you shut your eyes as he enters between your folds, feeling his hard cock slowly inserting itself into your tight hole that stretches sooo well to accommodate his size.
but it's still so painful. dreadful.
you've told him multiple times that you can't possibly take it and what does he do?
he puts you into a headlock and forces you to take it. you're stuck underneath him and his huge biceps are wrapped around your neck tightly, threatening.
"n-no, please..." you sob, trying to pry off his flexing arm around your throat.
"but, you're taking me so well? see? i'm already balls-deep inside you? isn't that nice?" he coos, enjoying the tears that emerge from your eyes.
his toned abs rub against your back while you squirm. "ngh—"
his pace is slow, deliberately letting you feel the burn from the adjustment that your pussy makes to let him in. he can't help the grin that graces his face while he's enjoying your cries and whimpers.
you try to run away but his arm that's locking you pulls you back in. "a-a-ah, you can't run away, this cock was made for you to take."
"there's no such thing toji—!" you spit.
"well, there is and you're doing it right now," he replies smugly, relishing the clench of your gummy walls.
and he doesn't move, he just keeps you there— flush against his chest and full of him. he keeps you in that position for the rest of the night, to mold your pussy into the shape of his cock so that it'll be easier for you in the future. isn't he so considerate?
warning(s): reader is EVILLLL; female manipulator pro max (in honor of women’s history month), cheating(?), poly themes; sashisu x reader because i’m sick of only seeing satosugu, toxic relationship(s), modern day (no sorcery), this is a college setting/au, purple eyed suguru bc i said so, slithers of nsfw, idk you’re ur own warning…
manipulating sashisu! who was used to your…antics since you’d all been friends since high school, not really realizing they got worse since you all went to the same college
manipulating sashisu! and subconsciously realizing satoru was the easiest to get on board with whatever you wanted to do and when he hesitated —almost never— on whatever you were pestering him about he was almost immediately convinced otherwise
“i don’t know about that sweets…” he’d lean down to your height, making sure his chin wasn’t digging too roughly in your shoulder, with his calloused palms on your bare hips as you stare at yourself in the illuminated bathroom mirror of your penthouse —courtesy of the gojo family and their insane amount of money that they could practically wipe their ass with—
“whatever, satoru. i thought you understood me.” you’d shaken his hands off you about to walk through the threshold of the bathroom to the master bedroom before the snow haired man was grabbing your wrist, pulling you into his chest
“you’re right, i don’t know what i was talking about.”
manipulating sashisu! when you were mad at one of them giving the others all your attention
“F-fuck Sho, you make me feel s-soooo good.” Your moans filled the room entirely as the brunette lied her tongue flat against your clit, spelling her name in the sanctuary between your folds that made you grab onto her bangs while satoru gently took a nipple between his teeth switching between nipping and suckling at the bud
all while suguru chops vegetables with more force than necessary down the hall in the kitchen
manipulating sashisu! to buying you whatever you want exactly when you want it
“suguboo, can you get me this purse please?” suguru knew better than to look you in the eyes when you were asking for something, —not that he wouldn’t fold anyway— you’d pout your lip and bat your lashes and suddenly he couldn’t say no
“angel, you have bags in there still in the box with tags on them.” He hums trying to not peak from behind his hair that was kept down —kudos to you—
“Oh… okay” you’d mumble lip jutting out just the right amount before rising up off the sectional couch that costed more than majority of your peers rent
“…my wallet is in my jeans from last night, go get it.”
manipulating sashisu! into changing their appearance to your standards
“what happened was it dandruff again? I could’ve washed it!” You stare at Shoko mouth agape at her shoulder length bob cut, the once flowing brunette locs that tousled down her back no where evident.
“no, no! it was hot and it was getting in the way of clinicals and labs.” The brunette tried to reassure your nerves avoiding your eyes —that looked at her like she’d grown three heads at the salon— while you slowly shook your head in disbelief
“I loved that hair. That- that was my hair, Sho. I- how could you do this? How could she do this!?” You looked over your shoulder to Suguru and Satoru, and arm stretched out to the girl who stared at you wearily
“babe, it’s just hair, it’ll grow back.” She tried to gently laugh off the reaction making the white haired jock to wince while suguru bit the inside of his cheek.
“you’re back smoking cigarettes and you practically shaved your head!” your voice was short from a screech
“okay, come on angel.” suguru murmured guiding you to the bedroom, satoru hot on his heels
manipulating sashisu! to the point they start second guessing things YOU said/agreed on
“i mean i feel like we should just switch it up y’know? It’s not gonna be forever… we’ll still come home to each other.” Shoko clenched the cigarette between her fingertips a little tighter as she finished her reasoning for wanting to peruse open relationships. Her, suguru, satoru, and you were all in the living room placed randomly around the open space.
they all looked at you expectantly waiting for you to deny, flip your lid, curse them to hell at the mere idea, fuck until the sun came up
“Thats a pretty good idea.” you hummed, staring blankly at your grown out nails.
suguru chokes on his tea, brows furrowed; shoko quickly swipes a palm over the couch cushion to prevent a burn hole where she had dropped her cigarette; satorus pristine blue eyes twitch beneath his sunglasses
before any of them could speak up you were standing from the cushioned love seat dusting off your skirt and moving across the are with a few wide strides
“well, i have my evening classes to get to.” you hummed picking up your costly shoulder from a equally pricy barstool before exiting your shared home
“she doesn’t have evening classes.” suguru speaks up after a beat of silence, his nails digging into his palms as he stares at the door like you’ll appear from behind it.
manipulating sashisu! by keeping the small highlight of them on your social media but deleting every other post with the thought of them in it.
suddenly your stories were filled with videos of you —recently— with you hair done, lashes done, nails fresh, and eyebrows carved. Satoru checked his bank apps over and over to see when you charged his card. I mean you couldn’t be that mad if you were still using him.
It was brought to his attention that you were in fact not using him.
manipulating sashisu! by introducing a couple of new ‘friends’ a week that sickly looked nothing like any of them
“These are my roommates, roomies this is takuma”
“this is kento”
“this is toji”
“this is haibara”
“this is utahime”
manipulating sashisu! and being the straw that broke the camels back when they had made it out the house to one of the biggest frat parties of the semester
satoru and shoko were talking up a random cheerleader who seemingly had pom pom’s for brains as the brunette fought not to roll her eyes itching to light a cigarette, of course the snow haired jock didn’t falter one bit; he could flirt with a brick wall given the chance.
suguru stood close by, talking to a group of young men and women alike; they seemingly threw themselves at him and he struggled not to reach in his pocket and pour a alarming amount of sanitizer into his palms
you could catch the trios attention in any crowd. of course you could. however, their eyes weren’t on you but who’d you walked into the party with.
ryomen fucking sukuna.
the pink haired bastards grin was wide when his fraternity cheered for seemingly his presence overall
manipulating sashisu! when you lock eyes with purple, brown, and blue irises staring back at you. sugurus jaw clenches when you have the D1 wrestler bend to your height whispering something hidden in his ear, red eyes glance at the group boredly before he wraps an arm around your hips while you pull him into a crowd of dancing bodies
seeing your hips roll and your ass grind down on sukunas crotch made heat rise to their faces.
satoru was the first out of his seat storming over to the two of you before suguru or shoko could reach him. it happened in a flash; one moment he tugs your wrist pulling you off of the man and the next all you could hear despite the booming music was the sickening crack of satoru’s fist connecting with sukuna’s nose taking him off guard
the part erupted in chaos, sukuna’s frat members taking it upon themselves to join causing your raven haired boyfriend to eventually began fighting. you see some familiar faces of their own friends joining in as shoko pushed her way through the crowd ending up standing next to you as you watched over the brawl, bored. once you realized they weren’t going to kill each other you finally made your way towards the front door stepping over bodies that were struggling against each other on the ground.
the cool breeze of the night hit your face soothing your hot skin as you stepped onto the lawn. when you ignored the couples that were eating each others faces and practically fucking, pressed against the side of the house walls it was pretty peaceful.
manipulating sashisu! when the fight eventually calmed and they were of course, kicked out they saw your sitting in one of plastic lawn chairs that belong to the frat. suguru made no hesitation storming over towards you his chin modeling and new cut and his hair tousled.
“what the hell was that!?” suguru seethed, his brows furrowed, he was still sexy when he was mad you noted.
manipulating sashisu! as you tilt your head to look up at all three of them. satoru didn’t look to far off from him either a decent size bruise blooming across his pale cheek, all while shoko was unscathed; not opting in a fight between a half a dozen brainless jocks. —she would also never hear the end of it from gojo or geto is he even tried—
manipulating sashisu! when you raise a eyebrow, scoffing.
“i didn’t force you to to do that. i didn’t put a gun to your head and say ‘oh yeah totally start a fight with the head frat brother, IN HIS OWN HOUSE” you hissed standing heels slightly sinking into the grass
manipulating sashisu! when satoru laughed humorlessly stepping closer to your frame
“you knew what you were doing as soon as you stepped foot in there with him” the jealousy was radiating off him in waves, even though he was never one to quite hide it.
“you were the ones who said you wanted to see other people! i do it and it’s the world stops spinning?” your voice raised and the couples who were quite literally consuming each others features perked up at the drama.
“oh please, you’re one of the smartest people in our class ranking. you can tell when someone’s bullshitting you” it was true, they wanted to make you jealous and you didn’t let them, didn’t give them the reaction they wanted and here they were melting like putty between your fingers
manipulating sashisu! when shoko huffed out a breath noticing the peering eyes around you.
“alright babe, you won. we can finish whatever… this is at home” she gestured towards you and satoru who were standing nose to nose. suguru who pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm himself quickly fished through his pockets for his car keys, beginning to inch towards the car; dragging satoru along with him. shoko cleared her throat while you glanced at her, rolling your eyes, and crossing your arms against your chest.
“i’m not going anywher-” before you could even turn away fully she was gripping you arm, staring dead into your eyes.
“get in the car, (+++).” her tone left no room for arguing, she looked like she craved for a cigarette. you huffed trailing behind your boyfriends, you fight to not let your lips curve upwards.
truth be told, you didn’t actually sleep with any of the people you had introduced them to. they wanted to make you jealous, why couldn’t you do the same? —even if you did take it a step too far—
while you did have your fun, the thought of sex with them while everyone was angry seemed like a real fun weekend.
Summary: In which you and Neteyam are courting, but Tuk seems to take up more and more of your attention despite knowing that her brother was soon to be your mate.
a/n: I was inspired by someone on here, but I forgot their tag 😓
You and Neteyam have been stuck to each other for as long as you can remember. From the moment the two of you could crawl to meeting his youngest siblings to completing the Iknimaya together—everyone could see the pathway Eywa set for the both of you. So it was no surprise that Neteyam began to officially court you the second you both became of age.
Ever since then, you were even more inseparable. Well, maybe expect for your duties as tsakarem since it was clear that you would follow after his grandmother and mother. And whenever Tuk showed up, in a way you found rather cute, really.
As much as Neteyam loved you and you loved Neteyam, Tuk was a really close second to being your love. No matter what you were doing, if she could see you, she would immediately drop everything to be by your side and talk your ear off, typically earning a scolding from Neytiri.
To you, it was the most endearing thing ever. You were glad you were getting along with the youngest Sully, never having a little sister yourself. Most times, Tuk would refer to you as her best friend and bragged to everyone she could that she was your favorite—even when you and Neteyam were very clearly together.
Nevertheless, Neteyam—being the most patient Na’vi on Pandora—didn’t mind Tuk’s constant love for you most of the time . He knew how much his little sister admired you and everything you did, and who was he to tell her to back off and find a new friend?
Unfortunately, the other times where his patience wore thin were when his duties to train to be an Olo'eyktan with his father got to his head and all he wanted to do was be in your presence as it often calmed him—not you and his little sister.
It just so happened that today was one of those days.
Neteyam found you wandering the village with a woven basket to your hip, knowing your path was distinct in your head when your ears flickered in a specific pattern. He had just gotten back from a flight with his father and desperately wanted to see you, tail swishing behind him happily when you caught his gaze.
“Where are you off to?” He wrapped an arm around your waist loosely, kissing the side of your head while you grinned up at him with the smile that could melt him anytime.
“Teyam.” You say softly in recognition, letting yourself soften from his simple touch, your own tail swaying in giddiness. “I’m on my way to visit your family since I dropped some herbs off to your grandmother earlier, and I feel like I haven’t seen them in years.”
He scrunched his nose in amusement from your words and tilted his head, taking the basket gently to carry it for you. “You saw them this morning.”
“Same thing.” You wave him off with a flick of your hand and enter his home, smile widening when you see the youngest Sully daughter sitting with her sister that was attempting to teach her how to bead together a top—the older girl sighing when she saw you.
“Tuktuk!” You called out for the young girl, bending and holding your arms open for her to run into.
She called your name out in response, jumping into your arms as you caught her, spinning her around and around until she squealed for you to stop. You kiss her cheek and tuck her hair back, complimenting a new bead in her hair when you heard Neteyam clear his throat beside you—your eyes flickering to him in mild confusion.
“I don’t get that as much enthusiasm when you see me?” Neteyam frowned in a way you assumed was a teasing manner, making you pat his cheek.
“Hush.” You laugh softly before turning back to Tuk, her eyes shining with joy as she gained your attention once more, her tail whipping furiously behind her. “I missed you so so much, sweet girl!”
“I missed you too!” She giggled and looked away for a second, contemplating her next few words while you acknowledged the rest of her siblings.
Lo’ak rolled his at Tuk, giving you a faint smile but immediately began to complain about what his sister was going on and on about the entire day. “She kept whining about when we would see you again. She was all like, “When’s she coming over again?” “Can we visit grandma so we can see her?” and “Tell Neteyam to mate with her faster.””
The last comment made you and Neteyam burn bright purple, the words completely lost on Tuk but oh-so amusing to Kiri and Lo’ak when they heard their youngest sibling repeat the phrase several times. It got so bad that they physically had to cover her mouth when their mother did a quick check on them.
You were about to say something—asking the two of them why they hadn’t asked her to stop repeating the words—when Tuk tugged on your arm, finding the next big thing to bother you about while you were still here.
“Come! I have something to show you!” She dragged you out of the Sully home, away for her sibling’s sights.
Kiri watched in amusement as the flaps to the place flew, a teasing smile on her lips as she dropped her head in Neteyam’s direction. “She’s going to take her from you.”
Neteyam stared at the spot where you stood for a second, shaking his head and smiling weakly toward Kiri. He wasn’t too bothered by Tuk today… right?
“I’m just glad that they’re getting along.” He said almost flatly, causing Kiri to raise a brow at him.
Lo’ak snickered while he dodged a swipe from his brother, earning an eye roll from him as he reminded them of Tuk’s past shenanigans. “Remember there was entire week where Tuk wouldn’t let her go anywhere without her? She’s so protective of her.”
“I wonder why.” Kiri drawled in his direction, yelping when Lo’ak tugged at her tail. She furiously pushed his chest, making Neteyam sigh and pull them apart from each other as Kiri yelled at Lo’ak who was still making faces toward her. “Skxawng!”
Just then, the flap to their home opened, their mother entering with a sharp gaze because of the loud sounds she heard on her way over—the three of them looking at each other knowing they were caught. Well, mainly Lo’ak and Kiri.
“Enough.” Neytiri put a hand up and looked around the place, her ears tucking back when she couldn’t find her youngest daughter. “Where is Tuk?”
None of them spoke for a second, simply watching their mother clean the place up with a grace none of them could master just yet. It’s not like they how to pick up wooden toys and toss them into a basket while still looking like a woodsprite.
Neteyam was the first to speak, tilting his head with a fond look in his eyes as he revealed to her that Tuk was with you, his younger siblings looking at each other at their brother’s lovesick look.
Neytiri hummed, grabbing the basket you brought earlier and picking it up. She took the fine beads that were carefully wrapped on the inside before looking up at her eldest, a soft smile gracing her lips.
“Speaking of your future mate, she has Tsahìk training with your grandmother and I tomorrow morning.” She revealed, cupping his cheek and pinching it. “So no staying out late tonight with her. We need her up bright and early.”
Gagging and laughing could be heard from where Lo’ak and Kiri stood, their noises making their brother’s face flush, warmth flooding his face with embarrassment at his mother’s words. He couldn’t tell if that was what his mother was exactly insinuating, but it certainly what his siblings were.
“Mother.” Neteyam cleared his throat, pushing Neytiri’s hand away from him.
She clicked her tongue in his direction, shaking her head and giving him a look that told him that her and Jake were once like him and you long ago. “Are you not courting her?”
Neteyam feigned annoyance, eyes darting away from her knowing gaze as he spoke only to be cut off by the sibling who loved you just as much as he did.
“I am, but—“
“Mama!” Tuk shouts and jumps out of your arms, running up to her mother and hugging her tightly while you stumble slightly at the sudden movement.
Luckily, Neteyam caught you within seconds, his tail wrapping around your waist in protectiveness. You smiled softly before taking a step closer to him, your hand brushing with his before you laced them together, making him lift your joined hands and kissing your knuckles.
Lo’ak whistles at the action as he walked out of the home, earning an eye roll from Kiri. She simply sat back down on the woven mat and continued to bead together a top, still listening intently to the conversation without fail.
“What did I miss?” You ask with a smile, ears perked up and tail swishing behind you before it instinctively curled around Neteyam’s thigh, causing the boy’s cheeks to flush a darker purple than it already was.
“Nothing worth listening to.” Neteyam murmured against your hair, pressing another kiss to your temple before his voice dropped even lower to the point where only you could hear him. “Are we still going to the river tonight, yawntu?”
This time, your own cheeks flush a deep purple to match his, the end of your tail thumping on his thigh in an exultant manner. “Who would I be if I ever said no?”
“C’mon, let’s go! She’s probably waiting for us already!” Tuk dragged Neteyam by the arm as they walk through Pandora’s vast forest, her small legs doing her best to run while Neteyam did his best to hold onto her tightly, praying to Eywa that she wouldn’t trip or fall.
Lo’ak pulled a face and rolled his eyes at his younger sister, nudging Spider in amusement while Kiri gave him an unimpressed look. “Tuk, slow down. We won’t get there any faster if you twist your ankle and complain about the trip to the river.”
Now, Neteyam had no idea how Tuk found out that he was going to meet up with you at the river that evening. All Neteyam knew was that she threatened to tell their parents if he didn’t let her go with him to see you—but that didn’t include telling his siblings and apparently Spider. So the next thing he knew was that he was taking four others to your spot, each step diminishing his eagerness to see you.
Tuk stuck her tongue out at Lo’ak, only earning one from him as well before she saw you standing at the clearing by the river, her tail swishing energetically behind her in excitement. Tuk called out your name and your ears perked up at the voice in surprise as you thought you were only supposed to see Neteyam.
Turning around, your golden eyes found the Sully family—including Spider—approach where you stood, the youngest climbing over a large log hastily to get to you somewhat faster.
When they got close enough, you opened your arms for a hug that Neteyam thought was his, his own arms raised before you bent over and gathered Tuk in your arms. Neteyam froze with his arms still up, stunned ever so slightly before glaring at the three behind him who were stifling their laughter.
“Tuktuk!” You smothered her face in kisses—the ones Neteyam should’ve received. You admire her softly, knowing you saw her earlier during dinner but nonetheless offered her your compliments. “You look so pretty.”
“Not as pretty as you!” She giggled and held onto your neck tightly as you swayed back and forth, her eyes catching the new beaded top you wore. “You weren’t wearing that earlier.”
Your cheeks warm at her observation, your tail flicking behind you slightly before you shake your head knowing the top was supposed to be for Neteyam but she didn’t need to know that.
“I just wanted to try it on for once. Does it look good, Tuktuk?”
“So good!” She giggled again and began to ask millions of questions about the beads, the river, the different glowing plants—anything she could that would retain your attention for as long as she could have it.
Lo’ak punched his brother’s shoulder, now laughing quite loudly in Neteyam’s opinion. “Bro, you wish that was you.”
And before Neteyam could say something back, Kiri let her heart get the better of her, saving her older brother from getting ruthlessly poked and prodded by her other brother. And, unfortunately, saving Lo’ak from an earful—which she didn’t really care for.
“Tuk, come here. Let’s get you adjusted to the water so you can swim.” Kiri called Tuk over with a small smile in your direction, making the youngest Sully dramatically sigh and reluctantly leave your arms with an exaggerated pout.
You watched her to ensure she was safe in her sister’s arms before turning to Neteyam whose ears were flat with his tail swishing vigorously back and forth. You walked over to him and lead him away from the rest of the group, your eyes scanning his figure.
“What’s wrong, Teyam—?”
“You love Tuk more than me.” Neteyam interrupted, his tail now moving more fiercely as his gaze met yours. His golden eyes flickered with an emotion you thought was impossible for him to ever feel, amusement running through your veins.
“That’s not true.” You laugh with a shake of your head, cupping his cheeks gently as you spoke and thumbing the patterns decorating his face. “I love you and Tuk differently.”
Neteyam softens under your touch but still mutters in complaint about the attention you give his much younger sister, a pout settling on his lips that reminded you of said little sister. “But you just have to greet her first?”
“She’s my little baby!” You scoff with a teasing smile as he finally wraps his arms around your waist, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “You’re jealous, Neteyam. Of your own sister.”
“No.” He meets your eyes carefully before deciding to bury his head in your neck, mumbling against your skin in embarrassment. “No.”
“Mhm.” You grin and rub his back gently, ears perking up when you could hear his siblings shouting at each other before shaking your head, focusing your attention back to the Na’vi you loved with all your heart. “You shouldn’t lie to the person you’re courting, Teyam.”
“I hate you.” He groans and holds you flush against him, your tail wrapping around his leg naturally from the familiar position while his own tail found its home around your waist once more.
“No you don’t.” You laugh again and lightly pull him up from his spot in your neck, your golden eyes catching his—your eyes reflecting his beautiful face. “I see you, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. And I know I could never find anyone else like you.”
Neteyam looks between your eyes, his own eyes shimmering before he pressed his forehead against yours, meeting your lips with tenderness. “I see you too, yawntu.” He pressed another kiss to your lips before pulling away, forehead still against yours. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” You murmur, thumbing his bottom lip with a small smile. You peck his lips once more, gaze catching his. “It’s okay.”
“We’re not going to be able to sneak away, are we?” He mumbled as you begin to kiss every inch of his face, his hand finding the curve of your back.
You hum against his lips, pulling back ever so slightly to meet his blown eyes. “Not unless you want to lie.”
⋆˙ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : lo’ak ✘ na’vi!reader
⋆˙ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 3k+
⋆˙ 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 : heavy angst, major death, blood and severe injury, hurt no comfort, talking about the future, no happy ending, all that fun stuff :>
✮⋆˙ 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 : @cafekitsune !!!
a/n : anyway avatar 3 can’t come soon enough and yes there will be more fics because apparently I enjoy emotional damage. enjoy! (threat) xxx
“Get outta here, guys—” was the first thing Lo’ak gritted out towards Spider, wide gaze fixed on the chaos surrounding them in the SeaDragon.
“Dude, there’s no way we’re going without you—”
“And what about Y/N—”
The utterance of your name sent a harsh pulse through his chest, a reminder that Quaritch and his recom squad deserve everything coming to them for what they've done to you, to his family. “Bro, get out of here, NOW. I'll get her.”
They hesitated, Neteyam’s nostrils flaring as he inhaled, hand gripping Spider's arm as he stared at Lo'ak with frightened eyes. Lo'ak only managed a strained smile, trying to ignore the tightness coiling around his throat like a vine. “I got this, okay? Just go, get dad. Fast.”
His brother’s face twisted with worry before giving a reluctant nod and a rough, affectionate ruffle to Lo’ak’s head, “Be careful, skxawng, or else we won’t hear the end of it. C’mon, Spider.” And with that, he dove back into the water with the human boy.
“L-lo'ak…” your voice, weak and strained like a fraying cord, called out as you leaned heavily against the cold metal railings of the ship.
Once the recoms had retreated after the others created enough chaos, once Lo'ak saw Neteyam and Spider disappear beneath the frothing waves, he wasted no time rushing to the other side — to you — pushing through his own aching pain and the blood trickling warm down his temple.
“Hey, hey, are you good?” he softly queried, a firm arm winding around your waist to help you stay upright.
You granted a stiff nod, mustering the smallest of smiles — fragile as morning mist — as you gripped his forearm, leaning into his frame like he was the only thing keeping you from dissolving. “I-I'm fine, ma Lo'ak. Just a scratch.”
He knew it was a lie. He saw the way one of the avatars had thrown you against the metal structure like you were nothing, saw the blade slice viciously across your abdomen when you'd pushed Lo'ak out of harm's way — always protecting, always sacrificing. But for both your sakes, he tried to cradle the slightest hope in this nightmare, irises frantically scanning for an escape route, for salvation. “C'mon, we gotta get off this ship. Neteyam and Spider are getting dad. Let me help—”
“—I can do it, Lo'ak. I'm fine.” You insisted again, a whimper escaping as his hold tightened when you stumbled. Your eyes fluttered shut momentarily as he guided you toward the edge of the vessel.
Though it was not the sight of finally making it through that halted his steps, but the realization of your body quivering violently, tremors wracking through you like earthquake aftershocks. “Sevin, you're shaking. Like, a-a lot.”
His mouth parched when his now tightened throat allowed him to speak those words, voice scraped raw. A constricting sensation formed in his chest, the knowledge of you being wounded gnawing at him like a beast with relentless teeth.
You knew this, felt it radiating from him in waves, and so you insisted for the third time that you're fine, that you just need to rest. But your breathing was too shallow, too desperate — each inhale a struggle, each exhale a surrender — fingers clutching his wrist as you attempted to lower yourself down.
He beat you to it however, attentively helping you sit up against the ship's wall with a tenderness that belied his panic. Lo'ak crouched beside you, one hand cradling your head for support, fingers threading through your hair.
“O-okay, yeah, sit. Just rest.” A shaky breath tumbled from his lips, head bobbing in what he hoped was reassurance.
“What about you? You are alright?” You remembered the hit he took to his ribs, the blood matting his dark twines like war paint he never wanted. You scrutinized his face, taking in the bruise blooming along his jaw like a poisonous plant, the minor scratch carved across his brow.
But he smiled lightly, wincing as he shifted closer, closing the distance between your pain and his. “I'm fine. Nothing major — just got knocked around, y’know. Nothing I can’t handle already.” He assured, palm rising to stroke your forehead, not caring about his own injuries when you were hurt like this. “Y/N, you sure you're okay? We should—”
You watched as his golden eyes broadened when he moved his hand behind your back, panic lodging in them as his lips parted in silent horror. Your browbone cinched as you tried to sit up straighter. “W-what is wrong?”
The simple act provoked a pained groan and he was quick to hold you still, head shaking in protest. He gave you a reassuring — very wobbly — smile, though tears gathered like storm clouds as reality settled in with cruel weight, pulling you closer against his chest where his heart hammered.
“N-nothing. Just... this isn't what I wanted. I wanted to protect you, I wanted to be better.” He half-lied, voice wavering and whispered, anguish pinching his features as he truly looked at you. The sweat and tears tainting the warm hues of your cheeks, the injuries from being thrown, things jabbing at you while attempting to swim away, the blood pooling beneath you like a crimson shadow.
But despite it all, despite knowing you might not make it, you still managed to look so beautiful to him. “You should have stayed.”
Your eyes searched his expression, tracing every line of grief carved there, understanding the meaning behind those words. “Lo'ak, we've been over this.” Your thumb rose to smooth the crease between his brows — that worried furrow you'd kissed a thousand times. “I don't regret coming with you. How were any of us supposed to know this was going to happen?” You murmured, eyes half-closed but smiling nonetheless — always smiling for him. “But it does not matter. You're enough the way you are, yawne. You don't need to prove anything.”
He tried returning it as best as he could, but the pool of blood increased in size beneath you — spreading, spreading, spreading. “Baby, we need to move. My dad's coming, the others are coming, maybe we can get to them first.” His gaze darted toward the water, searching for any sign of his family through the haze of his tears. Maybe they're trying to get Tuk and Kiri first.
He started muttering under his breath, words too jumbled for you to understand. When you asked what he was saying, his broken gaze traveled down to your abdomen, crimson streaming so openly, streaking your azure tones. He only shook his head. “Nothing, baby. Can you stand? We can get to an ilu right now yeah–” He reached for you but paused, seeing the pain etching your features. “Never mind, I'll carry you to the water, okay? Y’know what, lemme go see if I can get the others, maybe they’re close–”
But you stopped him, fingers winding around his arm with what little strength remained. “H-hey, no, love…” your stuttered words made him look down at you, at your tiny, dazed smile that somehow still held all the light in the world. “Don't. Just stay with me, yeah?”
“Y/N, this isn't the time to stay! You need help.” His voice grows ragged, harsher, edged with panic he couldn’t contain. “We need to go, you need tsahik, I can't just watch you like this, I can't fix this—”
“You don't always have to fix everything, Lo’ak,” you shook your head and his jaw tightened, muscles jumping beneath skin. “And it'll be too late by the time we get there.”
His face crumbled at the realization that you knew — that you'd already accepted what he refused to — but you only sighed, soft and resigned. “Just need to rest, that is all, Lo’.”
He blinked back tears, hating this with every fiber of his being. Hating how you were the one providing comfort in your moment of pain. “Okay, just rest. We don't have to go anywhere. We'll be alright.” His fingers stroked your head gently, entangling within the lovely coils Tsireya and his sisters had helped you with, remembering how radiant you seemed when you showed him, how you'd spun around giggling.
But then crimson met his flesh, and the once beautiful memory burned into ashes, disintegrating. He tenderly stroked his fingertips along your temple, sweetly down your damp cheekbone, trying to memorize every curve, every angle.
The distant sound of ilu clicking and splashing water met his flickering ears, and he knew there would be consequences, questions, but he did not care. You were all that mattered right now.
Water had begun to swarm the ship's surface, bit by bit rising with relentless inevitability. Or was it sinking?
“The ship is going down.” Your chin rested against his shoulder as you peeked toward the sounds of approaching rescue. “And I think they’re looking for you. You should go. You and your family don't deserve more trouble—”
“—I deserve the trouble.” He cut you off, head blocking your view. “And I'm not going anywhere. I'm waiting until you're better, until you've rested, okay?” He uttered as quietly as you, listening to your slow, shallow breathing fade bit by bit, one hand cradling your face while the other pulled you close to his chest.
“Lo'ak... Kehe. You've caused enough worry. That's w-why you need to go.” You protested weakly, barely audible, peering up at him through heavy lids. One hand loosely curled around his wrist while the other rose to his wet braids, trying to memorize their texture one last time, the way they felt between your fingers.
He exhaled at your touch, shaking his head. “If I'm leaving, you're coming with me. Don't worry about them, Y/N.” He whispered, stroking the patterns at the side of your neck. “Just us.”
“Lo'ak,” Exhaustion and warmth sprawled throughout your body, sunset flowing into night.
“Y/N, stop,” he firmly stated, or tried to, though his voice quivered like a plucked string. “We're not doing this. We don't need to.”
“I love you, okay?” You continued as tears warped your vision, both hands holding his wrists like lifelines.
“I-I know you do, believe me I know,” he choked on a sound between a chuckle and a sob, wounded. His eyes searched your face as he cupped your cheeks with infinite gentleness. “But stop. Help is almost here and you're gonna be taken to the village and Tsireya’s scary ass mom will heal you and then we can leave all this behind—”
“Lo'ak,” you said pointedly, using the last of your strength to make him hear you. “There won't be enough time. Please, you have to go, the ship is sinking.”
“No.” He whimpered so softly, so defeatedly, the sound of dreams dying. He pushed his forehead desperately against your temple, flat nose nuzzling your cheek as his shaking hands fell to your shoulders. He clung to the fragile hope in his breaking heart, trying desperately to keep what was left of pure, good light from slipping through his fingers. “You're gonna be saved, someone's coming, you're gonna stay, you're gonna be here with me.”
“My love, no one's coming in time.” You managed a weak chuckle with a slight shake of your head, the truth settling between you like stones in your hearts.
“Y-you have your family. Do you really want them to see this?” His eyes squeeze shut, fighting back a sob. “They're not going to make it.” The whisper barely left your lungs as you struggled to inhale. “I'm not going to make it.”
His face crumpled in anguish, features contorting with a grief too large for his young body to hold, feeling utterly helpless as tears spilled down his cheeks — washing away small streaks of blood, creating clean rivers down his face.
“Don't cry, Lo'ak. You don't need to cry over me, okay?” You mustered a small smile, thumbs dabbing away his tears. “Just hold me right now. It's just you and me, okay? It's alright.”
“No,” he retorted like a young child being told something impossible to accept, brows creasing against yours. “You're hurt and I can't fix this, can't save you! How can you ask me not to cry? This isn't alright, Y/N.”
“It is alright, Lo'ak. Because I'd rather be dying in the arms of the boy I love,” your voice began to tremble as your body lost more strength with each syllable. Lo'ak's hold became more desperate but he tried to give you comfort with every touch, trying to find some solace for himself in that comfort, in the warmth of you still here, still present.
“And that alone makes this okay. Because I'm happy here.” You breathed out as a single tear descended down your cheek like a falling star, nuzzling into his palm.
“J-just stay with me, okay?” He pleaded, digits pushing a bit deeper into your cheeks — not enough to hurt, just enough to keep you there. “Can you keep those pretty eyes open for me? Let me see them—”
“I know you think you're not good enough,” you smiled softly, “but Lo'ak? Falling in love with you... is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.” His face flushed at your words, chin tucking into his chest as emotion overwhelmed him. “You let me in and I got to see every part of you — the warrior, the brother, the boy who just wants to belong.”
“A-and I know that once this is over, you're going to keep being that person for those who need you, like your siblings. You're going to help them and yourself, and I cannot wait to see that.”
“You're part of who I want to be, so you need to stay because I need you," he whispered desperately, words tumbling out like a dam breaking. “You told me yourself you'd always be there, you promised we'd explore the whole ocean together, and I'm gonna save you, a-and then we can do all of that.”
“Y-you promise?” A thin stream of red began at the corner of your mouth and you coughed slightly — a wet, terrible sound.
“Yes, yeah I promise, okay? Once this is done, I'm taking you everywhere — the cove of ancestors, the coral reefs beyond the reef. We'll ride together, just you and me.” He thumbed away the blood with shaking hands.
Your smile widened, not arguing as you gazed into those golden pools — honey and sunlight and home. “And then, once everything calms down, I'm gonna get you the prettiest piece of jewelry from the deepest part of the ocean, and when you say yes, I'll make you my mate—”
“You want to have me as your mate?” You chirped, that beautiful grin returning — incandescent even now — as tears cascaded down your cheeks, heart faintly beating its final rhythm.
He laughed, broken but genuine. “Of course I want to be mated to you, Y/N. Tell you what — once we get out of here, I'll make something so beautiful everyone will be jealous. Because we both know you deserve it.”
His lips pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek and you hummed contentedly before frowning. “How do you know I'll say yes?”
He huffed against your skin, breath warm. “Because I know you love me and you would've said yes the day we first met.”
Your lips formed that perfect pout he adored, a small grumble of embarrassment falling from them. Though he did not voice it, he knew damn well he would have too if he'd known it would come to this. He pushed the thought away, focusing on how your face softened like flower petals. “Can... Can we go back? A-and be in the Forest?”
His eyes cataloged your features — committing every detail to memory — brushing beneath your eye as he thought about the bond you wanted to make official, how much you wanted to go home. Home. The Forest. Where you both grew up, where you first met as children running through leaves and laughter, where everything was simpler and safer and whole.
He knew it was impossible — his family could not go back, you're both here now in the reef, so far from those trees and that soil. But looking at you now, dying in his arms, how could he say anything but: “Of course, sevin,” he muffled against your temple. “We'll go back to the forest. We'll go back home, like we always talked about.” And happiness illuminated your face, even though you both knew the truth.
He savored that expression, chuckling when you mentioned weaving a new songcord together, the vision of your figure embellished in ceremonial pieces making his heart swell with warmth and simultaneously ache with longing for a distant, impossible future. “We'll have our own home, wherever you want, and we'll never leave.”
“Oh, never.”
“Maybe somewhere quiet. A-and your family is always going to be there. Always.”
“Obviously — there’s no escaping them, really. They love you, Y/N.” And it was true — his family adored you like you'd always been one of them.
“We should have a morning swim every day. The ocean is rubbing off on me.” A faint hope lilted in your tone, dimmed golds gaining a familiar spark — that light he chased like moths to flame.
“Of course,” he scoffed with conviction, smirking a bit through his tears. “And Tuk will probably join us since saying no to her isn’t really an option, and so will Kiri and Neteyam and Spider.”
A breathless giggle emerged from you, “That sounds like a dream.” You sighed so softly, the brims of your vision fading, darkening at the edges like burning paper.
“…when I see you with Tuk — even the kids in Awa’Atlu,” he slowly started, gazing down at you, “it makes me think … know that you’ll be a great mom.”
Surprise stirred within you, lips parting in wonder at his revelation. “R-really?”
He gave an eager, firm nod. “I know we don’t really talk about it, and we’re still young, but … I see us having a family, y’know?” He accentuated those words with that stupidly lopsided grin that always thawed your insides, made you believe in the unobtainable.
"And what exactly do we have?" You questioned, fingers threading through his wet braids. His orbs brightened, twin suns, the image of you carrying his children igniting something pure and powerful and achingly beautiful for he felt himself yearn for it so, so much. “Maybe two or three. They'd be perfect.”
Your eyes widened, giving a slow nod as you processed this. “They’ll be spoiled. I hope they have these…” Your pointer fingers traced along his brows, their texture grazing the tips, and you giggled a bit as he raised them up and down, making you smile. He always, always made you smile.
“And I hope they have that pretty smile and those big eyes of yours.”
Your lips stroked a curve only he knew you could ever paint. “You will be a great sempul. They will be blessed to have you.”
“I'll be a good father because of you,” he emphasized shakily, voice fracturing. “a better brother, a better son, a better person because of you. Because you teach me that I'm enough as I am.”
“You have always been enough, Lo’ak. I cannot take credit for that.” You chuckled weakly, a sharp inhale following as your eyes stayed closed for a long moment. The pain became far more unbearable than you have ever felt, pulsating in agonizing waves throughout your body.
“Does it hurt?” Lo'ak swallowed thickly, trying to avoid looking at the spiraling pool of blood intermingled with the rising water — red bleeding into blue.
“No, not anymore.” you smiled gently at him, lying to him for the reason of wanting to relieve him from his feelings, not wanting him to feel any more guilt than he already carried.
“T-that's good, sevin.” He nodded, professing his belief in your words to spare you your own feelings, to give you this small peace. His breathing became frantic at the sound of your own fading away. The extent of your wound was too great, too severe, and Lo’ak was with the heart's wrenching notion that you were near the end — standing at the threshold.
Your voice was barely discernable when you called his name, fear, panic and sadness whirling the center of your belly when he looked at you. Worry struck his face at your eyes, becoming devoid of light. “I'm here, I'm here, what's wrong?”
“C-can you kiss me? J-just one more time, please?” Your request stuttered violently as you gasped for air, clutching onto him.
His head dropped, braids brushing his temple as he released a sob. “I-I can't. I don't want to say goodbye, not now. N-not yet.”
“Please... please do not cry. I know we will meet again under Eywa, yes?" You managed to smile, mouth stained with more red.
He dragged a hand down his face, sniffled and nodded before leaning forward. With that, he gifted you one last broken, tender kiss. He did not care about the blood glazing your lips, only focusing on the sensation only they could ever soothe him with.
Lo’ak’s only determination was you, air emerging deep within his lungs while desperately trying to give you one of his breaths as if that would help, as if he could breathe life back into you, calloused fingertips grasping your face in an anguished manner and you attempted to meet him halfway.
He retreats back, forehead finding its place against yours, honey flecking orbs opening to look into your own — to see you, truly see you. “I see you, ma Lo’ak.”
His thumbs feathered your cheeks, stroking your jawline. “I see you, ma Y/N. I see you.” Soft kisses repeatedly met your temple, your forehead, the crown of your head, letting the stones in your coils brush his lips as many times as possible.
“H-hey, Lo'ak?”
“Yeah, sevin?”
“W-when we go back home... let us all hang out like how we did when we were children. We deserve a break.” The single beaded braid at his temple was pinched between your fingers, humming as you stared up with faded focus. “Let's go flying again.”
His smile started to tremble, kissing every part of your face so tenderly yet firm in their touch. “Yeah, yeah, anything, baby. Anything you want, whatever my pretty girl wants. We’ll go flying everywhere, anywhere you want, just stay here with me, yeah? Just us.”
"Just us… that sounds great to me, Lo.” You breathed out peacefully, smiling softly when his lips met your forehead again, again, and again — a ritual, a plea, a goodbye.
Your blinking grew slower and slower until your eyes remained open for only the briefest second, both of you knowing it's time.
“Irayo, ma Lo’ak.” Thank you.
“I-Irayo, ma Y/N." He whimpered, eyes screwing shut as he held your lifeless form. “Thank you, sevin.” He repeated this under his breath, disregarding the sounds of ikran and ilu calls growing closer.
“Lo'ak! Where are you?!” Neteyam's voice rang out, desperate and raw.
“Bro, we're coming!”
The heavy thuds of his parents landing on the sinking deck shook the metal beneath him, salvation arriving too late.
“Lo’ak, boy!” Jake's frantic voice boomed. “Neytiri, over there!”
“Ma'itan! Ma Y/N!”
He ignored the shouting, the footsteps, the chaos — none of it mattered. Only the hollow sound of his breathing and the weight of you in his arms. He rocked you slowly, hot tears soaking into skin already losing its warmth.
“It’s just us, sevin," Lo’ak murmured into your ear. “—It’s just us.”
ʚ⁺˖ » synopsis: your roommate and childhood best friend, yuji itadori, has two secrets he swears he'll drag to his grave: 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), creampie, implied domestic abuse, happy ending.
ʚ⁺˖ » songs: playlist〃notes: part 1, part 2, part 3 in wip!! 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 totally have- hope you guys enjoy this little dump!!
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 the faint scent of 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.
The moment his eyes land on you, 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.
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.
“...I don’t want to stay home either.”
His chest tightened. You weren’t supposed to say that—you weren’t supposed to feel that kind of hurt, at least when he was by your side.
Yuji opened his mouth. Closed it. But after a few moments of still silence, he dug his fingers into his palms.
“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 eyes were already watery, tears brimming at the edge.
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 simply pulled you in, arms wrapping around you as you clung to the back of his hoodie, shoulders shaking.
You choked on your own tears, finally surrendering to the dam of emotions you’d bottled all these years. 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.
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.
“AAAAA—!!”
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 was just kissing you with worship, kissing every part of you like you’re heaven itself, tongue peeking into your mouth again.
Each kiss makes your womb drop lower, and he’s 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?”
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, nasty splatters like your other mouth 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.
Somewhere above, 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.”
(wip) part 2 જ⁀➴ just when the spider that bit yuji back then brings more trouble, your past decides to catch up too.
🔞 = mature
Other masterlists: mother masterlist, masterlist archive
A Well-Kept Secret by @astrophileous (added: June 3rd, 2024)
↳ “While working on a case in D.C., Spencer didn't expect to hear a familiar name being mentioned as the sole surviving witness. Or, in which the team discovers Spencer's well-kept secret.”
Airlines pastime by @thewriterg
↳ “You usually kept quiet in a lot of situations so everyone knew to steer and let Spencer do his job when you started to get irritable at the fact your holiday leave was cut short but in the end he does what a doctor does best make it all better.”
Annotations by @dream-a-little-bigger-x
↳ "After a well-deserved day off, the BAU team was back at the FBI headquarters, ready to tackle another case."
Be my angel by @nereidprinc3ss (added: July 30th, 2024)
↳ “In which BAU fem!Reader was injured on the job, but is refusing painkillers at the hospital. Spencer thinks he knows why.”
Extracurricular by @cookiescribble (added: July 30th, 2024)
↳ “Spencer is confused about why so many students are auditing his class. As his wife, you decide to come and investigate.”
Fell in Love by @zombiefiilm
↳ “You hadn't expected your friend spencer to be home from his most recent case yet, let alone passed out on your couch.”
🔞 How to Lie to a Behaviour Analyst by @thatgirlstrawberry
↳ “ In which Spencer and Y/N are dating and it’s great but the only problem is… she’s Rossi’s daughter ”
Imagine #1 by @luveline
↳ “"What are you doing?" you ask.”
Imagine #2 by @ddejavvu
↳ “You'd already been eyeing up the FBI badge clipped to the man's chest pocket, but when you put together Reid from the laminated card and Spencer when the barista gives him his coffee, you know it's the man, the myth, the legend.”
Imagine #3 by @luveline
↳ “"You have to let me see him."”
Imagine #4 by @violetrainbow412-blog
↳ ““Can someone lend me a buck?” Morgan asked, walking into the desks in the bullpen, where Emily, Spencer, JJ and you were sitting.”
Imagine #5 by @ddejavvu
↳ “The doorbell rings, and even if Spencer weren't hobbling around on crutches with a rolled ankle, you'd have bolted to answer the door.”
Imagine #6 by @luveline (added: June 4th, 2024)
↳ “Looking at Spencer, you could almost think you were fresh out of college again, unsure of yourself and in need of a friend.”
Imagine #7 by @radiant-reid (added: June 7th,2024)
↳ “There’s something wrong with Spencer.”
Imagine #8 by @ddejavvu (added: June 4th, 2024)
↳ “It's a bleary observation that you're too groggy to be making in the early hours of the morning, but Spencer hears it anyways, "You've got a slutty waist, Spence."”
Is this your card? by @inkedobsidian
↳ “ Spencer and Derek are canvassing bars when Derek convinces Spencer to try and impress the bartender but she has a trick of her own ”
Packed Lunch by @john-get-the-salt (added: June 4th, 2024)
↳ “One morning Spence is in a rush to leave for work and forgets his lunch. You know he gets cranky when he gets hungry, so that only leaves one option.”
Pretty by @januaryembrs (added: July 30th, 2024)
↳ “Spencer seems to be the only one keeping it together when the two of you get hit with the new Anthrax strain.”
Say it again by @bau-drabbles
↳ “ fluffy fluff w the team and spencer ”
Sun Kissing by @fandom-alley
↳ “The BAU team just finished a case on the California coast and were rewarded with a couple days off for vacation, so Spencer's girlfriend convinced him to spend the day at the beach.”
Taking care of you by @chrisevansleftpeck
↳ “Just Spence taking care of drunk!reader”
The Stolen Donut by @blue-babygirl
↳ “You didn't know that Spencer doesn't like sharing his sweets nor did you know that they were his donuts. Oh well.”
The Lightbulb Moment by @reiderwriter
↳ “You want Spencer all to yourself for the first few months of your relationship and he's only too happy to comply. Unfortunately, you're two dumbasses who can't keep their hands off one another.”
You’re worth it by @dr-spencer-reids-queen
↳ “The ring on your hand is gorgeous, and very expensive. You don’t think you’re worth all that money, but Spencer does.”
Warm you. by @g0dlyunsub (added: July 30th, 2024)
↳ “Spencer finds you in a state of hypothermia while the both of you are on a case, and he quickly works to warm you up.”
Wingteam by @sailortongue
↳ “the team decides that Spencer is in need of a date and they're going to be the ones to help him. But there's just one problem that the team doesn't know about: Spencer already has a girlfriend“
You’re too sweet for me by @januaryembrs (added: June 7th, 2024)
↳ “Thirteen years in the FBI and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.”
‘A Mother’s Revenge’ master list by @ladyelissarose
Simon “Ghost” Riley Masterlist by @/babygirl-riley
Masterlist by @/yawnderu
Masterlist by @rileyslibrary
Sassy series masterlist by @peachesofteal
Masterlist by @darklordofthesimp
Masterlist by @lunarw0rks
- SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY FIC RECS 2 - by @outoftheseine
SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY FIC RECS by @/outoftheseine
Light On masterlist by @peachesofteal
Ghost x Civilian Masterlist by @sim0nril3y
Simon x Reader Family by @/babygirl-riley
Lieutenant Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley…💀 by @nicoleeblossom
Oneshots
“you’re mine and only mine, understood?” by @xcixmoon
❝ nice warm bed you’ve got there, ghost¹ ❞ by @moongumi
𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒, 𝐌𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ! by @qtboni
Simon woke up to you sleeping far away from him in the bed so he pulls you back to him
𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄 ! by @/qtboni
Despite Simon’s difficulty in expressing his emotions, he still finds ways to show his love for you.
Lunchtime By @rileyslibrary
It’s lunchtime at the military base, and you can’t decide what to eat. Ghost is getting hangry.
Oneshot by @/rileyslibrary
non-verbal taunting communication by @/rileyslibrary
Ghost rushes to your aid, only this time, it’s to help with a pickle jar. By @/rileyslibrary
Here’s a rose, now piss off. By @/rileyslibrary
Ghost threw out his back, and the medics forbade him from going on a mission. So he’s been assigned by HR to hand out flowers for Women’s Day.
Where’s my pen, Lt.? by @/rileyslibrary
You’re PMSing, and Ghost comes to the rescue.
Always and Forever by @madzlang
A Visitor by @kkvqwrites
Someone from Simon’s past comes knocking.
Dad!simon by @lundenloves
Oneshot by @ladyelissarose
being yelled at by ghost. By @hxltic
being yelled at by ghost. Pt.2 by @/hxltic
listening to ghost and soap infamous “are you ugly?” “quite the opposite” by @cursingtoji
YOUR BOYFRIEND SIMON RILEY by @aeplern
Interrupted (Part 1) by @milf-murdock
Lime-sized by @imperihoe-writes
Simon finds out his girlfriend is pregnant. He's determined to be the good father he never had.
size difference by @ceilidho
His Girls by @babygirl-riley
Simon had to go into work throughout the craziness of the Riley household he lost his plastic skull mask. Only to find his youngest chewing on it.
Home Sweet Home by @/babygirl-riley
Simon came clean with his team about having a family. Let alone having a family for 4 years. So why not visit since the holiday is coming up?
Small Traditions by @/babygirl-riley
Simon starts to notice the small signs that his mother would do when he was young to what he now does with his girls
Welcome Home by @/babygirl-riley
You surprise Simon at the base instead of being at home. You also think about how far he has come to acceptance.
Unexpected Pt. 2 by @dammn-dean
Whispers and Words by @/dammn-dean
Lovely by @yawnderu
Perfect Life by @/yawnderu
Adoration by @/yawnderu
Birthday Boy by @/yawnderu
Beacon by @/yawnderu
simon knew it was over the moment he realized just how freaky you are. By @khioneee
simon’s first instinct was always to protect you by @/khioneee
Don’t feed him he’ll come back by @kitkatscabinet
The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can’t help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.
Don’t feed him he’ll come back (2) by @/kitkatscabinet
The ghost that lives in your apartment is a solitary man, people tend to stay out of his way, giving him a wide berth. You can’t help but think he seems a little bit lonely, cue pestering him with bad jokes and food.
𝐔𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 by @springtyme
Your daughter finally sees her father’s face for the first time.
𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐁𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 by @/springtyme
After spending months on deployment, Simon surprises you by coming home in the middle of the night to meet his daughter for the first time.
𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 by @/springtyme
Simon comes home to you wearing his jumper.
break in, break down by @hyperactively-me
Mama’s Boy by @midnightcrw
Holding and seeing his daughter for the first time
Mood swings, cravings, and breakdowns by @/midnightcrw
How Simon reacts to the different aspects of your pregnancy
The Captain, Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader by @as-is-above-so-below
Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes
Twice A Question, Once An Answer by @lethalchiralium
Two times you asked your husband a question, and the one time he had the answer you needed.
Sleepy by @/lethalchiralium
At Peace by @rascal-xo
Simon finds peace being with his family. Something he never thought he’d ever get to have.
Stargirl by @/rascal-xo
“say my name,” “now say it like you own it.” by @sprout-fics
Kindergarten Troubles by @bloodonmyhands-1221
Your Husband Simon “Ghost” Riley by @aethelwyneleigh27
A Fighting Chance by @tacticaldiary
Heaven Help a Fool Who Falls in Love by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world
Months apart makes Simon realize how much he truly wants you…
Tells Secret Wife! Reader by @princessdimondheart
The twins by @/princessdimondheart
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐰 by @thewriterg
You tried to keep it together to keep him away from it to not get attached but it only take one situation for you to come crumbling down reaching out to simon for comfort
Smut by @thexsilentxwordsmith
pregnancy fluff with ghost by @nsharks
Date by @sm8th0p
Memories I by @notthefirstfallenangel
You had your memory wiped after a messed-up mission. All that you remember is your childhood and fragmented glimpses of your teenage and adult years. Poor Simon, your would-be hubby, is left to pick up the pieces when you can’t even recall his existence.
Baby's first fever by @certifiedcodbabygirl
Simon tries very hard to keep Ghost from coming home to you. By @just-a-sewer-goblin
Three times Simon wanted to hug you (and the one time he did) by @lennadanvers
subtle signs that ghost took an interest in you… by @certifiedfreec
Meet the Family by @sim0nril3y
Simon has the joy of meeting your family and finding out why don't you see or talk about them all that much. This brings up some unwanted memories and feelings for him too.
The Ex and Why’s by @soapybutt17
No one knows much about Simon’s life aside from what was listed on his files. The family that had died a tragic death, the trauma that came with his actions, and the rank that made him what he was today. No one had realized that behind the balaclava wearing man from Manchester was a man that once had a heart and signed divorced papers he had constantly regretted signing all those years ago..
New years eve by @starstruckmiraclekitty
Simon with Independent and easily irritable reader by @haven-1307
𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍 by @lightwing-s
OUT OF THE SHADOWS I by @kivino
After the betrayal of Task Force 141 and the slaughter of civilians in Las Almas you decide to leave Shadow Company on the spot, which works out sideways, leaving you with simmering hate towards the man whom you used to look up to and new interesting figures in your life.
The Weight of the World by @lvlyghost
You promised to always lean on each other but sometimes love isn't enough.
Remnants by @/lvlyghost
You got hurt and Simon finds out.
DRIFTED by @mystsee
you and simon were lovers, but simon´s duty drifted apart your relationship. 2 years later simon comes back after a long mission and reunites with his friends again, what he didn´t expect was seeing you again.
A relationship with Ghost would consist of the following by @lxvvie
Simon who married your family when he married you. By @/lxvvie
Help by @x-reader-theater
Ghost knocks on your door at 3 am asking for help with something.
Secret Lovers Pt. 2 by @savemefromanepicoftimewasted
Now Simon was no stranger to flirting, having used every pickup line he could on you, however he sometimes wasn’t prepared when you would do the same to him. With that knowledge you would only do it to him when no one else was around, no one deserved to see him the way you did.
Grocery list by @peachesofteal
PAY ☆ ATTENTION by @jiyansthesis
dragging yourself through an alleyway, you didn't notice the gleam of a metal barrel behind you, or the other pair of eyes looking through a scope, trained on you. maybe if you paid attention, he wouldn't be here taking a bullet out of you.
You and Simon have lived next to each other for a couple of years now. You had always been intrigued by him, as he would often be gone for weeks, sometimes months at a time. He was cold and distant the few times you had talked, which only heightened your interest. You never thought you’d get through to him until one fateful night after work.
a/n: in honor of —a very late— father’s day. i wrote this on my phone half asleep
warning(s): nanami is down bad, modern day (no sorcery), eventual nsfw, pregnancy, black coded reader, borderline yandere nanami… & reader, idk your both bat shit crazy leave me alone
down bad husband nanami who! quite literally worships the ground —you— his wife walks on and he shows it in more ways than one.
from materialism; clothes, bags, shoes, flowers, fancy restaurants, anything you could want to complete acts of domestication; helping you wash or take care of your hair, removing your makeup/doing your skincare when you didn’t have the energy, taking care and cleaning the house, cooking, anything you could want he gives it no complaints
the bare minimum he claims
down bad husband nanami who! was overjoyed when two lines came up —a positive— on the plastic stick —not that it was much surprise to him, having switched out your birth control for sugar pills—
pregnancy was a breeze other than the chaos your son was hellbent on giving you and your blonde businessman made sure of it
“honey, i really think you should take your leave of absence.” nanami hums sorting through pieces of beige wood and bags of screws, ready to assemble the crib he gently guided you away from putting together yourself
“ken… i’m barely four months.”
down bad husband nanami who! starts to work from home more to offer greater support and assistance when you enter you third trimester refusing business opportunities that weren’t able to be processed within the comfort of his home as soon as you were 27 weeks
it has nothing to do with the fact he loves to see you begin to nest more intensely; urging him to come do whatever you want in the nursery that he didn’t allow you to do yourself -which was anything to do with a ladder, tools, lifting, carrying, or straining— and kento didn’t dare move with less purpose to see you get huffy and snappy
and he sure as hell didn’t act like he didn’t hear you calling his name so he could see you waddle to the doorway of his office with a pout and angry brows
no of course not.
down bad husband nanami who! walked around the house shirtless for easy skin to skin contact when your son arrived, a spitting image of you he was more than proud to say.
kento didn’t hesitate to do anything you asked or give you anything you needed
it was your turn to get up and change the baby but you had just found yourself in a deep rest as the baby monitor crackled to life?
kento is turning down the monitor before you could wake up gently slipping out of bed and down the haul to the nursery —that the baby slept in for all of two days when you determined you weren’t he wasn’t ready and kento more than willingly built a bedside bassinet for him to sleep in—.
you internally crashing out when a select few members of both of your families come visit you all and someone keeps getting to close kissing your son?
kento is gently reminding everyone that while you both appreciate them loving your baby as much as you both did he would appreciate it if they only used mouths for talking
you need to take a shower but being away from the newborn gives you anxiety?
kento is more than happy to hold him in the door way of the bathroom allowing you to peak your head out of the tub and lay eyes on him with no complaints
down bad husband nanami who! grows more possessive protective of you during your postpartum stage
god forbid the mail man lingers outside on the lawn for too long conversing with you as you plant a couple of new flowers for the front garden Nanami is outside in a flash baby wrapped securely to his chest an arm snaking around your widened hips pulling you close to his muscular frame
down bad husband nanami who! lives to please in more ways than one
you comment on how his ass has been looking ever so lovely lately? —showing him your money was indeed where your mouth was by the slaps, pinches, and bites you’d been giving more frequently— he’s focusing on nothing but glutes and legs for the rest of the week despite the soreness
and when your hormones are all over the place who is he to stop you from sliding on his cock in the middle of the night?
“f-fuck im sorryyyy, ken. i’ve been a mess.” your whining rolling your hips against the firm muscle of your husbands pelvis
“honey, h-how many times do i —shit, sweetheart r-right there— tell you, you can take whatever you fucking want from m-me?” kento keeps his hips still letting you set the pace placing warm calloused hands against your hips his composure beginning to crack when he feels his tip nudging against the sponge of your walls making you grip him like a vice
“everyday, ken! every fucking day- oh my g-goddd!” The blonde could care less about the scratches your leaving down his bare chest or the fact he will inevitably have to change the sheets for the 4th time in a week (it only being tuesday) since you didn’t have time
“exactly, sweetheart. you take whatever. you. need. want me fill you up again? you feeling empty? missing the baby?” Nanami finally begins to buck his hips into you while you’re loosing your mind over his words almost as if he’d been reading your exact thoughts
you hadn’t been using condoms but even if you did… the package of a magnum was no match to the end of a thumbtack and the adoration of you and your husbands genes mixing to make a beautiful child. not that he needed to know that…
and neither did you need to know about the prime delivery of more sugar pills sitting on your door step…
“Barbie has a great day everyday but Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him!”
a/n: i really got off track with this + rushed the end but it’s 2am so… just vibe :|
warning(s): black coded reader but when is it not, mature language, blah blah blah, gojo is insanely down bad.
sultry voiced reader! who’s been told about your ‘way of speech’ since you’re late teens and last stages of puberty. from comforting your students to just carrying conversation with your fellow colleagues; your voice just had a film of sincerity no matter what you were talking about
and it drove satoru gojo crazy
sultry voiced reader! who fawns over students in a discreet motherly way, unlike a certain someone.
“alright megs, it shouldn’t scar but just take it easy so it doesn’t reopen okay?” You hum tying off the suture thread with the overly gentle work of your hands and softness of you voice. the raven haired boy cheeks couldn’t help but warm on their own accord despite his familiarity with your ways, having took him in with satoru when he was nothing but a child he never quite got over the comfort of your voice.
sultry voiced reader! who’s had multiple students refer back to you for just about anything; patchwork after a rough mission despite having a dedicated school nurse —not that shoko complained, the extra time allowing her to indulge in a additional cigarette when the time called for it—, homework help, and even personal advice.
“good job, kirby! i think you have this test in the bag.” You hummed, not noticing the blush haired boys look of adoration and slight embarrassment as you looked over the slightly crinkled paper with mixes of your black ink pen and his pencil markings.
“thank you for the help y/l/n sensei!”
“no problem yuji”
sultry voiced reader! who gets the strongest blindfold wearing sorcerer needy jealous when you talk to others for too long when you could be talking to him.
“i wanted to thank you again ken for subbing for me this morning” you expressed to the lean, blonde, suit wearing man who gently smiled at the nickname you had given him all those years ago in your own glory years at jujitsu tech
“it truly wasn’t a problem y-”
“muffin cake how come you haven’t talked to me alllll day, im going to die with my y/n levels being so low.” the blue eyed man whined wrapping his lanky arms around your shoulders, resting his face in the crook of your neck.
“satoru, i talked to you at the beginning of our lunch break… 30 minutes ago.”
“say my name again.”
sultry voiced reader! who despite your efforts can’t help but snicker at the antics between the closest men to you
“and nanamin… how come you haven’t told me you love me today.” satoru lifts the bottom of his blindfold over one of his piercing cyan blue eyes; theres a deep, dramatic, pout on his plush pink lips as he stares a the board looking blonde.
“satoru the day i say those words… snipe me where i stand. for it is not me but, an imposter.” the suit wearing sorcerer sighs rubbing at his temple and you can’t help but snort, slapping a hand over you mouth trying to conceal the giggles that slip out.
your husband whines into your shoulder and you swear you can see the corner of kentos lips pick up
sultry voiced reader! who knows your husband can’t stand you not talking to him and use it to your advantage… well for as long as you can
“baby, please talk to me!”
“curse at me, say anything.”
“whatever you’re not saying couldn’t possibly hurt worse than you not saying anything at all.”
“my wife is mad at me i should go die.”
“satoru go to bed!” you swear you can hear him giggling outside of the bathroom door at the momentary crack in your facade of the ‘silent treatment’ while skipping down the hallway to your shared bedroom.
strongest sorcerer your ass.
sultry voiced reader! who’s used to coming off wrong to others because of your ‘tone’ but the blindfold wearing sorcerer was more than welcome to correct anyone who seemed to get a ‘wrong idea’.
“my goodness babydoll i could listen to you all night” you cringe at the pet name tumbling out of the random suitors mouth; his breath reeks of the cheapest beer he could’ve bought from the lowly lit bar and you clutch your fist at your side.
this is your first and last time you agree to have a girls night in kyoto; you don’t care how good the food is, or how cheep the drinks, are all you want is to get underneath your sheets with your arms wrapped around the slender body of a certain six eyed, snow haired, special grad-
“and how lucky am i that i get to listen to it every night?” An arm finds its home wrapped around your waist and you can see the gleam of a familiar wedding band in the corner of your eye
maybe you could still get you happy ending in bed after all.
pairing(s); simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, johnny 'soap' mactavish x fem!reader, kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem!reader, john 'bravo six' price x fem!reader, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader
summary; I’m sorry john.
word count; 4.9k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist
warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language
“Roba! We got a ping on captain Price near the perimeter” Vernon shoots through the door; a wary tone to match his sickly look. He watches as the chupacabra brushes his concern away, not even moving to face his form, a sly grin stretching over his mouth.
“Dragons and their Hoards. You scratch up their things and they'll walk straight into a trap.” The leader huffs a laugh while the soldier freezes at his backside. The brunette's voice raises, pitch going a few times higher than normal. The hairs on the back of his neck start to stand and all of a sudden the room is getting suspiciously warm.
“You lured him here? Roba, we’ll be annihilated, we're sitting ducks!” The man has seen his superior Price work in the field. The last thing he wanted to put on his todo list was to be on the receiving end of the Captains wrath. Brown eyes dart downwards to clawed hands; A vial of thick crimson liquid has found a temporary home in the hybrid's animalistic hold, –suddenly his voice dies out.
“...Is that blood?”
“My vampire friend, he's been experimenting. Us hybrids are all mongrels. Less concentrated offshoots of our originals. But with the right boost to the system… apparently, even a mutt can cripple a dragon.” Roba finally throws a glance at the tense man, shutting the brief case that held what must've been more viles; Vern can't really begin to care. The polo jacket collar around the girth of his neck is suddenly tight around as he swallows the lump in his throat. The leader's grin is short of sinister as he pops off the lid with a flick of his thumb.
“Get the boys packing and stay away from the courtyard. I'm plucking this thorn out of my side for good.”
💌💌💌💌
“I want it on record that I think this is a stupid Idea. You need to wait for reinforcements.” Laswell’s voice rings through the coms in Price's pointed ear. Pear colored wings stroke broadly behind him keeping him upright as he hovers over the court, his eyes scanning the perimeter a hundredth time over.
“My assigned ‘reinforcements’ went in with my lieutenants and never came back out.” He replies impertinently, eyes darting to one side even though no able body was there to receive the pointed gaze.
“Damnit John- I always hoped you'd age out of this one-man army shit.” The woman's voice rings out with a sigh dying heavy on her lips. The captain responds without missing a beat.
“They're torturing them, Laswell.” The brunette hisses like it burns him.
“...And if they're already dead?”
“Then they'll all burn.” The line dies as Price finally swoops towards the ground, landing on one knee with a thump before he stands to his full, hulking, height. He was beyond trained for scenarios like this. He’d be a liar if he said it was just because two of his best were on the line that made him take flight. It was more than that- you both were more than that. Your sudden bashfulness around him hidden under your scheduled nature; Simon's yearning need for his praise and reassurance wrapped beneath his tough skin. They’d burn hotter than hell if he didnt get to see it again.
“Roba! Let's negotiate.” His voice booms across the yard and he doesnt get to take two steps before an instinct –like a flatline with a sudden heartbeat– swipes at him harshly. His wings carry his weight as he propels up into the air, by a graze of hair missing the damaging embrace of his opposition.
“Captain Price… here for your team? You should've come with a hearse, amigo.” When the lower hybrid looks up to higher one out of two the captain can't help but cringe. Roba is twice his normal size; his shirt looks like nothing but rags on his body, the fabric torn to shreds against his skin, his pupils are blown taking up all of its iris, and one eye is squinted making the other look bigger.
“Manuel… What did you do to yourself? Where are your men?” The captain's arms still at his sides, his eyebrows furrow as he looks at the leader's drunken form.
“Hah! Im freeing us both from the distraction. No more fighting with human flesh bags! Monster against monster- how it should be!” The dragon must tire from the chupacabra's speech because he swoops down, a hand on the fat of his thick neck; pinning him to the ground momentarily snarling out.
“Enough! Where the hell are my lieutenants?!” Price's hair is ruffled as he bares his fangs, patience short of thin.
“You're not listening, captain. I killed them you fool! With the help of one of your own soldiers! Your boy got a bullet between his teeth and the girl… ah she was feisty- that one. My guys ran their test… gave her a little treatment from a friend of mine; vampire down in the states and her system couldn't stand it. You should've taken a bite of them while you still could. But don't worry. Ask nicely and I'll let you lick their blood off the floor”
Price can feel himself tense as Roba goes on. His eyes are wide and there's a permanent snarl at his lips. Hearing about how you ended, smoke extinguishes out from the corner of his lips and flames spark from between his teeth as a growl brews deep in his throat.
A crash rings over the courtyard and Vern swore he could feel the ground shake beneath his feet as soldiers around him call out worriedly.
“The dragon, he's here.” One states and the brunette cant be bothered to remember who.
“Keep moving! We’ll need these supplies wherever we remake camp.” His voice booms over to the remaining soldiers who aren't already loaded up in a box truck waiting for departure. One is quick to retaliate.
“Watch it puta. We follow Roba, not you. You might be his newest rat but he eats those for breakfast.” The man is eerily mad about something the soldier can't seem to understand and he huffs, lips turned downwards as the bulkier figure walks away from him with colorful curses beneath his breath. The brunette leans against the wall, his eyes falling over your slumped figure strapped to a makeshift operation chair. The scientists were sure to take every precaution including taking their test outside for reasons he does not know. You're bruised on every surface he can see but it's worse around the poorly done IV in your arm.
There's a sudden crash through the wall bricks crumbling inches away from the mans head. Black smoke-like shadows penetrate the chest of the soldier who cursed him before, they come back up his throat and out of his mouth as a finale. The black aura busts through the truck wall tearing its side open like it was anything but a sheet of paper. Low and behold stands the blonde lieutenant in all his glory claws torn into another private’s neck.
“You-uuU” Smoke crawls out from his eyes and mouth streaking up and down the surface of his face like veins. The lights are flashing for the soldier to run; the briefcase with vials of blood clenched tightly in his hold, yet as soon as he turns the lieutenant stands before him with a hand wrapped around his neck.
“Roba. Where is he?!” Ghost roars fangs bared claws digging into Vernons Skin, making him drop the case from his hold as he chokes out a location. His head slightly cocks itself at the noise, eyes fallen on the shattered shards of glass and pool of crimson.
“Blood… that's right… wannabe bloodsucker.” The wraith forces the man to the ground, a palm stretched across the top of his overgrown buzzed head. His face hovers over the mess, palms trying to push himself up and away to no avail.
“Get your fill… fucking pathetic.” Pleas die out as a sickening crunch rings in Simon's ears; having smashed the soldier's face into the glass, the blood splattering up at the pressure. The grin on his face falls as his eyes avert to your slumped form. The blonde immediately stands from his kneeling position trailing over to you with the drag of his feet; Simon cups your cheek, clawed fingers sweeping away the curls that stick to the tacky dried blood on your face that leaks from your temple. When he notes the needle in your arm he's quick to rip it out before crumbling to his knees, his head resting in your lap. He hears the roars of Roba in the distance and it quickly makes his skin start to burn with an aching rage all over again.
“He’sss DEAD- Lovie I swear it! I'll be back for you.” The lieutenant hisses long pointed tongue darting out uncontrollably as the ground vibrates beneath him. His gaze softens as he turns and looks at your figure; lacking a heartbeat and caving into yourself. No sassy remark, no small smile, no life in your gorgeous eyes. That fucker would die.
And he will die today.
Roba escapes the heat by the skin of his teeth, the flame licking his ankle as he moves to scatter away. Price's mouth is agape, the fire that escapes from his throat is broad and burly. The leader barely dodges the captain's landing in response grabbing hold of his thick moss colored tail using it to slam him beneath his growing figure. The chupacabra curses as a flame burns bright in his face momentarily kissing the surface; barely able to recover before the brunettes' claws break the skin on his cheek with a broad slash. Quickly flipping the hybrid –despite him being twice his size– the dragon rests on his hardened back, arms wrapping around the base of his neck in a tight headlock as he squirmed beneath him.
“I'm going to gut you like a pig.” John's claws dig into the fat of Robas jugular while he growls in protest. The captain's senses scream at him again but he's too slow to react before he’s knocked into a wall by a slither of pitch black smoke.
Shadows overcome Robas figure, yanking him back against the floor until he feels himself being lifted in the air. His eyes widen at the sight –or what he can recognize– of the supposedly dead man walking. With a swipe of his hand Ghost’s claws graze the skin across the hybrid's jaw.
“You're right… I do prefer it this way” The wraith grins clutching his fingers into a fist staring down at the man who took his life. Took your life.
Took. your. Life.
“What the hell was that?” Price groans brows furrowed as he begins to pick himself up suddenly still in his place. His lieutenant stands over the man who supposedly put him six feet underground, black shadows of smoke allowing him to hover in the air wrapping around his body like a warm embrace. They seep out of his eyes and mouth, crawl up his back to his scalp; they make a home of him.
“...Simon?”
“What's wrong- feeling trapped?” He chuckles out as Roba struggles beneath him cursing fluently.
“Demon… you're a demon! You son of a whor-” The chupacabra chokes on his words growls dying while bearing his teeth as a black fist wraps around his tongue.
“Simon! …What did he do to you?” Price calls and the blonde cocks his head to stare at the dragon voidly. The brunette's face is flooded with concern and maybe beneath his frown is a swipe of pity. He suddenly hunches over into himself groaning, the blonde clutches his head irritably; shadows shoot out in retaliation one side pinning the mutt to the ground the other knocking the captain back a few feet. John grunts at the landing, going to call out to him again.
“NO! He needs to die! Stay out of my way!” The wraith pins the dragon to the floor pitch black covered hand clenching around his shoulder; the captain swallows at the grip.
“Simon, stop, your hand!” He shoots back like the touch scorns him, going back to grabbing at his blonde locs with a pained protest.
Tommys a monster-
Touch her and they won't find the piec-
Rip his tongue ou-
Vernon killed
Captain
Dead-
Ill be back for yo-
Rip his tongue out
Rip.His.Tongue.Out.
RIP HIS TONGUE OUT
“Lieutenant!” The captain takes hold of his hoard, hands cupping either side of his jaw while he stares into bitch black eyes that suddenly fades. The shadows clear behind him –not to nothing but they simmer down and Price could cry at the look recognition in his eyes.
“... John.” The older man –of the two– sighs a small grin making its way to his face that's short lived as the roar of Roba rings from behind them before his figure is dragged away. Ghost is on guard subconsciously keeping his captain behind him despite the fact Price is right on his heels as they follow the claw marks left by the chupacabra.
“You took… everything from me” Simon hears you before he sees you and when he does his heart beats potently in his chest. Doll-like cracks litter your skin; they kiss up your arms and neck, going as far to stretch across your face. Orange hues glow beneath, shining through the crevices. Your hand is outstretched in front of you and there are sparks of orange and yellow that hold the blood drunk leader to the wall before they quickly fling him across the courtyard with the flick of your wrist.
“I'm gonna KILL you! How dare you?! How dare you take a man like Simon- my Simon! I'll be the last thing you'll see! I'LL KILL YOU DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Your screech rings across the distance; The iris of your eyes burning the same color as the sparks that wrap around your arms, gaze –feral– dead set on mutt in front of you. The hybrid snarls barely getting a head start to run at you before he’s struck by arrows made up of your energy; It's pure chaos. You direct everything you possibly could throw to his form without missing a beat inching closer with the strut of your feet.
The men- Your men can't miss the dark aura that surrounds you, the dark purple veins that swarm underneath your eyes, the fangs that replace your canines, all of it. Price calls out for you and he can see your shoulder stiffen and It could be comical how both his lieutenants shared the same sinister looks when they hear his voice but, he can see how you recognized him right away; your eyes flicker between burnt orange and their original color that sucked him in all those months ago.
Roba takes the open moment to topple over and before you could retaliate, shadows of dark smoke wrap around him, tearing through the skin and bone of his bicep –the limb being cut clean off from its source– throwing his figure a few meters away. When you gather yourself to stand in a blink, Price is in front of you, his eyes gaze deep into yours and you hiss as his hand wraps around your wrists.
“They killed him! They killed Simon- he needs to die! That fucker is going to die…Get out of my way!” You bare your fangs at the dragon before your world seems to slow.
“Lovie.” Your body turns instantly at the sound and there he stands in all his glory before you, alive and well. The lieutenant.
“Simon…” The veins beneath your eye retreat as you take in a breath you didn't know you were holding. You blink once and then again, you take a step forward and just like everything in your field of work it's short lived. John is snatched away from his position and slammed into the floor.
“Roba-!!” The chupacabra tears into the span of his wing, taking the limb from the brunettes back into his sharp teeth. Roba roars about blood and you cant see the look of connection in Simons eyes –you cant see the scene of how his hand coats in the vial kept blood while he smashed his former soldiers face into the glass, how he took that same crimson cover hand and slashed it across the chupacabras face, wrapped his hand around his tongue.– all you see is your captain on his knees, pupils shrunken, brows shot up to his hairline, and mouth agape.
You drop to your knees wrapping an arm around your captain's waist lying your head on his shoulder; you can feel Simon behind you before he follows in suit, one forearm tucked beneath the armpit of his superior the other bringing you impossibly closer to them. Without missing a beat Simon makes a shield like cocoon at your backs and you take hold of the foreign energy you feel without even thinking about it. The darkly pitched shadows are littered with sparks of orange and it shoots into the roof of the chupacabra's mouth through his head and another darts through his neck.
“I'm sorry John.”
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“Laswell…” Price can feel the woman's presence without looking at her; stretched on his stomach, he can feel the absence against his back.
“John-! John, you fucking overgrown lizard-” The woman drops the clipboard she was previously looking over, the brunette shifts his head to finally meet her gaze.
“Kate.” His tone stops her rambling and she isn't given a chance to come up with something as he asks, cold cut turkey.
“It's gone, isn't it.” He knows it is. He feels it is. He doesn't ask it like a question, he says it like a statement. But it doesn't keep him from confirming.
“...I'm sorry, John. They did all they could.” He doesn't hear anything else, burying his face into the pillow with a soft huff.
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“I should've chosen my words better. When I said I wished you'd stop your one man army shticks, I didn't mean like this.” The blonde continues when the dragon hums for her to do so; finally sat upright in the shitty medbay bed. He rolls his shoulder –the side one wing still sits behind–, shifting to the edge of the cot.
“Y’know what they say about hindsight- omph!” The hybrid falls to the floor with a thud when he goes to stand, knees weak. The operator rushes to the hulking man's side, slinging his arm around her neck; lowering him back to the edge of the mattress.
“Goddamnit John, Stop! You've just had a limb torn off and you've been asleep for three days-”
“Three days? Where's Simon and Y/n?”
“Kate?!” The captain booms, voice raising when she doesn't answer quick enough for his liking.
“You need to wait. You have to trust me on this- they're safe. I won't let anything or anyone touch them. But you'll be no use to them right now. ” She holds her hand out, brows furrowed as she goes on, never taking eyes off him.
“I lose one wing and now I'm useless?!”
“No. That's not-”
“Im still a fucking dragon Laswell, dont you ever forget it! Now move-” The dragon snarls, the shakiness of his knees suddenly no longer present as he stands to his full height. He glares pointedly at the shorter woman until she finally matches his tone.
“Sit DOWN!” His pupils shrink.
“He's on a brink. You know what he is now, you know how careful we need to be. And she's- John it's bad… you lost a wing- but she lost a set. Can't get her calm enough to get treated or even run tests on her new… abilities. What will they do if the first time they see you, you can barely walk on your own? Simon Riley and Y/n Y/l/n were my recommendations before they were yours. Wait, John. Trust me.” The brunette lets his head fall into his hands cursing beneath his breath.
💌💌💌💌
“How are they?” Steady on his own two feet the hybrid walks alongside Laswell down the scheduled corridor where you both seemed to be kept.
“He's sitting pretty as always. Your girly hasn't moved in days. He's got one way glass, she's got something bigger” The blonde tosses her gaze over her shoulder when he stops a low growl brewing in his throat.
“They put them in a cell?!”
“He asked for it himself actually. The brass were all too happy to provide. She didn't really have much of a choice; meds slipped up and she saw you… didn't like how you were looking and she damn sure let them know it.” She continues.
“They're on edge. As a human, Simon was Reliable. Got things Done. Even Y/n as a phoenix knew her way around and didn't need much to complete a mission. Now, we might as well be sitting on timebombs. You'll be their first and last attempt to bring them to heel.” Laswell crosses her arms over her chest fighting the urge to nibble on the skin of her fingers.
“To their heel?” The man scoffs.
“I think they'll accept anything that'll make them calm down.” She tries and soothes the captain's nerves, still not moving to sugarcoat anything.
“And if I fail?”
“They depressurise his chamber, he suffocates. She gets an iron bullet to the head.”
“Like choking out flames… Keep everyone out of those rooms.” The one winged hybrid steps to a door as the woman mutters a ‘copy that.’. Watching his figure disappear into the wraith's holding room.
“Simon.” His lieutenant looks short of wrecked; his blonde locs are tousled, shadows climb up the glass of his holding chamber and make a home around his limbs, the usual whites of his eyes are pitch black and his iris’ are a piercing white. He notes how the man doesnt look up until he calls for him.
“Price. …Shouldn't have come for me.” The dragon stops himself from frowning as the wraith drops his head once more, gazing at his feet. He can practically feel the regret radiating off his shoulders.
“Wouldn't have been your captain if I hadn't.”
“I would've killed him. On my own. It would've been clean. I tried to salvage your wing but he shredded the nerves, that fucker. …You came for me and you'll never fly again” The lieutenant continues when a blanket of silence falls over the captain's shoulders. Ghost doesnt look up until he hears the voice of his superior.
“...Took me four days to learn to walk again. I still stumble. When I see this wing in the mirror, I hate it. What good is one wing for a dragon? He should’ve just taken the set. Is that what you think?” Simon snarls in protest, standing to meet the Johns gaze as he slams the door to the chamber closed, not backing down from the blondes shadow littered form.
“NO!”
“You got him for me, Simon. I read the report. Straight through the brain and neck. You hit the artery dead on. Precise. Controlled. Because that’s you, lieutenant. You're in control.” Prices tanned fist rests on the chest of Ghosts; shadows fiss over his hand, taking him in yet barely grazing a hair
“...Not always.”
“Then trust that I am. Even one wing down.” The brunette turns on his heel propping the door open for the blonde to inch out and he does.
“I want to see ‘er” The older man sighs looking over his shoulder, biting the inside of his lip.
“Trust me.” He says simply leaving the blonde with his thoughts when he nods simply.
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“Get out.” Price hears you before he sees you but it’s not long until he finds you tucked into a corner, gaze faced towards the wall. His eyes immediately look towards your back; the fresh scar that trails down your spine peaks through the gaps in the hospital gown you occupy in. You don't move to look at him, he's not totally sure you know it's him.
“I'll be sure to keep you away from welcome duty, yeah?” You barely turn your head over your shoulder at the sound of the dragon's gruff voice. He doesn't smell like himself; the notes of aftershave, gun powder, and a good cigar are muffled underneath the smell of a sterile hospital despite him being in his normal gear –a weighted brace wrapping around his shoulder to get him accustomed to the imbalanced weight–.
“You shouldn't be in here, John.” The cracks on your skin he sees everytime you go in the field to battle are still there, unusually stubborn to leave. You're in a fetal position holding your knees to your chest, chin tucked into your arms and it pinches at his heart strings at how frail you look.
“Who else would be fit enough to come if it weren't your captain?” The brunette hums, lips tucking into a frown when you don't move to acknowledge him. He takes a step forward, a soft thump following underneath his heavy boot onto the cold cement floor before kneeling to your level; his rough, calloused, hands gently land around your wrist and he holds you there as you squirm beneath him.
“Stop John! I'm going to hur-”
“Look, love! You can't hurt me; you don't want to, so you won't. You know where to focus your energy and deep down you can control-” The captain follows after you in suite, standing to his full height when you do finally manage to rip away from him.
“You don't understand! You don't understand how it feels for something you can't control to grow in you every passing minute!” Your voice is short of a sob, your arms wrapped around your torso in a self-hug as you dart across the small room, anything to get away. John breathes in for a beat, listening to your raw voice that usually pooled like honey. There's veins crawling underneath your eyes and when you open your mouth wide enough he can see the sharp ends of your teeth.
“W-when he took my wings… he took all of me. I can't ground myself anymore, it feels like a fire spreading in me and the only thing I have to put it out is lighter fluid! I'm nothing, without my wings… I'm nothing.” You don't quite recognize when you start to cry until you can't stop, your shoulder wrack with sobs and exhaustion. There's a dull ache in your head, a plethora of things leading up to the factor. Your ears ring and you know your senses are dull as Price makes two broad steps across the room to reach you. His arms engulf you whole and you allow your figure to fall into him.
“You're more than anything. There’s no way anyone can convince me you haven't hung the stars in the sky; so I know not only as your captain, but as your suitor… that you'll overcome this and I'll be there with you, every step.” The dragon's chin is tucked into your head while his shirt catches the overflow of your tears; he takes your chin in his clawed hand, tilting your head to meet his gaze. He never takes his eyes off you; maybe if you looked in his eyes hard enough you could see how much he meant it.
“What if I can't do it?”
“Then I'll still be there, watching you make constellations connect.”
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*present day*
“You arent askin’ for permission so I won't give you any. But you know where I stand and we both know going cold turkey isn't working long term.” Price adverts his gaze to Ghost, his mask hiked above the bridge of his nose as he huffs in a breath of tobacco; his gloves are absent from his hands, shadows crawl up his forearms fading out at the peak of his elbow. The dragon's lips inch upwards around his lug at the sight.
“So what, I should let my hair out and frolic?”
“Always thought you were the spitting image of Julie Andrews.”
“Fuck off.”
“She's sharp, Simon. Picks up on things. You know and I know that better than anybody. And Johnny-” The brunette gathers himself up, crushing his cigar underneath his boot when he stands. The blonde finally looks to his superior questioning his choice of name for the mohawked sergeant.
“-Mactavish doesn't take kindly to people making decisions for him. Give it a chance.” He rebuttals sassily before continuing on turning on his heel to depart.
“You should take your own advice about Y/l/n.” The paler man of the two calls out stopping the tanner one in his tracks; he grins softly, gazing over his shoulder.
“Am I that transparent?”
“You've always had your favorites.” The skull wearing lieutenant pulls the black cloth over the remaining open surface of his face, not moving to look towards the captain.
“Don't pout, not after the conversation we just had. You know she's always been a different situation. I know how I'm going about the pup licking at her ankles but, seems you need more time to debrief.” John hums, fingers pushing his unbuttoned collar even more open before the pads of his fingertips graze across the mate mark on his collarbone. The blonde itches to touch his own at his shoulder blade.
“There's a meeting at 07:00 tomorrow, be there. And make nice with the vaqueros .” The dragon continues on his journey while the wraith grunts in response.
He’d see about that.
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posting every 3-5 days she says🌝
forgive me my shayla’s 💔
the semester is over and i can breathe again
i think i’m gonna explain lore down here in the next chapters
umm don’t we love Simon, Price, and Deity’s love story ^.^
my hyper fixation is chasin chaos right now i feel like i can’t write anything else >:(
i think this chapter took me the shortest amount of time despite being one of the longest so far
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