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synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought youâd stop calling
â word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)
â contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, itâs the cliche trope where the rich guyâs parent forces you to leave him aka gojoâs father is the villain, angst with a happy endingâi donât want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvinâs room (iykyk), cliche rain sceneâthis fic is so cliche iâm sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)
â notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this oneâs for you niku đ€đœ AND DABITEE ANON
you open the door when satoru knocksâjust barely, though. itâs just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things heâs left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. itâs always been happy knocking on your doorâhe never thought heâd dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. itâs like taking the last bite of something sweet when youâre too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and itâs too much even though it used to be so good.
itâs too much being here. itâs too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. itâs too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, itâs good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you donât want him to stay.
âthat should be everything,â you murmur, still looking down. âlet me know if thereâs anything missing.â
satoru would never tell you if thereâs something missing. heâd never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesnât think he could ever take back something he gave youâbeing handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see youâhow else will he see you now?
âno, itâs alright,â he says quietly. he doesnât miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like youâre being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. âyou can uhâŠyou can just keep them. orâŠthrow them out if you donât want them,â he mumbles.
you nod, standing there silently. itâs quiet, and then itâs quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.
âcan iâŠcan i just know why?â he croaks. fuck. heâs not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didnât even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. âwhy are you leaving me?â
your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. âi already told you, satoruââ
âthatâs bullshit,â he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, âyou gave me some bullshit reason.â
satoru has worked so hard to be hereâto be with you. hadnât he done enough? hadnât he told you about himself, things he didnât want to? hadnât he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadnât he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.Â
why wasnât it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesnât understand.
âsatoru, we werenât gonna work,â you pinch your noseâitâs like youâre the one who doesnât understand why heâs being like this. âthe sooner you accept that the more hurt youâre saving the both of usââ
âwe were working just fine,â he says exasperatedly. itâs like you insist heâs crazy when heâs nothing but sane. like heâs trying to tell you the sky is blue, and youâre refusing to believe itâs anything other than green. itâs clear. itâs practically a fact. you were doing just fineâwhy donât you see that? âwe were happy,â he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, âwas it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, babyâiâll fix it. iâll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you aloneââ
âthen you leave me alone,â you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. âsatorâgojo. please just leave me alone. itâs better that way.â
you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.
gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at thatâitâs a laugh meant for men whoâve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. itâs like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeksâmonths, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkinâhe called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.Â
not anymore. now heâs back to gojoâthat god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfatherâs legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.
but he had you for a bit, didnât he? when he was just satoruâbut now heâs gojo again, and youâre gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters youâve returned.Â
and satoru still isnât sure what brought the break up on. he thinks itâs the part that stings the mostâwhen everything seems perfect one second, and then itâs not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didnât understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.Â
heâs not sure. he tried asking when you broke it offâyou only shook your head and said it wasnât going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, werenât they?
satoru doesnât think there was even one second he wasnât smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one pointâhad he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didnât notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?
itâs too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.Â
you ask him to come over one morning, and he doesâbecause he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you donât go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop youâve ever seen. heâs grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks insteadâhe supposes he shouldâve known it at that moment. he shouldâve seen that your lips werenât smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when youâre nervous. you didnât let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.Â
and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave himâand satoru didnât understand, still doesnât understand.Â
heâs tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you werenâtâwhen did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?
âââââ
breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing youâve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutesâthatâs what it feels like without satoruâs warmth, anyway.Â
gojo satoru has always smiled as long as heâs been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.Â
satoru has never looked sad for long in your presenceâyou have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.Â
but then you remember that this is for the bestâthat if you really love gojo satoru, youâll let him go instead of clipping his wings.
âheâs picked up his things,â you speak quietly into the phone. you donât sniffle even as you desperately need toâitâs the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. âi wonât be seeing him again.â
âgood,â his father speaks, âthatâs good to hear.âÂ
satoruâs father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesnât look at his wife with a soft look that tells you thereâs any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesnât look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunityâwith a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.Â
satoru is young, but heâs charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wantsâheâs quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. thatâs what his father tells you, anyway. you believe himâsatoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you wonât deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and heâs never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.Â
you canât rip that away from himânot for your own sake, not for your own happiness.Â
âyou promised you wouldnât freeze his trust funds once i ended things,â you remind him, âand that heâd keep his inheritance.â somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesnât shakeâitâs steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreementâand he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.Â
âyes, i do recall,â he hums, âiâm glad we could come to agree. you understand, donât you? it is my job as his father to do whatâs best for him.â
you know what heâs sayingâwhat that means. youâre not whatâs best for him. maybe heâs rightâmaybe satoru needs someone whoâs equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone whoâs heard of half the brands he wears and doesnât scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isnât high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru isâand that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.Â
ââthe offer still stands, should you change your mind. iâm willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.âÂ
your lips curl into a scowl at his words. thatâs the thing about rich people, you thinkâmoney is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you donât leave satoru for extra cash on your handsânothing can be worth auctioning off the only man whoâs ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isnât just a ghost of his fatherâs. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, youâre willing to pick up the scissors yourself.Â
âno thanks,â you hiss, âi donât need the money.â
âi would disagree,â his father sneers, âbut suit yourself.â
the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?Â
âââââ
you try to forget your ex-boyfriendâkeyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if heâs posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongingsâyou know heâs noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.Â
in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitterâyou know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states youâre blocked. but then youâre unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.Â
it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you canât bring yourself to be mad, not when itâs your fault heâs hurting like this. heâs extra sad today, you gatherâif the way marvinâs room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, heâs effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers heâs pathetically in his feelings.Â
you scroll through suguruâs story, tooâhe didnât unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldnât keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.Â
suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when youâre swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experienceâthey donât see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, thereâs nothing education could offer that trust funds already donât. but satoru attends college for himselfâhe enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.Â
thereâs no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, thereâs no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any cornersâyou do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, heâd say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.Â
everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you canât bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (heâs replaced it more times than heâs needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.Â
every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. itâs your fault, you thinkâthat satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. heâs always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool waterâwhat feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you shouldâve known this would have never lasted.Â
in a way, you think you did. itâs why you hated him so fiercely at firstâmaybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe thatâs why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wantedâyouâre not so sure you can say the same for yourself.Â
you love gojo satoru. he loves you tooâhe falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamondsâyou think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. itâs just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didnât have to break his heart, you wish you couldâve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, heâll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.Â
before you can refresh suguruâs page one more time to stalk his story, youâre pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your doorâcorrection: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.Â
satoru. of course.
heâs soaked to the boneâitâs raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he mustâve rushed here without an umbrella.
you shouldnât open it.
but you canât just leave him in the rain, can you? but heâs not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didnât you? but how could he not be your problem when heâs all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you canât be that cruel can you?
before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, âi know youâre standing there. open the door,â he demands.Â
âsatoru, go home,â you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, âdonât make this anymore difficult than it has to be.â
âif itâs difficult, that means you donât really want to do this,â he argues. heâs still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. âplease,â he croaks, âjust let me in.â
you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldnât, you canât let him know why you did all thisâhow can you protect someone from something if they donât let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and thatâs why you canât let him know.Â
âsatoru, if you donât leaveâŠiâllâŠiâll call the cops,â you warn.Â
âno you wonât,â he says instantly. âiâm not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, iâll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.â
âyouâre not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,â you scoff.Â
the rain doesnât slowâin fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.Â
âiâll start screaming,â he insists, âyour neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.â
and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned doorâeven though you shouldnât, even though you canât, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because itâs satoru, and he always comes when you call, and youâll always let him in when heâs here.Â
âyou donât come to your exâs house less than one week after the break up,â you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.Â
âwhy did you leave me?â he asks.Â
âsatoru, you canât keep bringing this upââ
âwhy? just tell me why.â
âi donât have toââ
âtell me why and iâll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,â he insists.Â
and then you break.
youâre only human. youâve lost the man youâve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. youâll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, youâll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and youâll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.Â
so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. âjust leave, satoru,â you sob, âwhy canât you just leave? why do you keep coming back?â
you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. youâre glad to see him. you hope this isnât the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasnât attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasnât showered in days.Â
âlast month you said i was it for you,â he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blueâthat beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. âlast week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?â
âyou can realize a lot in a monthââ
ânot enough to erase over a year,â his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if heâs angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. âso tell me,â he clenches his jaw, âdid you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that youâre not telling me?â
âi realized you were bad for me,â you say quietly.Â
satoru stares at you. itâs a piercing gazeâhis eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. theyâre tiredâthere are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think youâll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.Â
âi spent weeks,â his voice shakes, âi waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.â
âsatoru, you need to leaveââ
âand then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,â he glares, sniffling. you donât know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. âand then i begged you for a chanceâbegged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.â
âi didnât ask you toââ
âit took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.â
âsatoru,â you plead.Â
youâve given up on trying to wipe away the tearsâheâs given up on crying altogether. youâve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.
satoru has never gotten tiredânot when heâs fighting for you.
âand then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, andâŠand i thought you loved me too,â he shakes his head.Â
his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.
âi do love you,â you admit it before you realize what youâre saying.Â
âthen why did you fucking leave me?â his voice is loud.
satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like heâll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yellsâbut he does tonight.Â
âbecause i had to,â you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. âor youâd lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldnât let that happen to youânot for me,â you whisper.Â
it feels like defeatâin the end, you couldnât keep satoru, and you couldnât leave him either. you couldnât love him like you wanted, and you couldnât let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass. Â
âso you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?â he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at thatâsomething in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.Â
satoru gets his blue eyes from his motherâtheyâre bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, theyâre not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his fatherâs eyes are grayâcold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.Â
you canât help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.Â
âit wasnât just that,â you shake your head, âthatâs not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?â
âyou could have talked to me before you decided for me,â he hisses, âwhat do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didnât seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?â
âyou know iâd have stayed if i could,â you argue, voice breaking.
âthen why didnât you? why the fuck didnât you?â
âbecause i couldnât!â
âyou could!â he screamsâyou realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. âall my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, donât do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. thatâs all heâs ever fucking doneâmake every choice for me. and nowâŠnow youâre just like him,â he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.Â
itâs like that for a bitâyou stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you donât know who leans in first, if itâs your hand or his face, but one second youâre feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and youâll always be there for him to find you.Â
âi donât want to leave,â you mumble, âi never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?â
âthen donât leave,â he begs, voice cracking, âi donât want you to. iâll handle that old geezerâmy grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, itâs fine. just donât leave, okay?â
you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. âi donât know if iâm worth homicide, satoru.â
âi think youâre wrong,â he huffs, âyouâre wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.â
âi never said i was perfect,â you pout.
he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightlyâyou cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoruâs arms. youâd melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure itâs always beating.Â
âyouâre still perfect,â he mumbles, âbut youâre always mean to me. this was the worst youâve ever been.â
âiâm sorry,â you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hairâitâs still wet, you realize. heâs soaked, and he could catch a cold but you donât care. satoru is back. heâs here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. âiâll never leave you again.â
âpromise?â
âyeah. as long as you donât block me on twitter again.â
âyou deserved that.â
âand for the love of god, toru, delete that marvinâs room story. that was so dumb.â
âare you stalking me?â he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, âmissed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.â
âwell, obviously not enough to post marvinâs room on my story.â
âyou canât be mean to me after you broke my heart!â he whines.
yeah, you think, satoru is home. heâs still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always wasâand heâs still the only love youâve ever known.Â
âi love you,â you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like youâll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like youâll never see the sun again without him.Â
but thereâs time for thatâlots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.
âi love you too,â he whispers, âwanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.â
read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
contents. you and your rich husband, sitting and eating sushi years later on your wedding day. the end of one chapter, but the start of a new one. enjoy your happy rich boy gojo ending. with love, tee bee <3
satoruâs eyes are pretty when the sun sets, almost green instead of that usual icy blueâyou canât help but stare. itâs shamelessly, even. you watch as he brings the sushi to his lips, pausing just before he can take the bite as he notices your eyes on him.
âif youâre so busy staring at me, you might not notice it when your food is gone,â he hums, grinning cheekily at you.
you snort, rolling your eyes as you shake your head. âoh yeah? then iâll just make you buy me more.â
âfirst day and youâre already admitting to marrying me for my wallet?â
you laughâitâs a free, bright sound that he has memorized from plenty of experience. and itâs his turn to stare as the sun settles in the crinkles by your eyes, years and years of laughter and smiles evident in the lines of your skin. beautiful, he think, youâve always been so, so painfully beautiful.
your wedding dress is expensive. a pretty, flattering little thing. you buy it yourself, despite his protests. some years ago, youâd have stared wistfully at the price tag and considered the purchase in another life. youâve come a long way since thenâsatoru is proud. so proud, he feels an ache building in his chest from the way things have changed as time crept past the two of you.
not a bad ache, perhaps. a dull throb of nostalgia that settles under his heart, in that spot he has saved just for you.
âi donât need your wallet, you idiot,â you grin, reaching over with your chopsticks to steal from his roll. he lets you, just like he always used to when you were younger.
satoru thinks now, if he could, heâd love to pat his younger self on the back. the version of himself that used to watch you walk out of class without sparing him a glance, the version of himself that ached so badly for a chance with you, heâd collect stars from the sky to trade for an ounce of your love. heâd tell his younger self that he made itâthat heâs sitting here, years later with his grandmotherâs ring on your hand, eating sushi go after your wedding.
for old times sake, youâd told him when you asked to stop by, we always celebrated with sushi go when we were younger, remember?
as if heâd forget, he wanted to laugh. but he drives over anyway, parking the car in the same old spot as he used to. this time, thereâs newly wed! written on the back of the windowâand the words miraculously enough crossed out underneath. (he thinks thatâs courtesy of shoko, but she doesnât fess up, and suguru insists it doesnât matter. soon enough, heâll get to the bottom of it.)
âare you sure?â he hums, âyouâll have a lot of fun with it, i promise.â
âi think iâd rather have fun with you,â you hum, giving him a small wink as you take a sip from your soda, making his lips curl into a wide grin.
âoh, isnât that sweet,â he drawls, âiâm a lucky guy.â
âmaybe if youâre on your best behavior, youâll get extra lucky later tonight.â
âyeah?â he chuckles, folding his hands as he sits up straighter and nods seriously, âiâm a good boy.â
âyouâre anything but that, toru,â you snort. and then you soften, staring at him as you reach over and grab his hand. he lets you, lacing his fingers with yours as your thumb brushes over his knuckles.
years and years worth of love resides in between your skin. the first time your hands touched him, you didnât want him the way he needed you to. then one day, they touched him hesitantly, carefully, slowly exploring him with cautious gentleness. eventually they touched him like he was the world pressed in your palms, heavy with the weight of being your everything.
he likes being yours. more than he likes you being hisâheâs always had more than enough. but thereâs something about giving himself that feels better than taking, better than wanting, better than having.
satoru has always loved you. he thinks the first day you glared at him, he was doomed from the start. he thinks right now, as you stare at him with fondness, heâs even more doomed now.
he doesnât mind it, not even a little.
âhey,â he murmurs, making you raise a brow for him to continue, âiâm your husband now.â
âi know,â you nod in amusement, âwe just got marriedâŠlike two hours ago. i didnât forget that quickly.â
âgood,â he wipes his forehead in faux relief, âi was getting worried for a second.â
âyouâre too much,â you roll your eyes, squeezing his hand delicately.
ânow that weâre officially married,â he starts, grinning cheekily as he bats his lashes, âwe should list all the things we love about each other. in alphabetic order. you go first, of course.â
âi donât have to alphabetize it.â
âwhy? you numbered it or something? is it organized by importance? iâll accept that too, i suppose.â
âwell, thereâs only one thing,â you tease.
he huffs, grumbling a petulant, âso mean. all these years and you can only think of one thing? canât you be a little nice to me in our wedding day?â
âiâve worked smarter, not harder,â you shrug, âiâve condensed all my reasons down to one thing.â
âand what would that be?â he pouts.
âeverything.â
âthatâs cheesy,â he snorts, but thereâs a flush on his cheeks that makes you grin, snickering as you lean over and poke at his cheek.
âyouâll just have to deal with it. youâre my husband, after all.â
âdid you ever think about it? when we were kids?â he asks softly, staring off at a young couple in the distance with a tiny grin. the boy pulls out the chair for the girl, pushing her in and tripping slightly on his way to his own seat. satoru chuckles softly at the sight.
âthink about what?â
âus,â he mumbles, âgetting married some day. before we got serious, at least.â
âi donât know,â you admit, âi didnât even think iâd date you, to be fair.â
âyou hated me,â he pretends to sniffle, âyou wanted me dead. you wanted me to blow up into smithereens and leave my poor mother a grieving mess, didnât you?â
âmaybe not then, but i might now,â you sigh tiredly.
âwell, i knew i was going to marry you since the first time you insulted me,â he nods proudly, earning a loud chuckle from you.
âyou were a little freak back in the day,â you laugh, âi believe it. only youâd be romanced by degradation.â
âbaby,â he huffs, glaring at you (his eyes are soft, playful, even. so sweetly affectionate, your teeth could rot), âyou should appreciate a man seeing the best at you. even when you put him through the ringer.â
he almost regrets saying it when your hand pulls away from his, but then one by one, your palms reach over to cradle his cheeks, brushing a thumb along his soft, familiar skin as you stare at him like heâs the only thing that matters.
he is, you make him believe. heâs the only thing that matters. the center of your universe. he fought tooth and nail to get there, of course, but he has no intentions of leaving.
ever.
âi will always appreciate you,â you say softly, eyes watering as you swallow thickly, chuckling when a small tear slips from your eyes. âthank you for loving me, satoru. even when it was hard. even when you had to fight to do it. no one has loved me like that.â
âaw donât start with the waterworks now,â he mutters, looking away and blinking suspiciously enough that you suspect his own eyes are just as teary, âwe canât have you crying for me alreadyâthatâs for later.â
ânever any decorum with you,â you huff out a breathless laugh.
his thumb reaches over to swipe at your tear, pinching your cheek affectionately as he grins. itâs toothy, boyish, hopelessly and completely in love. even back then, and even right now. heâs always so in love. itâs youâalways, from the day you first rejected him to the day you said yes when he got in one knee, itâs been you.
âthanks for loving me too, sweetheart,â he whispers, his own voice choking a bit as he swallows, âit canât be easy. iâm a handful.â
âat least youâre self aware,â you snicker.
satoru beamsâand heâs yours. your rich, spoiled, beautiful boy. all yours to love for the rest of your rich, spoiled, beautiful days.
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Prompt: âThatâs my name, please wear it out.â
Characters: All NRC
Masterlist: (1) (2)
A/N: Freeing this nonsense from my older drafts :p
They learn your name isnât âYuuâ â which is a mistake made by the dark mirror and nickname Crowley endorsed on the day you arrived. Youâve just been rolling with it since.
Until now.
Youâve applied for citizenship in their home country post-graduation and it hits them thatâŠthey donât know your last name. Trying not to seem like a bad boyfriend, they sneak a peak at your official documents issued by Night Ravenâs guardianship.
Only to learn that they apparently didnât know your first name either. Wow. *low whistle* that is justâŠ.yeah. Thatâs something alright.
â
Riddle is floored. Considering he is a man of details, how on earth could he go four years without knowing your last name? While simultaneously misusing your first? He isnât sure how to proceed. Should he be angry with himself for overlooking such an important matter, or angry at you for being so flippant? Both. The answer is both. He is going to be thinking about this for years.
â...Four years, and not once did you think to correct me?" He exhales, measured but tense. "That is either a remarkable lapse in judgment, or an astonishing lack of consideration. Do you have any idea how improper that isâon both our parts?!â
Cater makes a joke, insisting that this was your plan all along, huh? To assume a new identity the moment you werenât tied to the Isle of Sages anymore? When you dock in the Queedom, will you disappear into the night? Good luck with that, sweetie. Under the jokes he is in mourning. He really liked the nickname YuuYuu. Even if you tell him itâs okay to use, he just canât.
âAww, babe, that is so shady of you but kind of iconic, not gonna lie." He laughs, then winces. "I cannot believe you really pulled the whole identity swap trope on me. AH! I've been hashtagging the wrong name for years! My brand is about to be in shambles.â
Trey thinks of all the times youâve called him a pushover (affectionate). As if that isnât the pot calling the kettle black. How could you look him in the eye for four years and tell him to be more open, when youâve been allowing an entire campus call you by the wrong name? Is he really the laid back one in this relationship here? God itâs âthe girl with the green ribbonâ story all over again. When was he going to find out, when youâre both senile in a nursing home?
âYour name is ⊠nice?" He adjusts his glasses slightly, if not a bit awkward. "I donât know how Iâm supposed to react in this situation. Just give me a second. Maybe sixty.â
Deuce is stuck remembering all the times heâs doodled your name in the margines of his notebook. He feels a bit slighted, did you not trust him? Did you think he wouldnât believe you if you told him the truth? Whatâs he going to tell his mom? It already took a hour to convince her that âYuuâ was your actual name and not some sick joke. You made him a liar! Dylla is not going to let him live this down. Itâs 100% being mentioned to every party guest at your wedding and in her speech too.
âI already told my mom your name was Yuu!" He groans loudly, genuinely distressed "Do you know how hard that was to explain? Stop â stop laughing damn it! She is never going to forget this!â
Ace. Who doesnât care. Youâre âYuuâ. Itâs what heâs called you these past four years and what heâll keep calling you until the day you die. If you had a problem with it, you shouldâve correct him before. Sorry, not sorry (secretly a bit miffed). Jokes aside â he takes absolutely no time getting over it and just mashes the names together into a nickname that sounds new levels of wrong. That becomes your permanent title.
âYou just let me look stupid all this time, huh?â He clicks his tongue. âThatâs messed up. SoâŠdo I get to pick now, or are we pitching names in magnets on the fridge like youâre a newborn? âCause Iâm cool with either.â
Leona is drifting through every thought he has ever had about you for the past for years. Your name spoken in his dreams, stuck on his tongue each time he watched you walk away. Etched in his eyelids and written in the red glow when sun blinds him awake in the morning. Spoken from his chest during moments of binding intimacy. All those moments now tainted by that damned Crow. Heâs pissed you never once corrected him. Out of spite, you lose name privileges for an entire day. That old title of âherbivoreâ coming back after a three year drought. In truth, heâs just buying a bit of time to figure himself out. Even though youâre the one who let him, calling you by the wrong name is a disrespect he cannot believe you allowed an entire campus get away with.
âTch. So all this time, you let everyone get your name wrong and just sat there. If it bothered you, you shouldâve said something.â He clicks his tongue, looking away. âYou know what? Fine. Donât make me out as the idiot for taking you at your word, herbivore.â
Ruggie writes your name on a piece of notebook paper and clips it to your collar. Makes sure to do it in the biggest red marker he can find too, so people know exactly what theyâre seeing. Heâs got secrets, yeah. Sure. Not from you though. Did you seriously expect him to take one look at that file and let it go? Do you have any idea how important it is to have your documents right (or at least convincing forgeries)? Never-mind that youâve had him write home to his Grandma about you with the wrong name. For four years. Sheâs actually going to kill him for this. You are aware that hyena households are matriarchal, right?
âYou know how hard it is to keep paperwork straight?â He taps the file against your head like it is obvious. âIf you were gonna be all mysterious, you couldâve picked a better time. Sheesh. Gran's gonna have my tail for this...â
Jack canât stop staring. His whole body went stiff and he forgot that it was just supposed to be a subtle glance over your shoulder. Now thereâs this hunk of meat breathing down your neck, looming there like the words will change if he stares hard enough â because how. How do you go four years with someone and not tell them your real name? He feels even worse once you tell him the reason why you let everyone call you âYuuâ.
ââŠOh.â His ears twitch, and his terse expression softens when you explain why you didnât correct anyone. âSo thatâs why, huh.â A pause. âI get why you did it, but I wish youâd trusted me enough to tell me sooner. We could've set the record straight together. as a team.â
Azul dumps all your name-tags out on his desk for prime viewing. Mostro Lounge. Sams. Student ID. Newspaper Club ID. He does the same for all your old documentations. Train tickets, movie stubs, class schedules, etc. Donât ask why he has these. Definitely not because theyâre the only proof that you exist. Anyways. What do they all say? Oh, âYuuâ? And what is your name? Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha. Never-mind that you couldâve used this to cheese him out of a contract. He canât believe youâve held such an Ace up your sleeve and did not use it once.
âFascinating. You had the perfect loophole and chose not to exploit it.â He exhales, somewhere between impressed and irritated. âI donât know whether to applaud your restraint or question your judgment.â
Jade just found out your dirty little secret. He always had an inkling that you were hiding something from him. Yet the sense he got was unlike that of debtors intentionally fabricating stories. To him, a name is but a string of letters. Although this is good to know for when binding matters are concerned.
âI had wondered what you were withholding.â Jade chuckles into his closed fist. âBut I must admit, I did not expect it to be something so straightforward.â
Floyd gets your last name and then instantly forgets it. Kidding! Does it really matter, when your last name is going to be âLeechâ anyway? For a long time he assumed you didnât have one and was already content with sharing. Your first name is interesting. He thinks Crowley sucks for making an entire campus call you by somethinâ youâre notâŠbut to Floyd, youâre always going to be âShrimpyâ. (He uses your given name often later on. Azul is Azul. Jade is Jade. When the time comes, you will be yourself too.)
âHehe, thatâs so weird. I thought you just didnât have one, like a stray or somethinâ.â Floyd grins, leaning closer. âYour last nameâs gonna be Leech soon anyway, so who cares?â
Kalim feels guilty. Like the kind of guilt that gets passed down six generations. Despite his large family, he's made an effort to learn the names of all his siblings and cousins. Yet he's been addressing the literal love of his life as a pronoun?! You might think it's hilarious but this sweet summer child has an existential crisis. Naturally he'll laugh it off if you do, but it's like he's 16 again and there are important things about the people he cares about flying over his head. For the next week, expect him to overuse your name. Although, he is a bit sad. He's called you 'Yuu' for so long and he can't exactly forget how much love was poured into each time he spoke it. He still calls you Yuu sometimes out of habit, catches himself, then laughs it off, switching back and forth without much care.
âWaitâso Iâve just been calling you the wrong name this whole time?!â He laughs, a little too loud to sound natural. âNo way â say it again, we can start over! Hi, I'm Kalim 'Al Asim. It's nice to meet you!â
Jamil is wondering how you've managed to survive this long. He knows for a fact that you've been to the doctor. Mainly because it was his butt seated in the waiting room with the same six shoddy pop-songs stuck on loop for two hours. Pure torture but necessary since you apparently had to be forced there. So just...why didn't you correct him when filling out forms back then? Better yet, why didn't you correct him at literally any point in time? It's been four years. Even if you were apprehensive at first for very valid reasons....seriously? This is how he finds out? He's honestly impressed you can keep a secret, considering you text him about eggshells in your cake or when someone sneezed a fart during class. Someone...help him.
âFour years.â He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. âYouâll tell me every minor detail of your life, but this is what you decide to keep to yourself?â
Epel does a spit take. Youâll need to request a new, laminated copy, alongside a change of shirt. This oneâs been drenched in apple juice and crumpled from when he all but snatched the papers from your hands. Subtly be damned â you mean to tell him heâs been simpering and whimpering over the wrong name for four long years? What if he got it tattooed on his blastcycle?! Or carved into a ring box, huh?! Ah. No. He wasnât going to do that. Forget everything he just said! HellsâŠif he wasnât close to graduating too, heâd take the detention just to tell Crowley off. How the heck could you let this sort of thing go!
âWhat do you mean that ainât your real name?!â He coughs, then wipes at the mess on his shirt with a horrified look. âHells, I knew Crowley was negligent, but this is ridiculous. Youâre lucky Iâm tryinâ not to get detention, else I ought to go have a word with 'im myself."
Rook cannot believe there was something about you that he did not know. He resigned the knowledge of your last name to time and convenience â but to mistake your first? The revelation is both a thrilling miracle and an utter travesty! The mere thought that you havenât spoken your own name in four years? Oh, you know his heart is shattered when not a word of purple prose escapes him. Yet he cannot sulk. No. The name âYuuâ is still so special. It is the name that dots every love letter, every thought, every passion that has consumed him for four years. He welcomes your birth name as the dawn of a new era, seeing you as a vibrant blossom finally in bloom within Twisted Wonderland.
"Je te vois, mon cher, and yet there was still a part of you I had not known.â He closes his eyes for a moment, almost savoring the revelation. âA secret so intimate, so tenderly kept, and now at last revealed to the one who adores every facet of you.â
Vil loses his decorum for a brief moment. The documents are plucked from your hands, his unoccupied one grasps your bicep so that you donât just run off on him. He points to the nearest chair and makes you sit while he skims through all of NRCâs paperwork. Your personal details are not his business and Vil is all for privacyâŠbut he honestly has no idea what you were thinking. You do understand that you have the right to stand up for yourself, yes? Even if you wished to keep being called âYuuâ â which based on your story, he assumes is false, did you not think to tell your lover? It seems a discussion about confidence is dueâŠand an aspirin. Maybe two.
âEven if you tolerated it, why would you not correct me?â His eyes narrow slightly. âConfidence is not optional, especially when it concerns your own identity.â
Idia short circuits. His palms are moister than they get after a 24hr code jam. Not even the time crunch of a same-day deadline can get him like this. He really is the worst boyfriend in existence. Not only did it take years for you to receive proper documentation â yâknow, proof of your existence so you canât just go âpoofâ on him someday? But to be called something like âYuuâ which he is realizing in real time is just âYouâ. Wow. Thatâs so messed up. Why are you with him? Why didnât you correct him? Why didnât he think to check your stats before? Holy shit. Keyboard smash in his chest and everything.
âW-Waitâso âYuuâ is literally just⊠âyouâ?â He stares at you like his brain just blue-screened. âHow did I not catch that? Iâve min-maxed entire RPGs but couldnât fact-check my own relationship? â god, what is wrong with me?!â
Malleus wanes as if his entire world has been flipped upside down. You were his first friend. His first and last love. Yet he cannot be remiss with you for holding your name close to your heart. He did the same when you first met, after all. Except Malleusâ ruse lasted some months while yours has held strong this entire relationship. Malleus cannot believe heâs been completely in the dark for four years. What bothers him most is that you may have gone forever without sharing this with him. Names are bonding for fae. Did you intend to bind yourself to his one day, but not allow him to do the same? Donât bother checking the weather forecast. A monsoon is on the way with three days of heavy rain.
âAh⊠I see.â He studies you with a look steady, almost aching. âYour name is not a small thing, child of man. It is a part of you, and I wish I had been worthy of cherishing it sooner.. You need not fear giving it to me now. Whether you are called by the name this world gave you or the one you were born with, I will always know exactly who stands before me.â
Lilia plays it in good fun. Anytime someone asks after âYuuâ, he plays dumb. Even if youâre right there. One of his little students asks about his partner? Oh, sorry dearie. Theyâre not around anymore but have you met my new sweetheart? Then he introduces you by your given name, and suddenly you have to explain to a class of five year olds that their teacher is a jerk who will not be getting the lunch youâve come to drop off. Liliaâs another one who doesnât hold himself too harshly for not knowing. Names hold power, yes. Although heâs begun to accept that one such as âVanrougeâ can be desired, even though it is stained in unfathomable amounts of blood. He is just waiting for you to accept it.
âIf it makes you feel better, I shall pretend to be scandalized for your sake.â He grins, utterly delighted. âBut between us, dearie? I rather like that I can get to know you all over again.â
Sebek deems this as a betrayal. You could point out to him that for the first year you both spent together, he hardly used your name at all. You corrected him for calling you âhumanâ countless times back then and yet he never listened until reality slapped him in the face. Even now he still relapses on occasion, to which he apologizes. Except that reminder would only serve to upset him further. Sebek expects you to hold him at the highest regard. Even if the entire world calls you âYuuâ and you were okay with it, as your partner it is his responsibility to ensure you are not just satisfied, but comfortable. Uplifted. Your name is your legacy. Wear it with pride.
âYou should have corrected everyone immediately!â Heâs already halfway to pacing. âNo, do not look at me like that. This is a matter of honor, as your true name is part of your dignity. You will not be forced to wear a name that is not yours if I have anything to say about it."
Silver is overcome with a deep sense of melancholy. For most of his life, he went without a last name. Which is why seeing âVanrougueâ written next to his person is still an adjustment. A fond one, but an adjustment nonetheless. Yet this overwhelming sensation is actually attributed to the fact that with the name âVanrouge,â it was like the world finally recognized him. He wonders how you must have felt to be given a new name in a new place and thrust into this new life. âYuuâ is just one piece of who you are. He wants to know the person behind your true name. To see all of you.
âI see.â His expression turns thoughtful, a little sad around the edges. âThen you have been carrying a name that was never fully yours while building a life around it. I understand a little of that feeling. Having my name finally given to me is what made the world feel real. I wonder if it feels the same for you now."
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just started watching TSHD and honestly it's a masterpiece because yoshiki is repeatedly having the worst day of his life living with a thing wearing his best friend's corpse meanwhile "Hikaru" thinks he's in a studio ghibli movie
summary âžș you have always existed in gojo satoruâs shadow. he is a physics prodigy, a person that everyone endlessly admires for his intelligence and charisma, and you hate him for taking the spotlight that you deserve to share with him. but it all changes one day at 5:07AM at your starbucks job when gojo barges in, ordering ridiculously sweet drinks and posing existential questions. is there more to gojo that meets the eye, and is it linked to the vigilante swinging around New York City?
warnings âžș college au, academic rivals to lovers, SMUT, tooth rotting fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, basically the holy trinity, reader works at Starbucks (BOYCOTT tho), set in NYC, both reader and gojo are physics majors, mentions of SA, attempt at SA on reader but nothing too graphic, some violence, gojo swings reader across NYC so might trigger fear of heights?. SPIDER-MAN KISS SPIDERMAN KISS, injury and mentions of blood, mentions of gun, inappropriate use of webs LOL, fingering, oral, p in v sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied
playlist âžș quantum rizzics
a/n thank you for @avaults my POOKIE for beta reading this. this has been a journey and my first longfic and i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did writing it it's my baby:')
if u donât wanna read the smut just skip the part after they make up, itâs not necessary to the story and is the ending scene. but just to be clear, minors dni.
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist | spiderman!gojo masterlist
fun fact: starbucks opens at 5am.
of course, that depends on your local hours and where you live, but in the campus starbucks you worked at, your manager fortunately didnât really care if you showed up to your opening shift a bit late. after all, no professor or undergrad is waking up at the ass crack of dawn to get a fuckin coffee; if they really needed a pick me up, theyâd go to get the free alcohol at one of the frats that was still partying.Â
matter of fact, your manager didnât really give a fuck what you did as long as you didnât get the shop blown up or the matcha spilled (it was expensive). this meant you could leisurely wake up at 4:45am and set up the display muffins and cake pops when you arrived in the shop at 5:20am. really, the manager ought to reduce the hours because all you do is finish your readings for your gen ed history classes on the canvas app on your phone. so, really you get paid for doing your homework on your shiftsânot that youâre complaining or anything.
that is, until gojo satoru.
first, letâs get the record straight about who gojo is. gojo is a physics second-yearâsame as youâwho is the bane of your existence. up until a few months ago, you never saw gojo satoru outside of classes (where he was dozing off) unless you happened to show up at a frat party, which was only a few occurrences when you got peer pressured by your friends. clearly, he was a âwork hard, party hardâ type person because he frequents the frats more than the library while having the grades to make up for it because heâs a prodigy. heâs charismatic and smart as fuck; right out of middle school he was studying manifolds and abstract algebra while the rest of the high school freshmen were learning the quadratic equation and the concept of variables. he probably learned what gravity was at age of two and was doing research in quantum field theory by the time he got into college.Â
take the last time you saw him outside of class, at office hours with professor yaga.
the air in professor yagaâs office is thick with the scent of old textbooks, the hum of the overhead lights adding to the familiar quiet. youâve been waiting all week for this chance, and youâre armed with a question thatâs supposed to signal iâve done my homework. you lean forward, trying to project confidence as you ask, âi read in your last paper that youâre working on optimizing error correction in quantum computing systems. is there a reason you prioritized stabilizer codes over surface codes?â
professor yagaâs brow lifts, impressed, and you can feel the warmth of his approval starting to settle around you. âah,â he says, sounding pleasantly surprised, âyouâve actually read it. thatâs... a complicated question.â he leans back, launching into an explanation, and for a second, you think this might actually be itâthe moment he notices you for your dedication, your depth of knowledge.
but then, the door creaks open behind you.
you tense, a sinking feeling pooling in your stomach even before you turn around. of course, itâs gojo satoru, strolling in like he owns the place. his bag is slung over one shoulder, and heâs flashing that easy grin that never seems to falter. he spares you the briefest glance before zeroing in on professor yaga.
professor yagaâs face shifts instantly, a mixture of annoyance and resignation flashing in his eyes as he sighs, âgojo. nice of you to join us.â
âhey, i was just passing by,â gojo says casually, though heâs clearly anything but. he doesnât pass by anywhere without making an entrance. âthought iâd check in on how everyoneâs doing.â
the glint in yagaâs eyes sharpens, and he fixes gojo with a look. âwhenâs that last problem set coming in, satoru? iâve had enough late assignments from you for one semester.â
at this, another professor at a nearby desk chuckles, casting an amused glance at gojo. âdonât push him too hard, yaga,â he says as if gojoâs delinquency is something charming, a shared inside joke. âkidâs already got the departmentâs highest scores without trying.â
oh, for godâs fucking sake. you force yourself not to roll your eyes, your grip tightening on the strap of your bag as you sink back in your chair. of course, all it takes is for him to show up and somehow youâre rendered invisible. just minutes ago, professor yaga was engaging with you, treating you as if you might actually belong in this room with your carefully constructed question. now, heâs utterly distracted, entirely absorbed by whatever pseudo-flattering insults heâs throwing at gojo. and, for the record, that stupid, balding professor is wrong. you have the same fucking scores as gojo, so youâre equals.
youâre not even sure gojo realizes heâs doing itâthat he has this magnetic, obnoxious effect on everyone in a room. but thatâs exactly what grates on you the most. he pulls all eyes to him, like heâs some cosmic force everyoneâs compelled to admire. and you? youâre just⊠there. not that itâs any different than the usual experiences youâve had as a woman in stem, always feeling like you have to prove yourself five times over. but somehow, gojo makes it worse.
and he does it all effortlessly, like physics is some sort of playground where he can breeze through research and exams, sprinkling charisma wherever he goes. heâs probably off writing his own theories on manifolds while everyone else is struggling to keep up with quantum mechanics. meanwhile, here you are, clawing for every shred of recognition, only to watch it fizzle as soon as he steps into the room.
he flashes a grin at professor yaga. âiâll get it in,â he says, waving a hand dismissively. âiâm just, you know, prioritizing. some of us have⊠extracurriculars.â he doesnât wink, but he might as well.
you resist the urge to scoff, sinking deeper into your seat as the frustration bubbles up, sharp and hot. itâs not like youâre jealous. youâd rather endure anything than admit that. but watching gojo waltz in and immediately siphon off any attention youâd managed to earn feels like a slap. if he could just stop showing up, or better yet, stop pretending to be so casually brilliant, maybeâjust maybeâyouâd have a chance at something other than this routine invisibility.
you let out a huff, pretending to check the time, imagining you had somewhere better to be. you have brilliant, observant blue eyes following you out the door, but youâre too busy trying to keep yourself together until you reach your dorm, where you ugly cry it out.
which, of course, brings you to mornings like this one, where you actually do have to be somewhere. namely, behind the counter at the campus starbucks, opening up shop while most of the world is still asleep. you catch sight of the green mermaid logo ahead, just visible through the dim haze of a 5:07 a.m. chill.
and right beneath it, thereâs a familiar head of silver hair.
your eyes have to double take on the man who seems to be looking a bit slouched, tired and leaning against the light pole while tapping his foot. the muscular yet tall stature and white hair are unmistakable; itâs the same ones youâve dreamed about throttling. but youâre so confused as to why heâs there that you just decide to wordlessly walk towards the store and open up, ignoring his presence until his voice cuts through the morning silence.
âdoesnât this store open up at 5?â his voice sounds tired and groggy, you notice.Â
âuh, yea,â you answer tentatively, shrugging. âbut, um, no one comes until 7 so i show up late.â
his eyes narrow and somewhat playfully (well, as playful as he can sound at the ass crack of dawn anyways), he asks, âdonât you know time is of the essence? seems pretty irresponsible to me that youâre not showing up on time.â
you just stare at him for a bit because, after all, this is the guy youâve been having the murderous equivalent of wet dreams about for the past year talking to you in a friendly, joking, familiar way. needless to say, youâre at a loss of words in your slightly flustered state, so all that comes out is a short âsorryâ before youâre walking in, getting ready to put on your apron and setting the oven on to heat up the croissants.Â
gojo follows in after you, choosing to sit at the table closest to the counter. he sets the backpack he had on his back down, rummaging through and whipping out his laptop and plugging it in. itâs a heavy old thing, and gojoâs biceps strain as he pulls it out and you almost snort when looking at it in its entirety. a gaming laptop.
 but you donât do that, because laughing at someone whoâs a stranger to you would be mean, no matter how much you hate him, so you resort to setting up the counter and getting some powders out. bending over, you get the newly shipped box of cake pops, deigning to put them out on display until youâre interrupted with a cough.
you turn, looking inquisitively at gojo until he points down to the counter, indicating that he wants to order. you mumble, âjust a second!â before you continue hauling the box to put it on the top counter where you can easily unpack it and brush your hands, walking up to gojo and getting the system ready to take his order.Â
and your fingers are poised on the buttons until you realize that no order is coming out of his mouth. you blink, and he blinks, keeping a stoic face that nevertheless poorly conceals an amused expression.
ââŠwhat can i get you?âÂ
at that, he pouts. âno good morning? no chirpy hello?â
you just stare at him for a good second. what the fuck?
âwhat?â gojo frowns. âshouldnât you do that to every customer?â you realize belatedly youâve said it out loud in your shock, but shake it off nonetheless.Â
the silence lingers after gojoâs teasing comment, making you acutely aware of the odd situation: youâre standing there in your work apron, face-to-face with the man youâve imagined taking down in your head a thousand times, and yet here he is, tired but playfully trying to chat you up. you should hate thisâheâs getting under your skin, but for some reason, you just feel unsettled, disturbed that heâs so human.
you donât trust your voice to not crack while making eye contact with him, so, instead, you focus on your screen. you settle on a simple, flat, âmorning,â without a hint of cheerfulness, staring down at the register like itâs your lifeline.
gojoâs eyebrow quirks at your half-hearted greeting, but he says nothing, opting instead to study you with an amused glint. you can feel his gaze, like a weight on your skin, and it almost makes you shiver. he leans forward a little, propping his elbows on the counter, his posture loose but expectant. his playful energy is barely masking something beneath it, something harder.
gojo's grin is wide, almost boyish, and it makes your stomach churn more than it should.
âsee? was that so hard?â he says, leaning forward on his elbows like heâs settling in for a chat. his tone is too friendly for someone whoâs never exchanged more than a glance with you in classâsomeone youâve been actively avoiding whenever possible.
you scowl, moving to the register to finally punch in his order. âwhat would you like?â
âhmm...â he taps his chin, dragging out the silence. heâs enjoying this, that much is obvious. âsurprise me.â
you blink, fingers still poised over the buttons. âsurprise you?â
âyeah,â he says, shrugging like itâs no big deal. âyou work here. you know whatâs good.â
you want to throttle him. really, truly throttle him. thereâs no way this is realâno way the gojo satoru is sitting in front of you at 5:07 in the morning, asking you to surprise him with a starbucks order like heâs some quirky regular.
and yet, here you are.
âfine,â you mutter, punching in the order for the sweetest, most ridiculous concoction you can think of. caramel drizzle, extra whipped cream, a pump of every syrup in the back roomâyouâre not going easy on him. âthatâll be eight dollars.â
he doesnât blink at the ridiculous price. of course, he doesnât.
pulling out his phone, he taps it against the card reader and flashes you another grin. âthanks, iâm sure itâll be great.â
you barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. âuh-huh.â
as you move to make the drink, the silence between you stretches uncomfortably. youâve spent so much time thinking about gojo, despising him, that now that heâs here, right in front of you, you donât know how to act. and the worst part? he seems perfectly at ease, completely unfazed by the fact that youâve spent the better part of a year dreaming of his downfall. heâs back to looking at his stupid heavy ahh gaming laptop, and as you move over to put in copious amounts of caramel pumps, you notice that heâs on cool math games playing fireboy and watergirl and almost snort out loud. heâs locked in on his game, his legs moving up and down anxiously, reminiscent of an ipad kid.
after a few minutes of assembling his monstrosity of a drink, you slide it across the counter. âhere,â you say, trying to keep the irritation out of your voice.
gojo raises an eyebrow at the drink, the sheer volume of whipped cream threatening to spill over the lid. âwow,â he says, sounding genuinely impressed. âyou really went all out.â
âyou said to surprise you.â
âi did,â he admits, grabbing the cup and taking a slow, deliberate sip. his eyes widen slightly at the overly sweet taste, and for a brief moment, you think youâve won.
but then he smiles again, that same irritatingly carefree smile, and you know you havenât.Â
âso,â gojo begins, leaning back in his chair like heâs settling in for a long conversation. âwhatâs a genius like you doing working the early shift at starbucks?â
your hands freeze mid-clean, and you glance at him sharply. genius?
you canât tell if heâs being sincere or mocking youâprobably the latter, considering who he isâbut the word still lingers in the air between you, unsettling.
you scoff, trying to brush it off. âgotta pay the bills somehow,â you mutter, going back to wiping down the counter. but gojoâs gaze is heavy on you, and you can tell heâs not letting it go.
you glance up at him. âlook, i like having time to think in the mornings. itâs quiet. besides, no oneâs lining up for coffee before 7, so itâs not like iâm missing anything.â
gojo chuckles softly, but thereâs something off about it. âthinking time, huh?â he repeats your words, but thereâs a strange edge to them, like heâs mulling them over. in fact, you think you just realize that heâs been acting oddly this entire morning, restlessness evident in his figure. he taps his fingers on the table, his eyes flickering to the window, watching the gray morning light spill into the shop.
âdoesnât it ever feel likeâŠâ he trails off, brow furrowing slightly. âi donât know⊠like you should be doing something else? like⊠something more?â
his question hangs in the air, heavy and unspoken, but you get the feeling heâs not talking about you. thereâs something in his voice, something that sounds like heâs grappling with his own thoughts, with his own place in the world.
for a moment, youâre tempted to brush him off. to tell him heâs overthinking things, that heâs gojo satoru and he already has everything laid out for him. but something stops you. maybe itâs the way he looksâhis usual confidence slightly cracked at the edges, his playful tone masking something else. something deeper.
you shrug, turning back to the counter. âi mean⊠it doesnât have to be âmoreâ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.â
thereâs a pause, and you can feel the weight of your words sinking in. gojo goes quiet, really quiet, and when you glance back at him, his usual smirk is gone. heâs just⊠staring at you, eyes narrowed slightly like heâs trying to figure you out.
âjust⊠showing up, huh?â he repeats softly, almost like heâs testing the words. his fingers stop tapping, and he leans back in his chair, his gaze unfocused, like heâs somewhere else entirely. somewhere in his own head.
you donât say anything else. youâve said your piece, and somehow, you know it hit deeper than either of you expected. thereâs a strange silence between you now, not uncomfortable, but heavy with understanding.
gojo stands up after a long pause, grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. he looks at you, his usual grin slipping back into place, but itâs softer now. less cocky. more real.
âmaybe youâre right,â he says, and this time thereâs no teasing in his voice. âsometimes itâs enough just to show up.â
and with that, he gives you a small nod, turning and heading out into the cold morning. the door swings shut behind him, and for a second, you just stand there, staring after him.
somethingâs shifted. you donât know what it is, but it feels like the start of something. something bigger than just a rivalry.
you shake your head, turning back to the counter. itâs too early for this shit.
âŠ
âyou know, i didnât get your name.â
gojoâs voice cuts through the low hum of the espresso machine as he leans against the counter, that same insufferable grin plastered across his face. heâs here again, of course, only this time itâs during your closing shift. the place is quiet, almost deserted except for the occasional customer who swings by for a quick coffee before heading back out into the cold.
you look up from the equipment you were cleaning, already annoyed. âiâm pretty sure weâve shared at least one class every semester.â
you werenât trying to hide the pettiness. gojo, for all his academic genius, clearly couldnât be bothered to remember youâa recurring face in his orbit. itâs not like you were expecting him to remember you, especially among the sea of faces in lecture halls, but something about the way he strolled in, acting like this was just some cute, quirky meet-cute, got under your skin.
gojo quirks an eyebrow in confusion, his gaze drifting up toward the ceiling as if searching the recesses of his mind for your nameâonly to come up empty. âare you a grad student?â
you flash him an exasperated look. âjust for that, iâm not telling you.â
grabbing a towel to wipe your hands, you step out from behind the barista counter, heading towards the trash can just behind him to restock the straws. as you make your way to the supply room, you can feel his eyes following your every move. to your surprise, gojo starts walking toward you, his presence looming as you dump the straws into the container.
it isnât until you turn around that you realize heâs standing right next to you, bent comically at the waist and squinting at something on your chest. heat creeps up your neck and into your cheeks as you realize his proximity and move to take a step back.Â
he wasnât ogling you (thank god), but instead, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron.
"ah," he says, straightening up with a triumphant grin. âthere it is. y/n, huh?â the way his mouth rolls over your name slowly makes you feel a bit weird, because after all, this is the guy youâve shit talked about in your diary finally acknowledging you existed, but before you can reflect on the feeling, you bristle again in annoyance.Â
âreally? you had to get that close just to read my name?â
gojo doesnât seem fazed by your annoyance, in fact, it only seems to amuse him further. âhey, i was just trying to be thorough. gotta make sure i get it right, you know?â his grin widens, and you swear heâs enjoying this way too much.
âthorough. sure.â you turn away, trying to busy yourself with the straws again, but the heat still lingers on your face. his proximity had been⊠unexpected. and a little too close for comfort.
when youâre done with the straws, you steel the courage to turn your body so youâre facing him, making an indication with your hands for him to move out of your way. instead of him giving you space to leave the cramped corner, he leans against the counter now like he practically owns the place. in doing so, he effectively pins you against the corner of the coffee shop, leaving you no option but to fiddle with the straws while pointedly avoiding his gaze, but not before you see the pout on his face. âyouâre not going to ask me for my name?â
âi know it. itâs gojo.â you immediately curse yourself for letting your lips loose.
fuck. he squints his eyes in what you perceive as suspicion. âhow do you know my name?â
âi saw it on your credit card information.â you couldnât exactly tell him how youâve stalked him (as well as how inefficient you found a function in his 6th grade robotics code), so that would be a plausible enough reason.Â
but gojo, of course, doesnât let up. âso, y/n,â he starts. âyou going to the party next week? you know, for halloweekend?â
ah, halloweekend. the ultimate weekend for getting excuses to dress slutilly, excessively drink, and get laid. at your college, it was an even bigger deal, with people partying for all three days of the weekâs end as well as the weekend before and after halloween. you shook your head. âi donât think so.â that phys 321 assignment was not going to finish itself, nor were parties really your scene.
âwhat?â he immediately crosses his arms across his chest, frowning and leaning closer to you to squint at you. âwhy?â
you sigh inwardly, awkward at the prospect of him bugging you further about your life. âiâm buââ
youâre interrupted by the sound of the door opening and instinctively move to get behind the counter to take the new customerâs order; at first, you thank the heavens that you got a distraction from gojo, that youâre not alone anymore, but seeing who the customer was, the hope extinguishes like a candle face with wind.
you both see a man swagger in, the same guy youâve noticed hanging around far too often lately. his eyes immediately lock onto you, and a slow, sleazy grin spreads across his face.
âhey, look whoâs still here,â the man says, sauntering over to the counter like he owns the place. âmy favorite barista.â
you tense, forcing a smile. âwhat can i get you?â
he doesnât answer right away, his gaze sliding down your body in a way that makes your skin crawl. âi was thinkingâŠâ he drawls, leaning in closer than necessary, âyou and i should hang out. youâre always here, and iâm always here, so itâs like fate or something, right?â
your stomach churns, and you take a small step back, maintaining your composure. âiâm good, thanks.â
but he doesnât let up, leaning further across the counter. âcome on, donât be like that. just one drink. you deserve it after a long day.â
âi really canâtââ
âdonât be shy,â he interrupts, a grin spreading wider. âiâm a nice guy, i promise.â
before you can think of another polite rejection, gojo steps forward, his body language shifting entirely. the playful air around him evaporates, replaced by something colder, more dangerous. he positions himself squarely between you and the guy, effectively cutting off the manâs view of you.
âshe said no,â gojo says, his voice firm, low. âso why donât you fuck off?â
the sleazy guy blinks, clearly not expecting the sudden shift. his smile fades, and he glares at gojo, sizing him up like heâs considering pushing back. but one glance at gojoâs unwavering stare, and the guy decides itâs not worth it. with a muttered curse, he turns and leaves, the door swinging shut behind him.
you let out a breath you hadnât realized you were holding. the guyâs been bothering you routinely; part of you thinks that heâs still not going to leave you alone, but the rest of you visibly relaxes, the weight of this guyâs harassment lifting off your shoulders under gojoâs protection.
gojo turns back to you, the usual teasing smirk creeping back onto his face, though his eyes are still sharp. âyou okay?â
âyeah,â you manage, though your voice is quieter than youâd like. âthanks for that.â
âdonât mention it.â he shrugs it off like it was nothing, but thereâs something different in the way heâs looking at you nowâsomething protective. âi know youâre perfectly capable of handling yourself, but i figured iâd speed things up a bit.â
you roll your eyes, trying to shake off the tension. âyouâre such a hero, gojo.â
âalways,â he replies with a wink. and just like that, the momentâs lightened again, the balance between you restored, though thereâs a subtle shift in the air. something unspoken between the two of youâan understanding, maybe.
you donât acknowledge it out loud, but as you go back to restocking, you find yourself glancing at him more than before. and for the first time in⊠well, ever, you donât completely mind his presence.
âŠ
fast forward a few hours, and after a bit of conversation, gojo finally leaves the fine institution that is your campus starbucks. right now, youâre alone and finishing cleaning up. you lock up, the starbucks finally closed, finishing your last task for the night. itâs quietâtoo quiet, actually, with the usual streetlights casting strange shadows across the empty sidewalk. the air feels heavy, like something unseen is lingering just out of reach, watching from the dark. you shake it off, telling yourself youâre just tired and letting your nerves get to you.
as you start your walk back to your dorm, the feeling only grows. the streetâs nearly empty, and with each step, the silence presses in closer. itâs fine, you tell yourself, picking up your pace. but then you hear it: the echo of footsteps, faint but unmistakable. heart pounding, you speed up, every instinct telling you to just get back. almost there. you just have to cross the alleyâ
âhey there,â a voice drawls, and your stomach sinks. a hand moves to grab at your shoulder, making you turn quickly. what meets your vision is the same guy from earlier, his grin widening in a way that makes your skin crawl.
you try to move out of his grip, but he grabs you harder, cutting off any escape. âaw, donât be like that. i just wanted some company.â
your throatâs dry, but you manage, âi said no.â
he doesnât even pretend to listen, his gaze trailing over you with that same leering interest. âno need to be so uptight. i could make this fun for you.â
your back hits the wall of the alley. trapped. he leans in, his breath warm and sour against your face, one hand reaching out as he says something sleazy that you can barely hear over the pounding in your earsâ
and then a voice cuts in from above, all easy humor. âyâknow, i always thought this cityâs trash problem was bad, but this is something else.â
your heart leaps in your chest at the small flicker of hope, that someone has the balls to try to rescue you. but as youâand this creepâturn, you find no evidence of another party present, only his mysterious presence.Â
âwhoâs there?â the guy snarls, his grip tightening so much that you wince. âwhy donât you get lost if you know whatâs good for youââ
âdude, donât you have any rizz?â the mysterious boy retorts.the stranger has a youthful voice, someone of your age. âthe way you have to resort to sexual harassment is just sad. you guys are always sooo predictable, youâre so gonna tell me to scram or something.â
the man scowls, hand leaving your arm in an effort to search for the stranger in the dark. âwhy donât you mind your own business, punkââ
and heâs interrupted, because a shiny, silver something flings out in the darkness and lands on his face, sending his arms in a frenzy to uncover what it is. the man rips the sticky, silver webbing off his face with a growl, looking around wildly, his expression shifting from confusion to anger. his eyes dart through the dark alley, searching for the source of that cocky voice, but thereâs nothingâjust shadows and the faint flicker of a streetlamp somewhere down the block.
âwho the hell are you?â he snaps, twisting his neck as if he could scare whoeverâs hiding out there into the open. âshow yourself, you bastard!â
a chuckle echoes from the darkness, bouncing off the brick walls. âwow, real tough guy, huh? but you should work on those anger issues. theyâre, uhâŠa bit unbecoming.â
the man spins around, and another burst of webbing flies out from somewhere unseen, sticking to his shoulder this time. he yanks it off with a frustrated grunt, his head whipping from side to side as he tries to locate the stranger.
âyou think this is funny?â he spits, voice raised in a mix of fear and fury.
âdepends. do you?â the voice is closer now, almost like the stranger is right above you, yet no oneâs there. âor is this just a big overreaction? all i did was suggest you rethink your approach. go to therapy or sumâ.â
the man snarls, fists clenched, starting to look downright unhinged. âget down here and say that to my face, punk!â
âas you wish.â
with a soft thump, a figure drops from above, landing directly in front of the guy in a low crouch. in the dim light, all you see at first are the blue and black accents on the otherwise white suit, his head tilting up, illuminated just enough that his white, wide eyes glow with a certain playful menace. and then, your eyes widen as you gasp to yourself.Â
youâve seen him before.
okay, pause.
youâre a busy college student, one who stays entrenched in the bubble of upcoming exams, assignments, and problem sets that you donât check the news often. in the off chance you do turn from your usual consumption of social media during your breaks to the news, you only have time to read the big headlines.
so you did read somewhere that in your universityâs city of new york city, there was a masked menanâvigilante that had beat up a few guys near a shawarma joint or prevented some shootings at a nightclub. new york city was full of incompetent cops that were on the lookout for him (a/n acabbbbbb) since this guy was a vigilante, some kind of superhero slinging around on webs. some nameâspiderman.
but before you could read more into the article, your soul almost left your body when you got a canvas notification saying your midterm was graded, so that was the end of that.
alright, pause over. back to now.
âhi!â spiderman chirps, giving him a friendly wave before ducking just as the man throws a punch. the swing goes wide, and spiderman straightens up with a disappointed sigh. âsee, this is why iâm the one with the web powers. youâd hurt yourself with these moves.â
without warning, the man charges again, swinging in rapid succession, but each one misses as spiderman easily sidesteps, practically dancing around him. âoof, dude, how did you make it this far in life with reflexes like that?â he ducks another blow, slipping behind the guy to give him a light tap on the shoulder as he passes.
the man stumbles, eyes flashing with frustration, and lets out a roar, reaching down to pick up a loose brick from the alley floor. he raises it above his head, face twisted in a snarl.
âoh, so weâre improvising now?â spiderman quips, and before the man can bring the brick down, a strand of webbing shoots out, sticking to the brick and yanking it from his grasp. it flies off somewhere into the alley, landing with a dull clatter.
the guy stumbles forward, off balance, and spiderman takes the opportunity to web his feet to the ground, immobilizing him in place. the man struggles, pulling his legs, but heâs stuck fast.
âever heard of boundaries?â spiderman asks, tilting his head with mock innocence. âor, like, self-restraint? you should look into it.â
the man glares, seething, still struggling against the webs. âyou think youâre some kinda hero?â he sneers.
spiderman shrugs, glancing over at you, catching your gaze in a way that makes you feel both strangely comforted and seen. ânah, heroâs a big word. iâm just your friendly neighborhood guy with slightly above-average reflexes.â
with a frustrated yell, the man finally wrenches one arm free and makes a desperate lunge, his fist connecting with spidermanâs side. spiderman lets out a small grunt but only wobbles slightly before grinning. âokay, buddy, playtimeâs over.â
before the man can even react, spiderman sends out another web, this time at his wrist, effectively pinning him to the alley wall. he struggles, face twisted in anger, but spiderman just raises a gloved hand to his lips as if hushing a child. then, in the lull that follows, you remember the thick quantum mechanics textbook in your bag. without thinking, you yank it out and, in a burst of adrenaline, swing it at the manâs head. the book lands with a solid thud, and he slumps, finally, into silence.
spiderman looks at the unconscious man, then at the textbook in your hand. he lets out a low whistle. âyou know, iâve always thought textbooks were a weapon of choice, but thatâs next-level dedication.â thatâs when you realize just how tall he is compared to you, and you canât help your excitement when you realize that heâs here in the flesh.
ânice hit, by the waââ
âitâs you!â you exclaim.Â
âwhat?â he sputters, white eyes widening almost comically. âme? oh,â then he straightens up, âyea, yea. just your friendly neighborhood spiderman. rescuing pretty girls from creeps, kinda my thing. â he shrugs.
you continue, excitedly, âright, youâre the one on the newsââ you move your hand to point at him but quickly wince, the pain of the manâs grip catching up to you.Â
he doesnât miss the movement, eyes squinting at you. âhey, weâll have to get you home. do you trust me?â
you look at him, clutching your arm in pain, and really take a moment to check him out. heâs saved you, heâs probably six feet tall, and his ass looks fantastic in his suit. at this point, youâre looking at him with heart eyes. but you canât exactly tell him you want him to propose, so all you utter out is a ây-yeah. my dormâs randall.â
he doesn't waste any time. with a quick nod, he hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you close as he aims a webline up toward the buildings. âhold on tight, randallâs just a swing away,â he murmurs, his voice light but steady. his hand settles on your hip, and you can't stop the way your stomach flips at the contact.
before you can even process whatâs happening, he launches the two of you into the air, the city blurring beneath your feet as you cling to him, fingers gripping the fabric of his suit for dear life. his arm stays solid around you, his grip somehow both gentle and strong. he lands lightly on the roof of your dorm, setting you down carefully like youâre something fragile. and he steps back, dusting his hands off in the most nonchalant way possible, like he didnât just take you on the most exhilarating ride of your life.
âthis is your stop,â he says, that signature, almost cocky smile playing in his voice.
âuh⊠yeah. thanks. for the rescue,â you manage, your voice a little shakier than youâd like. you donât know if âthank youâ is enoughâit doesnât even come close to covering what you feel.
but he just shrugs, taking a step back. âall in a dayâs work,â he says. âor nightâs work, i guess.â he pauses, giving you a quick once-over. âget some sleep, yeah?â
and just like that, he gives you a small, almost playful salute and vanishes, swinging off into the night as easily as heâd appeared, leaving you standing on the rooftop with your heart still racing.
back in your dorm room, you drop onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling as tonightâs events replay in your head: the alley, his voice cutting through the dark, that cocky smirk, the way he felt holding onto you as you soared over the city lights. a tiny part of you wonders if you imagined the whole thingâif maybe youâre just the victim of some wild, sleep-deprived hallucination.
but no, your arm still aches from where the creep grabbed you, and you can still feel the ghost of his hand on your waist, steady and reassuring. you bite your lip, a smile creeping onto your face despite yourself.
just before sleep finally claims you, you let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. âthe cityâs vigilante, huh?â you murmur, as if heâs somehow still listening.
the thought is wild, a bit surrealâand strangely comforting.
âŠ
âone caffe americano!â you call out, reading the label on the cup before handing it over with a small nod. the customer takes it with a quick thanks, and you return to the counter, barely holding back a yawn. the events of last night flicker through your mindâa web-slinging hero, an alley, the lingering ache in your armâand you shake it off. thereâs no room for distractions. life as a college student means the grind never stops, especially on a morning shift right before class.
when your coworker finally arrives, you let out a quiet sigh of relief, grab your bag, and step out into the brisk morning air. the chill helps wake you up as you make your way across campus, hoping to catch up with your friends before the lecture starts. just outside the building, you spot utahime, sitting on a bench, waiting with her usual tired smile.
âhey, finally off the clock?â she asks, raising an eyebrow.
âyeah, barely,â you reply, rolling your eyes. âiâm still running on fumes from last night. you guys save me a seat?â
âof course. nanamiâs already inside,â she says, gesturing toward the building.
you sigh. âyou wonât believe the things that happened last night.â
she gives you a look, in the traditional utahime protective-mother-hen type way. âwhat happened?â
you give her the rundown of what happened, the guy (who she bristles at, gives you a slap at your hand to tell you that you shouldâve told her earlier, kento wouldâve been able to beat his ass if she hadnât gotten to it first) and how spiderman saved you. âi would give him what heâs missing,â you sigh, dreamily.Â
utahime looks at you in a judgmental way. âand thatâs all you got from this? for fucks sake, heâs a vigilante, you donât know if heâs started to tail you or not. pooks, he could literally be dangerous. try to convince your boss to let someone else get your night shift.â as soon as you open your mouth to protest, she cuts you off immediately. âand no, i donât give a fuck about your people pleaser tendenciââ
âweâll revisit this conversation later.â you give her a sweet smile as you start to speed walk, door of the lecture hall of the 9am section of phys401: intro to quantum algorithms, falling in with the usual stream of students after you hear an irritated âyea, cause iâm gonna kill you otherwise.â the familiar chatter and echo of footsteps make the day feel almost normal, grounding you as you weave through the hall.
inside, you quickly spot kentoâs shining, disney prince-like blonde hair, who has saved seats for the three of you near the middle of the hall, away from the ugly, smelly grad students who always crowd the front. he gives you a quick nod as you settle down beside him, flipping open your notebook. the reliable calm on his face helps ease the lingering jitters you hadnât realized you were carrying.
âlong night?â he asks, glancing at the dark circles under your eyes.
âyou could say that,â you mumble, not quite ready to get into details. instead, you wave it off. âjust work assignments, and getting jumped, the usual.â
nanami breaks into a series of shocked coughs, and you hurry to pat his back as he undeniably burns his tongue on the coffee he was taking a sip of. âwhat?â
his rather loud exclamation sets off stares from people sitting closer to you both, so you give utahime, who lets out a quiet groan as sheâs settling into her seat beside you, a knowing look. âitâs a long story, iâll tell it to you later.â
he reluctantly settles in after that, not because he has a choice but because yaga is starting to address the class by asking about the weekend and getting his usual blank stares in return until a voice you recognize as suguru getoâs is saying something to undeniably piss him off, but you donât register quite what it is exactly because the door opens and any attention on geto is directed to the boy with white hair and blue eyes tiredly walking into class.Â
heâs about ten minutes late to the lecture, which is already weird because heâs usually about 27 seconds late, not that you keep count. but also, normally gojo is the picture of confidence and cockyness, making some of the female grad students whisper things about him that you donât think they should be for the five year gap between them and gojo.Â
but today, he looks differentâmessy, unkempt, with shadows under his eyes and a weird angle to his torso, the way he walks, and the way his opposite hand is subconsciously hovering around his side.
your brows knit together as he heads to an empty seat rows behind you next to geto, ignoring the stares of half the room. itâs so out of character for him that you canât help but wonder whatâs going on. you shoot utahime a knowing look, and she stifles a laugh, barely managing to keep a straight face as she watches gojo slink to his seat. nanamiâs usually impassive face exchanges a look with you as well before he turns his attention back to professor yagaâs opening remarks. gojo slides into the row behind you without a word, avoiding everyoneâs gazeâor so you think, until you feel it.
as you attempt to listen to professor yaga, you canât shake the sensation of eyes boring into the back of your head. you resist the urge to turn, telling yourself itâs probably nothing⊠except the feeling lingers, so strong that your pulse ticks up a notch.
âokay, now that weâre all here,â yaga says in a dry tone, barely able to hide his irritation as he glances pointedly in gojoâs direction, âletâs begin with todayâs lecture on groverâs.â
professor yaga taps the board, and the projector switches to a set of slides titled quantum speed-up and the grover search algorithm. he launches into his explanation, voice clipped. âgroverâs algorithm provides a quadratic speed-up for unstructured search problems, a notable advantage in quantum computing. but can anyone tell me why this isnât considered an exponential improvement?â
you raise your hand, as does nanami. a subtle shift of movement in your peripheral vision draws your eye to gojo, whoâs leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. yagaâs attention lands on nanami first, and he gives a succinct answer about how groverâs algorithm yields only a quadratic speed-up in terms of computational complexity. as he answers, you swear you catch gojo watching you, again, through the corner of your eye.
determined not to let him get under your skin, you lean over to whisper to nanami. âwhatâs with him today?â
nanami, still watching yaga, raises a brow. âmaybe he finally realized that he canât get by without skipping class today.â
utahime snickers quietly. âdoubtful. more like he thinks itâs funny to waltz in whenever he likes and still ace every test.â
âexactly.â you sigh, drumming your pen against your notebook. gojoâs rare absences donât even seem to faze most professors. and despite his unpredictable attendance, heâs always managed to stay miles ahead. today, though, somethingâs⊠different about him. like heâs made a life changing decision in the past 48 hours.
âmoving on,â yaga says, pointing to the board where the next slide materializes. âthe heart of groverâs algorithm lies in its use of an amplitude amplification technique, where we iterate a search oracle along with an inversion process. pay attentionâthis concept of iterative improvement will become key when we start covering variational quantum algorithms.â
as yaga delves deeper into amplitude amplification, you manage to focus, jotting down notes on the necessary steps in groverâs search. yet each time you settle into the lecture, you feel gojoâs gaze pricking at you. the first time you turn around, thereâs nothing thereâjust him slouched, seemingly absorbed in whatever heâs staring at on the ceiling. but then, you sense it again and, on your second glance, you catch his blue eyes meeting yours, and he quickly looks away.
whatâs his problem? you give him a questioning look, but heâs adamantly not looking at you, trying to look nonchalant as heâs pulling out his laptop. he might look like a student taking latexing notes of what yagaâs yapping about, but the way heâs using his mouse more than he is his keyboard tells you that heâs probably on papaâs freezeria instead.
you decide that youâre going to waste your time wondering how gojoâs brain functioned, so you instead focus back on the lecture. after all, you didnât understand any of the lecture notes you took notes on before and what it said about the diffuser in the circuit.Â
ânow,â yagaâs voice sharpens, pulling you back into the room, âthese iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attentionâespecially those of you who have a habit of being late.â his eyes slide back to gojo, who remains oblivious, leaning back with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as the sound of his name brings him back to the lecture.
gojo doesnât even look phased. instead, he raises a hand casually, like heâs about to ask a simple question. you can feel the anticipation ripple through the roomâhalf the students are waiting to see if heâll fumble, and the other half already know better.
âprofessor yaga,â he drawls, âdonât you think amplitude amplification is a bit of an oversimplification? the way itâs typically presented, youâd think groverâs algorithm was just⊠guessing with style.â he flashes an infuriatingly smug smile, drawing out the pause before continuing. âbut we both know itâs more about quantum phase inversion, right? the oracle reflects about the mean state, iterating with a precision that isnât just luck. or maybe thatâs all too technical?â he leans back, feigning innocence.
the smugness in his tone makes something flare up in you, and before you can stop yourself, your hand shoots up.
âactually, gojo,â you interject, your voice louder than you intended, âcalling it âguessing with styleâ is a very gross oversimplification. groverâs algorithm isnât about intuition or luck. itâs about optimization. itâs not just about spotlighting a target like a rando guess, itâs more like rotating the probability in a controlled mannerâwith iterationsâto amplify the correct solution. not just some quantum trick or guess.â you cross your arms, leaning back in your chair as you stare him down. âitâs not even that bad, compared to what we have classically.â
as soon as you spoke, it seems that the fight and mischievous look in gojoâs eyes fades, replacing it with something that shockingly looks like him being flustered as he averts your gaze, looks to the ceiling, and murmurs something like âyea, thatâs basically most of quantum computing, desperately trying to prove weâre not just wasting our timeâ but yaga interrupts him, clearly a bit annoyed at the two know-it-alls that you and gojo were acting like.Â
ânow,â yaga says, shifting back to the lecture as if nothing happened (probably because he wasnât paid enough to deal with this shit), âthese iterations act as amplitude amplification steps, so pay close attentionâespecially those of you who have a habit of missing lectures.â
youâre just left confused as to why the conversation didnât escalate like the typical academic rivals in movies, because youâve definitely seen gojo bully some people who didnât know what the fuck they were talking about instead of just blushing like some schoolgirl. regardless, you canât help but notice the thrill that you felt, having finally argued with him, having been seen as someone worth arguing. you try to temper it as yaga continues onto the rest of the lecture.
âŠ
âi canât believe youâre making me go.â you tug at the hem of your white corset, paired with a matching skirt, still incredulous at how utahime managed to talk you into attending one of the infamous halloween frat parties. the night air is crisp against your exposed shoulders, and despite your complaints, you shiver more at the thought of wasting the next few hours among sweaty strangers than the actual cold.
utahime, walking beside you in a devil-red version of your outfitâcomplete with horns perched precariously on her headâlooks far too satisfied with herself. she adjusts the horns with one hand, giving you a sidelong glance that practically drips with smugness.
âstop pouting,â she chides. âiâm not going to let you waste another night holed up in your room, buried in manhwa or quantum physics. iâm pretty sure there are cobwebs growing in yourââ
âutahime,â you hiss, cutting her off with a mortified glance around.
âpussy,â she finishes, completely unbothered. âiâm going to find you a guy to hook up with. iâm not saying you have to go all the way, but flirting? kissing? maybe something more? very healthy. highly encouraged.â
your mouth falls open in protest, but before you can get a word in, she fixes you with a sharp glare, her dark eyes flashing with all the authority of a disappointed parent. âdonât even think about arguing with me. i swear, if you donât at least try to enjoy this, iâll make it my personal mission to find someone for you.â
âi canât believe this,â you mutter, crossing your arms. âyouâre supposed to be my friend, not my pimp.â
âoh, iâm your friend. thatâs why iâm doing this. youâll thank me when youâre sixty and not crying about how boring your college life was.â
âiâm not boring,â you counter. âiâm selective.â
âsure,â utahime drawls, clearly unconvinced. âand whatever weird sexual tension youâve got going on with gojo doesnât count.â
you scoff, stopping in your tracks to stare at her. âwhat tension? weâve literally talked once this week. and that was the first time we had a conversation.â
she doesnât respond, already scanning the scene ahead. the street of frat houses looms just ahead, glowing with gaudy orange lights strung up across balconies. the bass from the nearest party reverberates through the pavement underfoot. itâs already crowded, hordes of people shuffling in and out, laughing, shouting, and showcasing their half-baked halloween costumes.
you follow utahimeâs gaze to the nearest house, packed with enough people to make the windows fog up. just the thought of squeezing into that humidity makes your stomach churn.
âlooks crowded,â you mumble. âmaybe we shouldââ
before you can suggest retreating, utahime grabs your wrist and practically drags you toward the house. ânope. youâre coming in. no backing out now.â
the moment you step inside, the smell hits you. sweat, stale beer, and an undercurrent of what you can only describe as frat-house musk. your nose wrinkles, and you instinctively recoil, pulling your arm free from utahimeâs grasp.
âgod, it smells like a gym locker in here,â you say, covering your nose.
utahime doesnât seem fazed. sheâs already scanning the room, her eyes landing on a beer pong table set up in the corner, surrounded by cheering students. âthis is perfect!â she says, beaming.
âfor what? contracting a fungal infection?â you mutter.
but sheâs no longer listening, her focus shifting as a tall, broad-shouldered guy in a makeshift cowboy hat approaches her and then stops in front of both of you, his stare fully enthralled by utahime. âhey,â he says, a bit suavely, in the way that makes you inwardly roll your eyes because you know sheâs going to eat it up. she likes it when theyâre a little ugly, and this guy fits the bill.Â
âhey,â and she giggles, making you have to physically fight the urge to puke, âwhatâs up?â
 they exchange a few words, and before you know it, sheâs smiling in that way that tells you sheâs found her entertainment for the night.
âgo ahead,â you say dryly, waving her off. âiâll just fend for myself.â
utahime starts to protest, but youâre already beelining for the kitchen, trying to get a drink thatâs not too crazy to survive the night. itâs surprisingly less chaotic in the kitchen, though the counters are cluttered with half-empty bottles, red solo cups, and some questionable punch that looks radioactive. you scan the room, your eyes landing on a cupboard that might hold something simpleâlike water. a series of ding! ding! ding!âs go off in your mind as you find the pack of plastic water bottles.Â
standing on your toes, you reach for the handle, but itâs just out of your grasp. you huff in frustration, shifting to get better leverage when a hand way bigger than yours suddenly appears above yours, effortlessly grabbing the item you were reaching for.
âlet me get that for you.â
you turn to thank the person, the words dying on your lips when you see who it is.
gojo.
heâs standing impossibly close, his signature smirk firmly in place, but thereâs something almost casual in the way he looks at you, as if this is the most normal interaction in the world. you swear youâre so close that you can see like the two open pores on his otherwise flawless skin, as his eyes inevitably drag themselves downwards to scan your outfit for the nightâa shitty angel without wings and halo (you couldnât be paid two shits to put in the effort; both of the top and skirt were utahimeâs, anyways.) then, his eyes meet yours again, a bit of playfulness in them.Â
âwell, well,â he drawls, handing you the water bottle. ânever thought iâd see you here.â
you take the bottle, trying to ignore the brush of his fingers against yours. âdidnât have much of a choice. utahime dragged me.â
his grin widens. âclassic. let me guessâsheâs off trying to find her soulmate at the beer pong table?â
âsomething like that,â you mumble, not wanting to give him the entire story. twisting the cap off the bottle, you take a sip, hoping heâll just leave you alone, but instead, he leans against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable.
âso,â he says, tilting his head, âi heard through the grapevine that you had a run-in with that spider-man guy this week.â
that makes you pause mid-gulp of water, instead coughing a bit as you try to swallow it down without basically drowning in kirkland signature natural spring water. youâve only told like, three people outside of kento and iori, so youâre confused why he knows this information, but you continue on regardless. the memory of spider-man swinging in to save you flashes through your mind, and you canât help but smile softly to yourself. âit was amazing. heâsâheâs incredible, honestly. the way he just swooped in and handled everything? so fast, so precise. heâs like a real-life superhero.â
youâre basically gushing to him, and you realize that a bit too late as you look at his face to gauge his reaction. heâs looking at you with a newfound interest, albeit a bit too conflicted to fully tease you about it when he says, âsounds like youâre smitten.â
âmaybe i am,â you admit, laughing. âi mean, who wouldnât be? heâs brave, heâs kind, and he doesnât even stick around for the credit. itâs like heâs this selfless, untouchable figure.â you also kind of want to give him a sloppy toppy for saving you like that, but you spare gojo the details.Â
âuntouchable, huh?â gojo echoes, his tone turning a bit wry andâŠjealous? âsounds like someoneâs got a crush.â
you roll your eyes, but itâs half-hearted, and you think gojo can tell with the way youâre heating up and bashfully looking at the ground. âdonât be ridiculous.â
âiâm just saying,â he continues, leaning closer, âif thatâs your type, you might want to raise your standards. superheroes are overrated.â
you raise an eyebrow. âand what, youâre not?â
he grins, that infuriatingly charming grin that makes you want to simultaneously punch him and laugh. âiâm better. iâm real.â he then puts his hands on the counter behind you, caging you between them until your knees are lightly brushing, and suddenly his face is so close that small little breaths from his nose are fanning across your face. âi can prove that to you.â
and you hate your body for being soâŠreactive and enthusiastic to his smooth-talking, face flushing. despite that, you try to put on an air of nonchalance. âgod, youâre insufferable.â
âreally?â he teases. his hand leaves the marble counter to hover at your hip, his hand subconsciously tracing your curves an inch above your skin. the motion, firm but tentative as if heâs waiting for you to give him the green light, makes you shiver as you subconsciously move your hips to finally have the skin-to-skin contact. and your skin sings in happiness as he draws circles into the area right below your skirt, even momentarily dipping just below, to which you realize that heâs treading very close to your panties, since your skirtâs really short.
"yea," you basically sigh, hating yourself for how breathy your voice sounds.Â
it seems to have an effect on gojo because his eyes darken as he murmurs, "wastin' your time on that spiderman guy."
maybe it's the fact that it's late (you've been getting sub four hours of sleep this past week) or the lights in this humid frat bring a heady air, but all academic-rivalry-overshadowed-woman-in-stem history between you and gojo disappears in your brain as you rake your eyes up and down his torso and then look at him through your lashes. "who should i spend my time on instead?"
he gives you a little smile as he stares down at you, eyes raking over your face, catching at your lips and then going back up again to meet yours. âi donât know, someone whoâs as smart as you,â he murmurs.
âyea?â you laugh out breathlessly. your faces are so close that in normal circumstances, you would worry about how you both looked so close together, one hand on your thigh and the other splayed on your waist. âand how would you know how smart i am?â
satoru starts, lips coming closer and closer. âbecause iââ
but heâs interrupted, because you both hear a âsatoruâ and pull apart, breathing heavily as you both turn to look at the offender standing in the entrance of the kitchen: suguru geto, gojoâs best friend, looking more tired than anything as his eyes catch on you, then going to gojo with a pointed look. itâs not hard to figure out what was going on based on how disheveled you both look, your skirt crooked and his shirt crumbled, and your cheeks heat. before you can say anything, however, suguru sighs and says to gojo, âthereâs a burglary happening nearby.â then, he turns but not before giving you a nod. âmake sure to stay safe.â
he promptly leaves, leaving you confused standing there. was this such an emergency worth noting that he interrupted his best friend?
you try to seek the answer in gojoâs face, but he has this conflicted, annoyed countenance and you suddenly feel kinda of insecure because heâs raking his hand through his hair, staring painfully at the ceiling then at you. at the same time you utter out a âuhââ he says âi have to go.â
âoh.â you blink. a why brews on top of your tongue, but you temper it, reminding yourself that youâre not close to gojo like that. needless to say, you feel a little embarrassed as you watch him jog out of the kitchen with a little wave to you. you want to overanalyze gojoâs last look to you, the one that looked a bit like disappointment and yearning, but you shake it off, staring at the 16.9 oz plastic water bottle in your hand that you forgot about.
taking a sip, you cringe as you become more aware of your surroundings and the state youâre left in because of gojo. that your panties are a bit more stickyâyou reach under your skirt to adjust them so they donât stick to your crotch so muchâand youâre hot all over.Â
then reality comes crashing back. what the hell did you and gojo just do right now?
you groan out loud, banging your head against the fridge, but as you reel back, in your peripheral you see someone there. your head shoots to see the guy whoâs now looking at you with a weird expression as he undeniably waits for whatever freaking out you were doing to gain access to the fridge.Â
âsorry,â you blurt out, and gather yourself to beeline for the exit. god, you needed to find utahime.
âŠ
the soft hum of a tv in the corner of satoruâs apartment provided the only sound, save for the faint rustle of suguru flipping through a textbook. the remnants of takeoutâboxes of half-eaten pad thai and a pile of discarded chopsticksâlittered the coffee table between them. satoru leaned back on the couch, legs stretched out, staring at the ceiling like it held answers he hadnât thought to ask yet. he held a small foam ball, tossing it up and catching it over and over. his mind, however, wasnât focused on the ball but on you.
it was starting to feel like an obsession. heâd always been able to compartmentalize thingsâhis studies, his friends, his other responsibilities. but you? youâd broken through the usual barriers in his head, wedging yourself firmly into every free thought he had.
âdo you think she likes me?â he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet.
suguru glanced up from his book, his expression unreadable. âwho, starbucks girl?â
satoru scoffed. âsheâs not starbucks girl. sheâsâŠâ he trailed off, tapping his fingers against his knee. your name lingered on his tongue, oddly weighty in a way that felt almost unfamiliar.
suguru smirked. âoh, sheâs got a name now? progress.â
âshut up.â
but he couldnât shut his mind off, not when you kept taking up space in it. it wasnât just that heâd noticed you nowâreally noticed you, for the first time. it was more than that.
satoru had always known who you were. you werenât exactly easy to miss. in a program full of ugly guys who didnât shower and loud personalities, you had carved out your niche by being the cold, unreachable one. the one who didnât bother with group projects unless she had to, who barely engaged in conversations beyond what was strictly necessary. other guys in the program talked about you, of course. they always did.
âfrigid,â they called you. âtoo serious. probably thinks sheâs better than us.â
they werenât entirely wrong. you were better than most of them, but not for the reasons they assumed. satoru had read your workâpapers that brimmed with insights that most of their half-baked theories could only dream of. he could tell you put in the effort in your classes and research, while all the guys left shit-talking had to rely on their grad student mentors to be able to write a legible paper. for fucks sake, he doesnât even thing anyone could code in qiskit or cirq like you could; he had skimmed your notes once, left them behind after a lecture, and found them meticulous and sharp before he turned them into the professor to return to you.
and yet, despite the brilliance you carried with you, you had never given him a second glance.
that day at starbucks, though.
satoru rolled his head to the side, gaze drifting toward the window. he hadnât expected to see anyone at five in the morning, let alone you. heâd been desperate for answers thenâhe had spent his night staring at his hands, which had seemed to keep ejecting spider-like webs after heâd been horribly sick. he knew he shouldnât have gone fooling around in new yorkâs subway tunnels at 3am with suguru and shoko, but after a seemingly-harmless spider had bit him, he had been reeling from the discovery of his newfound powers and grappling with the weight of what they meant ever since.Â
and there you were, unlocking the starbucks, bleary-eyed but no less composed.
youâd handed him his coffee, not interested in him the entire time, and he remembered blurting something outâsomething ridiculous about fate or responsibility, his usual bravado faltering in the quiet of the moment. he had been spiraling, unsure of who he was anymore, and youâd said something.
what was it again?
âit doesnât have to be âmoreâ all the time. sometimes just showing up is enough.â
the words had stayed with him, carved deep into the corners of his mind. you didnât know it, but they had pulled him back from the edge that day. since then, heâd started noticing you in ways he hadnât before.
the way you brushed your hair behind your ear when you were deep in thought. the furrow of your brow when you argued as respectfully as you could with a professor (gojo knew you were holding back, though, and the thought always made him smile to himself because if he wasnât an idgafer he would be incensed like you at the idiotic teacher). the smileârare, fleeting, but utterly disarmingâthat occasionally lit up your face when you talked to utahime or that guy you were too friendly around, nanami.
âyouâre doing that thing again,â suguru said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
âwhat thing?â satoru asked, sitting up straighter.
âbrooding. youâre thinking about her, arenât you?â
âno.â
suguru arched an eyebrow. âyouâre a terrible liar.â
satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. âfine. maybe i am. but itâs complicated.â
âhow is it complicated?â
âshe doesnât like me,â satoru said, shrugging. âat least, not as me. she likes spider-man.â
suguru blinked, clearly unimpressed. âyouâre being stupid bro.â
âiâm not being stupid,â satoru argued. âshe thinks spider-manâs this amazing, selfless hero. she doesnât know iâm just some guy who canât even figure out how to flirt with her without making an ass of himself.â
suguru leaned back in his chair, regarding satoru with an almost pitying look. âso let me get this straight. youâre worried that she only likes spider-man, even though spider-man is you. like itâs some kind of split personality thing?â
âwell, when you put it like thatââ
âit sounds dumb,â suguru finished. âbecause it is dumb.â
satoru glared at him, but suguru only shrugged. but how could he not think about you? even now, the memory of your voiceâcalm, steady, and unexpectedly warmâechoed in his head. you had this way of looking at him, like you were peeling back layers he didnât even know he had. and that smile... he groaned inwardly. he wasnât supposed to be so drawn to you, wasnât supposed to imagine what itâd feel like to have you smile at him like that all the time.
âlook,â suguru continued, âif you like her, shoot your shot. youâre already overthinking this, and you havenât even done anything yet. whatâs the worst that could happen? she says no?â
âor she laughs in my face,â satoru muttered.
âwhich would be deserved, honestly,â suguru said, smirking. âbut seriously, youâve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.â
satoru didnât respond, his gaze fixed on the takeout boxes on the table. he wanted to believe suguru was right, but there was a small, stubborn part of him that wasnât so sure.
because it wasnât just about rejection, or even whether you liked him as satoru or spider-man. it was about what came after. if he let you in and something happened to youâif his double life brought danger to your doorstepâhe wasnât sure heâd ever forgive himself.
but then there was suguruâs voice in his head, steady and persistent: youâve got nothing to lose. and everything to gain.
âŠ
amidst a week of endless projects upon projects and other miscellaneous assignments from your research group partners (since the grad students loved to pile their work on top of you, the helpless undergrad), you find yourself nursing a hot chocolate while on top of your dormitory buildingâs roof.Â
you find sanctuary, coming on here for time to yourself whenever you find yourself stuck in a busy week. quiet, solitary, with a view of the city lights flickering like scattered fireflies. you hugged your cardigan tighter around your shoulders as you stepped onto the roof, your laptop tucked under one arm, a mug of tea precariously balanced in the other hand. the air was crisp, biting just enough to sting your cheeks.
setting your mug down on the ledge, you perched beside it, pulling up your knees and balancing the laptop precariously as you typed. the words on the screen blurred after a while, blending into the chaos in your mind. frustrated, you closed it with a snap and leaned your head back to gaze at the stars.
ârough night?â
you startled, spinning your head around so fast your tea nearly toppled. but you canât find anyone, just the sound of soft footsteps landing somewhere not visible to you.Â
âyou scared the hell out of me,â you sighed, clutching your chest.
âsorry,â he said, though his tone didnât sound all that apologetic. âdidnât mean to interrupt.â
âthen maybe donât sneak up on people like that,â you muttered, still trying to calm your racing heart.
he chuckled, and the sound was warmer than youâd expected. ânoted. so, whatâs got you out here at three in the morning? donât tell me youâre pulling an all-nighter.â
you sighed, the initial shock fading into a dull thrum of shyness. âitâs not an all-nighter if the night isnât over yet.â then, you squint at a random spot, pretending itâs him. âbesides, why are you here? shouldnât you be out stopping robberies or saving cats from trees?â
âdone and done,â he said, crossing his arms as he leaned against the ledge. ânow iâm just enjoying the view.â
you turned your gaze back to the skyline, hoping the darkness hid the faint heat creeping up your neck. âso, whatâs a guy like you doing on a random rooftop at three in the morning?â
âcould ask you the same thing,â he countered.
you hesitated. for some reason, admitting the truth to him felt easier than admitting it to anyone else. âjustâŠneeded a break.â
âfrom?â
âeverything,â you said, exhaling slowly. âclasses. expectations. people.â you paused, then added with a faint smile, ânot you, though. youâre an exception.â
âoh?â his voice lightened, carrying a hint of playful intrigue. âshould i feel honored?â
âmaybe,â you said. âitâs not every day you get to meet a real hero.â then, âokay, but why do you always hide in the dark?â
his voice is smug, meant to be playful. âit adds to the mystique?â
you pout. âwhat if i call the police?â
âitâs not like the cops can catch me anyways, baby. their shitty coffee and donut filled asses arenât enough to keep up with me.â
you really try not to flush when he calls you that pet name. âis success getting to you?â
âwhat success? most i hear is everyone debating whether or not i should be experimented on.â
âreally?â you teased. âthatâs not what i saw on my for you page last time. there are girls out there who want you to sign their tits after you rescued that baby.â
then, you hear the soft thud of nimble feet dropping onto the ceiling and turn your head to see him in all his glory. he has a muscular figure highlighted in his white suit, blue and black lines traveling their way across his body. casually, he stretches and then drops down to the floor, sitting cross legged from across from you as if joining you in a regular gossip sesh. he puts his elbow on his knee and rests his head on his hand. âare you one of those girls?â
you laugh sheepishly, turning away as heat creeps up your face again and your heart hammers, because you canât exactly tell him that, yes youâre absolutely enamored with him after he saved you that day and yes, you do indeed want him to sign your tits.
âyou should do that more,â he said.
âwhat?â you look back at him, wide eyed in confusion.Â
âlaugh.â
the way he said it, low and almost reverent, made your cheeks heat. you busy yourself with toying with your cardigan, scooting yourself away from the edge and closer to him. âand you should stop being such a flirt,â you said, though there was no bite in your voice.
âcanât help it,â he said, leaning closer. âitâs kind of my thing.â
âis that right?â
âmm-hmm.â he paused, then added, âyou know, thereâs something iâve been meaning to ask you.â
âwhat?â you asked, arching an eyebrow.
âtake my mask off.â
the words hit you like a gut punch, dissolving the playfulness that had filled the air seconds ago. you blinked up at him, searching his faceâor at least what you could see of itâfor any sign that this was some elaborate joke. but there was no hint of humor, no smirk tugging at his lips. he meant it.
your fingers hovered at your sides, hesitant. âare you sure?â the question came out soft, barely audible, but it felt like it echoed in the quiet night.
ânever been more sure of anything,â he murmured, voice low and steady.
you swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. slowly, almost against your better judgment, you reached up, fingertips brushing the edge of his mask. the fabric felt smooth, warm under your touch, but your nerves were anything but.
with a deep breath, you peeled it back. bit by bit, his face came into viewâa shock of white hair, impossibly sharp features, and finally, those eyes. those unmistakable, infuriatingly familiar blue eyes. your breath caught, and for a moment, the world tilted sideways.
âgojo?â
the name fell from your lips before you could stop it, unsteady and disbelieving. your mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle that had just landed in front of you.
he grinnedâthat grin, the one that always made you want to slap it off his face and yet somehow managed to disarm you every single time. âhey.â
âhey?â your voice cracked as you took a step back. âthatâs all you have to say? hey?â
âwould you prefer, âsurpriseâ?â he quipped, his grin widening as though this was the most normal thing in the world.
you laughed, the sound a little hysterical but real, like you couldnât contain the storm of emotions rushing through you. âsurprised? youâve been⊠youâve been spider-man this whole time?â the words felt foreign on your tongue, like they didnât belong in the same sentence as gojo satoruâthe one youâd argued with in class, the one who had no problem making you want to tear your hair out. and yet here he was, standing in front of you, the last person you ever would have suspected to be the cityâs most infamous masked hero.
gojo gave you that crooked grin, the same one he wore when he thought he had wonâwhen he thought he had it all figured out. âi know. itâs a lot to take in.â
you stared at him, trying to make sense of it, but no amount of logic could bridge the gap between the gojo you knewâthe guy who drove you up the wall in class and always had a cocky comebackâand the masked hero who had saved you and the one you had a crush on.
you didnât know whether to scream, laugh, or cry.Â
you take a shaky breath in, still trying to process everything. âyou... you saved me, gojo. youâve been right there, all these times, and i had no idea it was you.â
âguess iâm just that good at keeping secrets,â he said, his tone playful, but there was something more there, something softer, that you couldnât quite put your finger on. his eyes held a flicker of somethingâmaybe vulnerability, maybe uncertainty.
the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between you, and for a long second, you didnât know what to say. this revelation was like the ground beneath you had cracked wide open, and you were left staring into an abyss that was both terrifying and exhilarating.
finally, you shook your head, letting out a short breath. âthis is insane.â
he didnât seem bothered by your reaction, though his eyes darkened just slightly, the smirk still there, but with something a little more honest creeping into his expression. âyeah. but youâre handling it better than i thought. kinda thought you would faint, or something.â
the world had shifted, but somehow, with gojo now sitting in front of you like this, with the mask off and the man behind the myth revealed, it felt like the pieces were finally starting to fall into place. even if they didnât make perfect sense yet.
and yet, something about his presenceâhis undeniable realnessâfelt oddly grounding. he wasnât the invincible spider-man anymore. he was just gojo. the gojo who had somehow become more than just your academic rival, and maybe, just maybe, a little bit more than that.
something in gojoâs facial expression shifted to something a bit more hesitant, a little nervous as he stands and extend his arm out to you. softly, he asks, âdo you trust me?â
âyes.â you took his hand, standing up as he flashes you a charming, yet mischievous grin, one so shit eating that you regret saying that. âwhy?â
âiâm taking you for a ride. consider it an apology for freaking you out earlier.â
you hesitated, looking between his outstretched hand and the city skyline just beyond your college campus. âi donât think this is a good ideaââ
âyou trust me, donât you?â
and somehow, against all logic, you realized that you did.
âfine,â you said, stepping closer to him to cling onto him.Â
he pulls you closer, and as he does so, he cranes his neck down to meet your eyes, smiling giddy. âanywhere you wanna go?â
you think for a moment, but know immediately the place where youâd like to visit thatâs open at this ungodly hour. âdo you know that one shawarma jointâ-â
before you can even finish, the wind whips around you as gojo slips his mask back on, pulls you closer to him, and uses his free handâthat is, the one thatâs not clinging onto your firmlyâto shoot a glistening web, one that you saw when he used it on the man who harassed you in the ally. it clings onto a nearby building, and then youâre off the ground, soaring through the air.
you let out a scream of terror against gojoâs chest, tightening your arms around him. you can feel a laugh rumble in his chest, a boyish chuckle as he peers down at you and shouts, âare you having fun?âÂ
âgojo,â you whine, burying your head into his chest further. despite your initial fear, exhilaration creeps its way into you as you the city blur, skyline jumping and dipping as gojo effortlessly swung you both around.Â
when he finally stopped, landing gracefully on a secluded rooftop, you were breathlessânot just from the ride but from the way he was looking at you.
âyou good?â he laughed, panting from the exertion and tenderly using his hand to rake his hand through your hair, which, you note out of embarrassment, mustâve been messed up from the wind passing through it.
âi hate that you made me dizzy, but yea, iâm good,â you mumble, pulling out your phone to open your camera, fixing your hair.
when youâre done, gojo looks at you with the manic buzz you can only have at 3am. âready to get some shawarma?â
âŠ
the streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence only a city at 3am could have. just the two of you, your footsteps echoing against the pavement, the occasional glow of a streetlamp painting your path.
âokay, that shawarma was like, mid at best,â gojo walks alongside you. heâs thrown on a sweatshirt and gray sweatpants over his suit, walking alongside you on the street. your stomachs are full, and you suggested a walk to be able to digest the bigass bowl you both ate.
ânothing tastes better than something youâre eating when youâre supposed to be studying, instead,â you shot back, hiding your little smile as you cross your arms while strolling. the shift between you and gojo was so jarring that youâre still reeling at it, but what is 3am if not for big life changes?
you roll your eyes, but deep inside, youâre really biting back a grin. ârelax, bugboy. maybe first let me recover from being swung like a human pendulum.â
gojo stopped walking, turning to face you with a playful glint in his eye. âyouâre still thinking about that, huh? admit itâyou loved it.â
you raised an eyebrow. âi screamed into your chest for a solid ten seconds. does that sound like love to you?â
he tilted his head, feigning deep thought. âi dunno. thereâs a fine line between terror and thrill. and judging by how tightly you were holding onto meâŠâ
âyouâre insufferable,â you muttered, but your voice lacked bite.
âand yet, youâre still here.â
his words hung in the air, the playful edge softening into something quieter, more sincere. your steps faltered, and you looked up at him, the absurdity of the night fading into the background as your gaze held his.
âguess iâm curious,â you admitted.
âcurious, huh?â he said, taking a step closer. âcareful. curiosity killed the cat.â
without thinking, you blurted, âat least iâve got a fifty-fifty shot, right?â the words barely left your mouth before the regret hit, your inner voice screaming at you for making a lame quantum mechanics joke at a time like this. schrödinger would be proud, you thought bitterly.
but then gojo laughedânot the teasing, obnoxious kind of laugh or the weird look youâd expect, but a genuine, boyish chuckle that reached his eyes. he smiled at you, soft and unguarded, and suddenly, the space between you seemed to shrink.
the flickering streetlamp cast a warm, uneven glow over the two of you. in that moment, the sprawling city felt impossibly small, narrowed down to just him and the pounding of your heart in your ears.
gojo reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. âyou know,â he murmured, his voice low, âiâve been wanting to do this for a while now.â
your breath hitched, heart thundering in your chest. âdo what?â
âthis.â
before you could respond, he closed the space between you, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft, yet electrifying. for a moment, time seemed to stop, the city around you fading into nothing as the warmth of his touch anchored you in the moment.
when he finally pulled back, his grin was back in full force. âso, was that better or worse than shawarma?â
you blinked at him, still trying to find your footing in the aftermath of what just happened. an immediate feeling of bashfulness crept over you because not only did you just kiss spiderman, you just kissed gojo. there are girls who would kill to be in your position, and that makes you flustered as you turn your head away from him so you donât have to make eye contact. âi hate you,â you mumble half heartedly, cheeks burning.
gojo doesnât let you off so easily. his thumb brushes gently along your chin, coaxing your face back toward his. his touch is warm, deliberate, and it sends a shiver down your spine.
âoh my god,â he says, a grin spreading across his face. âare you embarrassed? youâre so cute.â
when the warmth of his hand leaves your chin, you open your eyes, shocked as you find out that heâs nowhere to be seen. you call out a tentative, âgojo?âÂ
somewhere behind you, to the left, comes out a muffled shout. âiâm here!â you whip around, your brows furrowing as you follow the direction of his voice. itâs coming from an alley just off the street, dark and bathed in shadows.
âseriously?â you mutter under your breath, your annoyance half-hearted, making your way toward the sound. you find yourself at the mouth of the alley, the dim glow of a distant lamp barely illuminating his silhouette.
gojoâs perched on the side of the wall like itâs the most natural thing in the world, one leg propped up, his mask pulled halfway up to reveal that damn smirk. âyouâre slow,â he teases, his tone light and infuriatingly smug.
âwhat are you doing?â you ask, crossing your arms.
he gestures toward himself. âyou came looking for me, didnât you?â
you roll your eyes, stepping closer despite yourself. âwhat, did you think iâd just leave you lurking in some alley like a creepy insect?â
âwell,â he says, shooting a web to stick on the bottom of some stairs of one of the buildings to hang upside down, âyou couldâve left, but i had a feeling you wouldnât.â
before you could retort, he shoots his web closer to something on top of you, now dangling upside down yet again but his proximity even closer, stealing the air from your lungs. his fingers brush a strand of hair from your face, lingering just long enough to make your knees feel unsteady.
âso,â he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, âare we doing this again, or are you gonna keep pretending you hate me?â
your heart stutters, but before you can overthink it, you pull his mask down even further to uncover more of his lips, and you join them togetherâthis time, softer, slower, as if savoring the moment. you grab at his chin to pull him closer to you, you both sighing into the kiss, and then smiling giddily each time you pull back, only to come back in.
and just like that, you start to fall intoâŠsomething with not only the vigilante thatâs swinging around new york, but also gojo satoru, your long-time rival.
âŠ
when satoru swings by your dorm next, he doesnât expect his heart to lurch so much at the view of you so cozy.
itâs undeniable; you and satoru have been dancing around each other. youâre not exactly a hook-up to each otherâyou two havenât had sexâbut youâre not exactly girlfriend and boyfriend. and itâs not something casual, either. he doesnât reveal that heâs spiderman just to get into girlsâ pants.Â
youâve both developed a sort of rapport, he supposes. itâs been stolen glances during phys401 and late nights spent talking or, occasionally, making out. youâve even started to nurse his wounds, if he ever shows up with bruises and blood matting his suit. one of the perks of you having a single.Â
heâs even fallen asleep overnight, especially on friday nights when he doesnât have lecture in the morning. some of his things, like some spare equipment and suits, have even found their way into your closet.Â
youâre both on a dangerous roller coaster, and satoru is closing his eyes on the fall down.Â
but right now, heâs perched outside your window like a creep. youâre sitting on your bed, cross-legged and squinting at something on your laptop, and satoru smiles to himself as he sees your tank top and shorts and just how homey you look. you probably know satoru is coming, but youâre so comfortable around him that it makes his heart ache. he shouldnât be doing this, but he canât stop.
satoru lightly taps on your window, his knuckle brushing against the glass softly, not wanting to startle you. you glance up, catching sight of him, and thereâs no hiding the smile tugging at your lips.
you get up, and satoru follows the movement of your bare legs with his eyes as you slide the window open. âyou know, most people knock on doors like normal humans,â you say.
âi like to keep things interesting,â he shoots back, climbing in effortlessly. the faint chill from the night clings to him, and his hair is slightly disheveled from the wind.
he glances around your room, catching sight of your scattered notes and the distinct look of frustration etched across your face. âwhatâs got you looking so miserable?â
âphys401,â you reply with a resigned sigh, flopping back onto your bed. âthis problem set is impossible.â
satoru smirks, peeling off his gloves and mask and plopping down beside you. âlet me see.â
acquiescing, you hand over your notebook, watching as he scans your work with intent, eyebrows scrunching as he tries to understand the statement to prove. he makes a few thoughtful noises, before grabbing a pen and scribbling something down. âhere,â he says after a moment, âyouâre overcomplicating this step. instead of doing the tensor product you did, you could just make this zero by taking an inner product, since theyâre orthogonal states. the rest will fall into place.â
you squint at his messy, rushed handwriting, and sure enough, the proof seems to come together. âhow are you so good at this?âÂ
âphysics prodigy, remember?â he teases, leaning back on his hands as he lays down on your bed.
âthanks for the help,â you say softly, your eyes lingering on him a beat too long. heâs kind of dreamy, you think. the moonlight filters across your window, giving his platinum hair a sheen as his cerulean eyes look into yours with kindness.Â
his smirk fades, replaced by something softer, something unspoken. âanytime.â he then makes a show of stretching out his limbs, purposely bumping into you with one eye open smugly to observe your reaction, to which you glare at him. he spots your notebook, picks it up, and flips through it. âyou know, for someone who complains so much about phys401, youâre not half bad at it,â he teases, scribbling something in the margin of your notes by grabbing a stray pen next to him. Â
you roll your eyes, shifting so youâre cross-legged on the bed, facing him. ânot all of us are physics prodigies, satoru. some of us actually have to work hard.â Â
he chuckles, handing the notebook back to you. âhard work is overrated when you can just charm your way through everything.â Â
you snort and joke, âif charm was all it took, iâd have aced the midterm.â Â
thereâs a beat of silence as you glance down at his notes. heâs corrected a mistake you hadnât even noticed, and his scrawled proof flows so effortlessly it makes you a little envious. âhow do you do that?â you ask, more to yourself than him. Â
âdo what?â Â
âmake it look so⊠easy,â you say, frowning slightly. âeverything. physics, life, swinging through the city.â Â
satoru leans back on his palms, his smirk softening. âtrust me, itâs not as easy as it looks.â Â
you glance up at him, surprised by the honesty in his tone. âwhat do you mean?â Â
he shrugs, but thereâs something vulnerable in the way his gaze flickers away from yours. âi mean, everyone sees the guy with the jokes and the perfect test scores, but no one sees the late nights or the bruises.â he gestures vaguely to his chest, where you know the bruises from his spider-man escapades hide. âguess iâm just good at pretending.â Â
you sit with his words, the weight of them settling between you. âyou donât have to pretend with me, you know,â you say softly. Â
his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, the maskâthe real oneâdrops. âi know,â he says, just as softly. Â
the air between you feels heavier, like the world has shrunk to just the two of you. youâre hyper-aware of how close he is, the faint smell of the night clinging to him, the way his knee brushes against yours. Â
âthanks,â he says, his voice barely above a whisper. âfor letting me be here. forâŠâ he trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips before flicking back up. Â
your breath catches. âsatoruâŠâ Â
âyeah?â he says, leaning in slightly, his voice lower now. Â
âiâŠâ you trail off, not even sure what you were going to say. Â
he leans closer, and it feels like everything around you stills. his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb brushing your cheek. âcan i?â he asks, his voice barely audible. Â
you nod, and then his lips are on yours. Â
the kiss starts tentative, almost shy, but it doesnât stay that way for long. it deepens, his hand sliding to your waist as you pull him closer. the tension that had been building for weeksâmonths, maybeâfinally snaps, leaving nothing but heat and want in its wake. Â
his weight presses you back into the bed, and you can feel his heart racing against yours as he pins you to the bed, now on top of you. his hand slips under the hem of your shirt, warm against your skin, and as his thumb traces shapes into your circle and closer to more sensitive areas, a sigh escapes you. Â
thatâs when he freezes. Â
he pulls back, his breathing uneven, his eyes wide and filled with something like fear. âwe canât,â he says, his voice hoarse. Â
your heart drops into your chest.
âwhy not?â you ask, trying to catch your breath. Â
âbecause,â he says, sitting up and running a hand through his hair and heâs heaving. âbecause iâm spider-man, and youââ he breaks off, looking anywhere but at you. âyou deserve better than this. better than me.â Â
you sit up, pulling your shirt back into place and looking at him, hurt. âthatâs not your call to make, satoru.â Â
âiâm trying to protect you!â he says, his voice rising in agitation. he sits back onto his heels, raking a hand through his hair as he looks at the ceiling, as if in pain.
you canât believe him. his self-righteousness irritates you to no end, especially after youâve bared your soul, and now your body to him, something you considered intimate. you feel conflictedâwhatever you had, it didnât have a label. but that didnât mean that you didnât want that to be true. badly.
âand who asked you to?â you snap back. âiâm not some damsel in distress who needs saving.â Â
âi know that,â he says, his tone softening. âbut if something happened to you because of meâŠâ he shakes his head. âi couldnât live with that.â Â
the anger bubbling in your chest boils over, and you snap. âso what? youâre just going to walk away? after everything?â Â
he stands, his expression pained. âiâm sorry,â he says, heading for the window. Â
âdonât you dare apologize,â you say, your voice trembling as you stand by the foot of your bed, hating how your eyes brim with tears. âif you leave, donât bother coming back.â Â
he pauses, his hand on the window frame, before glancing back at you. âiâm sorry,â he says again, softer this time, before slipping out into the night. Â
the window clicks shut behind him, and youâre left alone in the silence, the ache in your chest threatening to swallow you whole.Â
âŠ
the whir of the espresso machine and the gentle hum of background music fill the mostly empty starbucks, the occasional customer wandering in like clockwork. itâs a quiet shift, the kind youâd usually relishâexcept today, the quiet only makes the knot in your chest tighten.
youâre stationed behind the counter, staring blankly at the milk steamer as it hisses, lost in your thoughts. that is, until utahimeâs voice breaks through.
âalright, spill,â she says, leaning her elbows on the counter beside you.
you glance at her, eyebrows raised. âspill what?â
utahime rolls her eyes, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. âoh, please. you look like someone stole your favorite pen and broke it in half. whatâs going on?â
ânothing,â you lie, turning back to the steamer. âiâm fine.â
utahimeâs skeptical gaze bores into you. âyouâre a terrible liar. nanami, back me up.â
from his spot at a nearby table, nanami looks up from his book, his sharp eyes narrowing as they lock onto you. âitâs boy trouble,â he says flatly, like heâs solving an equation.
your head snaps toward him, a glare already forming. âexcuse me?â
âitâs obvious,â he says, setting his book down and regarding you with his usual piercing gaze. âyouâre distracted, you look upsetâitâs boy trouble.â
utahime perks up, leaning closer. âwait, is he right? is this about a guy?â
you let out a groan, leaning your elbows on the counter. âcan you two not gang up on me right now?â
âso it is a guy,â utahime says, her tone turning smug.
âi didnât say that,â you retort, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you.
nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your deflection. âyou might as well just tell us. itâs not like weâre going to let it go.â
you sigh, running a hand through your hair. âfine. itâs⊠someone i liked. someone i thought liked me too. but he freaked out and said it was tooâŠdangerous to keep going.â
utahime frowns, her curiosity replaced by concern while kento snorts. âdangerous? what does that even mean?â
âthatâs what iâd like to know,â you say bitterly, the frustration bubbling up as you speak. âhe acts like he cares, but the second things get serious, he bolts. like iâm some fragile thing that canât handle it.â
nanami leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. âhe might not be scared of you. he could be scared of what it means for him. of responsibility and commitment. some people run when they feel too much.â
utahime nods, her hand resting gently on your arm. âwhatever his problem is, itâs not fair to you. if he canât get it together, thatâs on him, not you.â
you glance between them, the weight of their words settling in your chest. âi know that,â you say quietly. âit just⊠sucks.â
âof course it does,â utahime says, her voice soft but firm. âbut youâre not the problem here. donât let him make you think you are.â
nanami picks up his book again but pauses before opening it. âand donât let him live rent-free in your head. if he canât see what heâs giving up, thatâs his loss.â
their support feels grounding, like a steady hand in the middle of a storm. you manage a small smile, nodding. âthanks, guys.â
âanytime,â utahime says, flashing you a reassuring grin. nanami simply nods, returning to his book but keeping an eye on you like always. for the first time all week since gojo left your room, the heaviness in your chest feels a little lighter.
âŠ
the knock at your window is faint, almost timid, but it jolts you out of your daze. you sit up in bed, your heart pounding as your eyes dart toward the window. itâs lateâso late itâs earlyâand for a moment, you think you imagined it. you hate to admit it, but because of your boy troubles you havenât been able to sleep all week. youâre also no stranger to imagining ants crawling up your body or phantom noises, so you adjust in your bed, trying to go back to sleep.
then it comes again, a little louder this time.
you throw off the blanket and pad over, the chill of the floor biting at your bare feet. when you pull the curtain aside, your breath catches.
satoru.
heâs crouched outside, his suit torn in places and soaked with blood. his head lolls slightly, like heâs barely holding himself up, and when he lifts his gaze to meet yours, itâs tired and pleading.
you donât thinkâthereâs no time for that. you unlatch the window and shove it open, reaching out to help him inside. âsatoru, oh my god,â you breathe, your voice shaking.
âhey,â he mutters, his grin weak but still so unmistakably him. âsorry for the mess.â
âshut up,â you snap, guiding him onto your bed and setting him down with gentle hands, ones that contrast your tone with him. âwhat the hell happened?â
ânothing i couldnât handle,â he says, wincing as he tries to sit up straighter and flashes you a sheepish smile. âyou should see the other guy.â
âyouâre bleeding everywhere, satoru. you clearly didnât handle it.â you grab your first aid kit from under the bed and yank it open, your hands trembling.
âiâve had worse,â he murmurs, but his bravado is thin, cracking at the edges.
âstop talking,â you say, your voice trembling and cracking. âjustâjust stop.â
for once, you thank the gods that he listens.
you work quickly, cutting away the shredded fabric of his suit and cleaning the worst of the wounds. itâs not prettyâhis torso is littered with bruises and gashes, the kind that make your stomach turnâbut you keep your focus.
when you press a disinfectant-soaked pad to a particularly deep cut, he hisses, his hand flying to grab your wrist.
âsorry,â you whisper, glancing up at him with a tender look in your eyes. his expression matches yours, and your faces are so close to each other that you canât bear it anymore, going back to your work.
his fingers loosen but donât let go, his grip warm and grounding. âyouâre good at this,â he says softly, his voice rough.
âyeah, well,â you mutter, ducking your head to avoid his gaze. âyouâve given me plenty of practice.â
the silence stretches as you finish bandaging him up. when youâre done, you sit back, your hands still trembling as you place them in your lap. âyouâre an idiot,â you say, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.
he laughs, soft and hoarse. âyeah. i get that a lot from this girl i know.â
you look up at him, and the weight of everythingâhis injuries, his secret, the distance he tried to put between youâcrashes over you. âyou canât keep doing this, satoru. you canât keep pushing me away just to show up like this.â
his smile fades, replaced by something raw and unguarded. âi know,â he says, his voice barely above a whisper. âi know, butâŠâ
âbut what?â you demand, your voice cracking. âyouâre spider-man? you think thatâs an excuse to keep shutting me out?â
âitâs not an excuse,â he says, running a hand through his messy hair, matted with even more blood. his or someone elseâs, youâre not sure. âitâs a reason. i donât want you to get hurt because of me.â
âyou think iâm not already hurting?â you snap, the anger bubbling to the surface yet again. âyou think it doesnât kill me to see you like this and know i canât do anything to stop it?â
his eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like a little boy, lost and unsure. it is then that it hits you that heâs just twenty. a college student, not someone whoâs wanted by the cia or someone whoâs battled terrorists. for fucks sake, he canât even legally drink.Â
and your heart canât help but melt as he says, âi just⊠i donât want to lose you.â
âthen stop trying to,â you say, your voice softer now. âstop pretending like youâre protecting me by keeping me at armâs length. let me in, satoru.â
he stares at you, his breath hitching like heâs holding back a thousand words. then, in a rush, he closes the distance between you, his hands cradling your face as he presses his forehead to yours.
âiâm sorry,â he whispers, his voice breaking. âiâm so sorry.â
you exhale shakily, your hands finding their way to his wrists. âjust stop being an idiot, okay? stop trying to do this alone.â
he nods, his grip tightening like heâs afraid youâll slip away. âi promise,â he says, and for the first time, you believe him.
âŠ
a cramp gripping satoruâs entire leg is what wakes him up.Â
he winces in memory of the injury; one of those stupid terrorists had too good of an aim, grazing his leg while he was mid-air. it hurts like a bitch now, and he moves to lay on his back, until something stops him. roses.
he looks, bleary eyed, to you. the floral scent coming from you, making him dizzy. his body cocooning yours.Â
you both unconsciously moved in your sleep so that you were spooning, your fragrant hair, soft from shampooing, tickling his throat with your ass in his crotch.
nestled right against his morning wood.
good fucking lord, he groans to himself, then starts to panic because if you wake up and realize he had a raging hard-on while you were sleeping, you would definitely think he was a creep. heâs already on thin fucking ice. so naturally, he starts to recite the star spangled banner while trying to will his boner away.
oh, say can you seeâ
to no avail, because you huff softly in your sleep, soft and warm body unconsciously leaning back to grind your ass against his lap, turning his dick to steel.
âoh, fuck,â he curses out loud, using his hand to cover the lower half of his face and clench his eyes shut. you feel so sweet, innocently adjusting while he canât even control his lust for you.
but once the grind seems to continue for a bit too long, more than what can be chalked up as adjusting in your sleep, he peers down at you. youâre awake.Â
and because satoruâs selfish, his hands creep up your tank top, settling on your bare stomach, where he knew you were ticklish. as a result, you wiggle, and he uses this opportunity to pull you even closer to him, right up against him.Â
âbaby,â he says, making his voice all deep and sighs on purpose, just to be unfair to you. âis this okay?â
you whine, and he settles his face in your hair, the strands of it tickling his skin as he inhales in the scent of you. âi thought it was a dream.â
he smiles into your hair. you make him feel like sunshine incarnate, and the rush heâs getting right now is akin to the one he gets jumping off the empire state building. âno, this is very real.â
âhm,â and you continue to drag your ass into him, murmuring in a soft voice that makes him want to take you right there and then, âit still feels like a dream. like youâre not real, right now.â
oh, what he would do to make you say his name in that same voice; he wants to whisper all the things he wants to do to you right now. âi know, baby. you feel like a dream.â his hands continue to slide up and up your torso, groaning at your sharp intake as he gently fondles the softness of your breasts.Â
you overwhelm his senses, teasing him, and when you let out a whine of his name, satoru snaps.
âiâm going to make you feel good right now. tell me if itâs a fucking dream,â he grits out, ignoring whatever cramps that were screaming at him to get on top of you.Â
you gasp out a âsatoru,â wriggling in his grasp, and he canât take it anymore. he brings up one of his hands. shoots a web that lands right on your left hand. then your right hand.
satoru just tied you up using his webs.
you look at him in whatever version of shock you can muster in your tired state. âsatoru, what theââ but youâre muffled, because heâs kissing you, hard, roving his hands up and down your body and grabbing whatever he can as if heâs devouring you while making out with you.
âdo you know,â and his eyes flash dangerously while looking down at yours, âhow youâve teased me with these shorts?â his hands trails down to the waistband of the offending piece of clothing, pulling it to make it snap against your skin. you jump, looking at satoru desperately, whoâs left you bare at his mercy, subject to his super human strength as he grabs your shorts with both his hands again. âevery fucking time iâve sneaked up in to your room, itâs been so hard to not fuck you senseless in these flimsy things. itâs only fair you pay the price, right baby?â
itâs not like you have anything to answer him with, having lost all brain cells being fucked out like this. he pulls them down, and if he had laser vision, he would have stared through your panties long ago, eyes fixated on the crotch that was nearly translucent with the amount of slick going through it. burying his face right in between your thighs, he noses at your cunt before groaning. then, he uses his teeth to grab onto the middle and pull. until your pussy is bare to him.
âoh, fuck youâre so pretty,â he curses, lapping at your sweetness. his tongue roves up and down your folds, and if your hands could, they would be pulling at his hair solely because you were so sensitive. but you were trapped, thighs gripped in his strong hands and your arms trapped by his ultra-strong webs. âmy good girl.â
then, you feel pressure at your opening. âsatoââ you squeal but are immediately interrupted by your own moan as he curls his long, thick fingers, eyes observing your every movement as you squirm, electric shocks running up and down your body as he hits your spot dead-on.
and he notices, because the motherfucker chuckles. âoh, so thatâs the spot, huh?â he purrs, visibly pleased as he memorizes it and abuses it, hitting it with every stroke. you barely notice him add one finger, add two fingers as he starts to suck on your clit. overwhelmed with pleasure, youâre only brought back to reality when he rips all contact away from you.
âwhatââ you mumble mindlessly, until you see what heâs doing. he pulls his sweatpants down. and heâs not wearing boxers, so you drool when his cock springs out, leaking copiously and hard. without taking his eyes off you, he pumps it to its fullest length, and youâre just staring in awe at its sheer length.
âwhatâre you looking at, baby?â he teases, using his hand to wiggle his cock in front of your face to mock you. âwant it so bad, isnât that right?â
you glare at him half-heartedly, but whine regardless. âjust put it in, gojo.â
âoh,â and he flashes you a smile that makes a big danger sign in red flash across your mind. âitâs gojo, now is it?â
 âsatoru,â there are tears brimming in the corner of your eyes, the ones that make satoru even more aroused at your want, âplease. i need it.â
a boyish grin and a forehead kiss that has you reeling at his duality. âanything for my woman in stem.â with that, he pushes in, both of your eyes rolling back as his cock is engulfed by your gummy walls. soon after, he starts thrusting, desperation fueling both of you as you cross your legs behind gojoâs back, the deeper angle making his thighs shake while fucking into you.Â
he grabs your face, gives you a tender kiss. âfuck, i love this pussy. so sweet for me.âÂ
you give him a wanton moan in return as he continues to thrust deep, tender strokes into you. âsatoru, âm not gonna last long.â with the amount of foreplay heâs done alongside how sensitive you are, youâre steadily reaching your orgasm already, and with the way satoruâs now tightly gripping the sheets beside you while thrusting inside you, he is too.
wet squelching noises echoes across the room, and you know the neighbors can hear the obscene plap! plap! plap! coming from skin meeting skin, your hips against his. he buries his face into your neck, panting at your ear until he uses his hand to wrench your face towards his.
âi love you,â he groans, forcing your eyes to meet his. âi love you forever and will do so. so you canât break my heart,â and heâs desperately thrusting again, âand you canât leave me. please.â
at his confession, you break, back arching as you also squeal out a iloveyou while gasping loudly, hips rolling to rise against his as he fucks you through your orgasm. quickly, his thrusts veer into overstimulation and you whine. âtoru.â
he takes one look at your stateâface impossibly flushed, hands tied, and pussy absolutely engulfing his cock, and his orgasm hits him like a truck, making him gasp and bend and break as he goes to heaven and back with the aftershocks of your orgasm making your pussy clench around him so beautifully. his cum enters you in hot spurts, making you exhale sharply at the feeling as he comes down from his orgasm, collapsing next to you.
for a few minutes, heavy breathing fills the room, both of you catching your breaths. until satoru breaks the silence. âso, whatâs it like to fuck a superhero?â
you take one look at himâall smug and propped up on his elbowâand spidey sense be damned as you try grab a pillow. key word is try because youâre then wrenched back with a reminder that youâre still bound. âsatoru,â and you give him a sickly sweet smile, the one that he knows means heâs in trouble, âwhen are these going to dissolve?â
and satoru pretends to be deep in thought, but you can see him trying to inch off the bed slowly, as if to escape your wrath after his answer. âuhmâŠmaybe five hours?â
if it werenât for the damn spidey sense that he had, he wouldnât have been able to escape the swing of your legs as you looked at him murderously. âsatoru gojo you will unhand me from these webs this instantâ-â
âi donât know,â he shrugs, shit eating grin in his face. âyou look kinda sexy in bed like this. mad at me.â but when your eyes flash with anger, he hiccups nervously, telltale of the fact he wonât mess with you.
âi hate you,â you groan out, pouting like a petulant child while you glare at the ceiling.
 satoru comes close to you to bend at his waist and give you a forehead kiss. âno, you donât.âÂ
you give him a pointed glare, telling him not to be testy. âclean me up. now.â
at your expression, his eyes widen in fear and he salutes. âanything for you, maâam.â
at his retreating form, you giggle and sigh to yourself. you never wouldâve known that spider-man would be the one fetching a clean up rag for you after fucking the shit out of you, but you wouldnât trade it for the world.
when satoru comes back, he cleans you up, tenderly, as if he is afraid that you will break. youâre a little drowsy when he returns to you, but he doesnât dare try to wake you up when he hears little breaths from your nose indicating youâve fallen asleep. after he finishes his job, he admires your features.
satoru lingers for a moment, his gaze softening as he watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest. the weight of his responsibilities presses on him, as it always does, but tonight, it feels heavierâlike a tether pulling him between the life heâs chosen and the life he craves.
you, so peaceful in sleep, represent something fragile, something precious. and that terrifies him. because what if he fails? what if the cost of being spider-man is losing the one thing that feels real?
still, he knows he canât walk awayânot from this city, not from you. with a deep breath, he leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your forehead, a silent promise lingering in his chest.
âiâll keep you safe,â he murmurs, barely audible. âno matter what.â
instead of leaving, satoru settles down beside you, careful not to disturb your rest. the city can wait, just for a little while. for now, he wraps an arm around you, grounding himself in the warmth of your presence. as your breathing evens out against him, he lets his own eyes drift shut, the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lifting. today, he chooses to stay.
kinktober masterlist | general masterlist | spiderman!gojo masterlist
a/n ok if you're ever curious what being fucked in the ass with a wooden dildo no lube is like, just try to write this fic or any longfic. it's 4am, this a/n is short and unintelligble just like most of this fic but it's been a journey, im very sentimental because of this fic and i hope you guys like it. ok im going to pass out so pls ignore all typos xoxo but please flood my inbox im excited to see yalls reactions when i wake up
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Summary: Sometimes running away from a wedding leads you exactly where you're meant to be â preferably into the arms of a much better guy.
A/N: These fics just keep getting longer and longer. again lowkey kinda hate this and i feel like i made theo heavily ooc but it is what it is ig
Theo hated churches.
He wasnât particularly religiousânever cared much for the belief in some higher power watching over them all. After all, if someone like that did exist, his motherâa devout, gentle womanâwouldnât have been ripped from the earth so soon. It shouldâve been his father, not her. At least, thatâs what heâd thought as a boy.
Still, despite his aversion to anything even remotely sacred, he found himself sitting alone in the pews of a quiet chapel. The sun streamed through stained glass, washing the room in warm, fractured color. He didnât believe in prayer, but he came here anyway. This had been his motherâs favorite place before she died, and somehow, being here made him feel closer to herâlike she might hear him, if only faintly.
âMamma,â He murmured, voice low, âsometimes I truly wonder what my future was meant to look like.â
The war was over, but the silence it left behind was deafening. He spent a lot of time now, wondering about his place in the world. He and the rest of his matesâBerkshire, Riddle, Malfoy, and Zabiniâhad played a crucial role, working as double agents under Dumbledoreâs orders. But because their involvement had remained classified, carefully buried under the Ministryâs politics, they were still seen as Slytherins first. As former sympathizers. As a threat. Pariahs.
It stung. He had done the right thing, when it mattered most. And yet, he wondered if this cold reception was all heâd ever receive.
A few years ago, he hadn't even expected to live this long. His younger self had been certain heâd never survive the warâthat heâd be killed for his betrayal of Voldemort and reunited with his mother much sooner than expected. But he had survived. And now, once again, he was adrift.
Thatâs why he came back hereâhoping for clarity, for a sign. But as always, the silence answered him back.
He sighed softly, rising to his feet and tucking his hands into his coat pockets, ready to leave. His shoes echoed against the marble floor as he turned toward the exit.
But before he could cross the threshold, the chapel doors burst open with a loud bang.
Theo blinked.
A vision in white stumbled inside.
Satin, lace, curls escaping from a veil. Breathless. Flushed. A wild gleam in her eye.
His heart paused mid-beat as he recognized the chaos incarnate now standing in the aisle, clutching the skirt of her wedding dress like sheâd just escaped a dragon, veil askew, bouquet long gone, and cheeks flushed pink like sheâd run from hell itself.
His mouth opened before he could stop it.
â(L/N)?â The name left his mouth before he could stop it, soft and shocked and just a little bit disbelieving.
You looked up, startled â like you hadnât expected to see another soul inside â and your eyes widened in delight.
âTheodore Nott!â You beamed, chest still rising and falling in heavy breaths, curls frizzing at the edges, voice giddy and strange, âFancy seeing you here! Gosh, I haven't seen you since Hogwarts! How are you? And the othersâRiddle, Berkshire, and the lot? All good, I hope.â
Theo stared at you in complete bewilderment as you keeled over to catch your breath, tugging off your veil and fanning yourself with it like some kind of deranged society lady.
âMerlinâs sweaty balls,â You gasped, dramatic as ever, âItâs impossible to breathe in this damn corset.â
âTheyâre good,â Theo said slowly, brow furrowed, âIâm sorry, are you in a wedding dress?â
You nodded, breathless, laughing like the question itself was hilarious, âUnfortunately, yes. Bit of a pity I didnât realize I didnât want to marry the sorry bloke thirty minutes ago. Wouldâve made my escape a lot easier if I wasnât drowning in fifty pounds of satin.â
He blinked at you, still speechless, hands deep in his coat pockets.
You paused, eyes narrowing playfully, â(Y/N) (L/N) sounds so much nicer, doesnât it?â
Theo arched an unimpressed brow, âYou know you can get married without changing your last name, right?â
At that, you absolutely lost itâdoubling over in wheezing laughter, slapping your knee like heâd just told the funniest joke in history.
âYou always were such a crack-up, Theodore!â You gasped between giggles, âWhere are my manners? What brings you here today? Certainly not for the wedding, I hopeâbecause, wellââ You gestured at yourself, still panting in the middle of the cathedral, âyou can probably tell thatâs not happening.â
Before Theodore could get a word in, the sound of heavy footsteps thundered down the hallway. Your eyes went comically wide as you pressed yourself flat against the stone wall, wedged just behind the chapel door as it swung open with a bang.
In marched your fatherâred-faced, sweaty, and breathing like a charging Hippogriff. His eyes locked onto Theodore like he was a bloodhound catching a scent.
âHave you seen a girl in a wedding dress?â He barked.
Theo quirked a brow, gaze slidingâslowly, deliberatelyâto the right, where you were doing your best impression of a human statue. From where he stood, he could see you mouthing frantic noâs, shaking your head so violently he was almost certain youâd give yourself whiplash. Your hands were flying in wild, desperate gestures, pleading silently.
He turned back to your father, the picture of calm.
âNo, sir.â
Your father squinted, suspiciousâbut apparently not enough to question it. âWell, if you do,â He huffed, already half-turning, âyou tell her to march her sorry behind back into that hall and marry the boy, or sheâll be sorry.â
The door slammed shut behind him.
You clutched your chest like youâd just survived a curse, eyes squeezed shut as you slid bonelessly to the floor in your crumpled wedding dress.
âThat,â You breathed, âwas nerve-wracking.â
You peeked up at him with a grateful look, âYouâre a good liar, Nott. Thank you.â
Theo looked down at the breathless, sweaty heap youâd become, still sprawled on the stone floor like a very distressed meringue. With an amused smirk, he cleared his throat, âWell⊠good luck with everything, (L/N). Let me know if you actually go through with becoming a Bulstrode. Iâll send a wedding gift.â
You gaped up at him in horror as he began to sidestep the tangled mass of satin and lace that was your gown, clearly preparing to leave the chapel and abandon you to your doom. Without thinking, you grabbed his calfâyour perfectly manicured nails digging into his trousers, the massive engagement ring catching the light like a cursed artifact.
âWhat?! You canât go now! You have to get me out of here!â
Theo arched a skeptical brow, âAnd why, exactly, would I do that?â
You pointed at him in outrage, still clutching his leg like a deranged bride octopus, âYou just lied to my father! That makes you an accomplice. AâA conspirator! You're already implicated!â
Theo looked thoroughly unimpressed, âI could just tell him you were hiding behind the door like a terrified possum.â
You gasped, âYou wouldnât.â
He tilted his head, âTry me.â
Panic glittered in your eyes before you straightened your spine and went full Slytherin, âFine. You want to play that game? Iâll tell everyone youâre my secret paramour. That you seduced me, took my virtue in the belfry, and thatâs why I fled the altar.â
Theoâs mouth dropped open, scandalized, âI beg your pardon?â
You clasped your hands together, expression softening into exaggerated, pleading sweetness, âPlease, Theodore. Iâm not asking for your soul. Just⊠apparate me out of here. One quick jump and Iâll be out of your life forever.â
He stared at you. Then sighed.
âMerlin help me,â He muttered, âYouâre even more unhinged than I remember.â
âSo thatâs a yes?â
He offered you a hand, âOnly if you swear not to mention the word âvirtueâ ever again.â
You grinned, already taking his hand, âDeal, my paramour.â
He groaned. Loudly.
Theo stepped closer, one hand sliding around your waist, tugging you flush against him. You blinked up at him, stunned into silence by the proximity. Up close, you finally understood why half the girls in your year had harbored crushes on him. He had that kind of faceâthe infuriatingly beautiful kind that made your stomach swoop before your brain could catch up.
Thenâwith a sharp crackâthe world twisted out from under your feet.
You landed hard against him, fingers fisting the lapels of his jacket like your life depended on it. Which, to be fair, it had.
Warm sunlight spilled over your face, the bustling sounds of the street around you cutting through the fading disorientation. You blinked. Then smiled.
You were free.
Theo watched you quietly as your eyes danced over every detailâthe streetlamp, the bakerâs cart, a child chasing a butterfly. Everything ordinary now seemed extraordinary through your gaze. You looked like someone seeing the world for the first time.
âAre you good, (L/N)?â He asked, low and cautious.
You didnât take your eyes off the street. âA new worldâs waiting for me,â You said softly, âItâs⊠terrifying.â
He didnât say anything, but his grip around your waist didnât loosen.
You stood there, trembling fingers still tangled in the fabric of his coat, heart pounding like it was trying to sprint back to the cathedral.
Theodoreâs sharp gaze softened as he took in your messy lipstick, sweat-dampened curls, and the way you clung to him like the world had just tipped sideways. You looked like a woman on the edge of disasterâor greatness. Maybe both.
"Where were you planning to go?" He asked quietly.
You blinked up at him, dumbly, your glassy eyes beginning to sting as the reality of what youâd just done crashed over you like cold water.
"I... I hadnât thought that far." You admitted, voice barely a whisper as your bottom lip began to tremble.
Theo sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, âBloody hell.â
You started to stammer, trying to save face, âLookâIâll figure it out. I just needed to get away. You donât have toââ
âDonât be dense,â He muttered, âCome on.â
You furrowed your brows, confused, âCome on where?â
âMy home,â He said bluntly, âYouâre clearly overwhelmed, and you need to breathe somewhere that isnât a chapel or the middle of a bloody street. You can crash in the guest room. Iâll pour a cup of tea. Or Firewhisky, if youâre feeling rebellious.â
You stared at him, stunned silent, âYouâd really do that for me?â
In all honesty, Theodore had no idea why he was doing this for you.
Maybe it was the way your eyes lookedâraw and frightenedâthat struck something in him. He remembered that look. Back when his mother died. Back when he was stuck between two worlds, pretending to be loyal to the Death Eaters while secretly fighting for the other side. When the war ended, and he had no bloody idea who he was without it.
He knew helplessness like an old friend. And though heâd never admit it aloud, he also knew he wouldnât sleep tonight if he walked away nowâknowing you were out there, wandering the streets in a bloody wedding dress or dragged back to marry someone you didnât love.
âYeah,â He said finally, âI would.â
You exhaled shakily, blinking back tears, âOkay.â
âOkay.â He echoed.
He held your arm carefullyâlike you were a glass about to crackâand apparated you both away.
By the time your feet touched down again, you were standing in a warmly lit corridor outside a tall, modern-looking door. Theodore slid a key out of his coat pocket and unlocked it with a click.
âMy flat.â He said simply, stepping aside to let you in.
You blinked, glancing around as you followed him, âWait. Donât you have a whole family manor somewhere?â
He raised a brow as he tossed his coat onto a sleek brass hook, âNot fancy enough for you, darling? Would you rather go to the five-star resort your family booked for your honeymoon instead?â
He chuckled, pushing open the door, âI live in a flat because the manorâs too bloody big for just me. I might move back in when Iâm older, but right now? No one needs twenty-three bedrooms unless theyâre running a boarding school.â
You rolled your eyes, stepping inside after him, âJust say youâre rich and move on,â you muttered.
You were mid-sigh when your eyes took in the spaceâand almost instantly, the tension in your shoulders loosened. His flat wasnât enormous, but it was stunning. Dark hardwood floors, rich emerald and charcoal accents, and floor-to-ceiling windows framed the London skyline like a painting. The air smelled faintly of pine, leather, and something warmâlike spice and magic.
Books lined custom-built shelves along one wall, and a record player quietly spun something soft and jazzy in the corner. A massive velvet sofa sat in the center of the open-plan living area, flanked by brass sconces and a few well-kept plants.
Theo disappeared into a side room, leaving you standing awkwardly in your crumpled wedding dress in the middle of his living room. When he returned, he had a folded stack of clothes in his hands.
âI grabbed whatever looked closest to your size,â He said, handing them over with a half-shrug, âMight still be a bit bigâbut itâs cozy, at least.â
You unfolded the hoodie and held it up. It fell nearly to your knees.
âYouâre joking.â
âOr you could stay in your wedding dress. Very sexy.â
You let out a laugh, âYou got me again.â
You eyed the clothes, then glanced back up at him, âYou sure none of your⊠lady friends left something behind? Something a bit more...appropriate?â
Theo smirked, unfazed, âI donât keep a lost and found bin, sweetheart. But nice try.â
You grinned despite yourself, clutching the clothes to your chest.
âGo on,â He added, gesturing toward the hallway, âFirst door on the rightâbathroomâs there. Take your time. Come out when youâre ready. Iâll sort dinner.â
âYou cook?â
He looked at you, mock-offended, âIâm Italian.â
âThatâs not a yes.â
Theo placed a hand over his heart, feigning injury, âWow. So little faith.â
You laughedâa real one this timeâas you padded off toward the bathroom, the ridiculous rustle of your wedding dress trailing behind you. Hoodie and sweats in hand, feet aching, heart still thudding from everything youâd run from.
But somehow, in the warmth of this space, with the sound of jazz humming in the background and Theo cooking up dinnerâyou started to feel something you hadnât felt in a long time.
Safe.
Maybe, just maybe⊠you were going to be okay.
When you finally emerged from the bathroom, the last remnants of your old life had gone swirling down the drainâhairspray, waterproof mascara, and everything else that once held you together. You felt⊠lighter. Your skin was clean, your hair damp, and the oversized hoodie you woreâTheoâsâsmelled faintly of cedar and citrus. It hung down to your thighs like a dress, and the joggers were barely hanging onto your waist.
The scent hit you firstâgarlic, tomatoes, fresh herbsâand your stomach let out a traitorous growl.
Theo looked up from the stove, giving you a once-over before turning back to stir the pot. âLook at you,â He said with a lopsided smirk, âDidnât think my clothes would suit you that well.â
You gave him a smirk and did a twirl to show off the outfitâjust in time for the joggers to fall right to your ankles. You both burst into laughter.
âThe elasticâs useless and the drawstringâs just for decoration.â You said, tossing the offending trousers over the back of a chair.
âWouldnât be the first time I charmed the pants off a woman.â Theo replied smoothly.
You snorted, shaking your head.
He slid a bowl across the island toward youâtagliatelle with a thick, rich Bolognese sauce, steam curling up like it had its own mind.
You took one bite, and your eyes fluttered shut. âOh my god,â You groaned, âThis is⊠this is unreal.â
He gave a small shrug, âI told you.â
You were already shoveling in another forkful, âI havenât eaten something that didnât taste like sadness in months.â
Theo leaned against the counter, watching with amusement, âEasy, love. You keep going at that pace, youâll make those giant joggers fit.â
You swallowed and let out a dramatic sigh, âWedding diet. Iâve been living off steamed vegetables and heartbreak.â
He laughed, deep and full, âWell, lucky you. Thereâs more where that came from. And gelato in the freezer.â
Your head snapped up, âYouâre kidding.â
ââChi mangia bene, vive bene,ââ He said with a smirk, ââThose who eat well, live well.â My mamma drilled that into me.â
You blinked, then smiled, âIncredibly smart woman.â
For the first time in what felt like forever, your smile didnât feel like something you had to fake or force. You sat there, in someone elseâs hoodie, with sauce on your cheek and your hair still damp, in a flat that smelled like warmth and comfort and garlic.
Theo reached across the table, brushing his thumb gently against the corner of your mouth, âYouâve got a bit of sauceâright there.â
You blinked, startled by the tenderness of the gesture. His hand lingered a second longer than necessary before he pulled back.
âAre you sure you donât want to go home?â He asked, quieter now.
You gave him a half-smile, soft but guarded, âSick of me already?â
His lips quirked, but his eyes stayed serious, âI just mean⊠are you sure you wonât regret this? People get cold feet. Panic at the altar. Happens all the time, or so I hear. And the longer you stay hereâthe more real this getsâthe harder itâll be to undo without fallout.â
You sat still for a moment, then set your fork down, appetite forgotten.
âIt wasnât cold feet,â You said, voice low, âI never wanted to get married.â
Theo didnât interrupt. He just waited.
âMy father did. Desperately. Heâs been obsessed with bloodlines and alliances since before I could walk. Marrying into the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Like that still means anything in this world.â You let out a bitter laugh, âSomehow that old bastard managed to squirm his way out of Azkaban after the war. And now heâs back to doing what he does bestâpeddling blood purity and ruining my life.â
Theoâs jaw tensed, but he said nothing.
âI spent months shoving my feelings down, just trying to be the daughter he wanted. The obedient one. Because what choice did I have?â Your fingers curled around the fabric of his hoodie, âBut when I was standing thereâat the altar, staring down a future I didnât chooseâI realized something. Maybe I didnât have choices before. But I could make one now.â
Silence stretched between you for a beat.
Then, softly, Theo said, âThat was brave.â
You let out a watery laugh, swiping your sleeve beneath your eyes, âPlease. Not like you, playing double agent for Dumbledore. Now that was brave.â
He shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, âThat was reckless.â
âIt was noble. Valiant,â You said, voice steadier now, âReally, the kind of madness only a true Slytherin could be ambitious enough to pull off.â
Theo arched a brow, âFlattery? From you?â
You gave him a crooked grin, âDonât get used to it. Mine was just⊠selfish. Desperate.â
He looked at you, the warmth in his gaze soft but unwavering, âItâs good to be selfish sometimes.â
You held his gaze, breath catching slightly when his eyes didnât waver. There was something weighty in the silenceâsomething soft and unspoken stretching between you, tugging gently at the space that separated your bodies.
Theoâs fingers drummed once against the tabletop, then stilled. Neither of you moved.
Your pulse thrummed in your ears. He looked at you like he was trying to memorize the shape of your face, and for a second, just one second, you let yourself wonder what it would feel like to close the distance.
Then you blinked, cleared your throat, and reached for his plate. âWell. Since you think itâs good to be selfish,â You said, trying to sound casual, âIâm gonna eat the rest of your pasta.â
Theo let out a breath that mightâve been a laughâor a sigh. Maybe both, âOiâat least leave room for dessert.â
***
Loud, boisterous laughter was the first thing that dragged Theo out of a half-dream. He groaned, arm flinging over his eyes as the unmistakable sound of his front door swinging openâwithout ceremonyâhit him like a freight train.
âWhat theâwho the hell is making all that noise?â He muttered, voice hoarse as he blinked toward the ceiling.
The culprits were, predictably, already raiding his kitchen like starved hyenas: Draco, Lorenzo, Mattheo, and Blaise, helping themselves to his fresh bread and the groceries heâd actually gone out and picked himselfâbecause unlike those degenerates, he cared about food quality.
He shouldâve never given them spare keys.
âFor emergencies,â Heâd said. âOnly if itâs important,â Heâd said.
Idiotic. Clearly, their definition of âemergencyâ included hungover brunches and unsolicited early morning gossip.
âMorning, sunshine,â Draco drawled with an infuriating smirk, already sprawled across Theoâs sofa, eating the hand-picked strawberries Theo had searched three markets to find, âYouâre just in time for the morning newsâ
Theo groaned louder and face-planted into the cushions, âCould you shut up? Some of us are trying to sleep in our own damn flat.â
âOh, come on,â Blaise said, smirking as he rifled through Theoâs cabinets, âYou mustâve heard by now. (L/N). You remember herâPansy's roommate. She left Bulstrode at the altar. Just ran right out.â
Lorenzo let out a low whistle, âLeft Bulstrode standing there like an absolute mug. At the altar, mate. In front of everyone. Just turned and walked straight out mid-vows. I meanâiconic.â
Mattheo, chewing thoughtfully on a stolen slice of sourdough, shrugged, âServes him right. No way Bulstrode was ever gonna bag a babe like (L/N). Heâs got the charm of a wet napkin.â
âAnd get this,â Blaise said, lowering his voice into a tone of mock-conspiracy, eyes glinting, âRumor isâshe had a lover on the side. Secret romance, hidden rendezvous, the whole nine yards. Some bloke sheâs apparently been in love with for ages. No one knows who, though.â
Theo, face still hidden by the couch cushions, flinched.
Blaise squinted at him, âYou look... twitchy. Something you wanna share with the group?â
Before Theo could invent an excuse, a sound cut through the roomâsoft footsteps padding across the floorboards.
The guest bedroom door creaked open.
You stepped out, bleary-eyed, rubbing your face with the sleeve of Theoâs oversized hoodieâhis hoodie that hung off your frame like it had been stitched for you. Your hair was tousled from sleep, legs bare, the joggers youâd worn the night before still draped over a chair in the corner, clearly forgotten.
Theoâs eyes flicked up to you for a momentâheart skipping a beat at the sight of your flushed cheeks and mussed hairâbut he quickly masked the softness with a cool, unreadable glance.
Every sound in the room died on cue.
You blinked at the kitchen full of frozen Slytherins and offered a sheepish smile, âUm⊠morning?â
The silence that followed was nothing short of reverent.
Mattheo dropped his toast. Lorenzoâs jaw unhinged. Draco choked on a strawberry. Blaise turnedâslowly, dramaticallyâto Theo with the grin of a man who had just unearthed a scandal.
And thenâchaos.
âNo bloody way,â Blaise said, pointing an accusatory finger, âYou?! Youâre the lover?!â
âNo, no,â Theo said immediately, sitting up straighter, âSheâs notâI mean, itâs notâ Itâs not like that.â
You nodded, âItâs really not what it looks like.â
âSheâs notââ Theo added, standing abruptly.
âWeâre notââ You said at the same time.
âDating.â You both finished in unison.
The pause that followed was only broken by Blaiseâs slow, disbelieving laugh, âYou two seriously rehearsed that or something?â
Mattheoâs gaze flicked from you, to the hoodie, to Theoâs bedhead and thoroughly disheveled state, âYou sly, secretive little bastard.â
âYouâre blushing,â Lorenzo cackled, pointing at Theo.
âIâm not blushing.â
âYouâre so red your freckles are blending in.â
âYou lot need to leave,â Theo growled, yanking the mug out of Dracoâs hand.
âOh, weâll leave,â Mattheo said, standing with an exaggerated sigh, âJust as soon as we finish processing the greatest plot twist since Dumbledore kicked it.â
âI donât know,â Lorenzo mused, âThis might top it. Runaway bride finds solace in former classmateâs bedââ
âSpare room!â You and Theo barked at once.
âOh right,â Blaise said, lazily gesturing to you, âBecause that totally explains the no-pants situation.â
You threw up your hands, âHe doesnât have any trousers that fit me!â
Mattheo let out a low whistle, âStars above, I wish I had popcorn.â
Theoâs jaw clenched, âShe needed a place to stay. I offered. Thatâs it.â
âAnd I accepted. Platonically.â You stressed.
âAnd Theodore isnât some adulterous whore,â You added with a sigh, âHeâs just an unfortunate bloke with terrible timing who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.â
The way your voice softened at the end made something twist in Theoâs chest.
âWell, you did good,â Lorenzo said, grabbing another slice of bread, âBulstrodeâs an ugly git anyway.â
You shared a glance with Theo who gave you a soft, barely there smile that was meant to reassure you in a way that conveyed, 'See? What you did wasn't so bad.'
âSo whatâs the plan now?â Blaise asked, eyeing the two of you over his coffee, âYou two just gonna keep playing house?â
âOi, ease up,â Theo said, casting him a warning look, âDonât overwhelm her.â
He glanced at you briefly, then added, âWe talked last night.â
âOoo, pillow talk.â Mattheo smirkedâearning himself a slap to the back of the head.
Theo rolled his eyes, âWe were talking, and I offered to let her stay here. As long as she needs.â
You caught Theoâs eye and saw a softness there that only came out when he looked at you. In that moment, the chaos of friends and gossip faded away, leaving just the quiet promise of safety and belonging between you two.
***
You sat cross-legged on the floor, the open suitcase in front of you spilling out clothes, books, and a few small trinkets youâd brought from your old life. The boxes stacked neatly nearby were still untouchedâsilent reminders that this was real, that you were here now.
Getting your things back from your home had been easier than expected. Youâd slipped in while your father was at work, your heart racing as you moved quietly through the familiar halls. The moment your hand wrapped around your wandâleft behind for safekeeping during the weddingâit felt like you could finally breathe again. You packed up your life swiftly, shrinking and sending each box to Theoâs flat before you could second-guess yourself.
âIt feels weird seeing all my stuff here.â You murmured, running your fingers over your old Slytherin scarf. A soft smile tugged at your lips as memories from Hogsmeade weekends and late-night gossip sessions filled your head. Back in school, your dormmates used to call dibs on the boys in your yearâPansy obviously claimed Draco, Daphne was hell-bent on Mattheo (she had a thing for bad boys, she used to say). The others squabbled over Blaise and Lorenzo, leaving you with Theo by default. Youâd taken it in stride, because Merlin forbid you end up with Crabbe or Goyle. If only sixth-year you knew youâd one day be living with Theo Nott after bolting from your own wedding.
âLike this is really happening.â You said softly.
Theo leaned against the doorway, arms folded, watching you with a look you couldnât quite place. You let your eyes rake over himâhow he somehow made jeans and a simple black long-sleeved tee look sinfully good without even trying.
âDonât you want to unpack?â He asked after a moment, voice casual, âMake it feel a bit more like yours?â
You shook your head, teeth tugging at your lower lip, âI donât want to get too comfortable. I need to move out soon, find my own place. Canât just settle in someone elseâs flat.â
Your eyes drifted to the empty dresser and the bare walls, imagining them filled with your perfume bottles, your shoes lined up in the closet, your keepsakes resting in quiet corners of the room. It felt⊠indulgent. And dangerous.
Theo pushed off the doorframe and crossed the room with that quiet confidence that always made your stomach flip. He crouched beside you, fingers brushing yours as he gently pulled the scarf from your hands.
âDonât be so pressured,â He said softly, âTake your time.â
Your breath caught at the tenderness in his voice, so at odds with the sarcasm he usually deflected with. His gaze held yoursâwarm, steady, unflinching.
âWhat kind of fake adulterous whore would I be,â he added, smirking just a little, âif I didnât give you a comfortable place to stay while you figure things out?â
You let out a shaky laugh, swatting his arm as your cheeks flushed. The warmth in his eyes made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. It felt... safe. For the first time in a long time.
He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering just a second too long. Your breath hitched. Your heart thudded. And before you could stop yourself, your gaze flicked to his mouth.
The moment hung thereâsuspended and fragileâuntil it broke like glass.
Theo cleared his throat and pulled back. You dropped your gaze and fanned your burning cheeks, pretending not to notice the way your entire body buzzed with unspoken tension.
He stood, casting a quick glance around the room before his eyes landed on a box labeled âBathroom.â With a quiet smile, he bent to pick it up.
âIâll go put this over there.â He said, voice gentler now even though you both were well aware he could've used his magic to charm the objects in its place.
You watched him go, heart fluttering wildly in your chest, feeling strangely steady for the first time in days.
Strangely at home.
***
Watching Theo get ready for work every morning had become your newest, most humbling routine. In the quiet hours before he leftâhair perfectly styled, cufflinks glinting faintly in the sunlightâyou were struck with the growing realization that your life was a blank page. And not in the hopeful, inspiring way. No, it felt like staring at an overdue assignment you had no idea how to finish.
When he was home, everything felt a little easierâlight conversation over breakfast, quiet companionship in the evenings, his effortless presence filling the flat with a calm you hadnât realized you craved. But once he was out the door, you were left with hours that stretched out like an endless, silent ache. And with that ache came the inevitable realization: you werenât here to play house with Theodore Nott. You needed to get your life in order.
Which was why, this morning, you were dressed. Not just dressedâput together. A soft, Chanel-inspired ensemble hugged your form, elegant and mature, polished right down to the glossy sheen of your lips.
Across the table, Theo sat in his usual tailored suit and tie, sipping his coffee while reading the newspaper.
He was a dream roommateâunbothered, polite, attentive without being invasive. He cooked most mornings and evenings, and you handled lunch and dishes out of principle more than anything else. And yet, no matter how well you split the duties, you still felt like a freeloader in silk pajamas. He never asked you to contribute, never brought up rent or groceries or anything at all.
Which, ironically, only made the guilt settle heavier in your chest.
It was unbearable. So this newfound spark of motivationâthis desire to prove you could stand on your own two feet againâburned fast and hot.
He was fixing his watch by the mirror beside the door, running gelled fingers through his hair, smoothing it back with that practiced grace. You stepped over, holding his coat in one hand and yours in the other, and offered it to him with a quiet, âHere.â
He murmured a small thanks as he slipped into it, but you didnât step back.
Instead, you reached up to adjust his tie, fingers deft as you corrected the slight tilt in the knot. âI know youâre just going to mess it up the second you get to the office,â you said, smiling softly, âbut itâs driving me crazy.â
You smoothed the tie down gently, fingertips brushing the lapels of his coat. When your eyes lifted, you caught him staringânot at your eyes, but your lips, still slick with gloss from your post-breakfast touch-up, and suddenly it felt like a mistake to stand this close, in this kind of silence, with him looking at you like that.
You met his gaze. Your heart stuttered.
Was he leaning in?
Or were you imagining itâsome cruel trick your body played when it got too used to his scent, his proximity, the low hum of affection that vibrated just beneath the surface?
Before you could answer, he inhaled sharply and stepped back, the moment snapping like a taut string.
âBusy day today?â He asked, voice neutral, composed.
You cleared your throat, recovering quickly.
âYeah,â You said, grabbing your purse and your coat, avoiding his eyes, âIâm visiting Slughorn at Hogwarts. I was always good at potions, and he used to favor meâmostly because I always showed up to those ridiculous Slug Club meetings.â You gave a faint chuckle.
âI heard heâs still teaching and struggling to keep up with his personal research. I was kind of his unofficial assistant in seventh year, so⊠Iâm hoping heâll consider taking me on. As an apprentice or something.â
You kept your tone light, casual, even though your pulse thudded in your throat. You avoided his eyes as you adjusted the strap of your purse.
Theo held the door open for you, and your heart flipped in your chest like it always did when he did things like that without thinkingâlike it was natural. Like you belonged here.
âGood luck, (Y/N).â He said simply, his voice low but earnest.
You turned your head slightly, offering him a small smile. The way he was looking at you made your steps falter for just a second.
âThank you.â You said, voice barely above a whisper.
And then you walked on, heels clicking softly on the marble floor, heart fluttering like mad against your ribs.
***
You practically skipped down the stone steps of Hogwarts, the weight of your nervous anticipation completely lifted from your shoulders. The crisp air smelled of old parchment and damp moss, and for once, you didnât mind. Your cheeks were flushed, your hands clutching the letter Slughorn had scrawled in excitement after your meeting: an official offer to join him as his private research assistant, with the intent of training you to become a certified Potions Master.
Your heart was hammering by the time you reached Theoâs flat, and you didnât even knockâjust flung the door open and stepped inside, calling his name like a storm announcing itself.
âTheo!â
He appeared from the hallway, towel slung over his shoulder, clearly mid-way through drying his hair, shirt sleeves rolled up, âWhat? Are you okay?â
You beamed so brightly you couldâve lit the whole room with just the force of it, âI got itâI got the position! Iâm going to train with Slughorn! Heâs taking me on!â
For a second, Theo just blinked at you, frozen in place. Then your words seemed to register fully and he opened his mouth to say somethingâbut before he could, you launched yourself at him.
Your arms flung around his neck, and he caught you with a startled grunt, stumbling back half a step before wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, instinctively keeping you upright. You laughed, giddy and breathless against his shoulder, your legs kicking slightly off the ground.
âI knew you would.â He said against your temple, voice low and warm and slightly amused, though the hug he gave you was grounding, solid, and real.
You pulled back just enough to look up at him, eyes bright, âIâm going to be a Potions Master.â
Theoâs hands stayed on your waist, his lips twitching into a rare, open smile, âYouâre going to be brilliant.â
You didnât know what possessed you thenâmaybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the way he was still holding you like you were something preciousâbut you leaned in without thinking and pressed a kiss to his cheek, quick and full of warmth.
Theo blinked, stunned.
You blinked, too, realizing what you just did.
He slowly set you down on your feet, clearing his throat, but the faintest shade of pink had crept up his neck.
"Thank you, Theo." You whispered, looking up at him like he hung the moon in the sky, "For everything."
***
You were halfway through folding the laundry while Theo showered when the door flew open with no warning, the sharp click of heels on hardwood echoing like the cue for a dramatic entrance.
âSurprise, darling!â Pansy announced grandly, stepping into the apartment with a flourish, a pastry box in one hand and designer sunglasses in the other, âI brought macarons from that place you liked in ParisâTheo, you better be decent!â
She strutted into the living room expecting to find her best friend brooding over black coffee, muttering about case files or the Ministryâs latest idiocy.
Instead, she found you.
Her heel halted mid-click. Her eyes went wide, lips parting in stunned recognition.
â(Y/N)?â
You blinked, holding a half-folded jumper, âHiâ?â
The pastry box slipped from her fingers, forgotten as she gasped.
â(Y/N)!â
Before you could react, she barreled across the room, arms wide, heels thudding across the floor. She crashed into you with a hug that nearly knocked you into the couch, her perfume wrapping around you like a familiar blanket as she squeezed you breathless.
You laughed, arms wrapping around her just as tightly, âOh God, Iâm so sorry I didnât make it to the wedding! I couldnât get a Portkey in timeâI felt awful. Iâve missed you so much!â
Pansy pulled back to get a proper look at you, holding you at armâs length like she needed to confirm you were real, âOh, howâs newlywed life treating you? Howâs your husbandââ she started brightly, then trailed off.
Her eyes scanned your outfitâcomfy shorts and an old Quidditch teeâand then flicked to the half-folded laundry scattered across the coffee table.
And that was precisely the moment Theo stepped out of the bathroom.
Shirtless. Damp. Joggers slung low on his hips. A towel around his neck, his hair still dripping.
Pansy blinked. You blinked. Theo froze like a deer in headlights.
Her eyes snapped between you and Theo. Once. Twice.
Her jaw dropped.
âNo. Bloody. Way.â
You swallowed hard, âI, uh... I ran from the altar. Iâve been living here for a month. Surprise?â
A beat of silence.
Thenâ
âYou absolute plonkers!â Pansy shouted, whirling around like a furious peacock as the front door opened again and the rest of the boys filtered inâDraco, Blaise, Mattheo, Enzoâall pausing mid-step at the scene.
Theo grimaced.
Pansy turned on Draco with fury, âYou ranted to me for an hour last night about Potterâs work ethic, but you didnât think to mention that one of my closest friends from school ran out of her own wedding and moved in with Theo?â
Dracoâs eyes widened, âI thought you knew!â
âYou lot are unbelievable.â She huffed, throwing her hands up.
Draco looked caught somewhere between amusement and panic. Blaise choked on a laugh. Mattheo raised his hands in mock innocence.
Pansy, eyes glittering with mischief, turned back to you with an exasperated scoff, âWeâre getting drinks tonight. You and I are going to unpack every bloody bit of this madness. And if thereâs any scandal youâre hiding from me, I swear to Merlinââ
You gave her a sheepish smile, heart fluttering with the kind of warmth that only old friendships could bring.
âI wish. But I canât tonight. Iâm working with Slughorn nowâofficiallyâand Iâve got my first full day tomorrow. Still need to study up a bit. I really donât want to get fired before I even make it to lunch.â
Pansyâs features softened instantly. She stepped forward, cupping your cheeks with warm hands and smoothing your hair in a way that made your eyes sting.
âSlughorn?â She breathed, proud and a little misty, âYouâre working with Slughorn? Thatâs incredible. Iâm so proud of you.â
Your throat tightened, âThanks, Pansy. God, I missed you. Letâs do a proper catch-up this weekend, yeah? I donât want to keep you from your homecoming partyâyou should go have fun.â
She nodded and pulled you into one last tight hug. âThis weekend,â she warned playfully, âor I swear Iâll come kidnap you from this flat myself.â
You laughed, hugging her back, âDeal.â
Just then, Theo reappeared in the living room, now fully dressed and slipping his watch onto his wrist. He reached for his coat, but you were already there, stepping behind him to help him shrug it on.
âDonât you have to be up early tomorrow?â You asked gently, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve.
From behind you, Blaise gave a low whistle.
âOoooh, listen to that,â Mattheo drawled with a teasing grin, âWifeyâs making sure the hubby gets to bed on time.â
Theo rolled his eyes, already used to these jokes and glanced down at you, a quiet smile pulling at his lips, âItâs just one drink.â
You sighed, half amused, half resigned, âOkay. Just⊠donât come home completely smashed.â
âNo promises.â He said with a wink, and the door shut behind them seconds later.
***
The bar buzzed with the low hum of chatter, clinking glasses, and a jazz cover of a Weird Sisters song playing over the speakers. The group had claimed a corner booth, drinks in hand, laughter spilling over every few minutes.
Theo nursed a firewhisky, sitting back with his usual composed expression which caught the attention of Mattheo, âOh, donât drink that too fast, Teddy boy. You donât want to go back absolutely hammered to the missus.â
âYou lot are ridiculous,â Theo muttered, though a hint of fondness softened his tone.
âOh, come off it,â Blaise grinned, swirling his drink, âYou like it. Youâre practically glowing these days. Itâs very unnerving.â
âVery domestic of you, Theo,â Enzo added, smirking, âSharing a flat, cooking her breakfast, letting her steal your clothesââ
âShe doesnât steal my clothes.â
Mattheo grinned, âMate, I saw her wearing your Chudley Cannons jumper yesterday.â
Theo looked away, clearly caught.
Pansy took a slow sip of her cocktail, eyes narrowing thoughtfully. âHonestly, Iâm shocked you let her stay with you. Youâre usually soâŠâ She waved a perfectly manicured hand, âemotionally unavailable. Allergic to company, really.â
Blaise leaned in, eyes gleaming, âI mean hardly a surprise considering how badly gone he was for her back in school.â
Pansy froze mid-sip.
âWaitâwhat? Who was gone for who?!â she gasped, nearly slamming her glass on the table, voice sharp with disbelief.
âYouâre kidding,â Blaise said, laughing, âYou always shoved them into group projects and made them sit together during dinners â we thought you were matchmaking!â
âI was!â Pansy snapped, whipping around to glare at Draco, âBecause I wanted to go with you, and the other cows in our dorm had already called dibs on Enzo, Mattheo, and Blaise. Theo was justâleft!â
She turned back to the table, eyes wide with the horror of missed opportunity, âDonât you think if Iâd known he fancied her, I wouldâve shoved them into a broom cupboard and locked the door?â
Mattheo cackled, âThatâs so on-brand for you.â
Pansy groaned, dramatically dropping her head onto Dracoâs shoulder, âYou absolute wankers. If one of you had opened your mouth years ago, that wedding she had a month ago? Couldâve been yours, Theo.â
Theo sipped his firewhisky quietly, hidden behind the rim of his glass. Flashes of you in a wedding dress and veil flickered behind his eyes, a soft blush spreading across his neck. None of them missed it.
Blaise nudged Mattheo, âHeâs thinking about it now.â
âOh, heâs been thinking about it.â
Theo threw his head back, downing the rest of his firewhiskey in one go, âI need another drink.â
***
The door flew open with a crash, nearly coming off its hinges.
âWe have arrived!â Lorenzo declared, clearly drunk, arms wide, as if expecting applause.
Theo stumbled in between Blaise and Mattheo, arms slung over their shoulders like a war hero being carried off the battlefield. His shirt was half-untucked, hair a mess, and his eyesâwhen he managed to open themâwere glassy and unfocused.
You poked your head out from the kitchen, arms crossed, âWhat happened to âjust one drinkâ?â
âHe drank.â Blaise said simply.
âLike a fish.â Mattheo added.
âLike a moron.â Draco corrected as he strolled in behind them, tossing Theoâs coat over a chair, âHeâs your problem now.â
Theo blinked at the sound of your voice and perked up immediately. âTesoro!â He slurred, trying to walk toward you but very nearly face-planting into the floor. You caught him under the arm just in time.
âHi, Theo,â You said softly, âOh gosh you smell like bad decisions.â
âYou need to eat,â You added, âSomething starchy. Or youâre going to feel like roadkill tomorrow.â
âHe never eats when heâs like this,â Blaise said from where he was sprawled over a kitchen chair, âWeâve tried. Itâs hopeless.â
âChi mangia bene, vive bene, remember?â You said softly, probably butchering his mother's saying as you guided Theo toward the table.
That stopped him. His gaze sharpened just enough to find your eyes.
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours with a quiet breath, âE chi ha te⊠ha tutto.â
Your heart skipped even though you hadn't a clue what he just said.
Mattheo made an exaggerated gagging noise, âOkay, Casanova, wrap it up.â
Draco, grinning, gave you a mock bow, âHeâs all yours. Good luck with drunk Shakespeare.â
As the door shut behind them, Theo was still leaning on you, breathing you in like he needed your scent to stay upright.
âYou smell like a distillery.â You said, amused.
âYou smell like home.â He mumbled.
Your cheeks warmed, and you pushed the plate gently into his lap, âEat your toast, Romeo.â
***
The bar was warm and golden, tucked away on a cobbled side street with velvet booths and enchanted candles flickering lazily overhead. You and Pansy had claimed a prime table by the window, cocktails already half-finished and a bowl of enchanted peanuts floating between you, occasionally popping like popcorn.
âI swear,â Pansy said, leaning in conspiratorially, âif Draco mentions his new wand polish one more time, I will hex him bald.â
You snorted into your drink, eyes gleaming, âYou wouldnât. You like running your hands through his hair too much.â
It was the first proper girlsâ night out youâd had in what felt like forever, and Pansy â ever the scene-stealing, chaos-bringing goddess she was â made it feel like the war, the heartbreak, and everything in between had never happened.
âSo,â She drawled, resting her chin on her palm with a wicked glint in her eye, âTell me everything. Are you dating? Shagging? Secretly married? Come on, give me the details.â
You laughed, swirling the pink liquid in your glass â some fruity, glittering cocktail you hadnât tasted since your Hogwarts days. It cooled your fingers while your cheeks burned hotter by the second.
You rolled your eyes, trying to bite back your smile, âItâs not like that, Pans. Weâre just good friends. Honestly, I donât think Iâd have made it this far without him.â
âOh darling,â She said with mock pity, âitâs always ânot like thatâ until youâre wearing his jumpers and catching feelings.â
You opened your mouth to objectâbut the words caught in your throat. You had worn his jumper. You were catching feelings.
Pansyâs eyes widened. She gasped, clutching her chest with dramatic flair, âNo. No way. You like him.â
âI didnât say that." You muttered.
âYou didnât have to!â She squealed, grabbing your hands across the table, âOh, you poor lovesick thing. I knew it. I knew it!â
You groaned, burying your face in your hands, âYou are insufferable.â
âIâm right, though,â She sang smugly, taking another sip of her drink, âAnd I actually happen to know that our dear Teddy has beenââ
â(Y/N).â
The voice cut through the air like a curse.
You froze.
Pansyâs glass paused halfway to her lips. Her smile vanished.
Your blood ran cold. You didnât have to look to know who it was â that voice had once lived in your dreams. Now it only haunted your nightmares.
You stared up at him, heart thudding so hard it felt like it might crack your ribs. He looked mostly the same â slicked-back hair that tried too hard to look effortless, a coat more expensive than it was tasteful, and that same smirk he always wore like armor. His jaw was tighter now, clenched like he hadnât unclenched it in months. His eyes were cold, sunken a little, and mean in a way they didnât even bother to hide.
âI didnât expect to find you here.â He said, voice low, razor-edged.
Pansy was on her feet before you could speak, stepping in front of you like a drawn wand. âAnd yet here you are,â She said, all sugar and venom, âFunny how you manage to show up where no one wants you.â
He didnât even glance at her. His eyes stayed locked on you, âWe need to talk.â
âNo, we really donât,â Pansy snapped, âBack off before I hex your bits so far inward youâll need a St. Mungoâs specialist to find them.â
âPansy,â you murmured, brushing your fingers against her sleeve. Your hand was shaking.
He took a step closer, âJust five minutes. Thatâs all Iâm asking.â
You rose slowly, pushing your chair back, jaw tight, âFine. Five minutes. Nothing more.â
âAbsolutely notââ Pansy began, but you shook your head.
âIâm okay.â
You werenât. Not even remotely. But you needed this to end. To really end.
The night air was sharp against your skin, the hum of the city muffled as you stepped into the alley behind the bar. You folded your arms, more out of defense than cold.
âSo this is what it takes to find you now?â He said, voice curling with disdain, âAre you selling yourself like a whore on street corners now?â
You exhaled slowly, trying to keep your voice steady, âWhat do you want?â
He took a step forward, âI heard the rumors. People talk, you know. Especially when a bride vanishes in silk and ends up playing house with that filthy blood traitor Theodore Nott.â
Your lips parted in disbelief.
âI shouldâve known,â he sneered, âYou always acted so self-righteous. But look at you now â just another slag hopping into the next manâs bed. Must be nice not needing vows to spread your legs, yeah?â
The words hit like a slap, your stomach twisting with fury and disbelief.
âIâm done listening to this.â
You turnedâand before you could even brace yourself, he yanked you sharply by the collar and slammed you hard against the brick wall. The air whooshed out of your lungs as your back hit the cold surface, the impact jarring your entire body.
His hands tightened suddenly around your throat, fingers digging into your skin in a cruel grip. You gasped for air, panic surging as darkness edged your vision.
âDonât you dare think you can just walk away from me.â He hissed through clenched teeth, eyes wild and merciless.
You clawed at his hands, desperate to break free, but his strength was overwhelming, pressing down harder, choking the breath from you.
"Reducto!"
The spell hit him square in the chest, blasting him off you with bone-jarring force. He flew backward, crashing into the far wall of the alley with a sickening thud before collapsing in a heap, gasping and stunned.
Pansy didnât hesitate.
She stormed toward him like a vengeful shadow, wand leveled between his eyes as he groaned and tried to sit up. Her voice was shakingâbut only with rage.
âYou filthy little coward,â she spat, every word laced with venom, âTouch her again, and Iâll break every bone in your body.â
He growled, trying to riseâPansy kicked him flat in the chest, knocking him back to the ground with her heel, âStay. Down.â
Your knees buckled, the sudden rush of oxygen burning your throat as you slid down the wall, coughing and trembling.
âWhoaâhey.â Pansy caught you, strong and certain, one arm steadying you as the other clutched her wand, âIâve got you, love. Youâre okay. Weâre going home.â
And this time, you let her carry the weight.
***
The world spun sharply as Pansy apparated, the crack of displaced air still echoing in your ears. The warmth of her body vanished the moment your feet hit solid groundâwood floors, familiar scents. You were in Theoâs flat.
Laughter and chatter from the living room fell to a jarring halt.
Five pairs of eyes turned in unison: Theo, Draco, Blaise, Mattheo, and Enzoâall frozen mid-conversation, drinks in hand. The moment they saw you, everything dropped.
â(Y/N)?â
Your name left Theo like a punch to the gut.
You were trembling, arms wrapped tight around your middle as if they could hold your ribs together. Pansy still held onto you, as if she wasnât entirely sure you wouldnât collapse, and even she looked rattled under the scrutiny of the room.
âThat fucker,â She said through gritted teeth, âGrabbed her outside the bar. Slammed her into a wall. Tried toââ her voice faltered, thick with fury, âShe couldnât breathe.â
Theo moved.
Fast.
He crossed the room in three strides, gently brushing Pansy aside like she was made of smoke. Then he was in front of you, hands hovering for a split second before he cupped your face, cradling you like you were something fragile and sacred.
His eyes roamed over your featuresâyour split lip, your glassy eyes, the bruising fingerprints beginning to bloom like violets around your throatâand something in him shattered.
His jaw clenched, fury crashing through him like a tidal wave. He looked like he could tear the world apart.
âIâm fine.â You rasped, voice barely more than a whisper.
You tried to smileâa brittle, curling thing, âI know that probably doesnât help my case, but⊠trust me, Iâm fine.â
âDonât do that,â Theo said softly, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, his voice hoarse and tight, âDonât lie to me right now.â
Your breath hitched.
Draco hovered beside Pansy now, brushing her hair behind her ear as he muttered something only she could hear. She nodded once, giving her boyfriend a soft smile before turning her gaze back to you, eyes gleaming with steel.
Theo gently tugged you forward into his chest.
You didnât resist.
You couldnât.
Your limbs had surrendered somewhere between the alley and the flat, and he was warm, steadyâhome. Before you could stop it, a sob cracked loose from your chest, raw and shaking. Your hands fisted into his shirt like it was the only thing tethering you to earth.
He held you tighter.
âIâve got you,â he murmured, voice trembling beneath the quiet, âIâve got you, sweetheart.â
The flat was eerily quiet now. One by one, the boys filtered out, their faces grim with the weight of what had just happened.
Mattheo lingered just long enough to press a firm, reassuring hand to your shoulder. His voice was low, steady, almost a promise, âYouâre safe now. Weâll take care of everything from here.â
Blaise didnât say a word. Instead, he gave a slow, deliberate nod to Theo, then to you, his expression taut with barely restrained anger and resolve.
Enzoâs jaw clenched as he glanced at you one last time. âHeâs a dead man,â he muttered under his breath before turning away and joining the others.
You barely noticed them leaving. Your world had shrunk to the steady rhythm of Theoâs heartbeat humming against your ear, the comforting warmth of his hand pressing into your back, and the ache lodged deep in your chest â a raw, stubborn pain that refused to fade.
âI want him arrested. Tonight.â Pansyâs voice cut through the silence like ice, cold and deadly calm but laced with a fury that made the room vibrate, âDraco, Iâm serious. He attacked her in public. Slammed her against a wall. Choked her until she could barely breathe.â
Dracoâs tone was clipped, measured, but the sharp edge of anger was unmistakable, âYou have a name?â
âGraham Bulstrode.â Pansy replied without hesitation, her voice razor-sharp and unyielding.
Dracoâs jaw tightened, âConsider it done, my love.â
Every word settled into your foggy mind â distant but painfully clear. The tremble in your hands hadnât stopped, but Theoâs arms wrapped around you only tightened, as if willing to keep the danger at bay. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head, a quiet vow whispered without words.
When the door finally clicked shut behind the last of the others, the tension finally broke. The tears you had been holding back surged forward, hot and fierce, tumbling freely down your cheeks. You clung to him, the safety of his presence grounding you as the storm inside began to settle.
You buried your face in Theoâs chest, shoulders trembling as the sobs broke free, wracking your entire body with every breath. He held you through it, solid and steady, one hand gently combing through your hair like he could smooth away the terror still clinging to your skin.
âIâm so stupid,â You gasped, the words catching in your throat, âIâveâIâve thought about that moment for the past month. What Iâd say. How Iâd stand up for myself. I imagined throwing that stupid ring back in his smug face, saying something cutting, something finalâbut when it actually happenedâŠâ
Your voice cracked, guilt burning behind your ribs.
âI couldnât even speak. I just froze. I have a wand but I couldn't cast a single spell. I let him say all that shit about meâabout youâand I... I didnât even defend you, Theo. Iâm so sorry. I'm so useless.â
He didnât answer right away.
He just held you tighter, like your apology hurt more than anything else that had happened. When he finally spoke, his voice was quietâgentle, but resolute.
âYou have nothing to be sorry for.â
His words rumbled in his chest, warm against your cheek.
âI donât give a damn about what you said or didnât say to him. You donât owe me a defenseânot ever.â
You looked up at him, blinking through the tears. His eyes found yours, fierce and heartbreakingly soft, like you were something sacredâsomething heâd never let break.
âAnd youâre not stupid, (Y/N), or useless,â He said, voice thick with emotion, âYouâre incredible. Brave. Stronger than you even realize. And Iâm so fucking proud of you.â
His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your foreheadâgentle, grounding, safe.
âHeâs not going to get away with this,â Theo whispered, âI promise you.â
You sighed, sinking deeper into him, like you could finally let go of everything youâd been holding in. His arms wrapped around you again, warm and sure.
âCome on,â he murmured, âLetâs treat that bruise. Get you something to eat.â
But you shook your head, face pressed tight against his chest.
âDonât let me go.â
The silence that followed wasnât heavy anymoreâit was tender, healing. You curled into him like you could disappear there, into the rhythm of his breathing and the thrum of his heart.
âIâm never going to let you go.â
And you believed him.
His heartbeat echoed beneath your ear, strong and unwavering. With every beat, the weight in your chest began to liftâslowly, steadily.
Safe. Loved. Finally, home.
***
A couple weeks later it was raining softly outside, the kind of slow, constant drizzle that blurred the windows and made the world feel far away. You and Theo were curled up on the couch, legs tangled, a blanket lazily thrown across your laps. A half-empty mug sat abandoned on the coffee table beside a crumpled takeout bag. The telly hummed faintly in the background, long forgotten.
âSo then she goes, âI forgot to run the control,ââ You said, exasperated, âand I swear to Merlin, I have never seen Slughorn that mad in his life.â
Theo snorted, one arm draped across your shoulders, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, âServes her right for always nicking your freshly ground moonstone.â
âRight? And of course, the one day Iâm not there to supervise her, she completely tanks it. Itâs not like I was goofing offâI was at the Ministry signing off the paperwork for Bulstrode's trial.â You sighed, âSlughorn knew, so I didnât get in trouble, but I still have to repeat all her damn trials for the next few weeks. As if I donât already have enough on my plate.â
âWhatâs keeping you so busy, Bella?â Theo asked, smiling as he gently unraveled the curl and let it spring back into place, âMaybe I can help.â
âWell, Iâve been needing to check out some apartments. Canât really leave that to you, now can I?â You yawned, âBut if you want, we could go together?â
Theo stilled.
He pulled back just slightly, brows furrowed as he studied your face, âApartment hunting?â
You blinked, âYeah⊠Iâve been looking at places closer to work. Just something small. I mean, I donât make much yet.â
There was a beat of silence, then, âWaitâ(Y/N), are you planning to move out?â
You nodded slowly, suddenly self-conscious, âI meanâIâve been here for a while now and I love it, obviously, but I didnât want to overstay my welcome. I figuredââ
âYou think youâre overstaying?â His voice cut gently but sharply through your words.
You faltered, âWell, I justââ
âYouâre not,â Theo said, a little breathless now, like the words had been sitting on the edge of his tongue for too long, âYouâre not overstaying. I want you here.â
Your breath hitched.
âI want to come home to you. Every day. Not to an empty flat. Not to a world where youâre somewhere else.â
His hand found yours, threading your fingers together like a lifeline. His voice dropped lower, steadier.
âStay. Please.â His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow and sure, âI want to come home knowing the woman I love is safe. Here. With me.â
You stared at him, wide-eyed, the world narrowing to his hand in yours, the soft thunder of rain against the windows, the warmth of his words blooming in your chest like magic.
âWhat do you mean, the woman you love?â
Theo let out a quiet laugh, a little stunned you hadnât realized it already. His smile turned lopsided, eyes shining.
âAre you daft, (Y/N)?â He said, voice thick, âIâm in love with you. Iâve been taken with you since we were kids, and Iâm stillââ He broke off for a breath, like the truth was catching up to him all at once. âStill completely gone for you.â
Your heart did something unsteady in your chest.
âSay it again.â You whispered.
He cupped your cheek with one hand, his eyes never leaving yours.
âIâm in love with you.â
Your heart stuttered. The words lingered in the air between you, delicate and heavy all at onceâlike the hush after a spellâs been cast.
You didnât look away.
You couldnât.
âIâve loved you for a long time too, Theo,â You whispered, the confession trembling on your tongue, âI donât even know when it startedâwhen I began falling for youâbut I did. And I fell hard. I mean, who wouldnât?â
You smiled through the softness in your voice, âYouâre the kindest, most patient man Iâve ever met⊠and Iâm thanking my lucky stars that I met you on the day of my wedding.â
That pulled a laugh from himâwarm, full, and brimming with disbelief. He tilted his head back slightly, grinning like youâd just handed him the entire sky.
You leaned in just a fraction, voice softer now, âI want to stay. Not just in the flat. In your life. With you.â
That did it.
Theo closed the distance, his hands cradling your face as his lips found yours in a kiss that felt like coming home. It was fierce and tender all at onceâlike a dam breaking, like every moment of yearning pouring out of him in one breathless, burning exhale.
You melted into him, arms winding around his neck, your body pressed close as the kiss deepenedâhungry now, desperate. His fingers tangled in your hair, yours fisting in his shirt, both of you trying to memorize the moment, to feel every inch of it like it could make up for all the waiting.
Weeksâmonthsâof unspoken words, of lingering touches and stolen glances, of intimate moments that always ended with breathless silences and aching restraintâcrashed into a single breath.
Theo kissed you like you were his lifelineâlike heâd been holding back a storm and had finally been given permission to let it break.
You gasped as his lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, your throatâreverent, hungry, like he was rediscovering you with every breath. âTell me to stop,â He murmured, voice hoarse with restraint, âSay the word, and I will.â
But you didnât. You couldnât.
Instead, you tugged him closer, heart pounding under his palm as your fingers slid into his hair, voice trembling with a dangerous sort of affection, âIf you stop, Theodore Nott, Iâm sleeping at Pansyâs tonight.â
He let out a low, incredulous laughâhalf-choked and fully wreckedâthen kissed you again, deeper this time. Certain. Claiming. The rain tapped gently against the windows, forgotten behind the haze of fogged glass and the thrum of two hearts finally letting go.
And when he lifted you off the couch, carrying you down the hall with all the tenderness in the world and not an ounce of hesitation, the only thing either of you could think was:
About bloody time.
***
It was barely 9 a.m. when the front door to Theoâs flat creaked openâagain, without so much as a knock.
Mattheoâs voice cut through the quiet, âI swear, if this idiot didnât do the groceries and we hiked all the way here for his strawberries for nothing, Iâm setting the place on fire.â
âI brought croissants.â Lorenzo offered brightly.
âYou brought them from my kitchen,â Draco said flatly, âYou literally stole them from my counter.â
Theo stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, âDo none of you understand the concept of boundaries?â
He was mid-scowl when Blaiseâs voice drifted in from the hallway, âDon't you imbeciles think it's too early toââ
And then they all fell silent.
You had just stepped out of the bedroomâthe master bedroom this time, not the guest roomâbleary-eyed and yawning, wearing nothing but Theoâs hoodie. Again. Hair a little messy, legs bare, looking entirely at home.
Mattheo let out a dramatic sigh, âAlright, but like⊠why is it always the hoodie and no pants? Not that Iâm complainingâitâs just, you know what, never mind.â
Blaise leaned against the kitchen island, arms crossed, âSo whatâs the excuse this time? Sleepwalking? Laundry explosion? Sudden amnesia about how trousers work?â
You didnât even flinch.
âWeâre dating,â You said flatly, tugging the sleeve of Theoâs hoodie over your hand as you rubbed your eye, âAnd Iâm not wearing pants because I had sex with your friend. Good morning.â
Silence.
Four pairs of stunned eyes stared at you.
Lorenzo made a choked noise, âIâokay.â
Mattheo sputtered, hands flailing, âYou canât just say that without warning!â
âYou asked.â You replied dryly.
Draco took a long sip of coffee, muttering behind the rim of his mug, âI owe Pansy ten Galleons.â
***
Bonus:
Your heart pounded as you stared at the closed doors, the soft strains of the wedding march beginning to drift through the wood. Your palms were sweaty around the bouquet you carried, nerves and excitement swirling in your chest.
Then, the doors swung open, revealing you in a stunning white dress, your smile bright and genuine as you began your walk down the aisle. The hush of the ceremony wrapped around you like a warm embrace, the aisle stretching ahead lined with friends and family.
A memory flickered through your mindâjust a couple of years ago, you had run away from a different wedding down the hall, only to find refuge in this very chapel. It was here that you met your to-be husband, the love of your life.
Your eyes locked onto the man standing across the room, looking impossibly handsome in his tailored suit. His gaze locked onto you immediately, and for a moment, all the noise and bustle melted away. It was just you and him.
Only a few feet separated you now, but something in your heart couldnât wait. Before you realized what you were doing, you broke into a gentle runâthis time towards the groom.
Theoâs face broke into a gentle smileâthe kind reserved only for youâas he reached for you. Before you could even think twice, his arms closed around you, catching you effortlessly. Your feet lifted from the floor as he spun you gently, twirling you in a slow, perfect circle.
The world blurredâlights, faces, musicâall faded into a whirl of warmth and happiness.
He pressed his forehead to yours, a slow smile curling on his lips as he whispered, "You just can't wait to marry me, can you?"
You laughed softly, breath warm against his skin, "I couldnât run awayâtried it before. Too much work."
His eyes sparkled with amusement and love as he pulled you closer, the world around you fading into nothing but this perfect, shared moment.
***
EXTRA BONUS BECAUSE I CAN HEHEHE:
Hogwarts, Year 6:
You glanced across the potions table, scanning the clutter of ingredients before turning slightly toward the Slytherin bench.
âTheodore?â You said cautiously, holding your crushed lacewing flies with gloved fingers, âCould I borrow the asphodel? Just for a sec.â
He looked up from his cauldron like youâd just asked for his wand. There was a pause. Not rude, not angryâjust... blank. Then, wordlessly, he slid the jar toward you across the table. His fingers brushed yours for the briefest moment when you took it. Cold skin. A little spark. His hand recoiled like heâd been burned.
âOh. Um. Thanks.â You murmured, blinking.
He just gave a short nod, already turning away, jaw tight as he went back to slicing his valerian root like it had offended him personally.
You blinked again, confused, then padded back over to your side of the room where Pansy was lounging against the workbench like it was a chaise lounge in the Slytherin common room.
She quirked an eyebrow, âWhat was that?â
You shrugged, a slight pout forming on your lips, âI donât know. I guess he just really doesnât like me.â
Pansy snorted, âPlease. If Theo really didnât like you, youâd know.â
Meanwhile, across the room, Theo was absolutely not concentrating on his potion anymore. He was staring blankly into the cauldron, stirring too fast, ears tinged pink.
Your hands just touched.
***
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