#getou hcs

getou raises his arms as if to relent, his cigarette tilting off his bottom lip. "just thought i'd check in. you needed a lighter, right?"

you point to your cigarette, also resting in your mouth. "does it look lit to you?"

your classmate takes a step forward, hand digging around in his pant pocket when an idea struck him. he makes a show of shoving his hand in his other pocket, and then peeking into his shirt, flicking his bangs to the side to get a good look, before coming back emptyhanded. "oh man, looks like i left my lighter behind as well."

"yeah? where'd you leave it?"

"with gojo."

you send him an unimpressed look. "the non-smoker of our group?"

"he wanted to see if it would light underwater. called it his hypothesis. if it's him, he'd probably make it somehow."

though it was very difficult to believe getou's terrible excuse, you don't disagree.

you scan him up and down, from his warm smile that would fool everyone but you, to his pants that dragged down on one side, something heavy causing the shift in fabric. "is that a lighter in your pocket or are you happy to see me?"

"i'm always happy to see you. hey, come here."

your body stutters at that. "what?"

getou ignores your deer-in-headlights look and steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you in one step. leaning down, he secures his cigarette with two fingers, using his other hand to balance himself on the wall beside you, and presses it against your own. you didn't see this happening, you could only infer as your eyes dances around his face instead, captivated at the proximity and the smoothness of his skin, the way his hair fluttered gently in the winter air, the slight redness of his nose and the furrow between his brow as he held his cigarette.

he peers down to ensure the two sticks meet, eyelashes casting shadows against his cheek.

when your cigarette catches on, and you don't see this from happening either, getou's eyes flicker to look at yours. your eyes meet with a spark that doesn't come from your cigarettes, and holds until you feel the smoke irritate the back of your throat.

taking a step back, you lightly clear your throat. when you take a deep breath of your cigarette, you realise you really needed it. "what the heck, getou, that was too smooth. you could make a girl swoon with that."

"well, did it work on you?"

you meet his eyes with a start. "did you want it to?"

you let the silence draw out, looking into his eyes as if they'd give you an answer, especially when he doesn't. suddenly, getou breaks the eye contact, a slight red dusting his cheeks. he chuckles humourlessly. you watch as getou inhales and exhales, leaning against the wall and looking straight ahead.

"way to turn it back on me." he says.

"it's your fault for not being prepared."

"how can i ever be prepared when you find the weirdest things to say?"

"it's been three years now, you'd think you found a way around that already."

you huff out a condensed breath of smoke and when the wind doesn't start to blow it away, you do it yourself, fanning it with an irritated wave. when your hand comes back down to rest on the wall, your pinky hits getou's hand.

you don't pull away, but you look over at him. his faux indifference isn't lost on you, his gaze pulled to the side opposite you as if there was anything interesting about the trees and rocks. even though his head is turned away, the red on the tips of his ears and the smile he tries to hide with his cigarette is unmistakeable.

you blink slowly, the tingle from the connection making your heartbeat faster even when the chemicals in your cigarette work to slow it down. finally, you intertwine your pinky with his. you hear him exhale deeply, and then shuffle to face the front once more. what he didn't expect was you, staring right at him to catch his eye.

getou's face burns. "what is it?" he asks, clearing his throat.

"nothing."

"if it was nothing, you wouldn't be looking at me like that."

"i was just thinking. it took you a while to finally make a move, is all."

getou splutters and it's so out of character that it makes you laugh. he groans, covering his face with his other hand, cigarette wedged in between two fingers.

“since when?” he asks behind his hand.

you hum in thought. “maybe last year. what about you?”

“first year. when we first met.”

“love at first sight? you are so cheesy.”

he huffs, the corner of his smile visible despite his efforts. “right? almost wished i didn’t fall in love right then and there.”

“fall in love?” you repeat and he looks at you alarmed. “i was just talking about a little crush, what’s this about love?”

“you—”

your grin steals the words from his mouth and he sighs into his palm. he lets it drop, defeated, cigarette end crunching against the wall. “fine, you win. i should have done something sooner, whatever. you’re terrible.”

you're urged to tease him more when he interlaces with your hand, the grip warm against the snow, firm and steady like it was always meant to be there. this time, when you look up at him, getou’s already gazing right back at you. he doesn’t break his hold this time and it’s your turn to blush at his assertiveness. only then does he seem to falter, feeling conscious.

"now we're just two blushing idiots in the snow."

getou smiles at that. "talk about cheesy." his gaze falls to his cigarette, the end only smoking every now and again. it's dead, he realises, so he puts it out under his foot. "want to head back inside? it's getting cold."

"really?" you say, lifting your interconnected hand. "it's pretty warm for me."

getou gives you a lop-sided grin. "cheesy." he tugs you towards him, towards the door of the school and you have to groan at the prospect of returning to class after all the trouble you went through to get away. you let yourself be dragged off though, hand holding getou's, ready to face the rapid-fire questions you know you'll get asked when you make it back.

still, the heat of your hands makes it way up to your face and you have to tuck your chin into the collar of your shirt to hide the evidence.

the winter air whistles in your ear, its cold a faraway problem.

the type to be looking at you no matter what he’s doing. you’re telling him about your day and he’s drinking water? he’s looking at you over the rim of the glass. you get called in class to answer a question you weren't paying attention to? getou is already looking at you, mouthing the (incorrect) answer. you’re comparing hand sizes? look up and you’ll find him looking at you instead of your interlocked fingers. it’s natural that he’s the first to notice when things are wrong, and the first to tease you

the type to smile when he gets angry and make a face that says "what (kind of nonsense) are you talking about?" he deflects a lot in arguments and never yells, but his low voice is honestly scarier

no sense of personal space whatsoever (blame gojo) so if you want to make a move on him, you have to be very direct. it's a double-edged sword because he'll be teaching you boxing and cover your hand with his to reposition your posture, and only you will think something of it. but at the same time, you can simply wrap your arms around his neck, lean in, and he'll break out in a cold sweat and a blush. he's simple in that way

a girl's kind of guy. he'll hand you a cushion or a plushie if you sit down wearing a skirt or a dress and if there isn't any, he'll wordlessly take off his jacket and hand it to you. always has a spare hairband around his wrist but he doesn't tell you that he also uses it to close off open chip bags when he can't finish them in one sitting. sometimes you do wonder why it smells like salt and vinegar

will take something of yours just so you can ask him for help. if it's raining, he'll take your umbrella so the two of you can walk home under his. of course, he'll be the one walking on the outer edge of the path

getou's a gym rat. wakes up chugs a protein shake (doesn't use a blender, shaking it super hard is enough). usually focuses on arms and abdomen and loves to show off whether it's through boxing or doing push ups with you on his back. objectively, he's really fit but there's something about him walking around his dorm shirtless just to catch a glimpse of himself being Buff that's annoying

thinks he can charm his way out of any situation (he can). he was praised a lot as a kid for being pretty and kind which led him to slipping out of situations he didn't want to be in just by smiling. he thinks the same thing can work on you (usually it does)

late night missions means sleep deprivation for class the next morning, and you carry the bulk of it after three consecutive missions. the next morning, even yaga winces at the heavy bags under your eyes. of course, it’s your boyfriend who’s by your side first. he does most of the talking that day and doesn't say anything when you doze off mid-sentence. he even angles his body so your head can comfortably rest on his shoulder and doesn’t say (much) anything when he sees you drooling. you notice that throughout the day, his hand is always hovering your back

extra — adult getou:

has the habit of talking to you like you're a stray kitten sometimes. there's a benevolent smile on his face and his words are soft, coaxing you out gently as if you were buzzing to flee. it's something he developed after raising nanako and mimiko, but it works just as well on you, too

he still does the same "what the fuck?" smile when he gets angry, but there's a sinister edge to it now, like he's waiting to see how far you can push it before he does something about it

an absolutely terrible chef. perhaps it's because his tastebuds has been destroyed by his technique and cigarettes, but everything he makes is either too salty, too bland, too spicy or everything in between. his culinary skills are fine, and his presentation is frankly award winning but take one bite and you're rushed to the hospital. usually, the two of you just go out for dinner or order uber eats

likes the sensation of someone playing with his hair. whether it's getting you to dry his hair after he gets out of the shower, or allowing himself to be a mannequin to your sudden desire at being a hair stylist, he's satisfied

the bus creaks over the edge of the broken bridge, passengers huddled in corners or pressed up against the window in a means of escape. you usher the children out the door where strangers safely on the other side reach for them. a jarring abyss lays waiting in the gap below. 

another creak, your hands fly out to find balance and you hear the screams of others reflected inside your head. the tremble in your fingers becomes harder to hide as the bus slides down, down, down, suspended only due to the front wheels clinging to the ragged edge of the road. 

spiderman was late, and that mistake was all it’ll take for countless lives to stain his hands. but of course, your boyfriend was the one and only spiderman, and though you often rolled your eyes at his arrogance, it was there for a reason. 

a sudden cheering tears your eyes away from the ledge, and your shoulders sag as a distant figure flies into view. 

even in this moment, you can't help but laugh as he swings excessively over the site. it's almost like time stops when your eyes meet, and you see him through the white of his mask. eyes wide, was that a stammer in his swing? and suddenly he's coming towards you.

something flickers to your right, and you spot the prowler slashing his way towards you too. it must have been the widening of your eyes that gave it away as gojo turns his head and traces your gaze. the stammer in his swing is unmistakable now and with a weird feeling brewing in your stomach, you greet him. 

gojo calls your name and you have to hush him before the sound gets too loud. “are you okay?”

“i’m fine, spiderman. none of us are harmed. everyone’s only terrified because the bus is about to fall into that weird blackhole thing, down there." his eyes follow your finger and he curses. "think you can do your job and save us?” you say when he doesn't immediately move.

gojo nods. his webs fly out from his wrists and ties the front of the bus to two poles on either side of the bridge. they wrap round and round and round once more, just to be safe. just as gojo is about to pull the bus up, the prowler drops onto the road. 

you turn your head with spiderman and only the whispers of bystanders fill the scene. 

“spiderman! long time no see.” 

“this was your doing.” gojo grits out.

“think of it as a surprise gift. i wanted to return what you gave me.” the prowler lifts his hand and yanks at his right arm, pulling it clean off. 

you shriek and hide your eyes with your hands, peeking between your fingers to see that the arm was mechanical. 

“i needed a hand.” gojo retorts. “who knew you would come to my rescue. you didn’t need much convincing to show yourself to me, huh? this time for sure, i’ll get you.” 

the prowler laughs and its the sound of death. “then lets see if you can catch me.” 

he starts running off into the crowd of spectators, a path craved out for him without much effort. spiderman takes a single step forward, before turning back. you recognise the question in his eyes even before he has the chance to voice it.

“go!” you shout. “we’ve got it from here. the longer you stay here, the less time we’ll have to be safe. just go!”

gojo’s eyes show hesitance even through the mask, and for a second, you think he might stay. 

his arm comes up, web shooting from his wrist to secure the bus even more to the edge of the bridge. fear makes your mouth dry but you manipulate it to show a smile anyway. 

“be safe.” spiderman says. “i love—”

“just go!” you say over him, hoping the people around him didn't hear his last few words. “we’ll be okay, dummy.” 

when spiderman leaves, you take in a sharp inhale before turning around. “everyone, come up one at a time! the bus won’t be falling anytime soon but we still have to hurry. get the children out first, here, take my hand!” 

metres away, the prowler tumbles back as spiderman’s feet hit him square in the chest. “you followed me all the way out here, gojo? even though your girlfriend’s in danger?”

gojo swallows back the sour taste in his mouth. “she told me to come.” his webs pull him up high and he uses this to put power behind his next punch. “the only person you should worry about is yourself, getou.”

“where are your usual quips? you seem to be out of your element.” getou dances around gojo's moves with ease.

“if you have enough time to talk, then you have enough time to win. so show me what you’ve got.”

getou growls, digging his claws into the cement underneath and lifting it up, sending it straight up in the air. gojo easily swishes to the side, feeling the piece of earth skim his chest as it rushes past. letting the momentum turn him around, he spins and shoots webs at the prowler’s feet.

“you missed!” gojo taunts, jumping off a streetlamp as the prowler throws something at him again. again, he webs at the prowler.

“it wasn’t you i was aiming for.”

gojo lets the comment fall off his ears, diving between the prowler's legs to kick him across the back of his head. getou grunts, and tries to move only to find himself held in place.

“you’re done.” gojo says, dropping down to walk towards the prowler. 

getou stays silent as gojo walks up, before jerking forward, stepping out of his boots to headbutt gojo. spiderman groans, clutching his head, giving getou enough time to run off. before he could give chase, he was already gone, now more nimble having discarded his armour. 

the prowler has slipped from his fingers. again. gojo snarls, before sighing, he shakes off his regrets and attempts to clear his mind. no, he shouldn’t be focusing on this right now. right now, he just needed to make sure you were safe. turning back, he surveys the scene for something to swing on, to gain aptitude. 

there were those two poles on either side of the bridge, from earlier. perhaps it was the dust he had kicked up, but he could no longer see them in the distance. something chilling fills his stomach, and he chooses to ignore it, aiming his wrists for the next best thing and slinging forward. 

the crowd parts for him. 

“where’s the bus?” he asks no one in particular. the bystanders whisper, but it isn’t an answer that leaves their tongue. gojo’s eyes take in the crumbled bridge, a large chunk of cement situated at the scene that wasn’t there before. with a gutting feeling, gojo peers over the edge of the bridge, straight at the black hole.

his grief is the city’s soundtrack for that night, ringing through the streets where he once kissed you. 

getou suguru

being spiderman is so easy, getou thinks.

as he weaves through the jungle of tokyo skyscrapers, wind caressing his face through the latex, a true tranquillity washes over him. there was nothing quite like being a superhero, especially if you were as good as getou was at his job. and boy was getou good. in fact, he was so good that he wasn't even going to be late to your date.

being spiderman is so easy.

spiderman swings through the open window of his room and with a huff, yanks off his mask. his hair tumbles out, all fuzzled from the static and harboring small knots. getou smooths his troubled hair as best as he can, but gives up settles for finding a cap to shove over it instead, since he’s sure you would complain if he showed up in his current state.

getou spins around his room, whistling in haste, clicking off his web shooters and throwing them somewhere behind him.

the tune dies on his lips when he finds you sitting on the edge of his bed, phone forgotten in your hand.

you stare up at him like he's grown two heads. though, it might be more accurate to say that he grew two faces in that moment.

your initial surprise wears off and you jump at the opportunity to interrogate him. "getou? no, spiderman? are you spiderman? what am i saying, of course you are! you're spiderman! i just saw you swing into your room! you'd think spiderman would have better instincts than this."

at first, getou panics. his hands flail around frantically as if to wave away your questions, but it only fans the flames. eventually, he cracks. laughing, he holds you by the shoulders. "slow down! i can't answer all these questions if you don't let me."

you beam up at him and he remembers why he fell in love with you in the first place. "my boyfriend is spiderman." you reaffirm in wonder.

"and my girlfriend is the most incredible girl i know. who's going to let me change out of my dirty suit before you press me further."

"i was wondering what that smell was."

"i was fighting a sewer monster. you'll see him on the news soon enough."

"so this is where your large, inflated ego comes from. i was wondering where you got your confidence. if only i knew it was because you're spiderman! the spiderman!"

getou exhales a mix of a sigh and a chuckle. he’s almost tempted to think this was a blessing in disguise, for you to know and accept who he was. your eyes peering up at him, not seeing him anew, but seeing him whole. “okay, okay, enough. are you going to stick around to find out what spiderman’s body looks like underneath the suit too. or are you going to let me change by myself?”

for a lost moment, getou wonders why superheroes hide their identities.

spiderman’s hands yearn to grab onto you, the world like rushing water against his ears, fingertips stretched to their limit and he pleads in that moment that if you live, when you live, he'll never involve you with his spiderman side gig again. he’d been so thrilled to bring you along, take you soaring in the skies, sharing that intimate moment suspended between twilight and the city below, letting his most precious person join him in the joys of his world that differed so much from yours. he thought the world would explode in a million happy little pieces of confetti if he did so.

the ground breaks into view and getou sees you, backdropped against the incoming grey cement, and you see him, illuminated by the moon peeking through the steel bars of the watchtower, his mask ripped to show the vulnerable boy beneath.

he screams your name again but you can barely hear it, only making out the outline of his lips.

you've never felt the thrill of falling before, but you know you can't say the same for getou. spiderman practically lives in the air, caught between webs and the night sky. so you wonder why he looks the way he does, fear agape and swallowing his face, a raw kind of desperation that eats up every other facial feature and spitting out the ugly, worrying kind, when he’s in his element.

fingers touch fingers and with effort, spiderman reaches you.

the sudden rush of adrenaline leaves you gasping in his arms and you feel his breath mingling with yours. alive. you had felt the presence of the ground closing in on your neck seconds before his webs halted your descent, a single second late and you’d likely be dead.

the two of you huddle on the ground, holding tight on one another as if letting go would mean you'd never see each other again. getou lets go first, a shaky breath prefacing his words. you smile quietly at his concern, tracing his face with a shaky hand.

"thank god, i thought i would lose you—"

getou hears the bang of a gun before he sees it happen, your head lolled to the side until it thuds against his arm, a frozen smile on your face. he wonders briefly if the relief on your face was fate’s big, cruel joke, or if he should be happy that you had died thinking everything was going to be alright.

blood slowly leaks from the wound on your head. getou turns his head to the perpetrator and toji smiles back.

“a gun might not work on you, but it sure as hell would work on your girlfriend.”

when toji aims the gun next, getou ducks behind another pillar, his arms still holding you. the bullet hits the ground and a cloud of dust separates him and toji momentarily, and he takes the given second to look at you.

your eyes that once saw him, seeing nothing.

ieiri shoko

the news anchor reported that authorities had discovered webbed villains scattered throughout tokyo with several organs misplaced. they don’t want to jump to conclusions nor falsely accuse a certain web-related superhero, the anchor says, but they’d appreciate it if spiderwoman could confirm or deny any connections she may have with the current situation. 

you turn away from the tv to shoko, the spiderwoman herself, as she lounges across the couch. 

“what’s that about?” you ask. 

your girlfriend pauses her game to look up at you. "it wasn't me. what would i do with organs anyway?" she says around the lollipop in her mouth, flicking it side to side to talk. 

you think this is reasonable enough and let the topic drop. they were probably exaggerating anyway, that's what the news does best. shoko may not have the strongest moral compass, but suggesting that she was hoarding organs was extremely far-fetched, especially since she did a great job at ensuring tokyo’s safety. 

huffing, you lean into her. "you could sue them for defamation." 

"spiderwoman in court? wouldn't that be something. besides," she quickly gives you a clumsy kiss on the corner of your mouth and it tastes like raspberries. "you're the only one whose opinion i care for."

a comfortable silence stretches out between the two of you and you revel in the moment. it was rare to catch her away from her hero responsibilities, after all. 

"what would you do if they were right though?"

you sit up and give her a level stare. "but they're wrong, right?"

"right. but if they weren't. hypothetically."

"shoko, where did you put the organs?"

“i hid them in your basement. what? you told me you never used it for anything. besides, i wanted to show you this interesting thing the human heart can do. where are you going? come back, i’m sorry, i’ll put them back!” 

it was her potential that caught the eye of the spiderverse, an elite society of spidermen across the multiverses that ensured the stability of the cosmos. at first, shoko had been intrigued. different worlds, some so akin to her own but so unfamiliar at the same time, the endless opportunities and specimens and curiosities, shoko was enthralled. 

though you weren’t on the need-to-know basis, shoko would whisper tales of her otherworldly adventures on late-night sleepovers and you both would giggle over the fantastical. it’s slightly bitter when she leaves for days on end, but you reassure yourself that it never exceeds a week, and that she’ll come back with a stolen souvenir and another world to share. 

when shoko finds out you have to die, must die for the sake of the universe and all that exists beyond it, she feels conflicted. she could always reject the customs of the spiderverse, but the fantastical sights and infinite promises it held were all too tempting. 

she’s forced to promise to not come in between the canonical event. 

the decision breaks her. seeing you was no longer comforting. everything feels temporary, rearing to break apart and on nights she feels it the most, seeking momentary peace at the end of a burning stick despite your protests, she wonders if she could have fought harder. but it was choosing you or choosing the world and being spiderwoman meant she was capable of doing one, but not both. 

eventually, shoko stays away. it happens like the flick of a switch, leaving earlier in the morning or denying the weekly movie night, or leaving your texts on delivered for weeks. and the entire time, you’re left in the dark. 

shoko’s last selfish wish, she told herself, was to at least not see it happen. if she never saw it, never knew when it happened, then did it happen at all? so she fills her mind with thoughts of disgusting creatures and beating, pulsing hearts, of blurring villains and endless citizens in distress, and never of you. 

but just like how she had never been one for rules, you weren’t one either. tracking her down, tracing her every move, you began to plot out her schedule on the rare occasions she’d come back to her world, to pick up a few clothes or to watch you through your window, never daring to come inside. 

you feel triumph when you hop universes with her, unbeknownst to shoko’s knowledge. your feet dangle in a space not bound by time or gravity until they thud on unfamiliar soil. you’d made it, you think, you've successfully jumped through space all in the name of love. you did it even better than interstellar, even. 

but someone once said: “there’s no curse more twisted than love.” 

your naivety leads you to a battlefield, one on a scale that leaves shoko bleeding and panting, hand on knees, the other swiping a red streak across her mouth. just as she squeezes her eyes shut in the face of an incoming fatal blow, you jump in between

her eyes shake as you lie in her arms. battle rages on as spiderpeople from various universes come to her rescue, but the noise and clatter tunes out and a hollowness fills the void. 

your hand comes up to rub the red mark on her cheek, but the force behind the gesture is weak and losing strength by the second. 

“why are you here?” shoko asks. she grabs your falling hand and presses it back on her cheek, giving you the strength to smear the blood. it only makes the spot messier though, rubbing over your hand and over hers. 

“i love you.” you choke. “you never said it back before you went away.”

“you idiot. i love you, you don’t need me to say it back. you should already know.”

“then why did you leave me?”

“i didn’t choose to!”

you close your eyes as everything feels heavy. “can you tell me a story? of what you’ve up to without me?”

“i can’t.” she manages to say around a sob. 

“shoko.”

“yeah?”

“you never took those organs out from my basement.”

“you could have cleared it away when i was gone.”

you smile despite yourself. “that would just have made your disappearance sadder. they reminded me of you.”

you can feel shoko’s body trembling underneath you. taking in a deep breath, and you have an inkling it might just be your last, you manage out a few more words. “i love you.”

but just like how she had left you without a goodbye months ago, you don’t hear whether she replies before you slip away.

𓃠 › getou

you could be fooled by his nonchalant attitude and carefree posture, thinking him first to be a rather distant friend but discovering later that he was the most observant of the trio. whether it be the casual drop of your favourite movie or the mention of a pet, getou seems to remember every small detail. he'll be the first to offer you his jacket when the slightest shiver overcomes you, but also the first to tease you when tears fill your lashline during a sad movie

which is most likely why you and him were in charge of every birthday party, taking small dates to your local supermarket and picking apart every purchase, finding fun behind halloween masks and easter bunny headbands. sometimes, you'll find yourselves thrown out of the shop despite getou's attempts to woo the manager. eventually though, they'll fall for his caring charm like they all do, whilst you roll your eyes at his facade

"getou, i'm dead."

"put that skeleton back before we get kicked out again."

watching a cruel smile take over getou's face, you're unnerved at how unlike himself he seemed. no wait, perhaps you should be more concerned at how your dead friend was standing before you now, patient like how you knew him, but painted in unfamiliarity with the blood of friends. he doesn't immediately find himself at your side when his eyes search your figure and find the gaping wound at your hip, he wasn't there to cover you when curses had leapt at your vulnerable stance, no, instead he was the perpetrator

this wasn't the getou you knew

𓃠 › shoko

with your dorms right next to each other, its easy for you both to sneak into each other's rooms. muffled giggles behind trembling palms, walking on your toes, fearing the creak of wooden boards or the clatter of slamming doors. bated breaths lay dormant in your mouths and sometimes when your eyes catch in the filtering moonlight, they'll release in giggles

on the days you return from missions early, and the silence of the corridors feed the brewing uncertainties in your stomach, you'll find purchase in her room, comfort in the familiarity of cigarette smoke and fresh laundry. when she finds you curled up in her bed, it isn’t the words of disgust that leaves her mouth and instead, she simply asks if you want to watch a horror movie

it’s therapeutic, screaming away your worries in darkness, her face, usually expressionless now alit with mild fear and the glow from the screen, just enough to ground you in the present. the feeling of her hand in yours, holding on like she’s your lifeline, though she never gives up the opportunity to keep you on the edge. 

“... BOO!”

“shoko, what the fuck?”