#they’d all deserve it tho

[grapesodatozier]

I love you karen wheeler I love you sandra lynn faeth I love you inko midoriya I love you complex fictional mothers who make mistakes and get things wrong but never stop trying to understand how they got things wrong and try to fix it and so obviously and openly love their kids even if they don’t always understand the best way to show it but have real conversations with their kids to try to figure things out together and always support them and encourage them and protect them as best as they can, even and especially when they themselves have accidentally hurt them by doing something they believed would help bc their own fears and hurt and perceptions of their own failures got in the way. I love you fictional mothers struggling to find what helps and what doesn’t. you are doing your best to listen and try again and get it right and I love you with my whole heart. I am crying <3

[fushitoru]

infect me with your love

pairing ⸺ spiderman!gojo x reader

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

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

playlist ⸺ quantum rizzics

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

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

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.

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

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

that is, until gojo satoru.

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

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

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

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

but then, the door creaks open behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…what can i get you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and yet, here you are.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“you said to surprise you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“you know, i didn’t get your name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i really can’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“as you wish.”

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

you’ve seen him before.

okay, pause.

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

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

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

alright, pause over. back to now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“nice hit, by the wa—”

“it’s you!” you exclaim. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“let me get that for you.”

you turn to thank the person, the words dying on your lips when you see who it is.

gojo.

he’s standing impossibly close, his signature smirk firmly in place, but there’s something almost casual in the way he looks at you, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. you swear you’re so close that you can see like the two open pores on his otherwise flawless skin, as his eyes inevitably drag themselves downwards to scan your outfit for the night—a shitty angel without wings and halo (you couldn’t be paid two shits to put in the effort; both of the top and skirt were utahime’s, anyways.) then, his eyes meet yours again, a bit of playfulness in them. 

“well, well,” he drawls, handing you the water bottle. “never thought i’d see you here.”

you take the bottle, trying to ignore the brush of his fingers against yours. “didn’t have much of a choice. utahime dragged me.”

his grin widens. “classic. let me guess—she’s off trying to find her soulmate at the beer pong table?”

“something like that,” you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. twisting the cap off the bottle,  you take a sip, hoping he’ll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.

“so,” he says, tilting his head, “i heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that spider-man guy this week.”

that makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in kirkland signature natural spring water. you’ve only told like, three people outside of kento and iori, so you’re confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. the memory of spider-man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you can’t help but smile softly to yourself. “it was amazing. he’s—he’s incredible, honestly. the way he just swooped in and handled everything? so fast, so precise. he’s like a real-life superhero.”

you’re basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. he’s looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, “sounds like you’re smitten.”

“maybe i am,” you admit, laughing. “i mean, who wouldn’t be? he’s brave, he’s kind, and he doesn’t even stick around for the credit. it’s like he’s this selfless, untouchable figure.” you also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare gojo the details. 

“untouchable, huh?” gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry and…jealous? “sounds like someone’s got a crush.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s half-hearted, and you think gojo can tell with the way you’re heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. “don’t be ridiculous.”

“i’m just saying,” he continues, leaning closer, “if that’s your type, you might want to raise your standards. superheroes are overrated.”

you raise an eyebrow. “and what, you’re not?”

he grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. “i’m better. i’m real.” he then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. “i can prove that to you.”

and you hate your body for being so…reactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. “god, you’re insufferable.”

“really?” he teases. his hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. the motion, firm but tentative as if he’s waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. and your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that he’s treading very close to your panties, since your skirt’s really short.

"yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds. 

it seems to have an effect on gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "wastin' your time on that spiderman guy."

maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "who should i spend my time on instead?"

he gives you a little smile as he stares down at you, eyes raking over your face, catching at your lips and then going back up again to meet yours. “i don’t know, someone who’s as smart as you,” he murmurs.

“yea?” you laugh out breathlessly. your faces are so close that in normal circumstances, you would worry about how you both looked so close together, one hand on your thigh and the other splayed on your waist. “and how would you know how smart i am?”

satoru starts, lips coming closer and closer. “because i—”

but he’s interrupted, because you both hear a “satoru” and pull apart, breathing heavily as you both turn to look at the offender standing in the entrance of the kitchen: suguru geto, gojo’s best friend, looking more tired than anything as his eyes catch on you, then going to gojo with a pointed look. it’s not hard to figure out what was going on based on how disheveled you both look, your skirt crooked and his shirt crumbled, and your cheeks heat. before you can say anything, however, suguru sighs and says to gojo, “there’s a burglary happening nearby.” then, he turns but not before giving you a nod. “make sure to stay safe.”

he promptly leaves, leaving you confused standing there. was this such an emergency worth noting that he interrupted his best friend?

you try to seek the answer in gojo’s face, but he has this conflicted, annoyed countenance and you suddenly feel kinda of insecure because he’s raking his hand through his hair, staring painfully at the ceiling then at you. at the same time you utter out a “uh–” he says “i have to go.”

“oh.” you blink. a why brews on top of your tongue, but you temper it, reminding yourself that you’re not close to gojo like that. needless to say, you feel a little embarrassed as you watch him jog out of the kitchen with a little wave to you. you want to overanalyze gojo’s last look to you, the one that looked a bit like disappointment and yearning, but you shake it off, staring at the 16.9 oz plastic water bottle in your hand that you forgot about.

taking a sip, you cringe as you become more aware of your surroundings and the state you’re left in because of gojo. that your panties are a bit more sticky—you reach under your skirt to adjust them so they don’t stick to your crotch so much—and you’re hot all over. 

then reality comes crashing back. what the hell did you and gojo just do right now?

you groan out loud, banging your head against the fridge, but as you reel back, in your peripheral you see  someone there. your head shoots to see the guy who’s now looking at you with a weird expression as he undeniably waits for whatever freaking out you were doing to gain access to the fridge. 

“sorry,” you blurt out, and gather yourself to beeline for the exit. god, you needed to find utahime.

…

the soft hum of a tv in the corner of satoru’s apartment provided the only sound, save for the faint rustle of suguru flipping through a textbook. the remnants of takeout—boxes of half-eaten pad thai and a pile of discarded chopsticks—littered the coffee table between them. satoru leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he hadn’t thought to ask yet. he held a small foam ball, tossing it up and catching it over and over. his mind, however, wasn’t focused on the ball but on you.

it was starting to feel like an obsession. he’d always been able to compartmentalize things—his studies, his friends, his other responsibilities. but you? you’d broken through the usual barriers in his head, wedging yourself firmly into every free thought he had.

“do you think she likes me?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.

suguru glanced up from his book, his expression unreadable. “who, starbucks girl?”

satoru scoffed. “she’s not starbucks girl. she’s…” he trailed off, tapping his fingers against his knee. your name lingered on his tongue, oddly weighty in a way that felt almost unfamiliar.

suguru smirked. “oh, she’s got a name now? progress.”

“shut up.”

but he couldn’t shut his mind off, not when you kept taking up space in it. it wasn’t just that he’d noticed you now—really noticed you, for the first time. it was more than that.

satoru had always known who you were. you weren’t exactly easy to miss. in a program full of ugly guys who didn’t shower and loud personalities, you had carved out your niche by being the cold, unreachable one. the one who didn’t bother with group projects unless she had to, who barely engaged in conversations beyond what was strictly necessary. other guys in the program talked about you, of course. they always did.

“frigid,” they called you. “too serious. probably thinks she’s better than us.”

they weren’t entirely wrong. you were better than most of them, but not for the reasons they assumed. satoru had read your work—papers that brimmed with insights that most of their half-baked theories could only dream of. he could tell you put in the effort in your classes and research, while all the guys left shit-talking had to rely on their grad student mentors to be able to write a legible paper. for fucks sake, he doesn’t even thing anyone could code in qiskit or cirq like you could; he had skimmed your notes once, left them behind after a lecture, and found them meticulous and sharp before he turned them into the professor to return to you.

and yet, despite the brilliance you carried with you, you had never given him a second glance.

that day at starbucks, though.

satoru rolled his head to the side, gaze drifting toward the window. he hadn’t expected to see anyone at five in the morning, let alone you. he’d been desperate for answers then—he had spent his night staring at his hands, which had seemed to keep ejecting spider-like webs after he’d been horribly sick. he knew he shouldn’t have gone fooling around in new york’s subway tunnels at 3am with suguru and shoko, but after a seemingly-harmless spider had bit him, he had been reeling from the discovery of his newfound powers and grappling with the weight of what they meant ever since. 

and there you were, unlocking the starbucks, bleary-eyed but no less composed.

you’d handed him his coffee, not interested in him the entire time, and he remembered blurting something out—something ridiculous about fate or responsibility, his usual bravado faltering in the quiet of the moment. he had been spiraling, unsure of who he was anymore, and you’d said something.

what was it again?

“it doesn’t have to be ‘more’ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.”

the words had stayed with him, carved deep into the corners of his mind. you didn’t know it, but they had pulled him back from the edge that day. since then, he’d started noticing you in ways he hadn’t before.

the way you brushed your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. the furrow of your brow when you argued as respectfully as you could with a professor (gojo knew you were holding back, though, and the thought always made him smile to himself because if he wasn’t an idgafer he would be incensed like you at the idiotic teacher). the smile—rare, fleeting, but utterly disarming—that occasionally lit up your face when you talked to utahime or that guy you were too friendly around, nanami.

“you’re doing that thing again,” suguru said, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“what thing?” satoru asked, sitting up straighter.

“brooding. you’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

“no.”

suguru arched an eyebrow. “you’re a terrible liar.”

satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “fine. maybe i am. but it’s complicated.”

“how is it complicated?”

“she doesn’t like me,” satoru said, shrugging. “at least, not as me. she likes spider-man.”

suguru blinked, clearly unimpressed. “you’re being stupid bro.”

“i’m not being stupid,” satoru argued. “she thinks spider-man’s this amazing, selfless hero. she doesn’t know i’m just some guy who can’t even figure out how to flirt with her without making an ass of himself.”

suguru leaned back in his chair, regarding satoru with an almost pitying look. “so let me get this straight. you’re worried that she only likes spider-man, even though spider-man is you. like it’s some kind of split personality thing?”

“well, when you put it like that—”

“it sounds dumb,” suguru finished. “because it is dumb.”

satoru glared at him, but suguru only shrugged.  but how could he not think about you? even now, the memory of your voice—calm, steady, and unexpectedly warm—echoed in his head. you had this way of looking at him, like you were peeling back layers he didn’t even know he had. and that smile... he groaned inwardly. he wasn’t supposed to be so drawn to you, wasn’t supposed to imagine what it’d feel like to have you smile at him like that all the time.

“look,” suguru continued, “if you like her, shoot your shot. you’re already overthinking this, and you haven’t even done anything yet. what’s the worst that could happen? she says no?”

“or she laughs in my face,” satoru muttered.

“which would be deserved, honestly,” suguru said, smirking. “but seriously, you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.”

satoru didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the takeout boxes on the table. he wanted to believe suguru was right, but there was a small, stubborn part of him that wasn’t so sure.

because it wasn’t just about rejection, or even whether you liked him as satoru or spider-man. it was about what came after. if he let you in and something happened to you—if his double life brought danger to your doorstep—he wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself.

but then there was suguru’s voice in his head, steady and persistent: you’ve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.

…

amidst a week of endless projects upon projects and other miscellaneous assignments from your research group partners (since the grad students loved to pile their work on top of you, the helpless undergrad), you find yourself nursing a hot chocolate while on top of your dormitory building’s roof. 

you find sanctuary, coming on here for time to yourself whenever you find yourself stuck in a busy week. quiet, solitary, with a view of the city lights flickering like scattered fireflies. you hugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you stepped onto the roof, your laptop tucked under one arm, a mug of tea precariously balanced in the other hand. the air was crisp, biting just enough to sting your cheeks.

setting your mug down on the ledge, you perched beside it, pulling up your knees and balancing the laptop precariously as you typed. the words on the screen blurred after a while, blending into the chaos in your mind. frustrated, you closed it with a snap and leaned your head back to gaze at the stars.

“rough night?”

you startled, spinning your head around so fast your tea nearly toppled. but you can’t find anyone, just the sound of soft footsteps landing somewhere not visible to you. 

“you scared the hell out of me,” you sighed, clutching your chest.

“sorry,” he said, though his tone didn’t sound all that apologetic. “didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“then maybe don’t sneak up on people like that,” you muttered, still trying to calm your racing heart.

he chuckled, and the sound was warmer than you’d expected. “noted. so, what’s got you out here at three in the morning? don’t tell me you’re pulling an all-nighter.”

you sighed, the initial shock fading into a dull thrum of shyness. “it’s not an all-nighter if the night isn’t over yet.” then, you squint at a random spot, pretending it’s him. “besides, why are you here? shouldn’t you be out stopping robberies or saving cats from trees?”

“done and done,” he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ledge. “now i’m just enjoying the view.”

you turned your gaze back to the skyline, hoping the darkness hid the faint heat creeping up your neck. “so, what’s a guy like you doing on a random rooftop at three in the morning?”

“could ask you the same thing,” he countered.

you hesitated. for some reason, admitting the truth to him felt easier than admitting it to anyone else. “just…needed a break.”

“from?”

“everything,” you said, exhaling slowly. “classes. expectations. people.” you paused, then added with a faint smile, “not you, though. you’re an exception.”

“oh?” his voice lightened, carrying a hint of playful intrigue. “should i feel honored?”

“maybe,” you said. “it’s not every day you get to meet a real hero.” then, “okay, but why do you always hide in the dark?”

his voice is smug, meant to be playful. “it adds to the mystique?”

you pout. “what if i call the police?”

“it’s not like the cops can catch me anyways, baby. their shitty coffee and donut filled asses aren’t enough to keep up with me.”

you really try not to flush when he calls you that pet name. “is success getting to you?”

“what success? most i hear is everyone debating whether or not i should be experimented on.”

“really?” you teased. “that’s not what i saw on my for you page last time. there are girls out there who want you to sign their tits after you rescued that baby.”

then, you hear the soft thud of nimble feet dropping onto the ceiling and turn your head to see him in all his glory. he has a muscular figure highlighted in his white suit, blue and black lines traveling their way across his body. casually, he stretches and then drops down to the floor, sitting cross legged from across from you as if joining you in a regular gossip sesh. he puts his elbow on his knee and rests his head on his hand. “are you one of those girls?”

you laugh sheepishly, turning away as heat creeps up your face again and your heart hammers, because you can’t exactly tell him that, yes you’re absolutely enamored with him after he saved you that day and yes, you do indeed want him to sign your tits.

“you should do that more,” he said.

“what?” you look back at him, wide eyed in confusion. 

“laugh.”

the way he said it, low and almost reverent, made your cheeks heat. you busy yourself with toying with your cardigan, scooting yourself away from the edge and closer to him. “and you should stop being such a flirt,” you said, though there was no bite in your voice.

“can’t help it,” he said, leaning closer. “it’s kind of my thing.”

“is that right?”

“mm-hmm.” he paused, then added, “you know, there’s something i’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“what?” you asked, arching an eyebrow.

“take my mask off.”

the words hit you like a gut punch, dissolving the playfulness that had filled the air seconds ago. you blinked up at him, searching his face—or at least what you could see of it—for any sign that this was some elaborate joke. but there was no hint of humor, no smirk tugging at his lips. he meant it.

your fingers hovered at your sides, hesitant. “are you sure?” the question came out soft, barely audible, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet night.

“never been more sure of anything,” he murmured, voice low and steady.

you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. slowly, almost against your better judgment, you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask. the fabric felt smooth, warm under your touch, but your nerves were anything but.

with a deep breath, you peeled it back. bit by bit, his face came into view—a shock of white hair, impossibly sharp features, and finally, those eyes. those unmistakable, infuriatingly familiar blue eyes. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.

“gojo?”

the name fell from your lips before you could stop it, unsteady and disbelieving. your mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle that had just landed in front of you.

he grinned—that grin, the one that always made you want to slap it off his face and yet somehow managed to disarm you every single time. “hey.”

“hey?” your voice cracked as you took a step back. “that’s all you have to say? hey?”

“would you prefer, ‘surprise’?” he quipped, his grin widening as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

you laughed, the sound a little hysterical but real, like you couldn’t contain the storm of emotions rushing through you. “surprised? you’ve been… you’ve been spider-man this whole time?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, like they didn’t belong in the same sentence as gojo satoru—the one you’d argued with in class, the one who had no problem making you want to tear your hair out. and yet here he was, standing in front of you, the last person you ever would have suspected to be the city’s most infamous masked hero.

gojo gave you that crooked grin, the same one he wore when he thought he had won—when he thought he had it all figured out. “i know. it’s a lot to take in.”

you stared at him, trying to make sense of it, but no amount of logic could bridge the gap between the gojo you knew—the guy who drove you up the wall in class and always had a cocky comeback—and the masked hero who had saved you and the one you had a crush on.

you didn’t know whether to scream, laugh, or cry. 

you take a shaky breath in, still trying to process everything. “you... you saved me, gojo. you’ve been right there, all these times, and i had no idea it was you.”

“guess i’m just that good at keeping secrets,” he said, his tone playful, but there was something more there, something softer, that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. his eyes held a flicker of something—maybe vulnerability, maybe uncertainty.

the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between you, and for a long second, you didn’t know what to say. this revelation was like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, and you were left staring into an abyss that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

finally, you shook your head, letting out a short breath. “this is insane.”

he didn’t seem bothered by your reaction, though his eyes darkened just slightly, the smirk still there, but with something a little more honest creeping into his expression. “yeah. but you’re handling it better than i thought. kinda thought you would faint, or something.”

the world had shifted, but somehow, with gojo now sitting in front of you like this, with the mask off and the man behind the myth revealed, it felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. even if they didn’t make perfect sense yet.

and yet, something about his presence—his undeniable realness—felt oddly grounding. he wasn’t the invincible spider-man anymore. he was just gojo. the gojo who had somehow become more than just your academic rival, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than that.

something in gojo’s facial expression shifted to something a bit more hesitant, a little nervous as he stands and extend his arm out to you. softly, he asks, “do you trust me?”

“yes.” you took his hand, standing up as he flashes you a charming, yet mischievous grin, one so shit eating that you regret saying that. “why?”

“i’m taking you for a ride. consider it an apology for freaking you out earlier.”

you hesitated, looking between his outstretched hand and the city skyline just beyond your college campus. “i don’t think this is a good idea—”

“you trust me, don’t you?”

and somehow, against all logic, you realized that you did.

“fine,” you said, stepping closer to him to cling onto him. 

he pulls you closer, and as he does so, he cranes his neck down to meet your eyes, smiling giddy. “anywhere you wanna go?”

you think for a moment, but know immediately the place where you’d like to visit that’s open at this ungodly hour. “do you know that one shawarma joint—-”

before you can even finish, the wind whips around you as gojo slips his mask back on, pulls you closer to him, and uses his free hand—that is, the one that’s not clinging onto your firmly—to shoot a glistening web, one that you saw when he used it on the man who harassed you in the ally. it clings onto a nearby building, and then you’re off the ground, soaring through the air.

you let out a scream of terror against gojo’s chest, tightening your arms around him. you can feel a laugh rumble in his chest, a boyish chuckle as he peers down at you and shouts, “are you having fun?” 

“gojo,” you whine, burying your head into his chest further. despite your initial fear, exhilaration creeps its way into you as you the city blur, skyline jumping and dipping as gojo effortlessly swung you both around. 

when he finally stopped, landing gracefully on a secluded rooftop, you were breathless—not just from the ride but from the way he was looking at you.

“you good?” he laughed, panting from the exertion and tenderly using his hand to rake his hand through your  hair, which, you note out of embarrassment, must’ve been messed up from the wind passing through it.

“i hate that you made me dizzy, but yea, i’m good,” you mumble, pulling out your phone to open your camera, fixing your hair.

when you’re done, gojo looks at you with the manic buzz you can only have at 3am. “ready to get some shawarma?”

…

the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence only a city at 3am could have. just the two of you, your footsteps echoing against the pavement, the occasional glow of a streetlamp painting your path.

“okay, that shawarma was like, mid at best,” gojo walks alongside you. he’s thrown on a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants over his suit, walking alongside you on the street. your stomachs are full, and you suggested a walk to be able to digest the bigass bowl you both ate.

“nothing tastes better than something you’re eating when you’re supposed to be studying, instead,” you shot back, hiding your little smile as you cross your arms while strolling. the shift between you and gojo was so jarring that you’re still reeling at it, but what is 3am if not for big life changes?

“yea, that’s fair,” he sighs, crossing his hands behind his head as he continues strolling beside you.  “so,” he continues, “now that i’ve officially blown your mind with my secret identity and fed you some incredibly mid shawarma, what’s next? should i fly you to paris, or is that too cliché?”

you roll your eyes, but deep inside, you’re really biting back a grin. “relax, bugboy. maybe first let me recover from being swung like a human pendulum.”

gojo stopped walking, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. “you’re still thinking about that, huh? admit it—you loved it.”

you raised an eyebrow. “i screamed into your chest for a solid ten seconds. does that sound like love to you?”

he tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “i dunno. there’s a fine line between terror and thrill. and judging by how tightly you were holding onto me…”

“you’re insufferable,” you muttered, but your voice lacked bite.

“and yet, you’re still here.”

his words hung in the air, the playful edge softening into something quieter, more sincere. your steps faltered, and you looked up at him, the absurdity of the night fading into the background as your gaze held his.

“guess i’m curious,” you admitted.

“curious, huh?” he said, taking a step closer. “careful. curiosity killed the cat.”

without thinking, you blurted, “at least i’ve got a fifty-fifty shot, right?” the words barely left your mouth before the regret hit, your inner voice screaming at you for making a lame quantum mechanics joke at a time like this. schrödinger would be proud, you thought bitterly.

but then gojo laughed—not the teasing, obnoxious kind of laugh or the weird look you’d expect, but a genuine, boyish chuckle that reached his eyes. he smiled at you, soft and unguarded, and suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink.

the flickering streetlamp cast a warm, uneven glow over the two of you. in that moment, the sprawling city felt impossibly small, narrowed down to just him and the pounding of your heart in your ears.

gojo reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. “you know,” he murmured, his voice low, “i’ve been wanting to do this for a while now.”

your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest. “do what?”

“this.”

before you could respond, he closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft, yet electrifying. for a moment, time seemed to stop, the city around you fading into nothing as the warmth of his touch anchored you in the moment.

when he finally pulled back, his grin was back in full force. “so, was that better or worse than shawarma?”

you blinked at him, still trying to find your footing in the aftermath of what just happened. an immediate feeling of bashfulness crept over you because not only did you just kiss spiderman, you just kissed gojo. there are girls who would kill to be in your position, and that makes you flustered as you turn your head away from him so you don’t have to make eye contact. “i hate you,” you mumble half heartedly, cheeks burning.

gojo doesn’t let you off so easily. his thumb brushes gently along your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. his touch is warm, deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

“oh my god,” he says, a grin spreading across his face. “are you embarrassed? you’re so cute.”

when the warmth of his hand leaves your chin, you open your eyes, shocked as you find out that he’s nowhere to be seen. you call out a tentative, “gojo?” 

somewhere behind you, to the left, comes out a muffled shout. “i’m here!” you whip around, your brows furrowing as you follow the direction of his voice. it’s coming from an alley just off the street, dark and bathed in shadows.

“seriously?” you mutter under your breath, your annoyance half-hearted, making your way toward the sound. you find yourself at the mouth of the alley, the dim glow of a distant lamp barely illuminating his silhouette.

gojo’s perched on the side of the wall like it’s the most natural thing in the world, one leg propped up, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal that damn smirk. “you’re slow,” he teases, his tone light and infuriatingly smug.

“what are you doing?” you ask, crossing your arms.

he gestures toward himself. “you came looking for me, didn’t you?”

you roll your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. “what, did you think i’d just leave you lurking in some alley like a creepy insect?”

“well,” he says, shooting a web to stick on the bottom of some stairs of one of the buildings to hang upside down, “you could’ve left, but i had a feeling you wouldn’t.”

before you could retort, he shoots his web closer to something on top of you, now dangling upside down yet again but his proximity even closer, stealing the air from your lungs. his fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just long enough to make your knees feel unsteady.

“so,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, “are we doing this again, or are you gonna keep pretending you hate me?”

your heart stutters, but before you can overthink it, you pull his mask down even further to uncover more of his lips, and you join them together—this time, softer, slower, as if savoring the moment. you grab at his chin to pull him closer to you, you both sighing into the kiss, and then smiling giddily each time you pull back, only to come back in.

and just like that, you start to fall into…something with not only the vigilante that’s swinging around new york, but also gojo satoru, your long-time rival.

…

when satoru swings by your dorm next, he doesn’t expect his heart to lurch so much at the view of you so cozy.

it’s undeniable; you and satoru have been dancing around each other. you’re not exactly a hook-up to each other—you two haven’t had sex—but you’re not exactly girlfriend and boyfriend. and it’s not something casual, either. he doesn’t reveal that he’s spiderman just to get into girls’ pants. 

you’ve both developed a sort of rapport, he supposes. it’s been stolen glances during phys401 and late nights spent talking or, occasionally, making out. you’ve even started to nurse his wounds, if he ever shows up with bruises and blood matting his suit. one of the perks of you having a single. 

he’s even fallen asleep overnight, especially on friday nights when he doesn’t have lecture in the morning. some of his things, like some spare equipment and suits, have even found their way into your closet. 

you’re both on a dangerous roller coaster, and satoru is closing his eyes on the fall down. 

but right now, he’s perched outside your window like a creep. you’re sitting on your bed, cross-legged and squinting at something on your laptop, and satoru smiles to himself as he sees your tank top and shorts and just how homey you look. you probably know satoru is coming, but you’re so comfortable around him that it makes his heart ache. he shouldn’t be doing this, but he can’t stop.

satoru lightly taps on your window, his knuckle brushing against the glass softly, not wanting to startle you. you glance up, catching sight of him, and there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.

you get up, and satoru follows the movement of your bare legs with his eyes as you slide the window open. “you know, most people knock on doors like normal humans,” you say.

“i like to keep things interesting,” he shoots back, climbing in effortlessly. the faint chill from the night clings to him, and his hair is slightly disheveled from the wind.

he glances around your room, catching sight of your scattered notes and the distinct look of frustration etched across your face. “what’s got you looking so miserable?”

“phys401,” you reply with a resigned sigh, flopping back onto your bed. “this problem set is impossible.”

satoru smirks, peeling off his gloves and mask and plopping down beside you. “let me see.”

acquiescing, you hand over your notebook, watching as he scans your work with intent, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to understand the statement to prove. he makes a few thoughtful noises, before grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. “here,” he says after a moment, “you’re overcomplicating this step. instead of doing the tensor product you did, you could just make this zero by taking an inner product, since they’re orthogonal states. the rest will fall into place.”

you squint at his messy, rushed handwriting, and sure enough, the proof seems to come together. “how are you so good at this?” 

“physics prodigy, remember?” he teases, leaning back on his hands as he lays down on your bed.

“thanks for the help,” you say softly, your eyes lingering on him a beat too long. he’s kind of dreamy, you think. the moonlight filters across your window, giving his platinum hair a sheen as his cerulean eyes look into yours with kindness. 

his smirk fades, replaced by something softer, something unspoken. “anytime.” he then makes a show of stretching out his limbs, purposely bumping into you with one eye open smugly to observe your reaction, to which you glare at him. he spots your notebook, picks it up, and flips through it. “you know, for someone who complains so much about phys401, you’re not half bad at it,” he teases, scribbling something in the margin of your notes by grabbing a stray pen next to him.  

you roll your eyes, shifting so you’re cross-legged on the bed, facing him. “not all of us are physics prodigies, satoru. some of us actually have to work hard.”  

he chuckles, handing the notebook back to you. “hard work is overrated when you can just charm your way through everything.”  

you snort and joke, “if charm was all it took, i’d have aced the midterm.”  

there’s a beat of silence as you glance down at his notes. he’s corrected a mistake you hadn’t even noticed, and his scrawled proof flows so effortlessly it makes you a little envious. “how do you do that?” you ask, more to yourself than him.  

“do what?”  

“make it look so… easy,” you say, frowning slightly. “everything. physics, life, swinging through the city.”  

satoru leans back on his palms, his smirk softening. “trust me, it’s not as easy as it looks.”  

you glance up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. “what do you mean?”  

he shrugs, but there’s something vulnerable in the way his gaze flickers away from yours. “i mean, everyone sees the guy with the jokes and the perfect test scores, but no one sees the late nights or the bruises.” he gestures vaguely to his chest, where you know the bruises from his spider-man escapades hide. “guess i’m just good at pretending.”  

you sit with his words, the weight of them settling between you. “you don’t have to pretend with me, you know,” you say softly.  

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the mask—the real one—drops. “i know,” he says, just as softly.  

the air between you feels heavier, like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. you’re hyper-aware of how close he is, the faint smell of the night clinging to him, the way his knee brushes against yours.  

“thanks,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “for letting me be here. for…” he trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up.  

your breath catches. “satoru…”  

“yeah?” he says, leaning in slightly, his voice lower now.  

“i…” you trail off, not even sure what you were going to say.  

he leans closer, and it feels like everything around you stills. his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. “can i?” he asks, his voice barely audible.  

you nod, and then his lips are on yours.  

the kiss starts tentative, almost shy, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. it deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building for weeks—months, maybe—finally snaps, leaving nothing but heat and want in its wake.  

his weight presses you back into the bed, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pins you to the bed, now on top of you. his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and as his thumb traces shapes into your circle and closer to more sensitive areas, a sigh escapes you.  

that’s when he freezes.  

he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide and filled with something like fear. “we can’t,” he says, his voice hoarse.  

your heart drops into your chest.

“why not?” you ask, trying to catch your breath.  

“because,” he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair and he’s heaving. “because i’m spider-man, and you—” he breaks off, looking anywhere but at you. “you deserve better than this. better than me.”  

you sit up, pulling your shirt back into place and looking at him, hurt. “that’s not your call to make, satoru.”  

“i’m trying to protect you!” he says, his voice rising in agitation. he sits back onto his heels, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at the ceiling, as if in pain.

you can’t believe him. his self-righteousness irritates you to no end, especially after you’ve bared your soul, and now your body to him, something you considered intimate. you feel conflicted—whatever you had, it didn’t have a label. but that didn’t mean that you didn’t want that to be true. badly.

“and who asked you to?” you snap back. “i’m not some damsel in distress who needs saving.”  

“i know that,” he says, his tone softening. “but if something happened to you because of me…” he shakes his head. “i couldn’t live with that.”  

the anger bubbling in your chest boils over, and you snap. “so what? you’re just going to walk away? after everything?”  

he stands, his expression pained. “i’m sorry,” he says, heading for the window.  

“don’t you dare apologize,” you say, your voice trembling as you stand by the foot of your bed, hating how your eyes brim with tears. “if you leave, don’t bother coming back.”  

he pauses, his hand on the window frame, before glancing back at you. “i’m sorry,” he says again, softer this time, before slipping out into the night.  

the window clicks shut behind him, and you’re left alone in the silence, the ache in your chest threatening to swallow you whole. 

…

the whir of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of background music fill the mostly empty starbucks, the occasional customer wandering in like clockwork. it’s a quiet shift, the kind you’d usually relish—except today, the quiet only makes the knot in your chest tighten.

you’re stationed behind the counter, staring blankly at the milk steamer as it hisses, lost in your thoughts. that is, until utahime’s voice breaks through.

“alright, spill,” she says, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you.

you glance at her, eyebrows raised. “spill what?”

utahime rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. “oh, please. you look like someone stole your favorite pen and broke it in half. what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you lie, turning back to the steamer. “i’m fine.”

utahime’s skeptical gaze bores into you. “you’re a terrible liar. nanami, back me up.”

from his spot at a nearby table, nanami looks up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto you. “it’s boy trouble,” he says flatly, like he’s solving an equation.

your head snaps toward him, a glare already forming. “excuse me?”

“it’s obvious,” he says, setting his book down and regarding you with his usual piercing gaze. “you’re distracted, you look upset—it’s boy trouble.”

utahime perks up, leaning closer. “wait, is he right? is this about a guy?”

you let out a groan, leaning your elbows on the counter. “can you two not gang up on me right now?”

“so it is a guy,” utahime says, her tone turning smug.

“i didn’t say that,” you retort, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.

nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection. “you might as well just tell us. it’s not like we’re going to let it go.”

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. “fine. it’s… someone i liked. someone i thought liked me too. but he freaked out and said it was too…dangerous to keep going.”

utahime frowns, her curiosity replaced by concern while kento snorts. “dangerous? what does that even mean?”

“that’s what i’d like to know,” you say bitterly, the frustration bubbling up as you speak. “he acts like he cares, but the second things get serious, he bolts. like i’m some fragile thing that can’t handle it.”

nanami leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. “he might not be scared of you. he could be scared of what it means for him. of responsibility and commitment. some people run when they feel too much.”

utahime nods, her hand resting gently on your arm. “whatever his problem is, it’s not fair to you. if he can’t get it together, that’s on him, not you.”

you glance between them, the weight of their words settling in your chest. “i know that,” you say quietly. “it just… sucks.”

“of course it does,” utahime says, her voice soft but firm. “but you’re not the problem here. don’t let him make you think you are.”

nanami picks up his book again but pauses before opening it. “and don’t let him live rent-free in your head. if he can’t see what he’s giving up, that’s his loss.”

their support feels grounding, like a steady hand in the middle of a storm. you manage a small smile, nodding. “thanks, guys.”

“anytime,” utahime says, flashing you a reassuring grin. nanami simply nods, returning to his book but keeping an eye on you like always. for the first time all week since gojo left your room, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.

…

the knock at your window is faint, almost timid, but it jolts you out of your daze. you sit up in bed, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the window. it’s late—so late it’s early—and for a moment, you think you imagined it. you hate to admit it, but because of your boy troubles you haven’t been able to sleep all week. you’re also no stranger to imagining ants crawling up your body or phantom noises, so you adjust in your bed, trying to go back to sleep.

then it comes again, a little louder this time.

you throw off the blanket and pad over, the chill of the floor biting at your bare feet. when you pull the curtain aside, your breath catches.

satoru.

he’s crouched outside, his suit torn in places and soaked with blood. his head lolls slightly, like he’s barely holding himself up, and when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, it’s tired and pleading.

you don’t think—there’s no time for that. you unlatch the window and shove it open, reaching out to help him inside. “satoru, oh my god,” you breathe, your voice shaking.

“hey,” he mutters, his grin weak but still so unmistakably him. “sorry for the mess.”

“shut up,” you snap, guiding him onto your bed and setting him down with gentle hands, ones that contrast your tone with him. “what the hell happened?”

“nothing i couldn’t handle,” he says, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter and flashes you a sheepish smile. “you should see the other guy.”

“you’re bleeding everywhere, satoru. you clearly didn’t handle it.” you grab your first aid kit from under the bed and yank it open, your hands trembling.

“i’ve had worse,” he murmurs, but his bravado is thin, cracking at the edges.

“stop talking,” you say, your voice trembling and cracking. “just—just stop.”

for once, you thank the gods that he listens.

you work quickly, cutting away the shredded fabric of his suit and cleaning the worst of the wounds. it’s not pretty—his torso is littered with bruises and gashes, the kind that make your stomach turn—but you keep your focus.

when you press a disinfectant-soaked pad to a particularly deep cut, he hisses, his hand flying to grab your wrist.

“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him with a tender look in your eyes. his expression matches yours, and your faces are so close to each other that you can’t bear it anymore, going back to your work.

his fingers loosen but don’t let go, his grip warm and grounding. “you’re good at this,” he says softly, his voice rough.

“yeah, well,” you mutter, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. “you’ve given me plenty of practice.”

the silence stretches as you finish bandaging him up. when you’re done, you sit back, your hands still trembling as you place them in your lap. “you’re an idiot,” you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

he laughs, soft and hoarse. “yeah. i get that a lot from this girl i know.”

you look up at him, and the weight of everything—his injuries, his secret, the distance he tried to put between you—crashes over you. “you can’t keep doing this, satoru. you can’t keep pushing me away just to show up like this.”

his smile fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. “i know,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know, but…”

“but what?” you demand, your voice cracking. “you’re spider-man? you think that’s an excuse to keep shutting me out?”

“it’s not an excuse,” he says, running a hand through his messy hair, matted with even more blood. his or someone else’s, you’re not sure. “it’s a reason. i don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

“you think i’m not already hurting?” you snap, the anger bubbling to the surface yet again. “you think it doesn’t kill me to see you like this and know i can’t do anything to stop it?”

his eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost and unsure. it is then that it hits you that he’s just twenty. a college student, not someone who’s wanted by the cia or someone who’s battled terrorists. for fucks sake, he can’t even legally drink. 

and your heart can’t help but melt as he says, “i just… i don’t want to lose you.”

“then stop trying to,” you say, your voice softer now. “stop pretending like you’re protecting me by keeping me at arm’s length. let me in, satoru.”

he stares at you, his breath hitching like he’s holding back a thousand words. then, in a rush, he closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead to yours.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.”

you exhale shakily, your hands finding their way to his wrists. “just stop being an idiot, okay? stop trying to do this alone.”

he nods, his grip tightening like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “i promise,” he says, and for the first time, you believe him.

…

a cramp gripping satoru’s entire leg is what wakes him up. 

he winces in memory of the injury; one of those stupid terrorists had too good of an aim, grazing his leg while he was mid-air. it hurts like a bitch now, and he moves to lay on his back, until something stops him. roses.

he looks, bleary eyed, to you. the floral scent coming from you, making him dizzy. his body cocooning yours. 

you both unconsciously moved in your sleep so that you were spooning, your fragrant hair, soft from shampooing, tickling his throat with your ass in his crotch.

nestled right against his morning wood.

good fucking lord, he groans to himself, then starts to panic because if you wake up and realize he had a raging hard-on while you were sleeping, you would definitely think he was a creep. he’s already on thin fucking ice. so naturally, he starts to recite the star spangled banner while trying to will his boner away.

oh, say can you see—

to no avail, because you huff softly in your sleep, soft and warm body unconsciously leaning back to grind your ass against his lap, turning his dick to steel.

“oh, fuck,” he curses out loud, using his hand to cover the lower half of his face and clench his eyes shut. you feel so sweet, innocently adjusting while he can’t even control his lust for you.

but once the grind seems to continue for a bit too long, more than what can be chalked up as adjusting in your sleep, he peers down at you. you’re awake. 

and because satoru’s selfish, his hands creep up your tank top, settling on your bare stomach, where he knew you were ticklish. as a result, you wiggle, and he uses this opportunity to pull you even closer to him, right up against him. 

“baby,” he says, making his voice all deep and sighs on purpose, just to be unfair to you. “is this okay?”

you whine, and he settles his face in your hair, the strands of it tickling his skin as he inhales in the scent of you. “i thought it was a dream.”

he smiles into your hair. you make him feel like sunshine incarnate, and the rush he’s getting right now is akin to the one he gets jumping off the empire state building. “no, this is very real.”

“hm,” and you continue to drag your ass into him, murmuring in a soft voice that makes him want to take you right there and then, “it still feels like a dream. like you’re not real, right now.”

oh, what he would do to make you say his name in that same voice; he wants to whisper all the things he wants to do to you right now. “i know, baby. you feel like a dream.” his hands continue to slide up and up your torso, groaning at your sharp intake as he gently fondles the softness of your breasts. 

you overwhelm his senses, teasing him, and when you let out a whine of his name, satoru snaps.

“i’m going to make you feel good right now. tell me if it’s a fucking dream,” he grits out, ignoring whatever cramps that were screaming at him to get on top of you. 

you gasp out a “satoru,” wriggling in his grasp, and he can’t take it anymore. he brings up one of his hands. shoots a web that lands right on your left hand. then your right hand.

satoru just tied you up using his webs.

you look at him in whatever version of shock you can muster in your tired state. “satoru, what the—” but you’re muffled, because he’s kissing you, hard, roving his hands up and down your body and grabbing whatever he can as if he’s devouring you while making out with you.

“do you know,” and his eyes flash dangerously while looking down at yours, “how you’ve teased me with these shorts?” his hands trails down to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing, pulling it to make it snap against your skin. you jump, looking at satoru desperately, who’s left you bare at his mercy, subject to his super human strength as he grabs your shorts with both his hands again. “every fucking time i’ve sneaked up in to your room, it’s been so hard to not fuck you senseless in these flimsy things. it’s only fair you pay the price, right baby?”

it’s not like you have anything to answer him with, having lost all brain cells being fucked out like this. he pulls them down, and if he had laser vision, he would have stared through your panties long ago, eyes fixated on the crotch that was nearly translucent with the amount of slick going through it. burying his face right in between your thighs, he noses at your cunt before groaning. then, he uses his teeth to grab onto the middle and pull. until your pussy is bare to him.

“oh, fuck you’re so pretty,” he curses, lapping at your sweetness. his tongue roves up and down your folds, and if your hands could, they would be pulling at his hair solely because you were so sensitive. but you were trapped, thighs gripped in his strong hands and your arms trapped by his ultra-strong webs. “my good girl.”

then, you feel pressure at your opening. “sato—” you squeal but are immediately interrupted by your own moan as he curls his long, thick fingers, eyes observing your every movement as you squirm, electric shocks running up and down your body as he hits your spot dead-on.

and he notices, because the motherfucker chuckles. “oh, so that’s the spot, huh?” he purrs, visibly pleased as he memorizes it and abuses it, hitting it with every stroke. you barely notice him add one finger, add two fingers as he starts to suck on your clit. overwhelmed with pleasure, you’re only brought back to reality when he rips all contact away from you.

“what—” you mumble mindlessly, until you see what he’s doing. he pulls his sweatpants down. and he’s not wearing boxers, so you drool when his cock springs out, leaking copiously and hard. without taking his eyes off you, he pumps it to its fullest length, and you’re just staring in awe at its sheer length.

“what’re you looking at, baby?” he teases, using his hand to wiggle his cock in front of your face to mock you. “want it so bad, isn’t that right?”

you glare at him half-heartedly, but whine regardless. “just put it in, gojo.”

“oh,” and he flashes you a smile that makes a big danger sign in red flash across your mind. “it’s gojo, now is it?”

 “satoru,” there are tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, the ones that make satoru even more aroused at your want, “please. i need it.”

a boyish grin and a forehead kiss that has you reeling at his duality. “anything for my woman in stem.” with that, he pushes in, both of your eyes rolling back as his cock is engulfed by your gummy walls. soon after, he starts thrusting, desperation fueling both of you as you cross your legs behind gojo’s back, the deeper angle making his thighs shake while fucking into you. 

he grabs your face, gives you a tender kiss. “fuck, i love this pussy. so sweet for me.” 

you give him a wanton moan in return as he continues to thrust deep, tender strokes into you. “satoru, ‘m not gonna last long.” with the amount of foreplay he’s done alongside how sensitive you are, you’re steadily reaching your orgasm already, and with the way satoru’s now tightly gripping the sheets beside you while thrusting inside you, he is too.

wet squelching noises echoes across the room, and you know the neighbors can hear the obscene plap! plap! plap! coming from skin meeting skin, your hips against his. he buries his face into your neck, panting at your ear until he uses his hand to wrench your face towards his.

“i love you,” he groans, forcing your eyes to meet his. “i love you forever and will do so. so you can’t break my heart,” and he’s desperately thrusting again, “and you can’t leave me. please.”

at his confession, you break, back arching as you also squeal out a iloveyou while gasping loudly, hips rolling to rise against his as he fucks you through your orgasm. quickly, his thrusts veer into overstimulation and you whine. “toru.” he takes one look at your state���face impossibly flushed, hands tied, and pussy absolutely engulfing his cock, and his orgasm hits him like a truck, making him gasp and bend and break as he goes to heaven and back with the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy clench around him so beautifully. his cum enters you in hot spurts, making you exhale sharply at the feeling as he comes down from his orgasm, collapsing next to you.

for a few minutes, heavy breathing fills the room, both of you catching your breaths. until satoru breaks the silence. “so, what’s it like to fuck a superhero?”

you take one look at him—all smug and propped up on his elbow—and spidey sense be damned as you try grab a pillow. key word is try because you’re then wrenched back with a reminder that you’re still bound. “satoru,” and you give him a sickly sweet smile, the one that he knows means he’s in trouble, “when are these going to dissolve?”

and satoru pretends to be deep in thought, but you can see him trying to inch off the bed slowly, as if to escape your wrath after his answer. “uhm…maybe five hours?”

if it weren’t for the damn spidey sense that he had, he wouldn’t have been able to escape the swing of your legs as you looked at him murderously. “satoru gojo you will unhand me from these webs this instant—-“

“i don’t know,” he shrugs, shit eating grin in his face. “you look kinda sexy in bed like this. mad at me.” but when your eyes flash with anger, he hiccups nervously, telltale of the fact he won’t mess with you.

“i hate you,” you groan out, pouting like a petulant child while you glare at the ceiling.

 satoru comes close to you to bend at his waist and give you a forehead kiss. “no, you don’t.” 

you give him a pointed glare, telling him not to be testy. “clean me up. now.”

at your expression, his eyes widen in fear and he salutes. “anything for you, ma’am.”

at his retreating form, you giggle and sigh to yourself. you never would’ve known that spider-man would be the one fetching a clean up rag for you after fucking the shit out of you, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

when satoru comes back, he cleans you up, tenderly, as if he is afraid that you will break. you’re a little drowsy when he returns to you, but he doesn’t dare try to wake you up when he hears little breaths from your nose indicating you’ve fallen asleep. after he finishes his job, he admires your features.

satoru lingers for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. the weight of his responsibilities presses on him, as it always does, but tonight, it feels heavier—like a tether pulling him between the life he’s chosen and the life he craves.

you, so peaceful in sleep, represent something fragile, something precious. and that terrifies him. because what if he fails? what if the cost of being spider-man is losing the one thing that feels real?

still, he knows he can’t walk away—not from this city, not from you. with a deep breath, he leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, a silent promise lingering in his chest.

“i’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs, barely audible. “no matter what.”

instead of leaving, satoru settles down beside you, careful not to disturb your rest. the city can wait, just for a little while. for now, he wraps an arm around you, grounding himself in the warmth of your presence. as your breathing evens out against him, he lets his own eyes drift shut, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting. today, he chooses to stay.

kinktober masterlist | general masterlist

a/n ok if you're ever curious what being fucked in the ass with a wooden dildo no lube is like, just try to write this fic or any longfic. it's 4am, this a/n is short and unintelligble just like most of this fic but it's been a journey, im very sentimental because of this fic and i hope you guys like it. ok im going to pass out so pls ignore all typos xoxo but please flood my inbox im excited to see yalls reactions when i wake up

plspls pls comment and reblog!!!

TAGLIST

@sugoroo @ryutotsukai0824 @sharkubi @lisvanrouge @mxlktae

@samisfunky @achbbys000 @xd3pr3ss3dx @jottositto @cheescakebroom

@r0ckst4rjk @callmeagardengnome @rottmntrulesall @blankwashed @sindulgent666

@honeynanamin @obsessgurlll @starrnai @herefor-tojis-tits @ramonathinks

@creamflix

[lotus-pear]

ok so i finished the game and i fear this aged terribly

also like an absolute fool i did the true ending so i got no shuake angst on 2/2 like i was expecting……….i also didn’t have a file ready before the talk with maruki so it appears i’ll have to play the game for the third fucking time just to get the bad ending

finally started p5 royal ‼️‼️‼️‼️

expect some royal trio art soon they are my dearly beloveds (minus akechi i hope he dies in this reality too)

[callsign-rogueone]

hour thirty-eight

Bodhi Durran x reader (darling!) words: 1.7k 🏷️: set during fourth wing, aftermath of reader's RSC (not described in any detail, just that you're injured from it), dain and love cameo (you'll eventually be getting love's pov of all this!), xaden gets sucker punched (he kinda deserved it tho), feral bodhi and then sweet soft bodhi in the same post, I'm not the happiest with this one but here it is anyway.

Thirty-seven hours. Thirty-seven fucking hours since Bodhi has seen any trace of you. 

You clearly aren’t out with your squad doing land-nav or anything, because they’re still here, enjoying their weekend off. And they have no idea where you are, either. They haven’t seen you since before he did.

He’s retraced your steps a dozen times by now. You’d had dinner, washed up and spent the night in his room, woken up early for a leadership meeting, then vanished off the face of the planet, and everyone is acting like it’s business as usual.

Everyone except Xaden. 

He might be mister unaffected and cool to everyone else, but his cousin can smell that something is off with him — cornering him and Garrick in the hall after dinner. 

“I’ve checked the infirmary, I’ve checked the death rolls, and the rest of her squad has no idea either, but I know you know something. You’ve got that look on your face. So please, tell me,” he begs, his voice wavering.

He watches the two older boys exchange a look, knowing neither of them want to be the one to say it. 

Xaden sighs, evidently having lost the silent battle of eye contact. “I just need you to trust me. She’s going to be fine — she should be back in the morning.”

“Back from where? Where are the fuck is my wife, Xaden?”

He winces. “Part of the second-year course is interrogation training,” he begins carefully.

“You mean she’s being tortured?”

Xaden exhales. “Yes.” He doesn’t bother to dodge the first punch Bodhi throws — letting it hit him right in the jaw. 

It’s Garrick who lunges forward, grabbing the younger man around the waist and pinning his arms to his sides to hold him back from throttling his cousin. Bodhi thrashes in his grip, uselessly trying to get free. “You didn’t think to mention this to any of us? To your own fucking sister? Because she’s missing too, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Bo,” Garrick says softly, “you need to take a breath. She’s going to be fine. Both of them will.”

Garrick’s words don’t mean anything to him. “Don’t fucking start with me, Gare. You had plenty of opportunities to tell us, too. You could have mentioned it a year ago, when you found out yourself.“

“We didn’t tell you for the same reason that Cuir didn’t tell you, nor did the Lieutenant Colonel,” Xaden says levelly, his arms crossed over his chest. “Everything they do in RSC is supposed to be a surprise that you can’t prepare for. It’s all classified, and those who have completed it are forbidden from telling anyone what happened.”

“Bullshit. When has that ever stopped you before? Since when do you give a singular shit about the rules?”

“Bodhi,” Garrick warns, glancing around the hall, but thankfully nobody is around to have heard them.

“Fuck — off,” he pants, finally cutting loose from the section leader’s grip. “If you tell me to breathe again, I swear—”

“Bodhi,” Garrick repeats, louder, nodding toward the end of the hallway. “Look.”

The younger boy turns, his anger immediately replaced with relief as he sees you. 

Xaden’s shadows rush up to cushion your bruises as Bodhi gathers you into his arms. “Gods,” he breathes into your hair, “I was worried sick — I had no idea where you were. Was Callwell with you?”

“Yeah. She’s in the infirmary, with Dain.”

Bodhi pulls back to look at you, taking stock of your injuries. “Why didn’t you go with them?” he asks gently. There’s no scolding in his tone, just the same soft concern you can see in his eyes.

“I wanted to find you, and make sure you were okay. I didn’t know if they’d taken you too,” you say softly, your voice dry and scratchy. 

Xaden and Garrick both look guilt-stricken. Good, Bodhi decides. They should be.

“We stayed after class to talk to Kaori, and I got that feeling, but I didn’t know what was going to happen, or to who. As soon as we stepped out into the hallway…” you don’t finish the sentence. “They messed up — they weren’t supposed to take me, just her and Dain. But I was walking with them, and I guess they thought we were in the same squad.”

There’s a second of silence. “M’sorry I scared you,” you say softly. 

“Don’t apologize, cridhe. I’m just glad you’re safe now. Let‘s get you to the healers, okay?”

You hum in acknowledgment, fighting to keep your eyes open. It’s going to be a challenge for him to limp you back down the stairs and across the campus in this state, with your energy completely drained and your legs injured as well.

“I can…” Garrick offers, stepping forward.

“I’ve got her,” Bodhi snaps over his shoulder, steadying you with an arm around your waist. “She’s my responsibility, not yours.”

“Don’t be too hard on them,” you murmur, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. “Knowing it was coming would just have made it worse.”

Oh, gods. Now he knows — now he and Imogen and the rest of your friends are going to be waiting to be whisked away to the dungeons for a weekend of suffering, constantly anticipating an ambush, bags being thrown over their heads and getting dragged down to the dungeon to be beaten. That must be how you feel all the time with your signet, always focused on some looming tragedy or catastrophe. 

You haven’t let it break you thus far, so he won’t either.

Your walk to the infirmary is mostly silent, save for the occasional soft praise from Bodhi, gentle murmurs about how well you’re doing and that you’re almost there.

——

Dain’s forehead and nose are bloody, a dried up cut splitting his cheek, but it’s nothing compared to the state of your friend who sits beside him, tears slowly dripping down her face.

“She shielded us,” you explain to Bodhi in a soft voice. “So they took it out on her the worst, and made us watch.”

His heart twists as he realizes exactly how cruel and how realistic this training is, to punish someone for protecting their friends. They’d probably done that with the goal of getting you or Dain to crack, to exchange information for relief from the sight of her being broken bit by bit and the sound of her screaming.

But from the looks of her, the two of you had held fast — not telling them anything.

Dain continues whispering to her, his thumb stroking over her knee as a healer presses a hand against her ribs, inspecting for cracks. They must find one, because she curls in on herself with a soft whimper of pain, squeezing her eyes shut.

Another healer appears, beckoning you forward. She doesn’t protest as Bodhi comes with you, keeping a hand on your back as you walk. “Second year?” she asks, a soft sadness in her voice.

“Yes ma’am,” you say quietly, realizing that at her age, she’s probably bandaged up a thousand cadets after they’d gone through the same thing. 

That means someone else on this campus has beaten a thousand of you half to death.

“You think anything’s broken?”

“No, ma’am. Just some cuts and bruises.”

Bodhi helps you out of your ruined flight jacket, baring your arms, but the healer doesn’t flinch at the sight of your relic, nor the purpling bruises across your chest and shoulders. She’s gentle, silently working on disinfecting and stitching and bandaging with a learned hand. 

You let your head loll against Bodhi’s shoulder, your eyes closing. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck. 

“You picked a good one,” she remarks, a knowing smile on her face. “He’ll take care of you, like a warrior should.”

You turn your head to look at her. The sentence doesn’t quite make sense in the common language, but in Tyrrish, the words “husband” and “warrior” sound nearly identical.

“Smart girl,” she praises, knowing you’ve figured it out from the look on your face.

“I am in your debt,” Bodhi says softly, not wanting the other healer to hear. “She is my world. Thank you for holding her so gently.” 

She offers you both a soft smile. “May she one day be free.”

Your eyes widen, but you quickly force the rest of your face into a neutral expression. This might be a trap — a way for the school to see if you’ve inherited your parents’ ideology. And any evidence of any of you having thoughts about a second attempt at secession will mean the end of Xaden’s life.

She doesn’t pry or say anything further, just rising from her seat and cleaning up the tools she’d used before crossing the room to help the other healer.

You cast another glance back at your friend. Dain is still with her, letting her rest her head on his shoulder as Nolon works to fix her broken bones. Her eyes are closed, her breathing steady now that the pain has dulled.

“I’ve got her,” he promises quietly, seeing your hesitation. “Get some sleep, if you can.”

You nod in acknowledgement, letting Bodhi guide you back to the rider’s dorms and mindlessly following his lead as he gets some things from his room, then takes you to the showers, helping you out of your bloodied uniform and washing the blood from your skin in near-silence. 

The rest is just muscle memory — brushing your teeth and tugging one of his shirts over your head, padding across the hall to his room and climbing into your side of his bed, tucking yourself under his arm and pulling the blankets over you both. 

He plants another kiss to your forehead, his heart softening at the way you nuzzle your cheek into his shoulder in response — you’re too tired to lift your head up enough to return the kiss, but he knows that the way you’re curled into his side is an ‘I love you’ in itself, an indication that you feel safe with him, to let your guard down in this death trap of a school, to finally relax and sleep after two days of pain and fear.

[arttrashking]

I kind want wukong to move on in your au. It is clear that macaque wasn't that good for him,sometimes...making himself improve himself over and over again,just to get macaque approval....when he gets nothing in return,he deserves to be happy,it best he shouldn't be dependent on macaque to be happy,he needs let go in his own way.

I really want Wukong to be happy (I am wukong bias)

“To fill those months he spent…without me caring what he felt…”

The king feels the painful ache in his heart and head just recalling how he never asked Macaque about those months even now…to afraid to hear to misery and to recall the news adding into their already crumbling lives after that fire…

If he could, he’d redo everything but if he had to choose one thing to fix…it would be the first time he felt his Ma ache didn’t hiccup and weep through his apology that Wukong should e spoken to him. To stay in that room and hold him tight, promise him they’d make their family a different way and assuring the beautiful demon that his love wasn’t dependent on his string he was or what he offered and serviced the king with.

That his love was never going to fade for him if he didn’t put Wukong above everyone.

“…if anyone should move on…it should be him…he should’ve moved on centuries ago… it he didn’t…how do I repay a loyalty so….so cruel to one’s self?”

Yeeeeaaaah I fancy myself of having their selfishness towards each other appearing at different times- Wukong when he was young loved Macaque he truly did- he just also assumed that it didn’t change that he does what he wants without compromise on his own end…and Macaque was like how Wukong is now- dependent on him and his love and attention. Wukong was freedom for him, Wukong was his first everything and the man he left behind his home and family for. If he didn’t have Wukong’s love, what was the point of leaving his home? To be outed as the naive fool who gave a selfish demon his all only to be tossed once he wasn’t valuable.

Wukong switched places now- now he’s desperate to covet Macaque- to keep him at his side and never let go as it was once he became emperor that the distance between them started to become obvious and he even slept in different rooms until he cried to Macaque who gave in on being in the same room- trying to be normal again. And they hit some normalcy despite Macaque wishing to go home still, MK came in eventually, and it was stable- and Wukong managed to even give Macaque something they thought they’d never have- a child in the form of MK.

With the divorce arc tho- it’s because things fell apart again because a child didn’t fix it all and the fact nobody apologized yet, and Macaque wants to do something he wants with or without Wukong now- so he’d rather separate and go home than just nodding to whatever Wukong wants

(Can you tell I like the angsty drama despite my crying eyes rn? 🥲)

But yeah I love Wukong very much as a character which is why [holding trauma gun] he needs all this for the JUICE of my meal that is this plot/j

[brittle-doughie]

I wish to request something a little strange- So you have experimented with the idea of Cookie Cannibalism so maybe I was hoping you could just build on the idea. No morbid curiosity tho

(This ask was super weird, so you can ignore it if you want)

Bake It Till You Make It: Tasty Delights

It never hurts anyone to have a treat every now and then..also I updated the first part to my current format of posts

WARNINGS: Cookie Cannibalism

Running the shop doesn’t always have to be around the holidays. The Sugar Gnomes were generous enough to have you run the shop all winter long! If that was what made you and the cookies in the kingdom happy!

It had surely made the cookies happy alright! All day, every day has cookies coming in the high tens into your shop! They can never seem to get enough of the cakes and sweets offered here, you being the manager also had a hand in the amount of visits too.

But that was only half of the whole thing. The other half was the cookies being thankful enough to gift you their own sweets.

You never questioned their generosity, accepting the gifts with a smile. What was odd would be the cookies acting a little suspicious in terms of behavior or style of clothing, something that was a bit out of character for them.

Cookies like Crunchy Chip Cookie that are usually pretty tough are left trying to come up with an explanation for their insistence on you accepting their sweets, Crunchy especially since you recalled that sweets weren’t his thing. He practically pleaded for you to take it and eat it, he wanted to know if you liked his sweets. He wanted to know if you liked how it tasted…

And, in his head, if you liked how he tasted…

———————————————————————

Crunchy Chip yelled out as he cracked off a piece of his arm, a brief moment of pain that had take deep breath.

But in his mind, it would be worth it. To see you savor the taste of what he made despite the end result. To see you savor how he’d taste like.

It would be worth it…

———————————————————————

You thanked him as he left with his cake, sitting down at one of the tables as you started to eat his sweets. For someone who didn’t like them, Crunchy’s delights were pretty good! You continue taking a bite, and then another one, and then another…until it was all gone.

That really hit the spot as you sigh contently, leaning back in your chair…with the window behind you having a fixated Crunchy Chip watching intently before he hurried away.

———————————————————————

Mozzarella Cookie thought it would be pretty interesting of her to give you a mozzarella cheesecake. A very odd choice of ingredients, you even joked if she had placed a piece of her own mozzarella in it, something she giggled at.

What a silly thing to say!

———————————————————————

She wasted no time in gently removing pieces of her mozzarella hair to smoothly texture her cheesecake.

She’d know that you’ll like it, she’d kick herself if you didn’t. After all…

…an intriguing cookie like you only deserves an intriguing dessert~

———————————————————————

The amount of cookies coming in for some of his healings have been noticeably higher during this time of the year for Pure Vanilla Cookie. They’d come him, almost impatiently ask that he give them some healings to make them feel better before they’d hurried off for the day.

The changes in their outfits did not go unnoticed by the Ancient Cookie. Raspberry Cookie’s hair covering a portion of her face, Pastry Cookie wearing a sort of cloak to conceal her form, Clover Cookie missing tufts of hair…

They’d never want to answer any of his questions and just move along hastily…

He decided to come to you to see if you had any clue about this. He catches you just as you’re about to close up shop for today, a box that contained coral cake in your hands.

“Y/N Cookie! How are you, my friend?”

You greeted Pure Vanilla warmly as you two shared a hug. You asked him what brought him you.

“I was just worried about the number of cookies coming to see me to heal them. Do you know anything by any chance?”

Injured cookies? This was the first time you were hearing of this…

“It’s just that they never wish to tell me what was wrong with them. They’re always in a hurry to leave…”

This was pretty odd behavior…but you’d look into it whenever you can. You had to head back your place for today.

“Thank you, Y/N Cookie. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

You bid each other farewell as you head home, opening the box to take a bite of the cake, humming delightly as you savored the flavor.

As you reach home, you head to the fridge to put it away for later. You had to make room though, with a number of different sweets and foods already crowding your fridge, gifted by your Cookies.

———————————————————————

The utensils and ingredients were set, with instructions to make a cobbler.

The cookie was all to ready to get started…if not for one more ingredient to really make this cobbler special..

She can already picture it now. Seeing cookies crowding the shop, wanting their order to be taken first. She was stepping past the crowd to meet you at the counter

She presented her cobbler to you, wishing for you to have a taste!

You took a bite and you’d immediately be downing the whole dessert right there and then, excitement bubbling within herself at how much you liked it.

You’d tell her that you loved her cobbler with all of your being, you’d ask her…if she’d make more for you. She’d be all too eager to say yes! She will make more!

It would feel as if she had a connection with you more than the rest…

With these thoughts, the cookies giggled a little manically as she gets ready to crack off her lower arm…

White Lily is sure of herself that you’ll enjoy her dessert!

[kathlare]

papaya on top

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando celebrates a monumental victory, solidifying McLaren's historic season. Amidst the chaos of champagne sprays and cheering fans, a tender connection between Lando and Amelie shines, intertwining their triumphs and affections.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: fluff, smau

request over here!

December 8th, 2024 - Yas Island, Abu Dhabi

liked by amelieupdates, f1gossip, and others

f1wagsdaily: Amelie Dayman spotted arriving at the paddock in Abu Dhabi for the final race of the season!

View all 4,483 comments

f1stan99: LANDO P1 AND AMELIE IN THE PADDOCK?!? The McLaren era is officially iconic 🔥 → ameslanlover: @f1stan99 no bc they’re the power duo we never deserved 🫶

mclarenszn: Nah, Amelie’s face during the anthem? She was lowkey holding back tears for him 🥹 → lanfan88: @mclarenszn I saw that too! That look said “I’m so proud of you” omg 😭 → ameliesupremacy: @lanfan88 and when he winked at her?? My soul left my body 🫠

mcloveforever: The photo of them soaked in champagne… I’m not ok. The chemistry is insane 😵‍💫

wagswag84: She’s so iconic, she could literally just stand there, and people would still scream. → oscarpls: @wagswag84 no bc that’s exactly what happened in the garage yesterday. She’s a literal magnet.

papayaqueen: NOT LANDO WINKING AT HER ON THE PODIUM 😭😭 He’s such a simp omg. → amelie_stan: @papayaqueen he literally has no chill when it comes to her, and I love it. 💅

itsgivinghater: Okay but why is she even there tho? 🙄

wagslove: She’s giving main character energy every time she steps out 🖤 → f1editsdaily: @wagslove THAT’S WHY SHE’S THE IT GIRL

f1fanatic22: Amelie showing up and looking like that? Girl, HOW is she so effortlessly iconic? 🔥 → mclarensupremacy: @f1fanatic22 bc she's Amelie Dayman, duh. Queen behavior only 👑

lando4worldchamp: This man just won the race AND the Constructors’ Championship, and he’s got her waiting for him? Lando is literally living a rom-com 😭

lilyandamelie4ever: Lily and Amelie in the garage together?? Name a more iconic duo, I’ll wait. → racingtwinzz: @lilyandamelie4ever their friendship feeds my soul ngl 🫶

--------------

The roar of the engines was drowned out by the deafening cheer from the McLaren garage as Lando Norris crossed the finish line in first place at the 2024 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Amelie’s grip on Lily’s hand tightened, her heart hammering in her chest. The emotions were overwhelming, a cocktail of pride, excitement, and something deeper that made her chest swell as she watched Lando take the checkered flag, his McLaren a blur of orange ahead of the pack.

—Oh my god,— Amelie whispered, her voice barely audible over the celebration in the garage. Lily, standing next to her, was equally overwhelmed, but there was a quiet confidence in her that made Amelie smile. Lily leaned in closer, her eyes still fixed on the track.

—I’m going to go look for Oscar. He’ll be buzzing right now,— Lily said with a smile, squeezing Amelie’s hand before letting go and stepping towards the door.

Amelie nodded, though her eyes were still locked on the screen where Lando’s McLaren was doing its victory lap. She felt a tear escape as she watched him, the emotions finally breaking through the walls she’d built around them. He had done it. He had won. Not just the race, but the Constructors' Championship for McLaren, and finished second in the Drivers' Championship—a historic achievement that had eluded them for so long.

But it wasn’t just his victory that made her heart ache. It was the fact that she got to share it with him, after everything they’d been through since they first met at the 2019 Mexican Grand Prix. From the playful teasing and shared moments to their deep connection that had blossomed into something undeniable.

Tears blurred her vision, and she wiped them away quickly, blinking as the UK national anthem began to play in the distance. It was a moment she would never forget—watching him stand there, in the limelight, a beacon of success, pride, and joy.

Amelie’s eyes scanned the podium and when she saw him, Lando’s gaze shifted through the crowd, locking onto hers. His face broke into a grin, and he gave her a wink, followed by a teasing smile, as if they shared a private joke no one else could understand.

Her breath caught, her heart thudding in her chest as she leaned forward slightly, a small laugh escaping her lips. He had spotted her, and in that moment, the world felt like it was just the two of them.

The podium ceremony ended, and the crowd around her erupted with cheers. She didn’t even realize she was crying until she reached up and wiped away more tears. She needed to see him.

With a final look towards the podium, Amelie turned and made her way towards the McLaren team hub. She could feel the atmosphere buzzing with excitement as the team celebrated their victory. She made her way through the sea of people, her heart racing.

When she finally reached the driver's room, she was there alone for just a moment, pacing slightly, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Then, the door opened, and there he was—Lando, fresh off the podium, looking like he had just stepped off a dream. His suit was unzipped, his hair slightly tousled, his face flushed with the exhilaration of victory.

—Ames,— he greeted her with a grin, and before she could even respond, he was pulling her into his arms.

She didn’t waste a second. Her arms wrapped around him as she pressed herself against him, breathing him in. —You did it, Lan! You were amazing,— she whispered into his chest.

Lando chuckled softly, a hand coming up to cup her cheek as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. —Couldn’t have done it without you, Ames,— he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

Amelie looked up at him, her eyes full of admiration. —I’m so proud of you,— she said, before kissing him fiercely. The kiss started strong, full of pent-up emotion from the entire season. But as their lips met, the passion deepened, and it quickly became more urgent. Her hands found their way to his neck, and his own hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer.

Before either of them knew it, Amelie had climbed onto his lap, straddling him as their kisses became more frantic. She could feel the heat of his body, the lingering taste of champagne on his lips, and the way he made her feel like the only person in the world. His hands slid to her back, pulling her even closer, making her heart race faster.

—You taste like champagne,— she murmured against his neck, and Lando’s laugh was low and teasing.

—Yeah? You’re a little too good at that, Ames,— he teased, his voice a little breathless.

But before they could go any further, there was a knock on the door, and a voice from the outside interrupted them. —Lando, you’re supposed to be at the interviews now. You’re already late.—

Lando groaned, dramatically falling back against the chair. —Can’t a guy just enjoy his victory without being interrupted?— He muttered under his breath, clearly frustrated, but still managing to keep the grin on his face. He looked at Amelie, who was still perched on his lap, and for a second, neither of them moved.

—You’re lucky I love you,— he said with a wink, his voice low and playful.

Amelie rolled her eyes, but she didn’t mind the interruption as much as he did. —Go on, Lan. They’ll be waiting for you.—

With a heavy sigh, Lando pulled away, helping her off his lap. —I’ll make it up to you later,— he promised, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Amelie smiled as he stood up, adjusting his racing suit. —You better,— she said with a teasing grin.

As Lando left to do the post-race interviews, Amelie walked out of the driver's room and found Lily, who was waiting outside. —He’s gone for interviews,— Amelie said with a shrug, her smile wide.

Lily raised an eyebrow. —So, that was that,— she said with a smirk, clearly amused. —You two are a real piece of work.—

Amelie laughed. —Shut up,— she said playfully, but the blush creeping onto her cheeks betrayed her.

A McLaren staff member approached them, handing each of them a championship T-shirt and cap. They both chuckled as they put the oversized T-shirts over their dresses. —Looks a bit ridiculous, doesn’t it?— Amelie said, pulling at the fabric that hung loosely around her waist.

Lily laughed, giving her a quick hug. —It does—

They made their way back to the McLaren garage, where the team was getting ready for their final photo. They stayed behind the cameras, watching as the team gathered around, with Lando and Oscar finally joining them after the interviews. The energy was electric, everyone buzzing from the win, and when the team saw Amelie and Lily watching from the side, they began shouting for them to join in.

—Get in here, you two!— Lando yelled, his voice carrying over the excitement of the moment.

With a laugh, Amelie walked forward, awkwardly joining the group as Lando and Oscar made teasing faces. The team erupted into laughter, and Lando wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close for the photo. He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. —You look hot in my color, Ames,— he whispered, making her cheeks flush.

—And you’re not too bad yourself,— she teased back, her voice low and playful. The chemistry between them was undeniable, even with everyone around them celebrating.

The final champagne spray hit them both, and Amelie couldn’t help but laugh as the bubbly soaked her. Lando, ever the flirt, looked at her with that teasing smile she loved so much. The team, caught up in the celebration, sprayed even more champagne in the air, and Lando pulled her close again, stealing one more kiss before the night was over.

It had been an unforgettable season, and in that moment, everything felt perfect.

[bubbless-s]

I love love LOVE your page. Your Harry Potter fics are my favsss. Your Kyle and Kenny headcanons were LITERALLY SCRUMPTIOUS, I WILL KEEP EATING IT UP.

But if I could, may I request the main 3 SP boys x reader please? Separately of course. Maybe they’re dating and having a sleepover together. Just hc’s on what they’d do at a sleepover with a partner.

If you could, fem reader would be preferred, gender neutral is okay though.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Pillow Fights and Stolen Hearts₊ ⊹ ᶻ !! ␥

- ʚɞ genre: fluffy! (as always no gender implied.)

- ʚɞ warnings: none (devider)

→Masterlist

Kyle Broflovski

ೀ⋆ He definitely begged his mom for this.

ೀ⋆ His mom allowed with the rule of the door being open.

ೀ⋆ You suggested the sleepover firstly and got him hooked.

ೀ⋆ “What will we do on the sleepover? Play truth or dare?” after Stan showed him the powers of truth or dare he is willing to try it out with you. A little tho! He isn’t awaiting it with heart eyes!!

ೀ⋆ Our lovesick fool made a little list of things just incase if you guys runout of things to do.

ೀ⋆ “Do you have games on your phone?” -Ike

ೀ⋆ Kyle got you a rose too! He gave it to you when you arrived at his house.

ೀ⋆ Imagine the surprise on your face when you open the door to Kyles house only to get a rose shoved to your face. A very well decorated rose at that.

ೀ⋆ The fun part is when night came.

ೀ⋆ Kyle being Kyle couldn’t sleep at all.

ೀ⋆ Why you may ask. 1. He has the worst bed hair ever! 2.What if he kicks you in his sleep?! 3. Can’t stop staring at your sleeping face

ೀ⋆ It was the most anxious sleepover to him BUT you know after rain rainbow comes.

Stan Marsh

✧ Stan had this planned out for months.

✧ He carefully planned each step like the “master mind” he is. He totally sucks at it but eh

✧ First he will impress you with his guitar skills then ask you to come over to his place for a sleepover.

✧ It was a solid plan until he almost puked out of nervousness.

✧ But things did work out in Stans favour nonetheless!

✧ This loverboy was over the moon that you agreed and went out to buy all the snacks in the world with his pocket money.

✧ Not to mention he brushed his teeth 12 times because you guys w-will..will kiss..such a blasphemy..!

✧ Stan also made a very romantic questionable playlist.

✧ “You deserve better.” - Shelley

✧ When night fell Stan and you found yourself under the covers.

✧ Sleepy but still talking. Too invested in the conversation but too sleepy to continue..

✧ The problems solution was a sweet kiss and a even sweeter goodnight bidding.

Kenny Mccormick

৻ꪆ Kenny was thrilled to have a sleepover with you.

৻ꪆ Finally he was going to see what your room looks like!

৻ꪆ Asking him to come over wasn’t hard at all, you just asked as someone would do normally and Kenny cut you off saying yes. If it was a comic it would definitely have big “!!!” marks at the end.

৻ꪆ When he did arrive at your place y’all did the casual things. Watching TV together, snuggling under the covers, Kenny chasing you to tickle your sensitive spots—

৻ꪆ Yea you heard me ladies, gentlemen and non-binary sillies, Kenny chased you till you were breathless only to trap you underneath him.

৻ꪆ For some tickles. You had to cry and beg for release!

৻ꪆ When night began its reign Kenny became more quirky.

৻ꪆ He would always steal kisses or his hands would wande—ahem Kenny Im trying to keep this family friendly.

৻ꪆ Anyway! Kenny is the best cuddle buddy out there if you are cold he will pull you closer to himself, if you are hot he will loosen his arms.

৻ꪆ If Kenny happened to be awake later on his thought could begin to wander to more evil places.

৻ꪆ But he wouldn’t do that to his darling..

৻ꪆ Until you woke up funny shapes drawn all over your face.

[lexisecretaccx]

A+ Student Pt.4

Masterlist!

(Fem reader, bit of angst.. ish? suggestive, dramaa , got a lot to catch up on so this is a pretty long part😚 you guys deserve it tho, not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

(Quick little note: hey guys I haven’t written in a while so I may be a bit rusty but I hope it’s ok)

“How’d you get here so early?” Lizzy walks up to me, I’m sat on the bench where Chris’ stuff was previously. “Oh I.. I came in here at break to get ready before everyone.. I feel insecure for anyone to see me getting dressed.” I lie through my teeth, less than half hour ago the exact person who is teaching us this gym class was balls deep inside of me.

“You are stunning y/n,” Liz chuckles “no need to be insecure but okay.” She side hugs me gently. As the class fills up Chris walks through the door from the cupboard, the exact one we were.. you know. His eyes dart to mine and I awkwardly smile. “Okay girls, we have an important choice to make..” he starts to speak.

“You have a choice between what you wanna do in gym class, basketball with me or soccer with Ms Jones.” He clears his throat, “so uh.. stand on this side of the room if you wanna do basketball, and that side for soccer.” He points and shrugs. I stand up and follow Lizzy, she starts to walk to the Soccer side and I pause.

“Y/n? You love soccer right? Come on.” She smiles, “I’d rather.. step outside my comfort zone, you know.. push myself to try something new.” I smile enthusiastically, but the truth is I just wanna see Chris more. “Oh okay! I’m good at basketball I’ll do it with you.” She walks back over to me.

There’s about 8 girls on the basketball side and the rest are standing for soccer. I guess they’d rather have a female teacher, I would too if my teacher wasn’t so hot, but it’s pretty bare I don’t know how we’d do with 4v4 in basketball. “You won’t like this..” Chris talks to the class, interrupting my thoughts. “We have to mix the female and male classes,” complaints fill the gym.

“I know, I know you guys don’t like it but, because of the work being done on the boys gym, the boys need to come into here. Temporarily, and then the class can go back to normal and we won’t have to split it.. okay?” He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. All of a sudden, the boys pile into the gym.

Chris explains what either options are and all the boys start to pick a side. It’s fairly equal in the end, either side having a good amount of us but I start to feel anxious at the difference in how many girls are doing basketball compared to soccer. There’s a good 20 boys on this side.

The other group goes to the soccer field and we stay put. I get budged by a boy, he’s gotta be at least 6ft. “Ouch.” I mutter, he turns around to face me and I realise just how tall he is, the height difference is too different I don’t like it. “You alright? Sorry my friends push eachother around.” He chuckles awkwardly.

“I’m okay thanks.” I go to turn away and his hand places on the side of my arm, I tilt my head in confusion. “What’s your name? I haven’t seen you around.” He smiles, his brown eyes looking down at me. “I’m y/n, I tend to keep to myself.” I shrug. “I’m Mason.” He looks me up and down, “how tall are you?” He laughs lightly.

“I’m 5ft 3.. why?” I smile nervously. “I’m just worried how you’d do with a bunch of 6ft something boys playing basketball. You’re the shortest here.” He laughs. I hold back a smile, “I’ll be good. Bye Mason.” I rolls my eyes and I feel his gaze burning into me as I walk to Lizzy. “Flirting much?” She smirks, “no.. he’s not my type.” I shrug.

“Hmm sure.” She laughs slightly, I look over and see Chris looking at me, he turns his head to face the boys putting up the basketball hoops. I smile to myself, “ohh.” She whispers, drawing my attention to her, “hm?” She grins, “you like the teacher? I thought you liked Professor Sturniolo?” I shrug and sigh.

“Right let’s get into teams, we need two captains to pick the people for their team..” Chris spoke, “what about you Mason?” He scans the room, “no girls wanna be captain? Okay then Will you can be the other.” He smiles. His perfect smile.. perfect teeth. “Y/n.” Mason says my name and I look up to him, “what?” I awkwardly look around, “I want you on my team.” He looks down at me.

I look around, I’m the second person he’s picked.. why me? I know nothing about basketball and I’m not even his friend. “Oh.. okay.” I walk over to him. I see Chris glaring in the corner of my eye.

The teams get picked, Mason picked Lizzy because she’s my best friend, Which is nice I guess. They start to play, I don’t know much on basketball and I freeze when 5 boys rush past me to get the ball. “You okay?” Lizzy calls to me, she’s lucky she’s a tall girl. 5’9, she can keep up with them but I look like a lost puppy.

“No.” I say back to her and she chuckles before pointing next to me frantically, I turn and a basketball comes plowing into my face. I freeze again, not wanting to embarrass myself by crying but that fucking hurt like a motherfucker. I feel tears build in my eyes and Chris runs over to me, “hey you good?” He speaks softly and calmly, hands on my shoulders.

“I..” I go to answer but I just start crying. Without thinking he pulls me into his chest and hugs me. The sounds of feet scuffing on the ground stops, “you’re okay, just a scratch.” He smiles as I pull away from the hug and he turns my face, holding my cheek and observing the scratch. It feels like nobody’s here, it’s just us. Until..

“Everything good in here?” Its.. Matts voice? Chris’ hands drop off of me and all the other people are watching me. I feel nervous as Matt walks up to us, “I don’t have a class, thought I’d watch my brother teaching.” He spoke falsely as his eyes meet mine. “She ok?” He’s talking as if I’m not there. “Uh yeah.. gonna need to clean the scratch though.” Chris awkwardly chuckles.

“I can take her to clean it? Maybe she can explain how she walked out my class earlier.” He smiles, and a few ooos come from people around me. “Uh yeah okay.” Chris says, but I know deep down he doesn’t want me alone with Matt.

“Come on.” Matt motions me to walk with him. “Distracted in class?” He spoke up, breaking the short silence. “Uh no. I wasn’t looking and it came out of nowhere.” I shrug. “At least Chris was there to give you a little comfort hm?” He spoke harshly and sarcastically. I just hum in response.

“Where’d you go when you stormed out of class?” He turns into the janitors closet, where the med kits are kept and I follow. “To the bathroom.” I lie, “don’t lie to me y/n.” He sits me down on a stool and grabs a med kit off the shelf. “I’m not..” he cuts me off by shushing me. “You went to gym class didn’t you? Wanted to practice? I bet you weren’t practicing basketball were you?” He hisses as he leans down with an alcohol wipe in his hand.

“I.. what do you” I breathe in sharply as he pushes the wipe on my face without warning, the stinging causing my eyes to water. “Ow.” I look up at him, blue eyes burning into mine. “You think I didn’t try to find you after you didn’t come back? I did.” He seems hurt.. does he know? He grips my chin and turns my head to get better access to the scratch which is bleeding lightly.

“What do you mean?” I speak innocently and he groans. “You’re a slut.” He smirks, “fucking slut.” He stands up and bins the wipe. “A slut? What do..” he cuts me off, “stop asking me what I mean y/n. You know exactly what I’m saying, you and Chris were.. practicing in the gym closet hm?” He sighs. My face goes red.

“I didn’t.. you were flirting with that new girl, I just..” I also sigh, he scoffs, “flirting? Don’t turn this on me, I wouldn’t have done anything with her but you? You brought it upon yourself to..” he grumbles as his eyebrows knit together, “well if you don’t want anything with me why should it matter? You said it yourself, you don’t wanna lose your job.” I smirk.

“I thought you wanted me y/n.. me.” His voice cracks slightly but he collects himself and leans against a shelf. “I’m a college student Matt, I’m gonna fuck as many people as I want and can, don’t take it personal.” I laugh. “You don’t get it y/n..” “no you don’t get it Matt.. I wanted you, so badly, I still do but Chris? He hasn’t treated me like shit.” I lean my head back.

“I’m sorry y/n. I just love my job I don’t wanna lose it.” He whispers, “you’ve made that clear professor Sturniolo. Thanks for helping with this scratch.” I get up and walk out the closet. He follows after me. I’m being dramatic I know, I’m making this about me, it’s his job and he loves it I shouldn’t try to get it the way but.. “Maybe I could show you that I do care?” He whispers as he catches up with me. “What do you..” I look at his face, his pupils have dilated and he’s smirking.

“Oh..” I turn to him, “what changed your mind?” I chuckle lightly, “I imagined Chris’ face when I tell him I fucked you better than he did.” He whispers his face full of lust, I fight my instincts to kiss him, because of cameras. “you really shouldn’t be so competitive.” I smile as I continue to walk. “Where can we go?” He mumbles.

“I’m not doing it with you right now, I’m still worn out from.. basketball?” I lie even though Matt knows what I mean, there’s a janitor at the end of the corridor. “Oh okay.” He fake pouts as I turn into the gym, “I’ll text you.” I smile before we part ways.

As I enter the gym, Chris walks up to me. “All good now?” He asks, tilting his head. “Yeah.” I smile lightly before I walk up to Lizzy, “you seem happy?” She laughs, “yep all good.” I feel someone’s hand on my shoulder and they turn me around. Mason, I forgot about him. “I’m so sorry, on behalf on James. Your cheek okay?” His hand hovers over the fading scratch.

I pull away from him, “yeah it’s okay thanks, maybe get James to apologise to me himself instead of you.” I look over at James, who waves awkwardly. “Copy that.” Mason spoke, stifling a chuckle. “Why are you laughing?” I ask, “Im sorry it’s just.. don’t worry.” He pats my shoulder and walks away.

Lizzy goes to say something but I stop her, “don’t. I’m not into him.” She laughs, “he’s into you though, why aren’t you into him? He’s tall, brunette, brown eyes, strong.. he’s the whole package.” I huff, “if he’s so amazing why don’t you ask him out?” I speak impatiently. “Because I’m.. I’m uh not into tall people.” She chuckles awkwardly.

“There.. you aren’t into his height and I’m not into his.. everything.” I smile softly.

Class ends and we sit in the gym, “wanna skip Math?” Lizzy speaks up, budging my arm to get my attention. “Where would we go?” I ask curiously, “the bathrooms? We can make a fake out of order sign and chill in there.” I laugh and grab her face, “Lizzy you genius!” I bring our faces close before letting go.

She clears her throat, “they don’t even use out of order signs anymore, they write it on paper it’s easy to copy.” She smiles at me and I quickly pull out my notebook, I hand her the notebook and a pen and she scribbles down “out of order.” She grabs tape out of her bag and sticks it on the top.

We run to the bathroom and stick the note on a door and sit in the cubicle. She sits on the toilet seat and I’m on the top of the toilet, where the flush is. My legs are either side of her and I accidentally kick her. “Sorry.” I whisper.

We hear someone enter the door and they start talking, “I’m telling you, I would climb him like a tree, have you seen his tattoos?” It’s the new girl, Kelly. “Not my type Kel.” Some girl speaks back, “yeah you love stuffing yourself full of bbc don’t you.” Kelly laughs loudly, “don’t say it like that, but.. basically yeah.” They start to giggle.

“Also how can you have a crush on a teacher? That’s like weird.” The other girl spoke, me and Lizzy are staying silent. “Yeah I wouldn’t do anything with him, I wish I could but maybe I’ll hit him up once we’re out of college.” She laughs, and they leave the bathroom.

She was talking about Matt.

A/n: ooooo, drama. Sorry for the long break, my posting is gonna be pretty messed up because your girl has appointments😚 but anyways.. y’all know I love to add to the plot so we’re plotting super hard rn, I need to feed y’all, ur basically my children fr<3 anyways I’ll stop yapping but dw you may get some Matt smut soon? Whattttt��� Also who tf is Mason bro💀 bros obsessed.

Anyway hope it was ok, I haven’t written in ages.

Taglist: @blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @mattybslover @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @bueckerslover @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @certifiednatelover @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore @cammie4298 @sturnsjtop @sturnzblog @chr1sgirl4life @evie-sturns @milasturniolo @jaxyy219 @mattsturniolosbae @h3arts4harry @littlebookworm803 @realqueenofpepsi @elsxz1

[a-bit-too-critical]

Holy shit?!? I watched the newest ep thinking it would be crap that I wouldn’t care about at all (especially with stolASS in the thumbnail), BUT THAT WAS ACTUALLY KIND OF DECENT??? IM KINDA OBSESSED IN SOME WAYS (obviously minus the Stolitz crap but still 😭)

Spoilersss below ofc

STELLA IS BACK LETS FREAKING GOOOO!!!

I do think the fact she never even CONSIDERED reporting Stolas’ illegal grimore use is really stupid, it feels like Viv didn’t know what would cause the authorities to arrest Blitzø so she made some crap up 😭

Here’s a more fun idea: Stella saw Blitz fall out of a window that fateful day with the grimore, but always assumed Blitz stole it and Stolas got it back easily considering the whole hell hierarchy (IMPs are seen as useless and weak). During a recent visitation day with Octavia, she was plotting ways to get rid of Stolas, asked her, and Octavia spilled what’s ACTUALLY been going on, which she then passed onto Andrelphus. Not perfect but a bit better than what was shown here I’d say

…Also why does Andrelphus keep calling Stella hot?? That’s your sister bro?? Why not make him say “you’re lucky you’re powerful” or “you’re lucky you’ve got insight on Stolas’ current life” or even “you’re lucky you’re of use to me”?? But no, we got stuff that kinda sounds like incest 😭

Not bothering to add an image here but I love the interns, they’re probably there for a college requirement or something (assuming hell has an education system) and Blitz is just like “HELL YEAH FREE LABOR” (more proof that bro does not actually care about his workers, idc what the show wants you to believe lmao) (good to see they likely weren’t caught up in the arrest tho, probably let go after they explained their story thankfully)

Also Moxxie dear god I felt so bad for him, he was sobbing and looked genuinely distressed, especially after hearing “we are going to beat you”. He definitely has ptsd from his dad and he deserves so much better than Blitz as a boss /srs

I also felt pretty bad for Loona, she doesn’t even want to work at IMP and doesn’t give a crap about the Stolas drama yet is now being arrested over it. I’ll get into this more later but proof that hell doesn’t care about hellhounds and Imps!!

Back to Moxxie, Blitz stuffing paper in his mouth while he was clearly visibly distressed caused me to lose a piece of my soul (and we’re expected to laugh at it, as usual :/)

Haven’t mentioned Millie much here but that’s kinda because she knows what to do in this kind of situation? She’s a wrath imp, she’s not afraid to kill literally anybody to save her life. She knows how to hide evidence and fight as well. She is completely fine in this scenario and knows what to do (and is clearly shown to be staying mostly calm, unlike Moxxie or Loona).

SATAN!! THE DRAGON DESIGN FITS PERFECT FOR HIM!!! this is by far my 2nd favorite sin design (only behind Bee, unpopular opinion but I freaking love her design)!!! I also love how they gave him buff arms but skinny legs (as he’s likely punching, grabbing/choking, and stuff like that a lot, but is rarely kicking, jumping around (he can fly, no need), or even running that much)!

ALSO LEVIATHAN AND BELPHAGOR!!! Belphagor fits pretty dang well imo, though I with they’d made her a bit more “plush like” to represent a sort of laziness and preference of sleeping instead of waking. Not sure how to feel about Leviathan just yet, I like the 2 head approach but the left head is just a copy paste Glitz or Glam 😭

AND BEEEEEE MY GIRL IS BACK!!! SO NICE TO HEAR HER TALK AGAIN AND HER NEW OUTFIT LOOKS SO FREAKING GOOD ON HER!!!

Alsooo I love that Moxxie has finally had enough of his boss!! He fought against his crappy defense of “attempting a crime isn’t illegal” instead of blindly defending him. You go Moxxie!!!

Anddd Andrelphus once again says his sister is hot FOR NO GOD DAMN REASON, Bee and Ozzie look rightfully disgusted though so at least it’s being portrayed as a negative thing 💀

AND VASSAGO ACTUALLY SPEAKING FULL SPANISH SENTENCES ON SCREEN WITHOUT UNNECESSARY SUBTITLES TRANSLATING HIM??? HOLY CRAP?? ITS A SMALL VICTORY BUT IM TAKING IT!!

Hey so what the hell

THIS MAN GOT HIS EYE FREAKING EXPLODED AND HE COMES OUT OF IT WITH THAT??? THATS IT?!? THATS BARELY EVEN VISIBLE WHAT THE HELL??

HIS EYESIGHT IN THAT EYE SHOULD BE AT THE VERY LEAST WEAKENED IF NOT COMPLETELY BLINDED, AND AT LEAST SOME OF HIS FACE SHOULD BE FREAKING MELTED OR CLEARLY BURNED. VIV, MAYBE TAKE SOME NOTES FROM QUEEN SCARLET FROM WINGS OF FIRE, BECAUSE EVEN THAT KIDS BOOK SERIES SHOWED HER FACE MELTED AFTER INJURY

Ughhh sorry, that one just really infuriated me :(

Ok this one might get a bit headcanon-ish since I selfship with Bee, but they mischaracterized the living hell out of her 😭

No surprise she tries to defend Blitz of course, as far as she can see that’s the father of Loona. But here’s my thing: WHY DOES SHE NOT EVEN TRY TO DEFEND LOONA??? HER BOYFRIEND’S LIKELY BEST FRIEND AND HER SELF DESCRIBED “FAVORITE PERSON”?? UGHHHHH SHE WOULD NOT DO THAT. NUH UH, SHE’S FIESTY AND WOULDNT HESITATE TO DEFEND OR SAVE SOMEONE OF HER OWN, MARGINALIZED KIND. I MEAN SHE LITERALLY INSULTED AND THREW A PENIS-POPSICLE AT MAMMON IN FRONT OF ALL THE OTHER SINS, AND SHE CLEARLY DOESNT THINK TWICE ABOUT IT. DEAR FREAKING GOD SHE WOULD DO SOMETHING-

In short, Bee would not freaking do this. Continue.

We haven’t got to this part of the ep yet so I’ll talk about it more later, BUT THEY ACTUALLY HAVE GONE BACK TO THE WHOLE CLASSISM DISCUSSION!!! FINALLY!!! Satan calls Blitz an “Imp bastard” that they can just kill and not care about, and nearly everyone agrees. With Stolas later however, that is NOT the case. I hate the classism but I love the discussion of why is so screwed up. Beautiful.

Ozzie looking up from his phone was freaking heartbreaking as well. He clearly cares about Fizz to a straight up unhealthy degree and would do anything for him (Codependency), but he knows he can’t do anything here. I think the same goes for Bee at this point, earlier she could’ve stood up and fought but now any bite-back would get her head cut off, especially considering how she is likely viewed for dating a hellhound and how Ozzie is viewed for dating an Imp.

AND BLITZ’S SPEECH?!? IM SORRY BUT IVE GOTTA RECORD THIS ONE ITS JUST TOO PERFECT, THIS IS WHAG THE SHOW SHOULDVE BEEN ABOUT AND THE PATH IT FOLLOWED.

(Ignore my friend yapping about TADC in the discord group 😭)

THIS IS ACTUALLY BEAUTIFUL. AND YKNOW WHAT THIS SHOULDVE BEEN? THE FINALE. THE END. THERE SHOULDVE BEEN NO STOLAS TO SAVE HIM. WHY, JUST WHY COULDNT THIS SHOW HAVE BEEN ABOUT MISSIONS WITH SLOWLY MORE DRAMA AND EVENTUALLY THIS, AND SINCE BLITZ HAS NO RELATIONS WITH THE POWERFUL… he just dies. It would show that, in a society so royally screwed up by this level of classism, they wouldn’t have cared. Our main guy is just some random Imp to them. Blitz never supported the rich, and for that, he died. Now THAT would’ve been a dark yet amazing commentary. But this is Viv so that’ll never happen 😭

Also this is nitpicky but the ass joke with Stolas is just so tonally dissonant, like this is a very serious and celebratory moment that shouldn’t have a stupid joke in it…

ALSO GOD DAMN IT NO NO NO MORE STOLITZZZ 😭

I am never, ever getting over the fact the actually successfully made an “in the only way I know how to… SONG” joke, it’s freaking amazing

Anyway, not going super in depth in this song but STOLITZ DOES NOT DESERVE THIS BOP OMGGG GIVE THIS TO ANOTHER SHIP PLEASE 😭

and of course Stolas called Blitz a worm and a bunch of other derogatory stuff as per usual, sureee you don’t look down on him bucko :/

GANG. WE WON. I DONT CARE IF STELLA GAVE AN EVIL SMILE AFTER THIS, THIS IS THE SWEETEST MOMENT IN THE SHOW. I KNOW STELLA WILL BE A BETTER MOTHER THAN STOLAS, AND I HOPE THE SHOW PORTRAYS HER AS ONE. ALL I KNOW IS THAT STELLA DOES CARE FOR OCTAVIA, BUT LET HER HATRED OF STOLAS GET IN THE WAY OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP. Now that there’s no Stolas… they can have an actually good life. Now Viv, you know you screwed up when your “bad ending” over here is actually the best possible outcome.

OK NOW UH

“You’re demon royalty!! Soooo your life has actual worth!”

THE CLASSISM HOLY HELL, I NEED MORE OF THIS. THIS!! THE THING THE SHOW WAS ACTUALLY MEANT TO COMMENTATE ON!!! HELL DOESNT GIVE A SHIT ABOUT ANYONE WHO IS NOT ROYAL, NO MATTER HOW SUCCESSFUL THEY ARE. THEY SEE THEM AS PAWNS FOR THE ROYALTY AND HIGHER UPS TO USE.

THIS PUNISHMENT FOR STOLAS WAS ACTUALLY THE BEST WE COULDVE EVER GOTTEN. BECAUSE HE FREAKING DESERVES IT. HE ABUSED THE LOWER CLASS (Blitz) FOR HIS OWN GAIN TO THE POINT OF CHEATING ON HIS OWN WIFE AND NEGLECTING HIS DAUGHTER, PLUS IGNORING EVERY ASPECT OF HIS LIFE EXCEPT HIS LITTLE PAWN TO ABUSE. AND NOW HIS IS THE PAWN, NOW HE HAS TO SEE THE CLASSISM IN ACTION. HELL. YES. Albeit I wish Blitz would throw him out on the street to freaking die but oh well, Viv needs her stupid Stolitz :/

AND THIS. YALL DO NOT UNDERSTAND HOW SATISFYING THIS WAS. Blitz managed to fight against classism in a court and show so much support for Impkind, something he should be celebrated for. And Stolas abused said impkind, so should be hated on. Simple as that. Finally the god dang tables have turned and I could not be more pleased.

And even though I’m not a fan of Loona still loving Blitz so deeply despite all the crap he puts her and the others through, I loved seeing Stolas look so horrified. It’s almost like he’s realizing his daughter never freaking says that. It’s almost like he’s realizing he was a god awful father. Took ya long enough.

ALSO I SAW A TEXT ON BLITZ’S PHONE ASKING IF HE ONLY HIRES IMPS??? I THINK HE MIGHT ACTUALLY BE CHALLENGING THE CLASS SYSTEM HERE AND BRINGING DOWN THE HIERARCHY A BIT!!! THE CLASSISM COMMENTARY MIGHT ACTUALLY BE PERMANENTLY BACK HOLY CRAP!!!

I’m not even gonna talk about the Stolitz at the end 💀

But Blitz deserves those fireworks!!! He’s not perfect by any means and his previous abusive actions toward his crew should NOT BE EXCUSED, but what he did here is amazing and should be celebrated. Love to see it

Overall rating: 9/10!!

Pros: Classism commentary, Stella gets custody of Octavia and Andrelphus gets Stolas’ position, Stolas gets what he deserves, Satan has an epic design. Also some higher quality animation!

Cons: Stolitz, Moxxie abuse played for laughs, mischaracterization of Bee

[meepcartier-blog]

That part.

I never liked how back when atsv was poppin last summer all the edits and group art pieces would come out and they’d exclude Margo completely. It was hard for me to bigup the cool content because the blatant exclusion of the only young black female Spider-Man was annoying to me. (I haven’t even gotten started on ms.jess drew!)

The fandom swore the part she played in the movie was sooo insignificant. They hated the idea of her being a potential love interest, made it clear they didn’t care for her 2 sec inclusion(issue on the producer side because she deserved more screen time periodt.), tried to invalidate her Spider-Man identity because her concept is cool and different and not the traditional ‘bit by a spider’. 🙄😒

Art imitates life tho 🤔

And then would prioritize Mayday or Ben fkn’ Riley in the drawings before they could ever think to fit Margo in a corner somewhere. That’s how I knew they wasn’t really fkn with us.

[cheri-2047]

Have you done Cynos new quest? If so, may I request a Tighnari x Reader oneshot where the reader also takes part in the duel at the end (as the traveller or something). Even tho they won they still got injured (but pretended to be fine as to not appear as weak) and after everything settled down and they went back to the city Tighnari takes care of them? Basically some fluff, comfort kinda thing? Sorry if it sounds kinda complicated :')

Thank you and have a good day/night!!

THANKS FOR REQUESTING !! So sorry this took long btw 😔

so uh… I didn’t actually do the story quest cause I stopped playing when lyneys banner was over 💀 BUT I will write like Tighnari tends to ur wounds (that you got after a commission)

Tighnari x injured reader

TAGS: fluff/comfort, blood/wounds

CHARACTERS: Tighnari, mentions of Paimon

A/N AT THE END !

You opened the door to you and your boyfriends shared home, covering the blood stains on your shirt with a bag of things you got payed for in the commission.

“you’re home!”

tighnari walked up to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

He raised an eyebrows upon seeing some blood on your shirt,

“what’s th-“

“I’m going to bed, I’m a bit tired.”

you said, before paimon interrupted “heyyy! You haven’t even promised paimon her snacks for helping you when you got in-“

“kitchen paimon, top cabinet”

you slumped your way to your bedroom, not wanting to sleep with tighnari tonight so he wouldn’t see your wounds.

as you removed your shirt, you winced, looking at the loosely wrapped bandages around your torso.

“shit….”

you unwrapped it, carefully and slowly. meanwhile, back in the kitchen, paimon was running through the cabinets.

“aha!”

“finally! Paimon deserved this!”

she drooled at the sight of the chips, tighnari finding it odd how she actually helped In a commission. He heard your distant grunts, your curses, everything no matter how much you tried to stay quiet.

“paimon, how was the commission?”

he asked, hoping she’d give some info.

“Traveler got stabbed pretty badly by a hilichurl camp! Then traveler told paimon to stay quiet and they’d give me their snacks from inazuma!”

Paimon exclaimed, completely disregarding your agreement with her. “oops…. Uh.. don’t tell traveler”

she snickered, while stuffing her face with some dango you had left over.

“thank you paimon.”

and just like that, tighnari left the room.

you were struggling to tend to your own wounds, trying to not stain the sheets or anything, when you heard a familiar voice.

“tsk. You’re hopeless.”

Your boyfriend sat next to you and grabbed a cotton, adding some liquid to help disinfect it.

“Paimon told me everything. Don’t bother to hide it.”

he held your hand tightly before disinfecting the wound. It hurt a lot.

“agh-! Nari-“

you winced, holding his hand tightly

“almost done.”

you tried to not yell in pain, knowing tighnari’s ears are quite sensitive.

“I need to stitch these, drink this first.”

he suddenly pushed a drink to your lips. It was a drink to help you get sleepy so you wouldn’t feel much pain.

as you were being stitched up, nari held your hand tightly and placed a scarf nearby to your mouth to bite for pain.

he winces whenever he sees a particularly deep wound/scar, hoping the anesthesia is still strong while he treats them (yes he also injected some to you after he made you drink a sleep thing)

when he’s finished, he changes you out of your clothes. He obv doesn’t touch any intimate areas

the moment he changes you to comfier clothes, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“oh traveler….dont hide things like this from me.”

he stays up all night to care for you.

the next morning, he does everything. Cleans dishes, makes sure you don’t move at all and most important (and the scariest thing…) he needs to hear what happened from YOUR mouth.

he reassures you that even if you’re injured, it’s okay to ask for help.

the entire day(every day until you’re better) he pampers you.

the end

A/N; CAN U TELL I RAN OUT OF IDEAS IN THE END 💀 my bad, and also thanks for the request ! Ask for another if u want it rewritten lmao. Anyways I also realized that I actually may have mischaracterized him cause I realized how little info I know abt this man AS IF I DONT LITERALLY COSPLAY HIM 💀💀💀 anyways that’s it, thank u !

[comatosebunny09]

Limerance!reader is so important to me, as someone who knows they have too much trauma and health issues to be someone’s first choice. She’s aware of her worth as an assassin/to seduce people, but otherwise she doesn’t see herself as anything worth loving, and it’s eating at her. Even if she forms a relationship with Greyson, a part of her will always wonder if it’s just because he fell for the seduction tactics instead of her :(((((

Maybe Sylus gets jealous enough that he checks your deepest desires again, only for his heart to break when it’s just “someone who loves actually me” “not be broken” “wish I didn’t confess and make sylus uncomfortable” and even a small voice in the back of everything, barely heard but still there “I just want to be done with it all”. His heart breaks for her, and he’s realizing just how badly trying to have his cake and eat it too is hurting her.

(Or he finds out about Miss Hunter also hanging out with the other LIs and starts to realize what he put Reader through and is guilty but now reader will always feel like the second choice)

Idk it’s so hurtful but so important to me. I want a happy ending, but idk how Sylus could ever make me feel like I actually mattered to him after the torture and not being good enough for him to pick. I don’t think he ever could, personally. The torture bashed into my head that I’m not good enough for him, and then he did the same by not picking me (even if it’s not his responsibility to do so), and any attempt to come back from that, especially after seeing him so romantic with Miss Hunter with no remorse (that Reader is aware of) in front of me? It’s fall short.

Great story though!!!!!!!

Anon darling, YOU are so important to me!

Thank you so much for your ask and for showing interest in this AU with me. 😭😭😭 It’s been rotting in my brain for almost a month now, and I just can’t leave it alone.

Reader deserves the best. I agree they’d be subjecting themselves to a never-ending cycle of hurt and rejection, regardless of who they choose, or who chooses them (even tho I want it to be Sylus).

You gave me the craziest brain worms, and I LOVE it. Thank you so much again! I hope you stick around for more! ❤️❤️❤️

[baekhyunsbestie]

♡⸝⸝ sparks and vows (bbh series!) ⊹。°˖➴

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧♡₊˚ pics 1 2 ♡ song・₊✧♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧🥂

𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 pairing: soloist!baekhyun x unnamed female o/c (y/n) aka [✶] ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 content: 18+/MDNI. smut, romance, wedding!au, angst, fluff, exos and o/c's, pussy whipped baek, ex-playboy baek, ceo nepo baby reader, smut (tbh probs every chapter), language, scenes with alcohol +/or smoking throughout story, pretty tame tho tbh!!! ଘ(ᵕ˵ ૩ᵕ)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ baekhyun is down bad like real bad, reader lowkey being a lil punk, also ksoo cant read the room 😭 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 wc: 7.9k+ omg 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 a/n: omg so im going to start putting [✶] and just know that means (y/n) k? k :') as always lmk ur thoughts!! <3 hehe mwah

s&v | mlist | prev | ★ ch.2 rendezvous ★ | next

it was that in-between time when night lingers in the air, yet morning remains a distant thought. [✶] lay fast asleep in baekhyun’s arms, their naked bodies intertwined, sheets tangled beneath them like the remnants of a dream. outside the window, the city lights flickered softly, a quiet backdrop to the intimate chaos within. baekhyun's room was evidence of their passion—a scatter of clothing across the floor, nightstands cluttered with the remnants of their shared moments, condom wrappers, and crumpled napkins bearing witness to the night’s intensity.

baekhyun watched her sleep, completely captivated by the gentle rhythm of her breathing, each rise and fall of her chest like a soft melody that tugged at something deep within him. she looked so serene, so devastatingly beautiful, and it sent his heart into a wild, unfamiliar rhythm. this wasn’t who he was—love had always seemed like a distraction, something that pulled focus from what truly mattered. for the last 15 years, his life had been dedicated to music, every beat of his heart, every ounce of his passion poured into his art. it was his everything—until now.

now, baekhyun held [✶] close, her body fitting against his like they’d been crafted for this moment, his arms wrapped around her with the kind of desperation that comes from realizing you’ve found something you didn’t even know you were missing. less than a day ago, she was just a stranger, someone whose name he didn’t even know. yet here she was, tangled in his arms as if she had always belonged there.

it wasn’t out of character for him to bring someone home after a night out—it was routine, a brief escape that ended with the sunrise and no strings attached, inevitably leaving a trail of frustrated women, disappointed by the imbalance between their hopes and his intentions. but this? holding [✶] long after the moon had set, thinking about her like she was more than just another fleeting moment? it shook him. the sharp, sweet ache in his chest made no sense. he had no room for this—no room for her. his life was full, overflowing with plans, projects, and the relentless pace of his career. he didn’t have the time or the ability to be the kind of partner she deserved. yet something inside him was urging him to try, to just see where this could go. and the thought of treating her like all the others—women who were here one night and gone the next—felt impossible. she was different, and he couldn’t imagine letting her slip away the same way.

a storm of emotions raged inside him, battling between running from the overwhelming intensity of it all or surrendering completely, losing himself in the feeling of her in his arms. the dawn was creeping closer, and with it, the inevitable confrontation of reality. what would he say when the first light touched her skin? how could he possibly put into words the confusion and intensity that gripped him?

‘so, [✶],’ he could imagine himself saying, half-joking, half-serious. ‘last night was unbelievable. and god–the sex? THE best i’ve ever had, hands down. but, uh… now i think i’m starting to feel something real, something genuine.’

but no, that couldn’t be right. he couldn’t possibly feel that way—not after just one night.

except, maybe that was exactly the whole fucking point. he’d only known [✶] for such a short time, yet she had already flipped his entire world upside down. and of course, he didn’t know her in the traditional sense—there were no shared experiences, no history between them. but somehow, he felt like he knew her. like her soul had been cut from the same fabric as his, and no matter how crazy it seemed, it just felt right.

as he navigates a whirlwind of emotions—excited by the possibility of a future together and grateful for the universe’s twist of fate—he’s also plagued by persistent doubts. the question, ‘what if it doesn’t work out?’ echoes relentlessly. amidst this emotional storm, one truth stands unwavering in his heart: he wants [✶].

he wants all of her—the good, the bad, and everything in between. for the first time in his life, baekhyun doesn’t feel the insistent urge to run away. that thought alone is both terrifying and freeing. with his arms still wrapped around her and her warmth grounding him in a way he’d never felt before, baekhyun’s eyes finally grow heavy. as sleep overtakes him, only one thought remains: ‘i want ✶’.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

as the morning sun filters through baekhyun's bedroom curtains, casting a soft glow over their still-entwined bodies, [✶] stirs awake. the weight of the previous night crashes down on her with an almost physical force.

the first thing she notices, with a wave of relief, is the absence of a pounding headache or any trace of a hangover. silently, she thanks the gods for sparing her the consequences of her indulgence. but as awareness creeps in, the feel of her bare skin against baekhyun’s sends a surge of insecurity through her. instinctively, she pulls the covers tighter around herself, though her head remains nestled on his chest, just as it was when she fell asleep.

his chest rises and falls beneath her, his slow, steady breaths a sign that he's still deep in slumber. she glances up through heavy-lidded eyes, a soft smile forming as she takes in his peaceful features—the defined bridge of his nose, the pout of his lips, the few scattered freckles that dot his face. his slightly tousled hair falls gently over his forehead, enhancing his impossibly breathtaking appearance.

as her body fully awakens, the remnants of last night’s passion make themselves known, a dull ache settling in her thighs and core—a reminder of just how unforgettable the night had been.

oh, last night was pure magic.

from the very first moment, an undeniable spark ignited between them—a fusion of laughter and playful banter that effortlessly drew them closer with each shared joke. the attraction was magnetic, their energies blending in a way that felt almost fated. by the time they made it back to baekhyun’s place, a deeper intimacy had already begun to unravel as they stripped away layers of themselves, exposing vulnerabilities and desires. every movement between them was fluid, like a perfectly choreographed dance, each touch and caress in sync, flowing seamlessly. when their lips finally met, it was breathless, electric, as if every kiss was proof of the chemistry they couldn’t deny. there was no awkwardness or hesitation—just a quiet, unspoken understanding that made everything feel effortless and right.

despite the magic of the night and the waves of pleasure baekhyun had given [✶], she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that she was just another conquest. another notch on his belt.

she had been fully aware of the boundaries she was crossing when she let things go as far as they did. but now, lying there in the dim morning light, she couldn’t shake the nagging doubt. was it the ache of loneliness, stretching back months before her breakup, that had driven her into baekhyun’s bed? the realization made her feel small and pitiable. this was supposed to be what she wanted—just a night of fleeting pleasure. she’d never intended for anything more, had she?

baekhyun’s reputation wasn’t a mystery. she knew his story, his resistance to commitment. hana had given her all the warnings. so why did she feel this sense of disappointment creeping in? did she really think he’d change for her? the thought twisted like a knife in her chest, leaving her feeling small and foolish.

the more she dwelled on it, the worse it got. her mind spiraled, and what had started as a gnawing insecurity quickly turned into a suffocating weight pressing down on her. each breath felt harder than the last. the comfort she’d found with baekhyun now felt like a cage she desperately needed to break free from.

with delicate, almost trembling grace, she gently disentangles herself from baekhyun’s hold, slipping out of his bed as silently as a shadow slipping through the night. she dresses with deliberate care, each movement slow as though she fears shattering the fragile peace. her heart feels heavy, weighed down by a whirlwind of unspoken fears and doubts.

she pauses for a moment, casting one last, lingering glance at the man she’s leaving behind, her chest tightening with the unvoiced turmoil inside her. then, she quietly turns toward the door, each step a soft whisper of the internal struggle pulling her away from the comfort she craves.

“where are you going?” his voice is soft but laced with urgency, cutting through the silence as [✶] freezes at the front door of his apartment, her hand on the doorknob. she turns, her breath catching in her throat at the sight of him. baekhyun stands in the doorway of his bedroom, the morning light spilling through the curtains, casting a warm glow on his skin. his usually confident demeanor is nowhere to be found—his lips are trembling ever so slightly, betraying a fear he’s never known before. 

but this time is different. this time, the thought of her leaving without even saying goodbye has shaken him in ways he wasn’t prepared for.

“i... i just thought i should go,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. it feels safer that way, to not see the way he looks at her, like he cares—like this is more than just another fleeting moment for him. because if she looks, she might start believing it. and she can't afford to be that naive.

baekhyun takes a step closer, his expression growing more concerned. “w-why?” his voice is quieter now, softer, as if he's afraid of scaring her away completely. “did i...do something wrong?”

the question nearly shatters her. no, he didn’t do anything wrong. he did everything right. maybe too right. it was her who was messed up. her thoughts swirl, and the doubts she had managed to suppress crash back down on her, heavier than before.

not only is he saying all the right things, it definitely doesn’t help that he looks absolutely unreal. his toned abs are visible beneath the loosely held sheet around his waist—not overly muscular, but defined just enough to show the faint lines of his effort. his hair, still messy from the night before, frames his face with an effortless charm. strands fall messily across his forehead, his undercut now more visible, revealing the sharp contrast between the tousled top and the freshly shaved sides. 

“i just... don’t want to complicate things,” [✶] whispers, her throat tightening. “we both know this wasn’t meant to be anything serious.”

baekhyun’s jaw clenches, his expression hardening for a brief moment, but it softens again almost immediately. “who said that?”

his words catch her off guard. she looks up at him, finally, her brows furrowing as she tries to gauge the sincerity in his eyes. “you don’t have to say that. we both know what this is. you don’t have to pretend.”

his dark eyes search for hers, filled with a sense of longing and desperation that makes her heart skip. the way he’s looking at her isn’t just lust or satisfaction from a night well spent. no, it’s more. it’s something real, something vulnerable.

“[✶],” he steps closer, and for the first time, there's a sense of urgency in his voice, “i’m not pretending. i don’t know what this is, but i know it’s not nothing. i didn’t–i don’t want you to leave.”

her heart stumbles at his admission. she wasn’t expecting that. she was expecting indifference, a casual goodbye, maybe even relief on his part. but instead, she finds herself facing a man who seems genuinely rattled by the thought of her walking out of his life.

“why?” she blurts out before she can stop herself. the question is raw, tinged with the vulnerability she’s tried so hard to hide. “why would you care if i leave? i’m just another girl to you, right?”

his eyes darken with frustration, and before she can retreat any further, he closes the distance between them. “no. you’re not just another girl.” his voice is firm, with an edge of desperation. “if you were, i wouldn’t be standing here right now, trying to figure out why you’re running away. i wouldn't have tried so fucking hard all night to get you to agree to go on an actual date with me.”

she swallows hard, her mind racing. this wasn’t the baekhyun she had expected—the one standing before her now felt different, almost… vulnerable. it threw her off balance, disarming in a way that left her both intrigued and unsettled. this glimpse of him, raw and open, scared her more than she wanted to admit.

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” she mutters, turning her face away, her voice barely above a whisper. “you don’t know what you want.”

baekhyun’s hand reaches out, gently grasping her wrist, not to restrain her, but to ground her. “maybe i don’t,” he admits, his tone softer now. “but i know i want to find out. with you.”

his words land like a punch to the gut, stirring something deep inside her, something she’s trying so hard to bury. it would be so easy to believe him, to let herself hope. but her insecurities scream louder than the quiet sincerity in his voice.

“i’m scared,” she finally admits, the truth spilling out before she can stop it. “i don’t want to be just another one of your conquests.”

baekhyun’s grip on her wrist tightens just a fraction, as if silently reassuring her. “and you’re not. look, i don’t know what i’m doing either. i admit, when it comes to my love life, i’ve been a mess for a long time. but last night... it wasn’t just fun for me. like i said, i didn’t want it to end, and i’m not ready for it to end yet.”

her heart races, battling against her fear, her doubts. she wants to believe him. god, she wants to so badly. but the weight of her past, of her insecurities, makes it so hard to trust, to let herself fall.

she whispers, her voice trembling. “why does it feel like i’m setting myself up to get hurt?”

baekhyun exhales slowly, stepping even closer, so close she can feel the warmth of his skin, the sincerity radiating off him. "because i’ve been that guy before,” he says, his voice low and regretful. “i know what you’ve heard about me, and i know it makes me look untrustworthy. but i’m trying to be different. i want to be different. for you.”

her breath catches, and for a moment, she doesn’t know what to say. she’s standing at a crossroads, one where she can either run from this potential or take a leap into the unknown, into the terrifying, fragile possibility that baekhyun might actually mean what he says.

“just stay,” he pleads, his eyes searching hers. “we don’t have to figure it all out right now. just... stay. at least let me make you a coffee.”

and in that moment, she realizes she’s not the only one who's afraid. he’s scared too—scared of losing something real, something that might be worth the risk.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

“thanks for meeting me so early,” hana says, her voice light yet tinged with a hint of mischief as she glances at [✶]. she raises her glass, savoring a generous sip of her mimosa, the citrus tang lingering on her lips. “i hope you’re not too hungover from last night.”

after the events of the previous evening—and everything that followed—hana had insisted on brunch. [✶] had reluctantly agreed, though she had wished to stay wrapped up in baekhyun’s arms a little longer. she stayed for coffee, at least, and during that brief pause, they had talked. they agreed to take things slow, letting the pace be hers. it was new for both of them, but they decided they’d figure it out together.

still, she wasn’t fully convinced. as baekhyun spoke, opening up in a way she hadn’t expected, there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind, reminding her of all the reasons she should be cautious. part of her wanted to believe him—his sincerity did seem genuine.

then, before she could overthink further, another voice—softer, almost hopeful—urged her to agree. give him a chance, just this once.

so then she nodded in agreement, the words tumbling out of her mouth almost reflexively. 'yeah, okay. sure. we’ll take it slow. let’s see where this goes.' the second she said it, she felt the weight lift slightly, though her heart still carried the lingering burden of doubt.

as soon as their conversation came to a close, [✶] had barely managed to get through half of her cup before baekhyun swept her up, carrying her bridal-style back to his bedroom to pick up where they left off the night before.

baekhyun had been between [✶]'s legs when hana called. she forwarded the call to voicemail the first couple of times, her focus lost in the heat of baekhyun’s mouth. the third call, baekhyun paused long enough to nudge her to answer. “it might be important,” he murmured, his lips still brushing her skin. breathless, she agreed, assuming he’d give her a moment of peace to handle it.

just seconds into the call, baekhyun dove back in, his lips finding their place between [✶]'s thighs once again. her back arched in response, a hand flying to her mouth to stifle the moan that nearly escaped. his quiet chuckle vibrated against her, making her toes curl. he was tormenting her and he was relishing every second of it.

hana had asked to meet for brunch later that morning, and despite the overwhelming distraction, [✶] couldn’t bring herself to say no. hana would immediately sense something was off if she refused, and [✶] wasn’t ready to explain what—or rather, who—was keeping her busy. with a steadying breath, she agreed to brunch, trying to sound as casual as possible, all while baekhyun continued his irresistible teasing beneath the sheets.

before she could even say goodbye, baekhyun snatched her phone, powered it off, and tossed it lightly across the room and out of her reach.

she shot him a disbelieving look, her mouth hanging open in shock. “baek, did you seriously just throw my phone?”

“don’t worry, babe,” he murmured, his lips brushing gently against her thighs, punctuated by playful nibbles. “if it’s broken, i’ll just get you a new one.” he said it with such effortless ease, his tone carrying an unspoken promise—he wasn’t done with her just yet.

she released a shaky breath, her body trembling from the waves of pleasure surging through her. the sight alone was almost enough to push her over the edge—his plush, pink lips enveloping her completely, his relentless tongue expertly circling her most sensitive spot. the dark, intense look in his eyes never left hers, watching her fall apart beneath his touch, turning her into a helpless mess. he was being so mean.

“why do i get the feeling you’re going to be the death of me, byun baekhyun?”

a wicked, self-satisfied grin twisted his lips at the desperate, broken whine that bubbled up from her. god, that sound was like pure, addictive nectar to him—he couldn’t get enough. his touch was merciless, each stroke and caress a calculated torment meant to make her squirm and beg. her thighs clamped down on his head, nearly crushing him, and he thrived on the way she writhed with pleasure. he was consumed by an unholy hunger to hear every gasping whimper and frenzied moan she made. nothing was too extreme, no act too cruel, just to keep her trembling and on the edge of madness. he’d happily lose himself entirely—drown in her juices—if it meant he could keep hearing those sweet, desperate sounds that drove him wild. to him, her pleasure was an intoxicating obsession, and he’d do anything to keep those sounds coming.

in his haze, the thought of returning to his old playboy ways was utterly inconceivable. how could he go back to such meaningless encounters now that he had experienced the depth of having [✶] beneath him, that he had tasted her so intimately? the fleeting pleasures of his past life were nothing compared to the all-consuming need he felt for her. the idea of being with anyone else, of indulging in any other woman’s touch, was abhorrent to him. he needed her and only her, every day, every night, for the rest of his days. the sheer thought of anything else was a betrayal of the dark, obsessive desire that now consumed him.

now, sitting in the bustling restaurant, surrounded by the sounds of clinking glasses and lively chatter, the air warm and fresh as they chose a spot outside, [✶] tried to ground herself in the present. the late morning sun bathed the two friends in a gentle glow, the rays caressing their skin with a comforting warmth.

[✶] smiled, mirroring her best friend as she took a slow sip of her drink. “well, when my best friend calls, i answer.”

she cleared her throat, trying to push away the vivid memory of baekhyun’s touch while she answered that very call, her pulse quickening momentarily. the contrast between the intimate, fevered haze of the morning and the casual brunch setting was stark, and [✶] struggled to keep her composure as she engaged in light conversation with hana.

hana's lips curled into a smile at [✶]'s remark, but that smile slowly fell once her gaze drifted lower. her eyes locked onto something just above [✶]'s collarbone—a faint mark, barely concealed under the edge of her cardigan, but unmistakably there.

"um, what the hell is that?!" hana’s voice practically squealed with excitement as she pointed at the mark, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

[✶] froze, her face a mask of horror. they hadn't even been sitting at the table for five minutes, and hana had already spotted it. her mind scrambled for an excuse, but she came up empty-handed. before she could even react, hana’s eyes widened in delight. "oh, you dirty whore! i knew you went to baekhyun’s last night! is that why you kept declining my calls this morning?!"

“hey, weren’t you the one telling me to have fun?” [✶] retorted, her hand instinctively flying to cover the mark, her sudden insecurity evident as hana’s gaze bore into her with playful intensity.

desperate to divert the attention away from herself—and the telltale mark on her neck that her best friend’s keen eyes had already noticed—[✶] blurted out, "anyway, what’s up? i’m shocked kyungsoo’s not too busy basking in 'betrothed bliss' to let you out of his sight." her words came out in a rush, the playful jab at her friend laced with a hint of anxiety as she tried to steer the conversation away from the previous night’s events.

hana narrowed her eyes playfully, giving her best friend a knowing look that promised a full interrogation about baekhyun later. with the tension between them dissolving, she relaxed back into her seat, a soft smile playing on her lips. "well, if you must know, i do have a little surprise for you."

she then reached down and brought out a stunning bouquet of flowers, the delicate pinks and whites of peonies and carnations mingling with the airy softness of baby’s breath. the arrangement was breathtaking, each bloom carefully selected to create a harmonious blend of color and fragrance. as [✶] took the bouquet, the sweet scent of the flowers filled the air, wrapping her in a comforting embrace. but it wasn’t just the flowers that caught her attention.

as [✶]'s eyes drifted down, she noticed the newspaper wrapping the bouquet—a charming and personal touch. on it was a nostalgic picture of the two of them as children, arms wrapped around each other, their smiles wide and full of innocent joy. above the image, a headline in bold letters asked, ‘will you be my maid of honor?’

tears welled up in [✶]'s eyes, her heart swelling with happiness at the heartfelt proposal. she looked directly across the table at hana, her voice choked with emotion. “oh my god, hana, of course i’ll be your maid of honor!”

the two rise from their seats, the excitement in the air nearly palpable. as they step into each other's embrace, the hug is tight and full of unspoken emotions—love, pride, and the overwhelming joy of this moment. [✶] feels her chest swell with happiness for her best friend, the kind that makes her eyes glisten with unshed tears. this is a moment she'll cherish forever.

as they settle back down, [✶] takes hana's hand, her grip firm and reassuring. "i promise you, i'm going to make this wedding everything you've ever dreamed of," she says, her voice filled with determination and warmth. "you know i'm the best when it comes to planning and parties," [✶] brags with a playful smirk. "you won't even have to lift a finger. you can count on me."

hana grins and winks at her, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "duh, that's why i picked you for the job. did you think it was because of the 20+ years of history we have with each other?" she joked causing [✶] to roll her eyes.

“but anyways, now that we’ve got all of that out of the way,” hana says with a sly grin, finishing off the last sip of her mimosa. the waiter arrives just in time to refill her glass, but hana barely acknowledges him, her focus entirely on [✶]. she leans in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “spill. about baekhyun, i mean. i want every single detail, especially the juicy ones. this is a first for us, after all.”

it’s true. [✶] has never had anything this juicy to share before—how could she, when there was only ever one person she’s been with? this whole experience is as new to [✶] as it is to hana.

hana’s eyes gleam with pride and excitement for her best friend. it was always hana who had the wild stories of one-night stands and steamy affairs—until kyungsoo came along and changed that, of course. but now, it’s [✶]’s turn, and hana couldn’t be happier to see her best friend finally stepping into the spotlight, embracing a side of life she had never explored before.

as [✶] captivates her best friend with the events of the previous night, her voice is a mix of excitement and raw emotion. she starts with the first kiss, describing it as a moment suspended in time—the spark that affirmed that there truly was something between her and baekhyun. she talks about their conversations, rich and engaging, where they uncovered just how much they had in common. their chemistry was evident in every shared laugh and glance.

the conversation takes a more heated turn as [✶] details what happened in baekhyun’s bedroom. her eyes flutter with a mix of excitement and lingering nervousness as she recounts the intensity of their encounter—an experience that surpassed anything she’d ever known.

her cheeks warm with the flush of several mimosas as she describes waking in the soft morning light, her heart pounding with a blend of fear and exhilaration. she had almost left without a word, but then she had seen the hurt in baekhyun’s eyes—a look that pierced through her and left her trembling. [✶] recounts the heartfelt things baekhyun had told her, his affirmations that he wanted her to stay. though his words were beautiful and convincing, she couldn’t shake the fear weighing on her heart. his promises seemed so simple, but she hardly knew him, and his reputation with women only added to her doubts.

“i know we agreed to take things at my pace and see where this goes,” [✶] gushes to hana, her voice tinged with frustration and uncertainty. “but i can’t help feeling scared. he said all the right things, hana,” she continues, her eyes searching for reassurance. “he made everything sound so… simple. but with what i know about his past with women, i’m just not sure if i should fully trust him yet.. or ever.”

hana listens intently, her gaze reflecting a blend of empathy and understanding. she can’t help but draw parallels between [✶]’s current turmoil and her own past experiences. she recognizes the familiar echoes of her own journey with kyungsoo in [✶]’s struggle. 

she reflects on the early days of her relationship with kyungsoo, remembering how he grappled with insecurities about her popularity and past. the relationship had been rocky at times, but they weathered the storm and built a foundation of trust that led them to where they are now—engaged and committed. 

hana finds herself empathizing with baekhyun’s situation as well, sensing a genuine depth in his feelings for [✶]. the shock of discovering that he might actually have developed real emotions for [✶] resonates with hana’s own experiences. she understands the challenge of overcoming past impressions and the difficulty of navigating new emotions in a relationship. the parallels between [✶]’s predicament and her own journey with kyungsoo feel strikingly similar.

hana reaches across the table, her smile soft and comforting. “i understand, [✶]. trusting someone when there’s so much uncertainty is never easy. but sometimes, the only way to truly get to know someone is to take a leap of faith. and as much as it surprises me to say this about byun baekhyun of all people, who knows? it might actually work out between you two. he seems genuine. besides, he wouldn’t risk playing with your feelings, especially knowing you’re my best friend. baekhyun might not always come across as a gentleman with women, but he does have his principles.”

“yeah,” [✶] replies, her voice tinged with exhaustion and a touch of resignation. “OR i could just ghost him and skip all this potential heartache. save myself from getting hurt.” she shrugs, trying to sound casual, but her eyes reveal the deeper unease she’s feeling. 

unknowingly, [✶]'s reaction mirrors the very hesitance she perceives in baekhyun. 

“that option seems like the safest bet. besides, i probably won’t see him again until the wedding, so there’s plenty of time and distance to figure things out.”

as [✶] continues to pour out her feelings, hana’s attention is drawn to the two men approaching their table. her heart skips a beat as she recognizes them, bracing for what could be an awkward encounter. she tries to catch [✶]’s attention, hoping to steer the conversation away, but her friend, lost in a haze of inebriated candor, remains blissfully unaware.

“i mean, who knows, maybe he’s probably already forgotten all about—”

a smooth, confident voice interrupts [✶]’s ramble. “fancy seeing you two here,” one of the men says, his tone dripping with amusement.

kyungsoo strides over to his fiancée with a warm, affectionate smile. leaning down, he presses a gentle kiss to hana’s lips. as he pulls back, his gaze shifts to [✶]. “you remember baekhyun from the party last night, right?”

[✶] turns to face the towering figure behind her, her eyes widening in surprise. her heart races as she meets baekhyun’s gaze, his expression a mixture of charm and intrigue. the blush rising on her cheeks and neck could easily be attributed to the alcohol, but deep down, she knows it’s more than that. it feels as though her breath has momentarily escaped her, caught in the magnetic pull of baekhyun’s presence.

“uhhh… yeah,” [✶] murmurs, her voice barely a whisper, eyes widening in a mix of surprise and embarrassment. “hi, baekhyun.”

[✶]’s hands tremble slightly as she tries to compose herself, her voice wavering. baekhyun, on the other hand, stands effortlessly, his relaxed posture and easy smile showing no sign of the tension [✶] is feeling.

“hi there, [✶]. long time no see.” baekhyun’s eyes twinkle with amusement as he casually greets her, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. his demeanor only heightens [✶]’s sense of unease, making her feel even more out of place.

‘why is he here? why does he look so fucking good? and why the hell is he acting like he wasn’t just eating me out like his very life depended on it just an hour ago?’ the questions race through [✶]’s mind, her anxiety evident in the way her heart pounds and her thoughts scatter.

the two men slide their chairs into place beside them, the scrape of wood against the floor sounding louder than usual in the tense atmosphere. hana’s gaze locks onto kyungsoo with a palpable blend of frustration and disbelief. her eyes, usually warm and inviting, are now sharp and pleading, as if trying to send a silent message through sheer willpower. her jaw is set tightly, the muscles working under her skin as she silently implores him to understand that this is absolutely not the moment for an interruption.

as expected, kyungsoo remained blissfully unaware of the charged atmosphere between the two women in front of him. he was the type of man who missed the subtle undercurrents of energy and instead focused on concrete, verbal exchanges.

“soo, you didn’t mention you were having breakfast with baekhyun this morning?” she asked, her voice laced with barely concealed irritation, teeth clenched as she spoke.

kyungsoo, oblivious to the simmering tension, responded nonchalantly, “oh, well, i checked your location and saw you were here. we just finished eating at the tap house not too far down the street. baekhyun parked nearby here, so i thought i’d walk him to his car since you’re here anyway.”

hana and [✶] exchanged frantic glances, their eyes wide with unspoken panic. they silently hoped that the two men would take the hint and leave, but their casual intrusion and self-assured demeanor suggested otherwise.

kyungsoo leaned back, a casual grin tugging at his lips. “and then we saw through the window that [✶] was with you,” he continued, eyes twinkling with mischief. “and since baekhyun here seemed so smitten with her at the party, he thought he’d swing by to say hi.”

baekhyun shot him an incredulous look, eyebrows shooting up as if he couldn’t believe his best friend just threw him under the bus. with a soft chuckle, he accepted that kyungsoo had no concept of subtlety. “yeah, something like that,” baekhyun laughed, settling more comfortably into his chair. 

his hand slipped beneath the table, settling on [✶]’s thigh with a comforting warmth. he gently caressed her skin, his thumb brushing up and down in soothing strokes, occasionally squeezing her knee like it was second nature. each subtle movement edged higher, his fingers grazing the sensitive spot between her legs—a place he had intimately explored in the early hours of the morning.

she bit down on her lip, desperately trying to focus on anything but the subtle movements of his hand beneath the table. there was no way she could look at him—seeing baekhyun again so soon had her heart pounding out of control. her skin already tingled with warmth, and she knew that if their eyes met while he touched her, she’d completely fall apart. she couldn’t let her best friends catch on just yet to how dangerously head over heels she was for him.

“oh, by the way,” kyungsoo interjected, like a light bulb suddenly twent on in his brain. he turned to hana, his face lighting up with a blend of excitement. the words that followed his mouth, left [✶] in a state of utter shock. “i had asked baekhyun to be my best man just now, and he agreed.”

“oh..did he?” hana asked, her voice laced with disbelief. “i thought you were planning to ask your brother to be your best man?”

kyungsoo shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “nah, it makes more sense for baekhyun to be my best man. he’s more reliable.” he gave a meaningful nod towards his best friend.

hana’s eyes wandered over to [✶], who was sitting across the table with a mix of surprise and discomfort etched on her face. “i just asked [✶] to be my maid of honor, too, and she said yes,” hana confessed, a hint of guilt in her voice.

kyungsoo’s eyes softened as he looked across the table at baekhyun and [✶]. “this is perfect! and you two hit it off so well last night, too. i’m so glad.” his gaze then shifted to his fiancée, who was glaring at him with an intensity that could burn through steel.

baekhyun glanced at the time, his expression tightening. “well, i should get going. i'm running late for a meeting with my manager.” he gave her knee a final, lingering squeeze before rising from his seat, the chair sliding back with a soft scrape.

before heading out, he turned to [✶] with a warm, his fingers grazed her shoulder, sending a shiver through her. “guess we’ll be seeing each other more often, [✶],” he said with a wink, a toothy smile curving up into the familiar crescent moons that made her heart flutter. if she’d been uncertain about her feelings before, the gentle brush of his hand and that teasing smile left her even more confused.

as baekhyun bid the couple and [✶] a warm goodbye, his departure was marked by a casual wave and a charming smile. the soft chime of the restaurant doorbell signaled his exit, the door closing behind him with a gentle swoosh. hana’s gaze followed him until he was out of sight, her fingers lightly tapping kyungsoo's arm in a gesture that was both exasperated and affectionate.

“what the hell, kyungsoo?! can’t you take a hint?” hana’s voice was a mix of frustration and disbelief, her eyes flashing with irritation.

kyungsoo winced, the sting of hana’s playful yet sharp slap making him flinch. he rubbed his arm with a wince, his brow furrowing in confusion. “what do you mean? aren’t you happy that our best friends are playing such important roles in our wedding?”

hana’s reaction was to scoff, shaking her head as though in disbelief at her fiancé’s lack of understanding. “i’ll explain when i get home later,” she said, her tone carrying a weight of finality.

[✶], who had been silent and seemingly lost in thought, finally spoke up. her voice was thin and quivering, as if she were struggling to find the right words. "i’m going to head into the office, actually.” she said, her throat feeling dry. "i have a lot to prepare for the charity event this upcoming weekend.” 

as she packed up her bag with a hurried efficiency, her movements were sharp and deliberate. she tossed a generous amount of cash onto the table, covering their bill with a decisive flick of her wrist. “i’ll text you when i get home, hana, yeah? i’ll see you both later, bye.”

before hana could even muster a response, [✶] was already making her way to the exit, her steps quick and determined. the restaurant's warm ambiance seemed to dim as she left, her sudden departure leaving a palpable void. hana and kyungsoo were left in stunned silence, their expressions a blend of concern and confusion as they watched [✶] storm out, her figure disappearing into the busy street.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

as [✶] slides into the driver’s seat of her car, she feels the cool leather against her skin. the soft hum of the engine, which she usually finds comforting, now seems to mock her inner turmoil. she's slumped into the seat, her back pressing against the headrest, her breath hitching as she silently berates herself. “why did this have to happen now?” she muttered to herself, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions. “why did baekhyun have to show up like that? and why did kyungsoo have to be so fucking oblivious?” she ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, trying to make sense of her jumbled thoughts and emotions.

a tap on her windshield startles her, and as she looks up, she catches the glint of a familiar face through the sunlight. it’s baekhyun, his presence as unexpected as it is electrifying.

“talking to yourself now?” his voice, smooth and teasing, floats through the air, just as the soft knock on the glass fades.

[✶] mentally shakes herself, a whirlwind of thoughts crashing together. 'get your shit together', she thinks while drawing in a deep breath. the whir of the window motor is the only sound that punctuates the brief silence as she rolls it down.

baekhyun’s face appears, framed by the soft light of day, and his smile is a blend of mischief and warmth. his eyes sparkle with a flirtatious glint, the kind that makes her pulse quicken and her thoughts scatter.

“hi again,” he murmurs, leaning into the window with a playful, teasing tone. his lower lip caught between his teeth, he meets her gaze, then lets his eyes trail down to her lips before returning to hers. the proximity of his body, his breath brushing against hers, sends a shiver racing down her spine.

caught off guard, she fights to regain control of her swirling thoughts. but as the sunlight bathes him in a golden hue, the moment pulls her in, stealing her hesitation.

“hi,” [✶] replies, her voice soft but brimming with warmth.

baekhyun’s gaze softens as he reaches out, the back of his fingers grazing her cheek with a feather-light touch. he gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch electric and tender. “wow. you’re even prettier in the daylight,” he murmurs, his voice low and sincere. “didn’t know that was possible.”

the compliment wraps around [✶] like a cozy blanket, stoking a fire of confidence within her. she lifts her chin slightly, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. “i could say the same about you, baekhyun,” she responds, her voice taking on a flirtatious edge as she lets her smile widen.

the playful exchange lingers in the air, a shared moment of magnetic attraction, as they stand on the precipice of something exhilarating and unknown.

"hmph.” his voice rumbles softly, eyes looking at her with longing as if he was looking at something he couldn't quite have.

“sorry,” he murmurs, his tone a mix of concern and something she couldn’t quite place. “i didn’t mean to interrupt your little monologue just now. i just saw you practically sprinting to your car as i was about to pull off and wanted to make sure you were okay.”

as he speaks, his hand moves with a gentle, deliberate slowness, fingers brushing against the side of her face. his touch is warm, his thumb grazing the delicate curve of her chin. the contact sends a spark through her, turning her into putty. his thumb lingers, tracing the line of her jaw, and she can’t help but lean into his touch, her breath hitching as the tension between them crackles like electricity in the air.

"thanks for checking on me,” [✶] sighs, her voice barely above a whisper as she fidgets with the hem of her shirt. her eyes dart nervously to the side, avoiding baekhyun’s intense gaze. “but i’m okay, really—i just wasn’t expecting to see you so soon after… you know—”

“oh—right!” baekhyun says with a snaps his fingers. his eyes light up with sudden realization, his expression shifting to one of playful mischief. “what was it you were saying earlier? something about how you thought the next time you'll see me is at their wedding? and that it would leave plenty of time and distance between us? is that right?”

[✶]’s heart drops, and her eyes widen in shock as she feels her stomach twist with embarrassment. she can barely believe her ears. her mouth goes dry, and her voice falters. “heh. oh, so you… you heard that?”

baekhyun nods, his hand resting dramatically over his chest as if wounded. “wow. i can’t believe the only girl who has me in a complete chokehold was planning to ghost me.” his tone is light, teasing, but there’s an underlying note of sincerity that makes [✶]’s cheeks flush. “welp, i’m glad i caught you, then. cause now i can tell you that you’re going to have to try harder to get rid of me.” he says lightly pinching her cheek.

she feels exposed, her earlier confidence crumbling under his playful yet piercing gaze. the memory of her conversation with hana floods back, and she mentally kicks herself for being so careless. but as much as she wants to sink into the floor and disappear, there’s something about the way baekhyun looks at her—like she’s the only person in the world that matters in that moment—that makes her chest tighten with something other than dread.

"welllllll," [✶] drags out the word, her voice laced with a playful drawl, "it was really nice chatting, baekhyun, but i really have to get going. i have a lot to plan for this annual charity event coming up this weekend, and—"

she’s immediately cut off as baekhyun’s expression shifts, realization dawning on him like a flash of lightning. the pieces fall into place with a sudden clarity that makes him silently curse himself for not figuring it out sooner. how could he have missed this?

"wait—" he interrupts, astonishment coloring his voice, "the humanitarian gala at the lee hotel this saturday? i just signed on to perform there. i'm actually meeting with my manager soon to go over the details."

[✶]’s eyes narrow, her thoughts racing back to the chaotic conversation she had with her assistant yesterday morning, just before kyungsoo and hana’s engagement party. the memory is a blur of stress and frantic planning, and she can almost feel the looming headache from the mess that’s undoubtedly waiting for her in her inbox. the thought of the endless list of tasks she needs to tackle—one so long it could rival a cvs receipt—makes her shoulders sag with exhaustion.

"hmm," she muses aloud, her tone thoughtful but distant, "i did tell my assistant that she needed to find us someone else since one of our other performers had to back out." she sighs, a sound heavy with resignation, wanting to wrap up this conversation so she can retreat to the relative sanctuary of her office and start putting out fires.

“wow, so i’m your second choice? you’re really breaking my heart today.” his tone once again dramatic.

[✶] rolled her eyes, barely able to suppress the grin threatening to break free. his dramatic antics, always over-the-top and laced with flair, were just so… him. the way he puffed out his chest and cast exaggerated glances her way was almost comical. a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, betraying her amusement even as she tried to keep a straight face.

'you weren't even a choice to begin with, baekhyun,' she thought to herself, the idea nearly making her chuckle aloud. but she quickly bit her tongue, knowing full well that voicing it would only encourage him more. she could already imagine his endless banter, the way he'd latch onto her words and turn them into an ongoing inside joke. and as much as she adored that mischievous glint in his eye, she wasn't quite ready to deal with the inevitable playful teasing that would follow.

so, instead, she simply shook her head, her smirk widening as she watched him. "well then, i guess i'll see you on saturday, baekhyun," she quips, her tone light yet laced with playful sarcasm. "can’t wait to see what all those fangirls of yours are drooling over. who knows? maybe i'll become one of them."

her words hang in the air, a teasing challenge that sends a shiver down baekhyun’s spine. he feels a rush of electricity as the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, the intensity of her gaze lingering even as she reaches for the car window.

with a slow, deliberate motion, the window closes, creating a tangible barrier between them. but instead of diminishing the tension, the thin sheet of glass only amplifies it, making the charged atmosphere between them almost palpable. baekhyun watches as her car pulls away, his heart beating just a little faster, hands beginning to sweat, knowing that saturday’s performance will be different with her eyes on him.

s&v | mlist | prev | ★ ch.2 rendezvous ★ | next

[bananaactivity]

Im not finished with Carlos fully but he looks good enough for right now ( he’s 22 in this picture here)

I changed Carlos and Evie up, so now Evie is a vain witch like her mother who is fashionable but she doesn’t sew her own stuff. ( which is for the better cse wtf was that ugly ass dress she made for Mal in D2???)

Carlos considers himself to be a very expensive person and can be pretty big germaphobe. He hates getting anything on his clothes and he refuses to wear the school uniforms at Auradon Uni because they’re ugly. He wears lots of black white grey and red, with gold accents usually. He does theme around dog associated items like gold bone cutlets, paw print lapel chains, and a tennis ball brooch. He often wears red gloves and his favorite shoes are his collection of red bottom dress shoes. He likes hiding red on the interlining of his clothes too, such as his jackets and hats and vests.

A lot of his own person style is derived from 1990s London fashion ( as the artist that means I get my references from the 1996 101 Dalmatians live action movie, the styling of Cruela in that movie is ICONIC AND IMACULATE, and I MUST reference her for Carlos.

PURRRR

Of course he wears REAL animal print. And he’s not a weak touch me not prick like some think. He’s still tech savvy and does Anyalitics and specs for the core four. He also loves GUNS 😄. Think of him like a sharp shooter who stays in the back of turf wars and snipes people. The isle doesn’t have many marks men ( they all really like swords for some reason) so he’s pretty dangerous. He builds his own weapons too.

His passion started out as a way for him to collect his own furs but Harry gets him most of what he needs plus he always needs Carlos to redo his wardrobe ( he gets… messy… after a couple days work) Carlos hates that Harry ruins his creations so fast but he pays him well and gifts him rare fabrics and samples from Auradon.

Because Carlos has no magic Mal always underestimates him. She sees him as only a stylist and ranged weapon specialist. Even tho she acknowledges him for his wit and tech skills she still doesn’t listen to him. Sometimes he wishes he could stay with Harry but then he’d have to do more work up front. Harry understood what Carlos was capable of and respected him a lot. What Harry doesn’t understand is that not everybody likes to be covered head to toe in hot sticky blood 24/7. Harry had also promised him a suite on his boat that nobody else was allowed to occupy, but even if Harry’s crew feared HARRY they wouldn’t mind having an attitude with CARLOS for preferential treatment, even if it is what he deserves 🙄

Harry and Carlos’s relationship is the definition of there are two wolves inside you. Carlos smokes and drinks but he’s more of a Marlboro and Merlot type of guy and Harry’s a Rum and Cigar kinda lad. ( I’m using cartoon logic and say that those habits are purely aesthetic based of iconography from the original Disney moves, Cruella smokes and Capt. Hook smokes two cigars at once)

Carols isn’t really scared of dogs anymore but when he arrives at Auradon he “befriends” his roommate Chad ( now an animal lover like his mother) who has pet rats and a entourage of wild animals constantly in their dorm, and threatens to shoot and skin them all every single day to make a new line of coats ( when Chad rebuttals that his rats are too small to make coats, Carlos says they’d make the perfect fuzzy gloves 💀) He also uses Chad as a living mannequin for his designs. They have a goofy relationship with each other, Carlos does make Chad do all the dirty work of skinning and draining the animals he hunts but despite how traumatic that is Carlos is a fun sweet guy so it’s okay 💀💀💀.

Jay is jelly of Carlos due to his closeness with Harry. ( I guess the way to Jays heart and respect is by holding him at sword point and threatening to gut him and hang him by those very guts over shark infested waters and watch them nibble away at him 💀)

Next I’ll find up Carlos and do some fit designs then I’ll redesign Jay and tell that gutting story 😛

[lightlycareless]

More high school au with Naoya and y/n pleaseee😩😩🙏🏻🙏🏻 they are so cute and like- uughhhhh ( you don’t have to tho )

Hello anon!

Thank you so much for waiting 🥺❤️❤️ I actually have some snippets here and there of scenarios I want to write for them, however, now that valentine's day is approaching this other idea popped up hehehe, so I might as well take advantage of it.

Also, this is a two part thing. As of now, the second part is scheduled for... you guessed it, the 14th 😂

warnings: none. fluff. a lil bit of heartbreak, but nothing too serious. more to come on the second part.

All I got to say is, this went a completely different direction than I expected. We shall see if it pays off.

Without further a do, happy reading!

taglist: @sureconfused

part 2.

It’s rare when the faculty allows students to take control of anything outside of their studies and training.

But there were occasions they allowed it, especially in those where they’d not only prove they’re much better academically than any other institute, but also humiliate their sister school in their annual exchange event.

Which is exactly what happened last summer, an undisputable victory to remain for the years to come as the worst defeat Kyoto has ever experienced.

Taking this into consideration, the school thought it only deserving for the students to be compensated.

What the Tokyo school ended up choosing as a reward was a trip to one of the popular theme parks in Japan, but to afford such trip without having to choke the higher ups with their expenses, the students began to plan out ways to increase their budget.

Luckily for them, the money hungry Mei Mei knew exactly what to do.

Thus, preparations soon began to plan out, starting with decorations and activities that would not only incentivize students to participate, but willingly spend all their hard-earned money (plus an extra for herself.) for something enjoyable in return—all coinciding with the most awaited time of the year.

We’re talking about White Day, of course.

A date that you were naturally also excited for, simply because it was your first White Day since enrolling in jujutsu high.

You had your own motives to be eager, but your enthusiasm simply kept growing thanks to your classmate’s incessant discussion of the plans they set up with their boyfriends, or the guys they were being “courted” by.

“My boyfriend got reservations at this nice place in downtown! We’re going there as soon as our classes are done.” One would say.

“That’s so sweet! There’s this guy I’ve been talking to for a while now—we haven’t done much but I just know he likes me! I’m just hope he’ll confess his feelings today…” Another adds.

“What about you, Y/N? Set your eyes on anyone yet?”

No.

Maybe…

Oh, who are you lying, of course you did!

But you’re not sure he even noticed your presence; let alone your gift on Valentine’s Day. After all, he’s one of the most popular students in the whole school.

You’re talking about Geto Suguru, of course—what you’d consider to be your first crush, the first man that you’ve ever felt these growing feelings for; and with enough luck, maybe even your first love.

He was just… oh, so dreamy. Good looking, but most of all, charming. It’s a mystery how someone like him got along with Satoru at all! Maybe it was some kind of opposites attract type of situation?

Who knows.

Either way, you won’t deny that getting a chance of becoming Suguru’s special someone was equally wonderful, which you hoped would’ve increased with the chocolate you gave him exactly one month ago.

If fate desired so… then today, you’ll get your answer.

And whether you’ve caught someone else’s eye, as well?

You don’t try to get your hopes too high when it comes to that, since you’ve only been here for a few months—not enough time for anyone to develop feelings and pursue you, you know?

Geto was different though, since you’ve known him way before you even considered entering jujutsu high, due to him being your sister’s and Satoru’s (a childhood friend) classmate.

So yeah, you don’t expect much from anyone else this day, outside of… maybe a card here and there, or some sweets from the people that always bring something for the whole class just so they won’t feel excluded—sensei’s included.

And so, when classes begin, you keep reassuring yourself with the following statement Mei Mei’s Cupid Mail Service (or whatever it’s called, with a charge of course) begins to roll in: You were new, not that well known even with your sibling’s popularity, single, but most importantly, that most of the things sent through that service were for the popular kids—or so Hinata theorized.

A great excuse that would’ve kept your sanity intact…  had no one else gotten anything.

The ones that didn’t voice their plans, that is, the single ones—and even then, those with a partner still managed to get heartfelt confessions from those daring enough.

«It’s just… well, luck! I think… Besides, don’t they always say that people in relationships are more popular than those that are single? I would never do something like that!» It’s what you tell yourself when seeing one of your classmates, who has a boyfriend, get a rose from the same Cupid Mail Service—and as seen from her rection, not from him. «Yeah… that must be it.»

But your anguish would only deepen when the day went on by and the gifts didn’t stop.

By that point, your sister had gotten a bouquet of roses, amongst some boxes of chocolate she didn’t bother to care for, unless they had come from Yuki-senpai.

Your brother was seen with a large teddy bear but given the grin on his face and the direction he was heading; it was clear this was a gift for his girlfriend.

Gojo and Geto getting gifts even on the day they’re not supposed to doesn’t surprise you anymore—in fact, every day seemed like a holiday to them, so you just ignored them.

Nanami was a heartthrob you did not expect to see flourish, since he mostly kept to himself, but there’s always something alluring about the mysterious, cool characters—you more than anyone else would know that.

However, none of these situations were to be the worst ones yet.

Not to discredit the poor guy, you appreciate him as the excellent classmate he is…

But even Ijichi got a gift!! Like, come on!!

Statistically someone must’ve sent you one thing at least! You’re not even asking to be appreciated by your beauty or anything, it could’ve been just because they thought you were funny or something! A great friend!

Yet, it was not meant to be.

And by the end of the school day, reality slowly began to sink into your mind—accepting that perhaps you were not as likeable as you once believed… and unfortunately, that is something that wouldn’t change, not even if you’d been here since the school was founded.

Not desiring to be seen crying your poor heart out when your feelings are finally pushed to the edge once the last bell rings, you decide to head straight back to the dorms after quickly gathering your utensils, curtly bidding everyone farewells and wishes for an enjoyable evening out, and heading out the classroom—just before you could hear any more of their whispers noting how you didn’t get anything.

Thinking that if you hurried enough, you’d be able to get to your room before anyone noticed the tears already sliding down your cheeks—but alas, there’s always someone in the wrong place at the wrong time, and just as you were to turn around the corner and leave the school building, Mei Mei calls you.

“Off to meet someone in your room? How indecent.” she snickers, noting your unusual adrenaline when traveling across the hallways. At least for someone she knew hadn’t gotten anything planned for the day. “Back in my day, we’d try to do it off campus. But if you want, I know a room—"

“That’s not—I’m not in the mood, Mei Mei.” You murmur, not bothering to turn around to face her while doing your best to hide a sniffle. “I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you do, Y/N.” she says, taking a step closer to you.

“If it’s to get me to spend money on your delivery system, I’m not interested.” You frown. “Why don’t you go ask Hinata? I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to spend all her allowance in things for Yuki-senpai…”

“Already done that—And I got to say, Hinata really is one of my best clients when it comes to it. After Satoru, of course.” She snickers—Gojo has become kind of her personal ATM at this point, he just made it too easy! You remain quiet. “Either way, I’m here for something else. Something relating to you, actually.”

Well, if this day wasn’t odd enough already.

“…What do you want?” you cautioned.

“I got a gift for you—from Cupid himself.”

“What?!” you gasp, sharply turning around to verify her words, dropping your books and breath hitching upon seeing the enormous size of the gift she held in her arms, and all that contained:

A basket filled with all kinds of chocolate, local and foreign, alongside an immeasurable number of roses that almost managed to hide the core: a red teddy bear holding a heart of the same color with the words love stitched onto it.

After being deprived of this attention for hours, it almost felt surreal to suddenly obtain all that you wanted—And not to brag, but this also had to be the biggest gift you’ve seen at school that day!

You genuinely didn’t believe your eyes… and yet, there was still more to come.

And all for you.

“—while the rest are to be delivered to your dorm.” Mei Mei says as a group of her… lackeys, (wait, is that her brother?) brought along more and more gifts—from plushies of your favorite characters, your favorite flowers, and jewelry… to the most surprising piece of all:

Boxes of mochi, of your favorite flavor, taro.

Whoever sent these gestures knew you in somewhat of a personal level, thus, you naturally had to ask—

“Who sent them?” you breathe, unable to hide your excitement at that point; could it be…?

“A secret admirer.” Is all that Mei Mei reveals. “Perhaps.”

“Aw, come on! I mean—you have to know, right?? You’re the one in charge of this!”

“I do… but my services don’t go beyond that.” She smiles—hinting wanting more.

But you suppose that for something as sweet as this, to keep the identity of your unknown aficionado would only be fitting. Partially.

“Could you at least give me a hint?”

Mei Mei only laughs, and you get the idea that it was because of your naivety when it comes to her methods.

And it was, in its majority.

But it was also because she couldn’t believe you didn’t know already!

Of course, this was nothing but obvious for someone who has made it as her personal mission to find dirt on just about anyone she can squeeze out a few yen from.

Especially from big targets like him.

But given the way he behaves around you, and the things he did today, just for your attention how come you hadn’t noticed that the heir of the Zen’in, Naoya…

Likes you?

I don't know if other schools do things like that, but mine did. And I used it once. And I never got a reply. YIKES. But I don't blame him though, that letter was wack lmao. I was only 16 😭 please be merciful.

Anyways, I hope you liked this first part :3 Keep an eye for the second one 👀👀👀

Take care, and hope to see you soon!