Yay! How about headcanons about mando and signs of affection? (Also what do you mean by ships?)
Hi darling! Here is info for ships
And here are some Mando headcanons feat. signs of affection!
Affection is…complicated for Mando
It’s not that he hates it, it’s just that before he met you he didn’t really think it was possible for him to have with someone else without straying away from his creed
I really don’t think he takes the helmet off around you very often (if at all) unless he decides he wants to marry you, so kisses are very sparse
He shows affection at first by doing little things for you
He makes sure that your little corner on the floor on the Razor Crest is far more comfortable
He’ll pick up more pillows and blankets which each stop he takes when looking for his quarry
If he’s preparing a meal he always makes enough for you too after you’ve been with him and the kid long enough (no need for you to cook too when you could be doing other things around the ship)
After awhile he finally gets a little more comfortable with actually touching you
They’re little touches like hands bumping each other when you walk or brushing hair out of your eyes just to touch skin that isn’t your hand or wrist
When he starts feeling comfortable with hugging you, he usually asks you to just let him hold you from behind
He feels safer this way even though he knows you won’t try to hurt him or take off his helmet, it’s just force of habit
These little baby steps he takes occur over months and months, significant chunks of time between each one
As for showing Mando affection...
This is a process, too, please don’t lay it on too thick too quickly for this poor touch starved baby
He doesn’t even realize how much he craves touch and interaction until he has you
But the first time you actually hug him he starts looking for excuses for you to do it again
Will offer to take you up in his jetpack if you’re bored so you can hold him tight
Affection is easiest for Mando to take in the little things you do for him because that does’t feel any different than another guild member or Mandalorian or Cara helping him out with something
After that comes words of affection, those are a lot easier too because there isn’t any threat of breaking his creed if you just tell him how much you care about him
After you’ve known him for a few years, he learns that he loves it when you press your forehead to his helmet
Knowing that you’re staring right into his eyes without actually seeing them through the visor sandwiched between beskar is one of the most intimate things he has ever felt
He holds your hands when you do, at first as a precautionary measure, but after awhile just to show you that he’s not all metal, that even through the material of his gloves he feels soft like you do
Megumi Fushiguro headcanons!!! Kinda long, i apologise 😖
+ mood board! (Because you BETTER know I'm reading my own writing, and i need the visuals)
• Megumi is generally very protective of you, so you're not surprised when his eyes follow your every move, when he asks Gojo if he can accommodate you on missions thinking you can't hear their hushed conversations, or when he leaves you in his room with one of his demon dogs every time he needs to go to the convenience store during your sleepover.
You're also not surprised when you wake up in the middle of the night to pee and you're unable to escape his arms that are tightly holding you from behind. And if you dare try to unwrap yourself from his embrace? He's up. You have to reassure him that there is no danger every sigle time he does because he's tense and pouty.
• Megumi likes to show love through small acts rather than big gestures. He lets you borrow his books, helps you with your homework (he's surprisingly soft and patient when explaining the material to you), he sends you songs he thinks you'd like, brings you silly trinkets like he's a crow and let's you hold his hand or play with/style his hair.
In all honesty, you don't need big gestures to know he loves you after all, you can tell by the cute picture of you two on his clear phone case and the different ringtone he set specifically for your contact. Sometimes you even tease him for it.
• Megumi is obsessed with organisation. Because of that, his room is always clean and tidy. He loves you, he does, but when you move his stuff from their specific spot or mess his bed his eye twitches. He's just a little weird about his personal space being messed up, but he rarely yells at you for it. He does appreciate how considerate you are of his little peculiarity tho. You always make sure you're careful in his room and around his stuff, and if you make a mess you usually take care of it and leave a small apology note with a heart. How can he stay mad at you?
• Megumi is a great listener. He looks at you in the eye when you talk, ask questions there and there showing that he actually cares about what you have to say, and more importantly, he remembers.
He knows all your usual orders by heart, he remembers every book title, song/artist or movie you've mentioned liking and he knows all your favourite spots. He even remembers all the baby names you had in mind for your furure kids and it was only one conversation months ago.
He has a great memory, it never fails to impress you. Sometimes, he even remembers things you forgot you've told him before.
One time for example, you returned to your dorm after a mission to find a neatly wrapped present on your bed. On top of it, a small note that read "you mentioned wanting that book a while back and i found it while i was shopping - Megumi"
You didn't even remember mentioning that book to him, but the fact that he remembered was enough to make your heart melt and belly fill with butterflies.
• Megumi is good at everything except communicating. He refuses to open up when something is bothering him but on the other end he wants you to do the opposite. If he's not doing well and you ask about it, he'll mumble a sharp "I'm fine." and get mad if you keep insisting. But if you are not feeling well? He's not leaving you alone until he knows what's up with you and it genuinely irritates you. It's one of the only reasons you guys argue.
• Unpopular opinion, but i don't think Megumi would participate on couple trends with you no matter how much you try to convince him. With the exception of trends that don't require showing his face, or any part of him for that matter. Those he finds cute, even if he fake sighs before doing it.
For example, you made eachother in legos at this lego store that opened downtown and his heart did backflips when you proudly showed off the mini versions of you on your insta story.
You also took part in that trend where you pose behind the famous vinyl from the album "Three cheers for sweet revenge" By MCR (yes, i know ball) and he actually adored it.
• It's canon that Megumi doesn't have social media, so whenever you make an internet reference he looks at you like you just called him a slur. Yuji laughs along with you and finishes your lines sometimes (he's just as chronically online) and Megumi stares at the two of you wondering how and why he ended up with y'all.
He's actually very down to earth because of this. He's the first person you go to when you hear or see something insane on tiktok and he quickly grounds you back to earth by giving you a mental slap of logic.
Also, when you send him a meme from across the room and he squints his eyes trying to understand what the fuck it means he looks like a boomer and you giggle constantly.
• Anyone who says Megumi doesn't like physical affection is a LIAR! He adores it more than anything. In fact, he's been so deprived of it his whole life, that when you came along he finally realised the sweetness of it all.
One kiss is enough to make his worries slip away like water, one hug is enough to make his body feel heavy. The feeling of your hands massaging his scalp or rubbing his back when he needed comfort highlighted his whole week. The goodnight kisses you give him drug him almost instantly, and his insomnia has significantly improved ever since he started sleeping in your dorm during the night, holding you close and pressing his ear right above your beating heart.
One of the rare times he slipped up Infront of you and began crying, he couldn't describe how soothing your touch was that day (if you ask him, he won't admit this to you, but that day where he cried Infront of you for the first time is engraved in his memory. He can't name a better feeling than the one he experienced that day). All his life he was used to crying alone in his room with a pillow to muffle the noise, but now? How can he pull himself together when you're holding his face so tenderly, wiping his tears with your thumb and whispering sweet nothings as you push the bangs away from his pretty face? He honestly wouldn't exchange your physical love with ANYTHING.
• Megumi is the BIGGEST acts of service guy. Like i mentioned earlier, he likes to show his love and appreciation for you through small actions. With Megumi around, you haven't tied your own shoes or carried your shopping bags again. He does everything for you. One time he even carried you on his back because it was raining and you didn't wanna ruin your favourite shoes. You can't even open a jar by yourself anymore, the moment he sees you struggling he grabs it, cracks it open and hands it back like nothing happened (nonchalant king).
zanka doesn’t know how he’s ended up in this situation. he must have misheard you, right? there’s no way you just asked him to-
“kiss me, zanka. please?” you’re looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes, shining with trust in him of all people – the average joe, mr mediocre. usually he’s overjoyed whenever you two lock eyes, leaping at the chance to bathe in the warmth of your gaze for longer than he thinks he deserves, but right now the only thing on his mind is how misplaced this faith is.
“w-what? why me?” he curses himself internally for the stutter as he scrambles backwards on the couch, desperate to put some distance between him and the feeling of your thigh pressing against his before his brain short-circuits.
“because! you’re so handsome, you’ve definitely kissed loads of people! you’re probably an expert.” zanka.exe crashes upon hearing that you think he’s handsome, and he flushes so red he could be mistaken for a tomato. this has to be a prank. yeah, that’s it. enjin’s about to burst into the room crowing about how they got him, rudo holding some busted camera he’s repaired to record his embarrassment… but no matter how long zanka stares at the door, it doesn’t budge.
zanka snaps back to attention just in time to hear you continue, “-and i still haven’t had my first kiss! so i want you to help.” never mind, his brain is melting again. you’re dragging him to an early grave because he’s definitely going to go into cardiac arrest if this conversation keeps up.
“you want me to have your first kiss?! why?” the words tumble out of his throat before he can rein them in, disbelief colouring his tone. you’re perfect in every way, diligent, kind, clever and stunning to boot, while zanka’s just… zanka. shouldn’t you be with someone of your own caliber instead of a nobody like him?
“of course!” but your answer is devastatingly simple, an arrow piercing right through his insecurities. “because it’s you, zanka. there’s no one else i trust more.”
his heart is beating a million miles per hour, threatening to thump right out of his chest as he moves closer. you’re so close that he can count the flecks of light reflecting in your eyes, endless stars scattered across the galaxy of your irises. zanka’s gaze darts down to your mouth for a split second and he almost falls apart – your lips look so kissable, plush and glossy, ever so slightly tinted in your favourite colour. he could just kiss you right now. you’d never know the truth, and one of his ultimate dreams would come true while granting your wish. it’s a win-win for everyone. but then he meets your eyes once more, sees the unwavering trust you’ve placed in him, and he knows he could never do that to you.
“i… i’ve never kissed anyone either.” zanka’s voice drops to a gruff whisper. “so i probably won’t be any good at it.” he hangs his head, unable to look at you after confessing. at least he won’t have to witness the disappointment of you leaving.
but then you cup his cheek with a soft palm, tilting his face up again, “you won’t know until you try.”
people say the eyes are the window to the soul. and right now, yours are filled with so much gentle affection that zanka finds himself falling for you all over again, a silly crush that blossomed into something much deeper over so much time spent together. “then… may i kiss you?” it’s almost too formal, a remnant of his childhood in the nijiku clan, but your gaze softens even more and you nod, “go ahead.”
before he loses his burst of courage, zanka leans in and presses his lips to yours. the first thing his mind registers is the fruity taste of your chapstick, and next is how perfectly your lips fit against his, almost like you two were moulded to be a pair, two jigsaw pieces slotting into place. he grew up believing all those fairytales exaggerated the magic of true love’s kiss, but now that it’s finally happening to him he swears fireworks are bursting behind his eyes. it’s a sweet, chaste kiss, but zanka’s pupils are still blown wide when you two finally pull apart.
“that was… that was incredible.” he murmurs, forehead resting against yours. “a better first kiss than i ever even dreamed of.” his fingers intertwine with yours, thumb stroking the back of your hand as if he can hardly believe that you’re real in this moment.
“yeah?” you giggle, “i think we should test the second, third, and fourth too.”
that pulls a laugh out of zanka and he pulls you impossibly closer, admiring how much more beautiful you get every time he looks at you, “what about fifth and sixth?”
“just kiss me, silly,” you nuzzle into him, “up till the one hundredth billionth time!”
“i’ll go even higher than that if you’ll have me,” zanka smiles, and that’s the last thing you hear before he closes the distance between the two of you, sealing your lips together once more.
it's been a while </3 !! hope u guys missed me hehehe
Synopsis: Peeta helps Johanna unzip her dress in the elevator and it makes you jealous
Masterlist
“Can I have a hand?” Johanna asked as she turned her back to Peeta. Peeta looked at you and Haymitch for a split second before shrugging and taking ahold of her zipper.
“Oh. Sure.” He said as he pulled the zipper down her back. Your head slowly turned to Peter and you stared at him with a slack jaw. Peeta looked at you and his smile immediately dropped. He adverted his eyes as long as he could until they found their way back to the scene in front of him. Johanna was looking between you and Peeta with a smirk when she turned around to pull her sleeves off her arms. Peeta and Haymitch couldn’t help but watch her as she undressed and dropped her clothes onto the elevator floor. It appeared that you were the only one able to keep your eyes on the ceiling as Johanna stripped out of her last piece of clothing.
“Thanks. Let’s do it again sometime.” She said as the elevator doors opened. She walked into the hallway fully naked and left a silence when she left. Peeta and Haymitch chuckled and exchanged looks as the elevator went up another door. Peeta then made eye contact with you and gulped when he saw the daggers in your eyes. You could not believe he had just looked at her the way he did. Seeing him unzip her dress and watch her made your blood boil in your skin in a way it never had before. You were so consumed with your jealousy that you didn’t hear Peeta try to change the subject and only knew she spoke when you saw his lips move.
“What?” You asked him.
“I asked what outfit you liked the best.” Peeta repeated. “I thought District 5’s was kinda cool. But it didn’t look very comfortable.”
“I don’t know. And I don’t care. I wasn’t looking at the other tributes.” You said and eyed him up and down as the elevator doors opened on your floor.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peeta’s face scrunched in confusion as he followed you out of the elevator.
“Nothing. I’m going to sleep.” You announced and headed straight for your room.
“You’re sleeping already? Aren’t you gonna eat?” Peeta asked with concern.
“I’m not hungry.” You said without looking back.
“I can meet you on the roof in a little bit if you want to hang out.” He offered.
“Not tonight.” You replied and disappeared into your bedroom. Peeta frowned and felt disappointment sink in over not getting the night with you that he thought he’d be getting.
“Uh oh.” Haymitch chuckled as he poured himself a drink.
“What was that?” Peeta asked and gestured to where you had just been.
“That, my friend, was you getting in trouble with your lady.”
“What?” Peeta blushed at what Haymitch called you. “She’s not even my lady.”
“But she wants to be.” Haymitch said pointedly and took a long sip.
“Y/n? There’s no way. She knows I like her and she made it very clear that she just wants to be friends.” Peeta insisted.
“Peeta, I don’t really know how they do things in 12 nowadays, so let me spell things out for you. That girl wants you but she’s way too stubborn to admit it to you or even herself. She doesn’t want to tell you how she feels because she wants you to just know. And she definitely didn’t want to see you undressing another girl right in front of her.”
“I wasn’t undressing her. I just helped her unzip her…” Peeta trailed off when he saw Haymitch raise his eyebrows in amusement. He realized how bad the moment in the elevator must’ve looked to you and began to panic.
“Oh no.” Peeta gulped. “Is she really mad at me?”
“Definitely.”
“What do I do?” He whined.
“Talk to her. And prepare to get hit a couple times.” Haymitch chuckled and patted Peeta’s shoulder as he passed him. Peeta thought about it for a moment and then went up to your room to do what Haymitch said and talk to you. He knocked on your door and you opened it pretty quickly as if you were expecting him. You had ditched your parade outfit and were now in some silky yellow pajamas.
“Hey.” Peeta smiled at you.
“What do you want?” You replied, making his smile drop.
“Just to talk. And I wanted to see you.”
“I’m really tired. I’m not in the mood to talk tonight.”
“Oh, okay. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I’m tired too. We can just sleep.” Peeta offered. You usually slept in the same bed to keep the nightmares away but there was no way you were letting him in your bed after what happened in the elevator.
“I’m gonna sleep alone tonight.” You told him with a tight smile.
“Oh. Okay.” Peeta said again and felt his disappointment settle in a pit in his stomach. Your cold expression suddenly melted to one of insecurity and you looked down the hallway as if you were expecting someone else to be there.
“Are you?” You asked quietly.
“Huh? Who else would I be sleeping with?” Peeta genuinely wondered, not realizing you were asking about Johanna.
“I don’t know.” You said quickly. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight. See you-“ Peeta was cut off by you closing the door in his face. He sighed and put his hand on your door before walking away.
“Tomorrow.” He mumbled.
When tomorrow came, he woke up in his lonely bed and went straight to your room. Your door was open and you weren’t inside so he assumed you already went downstairs. You weren’t there when he got to the table and let out another sigh. You were clearly avoiding him and he was not handling it very well. Peeta decided not to let it get to him and busied himself by making you a plate of all your favorite breakfast food. Haymitch watched Peeta scrambling to get back in your good graces and laughed to himself. You came down just as Peeta was finishing your plate and eyed him curiously.
“Good morning.” He greeted with you a smile.
“Morning.” You replied without looking at him.
“I made you a plate.” He said and put the plate in front of you. You stared at the plate for a minute and almost gave it and apologized for your cold behavior until you remembered the way he looked at Johanna last night. That was enough to make you lose your appetite so you pushed the plate away.
“I’m not really hungry.”
“You’re not? But you didn’t eat last night.” Peeta said worriedly as he sat beside you.
“Yes she did. For a hunter, you’re not very quiet. I could hear you rummaging for food all the way from my room.” Haymitch said to you.
“You came down to eat?” Peeta asked. “You should’ve gotten me. I would’ve kept you company.”
“Maybe I didn’t want your company.” You shrugged, making Peeta frown.
“Oh. Ice cold, sweetheart.” Haymitch chuckled. “You better watch your back in the games, Peeta. This one has death in her eyes.”
“You’re still mad at me?” Peeta whispered to you.
“Who said I’m mad at you?” You said without looking at him.
“I know you are. We usually talk on the rooftop and then sleep in the same bed. And then come down to eat breakfast together. You didn’t let me do any of those things.”
“Maybe I just need some space. We spend every hour together every single day. Excuse me for wanting some privacy for a little while.”
“We should be spending every hour together before we don’t get the chance. How long are you gonna be mad at me?”
“I already told you, I’m not mad.” You whispered harshly.
“Fine. You’re not mad. But when can we be friends again?” Peeta asked and tugged on your sleeve.
“Peeta.” You said warningly and pushed his hand away.
“Come on. I miss you.” He whined and tugged on your sleeve.
“I’m right here.” You scoffed but started to feel guilty for your behavior.
“No you’re not.” He pouted. “You’re far away.”
“Stop whining so much. You sound like my cat. And I hate that cat.”
“So you hate me now? All because I un-“
“Don’t.” You cut him off and got up from the table. You passed Effie in the hallway as you went back to your room.
“What’s going on? Y/n just told me she wants to train alone today.” Effie said as he joined the boys at the table.
“She’s mad at loverboy.” Haymitch said and pointed to Peeta.
“What did you do?” Effie asked him.
“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”
“He unzipped Johanna Masons dress in the elevator.” Haymitch tattled.
“What? Are you insane?” Effie gasped. “You can’t do something like that in front of your lady.”
“Why does everyone keep calling her my lady?” Peeta asked. “She doesn’t even like me.”
“Of course she likes you. That’s why she’s so upset. She’s jealous.” Effie laughed like it was obvious.
“Jealous? Of me and Johanna? I don’t think I even said a word to her. I just pulled the zipper.”
“It’s not about Johanna, silly. It’s about you giving attention to another girl. That’s why she’s jealous. She wants to be the one you’re unzipping.” Effie explained, making Peeta choke on the water he had just sipped. He wiped his mouth once he stopped choking and sighed.
“I need to fix this.”
“Yeah. You do. Before she makes you her first target.” Haymitch told him.
“She wouldn’t do that. Oh my God. Wait. Would she?” Peeta worried.
“She might.” Effie shrugged and Haymitch nodded in agreement.
“Well what do I do? She won’t talk to me.”
“So don’t give her a choice. Go in there and show her that she’s your only lady.” Haymitch instructed.
“What if she tells me to go away?” Peeta asked.
“Stay.” Effie answered. Peeta nodded his head and got out of his seat to go talk to you. He knocked on your door but this time, you didn’t answer. Peeta took a deep breath before opening the door and going in. You were on your bed with your knees drawn up to your chest. You gasped when he came in and threw a pillow at his head.
“What are you doing in here? Get out.”
“No. We’re talking.” Peeta said and sat on the edge of your bed.
“Well I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Too bad. Because I want to talk to you. Please? I can’t take it that you’re mad at me. I don’t want to go in the arena without hearing your voice. Can’t we just talk?” Peeta begged.
“Fine. What do you want to say?” You asked him.
“That you’re a big baby.” Peeta replied.
“Excuse me?” Your eyes widened when you didn’t get the apology you were expecting.
“You are.” He insisted. “You don’t get to be mad at me for unzipping Johanna’s dress when I didn’t even know what was happening.”
“What?” You laughed nervously. “I’m not mad at you for unzipping her dress. Why would I care about that?”
“I don’t know why you care. But I know that you’re jealous.”
“Jealous? Oh, please.” You scoffed and got off the bed to get away from Peeta.
“It’s okay to admit it.” Peeta said calmly. “I admit that I was jealous when I saw you talking to Finnick. And his giant muscles that are always out.”
“They are, aren’t they?” You smiled coyly.
“Hey.” Peeta said defensively.
“You’re the one who’s jealous. Not me.” You said and pointed to him.
“Then how come you’ve been mad at me ever since I unzipped her dress?” Peeta asked and walked over to you.
“It’s not about the dress!” You exclaimed.
“Then what is this about?” He asked. You scoffed again and folded your arms to close yourself off. Peeta wasn’t about to give up that easy and put his hands on your shoulders.
“Please tell me. I miss my friend.” He said quietly. You sighed and looked into his big sad eyes.
“I don’t care that you unzipped her dress.” You admitted. “You were just doing what she asked. I care that you were looking at her when she took her clothes off.”
“In my defense, I’ve never seen boobs before.” Peeta stated, making you laugh for second.
“Me either.”
“Not…not your own?” Peeta whispered in disbelief.
“Yes my own. Never another girls.” You explained and smacked his arm.
“Oh. I was gonna say. I know we don’t have a lot of mirrors in 12 but I think they’d be kinda hard to avoid- “
“I don’t want you looking at Johanna, okay?” You cut him off. “Or any other girls. I hated it. It made my blood feel hot and my stomach dropped to the floor. And then I couldn’t sleep because I kept replaying it in my head. What is that?”
“Thats jealousy.” Peeta explained with a pleased smile now that he knew Effie was right.
“Oh. Well I don’t want to feel it ever again. I didn’t like it.”
“Well I didn’t like when you didn’t talk to me.” Peeta said quietly.
“I’m sorry. I feel like my life is completely out of my hands lately. But you and I are the one thing I have a say in. So when it felt like our relationship was threatened, I tried to gain control by shutting you out.”
“It’s okay. I probably would’ve curled into a ball and cried right in front of you if I saw you unzip some guys pants.” He admitted, making you laugh again. You chuckled and pulled him into a hug to apologize for being so cold towards him. When you pulled out of the hug, you kept your arms around his neck and looked into his eyes.
“So seeing me with Finnick really made you jealous?” You asked with a smirk.
“Yeah. I was questioning our alliance the second I heard him make you laugh.” Peeta replied, making you laugh.
“Yeah. I know the feeling.”
“Why do you think we got so jealous seeing each other around other people?” Peeta wondered. You looked down at the floor and sighed.
“I think maybe we underestimated our feelings for each other.” You admitted.
“We?” Peeta raised an eyebrow.
“Fine. I underestimated my feelings. When I saw you looking at another girl, I realized the only one I want you looking at is me.”
“As if theres anything in this world that could make me take my eyes off you.” Peeta said softly.
“Except for Johanna’s boobs.” You mumbled under your breath.
“You’re the only one I’m looking at right now.” He assured you. You smiled for a second, then frowned.
“But you’re not thinking about them, right?” You asked him.
“I’m about to if you don’t stop bringing them up.” He said out of the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe I can take your mind off it?” You asked with a shrug.
“How?” Peeta barely got the word out before you were kissing him. He wrapped his arms around you to deepen the kiss as your hands found their way to his hair. There were no cameras and no witnesses because it was just yours.
“So we’re friends again?” Peeta asked once you pulled away.
“I don’t know. I don’t get jealous like over just my friends.” You said coyly. Peeta picked up on what you were saying and felt his face heat up. He pressed his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes.
“Good.” He said. “Because I never wanted to be just friends with you.”
you had always thought you were a listener. sometimes you are. but when you get down to talk about something, anything, with the person you're comfortable with you became a full on chatterbox.
so imagine when you're talking with megumi. maybe you're lounging around in his room, on his bed in eachother company's. and you kept talking and talking. and he's there, listening to every word. adding tidbits to your rambling but never shut you out.
you then realise how quiet he'd been and asked him questions about his days. he answered like he always do. short, precise and leading the conversation away and back to you.
you didn't notice how flawlessly he turned the topic. you only noticed how you're talking again. and a lot.
feeling self-conscious, you stopped mid-rambling. you fidget around your fingers and chuckles nervously, "i'm sorry i'm talking a lot," you said. a little sheepish that you let your mouth go on and on.
he was about to say that, no you aren't. infact it wasn't enough. he wanted you to talk more. that he was obsessed with your voice. with you and every part of your thoughts even the mundane ones.
but you cut him off, "if you think that i should shut up just say so. you don't have to—" you started apologizing before he squished your face with his palm.
your mouth looked like a duck when you tried to speak, "gumi what are you doing?" a small giggle came out of you.
megumi isn't the best at speech. he is worse than inumaki with the speech curse. he couldn't for the life of him convey to you how he felt with words.
so he did what he did best. he leaned closer to you. gave your cheeks a squeeze or two. and with what you think was a subtle pout on his face he said, "never stop talking."
he never said why, never told you how you make him feel, never said that whenever he's with you it was the highlight of his day. well, he didn't need to. because the way he took care of you and your feelings showed you more than he needs to say.
with a soft smile on your face you nodded, "alright." as you picked up where you left off. he's all ears for you, always for you. itadori, nobara, gojo-sensei, never got what you get. his neverending attention.
won’t admit he’s obsessed. won’t admit he’s whipped. won’t admit that when you touch his hand for one second, he thinks about it all week.
you text him ‘goodnight 💕’? he stares at his screen for ten minutes before whispering “goodnight” into the darkness like a loser in love.
pretends he’s not staring when you laugh. spoiler: he is.
his whole chest aches. like it’s too much that you exist in the same room as him and he’s allowed to breathe your air.
physically? he’s a mess.
hard all the time. literally just from hearing you say his name. “megumi?” boom. boner. instant.
he ruts against his mattress at 2am after walking you home. face in his pillow. thinking about your perfume.
he whispers, “fuck, i want you so bad…”
you wear his hoodie once? he snatches it back like it’s holy.
sleeps with it every night. smells it when no one’s around.
once you sit in his lap and he has to grip your hips because if you move even a little, he’ll come in his pants like a pathetic little simp.
emotionally? oh, he’s so far gone. jealous? oh baby.
he clenches his jaw when someone makes you laugh. doesn’t say anything, but next time you’re alone? “you think he’s funny?”
he mumbles darkly. “say it again and see what happens.”
you touch his hair? he’s yours forever.
he literally melts. you could murder him after and he’d say thank you. “can you do that again?” he whispers it like a secret.
terrified of losing you.
you say “i’m not going anywhere,” and he just hugs you tighter. doesn’t reply. just presses his face to your neck and breathes like he’s in pain.
and when he finally gets you in bed? oh. he loses his goddamn mind.
he whispers “i can’t believe you’re mine” while his cock is buried deep in you. “i’ve wanted this for so long.”
his pace is so slow and deep at first, because he’s savoring it.
he kissing your jaw. panting into your mouth. hands shaking on your hips.
he needs this to last. he’s dreamt of it forever.
finishes way too fast the first time.
he mumbles, “fuck, sorry, i just— you feel so good—”
but don’t worry, baby. he doesn’t stop. not until you’ve come more than once and he’s memorized every sound you make.
aftercare? out of control. water. snacks. shirt on you. kisses your forehead and curls around you like a dog who finally got adopted. “don’t go. please.”
the only time boyfriend!megumi will ever lie to you is when you're so comfortable in his bed, falling asleep and you ask in that sleepy voice of yours that he loves, whether he's comfy.
and his arm is dead, and his back hurts, and your hair is all in his face and your stuffed animal is under his ass and its plastic nose is digging into his tailbone, and he's pretty sure its a million degrees under all these blankets.
but you look up at him so sleepy and content, and he swears he can see hearts in your pupils.
so he grumbles, kisses your forehead, and says "yes."
yuji will leave the room with a whole mission in mind—water bottle, phone charger, hoodie, whatever—and you’ll hear him take maybe three steps before he doubles back.
he’ll pop his head back in the doorway, all wide eyes and sheepish grin. “…i forgot to kiss you.”
and you’re like, “yuji—”
but he’s already crossing the room, hands on your cheeks, giving you a quick little kiss. then another, because the first one “didn’t count.” then a third one, because now he’s smiling and you’re smiling and he’s obviously not leaving yet.
“okay,” he announces, very serious. “now i can go.”
he turns around. makes it two steps. then pauses.
“…wait. do you want anything while i’m up?”
and it’s not even that he’s procrastinating (he is). it’s that he genuinely likes being around you. like the idea of being away from you for more than a minute feels incorrect.
eventually he’ll make it out the door, only to yell from the hallway, “i miss you!”
ᰔ megumi fushiguro : megumi was trying to study on the floor of your room, back against the wall, notebook balanced on his knee. you sat across from him, tongue poking out slightly as you doodled in your own notebook. when you noticed his serious expression, you grinned and began sketching him. dramatic spiky hair, furrowed brows, pouty lips. finally you flipped the page around with a proud, “look! it’s you.” megumi blinked. it was terrible. completely disproportionate, stick figure arms and for some reason you’d given him a cape. but the way your eyes sparkled with anticipation, the shy little wiggle of your shoulders hit him harder than any curse could. he put his notebook aside and covered his face. “oh, for fuck’s sake.” “what? is it that bad?” you gasped dramatically. megumi dropped his hands and crawled across the floor, grabbing the notebook and tossing it aside. “no. you’re just—” he groaned, burying his face against your neck as his arms locked around you. “you’re too damn cute. i don’t know what to do with you.” you laughed, squealing when he squeezed you tighter. “megumi!” “shut up. i’m not letting go until i stop wanting to squish you.”
ᰔ yuji itadori : you were lying on the carpet, humming as you sorted through old polaroids. yuji sat cross-legged nearby, watching as you picked up each photo with care, smiling at memories frozen in time. one picture made you laugh, cheeks lifting as you held it out for him to see. a goofy selfie of the two of you, faces smushed together. yuji’s heart slammed against his ribs. your nose crinkled, your eyes sparkled and your laugh came from deep in your chest. his vision went fuzzy at the edges. “holy shit,” he whispered. you looked up, confused. “what?” he didn’t answer. instead he lunged forward, flattening you on the carpet with his full weight. “you’re killing me,” he groaned into your shoulder. “you’re literally the cutest thing alive, and it’s not fair.” you giggled under him, trying to squirm. “yuji, you’re crushing me!” “good,” he whined, squeezing you tighter. “maybe if i squish you enough, i’ll stop wanting to explode every time you smile.”
ᰔ yuta okkotsu : you sat on the porch steps outside the dorms, hair tucked behind your ears as you munched on a popsicle. yuta spotted you from a distance, the late sunlight painting you in gold. you swung your legs absentmindedly, cheeks puffing slightly as you took another bite. when the cold hit, your nose scrunched and your eyes fluttered shut with a tiny shiver. yuta froze mid-step. “oh no…” you looked up, smiling when you saw him. “hey, want a bite?” you held the popsicle toward him. yuta’s throat went dry. he shook his head quickly and walked over, but instead of taking the popsicle, he cupped your face in both hands and leaned his forehead against yours. “you don’t get it,” he said, his voice shaky with suppressed laughter. “you’re too cute. i can’t—i don’t know how to handle it.” “yuta?” you giggled confused. “i swear, i’m gonna bite you,” he admitted, hugging you close so he didn’t actually try. “you make me crazy. absolutely crazy.” your laugh echoed against his collarbone, and he only groaned, hugging you tighter. “please stop being this adorable. my heart can’t take it.”
ʚ⁺˖ » synopsis: your roommate and childhood best friend, yuji itadori, has two grave secrets: 1) he has a crush on you. 2) he's spider-man. spoiler: he's awful at keeping either.
ʚ⁺˖ » w.c: 18k, art cred: ig@/baaoozhe〃fluff, angst, smut, spiderman au, college au, living together, childhood friends, domestic fluff, cuddling, dogs, cooking together, kissing, tooth-rotting fluff, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), implied domestic abuse, happy ending.
ʚ⁺˖ » songs: playlist〃notes: i love spider-man and yuji so much like this actually feels like a proposal omg... ps: the playlist is like vibes i think this spider!yuji fic would have- hope you guys enjoy!!
Yuji Itadori has never wanted to be the centre of attention. Not even when he lands the biggest home run of the decade, or when he crosses another finish line first, smashing records the campus won’t stop bragging about.
As soon as the clock strikes seven, he’s gone.
No frats, no parties, no messy drama. In the kindest, nicest phrasing possible, he’s a dud. He’ll even disappear mid-conversation too, sprinting off with some sorry excuse of a “study session.” And if you’ve ever seen his grades, you’d wonder how these “study sessions” even happen at all.
Well, he is a jock—and he is reciting his script for tomorrow’s anthropology presentation... Just with someone else hanging upside down beside him, cocooned in sticky white web on some cityside rooftop.
...Hold up. Rewind one hour.
Gunshots echoed, bullets ricocheting, and in the midst of this circus of a firework show, there Yuji was—dodging clattering cans, cartons, and cereal boxes he was trying to save.
“Okay, think, think—don’t die, don’t die.”
The robber, in his ridiculous ski mask, barreled through the aisles in his frantic craze with his crowbar.
“Out of my way!” he shouted, knocking over another pyramid of canned chickpeas.
Yuji smirked.
Suddenly, a web shot out from his wrist, and the robber yelped as the strand snagged his ankle, tripping him into innocent chips. It’s almost pitiful as his arms flailed helplessly, packs crashing at the spectacle. With a grin, Yuji shot another string of white around the man’s torso.
“Relax! I’m the friendly neighbourhood jock—wait, superhero! Friendly neighbourhood superhero!”
Though the robber still spun in place, tumbling like a washing machine on spin cycle, “You little—”
Yuji fired again, webbing his arms and yanking him upright, “Ohhh, you like being dramatic? We can do dramatic.”
Another around the legs, another around the torso, and suddenly the man found himself dangling midair like a piñata—arms pinned to his sides, legs stiff as broomsticks.
A jar of olives bounced off his head for emphasis.
“PUT ME DOWN! WHAT IS THIS—?!”
With a swing from the shelf, Yuji landed with flair, crouching on a layered stack of cereal boxes as he grinned in amusement. “Relax, dude. You’re… uh… artfully suspended. Also, please stop moving, you’re making me dizzy.”
To his dismay, the robber still gyrated, knocking over carts and cans skittering across like tiny rockets. Thankfully, Yuji ducked just in time. With a sigh, he simply shot another web again.
“Hold still! Or I swear, I’ll—wait, nope, I’m not threatening you. I’m… just trying to help! With style!”
So, fast-forward to now, and really, it’s just another Tuesday in 2010s New York.
“The main cultural differences shape America in—”
“Hey! Can you let me down already?!”
Yuji, eyes squinted, snaps his head toward the man, coins jingling from his pockets. But he isn’t frowning at the robber… He just can’t read his notebook properly, especially with the thin fabric over his eyes. Each word is blurred into hazy smudges of grey.
Sometimes, Yuji Itadori doesn’t mind being the centre of attention.
Not when he's wearing the tight red-and-blue jumpsuit Nobara had stitched for him, seams puckered in all her nagging perfection.
Not when Megumi’s tech—definitely not borrowed, not stolen from his lab—glimmers faintly at his wrists.
And not when local news crews are scrambling to post grainy cellphone footage online, captions labelled with ridiculous, corny hashtags like #NYCSpidey, #OvercaffeinatedAcrobat, and #UnmaskThisGuy.
As soon as his last lecture of the day ends, he pulls down the mask, slips into the famous suit, and swings through the empire city that never sleeps.
He’s not Yuji Itadori anymore. He’s Spider-Man.
But tonight, though, he has an even greater problem than petty robberies and saving cats in trees. He has college.
“Dude, can you keep it down? I have an assignment due tomorrow and I’m stuck here babysitting you—" Police sirens wail in the distance, cutting him off. And underneath his mask, he simply smirks, snapping his notebook shut as red and blue sweep across the graffiti‑scrawled walls. “Aaand that’s my cue.”
With a flick of his wrist, the man is left gaping, flailing uselessly as Yuji leaps from the ledge.
The moon hangs low and full tonight. In the midst of its glow, he arcs over streets, headlights glinting like glass, weaving in between scaffolding poles. Trash swirls in the gusts around him, while faint damp concrete lingers as he glides past flickering streetlamps.
The grids of blocks lie dark, the breeze sharp, yet every window glimmers with golden light; they’re constellations scattered across the city that guide him home.
Even if what he does is nowhere near world-changing, he’s always reminded that the city is full of life, narratives. Every window, every golden light that spills through each pane of glass, hides a story—a heartbeat—and that fact alone is enough to lessen the weight of his double life just a bit.
As always, while swinging past, his gaze skims the streets, searching through the blur of headlights and shadows. He finds you like clockwork. Trudging home, arms full of groceries: a paper bag with lettuce, a baguette tucked under your arm, and vegetables brimming atop. You’re humming a song from your dangling earbuds, oblivious to the world around you.
He doesn’t mean to stare, but when you live in the same flat, coming home at the same time he clocks out from patrol… well, it’s only natural he makes sure his crush roommate gets home safe, too, right?
“I wonder what she’s making tonight…” he mutters.
With one soft push, he slips his window open and dives back inside.
The wooden floor doesn’t even creak under his landing, and the globe lamp atop his desk glows like a dim moon over scattered paper. He passes sticky notes plastered across his wall, zipping out his suit and tossing his book onto the bed. Stepping out, he flicks on the hallway lights—and it isn’t long before he hears the usual.
Your keys, the gentle click of the lock, and the first step you take inside, wrapped in the flat’s cosy warmth.
“Welcome back!” Yuji beams, hair tousled.
You nod back with a smile, shutting the door behind as you toe off your shoes. As you set the bag of groceries onto the kitchen island, you give him a smug smirk. “Did you just wake up?”
His eyes dart away, guilty, all while he rubs the back of his neck. A sheepish chuckle escapes. “...Maybe?”
You raise an eyebrow, sighing as he pulls a chair from the island.
Ever since you moved in together with your childhood friend, you’ve learned three things about him: he eats terribly, naps like a cat, and will stare at you from the corner of the room with glassy, desperate eyes if he ever smells food.
And whether he admits it or not, you know when to drag him by the wrist, plop him down in front of a bowl, and pour him something warm. You’ve done it since high school. You’re still doing it now.
Sure, he’s stubborn, but so are you, and tonight is no different.
“I’m just making some simple tomato soup,” you say, spreading the groceries across the counter.
The city skyline glitters faintly from behind him, setting aglow the twinkling fascination in his golden eyes.
“Because you—” you tap his forehead with a finger, nudging him back, “are finishing your presentation script tonight. And I’m helping you with it.”
His eyes widen. “What?! How do you know about that?”
“If I have to hear Megumi complain one more time about you cramming your share of the load,” you groan, washing the vegetables, “I might start seeing both of you in my dreams.”
“Oops…” Yuji whistles, caught red-handed.
In the corner of your eye, you see him drift over as you slice the tomatoes.
“Can I help you cook then? Y’know… as repayment?”
You nearly slice the tip of your finger at the audacity, but his hands, as usual, catch your wrist before anything disastrous happens. “You?”
You turn to look at him, his smile as bright as ever. “The last time you offered, everything tasted bland.”
He pouts under your gaze—lips pursed, brows scrunched. “I’ll never learn if I don’t try...”
A beat passes.
You sigh in resignation, and that’s all he needs. Yuji’s already pumping his fists triumphantly in the air, snatching the spare apron hanging off the oven handle.
“Let’s goooo!” he cheers.
You giggle at his flippant victory cry, but you don’t notice how his gaze lingers on you in the soft golden kitchen light—the curve of your eyes, the bloom of your cheeks. He’s taller than you, so it goes unnoticed, hidden in the shadow between you.
“And this time, don’t forget the salt,” you tease, stepping toward the pot.
“Yeah, yeah—oh! Put on that Cowboy Bebop opening. It’s been stuck in my head all day.”
You frown, eyeing the tiny apron stretched ridiculously over his frame. Your thumb’s already swiping across your battered iPhone 4, searching. When the first chord blasts, Yuji just stares.
“Based on how you’re holding that knife,” you chortle, “this feels more fitting.”
“…You think I’m gonna break into kung-fu fighting?!”
You shrug mockingly, moving to boil the water as he sputters just beside you. And it isn’t long before the kitchen settles into a cosy rhythm—the chop of vegetables, the hiss of butter, the soft swirl of simmering broth—and of course, your constant two-minute interval scoldings.
“W–Why are the tomatoes diced like that?”
“I—I swear someone did this on Hell’s Kitchen last night—”
“I told you a little oil. Why is the pan half full?!”
“Uh…”
“I’m monitoring what kind of weird cooking shows you’re watching from now on.”
The soup’s fragrance fills the room—sun-ripe tomatoes, roasted garlic, and basil blooming bright with butter. It smells like warmth, like home, and the little life you’ve carved out together. Even Yuji stops mid-chop, knife still hovering in the air, just to inhale.
“Here you go,” you say, sliding the bowl toward him.
He drops into his chair—shoulders rolling, a quiet sigh slipping past his lips. He thinks you don’t notice, but his fingers are still faintly red around the knuckles. The moment his eyes land on the bowl, something bright flickers in him.
The soup glows a deep orange-red, thick and velvety, droplets of olive oil shimmering across its sheen like tiny flecks of gold. Steam curls upward, brushing his cheeks, and in the dead of winter, the warmth blooms against him like late summer. Softening the night sky, brightening it like morning light.
When he takes the first spoonful, his eyes go wide.
Silence hangs in the room, but he just sets the spoon down gently, shoulders dropping another inch. He takes another bite, slower, and holds it in on his tongue. Under the table, his foot taps out its usual restless beat to a steady rhythm.
You have no idea what kind of day he’s had to be this hungry.
You don’t see the scuff on the side of his shoe, from where he landed too fast on the rooftop across the street. Or the tiny tear at the hem of his sleeve, where something sharp grazed him. Or the way he’d winced when you turned away earlier, instantly straightening as if nothing had happened.
All you see is Yuji—sunshine, sweetness—devouring the soup as if it’s literally saving him. You quietly rest your chin in your hands, grinning while he inhales spoonful after spoonful, like it’s the single greatest thing he’s tasted all week.
“Is it good?” you coo.
He nods so fast his hair bounces, and a smear of soup ends up on the corner of his lip. He doesn’t notice, but you do, and you’re giggling before you can stop yourself.
You turn toward the window, watching the city smear into streaks of gold and red, and in that split second, he lifts his gaze, eyes catching on you. His spoon pauses halfway to his mouth, suspended in midair, forgotten for the still of a heartbeat.
His breath stumbles, chest rising too quickly in the quiet. Goosebumps prick along his arms, and this time, it isn’t from the danger his sixth sense is warning him of. It’s from the way the skyline burns in your eyes, as if every light in New York decided to gather just to admire you with him.
He catches the soft amber strokes on your cheeks as your small smile curls like cotton-soft warmth—and underneath the dim neon glow, you look too gentle for the shadows, too bright for the night. For a breathless moment, he wants to steal you away.
To borrow you from the world, and keep this evening tucked somewhere only for the two of you.
“...Let’s go see something.” The words slip out before he can catch them.
You blink up at him, and the room instantly falls away, softened to all but a hush of the world. “What?”
He’s already getting up from his seat, draping his jacket over your shoulders as he takes your bowl. He reaches out your hand, and after a few seconds, you finally cave in. Leading you to the window, he pushes it open to the rushing cold air.
“What are you—”
“Trust me.”
He steps onto the fire escape’s metal platform. You hesitate for only a heartbeat, then follow, fingertips brushing the cold iron railing. Halfway up, he glances back at you, and his smile spills across the dim rooftop glow. Brighter than Manhattan’s windows, brighter than the neon signs, and even more so than the giddiness in your chest.
Your heart stutters for a bit.
The hum of traffic drifts up from below, weaving through the gaps in the grating, and when you reach the rooftop, the wind tugs at your clothes, ruffling hair and jacket alike. Stretched beneath you was the entire glitter of New York ahead, a glowing chaos of gold veins and shadows.
You suck in a breath, clutching Yuji’s jacket tighter around your shoulders.
“...It’s beautiful,” you whisper.
He doesn’t look at the shimmering skyline, but only at you. The spark in your eyes catching the glint of distant lights. Sitting down, he pats away the dust beside him, pulling you down to follow him. You plop yourself down, knees brushing.
“Right? When things are heavy, I like to sit and just watch the lights from above.”
Giggling, you take the warm bowl from his hands, the heat spreading through your fingers and mingling with the steam curling like tiny ghosts between you. “I didn’t know you were also a rooftop climber.”
He flinches slightly, but you don’t notice, lost as you are in the flickering tapestry of lights and the comforting weight of his jacket draped around your shoulders.
“...Thanks,” you murmur.
He tilts his head to your voice, and his smile blooms like a lantern in the cold fluorescent glow of the city. He notices the dark circles under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders while cooking, and the faint, heavy sighs. Time hangs between you, quiet.
“Is it because of your mother?” He doesn’t mean to pry. He simply waits, patient and quiet.
Years ago, when he was fourteen and the weight of the world had abandoned him to debt and despair, it was you who had pulled him into the light.
You, who had brought him home, were pleading with your parents to let him stay, working alongside him through three jobs, shielding him from bullies, and carving out space for him in a world that had none.
And it wasn't because of pity—it was simply because it was right.
And that small, steady truth had been more than enough for him to realise, walking home together one evening, that life without you was unthinkable. Impossible.
But ever since that incident, Yuji spends his nights differently now, wondering if he even still has the right to be sitting next to you. Perhaps that’s why he’s swinging across buildings now, a distraction to the ache he can’t name. The tugging knot of fear that writhes from his core.
“Mm… same old,” you murmur, eyes drifting to the golden veins of streets below, lids heavy.
“You know I’m always here for you, right?”
You shift your gaze toward him. His brows crease, jaw tight, lips parted, as if he’s waiting for a question you’ve buried too deep to speak. Yet your hands move betrayingly, fingers brushing against his, seeking him out over the coarse, cold brick beneath you.
He threads his fingers through yours with an ease so natural, it terrifies you. A knot coils low in your stomach, tightening with every heartbeat, your hand trembling beneath the gentle heat of his.
The wind tugs at your hair, lights flickering beyond the skyline like tiny stars. Amidst the faint hum of traffic and the electric scent of the city, each glow pulses, just like the racing of your heart.
You can feel it, the quiet certainty in his touch. You know he means it. You really do.
But even so, your lips betray you. They tremble against a single word, from the weight of too many nights spent replaying every thought, every fear.
“...Thanks.” A fragile whisper, soft as paper, heavy as stone.
Somewhere far below, a taxi honks. Somewhere far above, a neon sign blinks. But in between both, it’s just the two of you. And even with all the uncertainty, the nights, and the unspoken truths that linger between breaths, you settle.
This litany of quiet is enough.
It’s eleven o'clock out, the sun is stupidly bright, and you want to die. Like—crawl six feet under and stay burrowed in there—die.
“See you tomorrow!” the woman calls as you leave, a paper bag of tangerines digging into your fingers.
You flash her a beaming smile, hiding your soul-rotting exhaustion. The door’s jingle follows you onto the bustling sidewalk.
New York is already in full chaos mode. Yellow cabs are barking at each other, crowds are shoving downstream like human traffic jams, and tourists are wrestling with crumpled city maps like they’re cursed.
When you glance up, you see the usual pigeons parading shop awnings, lined like entitled landlords. Scaffolding poles crisscross above you, towering between skyscrapers, and your earphones dangle uselessly around your neck.
No song is strong enough to fight the throbbing migraine pulsing behind your eyes, and it’s probably because you were up until 5:00 a.m. helping Yuji.
The memory punches you in the brain.
“Why the hell is it blank?” you’d blurted—because how else were you supposed to react to that monstrosity? You were both on the living room carpet, his laptop glowing tragically atop the coffee table.
Yuji jerked his head toward you, scandalised. “Um, no? There’s the title slide, the body slide, and the bullet points. It’s got everything it needs.”
You didn’t need a degree to see all the ways that was a crime, and maybe you’re just a saint—that’s what he thinks—but you were already storming into your room, grabbing your laptop.
“Okay, you—” you pointed at him, “write your script. I’m fixing your slides.”
His eyes widened, watching as you flipped open your laptop, copied the link, and sent it over.
“We’ll revise the whole thing on four, and—”
Bla bla bla… your words were already blurring into the mindless static of Yuji’s head. In that deserted hollowness of a brain, there was just awe.
The way your focus sharpened, the way your brows pinched, the way you sank into a task like the world around you melted away… it was the same look you’d had four years prior.
When both of you still worked for some cramped, greasy kitchen in Queens—and then, he’d been elbow‑deep in suds, wrist aching, sweat sticking his bangs to his forehead.
Suddenly, you burst through the door.
“What the—” Yuji had jumped, nearly dropping a plate. But you didn’t even flinch at his shock. You were already rolling up your sleeves, sweeping half his stack of dirty dishes into your arms.
“No wonder you’re coming home at ten every day,” you muttered, scrubbing. “I asked the manager how many extra shifts you took. Care to explain?”
Yuji immediately paused. Your eyes still stayed focused on your side of the sink, though. The plate in his hand, the steam, and the music drifting faintly from the restaurant’s old radio all seemed to stop.
“We need the money,” he said gently, the corner of his mouth tugging up in a hopeful smile. He reached to take the plate from you, “Come on—hand it back. It’s my responsibility.”
Your grip didn’t budge. You just glared at him from under your lashes. “We promised not to keep secrets from each other,” you murmured.
Silence fell. Only the muted hum of jazz seeped in from the dining area, trembling throughout the fragile string in the air.
Then you whispered, almost too quietly for him to hear. “...It's not like I want to stay home either."
His stomach tightened.
You weren’t supposed to say—even, feel that kind of hurt. Hell, he didn't want you to think of uttering those words... At least when he was by your side.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. But after a few moments of still silence, he dug his fingers into his palms.
His chest paused mid-rise. “We’re moving out as soon as I get paid.”
Your head snapped toward him. And there it was—that boyish grin. The same one he’d given you at six years old on the playground, when he offered you half his juice box just after you scraped your knee.
“I checked our savings,” he said softly. “We’ll have enough by this month.”
Your lips parted. Your eyes widened. And when the realisation hit you, Yuji quickly stripped off his gloves and ruffled your hair with a warm, shaking laugh. “New York, angel. New life.”
Your throat tightened. Your heart stopped.
And before you knew it, your vision was blurring up like fog. His hair still spun rose-gold, soft and shimmering through the garble—and somehow, even through the haze, he was still the brightest thing in the room.
He had prayed to every God he knew to do anything, to never see you cry again. That if sadness ever had to choose, it would pick him, and not you.
So when your tears finally spilt under the cheap fluorescent lights, he didn’t hesitate. He pulled you in, firm arms wrapping around you as you clung to the back of his hoodie, shoulders shaking.
You choked on your own soft sniffles, finally surrendering to the dam of emotions you’d bottled all these years. All the while, he quietly kept his hold on you, whispering it again, breath warm against your ear.
New York. New life.
Flash forward four years—after the spider bite, after the powers, after the secrets that clawed at his nights—and some things never changed.
“Angel…” he murmured, stunned all over again. Because sure, he saved cats, strangers and entire banks on his better days, but it came at the cost of everything else.
His friends all think he’s unreliable, a dud, and weirdly bad at showing up—college deadlines slipped, plans fell apart, and every time the hairs on his arms stood up, that electric buzz tingling in his bones—he had to go. He just had to.
He knew what happened when he ignored it, and even in the darkest of nights, he still hears the crackle of fire from the apartment next door.
But you stayed.
You always stayed.
He wanted to hug you.
To kiss you.
To press his forehead to yours and promise that he’d protect you from everything—even himself.
But he swallowed it down, locked it away where it couldn’t slip out too easily.
And he just… smiled.
That boyish, earnest smile he never realises has the power to crumble all your walls.
Enough to also keep your whole world from collapsing. Enough to make you brave. Enough to make you trust him even when everything else in your life feels like it’s slipping between your fingers.
For as long as you can remember, it’s always felt like you and him against the world.
You know how he disappears every night, how he’s never on time for anything, how he comes back scraped or breathless or exhausted—but you never ask. You don’t pry. You don’t push.
Because Yuji is the one person you’d bend your whole life around if it meant easing his burdens. You trust him—you trust him in a way that terrifies you. You’ve known him long enough to understand the softness of his heart, the way he tries to carry everything alone, the way he refuses to let people worry for him.
And you know, deep down, that he’d never hurt anyone.
He’d never hurt you.
So you keep your silence with that one line he’s unknowingly drawn between you.
Even when you feel his gaze lingering on you longer than it should.
Even when goosebumps rise along your arms in the soft, living warmth of the room.
Even when you ache to reach out, to cup his face, to ask him why it feels like something is always slipping away.
Neither of you speaks. Neither of you steps forward.
Your fingers twitch at your sides, his hands clench slightly at his thighs.
Even when this fragile string you’re threading so carefully on is the very thing hurting you both.
You’re slipping through the afternoon crowd like a loose page torn from a book, shoving past another tourist whose camera strap is swinging wildly. The air smells faintly of burnt bagels, exhaust, and wet asphalt from last night’s rain. Metal trash cans clatter in the wind, lids rattling against their rims, and somewhere above, the faint screech of the subway reverberates from the tracks overhead.
Footsteps echo around you, tyres hiss against the wet asphalt, yet even in this city that never sleeps, your thoughts drift as you shuffle through the bustle.
I wonder how Yuji’s presentation went?
Hopefully well. Otherwise, you’ll have to suffer through the hell of Megumi’s complaints for at least another month.
You yawn, squinting as your vision blurs slightly against the harsh reflection of the rising sun on glass skyscrapers. The traffic light clicks, the pedestrians’ signal flipping to red, but suddenly, your eyes catch something else entirely.
Something small, trembling, utterly out of place in the chaos. A golden-furred bundle curled in the middle of the crossing.
A puppy.
Your heart stutters.
Everyone sees it, yet no one moves. Cars keep rolling, and the pup curls in on itself, shaking so violently you can feel it even from the curb.
What the hell?
Your mind scatters in ten directions at once, tripping over every worst-case scenario. Logic screams, Don’t run into traffic, so you're forced to stand there—foot tapping, throat tight, breath trapped—waiting. As soon as the pedestrian light ticks green, your legs run before you can even think.
You sprint.
Your sneakers slap against the asphalt, the city blurring around you in a rush of horns and exhaust. With a quick drop of a crouch, breath heaving, you slowly stick out a hand for it to sniff, but it shrinks back, paws skittering against the cold pavement.
It’s terrified. Of everything. The honks, the stomps, the chatter—New York’s roar is swallowing the tiny thing whole.
The pedestrian countdown crackles overhead, each tick like a punch to your ribs, and your heartbeat syncs with it—frantic, stuttering, racing.
“It’s okay, it’s okay…” you whisper.
But it’s not. Not even close.
You glance up.
Ten seconds left.
Fuck it.
You drop the paper bag. Tangerines scatter across the crosswalk, bumping under shoes, rolling into gutters as you sweep the trembling puppy into your arms. Its ribs flutter against your palms frantically. You whisper whatever calming nonsense you can manage—
HOOOONK.
The blare is so loud it splits your thoughts in half.
Before you even fully straighten, the world explodes into white behind your eyes. You snap your head toward the sound.
A truck is barreling toward you.
Too close.
Too fast.
Your entire body locks. There’s no time to run, no time to scream. The world narrows to the shadow swallowing you—
An arm suddenly clamps around your waist.
The ground vanishes, wind knifes past your ears. In a blink of an eye, you’re off the asphalt and slammed into the blur of motion.
The city snaps back into focus just as your feet touch down on solid pavement, and right behind you, “Whoa there—careful!”
You freeze, heart slamming into your ribs.
You know that voice. You’d know it in a thunderstorm, a blackout, a dream. “Yu—” But when you whirl around, ready to scream at him, you freeze. The person holding you isn’t Yuji.
It’s Spider-Man.
The spandex, the mask, and the red and blue in all its stupid glory—standing right in front of you, fingers still trembling slightly where they had been gripping your waist. He slowly lets go of it, watching as you spin to face him, face shaken.
As more and more people start to crowd the two of you, they’re lifting phones, shouting.
It’s his voice. You know it.
But there’s also absolutely no way that Yuji Itadori—your perpetually late, starving, ghost of a roommate—is the same Spider-Man plastered all over the Daily Bugle every day, busy saving lives.
You swallow hard, “…Thank you.”
He glances down, raising his knuckle for the shaking pup—and after a few sniffs, he boops its nose, its tail giving a tiny, shy wag.
“What a cutie,” he says softly. “Is this yours?”
He knows the answer. He shouldn’t even be talking this much. But when you look up at him—stunned, scared, and shocked—he stays.
You pause for a moment, brain short-circuiting before shaking your head. He gestures gently. “I can take him to a local shelter, if you want.”
What?
Your arms instinctively tighten around the pup, but after a few beats, the tension in your shoulders eases. With a hesitant nod, you slowly pass it over—and to your surprise, he holds the little thing way too gently, cradling it close to his chest.
Then, he asks, “Do you want to come with us?”
Your head instantly perks up to him.
He wants you to come… with him.
Your heart thuds against your ribs, the cluster of crowds sending your brain into cartwheels now. Your fists are still against his chest, clenched, and after a few beats, you nod once.
“...Please?” you add, voice barely above a whisper.
Something in him melts.
“Alright,” he murmurs, hooking an arm around your waist with the pup. “No tall skyscrapers this time, though. Gotta make sure I don’t scare the pup.”
Before you can even process what he’s saying, a white web shoots out from his wrist—
And you’re fucking airborne.
“AAAAAAAAA—!!” You’re screaming as the wind whips across your face, the ground blurring beneath your feet.
One awning leads to another, gilding just above the traffic—and somehow, that makes it even more terrifying; you can see the cars, the flashing lights, the stunned pedestrians filming you as you pass.
You cling to him like your life depends on it, your yell trembling amidst the racing wind as your arms stay wrapped tight around his neck. Meanwhile, this idiot is laughing. Laughing. And even the puppy is having fun, tail wagging like a metronome of betrayal.
You swear you can even see his tail wagging as well, burrowing your face even deeper into his neck as you shut your eyes.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” you shout, voice cracking. The idiot of a vigilante only laughs harder, grip still strong on your waist.
He doesn’t know how his heart nearly stopped when he saw you kneeling in front of the barreling truck. He doesn’t know how close he came to losing his mind. And he doesn’t know how many Gods he’d prayed for the shortest split second.
“Put me down, put me down, put me down!” You’re sobbing into his neck, eyes glued shut as the wind smacks the hair into your face.
Finally, the world slows to a stop. He lands softly on the asphalt, and everything stills—all but your trembling breaths. Shallow, shaky, and way too embarrassingly loud in your own ears.
He leans in, voice low enough that only you can hear it through the muffled city noise.
“We’re here,” he whispers.
You refuse to move. Absolutely not.
Your face stays buried in the crook of his neck, arms locked tight, fingers curled stubbornly. He chuckles softly.
Cute.
The pup wiggles out from between you two, popping its head out. It yaps once, twice, and you slowly crack open one eye, hands weakly releasing their grip on his suit. A shaky breath leaves your lips as you finally peel yourself off him, stumbling back—only for him to catch you again by the elbow.
“And we haven’t even reached forty feet yet,” he teases, head tilted.
You glare weakly, voice hoarse. “I am never doing that again.”
He doesn’t even need to say anything; you can feel the smug grin through the mask.
With a soft spin on his heel, he steps past you toward a storefront wedged between two towering brick buildings. The sign above it is faded, chipped around the edges, and the door’s chime jingles as he slips inside with the puppy nestled in one arm.
You stand there in the midst of the pavement, though, heart still thundering, sneakers planted on solid ground, and even if you’ve touched the ground for at least a few minutes now, it feels like you’re still up there mid-swing.
The city moves like normal around you. Horns, footsteps, conversations—it all feels muted, stuffed cotton in your ears. You’re floating.
Absolutely floating.
A few moments later, and the chime rings again. He steps out… with the same puppy still in his arms. You blink as he gives a tiny shrug.
“Sooo… turns out they’re totally out of vacant spots right now," he glances at the pup, the critter innocently tilting its head. “I can swing to another one, maybe—”
“I’ll take him.” The words leave your mouth before you even think them through, cutting through the fragile string of silence.
He looks at you, stunned. You’re taking it in?
Before he can say anything, you crouch immediately, scratching the puppy under the chin as it whines into your palm, tail flailing like a fuzzy little helicopter.
Sure, why not?
Maybe Yuji will finally start showing up more. Maybe he’ll actually help take care of it. Maybe—
“Uh—you sure?”
All the while, Yuji, as mentioned above, is panicking to death in his head. He’s not even there for half the night, how the hell is he gonna take care of it? But there’s you, of course, so it can’t be that bad, right?
“Mhm,” you nod, scooping the warm ball of golden fluff against your chest. “Look, it loves me already!”
You giggle as it barks happily, tiny paws scrambling at your collar as it leans up to lick your jaw. Warm little breaths puff against your skin, sunlight breaking through the thinning clouds overhead, catching on its fur and turning it into a tiny halo of honey-gold—soft enough to melt winter, blithe enough to quiet the city.
He goes still.
Of course, it loves you.
The breeze rolls by, threading through the loose strands of your hair, and he watches the sunlight kiss them the same way it kisses the dog’s fur, as if the two of you were made of the same warmth.
He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t need to. The tilt of his head, the stillness of his hands, the way he forgets about the crowd, the noise, the city—all of it betrays him.
You’re shining underneath the bleeding sun, laughing even with the trembling puppy in your arms, and for one still second, the weight of what almost happened hits him harder than any fall he’s taken tonight.
Harder than any punch, any rooftop landing, any sprint through the freezing wind.
And he knows it. He knows exactly what that ache is.
“Where do you live?” he asks, voice lower than before, too casual even to be casual.
Your gaze snaps to him. And the second you see the curve of his masked grin—smug, obvious, and entirely too proud of himself—your stomach sinks.
“So…” he drawls, head tilting. “Round two?”
You groan, clutching the dog a little tighter like it might suddenly save you. “God, save me.”
“Roger that, Ma’am.”
You smack his arm. He laughs.
And the sun, traitorous as ever, lights you up like something worth falling for.
The metal railing trembles as he steps onto your balcony, but unlike it, you don’t steady—not even after your sneakers touch the concrete. Your knees are still jelly, your stomach is still somewhere midair, and you’re pretty sure you’ll never get used to this.
Frankly, you’re praying you won’t ever have to.
Behind you, the sun melts into winter’s edge, streaking the clouds with bleeding crimson.
“Welcome home!”
“Thank you,” you breathe.
The golden pup squirms in your arms, and the moment you crack open the balcony door, it launches inside. You can’t help but laugh as it bounds across the living room, sniffing corners, trotting in frantic circles, all while its tail wags with a delirious joy only pure innocence can have.
You’re tired—he can see it. The slope of your shoulders, the soft drag of your steps, the yawns you pretend are subtle. Even your laughter sounds like it’s holding up the walls of a crumbling day.
He leans against the railing behind you, watching with a chuckle, and he knows he shouldn’t linger, shouldn’t risk even this much, but it’s you. And tonight, for reasons he can’t name out loud, he wants to show you something special.
“Hey,” he calls softly, “ever wondered what it’s like sixty feet up?”
You turn. He stands there with his arms crossed, head tilted, grin smug enough to see even beneath the mask.
“You’re kidding.”
He shrugs. “You look like you need a pick‑me‑up. And I think I know just the thing.”
Before you can argue, his hands are slipped around your waist already, like he’s done this a million times before.
And somehow, like your body recognises him from somewhere you can’t name, you don’t pull away. You only lift a brow, smirking. “Literally?”
He huffs a boyish laugh and reaches past you to slide the balcony door shut. His gaze flickers to the puppy already curled on a cushion, drifting into a soft nap after its chaotic afternoon.
“The vet said he’s trained and vaccinated. So…” His voice dips, playful. “It wouldn’t hurt if I steal you for a few minutes, right?”
You pretend to think about it. “Maybe.”
Maybe.
Damn, if he didn’t have his stupid mask on, you’d see the way his whole face breaks into the most hopeless grin ever. God really does send his hardest missions to his strongest soldiers.
“Hang on tight.”
He doesn’t need to tell you twice. Your arms loop around his neck, and just as quickly as you can breathe, you’re suddenly up in the air—you still can’t help but scream at the sudden jump in height.
A strangled cry rips out of your throat as the city drops away beneath your feet. He’s still laughing at the ridiculousness of your reaction, and for once in both your lives, you’re screaming with the sort of freedom that only comes with the wish of a shooting star.
You definitely feel like one, too.
Skyscrapers streak past, wind clawing at your clothes. Your face is buried in his shoulder—because looking down might as well kill you—but even through your terror, a traitorous warmth swells in your chest.
He hears every sound you make, every breathless scream, and he’s stupidly amused. Even when your eyes are screwed shut from how fucking terrifying this is.
Finally, he lands on what sounds like concrete with a soft thud, steadying you before your knees can give out. Your fingers are still clutched to his suit, but he pries them off gently, turning you around.
You crack open one eye.
Then both.
And instantly, your breath catches.
The horizon is on fire.
The wild, bright yellow flame burns in the centre of the molten gold, every skyscraper splinting it in fractured sheets of amber and rose. And as it dips right across the water, your heart skips a beat, the sky bleeding with streaks of orange and bruised violet. Light scatters from the heavens, a shower that shimmers just across the horizon’s sea—a ramp of falling stars just for the two of you.
“…It’s beautiful,” you whisper.
The same words you told him the first time he brought you to the rooftop. He remembers. God, he remembers everything. He turns his head.
The horizon is burning in the distance, but he doesn’t glance up. His gaze lingers on you, tracing the way the light brushes your hair, the tilt of your jaw, the slow inhale of your awe—and in that moment, the city, the sunset, the wind, nothing else exists.
You outshine every single drop of light in the bleeding sky, and he hates that he can’t even tell you.
Something in your chest loosens, then gives. For one strange, impossible moment, the pressure of everything—your deadlines, your rent, your exhaustion, the heaviness of simply existing—feels lighter.
You turn to him, smiling. “Thank you.”
The sun flares behind you, painting you in gold, and he thinks helplessly that even this sunset pales beside you.
His heart punches against his ribs, hammering hard enough to bruise.
He keeps his hands in fists so you won’t see them shake, nails digging into his palms, trying to anchor himself.
Because if he doesn’t, he’ll do something reckless.
…Like pull his mask up and kiss you under a dying sun.
He jabs a gloved knuckle against the glass of Nobara’s bedroom window—once, twice, thrice—fast. Even muffled behind the mask, Nobara can recognise it anywhere. Especially when it’s coming from her window on the tenth fucking floor.
“Knock, knock! House of fabulous engineers and fashion icons! Hellooo?”
A muffled groan leaks from the glass.
The window slides open with a wet creak, and Nobara leans out—hair damp from a shower, hoodie half-zipped, face frowned. She’s literally one inconvenience away from shutting it on his fingers.
“What,” she deadpans, “the hell do you want?”
Yuji straightens proudly, chest puffing out. “Guess who just saved someone from a truck, carried them to a view that’d make Van Gogh rise from the grave, and completely turned their day around! And they don’t even know it was me!”
His words are tumbling over like runaway marbles, tripping out of his mouth in the sudden rush of excitement. Each breath fogs the inside of his mask, tiny clouds drifting up as he gestures wildly, eyes sparkling even behind the webbed veil.
From behind her, Megumi’s voice drifts, monotonous as ever. “You look like a five-year-old who drank too much espresso.”
Yuji spins halfway, giving him a thumbs-up. “And you built the tech that made that possible! So technically, I am a caffeinated genius who saves people, sooooo—you’re the genius behind the genius!”
“Obviously it’s about her,” Nobara says, arms crossed, one brow arched. “Why else knock on my window like some homicidal pigeon?”
Yuji grins boyishly beneath the mask, tilting his head. “Because someone had to tell the people who made me this awesome that I did something awesome!”
He hops back onto the slick rooftop, landing with barely a splash. Rain glazes over the red and blue of his suit, gloves leaving faint smudges of rain, but he doesn’t care. He crouches—knees loose, fingers tapping, eyes flicking between Nobara and Megumi—and he rambles.
“You’d be so proud. I got her out of danger—like, barely-saw-my-life-flash-before-my-eyes danger—and she held onto me and we just… we ended up on this roof where the whole skyline looked like it was melting gold. And she laughed! And I—”
His hand stills over his heart.
Nobara squints at him, expression softening for half a second before she ruins it deliberately. “You’re ridiculous. Just confess already.”
Yuji crouches lower, fists on his knees, eyes practically sparkling. The rain slides off his mask in thin streams, glossing over like small scattered stars. All the while, the skyline stretches behind him, windows blinking like constellations.
He’s glowing too, like he can’t hold all his giddiness inside.
Behind her, Megumi doesn’t move, but there’s a faint, reluctant curve tugging at the corner of his mouth. They’ve both seen this a million times.
Yuji, hopelessly in love. Yuji, trying not to be obvious. Yuji, failing.
But then, he thinks of you, back in your apartment, probably waiting for him with that puppy curled on your lap—probably wondering why he’s coming back late again.
His heart kicks.
Without warning, he shoots a web to the edge of the rooftop. “Okay—gotta go—BYE!”
Before Nobara can yell, he launches himself into the storm-soaked night, flipping once, twice, and vanishing into the wind.
“YOU’LL HEAR ABOUT THIS TOMORROW, I SWEAR!” he hollers back, voice bouncing between the buildings.
Nobara sighs dramatically and shuts the window, all the while Megumi’s smirk survives exactly three seconds before he wipes it off.
As he disappears into the glittering darkness, the city continues to shine. But it’s obvious who he’s rushing home for, and somewhere below, the night hums with the secret only three people know:
Spider-Man Yuji Itadori is swinging through New York like a boy in love.
When Yuji comes back, he’s yelping in surprise when the little rascal of a pup rushes over to him. Its paws are already scattered across the wooden floor for a launched attack. “What the—?!”
He picks up the pup in his arms, snuggling into it as you appear from the corner of the hallway, snickering at the scene. “Kiniro likes you already.”
It takes everything in him to bite back his laughter and act surprised. After all, he can’t quite literally tell you he was the one saving you both just earlier today, right?
“I didn’t know you brought back this little pup,” he giggles, letting it lick his face. “You even named him?”
You sigh, plopping yourself onto the carpet. “He was in the middle of a pedestrian street. Thankfully, Spider-Man saved him.”
You pat your lap, Kiniro eagerly running straight back to you, “The animal shelter was full, though, but I think we’re stable enough to afford just another pet, don’t you think?”
Yuji’s already walking over to you, slinging his bag across the couch as he ruffles your hair. “I can just pick up another job if you really want to.”
He doesn’t miss that you don’t include yourself in being saved, but he doesn’t nag. All that matters is you’re safe and sound, and with the arrival of little Kiniro, your grin seems just a tiny bit wider.
“Ugh, you’re not even home half the time,” you groan, tugging him down to sit next to you, “Don’t.”
He smirks at your comment, simply shrugging. “You would not believe my day, though,” he starts, running a hand through his hair.
“Coach made us do sprints at 8 a.m. Eight. A. M. The sun was barely awake. I was barely awake,” he plops himself down beside you. “Then I had to do that boring presentation for Anthropology.”
You snort. “What about it? Did you actually, I don’t know—not screw it up?”
“Ohhh, the presentation? Killed it. Destroyed it. Megumi totally knew you helped, too.”
You shake your head, smiling as he continues. With a soft sigh, you raise both hands behind you as you stretch out your sore arms. “Thank God. We still need to go grocery shopping, though… We don’t have food for either him or us.”
“Do you want me to go?”
You’re already getting up, though. “Nah, let’s go together, like usual.”
He smiles. Yeah. Like usual.
So flash forward now, one hour later—
He’s tossing all sorts of odd combinations into your trolley, and when he’s the one pushing it, that means you’re going to be barely stopping him from picking yet another pack of chips in the aisle beside.
Because, seriously, what kind of trolley has fruits, meat, chips and dog food all at once? Any other college student, he says. Well, you don’t complain further, because you’re already busy thinking about what to cook for dinner.
Metal shelves press together like metro train commuters, all the while humming coolers whisper across aisles—stacked with the classic 99¢ ramen, chips, and plastic-wrapped bagels. The overhead fluorescent lights buzz faintly amidst the static hiss of the radio’s pop song, always a little too bright, and it cuts through the shuffle of tired locals grabbing dinner after work.
Both of you pass each aisle, and when he reaches up just one more time, he says, for the latest bag of chips, you slap his hands away. He gives you a pout, but you shoot it back down, eyes still peeled ahead, while the trolley miserably follows behind now.
“So what’s on the menu, Chef?” Yuji asks, arms on the handle.
“Japanese curry,” you hum back, already tossing the small sticks of chives into the trolley behind.
His eyes glisten at the thought of it, his mouth watering already. “You always make the best dinners.”
With a mere huff and the slightest curl of your lips, you refuse to turn back to face him. You can already feel the piercing stare of awe on your back, but it does little to keep the budding brim of pride at bay.
Because honestly speaking, that’s all you need.
When the tiny 2010s New York apartment smells like onions sizzling in butter—warm, sweet, it seeps both into the walls and your mind that you’re actually home.
The window above the stove rattles a little every time a subway roars somewhere underground, but inside, it’s just the two of you, moving around the cramped kitchen like you both have a hundred times.
“You’re cutting them too big,” you tease, nudging his elbow as he chops another carrot chunk.
“They’ll shrink in the pot!” he fires back, puffing his cheeks. “Plus, big pieces are funner to chew.”
“That’s not how carrots work.”
“Sure it is.”
You break into laughter, and he falters into the same grin behind his ever-so-bravado.
Before you can turn back to the stove, his hands slip around your waist from behind, pulling you just close enough that your back warms against his chest. It’s second nature to him by now—but somehow, this time, his touch reminds you of someone else just earlier this afternoon.
“Hey—hey,” you giggle, trying to stir the pot while he sways you side to side, “I’m gonna spill the roux.”
“That’s the plan,” he murmurs, chin gently resting on your shoulder as he watches the stew bubble.
“Teamwork, right? I’m moral support.”
“Moral support doesn’t usually involve hugging me every five seconds.”
He gives a soft, guilty hum. “Hmm. Guess I’m extra supportive.”
Outside the window, the streetlights of early-night Manhattan cast a warm orange glow across the counter, mixing with the flicker of your old fluorescent kitchen light, and somewhere below, a taxi honks, someone yells. Your radio’s playing the classic pop songs on repeat rotation this week, and inside, tucked within the mellow warmth, there’s just the soft simmer of curry and the occasional clatter of utensils.
Yuji leans forward to peek into the pot, arms tightening around you as if he can’t help it. “That smells so good,” he says, voice a little softer now.
You feel your cheeks warm more than the stove ever could, but you still shove him with your hip anyway.
“Then set the table, you sap.”
He laughs boyishly before finally letting go. Grabbing bowls, he’s humming off-key to the radio, and when you glance back at him, his sleeves are already rolled up. He plates the curry bubbling behind you, and the two of you settle snuggishly into the couch, blanket tossed over both of your legs.
As usual, Yuji sits close, stretching his arm along the backrest so that he can tug you closer whenever he feels like it. He’s already rambling off into the darkness, and long before you know it, you’re both talking over the show more than actually watching it.
“But, uh… lunch was good,” he adds quietly. “Ate outside. Weather felt nice. I kinda wished you were there, though.” He doesn’t look at you when he says it; Yuji seldom does things like this. He just rubs the back of his neck, cheeks burning pink.
“Y’know… campus stuff is better when you’re around,” he murmurs. “Feels less like I’m just running around all day and more like…” He pauses, searching for the word. “…I’m just living day-to-day.”
You snort. “You’re such a dork.”
“A dork who had a rough day,” he huffs, nudging your knee with his.
You card your fingers through his soft pink hair despite yourself, and he melts instantly, like he’s been waiting all day for this. At some point, the warmth of the curry settles into your stomach, the weight of his arm drapes heavier against your shoulders, and your eyelids grow heavier with each second.
His heartbeat is steady, right under your ear, and beneath the warmth, you don’t even notice when your bowls slide onto the coffee table. You just fall asleep tucked into his side, wrapped in his hoodie and the low hum of the city outside the window.
He simply watches, and somewhere, underneath the warmth of the quiet, his hand stops just a beat from tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
You don’t know how long you’ve slept, but when the sudden, distant siren of an ambulance cuts through the silence, you wake. The apartment’s dark except for the TV’s dim blue, and your head’s still snuggled against the couch cushion, but Yuji isn’t there.
His spot is still warm, yet the empty bowls are already in the sink.
“Yuji?” you whisper, sitting up as the floor creaks softly beneath your bare feet. Silence echoes, and only the faint late-night wail follows through the room, the ticking of your clock.
It's dead midnight.
Outside your window, a breeze seeps softly from the fire escape. The curtains shift, and you turn to read the single sticky note pasted on the coffee table, scribbled in his ever-so messy handwriting:
“Sorry. Something came up. Didn’t wanna wake you.
Be back soon :)”
You run your thumb over the smiley face, feeling the echo of warmth where he’d been.
You don’t know why he disappears every night.
But for now, all you know is the apartment still smells like curry and him—and the couch feels just a little too big without his arms around your waist.
Dawn breaks as gold washes over the pavement, daylight spilling into the still-waking streets. You’re shuffling along beside Yuji, shoulders brushing now and then. In both your hands are cups of cocoa from the corner cart, each crowned with a swirl of whipped cream he swears is just “the best in the city.”
Steam lifts from the paper cup, curling into the damp morning air, all the while streets still glisten from last night’s rain, passing headlights shimmering in fractured streaks. Inhaling, the air smells of salt and roasted peanuts, tinged with the sweet bite of chestnuts toasting somewhere behind you.
“You’re going to burn your tongue if you sip that too fast,” you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow.
He sticks his tongue out at you, laughing even harder when you snort back at him. You simply shake your head as he bumps your shoulder, grinning.
The crowd hums around you, a river of people rushing with purpose, but you walk slower than usual, matching his pace. His hair catches the sunlight in golden highlights, and as he turns to glance over at you, the corners of his mouth tilt when he notices you staring.
“And you’re gonna spill your drink if you keep staring,” he laughs, holding out his hand.
You giggle, letting him grab your wrist gently, tugging you just slightly forward as you step over a puddle. His warmth lingers a second too long, and as the sun rises a little higher, he watches you sip from your cup—eyes soft and warm.
Kiniro’s barking as well, his leash wrapped just around Yuji’s knuckles.
Yuji gives it a little tug, but for a split second, his shoulders tense. He’s distracted for a moment, silent.
There’s a siren somewhere uptown. A horn blast. Something sharp flickers across his expression before he smooths it away.
You pretend not to notice. Instead, you just nudge your shoulder into his again. “You okay?”
He grins. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
But his fingers tighten just slightly around your wrist.
You tilt your cocoa toward him. “Trade?”
He huffs a relieved laugh. “Fine, but only because I know mine has more whipped cream.”
You swap cups, and his shoulders loosen, the tension in his jaw melting away.
The warmth of the moment softens the city around you—right up until your phone buzzes. You glance down, frowning.
“Did you eat yet?”
“Are you really out with him again?”
Your chest tightens. No matter how far you’ve moved, her messages still slice like winter wind. You shove the phone deeper into your pocket, just as Yuji starts rambling about some comic he swears he didn’t dream up.
“Everything okay?” It’s his turn this time, unaware of the text buzzing under your coat. You nod in response, though, forcing a smile.
“Yeah… just distracted.”
He doesn’t probe, and you just follow him down a narrow side street, fire escapes shadowing over cracked sidewalks. The city hums with distant trains, honking taxis, and the usual rumble of early traffic. He twirls you once in the crosswalk, and for a brief moment, your worries fade. Laughter bubbles up easily, sunlight spilling through breaks in the buildings.
Everything is gold.
You don’t even pass five blocks before you hear the sudden strum of a guitar, faint from a musician tucked just beside a subway entrance, tin cup right at his feet.
Yuji’s eyes sparkle instantly like a kid spotting magic.
“Dance battle?” he asks, grin stretching mischievously.
You nearly choke on your cocoa. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He’s already bending his knees, taking a fighting stance. “You. Me. Right here. Winner gets bragging rights for life.”
You groan, trying to pull him away, but the way he bounces on the balls of his feet, the laughter in his voice, makes it impossible to resist.
And before you know it, both your cups are set on the window ledge just beside, and he’s twirling you gently in the middle of the sidewalk, weaving through the small cluster of pedestrians staring in a mix of confusion and amusement.
“Yuji! Stop, I’ll—” you squeal, laughing so hard your stomach hurts.
He only snorts harder, spinning you until your hair whips across your face and you bury your head against his shoulder. “You’ve got moves,” he teases, voice softening. “Better than I thought.”
When the music shifts to a slower melody, he doesn’t let go. His grip on your waist pulls you closer, his forehead resting lightly against yours, eyes half-closed. The rest of the city fades, and in the midst of it, there’s only the pulse of your laughter, the warmth, and the soft brush of his breath against your cheek.
For a second, it feels like the world stopped just to let him hold you.
Everything melts away, and time stills.
Then—he freezes. The sparkle in his eyes dims.
“I—I gotta—” he starts, pulling back slightly, fingers brushing yours.
You frown, confused. This isn’t the first time he’s bailing midway, and suddenly, the warmth’s twisting with the usual tension.
“What?” Your voice cracks. “Where are you going?”
He bites his lip, hesitating. “Something came up… I’ll be back as soon as I can. Promise.”
Before you can argue, he’s already turning, weaving through the crowd and quickly disappearing like he’s done so a hundred times. You watch, heart sinking, as the tide of bodies swallows him.
Your phone buzzes then—again—in your pocket.
Your stomach knots, all the while the sweetness of the morning is turning brittle at the edges.
You frown at the screen, fingers trembling slightly—another message.
You take a breath, lukewarm cocoa in your hand, and look back down the street where Yuji vanished.
For a heartbeat, the world was quiet.
Almost enough to drown out the buzzing phone. The crawling ache.
Almost.
The campus is loud as usual, and your bag is slung lazily over your shoulder. It’s field day, and Nobara’s perched by your side like a hawk.
Field day always turns the campus into a festive frenzy—music blasting, banners everywhere, and the smell of grass and sunscreen wafting with the crispy fry of food from student stalls. The sun’s golden light is just enough to dust everything with a warm edge, shedding the tiniest bit of warmth amidst the early winter, but your chest still feels tight, and every cheer from the bleachers is just another headache pulsing beneath the last.
Your fingers curl around your bag strap.
“You better scream your lungs out for him,” she says, flipping her hair as the two of you shuffle through clusters of crazed students. “He made me promise I’d drag you here even if you tried to run.”
You roll your eyes with a huff of disbelief, but still, your chest warms at the mention of him. In the midst of it, Nobara pauses.
“Hey, you okay, though?” she asks, nudging your side. “You’re quieter than usual.”
“I’m fine,” you say, forcing the words past the tightness in your throat.
The football field is already swarmed by the time you reach it. Voices rise and fall like crashing waves, bleachers trembling under stampeding students trying to get good seats. You spot Megumi standing near the edge in all his emo glory, stretching like he’s prepping for a battlefield instead of just another friendly match.
He sighs when he spots you and Nobara, but you don’t miss how the corner of his mouth twitches just a bit upward.
“Told you she’d come,” Nobara smirks.
He mutters something along the lines of “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” but his eyes flick briefly toward the locker tunnel—where Yuji should be…
And right on cue, the man himself bursts out.
Yuji comes sprinting with his helmet in hand, hair ruffled, grin stretched wide enough to split galaxies. His jersey clings to his shoulders, the number glowing against the sunlight. He’s sprinting across the grass like his body was built for this—shining, bright, unstoppable. His hair catches the morning light like rose-gold flames, the soft pink of it glowing warm against his skin.
But he’s late again, and not just a little—ten minutes behind schedule. Yet no one seems to mind except you.
Your chest twists. The familiar pang rises again.
The moment he notices you, he practically trips over his own feet from how fast his attention snaps your way.
“There you are!” he calls, waving the helmet wildly above his head.
Nobara snorts. “Lord, he’s so lovesick it physically hurts.”
You pretend not to hear her.
Yuji jogs up to the fence separating players from spectators, leaning against it with both forearms as if he can’t stop himself from getting closer. His breath comes out quickly from the run, but his grin is wide and bright.
“You made it,” he says too eagerly.
“We always make it,” you scoff, nudging your bag up your shoulder. “Don’t disappoint us.”
“Yes—yes, Ma’am,” he salutes, cheeks pink. “I’m gonna win extra hard now.”
Behind him, the team captain shouts his name. Megumi’s barking at him, “If you miss the huddle again, I’m making you run laps.”
Yuji jumps, jolting upright. “Coming!”
But before he turns, he reaches out—fingers brushing yours through the fence. Just a fleeting drag of warmth, but enough to leave your pulse scrambling.
“I’ll look for you after every play,” he says sheepishly. “So… don’t leave, okay?”
Nobara rolls her eyes so dramatically she might strain something. “He’s going to combust.”
You’re definitely not telling her you just might too.
Yuji runs back to his team, helmet tucked under his arm, shouting something stupidly upbeat that gets the whole bench laughing. The field hums with energy, sunlight bouncing off jerseys, the grass almost glittering.
The game commences.
And Yuji—it’s like he was born for this.
He’s fast. Focused. And ridiculously competent.
Every time he steals the ball, the crowd roars. Every time he dodges someone twice his size, Nobara shrieks. And when he scores—an impossible curve just inside the goalpost—he swings both arms up, searching the stands until he locks eyes with you.
He beams like you just handed him the universe.
And the whole world feels golden—sunlight, victory, thrill. Megumi is yelling instructions, Nobara’s screaming insults at the opponents, and Yuji’s just there in all of his radiant glory—shining without even trying.
It’s warm. It’s bright. It’s alive.
You’re cheering too, but your smile still falters, tight around the edges. Your fingers tighten around the edge of your bag strap.
But for now—
Yuji wins.
And he looks at you like you’re the reason he did.
He barely hears the final whistle over the roar of the crowd. One second, he’s sprinting across the field, cleats kicking up dust, teammates shouting his name—
And the next, he’s tearing off his helmet and running straight for you.
You barely get a sound out before he crashes into you—arms around your waist, lifting you clean off the ground in a dizzying spin. His laugh bursts warm against your neck, almost boyish in how free it is.
“You saw that, right? You saw that, right?” he breathes, grin blinding, forehead pressed to yours as if he needs proof—needs you—to make it real.
Nobara’s whooping behind you. Megumi’s pretending not to stare, and he’s shoving his hands in his pockets like he didn’t just sabotage two passes solely so Yuji could score. The field is a riot of noise—whistles, cheers, the brass band warming up again—but all of it blurs around him.
Yuji’s still holding you there, thumbs brushing your ribs. The pink of his hair, the warm brown of his eyes, the soft grin that always pulls at the corner of his mouth. His hair brushes your forehead when he leans in.
A voice cuts through the crowd. “Congratulations, you all! What a play!”
It’s a senior guy from another team—someone charming, loud, the type Yuji knows people tend to gravitate to. He jogs past, tossing you a quick smile like it’s nothing.
“You were cheering SO loud,” he tells you, laughing. “Honestly, I think you were louder than the team.”
Yuji’s smile twitches.
The guy just continues, leaning in a bit too close, “You coming to the afterparty? Nobara said you might—”
Yuji steps in without thinking, placing a hand on your back.
“Oh,” the guy says, blinking. “Hey, Itadori. Great game, man.”
“Thanks,” Yuji answers—but something in his eyes dims.
Nobara simply smirks with a cross of her arms.
His eyes flick back to you. Quick. Searching.
Did you smile back? Did you think the guy was cool? Did you—
Suddenly, the team crowds around him—slapping his back, grabbing his shoulders, shouting over each other, and you’re both separated from the wave of intrusion.
“You’re coming with us tonight, right?”
“Yo, we’re buying you dinner!”
“We’re gonna replay that touchdown like a hundred times—”
Yuji’s flustered, overwhelmed. His chest is heaving, and sweat trickles down his forehead. He doesn’t like the sudden attention, and he keeps looking back at you over their heads—checking, making sure you haven’t drifted away in the crowd, but he loses you just as quickly as they came.
Megumi sighs, nudging him. “Go,” he mutters. “We’ll catch up.”
And that’s all he needs.
He practically breaks out of the huddle just to run over to you—soft murmurs of apologies as he bumps into someone else’s shoulder.
Everything else is noise to him, and it isn’t long until he catches the familiar sight of the back of your head again.
He settles beside you, still breathless. His fingers hover, then hook lightly around your wrist, tugging you closer.
“You’re walking with me, right?” His voice drops.
“Please?”
Nobara wiggles her eyebrows. “You two are disgusting,” she groans, then pats your shoulder. “I’m getting drinks. Don’t do anything gross while I’m gone.”
She disappears. Megumi drifts off too, yelling something at a teammate.
And suddenly, it’s just you and him again.
The air is warm from the sun, the grass glittering with confetti. His hand is still curled around yours. “I’m really glad you came, y’know.”
You smile softly. “Of course I did.”
“And… that guy earlier,” he adds too casually, “Do you… know him?”
There it is—the tiny crack in his voice.
And something sinks in your stomach. You’re exhausted—raw beneath the skin. And you’re way too tired to explain the history he’s scarred you. Not today. Not after this win. Not when he’s glowing like a sun you don’t want to dim.
So you answer gently, “Not really. Don’t worry about it.”
Yuji’s silent.
But you can feel the tension humming beneath his ribs as he tries to read your face. After a few steps, he murmurs, barely audible,
“Hey, so… did you really cheer that loud?”
You grin. “Yeah. For you.”
“Then why do you look so tired?” he asks.
Your steps falter. “I’m fine.”
His brows pinch. He looks at you closely.
“You don’t have to say ‘fine’ just because you think it’s easier,” he says. “I can handle it. Whatever it is.”
But your mind is still tangled from the morning, from the noise, from everything you haven’t wanted to burden anyone with. You look away.
It should’ve been easy—Yuji’s arms around you, the campus buzzing with leftover cheers, Megumi shouting something smug in the distance, Nobara somewhere in the corner of your eye. Everything is loud, and warm, and safe.
But Yuji doesn’t see the phone screen still lighting up in your pocket.
He doesn’t notice how your fingers have been curling in on themselves, and suddenly, the sunlight feels too bright. Your pulse crawls up the back of your throat, and softly, without meaning to, you’re muttering under your breath.
“You’re not even here half the time. How are you gonna handle it?”
He catches it too, but he doesn’t say anything. You don’t even know he heard it.
He’s been either late or disappeared midway through the last three times you hung out. Last weekend, he ditched you mid-dance, and you told him it was fine—of course it was fine—it just stung more than you want to admit, and today, he barely made it to field day on time.
Something about helping someone, getting caught up, you weren’t even sure.
He’s always trying, always running. Always tired.
You don’t want to be another thing that drags him down.
“It’s nothing. You don’t have to worry about me today. You’ve got more important people to celebrate with.”
Yuji stops walking altogether. The shift is small—barely a misstep on the pavement—but it feels like the ground trembles.
“What?” he asks quietly.
“Everyone’s congratulating you. You should enjoy it. You don’t need to be glued to me.”
His face falls in slow motion. “Is that… what you think? That I’m only here because I feel like I should be?”
You don’t answer fast enough, and your silence hurts him more than any shouted insult could’ve. The tension that holds in the air now is unbearable.
His face contorts into a frown.
“Seriously?” he murmurs. “I just ran straight to you after the biggest game of the semester, and you think I wouldn’t choose you?”
His voice wavers, and you quickly shake your head, tilting your head to look at him. “Yuji, that’s not—”
“No, it’s okay,” he says, stepping back, eyes darting everywhere except your face.
“Yuji—” His expression ruins you, and now, you wish more than anything but to take back your words.
He swallows hard. “I get it."
There it is.
The crack in the glass. The place where he breaks. You reach out for him, but all he does is step away.
“You know I didn’t mean that, I was just tired—”
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
The cheering behind you erupts, but the world between you stills. The stadium burst into cheers for the next round of the competition, and his teammates are shouting his name, waving him over for the afterparty.
“Yuji! Let’s go!”
He hesitates.
Because he wants to stay, and you can see that. But still, he pulls his hand back.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” he says, smiling the way he always does—the one that makes your chest warm and ache and twist all at once. “Promise.”
You just… nod. It’s easier than saying you’re not sure you believe it anymore.
And even in the blinding afternoon sun, the warmth he leaves you with still feels cold.
The bleachers, the crowd, the pats on his back—they all drift into nothing.
Nothing matters.
Not when guilt claws at him with each step he takes further from you. He can’t stop himself, though.
He doesn’t deserve you, and even when he sees the faltering pain in your eyes, when it seems like he’s ripped your whole heart out, even when he didn’t mean to—
He should walk away from you.
You deserve better.
But when the hair on his skin stands, the jolt of every nerve in his system sparking up, the dread of what he’s always feared crawls back up into him.
He runs straight back to you.
You slowly step away from the crowd, letting the chatter fade into the background. The noise of the campus stadium and cheering grows distant, muffled, yet every step feels heavier than the last. Your bag drags against your shoulder, but truthfully, that’s not even what’s weighing you down.
Each breath catches in your chest as you walk through the shortcut through the science wing. Home. You just want to go home now.
The afternoon sun glares against the metal supports of the demo tents. You barely notice them. Instead, your mind is wrapped up in everything, and you hate that you even feel this way. Hate that even until now, every time you think you’ve grown to be logical enough, your heart always gets the better of you.
Your steps echo softly within the hollow of your mind, seconds stretching into minutes, minutes into hours. You don’t even know how long you’ve been walking. How far you’ve wandered. All you know is that you’re all alone—both literally and in your head.
A loud metallic groan rips through the air.
Suddenly, the metal pole just above the building snaps. There’s no thought, and only the sudden, sickening realisation that it’s coming down.
Oh.
You just stand there, memories flashing through your eyes in replay.
Yuji flashes through your eyes.
This is it—
But suddenly—all you see is a blur of red and blue.
Your chest slams against a familiar chest, and the world flips upside down for a heartbeat. Air screams past your ears. The pole crashes behind you, scattering debris, a deafening clatter that reverberates in your bones.
You gasp, clutching him, every nerve ending on fire. Pain lances through your arm where the pole grazed you, and your knee scrapes against the pavement as he manoeuvres you away.
The wind tears at your hair, and even in the chaos, your mind reels.
“You… you okay?” His voice is low, urgent, but behind the mask, it trembles.
It’s Spider-Man.
But you can’t answer. Your body shakes, each blink glowing hotter and hotter as the weight of everything finally crashes.
“I—I—” You can’t finish.
Your throat tightens, and you simply break in his arms.
His grip tightens, swinging you back toward a safer alleyway, ignoring the chatter, the noise, and everything else.
“It’s okay… you’re okay. I’ve got you,” he whispers, and somewhere in the midst of it, his voice cracks.
“Hey, look at me. Just—just look at me,” he lowers himself beside you, knees hitting the cold concrete, his hands closing around yours with a trembling gentleness.
You choke on a breath, shaking your head furiously, face buried in your arms. “I can’t… I can’t—”
His voice softens, frays at the edges. “Please. Breathe. Just breathe.”
The tears spill faster, hot and relentless. You’re folding in on yourself, small and shaken, and the words slip out in pieces you can’t hold back.
“I—Yuji… I can’t… I just…” Your voice quivers. “I don’t want to be a burden. I don’t want to—”
“You’re not!” he almost shouts, but it cracks, breaking down into a whisper.
“Do you hear me? Your life matters. It matters.” His breath trembles.
His hands cup your face now, fingers digging into the sides of your jaw as he kneels beside you. “And if no one else can keep you safe, then I will. I will. So don’t ever—ever say that again.”
Your sobs shake all the way through you, and he pulls you into him, arms banding around your body, holding you. Even then, the panic still claws at your ribs. He presses his forehead to yours, his voice barely holding itself together. “I’ve got you. Just… just trust me. Do you want to go home?”
You’re sobbing into his chest now. Your ribs are aching, your shoulders throbbing, and you’re stuttering in shallow gasps, yet somehow, with the last tiniest bit of strength left in you, you manage a nod.
His arms wrap around you again, lifting you gently. The wind roars past as he swings, your body cradled against his chest. The city blurs into streaks of silver and orange, but none of it grounds you. Everything still bites.
By the time he lands on your balcony, your legs buckle, and he sets you down with a quick turn away. Like he thinks he should leave. Like he thinks he’s the problem.
Your chest caves in.
“I can’t… I don’t—” you whisper, and then, with trembling fingers, you grasp his wrists.
He freezes, panic flashing behind the mask.
You tug him down to your level, breath shaky, heart ricocheting against your ribs.
You look up at him, heart pounding so loudly you can barely hear the storm around you—and for the first time, Yuji wants nothing more than to rip off his mask. Right here. Right now.
Because trust has always felt like something he wasn’t allowed to have… yet here you are, the one constant in the chaos of his double life, holding onto him like he’s the only steady thing in your world.
The home he was never sure Yuji Itadori deserves, not when Spider-Man’s saving lives, all the while Yuji is running late for another hangout somewhere else.
The slope of his jaw beneath the mask, the shape of his shoulders beneath the soaked suit, the faint scent of detergent he always uses at home. You’re exhausted—tired of the uncertainty, tired of the guessing—everything about him feels almost too familiar.
It breaks something loose inside you. “Yuji…?”
Your voice is barely more than a breath, but to him, it lands even harder than lightning.
He freezes.
He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t even move a muscle.
Not even when your fingers slide to the edge of his mask, and in a heartbeat of terror and clarity, you pull it up.
Your world stops.
The way his voice cracks in the exact shape of Yuji’s kindness, the way he whispers comfort with words only Yuji has ever spoken to you. The way he knows exactly how to hold you, just like Yuji did when you both danced in that one street.
And now, seeing him—wet-faced, trembling, eyes glassy with fear and relief—it hits you like a punch straight through the ribs.
“Y–You…” His voice breaks. “I’m sorry—I was going to tell you, I swear, I just—”
You don’t let him finish.
You lean in and kiss him. Desperate, shaking. Relief, anger, and love all at once.
Fear—that you could’ve lost him before you ever got to say any of it.
He goes stiff with shock… then melts with a shaky exhale, pulling you so close your feet practically leave the ground.
“You… you’re alive,” he whispers into your hair as he pulls back slightly, forehead resting against yours.
“I thought—God, I thought I lost you.” His voice cracks as he buries himself in the crook of your neck, arms still locked around you.
Your fingers curl into the back of his suit. “...Don’t go.”
He lifts his head, tears dripping down his cheeks. His forehead presses to yours, his breath shuddering.
“Stay. Please.”
You’re whispering, shaking. He looks at you for a second—and it doesn’t take another until his lips crash into yours again.
The floorboards creak. The air is heavy. Kiniro’s sleeping somewhere in the kitchen, but your legs are wrapped tight around Yuji’s waist now. He’s holding you up, fingers digging into your thighs.
“Wait—” He cuts you off with another kiss as he stumbles into the living room, lights still off.
Your hands gently clutch the back of his suit even tighter. Your kisses are sloppy, frantic, and desperate. He quickly yanks his mask off, throwing it straight at the couch while he lifts you like nothing with one hand.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, but he’s already back to nibbling your bottom lip, working his way up to your breathless gasps.
“Mm… Yuji,” Your fingers lace through the pink threads of his hair, ruffling through them as something pools just beneath your stomach.
The door rattles behind you as he pushes it open with your back against it, a creak rattling across, and when he does pull away, a drool lingers just between the two of you, and he looks up at you, lifted, like the most gorgeous angel ever. You pant, hand grasping his clothed bicep, as he presses a thumb under your chin, tipping your head further back.
He’s wanted this for the last five years of his life, and now here you are—lost in it and in his arms—he just might explode into a million pieces.
“I love you,” he peppers even more kisses, agonizingly dragging a trail from your chin, all the way up to your drooped eyelids, hazy, muzzy even as your breath heaves with each gasp. “So fucking much.”
Your heart’s also pounding loudly, and even when he plops you down on his bed, you refuse to let go. You watch as he fumbles the unbuttoning of your clothes, and you tilt your head back as he trails even more wet kisses from your face. His knee slides right between your legs.
Goosebumps trail each time his lips meet your skin, and his fingers are still gripped tight onto the flesh of your thighs. His bed, his taste, your head is so intoxicated with him, it’s driving you insane. Even inhaling the fresh lemon detergent of his sheets makes you nuzzle against it, whining as he plants yet another kiss on your neck.
“Slow down,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his hair as he trails down to your stomach, nails scratching his scalp as he nuzzles into your touch, kissing the thin fabric separating you from his desperate mouth.
But as drunk as he is, lost in the whirlwind of your moans driving him insanely, unbearably hot amidst the cold air, he pauses for a second.
Just above your stomach, he slowly turns to look up at you. “...Are you okay with this?”
He looks up at you like he’s worshipping a goddess, because even in all your dazedness, you’re drop-dead gorgeous—eyes glossy, lips curled, breath panting.
“Mhm…”
He instantly snuggles his face into your stomach, making you giggle, “What the—Yuji!”
Every kiss feels like worship, his mouth tracing shakingly down the insides of your thighs until he reaches the heat between them. With a gentle press of his hands, he nudges your legs apart and slips your pants down your hips, letting them fall away completely.
He goes utterly still.
God, he thinks, it’s so fucking pretty. And even though he’s never done this before, not really, he’s seen enough, learned enough, to know what to do.
His thumbs glide through your slickness and gently spread you open, baring every trembling part of you to his stare. The cold whisper of air makes you shift and whimper, embarrassment warming your cheeks. You don’t see it, though—the way his gaze drops, dark with want, his breath nearly catching at the sight of you.
Slowly, he leans in, breath warm against you before his tongue draws a long, deliberate lick through your folds. He can’t help but utter, a low, hungry groan rumbling from his chest.
“Fuck… taste so sweet,” he mutters against you, hips pressing hard into the mattress as if he can’t help himself.
“Yuji—” Your back bows off the sheets in an instant, a startled cry slipping out as your thighs snap around his head.
But he only growls softly in response, arms locking around your legs to hold you open for him. He doesn’t stop—not for a second—as he devours you, messy yet greedy, drinking down every drop of your sweet slick.
His throaty groan vibrates straight through you, sending shivers up your spine. Your jaw falls open, eyes fluttering shut as you melt back into the mattress. "You're so beautiful— so..."
He can’t help it—can’t help melting into your taste.
His mouth grows sloppier, jaw loosening so he can slurp louder, tongue moving with sprouting confidence. He circles your clit again and again, then dips lower, pushing his tongue clumsily but tenderly into your heat. His lashes brush his cheeks as he moves, muddled and klutzy—yet careful, and worshipping you with every greedy stroke.
Your fingers glide down your stomach, trembling as you reach for him, burying your hand in his hair. Your nails drag lightly across the nape of his neck as you tug him closer, guiding him deeper between your thighs. He groans into you, then pulls back only long enough to slick his fingers with his tongue before rubbing your clit in slow, deliberate circles. He watches your slick drip down, following the trail with dark, dilated eyes.
Your tongue slips out, thumb brushing your lower lip as you look down at him. The sight alone makes him shudder.
“Are you okay?” he murmurs.
Heat flares over your cheeks, but you nod with a soft, breathy hum, lips parted as he lowers his mouth again. He laps at your folds slowly, savouring you, sweet warmth spilling over his tongue while he keeps his gaze on you.
“Mhm… Yu…” you breathe, a small moan escaping as your lids grow heavy again.
Something warm blooms in his chest at the sight of you weakly squirming, voice all soft and sweet, and he dives back to your clit. His tongue flicks over the sensitive bud until your moans climb higher, your hips jerking. He’s rutting subtly into the mattress.
“Yu—ahh, I’m gonna—gonna cum—” Your legs tremble, thighs trying to snap shut on instinct, but he only tightens his arms around them, holding you open as his mouth works you through it—pushing you right to the edge.
And then you’re falling.
Your jaw drops slack, tongue lolling slightly as stars burst behind your eyelids. You gasp out a broken “Haagh—” all the while, soft, desperate moans spill from your lips.
The sound you make has him tensing all over again, breath catching as he leans in to press a soft kiss to your inner thigh. His eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, watching the way your lashes flutter, and how your body trembles with the aftershocks he pulled out of you.
He stares like he’s mesmerised.
And in the heat of it, he just can’t stop himself.
His thumb finds your clit again, pressing lightly, and your words dissolve into breathy whines. He's talking you through it.
Watching as your pretty lashes kiss your cheeks as your hips lift, chasing more, and he gives it to you—sliding a finger inside with a low, desperate sound.
“Your voice… fuck—” he groans, the sound almost a plea.
You yelp, grip tightening—one hand buried in his hair, the other fisting the sheets.
Then he adds a second finger.
He hums as your walls stretch around him, giving you barely a heartbeat before he’s thrusting them in and out, building pace. Your eyes go wide, back arching sharply, nails sinking into his bicep as he peppers kisses up your neck.
“I—Y-Yuji—ahh, please—I just came—” Your voice breaks so sweetly it nearly kills him, and maybe he should give you a second to breathe—but he’s already kissing down your chest, already pulling your top up without you noticing, clumsily unclasping your bra with unsteady fingers.
He’s dreamed of tasting you like this for years.
His tongue drags over your nipple, lips closing around it as his fingers keep working you open, and all he can think—watching you squeeze his arm, bury your face in his shoulder, thighs trembling around his wrist—is how heartbreakingly cute you are, and how intoxicatingly soft your breasts feel.
Your legs shake as he finally pulls his fingers out, and he pops them into his mouth, sucking them clean while staring right at you in all his dazed hunger.
Your lips part in silent awe, chest rising and falling as you watch him. He reaches for his suit, unzipping it and letting it fall to the floor. His hands fumble with his boxers—slow, torturous—and you can’t tear your gaze from the dark shape straining against the fabric.
When it slips free, your breath catches—your heart stutters.
It’s fucking huge.
Your pupils blow wide, a tiny sound catching in your throat. He gathers the pre-cum on his thumb, spreading it over the swollen head before settling beside you on the bed.
“Okay, angel…” he exhales, voice shaking, “think we’re… good…”
Your face burns, dizzy with need. His lips find yours again as he rocks his cock through your slick folds, coating himself, teasing you both. You grind up instinctively, but he pulls back with sudden panic in his eyes. “Shit—condom—”
You cut him off. “I’m safe.”
He freezes. Looks at you once, and his fingers tremble. Both of you are flushed, breathless, then he kisses you again—harder, desperate.
“I fuckin—“ he’s gasping through each clumsy kiss, “fuck—I love you—so fuckin’ much.”
The words—messy, breathless, dripping with sincerity—turn your mind to nothing but mush. By the time he settles back between your thighs, lifting your legs high around his waist, you’re already trembling. A slow, burning stretch blossoms inside you as he presses just the head of his cock in.
“Tell me if it hurts,” he murmurs.
“Ngh—Yuj—” you start, but he kisses you before the rest can leave your lips, fingers threading through your hair with such tenderness it makes your chest ache.
“You’re, urgh, doing so well… Yeah…” He watches in fascination at the lewd scene of your cunt taking in his cock. “Fuck—so fuckin’ good—“
He's panting, eyes fixed on where your body’s parting around him. He’s only seen stuff like this on his phone, but it doesn’t compare to the real thing, and the sight alone makes him choke on a groan.
Your moan breaks loose, higher and needier as he rocks his hips, inching in deeper. You’re tight—so tight—and the mix of pressure and pleasure has you clinging to him, whining when his hand squeezes your thigh.
“I-It’s okay, angel—fuck, b-breathe,” he huffs, eyes squeezing shut as a low groan rumbles out of him. “I’m not gonna last like this, baby.”
The name hits you like a spark—your body involuntarily clenches around him, and he notices instantly. He lifts his head despite the sweat trailing down his temple, a breathless, smug little smile tugging at his lips.
“You l-like that, baby?” he teases, voice cracked and warm. His hand cups your chin, guiding your gaze back to him as he pants through the ache.
“Y-Yuj…” you whisper, gasping as he sinks in deeper.
You nuzzle instinctively into his palm, stroking your cheek.
And fuck—you can’t expect him to hold back when you’re kissing the rough heel of his hand like that.
He can’t doesn’t wait for you to adjust fully. His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue greedy and eager as he kisses you like he’s drowning. His knees shake as he digs into the mattress, all before he slowly thrusts forward—each controlled drag burying more of his thick length deeper inside you.
You cling to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders, into the hard cut of muscle beneath his skin, and he grunts at the sting, hips rutting deeper, each movement slow and heavy enough to make your breath stutter.
You feel everything—every ridge, every pulse, every maddening inch of him, and your moans twist into soft, breathy cries, mixing with his low, guttural groans against your lips.
You don’t even hear how the room’s engulfed with nothing but the lewd squelches now, his hips softly plapping against you, grunting in your ear whenever you unintentionally clench around him.
Your soft whines turn into sweet cries, and his eyes dilate in awe, cheeks flushed as your vision blurs. Your wet lips part, crying his name over and over, and with each cry, you can feel him somehow grow even larger as he kisses your cervix like he’s addicted.
“Angh—wait!” you whine, grasping his nape, back arching as he continues his torturous pace, the burning yet filling stretch leaving you breathless.
Your mind is scrambled, completely lost to the pleasure as you try to adjust, but he’s already slowly picking up his pace. And it didn’t matter how pathetic your whines got, or how much you came, because he's just kissing you with worship, peppering every part of you like you’re heaven itself, tongue peeking into your mouth again.
And he’s hooked. Hooked with how every time he tries to pull, you’re sucking him back in.
“It’s too much—Yuj—Please—“ and he’s also whimpering right above you.
“Haah—Fuck, fuck, I’m close, baby—“ his lips part, groaning when you instinctually clench around him again.
He swallows each pathetic whine of yours and vice versa as he grunts into you with every thrust, panting against each other.
Your mouth’s dangling open with trails of drool, and each time he whispers sweet praises of how gorgeous you are, you can’t help but string out moans and whimpers, filling the thick air of his bedroom.
“You’re taking me… so well… ”
You can hardly squeeze any comprehensible thoughts out of you, and your head falls back against him, strength slipping away, hips quivering as quiet whimpers escape you.
“Hnngh, Y-Yujiii..."
“Can I cum inside?”
“M-Mhmm,” you agree instantly, breath catching as your body betrays you. You’ve forgotten long ago, anyways, how to resist him.
A certain shiver ripples through you, and Yuji’s pace picks up even more, breath even heavier for the release he's been saving just for you, his whole life.
“Baby,” He pleads. “Fuck, baby, please—Look at me,”
The same strong hand on your jaw softly tilts your head to turn, and your eyes meet his dilated pupils. “Can you feel that? Feel what you do to me? What you’ve been doing to me, baby? Ngh—”
You feel him rolling the rest of his cock deeper inside you while he’s whimpering, and all at once, the air seems to leave your lungs as he slides his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. Before you can even register what’s happening, he’s standing with you in his arms, the weight and closeness leaving your heart racing.
"Does this feel better for you?”
As if. Your legs go weak in his arms, trembling as your body twitches now with every subtle movement he makes. You’re completely at his mercy, breath catching and chest rising and falling faster than you can control. Tiny, messy traces fall from your lips, dripping out onto the floor with soft splatters down below.
He spreads you out wider, aims sliding beneath your thighs, and fingers digging into the plush of your thighs. You feel like you’re simply floating, all whilst he hauls you up and down his cock, leaving you helpless as you sink back into everything he’s sliding desperately into you.
“N-Ngh, Yuj—” Your voice catches, eyes misting as he burrows closer into the crook of your neck.
A deep, almost dizzying warmth pulses through you, and suddenly, it all bursts. Your hands claw at his back, squirming and desperate for the grounding presence of him. He huffs against your skin as well, breath ragged. His voice drops eager, and you feel it shiver straight through you. “Haah… I’m so close.”
All you can do is tremble around him, giving a slow, lazy nod, lost in the crazed intensity between you.
He’s spilling every rope of cum inside you, and even through it, he doesn’t stop. He keeps a slower, gentler pace, thrusts kissing your cervix even more like he’s thanking you, same as how he’s peppering your face with kisses now.
"Yuji…"
He pants softly in your ear, plopping his cock out tiredly from your hole and onto your bed below. Both of you are still heaving, your bodies stay pressed tightly together.
You murmur from underneath his weight, voice muffled against his shoulder, and it makes him melt as he still holds you close.
“I love you so much... Fuck, I’m sorry I acted like a jerk,” he whispers, gazing into your tired, adoring eyes. “I’ll jump off a cliff if I ever make you cry again.”
You laugh, playfully punching his arm. With a quick peck to his nose, you’re already readjusting so you can straddle him again.
He traces a finger gently along your lips, a little grin on his face.
You raise a brow. “What?”
“Can we um—“ he leans in for a quick kiss, “Can we try doggy style now?”
Okay, cross his weird cooking shows—you’re monitoring his weird porn stash too.
Everything aches when you wake up. Your arms are stiff and your legs are all sore, peppered with bite marks and faint crescents from last night. Sunlight filters through the peeping blinds, painting golden stripes across the bed, but that’s not the only weight you’re feeling on top of you.
Yuji’s arm is draped over yours now, warm and comfortably heavy. He’s sprawled on his stomach beside you, hair a chaotic mess, eyelids shut, face practically buried in the pillow. You shift slightly, wincing at the soreness, and his eyes snap open like he’s sensed you awake.
Under his breath, a groan escapes him, followed by a tilt of the head as he glances at you, face squished adorably into the pillow.
The memories of last night hit you like a freight train, and your face instantly blooms scarlet.
“Good morning,” he whispers, lips curling into a smile.
“…Morning,” you croak, voice hoarse.
He instantly breaks into laughter, rolling lazily onto his back beside you while you frown at him, still too self-conscious.
Your gaze drifts over him unconsciously, eyes tracing over last night’s scratches on his broad back. The little ridges where his elbows pressed into you, his chest rising and falling from sleep and… other marks. His ears are pink, warm under the sunlight, and he buries his face into your hair, all snuggled with you. Both of you stay like that for a few heartbeats, breathing each other in, disbelief lingering like the soft haze after fireworks.
Eventually, you reach for your phone, which you’d carelessly tossed on the bedside table yesterday. But when the lock screen lights up, your heart nearly jumps out of your throat.
“What—” Yuji murmurs, groggy and confused.
“I have class in thirty minutes!” you gasp, scrambling off the bed despite the soreness. “I cannot miss this one!”
His eyes instantly widen, and before you can blink, he’s already on his feet. He rushes over to your side, scooping you into his arms as he carries you to the shower.
“I’ll get your clothes, hold on!” he calls, and just like that, he’s darting to your room, leaving you blinking and flustered.
The shower’s warmth does little to soothe the ache of your limbs, but you linger just long enough to pull the towel tight around yourself. When you finally do open the bathroom door, you freeze.
Spider-Man. In. The. Flesh.
He’s standing there, folded clothes in hand, looking every bit like the superhero he is. Though the awkward, nervous smile beneath it? 100% Yuji. You pause, staring, and when you finally reach for your clothes, you whisper a hurried thanks, cheeks burning.
He gives a little wave back at you.
You’re not telling him thanks, this time, though—when fast-forward five minutes, you’re in the air, soaring past skyscrapers, strapped in some ridiculous ghost mask he bought last Halloween.
Your stomach flips every time the wind picks up, hair whipping across your face, and the city below blurs into dizzying streaks of light. When you eventually land in a quiet alleyway, you’re gasping for breath, legs trembling, and he finally lets go of your waist. You glance at your watch.
Ten minutes left—cue panic.
You start to turn and dash, but can’t resist sneaking one last glance over your shoulder. Yuji simply stands there, chest heaving, mask slightly crooked, head tilted. He's waving you to get moving already.
But you can’t leave it at that. You run back, grab his clenched fists gently in one hand, and lift his mask just slightly to plant a quick peck on his lips.
“Thanks,” you whisper.
And before he can say a word, you’re off—rushing back into the bustle, heart hammering, adrenaline still sending quivers through your shaky legs.
"Oh my god...." He dramatically leans back against the cold alley wall, sliding down slowly while clutching at his own head beneath his zipped get-up.
His suit definitely needs an upgrade from Megumi, he thinks, because you’d left him totally knocked out.
And right now, his brain is half-filled with how easily you just slipped away—the other half overclocking on how he's so, so down bad for you.
A pigeon coos from above, judgmental in its stare.
Class has barely ended when your phone buzzes. The hallway is in its usual chaos—sneakers squeaking across scuffed linoleum, laughter ricocheting, backpacks slung over shoulders. You’re juggling your bag, your water bottle, and an overdue sense of exhaustion as you pull out your phone, fully expecting a group chat notification or a calendar reminder.
But then you see the name on the screen. Yuji.
Yuji: look at the manhattan bridge :))
Your brows knit, but curiosity wins, and you turn toward the tall window overlooking the city, breath fogging faintly against the cold glass. The sky is rinsed in a soft apricot glow, dripping over the skyline like spilt honey. Its golden hour tints with warmth, enough to melt even the sharpest edges of steel and glass.
And that’s when you see it.
Strung between the beams like frost, shimmering in the golden, like it’s snared a wandering cloud amidst the bleeding sky—three words are strung across the Manhattan Bridge in enormous, gleaming webs.
Each letter was woven thick, looped around half a dozen times so they wouldn’t blow away in the wind.
Your eyes widen.
No way.
I LOVE YOU.
Your heart skips violently, and your breath stumbles out of your chest in a gasp.
A stupid, giddy laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, and your hand flies to your mouth as if you can physically push your stunned smile back in.
“Idiot…” you whisper.
Around you, other students press against the windows, whispering, pointing. Someone mutters,
“Brother did a whole Hollywood sign…”
“Is Spider-Man in love?? With who??”
Your phone buzzes again.
Yuji: empty classroom, east wing. the one w the broken light. hurry! :(
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to fight off the warmth spreading through your chest as you practically float down the hallway. Your steps are light, your face is on fire, and your heart's busy doing backflips inside.
By the time you reach the forgotten old classroom in the east wing, your pulse is sprinting. The door sits slightly open, the flickering ceiling light casting lazy pulses of brightness across the desks like it’s trying, yet failing, to stay conscious.
You push the door open.
And there he is.
Yuji stands near one of the desks, mask pulled back and tucked into his hood, pink-peach curls mussed from the wind.
His cheeks are flushed, hoodie slightly crooked, and even though he’s leaning like he’s been waiting forever, he probably swung here mere seconds just before you arrived.
How do you know that? Because the flowers in his hands look like they've just gone through hell and back.
When he sees you, something in him softens so completely it makes your breath catch.
“Hey,” he says, smile tugging gently at the corners of his mouth.
It’s so pure, so bright, it almost tricks you into thinking he didn’t just do something as insane as webbing a literal confession across a whole bridge.
You let out a breathy laugh as you approach him. “Yuji… you webbed the entire Manhattan Bridge.”
He rubs the back of his neck, practically glowing.
“I—uh—wanted to make sure you saw it?” He winces. “And that you didn’t think I was joking.”
His voice gentles. “I mean it.”
Before your brain can even catch up with your racing heart, he reaches out. His hands slip like usual to your waist.
He looks at you like sunlight through glass, stars folding into themselves—unfathomable heaven of devotion graced into every line of his expression.
“You ready to go home?” he asks softly.
You wrap your arms around him.
“Yeah,” you whisper, and his forehead drops to your shoulder in the tiniest, softest surrender.
He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply as you giggle and ruffle his hair.
“I love you too, silly.”
Outside, the sun sinks slowly behind the skyline, ember light scattered across the room as it catches on a stray fleck of web on Yuji’s sleeve. It glows like silver fire as he lifts you effortlessly, stepping toward the window. You simply cling to him, heart soaring as he pushes the pane open and the cool wind rushes in.
With a soft laugh, Yuji leaps, both of you cutting through the evening breeze as the city roars beneath.
Taxis honk, trains rattle, pedestrians shout, but everything muffles the moment his arm curls tighter around you.
With him, flying feels safe.
With him, the city feels small.
With him, the skyline with I LOVE YOU strung across it feels like the only world that matters.
He steals a glance at you mid-swing, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
New York watches as he swings past skyscrapers—and this time, he isn't alone. He holds you like he has nowhere else to be but by your side, basking in the afterglow of a love he had written across the skyline just for you.
Petals float below from the two of you, and you say his words back. Barely louder than the wind, but just enough for him, and only him, to hear.
It's what you’ve found between this litany of quiet you’ve both settled into:
“Home.”
CH 1 ⇐ CH 2 ⇒ CH 3 જ⁀➴
CH 2┆with great power comes great responsibility—and a thousand reasons to run. his father left him grief, your mother gave him rules. but you gave him his one reason to stay.
absolutely, shamelessly whipped—you text “i miss you”? he’s sprinting. you say “i’m cold”? his hoodie is already around your shoulders. you look even a little sad? he’s panicking. “do i need to fight someone? bake you cookies? hug you for three hours?”
you’re his comfort person—you wanna cuddle and play video games? he’s all in. he lets you sit in his lap, arms wrapped around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder like a sleepy koala. “don’t move,” he mumbles. “you’re warm and you smell nice.”
tries to cook for you. is bad at it. will cry if you pretend it’s good—he shows up with a lumpy bento and hopeful eyes. you eat it and say, “yuji, this is amazing.” he beams like you just proposed.
he’s an emotional support hero—you’re crying? he’s hugging you, letting you sob into his chest. “you don’t have to be strong around me, okay? i’ve got you. i always will.”
writes your name in hearts in the margins of his notes—and gets embarrassed when you find them. but doesn’t stop.
doesn’t fully know his strength until he’s inside you—first time he hears you moan his name? he freezes. eyes wide. then he groans, “holy shit… you sound so hot. do it again.”
loves oral. obsessed. wants your thighs around his head every damn day—“c’mon, baby. let me taste you.” once he starts? he doesn’t stop until your legs are trembling and you’re sobbing his name.
he’s playful in bed until he snaps—he’ll tease you. laugh when you pout. but when you bite your lip and whisper, “please, yuji…” that’s when he grips your hips, flips you over, and fucks you like he just found religion.
praise kink and body worship combo—“you’re so beautiful.”—“taking me so well.”—“i could do this forever. i never wanna stop.”
finishes fast the first few times and gets embarrassed about it—you kiss him and say, “that just means you like me a lot.” he turns pink, hides his face, and whispers, “wanna try again?”
aftercare is warm, clingy, sleepy perfection—he cleans you up, kisses every mark, then wraps around you like a teddy bear. “don’t go anywhere. i sleep best when you’re here.”
yuji itadori loves you with his whole chest—there is no hesitation, no pride. only pure, radiant devotion and enough passion to burn the world down if anyone ever tried to take you from him.
hi lovey 🫶 i was thinking about another lo’ak idea for a request and this is what i came up with! so as we know, the sully family had to learn sign language while living with the metkayina clan.. so i was thinking the reader would be metkayina and would take it upon themself to help teach them (at this time the sully’s know certain phrases) and lo’ak is drawn to the reader and asks for private lessons but in actuality he’s pretty good with signing so the reader is like “ur already pretty good but ig so 🤷” and in that lesson lo’ak kind of makes his feelings clear and asks to learn how to say something like “you’re ethereal” and once he learns, he signs it to the reader? idk i just love how you write lo’ak so i just thought of anything really 🤭
🦕
Teach Me
Tags: Lo'ak x Metkayina!Reader, Oneshot, Fem!Reader, Fluff, Private Tutor, Crush Blush, They’re Both Oblivious, Shy Reader
Warnings: None
You caught the eye of Jake Sully’s second son, and he has made it a point to try and woo you. When you try and teach his family the way your clan communicates underwater, he asks for private lessons, knowing full well he has already excelled in sign language far beyond his siblings. A few more lessons couldn’t hurt, right?
Your requests are always such a delight to see :) Lo’ak tryna finesse the reader into private tutoring sessions just to spend time with them is such a Lo’ak thing to do lol ALSO YOU’LL NOTICE THAT IVE TAKEN A LIKING TO ADDING A BONUS TO THESE
* ˚ ✦ 1453 Words • Read below the cut
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [05/01/23] ❞
Ever since the Sully family arrived at your doorstep seeking asylum, your father, Tonowari, had entrusted you with teaching the children your ways so that they were not entirely useless.
You did not appear to mind. When you locked eyes with Toruk Makto's youngest son, he captivated you. He was considerably different from your people, with golden eyes, darker skin, and even being a half dream walker! It was alluring, even if your brother didn't find Lo'ak's unique traits as attractive as you did.
You brushed your burgeoning feelings aside so you could do an excellent job of showing him your ways of life. Tsireya, your sister, had previously taught the Sullys about breathing techniques and diving, but you still stepped in whenever you could. You would've been more involved in the lessons if you weren't so timid around Lo'ak.
He figured you didn't like him as much as he liked you, which stung a little. However, that did not deter him. No, he was determined to get your love! (Little did he know.)
During one of your lessons with Tsireya and the Sullys, you were discussing how you employed sign language to communicate underwater. Of course, you were as far away from Lo'ak as possible to avoid becoming a blundering fool.
The Sullys certainly understood a few basic phrases, but you thought it would be incredibly beneficial in the long run if they knew it fluently because it could save their lives one day. You never know what sea creature you'll have to converse with!
By the end of the lesson, you were eager to get out of the water and rush home so you wouldn't have to interact with Lo'ak; you couldn't stop stuttering whenever you were near him! Eywa, on the other hand, had other plans for you.
Lo'ak softly tapped on your shoulder before you could depart, and you could already feel the tips of your ears burn from the contact. Lo'ak didn't notice, but that didn't matter because he was plotting something. One that he believed was brilliant.
He smiled at you. God, his smile was lethal. “Can I get more lessons with you? I need to work on my sign language a bit more.”
He scratched the nape of his neck shyly, clearly hoping for you to say yes.
You sighed, unable to say no when it’s him. “Okay, sure. We can do some private lessons aside from the main ones.”
Lo'ak cheered inside his head. What you didn't know was that he was already pretty proficient in sign language, and that his request for additional lessons was only a pretext to spend more time with you. Others called that manipulation, he called it chasing his dreams.
...
It was difficult for you to concentrate on teaching him at first. He was so attentive to everything you said that it made you feel so self-conscious! You'd take notice to the way he looked with his hair down, or how mesmerizing his eyes were every time you tried to teach him new terms. You could lose yourself in them for hours.
Snap out of it!
You'd think he was aware of the influence he had on you, because every time you'd lose concentration from gazing at him, he'd simply smile. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you, but you swore his cheeks reddened when you stared at him. What was he blushing about? He's the one who makes direct eye contact with you every time you speak!
...
You felt foolish. You were foolish.
After a few days, you realised Lo'ak had duped you into thinking he needed the extra support. In your opinion, his acting skills when feigning to not understand what a phrase meant were atrocious. When you confronted him with the fact that he was already pretty fluent, he sulked.
“I’m still not sure if I’m doing it right, though. Just a few more lessons, pleaase?”
He was going to be the death of you. “You’re already pretty good, but I guess it won’t hurt to help build your confidence more.”
Lo’ak grinned, but you could feel your palms getting sweaty at even the mere thought of having prolonged interactions with him.
...
Here you were, sitting on the beach with Lo’ak as he manipulated you into weeks worth of lessons with his stupidly gorgeous puppy dog eyes. Again.
You improved your interactions with him, this time concealing the effect he had on you. You shook your head, ignoring those wandering thoughts and concentrated on his lesson.
“Okay, show me something you’ve learned.”
Lo’ak beamed, and signed with his hands, “Y/N, I want you.”
Okay, you lied. You certainly did not grasp the capacity to conceal his effect on you. He had this smug look on his face once you registered what he had signed, while you fanned your heated cheeks, claiming it was simply the weather. You concluded he was having difficulty asking for something since 'I want you' sounded a little broken.
Yeah, that’s all there is to it.
You laughed nervously. “You definitely still need to work on your sign language. You didn’t even finish your phrase!”
Lo'ak grumbled. From your perspective , it appeared that he did so because he did not accurately sign what he meant to express. But really, Lo'ak was particularly annoyed because you didn't pick up on his blatant hint.
He recollected himself. “Okay, how about this. How do I say you’re ethereal?”
Compliments. That’s a new one. Nonetheless, you showed him how to sign it.
“You’re ethereal is a little bit hard though, so you’d need a bit of practice with the hand movements for that.”
Lo’ak nodded, very focused on the motions of your fingers.
...
You were disappointed to realise that this was your final private lesson with Lo'ak. You were standing near his marui, too indolent to enter the water. Lo'ak had finally mastered sign language, and you were overjoyed to know you were the reason for it. You requested him to show you some phrases right before you concluded your lesson to ensure he sounded like a true Metkayina.
“Okay. What’s something you’re confident you can say?”
Lo’ak was incredibly anxious. With shaky hands, he signed, “you’re ethereal, and I want you to be mine.”
If Eywa could read your thoughts, you wished she’d take a shovel and beat you six feet beneath the sand. Your cheeks were impossibly dark, and you knew what Lo’ak signed couldn’t have been a mistake. Not with those difficult hand movements.
Curse you for being so stupid. You chastised yourself in your mind for honestly thinking his sign language was broken weeks prior. His skills were perfect, you were just too oblivious to realize that he was saying that he wanted you!
Lo'ak sat there patiently, gazing at your immobilised form. His self-assurance was eroding as you sat there, unresponsive. You coughed sheepishly, your cheeks still blazing, before he could retract his statement.
“You’re ethereal too.”
He felt his entire body heat up. He was not expecting you to sign it back, and now you were both sitting there like startled morons, looking like you had been baking in the heat for hours. You were neither smooth nor subtle in your flirting.
“So you don’t hate me?”
That shook you out of your daze. “What?”
“It’s just that, before these lessons you avoided me all the time. I thought you didn’t like me back.”
Your jaw was on the floor. All shyness disappearing, you practically bellowing across the beach. “Since when? I’ve liked you for weeks!”
“Oh.”
Ensue silence.
Lo'ak had to conceal his visage due to the blush on his cheeks. He could try to hide his face from you, but he couldn't prevent his tail from swishing excitedly. You giggled at his reaction, but the embarrassment of how direct you were hit you a moment later.
You two exchanged glances before laughing at each other's expressions. Lo'ak inched closer to you, intending to plant a soft kiss against your heated cheeks.
You immediately swiveled your head to see what he was doing, and he kissed you on the lips by accident. Lo'ak felt like he was going to burst into flames, not intending to do that.
It was now your turn to bury your face in your palms, your heart practically bursting out of your chest. You couldn't believe what had just transpired!
Ah, young love.
Bonus!
“No. Fucking. Way.”
Jake screamed for his wife to come over. Neytiri ran quickly, abandoning her unfinished basket. Something terrible must’ve happened!
“What’s wrong?”
Jake wiped a tear away, dropping his binoculars. “Our son has finally become a man.”
Hi can I request lo’ak, where he tries to impress reader but he’s just keeps embarrassing himself. He goes to his dad for advice and just makes a fool out of himself till Neytiri comes to his rescue.
mother knows best
lo’ak sully x fem!metkayina!reader
summary: lo’ak tries so hard to gain your attention, little does he know all he needs is his mother’s advice
warnings: fluff, lo’ak pinning, maybe slight angst if you squint? lo’ak has no game
this wasn’t specific so i made reader metkayina bc i feel like it fits since yk, also probably ooc lo’ak but it’s fine
lo’ak just couldn’t help himself but be attracted to you.
your curly hair, gorgeous aqua eyes, and bright smile caused him to blush and beam.
but when tonowari asked you to help teach the sully children the metkayina ways, lo’ak was sure he was going to be with you.
it might just take awhile.
“y/n!” lo’ak calls after you. carrying a pile of fishnets to drop off to the fishermen, your ears perked up from your name.
“good morning, lo’ak.” you nodded to the boy.
“do you need any help carrying all those nets?” he asked you, a hopeful look on his face.
“why, do you believe i am not strong enough?” you teased.
“no! no that’s not what i was implying-“
lo’ak’s face blushed red as his ears fell, tail swaying behind his legs.
“relax, skxawng (idiot). i’m only joking. but if you’re offering, you can grab those buckets.” you nodded your head towards the pile of wood.
lo’ak nodded, grabbing the boxes as he began to walk with you.
“let me show you how us omatikaya hold things…” lo’ak joked, grabbing the crate with one arm and holding it over his shoulder.
“impressive. metkayinas can do that when they are three.” you winked, seeing as lo’ak tripped over a rock and dropped the crate on the floor.
lo’ak’s ears fell as you laughed, hiding your smile behind your hand. his face grew hot as some surrounding metkayinas snickered.
there were multiple instances where lo’ak would try to show off, the deed going wrong and causing lo’ak to embarrass himself.
“dad,” lo’ak approached where his father was sharpening some knives.
“what’s up?” jake asked, pausing the action to pay attention to his son. lo’ak appreciated it- the one time his father might give him real advice.
“there is this… uh… girl. and i want to impress her, but every time i do- i just make it awkward or embarrass myself.”
jake smiled at his youngest son.
“what i did with your mother was try to learn her ways. make her laugh, take what she does seriously, and just be around her. maybe ask her help you with the sign language. compliment her, make her feel special.”
lo’ak nodded at his father, a smile on his face. “thank you.”
little did the duo know, neytiri stood away with perked up ears listening to what her mate was telling her son.
the next day she watched lo’ak approach you while you were resting on the sand.
he sat across from you, accidentally splashing water into your eyes.
she swore to eywa, believing how much her son was like jake.
“i’m so sorry-“
“lo’ak, it is alright. we have two eyelids for that reason.” you sat up, blinking to show him your second eyelid and the late reaction it had.
“it’s like an alligator- an animal my father would tell stories about. how they attack sky people and other animals for venturing too close to their territory.”
you looked at the boy, confused. neytiri rolled her eyes, face palming herself.
“sorry.”
lo’ak was mentally cursing himself. a deep blush made your teal cheeks have hints of pink, and lo'ak swore he wanted to crawl into the sand and die at that very moment.
➽─────────────────❥
a few days later, lo'ak sat across from you as you taught him sign language.
"dive, swim, follow," you demonstrated every word with a hand motion, the teen following intently.
lo'ak copied your movement, his eyes watching you like a hawk as you continued to teach.
"now, you try." you nodded towards lo'ak to begin.
he was nervous, taking his hands and trying to remember the ten words you just taught him within a minute. with you, it was learn fast or get left behind, and it intimidated lo'ak.
"dive, swim, follow..." lo'ak had messed up. his ears fell flat in embarrassment, your eyes glowing with a glimmer of something he couldn't quite tell.
"well... you are learning something, at least." you shrugged, pushing your hair off of your shoulder and behind your back. lo'ak hated that you made him so nervous, made him feel like a fool.
he could tell you were slightly annoyed.
"i have to go tend to my siblings. we will catch up later, yeah?" you excused yourself from the boy. lo'ak watched with sad eyes as you left, his head hung low as he sat on the sand alone.
"get up, maitan (my son)." neytiri grabbed her son's forearm from the side, nearly frightening the poor boy.
her tone was harsh as she looked at her son with wide eyes.
"it shocks me that you did not pick up flirtatious banter from your father."
lo'ak furrowed his brows as he stared up at his mother.
"mama-"
"let me help you. while i love your father, he is like a baby sometimes."
neytiri began walking away while lo'ak stood in the same spot on the sand, dumbfounded at his mother.
"come." she barked.
"while girls like being complimented, having boys to spend time with, and whatever else your father told you, it is the average. that is not going to stand out to y/n. you need to do something special, something that shows her that you care."
it was almost as if a lightbulb went off in lo'ak's head.
"thank you, mama." lo'ak bowed to his mother, a beaming smile on his face as he ran off to begin organizing.
➽─────────────────❥
later that night, you woke to lo'ak shaking you awake gently.
"come, i have to show you something."
you wiped the sleep away from your eyes, your mind too hazy to realize what he said until you were outside of your pod.
you looked to where a woven blanket was placed on the sand, a breakfast meal arranged gently in the middle. the sun was about to rise, the moon beginning to move past it on eclipse.
"what is this?" you asked curiously, a yawn escaping your lips.
lo'ak would be lying if he were to say he wasn't terrified.
"i figured we could watch the sunrise." lo'ak was absentmindedly playing with his hands. you noticed his nervously, a small grin tugging on the end of your lips.
you sat down, beckoning him to join you. lo'ak let out a sigh of relief as he sat next to you, picking up a berry and eating it. you followed suit, the juice of the fruit exploding into your mouth.
pink, orange, yellow, and red erupted over awa'atlu as eclipse began to undo. you watched the sight intently, never purposefully watching the sight.
but eywa, it was beautiful.
the animals went back to life, the clear reef showcasing each one and their uniqueness. you were in awe, a subtly glow on your face.
"this is beautiful, lo'ak." your big grin made lo'ak's heart flutter. he ducked his head down, almost scared to meet your gaze.
you unknowingly put your hand on top of his, too lost in the scene to notice or care. but lo'ak noticed, and he very much cared.
you looked absolutely stunning under the lighting. it was refreshing to see you so happy, normally being so overwhelmed with clan business.
still tired, you put your head on lo'ak's shoulder. his heartbeat was beating rapidly. and before he knew it, you had begun to gently doze off onto him.
lo'ak grinned, rubbing your bicep gently as he laid back on the sand. your head moved to rest on his chest as you curled into him.
"i see you, y/n," lo'ak whispered. even if you didn't hear it, he just needed you to know.
however, you did hear it. the adjusting had woken you up to barely any consciousness.
"i see you too, lo'ak."
lo'ak pressed a kiss to your head, his heart doing leaps in his chest as he began to doze off with a smile on his face.
neytiri had woken up that morning to the sight of you sleeping on her son, beaming proudly at her son.
-------
tags: @mayhemories @useryourbut
sorry if this was bad or too short, i still think it's cute tho :)
hi hii, hope you’re having a great day/night! i have another idea for a request 🕺so you remember after payakan saved lo’ak and lo’ak went to tell the others and nobody really believed him? i was thinking that the reader could’ve been the only one to believe him so he took them to meet payakan and seeing how fascinated the reader was with payakan made lo’ak fall in love or something idk shsjshsb
🦕
Believe in Me
Tags: Lo’ak x Metkayina!Reader, Oneshot, Gn!Reader, Fluff, Power of Trust, They Fell First But He Fell Harder
Warnings: Word Cockblocker is Used (Not Sexually, But I Couldn’t Find a More Innocent Term)
When Lo’ak told the story of how he was saved to the others, none of them believed him. They told him to stay away, that Payakan is a killer, and he should do best to avoid him. You believed in him though, and who is Lo’ak to do what others tell him to?
THIS IDEA IS SO CUTE 😭😭 I love ur Lo’ak requests lol they’re keeping me alive rn 👊👊 I had sm fun writing this!!
When they start swimming underwater, listen to Ice Dance by Danny Elfman for a more immersive experience.
* ˚ ✦ 1193 Words • Read below the cut
╭┈─────── ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-╰┈➤ ❝ [27/12/22] ❞
“He saved me, he really did!”
As Lo'ak recounted his story, the young Na'vi were huddled in a circle. Rotxo and Aonung exchanged glances; everyone appeared concerned about him. Payakan was a murderer, and Lo'ak was merely extraordinarily fortunate to be alive.
“Kiri, you believe me, right?”
She remained silent and averted her gaze away from his. “They know this place better than we do.”
Tsireya shook her head. “Lo’ak, please don’t go looking for Payakan. You’ll be killed!”
“Fine, don’t believe me! I know what I saw!” Lo'ak abruptly rose up, preparing to storm away from the group.
You seized his forearm to keep him from fleeing. Lo'ak reached behind his shoulder to yank his arm away from you; he didn’t need to hear he was crazy from you, too. Before he could tear his arm away, he stiffened in place as you spoke.
“I believe you.”
Everyone turned to gawk at you, some with their jaws gaping, others silently snickering. You knew full well the story of Payakan, so why were you supporting this? You withdrew your arm and smiled warmly at Lo’ak. His head hung low, concealing the grin upon his lips. Aonung murmured to Rotxo about how you have a crush, and you shot him a death stare. Aonung stopped his teasing, but Lo'ak didn't seem to notice.
“Y/N, why would you believe him? You shouldn’t encourage it!”
You gave Tsireya a frown. “And what if he’s telling the truth?”
Everyone was deafeningly hushed as you argued against her. You scoffed at them all when they had nothing left to say, and walked away accompanied by Lo'ak. He thanked you quietly for trusting him.
To be truthful, you'd heard the tales about how dangerous Payakan was. You grew up with these people, after all. Although you believed in Lo'ak, you had your reservations; deep down, you knew the main reason why you wanted to trust his words was because you'd been admiring him since he first arrived in your village. You were just too timid to approach Lo’ak, so can anyone fault you for using this as an opportunity?
“Y/N, come with me. I’ll introduce you to Payakan.”
You smiled. “I’d love that.”
...
“This way, I know Payakan is around here!”
Lo'ak clasped your hand in his and guided you to the water. You might have been second-guessing your judgment at this point; you claimed you believed in him, but what if Payakan was a tulkun with exceptional manipulation abilities? Is that even feasible?
You dove into the water and began swimming after Lo'ak as he went further out into the ocean, putting your daydreaming to a halt. Once you had reached decently open waters beyond the reef, Lo'ak called for Payakan. You were nervous about what lay ahead of you, but you were also intrigued.
After what seemed like a few minutes of silence, you laid a hand on Lo'ak's shoulder.
“I don’t think he’s--”
With a yelp, you were cut off as something elevated your body above the surface of the water; a gigantic fin. You clutched it for support, and Lo'ak immediately swam besides your knees so you could rest a palm on his shoulder. He chuckled, and you swirled your feet in the water after the tulkun plateaued. Payakan whistled, and his genial nature enthralled you.
You cocked your head towards Lo'ak, a playful smirk on your lips. “Can we swim with him?”
Lo'ak concurred, beaming from ear to ear. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand gripping Payakan as he plunged underwater. You tried not to tumble off as the sheer force of the act caused you to hover above his fin, but Lo'ak was there to hold you in position.
You shifted into a horizontal position once you were settled in the water to enable you to swim comfortably. Lo'ak hooked his fist above yours on the edge of Payakan's fin, keeping your fingers entwined, so that you could swim in tandem with one another. The action made you flush, and you were grateful that the water obscured his vision somewhat.
Lo'ak was captivated by you as you glided across the expansive aquatic panorama. Although he had swum beyond the reef before, he had never witnessed it like this, with you at his side, giggling besides him as if it were nobody's business. It was in this snapshot of time that he saw you as vividly as ever; amongst the pulsing rhythm of the sea, his heartbeat drummed in his ears at the sight of you, realizing that the reason you appeared so delighted was because of him.
He captured a mental image of you and preserved it as a memory that only he would behold. Just for him, no one else.
With his hands, he signed ‘you’re pretty’.
God, he must be insane, he thinks. Your body froze as you registered what he had signed, and before you could react, Payakan sped through the water, nearly knocking you off your feet. In a frenzy, Lo'ak draped an arm across your back, clutching your arm to secure you against him. You could feel the hammering of his heartbeat against you, being so near to his chest.
Taking a peek at his panicked expression, you realized you could see a lot from this viewpoint. You noted the curvature of his lips, the slant of his nose, and the acuteness of his jawline, for instance. You subconsciously leant towards his face, entranced by his features.
Lo'ak inclined his head to peer at you, curious as to what you were doing. He was taken aback by your unexpected closeness and immediately felt bashful. Were you planning on kissing him? He'd never kissed anyone before!
Before you closed the distance between you both, you immediately turned your head away from him, snickering to yourself as he nearly took the bait. When you looked over your shoulder, Lo’ak appeared stunned. Before you could sign that his expression looked like a turtapede, he grabbed you by the cheeks (gently, of course), and captured your lips in a longing kiss. Immediately, Payakan soughed, and threw Lo’ak off his fin.
You slapped your palm over your mouth, startled and amused, as he swam after you and Payakan. The tulkun surged to the surface of the ocean, and Lo'ak bobbed out of the saltwater, shaking the brine from out his braids. You turned to sit upright, and held something akin to mirth in your gaze as you grasped your abdomen in a fit of laughter. Lo'ak shot a mischievous sneer in Payakan's direction, huffing as he rolled his eyes. Cockblocker.
“Well, he’s definitely a killer, alright!”
He groaned in embarrassment. “More like you. If I died, it’d be your fault.”
Although his sentence appeared stern and somber, the crinkle of his eyes and curl of his lips conveyed a different narrative, betraying the meaning of his words. How had he not previously fallen in love with you? Maybe the feeling was always there, lying torpid like a dormant volcano, suddenly stirred awake by you.
A/N: I felt like I was writing a lot for Neteyam so heres a cute little Lo'ak fic!! (can you tell i love angry love confessions....)
Word Count: 1.6K
Warnings: jealous Lo'ak !!, best friends to lovers, miscommunication (?), yearning
Summary: You were fairly certain Lo'ak, your best friend, liked you back, but you knew he would never admit it. You decide to give him a nudge in the right direction when a local Navi male begins to flirt with you...
You and Lo’ak had been friends since you were both very little, as your mother was best friends with Neytiri. He was only a few months older than you – so you could proudly say he was your best friend since before you could crawl. When you two were around 9, the differences started to show and petty fights began.
You loved Lo’ak but boy did he get on your nerves sometimes. Your personalities would often clash, as they were fairly similar. The both of you loved to tease and were equally reckless – resulting in a troublesome duo that only got worse with age.
As you grew older, you started to develop new feelings for Lo’ak. Feelings that you had never had before. You felt as if you had to be perfect around him, like there was no room for mistake. The way your heart raced when he would grab your hand as you two ran around the forest made you feel like it was going to explode. And you swore whenever he looked at you, you could see the emotions swirling in his eyes, and it looked as though he felt the same.
But no matter how hard you tried, and no matter how hard you hinted, Lo’ak didn't seem to understand!!
So you figured out a way to find out if he truly likes you or not.
𓇢𓆸
The village was celebrating a prosperous hunt, and as you spent the first half of the night with Lo’ak, you eventually got pulled away by some of your other friends. So when an Omaticayan boy named Taruk'lan, who was around your age came by to talk to you, you immediately took the opportunity, as you wanted to see how Lo’ak would react. Standing beside the boy, engaged in conversation, you made sure to laugh heartily at all of his jokes. He was a good warrior with a kind heart, and was easy to talk to. So when you had rejoined some of the other Na’vi’s your age, you thought nothing of it when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
Meanwhile, Lo’ak was standing on the other side of the fire looking absolutely furious. Who did that boy think he was?! Everyone should know by now that you were his – well, except you – but that was only a matter of time. His arms were crossed as he glared at the two of you, when his brother suddenly appeared.
“What is wrong now?” Neteyam uttered from beside him, but Lo’ak kept his eyes glued on you. On the way your eyes screwed shut and you tilted your head back to laugh loudly, a laugh that was normally reserved for him and his jokes.
“Y/N. I mean come on, are you seeing this?!” Lo’ak gestures to you and Taruk'lan.
“Seriously, brother? If you’re so mad why don’t you tell her how you feel. That’s the lonely way other guys will back off.” Neteyam shrugs, before walking away.
Lo’ak simmered in his feelings for the rest of the night, never once going to talk to you. He wondered if he really should just tell you how he feels. He always thought you felt the same – that you two had some sort of unspoken agreement, but now he just wasn't sure. He went home alone that night, confused and overtaken by his own thoughts.
𓇢𓆸
You couldn’t believe all your efforts last night had gone to waste! Lo’ak never once came and got you, never asked to speak with you, nothing!
Maybe you had to up the stakes a little more then.
Heading over to the Sully's hut, you planned to hangout with Lo’ak around the village. Entering the hut, you greeted Tuk as she ran over to you and jumped into your arms.
“Hey Tuk-Tuk!” You shout happily, hugging her and twirling around with her.
“Y/N!! Are you here for Lo'ak?” She asks as you set her down.
“Well, you know you're my favorite, but yes it would be nice to see him as well.” You speak, leaning down a bit to be eye to eye with her.
She grabs your hand to lead you to Lo’ak’s room, muttering as she goes. “He came home all sad and moody last night! Was mean…”
When she got to Lo’ak and Neteyam’s shared room in the hut, you noticed he was sharpening a tool in the corner. Tuk pushed you into the room before running off and you smiled.
“Lo’ak?” You speak quietly, his gaze snaps up to meet yours.
You can see the hesitance in his eyes, but seeing you, his best friend, clearly won over his previous thoughts as he smiled softly.
“Come on, I wanted to go work on our archery.” You speak and he stands up, moving to grab his bow that was mounted on the wall.
Heading to the archery range, you couldn't help but notice how quiet he was. He wasn’t his usual playful self and his thoughts seemed distant. As you two began practicing your archery, you found yourself struggling with hitting the bullseye…or the target. Archery was never your strong suit, which is why you constantly practiced it. It was, however, one of Lo’ak’s best skills.
“Ugh, can you please help me again?” You ask tentatively. You constantly had to ask him for help with these things. Fighting was never something that came easy to you.
Hearing Lo’ak scoff, you look to where he's standing. His eyes avoid yours as he stands defensively. Muttering under his breath he says, “I bet Taruk'lan would be more than willing to help you.”
You almost gasp at the venom in his voice, but instead of feeling hurt about it, you decide to tease him. Maybe if you pushed him to the edge, he'd realize his feelings and confess.
“Oh wait, you're right. I mean he is a mighty good warrior.” Smiling at Lo’ak, you set your bow down and pat his arm as you walk right by him. “Thanks, Lo’ak!”
You never went to find Taruk’lan, however. You just went back home, internally annoyed, but deciding to keep up with the bit.
𓇢𓆸
You had been hanging around with Lo’ak less than usual. Normally, you two spent the whole day together, but now whenever you did see him, he was uncharacteristically distant.
You were walking around the village with Lo’ak, visiting everyone and making sure the village was running accordingly, per the orders of your Taruk Makto. It was really just busy work. You were bored, Lo’aki was barely talking, when you noticed Taruk’lan hanging out with the children of the clan. You laughed softly, when Neteyam noticed where you were looking.
“Look, it’s your little boyfriend.” He grumbled, clearly annoyed as Taruk’lan notices you and waves.
“Yeah, he could be. Matter of fact I bet he'd be a pretty great mate and father. I mean just look at how he is with those kids!” You made your voice lighter as you spoke jokingly, but Lo’ak must have thought you were serious, as he stopped walking.
“Damn it Y/N–” He grabs ahold of your hand, whirling you back towards him. “You mean to tell me that you're seriously into that skxawng?” He speaks.
“Well at least he shows interest in me…”
“And what I don't?!" He’s upset now, and he continues speaking “Everything I do is for you Y/N! Don’t you notice? I constantly bring you your favourite fruit even though you know how hard they are to get. I spent months learning how to braid so that I could braid your hair just the way you like. I even learned to read so that I could read those weird human books you like just so I could get to know a piece of you a little better! I have spent my whole life loving you. But worst of all I’ve stayed quiet– this entire time. I never once spoke up about my love for you because I was scared you would feel pressured, and now it’s too late.” Your heart sinks as his eyes begin to water, his voice coming out strained. “Now you like him.”
He was wrong. Oh, so wrong. You loved him and only him and you always had. You hadn’t meant to hurt him by teasing him about Taruk’lan. The words didn’t come to you as you stared back at him. So you did the next best thing.
Stepping up to Lo’ak, you wrap your hand up around his head as your fingers sink into his hair, stepping on your tiptoes, you lean in as your lips connect. You use your hand on his head to deepen the kiss and smile as his hands meet your waist, pulling you into him. He slouches a bit to meet your height as your feet plant firmly on the floor, the kiss sweet and years worth of unspoken words.
You pull away slowly, giggling at the way he tried to chase your lips.
“Wow.” He speaks, hands still resting upon your hips as he smiles giddily at you.”Shit so– what does this mean?”
“I’d hope it means we could be together now.” You smile up at him.
“I’d love that.” He adds, before leaning in again. “Now come here, I’ve waited my whole life to kiss those beautiful lips.”
