kiss me and i might drop dead

Good morning 🤩

So I have a new roommate now.

Anon, I need you to come off anon because you’ve hit the right spot. Two of my favourite world saving nerds🥹 okay okay let me lock in.

To start off, Ryland’s regular style is similar to Andrew Garfield’s Peter.

When Ryland gets bitten by a radioactive spider, he is creeped out. Not by the fact that it is a genetically advanced creature, mind you, but simply because it’s a spider. Spiders are gross. Still, Ryland shrugs it off and thinks nothing of it.

Then, the changes start. Suddenly, he can see perfectly clear without his glasses. It is a win, considering he sucked at using his glasses properly anyway. Along with the perfect vision comes super strength, agility, and lightning-fast reflexes. He realises how much the bite has altered his DNA when his usually clumsy body suddenly becomes hyper-alert. He can do casual flips now, which is crazy for a guy who used to trip over flat carpets.

The one thing he can’t do naturally is shoot webs. He starts brainstorming chemical combinations for a synthetic web fluid. He needs a compact, high-power source to build the pressurised firing mechanism for his wrists, and he needs help with it. He could ask help from his best friend, Rocky. But he knows Rocky will ask too many questions that he won’t be able to dodge.

That is where you come in. You are his chemistry lab partner.

You’ve caught him sneaking miscellaneous chemicals into his backpack a couple of times, but you never question him about it. He routinely helps you understand chemistry, and honestly, you just need to pass the class, your real interest lies in engineering.

Because you’re always leaning over the same lab table, it’s hard to ignore how close he stands, or the way his voice softens whenever he’s explaining a difficult equation to you. He’s brilliant, and the passionate spark in his eyes whenever he talks about science makes your heart do stupid flips. You’re falling for him, but you keep it professional to protect your peace.

One afternoon, while cleaning up your table, Ryland nervously shifts his weight, his face turning a light shade of pink. He awkwardly asks if you could help him build a customised, high-capacity LiPo battery.

When you ask what it’s for, his eyes dart around before he vaguely mumbles that he’s “trying a little weekend project out for his room”

You know it’s a weak excuse, but looking at his flustered face and the earnest look in his blue eyes, you can’t say no. You sketch out the battery schematics for him, your fingers brushing against his as you hand over the paper. The brief contact makes your stomach flip, and Ryland loses his train of thought, staring at you for a second too long before offering a breathless, “Thanks”

With your battery design, Ryland successfully builds his mechanical web-shooters. True to form, he is disgusted by the sticky result at first, grimacing with a loud, “Ew!" the first time his homemade shooter splatters fluid onto his palm. Testing the finalised fluid nearly makes him shit his pants. Ryland hates roller coasters, so free-falling off a skyscraper is his literal living nightmare. In those few seconds of plunging toward the pavement, he is convinced he is going to die. He doesn’t, of course. The web-shooters on his wrists fire off perfect spurts of fluid, powered by the LiPo battery you designed, and anchor onto the building’s facade, jerking him to a halt and saving him from hitting on the asphalt below.

Hanging there, dizzy, suspended by nothing but a thin string of a chemical compound, he undergoes a bit of an existential crisis.

Sure, he knows he is smart, intelligent, and generally kind (though if someone argues a point he has heavily researched and has definitive knowledge on, whatever blunt thing he says to them is entirely their fault, they had it coming) and many more things. He never saw himself as a brave person. He has always kept to himself, not really caring about the grand, chaotic happenings of the world. But Ryland is a problem solver at heart. Looking down at the city, he realises that crime and danger are just variables in an equation. And now, he has the physical variables to balance it. If he can help make a change with these new abilities, he damn well has to try.

So, he makes a suit. It’s a bold red and blue outfit put together with different fabrics and mismatched parts he scraps together. He designs a mask to go with it, but because Ryland suffers from claustrophobia, the first time he pulls it over his head, he feels a suffocating panic. He almost abandons the superhero idea right then and there, because the suit is too tight.

Ryland and Rocky are always together. They seem to be bickering most of the time, to the point where you often wonder how they are even still friends. Rocky is much more outgoing than Ryland, so he is the one who casually strikes up a conversation with you first. Soon enough, you become friends with Rocky, and by extension, Ryland.

The three of you start hanging out constantly, though the unspoken feelings between you and Ryland only grow heavier. Every time the three of you sit together at lunch, Ryland always makes sure to slide into the seat right next to you, his shoulder brushing yours, leaning into your space longer than any normal friend would.

One night, you are walking home late. The streets are devoid of people, quiet and eerie. As you take a turn down a familiar alley, you notice the silhouette of a man following you. Your heart rate immediately spikes. Terrified, you quicken your pace, but the footsteps behind you accelerate to match yours.

Just as the shadow nears you, a sharp, wet squelch echoes through the brick alley. The footsteps halt.

You risk a glance over your shoulder. At that exact moment, a sudden gust of wind blows your hair across your face, and you see a red and blue figure swinging down. The man who had been following you is now pinned to the brick wall, trapped by a thick, heavy web.

Spiderman. The actual Spiderman you’ve seen all over the news is standing right in front of you.

“Hey man, you really shouldn’t be following girls like that. So not cool” his voice rings out, directed casually at his hostage. Then, he turns his masked head toward you. “You alright?” he asks, his voice dropping into a softer, gentler register.

When you nod, unable to form a proper sentence, he offers to walk you home. You had seen him through TV screens and phone clips a thousand times, but nothing compares to seeing him up close. The suit clings tightly to his frame, making you wonder how he even breathes under there. For the first time, you find yourself wondering what he looks like behind the mask.

“Thank you, Spiderman” you say gratefully once you reach your stoop, offering a warm smile to the neighborhood hero.

He cracks an awkward chuckle, his gloved hand automatically raising to rub the back of his neck, a nervous gesture that feels oddly familiar, “It’s no big deal. Just…don’t be out alone at night, alright?”

Before you can even reply, he turns and swings away into the night sky.

The next day at school, you mention the encounter to Rocky. He excitedly bombards you with questions. When Ryland joins the table and overhears, he immediately starts grilling you about the experience, asking so many hyper-specific questions that it feels less like a conversation and more like a feedback survey.

“Are you a secret fanboy, Ry?” you tease, leaning forward on your elbows and locking eyes with him.

Ryland sputters, defensive, choked nos escaping him as his cheeks burn bright red.

You raise your eyebrows, laughing, “Just kidding. It’s not bad to geek over the hero, you know. He’s pretty cool” You grab your bags and head to your next class, giving him a playful smile. Behind you, Ryland freezes, his heart hammering in his chest as the slow realisation dawns on him that you technically just called him cool.

Over the next few months, Ryland gets better at being a hero, balancing regular life while fighting crime. However, the increase of technologically advanced criminals forces him to spend way more time in the suit. He starts canceling plans, constantly flaking on study sessions with you and Rocky.

He had actually told Rocky his identity. Well, technically it was a mistake. Rocky had been showing him a Spiderman meme on his phone, and Ryland had instinctively groaned, “Ugh, I look so bad from that angle” which led to an interrogation from Rocky until Ryland had to literally suit up in the room to prove it.

You, however, are still entirely in the dark. When Ryland keeps distancing himself, it hurts. The sudden space feels like a physical ache because, deep down, you believed he returned your feelings. The way he used to look at you, the way he treated you, you thought it meant something. You finally confront him about flaking, but he dodges the topic, claiming he’s just “busy” Like that makes it any better. You walk away with a heavy heart, assuming you misread his feelings.

Surprisingly, you cross paths with Spiderman for a second time the very next evening. You aren’t even in trouble this time, you’re just stepping out of a cafe with a takeaway cup when a flash of red and blue figure lands right in front of you.

“Hey! You’re the girl I helped, right? It’s nice to see you again!” he says, his voice sounding just a little too forced, like he’s trying too hard to sound naturally smooth.

You’re taken aback that the local hero recognised you and approached you himself. He claims he was just swinging by and happened to spot you. Wow, you think, he really takes the ‘friendly neighborhood’ part seriously. He offers to walk you home again, and you shrug, accepting the company.

As you near your house, the streetlights catch a tear in his suit. “You’re hurt!” you point out, noticing a cut on his arm where his skin is bleeding.

He honestly hadn’t noticed. Because of his powers, a deep cut feels like a minor scratch. He quickly assures you that he is perfectly fine, and the moment you safely reach your door, he takes off.

The next morning, Ryland greets you at your regular desk. Your eyes lock onto a fresh, healing wound on his forearm - in the exact same place, at the exact same angle as the one you saw on Spiderman. You don’t ask him about it. Instead, you spend the entire evening tossing and turning in bed, pieces of a puzzle suddenly coming together in your mind.

The smuggled chemicals. The custom LiPo batteries he asked you to design. The constant absences. The identical wound. You know it sounds like an impossible long shot, but you need to know.

The next time you see Spiderman, it isn’t long after. You’ve started noticing his presence around your neighbourhood much more frequently.

“Is your cut okay?” you ask casually as you walk side-by-side.

“Yeah! It’s completely fine, I told you it’s nothing” he insists, waving it off.

When it comes time for him to leave, he offers his usual cautious goodbye, telling you to take care. But instead of saying your standard ‘Bye, Spiderman’ you look at him and say, “See you tomorrow, Ry”

He freezes mid-motion. Because of the mask, you unfortunately can’t see his face, but his posture screams that his brain has short-circuited. He has no idea how to react.

Taking a slow step closer to him, you look at the shielded lenses of the mask. “It’s you, isn’t it, Ryland?” you ask softly.

Up close, you can visibly see his throat bob as he gulps hard. “Who...Who’s Ryland?” he tries, his voice cracking slightly.

That is all the confirmation you need. All the hurt from him pulling away instantly evaporates, replaced by a wave of affection. “I know it’s you” you assure him, keeping your tone gentle, “It’s okay. You don’t have to hide from me. I won’t tell anyone”

Slowly, you raise your hands toward his face, moving deliberately to give him the chance to step back if he wants to. He doesn’t move an inch. Your palms come to rest against his masked jawline, and underneath the fabric, you feel his breathing pick up. Your fingers slide down to the edge of the fabric at his neck.

“May I?” you whisper.

The “Yes” he murmurs is so low, so breathless, that it barely reaches your ears despite how close you are standing.

Carefully, you peel the fabric of the mask upward, stopping just past his nose to reveal the bottom half of his face. It is Ryland Grace. You don’t even need to see his blue eyes or his messy, dark blonde hair to verify it anymore.

Before you can say another word, Ryland makes the next move. He ducks his head, leaning down to press his lips against yours. It’s a slow, deep kiss, releasing all the pent-up, unspoken feelings. His gloved hands find your waist, pulling you against him. In that moment, you don’t care that the nerdy boy you love is a literal superhero. You are just glad he loves you back.

Later, his arm winds around your waist, locking you against his chest claiming he’ll be showing you something awesome. “Hold on tight” he whispers.

He fires a web shot at the nearest ledge, and suddenly, your stomach drops. You gasp, your hands flying up to wrap around his neck as he launches both of you into the air. The wind rushes past your ears, that blows your hair across your face.

Ryland holds you like you are the most precious thing in the world, his grip firm and steady. “Oh my God” you panic at first, clutching onto him. He keeps whispering “It’s okay, I got you” But the view of the city is extremely beautiful from here. Every dip makes your chest tighten with adrenaline, but every time Ryland catches the next line, swinging you both in a with ease through the skyline, you just laugh. He lands you gently on a quiet, secluded rooftop, both of you breathless and laughing, your heart pounding from the flight and the boy holding you.

A few years later, you are both in university and sharing an apartment. Lately, things have been changing. Ryland has started experiencing violent headaches out of nowhere. Sometimes, when the two of you are sitting in your living room in comfortable silence, he will suddenly wince, covering his ears, curling into you, and complaining that everything is too loud. Just like him, you have no idea what is happening to his body.

One night, as you are getting ready to head to bed, a series of sharp taps echo against your window pane. Ryland frequently swings back from patrol this way, so you smile and slide the window open, fully expecting him.

It is him. At least, it looks like him.

Except, he doesn’t whisper his usual soft, “Hi baby” when he steps across the sill. He is completely silent. It is a heavy, unnatural silence, uncharacteristic for a man who loves to yap the moment he sees you. Even stranger, he makes no move to take his mask off.

“You okay, Ry?” you ask, stepping forward and reaching out to touch his arm.

He feels incredibly warm. Usually, because he’s been swinging through the cold night air, the exterior of his suit is chilly to the touch. Your fingers slide down the length of his forearm, reaching for his fingers. But as you reach his wrist, instead of the familiar metal of his mechanical web-shooters...you feel nothing but the structure of his wrist.

Your mind stumbles. How did he swing here if his web-shooters are miss-

Before you can finish the thought, his wrist flips. His fingers catch yours in a grip that is firm, yet soft. He stops you from feeling around his skin any further, his body reacting defensively to the sensitivity of his newly developed ability to produce organic webs.

“Don’t” The voice is his, but it carries a heavy rasp.

You gently tug your hands back, and he lets you go without resistance. “Ry, what...?” you trail off, your heart beginning to thump rapidly. You reach up, grabbing the edge of his mask and pulling it over his head.

His hair is a messy, floppy just like always. But the moment your eyes meet his, you freeze.

The warm, familiar blue eyes you adore are gone. Instead, a pair of pitch-black eyes stare back at you. Your breath catches in your throat, a tiny spike of fear piercing through you at whatever is happening to your boyfriend.

Because of his heightened state, Ryland can hear it all. He can hear your heart racing so loud that it feels like it’s beating right against his own eardrums. He can hear the sharp catch of your breathing, the rushed pump of blood rushing through your veins.

His senses are magnified to a terrifying degree. He can smell the lingering notes of your perfume, the exact brand of fabric softener on your pajamas, and beneath it all, your actual scent- a distinct aroma that nobody else, not even you, could ever detect. Everything is too much, too loud, too intense to him. He had let himself slip too far into these terrifyingly sharp, newly evolved senses just to manage the physical strain of getting himself home to you.

But then, you move.

Your trembling fingertips reach up, gently brushing against his cheekbones. Your touch is soft, a grounding anchor in the chaotic noise of his mind, as you whisper his name, "Ryland?”

The moment your skin touches his, the overwhelming static in his head begins to quiet. The overwhelming noises in his ears die down to a soft hum. You watch in awe and relief as the pitch black in his eyes slowly recedes, the familiar blue color bleeding back into his irises until he is looking at you clearly again.

If loving me means letting go and wishing me the best Well, then I guess I wish, I wish, I wish you loved me less

warnings: ANGST, no happy ending, injury, blood, hurt no comfort, poor clark

wc: 2.1k

a/n: I love this song its so beautifully heartbreaking and I think it would fit well with Clark and I took inspiration from Smallville s10 too. idk I hope its okay im second guessing my writing a lot these days but even if it sucks i think its fun so fuck it u know

The sirens around you were so loud. Paramedics were shining a light in your eyes, talking to you with muffled words. You reach up and wipe your face and your hand comes back bloody. You can barely pay attention as they load you into the ambulance and drive you to the hospital. Though you swear you spot a blur of blue and red in the sky as they set you in the stretcher.

A minor concussion. Bruising to the ribs. Split lip. The doctors say you're lucky that's all that happened. Things could have been a lot worse if Superman hadn't been there to save you from the exploding building. Some old abandoned factory on the outskirts of town.