#[ melvin; interests ] | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gingerteafairy · 6 days ago

Note

hi!! , um I have an idea for an Dave Lizewski!! so the reader is popular and her and her friends bet for the reader to make Dave fall inlove with them but the reader falls for Dave while doing the bet!! (I don’t know but I had this idea and I hope you like it 😅)

at first, i was like "what the hell am i supposed to write?" and it turned to a full three chapters fic. hope you like it, i really loved writing this. @ikkyfics and golden hour by jvke helped me a lot.

𝗿𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

𝟭. 𝘀𝘂𝗻𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗲

You bet Dave will fall for you, but oops—guess who’s the one falling now? tags n warnings: dave lizewski x fem!reader, fluff, hyperfeminine!reader, language, suggestive, violence. word count: 6.8k!! masterlist part two

The cafeteria was buzzing with the noise of conversations and laughter echoing between the tables, a comfortable chaos that made any secret conversation quiet enough. Amidst this turmoil, you and your friends were immersed in your favorite pastime: hear me out. The game was simple—name an unlikely person and argue why they could be a love interest. The fun was in the absurdity of the choices, and the best part? No one would ever suspect that the most popular girls in school spent their time fantasizing about nerds, weirdos, or teachers.

“Okay, okay. Hear me out,” Katie started, her laugh escaping even before revealing the name. You, knowing well the danger, swallowed the rest of your juice to avoid a disaster. “Professor Melvin, history.”

The shock was immediate. “Oh my God, ew, Katie!” Erika scrunched up her nose as if she had smelled something rotten, still laughing at the atrocity of the idea. “That man probably has fossilized snacks in his beard since the dinosaur era.”

“But think about it,” Katie insisted, winking mischievously. “He wouldn’t even need to carry a purse. My gloss would fit perfectly in there.”

Erika shoved her shoulder, both laughing as you shook your head in disbelief. “Okay, now seriously. Listen up.” Erika smoothed down her uniform, adopting a thoughtful expression as she theatrically touched her chin. “Jeremy, from the drama club.”

The reaction was instant.

“No!” You all yelled in unison, throwing your hands up and bursting into laughter. Your body swayed with the contagious laughter of the group.

“Erika, he’s practically a zombie,” you argued, still laughing. “He acts like a potato and is only there because he’s the director’s son.”

“I like that dead fish look. It’s sexy.” Erika squinted her eyes, biting her lip in an exaggeratedly sensual gesture that made you laugh even more. You waited for the laughter to die down a little before leaning in on the table, lowering your voice intentionally to add a dramatic touch.

“Okay. Hear me out,” you began, glancing around quickly. “Dave Lizewski, from the school newspaper.”

Silence.

Your friends exchanged glances as if they had just heard the most absurd thing in the world.

“What?” Katie raised her eyebrows, confusion clear on her face. “Isn’t he gay?” She covered her mouth with her hand, as if sharing a forbidden secret.

“I don’t know. They said they caught him spying on girls in gym class,” Erika countered, rolling her eyes in disdain. “I hate guys like that.”

You bit your lip, hesitating before speaking. “But he’s so cute,” you admitted, feeling a warmth rise to your face. “It’s funny when he gets nervous presenting and adjusts his glasses all the time.” Your voice lowered at the end of the sentence, as if confessing a crime. “I’d go out with him.”

Katie stopped chewing her fry halfway. “Then why don’t you?” You and Erika stared at her as if she had suggested blowing up the planet.

“What?” You blinked, unable to formulate an immediate response. “Are you crazy?”

“You don’t think he’s cute?” She shrugged.

“He’s way too nerdy for my taste,” you shot back, resting your chin on your palm and sighing. “Not to mention, guys like that fall for a weirdo like them.”

“What if…” Erika interrupted, biting her lip suggestively. “What if you made him fall for you?”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“I bet you fifty bucks you could make him fall for you,” she declared, crossing her arms with a challenging smile.

Katie made a face of disapproval. “Wow, Erika. That’s cruel.”

You clicked your tongue, thoughtful. “The only time I talked to Dave was to borrow a pencil. How am I supposed to talk to him?”

Erika grinned, tossing her hair back.

“Girl, duh.” She gestured like it was obvious. “We’re literally the most popular girls in school. No need for ceremony. Easy money. Take it or leave it.”

You looked at her, a sly smile forming on your lips. “A hundred bucks. And you let me wear your Vivienne Westwood top.” Erika hesitated, but you raised an eyebrow, challenging her. “Take it or leave it.”

She huffed. “Deal. But I want pictures to prove it.” The handshake sealed the deal. Before you could celebrate, Katie poked your arm, laughing.

“Speaking of which, look, here comes your boyfriend.”

Their heads turned to see Dave crossing the cafeteria with Todd and Marty, the three laughing at something that, honestly, didn’t interest you at all. “Over in the nerd corner, gross,” Erika teased, grabbing another fry.

You narrowed your eyes, joking: “Don’t talk about my man like that, okay?”

Standing up, you adjusted your top, running your hands over the fabric to make sure it was perfect. Katie quickly tugged a strand of her hair into place, then touched up her gloss with a practiced gesture. “Couldn’t be more perfect. You’re gonna win over your boy.”

You winked at them before turning and walking confidently. Dave’s table was a well-organized chaos—notebooks scattered, half-eaten snacks, and open bags of chips. The three friends were chatting excitedly, laughing loudly, until you arrived. With a smooth move, you placed your hands on the table and leaned slightly forward.

Silence.

Todd almost choked on a fry. Dave, who had been laughing at something Marty said, froze in the middle of the movement, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

“Stop, idiot,” Marty hissed, giving Todd a firm slap on the back as he tried to stop choking. Dave, meanwhile, froze, his wide eyes fixed ahead as if he could trick his own body and pretend he wasn’t completely losing his composure. His hands trembled slightly as he held his can of diet soda, the liquid sloshing inside. “Sorry... he... he has issues,” Marty added, casting an exasperated glance at Todd, who was still coughing.

You smiled, your best smile—the one that made guys trip over their own shoelaces.

“Hi, Dave.”

It was his turn to choke. The soda, which had been safe in his mouth, became a small liquid explosion, spat directly into Marty’s face.

“Uh... Hi. I mean... Hi.” Dave stumbled, coughing and hurriedly grabbing napkins, trying to clean his mouth while also trying to regain composure. You kept your gaze on him, hiding your disgust at the mess while your eyes briefly met Marty’s—now looking like a mummy wrapped in paper.

“Can I sit with you guys?” You were already pulling out a chair before they could answer, settling dangerously close to Dave, who shrank to the side, his breath a bit faster. “So... what were you guys talking about?”

Todd opened his mouth to answer, but Dave was faster. “NOTHING.” The shout was so abrupt that even some nearby tables looked over. He cleared his throat, trying to correct himself, and forced a nervous smile.

Your eyes sparkled with challenge. “No one’s laughing about anything,” you argued, crossing your arms in front of your body and tilting your head slightly to the side. The subtle movement drew the attention of all three boys like a magnet. Dave quickly looked away, pressing his glasses against his face as if that would help him stay focused.

“Tell me, Dave... what were you talking about?”

He blinked a few times, clearly having a system failure. “Kylie Jenner.”

Todd and Marty chuckled nasally, trying to hide it.

“Really?” You raised an eyebrow, interested.

“She’s dating Timothée Chalamet,” Todd added casually. The killer glares he received from his friends didn’t go unnoticed. “What? I watch the news.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head, before leaning closer to Dave, deliberately closing the distance between you. “Hey, Dave. Want to sit with me in math class? I forgot my book.”

Dave went so rigid it looked like someone had hit the pause button on him. “Sure.” He blinked, processing the words. “I’d love to.”

He smiled, and there it was—the gesture—adjusting his glasses nervously, just the way you thought was adorable. But in that moment, something inside you hesitated. Your heartbeat a little faster, your stomach twisted in a strange way. Before you could process that, you suddenly stood up.

“What’s wrong?” Dave furrowed his brows.

“I remembered I have to talk to Erika.” Without waiting for an answer, you walked away, feeling their stares burning into your back. As soon as you turned the corner, you found your friends with binoculars. Literally. “Where the hell did you get that?” You crossed your arms, pointing at the object Erika quickly hid.

“It doesn’t matter.” She waved her hand. “So, how was it? Dave seemed interested.”

You hesitated for a moment, a strange feeling pulling at you. “It was... interesting.” The response came with the usual energy, but something inside you felt subtly different, like an echo you couldn’t quite ignore.

“I’m gonna sit with him in math class.”

“Perfect. I forgot my book anyway, so I’ll sit with Eri,” Katie said casually.

“Let’s hit the bathroom,” Erika suggested, her voice full of that habitual need to freshen up. “I need to touch up my makeup.”

“Yeah, I need powder like, now,” you grumbled, touching your face as if you could already feel the shine of oil building up.

As they moved away, chatting and laughing as if the world was theirs, Dave and his friends stayed frozen in silence, as if the moment had somehow paralyzed them. Todd was the first to break the trance.

“Did you guys see that? One of the Powerpuff Girls talked to him. Just him.”

Dave let out a small, incredulous laugh, still trying to figure out what had just happened.

“We were at the table too,” Marty grumbled, then returned to his lunch. “But I still prefer the Milky Way terminology.”

Dave furrowed his brow. “Milky Way?”

“Yeah, man. Sun, Moon, and Earth,” Todd explained, hands gesturing as if to paint a picture. “Katie’s Earth, Erika’s the Moon, and your girl’s the Sun.”

Dave felt his face heat up.

“Stop leading the poor guy on,” Marty elbowed Todd, laughing. “He’s already delulu enough.”

But Dave just smiled, grabbing his sandwich. “I like ‘the Sun’... it suits her more than Blossom.” He took a bite, his mind somewhere else, occupied with one thought. “She smells really good.”

“Oh, of course. Go ahead and ask where she buys her bras too,” Todd teased.

Dave rolled his eyes before snatching a fry from Todd’s plate and tossing it at him. “Hey! You’re throwing food from your plate!”

“It’s way more fun with yours,” Todd shot back, already picking up another fry—though his mission was interrupted by the shrill sound of the bell signaling the end of lunch. The students groaned in unison as they made their way through the hallways.

Dave just smiled. The Sun had spoken to him.

The guys headed to class, with Todd and Marty sitting side by side, while Dave’s seat remained empty. He rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants as if that could wipe away the nervousness pulsing in his chest.

The same battle was happening within you as you walked into the classroom, eyes meeting his as he waved and smiled in your direction—a grin brighter than the fluorescent lights above.

You felt something strange in your stomach, an uncomfortable sensation you couldn’t quite name. But you pushed it aside. After all, Dave was a bet, and you hated losing. Plus, things seemed to be going pretty well with the basketball guy—at least that’s what his constant stare suggested. But suddenly, Landon seemed like the last thing on your mind.

“And here we are again,” you joked as you sat beside Dave, picking a comfortable distance—not too close, like at lunch, but not too far to seem awkward.

“Yeah…” he replied, running a hand through his hair, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Good at math?” you asked, turning to face him. His eyes met yours—so blue they seemed like sapphires glistening under the classroom lights.

“Of course, I’m great. They used to call me Einstein in the… young geniuses club of… Einstein,” he lied without missing a beat, his nervous smile giving him away.

You laughed, clapping your hands.

“Oh, how awesome! That means you can help me. I don’t get anything the teacher’s saying.”

Dave awkwardly laughed, raising his books to his face like a shield to hide the panic that was written all over him.

Luckily, the universe seemed to be conspiring in his favor, because today’s lesson was on first-degree equations—and at least that was something he knew. He’d even helped Todd with it once. Maybe he could make it through this without looking like a complete idiot.

By the end of the class, as you gathered your things, an idea crossed your mind. The party. You’d promised your friends you’d go, and what harm was there in inviting Dave Lizewski? He’d probably never been to a party that didn’t involve themed cakes and kids running around in party hats.

As he was heading out with his friends, you tapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Dave. If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, wanna come to a party at Spike’s place?”

He blinked a couple of times, clearly surprised. A lot had happened in one day. First, you talked to him at lunch. Then you sat next to him in math. And now, an invitation to a party?

“Me? I… yeah, I’d love to,” he replied, a charming smile spreading across his face. A smile you wanted to see more of. You could almost picture taking a photo and putting it in the "cute things" section of your bullet journal.

“I want to too!” Todd raised his hand. You laughed, handing out an invitation to each of them.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice filled with that familiar gratitude.

“Well, it’s nothing formal. You can wear whatever you want,” you softened your tone before walking past them, giving Dave a special wave. He responded with that puppy-dog look of his.

On your way home, your mind raced. You were already thinking of ways to make Dave Lizewski fall under your spell. He was cute, fun to be around, polite, sweet… and his voice? Gorgeous. You were starting to like this bet a little too much. Next step: find an outfit that would make Dave drop to his knees and propose right there at the party. But when you opened your closet, everything seemed... wrong.

“Come on... it’s just some dumb party,” you muttered, running your hand down the row of hangers. Suddenly, all your clothes looked like rags pretending to be high fashion. Better call the girls.

Erika was in airplane mode. As usual.

Katie was your best shot. You dialed her number. “Hey, sweetie. I need an outfit. Wanna hit the mall?”

“I can’t right now, babe. Sorry,” she replied in that always-sweet tone of hers. “I’m at the nail salon, getting those nails I sent you a picture of.”

“They’re gorgeous,” you complimented, doing your best not to sound disappointed. “Guess I’ll go alone, then.”

“Send me some pics, I’ll help you decide.”

“Deal. Catch you later.”

After parking at the mall, you made your way to your favorite store—only to remember you still hadn’t gotten money from your parents. Guess it was time for fast fashion. As you walked into the store, distracted by the racks, you bumped into someone much taller than you.

You looked up. “Dave?”

“Sorry, you can go first,” he smiled, shrugging and taking a step back, giving you enough room to pass through the door and into the store.

“What are you doing here?” You crossed your arms, tilting your head, and started walking side by side with him through the endless array of clothes.

“I realized I don’t have anything to wear for the party,” he said, glancing around, clearly lost in the ocean of polyester.

“I do too,” you murmured, flipping through a rack of clothes. Then, an idea hit you. If he was gonna be your prince, he might as well be the hottest one. “Hey, wanna let me help pick out some clothes?”

His eyes lit up. “Yeah, sure. That’d be awesome.”

“I’ll pick out something perfect for you.” Taking his hand, you dragged him through the men’s section. You picked up a black hoodie.

“Way too goth,” he shot it down.

A blue shirt.

“Matches your eyes.” you beamed. He frowned. “Damn, you’re picky,” you crossed your arms.

“How about this?” He grabbed a blue and yellow flannel, a cocky grin on his face. “Matches my eyes.”

“Do you only wear clothes like a damn gardener?”

“I’m all about that rustic vibe,” he teased. You grabbed a striped shirt. “Would be great if I was going to my baby cousin’s graduation,” he joked.

You raised an eyebrow. “For someone shy, you sure got quick comebacks.”

“Blame the sitcoms my dad made me watch,”

You laughed, grabbing a handful of clothes and tossing them into his arms.“That. That. And that one too.”

His eyes went wide. “Do I really gotta try all this on?”

“Pretty hurts, baby,” you joked, pushing him toward the fitting rooms. He laughed and stepped inside.

As you waited, you absentmindedly browsed some shoes. Then, the curtain opened.

And wow.

Dave Lizewski looked like a whole new person.

The white shirt and simple jeans hugged his body in all the right places, revealing a surprisingly strong physique. The contrast between his angelic face and the well-defined body was almost unfair. You swallowed. “You…” Words didn’t come. Where the hell had Dave been hiding that body? The basketball guys didn’t even come close.

“Uh… I think I’ll change…”

“No!” You interrupted before he could turn. He froze, surprised. “Sorry, it’s just… I’m speechless. Nailed it. Stick with that.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You think you boss me around?”

“I do,” you whispered, pushing him back toward the fitting room.

“As you wish, ma’am.”

You stood there, staring at the closed curtain, imagining him inside, fumbling with hangers, maybe cussing under his breath. Damn it. He didn’t have the right to be this cute.

Your inconvenient butterflies were interrupted by the soft sound of the curtain sliding along the rail. Dave stepped out of the fitting room, back in his usual clothes, but somehow, something felt different. It wasn’t the loose shirt or the slightly worn jeans. Maybe it was the way he scratched his nose, an automatic habit when he realized he was being watched.He looked at you with a half-smile, his hands on his hips, like he knew exactly what was running through your mind. You laughed softly.

“What?”

“What?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You thought I was gonna let you torture me with your fashion show and not want a little revenge?”

You rolled your eyes, dramatically crossing your arms, but you couldn’t hide how much you were loving the back-and-forth. “Fine, but I get to pick the final look.”

He paused before extending his hand. His palms were warm. You swallowed.

“Deal.”

The exchange of glances lasted half a second longer than it should have before he walked off toward the women’s section. You watched from a distance, laughing quietly as you saw him hesitate in front of the racks, furrowing his brow as if he was facing an impossible puzzle. After a few minutes—way too long for someone who claimed to know nothing about fashion—he returned, holding three dresses carefully draped over his arm.

“Is that it?” You raised an eyebrow, grabbing the clothes and sizing up the options.

“It’s tough to choose. I don’t know how you do it.”

You ran your fingers over the fabrics, feeling the softness of each one. A pink, delicate and romantic. A black one, classic, but clearly way too big for you. And then, the blue. It was almost the same shade as Dave's eyes. Almost. Still, the comparison felt unfair. His eyes were way more vibrant, like a shimmering ocean under the sun.

“You’ve got good taste, Lizewski,” your voice came out softer than you expected.

“I try.”

“You’re so cute. Stay right there ‘til I get back.” You turned and walked toward the fitting room, but you heard a murmur behind you.

“Yessir!”

Turning your head, you caught Dave doing an exaggerated bow before flopping onto the waiting couch, arms behind his head. You laughed quietly to yourself as you stepped into the fitting room. The pink dress looked nice, but the neckline was a little too daring for the occasion. The black one would’ve been perfect... if it wasn’t two sizes too big. But the blue...

It hugged your body gently, outlining your figure without being over the top. The fabric felt soft against your skin, and for some reason, wearing that color, you felt different. Special.

Taking a breath, you slowly opened the curtain, stepping out with hesitant steps. Dave was distracted, staring at the ceiling, but when he noticed you, his eyes immediately locked onto you. He blinked a few times, like he was processing what he was seeing. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“How do I look?” you dared to ask, your fingers nervously playing with the hem of the dress.

“You’re…” Dave opened his mouth, but no words came out. His brain screamed stunning, perfect, unreal, but all he could say was, “Great.”

Great.

The word echoed in your head, hollow and unsatisfying. Great, not beautiful. Burgers were great. Dresses were great. Nail polish was great. You forced a smile, nodding slowly.

“Oh…”

Your fingers went to your hair, twirling a lock around your finger, a nervous gesture you tried to hide.

“I... I’m gonna… wear my clothes. I’ll be right back.”

Dave opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then stopped. He just nodded, looking away.

“Okay.”

He cursed himself the second the curtain closed. Why didn’t he say what he really thought? Why did he let such a lame word slip when he wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked?

Inside the fitting room, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, sighing. That was the most beautiful and special dress you’d ever chosen. Even if it had only been “great” to Dave. A gift from the sweet guy who was in love with you..

He was in love with you?

No, it was too soon for either of you to be feeling anything. You changed back into your original clothes and stepped out of the fitting room, feeling your steps heavier than before. The silence between you both was strange, filled with unasked questions and answers neither of you dared to say.

As you both walked out of the store, you stopped in front of the entrance, looking down at the sidewalk. “I’m heading home,” your voice came out softer than you expected.

“Me too,” Dave replied, rubbing the back of his neck. But then, his gaze met yours again, and something in the way he said the next line made your heart skip: “Make sure you get home safe. Take care of yourself.”

“I will…” You smiled lightly, about to turn and leave, when something inside you made you stop. Your body acted before your brain caught up, and before you could stop yourself, your fingers grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. Dave stopped immediately, his eyes wide.

“Uh... I just realized I don’t have your number, so I can… let you know when I get home safely.”

His eyes lit up for a moment, surprised. He took a step closer, as if he wanted to make sure he heard you right. “My number?”

“Your number…” you confirmed, pulling out your phone. He hesitated for a second before reacting, pulling out his own phone and dictating the numbers. You typed them in quickly, saving the contact without thinking. Only when you felt his gaze on the screen of your phone did you realize what you’d done.

Dave Lizewski <3

A heart.

A freaking heart.

Your mouth dropped. What was wrong with you?

“Uh… looks cute,” you deflected, shoving your phone back in your bag and pretending you hadn’t just made the biggest romantic idiot move of the day. Dave just smiled, shaking his head.

“Well... I’ll head out now,” you said, taking a step back, feeling like if you stayed one more second, you might do something else dumb.

“Okay. Let me know when you get home,” he said, his tone firmer now.

You nodded, feeling the warmth of genuine concern in his voice. For some reason, it made you feel strangely… protected. And you loved that feeling.

You walked out of the mall with a goofy smile on your lips, walking like you were in one of those teenage romance movies. Your purse swung on your wrist with each step, and everything around you seemed light. But that comfy feeling faded instantly when a chill ran down your spine.

It was weird. Like someone was watching you. Your shoulders tensed, and you tried to shake it off, quickening your pace toward the car.

“Ugh, that’s creepy,” you murmured to yourself, your voice trembling without meaning to.

You hurried, unlocking the car with a click and practically jumping inside. You locked the door right away and let out a heavy sigh, trying to catch your breath.

This is what you get for going to the mall late in a sketchy city.

You started the engine and drove home, but the feeling wouldn’t go away. Something was off. You checked the rearview mirror at every intersection, at every dimly lit street, but saw nothing. Still, your chest felt heavy, like it was being pressed by some invisible unease. And then you remembered. That pothole at the start of your street was still being fixed.

Great.

A frustrated groan slipped out as you tapped your heels on the car floor, nervous. That meant you’d have to get out and walk the rest of the way. Taking a deep breath, you swung the door open and started walking fast.

But the farther you went, the worse the feeling of being watched got. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly, keeping a sharp eye on your surroundings. Every shadow seemed darker, every rustling leaf sounded like footsteps behind you.

And then it happened.

A strong hand covered your mouth, pulling you forcefully into a bush. Your heart raced in panic, and you tried to scream, but the palm over your lips muffled any sound. Your body froze as your eyes took in the masked face. Green suit, black mask, a lightning bolt symbol on the chest. Kick-Ass. The superhero from TV. The same one your friends were talking about, the one no one knew if he really existed or if he was just a bunch of crazy people trying to imitate. But it could very well be just a cosplay, right?

“I’m going to take my hand off your mouth, but you have to promise not to scream,” the muffled voice came through the mask.

You nodded quickly, eyes wide. The second he took his hand away, you sucked in a sharp breath and—

“HELP, SOMEONE HELP ME, THERE’S A CRAZY MAN—”

His hand came back immediately, muffling your scream. “Quiet!” He hissed, looking around quickly. “There’s a stalker after you.” Your stomach churned. So that was it. That strange feeling, that weight on your chest. Your breathing quickened, but you forced your head to work. He didn’t seem to be lying. If he really was Kick-Ass, that meant he knew what he was doing, right?

“I’ll distract the guy, and you stay here, okay?” he said, releasing your mouth again. You swallowed hard and nodded. He stepped out of the bush and walked to the sidewalk, and that’s when you saw him. The man standing a few feet away, leaning against a lamppost. His gaze was malicious, full of something sick.

“Get out of here, you green stick. There’s nothing for you here,” the man grumbled, glaring at Kick-Ass with contempt. But the masked man wasn’t intimidated. He grabbed the costume bat and took a step forward, his posture becoming firmer.

“You bastard. Go find something to do and leave her alone!” His tone of voice became deeper, more serious. For the first time, it seemed like he really belonged in the role of hero.

The stalker snorted, rolling his eyes, but then his face closed in a dark expression. Slowly, he pulled a pocketknife from his pocket and twirled it in his hand, as if to show off the silver blade under the streetlight. You felt a knot in your stomach, instinctively covering your mouth to keep from making a sound. Kick-Ass didn’t back down, holding the bat tighter. But when he tried to strike, the man was faster, kicking the weapon away.

Kick-Ass stood still for a second, looking from the bat on the ground to the blade in the guy’s hand.

“Dude, we can try to talk,” he started to ramble, backing away with uncertain steps. “Violence’s not the answer to all our questions.”

You snorted. Seriously?

Your heart was pounding, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You couldn't just watch him get beaten! Without thinking twice, you stepped out of the bushes with firm steps, your heels clicking on the asphalt.

"Hey, you idiot." The stalker turned to face you, surprised. Before he could react, you were already in front of him.

Boom.

Hot sauce straight to the eyes.

He screamed, backing away in disorientation, his hands immediately going to his face as he growled curses. “You motherfucking bitch!” he yelled, falling to his knees, writhing in pain.

“Come with me,” you said quickly, grabbing your hero’s hand—who was still a little paralyzed by the scene. You pulled him away from there, always checking over your shoulder to see if the stalker was still on the ground. Fortunately, he didn’t seem in any condition to follow you.

When you finally got home, you practically threw yourself inside, locking the door the second you stepped in, and quickly sliding a chair under the doorknob to reinforce the security. Your breathing was still erratic, and your hands were trembling slightly.

But you didn’t have time to panic. You rushed over to the windows, checking each one, locking them all before heading upstairs to your bedroom. Kick-Ass followed you, shutting the door behind him.

“Look, I’m really sorry…”

“What the hell were you thinking, kid?” You muttered through gritted teeth, yanking off your heels in frustration and throwing them across the room without caring where they landed. Your heart was still pounding from what had happened outside, and now, as the adrenaline slowly wore off, anger started to flood in. “How do you even hit a guy if you don’t even know how to use a broomstick?”

“It was a bat,” he corrected automatically, watching you carefully as he peeled off his pink jacket and tossed it onto the chair.

“Bat, broomstick, whatever. You didn’t know how to use it!” You shot back, grabbing a handful of cotton pads to remove your makeup. Your skincare routine was the only thing that could help you regain some sense of sanity after everything—despite the crazy guy in the green suit still standing in your bedroom.

“I just... I wanted to protect you!” He protested, following your movements across the room until he finally knelt beside you, by the vanity.

“Protect me? I protected you!” You raised an eyebrow, scrubbing your face with the cleansing oil harder than necessary. “And you don’t even know me! How did you even get here?”

“I do know you! We spent the whole afternoon together!” He gestured, looking almost offended by your accusation.

You huffed, wiping your face with a wet wipe before reaching for your moisturizer. “Yeah, me and Kick-Ass spent the whole afternoon together. Just like Spider-Man and Mary Jane. I’ve seen that story before.”

Dave opened his mouth to respond, but paused. His gaze shifted, and he seemed to hesitate for a moment.

“Shit… wait, I’m still wearing the mask,” he muttered to himself before finally pulling it off, revealing his face. You froze. The cotton pad stopped halfway to your face. Your eyes locked onto the guy kneeling next to you. Your jaw dropped.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, jumping back as if you’d been electrocuted. You shot up from the chair, panic creeping in. “Dave Lizewski is in my room!”

Frantically, you looked around for something—anything—to defend yourself. Your eyes landed on a hairbrush, and that was the best you could come up with.

“How the hell are you here?” You screeched, pointing the brush at him in a completely ineffective manner.

Dave simply raised his hands in surrender, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights. “I’m Kick-Ass,” he pointed to his suit as if that explained everything. Your gaze shifted from his face to the suit and then back to his face.

Now it made sense.

You took a deep breath and lowered the brush, tossing it back onto the vanity.

“Okay,” you murmured, still trying to process everything.

It was then that a soft knock echoed on the door. Your heart raced. “Honey, is there someone with you?” Your mom’s voice came from the other side, tinged with a hint of suspicion.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, your eyes widening as they locked with Dave’s. He panicked.

“Hide! Throw the blanket over yourself!” you hissed, pointing to the bed.

Without hesitation, Dave practically flung himself onto the mattress, pulling the blanket over his body and curling up into an odd, motionless mound. You took a deep breath, straightened your posture, and opened the door, holding your phone in hand, forcing a natural smile.

“Hey, mom,” you greeted, keeping your voice steady. “I was talking to Erika. We were rehearsing for tomorrow’s project.”

Your mom narrowed her eyes, giving a quick glance around the room. Your hand was sweating, but you kept the innocent expression, silently waiting.

“Just don’t stay up too late,” she warned before finally backing away.

“I won’t,” you promised, gently closing the door—and immediately locking it again. You let out a heavy breath, heart still pounding. Turning, you walked over to the bed, pulled the blanket away, revealing Dave, still curled up underneath it.

“Can I leave now?” he whispered.

You chuckled softly. “No, if you leave now, my parents will know someone’s here.”

He sighed and relaxed his shoulders, looking pensively out the window.

“Do you have any other clothes, or is it just that green thing?” you asked, crossing your arms and studying him curiously.

“I always carry extras in my backpack,” he replied automatically, but then his face went pale. His expression shifted immediately. “Where’s my backpack?”

“Shit, Dave!” You closed your eyes for a moment, massaging your temples.

It wasn’t there. You hadn’t seen it when you came in. It must’ve been left outside. He jumped to his feet, running his hands through his hair in pure anxiety. “Shit, how am I supposed to get my backpack? What if your parents see?”

“Calm down.” You took a deep breath, trying to calm both of you down. “I’ll get it.”

You carefully opened the door, peeking into the hallway. Empty. On tiptoe, you rushed as quickly as you could to the entrance of the house, grabbed his backpack before anyone noticed, and quietly returned to your room, locking the door behind you.

“I got it,” you murmured, panting. Dave sighed in relief, grabbing the backpack and opening it quickly, pulling out a few clothes. You watched him, still trying to process everything.

Kick-Ass was in your room. And he was Dave Lizewski.

What the hell was happening to your life?

“It’s fine. Now stay over there, and I’ll change. No peeking,” you warned, pointing to the other side of the room with a threatening look before heading to the wardrobe.

You quickly searched for something comfortable to wear—definitely not a lacy baby doll. The last thing you needed was to be embarrassed by a clumsy superhero. You changed in record time and, as you turned around, found Dave already in shorts. But there was one detail that caught your attention immediately. He was shirtless.

Your eyes instinctively traced the length of his back—defined, masculine, every muscle shifting as he pulled the shirt over his head. His messy curls were tousled in the process, and the fabric slid down his skin, settling perfectly at his waist, stopping just above his lower back.

Holy shit.

Dave Lizewski was trouble.

“Are you done?” he asked, not turning around, still staring fixedly at the wall.

“Just a second,” you answered, savoring the view a little longer. Your gaze moved from his broad shoulders down to his ankles, passing over his surprisingly well-toned calves. How was that even possible?

“I’m done,” he finally muttered, forcing himself to look away.

“Okay.” He spun on his heels, running his hands down his shorts in a nervous gesture. He was trying to cover his discomfort, but his restless gaze gave him away. He’d never been in a girl’s room before. Let alone one as pretty as you. It was unsettling.

“Shall we sleep?” you suggested, turning off the light and pointing to the bed.

Dave froze. Sleep? Together? In pajamas? In the same bed?

“W-what?”

“Sleep,” you repeated casually, lying down on the large bed and patting the empty space next to you.

“Oh, right. Just sleep.” He let out a nervous laugh, shaking his body as if trying to shake off the tension before lying down beside you. He pulled the blanket up, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at the ceiling as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

You settled on your side, resting your head on the pillow and watching Dave, who remained still, his gaze locked onto nothing, eyes distant and unfocused. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, finally shifting his gaze to you.

“Nothing, you just look weird,” you giggled even more, covering your mouth to stifle the laughter. Dave, inevitably, joined in with a laugh of his own.

“Shhh!” You tried to shush him, but failed miserably when another wave of giggles hit you.

“Shhh!” He mimicked, covering his mouth, which only made the situation even funnier.

It took a few moments for both of you to calm down, your breathing returning to normal. The comfortable silence that settled between you two was broken by your voice.

“Tell me something interesting.”

Dave frowned. “Out of nowhere?”

“Anything,” you insisted, scooting a little closer. “It’s a great way to get to know someone.”

He adjusted his position on the pillow, thinking for a moment. “Did you know there’s a world record for eating the most cockroaches? The number is 36.”

You scrunched your nose. “Gross!” Your body instinctively shifted, and without either of you noticing, Dave’s body moved closer to yours. “Did you know that the older violins get, the better they sound?”

“No, I didn’t. That’s pretty cool,” he replied, genuinely intrigued. “Did you know I can eat 14 hot dogs at once?”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You just made that up.”

“No, seriously,” he insisted, laughing when you playfully pushed against his chest. You felt his muscles tense under your touch. “I really eat without complaining. My record is like 17.”

“I doubt it,” you murmured, still smiling.

Dave gently took your hand and placed it on the pillow, holding it for a second longer before letting it go.

“You look way prettier this way.”

“Prettier how?” Your voice came out softer than you expected.

“Like this… natural,” he muttered, his gaze lingering on your face before his eyes met yours. “Before, you seemed... I don’t know, fake. Like you were trying to prove something. I don’t know if it was the makeup or something else... But like this, without anything, you look more beautiful.”

His words hit you like a punch. It was true. You spent so much time worrying about your image, trying to maintain a certain appearance, a reputation. But now, lying next to someone as genuine as Dave, that facade felt completely unnecessary. The guilt hit you hard, like a punch to the stomach. You had been playing a game, messing with him. With someone so kind and pure.

You forced a soft smile. “Thank you.”

He smiled back, pulling the blanket over his shoulder to snuggle in deeper. “Goodnight,” he whispered, exhaustion finally weighing him down. “Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Dave. You too…”

But sleep didn’t come immediately. Your eyes stayed on him, admiring how peaceful his breathing was, how everything around him seemed to glow just a little bit more. Slowly, your eyelids grew heavier, and you drifted off to sleep—dreaming of that beautiful dream that was Dave Lizewski.

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