to get up to grab food and refreshments, as Yuta offers you his hand, âIâm Yuta Okkotsu, itâs nice to meet you.â
~~~~
âI hope you stay a part of the organization,â your eyes snap up at Yutaâs words â a curious look on his face, âyou just seemed a little overwhelmed in there,â he tilts his head, as the two of you walk towards the metro station, âI may be wrong, butââ
âNo I was,â for someone who looked soâŠinnocent, he was really observant â his dark eyes felt like they could pierce right through you â even if he wouldnât let them do so, âit was a lot â Iâve never been a part of a formal structure like this so it was just a lotââ
âItâs not as formal as you think â the proceedings do drag on but Maki, the president, tends to skip the formalities for the most part â sheâs as bored of them as you are,â he chuckles, his fingers adjusting the strap of his backpack slung loosely over one shoulder, âusually the meetings donât take very long â the events mostly take up our time when it comes to planning and organizing, but we hold a couple in conjunction with other organizations so that helps take the load off,â he explains, âwe also organize issues important to the students to present to the president of the university quarterly, so we tend to have more meetings around that time, but we schedule the meetings after midterms, and after finals, so it doesnât interfere with studying,â and then he catches himself, rubbing the back of his neck, âsorry, Iâm going on and on, I should have just asked you if you had questions instead,â
âNo, it was really helpful, Yuta,â you smile, âyouâre very thorough,â and you donât notice how a faint flush appears across his cheeks.
âI was new last year to the organization, and I remember being really overwhelmed â the professor I usually T.A. for roped me into it, heâs been away on research for the last year or so, but I stayed apart of it, because,â he shrugged, a smile on his lips, âI made some really good friends, and I hope you do too,â
You pull out your phone, no reply from Suguru, a small sigh on your lips â itâs fine, heâs busy, âGood friends are exactly what I need right now I think,â you check the time â Suguru wouldnât be out of meetings for dinner at this rate, âdo you want to grab dinner? I know a good ramen spot not far from here,â
âSounds great,â and you led the way, not noticing the way Yutaâs eyes lingered on you a second too long, before he started to follow you, keeping pace beside you.
A week would pass by quick.
~~~
âWhat time will you be here?â Suguru asked, as you had him on your laptop this time on video call to watch you pack for the couple days you were spending with him before the semester started.
âIâm taking the 8:00 AM train, so Iâll get there probably by 10:15, so like two hours,â you werenât sure how much to pack â you didnât want to do a ton of laundry right before classes started, but you werenât sure what you wanted to wear, âcan you come here pack for me and go back?â
He snorts, âIâll be right over, but at that point, wouldnât it be more conducive for me to just stay with you?â
âBut I want to come see you,â you pout, and he shrugs, as his eyes flicker up from his work.
âThen youâre going have to pack,â and you give a heavy sigh, continuing to choose what clothes to take. Your phone goes off and itâs a text from Yuta;
Yuta: hey! are you free next week to get dinner after the meeting? But this time Iâm choosing the restaurant :)
You pick up your phone and text back: if itâs that chapati place you mentioned, Iâm down â otherwise, youâll have to deal with my severe disappointment
Yuta: Iâll have to leave you in suspense then
You snort, tossing your phone down, as your eyes go back to the screen to find Suguru smiling at you, âWhat?â
âJust enjoying the view,â and your cheeks burn, as you roll your eyes.
âShut up,â you mumble, rolling up a shirt in a hurry in a manner that definitely doesnât qualify as folding, âwhat view? Me in an oversized t-shirt and shorts?â
âExactly, with that pretty smile on your lips? Best thing on anytime,â he replies, and you bite back that same smile he complimented â but itâs the one reserved for him.
âYou dork,â you mutter, âdonât say cute things or Iâll take the last train tonight to see you sooner,â
âIâd never make you do that so Iâll stop, for now,â he sighs, resting his cheek on his palm, his gaze growing a little more heady, âbut tomorrow? Iâll be sure to tell you every single thing I love about you,â
And your lips curl, as you sigh, âI love you, but you should get some rest and I should finish packing and do the same,â
He gives a small smile, âYes, maâam, Iâll see you tomorrow, pretty girl,â
âIâll be the one running into your arms,â
âUndoubtedly very late,â
âWhat was that? The sound of me missing my train tomorrow?â And he laughs, as you cross your arms, head held far too high, âthatâs right. Iâm holding myself hostage,â
âWell if youâre both hostage and hostage negotiator, tell both of you that Iâll bring you your favorite drink and buy you the breakfast of your choice,â and you peek at him, âcoming around?â
âIâll see you tomorrow, you better have the ransom ready,â you let a smile escape your lips, âI love you,â
âI love you too, Iâll see you tomorrow,â and he hangs up after, and you sigh â tomorrow, finally.
Youâll see him again â you just hoped these few days didnât pass by quickly.
~~~
Suguru waited at the station for you, your preferred hot beverage in hand, along with your requested pastry, both in hand as he waited. He opted to have his hair up in a bun due to the weather, a slight wind that carried the warning of fall in the crisp air that morning. But not whenever a snowstorm could have kept him from you that morning â it had been far too many days and nights spent without you by his side while spending them instead in stuffy rooms filled with colleagues and donors.
But now â and he sees people pour from the platform, a throng of harried travelers looking to get to their next destination, and among them all, he spots you â with the red suitcase you insisted made it easier to find amongst the others (it didnât).
And heâs approaching you, slipping past others, and your eyes find his, your lips in a grin at the sight of him, as you find your way into his arms in a moment â suitcase clattering to the floor probably to the other travelersâ dismay. But he grabbed the handle and turned it upright in a moment, before his arm curled back around you.
âHi,â you whisper, and he could have stood there forever â it had felt like forever since he had held you. His palm cupped your cheek, a thumb brushing back and forth against the length of it.
âYou always know how to make an entrance sweetheart,â he murmurs, forehead pressed to yours, as your fingers intertwine slowly but surely â as if they hadnât parted, âbut I wouldnât have it any other way,â
âUh-huh, donât act like I forgot about the ransom Iâm owed,â and heâs rolling his eyes, as he takes your luggage, wrapping an arm around you, âwhere is it?â
âIn the car, how about we stop by my apartment, drop off your things, rest for a bit and then we can grab breakfast, as promised?â You smile, leaning into his side, wrapping your arms around his middle. He presses a kiss to the top of your head.
âAs long as itâs with you.â
~~~
âYou made breakfast for me?â you gasp, as he had set the table with all the breakfast staples â âi thought we were going to âgrab breakfast?ââ
Suguru wipes his hands, as he brings over two pairs of clean chopsticks and sits beside you, âWell I thought you might be tired from the train ride so I thought we could have breakfast in and relax before going out before lunch,â
You take the chopsticks from him, fingers brushing as you do, leaning into his side, âItâs not fair being this perfect,â you murmur, your head against his shoulder, nose brushing against the soft fabric of his t-shirt and his skin, âwhen are you going to show me your flaws?â
âI think Iâve shown plenty of those the last few months with how things have went before we even began dating,â his lips brush against your forehead, ânow I just want to treasure you â as much as I can,â
âMe too,â you lean up and meet his lips in a soft kiss that steals the logic from your head and the air from your lungs â and only leaves his touch behind, âSuguruâŠâ and you want to admit to him how hard itâs been without him, how much harder it's been than what you expected â and how you worried about how hard would it get during the semester, when you both were busy? âI really missed you,â you bury your face in the crook of his neck, and you speak before he can get even a syllable out, âbut Iâm so glad weâre together now,â
He didnât need to know â he would only feel bad. You could handle itâ
âMe too,â his gaze is soft, as he pulls back to find your lips in another achingly gentle kiss.
For him.
~~~~
âThis weekend is supposed to be for you, why are you shopping for me?â Suguru says yet again as you peruse another homegoods store, looking for something to decorate what you claimed were the âbarren landscapeâ of his apartment, âwe should do something you want to,â
âThis is something I want to do,â as you inspect a globe with the same scrutiny youâd apply to a Aristotelian text â brow furrowed in thought as if this knick knack would give you some unintelligible insight on metaphysics (it did not), âyouâre going to be living there for a while, I want you to have an apartment that doesnât look like a serial killer resides there,â
âWhy does it look like that?â
âBecause it doesnât look lived in,â you pick up a set of matching bookends, âthese things make your house look lived in and feel welcoming,â and then you put the bookends down thoughtfully, âalthough we should start with more basic things, like frames and a full length mirror,â
âWell if I look like a serial killer, you donât have to worry about anyone who comes over, because they will think Iâm a murderer and feel very unwelcome,â and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with him, âI donât care about other people â I care about you, so will this make you happy?â
You nod, âBecause I want you to feel happy here, and that will make me happy,â
And he wants to say the only thing that would make him really happy would be if you lived here with him â to wake up beside you each morning, to come home to you each evening, and fall asleep beside you â but he couldnât say that. It would almost be cruel to say something that wasnât possible right now. But it would be â it would be possible.
âOkay, letâs find some things,â his arm curls around your waist, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, âbut remember, you do love this serial killer,â
âThatâs only because Iâm far too wonderful to murder,â and he rolls his eyes, as the two of you continue to shop, and he watches you continue to pick up and examine things â and he canât help but wonder if this is what it would be like when you both shop for your place together. And he bites back a smile.
Only a few more months â and you could be together. It wasnât forever.
Thatâs what he kept telling himself.
~~~~
âYou said no work while I was here,â you were doing your best pout if only to change his mind, but he was unrelenting, his shoulders slumped in resignation, and his lips in a purse at his desk in his bedroom, âSuguruuuuu,â youâre officially whining, and you know itâs not his fault, but you have such little time with him, you donât want a minute to be wasted.
âI know, sweetheart, but Yaga wants to speak about the semester starting, and I didnât have much of a choiceââ you sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, burying your face in the crook of his neck, lips pressing kisses to the hollow of his throat, âprincessââ he groans.
âI want to get in my cuddles before,â and your teeth graze the juncture of his neck and shoulder, and he sucks in air between his teeth, âhow long is your meeting?â
âAbout half an hour,â and you hum, kissing his lips, languid and slow, your fingers threading his lengthy tresses, âitâs about to startââ and youâre kneeling down in front of his chair, as the video call starts to go off, as you look up at him between his knees, âsweetheartââ heâs hissing, wide eyes, as you undo his belt and the zipper of his pants.
âThen letâs not waste any time,â you grin, toying with the waistband of his boxers, âpick up the call.â
And you thought he would kick you out from underneath, nudging you away, and you would relent if he really didnât want this â but he doesnât. He swallows thickly, Adam's apple bobbing as he picks up the call, placing his earbuds in his ear.
âHi Professor Yaga,â Suguru says, and youâre almost surprised how normal he sounds with you between his legs, but Yaga canât see the way his muscles tense when your fingers spring his already half hard cock free, âYes, we do have a couple things to cover. No, I donât mind starting,â
Well if he insists, youâd start too.
Your fingers slowly stroke him to fully erect, pre-cum dripping over your fingers as you do, your eyes flickering up to see his expression still perfectly normally, the only telltale sign being the way his fingers white knuckled the armrest just out of sight. His cock was so unfairly pretty â a deep red at the tip with a slight curve that had your thighs pressing together at the thought of it sinking into you. Your lips press a kiss to the tip and he wavers mid sentence, as you smirk against his cock, as your mouth parts to suck him off.
And it seems like Yaga is the one speaking now, as he seemingly mutes himself, resting his chin against his hand, covering his mouth with his fingers, âFuck, sweetheart,â he swears under his breath, as your tongue traces along one of his veins, sucking at the tip, as your fingers drift to toy with his balls.
The tip of your tongue flicks against his weeping slit, bobbing your head along the length, as a hand of his drifts down to thread in your locks, nails digging into your scalp.
âS-sorry, what was that?â he seemingly unmuted himself at a question, and youâre sucking even harder, nose brushing against his pubes as his tip brushes against your throat, âN-no, Iâm fine, sorry, Iâm not feeling well,â
You suck one more time, and heâs gone, as he barely can mutes himself and turns off his camera, groaning, as he spills down your throat, as you swallow it, his head thrown back against the headrest of his chair. And heâs panting, as he looks down at you, half lidded and lost in pleasure, gaze darkening as he watches you pull away, a string of spit and cum connecting you to his softening cock, as you adjust his boxers and clothes.
âWhat happened to Yaga?â and his glance tells you he certainly does not care â chest heaving, as he runs his fingers through his hair.
âDisconnected after I went silent â Iâll tell him my internet went out,â and youâre slowly rising out from between his legs, and his fingers find your waist, tugging you close, âyou really are a bad influence,â and his lips find yours, your fingers cupping his cheek.
âI told you I didnât want to waste time,â you grin, and in one smooth motion, heâs dragging you into his bed, giggling leaving your lips as he showers you with kisses, âSuguru!â you yelp as you fall backwards into his plush bed, and heâs tugging off your shorts and panties with ease, folding your legs up, one of them brushing against his shoulder, as he kisses your inner thigh, a smile against your heated skin.
âMy turn.â
~~~~
âHow did this week go so quickly?â you sigh, burying your face in his chest on Friday night, knowing you have to get on a train tomorrow morning, âitâs not fair, itâs not enough time,â you murmur, tracing circles on his skin, âand now I donât get to see you for a month,â
âI know, I donât want you to go,â he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, âbut it will pass by quick â youâll be busy with classes and Iâll be busy with work â it wonât be as bad as we think,â And you donât want to admit your fears to him â it would make it all too real, as if they would emerge from the syllables your lips spoke into a new reality before you â and you couldnât take that risk, no matter how illogical it was.
âI know, I just canât imagine spending this much time apart,â you glance at him, âdonât know what I did without you before, I donât even remember what I spent my time doing,â
âRevising the essays I made you write?â and you pinch his cheek, and heâs laughing, âsorry, couldnât resist making that joke,â
âYeah, I recall you couldnât resist me either,â and his fingers drag lazily over your cheek, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear.
âWell, who really could resist you?â he sighs, content seemingly in just the act of touching you, âI tried and failed â and I am a master at resisting temptation,â
âA paragon of morality truly,â and he snorts, as you kiss his neck sweetly, ghosting over the places you had left marks, âthough there was definitely nothing moral about what we just did,â
Your lips find his again, a lazy kiss that grows slowly with more heat the more your lips meet again and again and again â until heâs parting, âItâs just a month,â he says as if he can sense your anxiety, âIâll come see you, I promise,â
âSo if you donât come, I can summon Immanuel Kant to scold you for not fulfilling your promise?â and he laughs.
âA scolding from you would be far more effective, but Kant is able to come if he can make it â deathâs a worse commute than to Tokyo,â
âWho says?â you mumble, pressing your forehead to his, âyouâll take me to the station?â
âOf course,â and you have only one request.
âDonât come inside ok?â his brow furrows, but you softly smooth it with the back of your knuckles, âOtherwise, Iâll end up crying â and I rather not subject you or the passengers near me to that,â and he chuckles, a frown still on his lips.
âAre you sure?â
It wasnât just the crying â you knew if he walked you to your train, youâd want to make him come with you or let yourself stay â and you couldnât do that, not to either of you. This was temporary â it wouldnât be foreverâ
âIâm sure.â you kiss his lips again, rolling over so you were on top, your bodies brushing against each other with the familiar heat youâd miss when you were back home again.
âso why did it feel like forever?
~~~
âYou promised me a better meal and this place nearly burned my taste buds off,â you grumble, as the two of you stand outside the restaurant, rain pounding against the awning as it starts to come down, the spicy food from the chapati place doing little to keep you warm now against the frigid wind of the autumn carrying the promise of being drenched with it.
âCome on, it wasnât that bad,â Yuta chuckles, holding a hand out for the rain, ânow at least the spice will help on the way home,â
âThe only good thing about this place is that it's close to my apartment. I have a ton of work to do already â and itâs only the first week of classes,â you sigh, pulling out your umbrella, and glancing at him, hands still empty and unmoving. You hold up your umbrella, waving it, âDid you not bring one?â as you pull out your phone to check the weather reports.
âI didnât know there was rain in the report for today,â he sighs, waving you off, âgo ahead, Iâll wait for it to let up or find a convenience store nearbyâ I just need to make it back to the stationââ
âTrains are down because of the storm,â you raise an eyebrow, as you glance at him, âcome on, you can stay at my place,â
Heâs shaking his head, holding his hands up, âNo, I donât want toââ
You tilt your head, glancing around at the clearing street and the distant rumble of thunder, âSo are you going to camp out here outside this restaurant for the night or?â and heâs chewing his lip, as you chuckle, âitâs not far, we can share the umbrella, and hopefully we wonât get completely soaked,â
âWell, weâre not completely soaked,â you close the door behind you both, dripping water onto your floor, as you sigh, âhold on Iâll grab towels,â and you do, coming back quickly so you both can dry off.
And you notice the damage done to his clothes are far worse than yours, completely soaked through, the towel doing little to help aside from stopping the water from forming a larger puddle near your entryway.
âYou held the umbrella mostly to my side, didnât you?â And he pauses, his hesitation the answer you needed, as you sigh â âyouâre more of a martyr than you need to be,â
âWell, I want to help my friends,â he gives a small smile.
âEven at the detriment of yourself?â And he shrugs.
âI can handle it,â and you shake your head, as you head to your closet pull out a fresh towel and clothes â but not your own.
âGo change,â and he glances at the clothes, hesitates, but takes them, as he frowns, âitâs fine, Yuta, go shower and change,â you show him where the bathroom is, and how to turn on the water.
You head to your bedroom to change and dry off, grabbing a fresh t-shirt and shorts â chewing on your lips â you had to give Yuta some of Suguruâs clothes you had stolen â your clothes wouldnât exactly fit him properly. But you pouted, now you couldnât sleep in Suguruâs shirt tonight, and you sighed, it was just as well â you had to wash the shirt so now it didnât smell like him now.
You come out into the living room, hopping onto your couch and flipping on the TV, looking for something to watch. And then you hear the bathroom door, glancing behind you, âDone?â
âYeah, thank you again for this,â he shifts in place, steam escaping from the bathroom behind him, his bangs still a little damp and cheeks flushed with a tinge of pink along his cheekbones, âwhat are you doing?â
âJust looking for something to watch,â and he comes over, sitting on the other side of the couch, âdo you have any preference?â
He shakes his head, âNo, not really,â and you choose a random movie to put on, a cheesy rom-com that had just come out on a streaming service, âis that what you like to watch?â
You shrug, running your fingers through your hair, âI like watching bad movies â itâs something I do usually while I do my work â the genius is, I donât have to pay attention to follow the storyline,â and your eyes still on the TV, you donât notice how his eyes linger on your face, a smile pulling on his lips, ânow look at this, itâs the classic âguy likes girl, but girl is too dense to notice,â you shake your head, âdoes that even happen in real life?â
And Yuta parts his lips to reply when your phone rings, and you grab your phone â a video call â Suguruâs name flashing on your screen, and you canât bite back the smile on your lips, âHold on, I have to take this â just make yourself comfortable, Iâll be in the bedroom,â
You head into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you, as you pick up the call, âHey stranger,â you smile as his face comes into view, glasses perched on his nose, as he grins back at you, âI miss you,â
âI miss you too,â he rests his face against his hand, âIâm sorry I havenât been able to talk much â there have been a lot of issues popping up because its the first week â a lot of department requests from professors and students alike,â
âMr. Bigshot Department Head has forgotten about his girlfriend, huh?â you mock pout, and he shakes his head, a longing gaze that makes your breath stutter in your chest.
âI could never forget you â how can I when all I dream about is you?â and you bite your lip, cheeks burning, âdid I make you smile?â
âShut up,â and he laughs, and then you hear a noise from the living room, a clatter that catches your attention.
âWhat was that?â
You wave him off, âIt was just my friend, heâs staying over because of the rain â heâs in the living room,â
And he pauses for a moment, expression unreadable, âWhich friend?â
âHis name is Yuta â I met him during my first student government meeting â heâs kind of showing me the ropes,â and he nods, his silence palpable, gaze downwards and then it dawns on you, âAre you jealous?â
And his eyes flicker up, âSweetheartââ
âOh my god you are, thatâs so cute,â you smile, as you delight in the slight dusting of pink that settles over his cheeks â heâs far too pretty for his own good, and your voice softens, âyou have nothing to worry about, Suguru â I love you, no one else can even compete,â
He sighs, and you wish you could kiss him, âI know, I know â Iâm just,â his brow furrows, his lips stuck in a frown, âI just miss you,â
âThen come over,â you tease, and he gives a small smile.
âYou have company,â he reminds you, and you sigh, glancing at the door, âyou should go back,â
âIâll work on inventing an instant teleportation device,â a forced laugh leaves his lips, âSuguru, are you sureââ
He shakes his head, âIâm fine, really, just call me before bed if you have time okay?â
âYeah of course, I love you,â a genuine smile gracing his lips.
âI love you too,â and you hang up, heading back out to find Yuta watching TV, âsorry about that,â
âItâs fine, is everything okay?â he glances at you, tilting his head, ânothing wrong?â
You shake your head, sitting down beside him, grabbing a cushion to place in your arms, âIt was just my boyfriend â he usually calls me around this time,â
Yuta gives a slight nod, âOh, is he away this weekend?â
âNo, weâre long distance â he lives in Kyoto,â you explain, sighing, leaning back on the couch, âthatâs why I took the call, otherwise, I would have called whoever back,â
âYou donât have to do that â you should be allowed to do whatever you need to. Itâs your home,â and you smile, shaking your head before you toss the pillow at him, âw-what?â
âYouâre important too, Yuta â youâre my friend and a guest â Iâm not going to just leave you out here by yourself without saying anything,â you hold your hand out, âcan I have the remote?â And he passes it to you, fingers brushing, as you flip through more movies and TV, âare you tired at all?â
His gaze stays straight ahead, as he shakes his head, âNo, not yet,â and youâre choosing a movie to watch, his fingers clasped over each other â the warmth of your touch still lingering.
And you had no idea that his heart was aching at the thought of you being taken â much like the very someone who had taken you.
~~~
âI understand, Suguru, really I do,â and you did â you always did â but this time, it was a little hard to swallow.
It had been weeks since the two of you had seen each other, not over a screen. It was already a month and half into the new semester â and each time he was supposed to visit you, something or another came up â a faculty event, a staff meeting, grading to do, and god knows what else.
And you could bear it the other times â it wasnât his fault. He had work to do. He had things he had to take care of with little choice in the matter. And you couldnât always come to Kyoto either â not with your program in full gear and events for the student government around the corner.
No it wasnât his fault â but it didnât mean it didnât hurt â especially with what he was missing.
âI really tried to get time off â and I probably still can make it, but I might run lateââ Suguruâs sighing on the phone, and you know his brow is knit together â mind desperately trying to grasp at a solution, as if he thought hard enough one would emerge that he hadnât considered.
Your footsteps pause, as you bite back your own sigh, trying to keep your tone light. âItâs okay, really â we can celebrate my birthday the next timeââ
âItâs not okay, sweetheart,â he cuts you off, âIâm really going to try to make it. Iâll get my work done, or put it offââ
âI donât want you jeopardizing workââ
âIâll be fine, Princess â I want to be with you,â he says so softly that your refusals all but melt, âreally, I do,â
You bite your lip, as you continue to make your way, weaving between the students herding towards their next classes, âOkay I just donât want you stressing out or worryingââ
âIâll be fine, just, make any plans you want to, okay? I donât know what time Iâll get there on Saturday, but Iâll be there, okay?â
âYou really donâtââ youâre outside the room for your meeting, leaning against the wall.
âSweetheart,â he warns, and your lips curl, fully submitting to his whims.
âYou really donât â know what time youâre getting here?â You nailed that â apparently not by his chuckle over the line, as you hear the tapping of his laptop as he checks train times.
He pauses, a rustling of papers, and a sigh, âIâm not sure, but once Iâm on my way, Iâll let you know, okay?â
âOkay, thatâs fine,â you give a half hearted smile despite the fact no one would see it, âIâm outside my student government meeting, but Iâll talk to you tonight?â
âOf course, good luck with your meeting, and Iâll call you around 8:00 PM?â And the two of you hang up and youâre left with disappointment hanging mid air â like a mystery waiting to be solved, wondering if youâll be satisfied or saddened.
âWhatâs wrong?â your gaze snaps up to find Yuta, who offers a small smile, âare you disappointed that our meeting never starts on time? Because you should give up on that now,â you roll your eyes, as he holds the door open for you, and you step past him.
âItâs nothing,â you set your things down, sitting, as he takes his own seat beside you.
âIt doesnât seem like nothing,â Yuta tilts his head, leaning on his arm, a hint of concern across his features in his slightly furrowed brow and pursed lips, âyou donât have to talk about it â but if you want to, Iâm here,â
You lean back in your chair, âItâs just my boyfriend â heâs been really busy with work so we havenât been able to see each other, and nowâŠâ your gaze fixes itself to the table in front of you, taking in the faint scratches on the laminate wood, a sigh caught in the back of your throat, âheâs not sure if heâll make it this weekend for my birthday, he said he would try his best,â and you shake your head, âand I know itâs a littleâŠchildish, butââ
âItâs not childish,â he gently cuts you off, âitâs understandable to want to spend your birthday with the person you love,â he leans forward to meet your eyes, âhow about this? We can hang out on your birthday until your boyfriend comes down, because Iâm sure he will,â
âHow do you know?â and other people begin to file into the room, as he offers you a small smile.
âWho would ever keep you waiting?â
~~~~
âYou donât usually call at this time,â you yawn, rolling over in bed, as you hear Suguru rustle on the other end too â it was already late and you had already buried yourself under your comforter, scrolling on your phone before bed (even though you knew very well that you shouldnât).
âSorry did I wake you, sweetheart?â and you hum.
âWhat do I get if you did?â he laughs, his voice making your heart flutter in two seconds flat, âmy sleep comes at a very high price, Professor,â
âOh I know, Iâve paid that price several times, and you have willingly given it to me as well,â your lips curling, you knew he was lying on his back as he always did before bed, arm under his head as he looked up at his ceiling, âwhatâs the price this time?â
âVideo call me,â and he does in an instant, his face popping up on your screen, lips quirked upwards at the sight of your face, glasses perched on his nose.
âSuch an easy price this time,â and you yawn, turning over in bed onto your side, hiding your pout in your pillow â god, you wished he was beside you right now.
âThe late hourâs making me soft,â you say, a strand of black falling in front of his face, and you only wish you could reach over and run your fingers through his silky strands, âdid you need something?â
âI need someone,â and you snort.
âWell, you have me, congratulations,â you turn over onto your back, ânow what do you plan to do with me?â
He smiles that same smile that had stolen your heart from the start, âTreasure you? Kiss you? Love you?â and your lips curl again, âapparently get a poodle and a dozen cats with you,â
âThatâs a guarantee,â and he smiles.
âIf it will make you happy, then yes it is,â you purse your lips, âwhat?â
âWhatâs gotten into you?â And his eyes seem to flicker elsewhere for a moment, âSuguru?â
His lips form a full smile, âHappy birthday, princess,â and you blink, glancing at the clock and realizing it was midnight now, âeach and every day with you in my life has been the happiest I have ever been and ever hoped to be. I spent my life searching for the meaning of life â but I didnât find it, until I met you,â his voice is soft as tears burn at the corner of your eyes, âI donât know what it is that Iâm owed â but I donât know what I did to deserve you,â
âI love you,â you whisper, âI wish I could hold you,â your fingers caress the screen, as if your touch could teach through it, and he presses a kiss to his hand.
âI love you too â and I promise Iâll hold you soon,â he lays back on his bed, âyouâll be sick of me soon enough,â
âNever,â you settle onto your pillow, âwill you stay on the phone with me until I fall asleep?â
He only smiles, âAnything for you.â
~~~
Anything but being able to be here by lunch or dinner at this rate. You checked your phone â only to find his last message â âIâm almost done. Iâll let you know when I leave for the station,â
But it had been over two hours and there had been no update â even after you had texted him twice to ask where he was. You were caught between worry and disappointment â anxiety pricking at your skin, enough to annoy but not enough to pierce through to full panic. And disappointment felt like a weight that hovered above your heart, close enough to feel, but not enough to hit yet.
You didnât want to feel this. It wasnât his fault. You knew that he was trying â and you didnât resent him in the least for it. But that didnât mean you wanted him here any less â especially after it had been almost two months without seeing each other.
And a knock at your door made your eyes snap over, as you tripped over yourself to get to the door, âWho is it?â
âItâs meââ but it wasnât Suguru â it was Yuta. And you opened the door, a small smile on your lips, as Yuta stood in a black sweater tucked into dark gray jeans, and a deep maroon jacket pulled over it, âhappy birthday,â
âOh, thanksââ and you blink, âoh my god, we had plans Iâm sorry â I forgot,â you groan, and he leans sideways to take a look at your apartment, spotting the blanket on your couch and a pillow.
âDid I interrupt your date with your couch?â you roll your eyes.
âYou did actually, it was a good one tooââ he cuts you off with a look, âI donât know if I really want to go out. I was thinking Iâd justââ
âWhat? Sit here and become one with your couch?â he raises an eyebrow.
You pout, âYuta, I donât know. I think I rather stay homeââ
And thatâs what you had done all day â Suguru had checked in here and there â trying desperately to finish up work to make it for some part of your birthday but hadnât checked in for two hours now. You were sure he was going to be on his way soon â but that didnât make waiting any less depressing. Your phone even had sighed at you as you checked your messages for the millionth time to find no new ones â low battery life only taunting you in return.
âThatâs what youâve done all day â Iâm sure your boyfriend would want you to go out and have funââ he crosses his arms in front of your doorway, âcome on, we can just go watch a movie, no big deal â we can have some fun and kill a few hours, okay?â
And you stare at your phone again, before locking it â âletâs go,â
~~~~
Finally, Suguru sat down right as the train began to roll forward â he had barely made it. The meetings stacked up the day before had put far behind on his grading â he nearly couldnât make it.
Not if he hadnât stayed up until 3:00 AM.
He checked his phone â he should make it by 5:00 PM, which should leave plenty of time for dinner and he checked his bag for your gift â it was just what you wanted â a necklace you had pointed out to him, a dragon with multi-colored gems. He laid against the seat, his forehead leaning against the cool glass.
God, he missed you.
It had been too long. Since he had even seen your face not through his phone screen and heard your voice whisper in his ear not through his cellphone. But thatâs all he saw and heard of you lately.
He didnât know the department would be this much of a mess when he took over. The last department head was truly enjoying his retirement months before it began. It was enough he had his department head duties but to teach two classes on top of that was enough for work to pile up until it was untenable. And he was unavailable.
How many times had he fallen asleep on the phone with you? How many times had he canceled plans to come see you? How many times had he missed dates?
And how many more would there be?
He knew you said everything was fine, he knew you understood his circumstance, he knew it wouldnât be forever â but still â he wrung his fingers in his lap â why did it feel like it already had been forever? Since he had seen you smile, seen you laugh, held your hand, kissed your lips â it felt as if you were disappearing from his grasp.
But he wouldnât let it happen â he couldnât.
~~~
âPlease turn your cellphone off and place it in these bags before entering the movie,â the ticket attendant told you and Yuta as he handed you both your tickets for something called, Human Earthworm 4, handing you both phone pouches.
You knit your brow together, âButââ
âThis is an early screening of the movie, so the staff has been told that all persons seeing this movie today must lock their phones in these pouches before entering the theater,â the attendant explains, gesturing to the cardboard cutout of the movie with a sign that said âearly screeningâ in bold letters, âotherwise you could exchange your tickets for a different movie,â you purse your lips â you had been looking forward to seeing this movie, especially early. And Yuta had even bought the tickets ahead of time after hearing you talk about it at one of the student government meetings.
Yutaâs eyes slide to you, âWe can see anotherââ
âItâs fine,â you shake your head, giving a small smile, âLet me just send a quick text,â you step away for a moment, texting Suguru â Iâm going into a movie, I have to turn off my phone. Let me know when youâre on the train.
You lock your phone with a sigh, placing it in the bag â either way, he hadnât texted, so you were sure he wasnât on the train yet. And you werenât sure if he would even make it. It was fine â you glanced at Yuta, walking over to the movie theater â it really was.
Because it wouldnât be forever.
~~~~
The screech of the train jerks Suguru awake, his eyes burning, as he glances out the window â the sun beginning to give up the sky already, starting its descent. He rubs his eyes with the back of his hand as he checks the time â fuck, it had been an hour already. He leans back, glancing through his notifications and he sees a text from you.
Fuck, he had forgotten to respond to your messages earlier. He was a mess trying to get to the station, a flurry of papers, caffeine, and adrenaline â and he had spotted your messages before he left the office, only to make a mental note to reply once he was on the train. Where that note had been left in the recesses of his mind he could only guess.
He types: Iâm so sorry, sweetheart â in my rush to get here, I didnât let you know â Iâm on the train alreadyâ
And then he pauses, he could surprise you â at your apartment. Youâd be home after about an hour it seemed by the time he got to your place â it was perfect. He could pick up your cake (the one he had pre-ordered) and set everything up just in time â and then he could take you out for the dinner he had promised you.
He deletes the text, rewriting it â Iâm so sorry sweetheart. I just finished work. I should be there by 7:00 PM. I love you. Iâll see you soon, birthday girl.
He sends the message, a smile on his lips â maybe there was something special he could do today, as he watches the train continue on its way.
He only hoped it would work out in his favor.
~~~
âIt was perfect â the metaphor? Did you not see the metaphor?â Yuta nodding along to your rant as the two of you make it back to your apartment, âI know it seems like a dumb movie but if you read between the linesââ and you glance at Yuta, who continues to nod, and you stare, âyou hated the movie, didnât you?â
âNo, no, I didnâtââ and then you raise an eyebrow, âit was really bad â have you seen good movies before?â
You laugh, shaking your head, âThereâs no accounting for taste,â
âClearly,â he replies, and you push him playfully, crossing your arms, as he grins back at you, âwell, Iâm glad you enjoyed it, thatâs the important part,â
âAnd you got to bully me about my movie taste so thatâs a lovely end to the evening,â he snorts, as the two of you make it outside your apartment door, âthanks for dragging me out â it was really nice,â you dig in your bag for your keys, âit was fun,â
âIâm glad I could help â I hope I made your day a little better,â
âYou already do that by just being you, Yuta,â you pull your keys out, your phone slipping out with it â âshoot,â you kneel down and Yuta does too, fingers brushing as you pick it up â as your phone springs back to life, âshit, I guess i forgot to turn it back on,â as you rise, beginning to unlock your door as your texts start to come through â and you blink, right as you turn the knob, slowly reading the first message as you open the door only spotting Suguruâs back through the crack in the door.
Fuck. And you quickly shut the door.
âYou okay?â Your eyes flicker up, forcing a small smile, as Yuta tilts his head.
âYeah, sorry â my boyfriend is inside I think,â your mind in a dizzying panic, âI should go talk to him, alone,â you shift from foot to foot, looking incredibly awkward â but it seems to work, as Yuta nods.
âRight, of course, Iâll go,â he bites his lip, âlet me know if you need anything ok?â And heâs gone, as you turn back around, taking a beat, before you open the door.
âSurprise?â you say, and Suguru is holding a cake with lit candles, lights dimmed, a small smile on his lips.
âI think thatâs supposed to be my line,â he frowns at the expression on your face, âwhatâsââ and you shake your head, walking over.
âWeâll talk about that later,â you stand in front of him and your cake, âAll I want to focus on is you and my cake,â and your lips curl, âand I believe Iâm owed a song?â
âHappy birthday to you,â he sings softly, jawline illuminated by the low light of the candle, âHappy birthday to you. Happy birthday, my dear sweetheart,â and you bite back a grin, âHappy birthday to you,â he holds the cake up a little higher, âmake a wish,â
You hum, âI donât know what to wish for,â you blow out your candles, before taking the cake from his hands and placing it down before slipping into his arms, âI have everything I want right here.â
~~~
Suguru had almost gotten it right. Almost.
âYuta almost saw you earlier,â you admit, âhe didnât, I realized before and made an excuse but,â you sigh, as the two of you sit on the couch, your fork toying with your slice of cake, âit was close,â
Close. Close to revealing your relationship. Lose to jeopardizing your future. Close to ruining your friendship. It was far too close â or was he far too close to you?
His brow knit together, âIâm sorry â I shouldnât have let myself in and I should have texted earlierââ
âItâs not your fault, Suguru, itâs fine,â you offer a smile, âI donât even mind if Yuta knows â heâs a good friend,â
âBut stillââ you drag a finger through frosting and place a dollop on his nose, âsweetheartââ
âLetâs not focus on that right now. This is the first time I got to see you in weeks,â you lean over and lick the frosting from the tip of his nose, a warmth spreading across his face from your touch, âI want to enjoy the rest of my birthday with my boyfriend, okay?â
But he still couldnât bring himself to pull away â not now.
âYouâre right,â he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips â it had been far too long since he had felt the soft press of your lips against his own. He could taste the frosting, the sickly sweetness didnât begin to compare to your taste, and how much he had ached for it.
But it also didnât stop him from dragging a finger dipped in frosting across your cheek.
âSuguru!â You gape at him, looking utterly too adorable with your pout and the frosting across your cheek, âon my birthday too?â
âWell, youâre so sweet, I wanted to see if it was possible for you to be even sweeter,â and he leans over licking the frosting from your cheek, âlooks like itâs not possibleââ and you swallow his sentence with a kiss, as your plate and fork clatter as you set it down on your coffee table, climbing into his lap, your knees on either side, âour reservation â weâll be late,â even so his hands drag down to your waist, pulling you flush against him.
âI think I want dessert first,â you murmur, before finding his lips in a kiss again.
Itâs hours later, and youâre fast asleep beside him, your face buried against the crook of his neck, as Suguru runs his fingers through your hair. But he canât sleep. Not when he keeps thinking about what you said.
You didnât deserve this. To spend days waiting for your boyfriend to be free, to spend your time wondering when he would be able to call you, to spend your time stressed out at the idea of getting caught. A relationship should be easier, it should be fun â but you havenât had either since he had to move.
His fingers brushes against the curve of your cheek and then tracing the chain of the necklace, thumbing the dragon charm. He loves you â he loves you, but was it enough when you deserved so much more? How many more things would he miss because of work? How many more things would you hide because you didnât want him to feel guilty? How many more times would he let you?
He had felt you slipping from his fingers these last few weeks â he presses a kiss to your forehead â but he had never considered whether he should let you go.
Until now.
~~~
Can we call tonight? I miss you.
Suguru glances at his phone, students already filed in and sitting, the quiet chatter before class began. It had been like this for a week. He locked his phone, tucking it away in his pockets.
âIf you all will sit and settle down, weâll begin todayâs lecture,â he says to the class, âweâre going to continue our discussion from last class on Scanlon â weâll start with any questions left from our conversation,â
Several hands fly up, and he chooses one to speak, âI had a question,â
He blinks, spotting you amongst his students, âWhat are youââ
âProfessor, you havenât let me ask my question,â you pout, as you lean against the desk, arms crossed, âI need to understand the material to pass, donât I?â
All replies get stuck in his throat â as words fail him, as they always did with you. Heâs only able to nod. And you smile, lips curling wide.
âScanlon posits the question âwhat do we owe to each other?â But there is no one answer â we are meant to figure that on our own,â you lean back in your chair, âand I believe Iâm owed at least a text back,â
The studentsâ quiet murmurings and piercing stares drawing heat up his neck, and you were the one who lit the match, flames licking at your heels.
âSweetheartââ
âDo you get to call me that after how youâve treated me?â you scoff, as you slide from your chair onto your feet, âno visit in weeks, barely any phone calls, and once we even got on the phone, you would fall asleep. Have you asked how Iâve been? How have I dealt with all of this? Do you even know how my semester is going?â
His mouth is a desert, and his words have all but deserted him â as he fumbles for any syllables he could grasp onto, but finds none. Because he has no excuses to be made.
You walk down the stairs of the lecture hall, as the slow steps you take ring in his ears, âdo you know what Iâm risking? My reputation, my career, my future â for what? For you? I know my answer to what I want in life. I know my answer is you â can you say the same?â
And the class is gone â and itâs only the two of you.
âIâd do anything for you, Iâm sorry, I havenât been able to. Iââ his voice breaks, and your hand finds his cheek, forcing his gaze to meet yours.
âExcept let me go, apparently.â
RING. RING. RING.
His eyes flutter open, a breath caught in his throat, as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, before reaching blindly for his phone. He glanced at the screen now, turning off the alarm, spotting a text from you at the top.
Morning Sugu â I miss you <3, can we call tonight?
And he stares at your message before locking his screen and placing his phone down and turning around.
He needed to talk to you.
~~~~
âYouâve checked your phone like for the millionth and one time,â your eyes find Yutaâs as the two of you continue to put up flyers for the student government hosted dinner later in the week, âwhatâs going on?â
âNothing, Iâm fine,â and he stares at you, âwhat?â And then you sigh, âmy boyfriend â it just feels like heâs been avoiding me, and I donât know why,â
âHave you asked him why?â He holds a flier and tapes it a bulletin board outside, and you shake your head, âmaybe you should try,â
âI want to, I just never get a chance to â heâs been so busy with work and I havenâtââ and you sigh â it had been over a week since you and Suguru had even spoken on the phone, much less even video called, âI feel like somethingâs wrong â something is bothering him,â your voice falters, as you swallow your emotions, a sigh on your lips, âI donât know,â
Yuta takes a pause, stealing a glance at you, before he turns to look, âYouâll only know if you ask â and the longer you wait, the harder it will be to be honest,â he glances away, âtrust me,â
You crumple the flier in your hand, squeezing, âIâm just scared of the answer,â you admit. It had been so difficult to get to this point â tears roll down your cheeks â to see Suguru slip away because of this would be too much.
âI know,â Yuta says softly, as he gently places his hand on your shoulder, âbut you still need it regardless,â
And then you hear a voice call your name, and you wipe your tears hurriedly as Yuta pulls his hand away, your gaze snapping over to see Professor Yaga andâ
Suguru?
~~~
âLook whoâs here for a meeting,â Yaga says, clapping a hand to Suguruâs shoulder, âdid you hear that Professor Geto had become department head of the Kyoto sister university?â
And Suguru knew you very well had â but you hadnât heard heâd come here for a meeting. To be fair, he didnât know until this morning â but to be even more fair, he had plenty of time to tell you. But he didnât â because he was hoping he wouldnât see you, not like this.
âI did,â you force a smile, âitâs good to see you, Professor Geto, how have you been?â
Youâre a natural at acting as if nothing is the matter â but heâs become a master at seeing right through it. He spotted the way your fingers wiped away your tears, your red rimmed eyes, and the plastered on smile that was nearly pulling into a frown. He resisted the urge to purse his lips â he had wondered for a split second what had made you cry? Until he saw the flicker of a glare in your gaze, and he knew he was the reason.
And it was yet another reason he needed to end this.
And this â Suguruâs eyes flicker between you and your friend â was the friend he assumed was Yuta, his brow knit in confusion, âIâve been well â itâs good to see you, I hope the semester has gone well for you?â
You shrug, your expression unreadable, âWell enough, you know how the semester goes â itâs very busy around this time. Easy for things to slip through the cracks,â and he forces his gaze to not waver.
âVery true, itâs important to keep on top of things,â
âEspecially the important things,â you give both him and Professor Yaga a stiff smile, âItâs good to see you both, but we have more flyers to hang up for the event coming up later this week,â you take Yutaâs hand, âif youâll excuse us,â and the two of you disappear off around the corner.
âIt was good to see her, wasnât it?â Professor Yaga says, a smile on his lips, âsheâs come a long way after your class â she was already an excellent student, but now, I see even brighter things on her horizon,â as he continues to walk down the hallway in the opposite direction, and Suguru spares a single glance over his shoulder, before pulling out his phone and texting you:
Can we talk later? Iâll let you know where.
âIt was.â
~~~~
âOld habits die hard?â you sat on Suguruâs old desk as he walked in, your arms crossed in front of you. And Suguru tilts his head, closing the door behind him.
âDid something happen in this room?â and you roll your eyes, as he steps forward, âah, yes, youâre referring to your grades right?â
âYes, my grades â Iâm still upset about that 99,â but the playfulness all but dies on your lips as he draws close, your eyes unable to meet his gaze, as if you would see some truth you werenât ready to uncover, âSuguru, whatâs going on?â
âSweetheartââ
âYouâve been distant since my birthday, avoiding calling me, you barely text me â and today, you didnât even tell me you were in Tokyo,â your voice breaks â even if you had thought what you wanted to say to him a million times today â it didnât make it any easier, âare you upset with me?â
âNo, no, you didnât do anything wrong,â heâs shaking his head, as he cups your cheeks, âyou didnât do anything except be completely wonderful,â he swallows, voice catching, as he seems to struggle with his words, âand thatâs why I have to let you go,â
The sentence repeats in your mind over and over â and you still canât make sense of it. No, no, it didnât make sense. Why would he want to break up?
One word was all you could manage to respond with â âWhat?â
âSweetheart, you deserve someone who can be there for you, someone who will be there with you when you need them, who will call you, prioritize you, give you all of their energy â and with this distanceââ
âWe can make it workââ and you know youâre crying now, tears rolling down his knuckles, filling the chasm heâs making between the two of you.
Heâs running his fingers through his hair, âYouâre making this work â Iâm trying too but I havenât been able to visit you, I havenât been able to see you or talk to you properly in weeksââ
âItâs not forever, it wonât be like this. Iâm almost done with my degree, I can move down to Kyotoââ
âAnd I donât want you to limit your options because of me and my career,â he cuts you off gently, as his thumb rubs back and forth, wiping your tears away, âyou have such a wonderful future ahead of you â whether you decide to pursue a Ph.D. or a lecturer position or whatever else â I want you to make that decision without my presence being a factorââ
âButââ and heâs pressing his lips to you softly, itâs gentle and sweet â his hands holding you as if you would break apart in his fingers before him, as his lips finally part yours âSuguru, I know what Iâm doingââ
âI know, but so do I,â he murmurs, as he begins to step away from you, his warmth leaving your body, âif itâs easier for you to hate me, hate me â if itâs easier to be indifferent, be indifferent â I just canât hold you back, sweetheart. I canât do that to you â whether itâs professionally or personally,â
âSuguru, youâre not letting me have a say in this,â and he takes your hands, lacing your fingers together, âI want this, I know itâs been hard, but donât you want this too?â
âI do â I love you, but thatâs why I canât do that to you. I want you to be happyââ
âEven if it comes at the cost of your own happiness?â you scoff, âAre you subscribing to utilitarianism? Are you okay being a happiness pump?â Your fingers try to find purchase on his cheek, but he pulls away, hands falling away from yours.
âI am, if it means youâre happy, then I am,â Suguru whispers, glancing away from him, âitâs not worth the risk,â
Your words are quiet, as you swallow your tears, and you force your voice to be steady, âYouâre making this about me â when itâs about you too,â you brush past him, âI didnât expect you to be a coward, Suguru, but I suppose, I got the answer I deserve.â
And the door shuts behind you, tears burning as you walk off â and you know that he wouldnât follow.
But you still hoped he would.
~~~
Suguru stands by the window, watching students file in and out of the building.
It was the right thing to do. Thatâs what he kept telling himself â over and over and over. But if it was so right, then why did he feel wrong? Wrong for breaking your heart. Wrong for letting you wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. He spent his time debating amongst others what right and wrong really was, but he always knew there would never be an answer.
And then he spots you leaving the building, before you bump into someone who stops you, your head down, but it doesnât work, as the person pulls you into a hug. And he knew who it was â it was that student from earlier â Yuta. He had seen the way he looked at you â the same softness that Suguru had recognized because he saw it in himself.
He knew you deserved better, just because you were his answer â- he watched you sink into Yutaâs arms â doesnât mean he was yours.
⧠a/n: ahhh the anticipated fourth part!! thereâs gonna be one more part of the main series and then itâs onto extra credit fics :). Donât worry it will be a happy ending!! I promise!
⧠taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @difficultdomains , @diogodxlot t, @that-goth-bisexual , @dazailover1900 0, @aliyalala , @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @maddietries ,
#sab [mlist]#sab series [prof suguru]#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto smut#suguru geto x you#suguru geto fanfiction#jjk smut#Jjk fanfiction#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#geto x reader#geto suguru smut
3K notes
·
View notes
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 responsibilityâŠ
To that, Fushiguro Megumi said; no shit. Â
Living a double life wasnât always the easiest thing in the world, but the justice part came to him naturally. He didnât 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 wasnât 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 hadnât 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.
âLate again, FushiguroâÂ
There were, however, challenges that Megumi faced.
(y/n) swiveled around in her seat just as heâd sat down behind her. To think heâd patted himself on the back for only being three minutes late today. He shouldâve 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 canât even be bothered to roll his eyes, heâd grown too tired of the same banter every day.
If she couldnât 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. Sheâs 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 heâd be free and far from it.
Nothing cleared his mind like swinging around the city. She couldnât 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 sheâd be successful after graduation. Megumi would rather die than admit it out loud, but he wouldnât 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, sheâll probably earn herself some title of youngest most successful woman.Â
Hopefully by then sheâll be too busy to bother him anymore. Although Megumi assumes that by the time graduation rolls around, heâll never see her again. Â
She was probably counting down the days until then, too. ___
Megumi spent his lunches alone.
This didnât really bother him. He didnât have much interest in making friends, and never put much effort into it. He liked to think he was kind, but he knew he wasnât 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 wasnât the only thing keeping people away. His reputation might have something to do with it as wellâŠ
But that fight wasnât 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 thatâs why he found (y/n) all the more obnoxious.
He minds his business during his lunch hour- although heâd argue that he minds his business all the time. Sitting in the corner with headphones large enough to make the point clear that he didnât want to be bothered, his nose was always stuck in a book. Heâd eat with one hand and scribble in his notebooks with the other. Even if he could afford a laptop he didnât 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 didnât let any of her food touch.
Sheâs stopped on her mission to get to her table of know-it-all friends, and Megumi shouldnât care that some guy called her over to his table to talk to her, itâs a bit of a boring scene, honestly. He should get back to his studying now, but for some reason heâs compelled to watch from the back of the room as (y/n) drags her feet over to the guyâs table.
Megumi doesnât recognize him, or really any of his surrounding friends, but by the looks of it they seemed like the kind of guys that wouldnât have gotten into the classes heâs taking.
A year ago Megumi wouldnât 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.
âYou always walk by without saying hello. You tryinâ to hurt my feelings, princess?â The frat boy feigns heartbreak, holding his hand to his chest all the while grinning at her.
âHelloâ
(y/nâs) 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.
âAwe, câmon now gorgeous, you can do better than that,â Fratboy clicks his tongue in mockery. âWhy donât you come sit?âÂ
âIâm sitting with my friendsâÂ
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 isnât interested in whatever heâs offering. How many hints can this guy possibly miss?
âRain check?â Fratboy asks hopefully. It could almost be endearing if it wasnât for the slimy grin he wore. Megumi hated to think it, but (y/n) outranked this guy on every scale.
âYeah. Maybeâ (y/nâs) 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 someoneâs eyes following her. Megumiâs senses are one step ahead, and heâs quick to drop his head to focus back on his studies again. Heâd already lost five minutes to watch a pointless interaction, he didnât need to lose more time by facing her evil eye if sheâd 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. Â
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 oâclock 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 wasnât 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 thereâs only one guy left in the car, the getaway driver heâs sure. Pulling his mask over his face heâs swift and silent in webbing up the door handles and tires of the car. He wasnât going anywhere anytime soon.
Just as silently, he drops to the ground, and enters the store.
Itâs not the first time Spiderman has made an appearance during a stick up. And Megumiâs sure it wonât be his last, seeing as no one ever learns.
âWell if it isnât Spiderboyâ One of the three clowns, Megumi assumes the ringleader, taunts him with a laugh. He cocks his gun and aims it at him, but Megumiâs 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. Â
Thereâs one man behind the counter, his hands raised and shaking. It appears he hasnât 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- theyâre not doing a very good job, but with Spiderman here now Megumi figures theyâve assumed their safety is guaranteed. They arenât wrong.
And then there was a girl in the very back, two aisles behind the couple, and apparently far less brave as well. Sheâs 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. Itâs not often he comes across civilians with a decent sense of self preservation.
âDid you hear me, Spiderboy-?â The ringleaderâs second taunt is barely finished before thereâs 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.
âYeah yeah, I fuckinâ heard you,â Megumi grumbles. Criminals loved to call him all sorts of names, he figured it comes with the job, but man did it get old.
Thereâs 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 couldnât move any limbs if they tried.
âYou think you can go around playing hero and people will respect you for it?â 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. âPeople âround here donât give a shit, Spiderboy. You think theyâll thank you? Heh? You think theyâll throw you a nice parade and chant your name?âÂ
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 werenât 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.
âItâs safe to go,â He tells them with a wave of his hand. âGo straight to the police station to report thisâÂ
Does he have faith theyâll listen? No, he assumes theyâll be likely to go home. Megumi doesnât care much. The police werenât 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.
âPlaying nice with the cops, tch,â The loudmouth lackey continues on. âWhen they show up, theyâll take you before they take any of us- mmph!âÂ
âMuch better,â 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, âBreathe through your nose,â He grumbles when the lackeyâs face starts to take on a blue hue. âFucking idiots, youâre all the fucking sameâ He sighs, dropping the guyâs phone and open wallet on the ground before him, making sure itâs on perfect display for when the cops arrive.
âTh-thank you, Spiderman,â The shopkeeper behind the counter finally begins to lower his hands. It appears heâs still shaking, but Megumiâs sure itâs the adrenaline rush heâs coming down from. Heâll be fine in no time. Especially once the police arrive and whisk these guys away. âI- I donât know how I can repay youâÂ
âIt was nothingâ Megumi replies, monotone as ever, but itâs the truth. The whole ordeal was over in the matter of three minutes. A robbery had barely begun when heâd shown up and shut it down.
The shopkeeper looks startled by the less-than-friendly attitude of his savior, but he doesnât say a word, just picks up his phone to dial up the police.
Megumiâs on the move heading out of the store, ready to make himself scarce before law enforcement shows up, but of course he canât leave just yet.
âHey,â He calls towards the last civilian in the shop, the girl crouched on the ground, still covering herself. âHey,â He calls again when she doesnât react, taking a few steps towards her. âYouâre good to go now,â He says, but even still, she doesnât 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 Megumiâs stunned to silence as well as he stares back at her.
(y/n)? Heâs 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?Â
She doesnât say anything as she stares up at him with wide eyes. He canât tell if sheâs still in shock, but the longer he waits for her to say something, she doesnât.
âAre you⊠alright?âÂ
Itâs a normal question to ask, he probably says it a hundred times a night, making sure no oneâs left hurt or afraid. But this time, asking her, it felt foreign coming out of his mouth. Heâs never been put in a position to⊠care⊠about her wellbeing before. But nowâs as good a time as any, seeing as sheâs still got her knees to her chest and a shell shocked look on her face.
âYouâre- youâre Spidermanâ Is the first thing she says, her voice barely above a whisper. Megumi could roll his eyes, but heâs too busy waiting for her to get up and get moving.
âAnd youâre not sitting around here all night, câmonâ 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.
âYouâre a lot taller than I thought youâd beâ She mumbles, and if she could see his face sheâd watch a look of puzzlement befall him.
âGet that a lotâ He mutters, making an obvious motion to eye the hand that she still has gripping his gloved one.
âOh, sorry,â Sheâs still quiet, quieter than heâs ever heard her speak before, and itâs starting to intrigue him. Â
Was she this afraid of a pesky little robbery? He wondered, looking her up and down. She wasnât 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 didnât seem all that afraid.
âIâm just- uh-â She clears her throat, and Megumi thinks itâs the first time heâs ever heard her stammer, or misspeak at all. âIâm a big fanâ She finishes, her quiet voice sounding more shy now than anything else.
Wait, what!?Â
âA fan?â Megumi repeats in disbelief, and (y/n) smiles softly as she nods her head.
âYou donât get that a lot too?â 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 itâd give him more trouble if he was still around when they got here. He couldnât 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. Â
Maybe she was⊠a normal personâŠ? Could it be true?Â
Flashing lights interrupted his thoughts, his head swiveling to see approaching red and blue
âFuck!â 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? âYouâre fine, right?â 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 sheâs rendered speechless.
âRight- well- maybe stop shopping in the middle of the night and you find yourself in these situationsâ He tries to be serious, but she grins as she nods back at him in agreement.
âIâll try my best, SpidermanâÂ
With that heâs out the door and swinging off just before the cops round the corner to the building. Heâd just narrowly missed them, but that was the closest heâd come to getting spotted by them in quite a while. Until then, heâd 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 heâs 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 hadnât had a proper dinner. ___
Megumiâs exhausted the next morning when he strolls into class. Heâs five minutes late today, but he tells himself that ten is his limit so heâs still doing just fine. He never gets a second glance from the professor anyways- with his grades? His professor wouldnât care if he didnât show up to class at all.
(y/n), however, cares very much about Megumiâs punctuality.
âWho taught you to be so disrespectful of other peopleâs time, Fushiguro?â 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 heâs sizing her up, or something.
âWhat?â 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.
âNothingâÂ
Itâs all he has to say, and for once (y/n) doesnât have a snarky remark. She just gives him a weird look and faces forward in her seat again. Maybe heâd caught her off guard by actually speaking to her, even if it was just one word, itâs more than heâs 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 canât help but be drawn to the back of (y/nâs) head. He didnât like the idea of giving her any of his attention, but his thoughts were drifting out of his control, and he couldnât 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 wouldnât dare be caught sitting. Maybe then he wouldnât get so distracted.
Even with his heightened senses however, he doesnât 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? ___
Itâs 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 doesnât bother her that Megumiâs been sitting in the back of the class with the other slackers. She couldnât 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 couldnât care less about his status.
She always wondered if he truly didnât care about his ranking. He certainly acted like he didnât, rolling his eyes at her comments if he wasnât ignoring her completely. But was it just an act?Â
(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 heâs sitting in the back of the class with his blocky headphones on. She canât 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 wasnât even listening?Â
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/nâs) quick to shoot her eyes forward and begin scribbling messy words in her otherwise neatly kept notebook. Was it just intense because heâd 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 heâs around, she spots and scans him as if thereâs going to be some hint as to what brought on his change in behavior. ___
A couple of peaceful weeks were well appreciated, but Megumi mustâve taken them for granted, because tonight was a rough one.
He could enjoy a good fight, heâd 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 biteâs abilities. To him, that made the act of fighting all the more fun. He wasnât afraid to admit he got a certain rush out of beating someone up. When it was justified, there wasnât 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 wasnât 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 wasnât till he got away and found an alley secluded enough that he was able to check his injuries. He didnât 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. Â
Great. Going to class with a black eye wonât 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 wouldnât 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 couldnât 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, heâs 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 mightâve crashed into him, but itâs 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 sheâd 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.
âYou againâ She greets him like she knows him now. (She does know him, but she doesnât know she knows him, you know?) And her smile is so genuinely bright that Megumi starts to feel sick.
âAgain,â He sighs, the groan in his voice not going unnoticed. âDidnât I tell you not to walk around alone this late at night?â His voice still sounds weird, and itâs shortly after that (y/n) notices his hand hovering over his ribcage.
âDid you get hurt, or something?â She ignores him completely, all the while putting her phone in her pocket to give him her full attention.
âIâm Spiderman, I donât get hurtâ Megumi argues, but the wince in his voice is obvious, and (y/n) somehow sees right through it.
âOkay⊠well⊠even Spiderman has to go to urgent care sometimes, right?â 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. Canât she just go the fuck home where itâs safe and more importantly: away from him?
âTch, I donât think soâ He mutters.
(y/n) frowns.
âSpoken like a true idiot man,â She scolds. Jeez, last time they crossed paths like this sheâd said she was a fan, now this? âWhat is it with you guys and your reputations, huh? Youâre not any stronger for toughing out an injury without help, you knowâÂ
âIâll keep that in mind, momâ Megumi argues back. She scoffs, but it turns into a small laugh shortly after.
âYou could at least put ice on it, you knowâ She says, stepping past him and continuing on her way down the sidewalk. Megumi tosses his head back to silently curse at the sky.
âDid I not make myself clear that you should go home?â He calls after her.
âIce is this wayâ Is all (y/n) says, and all she has to say to get him to groan at nothing in particular and follow after her.
Itâs a good thing itâs so late at night, thereâs 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 doesnât even want to think about what kind of headlines theyâd come up with.
âI can buy my own iceâ He tells her after a minute of walking in silence.
âI know,â (y/n) shrugs. âBut so far it seems like youâre letting me hang out with you, so Iâve gotta enjoy it just a little bit longerâÂ
âWeâre not hanging out,â Megumi replies dryly. âYouâre refusing to go home when itâs the middle of the night and IâmâŠâ He trails off, not wanting to say what heâs thinking, but he doesnât have to.
âAwe, Spideyâs lookinâ out for me?â Sheâs smiling at him again, holding her hands behind her back as she looks up at him. âYou starting to like me?âÂ
âYouâre starting to bother me,â Megumi quips back, but itâs followed by a chuckle he canât help, and it only seems to endear (y/n) further. âI donât usually give people follow up warnings,â He mutters with a shake of his head. âWhatâre you doing out this late, anyways?â He asks before he can help it. âDonât you have, like, school, or something?â Itâs difficult to act like he doesnât know she spends her nights studying herself to death.
âMaybe Iâm going to a partyâ (y/n) shrugs.
âTch, no youâre notâÂ
âHow do you know?âÂ
âNot dressed like thatâ Megumi comments, making a point to look her up and down.
(y/n) huffs, but thereâs no denying the evidence right in front of them both. Sheâs wearing leggings that were at least a couple years old, and a large sweatshirt that was teetering the line of well loved and ratty. Â
âOkay, well, maybe this time Iâm notâ She says, and Megumi bites back a smile. Heâs pretty sure that a girl like (y/l/n) (y/n) has never stepped foot in a house party. And he knows because he hasnât, either.
âStill not an answerâ He reminds her.
âI was going to pick up some energy drinks,â (y/n) finally admits. âItâs a short walk from my apartment to the corner store, I do it all the time. Even without Spiderman watching over meâÂ
He chuckles at that, wondering just how many times sheâs made the walk, no matter how short, in the middle of the night. Couldnât she just get them before she goes home for the day?
âAnd you just have to go in the middle of the night?â He scolds her, but she doesnât seem too affected by it.
âThatâs when I need them the mostâ She replies with a shrug.
âYou always drink energy drinks that late?âÂ
âWhat, you worried about me or something?â She fires back, a curious look on her face. âYâknow, I havenât heard much about you talking to peopleâÂ
âI donâtâÂ
âYouâre talking to meâ She points out matter of factly, a tone of hers that Megumi was already far too familiar with.
âYouâre kind of leaving me no choiceâÂ
(y/nâs) quiet for a moment, and it seems like sheâs contemplating something, but whatever it is she doesnât 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. Heâs 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 doesnât want (y/n) to come back and see him in any sort of pain- it wasnât a good look for Spiderman to show any sign of weakness.
Sheâs 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 heâs pulling a face at her, because she huffs in annoyance.
âThey didnât have iceâ She explains, inviting herself to squat down next to him and offer up the vegetables.
âNo no, youâre not sitting here,â Megumi bites back a whine when he sits upright in an attempt to urge her to leave. âYou need to go back homeâÂ
âAnd miss a personal Q&A with Spiderman?â 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.
âThatâs not happeningâ He mutters.
âThis is why I never hear about you talking to people,â (y/n) sighs. âYouâre boringâÂ
âIâm not boring,â He argues. âI just donât have anything to sayâÂ
âWell, you could start by thanking me for the veggiesâ (y/n) replies, tilting her head at him.
Megumi glares at her from behind his mask. He didnât 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 itâs just because heâs injured, but Megumi caves.
âThank youâ It comes out from behind his teeth, and she must know it, but Megumi swears he sees stars in her eyes.
âYouâre welcome, Spiderman,â She murmurs back.
It comes out so genuine, so sweet, that thereâs a pang in Megumiâs heart. He doesnât think any of the bruising spread so far up his chest, but it mustâve for him to feel such an odd sensation.
âI have to ask⊠cause I probably wonât see you againâŠâ Her eyes land on the way his hand tenses and presses the frozen vegetables further against himself. âWhy do you do it?âÂ
When he doesnât answer, she blinks at him, moving her head just enough to tell him that she really wanted him to say something.
Megumi figures she wonât leave him alone if he doesnât say anything, so he goes with the truth.
âItâs the right thing to doâÂ
He shrugs lamely, and it takes a second for her to react at all. At first itâs a furrow of her brows and a knowing smile, as if he just had to have an answer better than that. But she didnât know him as well as she liked to think, because she didnât know Megumi. Â
When he has nothing else to say, her expression slowly softens, and she hums thoughtfully.
âThatâs it, huh?â She muses. âYouâre just⊠a good guy?âÂ
Just a guy, Megumi mentally corrects. He might have heightened abilities, and a better sense of right and wrong than those around him, but heâs never considered himself a hero. Just a guy trying to make things right, trying to keep people safe.
âGuess I try to beâ His answer is as lame as his movements. Â
If he were a superhero, heâd 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 heâs still holding the cold vegetables.
âCan I tell you something, Spiderman?âÂ
Hasnât she been talking to him this whole time? If it wouldnât hurt, Megumi would laugh. Instead he just nods his head and waits for her to continue.
âI want to be a journalist because of you,âÂ
What? Megumiâs face warps into shock at the confession. He didnât know what he was expecting, but it wasnât 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?Â
âAn investigative journalist,â She corrects. âI 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 theyâre being handed the truth. Thereâs not a lot of that around these daysâŠâ She trails off. Â
She didnât have to tell him about the light Spiderman was painted in. Letâs just say him and Megumi would share the popularity rankings⊠except no one was raising pitchforks and torches in Megumiâs direction.
âYou want to do that âcause of me?â 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.
âIâll write my first article about you,â She promises, and Megumiâs eyes widen at her sincerity. âIf youâll let meâÂ
âWell youâre not getting an interviewâ 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 heâd never seen before. Something soft, and real. It dawns on him that he very well may be the only person sheâs told about this dream of hers. He wants to ask, but it feels wrong, like heâs prying for something.
âI wonât need one,â She tells him. âCanât have the people knowing I know youâÂ
âYou donât know meâ Megumi replies, maybe too quickly, but he canât help it. Â
He tilts his head at her as she gazes at him with too much fondness. Was his reminder that heâs a stranger to her not enough? Sure, she could trust him because he was Spiderman, her safety wasnât compromised, but that didnât 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.
âI donât knowâŠâ She murmurs thoughtfully. âI just have this feeling⊠like I doâÂ
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 couldnât be saying things like that, she couldnât be trying to put the pieces together in her mind. If she were to figure him out, heâd be done for. She put a lot of trust in him tonight, but could he trust her for even a minute? Megumi wasnât sure, and he didnât 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.
âYou should goâ 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.
âWait,âÂ
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 didnât really expect him to stand there and hear her out, but he is, and now her mouth is running dry and sheâs standing before him frozen. He radiates impatience, without having to say a single word.
âI⊠I didnât thank you,â She stammers out. Itâs unlike her, but it canât be helped. Sheâs 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 sheâs never seen his face. She can feel a blush heating up her face when she speaks. âFor the other night, with- with the robbery,â She clarifies, even though she didnât have to. âSo⊠thank youâÂ
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. Itâs lost all of itâs cold, merely a room temperature bag of carrots and peas by now. Sheâs not sure what sheâs supposed to do with it, but she supposes it wouldnât look good for Spiderman to swing around with it.
âYouâre welcome,â He tells her, and it sounds like the most earnest thing heâs had to say to her. Heâs always come across as blunt, something (y/n) was surprised by when they first met, but now itâs a blessing. She knows that he means it. âGet home. Donât make me have to tell you again, alright?âÂ
To Megumi, this is a goodbye. He doesnât 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.
âIâll try my best, SpidermanâÂ
Itâs the same thing sheâd 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 hadnât meant to show up before the professor, but she just couldnât contain her energy today. Sheâd 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 wasnât eight in the morning. Call it waking up on the right side of the bedâŠ
⊠or having an interesting night that she couldnât get out of her head.
Never in her wildest dreams did she think that sheâd run into Spiderman again. The first time was a little embarrassing, sheâd 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 wasnât anything like sheâd thought heâd 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 sheâd had with him drew her in more. Â
Sheâd meant what she said about getting into journalism, sheâd even been looking into transferring her credits next year, even if it meant starting over in a completely new program. Last night, sheâd spent her time in bed staring at the ceiling and replaying events in her mind. When she wasnât 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 sheâd 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 wasteâŠ
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 thereâs no one for her to talk to, or share the story of her night with.
Then again, sheâs not sure she wants to tell anyone about her run in with Spiderman. She hadnât mentioned it before⊠although that was because she didnât need anyone fussing over her being out so late and putting her safety in jeopardy. This time was different, but stillâŠÂ
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. Itâs 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 mustâve sensed (y/nâs) 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 sheâs not even sure what she would say. Asking him if he was alright felt weird, and itâs not like she could just shout âwhat the fuck!?â 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. Sheâs 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 wouldâve 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 couldnât have missed it.
Right?Â
Finally, his eyes catch hers. She doesnât turn away from him like she had in the past, she holds his stare, trying to communicate with him in silence.
Itâs obvious to him, sheâs looking at him with that same worried face sheâd worn last night. She just didnât know she was worried about the same person. He raises his eyebrows at her expectantly, as though asking âwhat?â. 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 doesnât, 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 couldnât have anything to do with (y/l/n) (y/n). Being around her just made things feel⊠complicated. He couldnât pinpoint why, but he didnât want to. He just wanted the feeling to go away.
She sits turned around in her seat even once heâs 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 couldnât.
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.
Heâs 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. Thereâs an itch in his mind telling him to distance himself from (y/n) as fast as he can. The inkling was right, because he doesnât make it far in the hall before his name is being called.
âFushiguro!âÂ
A few surrounding students glance in her direction, some even snicker in passing. Megumi wasnât 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 wasnât high school, and when he turned around to face (y/n), anyone who was watching made themselves scarce fast.
He doesnât say anything as she approaches him, the strap of her messenger bag held tight in both hands against her chest. Â
She opens her mouth, ready to make a smartass comment, but it comes out awkward, not quite right.
âLate to class again cause of a fight, or something?â Even her scoff comes out wrong, sounding like a nervous laugh, strangled and weird. She shifts her weight between her feet.
Megumiâs silent for a long few seconds. Every one that passes feels like eternity, and (y/n) deflates a little more under his stare.
âSureâ 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 didnât 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 sheâs 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, heâs more concerned about the way she seems to worry.
âSeriously, Fuhiguro,â She says quietly, hoping to get through to him. Â
Sheâs 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.
âWhat happened? Who did that?âÂ
âI fell,â 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. âSorry I donât have an interesting story for you- can I go to class now?âÂ
âSuddenly Mr Punctual?â She snaps back, crossing her arms over her chest. Megumi huffs, shakes his head, uncaring toward her attitude.
âWhateverâ He starts to turn away, but she catches him off guard when she rushes to block his path again. Â
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. Sheâs defiantly raising her chin towards him, eyes narrowed and everything.
âIâm actually asking, you know,â She tells him. âBecause no one else is walking around with black eyes-âÂ
âWho cares?â 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. âDonât you have a class to be early for?â He hopes thatâs enough to get her to back off.
âI donât care,â She says with enough assurance that Megumiâs actually surprised. He figured being late to class would throw her into a full breakdown. âWhy are you being such a dick about this?âÂ
He scoffs, a bitter smile tugging on his lips, only making him wince as it tears the healing wound.
âWhy are you?â He fires back.
âBecause,â She says it with such certainty, only to fall short with the rest of her reason. She didnât 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. âBecause⊠because itâs the right thing to doâÂ
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?Â
Meanwhile (y/n) feels good about her answer. Sheâd 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.
â(y/n), seriouslyâŠâ Megumi shakes his head at her. He steps to the side again, but doesnât 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. âLeave me aloneâÂ
Her face falls, but heâs quick to leave once he says it, and this time, she doesnât chase after him again. ___
In the rest of their classes, she doesnât try to talk to him again, and does her best not to look his way. Megumiâs relieved⊠he thinks. Itâs for the best that everything returns to normal. Whatever compelled her to reach out to him today was clearly Spidermanâs doing, and he couldnât have that. Things couldnât change. His feelings of distaste towards her couldnât change. He couldnât 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 heâd 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 doesnât 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 Fratboyâs table again.
This again, he tells himself, certain heâll go right back to his textbook. But he doesnât move. His focus stays entirely on the table of jocks, without a shred of discretion, to make things worse.
âNot todayâ (y/nâs) 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. Youâd think heâd try to avoid the idiot jock stereotype a little better.
âCâmon princess, itâs never âtodayâ. Why donât you just say yes to âtomorrowâ, hm?â Fratboy leans out of his seat, reaching his hand out towards her. (y/n) takes a step backwards, but heâs 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 wouldâve been enough to get Fratboyâs hand off of her. Even if he wasnât hurting you, it was unwanted, that much was clear just by watching her body language.
âI really donât feel that way about you,â (y/n) snaps, tugging her arm to get herself out of his grasp. He doesnât 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. âLeave me aloneâ 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 hadnât paid a second glance to Fratboy at all. He wonders how long sheâd 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 doesnât 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 Megumiâs 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, heâs still staring at her, maybe waiting to see that sheâll get to her table without being bothered again, sheâs not sure.
Either way, she grows still under his direct gaze. She didnât know how to describe it, but sheâs sure sheâs never had anyone look at her like that. With an otherwise neutral expression, there was so much anger behind Megumiâs eyes that if she didnât know better, she might be just as afraid as Fratboy. However something told her not to be, something told her that the anger wasnât 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 canât help but glance back at him again. Heâs already returned to his book by then, but her intrigue doesnât 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. ___
Megumiâs growing tired of this game of hers. Heâs 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?Â
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 heâs too busy checking in on where sheâs chosen to wander. Did she really think this was enough to capture his attention?Â
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 heâd already confirmed his worries, but heâd hoped that sheâd give this stunt up eventually. He still saw her around school, even if sheâd 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 doesnât think heâs ever seen her look so disheveled. It had him wondering if this was starting to impact her grades, too.
This is why he shouldnât have spoken with her the last time. He shouldâve 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 shouldnât be sitting here worrying about her sleep, or her grades. His bottom line should be safety. And she was safe. So why couldnât he just leave her be?Â
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. Â
Throwing himself down to sit on the edge of the building, Megumi peers over his knees to check on her yet again. Sheâs slowed her pace, which hopefully means sheâs 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 wasnât 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, sheâd 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, heâd 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, sheâs lucky she didnât pee herself from the whole thing. Sheâd 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.
Thereâs barely a second for her to show her relief when Spiderman shows up, seemingly out of nowhere. Sheâs not sure his feet even touched the ground before he had an arm around her and was swinging off again. He doesnât 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. Â
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 saviorâs chest, the cold air nips at her.
Even once heâs 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 heâs laying into her, and she shouldâve seen it coming, but she canât help but deflate.
âWhat the hell were you thinking!?âÂ
Heâs yelling, and at first she wonders if heâs worried about people seeing, but a quick glance at her surroundings and she realizes theyâre on the roof of a building. No one would be hearing them here.
âWere you seriously trying to get yourself into trouble? Because you were about this close to it,â He raises his pinched fingers for emphasis, but gives her no time to answer. âYou better not have done something so stupid just cause of me-âÂ
âI didnât- well- well I didnât necessarilyâ (y/n) tries to explain, but the words just arenât coming as fast as her mouth is moving and sheâs left gaping at him. Â
Megumi was not putting up with it. What did he have to do to get it through her head?Â
âI canât be spending my nights keeping an eye on just you because you feel like putting yourself in harmâs way for a fucking rush,â He snaps. âYou pull shit like that again (y/n) and Iâm not going to be there next time, you understand?âÂ
Her mouth shuts. She nods her head.
âJesus Christ,â Megumi puts his hands to his head, turning and walking off as if they werenât 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.
âYouâre goddamn lucky I was there, you know that?â Heâs not even looking at her, but she nods her head again anyways. She knows. âI should really go back there and beat the shit out of that guyâ He starts to mutter to himself, going on incoherently, and (y/nâs) blood starts to run cold.
âHe- I mean, he didnât do anythingâ 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.
âAre you serious?âÂ
Her mouth opens and closes a few times before any words come out.
âItâs not like he⊠he said anything, or did anything to meâ She clarifies. Spidermanâs 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.
Itâs 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.
âYou have no idea what he was capable of doing,â He doesnât yell. In fact his voice is so eerily low she almost shivers. âIf you want to gamble your life on some drunken lowlifeâs imagination, thatâs your business,â 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. âBut at least have the decency to do it far away from me. Because if it were up to me Iâd go back there and kill that guy right nowâÂ
She blinks a few more times, but still, a tear slips down her cheek.
âI-Iâm sorry,â She whispers shakily, the lump in her throat growing hotter when she tries to speak. âI didnât- I wasnât trying to- I-âÂ
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.
âItâs alright,â He says, but itâs obviously not enough to calm her down, so against his better judgment, he tries his hand at comforting her. âHey, câmon, youâre alright,â 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. âBreathe,â He instructs quietly, and waits as her shudders slowly morph into slow, heavy breaths. âThere you go, thatâs it. Youâre alright,â He tries to remind her that where she is now, sheâs safe. âYouâre hereâÂ
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.
âI have trouble sleeping,â She tells him quietly, her eyes focused on the ground. âIt started in high school, I uh⊠Iâm kind of a nerd, I guess,â She admits. âMy 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 habitâÂ
Megumi softens, although sheâd never know it.
âThat doesnât sound so healthy,â He says quietly, not knowing what else to say. She scoffs, smiles bitterly, shakes her head back at him. âWe should get you back home, yeah?âÂ
Realizing what he meant, she looks back at him with a wince, and he canât help the small chuckle at her reaction.
âItâll be alright. Iâll take it easy, promiseâ He says, crossing his finger over his chest for emphasis.
âWhat, like Iâm gonna find some way to sue Spiderman?â She mutters back.
He holds his arms out to her, carefully grabbing her by the forearms to loop them around his neck.
âJust hold on and keep your head down, itâll be over before you know itâÂ
Her face heats up when his arm comes around her back and he presses her even closer. She canât stop her squeak of surprise before it comes out, and it must startle him, because heâs quick to ask her if sheâs okay.
âYeah I- Iâm fineâ She stammers back, feeling her blush grow hotter.
Megumi takes off without a warning, thinking itâll 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 theyâre 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 wouldnât have said she was afraid of heights.
Sheâs at least able to give him her address, a shaky whisper in his ear before sheâs 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.
âDonât get sick on the suit, you have no idea how much of a pain it is to dry clean this thingâ He tries to lighten the mood, and is surprised that heâs successful in doing so, earning a small laugh from her.
âYou say that to all the girls you swing home, Spidey?âÂ
âNot a fan of the nickname. Or the insinuationâ Heâs back to his usual dry self in no time.
âWell you have to have a nickname, weâre friends now, arenât we?âÂ
Heâs 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 wasnât a chance Megumi was going to get drawn in when it comes to her, not when he knew the consequences.
âSpideman already is a nicknameâ He mutters like itâs obvious. Â
(y/n) letâs out a breathless laugh, and tosses her messy windswept hair behind her shoulders. Â
Megumi hasnât left yet, why isnât he leaving?Â
âWell, then there must be some other name I could call you..?â She trails off with her question, stepping forward and eyeing him curiously. Â
Megumiâs frozen. Was she really suggesting he reveal himself to her? Obviously he couldnât do thatâŠ
âIâd just like to thank you, again,â She says, a small smile on her lips as she takes another step forward. Â
If heâs 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.
âAnd, um, properly,â She adds in a soft murmur, her eyes flickering over his mask. Â
He briefly wonders what sheâs looking for, but itâs quickly answered when she reaches up towards him, her fingers brushing the space between his mask and the rest of the suit. Itâs fitted so well itâs nearly impossible for someone to find the disconnect between the two- unless of course youâre standing directly in front of him, which she was.
He doesnât move, doesnât 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. Itâs a quick action, but surprisingly gentle. He barely grips her arm, his touch merely a warning.
âYou shouldnâtâ 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.
âI wonât go too much further,â She murmurs. Followed by an even softer, âPromiseâÂ
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.
âI knew you were handsomeâ 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 doesnât quite touch his lips, too cautious of the healing cut over the bottom one.
âHow could you know such a thing?â He mumbles, keeping his voice low out of worry that sheâd recognize it without the muffle of his mask.
âI donât know,â She giggles softly. âYour voice, maybe. And youâre tallâÂ
âI donât think you have very good standardsâ Megumi murmurs.
âI think itâs completely fair for a girl to have a little crush on the man who saved her,â She replies, face warming up from such a confession. To her delight, it gets another smile out of him. âWho knew you smiled so much under there?â She says before she could think twice about it. âI was starting to think you were that stoic, mysterious typeâÂ
âI could beâ He mumbles, and he finds himself taking her hand before she could finally touch her fingers to his lips. Â
Sheâs more than enticed to, with how pink and alluring they were, sheâd been dying to kiss them since sheâd lifted his mask, and hoped heâd give her the chance, seeing as he hadnât tried to cover the bottom half of his face just yet.
Sheâs never looked at him like this before. And to be fair, Megumi had never looked at her like this either. Heâd 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. Sheâs 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 shouldnât indulge her.
The hand that heâs not keeping away from him reaches out again, fingers skimming his jaw before curling around it with the softest touch. She doesnât pull him with much force, but Megumi finds himself following her movements as she guides him down, closer to her height.
It wasnât right to kiss her. It was actually the exact opposite of what heâd been trying to do here. How the hell did he wind up in this situation?Â
âThank you, Spidermanâ 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, sheâs 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 doesnât 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. Itâs purely because sheâd 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 didnât move far, his hand still cupped around the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. A part of him hoped theyâd be so knotted together that they wouldnât ever have to leave this moment.
When he does find the courage to look at her, heâs mentally kicking himself.
Megumiâs 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 canât believe heâs spent so long missing out on it.
Shit, shit, shit.
âYouâŠâ He starts, but he doesnât know where heâs going. His head is in the clouds, beyond the clouds, he was completely unreachable. (y/n) giggles softly at how quickly heâd become tongue tied. âYou should pursue the journalist thing, alright?âÂ
Brows slightly drawn together from the seemingly random comment, she nods back at him in a small motion.
âYou think?â 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.
âI have a feeling that youâd succeed at anything you put your mind to,â He says, and itâs sort of cheesy, but itâs the absolute truth. Her lips part in surprise at the sudden seriousness in his tone, but she doesnât say anything, just lets his words linger on her mind. âNo more middle of the night walks, though, alright?â He says, shaking her head just a tiny bit to make sure it would get through her thick skull. âIf you canât sleep, just put something on tv, like a normal personâÂ
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.
âThen how will I see you again?â She says, only half teasing. Her eyes are wide and hopeful, and Megumi stalls by brushing his thumb over her cheekbone a few times.
âIâll be aroundâ He murmurs, nodding his head through his uncertainty. Was it a good idea to see her again?Â
(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 sheâd actually needed his help. Look where that had lead him.
âI hope so,â 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, wasnât he?
âI guess⊠you know where to find me,â 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 heâd 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.
âIf you change your mind on that interviewâŠâ She adds with a soft smile. She hopes heâs smiling back at her. Â
He is.
âIâll know where to find you,â 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. âGoodnight, (y/n)âÂ
âGoodnight, SpidermanâÂ
He took off then, completely silent as he leapt from the escape and swung off, nearly invisible in the darkness.
(y/n) couldnât 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.
Itâs 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 couldnât ignore the fact that he always chose to be near.
And now that he wasnât, 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?Â
Though their interactions had been swindling since heâd put more focus into Spiderman than he had in school, (y/n) hadnât spoken a word to him since their argument in the hall, and that was almost two weeks ago now. Â
The last thing sheâd said to him, sheâd said to Spiderman, not Megumi. Still, he tries to keep the soft, precious way sheâd bid him goodnight in his memory. He didnât want to forget a single moment of the last time heâd 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, itâs not the same.
They caught eyes here and there, but that wasnât the same either. Heâd come into class late, sheâd 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 heâd finally gotten her off his back⊠and heâs never felt like such an idiot.
It was worse outside of classes.
Heâd 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 heâd been a little rough around the edges lately, and he knew deep down his reputation was morphing into a ruthless fighter. Â
Spiderman wasnât just keeping peace, he was keeping criminals in fear. Not that Megumi was perturbed by this- for one, heâd 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 couldnât stop himself from trying to visit her. Heâd 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 theyâd last seen each other. Itâs 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 sheâs awake.
Sheâd kept her promise, it seemed. Heâd 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 didnât want her seeing him checking in, and he definitely didnât like the idea of sitting outside her window like a creep.
More than that, he feared that sheâd 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. Thatâs 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, heâd probably spent more time looking at that window than he had in his own home.
He didnât want to forget about what happened. He didnât 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 wasnât Spidermanâs fault, though. Megumi was just as much responsible for the rift heâd put between himself and (y/n), long before that damned spider bite. Heâd always pushed her off, kept her at armâs 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 heâd directed at her, way back then. So much could change within a year, he supposed that was true for everyone, but he couldnât ward off the self pity that came over him, thinking heâd 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 itâs going to start raining on him when heâs sitting here feeling bad about himself.
He doesnât 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 couldnât hurt to check, right? He would leave as soon as he was sure, and then he would try not to return.
Heâs 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 doesnât 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.
âBoo!âÂ
Her whisper yell as she leans out the window and towards his dangling head is comparable to that of a childâs. Completely un-scary, and followed by a string of delighted giggles.
Megumi freezes, and he wouldâve fallen right off the fire escape if his reflexes didnât have him shooting out a web of safety to hang by. Heâs still upside down, swinging in front of her, but (y/n) leans out further to steady his movement by his shoulders.
âScared ya good, huh?â She muses. Her grin was a sight for sore eyes. âServes you right, stalking a girl like thatâÂ
âI wouldnât call it stalkingâÂ
âWhat would you call it then?âÂ
Her hands are still pressed against his shoulders. Megumiâs not sure if itâs 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.
â... is it a crime to visit people?âÂ
âUsually when theyâre trying to creep in through a windowâ 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.
âFor the record I wasnât trying to get inâ He corrects, his own smile beginning to grow under his mask. He couldnât deny how good it felt to see her like this again, to be able to talk to her, even just look at her.
âJust spy from the outside?âÂ
âI donât like the narrative youâre spinning,â Megumi scoffs. âWhat happened to honest journalism, hm?âÂ
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.
âSo you think you can honestly say you missed me, Spidey?â She asks in a voice made of pure sugar. It rots his teeth, melts his insides, and makes all his senses go fuzzy.
âI thought we werenât going the nickname routeâ He deadpans, avoiding the question.
With her smile pursing to the corner of her lips, something about her demeanor changed then.
âItâs only fair, since you know my name,â Her tone is just as light, but her eyes are calculating, and Megumi knows heâs slipped up. And again just now, by not having a quick enough response. âAnd Iâm certain I didnât give it to you⊠so⊠how do you explain that one?â
âDid you think I wasnât going to have an interest in figuring that out?â 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.
âI donât like it when youâre cryptic, Spideyâ She huffs.
Again, Megumi laughs.
âIt sort of comes with the whole anonymity thingâ He answers.
She tilts her head at him, as if she could study him even with the mask on. Megumi couldnât deny the paralyzing effect it had on him.
âWhy does it feel like youâre a stranger to me⊠but Iâm not one to you?â She asks him slowly, as though still debating on asking him at all. âWhy does it feel like you know me?âÂ
âYou do talk a lotâÂ
Megumiâs grasping at straws now, but at least that gets a small laugh out of her. He hopes itâs enough of a distraction, hopes that she lets things go back to the way they were. He didnât need her trying to put together the puzzle that was Spiderman, it couldnât lead to anything good.
âYou know what I mean,â She murmurs. She raises a hand off of his shoulder, reaching for the hem of his mask in a way that wasnât supposed to feel familiar to him. âYou think youâd ever tell me?â She asks as her fingers toy with the materialâs edge.
âWho I am?â Megumi asks dumbly. Besides the raindrops slowly running down her face, thereâs no change in her expression. Thereâs 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 heâs been trying to brace himself for. Sheâll probably rip his mask right off, and then who knows how sheâd 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.
âI guess Iâll just have to figure it out on my own, thenâ She muses playfully.
âAn investigative journalist now, are we?â Megumi asks, but thereâs no time for further banter when sheâs got his mask bunched up at his nose and thatâs all the further it needs to go before heâs meeting her lips in a wet kiss.
The rain was not a welcomed experience, it had (y/n) shivering and it was irritating Megumiâs now exposed nose. It made their kiss slippery and messy, and with him still being upside down it didnât exactly make things any easier.
Neither of them cared.
All of (y/nâs) interests lied in kissing him and then kissing him again- she couldnât 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, Megumiâs left with his neck craned as far forward as he could push. If he hadnât held onto the last scrap of his sanity he wouldâve dropped down from the railing and crawled right through her window.
He was getting carried away.
â(y)- (y/n)-â Her name is whispered soft and broken into her lips, and she knows this is his way of ending whatever this is, but she canât help but leave him with one last lingering kiss. He doesnât push her away, doesnât even go still against her kiss. He waits, all too patiently, until she has to lean back and catch her breath.
âYouâre going to leave,â She says softly. Itâs not a question, she already knows. He might think that heâs difficult to read, with his monotone comments and the mask thatâs easy to hide behind, but he wasnât 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 doesnât take long before she misses the small glimpse of his face that she was allowed to see.
âWhy do I get the feeling that Iâm not going to see you again?â 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 canât keep away the memory of him drying her actual tears.
âYou will,â He assures her, but the nagging feeling doesnât quite go away. âYou just⊠might not know itâÂ
A lump forms in Megumiâs throat when he says it, and it only grows when her eyes light up with intrigue.
âIs that a hint, Spiderman?â She muses, and he chuckles, shaking his head.
âGet some sleepâ 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.Â
âI will see you again?â 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 doesnât say a word before swinging away, knowing heâd overstayed his welcome by a longshot. Even without looking back, he can feel (y/nâs) eyes on him as she watches from her window.
And when he thinks about it, he can still feel her lips against his. ___
(y/nâs) 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?Â
She scoffs, and he lifts his head to give her a bored glare. Of course heâd noticed her when sheâd come in- heâd heard her coming from the hallway- but he wasnât 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.
âDonât tell me you actually didnât studyâ 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 heâs capable of before turning his attention back to his notebook, pen scrawling loudly yet again. (y/nâs) brows raise at the intensity at which he was writing, shocked that her assumptions seemed to be proven correct.
âWowâ She mumbles to herself, before walking straight to the back of the class. Â
Megumi tries to ignore her, she probably just wanted to click her tongue at him in disapproval before sheâd go pick out her favorite seat and ignore him for the rest of the period. But sheâs approaching so quickly and suddenly sheâs 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.
âIf you want to borrow my notes, youâll have to askâ He tells her, his voice unwavering and devoid of any emotion. She rolls her eyes at the typical behavior.
âUnlike you, I cared enough to study last nightâ She replies, and sheâs just about to turn on her heel when the unexpected happens, and Megumi actually has a response.
âThat so?âÂ
His change in tone irks her, and she canât 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.
âDuh,â Her arms cross over her chest defensively. âIâve been studying all weekâÂ
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) wouldâve wanted to smack it right off.
âIâm sure you haveâ 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.
âWhat are you trying to say?â She snaps at him, but sheâs not nearly as intimidating as she wants to be.
âDidnât really say anything,â He replies, tone holding no emotion again. âYou just started freaking outâÂ
âIâm not freaking out,â Her eyes narrowed. âGod, why do you have to be so-âÂ
Before she can finish he looks up at her again, and again itâs like heâs 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 canât 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.
âSoâŠ?â 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 mightâve 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) hadnât gotten another visit from Spiderman in quite some time. It had been about two weeks now, and she hadnât noticed even a shadow outside her bedroom window.
She gives him the benefit of the doubt, because for some reason unknown to her sheâd grown to care for him enough to make every excuse necessary. He was doing important work out there, sheâd tell herself while sitting at her window, longing eyes looking for any sign of life out in the sleeping city. It wasnât 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 mightâve been naive of her to think he could be as close to her as being another student at her school, but she couldnât help herself. She couldnât stop the âwhat ifsâ 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 sheâd 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 sheâd 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 wasnât actively ignoring them as she searched the cafe.
âWhat are you looking for?â One of them had asked one day, a slight wince on their face when she startled and turned towards them again, as if sheâd completely forgotten where she was.
âOh, nothing,â Her reply was less than convincing. âJust spacing, I guessâÂ
Maybe that part was sort of true, but it wasnât 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 couldnât 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 werenât able to muster up.
Her grades had yet to be affected, but her uptick in strange behavior wasnât 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. Heâd 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 sheâd ultimately look away from each one, unconvinced. Â
One was too short, the next too tan, another just didnât 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 Megumiâs 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?)Â
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 didnât look depressed, it was just clear as day that her interests were on anything but what was going on around her.
Again, heâs entertained by this for some time. Thereâs 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 doesnât 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 momentâs notice, just in time to watch her crash.
And just as she steps away from the person sheâs crashed into, her focus shifted to her soaked and stained shirt, an unsettled feeling crawls over Megumiâs 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 wasnât as accidental as it looked, but he stayed seated at his empty table, with faux attention on the book in his hand.
His eyes hadnât returned to the page since his little sixth sense had drawn them towards the whole situation. Itâs upsetting that he isnât 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 hadnât even gotten to finish his lunch. Maybe he could sneak a few bites in his next class.
(y/nâs) trying not to tear up as she rushes into the empty corridor outside of the cafe. It wasnât 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. Â
Even as she pried the material forward off of her skin, she could still feel the sticky remnants of coffee underneath. It wasnât 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?Â
âSorry princess, it was an accident, swear!âÂ
And to make matters worse, it appears sheâd been followed.
(y/n) canât help the groan of frustration as she releases the material of her shirt, letting it stick to her torso again.
âItâs⊠itâs fine, itâs whateverâ 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 heâd hit on her. Thereâs not much sincerity in her words, but she doesnât need him lingering around while she tries to decide what to do.
âI did try to dodge ya, but you really werenât looking where you were going,â He continues, despite her obvious disinterest in his entire presence. âIs there anything I can do?âÂ
He comes closer and on instinct she backs away. Her expression alarmed and eyes cautious when he pressed closer anyways. Itâs not that she thinks heâs going to hurt her, but she doesnât want him any closer than armsâ length. Ten feet would be nice, but unless she wanted to draw more attention to herself by turning and booking it down the hall, armsâ length would have to do.
âNoâ 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.
âCâmon, I could at least help you get out of your-âÂ
Fratboy doesnât 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 doesnât get to do that either, as heâs spun around and shoved into the wall.
Even the snarl on his expression disappears when itâs 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/nâs) throat as the whole thing happens in a matter of seconds. Itâs as if she blinks and suddenly Megumiâs there prying this guy out of her personal space as if he was personally offended by the act.
âH-hey man, what the hell is your problem?â The waver in Fratboyâs voice is embarrassingly clear. Megumi would laugh if he was in a joking mood. Heâs not.
His hard expression is terrifying up close. (y/nâs) standing just a few feet away and even she feels a slight shiver go down her spine.
âPricks like you,â Megumi mutters, and Fratboy swallows a fat lump in his throat. âSkipping around like youâre hot shit and get to have anything you want. Pretentious pricksâ 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 didnât even let herself get too close when pressing his buttons, even if intrigue plagued her mind.
âI didnât- I didnât do anything!â 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. âTell him!â 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, Megumiâs foot brought enough force to have the guyâs 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, heâd be a bloody mess stuck inside of the concrete already.
âDonât look at her,â The command comes out in a growl. Megumi didnât 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. âHumor me, prick,â Megumi asks, making sure his attention couldnât be drawn back towards (y/n) a second time. âHow come your shirtâs so pressed ân clean?âÂ
The guyâs lip wobbles a bit before he manages a small âH-huh?âÂ
âYour shirt,â Megumiâs voice is colder this time for having to repeat himself. âHow come itâs so clean?âÂ
âI- I- because I do my laundry?â 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.
âWrong answer,â He huffs. âIâm gonna let you go, and youâre gonna go buy yourself another overpriced pretentious fucking coffee, got that?âÂ
Fratboyâs brows furrow, but he nods his head shakily in response. Perhaps Megumiâs arm was pressed too hard against his chest, and he was finally out of air. Megumi could only hope.
âAnd youâre gonna take that coffee and dump it over your headâÂ
âWhat!? Iâm not-âÂ
âSo youâd rather take the beating?â 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.
Itâs clear that Fratboy remembers the last prick that pissed off Fushiguro Megumi, and he must remember that he wasnât 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.
âForgetting something?â 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), whoâs silence evidently hadnât made her invisible to the two.
âOh, s-sorry- Iâm sorryâÂ
Itâs a weak ass apology, but Fratboy assumes itâs acceptable enough because when he rushes himself back into the cafe Megumi doesnât 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.
âWh- why did you do that?â (y/nâs) mumble is the only sound in the empty hallway. Her voice wants to stay stuck in her throat, but when itâs clear that Megumi isnât 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. Sheâd gone so rigid, her sense of fight or flight disappearing completely and keeping her stuck in place hoping she wasnât going to be witness to a nasty fight. But she hadnât expected that. Megumiâs intensity had been terrifying, even if it wasnât directed at her, standing by and watching it had her throat closing up and her heart racing.
But heâd 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 isnât fear. Itâs⊠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 couldnât have placed his trust in that frat prick.
âI donât like assholesâ Megumi answers, his voice as monotone as ever, as if he hadnât just scared the shit out of that guy for her.
The lump in her throat grew hot as the realization struck her. Heâd done all that for her?Â
âWell- well yeah, butâŠâ Her brows furrow, her head shakes ever so slightly as she tries to put her thoughts to words. âBut he didnât do anything, just⊠was an assholeâÂ
âYou donât know thatâ His reply was quick but his tone didnât shift.
(y/nâs) eyes widen, the furrow in her brow smooths out, and sheâs at a loss for words as she keeps staring at him.
You have no idea what he was capable of doing. Spidermanâs words repeat in her mind now as if he were standing right there saying them to her. Itâs uncanny how similar his warning was to Megumiâs just now.
âHe probably wouldâve fucked off if I told him toâ She makes a weak argument in an attempt to fill the overbearing silence.
Megumi doesnât 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. Heâs 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.
âMaybe next time youâll learn the lesson and tell him to fuck off, thenâ Megumi grumbles, more to himself than to her, but she takes offense nonetheless.
âWell sorry I wasnât expecting you to show up out of nowhere and threaten the guyâ 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 canât get them to come out.
âI didnât threaten anybody, relax,â He tells her in a voice that couldâve been more comforting, but it was at least steady and sure. âIt should make you feel better that heâs probably gone and made a fool of himself, nowâ He adds.
âOh, thank you for thatâ She replies sarcastically.
âYouâre welcomeâ 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 heâd 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 doesnât take the offer right away.
He sighs. Heâll just have to do all the work, huh?
âWould you rather go the rest of the day in that?â He asks, nodding to the obvious mess of her shirt.
âIt- itâs not that badâ She argues, her stubbornness forever getting in her own way.
âItâs going to reek of coffeeâÂ
âI happen to like the- the coffee bean scent-âÂ
âIt wonât be anything like thatâÂ
âItâs not even that wet anymoreâÂ
âI can see your whole bra nowâÂ
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, sheâs peeling the ruined shirt over her head and quickly shrugging into the fresh tee shirt.
Besides the ridiculous proportion, sheâs quick to notice the scent that clings to it. She dips her head once itâs 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.
âIâm⊠dressedâ She says quietly when sheâs gotten enough sniffs in and realizes that Megumiâs 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. Itâs just a tee shirt, but he takes a mental picture.
He realizes she must not wear black very often. Itâs striking on her. It must be why his mouth has gone dry and he has to force himself to look her in the eye.
âGood?â He asks, already turning to leave the classroom.
She canât believe heâs going to leave just like that. It felt like nothing had been resolved here- and if anything, she only had more questions. She doesnât know what to say to make him stay, sheâs not even sure he would stay if she asked him to. He didnât 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.
âWhat?â He sighs, but her confusion is still plastered on her face.
âI⊠I donât knowâŠâ Her voice is barely a mumble. It doesnât 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 wouldâve imagined doing before. She was supposed to keep a certain distance, Fushiguro Megumi had a reputation after all⊠but something was different.
This wasnât the Fushiguro Megumi that she knew and despised. In fact, this was a completely new person. He was⊠familiar.
Megumi doesnât 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. Itâs not like sheâs able to do anything, thereâs 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.
Heâs never been this close to her. Not without the wall of protection that was the Spiderman mask.
Thereâs 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 donât 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.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â 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 sheâd been doing.
Fushiguro Megumi? Spiderman? God, what was she thinking?Â
âN-nothingâ 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.
Megumiâs left alone, his own cheeks flaring up with heat, but he canât pinpoint what exactly causes the blushing, and he doesnât really want to stand around to figure out why. ___
Megumi doesnât show up to the last few classes of the day. (y/n) notices.
Her fingers pinch at the hem of the tee shirt heâd given her, rolling the soft cotton over the pads of her fingers in contemplation. Her focus on uncovering Spidermanâs identity during class has dwindled, but sheâs 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 soâŠÂ
Itâs 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 wasnât seeing?Â
It was so close she could feel it looming right over shoulders. ___
Never before had she sought out Fushiguro Megumi. But (y/n) couldnât get the feeling to go away no matter how hard she tried, and she feared the only way out was through.
She didnât 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 sheâd 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. Megumiâs 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 itâs hard for her to get a good read on him. He takes his seat in the back of the class and she canât 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 sheâll just have to wait until they break for lunch. Heâs 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 heâs not seated at his usual corner table all to himself. She waltzes into the cafe with nothing but confidence, and itâs 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 couldnât 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, thatâs where she happened to find Fushiguro Megumi.
Sheâs not sure if she should grin or grimace when she approaches the tree heâs sitting under. Heâs wearing his usual oversized headphones, and heâs got both his textbook and notebook opened. He was the perfect image of donât bother me. (y/n) feels adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream as she rushes over to him.
Itâs 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 didnât seem as unapproachable anymore. He didnât seem as scary, although when she thinks about it long enough, (y/n) figures sheâs probably the only person on this campus that interacted with him. Even if it was to antagonize him, sheâd 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 sheâs 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.
âHey!â 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.
âWhat do you want?â He asks, but the words arenât 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 heâs busy, that heâs studying out here alone because he wants peace and quiet, but heâs silent as she drops her backpack in front of her and opens it up.
âThought youâd want this backâ 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 heâd offered it to her it had been a crumpled up ball.
âRightâ 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?Â
âIâve just had this weird feeling lately,â She explains as she opens the shirt up completely. Megumiâs confused expression flickers between her and the shirt. âSo I wanted to see somethingâÂ
She starts bunching up the black material then, which Megumi watches with growing bewilderment. Why even fold it? What was this?Â
âOkayâŠ?â His voice trails off when she looks up at him again, and the next thing he knows sheâs leaning in close, holding his tee shirt up to his face. âWhat the- (y/n), what the hell are you doing?âÂ
She ignores his questioning and the way he tries to swat her hands from getting any closer, but it doesnât 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 couldnât deny that it wasnât a familiar sight, but it was hard to prove her theory on that alone, and she sighs.
â(y/n), this is annoying. And weird,â 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. âCan I have the shirt back or not- mmph!âÂ
Just as he thinks heâs put a stop to her weird antics, she takes him by complete surprise when she darts forward and presses her lips against his. Megumiâs eyes go wide, although heâs still half hidden behind the shirt, he canât 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, itâs already too late. Heâs 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 doesnât 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 sheâd just spontaneously kissed. Her tongue darts over her bottom lip thoughtfully, and for a second, Megumi thinks sheâs going to give it a second try just to be sure. She doesnât have to say anything right away for him to know exactly what she was thinking. She knew those lips. She knew that kiss. Heâd gotten his cover blown over a kiss, of all things.
What he doesnât 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 couldnât contain.
âI told you Iâd figure it out!â She keeps her voice hushed, which he can tell takes a great deal of effort.
âYou always go around kissing random people?â He mumbles, thinking maybe he can play it off, maybe there was still a chance of gaslighting her into thinking he wasnât the masked webslinger that had been slowly sparking up a romance with her. Â
Thereâs 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 itâs easy for her to ignore his clear attempts at stopping her.
âWow, I almost canât believe it,â She begins to mumble to herself, her eyes moving at rapid speeds as she puts the picture together in her mind. The lips sheâd memorized in the hopes of finding them again, only to find they were on Megumiâs face, she lets out a delirious string of giggles. âI mean, it makes sense now, but it also doesnât- why did you keep coming to see me?âÂ
Megumi opens his mouth, but he doesnât get a single word out before sheâs throwing more questions at him.
âDid you seriously think I wouldnât figure it out? Iâm top of the class you know, and youâre not exactly great at hiding things-âÂ
âSecond to the top,â Megumi reminds her with a slight roll of his eyes. âAnd it took you quite a while, you knowâÂ
âYeah, well, the secrecy thing was fun for a bit,â She argues. âBut you barely tried to hide it. Coming into class looking like you got hit by a bus? What were you thinking?âÂ
âThat you hated my guts and didnât care if I did get hit by a bus?â He replies with a smartass smile. Now itâs 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.
âIt was you this whole timeâŠâ She murmurs, but she doesnât 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. âWere you ever going to tell me?â She asks quietly, and this time she does wait for him to say something. Â
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 sheâd kissed him, though. She mustâve figured out his weakness, and happily used it against him.. Typical brat.
âI thought about it,â He says honestly. âJust didnât seem like a good idea,âÂ
The corners of her lips barely turn into a frown, and Megumi canât 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.
âAre you upset?â He asks. He doesnât want to know all the answers to his questions, but he asks before he could shove down the curiosity and avoid it forever.
âUpset?â She repeats, brows furrowing momentarily with her confusion. âWhat do you mean?âÂ
âYâknow,â He mumbles, long lashes flickering as his eyes fall to her lips for a moment. He looks at her again before continuing. âThat itâs me. That itâs been meâÂ
âOh,â She hums, thinking for a second. âWell⊠did you mean it all?âÂ
âMean it all?â He repeats her now. âYou mean while I was Spiderman?âÂ
(y/n) nods in a small motion.
âYeah⊠did you mean all the stuff you said⊠and did?â 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.
âYeah, of course,â Megumi answers without a shred of hesitation. âOf course I did,â He says it again, leaning forward with emphasis, his eyes never leaving hers. â(y/n), I didnât want you finding out because I didnât⊠I didnât know that I wouldâŠâ 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. âI didnât know Iâd like you so muchâÂ
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 canât 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.
âI definitely didnât plan on liking you so much either,â 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. âAre you mad about it?âÂ
âMad?â 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 havenât left hers since sheâd kissed him. âMad about what? Getting to know you? The real you? And falling for you?âÂ
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.
âNo, Iâm not mad about it,â 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. âIâve wanted nothing more than to be with you, like this, for real, since you brought me that dumb bag of vegetablesâÂ
âIt wasnât dumb, there wasnât iceâ 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 doesnât 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 mustâve always wanted more, too.
Her fingers tangle in his hair and she doesnât 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.
âYou know I still have a million questions, right?â She murmurs, and Megumi canât help but place the softest of kisses against her lips as she speaks, even if he was still breathless.
âI donât feel like sitting and talking right nowâ He mumbles, chasing her lips for another kiss. She giggles, kissing him back but not nearly as long as he wouldâve liked. Pulling away all too soon, she stares at him with wide eyes.
âI mean, how do the webs work?âÂ
â(y/n), we have class in ten minutes, thatâs not nearly enough time to get into it all,â He sighs, his hands smoothing over her hips and trying to draw her closer again. âCanât we just enjoy this a little longer, and talk about all of that later?âÂ
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.
âSo⊠did Spiderman put that guy in a hospital last year?âÂ
Megumi groans, dropping his head back against the trunk of the tree. She wasnât going to let this go, and that reputation was going to follow him forever, it seemed.
âAlright. Câmon, weâre headed to class,â 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. â(y/n), I promise Iâll tell you whatever you want to know, later-âÂ
âLetâs just skip classâ She suggests, all too eagerly for a girl that bragged about being at the top of their class.
âYeah, right,â Megumi scoffs, but when her expression doesnât waver, his face falls and he stares at her bewildered. âYouâre not seriousâŠ?âÂ
âWhy not?â She replies. âWe can afford to miss a couple classes,â Itâs not a bad argument, Megumiâs just shocked to hear her say it at all. âAnd.. I want to be the first one to get an exclusive interview with Spidermanâ She giggles, and Megumi huffs, giving her a bored look.
âIâd rather go to classâÂ
âAnd we can make outâÂ
â... I guess some catching up isnât a bad ideaâÂ
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 wasnât 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.
âYou know, Iâm thinking of calling you the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman when I write about you,â (y/n) tells him on their walk to her apartment. âHas a nice ring to itâÂ
Megumi laughs humorlessly.
âNot sure it paints a very accurate picture,â He tells her, brows raised as he watches her pout up at him. âBut youâre kinda gonna be my publicist, so I guess Iâll take what I can getâÂ
âHey! I thought you said you were falling for meâ (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.
âThat was off the recordâ 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 couldnât be getting too sappy with the way he looked at her now, heâd 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. Sheâd 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 sheâd come with her own reputation now, too. With Megumi never far behind he took on a role akin to guard dog. She couldnât 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
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
gideondaughter!reader and spencer first time talking when the team goes to dinner and spencer is just a mess talking to her
thank you sm for the request!! hope you enjoy<3 requests are still open iâll be working through them!
kids table | spencer reid x gideon!reader part 1
part 2
warnings: mentions of alcohol, light flirting.
word count: 1.5k
summary: itâs gideonâs birthday dinner and the team are here to celebrate.
âare you sure he booked it for 8:30?â jj hummed, holding her clutch purse close to her sage green maxi dress.
âyes. gideon party of nine at mastroâs, 8:30pm.â spencer recalled, having the time and place drilled into his mind in fear of being late.
âparty of nine? but thereâs only eight of us?â elleâs brows contorted, she counted everyone in the room. jj, morgan, reid, garcia, hotch, prentiss, herself and then gideon who was yet to show, that was only eight.
âmaybe heâs bringing a date?â penelope chuckled, her hands smoothing down the hem of her fitted pencil dress.
âgideon? with a date? i highly doubt that.â morgan snickered, leaning against garcia.
the group of agents waited rather impatiently for gideon to arrive to the restaurant. all adorned in their best dress for the awaited man of the hours birthday dinner.
hotch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his pointer finger and thumb.
âitâs only 8:25, he will be here.â he muttered out.
spencer began to fumble with his hands, he would class himself as a fairly patient man, the only thing on his mind currently was who the mystery ninth guest could be. he didnât like not knowing things, it was part of being a profiler he guessed.
the doors to the dimly lit restaurant swung open, jason gideon walking in full stride with a grin on his face. he wore a navy blue suit jacket paired with his signature chinos.
âfinally youâre here, theyâve been complaining for the last ten minutes.â prentiss sighed, placing a hand on her hip.
âits not even 8:30, i said i would be on time- but y/n here couldnât find the shoes she wanted to wear.â gideon let out a small chuckle as a figure walked through the doors behind him.
a girl, roughly in her early twenties stood beside gideon. her hands clamped together in front of her, a black satin dress adorned her figure, hugging her nicely, which she paired with matching black heels.
âwell i found them in the end, dad.â she mumbled out, greeting the group with a small smile.
half the team stood there it awe, mouths gaped and eyes locked on the latest arrivals.
âyou clean up nice, jason.â hotch nodded towards the older man, then turning his sights on you.
âbeautiful as ever.â he smiled, which he rarely did, and leaned over to give you a hug.
âthanks uncle aaron.â you grinned back, embracing his warm hug.
âiâm sorry you need to catch us up real quick- dad? uncle?â morgan titled his head like a confused puppy.
âi didnât realise youâd have trouble putting two and two together, morgan. this is my daughter, y/n.â gideon mused, ushering you further into the room.
you held out your hand, derek quickly took it in his, giving it a small shake, cogs in his mind still visibly turning.
âand aaron isnât actually my uncle- he just acts like it.â you pulled your hand back, returning it to your side.
gideon quickly introduced you to the rest of the team, everyone seeming to come to terms with the fact gideon had a âsecretâ daughter that he never once brought up.
all the while spencer stood, hands glued to his sides as he eyed you. he had never seen someone so perfect, the way the dress hung from your frame, the way you politely greeted every member of the team.
when gideon had finally reached him to introduce y/n to him, he was caught off guard.
âreid, meet my daughter y/n, im sure itâs not as hard for you to understand.â gideon hummed, making a dig at morgan who had migrated with the group to where the table was set up.
unlike the others, you kept your hand to yourself, but shot spencer a sweet smile.
âitâs really nice to meet you dr. reid- my dad has told me so much about you, i know youâre not big on handshakes.â
spencerâs heart was practically doing backflips at this point. he was completely enamoured by you.
âreally nice- to meet you too.â he managed to stutter out.
gideon internally rolled his eyes, knowing exactly what was happening.
âhow about we sit down and look at the menu.â he began to usher his daughter towards the table, spencer following quick at his heels.
by the time the three of them had reached where the table set for nine was, the rest of the team were sat, eagerly awaiting them. the only free spaces were at either end of the rectangular table, and an extra place next to the end seat.
âhey gideon come look at thisâ jj beckoned the older man over, to the head of the table. he briefly turned back to his daughter, before he could utter a word she nodded, knowing that she wouldnât be sitting with him.
âguess we can sit down at the end together.â you affirmed, shuffling to the free seats with spencer by your side.
once seated, everyone began flipping through the menu, all besides spencer whoâs gaze every so often flickered over to the girl beside him, who seemed deep in thought about what she was going to order.
âwhat are you going to get?â she asked, attempting to make quiet conversation with the man at her side.
spencer hummed, he had researched the restaurant before hand noting all of the dishes he might like.
âthe uh- the pasta, i think.â he paused for a moment. âwhat about you?â he cursed the heat that rose to his face, lifting his hand to loosen the dark purple tie around his neck.
you smiled, still scanning the menu, taking glimpses of spencer in his flustered state.
you had heard many things about most of the team throughout your fathers years of working with them, and when he finally allowed you to meet them, you were most excited to meet spencer.
âi might have that too, it sounds good.â
a few hours had past since everyone had sat down, everyone had finished eating and were now onto their fourth round of drinks, all besides you and spencer.
everyone was deep in conversation about a case from a few years back, obviously you had no clue what they were talking about.
you turned to spencer, who seemed to have gotten more comfortable being in such close proximity to you.
âi swear it feels like we are sitting at the kids table at a christmas dinner.â you giggled to yourself.
âi know right- itâs itâs like we arenât even here.â spencer returned the chuckle, his heart beating a little faster.
âhow are you enjoying the night- i hope im not boring you too much, if you want to join the rest of them feel free.â you mumbled out, eyes migrating to your hands that you had placed on your lap.
âno no- i like it here, i like you- i mean i like being with you i-â spencer fumbled on his words, causing you to smile. god he was a complete mess.
you reached a hand over, placing it on spencerâs forearm. he could swear his skin felt like it was burning from your touch.
âi like being with you too, spencer.â you whispered out, a soft pink blush dusting your cheeks.
his hazel eyes locked with yours, and he felt his breath hitch in his throat. he was partly confused as to why someone like you had enjoyed his awkwardness and rambling.
to say he had little experience talking to women in more than a friendly way, was an understatement.
he was completely out of his depth, and the fact that your father, his boss, sat at the other end of the table made things a little more awkward for him.
âyou look really-good tonight, by the way.â he managed to mumble out, without sounding like a complete idiot.
this caused your face to flush, darting your eyes away from him briefly.
âthank you spencer.â
âwould you maybe want to-â before he could continue, gideon had stood up from the table, all eyes were on him.
âlets go y/n, your old man is getting too tired for this.â he joked.
âoh right-â you stood up quickly brushing off your dress, you did a small lap of the table thanking everyone for the lovely evening and telling them it was great to meet them.
you then followed gideon out of the room, all remaining eyes were now on spencer who slumped down into his chair.
âthatâs rough man, you had all night and didnât even ask her out.â morgan shook his head lightly, feeling somewhat bad for the boy genius.
before spencer could say anything, he watched you dart back into the room, a piece of paper in your grasp. you quickly placed it in spencerâs hand before pressing a light peck to his cheek and running off out of the restaurant again.
the now flustered brunette un crumpled the paper, scanning the scribbled words.
thanks for talking all night, id love to go out with you sometime x
555-555-555 - y/n
ânever mind- atta boy!â
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#fluff#jason gideon#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#penelope garcia#jenifer jareau#elle greenaway#emily prentiss
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Threeâs Company
When Patrick visits his best friend at Stanford University, Artâs new fling finds herself stuck between two very attractive men.
9k (18+)
Warnings: smut, threesome, unprotected p in v, double penetration, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, theyâre all pervs, and strong language.
-
The room is stiflingly hot.
There is no air conditioning in her study/fuck buddy's dorm to keep up with the late April heat that has descended upon Stanford's campus so quickly. Three different fans are plugged into outlets around the cramped living space, yet it does little to keep her body cool enough to feel comfortable.
Sleeping with Art was an impulsive decision. The first time was merely weeks ago after he politely asked if she would share her notes from a class he was absent from. They exchanged numbers to organize the meeting, and she ended up talking to him for the better part of an hour in the dining hall. Although she did not recognize it as flirtingâthe oblivious little thing she isâhe shyly commented on seeing her at one of her gymnastics competitions and refused to let her get dinner with her meal credits. Looking back, his intentions should have been obvious to her, yet she does not think badly of him over it. If anything, she likes how wanted he made her feel. He knew what he wanted and ensured that he got it.
They came back to his room to studyâonly to study, he claimed with his hands held up to proclaim his innocenceâfor their approaching final exams.
"Good," she said with a teasing lilt to her voice, slinging her bag onto her shoulder and turning to walk in the direction of his dorm building. "Cause it's way too hot to be doing anything else."
They were both laughing as he set down his racquet bag to unlock the door. It was muffled through the wall, but Patrick heard it just fine from where he was perched on the foot of Art's bed with Tears for Fears playing on the unlabeled CD he dug through desk drawers to find. The sound of a distinctly feminine giggle made his mouth turn up at the corners in a smirk. This will be fun to tease his closest friend over until his cheeks flush pink and he has to hide his face in his shirt.
When the door swung open, the laughter died out as soon as they realized they weren't alone, but it was quickly replaced with wide smiles and warm greetings.
Patrick tried not to look her up and down so blatantly. Instead, he chuckled and said, "Art, you conveniently left out that you had a girlfriend on our last call."
To this, Art set down his bag and tackled him onto the bed, starting a minute-long wrestling match that only ended when they began to sweat from the heat and physical activity. It was then that Art remembered to have manners and introduced her. He scrambled to sit upright on the mattress and met her curious gaze.
"Y/N, this is Patrick. I'm sorry, I forgot what day he was coming."
She smiled.
"It's nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you." A pause, and then she turned her attention to Art. "Do you wanna study another time? I don't wanna intrude or anything."
Before Art could open his mouth to tell her to stay, Patrick aimed one of his charming grins at her, then said, "No, please intrude. I'll just hang out. You won't even know I'm here."
The last sentence caused a disbelieving scoff to leave Artâs lips.
As of right now, as she sits on the chair in front of the desk and the boys share the bed, they have gotten halfway through the study guide they meticulously constructed after one of the two classes they share, but it grew boring once an hour and a half passed. They typically end up getting distracted and make out by now, but with Patrick here, neither of them considers that an option. So, she suggests they take a half-hour break to sit, drink, and talk to allow their brains to decompress from the constant stimulation.
He already had a few beers inside the mini fridge beneath his desk, along with a hard seltzer for her seeing that she finds the taste of beer disgusting but quite enjoys being drunk with him. Also kept in the freezer section of the fridge is a pack of ice pops she bought a few days ago when the heat wave began. They prove to be very useful right now as the midday sun bakes the building alive despite the closed curtains and blowing fans.
The CD has moved onto Nine Inch Nails, and she remains quiet to hear it over the sound of the fans as she holds a red ice pop to the side of her neck to cool herself off. Sometime along the way, both of them had stripped down to their underwear after asking her if it was alright because it was so hot. Patrick joked that he was alright with her taking her clothes off too, which she laughed at while Art playfully shoved him over it. Yet now she isn't laughing. Her small exercise shorts are as forgiving as any item of clothing could be in these circumstances, but the long-sleeve shirt she wore because it was the only clean one left is sticking to her skin.
"So, how did you and Art meet?"
Her eyes open to find Patrick glancing back and forth between them.
"It's a boring story, actually," she says. "He asked if I took notes for a class he missed, and now he's stuck with me all the time."
"No, no, okay, maybe it was boring from her perspective, but I was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her for at least a week before then. I went to one of her competitions and recognized her from class," Art explains. "She won, which wasn't surprising at all."
Although she already knew this, this is the first time he has admitted to it out loud, and her stomach flutters at the idea of him becoming so enamored with her from one glance. The popsicle is sweet on her tastebuds when she raises it to her lips and sucks with her eyes looking between them both. As she expected, Patrick shifts a little in place and looks away for reasons not at all related to how she was looking at them while sucking her popsicle.
She chuckles.
"So, you were just interested in befriending me 'cause I win a lot?"
Her tone of voice is taunting, but they know it's all in good fun. Art is quick to play along, shrugging his shoulders to feign aloofness and taking a quick swig of his beer before responding. Their eye contact grows intense in the seconds before he speaks.
"Well, there were some other contributing factors."
"Mm," Patrick hums in agreement. "I've never seen you compete, but you are really hot, so Art's right about that."
This makes her pause for a second, her gaze shifting to find Art's to see if his friend crossed any lines, but he appears strangely calm about it. What she doesn't know is that he has never had any problem sharing, at least, not with Patrick. They shared a room in boarding school, jerked off together to the same girl, and shared the court togetherâwhat was his would always be Patrick's, and what was Patrick's would always be his.
"You're flirting with me right in front of him?"
Art interjects, "I'd be shocked if he didn't."
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he's standing up from the bed to get another beer. The dorm room is small, so it only takes a few strides for him to meet her where she sits before the desk and kneels down to open the mini fridge. His left hand braces itself on one of her thighs while the right swings open the fridge door only to find there is no beer left. Rather than complain, he simply grabs one of her least favorite hard seltzer flavors and gives her thigh a firm squeeze before standing up.
The bed creaks beneath his weight when he sits back down on it.
He settles into a comfortable position with his back against the wall and legs spread, balancing the seltzer can on his bent knee. Patrick sits close to him, and she finds it difficult to peel her eyes off the pair of them in their current state of undress. Her gaze mostly lingers on Patrick seeing that she has already explored every inch of Art's lean body in the plentiful amount of times they've hooked up over the past few weeks. But, that being said, she cannot resist looking at Art either. Having two beautiful men laid out before her in their underwear is a treat she never expected to indulge in today. They each have the strong, masculine figures of athletesâshowing mostly in their shoulders, biceps, abdomen, and thighs.
When Patrick notices her staring, she turns her gaze to the floor to avoid the embarrassment of being caught. If he did catch her, though, he doesn't call her out for it. Not yet, at least.
With one last bite of her popsicle, she stands from the desk chair to toss it into the small trash can beside his nightstand. It isn't until she lets it go that she realizes how close she now stands to the two of them. Only a foot or so from the bed, her heart begins to hammer in her chest at the proximity.
The way she sees it, she has two options. The first would be to retreat to the desk to let her long-sleeved shirt give her heatstroke while the men get to sit in front of the oscillating fans with their shirts off, or she can strip down to her undergarments and join them on the bed. Needless to say, she opts for the latter of the two.
Y/N lets out an exaggerated groan at the heat and fans herself with her hands for the sake of appearing somewhat innocent in what she's about to do, then reaches down for the hem of her shirt with a huff.
Art and Patrick can do nothing but watch with rapt attention side by side as she pulls the fabric up her torso and over her head. The shirt ends up falling to the floor beside her feet alongside their discarded t-shirts and pants. This leaves her in her most comfortable braâwhich is Art's favorite since her nipples can be seen through the mesh materialâand a pair of tiny spandex shorts.
Patrick's tongue darts out to wet his lips at the sight of herâalmost angelic in her beautyâand tries to burn the image into his mind to hold onto forever. Definitely going in the spank bank, he thinks to himself as his cock begins to harden in his boxers. Beside him, Art has been stunned to silence. Even though they've fucked like rabbits since the first time, he isn't sure if he'll ever get used to seeing her like this. Those shorts hug the delicate curve of her hips, as well as that lovely ass that has been sculpted from years of training as a gymnast, and all he can think of is how badly he wants to take them off.
They sit there, dumbfounded, with their mouths hanging open just enough for her to notice and suppress an arrogant smirk. But to allow herself to smirk would be to reveal her cards, and she doesn't want them to see this as anything other than her innocently trying to cool down. Truth be told, she hasn't thought this through. It's not as though she planned this as she was sitting at the desk. It's more of an impulsive, irresistible urge. And if they will tease her so blatantly with their half-naked bodies, she is entitled to do the same.
"You," she says, jutting her chin in Patrick's direction. "Scoot. I wanna sit in front of the fans too."
Underneath it all, she's thankful that she took the time to do her hair the way that makes her feel the most confident and put a little makeup on. Not that either of them is focused on her damned makeup. No, they're far too busy ogling her figure to notice anything north of her collarbones.
After a delayed second of staring, what she said seems to register within him and spark him into action. He's quick to scoot closer to the end of the bed if it means she'll be inhabiting the small space between them.Â
She offers a quiet, "Thank you," and crawls onto the bed, turning around and settling into place with her back against the wall. The cool air generated by the fans blows faintly against the front of her sweat-slick chest, and she can't help but shut her eyes and hum in appreciation of it.
With her eyes shut, Art and Patrick are both scrambling to quietly conceal their growing erections. If they don't, it'll be glaringly obvious when she opens her eyes and sees a tent in their underwear on either side of her. Although the life-long friends don't speak, there's an understanding formed between the two of them. Whatever she allows them to have of her tonight, if she allows anything, they'll share nicely. Patrick knows that if anything happens, he is to assume it is a one-time thing unless she or Art expresses a desire for an arrangement of some sort to be made.
Her eyes open again a few seconds later to find them staring at her.
Breaking the silence, she asks, turning her head left to right to address each of them, "Did your mothers never tell you it's rude to stare?"
Patrick doesn't miss a beat.
"Did you know it's rude to be a tease?"
The sound of Art sucking in a deep breath meets her ears, but she doesn't look away from Patrick. Their eyes are locked, and she can see the mischief present in his. It's almost as if he dares her to do something...like he knows that she wants him just as badly as he wants her. Part of her feels guilty, feeling like she should remain loyal to Art even though they aren't exclusive, but a much more dominant part of her desires it too much to resist the temptation.
"Patrick, don't pressure her. If she doesn't want toâ"
Her head turning to look at him halts him in his tracks. The look she's giving him...
Much to his shock, she was a virgin when they met a few weeks ago. He questioned her relentlessly, claiming there was no way someone as beautiful, smart, and talented as her could've gone so long without doing it, but she held firm. It was the truth, he realized after she sheepishly relayed the story of how she made out with a basketball player on Halloween and wimped out before it could go further. That first night, she was a bashful, blushing little thing. He treated her with the tenderness and reverence she deserved, first making her come with his tongue and fingers before fucking her. It was so...intimate. Her nails dug into his shoulders when he made that first, breathtaking thrust into her. Just the thought of it was enough to get him hard the next day, but he knew not to expect anything after how shy she was the previous night. Little did he know, he awakened something within her, and from then on, she would be insatiable.
He almost got whiplash from how quickly she changed from a nervous, flushed-faced girl asking him, "Am I doing this right?" when she got on top to a cock-hungry temptress ready to jump onto him at any moment. Truth be told, he found it so fucking hot. To think that he was the catalyst for this behavior was beyond comprehension. Though Art did well enough in his dating life, Patrick was the one that the girls they liked gravitated toward when they were in school together. But she was his, and he thinks, even now, that he'll always have the satisfaction of having gotten to her first no matter what happens tonight.
Y/N shifts around on the mattress so that she's sitting on the side of the bed opposite the wall, facing them with her hands on her knees and legs tucked beneath her ass. Both boys perk up a little at this, and they watch every minute movement she makes and listen to every breath she breathes with unwavering focus.
She meets Art's gaze first before doing anything. Her brows raise in question, and, in answer, he gives her a slight nod. Those pretty, cherry-stained lips of hers curve into a smirk she doesn't even bother to hide in response to this.
"Have you ever fucked the same girl before?" she asks out of pure curiosity, her tone calm and even. Her hands leave her knees to grab one of their thighs each, slowly rubbing up and down to allow her fingertips to brush the edge of their boxers. "Two guys at the same time is a first for me..."
To say that they are in a state of shock would be a gross understatement. Surprisingly, their mouths are not hanging open, and they aren't drooling at the mere thought of what she's proposing.
Somehow, Patrick finds his voice and says, "No." A second of pause, thenâ"Is this for real? Like you're not just fucking with us?"
The silence that follows is ripe with tension. All that can be heard is the sound of voices passing in the hallway outside of the dorm room and fans blowing on their highest setting. The hands on their thighs come to a halt at the edge of their boxers, and the softened expression on her face shifts into one of unabashed lust as she looks at Patrick.
In answer to his question, she starts to crawl over to him. Seeing that the mattress is a twin, it doesn't take too long for her to reach him and settle into place on top of him. Her hands slide up to cup his face, forcing him to only look at her when she lowers herself onto his lap. The spandex shorts hugging every inch of her figure do little to keep him from feeling the warmth of her cunt against the bulge that formed the second she took her top off.
That first brush of her lips against his is gentle, as though she has him under a trance, but it doesn't take longer than a few seconds for him to snap out of it. Patrick's hands grasp her hips first to keep her from moving away, then they slide down to knead the soft, supple flesh of her ass as he begins to kiss her back hungrily. The kiss quickly begins to descend from her lips to her jaw until he reaches the soft skin of her neck.
While he nips and sucks at the sensitive spot along the side of her neck, Y/N opens her eyes to find Art staring, unblinking, at the pornographic display before him. The sight of him aloneâbetween his messy blonde hair, piercing eyes, and masterfully structured faceâis enough to pull a breathy moan from the back of her throat. One would think that she would get used to the way he makes her feel when he looks at her like that, but she never does.
One of the arms wrapped around Patrick's neck uncurls itself to reach for Art, fingers wiggling to beckon him to her.Â
He's already invading her space by the time she whispers, "C'mere, baby."
Art practically melts into the two writhing bodies he kneels beside at the casual use of a pet name from her. The word echoes in the farthest reaches of his brain until it is all he can hear on a loop. Even as she grips the back of his neck and pulls him until their mouths collide, his cock twitches from the memory of her calling him baby.
Patrick continues to suck, lick, nip, and kiss his way down her neck as she slips her tongue into Art's mouth with a groan. He leaves marks behind everywhere he goes with the thought of his friend finding them on her for the next week and a half in mind. It only makes it more thrilling for him to imagine the strange mixture of frustration and arousal that will arise within Art when he rediscovers them the next time they hook up.
Slowly, she is guided onto her back by his mouth slipping down to take one of her nipples into it and his callused hands peeling her shorts, along with her soaked cotton thong, down over the swell of her ass. The freshly washed sheets are soft against her bare back as she lays back and watches Patrick worship her breasts with both his mouth and hands. In the midst of their repositioning, Art took it upon himself to squeeze into the cramped space next to Patrick, slotting himself between him and the wall the bed is pressed against. Without a word of warning, he dips his face down to kiss the breast Patrick is cupping in his hand.
She feels hands everywhere, unsure of which belongs to who. Hands grapple for purchase on her hips, her waist, her breasts, her thighs, and her assâalways moving in search of new territory to claim. Although they have no way of coordinating their actions, they seem to move in sync with one another. The second Art's mouth lowers to kiss down her stomach, which flinches inward at the feeling, Patrick follows. If she weren't so overwhelmed with everything right now, she'd likely laugh at how eager they are to race each other down the length of her body.
Their heads bump every few seconds by the time they reach her parted thighs, but they are too focused on getting a taste of her to care at first. They work with the same synchronized harmony they once had as doubles partners, Art tugging her left leg over his shoulder while Patrick shoves her right up and out until her thigh is flush with her chest. She can't help but silently thank her parents for enrolling her in gymnastics lessons years ago. If they hadn't, this would be a tad uncomfortable.
Finally, Patrick tries to shove Art to the side a little, complaining, "Come on, man, you're with her all the time."
To her surprise, it works for the first moment or so. Art places hot, open-mouthed kisses on her inner thigh as Patrick's tongue makes a broad stroke through her, but it isn't long before he grows dissatisfied with his current role in this impromptu threesome and decides to fight back. He doesn't shove or push like Patrick had, instead, he gently nudges his head against Patrick's until they can share her.
Having Art go down on her alone always feels pleasurable, but having both of their mouths on her at the same time is another sensation entirely. It's indescribable. Spit drools from their lips as they kiss her sodden cunt, taking turns flicking the tips of their tongues against her clit for the sake of hearing her moan over and over. From where she looks down at them, they're nearly kissing each other as they eat her out, and she has to tip her head back onto her shoulders to keep them from seeing her smirk.
When she looks back down, she makes a breathy, gasping sound at the sight of them. Patrick is looking up at her with an intensity no man has ever had when looking at her, not even Art, and there is no ignoring the feeling it stirs in the pit of her abdomen.
"Fuck," she whines and pushes herself harder against their faces, but it's never enough. "MoreâI need more. Please."
Neither one hesitates. In fact, they seem to form a plan without speaking it aloud. As Art's free hand raises from where it palmed his cock through his boxers, Patrick's lips close around her sensitive, puffy clit and start to suck. The tips of Art's middle and ring fingers brush tentatively against her hole, then, teasingly slow, push inside until they're buried knuckle deep.
The contrast of the men as loversâPatrick being unforgiving and passionate, Art being tender and desperateâthreatens to dizzy her. But Art cannot control himself for too long. He often starts slow and gentle, his eyes flooded with genuine affection for whoever is pinned under his body, then loses his composure the farther things go. By the time he's inside of her, he's almost brutal in how hard he fucks her, and it isn't out of malice, it's out of animalistic lust.
So, as per usual, the pace Art sets to begin with shifts into something harder and faster.
Over the sounds of the fans and music playing on the CD player across the room, a symphony of panting breaths, whines, and wet noises can be heard. It wouldn't surprise any of them if the people who were talking in the hallway could hear it, but it's not like they care right now.Â
When she closes her eyes and tries to fall back against the mattress, Patrick stops for a second to murmur, "Don't look away," before getting back to work. Something about the way his voice sounds forces her to submit to his demand without hesitation. There's an edge to it. An underlying promise that he will stop and leave her here to suffer if she doesn't listen, so she does. She watches with a slack-jawed expression at how they work diligently to get her off.
The combined sensations of the fingers pumping into her at a steady, rushed pace and the lips enclosed around her sensitive bud push her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion. Art slips a third finger in and licks between her sticky folds as Patrick sucks her clit relentlessly. Everything they do is motivated by a dire need to take as much of her as they can, as though they can't quite believe what's happening and want to savor it before they wake from the dream. Seeing their desperation only fuels the fire roaring to life inside of her.
They feast on her the way starving men would if presented with foodâhumming and groaning in satisfaction at the taste of her on their tongues. Through the haze she's fallen under as a result of the present situation, her gaze lifts from where both of their faces are smushed together between her parted thighs to find that they're both humping the mattress. It seems like they don't even realize they're doing it, which, of course, only makes it hotter for her. To think that she wields enough power over them, that she renders them so useless and needy...
Her brows pinch together at the feeling of Art's fingertips finding the sweet spot inside of her.
"Right there," she breathes out in a shaky voice, hand shooting down to grasp anything she can find for support.
It ends up being Patrick's dark hair that is weaved between her fingers and used as her lifeline, tugging nearly every time Art's fingertips find the spot inside of her that makes her throw her head back on the bed and cry out for them. If they didn't have her pinned down, her hips would be lifting to meet every thrust, but she cannot do anything other than take it. Every breath she takes turns rapid, her chest rising and falling dramatically, as the familiar feeling of her impending release grows nearer by the second.
She says, half warning and half pleading with them, "I'm"âThe sentence is cut off before it can be said by a high-pitched moan that makes Patrick moan and Art whimper into herâ"Please"âWhat she's pleading for, none of them know, herself included, but she continues to babble nonsensically anywayâ"Ah!"
The hand that isn't pulling on Patrick's hair reaches down instinctively for the hand Art grips her thigh with, and she doesn't even need to ask him for it. He entwines their fingers and allows her to squeeze his hand until circulation is lost as she finally feels the wave that was building within her begin to crest.
It hits her harder than she ever knew it could.Â
Everything explodes into a sensation of bliss so strong, she loses herself in it. The only thing tying her body down to the earth is the feeling of the hands on herâtouching her, fingering her, caressing her, and holding her handâyet even that is not enough to keep her from floating away into another world entirely for the first few seconds of her orgasm. The muscles in her legs, so exhausted from being forced into a position like this, shake violently with every wave of pleasure rushing through her, and her walls clamp down around the fingers thrusting into her.
If she could live forever in these fifteen seconds, she would, but it soon becomes obvious to her that there's no chance of that happening. Gradually, the intense sensation starts to recede like the tides, and they are both there to help her ride it out to the very end. But once it fully fades, she wriggles beneath them in sensitivity.
Using the hand wrapped up in his hair, Y/N pulls Patrick's mouth away from her clit with a strength he didn't know to expect despite her obvious athletic background, and when Art notices this, he too slows the rhythmic pumping of his fingers inside of her throbbing heat to a stop. Wary of hurting her, he waits another five seconds before slowly pulling them out.
She has gone boneless where she lays on her back with her eyes shut and chest heaving for air.
Knowing she cannot see them, Patrick cuts his best friend a look and jerks his chin in her direction in a silent urging to check on her. Both men start to move at the same time, crawling over her until they reach her face. While Patrick lies beside her and trails his hand up and down her naked, sweat-soaked torso to occupy himself in the time it takes her to recover, Art licks her arousal from his fingers before grabbing her by the chin.
He asks with a teasing inflection, "You still with us?"
Her eyes slowly open to find them both staring at her, and she cannot help the slight smile that comes to her face at this.
"You guys almost killed me," she murmurs. "I think my vision got spotty for a second there."
They allow her another moment to catch her breath and recuperate in the aftermath of what she endured. She takes turns looking at them as she pants for air, laying with her arms above her head and thighs squeezed together due to her current state of sensitivity.
Patrick is the first to break the silence.
"We're not done with you," he says softly, the hand on her chest climbing up until it cradles the side of her neck. "But you know that, don't you?"
"I'd be a little bummed if you were," she replies.
Her head is whipping around at the sound of Art's voice.
"Only a little?"
She pushes herself up from where she's lying supine on the bed, which is now a mess of tangled sheets and sweat, to smack him on the arm. It's all in good fun, of course, and Art is hardly hurt by the playful blow she landed on him. Giggles escape her mouth as they begin to play fight, swatting and trying to pin one another down with Patrick there to spectate. He encourages Y/N to fight dirty, telling her where to strike, which causes Art to curse under his breath and declare him a traitor.
It ultimately ends with her on top, her legs straddling his hips and hands pinning his wrists to the bed. Based on the faraway, longing gleam in his eyes as he looks up at her, Patrick can tell immediately that she only won because Art allowed her to. Because there is something about being pinned to the bed underneath her that turns him on. And she knows it. It's easy to tell by how his erection presses up against her naked center through the fabric of his boxers.
Suddenly, she comes up onto her knees and moves back until she's hovering over his thighs. Her next words are a soft-spoked explanation for why she's reaching for the waistband of his boxers.
"Too much clothes."
But, to her surprise, another pair of hands comes to her aid in shimmying Art's underwear down his hips and legs. The way Patrick sees it, the sooner he helps her get them off, the sooner she'll take his off. And he isn't wrong. As soon as they get the boxers free from Art's body, the garment is tossed to the side without a care in the world. Neither of them looks to see where they landed, they're far too busy leaning in to kiss each other than keep track of their discarded clothing.
Her left hand is wrapped around Art's cock, pumping at a torturously slow pace, as she pulls away from Patrick with a string of saliva connecting their lips.
"Take those off," she says with a pointed look at his crotch.
To say he is sent scrambling to take off his underwear at her command would be an understatement. If this scenario itself wasn't hot enough to make her cunt throb with a desperate need to be fucked, she'd be giggling at his eagerness. But it's hard to find anything funny when she's faced with Patrick standing, one foot on the floor and his other leg braced against the bed at the knee, with nothing to conceal him from her anymore.
It must inflate his ego to heights it has never reached before to see her tongue dart out to wet her lips at the sight of him. The hand stroking Art falters as she admires Patrick's cock. It's about an inch longer than Art's yet equal in girth, curving up a little toward his hair-speckled, defined abdomen. A drop of precome has dripped from his tip, and she has to dip her head forward to get a quick taste. Those pretty lips wrap around him, not pushing down to take the rest of his shaft into her mouth but remaining where she is, flicking her tongue against the slit where the drops of sticky, pearlescent fluid secrete.
A taste is all she allows herself, though.
Her lips pull off of him with a soft popping sound, and she makes sure to maintain eye contact with him as she licks a drop of pre-come off of her top lip.
She turns to look at Art, then Patrick, then back at Art, asking, "How do you want me?"
Seeing that she was a virgin before she started seeing Art, she figures she isn't qualified to direct this in a way that'll be comfortable for everyone involved. No, if she had to bet, Patrick has the most experience between the three of themâwith Art following closely behindâand he will have no problem taking control from here based on how he has acted thus far.
To their surprise, it's Art who answers first.Â
Patrick was still in a faraway daze from having her mouth around his cock only to be kicked when he was down by the question she asked. How do you want me? God, it's like she's trying to kill them.
"On my lap."
Art pushes himself up from the mattress and repositions so he sits on his knees in front of them, reaching for her hips to pull her closer without a second of hesitation. Her arms instantly reach for his shoulders to steady herself as she maneuvers into the exact position he had in mind. Buried beneath the music that has become white noise to them and the fans running on their highest setting, he thinks he hears her breath hitch in her throat once she's straddling his lap, the tip of his cock nudging against her clit.
Absentmindedly, she starts to grind against him, coating him in the slick arousal that seeps from her, but it's slow. A tease compared to what's coming next.
"Patrick," he says, his voice unwavering despite the excitement that makes his stomach churn. His hand slides down from her neck, caressing her breast as it passes by at a lazy speed, until he takes hold of himself and pumps a few timesâas if he isn't hard as a fucking rock already. Over her shoulder, he meets his friend's intense stare. "If you wanna fuck her, you should probably get on the bed."
And while he would usually fire back something equally witty or taunting, Patrick cannot manage to do anything but nod. There's something about seeing Art this way that subdues him. He would like to think that the sole reason he's standing naked in front of his best friend is because there's a girl involved, but that isn't true. Not completely. Although Art would never admit to himself that he feels the same way, there's something familiar about this. Comfortable. Right.
The mattress dips with Patrick's shifting weight, squeaking a little beneath his knees until he settles into place behind her. His chest presses against her back, and his hand reaches up to grab her jaw, guiding her head to tilt so he can kiss her neck while Art lines himself up with her. She feels Patrick's cock pressing against her ass as the broad tip of Art's sinks inside of her.
Having Patrick's face buried in her neck, her shoulder, and back to her neck again provided her and Art a rare second of private intimacy. Her eyes, glazed over with lust, lock into his and refuse to look away. The intensity present in his gaze does not frighten her. If anything, it sends a rush of adrenaline through her body, and she takes a second to admire his soft, wide eyes. She's never mentioned it aloud before, but she has always been fascinated with making eye contact with him due to his right eye. Half of the iris is a striking, clear shade of blue while the other is a warm brown hue.
"Fuck," he says under his breath at the feeling of her squeezing down around him, her tight cunt resisting a little until she relaxes and sinks down until there's nothing left to take.
There's nothing that compares to the feeling of the first thrust he makes.
Every time, it makes her bite her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. To feel him so deep is almost undoing in itself. Then she feels another hand slide between her legs, and her mind goes utterly blank. Everything outside of this room falls away the second Patrick starts to rub her clit in gentle, languid circles to help her adjust to the stretch of Art inside of her. Patrick's lips lavish every accessible inch of her bare skin with kisses as his friend, with a hand on each of her hips, starts to lift her up and down at an unhurried pace.
Their noses and lips brush without completely touching. When she pushes her face closer to Art's, hoping to lock lips with him, he pulls away for the sake of seeing her grow hot in the face from embarrassment. The mouth worshipping the back of her neck curves up into a smirk in reaction to the games Art plays with her. Who knew he's just as fun in bed as he is out of it? Certainly not Patrick.
She mutters, voice breathy and weak, "Feels so good..."
"Yeah?" Patrick murmurs into her skin and presses his fingers hard against her clit. "Tell me how he feels."
If he could see her the way Art can right now, he'd have to suppress a chuckle at how her brows pinch together at the command. Regardless of her sudden shyness, the words he says only make her ride Art harder. Over her shoulder, Patrick searches for those pale blue eyes only to find them staring through him already. Every smooth rocking motion of her hips pushes her ass against his neglected erection, providing him with a brushing touch before pivoting away again.
"He feels"âshe says, chest rising and falling fasterâ"He's so hard." Her sentences are hardly coherent. "Perfectâmmmâfucking me so deep." One of her hands reaches to tug his down to press it against the southernmost part of her abdomen. "Feel."
With her palm molded over the back of his hand and forcing him to push down on her belly, Patrick can hardly keep from groaning at the subtle bulge of Art's cock moving in and out of her. It's strangely intimate for the three of them to share this experience, but for him to feel every thrust through her is more than he anticipated.
Unable to fight what instinct drives him to, Patrick shifts his hips until the angle of her grinding against him allows his tip to brush up against the hole she and Art have yet to touch. He doesn't do anything more, not without her asking for it, but it's clear to both Art and Y/N that he desperately wants to. All of this physical affection shared between the two of them has made Patrick needy and jealous, so she decides to grant him mercy.
She reaches behind herself blindly to guide him elsewhere, nudging him against the hole Art is already filling. It takes them a couple of seconds to understand what she means in doing this, but, once it clicks, they start to go a little crazy. For the moment, she has stopped bouncing on Art's cock for the sake of allowing Patrick to push in beside him, and he has to surge forward to kiss her. If he doesn't distract himself with a kiss, he'll be too tempted to move.
As Art kisses her deeply, his tongue invading her mouth and caressing her own, Patrick's hand wraps around her throat for leverage with his teeth nipping at her earlobe. His hand wraps around where hers grips his cock to guide it to her entrance, and with his help, they manage to squeeze the tip in.
Her jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation, and the sloppy kiss is interrupted when her head rolls back onto Patrick's shoulder. Art doesn't seem to care, though. Now that her head is tipped back, her neck is exposed for him to mark, and he takes advantage of the opportunity as soon as it presents itself. His lips brush against Patrick's fingers a few times as he kisses her fervently, sucking hard on the delicate skin that has already been bruised by his dear friend.
"You're beautiful," Art whispers into her neck between kisses. "So, so beautiful."
Taking it slow for her sake, Patrick has to force himself into her inch by inch, stretching her little cunt to take far more than she's accustomed to. But, as hard as it is, it works. After another few moments of him pushing in and pausing to let her adjust, he finally bottoms out with his cock flush against Art's. Her walls clamp down around them tightly. They both share a nervous look at this, wondering if they'll manage to last longer than thirty seconds if it already feels this good.
Slowly, she raises her head from where it slumped against Patrick's shoulder and meets Art's intense stare with one of her own. His hand raises to cup the side of her face, his fingers grazing against Patrick's, and he brushes his thumb over her kiss-swollen bottom lip. Every breath taken between the three of them is labored.
Pulling her lip down with his thumb, he asks, "Feeling okay?"
A half-second later, Patrick chimes in.
"If it's too much, you have to tell us."
Not a question, not a request, but a demand. The way he said it left no room for debate, so she nods in compliance and responds with an eagerness that neither man can miss, "M'fine, please, just fuck me..."
Patrick does not need to be told twice.
Having been sidelined for too long and forced to watch them fuck without him, he pulls out slowly, then cants his hips back against her ass with a force that takes her breath away. Amidst this, Art cannot do anything but let his face fall forward into her chest and whine in ecstasy. Just the movement of Patrick's cock rubbing against his with every thrust renders him useless. He knew it would feel better than any sex he'd had before, but this...He'll likely spend the rest of his life chasing the hedonism they are experiencing tonight.
One of her arms reaches behind her to grab Patrick's hip and dig her nails in hard while the other closes around Art's neck to pull both of them as close as can be. And now that he has forced himself back from the edge of a premature release, Art begins to move too, searching for a rhythm that feels right. Soon enough, he manages to find it. Both of their heads lift to look at each other, faces inches apart with their chins pressing on her shoulder, and they work with the same synchronicity they had while eating her out not even fifteen minutes ago.
She turns her head to the side to watch their stare-down as they rut into her like feral animalsâutterly insatiable and overcome by their baser instincts. And it's only now that it occurs to her that, underneath it all, they want each other as desperately and pathetically as they want her. Patrick's gaze relentlessly bounces back and forth between Art's eyes and lips, and it makes her smirk to herself. The pleasure of fucking her as one, their pulsing cocks rubbing together in the warm walls of her cunt, has lowered their inhibitions, and the idea of being intimate with one another isn't as daunting as it would be if they were fully aware.
Leaning in to brush her cherry-flavored lips against Art's ear, she whispers, "I want you to kiss him."
The arm looped around the back of his neck pulls tighter in encouragement, bringing his body so close to hers that she can feel his ribs expanding with every breath. His only reaction to her request is a quick glance at her face once she pulls away from his ear with a sensuous lick as a parting gift. It's almost as though he doesn't believe what she's saying, but the reassuring expression she wears tells him that it is real. She truly wants him to see him kiss his best friend, not only for their enjoyment but hers as well.
One second, he's looking at her, and the next, he's slotting his lips against Patrick's with a passion previously only reserved for her. Their hands both grapple for purchase on her sweat-slick body, Art aggressively kneading her breasts and Patrick squeezing her hips for dear life, as they moan into each other's mouths.
As they kiss each other hungrily, Y/N has nothing left to do but bask in the tension swelling inside of her. There's something about how wrong this situation feels to her that makes it so much more arousing. Girls are always raised with the idea that promiscuity lessens their value, and she was not an exception. Having been raised in a family of devout believers, she hadn't kissed a boy until she was seventeen years old. The next person she kissed was Art, and in the time since their first kiss, he has thoroughly corrupted her.
And even as distracted as he is by the all-consuming, wet kiss he's engaged in, Art feels her cunt start to squeeze around their cocks and immediately drops one of the hands on her breasts between her splayed thighs. His finger rubs in tight circles on her clit in hopes that she will reach her end before he and Patrick come pathetically soon.
Her body jerks where it's trapped between them when his fingers make contact, pulling their focus away from each other for the first time since their lips touched. Patrick reaches up to hold her neck in one hand and forces her face to the side so both of them can look at every subtle expression she makes.Â
"Don't stop," she pleads, eyes glazed over. "M'so close, Art"âEvery merciless thrust elicits a high-pitched whine from herâ"Patrick, please!"
The body trapped between them has gone boneless and twitchy, utterly useless at holding herself up or aiding them in any way. But they wear it like a badge of honor. With her face falling forward into Art's neck, she loses her grasp on all that is around her and lets them prop her up to fuck her like a toy existing solely for their gratification.
With one hand cradling the back of her head and the other between her thighs, still dutifully rubbing her clit, Art asks under his breath, "Isn't she fucking perfect?"
Although it was a question meant for Patrick, she can't help how she moans and clenches her walls around them when she hears it. Panting breaths from the three of them flood the sweltering dorm room, but they are too far gone to notice or care how much sweat drips off of their bodies onto one another. It's almost hard to get a firm grip on her as a result of it, but they manage to keep her in place by smushing their bodies as close as physically possible on both sides of her.
Patrick bucks his hips up into her with a recklessness that gives away how close he is to his climax.
He says, "Oh, God, yeah." The hand still collaring her delicate neck squeezes just enough to take her breath away for a second. However, once he released his hold on her, that hand moved to wrap itself up the roots of her hair. "Best pussy I've ever had. So fucking tight, it's like she wants us to come inside her." A pause, then, "Is that what you want?"
A second passes of silence from her, and he sharply tugs back on her hair until her face is no longer hidden in Art's neck. This allows them to drink in the sight of herâface twisted up in pleasure and mouth gaping open.
He asks again, "Is that what you want?"
Her response is immediate.
"Yes, yes, yes," she murmurs incoherently and takes quick turns to look between their faces. If the expressions they wear are any indication, it won't be long before her wish is fulfilled. "I'mâmmm-gonna come! I need you to fill me up, please, please!"
To this, Art rubs her clit faster while maintaining eye contact with her and finally lets go of whatever remaining scraps of self-control he has left. Knowing how close she is pushes them closer themselves, and they start to pound her hard. Hard enough that even they, as soon-to-be professional athletes, have difficulty sustaining this intense degree of exertion.
The arm that she looped around his shoulders is still there, but now her hand is sliding down from the back of Art's neck to explore the toned musculature of his upper back. Under her searching palm, she can feel his muscles contracting and relaxing beneath his pale skin.
To both her and Art's surprise, the world begins to shift in their peripheral vision until he falls flat against the mattress on his back with his length still sheathed inside of her. It takes a second for their brains to catch up with what happened and deem Patrick responsible for the position change. He laid his hands flat on her back and pushed with just the right amount of force to pin Art to the mattress beneath them.
Art says, breathless, "I can feel you squeezing us, baby, just let go."
Hearing those words sets fire to her blood, and that, paired with the toe-curling sensation of them pressing deep inside of her, hitting that spot over and over and over, is what tips her over the edge.
Patrick keeps pulling on her hair to force her head up so that they can feel and watch her come, and what a beautiful sight it is. Art, the lucky bastard, is face to face with her as she tenses up with the onslaught of her climax. But he can see the side of her pretty, flushed face and drink up every little sound she makes, so he doesn't feel left out in any way. No, he is experiencing this right beside Art. They're both trapped inside of her, pumping into her throbbing heat and letting themselves be swept away into oblivion by the feeling of her coming undone.
She digs her nails into Art's skin hard enough to hurt as she whines and writhes between them with each pulse of pleasure that runs through her, and it isn't until she's starting to come down, riding out the high, that she feels them spill into her at the same time. Every sensation attached to it prolongs her orgasmâthe throbbing, the spreading warmth, and the dying undulations of their hips that grind their cocks together within her. And beyond the physicality of the act, just knowing that they're filling her to the brim with their come makes her head spin from how fucking hot she finds it.
It isn't long before their thrusts slow into a sensuous grinding as they come down from it together, then come to a full stop to keep from overstimulating themselves. They both are starting to go soft, panting and leaning against her limp body in exhaustion, and know they wouldn't be able to continue even if they wanted to.
Her head is laid on Artâs shoulder with Patrickâs nose nuzzling her neck. There's nothing they can do except remain still and try to recover from the euphoria that has rendered them useless, so that is precisely what they do. With their bodies nearly melting together from the heat, the three of them hold onto each other for support until they manage to return to full consciousness after what they went through.
It isn't until another couple of moments have elapsed that Patrick and Art start murmuring to one another while she remains slumped between them. A second later, both pairs of hands are squeezing her hips; lifting her off of their softening cocks, slowly, gently, and minding her sensitivity.
The three of them collapse side by side on the twin bed, bodies squeezed together like sardines, and she finally comes back down from the clouds her head floated into at the feeling of them touching her. It isn't sexual. No, they wouldn't dream of putting her through anything more than she could handle right now. Both touches are tender and featherlightâArt's hand molds over her breast simply to cup it as they cuddle while Patrick brings her hand up from her side to brush a kiss over her knuckles.
The silence continues to stretch on, thenâ
"We're definitely gonna have to do that again," she says, turning her head to look at each of them before laying her cheek against Art's shoulder. "That is, if don't mind sharing me."
His gaze softens, the hand cupping her breast ghosting up over her skin until it finds her and Patrick's entwined hands.
"I don't mind one bit."
-
Thank you for reading this! I probably wonât write any more Challengers fics but I saw the movie like five times in theaters and needed to crank this out to satisfy the part of me that is obsessed with the hotel scene. I would really appreciate a comment to let me know what you thought if youâre open to that đ«¶đ» The oral part of this fic was inspired by these two (1) (2) I read, so def give them a read cause they're great!
#fanfiction#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig smut#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#no editing other than grammarly cause idgaf#art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader#challengers#listened to white mustang by lana the whole time đ©#and uncle ace cause duh
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
twoâs a party.
summary: you recently transferred to stanford, and decide to tutor a tennis player in your class. he has a friend. severe indecency ensues.
word count: 3.3k
warnings : smut, threesomes, f!oral receiving, swearing, smoking, drinking. slight cuck energy if you squint (iâm sorry ((no iâm not))). no challengers spoilers!
a/n: this fic got away from me big time but this movie has rotted my brain and as a result i have written utter debauchery that i will not apologize for. just had to get this out of my head, enjoy!
-
stanford science hall. monday , march 3.
You swear the last thing youâll hear before your body is lowered into your grave is the process of lactic acid breakdown.
Itâs 2:30 PM. Kinesiology 189 with Professor Wilson, a lanky middle-aged man with a PhD in exercise science and a half-grown beard that you donât think will ever fully grow in, is almost over. Heâs teaching Extended Studies of the Human Body in a humid classroom filled with student-athletes, most of whom are trying to stay awake, trying to hide that theyâre taking a nap, or making no attempt to hide that theyâre on their phones. You donât really blame any of them, because the professorâs voice is so soft and monotone that it feels like heâs begging everyone to pay attention to anything but him. Youâve managed to stay somewhat on course with the thread of todayâs lecture, the notebook in front of you filled with scribbles of incomplete molecular structures and somewhat legible drawings of the muscular anatomy of a hamstring.
This class is required for your biology major since youâre on a pre-medicine track. You donât know why youâre doing it, the whole doctor thing, but youâve developed a weird fixation for this class. The functionality of the body, how muscles stretch and tear with each movement, and how amino acids work to build them back even bigger.
And, possibly because of the tennis player who sits four rows ahead of you every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.
His last name is Donaldson. You know because of the faded label on the massive bag he throws on the floor every time he walks into class, at least ten minutes late with a backward Stanford Tennis cap on his head. His first name remains a mystery, partly because he never talks in class, and mainly because youâve made no attempt to speak to him. You like to think itâs because youâre so focused on the curriculum.
Professor Wilson knows your name, though, since youâre in his office hours every Thursday at 11 A.M. In part because he gives out most of the answers to his homework, and because you just transferred to Stanford your last year and very desperately need a letter of recommendation for medical school. Hence why you agreed to tutor a student with lower than 60% in the class during one of your meetings. And why everyone in the class was staring at you right now.
â... first come first serve, so reach out to her sooner rather than later.â
You give a tight-lipped smile, glancing around the room. Most people have looked away, back to their distraction of choice, but you meet eyes with the fluffy blonde-haired tennis player.
stanford library. wednesday, march fifth.
Itâs 11 A.M., and you feel like your brain is about to explode if you look at another practice set.
âHeyâ.
Your head whips around to the harsh whisper, only to be met with the blue-eyed mystery from your class. He has that large bag slung over his shoulder, with the end of a tennis racket peeking out of it. His hair is slightly stuck to his face, and his compression tee is slick to his chest like a second skin.
âHi,â you whisper back. He smiles before tossing his bag on the floor and sitting in the chair across from you, either unaware of or completely ignoring the glares heâs receiving from the other students studying.
âYou know,â he pulls out some kind of nutrition bar from his bag, unwrapping it and taking an aggressive bite, âfor someone advertising their services, youâre pretty hard to find.â
âYouâre in Mr. Wilsonâs class, right?â you ask, hoping your subdued voice will remind him that heâs in a notoriously quiet place. He hums, pointing at you with his half-eaten snack.
âAnd Iâm trying not to fail, but you didnât leave your number anywhere in the classroom, and you bolt after every class. So how am I supposed to patronize your tutoring servicesâŠâ he trails off, his volume the same level as when he walked in. You furrow your brows as he leans back into the chair.
âThatâs when you say who you are.â
You feel a burn on the back of your neck as you tell him your name. He glances down towards the problem set youâve nearly finished.
âHow do you turn in any of those, I canât get halfway through one of them.â
You pause for a moment before leaning slightly across the table to whisper:
âThis new weird thing called studying. I think it just got approved by the CDC.â
âVery funny,â he shakes his head as reaches for your binder with your class schedule printed out on the front of it.
âWhy are you taking so many bio classes?â
âBecause Iâm a biology major,â you canât help the sarcasm dripping from your voice, and he looks at you with a raised eyebrow.
âSorry, youâre making this too easy for me,â you raise your hands in conceit.
âI have practice every day at five so you can tutor me for like an hour beforehand,â he says before standing up, crunching up the silver wrapper and stuffing it into the front pocket of his blue jeans. You scoff at his sentence.
âWell, thank you for so generously fitting me into your schedule,â you roll your eyes, turning the page in your textbook. He grins.
âTell the coach youâre there for Art. Theyâll let you through.â
stanford tennis courts. friday, march 7th.
Itâs 4 PM, and the California sun is sweltering. Your shorts feel like theyâve become a part of your legs, and your bag feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. By the time you make it to the tennis courts Art is already on the green concrete, shirtless with beads of sweat dripping down his face and chest. You hear his grunts as he sprints across the court, hitting the ball toward a slightly taller brunette with dangerously short red shorts. You watch them at the entrance for a few minutes, slightly entranced as the two play so seamlessly, as if they know every move the other person is going to make. You force your eyes away as you walk up the bleachers, stepping over leftover water bottles and chip bags to sit down and grab your notes from your backpack. It takes a couple more minutes for Art to notice you, yelling your name after he turns around to grab a ball his partner had hit particularly hard. You wave, and he says something you canât hear to the brunette before the two of them jog across the courts and up the stands to where you are, blocking the sun as the two stand side by side.
âWhoâs your friend?â you ask as you stuff the problem set you were working on in between the pages of your notebook.
âIâm Patrick,â he says, with a toothy smile and his ears poking out from under his hair. He has a bit more of a boyish charm to him than Art does, whose eyes are glued to his brunette counterpart.
âAre you in Mr. Wilsonâs class too?â
Patrick opens his mouth to answer but Art speaks first, slightly pushing his friend with his shoulder as he says âHe doesnât go to Stanford, too busy being a tennis pro.â
Patrick rolls his eyes but his smile doesnât leave his face. You notice how different this Art feels from the one in the library, how direct his playfulness is and how close he and Patrick stand together, their sweaty torsos nearly melding together.
Interesting.
âLike, Andre Agassi level pro?â you smile as the two of them laugh. Patrick raises the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat off of his forehead, and you canât help but take a glance at the exposed skin just above his waistband.
âSorry, heâs like the only tennis player I know.â
âNo, no Iâm taking that as a compliment that you think Iâm on the level of Agassi. No takebacks if you see me play,â Patrick points at you.
âWill do,â you salute, turning over to Art.
âYou ready to study?â you ask him as he makes a comically loud groan, his head falling back. Patrick laughs, reaching over to ruffle his friends hair.
âYou do remember thatâs why Iâm here, right? Midterms are in two weeks.â
âI definitely have not forgotten that.â he says. You purse your lips just as Patrickâs eyes seem to light up.
âIâm staying at the Courtyard Hotel for the weekend. You two can come over and study, I need to review my last match anyway. Kill two birds with one stone,â Patrick suggests.
âJust studying?â
âJust studying,â Art says, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder. You glance between the two of them, trying to decipher the unspoken communication they seem to be doing. But you canât crack it, so you shrug.
âSure.â
âLet us finish this set, and then youâll have me all to yourself. Sound fair?â
âWow, what a privilege. Donât take too long, itâs hell on Earth out here!â you yell the last part as Art jogs down the steps and back down towards the net. You look up once you realize that the sun is still being blocked, and Patrick is still standing in front of you.
âYou ever play?â he grins, flipping the tennis racket in his hand.
âTennis? God, no, that would not be a pretty sight. Iâll stick to what Iâm good at,â you gesture to the books and notes in your lap. Patrick nods.
âIf you ever want to learn, I could teach you sometime, you know if-â heâs cut off by Art yelling his name, and you both glance to see him with his hands on his hips.
âGo, donât keep your boyfriend waiting,â you wave him off, and you swear you can see him blushing. Must have been the glare.
âIâll see you tomorrow,â he says over his shoulder as he runs toward Art.
courtyard hotel. saturday, march 8.
Itâs 11 pm. Thereâs a cold shiver in the elevator as you wait to get to the fourth floor, your tennis shoes tapping against the floor as one hand plays with the handle of the pack of beer in your hand while the other crumples and re-crumples the piece of paper with the hotel room number Patrick scribbled on it.
what are you doing?
You donât have time to think about the consequences of your actions as the robotic voice signals that youâre on the fourth floor, the elevator doors fluttering open. Itâs like your feet have a mind of their own, as you find yourself almost mindlessly wandering through the hotel halls until youâre planted in front of room 4B. You raise your hand to knock on the door but before you can make contact with the wood itâs thrust open, and Patrick is standing behind it. His dark hair is slightly tousled around his face, his striped shirt unbuttoned and his black boxer briefs low on his waist. Heâs smiling, that same big smile as before, but his face is a little flushed, a gentle pink hue touching his cheeks. The two of you donât say anything for a few seconds, as if you were both testing to see who would concede first to acknowledge the otherâs presence. You raise the pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon in your right hand.
âI brought studying fuel.â
You were never good at waiting.
Patrick laughs before he moves slightly out of the way to allow you to walk into his room. Itâs small, with a queen-sized bed and a tiny desk, and the A/C emits an odd rumbling sound as it smacks against the window. Clothes and scorecards are strewn across the floor, and the scent of cigarettes permeates the room. You place the alcohol on the floor before deciding to sit on the bed, kicking off your shoes as you cross your legs. Patrick seems to stall for a moment, smiling to himself before closing the door behind him. He doesnât lock the door, but you didnât notice.
âArtâs not here yet?â you ask, watching as Patrick walks over and tears open the cardboard case, cracking open a can. Taking a sip, he leans against the desk as he smiles.
âArt can be bad with time.â
âAs Iâve noticed,â you reach your hand out to motion towards the drink and Patrick hands it to you, staring as you take a large sip.
âWell,â you wipe the side of your mouth, âI told him to bring the topics he wanted to study, so I guess we canât do anything until he gets here.â
Patrick nods with a slight pout, his fingers playing with the pop tab of the can. âI guess we canât.â
âHowâs tennis⊠stuff,â you laugh as you finish the question, not sure of exactly what to say.
Patrick seems to tense a little at the mention of the sport, moving over to sit next to you on the bed. His knee grazes your leg and you feel a slight buzz at the contact as he takes the beer from your hand.
âIâm kinda fucking it up right now,â he says, and you furrow your brows.
âHow? You were like, really good yesterday.â
He chuckles, shaking his head slightly. He hands you the beer and you finish it off, placing the empty can at the bottom of your feet.
âIâm good with Art. It feels so fucking natural and easy with him. But in my other matches, I donât know. I just ⊠canât replicate it.â
You nudge him with your leg.
âSounds like you two were made to play tennis together.â
He makes a noise of agreement, his hands slowly moving to ghost over your thigh.
âYou and Art are pretty close?â you ask as he plays with the bottom hem of your shorts, but he doesnât say anything. You take his silence as a yes.
âDo you ever get jealous?â
âOf Art?â he asks, almost incredulously. You shrug.
âYeah, or jealous of the girls heâs with. Either or.â
Patrick sits on that for a few moments before smirking.
âWhatâs mine is mine, and whatâs his is mine.â
You laugh at that, a real deep laugh, and Patrick giggles next to you, the both of you tipsy from the can of beer you finished. You reach over and put your hand on his flushed face, rubbing your hand across his cheek.
âWhat were you doing before I came?â you feel his face warm even more against your skin as you position yourself closer to him.
âPracticing- or, sorry, rereading my scorecards from my last match.â
You tutted as you moved your hand to the back of his neck, gently running your hands through his hair.
âYou can tell me the truth, Patrick.â
He turns his head to press a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before looking up at you as if to check if that was too much. Whatever your expression is gives him the confidence to move down to your neck, his tongue licking your skin.
âI think you know.â
You feel a pull in your lower stomach at his words, muffled by his mouth nipping at the sensitive spot just below your ear, and he sucks hard enough for you to put your hand around on his face at the pressure. Pulling his face up, the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, and his eyes glance toward your lips. You wanted to wait, to make him beg and plead for it, but your body seemingly pulled you forward as your pressed your mouth onto his.
You were really quite bad at waiting.
He tastes like tobacco and faintly of the fruit medley in the dining hall, and you sigh as his lips interlock with yours and his hand grabs the back of your neck, pressing you into him. The kiss gets messy and hard, his tongue gliding over your bottom lip and into your mouth as you lift your leg to straddle Patrick, grinding into him. He whimpers into the kiss as his calloused hands drop down to the waistband of your shorts, hesitating for a moment before dropping his hand into your underwear. You grind just a little bit faster as his fingers press circles into your clit, covering your mouth with your hand as you moan.
âYouâre so beautiful,â he murmurs as he uses his other hand to guide your hips, and your move your hands down to tug firmly on his hair. You can feel your climax building, the pressure in your stomach getting closer and closer to taking you over the edge-
You both jump at the sound of the hotel room dor slamming shut. Art is standing there, in that damn backward cap and a Stanford tee shirt as he crosses his arms over his chest, saying nothing as you and Patrick sit up straight, him adjusting his crotch and you smooth down your shirt, avoiding his gaze. Finally, the silence is broken by Art laughing.
âChrist, Iâm not the cops,â he slips out of his slides as he waltzes over and opens a can of beer, drinking about half of it in one go. You look at him, and at Patrick, and then back at him, not knowing what the hell you just got yourself into.
âYou want to fuck him right?â Art asks, and you canât help your small gasp at how easily he said that. You glance at Patrick, hoping heâll know what to say, but heâs just staring at Art.
âI-um,â
âSo, no oneâs stopping you,â Art cuts you off, taking a final swig of his beer and moving to stand directly in front of you. You open your mouth to try and explain, but before you can talk Patrickâs mouth is on yours again, his hand roaming your body. His grip is firmer now, his fingertips digging into the side of your stomach. He tugs at the bottom of your shirt and you separate, breathless as you pull your shirt over your head and toss it on the floor. Patrickâs mouth moves down to your neck, then your collarbones, and then your chest as he reaches around to take of your bra, and you feel on fire from Artâs gaze across the room. As Patrick kisses down your stomach and yanks down your shorts, you turn over to meet Artâs eyes.
âCome here.â
Whatever resolve Art was holding onto crumbles as he quickly takes off his shirt and slips out of his Nike shorts, tossing his hat on the dresser. In a flash Artâs hands are on your neck, tilting your head around to kiss you as Patrick lifts up your hips so he can take off your underwear. Artâs lips are softer than Patrickâs but he kisses you a little bit harder, his hand cupping the base of your neck. Somehow, they both taste the same. You moan into Artâs mouth as you feel Patrickâs tongue swirl around your clit, rolling your hips into his mouth as Artâs cock presses into your back. Itâs just so much so fast, and that familiar buzz starts to pool in your lower stomach.
âLook at him,â Art turns your head to Patrick and you look into his eyes as you cum, Artâs hands hold your head forward as a wave of euphoria crashes over you. Patrickâs hands are digging into your hips as he stares up at you and Art. Your chest heaves up and down as you try to catch your breath, leaning against Art as Patrick leans back up, his mouth a few inches from yours.
âWho do you want first?
#challengers#challengers fanfic#art donaldson#patrick zweig#art donaldson fanfic#patrick zweig fanfic#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#art donaldson x you#art donaldson x patrick zweig#art donaldson x patrick zweig x reader#mike faist#josh oâconnor#mike faist x reader#josh oâconnor x reader#mike faist fanfic#josh oâconnor fanfic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
At least I can cling to the fact that no matter how bad things get, itâs not October 2021 anymore
#lmaoooo remember how Everything fucking happened to me within about 3 weeks???#first i got covid. shook it off but my god that cough lingered. and i missed so much class#THEN my mentor got covid so i couldnât start teaching and was behind everyone else in my cohort#THEN when i finally managed to arrange to observe someone else; i dislocated my knee the night before i was supposed to observe her!!#such a terrible month. pretty sure my ID card was also broken that whole time. and greggs was closed#iâd get on the train at the arsecrack of dawn and get off it and have no place to go because i couldnât get into college and greggs was shut#going to starbucks every morning wouldâve bankrupted me but costa was so bad it just wasnât worth it. and nothing else in the vicinity#was open. my only other choice was to stand outside and watch teenagers fail to do kickflips on their way to school#there was something else going on at around this time but i donât remember what. possibly iâve erased it from my brain because it was simply#that bad. i mean i know i was constipated as hell from all the codeine i had to take for my knee. i donât think i shat for a week#OH i remember!!! the day i finally went back to class (limping and coughing) my train broke down in the back end of approximately nowhere#i was an hour and a half late to class in the end and i had to take this godawful bus which was too hot and the driver drove like a lunatic#literally arrived feeling sick and had to sit through ~6 hours of class feeling like death#and THEN got chewed out when i didnât go to class the following day because iâd exhausted myself and my knee was killing me#that technically happened on the 1st of november but still. iâm counting it#oh and the baby gave me a cold. that was part of why i felt like death#i canât believe sheâs nearly 3 now. still a human petri dish though <3#still somehow not as bad as february 2021 when i got two bladder infections; fell down a flight of stairs and got alcohol poisoning#and almost went bankrupt for real. but what can i say. i am a guy that shit happens to#if somethingâs going to happen itâs going to happen to me. i am extremely unlucky#personal
0 notes