#And I think: how can one person do so much and yet do so little?

[slttygeto]

“will you still have a crush?”

pairing: husband! suguru x wife! reader.

genre: fluff.

note: smth very short thats been sitting in my drafts for a while and i decided to work on since my insomnia kicked in. enjoy.

suguru can feel you staring at him, which he finds quite hilarious.

you on the other hand? you were fuming. or at least trying to.

because you know the argument you just had with suguru wasn’t really an argument, and that you were probably being dramatic and absolutely—no, certainly needed to hear suguru laugh again —he laughed so hard that he had tears in his eyes and you could feel your face heating up.

god, he was so fucking attractive.

so the question was—do you have a crush on me?

suguru had responded with—we have been married for four years. which was obviously the wrong answer and your husband should’ve known that.

“okay so you hate me.”

“baby, I married you.”

“what if someone dared you to?” to which suguru grimaced at.

“I’m not 15.”

“oh but you wish you were.”

stepping closer to you, making sure that he can still see the pancakes from his spot just in case they burn, suguru bends down to your level. “what does that mean baby?”

you try your best to unaffected by the close proximity, this was your husband for fuck’s sake. but even years later, the brown of his eyes makes you feel weak in the knees.

“you’d be the age where you hadn’t met me yet.” you add with a roll to your eyes, crossing your arms over your puffed out chest.

it catches suguru off guard, but he is clearly enjoying the little show you were putting on. because a few moments later, he is resting his forehead on your shoulder and his entire body trembles.

“what— are you laughing?!”

your husband cradles your face in his hands, pulling away from your shoulder to kiss your lips while you jokingly push him away.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry that was just so—“

“don’t talk to me! you don’t even take me seriously anymore!”

“I do! I just didn’t expect that kind of response.” he tries to reason with you, but to no avail.

and so now you were on the couch pouting, and he was sitting on the other side of the couch with a plate of pancakes.

“are you sure you don’t want some pancakes?”

“I wish I put poison in them.” you mutter under your breath, and suguru still thinks you’re the funniest person alive.

“a murderer announcing how they’re going to kill their target?” he teases, leaning closer to you while you pretend to stare anywhere but at his face.

“yeah and I would make sure no one finds your body.”

“how would you do that, baby?” you raise an eyebrow at him, and he mirrors your action, bringing his face closer to you. “I am kind of a big guy. wouldn’t that be a hassle to you?”

screw him for knowing how to make you fold.

“…I would have anger fueled strength.”

he gasps dramatically. “anger fueled?”

you nod. “because you hate me.”

“because I said I married you.”

“which was basically ignoring the question ‘do you have a crush on me?’ so yeah.”

“interesting.”

“to someone who’s full of disdain and hatred, yes it would be very interesting.”

the longer suguru stared at you, the more he effortlessly towered over you on the couch, the harder it was to keep the act going. his brown eyes stare deeply into your soul as he sets the plate down, turning to face you.

it’s silent at first, just his eyes staring at you and your face slowly warming up under his intense gaze.

“…what?” you finally break the silence, blinking repeatedly.

“four years down the road, and you still blink so much when you’re nervous.”

a habit no one noticed, not even your own mother. your eyes get watery when you’re nervous, they’re truly the mirror to your soul—

of course suguru would know that better than anyone else.

you sit there, lips parted in awe at his words and your face feeling like a furnace. if there was any person in the world who could make you feel like a teenager falling in love for the first time, it would be suguru.

“..sounds like you have a crush on me or something.” you mumble under your breath, trying your best not to crack under his gaze and he laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“maybe, who knows?”

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[styrofauxm]

Thank you for asking! I'm going to break this up a bit, to try to answer all parts. If I missed something though, please let me know.

First: how am I defining love? I am defining it in the broad sense, love for anything and anyone.

Second: is that bullet point referring to people who do not feel love at all? In part. It's also referring to people who have a complex experience with love, and to people who simply find love to be unimportant to them personally. There's a few terms that I know of associated with this, loveless, anattractional, and lovequeer.

I'm focusing on lovelessness simply because I know the most about it. "Loveless aromantic" is defined as "Describes a person on the aromantic spectrum who feels disconnected from the concept of love, does not experience love, or rejects the idea of personally experiencing love. Loveless aros may experience other attractions, but do not equate these attractions to love" (source). Note: while this definition is specifically for people on the aromantic spectrum, I see no reason why someone not on the aromantic spectrum could not use the loveless label.

Third: am I saying that those for whom love is key are somehow anti-aromantic? Absolutely not. If that were the case, I may be one of the worst aromantics around. Personally, love is very important to me and my life. I certainly don't seek to diminish that for myself or anyone else.

As for love as a force within the universe, I'm not going to touch on that, as I don't feel comfortable having an opinion on, much less commenting on spiritual beliefs that I know so little about. So how that ties in I'm going to leave up to you to decide.

I will say, as a personal note that may help bridge some gaps, is that I find the diversity of the human experience to be one of the most wonderful things about being human. There are 8 billion people alive right now, and 117 billion people preceded us. I find it unlikely that we have any one truly unifying experience, but I also find that deeply beautiful. That we can be so similar, all built from the same stuff, but also all so different.

Fourth, to your "what?", I'm going to link a few things by loveless aromantics, as I'm certain they would do better at describing their own experiences than I could.

I Am Not Voldemort - Essay about lovelessness, credited with coining the term

Love and Attraction: Yet Another Shape of Allo-Aro Antagonism - Follow-up from the previous essay by the same person

Loveless and Arospec Thoughts - Collection of many different loveless aromantic's thoughts and experiences regarding lovelessness

The Aros Left Behind: the Loveless - Interview with people who do and don't identify with the loveless label

Of the above, the most important to check out are the 1st and 3rd. There's also a couple other resources in my original post (which I've now edited to have better formatting, including descriptive links, instead of just meaningless numbers T-T).

Finally, I feel like there's an underlying question here of "how does this tie into being an ace/aro ally?" And there's a few reasons.

I find that just saying "well you may not feel romantic love but you still feel love" to not be particularly supportive, as it's incredibly conditional. I should not have to make up for my lack of romantic attraction with anything, even stuff besides love.

The hateful rhetoric often directed at loveless and non-ace/aro aspec people is, at it's core, the exact same hateful rhetoric directed at ace and aro people who do feel love/attraction. The underlying hatred remains, it just so happens that we get an exception. But what happens if (when) the goodwill that fueled us getting an exception runs dry?

Most importantly, just as people say you can't call yourself an LGBTQ+ ally unless you support all of the letters, I don't think you can call yourself an aspec ally unless you really support all aspec people.

Honestly, I am pretty frustrated by the "haha why would anyone hate ace people" responses to Rowling's tweet.

Don't get me wrong, the support is nice. But if you want to be an ally, you have to do so on our terms, not yours. And that means actually engaging with the aspec community, not just posting positivity every now and again. And what those responses highlight to me is what I've known for a while; you guys only support aspec people when it's easy and convenient.

It's easy to support aspec people when it's J.K. Rowling being awful again. It's easy to support us when it's just reblogging an "aspec people are queer" post.

But what about when we are talking about amatonormativity and the relationship hierarchy? When we are discussing the enforcement of compulsory sexuality? When we are pushing for greater awareness and support for aspec identities that are not asexuality or aromanticism? When we are criticizing terminology that you use but harms us? Because I can tell you right now, I rarely see allo people engage with those posts.

Why do people hate asexuality (or any other aspec identity)? Because it challenges the societal norms that benefit them. And that is uncomfortable and scary. So they turn to hate and oppression in order to assure that the changes we push by just openly existing never happen.

That means that to be a good aspec ally, you can't just make a positivity post every now and again, and you can't just laugh about how stupid aphobes are. You have to openly challenge the societal norms that harm us, even if they benefit you. Including but not limited to:

The idea that romantic and sexual attraction is the default state of being (amatonormativity)

The idea that a romantic, sexual relationship completes a person

People in marriages receiving special privileges and benefits

The idea that platonic, familial, etc. attraction are default states of being

The idea that not feeling some form of attraction must be compensated for through another form of attraction

The idea that love (not just romantic) is inherently morally good, while not feeling love is inherently a moral failing

The idea that any one form of relationship is inherently more important or deeper than any other (relationship hierarchy)

The idea that any one thing makes someone human

The idea that not having sex is shameful or infantile

The idea that having sex without romantic love is callous

Gendered divides of sexual and romantic attraction

Other aspec people please feel free to add on/challenge any of this. Allo (not aspec) people please feel free to ask questions.

I've placed some resources for learning more about these topics under the cut.

Amatonormativity:

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5 - also in the Loveless section] [6 - also in the Compulsory Sexuality section]

Marriage Benefits:

[1]

Other Aspec Identities:

[Aplatonicism] [Afamilialism]

Loveless:

[1] [2 - also in the Amatonormativity section] [3] [4] [5]

Compulsory Sexuality:

[1 - also in the Amatonormativity section] [2]

Relationship Hierarchy vs Relationship Anarchy:

[1] [2] [3]

Oppression:

[1] [2] [3]

Miscellaneous:

[1] [2]

Books and Video Essays:

An Ace Discourse Retrospective by Jenny Geist

Ace: What Asexuality Reveals about Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen

Refusing Compulsory Sexuality: A Black Asexual Lens on Our Sex-Obsessed Culture by Sherronda J. Brown

[yumeka-sxf]

After the exciting start of a new Garden arc last time, today's new chapter did not disappoint either! First thing I noticed upon reading is - Yor's new outfit! (though you're not being very discreet with that "Garden" badge 😅)

Also that little lemur guy in the upper left of the panel is like "Wtf?!" I would think that too if a person suddenly leaped onto the tree branch next to me 🤣 (you can see him scurrying away in the next panel underneath...nice little detail from Endo there.)

Before I get into specifics of this chapter, I wanted to analyze the exchange between Yor and Hemlock in the jeep - namely, the Hemlock/Nightfall parallel, with Hemlock accusing Yor of losing her edge due to "playing house" for too long, which is exactly what Nightfall said to Twilight when she first appeared.

This made me think of an interview with Endo that was shared in the recent iterations of the SxF exhibition that's going on in Japan: when asked which character has changed the most in the series so far, he said Yor while also mentioning that Loid has barely changed. And I can see why that's the case with how Yor responded to Hemlock. Her experience during the cruise arc made her understand her own development - that now more than ever she wants to continue her work because she has more people she desires to protect.

She actually recognizes her own change and embraces it, while Loid...still hasn't gotten there yet. If we compare this exchange between Yor and Hemlock with the one between Loid and Nightfall, Loid clearly doesn't have this same self recognition about how living with the Forgers has changed him. He either genuinely doesn't know or he's in denial, which is why Nightfall is the one who points it out, and even when she tells him, he doesn't have a response.

One could argue that this may have been the case in old chapters, but ever since the mole hunt arc, he has recognized himself how he's changed. I do agree that the mole hunt arc made him realize that he's "softening" in a way, but he sees this as a detriment more than anything else. Unlike Yor who sees how her love for the Forgers has made her stronger, Loid sees it as something that will make him weaker rather than fuel his resolve.

We haven't seen much of Loid's deep inner thoughts since the end of the mole hunt arc, so only time will tell if he'll start to see his own development as something to be accepted rather than pushed away (just a note that I don't have a specific link for this part of the interview, but Fasionnessutsu shared screenshots of it in a thread here).

But anyway, back to other thoughts about this chapter, it was no surprise that even though Yor and McMahon changed into these safari-looking outfits, Hemlock is still wearing his suit. Why am I not surprised someone like him would totally refuse to wear that? 😂

And omg, the fact that Yor is still hung up about the "welcome home" kiss 😂 The fact that she's so earnest about it all this time later means...something, lol.

Also McMahon having a wife...it was kind of vague here but I wonder if she knows about his undercover work? Probably not, but would be interesting to see how much of his marital situation mirrors Yor's.

We apparently got another minor character introduced in this chapter - McMahon's pet falcon (and scouting assistant) Keekee.

In the Japanese version he calls her "Kiki-chan," with "kiki" being the sound she makes. It's nothing big, but I just found it amusing that a stoic, no-nonsense guy like McMahon calls his pet bird "-chan" 😅

The flower that Damian and company found has returned! I mentioned in my last chapter post that it may have some connection to Anya's past - we'll see!

This chapter ends on quite the cliffhanger, with Hemlock attacking Yor because, according to him, she's an impediment to his work and he's allowed to get rid of such impediments. We've already seen several examples of how quick to kill he is. Compared to Yor who tries her best to only kill "bad guys," Hemlock's first notion for anything in his way is to kill, whether it's the deer he's supposed to protect, or a fellow assassin he thinks is dragging him down.

Again, there's parallels that can be drawn between him and Nightfall, but unlike Nightfall whose obsession is fueled by idolizing Twilight, Hemlock's obsession seems to be fueled by animosity for Yor. Where that animosity came from is something we'll hopefully see in upcoming chapters. My theory is that, at some point, Hemlock idolized Yor and is now upset that she seems to have "softened," or he's always been jealous of her and now is even more enraged that she's not taking her job seriously anymore. Whatever the case is, I look forward to seeing how it plays out 👀

[mooniscrying]

my only anchor | part 1

pairing: azriel x reader  summary: you have always loved azriel, but he has yet to ever feel the same way. you have longed for his love achingly, watching in the shadows as he falls in love many times. you still hope one day he'll feel the same way, and yet just when you think he may reciprocate, elain takes his breath away.  warnings: angst, insecurity, self-deprecation, unrequited love </3 or is it? word count: 1.1k a/n: hello loveys! It's been YEARS since I’ve written a proper story, so I apologize in advance for any mistakes. This story has been on my mind for a while, and after having broken up recently, a fire has lit up inside me to drown out all the sadness and pain I feel with writing. I hope this story heals you in some ways it does for me, enjoy lovey! <3

my only anchor masterlist

You couldn’t remember a time where you weren’t hopelessly in love with the shadowsinger. All of the small moments as kids where he took notice of you— the shy and quiet little girl moping in the corner, hoping to blend in with the background to avoid the prying eyes of everyone. Any speck of attention was not your forte, it always made you uncomfortable, made your heart race and palms sweat. 

And despite all this, he saw you. From the way your fingers tapped mindlessly against your legs as you watch with keen observant eyes of those around you, to the way you crinkled your noise a tiny bit when you were upset, to the way your eyes shone brighter than the stars when you shared your little stories to him. It was relentless and endearing how he took notice of every single little thing about you. 

He was your anchor, a stable force within you. He had a way of pulling you out of your comfort zone, helping you gain the confidence you needed to be comfortable in your own skin. Encouraging you to engage in social settings, even if it was just to listen, to simply be present, “I’d rather have you next to me, listening along with me to the chatter of all of these people,” he once told you. 

When in truth, you were also his anchor. You were the very light in his life that pulled him from the dark, guiding and comforting him. You saw past his brooding stern demeanor, making him smile and laugh more times than he can count. 

You embraced his shadows, his darkness, welcoming them with open arms, letting it consume and comfort you. Most of all, you had a way of reading him without him needing to say or do anything. You never pushed nor forced, you’d simply lay your head on his shoulders as you clasped his hand into yours, “It’s okay Azzy, I'm still here, I'm not going anywhere.” 

Thick as thieves, you were both inseparable. Gravitating to one another unconsciously, like souls meant to be intertwined. You were so deeply in love with him, and you were certain he felt just the same. 

You couldn’t be more wrong in your entire life. The moment she came into the family was the moment you became completely invisible, cut off from the one person you could rely on.

You’ve watched from the sidelines for centuries as Azriel bounced from one woman to the other, especially as he chased the love and longing he had for Gwyn and Mor. And yet despite how much it hurt you, he still made sure that you were a priority in his life. Never forgotten like you are now.

But could you blame him?

Elaine was gentle, soft spoken, and kind. Much like you, and yet she was everything you only wished you could be. She was graceful, she was bright, and she was endearing. People gravitated to her without her even having to say anything. She was noticed instantly, igniting the primal instinct of those around her to protect her, to include her, and to keep her safe.

And you could do nothing but go back into the darkness of your own shadows, lingering in the corner and watching as Azriel slipped through your fingers. And the worst part of it all? 

He didn’t even notice. 

It was dinner time with the whole family as usual. You sat to the right of Azriel, with Elain to his left. It was a habit for you both to fill each other’s plates with all your favorite foods. It was natural for you both, something that everyone liked to tease you both about, and yet you and Azriel thought nothing of it. Just waved it off with a smile because in truth, it just felt right to you both. 

You began filling his plate with all of the good hearty stuff he liked to indulge in once in a while. You grabbed a few slices of roast beef, 2 baked bread rolls, a generous heaping amount of potatoes, and a few pieces of broccoli and carrots.

It was only after you finished plating his food that you realized your plate was empty. You were so happily engrossed with plating his food that you failed to realize that all the movements Azriel has been making to grab food weren’t to fill your plate, but to fill hers. A pile high of food completely different from your taste buds. 

You felt the beginning of your tears in your eyes, and yet you held them back as much as you could. Everyone around you was happily talking and eating, completely oblivious to the way your heart was being torn apart. You wanted to get up and leave the room, to do nothing but cry for the rest of the night. But you didn’t want to cause a scene, you didn’t want to burden anyone with your own pain— they all deserved a good time with a good meal at the end of the night.

Coming back from your thoughts, you fought the urge to look to your left. You fought with all your heart, to ignore the whispers and giggles from them both. You especially tried to ignore the way Azriel ate happily at his food, never once wondering how his plate was already so full. That night, all you could eat was a slice of strawberry cake, going unnoticed by everyone, by Azriel, of just how little you ate. 

Despite how completely invisible you felt, it couldn’t stop you from caring and loving him from the shadows. It didn’t stop you from filling his plate every dinner time. And it most certainly didn’t stop you from doing what you’ve always done.

You refilled his secret snack cabinet in the kitchen when it was going empty, you replaced his gloves and clothes when you noticed it starting to wear out during training, and you made sure a cup of warm tea was always placed in his night stand— knowing how it helped him sleep easier. 

You were so in tuned with making sure you never stopped loving him in ways you’ve always had that you failed to realize that it was no longer being reciprocated. Your bones were starting to ache, your stomach was feeling emptier than usual, the headaches were becoming a frequent visitor, your skin becoming pale from the lack of sleep, and you were slowly drifting away from not only Azriel, but your family too.

The only solace you realized was at night, where you could cry out your heart with the moon looking down on you. You let out a sob, recalling just how loved you used to be by Azriel. How he kept you strong and how he looked out for you just as much. And yet you were so easy to forget, so easy to be tossed aside, as if you were nothing to him. With one final cry, you’ve accepted the one fact you’ve been avoiding— you lost the only anchor you had in your life.

[lustlovehart]

Modern Monster!Twst : Savanaclaw

Warnings: Murder, Blood, Reader makes fun of Leona, They all carry you, attempted imprisonment, Obsession, They’re all really touchy

Your fingers silence your phone, the caller ID on top telling you that evil incarnate’s little workers are calling you. Despite doing that, your phone still lights every time they call. With a sigh, you put down the camera in need of repair, and face the other way, finally answering them.

The sound of Savanaclaw’s Savana serve as unnerving background noise. Occasionally, it sounds like there’s breathing. But that just can’t be.

“Would you all stop?!”

“Oh, so now they finally answer.” You can hear Ace and his attitude drip through the speaker, whispers in the background making it obvious he’s not alone. Better yet—

“I hear plastic wrapping— Are you all eating my food?!”

“Yeah we are.” Despite the quick chain of no’s and don’t do that, they continue. Obviously they’re not satisfied though, as you can hear Deuce in the background say he wants to be grateful, but it just doesn’t quite compare to regular… “anyway, Riddle wants to talk to you.”

“You all forget, I live on the salary of one person—! Hi Riddle.”

“I insist you get out of there as soon as you can.”

Silently, you look around. The tall grass sway back and forth, ever so whistling as it moves. It’s dark.

And you have no ride back home.

Your friend was also murdered by some mysterious entities, but that doesn’t matter because you have no ride!!

“Yeah, I don’t think I can do that…”

“Why?” Truth be told, that sounds more like a statement than a question, but you answer nonetheless.

“… Someone— Something, killed my ride back… And they’re the only one who knows how to get back to the car…” you can hear Riddle sigh on the other line, placing the phone down on a table.

“Stay there, I’m coming—“ oh he’s doing that. Occasionally, in your moment(s) of need, Riddle or Cater simply, jump out of your phone. Somehow, someway, they can do that. And he’s doing it to save you! How great—

Your phone dies before you can see his transparency come out of your screen.

“Ah—! No, no no…!” You ball a fist, hitting the screen as you desperately try to turn it back on. You’re about to bang it on the floor before you remember how much it costs to buy a new one. Reluctantly, you put it back in your pocket. You’re still squatting on the floor, drooping your head in defeat.

But the creatures of night here seem just as restless. And you have no idea if you’ll get as lucky as you did when you met the others.

Maybe, they’re the only monsters that exist! They must be lying about others on to scare you! Yeah! Yeah—!

“Shishishi, seems a stray came into his majesty’s kingdom!” The feeling of clawed hands pierce into your arms, the scent of blood seeping into your nostrils. You can feel it stab its claws into your skin, but you’re too scared to turn around and face it.

… Shishishi?

“You’re Ruggie…!” His laughing stops when you say his name. Before he can ask you how you could ever even know it, you finally turn around, facing the werehyena. His breath hitches in his throat when he sees your face in the moon light.

“It’s you.” Quickly, you throw your head back, flinging it full force back on him. You can hear a loud crack (though you’re not sure if it’s from him or you), pain stinging through both you and him. His claws release you, covering his forehead.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit why would you do that?! At this point you might as well have killed yourself instead…! Ahh—

You double over, clutching your head. Despite it, you stumble, running in whatever direction you can. Not very good, but you’re running nonetheless. But, you can’t hold on any longer. Your head feels light, and the sensation of feeling your limbs carry your weight disappears.

And before you know it, you’re on the floor.

Ruggie stands before you, a sigh leaving his throat before his ghastly features retreat into his skin. The blood on his hands and mouth remains. He’s about to pick you up before he stops, wiping his hands of crimson before allowing himself to touch you.

“Geez, just what have you gotten yourself into?” Your head is tucked into the crook of his neck, your hand weakly holding his bicep. The sight is cute, he thinks. Though, he can smell strawberry on you, and it’s enough of a hint to tell him how you know who he is.

He frees one hand, gently massaging the sore spot with his thumb.

…

Your senses are dull, you can barely feel the snakes the slowly wrap around your arms and legs. At least, you think they are. They certainly move like snakes.

A bandaged hand rubs your head. Your eyes are blurry so you can’t really tell, but you don’t think he has a face, at least not eyes. If he does, they’re covered, only emitting an emerald glow in its place. He smells… He smells. Yep, you’re not sure what kind but he certainly does.

“Oi.” He doesn’t give you the chance to speak, poking your forehead with his finger. “You’re awake already right?” His next target is your cheek. With each fail to reply, the snakes tighten even more and more— Ah, they’re bandages…

“Is this some sort of kink play for you? huh?” Your retort earns no reaction, as he instead sighs and pulls you up by the cloth, close enough to be chest to chest, and nose to nose.

“You’re brave. You already know, yet you don’t care.”

He’s stupid. Obviously, you care! You don’t wanna die if you’re not recording it! Maybe you can headbutt him too— Yeah, no don’t be stupid. Despite saying that in your mind, your body doesn’t seem to listen, already leaning back.

“Don’t try it.” The man seems to already know, placing his palm on your forehead to push you back onto the table. No, burial chamber inside the tomb. Tomb!?

“Isn’t this like disrespectful or something?! I can’t just lay on top of this thing get me off of here—!!” You’re quick to swing back up again, shuffling off the surface into the mysterious guys arms.

“What? It’s mine. I don’t care.”

“You might not care but the person inside probably—! Ohhhh.” You’re stupid for not catching on any sooner. “… Y- You can put me down now…” his wrapped arms are positioned under your legs, carrying you effortlessly in one arm. It’s not like you can push him away, though, your arms are still tied together. Even then, you can tell he didn’t plan on letting you go so easily, the smug laugh that leaves his throat is proof enough.

“Why? You’re the one who said it’s disrespectful.” If you had the energy to hit him you would. Instead, you opt for resting your head on his, not even caring about the ear on top of his head. It’s like all your exhaustion has hit you all at once. He’s silent when you essentially start sleeping on his head.

He powers off the phone with your face on its screen, tossing it aside… For someone who looks a little too human to be there.

“Make sure they can’t get out of the Savana once they wake up, Jack.” He stays silent, only nodding. Leona can tell though, his eyes are only trained on you.

…

You wake up to the feeling of tall grass tickling your face. The spot beside you is empty, but you swear you could remember a body next to you, warming you in the cold. You don’t have time to dwell on the details, seeing that the mummy that held you is gone and… It’s daytime.

“Oh my gosh they’re gonna kill me when I get home…!” You whine as you thrash on the floor, throwing rocks into the grass. You can see it now, those two zombies are practically gonna be glued to you by the hip! They already are but it’s gonna be twice as worse.

Trey and Cater are gonna leave the apartment with you all the time, even if it’s just to water plants! And Riddle… You don’t even want to imagine your neighbors having to deal with him. They just moved in after what he did to the last one’s!

“It’s okay, you’ll be able to go home.” A deep voice erupts from behind you, but it’s soft in tone. You’re swift to turn around, a jagged rock in hand. But… you’re met with a regular human.

“… Who are you?”

“That’s… not important. Just go before they know I’m letting you leave.” He’s already picking you up, carrying you in his arms as he walks with determination.

“Wha— I don’t even know if that’s the way to my car—!”

“It is. I know it is.”

You stare at him, you really shouldn’t trust his judgment, but for some reason you do. So, you let him run into the Savana, your arm wrapping around his neck as you hold on.

Before you know it, you’re already at the vehicle, entirely untouched. When he puts you down, he beckons you to the car, hurrying you to get inside.

“Go, go before they know—“ your hand grabs onto his wrist, pulling him inside.

“There’s… Things here. You have to get out before something happens. You’re human too right?”

He’s silent. It raises your suspicions, but there’s no way he would’ve led you here if he were with them. You don’t have the chance to say anything else, your hand is turning the car on.

It quickly dies when the sound of the hood being banged open erupts into the air. The both of you turn forward, greeted by the sight of a mummy and his werehyena.

“No one’s leaving.” If you could see his eyes, you’re sure they would be terrifying to gaze into. Though, as he says his next words, you can feel that he’s only looking at you, “You’ll be here until time turns to sand.” Sand seems to be the correct statement, as dust and debris begins to whirl around, eating your surroundings. The hyena only seems to laugh at the recent development, Leona slowly walking his way to your side of the car.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit—

You’re saved when the sight of a red leaves the car screen.

…

You're sandwiched between Ace and Deuce, yet the sight is one you didn’t think to ever be in. Your arms are wrapped around their necks as you pull them in, gushing about how you think they were legitimately going to kill you, it was so horrifying!

“Cay-Cay says you should get a career change! I don’t think you going monster hunting is gonna get any better—“

“No no no, I just gotta stop going to actual haunted places!” Well… seems their attempt at getting you to stay home with them fails once more. Maybe they should just start locking you in.

“It would be safer than actual places, but I’d still feel more assured if you just quit altogether.” Trey places a plate in front of you, ducking a little so his head doesn’t hit the ceiling. His fork stabs the food, cupping his hand underneath so nothing spills. You always tell him he doesn’t need to feed you, but after everything, you finally take him up on his offer.

Occasionally though, your eyes shift over to Riddle, who just stares at you. He stares as if it’s your last moment of being his.

…

“I’m okay now you know.” You stare up at Riddle from where you sit, everyone else already sleeping in their designated areas. The moon shines through him, making him brighter than he usually is.

“But what if you weren’t?” You can’t deny the possibility. You were so close to dying (you think they were trying to kill you at least). Nonetheless, you let your hand ghost over his. Not touching, never touching, but always feeling.

“Let’s not think about it.”

He doesn’t say anymore. He only continues to look at the smile on your lips, unknowing of the new additions in your house.

…

Your eyes slowly peak open. The left side of your bed is suspiciously empty, the side Deuce would typically occupy. Though… Ace feels different. He’s lacking the missing limbs and torn skin from under that blanket.

The familiar sound of snoring interrupts your train of thought. Those snores aren’t coming from the bed, but rather your floor… You lift the blanket swiftly, welcomed to the sight of a handsome mummy hugging your waist, his bandages slowly encasing your bare skin in him.

His head turns towards you, a smile filled with cockiness plaguing your view. You don’t even have the chance to yell for Riddle before Leona’s pulling you into him, his palm covering your mouth.

“Ah ah, we’re just poor party performers looking for refuge. You’re not gonna send your guard dogs to kill us are you?” … He’s right, Riddle and the rest of them would definitely jump at the chance to claw him down. Plus, he tried to kill you! Okay yeah no you’re screaming—

We?

Slowly, your hand sneaks onto his shoulder, using it as an anchor as you peek behind him. You grimace at the sight of the werehyena, the familiar lax grin etched on his lips. You wouldn’t mind if he got attacked, too. But, the human(?) next to him is an entirely different story. His head is dipped down, trying his hardest to avoid making eye contact with you.

… You can’t do that to him.

You wrap your fingers around his bandages, slowly taking his hand off your mouth, and he lets you. It takes a few moments, but the second you nod, the mummy is falling back into the bed. Soft snores leave his throat, and you already know he’s fallen asleep.

… You have no idea how to explain to Riddle and the others the 3 new roommates they’ll be having.

You just hope none of them see Leona in your bed, practically using you as a pillow—

“[Name]. What are they doing in here.”

The sight of Riddle in your doorway with roses immediately evokes guilt in your heart. Slowly, you sneak your blanket over Leona, hoping somehow, he’ll suffocate and die a second death underneath.

[rlimagi]

No Diggity [ Part I ]

Pairings: Paige Bueckers x actress!reader

Genre: one sided enemies to lovers, force proximity, romcom…

Synopsis: in which you are forced to work with the person who’d made it her life mission to get under your skin every single day of the week since you were in Middle School.

��▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄▄

A laugh rolls of your tongue effortlessly as the host, Jimmy Fallon cracks another one of his jokes, the audience laughed along.

“Okay, okay, enough of that!” Jimmy lets out a chuckle. “Let’s move back to you, oh what a great comeback you had. Coming back after so many years behind the scenes, if I’m correct- you took a huge break after entering High School?”

You nod, leaning against the sofa comfortably. “Yeah, I had a deal with my parents. They didn’t really want me to throw my education away, not to mention that they didn’t even want me acting in the first place…but uh, yeah. I spent all four years getting straight A’s, top of the class, valedictorian, you know just to get my parents to let me go back out.”

Jimmy claps along with the crowd. “That’s only very inspirational, education is definitely important, and valedictorian woah!”

“Yeah, I had to work hard for that one.” You chuckle, reminiscing about your no sleep days when you were cramping for exams.

“Speaking of working hard, your new movie!” Jimmy exclaims, bending down to pick a framed poster. “Earnestly has just grossed over 350 Millions dollars in the box office with a budget of only 15 million, now that is absolutely insane!

How does it feel to have your first movie- since entering adulthood, become such a big deal in the box office, and just a big deal overall?”

You shake your head, a grin spreading. “It’s surreal for sure! Honestly, my manager didn’t even want me to take this role. It was from a small and fairly new production company, the team hadn’t worked on any big names yet, but they sent me in the script and I was hooked.”

You pause to take it all in before continuing. “And I’m so glad I took the risk. I had fun like never before, my coworkers are all so talented and good people, it was just overall a positive environment. I ended up having so much fun filming it, and uh people seemed to really love it as much as I do too. No regrets, definitely.”

Jimmy nods, before leaning against his table. “And what do you think plays in the success of the film? Any specific reason?”

You think for a moment. “I think the world is just deprived of romcoms, I mean sure we’ve had a few romcoms here and there but nothing comparable to the 2000s. I think we’re all now in the reminiscing about the past sort of era, Earnestly definitely fills that void.”

“I agree wholeheartedly and I’m not just saying because you’re here, but no new romcoms have filled that place in my heart but then you came in and did your job. Watching you with your scene parter- Jenna Ortega, was insane, you guys had so much chemistry!”

“Thank you, that means a lot.” You smile, shifting in your seat. “And yeah, Jenna she’s great and is literally best friends with everyone on the set. She definitely made my job a lot more easier.”

 “Now, I’m sure roles are rushing to your feet- may we get an idea of what kind of role would you take on next? Another romcom? Or maybe horror, we know you’re a diverse actor.”

“Thank you, but honestly I can’t say anything right now- not because I’m prohibited or anything but uh…I just want it to be a mystery. It’ll be surprising for sure.”

“Awe don’t be such a tease, can’t we get a least a small tiny info on it? I’m sure everyone is dying to know.” Jimmy says and the audience bursts into shouts of agreement with the host.

“Oh wow, the energy.” You laugh before shaking your head. “Alright, I guess I can give you small little hints…umm think, desire, heat, game on.”

“Oh, wow okay. That’s a strong concept, this could go many ways. Romance, thriller, maybe even something like fast and furious- car racing!?”

“Umm, sure…” You give out an unsure smile.

“You don’t look too sure.” Jimmy eyes you suspiciously.

The interview goes on normally and by the end of it, you’re exhausted from all the energy you put into it. You head a great time, but working way too early in the morning makes your body drain out faster than any other time could.

“Please, please, tell me I have nothing left for the day.” You lay your head against the neck rest of the car seat, spreading your legs and arms out like a starfish.

Your manager, also honorary big sister shakes her head. “Nope, you’ve got an WNBA game to attend. Sponsored by the big dog, Nike themselves. Plus, it would benefit you to learn from actual professionals.”

“Please never, ever, say that word ever again.” You groan, cringing at the word she used. Alexandria was such a millennial, it hurts your soul every time she uses phrases cringy phrases unironically.

“You’re such a hater, or should I say an opp?” Alex continues, you are sure she’s just doing it to get a reaction out of you now.

“Oh, so you’re converting to the new gen now? Please, stop. I beg.”

Alex laughs directly at your face before she raises your hands up in surrender. The car ride goes on silently, usually it would be filled with music blasting and you guys would be singing, but whenever you had an early schedule, silent rides is preferred.

You sit on the court side, scanning through the faces of the players as they’re ready to start the match. To be honest, you don’t watch basketball. Not because you don’t respect the game, but more like someone in your past had made you totally avoid it.

So, here you are cluelessly sitting as everyone around you is busying themselves, chattering about the game and what not. Even Alexandrea had left you to talk with the group of girls sitting beside you guys.

“Uh, excuse me?” One of the girls from the group that Alex had been talking to, left her friends and approaches you.

“Hello.” You chuckle, finding the flushing on her face amusing.

“Sorry, to bother you but I’m such a huge fan. You’re literally one of my crushes and gosh, you are so much more beautiful in real life- I’m sorry for rambling on like this but Alex told me to come and say hi.” The teenager rambles on, her face growing more red by the second.

“Awe, thank you! And you’re not bothering me, don’t worry I was getting lonely here. Also, what’s your name?” You grin, gesturing her to sit down with you and the girl almost screeched.

“I’m Angelina, but my friends call me Angie!”

“Well then Angie- can I call you Angie?” You pause, before continuing when the teenager nods her head. “Okay Angie, care to explain how the game works? I don’t really watch basketball.”

"Okay, so this will be a match between the Dallas Wings and the Las Vegas Aces, it's only a preseason game but still is fun to watch.” Angelina pauses to make sure you’re following along, you nod. “Each team starts with five players, but as the game goes on you'll see that some will get benched, so that other players get a chance to play.”

When the game starts, Angelina is still explaining the basics to you and you are grateful. To be frank, you only know they make shots and when it goes in, they score but your knowledge ends there.

You are actively paying attention to the players up until you notices someone familiar, a face that you can’t quite pinpoint to. But then your eyes meet with her, number 5, Bueckers.

Paige fucking Bueckers.

She is blonde now which made it uneasy for you to remember your middle school arch nemesis at first, but she still hold that stupid smug little smirk on her lips that you can recognize anywhere.

Angelina notices your staring and a bigger grin grows on her face. “Ooh, that’s Paige Bueckers you’re looking at- also my wife, but you’re my first wife don’t worry.”

You tear your eyes away from the athlete, your face morphing into a look of disbelief as you look at the younger girl. “You’re like- what 16? How many wives do you have?”

“I’m 17, and too many.” Angelina smiles sheepishly, wavering her hands to brush it off. “Anyways, Paige is from UConn which is literally my dream school-“

“Do you actually want to go there or you just want to because she went there?” You tease, causing the girl to slap your arm.

Angelina glares at you before replying. “I do actually want to, UConn has the best basketball programs and the coaches have been coming to my games. It’s all good.”

“Don’t forget me when you become famous.” You add with a cheeky smile.

Angelina shakes her head, a smile spreading. “Of course not, I’d even make sure to dedicate every single one of my wins to you!”

“You’re too sweet.”

“Thanks! My mother tells me that everyday. Anyway- back to Paige, she’s the most sought after college player in her draft class which is how she got into her team, Dallas got the first pick and Paige was the number one recruit so there’s that.” Angelina rambles on before taking a sip of her drink. “Honestly, I wanted her in the Valkyries but we digress.”

“She sounds like a big deal.” You say, but you are slowly dying inside. You are trying to keep your words to yourself with all the things you have to say about Paige Bueckers.

The same girl who made an enemy out of you in the 6th grade when she threw a basketball at your face and never apologized, the girl who targeted you during dodgeball and made it her life mission to taunt you all through middle school to high school.

Yeah, that Paige Bueckers who you swore you’ll never get to see again after graduation but here you are, five years later sitting in one of her games.

The girl sitting beside you nod in agreement. “She is a big deal, honestly if it weren't for her injury back in college she would've been even bigger. But it's all good because she's going to make history, I'm sure of it."

You watch as the said player gain possession of the ball and dribbles it over to the line, tailed by two other players before she jumps and make the point against the defending of three players.

It was pure art and you can’t even deny it as much as it pains you to.

“That’s my wife!” Angelina jumps out and shouts while you hide your face from the people who looked over.

Fortunately, the Wings lost and the light inside you brightened up a little as you happily sip the last of your drink, getting ready to get home to enjoy the embrace of your bed and your puppy, Jam.

“Awe, I guess this is the end. I’m so glad you allowed me to spend time with you!” Angelina smiles solemnly as she hugs you.

You return the hug and a smile with it. “I had so much fun sitting next to you too and your rambles. Hey, how about we keep contact? I want to make sure you’ll keep your promises.”

“Oh em gee! Yes! Of course, here’s my instagram.” Angelina hands over her phone and after you exchanged contacts, you both went your separate ways.

You are about to leave the court when Alexandrea comes back and pulls you by your shoulder. “Not so fast, kid.”

“You’re like only six years older.” You scoff, crossing your arms. “And why exactly am I not allowed to go and enjoy the comfort of my bed and newborn?”

“Y/n, your dog is not a human child and he is not a newborn. Plus, six years is a lot of years which makes it acceptable for me to call you kid since you act like one, and there’s just someone I’d like you to meet.” Alexandrea snarks back and taps on your shoulder.

“Remember when I told you I arranged for a player to be sort of your mentor since you’ve gotta start learning how to play?”

You eye her suspiciously as you guys start to walk dangerously to close to the players, or more specifically Jersey number 5. “Yeah…?”

“Well, my good friend is on the team- well actually my little sister’s friend but we’re connected so who cares about the details.” Alexandrea waves it off and you start to grow a little on edge as you start to get closer to the player. “You’ll see.”

"Hey, Paige! It's so nice to see you again.” Your manager grins as she and the tall woman dab each other up.

You are completely stone cold, you’re pretty sure your blood had stopped circulating by then. Of course it had to be fucking Paige Bueckers.

"Aye, you too Alex.” Paige grin, before her eyes averted to yours. Instantly there is a spark, a spark of heat igniting that had been lost over the years, a spark of hatred.

You glare at Paige while her lips forms a smirk, a stupid smug smirk that you wish you can punch off.

“Paige, this is Y/n. Y/n, this is Paige. You guys will be working together so I thought it’s better to introduce you guys early on.” Alex informs and you almost want to bang your head on the floor.

No way in hell would you agree if you had known before hand. “What?!?”

Alex’s brows raises at your reaction. “Is there a problem?”

You glare at Alex with a look that says ‘I’ll tell you later.’ And she nods in understanding before looking back at Paige.

“Okay, moving back. Arrangements will be made for you guys to work in the Wing’s court, schedules will be sent to you both in a few days when I and Paige’s manager sort out your free times.”

“Hold on, I just have a question. Why can’t I just work with a coach instead? Wouldn’t it be less of a hassle this way.” You suggest, eyes gleaming in hope that is to be shut down the second your manager slash number one hater opens her mouth.

“Nope, using a coach is not a bad idea but Paige is a good teacher and the whole team is on board with this. Plus, according to the few TikToks I’ve seen, apparently you guys went to the same High School?”

“Yeah, that’s right we shared almost all of our classes together.” Paige says casually as you are trying to ignore her existence.

“Oh, so you guys are friends then. That makes my job much easier.”

“Yeah.”

“Nope.”

You and Paige answers at the same time, causing you both to look at each other but with exact opposite reactions. You glared while she grinned.

Paige waves her hands and sneakingly places her arm on your shoulder, not budging when you try to push her off. “She’s playing, we’re actually the best of friends. Actually, Y/n used to be wild at parties. She was a huge deal in high school, I couldn’t go on a second without hearing her name.”

You roll your eyes, fucking liar. Actually the last bit isn’t a lie, you were popular and threw a bunch of wild parties in High school, but you and Paige were and are not definitely besties. “At least I got straight A’s and became Valedictorian unlike somebody. Paige, have you turned in that assignment from Ms. Bailey from the 6th grade yet?”

Paige scoff, taking her arms off of your shoulder as she places her hand on her chest and faux offense. “Hey, that was years ago and at l passed my classes okay?”

“Yeah, barely.” You say snarkily.

Alex, sensing the animosity gets in between you two. “Okay, ladies I’m sensing some tension here. You both are tired and drained out, how about we call it a day?”

“Hmm, sure.” Paige mumbles, avoiding your eye.

“Finally!” You exclaim, practically flying as you walk away in glee.

Your week went on normally, a few interviews here and there, commercial and magazine shoots, it was all great. Your schedule was packed and you felt happier than ever, well until Friday evening that is.

The day you had to meet up with Paige Bueckers again. You were sick of her face and name already.

“We’re going to work together all month so let’s make a truce, you don’t bother me, I don’t bother you. Deal?”

Paige pretends to think for a moment before shrugging. “Nah, I love watching you getting all worked up over me.”

Your jaw drops. “Wow, somebody’s cocky. I don’t get worked up over you, Bueckers.” You grind your teeth as you walk over the taller woman, placing your finger right into her chest.

Your eye flickers to her lips for a second- since when did she put on lip gloss, and your frown falters for a bit before getting replaced with a softer one. “Your face is just annoying.”

Paige smirks, shaking her head as she dribbles a ball around before shooting it into the net, it goes right through. “Yet, you keep looking at it.”

You hold your tongue back, knowing if not then the words you wanted to say would get you an immediate invite to the cancelled party. “Whatever, let’s just get this over with.”

You reluctantly accept the ball Paige handed over, tapping it up and down before trying to make a shot. It doesn’t go in, in fact it hit the rims and flies straight over to Paige’s head.

“Shit!” You exclaim, running over Paige who is stumbling her steps trying to keep her balance. “I’m so sorry.”

You keep apologizing even as Paige waves her hands around saying that it’s fine, but it really isn’t because blood is flowing from both of her nose and she looks like she’s about to go into a deep, deep slumber any second now.

You walk her over to a seat, stumbling a few times in the process. She is much taller and stronger than you are so it was definitely a struggle to carry a 6’0 athlete anywhere.

“Hey, Paige? Stay awake for me, okay?” You say softly, using your handkerchief to stop the blood from dripping down. It was your favorite thing from since when you’re a baby, but there are more important things right now. “I have to call for the nurse now.”

“No, no- stay…I’m fine.” Paige grips your wrist tight, trying to look normal.

Your eyes softens and it is filled up with guilt. “No, you’re not and it’s my fault. Just don’t be stubborn and let me help you, okay.”

Paige nods obediently, finding no more energy to argue.

You left Paige to call for medical aid, luckily it wasn’t all too bad and Paige would be fine after a few days of rest but you still felt extremely guilty. She’d gotten hurt and had to miss a game because of you.

[huntingcupid]

LOWKEY — L.R

I don't really give a fuck about all the "he said, she said" bullshit so pick your poison love, let's go somewhere a little more exclusive

⌗ LARA — fem!reader, angst, fluff, silent animosity, no actual arguments, tension, swearing, dream academy mentioned, predebut - touch time line, 7thmember!reader, cyber bullying, etc...

⌗ SYPNOSIS — due to you being quiet and kept to yourself during dream academy, you unexpectedly made yourself seem like a mean girl, making the person you liked which is lara also have a secret animosity towards you

⌗ CUPID — warning missy and mitra are mentioned...ew, anyways request by @artistwitchgirl here ya go babe

you've been lurking around instagram for an hour now — until a message popped up on your phone, it was from a womans account, her bio read of being some producer and scouter — it sounded like a scam obviously yet you still opened the message

“do you want to be the next generation of idol’s?, today is your lucky day hybe has chosen to scout you, if interested send a 1 minute video of either a dance, song (with no backtrack) or rap, thank you very much” you tilt your head wondering how they even found your account, either way you didn't want to get scammed so you closed it

you didn't think about the message for a good week, there it sat in your inbox unopened since you first received it — it's not like you're untalented, and oh you only live once

you sigh defeatedly, setting up your phone to record yourself singing — you rewatched the video almost hundreds of times scared that you might have just did all this for a scam text — you clicked send and it was sent

you power off your phone, hands clammy and very much nervous, “it's just a video” you mutter to yourself trying to calm your nerves

ding, your phone vibrates with a notification just a few days after you had sent the video — you open it seeing the woman had responded, “can we have you in a video meeting later by 12?” you type and erase your response, eventually ending up sending a simple, “yeah of course!”

you take a cold shower, getting ready for the meeting wearing your favorite shirt that you barely even wear, doing your makeup extra pretty, the clock ticks each tick getting closer to 12, you anxiously open your laptop waiting for the woman to send the link

you tap your finger on the table, until you see the notification pop up, you click the link joining the meeting — two other people were in the meeting, the woman you had been talking to and some dude who looked quiet professional

throughout it they were speaking about what you are gonna join and how and where you needed to improve — and to be frank you didn't understand half of what they are saying you just smiled and nodded

well until they told you when you are gonna fly out to la, your eyes almost pop out of your head — you barely left your apartment now your gonna move to a completely different place almost thousands of miles away

you take a minute to let the words and decisions sink in, thoughts flood your mind of the worst case scenarios, what if i fail, what if i get into a accident, what if-

“y/n?, you there?” the woman's voice cuts through your train of thought, you blink and open your mouth to speak but your afraid of what you might say

“yeah, uhm I'll get my things packed and we'll fly out in a week right?” you mutter almost like it was a secret, “yeah, we will have one of our staff's pick you up when you get dropped of at la” the explanation continues

after the meeting the weight of your decision finally settles in, suddenly your packing away your life not sure of how this may affect it — you're ready to try it obviously

your shitty part time job that you got the quit was the best part — the plane ride was smooth and you didn't think about what may happen for maybe an hour or two

when you arrived you got picked up by a woman her name's aliyah, aliyah explained further where you'll be living and just what the woman you spoke to on Instagram said as well

when you made it to the house you finally met the other girls who had gotten scouted or auditioned to, “hi!, I'm karlee” the shorter korean said, “hi I'm sophia” the filipina one followed, there you met 7 girls, karlee, sophia, adela, megan, emily, daniela, ezrela and lexie — they helped you get familiar with scheduling and how to get around the house

after maybe a month or two you got introduced to more girls, and then the unthinkable happens

when the management had formed a group of 20 girls they announced how you were going public under the dream “dream academy” you however didn't like this

you had continuously asked the management if you were gonna compete or was it a competition yet they denied, now you're gonna go against the girls you had lived with for months?, this is absolute bullshit

you wanted to quit right away, especially when you realized how much you have grown to like lara, in a romantic way, the indian was talented, nice and so confident — you never really got close to her due to the fact you were scared to

for the next few weeks you tired your best to distance yourself from the rest, creating a barrier, as the show starts you got introduced to the world, you had a pretty big fan base, you always silently liked and commented on posts by the other girls, supporting them thru a anonymous account

the first group mission rolled around, you were grouped in the omg group, you did pretty well

what you failed to realize was lara's growing animosity towards you the rest of the girls had been talking about your strange behavior how you're very quiet and almost looked like your judging others

“yeah like why does she always side eye us?” lara chimes in as the rest of the girls nod in unison, “it's like if you hate us just say it?, don't be a bitch about it” adela follows

the door clicks as you enter the house, silence floods the living room as the girls look around keeping quiet — “hi” you mutter as the rest just wave, not lara though she rolled her eyes and went to her shared room, you follow up going to your room too — you knew something was wrong, the way they seemed to fake their reaction towards you spoke louder than their words, that night you talked to ezrela

“can i ask you something?” you said, the smaller girl nods smiling at you, “am i being a bit too off? like do i seem like a mean girl?” you follow for a moment ezrela stopped — her eyes wandering in the room trying to formulate a nice enough answer, “y/n, i don't know how to put this but the rest of the girls see you as maybe a bit of a bitch” she replies softly, you tilt your head confused and somewhat guilty of why they feel that way, you had acted way too distant making you seem so out of touch

the camera crew approached you and ezrela, and you went dead silent only nodding and hugging the shorter girl

two weeks in eliminations started — adela was first to go, making lara a bit upset — even more upset at you as you had the highest votes she didn't see you as deserving as the rest, yes you were talented but your attitude seem to tick her the wrong way

the night adela got eliminated you cried, you weren't close but seeing how much she worked hard and how loved she was by the rest made it hurt — and hearing the silent chatter around you made it worse, words like “y/n doesn't deserve it” or “she should've been first” made its way back to you — you couldn't help but feel lonely, feel unworthy, you stayed in your room until you heard faint rustling outside your door

“y/n can we come in?” sophias voice came through, “sure” you replied wiping your tears and composing yourself, “hey” you softy mutter, sophia, megan and emily came in

“we know you've heard what we've said about you, and we want to apologize for that” they explained which you nod to, “I'm sorry for being distant too, i just don't want to get attached” the girls understood, you started tearing up feeling so guilty about how you have acted — “y/n don't cry” sophia softly whispers hugging you, you haven't felt so safe in so long you four made up and they helped you make it up to the rest too

the last one was lara who refused to even talk to you — it was mission 3 near finals only a couple of you were left and it didn't make sense for you not to make it up to her

every elimination you felt scared maybe your next, maybe she is, you felt so vulnerable, how the management just recorded as you and the rest of the girls slowly got your mental health wrecked — you often talked to missy about your experience, since you had no one to run to

finally it was the finale — one by one the girls got picked it was the final spot only you, ezrela, marquise and emily were left, your hands shaky feeling nervous

“your final member for katseye is — y/n!” the announcer blares you crouch feeling happy and so proud, tears start flowing as you hug the others saying how proud you are — making it to the line up manon hugs you immediately as she mutters something about how grateful she is, “fuck i didn't expect this” you giggle as daniela laughs along with you

yet your eyes followed her, followed lara — she didn't hug you but only congratulated you from afar, after the event you went to stay at megan's house eating and celebrating

“we really are in a girl group now” you murmur as you and megan lay in her bed, “yeah, what the fuck is happening” she replies softly laughing — “missy told me we will be moving in a separate house in a few weeks” you mutter which megan hums to, “that'd be nice, god this journey wrecked me”, “me too” you replied

during the weeks you didn't have anything to do, you juggled working in a small local café and still training a bit, improving your dance and singing — during these days you reflected on how much you've grown as a person

the day you had to move in with the rest of the girls was the best — you were roomed with megan and lara which seemed a bit to targeted, knowing missy knew about your relationship with lara, you bunked with megan often sharing clothes with her

meetings were called about your upcoming debut — the girls got transformed some getting their hair dyed and some getting it cut, lara got this red fiery color which highlighted her features so well, you got a layered haircut with a dark blue dye

“okay miss fine shit” megan jokes which you laugh to, “yes miss ginger” you replied as you two giggle — you were in awe at how beautiful the rest were, yet you can't seem to peel your eyes off lara, how she looked like an actual goddess — manon noticed and teased you abit

“you are so gay” manon says, looking at lara too, you gasp, surprised with her words — “can't I just appreciate how a woman looks?” you tried explaining which manon only sarcastically nods to, “okay fine!” you mutter next defeated

the filming for debut was one of the best experiences ever, very tiring but fun — you got the hang off a building in the music video which was so amazing, it garnered quite a lot of views but when touch got released you really skyrocketed

the song garnered over 100 million streams in spotify and a few million on youtube, during this katseye was starting to promote in different countries starting in korea

that's until the documentary dropped — you didn't want to watch it nor promote it, yet seeing the hate you and the rest got was so draining, lara however got the most disgusting remarks ever, which made you boil in rage — you've addressed multiple times on weverse that you had no beef with anyone especially lara, despite this lara still got bullying allegations and non stop racism

during this you were in japan — promoting touch, the girls were out exploring tokyo as you and lara decided to stay in the hotel room, you heard faint sobs and coughing from the restroom, you didn't want to peek knowing she needed her own time

but as her voice grew louder and her sobs seemed to not stop you decided to enter, knocking and going in

“lara?” you ask as she sat on the ground head down hugging her legs covering her face — “what” she hissed, “lara you shouldn't take anything personally, don't mind them” you mutter sitting next to her,

she stood up abruptly and went to her bed, laying down muttering something, “lara, you are so beautiful,” you murmured, sitting next to her lying form, “why are you lying?!, you probably think the same way they do” lara snaps, sitting up as her tears continued flowing a moment, you were stunned, and quickly, you got upset

“lara i don't fucking know why you think i hate you but i don't, i care about you so fucking much that i want you to know what they say doesn't matter!, whatever those freaks on the internet say or do you'll always be pretty and talented — i know that, you're such a wonderful person and it hurts to see you cry” you heave, breathing heavily lara was shocked to say the least, “so don't fucking push me away now, hate me for as long as you want but I'll always love you and support you” you follow

a beat passes by and you two were silent, lara looks at you with this newfound interest — she slowly got close to you and hugged you tightly her head resting on your shoulders as she murmurs thank you's — her voice was small and vulnerable something you have never seen lara been, minutes pass with you two stuck in this predicament, the weight of the hate she got slowly faded replaced with your warm embrace

lara lifts her head up looking into your eyes, searching for something — her hands flew to your nape, soon connecting your lips together, it wasn't rushed but it felt fast, her lips tasted like cherries and were soft like clouds you melt deeper into her touch, your hands on her waist guiding her closer

“I love you,” lara mutters as you two pull away, needing to breathe. lara never looked better her lips swollen and her hair tousled — as her hands were on your nape, “I love you more,” you replied

it felt weird, that after months of animosity and how far you two were from each other just for it to be fixed with a simple comforting gesture — its crazy how lara hated your guts but now is gripping your body close to her

wc: 2.4k words

[takimakiiiii]

chicken shop date pt.2 - LN4

synopsis: Lano's invited back to your dating show for a second date?!

wc: 2.4k (a little shorter than the first part!)

pairing!: lando norris x fem!reader

part 1 is here!

includes: fluff, hardcore flirting, no swearing (i think), playful banter, HEAVY 3rd person perspective use, adele jumpscare

a/n: WOW! I cannot believe how fast the first part blew up thank you so much! once again, this fictional fanfic is heavily inspired by amelia dimoldenberg's chicken shop date you can find on youtube! I also mention hot wings and stole the ice cream moment with bad bunny bc i thought that was super cute! anyways, pls enjoy and as always, reblogs and likes are super duper appreciated!

1 WEEK LATER . . .

Now Playing: LANDO NORRIS | CHICKEN SHOP DATE - THE SECOND DATE

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

The camera opens to a shot of outside the worn Chicken Shop, the location in neat text by the corner. There’s a soft DING of a bell ringing and the camera abruptly cuts, as if the camera itself is impatient and ready to begin the date. It slowly pans to Lando’s face who’s already got a wide grin on his lips. There’s a soft hum of the deep fryer’s in the background, the shop coldly lit by the overhead lamps. Yet, despite the chill of the shop, the atmosphere Lando and Y/N bring, lights the scene up with playful warmth. A small basket of chips sits between them but no one’s really paying attention to it. The shop is silent, the low buzzing of the AC in the background. There’s a gentle beat of silence, before Y/N speaks.

“So you’re back.” she says almost skeptically, as she adjusts herself in her seat, letting her eyes drift back to Lando. He nods curtly in reply, his curls bouncing softly. “Well, you invited me back, how could I refuse an offer like that?”

“Right, well it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was for the fans, obviously.” Y/N replies coolly, stealing a glance at the camera as if the audience themself is there watching eagerly in their seats. Lando lets a soft chuckle escape his lips, “Obviously,” he echoes, though the glint in his eyes seems to betray him as if he doesn’t seem to agree at all. 

“You know, people think we’re dating.” Y/N seems to blurt out but Lando knows each word is purely intentional. He feigns surprise, mouth hanging agape, “Really?” he says, almost sarcastically. Y/N tries her best to resist the pull of the grin he’s wearing, determined not to give in, she simply sighs dramatically. Her head tilts, nose scrunching slightly. “Yeah, I have no idea why, I’m like drastically out of your league.” she shrugs, her eyes locking back with Lando’s who looks like the words have gotten lost in his mouth. Y/N’s eyebrows raise questionably, teasing on the edge of her lips but he cuts in before she can push further. 

“I honestly think it’s the other way around, I’m really out of your league.” he insists. Neither of them acknowledges the soft pink flush blooming across his cheeks. If Y/N notices, she doesn’t mention it, saving the moment for post-camera teasing.

“How flattering,” Y/N muses, her words laced with sarcasm. “We all know that’s not true.” 

Lando lets a soft chuckle escape his lips, his face lighting up instantly by her witty comment. The energy between them is playful, full of tension they pretend not to notice. It’s just a fake date, right?

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Lando murmurs but just loudly enough that Y/N hears it, her eyes going wide every so slightly, the sudden sweet remark catching her off guard. Perhaps the microphone is doing her a favour by not showing how loud her heart is beating in her chest. To the audience it wouldn’t be anything more than harmless playful flirting, but perhaps it isn’t, not anymore at least. Well, who knows for sure? 

Y/N’s lips are slightly parted as if she wants to say more, the words hanging on the tip of her tongue. But the camera brazenly cuts before Y/N can speak, a moment left unfinished leaving the people wanting more, curse the damn cameraman. 

♡

“Let's talk red flags,” Y/N states, flexing her fingers before resting them on the table in front of her. Lando watches her carefully, far too used to her unpredictableness by now.

 “I’ll go first, once I got emotionally attached to a barista because he remembered my name.” Y/N sighs as if she’s reminiscing the moment thoughtfully. There’s a chuckle from the other side of the table, “Everyone knows your name, Y/N.” Lando grins to which for the first time in the video, Y/N smiles back lightheartedly - a real, unguarded smile.

There’s a beat of silence before she replies, “I see you’ve improved on your flattery skills since our last date.” she muses, rather impressed despite herself. She gives Lando an acknowledging nod, popping a hot chip in her mouth. The atmosphere on the brink of something playful yet experimental as if they’re not quite sure what it could lead to. But that’s just all part of the fun, isn’t it?

“Well, it’s a second date, right? I had to bring my best flirting skills.” he shrugs playfully with a gentle smirk pulling at his lips. Y/N raises her eyebrows, amused but reciprocating his playfulness.

“Of course, you wouldn't want me to walk away, would you?”

“We both know I’d run after you anyways,” he grins, rather proud of his reply. The line catches her off guard. She flushes, caught in his smoothness. For once, he’s the one doing the flirting, and she’s the one left flustered. She lifts her glass of water, takes a sip, and looks away in an attempt to regain her composure. Silence falls. But her facade cracks. She bursts into laughter, water spilling from her mouth. She wipes it with her sleeve, still shaking from the giggles, rolling in her seat.

Lando watches her, both stunned and amused. He glances behind the camera, as if asking the crew for backup, but they only shrug and grin.

Moments laters they’re both laughing together, their joy filling the small shop. 

“I don’t know why that was so funny,” Y/N admits, dabbing her eyes through soft laughter. Lando snorts, “Are you crying?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “One: you’re going to ruin my makeup. And two: you’re going to get me fired, so just answer the damn question.”

Lando can’t keep the lopsided grin off his face that only grows, giving in with little persuasion. His eyes flit over her as he thinks. “I still follow my ex’s dog on instagram.” he finally confesses. Y/N blinks before nodding as if the statment makes perfect sense - it doesn’t, but she plays along.

“That’s valid,” she agrees with a shrug, “The dog didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Exactly, Baxter didn’t do anything wrong.” Lando nods, a spark of agreement on his face.

“Justice for Baxter,” Y/N declares with mock solemnity, raising a fist in playful solidarity before throwing a quick glance at the camera. Her grin is infectious, wide and unfiltered.

Lando watches her from across the table, gaze softening into something unguarded. There’s an easy warmth in his eyes, a quiet admiration that doesn’t need words.The camera catches it just in time, lingering for a beat on the look he gives her. Then it cuts. And this time, the scene doesn’t feel abrupt. It feels right. Complete.

♡

“What’s the most romantic thing you’ve done?” Y/N asks, casually popping a chicken nugget in her mouth, eyes fixed on Lando with curious amusement. Lando pauses, chewing on the question, “I once wrote a love letter, real paper, ink and all.”

Y/N looks impressed but her words claim otherwise, “You know, for a rich guy I expected more.” She flashes a playful smile at him, her eyes lighting up, knowing he’ll rise to the bait.

“Like what?” Lando deflects defensively, eyebrows raised softly in amusement. Y/N shrugs nonchalantly (i cannot believe i just wrote that), her lips pursed as her face scrunches slightly. “I don’t know, like Taylor Swift playing at a birthday party or asking Jude Bellingham to sign a shirt as a gift.” Y/N suggests, unfazed by his defensiveness. Lando considers it for a moment, “That’s. . . creative.” he finally says.

“Thanks, I know.” Y/N agrees flatly, inspecting her nails. Lando chuckles softly and Y/N’s eyes flicker up to him, her mouth tugging to a grin. “Right, anyways, what about you?” Lando asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“I made a playlist for them but turns out they hated Adele.’” Y/N says, pulling a sour face, her bottom lip sticking out glumly. “Well, you really dodged a bullet there.” Lando assures her lightheartedly.

“Ooh, yeah, major red flag.” Y/N agrees with a grimace. “Are you friends with Adele?” she asks, her interest auddenly perked, excitement gleaming in her eyes. She leans forward in her chair eagerly. Lando purses his lips in thought, “I think I’ve met her, once.” he recalls slowly.

“Do you think she’d want to be my friend?” Y/N wiggles her eyebrows in hopeful exaggeration. Lando sends her a pointed look, somewhere between amused and confused. “Are you seriously asking me to ask Adele to go on a date with you?”

“She’s not a random person, she’s Adele!” Y/N protests through laughter. Lando rolls his eyes but he can’t resist the pull of her contagious smile. He can’t help it - her energy is magnetic. “Well, I could try but I don’t think you usually ask your date to set you up with someone else,” he says.

“It’s Adele, though.” she huffs with zero regrets as if the answer is self-explanatory. Lando nods, pretending to understand, though his expression shows otherwise as his eyebrows furrow together. Confused, but he’s got the spirit. The camera lingers for just a second more as their laughter blends together, easy and unforced. Then it cuts, leaving a trace of warmth and ridiculousness hanging in the air, the kind that feels just right for them.

♡

“Okay, serious question,” Y/N says, leaning forward. “BBQ or mayo?”

Lando pauses, debating both options carefully before deciding. “Garlic mayo. Fight me.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows, pretending to coonsider it a worthy option. There’s a long pause before she shrugs, unimpressed. “You kinda give off ‘says they like spice but cries at mild’ energy.” she comments instead. Lando blinks, caught off guard. “That’s kinda accurate, I won’t lie.” he admits without shame.

“I eat hot sauce to feel something.” Y/N replies solemnly.

Smash cut to both of them in front of a bottle of hot sauce, drenching their chicken in reckless abandon. Lando watches Y/N with growing alarm as she drowns her nugget in an obscene amount of hot sauce. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

Y/N, unbothered, picks up the fiery chicken with absolute confidence. “I’ve been invited back to Hot Ones, twice,” she says, deadpan. Lando stares in silent horror as she takes a massive bite like she’s proving a point. She chews, eyes already watering, and jabs a finger in his direction. “Your go,” she tries to say, though it comes out muffled and garbled, her mouth still full and on fire.

Still, Lando gets the message. Carefully, he picks up his drumstick and takes a bite, cautious and exact, as if precision will somehow spare him. Across the table, Y/N is now fanning her face dramatically with her hand, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy. She lets out a breathless laugh.

“Are you crying now?” she asks between coughs, clearly already losing it. The camera pans slowly to Lando. His face is bright red, eyes glistening with tears. Not from emotion, but from the inferno currently consuming his mouth. 

“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” he says in a raspy voice, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Y/N doubles over in her chair, laughing so hard she has to hide her face in her hands. Lando glares half-heartedly at her, then turns to the camera crew in desperation.

“Do you guys have milk?” he pleads.

The screen fades to black on his suffering, and her laughter.

♡

“Are you okay now?”

Y/N has finally pulled herself together after completely losing it minutes ago, though her cheeks are still flushed and there's a smear of hot sauce on her face that she hasn’t noticed. Across the table, Lando sits bundled up with a cup of chocolate ice cream, scowling at her. “No,” he sulks, drawing his knees up toward his chest in exaggerated misery.

Y/N rolls her eyes with a half-smile. “Anyways. Next question.” Lando groans dramatically, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before plunking the ice cream back on the table and straightening in his seat with a reluctant sigh.

“Okay, shoot,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.

“If you could time travel to any moment in your life, what would it be?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Year 9. To stop myself from getting that horrific haircut.” He shudders, as if the memory alone could still haunt him. Y/N snorts, already picturing something tragic. “You looked like a mushroom too?”

“Worse. A bowl.”

She winces in solidarity. “Ooh. Yeah, that’s rough.” She tries to imagine it but comes up short, her brain refusing to conjure an image that awful. “I had a fringe once, if that helps. It was... not okay.”

Lando laughs, a real one this time, lighting up in stark contrast to the ice cream-fueled sulkiness from earlier. “Photos or it didn’t happen,” he challenges.

Y/N immediately shakes her head, eyes wide. “They’ve all been deleted. For the safety of the public.” Lando grins, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the mental image. The camera cuts right there, on the edge of laughter, with the kind of unspoken rhythm between them that says: if the moment kept going, it might never end.

♡

“Rate the date out of 10,” Y/N says, balancing her own bowl of ice cream like it’s a trophy. “Just so you know, your rating will affect your screen time, so choose wisely.”

Lando thinks for a moment, as he always does. “Solid 9.3,” he decides at last. “The vibes are weird... but I like your company.”

Y/N nods, clearly satisfied with the result. “Thank you,” she says. “I think you’re weird too. You kinda give off ‘ghosts people and then texts them six months later like nothing happened’ energy.”

Lando lets out a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Only during Mercury retrograde,” he quips.

Y/N freezes for a second, genuinely impressed. “I respect the chaos,” she replies with a solemn nod, as if it’s a personal code of honor.

Lando grins, and without meaning to, Y/N mirrors it. The laughter softens into something quieter, something unspoken passing between them. There’s an odd ache to the moment, a shared sense that the end is creeping in. Neither of them can quite name it, but it’s there in the lingering eye contact, in the silence that doesn’t beg to be filled.

Y/N clears her throat, a little too abruptly, and claps her hands together to break the stillness. “And now, the final question,” she says dramatically, back in host mode. “Would you go on a third date?”

Lando barely misses a beat. “Only if there’s more chips... and no cameras.”

“I can organize that.”

He leans back, ice cream forgotten, smile soft. “Perfect.”

♡

a/n: THANK U SM FOR READING!!! I really hope u enjoyed, remember to stay safe and have a good day :)

taglisttime! (these accs will also be tagged in the other chicken shop fics for other drivers, please message me if you would like to removed/added!

@anamiad00msday @verogonewild @90smania @clarksgf @knivesdoingcartwheels @ezzi-ln4 @evie-119 @strawberry-rainclouds @fastcarsgonyoem @lina505 @guacala @linneaguriii @tamimemo @hydracassiopeiadarablack @willowpains @alireads27 @gigigreens @rifran @fairyjinn @stylesmoonlight12 @kikas-cafe @curlylando

(sorry if i accidentlly left you out or it didn't tag well!!)

[coriihanniee]

WHEN YOU CRY OVER YOUR PET જ⁀➴

۶ৎ PAIRING : boynextdoor x gn!reader ۶ৎ GENRE(S) : established relationship, fluff, hurt, comfort ۶ৎ WARNING(S) : mentions of pet death/grief, emotional distress/crying, heavy emotional comfort from the boys, reader is overwhelmed, author got carried away at Leehan's (heh...) ۶ৎ WORD COUNT : 0.4k - 0.7k words

۶ৎ A/N : This was a request from my lovely @reibelhearts ! I hope this headcanon fic gives you the much needed comfort that you need! 💕 I understand how it feels to lose a beloved pet so I was more than willing to write this! To all our furry 🐶🐱 (and fishy 🐟 or feathery 🕊) friends who have crossed the bridge, you are so, so loved! 🫶

SUNGHO₍^. .^₎⟆

۶ৎ you didn’t mean to cry in front of him.

۶ৎ he’s been so busy lately—filming, rehearsals, barely getting enough sleep.

۶ৎ you kept it to yourself, thinking, "he doesn’t need to worry about this too."

۶ৎ you told yourself you'd be fine...

۶ৎ but when Sungho walks through the door, gym bag still slung over his shoulder, and asks, “Hey, baby. Have you eaten yet?”—something in you just breaks.

۶ৎ the way your face crumples and you look away too quickly. The way your voice doesn’t even make it out. He freezes.

۶ৎ “Wait—what’s wrong?”

۶ৎ you try to shake your head, but it’s too late. You’re already crying, and you can’t stop.

۶ৎ his bag hits the floor. He’s at your side in two seconds flat, kneeling down like you’re something precious he’s scared to touch too roughly.

۶ৎ you choke out the words. “They’re gone.” And he understands immediately.

۶ৎ “Oh… babe.” His voice is so soft. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

۶ৎ you just shake your head. “You’ve been so busy. I didn’t want to ruin your mood or mess things up for you—”

۶ৎ “You’re never ruining anything,” he cuts in, already pulling you into his arms. “You’re my person. If something hurts you, it matters.”

۶ৎ holds you close until your shoulders stop shaking. One arm around your back, one hand stroking your hair like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

۶ৎ Simba the cat slinks in slowly, drawn by the stillness. He pauses, sniffs the air like he’s picking up on your sadness, then hops into your lap without hesitation. Settles in. Purrs.

۶ৎ Sungho glances down. “He’s doing that thing again where he pretends he’s not affectionate, but he is.”

۶ৎ you sniffle, laughing a little through your tears. “Yeah… I can tell.”

۶ৎ he leaves for a bit and comes back with your favourite drink, a warm snack, and a tiny plushie that vaguely resembles your pet. “Simba helped me pick it out. I mean, he stared at it for three seconds, which I’m taking as a sign.”

۶ৎ you don't have to ask him to stay. He already is. Sitting cross-legged next to you, blanket pulled over both your legs, one hand resting gently on your knee. Just enough to remind you he’s there.

۶ৎ “You loved them really well,” he says after a long silence. “That’s why this hurts so much. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

۶ৎ Simba curls up against your leg again, tail flicking lightly. Sungho adjusts your blanket. Then again. Then a third time for good measure.

۶ৎ you don’t say anything about it, just lean your head on his shoulder.

۶ৎ later, when you fall asleep mid-tears, you stir just enough to hear him whisper :

۶ৎ “I’m so sorry, love. You didn’t have to go through this alone.”

RIWOO ʢ·͡ᴥ·ʡ

۶ৎ you’d been texting him normally. Maybe quieter than usual, but nothing that would set off alarms. 

۶ৎ he was busy anyways—schedules, fan signs, a music show later that night. You didn’t want to weigh him down.

۶ৎ but something about your last message sits weird with him.

 ۶ৎ just a “hope rehearsal goes well” and a photo of your pet’s collar, sitting alone on the table.

۶ৎ Riwoo doesn’t reply right away, but he does show up at your doorstep unannounced. 

۶ৎ he knocks gently. Doesn’t say a word when you open the door with tear-swollen eyes and a barely functioning voice. Just holds out his arms, like of course he already knew.

۶ৎ when you finally manage to whisper, “I didn’t want to bother you,” he just sighs into your shoulder.

۶ৎ “You didn’t,” he murmurs. “I just… I know that look.”

۶ৎ he doesn’t flood you with questions or try to say anything deep. Instead, he walks into your apartment like it’s muscle memory, sets a plastic bag on the table, and pulls out your favourite drink and a weirdly cute rice ball shaped like a dog. 

۶ৎ “Not gonna lie,” he says quietly, “I panicked and just bought everything dog-shaped.”

۶ৎ you try to laugh and end up crying again instead. He doesn't flinch. Just lets you sob into his sleeve, gently rubbing your back in slow, grounding circles.

۶ৎ that evening, just when you think he’s about to leave, he kneels down by the front door and starts undoing a carrier bag. You blink. “Riwoo…?”

۶ৎ out pops Daebak—tail wagging, tongue out, already sniffing around your living room like he lives there.

۶ৎ “I figured,” Riwoo says, brushing invisible fur off his hoodie, “you might be too lonely tonight.”

 ۶ৎ he hands you a leash. “He’s loud. And dramatic. But he’s got good taste in people.”

۶ৎ you blink back another round of tears. “You’re letting me borrow your dog?”

 ۶ৎ “Just for tonight. Unless you need him longer. Then it’s... a long-term lease.”

۶ৎ the next few hours are quiet in the best way. You and Daebak curled on the couch, and Riwoo beside you with a portable speaker softly playing some lo-fi music.

۶ৎ he doesn’t ask you to talk about your pet unless you bring it up. When you do, his eyes don’t leave your face the entire time. He listens like he’s trying to memorize the way you describe them. 

۶ৎ “They sounded loyal,” he says eventually. “Like the kind of pet who’d follow you into hell and back.”

۶ৎ you nod. “They were.”

۶ৎ before he leaves, he sets down a Tupperware box. “Jjangyi’s food. Daebak’s picky.”

۶ৎ “Wait,” you say, panicking a little, “what if he misses you tonight?”

۶ৎ Riwoo shrugs. “He’s sleeping on your foot like he’s known you forever. I think he’s fine.”

۶ৎ and then, just as he’s pulling on his hoodie to head out, he turns back and says in that low, soft voice :

۶ৎ “I can’t bring them back… but I’ll come by tomorrow. With Jjangyi. So Daebak doesn’t get too smug.”

JAEHYUN ૮⍝• ᴥ •⍝ა

۶ৎ you didn’t want to tell him. He was already juggling a comeback, dance practices, and three unfinished voice notes he said he’d send “soon, I swear!!”

۶ৎ so you kept it to yourself. Until he dropped by after rehearsal—hair damp, hoodie sleeves rolled up, ranting about Woonhak eating his chicken.

۶ৎ “Can you believe him? He said I was chewing too loud. Too loud, babe. Am I supposed to chew silently now—hey, wait…”

۶ৎ he finally notices your red-rimmed eyes. Your silence. The way your lip trembles when you try to smile and say, “I’m fine.”

۶ৎ “You’re not,” he blurts, panic creeping into his voice. “You’re so not—what happened? Did someone say something? Did you get hurt? Did I do something?!”

۶ৎ you try to explain through broken words. That your pet passed away. That you didn’t want to tell him because he seemed happy and busy and you didn’t want to ruin that.

۶ৎ “Ruin—?” He looks offended. “RUIN?! Babe, if you stubbed your toe I’d cancel the whole schedule.”

۶ৎ he doesn’t try to cover up how crushed he looks.

۶ৎ “Oh no,” he whispers. “I know how much you loved them. I used to greet them when I walked in like they paid rent.”

۶ৎ pulls you into his chest, his grip tight and warm. He lets you cry, no rushing, no awkward patting—just firm, sweet comfort. Keeps whispering the same words over and over.

۶ৎ “You did your best. You loved them so well. They were so lucky to have you.”

۶ৎ later, once you’re curled up together on the couch, tissues everywhere, he suddenly looks very serious.

۶ৎ “Listen… I know nothing could ever replace them. And I’m not trying to—but like…” He reaches for his phone, pulling up a poorly lit screenshot of a baby hamster.

۶ৎ “What if… just what if… we get a little guy. Not to replace them. Just to give your heart something soft again. I’ll take care of it too!! I’ll feed it kale and whisper affirmations.”

۶ৎ you stare at him. “You want to get a hamster?”

۶ৎ “OUR hamster,” he corrects. “Joint custody. I’ll name it something cool like… Biscuit. Or President Cheeks.”

۶ৎ “…Jaehyun.”

۶ৎ “No no hear me out. They’re small. They’re fluffy. They store snacks in their cheeks. Just like you.”

۶ৎ he shows you another picture of a golden hamster in a tiny food bowl. “I saw this one online. Look at him. He’s shaped like a grain of rice.”

۶ৎ you squint at it, wiping your eyes. “Is that… Hanbin?”

۶ৎ Jaehyun short-circuits. “OH MY GOD YOU’RE RIGHT—WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE THIS.”

۶ৎ he doesn’t leave that night. Orders your comfort food. Makes a ridiculous ‘hamster Pinterest board’ on his phone full of tiny hats.

۶ৎ when you fall asleep with your head in his lap, he just sits there, stroking your hair, whispering :

“You’re not alone. Not now. Not ever. I love you.”

TAESAN ≽^- ˕ -^≼

۶ৎ You don’t want to burden him. 

۶ৎ Taesan’s got a lot on his plate right now—the group’s comeback, his family back in Gwangju, and his ever-ongoing worries about Dupal. So you try to keep it in.

۶ৎ that is, until you find yourself choking on your tears, alone in the apartment, barely able to breathe from the weight of the loss. 

۶ৎ you’re crying over your pet, the one you’ve spent so many years with, and it hurts in a way you didn’t expect.

۶ৎ Taesan knocks on your door later, his usual calm exterior cracking when he sees you, tears streaking down your face.

 ۶ৎ “What happened?” His voice is quieter than usual, genuine concern taking over.

۶ৎ you try to push him away, muttering, “I’m fine, Taesan. I just… need a minute.”

۶ৎ but he’s not buying it. He steps inside, looking at you with those dark eyes—the same eyes that often seem distant, but right now, they’re locked on you, focused entirely.

۶ৎ “No, you’re not. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

۶ৎ when you finally break down and admit that your pet passed away, that you didn’t want to tell him, his heart sinks. He already knows what it’s like to miss someone close.

۶ৎ “I… I get it,” he says softly, voice thick with emotion. He drops to his knees in front of you, his hand on your arm, squeezing gently.

۶ৎ “I know what it feels like to miss someone. Dupal’s not here, and I keep wondering if he’s forgotten me. I don’t want you to feel like that, too.”

۶ৎ he pauses, looking at you with a mix of vulnerability and strength. “I’m… not the best at comforting people. But I’ll sit here with you. I’ll listen. I won’t leave until you’re okay.”

۶ৎ instead of words, Taesan just stays with you. He pulls you into a tight hug, not saying anything but letting you know he’s there.

۶ৎ his hand runs through your hair like a slow, steady rhythm, soothing and calm, like he’s trying to carry some of your pain.

۶ৎ after a while, he pulls back, looking at you, his thumb gently brushing under your eye to catch a tear.

۶ৎ he doesn’t try to give you solutions or rush you through your grief. He just sits with you, the silence speaking volumes.

۶ৎ eventually, you end up sitting on the floor together, as he pulls out his phone and shows you a video of Dupal trying to chase after a car (unsuccessfully, of course), and you can’t help but chuckle through the tears.

 ۶ৎ “I hope he remembers me. Just like I’ll never forget him… And I’ll never forget you either.”

۶ৎ when he leaves for the night, he gives you a long, lingering hug, his hand resting on the back of your head. “Call me if you need anything, okay? Don’t keep it to yourself.”

LEEHAN ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅

۶ৎ you hadn’t told him. You didn’t want to disturb him, especially when he was in the middle of his busy schedule. 

۶ৎ Leehan had been trying so hard to make sure everyone was good, especially the members, that you didn’t want to add to his plate.

۶ৎ but you couldn’t keep it in forever. You tried to push the sadness away, but it caught up with you when you least expected it. 

۶ৎ you’re sitting in your apartment, curled up on the couch, when you suddenly get a message from Leehan.

۶ৎ “Hey, Coni misses you! And I have some new fishes to show you, want to come over?”

۶ৎ you don’t respond right away. Instead, you let out a shaky breath. The offer seems so simple, but it reminds you of the pet you just lost. The one you cherished.

۶ৎ you try to talk yourself out of going, but before you know it, you’re heading to the dorms anyway. Maybe seeing Coni will help. Maybe seeing Leehan will help.

۶ৎ when you get there, he’s already in the living room, his arms spread wide as he greets you.

۶ৎ “Look who’s here! Coni’s been waiting for you all day!” He’s excited and cheerful, but there’s a softness in his eyes as he sees you standing in the doorway, quiet and looking like something’s off.

۶ৎ “You okay?” he asks gently, walking toward you and pulling you into a hug. “You’ve been on my mind today. Come on, I want to show you something!”

۶ৎ you let him guide you to the fish tank, the new fishes swimming around. He talks about them excitedly, and the way he describes them with such enthusiasm makes your heart ache. 

۶ৎ his eyes light up as he points out each one, naming them and describing their colours and quirks in a way that’s so Leehan—gentle, thoughtful, and full of joy. 

۶ৎ you can’t help but feel your heart melt a little, but also hurt because the memories of your pet flood in at the same time.

۶ৎ “This one here,” he says with a wide smile, pointing to a small, shimmering fish darting through the water. “This is a Runny Nose Tetra. Look at how it moves, so quick and lively. Reminds me of how much energy Coni has when he’s chasing his ball.” 

۶ৎ “And this is a Gold Gourami,” he continues, his voice full of admiration as he watches the golden fish glide gracefully through the tank. “She’s really calm. The kind that just floats around, not bothering anyone.”

۶ৎ he goes on, his voice light and warm as he explains the behaviour of each fish. You watch him talk about them with such affection, and the way he does makes your heart ache with the weight of your loss.

۶ৎ and then Coni comes bounding into the room, tail wagging so hard that his whole body wiggles. 

۶ৎ you can’t hold it in any longer. The weight of your loss catches up with you, and you break down, tears streaming down your face. The suddenness of it all takes you by surprise, and you feel a tightness in your chest.

۶ৎ Leehan doesn’t panic. He just wraps his arms around you, his voice soft as he says,

۶ৎ “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, babe. I get it. I know how it feels.”

۶ৎ he doesn’t push you to talk about it right away. He just sits with you, letting you cry against his chest.

۶ৎ his hand gently runs through your hair, and you feel the warmth of his embrace grounding you.

* “I know how much it hurts to lose someone you love,” he murmurs, his voice tender. 

۶ৎ “Coni, my fishes… I know they don’t live as long, but that doesn’t make it any easier. And… I know this pain. It’s terrible. But you don’t have to go through it alone.”

۶ৎ he pulls back slightly, wiping your tears away with his thumb, and then says something you weren’t expecting.

۶ৎ “I’ll take care of you, okay? We’ll get through this together. We don’t have to forget them, we just… keep their memories close. Like I do with my fish.”

۶ৎ Coni, noticing the sadness, nudges you gently with his nose. Leehan smiles softly, rubbing Coni’s head.

۶ৎ “See? Even Coni gets it. He’s here with you too.”

۶ৎ he makes you a warm drink and sits you down next to him. For the rest of the evening, it’s just the two of you, talking about the silly things Coni and his fishes do, sharing stories of your pets, and letting the grief come and go as it needs to.

۶ৎ before you leave, he kisses your forehead gently and says, “I’m always here for you. And if you need time, I’ll be right here. Whenever you’re ready.”

WOONHAK ʕ｡•ﻌ•｡ʔ

۶ৎ you kept convincing yourself : he’s busy, he’s practising, he’s probably tired, and you didn’t want to be the reason he slowed down. So you didn’t say anything when your pet passed away.

۶ৎ but grief doesn’t always stay quiet. And Woonhak? He just so happened to come over with snacks and that loud sunshine energy of his, flopping onto your couch like always and immediately dragging you into his world.

۶ৎ “Guess who brought peach gummies and terrible horror movies we’re gonna regret watching at 2AM? That’s right. Your favorite genius.”

۶ৎ you force a smile. Try to laugh. Try to keep up. But somewhere between his fifth dramatic retelling of how he heroically caught a falling banana at the dorm, you break.

۶ৎ the tears come without warning, spilling down your cheeks as you bury your face in your hands, trying to hide it—but he notices instantly.

۶ৎ “Wait—wait, you’re crying?? Babe?? What—did I say something dumb? Did I offend the banana??”

۶ৎ he’s scrambling, eyes wide, snacks falling off his lap. He’s panicking—but it’s that sweet kind of panic that shows how much he cares even if he doesn’t know what’s wrong yet.

۶ৎ he practically throws himself onto the floor in front of you, crouching down to your level.

۶ৎ “Babe, hey, look at me—what happened? You’re scaring me…”

۶ৎ you finally manage to whisper it : 

۶ৎ “They’re gone… My pet. I didn’t know who to tell. I didn’t want to make you worry.”

۶ৎ his eyes soften instantly. The panic melts into care, into gentleness—and so Woonhak.

۶ৎ “You—you should’ve told me. I wanna worry about you, dummy.”

 ۶ৎ “…Okay not dummy. You’re a very smart, beautiful person, I’m just emotionally unwell right now because you’re sad and I don’t know what to do.”

۶ৎ he pulls you into the tightest hug, one of those full-bodied, engulfed by a bear kind of hugs.

۶ৎ “It’s okay to cry, you know? Even if you think it’s ‘just a pet’—they were your family. Your best friend. I get it. And I’m here, okay?”

۶ৎ once you’ve calmed down a little, he wipes your tears with his sleeve (and immediately regrets it because “ew okay I used this sleeve to open yogurt earlier wait let me get a tissue—”).

۶ৎ but then he gently sits you down, gets you water, a cozy blanket, and even puts your favorite stuffed animal in your lap with the most serious expression.

۶ৎ “Comfort animal deployment: activated. I am now your emotional support himbo.”

۶ৎ he even makes a little corner of your room a “memorial spot,” setting down a candle and printing out one of your pet’s photos. 

۶ৎ “This is their VIP section. I’m reserving it for good memories and bad jokes in their honour.”

۶ৎ eventually, he pulls you back onto the couch, your head resting against his shoulder. He talks in that soft, low voice he only uses when things are quiet.

۶ৎ “You don’t ever have to deal with this kind of stuff alone, okay? Even if you don’t wanna talk about it, I’m still gonna show up with peach gummies and a stupid horror movie and sit beside you until you feel a little more okay.”

 ۶ৎ “And if you cry again, it’s fine. I’ll cry too. We’ll sob together. Like a synchronized sadness squad. World record or something.”

@coriihanniee 💌

˖➴ reblogs are appreciated! ty for reading! <3

taglist: @lvlyhiyyih @supi-wupi @tinyelfperson @8makes1atom @s0shroe @imhereonlytoreadxoxo @mydeepestsecrects @brownetry @pumpkg @heeheesang @jungwonbropls @prodkwh @reibelhearts @beomev

[so-i-did-this-thing]

Have you ever had to leave behind something that you love?

I left behind a career in music, which I ache about sometimes.

I know I could pick back up being a pro oboist (I have no interest in community ensembles), but the daily practice time investment for even being freelance, going through auditions all over again, and not wanting to play for/in churches... it's too much for me right now.

I'm also aware that at age 48, my time is ticking; I only have ~12 good years left in me on this particular instrument. That's probably the most upsetting to think about. I wonder often if I'm ready to be fully retired, instead of my current semi state. I don't think I'm ready to commit to hanging up my tux yet, but at the same time, I haven't really planned for how to get back on stage. It's frustrating being in limbo.

But I also had a pretty good run. Played most of my bucket list. Taught kids who got into better schools than I did. Was a big personality and have a lot of funny stories.

I have a feeling I'll be fully retired in 5 or 6 years. And that's ok. It'll just be another chapter in my life closed, but one I can revisit in many other less-stressful forms.

I believe that humans aren't meant to do the same thing over and over for all their lives. I'm interested in so many things, I have to juggle my time and resources. And right now, as much as I love being a musician, I love other things more -- weekend hikes, my little crafting projects, spending time with my partner.

Life is full of endings. But as long as life is also full of beginnings, you're going to be fine.

[stellabobana]

I think we both feel the other person is dancing around things, so let me try to frame it again.

Taxes are absolutely a form of coercion. I admit that willingly, but I also think it's a pointless question. Because my moral framework does not see perfect freedom as possible outside theoretical scenarios. So long as people will exist, all freedoms will encroach upon each other.

Land is an obvious one, but I'm sure you know the arguments up and down here. Natural resources that are claimed by one person, but of course is "I found it first" the best way to handle distribution? It's the one we did, and it certainly has the benefit of being simple. But I find it hard to say it's the most fair, or represents the most freedom. Then there's inherited wealth, which makes sense on some ethical branches and not others, etc, etc, etc. I don't rely on any specific argument here, not because I'm not willing to argue them, but because the specific one in question just does not matter to me. Picking any system will, 100% of the time, result in some party benefiting more than others. The most fair systems don't result in no inequality, but in the least inequality possible to achieve. Life is imperfect and messy.

You ask if it's ok to force you to do things. I think the obvious and easy answer is - yes, absolutely. Even you believe that! You are arguing for private property rights that certainly give you the ability to, say, limit what can be done on your land. Because *true freedom is a philosophical concept, not a natural one*. Beyond that, presumably you'd want force to enforce your private property, or else it doesn't mean much to have it. Then we get back to more rules about how we prove property, how we track it, what rights ownership grants, forever down the line. These rules did not develop over thousands of years because people long for the boot, but because they were (often imperfect) solutions to actual problems that come when people live near each other.

My argument for taxes is that it takes something that most people want - basic public services - and implements it in the best system we've figured out yet. I don't *care* that there's some element of coercion, anymore than I care that we can't build a road that has no wear and tear. These are elements of the system existing *at all*, not things that can be taken away.

All rights you possess, by their very nature, impose limits on others. Debating that seems pointless. Step two - what's too far, what's too little - is where society has been stuck for a while now.

If you want to ask if taxes are the best way to handle public goods, sure. If you want to talk about how we handle the messy business of being born into a world with rules that we didn't agree with, sure. That one's pretty tough and I've never heard a good answer. But trying to say a system is bad merely because it has some level of coercion baked in precludes those, because I find it as interesting as debating the proper tax system for Narnia.

“Leftists want to enslave doctors” is such a weird take to keep showing up. I think it’s a libertarian thing?

[blackbat05]

Great Saviour

Bob Reynolds x Librarian! Reader

Plot: It’s been a busy day at the office and just when you thought you’re about to make it through, Mother Nature decides to strike. Luckily, you seem to have someone looking out for you.

Genre: PG-13, Fluff

A/N: New character alert! Watched Thunderbolts* and I am so endeared by both Bob and Lewis Pullman! It’s been a while since I wrote a completely new character. I seem to also have been on a certain Library! Reader trope, fulfilling my fantasies. But also thanks to many of you who have been supporting my works and special shoutout to @randomnessfangirl for encouraging me to write more of these☺️

Today was a hectic day. On a scale of 1-10, you were probably operating on a “I won’t stop moving until the day is actually over”.

Not only did you have two reading sessions with the little ones, you had to conduct a session about AI and ethical use to the older kids (seriously, what were kids using in their classrooms these days?).

Then, when you thought you could have your lunch, your colleague begged if you could help with the library decorations because the actual person who was supposed to do it was nowhere to be found and the task had now fallen onto her. How could you say no?

The task was followed by shelving of the recently returned books and checking on that request for more money to get that new range of children’s encyclopedia (only to be disappointed again). You could only take a breather when you finally returned to your desk. That’s when your stomach started to feel funny.

It’s probably nothing.

Then, you see him. A man with brunette curls, dressed in a loose navy blue sweater and brown pants. He clutches a book with a striking cover and bold red words as the title. As you meet his eyes, you can’t help but to notice how they sparkle under the dim lights. Yet, there was something a little sorrowful about his gaze. The man is obviously embarrassed and he attempts to turn away to not much success.

Maybe it was the fact that you caught him in a children’s library? Apart from parents with young ones, many appeared to stay away from books that they deemed to be too childish or simple.

You put on your professionalism as a librarian, and walk out of from the comfort of your desk to assist him.

“Hello! Can I help you?”

The man is startled like a deer caught in headlights. He realizes that you’re addressing him and starts to form a response, though he struggles.

“Um…”

“Are you lost? I understand the library can be very confusing for first timers. Our library is very big and people always wander into the brightest section.”

“I- uh… there’s something on your skirt.”

You frown slightly before looking at where he was pointing only to be shocked at the bright red stain on your precious cream colored tiered skirt.

“Oh no…” You groaned. You shouldn’t have ignored how tired you were when you woke up for work this morning. How you had to dig deep to conduct those three sessions almost back-to-back. That feeling in your stomach! Ugh!

The man stands awkwardly beside you before removing his sweater and handing it to you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t following you. Well, I was but only because I saw that. I mean- now you think I’m weird.” He runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation, making his curls even messier.

If you weren’t in this situation right now, you would have hoped to prolong this conversation to other topics. You have seen him a couple of times in the library, always occupied with interesting picks.

That was all, you only wanted an intellectual conversation.

“I couldn’t.” You protest but the man gently puts his sweater in your hands.

“Please, I insist. Besides, it was getting warm.” He hesitates for a moment before seeking permission to tie his sweater around your waist. The close proximity making your knees falter. Satisfied with his handiwork, he turns to leave.

“Wait! How can I return this to you?”

***

After rolling around in your bed for almost the entire Saturday, fighting off nature’s worst gift, you’re out in the streets of New York, heading to a clear destination in mind.

You found out that his name’s Bob. He would come to the library every afternoon at exactly 3pm and leave before 7pm to head back to what was the New Avengers headquarters.

This piece of information made you very nervous as you entered the building to give your name…

***

“Hey Buck, come take a look at this.” John beckons Bucky over at the screen to find you nervously waiting at the lift lobby.

“Walker I hope you didn’t do anything stupid to scare her.”

John looks offended. “I didn’t do anything! She’s looking for Bob!”

“Bob?”

At his name, Bob pops out from his reading nook. “Someone’s looking for me?”

“Yeah, she says she has your sweater? What’s that all about huh?” John teases.

“So that’s why you didn’t have your sweater!” Yelena walks into the kitchen. “We were coming back from grocery shopping. I had to make a detour to get something and Bob waited for me at the library.” She explains to the rest.

With this newfound information, the rest of the Avengers swoop in on Bob, demanding to know more about his encounter with you.

“Alright, that’s enough.” Bucky admonishes. “He just helped someone in need. You did right?”

Bob shifts uneasily in his seat. “Um… well… I’ve actually been to the library before and I’ve seen her a few times…” He trails off, leaving the rest to fill the gaps by themselves. Yelena is the first to break into a smile.

“You like her.”

Bob nods meekly, picking at the scab behind his hand. He can’t put a finger to the feeling whenever he sees you at your element whenever he visits the library. He can’t forget how kind you were to that little girl who was waiting for the latest installment of her favorite book one time. Oh, and another time you were helping a little boy with his writing homework. Oh! And-

“Alright we get it already!” John groans much to Bob’s embarrassment at rattling away about you.

“I think it’s cute.” Ava says.

The light on the elevator blinks, signaling your arrival, leaving the team scrambling to act normal when you enter the premise awestruck at the sheer scale of the building. Bob has to remind himself to take a few deep breaths and not freak you out like he did at the library.

“Y/N!” He lifts a hand awkwardly, putting it down almost immediately.

“Bob!” You did a little wave yourself. “This place is amazing! So are your teammates of course.” You greeted everyone who gave you their little nods and hellos of acknowledgement. “Oh! This is your sweater before I forget. You really saved me that day.”

Bob tries to ignore Yelena’s raised eyebrows and John’s snickers.

“Nah, I didn’t do much.”

“Nonsense! Also,” You rummaged the contents inside the paper bag. “I figured you might have been looking for this series.”

Bob stares in awe at the battered copies of The Chronicles of Narnia, while you looked on beaming, unaware of the effect you had on him and how much it meant to him that you had went out of the way to get books that he deemed that he had longed outgrown.

“Thank you. This is great.” He grips the books tightly like a lifeline, anchoring himself to prepare for what he really wants to tell you.

“You’re great.”

If you were alarmed at his emotional reaction to receiving a simple gift of thanks, you didn’t show it. On the contrary, you were emotional yourself seeing the man’s great reverence to the books and his appreciation for your actions.

A strange fluttery feeling settles in your stomach, making you light headed at the man’s earnest declaration towards you.

“I have more of where those books came from.” You continued, feeling a little nervous yourself as to what you were about to suggest. “In fact, a new set of books are probably coming in tomorrow. Would you like to come to the library to take a look? I could save you the first copies.”

“Really?”

“Really.” You affirm. “We could swing by a Fish and Chips place for dinner? If you’re free?”

Before Bob utters a word, Yelena is by his side. “He would love too, he has nothing on for the entire evening tomorrow.”

“Yeah! I would love too!” Bob finally manages to find his voice.

“Cool! I’ll see you then. Have a great evening.” You bid Bob and the rest of the team goodbye.

As soon as the lift closes, the team scrambles towards Bob, with impish grins on their faces.

“So! We need a game plan people.”

“John stop being an ass!”

“Hey I’m just trying to help the man get some game!”

“He has more game than you!”

This was going to be a long evening. Bob sighs to himself.

Still, he couldn’t wait to see you tomorrow.

[starlitfics]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED

⭑ — .ᐟ SYNOPSIS: How they express their love (ie each love interest's love language).

⭑ — .ᐟ FEATURING: xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb x fem!reader

⭑ — .ᐟ TAGS/WARNINGS: suggestive in some areas (specifically for sylus + caleb)

⭑ — .ᐟ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow this is the first thing I'm writing in the LADS universe so I'm pretty nervous but I like it! Hopefully you all do too! Leave any comments or requests for more in my askbox!

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑 — 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

Xavier's the type to need small moments of conversation or little verbal cues. No matter if he's half awake or not, he needs to know you love him and you're thinking of him. They hold power, especially over him and especially when they come from your lips. It warms his long-beating heart down to the core when you cheer him on, stir him up, chastise him even. Every consonant and vowel gives him peace because they come from you, and that's all that makes the planets turn in his mind.

"You need to go to sleep," you murmur, running your fingers through Xavier's blonde bangs. In the lamplight's glow, the strands almost look translucent, the gold within his hair sparkling like no other star in the galaxy.

"'M not tired," he tuts. His eyes are half-open, already flitting under the cover of their lids to prove he's on the verge of dreamland. Foolish boy, you think to yourself. You continue combing through the locks, adoring how easily he falls when a pillow sits underneath his head despite his protests.

"My love, you're practically drooling."

"Am not!" His voice isn't too loud, but his willingness to retort makes a secret smile form on your face.

"Are too. You can't even look at me straight."

"Tell me you love me and then I'll think about sleeping," he says. The statement's laced with vulnerability, his fragile state giving way to his heart's simplest desire. He peers one eye open at you, still fighting his fatigue. You know if he was more present, a pout would form on his beautiful lips, but he's too tired. Yet not tired enough to ask for what you'll gladly give.

You chuckle softly and press your mouth to his cheek. "I love you, Xavie. So much. So much I want you to rest so I can tell you again tomorrow in a hundred more ways."

He hums in contentment, a small grin peering at the corners of his lips. "Love you more, starlight."

With that, he falls asleep with no battles left to fight, not even the war he wages with sleep every evening. Not when he has you to find in both his dreams and his reality.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 — 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐄

This man does so many things for the betterment of the community in Linkon. It's not unexpected for Zayne's love language to be tangible acts that prove your love for him. Even something as small as a sticky note left on his thermos at his desk makes his heart beat a little faster and his hands go all clammy. Anything that can save him the time and effort that comes with menial tasks he appreciates you doing, and it just reminds him why you're the perfect person to take on the loads of everyday life with.

"I brought you lunch!" you exclaim as you trot over to Zayne's desk. Your voice is too peppy for the somber appearance on your lover's face, but the edges of his sadness blur once he sees you and your lovingly bound package of grilled salmon and broccoli.

"W-When did you make this?" He takes the saran wrap off of the tupperware to smell the food in front of him, lemon and herbs wafting off of the fish. It needs to be reheated, for sure, but he can tell you put immense effort into the leftovers from last night's dinner. The dinner he unfortunately had to miss, to his chagrin.

"This morning! I had to do an emergency run downtown, and I thought I should stop by with this since it's close to lunch." You flick your gaze from the food on Zayne's desk to Zayne himself, and you gnaw on your lip. "I hope I didn't overcook it or—"

In record time, he leaps from his desk to wrap you in his arms, his lab coat rustling against the fabric of your hunter's uniform. He squeezes tightly, the vice grip he suddenly has you in melting you down to the bones.

The poor doctor does so much for his community that he rarely gets enough time to value the insignificant moments or minute duties that come with being a partner and regular guy. Though, you've made it your personal mission to remind him of those acts every day through making it all easier on him.

Zayne can truly breathe, knowing he has you to take care of him. You may see it as your job since the minute you started dating, but it's more than a presumed role. It's what keeps him sane, keeps him alive.

"I know the food will be exquisite, because you made it for me," he whispers. He lets you go for a mere moment to tuck your face softly between his hands, thumbs skirting the apples of your cheeks. "I love you."

You blush and lean into his touch further, making his heart swell. "I love you more, Zaynie."

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 — 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄

This puppy has to have you around him, even if that means you do absolutely nothing while he gets work done. So many nights you have gone through HQ documentation and engaging literature while Rafayel toils on a new commissioned painting. To him, it doesn't matter whether you're doing the same activity or two things completely unrelated to each other. He adores your presence; it settles him to incredible degrees, and for a man who has only known chaos, that peace is immeasurable.

"Can you just stand still, darling?"

"I'm not moving at all, Raf!"

"I think turning the page is considered moving," Rafayel counters as he strokes the canvas with his brush. He shakes his head, his lavender-tinted mop of hair flopping as he admonishes you lovingly. "Just re-read the part you were on until I'm done with this section, alright?"

You huff and move back to the first line of the book in your hands, reading slower this time so your boyfriend can complete one piece of his painting. He's been at the project for a few hours now, saying he had to record his muse in real time to make better use of both of your sunny afternoon.

You agreed after a few minutes of banter between you both. It was no use either way—you would always cater to his every whim—but the teasing and bickering until you caved kept things lively.

In truth, you love this side of him: lost in his art, but equally lost in you. Without looking at the painting, you can tell he's etching the very essence of you into the canvas. He's already committed every line of your body to memory, but this is one of the few times he feels compelled to recreate your likeness with his creative skills.

"How long do I have to sit in this one position?" you ask, your leg cramping from being crossed over your knee.

"I finished your lower half an hour ago, lovely."

Your eyebrows furrow, the small bubble of irritation popping. "What?"

Rafayel chuckles and completes another patch of strokes. The sound makes your exasperation fly away like a bird perched on the windowsill. You smile at him, anger eased and frustration gone from one look his way. In his natural habitat, spending time together, you think this may be the most carefree he's ever been.

While he loves to pester you, you're well aware he loves this more, the uncomplicated act of two people in love being in each other's orbit. And around you'll spin for him, always. "We're almost done, I promise."

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒 — 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐒

A man with a black card and too many resources to burn will let it all go to waste on you, because to Sylus, it's not a waste at all. He loves to spoil you with frilly clothes to wear around him, little accessories to adorn while out on the town, and sentimental tchotchkes that remind of you of him when he's gone. He knows you appreciate every present he sets out for you, tied in an immaculate red bow every time for you to unwrap. It shows how much he cares, and that means the world.

"Do you like it?" Sylus asks, despite knowing the answer as his smirk grows. He takes another sip from his whiskey glass, admiring how you twirl in front of the mirror to see the fabric for all it's worth.

"Are you kidding? It's gorgeous!" You continue to spin in front of your reflection for the sheer fun of it, watching the way the dress moves like water. The ribbons and lace flow in the night wind that streams in through the open window. It's the perfect size and cut to highlight your figure's best features, exactly what the man you love expects from the clothes he pays for.

This is why he earns so much, he realizes. Seeing your excitement at every trinket and article of clothing he brings home warms something deep in his soul. It makes all the days and nights he can't be by your side worth it, if only to watch the smile on your face light up the room you're standing in. It's indescribable, the way you shine because of him.

"I thought we could go out to dinner so you could show off the outfit but..." He takes another hefty gulp of alcohol before setting the cup down and stepping closer to you, eyes hooded and cloudy. "Think we should stay home instead, hm?"

Your expression turns puzzled, looking in the mirror again to see Sylus towering behind you. His arms encircle your waist, fiddling with the bottom set of ribbons. "I don't understand. What–"

Sylus chuckles darkly and undoes the intricate ties. "You know what's the best part of gifts for me, kitten?" He brushes his lips against the shell of your ear, almost biting the lobe as he trails his mouth down.

You shiver from his kisses with a fierce power before he answers his own question. "Unwrapping them."

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁 — 𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇

With how much Caleb worships you, it's only natural he wants to have his hands and body all over you every second of the day. No matter the location—peering through the aisles of the grocery store or in the cover of sheets at night—he's constantly clinging to you like ivy. A hand here, a touch of his lips there, he's everywhere you'll allow him to be. And allow him you will, because every pass of his body is a reminder he's never going to let a moment go to waste.

"Caleb, I'm trying to make pancakes. Stop it!" You try rifling with the ingredients from the fridge and pantry to place on the counter, but the giant in the kitchen with you is making it impossible.

Damn him for his inability to leave your side for a mere five minutes, and your inability to say no when he's just as unavoidable.

"I'm not doing anything! Just maximizing my time before I leave tomorrow, Pips." He runs his hands under your baggy shirt—one of his that you put on when you miss his scent—and hums at the warmth of your skin against his fingers.

The male is like a dog in heat whenever he's around you. It used to unnerve you how willing he was to outwardly express his affection, both in public and in the comfort of your shared home, but now you feel the hunger to touch and be touched in the same fashion as him. It's hard to keep your hands to yourself when he's so eager not to.

"How long will you be gone this time?" you murmur as you find the box of pancake mix, failing desperately to hide the sadness in your voice.

Caleb's heart breaks at the emotion intertwined with your words, but he wills it away with the press of his lips to your neck. He knows he may not be able to express his devotion constantly thanks to his grueling schedule, but he can make up for it in this way, the most primal form of expressing his desire.

You fall into him without protest, your back to his solid front. His arms encase you in his hold, his heat turning your anxieties to specks of dust. "A week, then I'm all yours again, babe."

Acknowledge his response with a small sound is enough for him to continue touching you, his focus on moving his lips against the side of your throat, still inching down. You squeal when your boyfriend spins you around and lifts you onto the counter. "Caleb!" you exclaim, your voice sharp but nerve endings wracked with lust.

"We'll have time for pancakes another day, Pips." He plants a firm kiss to your lips in the next second, your body liquid in the second after. Your mouth opens willingly for him, and he seizes the opportunity with his tongue. "There's something else I'd rather be eating right now."

@ starlitfics; do not copy, translate, plagiarize, or redistribute content from this blog on other platforms. all works are created and curated here.

[raemirs]

What is special about SifLoop to you?

OH BOY WHAT A LOADED QUESTION!!! to be honest if i explained everything we would be here for 2 weeks and also that's a lot of spoons that i dont have so. i will offer a heavily, HEAVILY abridged bullet pointed version.

-oh, that one person who will understand you more than anyone else in the world. that person who is always on the same wavelength as you, who understands why you do all the things you do, who you never have to explain anything to, who you can simply look in the eyes and have telepathic conversations with... they are that person, to each other <3 on virtue of being the same person, but still! i have always been a sucker for this type of dynamic due to being socially ostracized as a ND child growing up. i yearned for the longest time to find that one person who i didnt have to explain or hide any of my strange quirks from (i have since found that one person for me, and boy it is sweet!) and i think it's awesome that sifloop can be that person for each other :)

-sifloop as an allegory for self love is not something i explore too often (which is a crime!!! i should explore it more!!!!), but ohhhhh, is it juiiiicy. these goobers deserve to love themselves, but if they can't bring themselves to do it for now, loving the other is a good first step. one of my all-time favorite sifloop fanfics, simple as existing (please please PLEASE read it, it's soooo good) has most of the things i love about this interpretation of sifloop! aghhh... loop taking care of siffrin's body because it was once theirs... ughhghhhhhhhhhhhh im normal im so normal im normal

-you can take sifloop in so many interesting angles! do they love each other in an actual romantic way? is it some form of fucked up self love? does it no longer count as selfcest because they've undergone such different life-altering experiences? is it such a deep emotional bond that it transcends mere romance or platonic love and cannot be described with words? well, no need to fear, because you get to pick! and the dynamic will be guaranteed to be juicy anyhow <3

-mashing the above two bullet points together creates one of my favorite interpretations of sifloop i've seen yet! something something an annoying trait present in yourself becomes endearing when present in someone else you love. something something by learning to love the traits they hate in themselves in the other, sifloop can begin to learn how to love themselves again. by loving the other, they can start to heal. im normal im normal im normal

-as a touch-starved little freak myself i love love love how sifloop are both touch-starved to hell and back because!! they can fix this with each other!!!! make those fuckers hang off each other like wet clothes!!! they will never let go of each other ever again!!! at every possible scenario they will be at least holding hands or something more!!! both of them want so so much touch and they can give this to each other in precisely the way they want!! it's so fucking good!!!

on the flip side, you can take sifloop's craving for touch in an angsty direction as well! again, love how you can take sifloop's dynamics in so many ways and have all of them be just as compelling and correct. i explore this angstier direction in another post of mine <3

-siffrin is really easy and fun to draw and loop being siffrin means i can turn them human and then boom i get to make cute ship art while drawing the little guy i love twice. what a steal! (i've also recently figured out loop's star form and it is quite fun to draw as well hehehe)

-i'm sure there's WAYYYY more i've missed talking about, this is just the stuff that's come to mind first. as you can tell by this short and abridged summary (/sar) of why i love sifloop, i have a normal amount of thoughts about them <3 here's to many more moons of being insane about sifloop!

[xylatox]

By a string || cyj

My first fic of nina’s which is absolutely diabolical to me. I am so happy I finally got to read one of her fics :). I always love a good YJ fic and spiderman brings me back hehe. Anyways unto my thoughts!!

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. — off the bat this is cute as hell. Yeonjun is such a cutie and i can see him doing this

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that! — He is such a cutie oh my word 😭

Soobin and Yeonjun being awkward is kind of endearing awwww :((( I also love how we get his thoughts hes so charming in his own kind of awkward way.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance. — love a man who’s a nerd and doesnt skip classes

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind. — im going to be gushing about how cute he is for the entire thing i swear.

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him — Taehyun my little boba-eyed cutie

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment. — Man :::::((((((

Oh my god. Im so giddy over the mc talking to Kai about Yeonjun. Thats actually so damn cute. My heart is actually so soft. They are genuinely the cutest pair and they arent even seeing each other yet

“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call. — this is so funny lmfao waw Yeonjun, priorities 

I think its nice to see that despite Yeonjun and Soobin not really being friends Soobin still asked if he was okay :( I, God, mc is so sweet and understanding. I love how she just helps Yeonjun, no questions asked

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former. — And the way she lightens the situation too :((((

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. — I love them so bad oh my god im dying???

I made the saddest face when I realized Beomgyu is not really a bad guy but?? Idk how to phrase it, just a not so nice person? Wait but oh. Okay. I take it back, sorry Gyu :((( I feel so bad for Yeonjun ahhh :(((( 

“We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” —  you know I’m a nerd cuz this made me giggle

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now. — LOL????

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile. — I giggled o good lord.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.” — Such a cute end ahhh

I am again soso glad I finally got to read your work! Its so good and I love your style of writing. It makes me so happy just how seamless your write everything. Definitely can’t wait to share my thoughts on another one of your works :)) 

by a string

summary: Yeonjun’s got a lot on his plate. Not only does he have to worry about being a star student, but he also has to be the city’s web-slinging hero. And a lab intern. And a semi-decent roommate. And a little bit in love with you.

pairings: yeonjun x fem!reader

word count: 18.9k

tags: fluff, smut (mdni), some angst, spiderman!yeonjun, his webs shoot from his actual wrists like tobey maguire’s spiderman, college au, yeonjun is a cute awkward charming nerd, inaccurate science stuff sorry, blood, physical violence, lots of spidey shenanigans, campy weird action scene teehee, small arguments

smut tags: making out, heavy petting, webs as cuffs LOLLL, thigh riding, edging, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (f rec.), yeonjun is so playful and such a tease

notes: omg she’s finally here!!! i am so excited to get this out to u guys hehe<3 tysm for all the love on the teaser, i hope spideyjjun steals ur heart. enjoy the fic !!!

Saving the city can suck sometimes. Homework sucks significantly more. If Yeonjun had the option to zip through the city chasing some bad guys instead of sitting here trying to finish his calculus assignment, he’d be flying out his window in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, responsibility is a virtue, and Yeonjun cannot swing through the city for no good reason.

The one good thing about this tedious, awful calculus homework is that if it’s hard enough, he always gets a text from you. His body springs to life when he hears his phone buzz, rushing to pick it up and check the notification.

[you] have u done the calc homework

[you] how do you solve #4 :(

Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. Yeonjun never knew before that math talk could make his heart flutter.

“So, does that make sense?” he asks after a long-winded explanation. He’s almost out of breath after spewing out so much math jargon, but being on a call with you for ten minutes has similarly breathtaking effects.

“Yeah. Thanks, Yeonjun.” He bites back a giggle upon hearing your words. “You should seriously be teaching this class,” you say with a laugh.

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t—I mean, I’m—I’m more of a science guy,” he stammers out, lips tightening into a thin line at the embarrassment of stumbling over his own sentence. “Our professor’s pretty cool, too,” he adds as if that saves him at all.

“Is he? Maybe I should start going to his office hours,” you muse.

Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that!

“He’s not that cool,” Yeonjun says. You laugh, and he huffs out a short chuckle too.

“Noted. I’m gonna go now, but thanks for helping me. You’re the best.” Your praise goes straight to Yeonjun’s head, making him feel like the greatest man to ever live. He doesn’t even feel this accomplished after going out on his little spidey-missions.

He’s a beat too late to say goodbye or good night to you, the call already hanging up as he opens his mouth to speak. He melts into a puddle over his desk, sighing out as he plays back his conversation with you in his head. He thinks you have the prettiest voice he’s ever heard. You’re so smart, too. He never has to over exert himself to get you to understand, though he would happily do that for you.

He jolts up as his roommate walks into his dorm. Yeonjun glances at him quickly as he straightens out his posture, picking his pencil back up and returning to his homework.

“Hey,” his roommate, Soobin, greets quietly. Yeonjun didn’t know Soobin prior to this semester, but he’s been pretty nice. He’s very quiet, but very respectful of Yeonjun’s space. It’s much appreciated, considering Yeonjun’s hiding a few of his red and blue spandex suits in his closet.

“Hey. How was your day?” Yeonjun asks, only half-interested in the conversation.

He watches Soobin shrug from his peripheral as he slides off his shoes. “Normal,” he answers.

Yeonjun nods. “Cool.” The conversation kind of dies after that, which is fine. Soobin isn’t the most extroverted person, and Yeonjun doesn’t push him to talk more than he’s willing to. He sometimes forgets he even has a roommate with how quiet it gets in the room.

Yeonjun regains his focus a minute into the silence. His eyes widen when he realizes that there’s now a doodle of your face on his calculus homework—when did that get there..? His face heats up as he grabs an eraser from his desk’s drawer. Thank god he didn’t do this assignment in pen.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s not really paying attention to the professor, finding more interest in taking quick glances at you. You’re wearing a different bracelet today. It’s really pretty—maybe he should compliment you on it. Is it weird to lean in and tell you that? Are you close enough where he can compliment you without looking weird and creepy?

He rests his head in his hand and starts doodling in his notebook, mindlessly scribbling on the page while he waits for the lecture to end. He thinks of quick conversational things to say, something to discuss in a few minutes when it’s time to pack your bags and leave. Interesting class, right? Who would’ve thought—Yeonjun looks up at the projector to see the professor’s notes—the shell method… would be so cool… Maybe he shouldn’t say that, actually.

He’s honestly better off not trying to strike up a conversation with you at all; the chances of it leading to total and utter embarrassment lean greatly towards one hundred percent. He just wishes he had a little more spine, or that he was naturally a little cooler. The only interesting thing about him is something he can’t even talk to you about, or with anyone at all.

Yeonjun barely registers it when the professor dismisses class. He steals one last glance toward you, lips parting like he finally built up the courage to speak, but the words build up in his throat and die on his tongue. He seals his lips and focuses his gaze back on his own things, closing his notebook and shoving it in his bag. It’s not worth it. He decides he’ll just keep his mouth shut.

“Hey Yeonjun?”

Yeonjun almost jumps out of his seat, and he has to fight away his nerves as he turns to you. You’re packing your things back into your bag, not even looking at him. A part of him thinks he might be hearing things until your eyes meet his, waiting for an answer.

“Yeah?” he responds, voice coming out strained. He clears his throat.

“We’re friends, right?” you ask. He blinks, feeling like this is some kind of trick. He analyzes your face, making sure there’s nothing snide or teasing hidden in your question. You look honest enough, which puts him at ease.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“I hope that’s not sarcasm,” you say, getting up from your seat and adjusting your bag over your shoulders.

“It’s not! Really, we’re friends,” he reassures. You walk past him and he follows, leaving the classroom and entering the busy hallway.

“Well, good. I wanted you to go with me somewhere.” Your statement is wildly cryptic, and it leaves Yeonjun’s mind whirling with the possibilities of what you might offer.

“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance.

You laugh, “No, tonight. There’s this party, and I”—you keep talking, but Yeonjun barely registers it. He’s never partied in college before. What would he even do at a party? He can’t handle his drinks well, and he’s not sure how well he’d blend into that kind of environment. He’s scared he’d make a fool of himself.

As you leave the academic building, you turn to Yeonjun, raising a brow in question. You must have asked him for his confirmation. Yeonjun forces his brain to rack up a response.

“Could you text me the details..?” Yeonjun asks. You relax a little at his words, nodding happily. You pull out your phone, ready to text him now. Yeonjun feels his heart pounding. He catches sight of the time on your phone, noticing he’s only got five minutes until his next class. The hall he’s supposed to be in is at least a three minute walk from here.

“There,” you say, awarding Yeonjun with a grin so bright that being late to class might just be worth it. “I really hope to see you there.” You tilt your head a little, and Yeonjun feels starstruck.

“You will,” he promises mindlessly.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun feared he might’ve been in trouble when his professor asked him to stay after class. Turns out, it’s something much worse.

“Yeonjun, do you think you could help in the lab later today?”

Yeonjun doesn’t think much before he nods. “Yeah, of course, how much later?”

“Around 6 this evening,” his professor answers. Yeonjun’s heart drops. That would be perfectly fine any other day, but he promised to go out with you today. Of course the party would start at the same time Yeonjun’s professor wants him to stop by the lab.

“I’m not sure I have the time,” Yeonjun says quickly, suddenly fidgety and feeling antsy to leave the room. “I’ve got this… thing to do.” His professor doesn’t look too convinced. Yeonjun wants to facepalm himself. Yeah, great excuse.

The professor sighs, but Yeonjun starts up again before his professor can say anything. “I can come in earlier! I’m free right now, so I could just go over after this.”

“The cells we’re working with need a full 24 hours in culture for the sake of our research. Are you sure you can’t push your plans forward? Or back?” he asks.

Yeonjun’s stomach twists with guilt. He knows he shouldn’t let his professor down. Yeonjun’s kind of counting on him to write his recommendation letter for a graduate program, too.

“I’ll push the plans back,” Yeonjun says, giving in. He hopes the dejection isn’t too evident in his voice. His professor smiles and pats Yeonjun’s shoulder in thanks. He half-listens as his professor gives him the usual rundown of what to do during and after the process, nodding along and holding back the frown that tries to tug at his lips.

When Yeonjun finally leaves the building, he lets out the heaviest sigh of his life. His shoulders sag, and he feels like he might be the unluckiest person in the world. You finally give him attention outside of just asking for homework help, and the universe just had to intervene. This is laughable. It’s also stupid. Annoying. Frustrating.

There’s a pout etched onto Yeonjun’s face as he walks back to his dorm. He’s got a couple hours until he needs to go to the lab, so maybe he can take a nap or tidy up his room a little. His head hangs low, gaze transfixed on the sidewalk, kicking along a small pebble that keeps him company on the way.

He only picks his head back up as he walks past a certain field of grass, one he often finds you sitting in. Sometimes you’re on your laptop, sometimes you’re taking notes in a textbook, but most of the time you’re just lounging and doing nothing. It’s almost inspiring. Yeonjun would probably benefit from relaxing and decompressing more.

You’re there, sitting cross-legged on the grass, peaceful and silent. You look up suddenly, making eye contact with Yeonjun. His face flushes, but before he can turn his head in embarrassment, you raise your hand and wave. Yeonjun almost stops in his tracks. You’re waving at him, acknowledging his existence yet again.

He smiles and waves back, failing to tame his heartbeat as he takes the sight of you in. He’s forced to look away when he nearly stumbles over the pebble he’s been kicking around—“Oh, shit!” he utters, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.

He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind.

Back at his dorm, Yeonjun stands by his closet, contemplating what exactly to wear tonight. He also has to make sure his outfit is lab-friendly, so the loose sweater he’d been eyeing is a no-go. He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe the t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing now will suffice.

Time passes slowly, slow enough for Yeonjun to clean his half of the room, make himself a small meal in the communal kitchen, and even read a chapter ahead in his calculus textbook. He almost feels relieved when his alarm sets off to go to the lab, eager to get his work over with.

He’s determined to get this done quickly enough to still see you tonight. The thought of letting you down the one time you ask him to hang out is almost painful. He imagines the frown you’d wear next time he sits next to you in class. He can’t let that happen; he has to make sure he gets to you.

He throws on his lab coat and adjusts the goggles to fit onto his face. He sighs as he grabs containers of various chemical compounds from the cabinet, leaving them on the counter as he fetches the other materials he needs. With everything set out in front of him, he grabs the petri dish of cells and glances at the procedural note his professor left.

Yeonjun’s done this enough times to get into the swing of things, so he’s not too concerned with double checking his every move. His bigger priority is getting this done as fast as possible so that he can get to you. Lab work is never particularly fun or interesting, so he passes the time thinking about you.

The smell of the chemicals burns Yeonjun’s nose a little, and he wonders for a second if he’d been zoning out too much. He picks up the procedural note and glances over the measurements again, making sure he’s been adding the right amounts of everything. If he does something wrong and messes with the cell culture, he risks not being allowed back in the lab. He should probably slow down a bit, even if it means making you wait longer.

He’s more careful throughout the rest of the process, pushing back the worries that he might’ve messed something up. He continues to reassure himself that everything’s okay as he finishes up his work, placing the lid back on the petri dish and storing it away. He writes the date and time on a piece of tape that he sticks onto the lid, then finally lets his body relax as he steps back.

He cracks his knuckles to alleviate the stiffness that had been building there and rolls his shoulders back, groaning at the soreness of his muscles. All the fine motor movements from working in a lab does a number on his arms and fingers.

He hears a rattle, and he turns quickly to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in his haste. His eyes scan the room, but nothing looks amiss. He shakes the feeling and sheds himself of his lab gear, eager to head to you at the party already.

It’s been over an hour, and the thought of you waiting so long for Yeonjun’s arrival strikes guilt inside his chest. He opens his phone to find the path he needs to walk to get to the house the party’s being held in, eyes bugging out when he sees that it’s a twenty minute walk from the lab. Shit, by then you’ll have been waiting an hour and a half for him to show up!

He groans, trying to think if there’s a better way to get to you. The buses around campus don’t stop at the street he needs to get to, and it’s not like he has one of those electric bicycles or scooters that everyone seems to love. He wonders now if it might be a worthy investment. He pouts and throws his head back, totally drained from everything happening today. His eyes land on the tops of the academic buildings and the tall trees overhead. Maybe there is another way to get there after all.

No, he shouldn’t. That would be way too reckless. He’s already gone through the whole power and responsibility spiel, and he’s not in the mood to get himself in trouble for acting rashly. But if no one sees…

He turns his head and scans for people in each direction. No one’s around. No one would know, and he really needs to get to the party before he makes himself look like an asshole. He checks for anyone one last time, then aims his wrist towards the sky.

“Yeonjun! What’s up!”

Yeonjun startles and brings his arm back to his side hastily. He whips around to see who’s talking to him and lets out a breath when he sees his friend who had just exited the lab building. “Taehyun, hey man,” he says, ignoring the anxious pounding of his heart. That was way too close. Lesson learned.

“Didn’t catch you at the physics meet last week. Everything alright?” Taehyun asks. Yeonjun really hopes this conversation doesn’t take too long. The last thing he needs is another ten minutes piled on top of how late he already is.

“I’m good, I was just”—controlling a fire set by some idiot arsonist, then trapping said arsonist with his webs until the cops arrived—“uh, kind of sick.”

Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him. He manages to get there in fifteen minutes instead of twenty, only at the expense of heavy breathing like he just finished a marathon.

When he gets to the entrance, there’s two men Yeonjun has never seen in his life guarding the door. He almost scoffs. What is this, some kind of nightclub?

“You got the money?” one of the guys ask.

“What?” Yeonjun scrunches his brows and leans his head forward a little, thinking he might have misheard him.

“No money, no entrance,” the other man says.

“Dude, come on!” Yeonjun whines.

“House rules. Stop wasting our time and get out of line.”

“No, no, I’ll”—Yeonjun sighs, reaching into the back pocket of his pants to fetch out his wallet. “How much?” he asks. The men tell him, and he bites back the complaints that almost push past his lips. Yeonjun slaps the bills into the guy’s open palm. They finally open the door for him, and Yeonjun steps inside.

He’s taken aback by how many people are cramped into this place. The house is pretty big, but there’s at least a hundred people mingling around, which makes space tight. He squeezes past the crowd with muttered apologies, but no one seems to pay him any mind. He scans every room for you, but it’s a little hard to do it efficiently when there’s so many faces to check. A part of him fears you might’ve left already.

He pulls out his phone, ready to text you and ask, before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns at the action and smiles when he’s met with your pretty face. “Hey, you!” you exclaim. “I thought you bailed on me.” There’s no real bite to your words, but it still makes Yeonjun frown.

“I’m sorry. I had to do this lab thing, and”—

“It’s alright, don’t explain. You’re here now!” you say. “Did you have anything to drink?”

Yeonjun shakes his head. “I don’t drink much.”

“Me either,” you say. You look out the window, then grab onto Yeonjun’s hand. His brain short-circuits, and he has to stop his eyes from going all dumb and wide. “It’s kinda stuffy in here. Let’s go outside.”

Yeonjun puts up no fight as you lead him out the back door, walking out into the yard. There’s almost as many people out here as there are inside, but the lack of walls means there’s more space to move. It’s much more breathable.

He takes quick glances at your face, trying to decipher what you’re staring so hard at. Your gaze is fixed on a small group of people just sitting and laughing. All the guys have girls in their laps, and a few girls stand around them, sipping their drinks. They all look happy. And drunk.

“Did you want to join them?” Yeonjun asks. He doesn’t know any of those people, but he’ll go if that’s what you’d like. It’s not like there’s much else to do when you’re not drinking or dancing.

The LED lights that line the house reflect in your eyes, making them dazzle extra bright. Your eyes dart to the group one last time before you shake your head. “Nah. Let’s just sit down and talk.” Yeonjun gladly obliges.

You find an empty spot to sit at, looking up at Yeonjun after you situate yourself. He laughs a little, “You really like sitting on the grass, huh?”

You smile at him and pat the ground next to you. “Don’t act like you’re too good to connect with nature.”

“It’s more about getting grass stains on my pants,” Yeonjun says, but sits beside you anyways.

You turn your head to him, and something about seeing your face this close makes it hard for him to keep eye contact. It’s quiet for a few seconds before you speak up, “So how come you said yes to the party?”

Something about your question strikes fear inside Yeonjun. Did you find him out? Do you know he likes you? Maybe this is some kind of humiliation ritual you’ve set him up for.

“Cause you asked,” he answers, voice a little meek as he fidgets with his hands in his lap.

“And if it was someone else who asked?”

Yeonjun thinks for a second, but he can’t come to an answer. “I don’t know. Like who?”

You hum and look into the crowd of people. Your head turns back to him after a couple seconds. “Like Yerim,” you say.

Yeonjun laughs as if the scenario is ridiculous, mostly because it is. Yerim would never even give him the time of day. She’s notorious for being cold to anyone who she isn’t interested in. Somehow, that seems to attract a bunch of guys to her. Not Yeonjun, though.

“No chance I’d go,” he says.

“So what makes me different?” you ask.

A lot of things. You’re nice, and you’re smart, and you’re down to earth, and you’re a beacon of warmth. Everything makes you different.

“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment.

You nod. “I’m just asking cause… well, I guess I’m just surprised you agreed to come.” Your eyes meet his, warm and kind. “Thank you for that, by the way.”

Yeonjun’s stomach does flips when you look at him like that. “You’re welcome.” It goes quiet for a moment, so he continues, “I think this was worth handing over the last of my cash for.”

You burst out laughing. “They made you pay?! Why didn’t you just say you’re here with me?”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he says. He bites his tongue after the words leave him. Who is he to assume there will be a next time? He hopes you don’t call him out on it.

“We should just go somewhere else next time. There’s a lot of places downtown that I want to visit,” you suggest, bumping his shoulder with yours. Yeonjun almost explodes.

“We should do that then,” he agrees. He’s not sure what suddenly drew you to him as more than some kind of tutor, but he thanks the universe for bestowing him with all this luck.

“There’s that bakery that opened a couple months ago,” you mention.

Yeonjun lights up. “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to go there too!”

You squeal in excitement and clasp your hands together. “Let’s do that next. Tell me you’re free on Sunday,” you say.

“I don’t know, things come up last-minute sometimes. I’ll let you know.” It’s hard to make plans when he’s basically living a double life. Then again, he did agree to going out with you tonight on a whim. He’s not very consistent with his rules. He pushes the thought back.

Your eyes land back on the group of people hanging out and laughing. Yeonjun frowns, and he wonders if he’s not entertaining you enough. He doesn’t want to keep you from having fun.

“Why do you keep looking at them?” he asks, curious and soft. He hopes he’s not prying.

“They’re just some friends,” you answer.

“Oh. Why don’t we go say hi, then?” he offers.

You pull your lips into a tight line. “I’d rather not.”

“That’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You give a small smile in appreciation.

“What about you?” you ask. He tilts his head, not knowing what you mean. You continue, “Who’s in your friend group?”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly and shrugs. “I mostly hang out with the physics honor society,” he admits.

“That’s cool. You must have a good bond.”

“We do,” he says. “How’d you meet your friends?”

You smile at him, and something in your face tells Yeonjun that it’s a complicated story. You sigh dramatically and lean back a little, “I met them at parties. Does that surprise you?”

Yeonjun’s not sure if that’s a rhetorical question. “No. You’re friendly. I can see why people come to you,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you say, voice a little quieter.

“Are you friends with your roommate?” he asks.

“I don’t have one. I live in a single dorm.”

Lucky. If Yeonjun had the extra money to spare, he’d be dorming alone too. It would definitely make heading out as Spider-man easier; he’d just be able to change in his room and jump out his window. Assuming no one is around to see, that is.

“That must be nice,” he says.

You shrug. “It’s alright. What about you? You got a roommate?”

“Yeah. We’re…” Yeonjun struggles to find a word to describe his relationship with Soobin. They’re not exactly friends, but they’re peaceful with each other.

You laugh and finish the sentence for him, “Roommates and nothing more.” There’s a lilt to your voice when you say that, and you wiggle your eyebrows like that’s supposed to suggest something.

“Ignoring your insinuations, yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m just kidding,” you say. He’ll let you make jokes at his expense all you want, it doesn’t bother him. Especially not when it means he gets to see you all giggly and happy. He thinks that you look the prettiest like this. Yeonjun would stare at you smiling up at him forever if he could.

The sound of a guy calling your name pulls Yeonjun from his stupor. He blinks at the man standing before the two of you, then looks at you with scrunched brows as if to ask who is that?

His unspoken question is answered the next second. “Hey, Kai,” you say. When Yeonjun gets a better look, he realizes that this is one of the dudes in the group you kept looking over at.

“Who’s this guy?” Kai asks, jutting his chin toward him.

“I’m Yeonjun.” He goes to hold out his hand for Kai to shake, but quickly puts it back down upon realizing that might be weird.

“Oh, Yeonjun from calculus. I know you,” he says.

“I didn’t know you’re in that class too,” Yeonjun muses.

Kai laughs, “I’m not. Y/n just talks about you.”

Yeonjun nearly melts. You talk about him. This is the best day of his life.

“Anyway,” Kai continues, looking at you again. “I need a couple more people on my beer pong team. You guys down?”

Yeonjun turns to you to gauge your reaction. He can’t really tell what you're feeling, not even when you face him as you contemplate your answer. Yeonjun shrugs, as if to tell you that he’s down for whatever you want to do.

“I think I’m good,” you say.

“Ah, alright, you bummer,” Kai jokes, stepping back and sending you a bright smile. “Continue your convo with the calc lord, I insist.” He’s gone after that, jogging off to the rest of his friends, setting up the game.

“Calc lord?” Yeonjun repeats, amused.

Your laugh is accompanied by a roll of your eyes. “He means it nicely, I swear.”

“Well, depending on how well he does in this game, I might start calling him beer pong lord,” Yeonjun says. You push at his shoulder as your laughter continues.

Yeonjun already knew he likes you a lot, but as the night goes on, he finds out that you’re even better than he thought. Conversation unfolds easily with you, even if Yeonjun’s answers are dorky and awkward at times. He feels exactly how he thinks you look when you sit in the grass alone: content and peaceful.

He’s not sure how many minutes or hours have passed when you ask him to walk you back to your dorm. All he knows is that tonight could have stretched into infinity, and that would’ve been fine. He follows you into the building, then into your room. He’s not sure why. It just feels right.

“Thanks for bringing me back,” you say. Yeonjun smiles and nods. He leans against the wall and stares out the window. You live on the top floor of your building, so the view’s pretty different from Yeonjun’s second story view. This would be a fun room to swing out of.

“Do you need anything else?” Yeonjun asks. A smile slowly takes over your face, and you cross the room to stand in front of him. You blink up at him, and something about it feels flirty. If he wasn’t biting his tongue so hard, his thoughts would have slipped right past his lips: you look cute.

You break the short moment of silence with a giggle. “Just for you to promise me we’ll hang out again,” you say, voice barely over a whisper.

Yeonjun has to remind himself to breathe and be normal. “I promise,” he says. He even holds out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your pinky around his, accepting the playful gesture.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. You look out the window, then back at him. “I’m okay with sharing my bed.”

That definitely flusters Yeonjun. “Oh, no, I’m—I was gonna just walk back to my dorm or something. Or take a bus. I don’t know. Thank you, though.”

You laugh. Hopefully not at his sputtering and rambling, but Yeonjun has a feeling that might be why. “Alright, then. Good night, Yeonjun.”

Your soft voice has Yeonjun wanting to backpedal and say he’ll stay the night, but he swallows down the words. He smiles at you as he backs away toward your door. “Good night,” he says, standing in your doorway.

“Yeonjun,” you call, stopping him before he could leave. He turns, waiting for your words. He’s surprised to see that you look a little shy. “I’m really happy I asked you to come with me. Tonight was fun.”

Butterflies erupt in Yeonjun’s stomach, and he feels like he could float from how giddy he is. “I’m happy too,” he says.

He steps out into the hall, thoughts lingering on how overwhelmingly good his time with you was. His mind is clouded with rosy memories of his night with you, and he finds himself repressing the urge to twirl around and jump for joy. He’ll probably be skipping all the way home, imagining all the possibilities of what could come next between you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

It’s Sunday, and Yeonjun knows exactly why you’re calling. He stares at his phone, then back at the man in front of him tangled up in webs. Yeonjun shoots another web over the guy’s mouth.

“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call.

“Hey Yeonjun!” Your voice is so cheerful that it makes Yeonjun giggle. He even swings his feet in the air as he sits on the branch.

“Hi Y/n,” he greets, hoping his voice isn’t too muffled through the mask of his suit.

“Did those last-minute plans end up showing, or are you down to try out that bakery?” you ask. Yeonjun frowns, hating to let you down when you sound so happy.

“I’m really busy today, I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging from how awful he feels. He’s got a whole lab procedure to write once he’s done sorting out the crime scenes of today.

“No worries, maybe we can go after class sometime.”

He frowns. “I wish I could, but I got another class right after ours. Let me check my schedule, I might be able to”—

“Are those sirens?” you interrupt, and Yeonjun looks out to the street. He’s grown so accustomed to the sound of those things that it didn’t even register. “Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m… uh,” Yeonjun stammers, focusing on the cops getting out of the car and making their way towards the criminal.

He tunes into the cops’ conversation. “Looks like Spider-shit’s been here already,” one of them comments in a gruff voice.

The other cop huffs out a laugh. “He’s always meddling in with petty crimes. What do you think this guy did?”

“Jaywalking?” The cops chuckle.

“Not like he can explain with that over his mouth.” He points to the web Yeonjun placed on the man a minute ago.

Yeonjun scowls. He’s not sure why the cops hold so much scorn for him, but if they’d like to know, then the petty crime that Spider-shit helped stop was an armed robbery. If these guys were a little better at their jobs, he wouldn’t have to meddle in all the time.

“Hello?” you ask, and Yeonjun reels his attention back to his conversation with you.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just coming back from the store. Crazy stuff going on today.”

“Oh. Well, stay safe,” you say.

“Thanks, I will.” He sees the cops looking around, probably trying to spot him, so he flattens his back against the tree and tries to talk a little quieter. “I’ll see you in class, I gotta go.”

“See you!”

Yeonjun sighs once the call ends. His suit doesn’t even have pockets, he just carried his phone with him today in case you contacted him. Stupid? Mildly. Inconvenient? Very. He had one less hand to work with when dealing with today’s crime culprits. To hear your voice, though? Worth it. He smiles like an idiot as he swings over to the next nearest building, making his way back to his dorm.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s professor accompanies him to the lab today, overseeing the procedures for the day. The feeling of his professor watching over his shoulder is more nerve-wracking than any day spent fighting crime on the streets. He’s usually careful with his work in the lab, but he’s extra, extra careful on these days.

He pauses when he retrieves the petri dish of cells. He briefly considers the possibility that he’s crazy and just seeing things, but Yeonjun’s pretty sure that the clump of cells just moved. Like, uncanny movement. He holds his breath.

He stares at the clump, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It doesn’t jerk around anymore, so maybe it was just his imagination. Fear still creeps up his neck at the idea of the research going wrong. He remembers feeling like he messed up at some point last time he was here, and the realization is making his skin grow clammy.

“What is it?” his professor asks, taking a step closer to Yeonjun.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” he quickly responds, keeping his voice calm and steady. He brings the petri dish to the table and does his best to forget what he saw earlier. Yeonjun fears how his professor would react if he told him something unprecedented might be occurring. It happened so quickly that he can’t even tell if his mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe he’s just extra nervous today.

He wipes the sweat off his palms onto his lab coat, bringing the necessary materials to the table to continue the research. His professor reads off the instructions slowly, and Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t feel his stomach twisting as he works with the cells.

He tries to calm down as he walks back to his dorm, but there’s a permanent chill shooting down his spine. There’s no way the clump should have moved like that—it shouldn’t show any observable motion at all, not without some kind of electrical stimulation.

Maybe he just jerked the dish too harshly. He was pretty nervous, so it would make sense. He must have been shaking and just didn’t realize. That would explain it. That would put Yeonjun at ease.

He can try to convince himself that everything’s fine, but he can’t stop the anxious thrum of his heart. Apparently the fear reads on his face, too, because Soobin’s quick to notice it when Yeonjun enters the dorm.

“Are you okay?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun’s not sure what must have given himself away. He pays more attention to breathing slowly and talking casually.

“I’m good,” he answers. He doesn’t expect Soobin to push the subject considering how quiet he always is, but Soobin’s gaze isn’t leaving Yeonjun. He must be really concerned.

“Did something happen?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun sinks into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands as he groans. “Sorry,” his roommate apologizes, turning away from Yeonjun to look at his laptop instead.

“No, you’re good, it’s just…” Yeonjun sighs. He might as well get this off his chest. “Some lab thing.”

Soobin nods, not asking any further. Now that Yeonjun’s started though, he doesn’t feel like stopping.

“I think I might’ve fucked up,” Yeonjun admits.

“How?” Soobin’s playing some video game on his laptop as he talks, which actually puts Yeonjun at ease. It feels less pressing, less like an interrogation or a confession and more like a normal conversation.

“The cells I’m working with are being weird. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I saw it right. I just feel crazy now.” Yeonjun rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, soothing the headache he’s got building up.

Soobin hums. The little shooting sounds and animated voices coming from Soobin’s game fill the room until Soobin speaks again, “Did anyone else see?”

“No. My professor was there, but he didn’t notice.”

Soobin shrugs. “You’re probably fine then.”

Honestly, Soobin’s nonchalance to the situation eases Yeonjun’s worries a lot. He knows he can get in his head sometimes, especially when it comes to doing everything right, so to hear he’ll be fine lifts a weight from his shoulders.

“Yeah, probably,” he agrees. He basks in comfortable silence for a minute now that his heart isn’t beating so hard.

“By the way, have you bought more laundry detergent yet?” Soobin asks.

Ah, shit. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Being Spider-man is tasking, but it’s usually pretty cool. Not everyone gets to zip around the city and restore peace in people’s neighborhoods. Not everyone, however, has to worry about getting stabbed by a criminal in the middle of the night.

Yeonjun always stays until the cops arrive. It almost feels essential, just to make sure justice gets served. This time, he can’t.

He has to stop himself from groaning too loud when he feels the knife pull out from his side. The man in front of Yeonjun is already stuck to the side of a building, held there with a thick layer of web, so there has to be someone else. He turns around to look at the perpetrator, but the world moves a lot slower than normal.

Yeonjun blinks hard, focusing on breathing and staying conscious. The coward who stabbed him is wearing a ski mask, and he’s running away quickly. Yeonjun can’t let him leave. He moves forward and ignores the searing pain that sets his body alight. He straightens out his shaky arm and aims his wrist at the man, but the web that shoots out is just as weak as Yeonjun is.

Frustrated, Yeonjun growls and forces himself to move faster. It burns, he’s never felt any kind of pain like this, but he can’t let this man walk free. He can’t let this man stab another innocent person. Even with his staggered pace, limping as he tries his best to catch up to the man, he advances quickly.

He breathes hard and holds the air in his lungs as he aims again at the man, brows furrowed with angry determination beneath his mask. He lets out a loud grunt as he shoots his web out, and finally, it lands. The criminal falls as the web captures his ankle, keeping his leg stuck to the ground.

Yeonjun huffs as he traverses the rest of the way toward the man, nothing but fury in his veins as he shoots another web out. This one’s bigger, covering the man’s back and securing him to the pavement. He picks up his head and looks at Yeonjun with fear in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. All he feels is pain and anger and pain and pain and so much fucking pain.

Yeonjun’s not the vengeful type, but getting stabbed really tests a person’s limits. He shoots more webs over the guy, making sure he won’t be able to move a muscle until the cops arrive.

Yeonjun doesn’t waste his breath making snide comments, though he does have a few choice words for him. He takes off the man’s ski mask and resists the urge to deck his face. He’s got fear etched into his expression, but Yeonjun finds it hard to feel sorry for him. The man starts begging for his life, and Yeonjun scoffs. Of course he’s not going to kill this man—no matter what, he doesn’t end people’s lives. A city’s hero shouldn’t get to decide who lives and dies.

Yeonjun stumbles away after finding a passerby to call the police. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, Yeonjun feels less mad and more scared. He’s really bleeding now; his hand comes up soaked when it presses against the wound. What the hell does he do? He can’t die like this.

He can’t go to the hospital with a stab wound. There’s no way for him to make up some alibi that wouldn’t just trace Spider-man’s identity back to him. He hisses through gritted teeth as he frantically scans his surroundings, looking for somewhere to go. The only thing that’s coming to mind is you, and it’s aggravating. He could be dying right now, and all his useless mind can do is think of you. Maybe it’s all the blood loss, and he’s just getting delirious, or maybe it’s a sign. It’s not like he has many good options right now.

There’s not enough time to think about it. He zips through the city and back onto campus as fast as he can, ignoring the splitting pain in his side that shoots up his body every time he moves. It’s getting harder to breathe, suddenly feeling suffocated by his mask, but he has to hold on. He’s not far away now.

He remembers the view from your window. He remembers exactly which room to shoot himself up to. He adheres himself to the wall outside your room and pulls his mask off, leaning his forehead onto the cold glass of your window with a sigh of relief. He catches his breath and knocks with a shaky fist. He’s really sorry for having to wake you up at this hour, but he has a feeling you’ll understand.

He doesn’t wait long. You're trudging out of bed and making your way toward the window, tired eyes blinking slowly. You look really cute. Everything is spinning around him, but he focuses on you. You’re still groggy and out of it until you meet Yeonjun’s eyes through the glass. As soon as you see him, it’s like you wake up immediately.

He watches your jaw drop, your frantic hands racing to open your window. His vision is nearly blacking out, and he tries to blink away the dizzy feeling in his head the best he can.

“Yeonjun?!” you squeak as he drags himself through your window and into your room. He can’t even hold himself up anymore, weak body collapsing to the floor. He groans and leans against the wall, clutching his side. He ignores the sickening feeling of blood dampening his hand, sticky and warm against his palm and between his digits.

You pick him up by the underarms, grunting as you heave him toward your bed. He notices how shaky your arms are, and he tries his best to pick up his own weight, even if it hurts like hell. He’s burdening you enough as is coming here so late.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to go to,” he says, catching his breath as you guide him to lay on your bed. He’s half-aware of how bloody and dirty he is, but you seem fully ready to let him stain your sheets. Concern and confusion fill your wide eyes, and Yeonjun can hear every word that you don’t say.

Luckily, you save the unnecessary questions for later. “What do I do?” you ask. Your hands tremble as they peel the shirt of his suit up, just enough to expose his midriff and the nasty damage to his side. You gasp upon seeing how bad it is, hardly able to stomach it, opting to look into his eyes instead.

He wants to respond to you, if not to answer your question then just to comfort you, but breathing is enough of a chore on its own right now; talking seems almost impossible. Watching you panic about this is shattering him. He makes an effort to move his arm out toward you, just to hold your hand and reassure you, but he doesn’t have enough strength.

You lift from the bed and open up a bottle of water, pouring some of the cool liquid over his head. It’s relieving against his burning skin and keeps him from losing consciousness. It also makes him realize how dehydrated he is.

“Please sit up,” you beg, placing a hand underneath his head to lift it a bit. He comes up just enough to drink some of the water you feed to him, swallowing down the rest of the bottle. He collapses back against your pillow once he’s finished, feeling much better just from that.

You come back with another bottle of water and pour small bits at a time over the gash in his side. He hisses and tenses up each time it hits his skin, but he knows you have to do this. He doesn’t want to make it harder by thrashing around and complaining, so he bites his tongue and keeps his body stiff.

The sheets soak beneath him as you continue emptying the water bottle over the wound. He should help you clean up after this; he doesn’t want you dealing with his mess all alone. A few minutes pass before you discard the plastic bottle and grab a t-shirt from your dresser.

You press the bunched up cloth against his injured skin gently, and he holds back any grunts that threaten to slip out. It’s like you can sense his pain despite his efforts to hide it, because you keep murmuring apologies to him.

“I’m okay, don’t be sorry,” he reassures. He doesn’t think you believe him, judging by the way lips stay tugged into a frown.

A quietness falls over the room. You pull your t-shirt away from his body and observe the wound, and your fingertips on his torso send electricity throughout his body. It doesn’t hurt so much now.

“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you point out.

He hums. “That’s good.” Your hand grazes the skin just outside the gash. There’s a soothing effect in the way your fingers glide against him, pressure so light that it’s barely there.

“You need stitches,” you say quietly, like you hate to break the news to him.

Yeonjun doesn’t mind. “You got a needle?” he asks. You fidget with the fabric of Yeonjun’s suit as you sigh and look away.

“I do,” you say. You don’t sound too confident, though. He doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better.

You grab his hand like it’s second nature to do so, and the action would be romantic if only you didn’t have that nervous look on your face. He can practically feel your heart pounding, and he’s dying to let you know that everything’s okay.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. He makes sure he’s looking you in the eye so you can see how much he means it. He’s risking everything by trusting you, but he’s not scared. He feels safe even with his life in your hands, his secret identity in your knowledge. If there was something more sacred and dangerous to give up than that, he’s sure he’d be okay lending that to you too.

It feels much more real when you have your needle and thread in hand. Yeonjun can’t contain his noises anymore, whimpering in pain when he feels the sharp tip pierce his skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say quickly and desperately. “I’ll do it fast.”

He hisses as he feels the thread start to tug his wound shut. He throws an arm over his eyes, as if not watching you treat him will stop the piercing feeling. All his muscles are tensed up no matter how much he tries to relax, but he keeps his breathing steady and lets you do your work.

It’s not too long before you’re tying off the final knot and discarding your needle onto your nightstand. You run your thumb over the stitch, gentle and slow. Yeonjun takes his arm off his face and fixes his gaze on you, watching you scrutinize your work with scrunched brows.

“It feels fine. You did perfect,” he says, wanting to keep you from judging yourself too harshly. He wants to thank you, but the words feel so awkward building up in his throat.

“I don’t have a big enough bandage to put over this,” you say, still fixated on his injury. Yeonjun tries to sit up, but your hand on his shoulder eases him back down. “Don’t move too much.”

“Y/n…” he starts, but you give him a pointed look, and he decides to shut up and listen. He relaxes against your mattress.

“I wish I had some clothes to change you into,” you mutter after he pulls the shirt of his suit back down. The spandex isn’t super comfortable against his fresh stitches, but it’s easy to ignore in comparison to the searing pain of the open wound. He’ll have to throw out this suit; it’s bloodied beyond repair, and he has plenty of back-ups anyway.

“It’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You shuffle on the mattress until you’re laying down beside him. “Aren’t the sheets wet?” he asks, surprised at how unfazed you seem.

You let out a small laugh, and that frown finally leaves your face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to lay down.”

“I’ll buy you new sheets,” Yeonjun promises. “And a new needle. And I’ll explain everything to you, I swear. Please don’t”—

“Yeonjun,” you cut off. He shuts his mouth. “That stuff doesn’t matter. Are you okay now?”

He nods. “I’m okay.”

“That’s all I care about.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence. Yeonjun stares at the ceiling and wonders how much this is going to change things between you. He has some hope that this will make you two even closer, but a small part of him fears that you won’t want to associate with him anymore. He wouldn’t blame you; it’s not like being close to Spider-man isn’t a riskless situation. He doesn’t regret coming to you tonight, though.

He feels your eyes on him a moment later, and he can only bring himself to look at you for a second before returning his gaze to your ceiling. You must find that funny, because he hears you chuckling beside him.

“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former.

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he says.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

He turns his head to face you, and something feels awfully domestic about getting to lay this close to you in your bed. It’s hard to breathe when you’re smiling at him so eagerly, when there’s a glint in your eyes that tells Yeonjun you’re having fun. There’s an itch all the way down to his bones that begs him to push forward and kiss you already, but he resists.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispers.

The room gets quiet again, and Yeonjun supposes he should leave. It’s not like he can wait for the sun to rise and walk out of your room in his bloodied Spidey-suit glory. He’s not sure what time it is right now, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon and get some sleep, he’ll be passing out in his classes.

“Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, pushing himself off your bed and stretching his limbs. He feels beyond sore, wincing at the pain that shoots through his body. You sit up immediately, scrambling to stop him.

“You’re leaving? Are you crazy? Stay here!” you insist, trying to drag him back to the bed. He turns his head to you and smiles, and something about the silent plea in your eyes lights up his heart. He keeps his feet on the ground and resists your efforts, even though he wants nothing more than to spend the night with you. It’s just not smart and not worth the risk.

“I can’t,” he says. You pout and stand before him, blinking up at him so prettily that he almost changes his mind. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to keep you.” That makes Yeonjun giggle.

“Sorry. Maybe next time.”

You swat his chest. “Don’t let there be a next time. You almost scared me to death.”

“I’ll make sure to tell the next knife-bearer you said that,” Yeonjun jokes. It gets the laugh that he was hoping for out of you.

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. Your smile is just as soft and sweet as your kiss was. “Just stay out of trouble,” you finish, patting his chest gently.

“I’ll try.”

“I guess I’ll see you in class, then,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He should go now. He should make use of his feet and back away, but he stays planted in his spot. You sway girlishly in front of him, hands clasped behind your back.

“Good night,” you whisper. Yeonjun can’t help it—he pulls your face in so he can feel your lips on his again, more properly this time. They’re pillowy and dreamy, and Yeonjun could just melt into you. He doesn’t linger longer than he has to, backing up just enough to see your face. You mirror the glee that he feels in his own expression.

“Good night,” he echoes. He backs away and grabs his mask, slipping it back on. He opens your window back up and slings himself to the nearest tree. Each time Yeonjun looks over his shoulder, he sees you leaning at your window smiling right back at him. His heart does a little flip. On second thought, maybe getting stabbed is kind of cool.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Despite how well last night went, Yeonjun wakes up with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Every ounce of confidence that his interaction with you last night might have given him is completely gone the moment he remembers it, and sheds away at itself further when he notices you skipped class. A dreadful thought creeps up his spine: are you avoiding him?

Maybe you woke up regretting it all. Maybe you realized how ridiculous and stupid getting involved with Spider-man is, and you’re just protecting yourself before you can be burdened further. The classroom feels hot and suffocating, and fresh air sounds really nice right now, but Yeonjun stays put in his seat. He doesn’t want to make a scene and start freaking everyone out. To the best of his ability, he pushes his fears down and saves his panic for later—preferably for after he talks to you and gets some answers.

He doesn’t even open his notebook in his last class of the day. He shows up just for attendance purposes, then zones out staring at his desk for the rest of the hour. Time passes far too slowly; Yeonjun’s itching for the lecture to end so he can talk to you already. He’s practically running out of class as soon as it’s dismissed, but finds himself slowing down the moment he’s outside the building.

He’s pretty sure he knows where to find you. The bigger issue is figuring out what the hell he’s going to say. Is there any way to start this conversation without being awkward? Hey, thanks for saving my life last night. Also I am indeed that hero or whatever taking care of criminals in the city, hope you don’t mind! He feels so lame.

It’s wishful thinking to hope that you won’t care about what happened last night—well, except for the kissing part, but that’s probably not as important right now. He’ll push aside that conversation until the more important one happens.

He wants to run away the moment he sees your figure in the distance, sitting exactly where he thought you’d be. His tongue suddenly feels like lead, too heavy and useless to try talking to you. He gathers his breath and walks across the field, not letting himself back out now. You deserve to be given a little peace of mind. He’s sure today must have been confusing for you, that clarity hit you like a train this morning the same way it did to him.

You look over your shoulder when he reaches you, staring up at him and squinting your eyes from the sun. “How’d I know you’d come find me?” you ask, half-amused.

Yeonjun gives you a short laugh, unsure of himself as he sits on the grass beside you. It feels a little like he’s invading your space. He’s seen you sitting alone on this field as if it was all yours so many times.

“I thought I should thank you again,” he says, a little shy. He feels like he owes you a lot for last night. The whole city probably owes you a lot for saving him, honestly.

You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head on your bent knees. “Mhm. Shouldn’t I be thanking you, Spider-man?” There’s a teasing quality to your voice, and it makes Yeonjun laugh nervously. He should probably address that.

“I really hope you won’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. I’m still finding it hard to believe anyway,” you say. Your sentences are all laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that Yeonjun can’t help but to feel at fault for. “It’s just weird to know it now.”

Yeonjun hums. He can sympathize with you on that—it must be really bewildering to know your classmate is the one swinging around town shooting webs at criminals. He just hopes you can forgive him for dragging you into this.

“Spider-man’s a little less cool now, huh?” he jokes, keeping his voice quiet even though no one’s around.

Your smile is full and genuine, and Yeonjun’s heart skips a beat. “I always thought he was a little lame,” you answer. Yeonjun’s ego bruises at that. You continue, “But I think he’s kind of interesting now.”

He can only hope that you don’t see the blush that takes over his face. He looks away to hide it, but he feels your gaze on him. “I don’t know if I’m that interesting,” he says, acting all humble. It’s clearly bait, and he hopes you’ll catch it.

“I can be the judge of that. Let me get to know you more,” you offer. Yeonjun bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning at this massive win.

“Well, we still have that bakery to go to,” Yeonjun mentions, and judging by the way your eyes gain a new sparkle, you seem to like the idea.

“You don’t have any more classes today, do you?” You already look ready to go.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother hiding his excitement anymore, letting his smile take over his face. “I don’t.” You’re standing up the next second, and Yeonjun’s quick to follow.

The bakery is a cute, cozy little place near some other restaurants downtown. There’s no seating inside due to the lack of space, but that’s made up for by the giant row of sweet selections to choose from. Yeonjun’s stomach rumbles in anticipation as his eyes jump around to look at each confection.

After buying your treats, you lead Yeonjun to a nearby bench. You both open your pastry boxes and bite down on the baked goods eagerly. You hum in satisfaction, nodding at the taste. “Wow, we should go here again,” you say, going in for another bite.

Yeonjun chose a sweet cheese bread, which he completely devours within a couple minutes. You don’t eat as fast as him, but he doesn’t mind waiting for you. He makes conversation in the meantime: “How come you skipped class today?”

You laugh a little around your mouthful of food, swallowing before you answer, “I barely slept. There was no way I could’ve focused if I went.”

Yeonjun hums in understanding. “I barely slept too,” he says.

“But you still went,” you add. “I guess you’re better than me.”

Oh god, he hopes you didn’t take it that way. “Not at all!” he rushes to say.

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know. You’re just a star student, that’s all.”

Is that a compliment? Yeonjun blushes anyway. “I like to do well,” he says.

“I mean, considering everything you’re balancing, yeah, you are doing pretty well.”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly in response, barely able to take your praise. He’s pretty sure you’re alluding to what you found out about him yesterday. “Thanks,” he mutters, all humble.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?” you ask, finishing your last bite.

“Sure,” Yeonjun answers, feeling a smidge of nervousness returning to him. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Did you have any questions?” he asks. He feels more bashful than anything else, but it’s better than coming off as braggadocious.

You hum in thought, pouting your lips while you conjure up some ideas. “Was that your first kiss?”

He’s completely taken aback by your question—and a little embarrassed, quite frankly—and he scrambles to spit out a response. You’re stifling your laughter before he can even get his defense out. “No! I had my first kiss in, like, high school!”

“I’m just teasing,” you admit. “You’re a good kisser.” The compliment goes to Yeonjun’s head, playing in a loop while he floats on cloud nine. You liked kissing him. He should do it again and again, just to keep you happy. And for more selfish reasons, too.

Your voice breaks through his thoughts when you speak again, “Do you feel better today? Are you healing alright?” The joking tone leaves your voice, replaced with genuinity and care.

“I feel fine,” he answers. He pulls up his shirt to show you the wound, all stitched up and starting to heal over.

You wince. “Good thing I finished my food already. That killed my appetite.” Yeonjun laughs at your grimace and releases his shirt, falling back into place. “You should really put a bandage over that,” you suggest.

“I don’t have any.”

You shake your head in disbelief, though your amusement reads on your face. “You should be more prepared.”

Your concern is cute to Yeonjun. “I know,” he says.

“So who stabbed you?” you ask.

He shrugs. “No clue. He’s probably in a cell now.”

“Did it hurt?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Like hell,” he says.

“How’d it even happen?” Honestly, Yeonjun’s not too sure about that either. He can usually sense imminent danger before it comes, but maybe he was too focused on the crimes he’d already been dealing with.

“He came up behind me while I was handling another criminal,” he answers.

You hum, getting off the bench and tossing your trash in a bin nearby. You start walking off then, and Yeonjun follows mindlessly. “Must be tough being Spider-man,” you say.

“Careful how loud you say that.” Yeonjun tenses as someone walks past the two of you, praying they were out of earshot when you said that. He sighs in relief when he sees the person had headphones in.

“Right, sorry. There’s just so much I wanna know now.” You turn a corner, taking a path leading back to campus.

Your curiosity excites Yeonjun, and he’s ready to answer whatever question you come up with. Some of his stories have serious entertainment value to them.

“Ask me, then,” he invites. You twist your head to smile up at him for a second.

“How’d you get like this? Were you just born this way?”

Yeonjun laughs at the idea. He swings his head around to make sure no one’s around when he answers, “No, a radioactive spider bit me.”

“When did that happen?” you ask. Yeonjun reminisces the first few weeks after the bite, thinking back to those initial feelings of fear and dread when he realized something had happened to him.

“In high school,” he says. It was super bewildering back then to change so drastically, yet be forced to act so normal. It’s much easier now—he’s had years to adjust—but he was a teenager when it first happened. That’s a lot for a kid to take on. He had to act like he was the same Choi Yeonjun his classmates had grown up with, and not some mutated superhuman dealing with the stresses of his new identity. Of course, he did that whole Spider-man thing to himself, but it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t regret it.

“Does anyone else know?”

“My uncle did, but he’s gone, so now it’s just you.” He looks at you, lips twitching upward.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you apologize, voice growing soft. He realizes that you’re in front of your dorm building now, and he supposes this is where he should leave. His eyes dart between yours, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to go. To ask him to stay.

“Are you doing anything today?” he asks. Maybe he sounds desperate. He doesn’t really care.

“Catching up on some work,” you say.

“I’ll give you my calculus notes.”

You smile. “That would be nice.”

Yeonjun didn’t even take notes in calculus today. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“Can I stay?” He’s teeming with hope and bravery today. You open the door to your building and signal him inside, and he has to hold back the victorious giggle that almost escapes him as he trails behind you.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of questions and answers. Yeonjun’s never talked so openly about being Spider-man before, and a part of it feels healing. You study hard while he rambles about stories of the little things he’s done throughout the years. Some are funny and make you cackle, and some draw your attention away from your textbook so you can look at him in shock. It’s impossible for Yeonjun to wipe the grin off his face—not when he bids you good night, not when he walks back to his dorm, not even when lays in bed to sleep. His heart never lets up on that jittery rush it has for you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

A quintessential part of the college experience, Yeonjun’s come to find out, is trying out all the different ramen brands to see which one is the best. He’s a fan of whichever one he’s chowing down on right now, and a 5-pack of this barely puts a dent in his bank account. Seems like a winner.

He glances over at his dorm’s door when it opens, curious to see that Soobin brought someone over. Yeonjun isn’t bothered by that, though; if this guy is anything like Soobin, he’s not worried about getting annoyed.

“You can remember to buy ramen but not detergent?” Soobin asks, chuckling. Yeonjun chooses to read that as a joke instead of a passive aggressive comment.

“Ugh, dude, I keep forgetting, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. Yeonjun points at Soobin’s friend and continues, “This your friend?”

“Yeah, I’m Beomgyu,” the friend introduces. Something about him looks a little familiar.

“Nice to meet you,” Yeonjun greets with a nod.

Soobin grabs some clothes from his closet then turns to the door. “I’m gonna go change and then we can head out,” he says to Beomgyu, then heads off to the bathroom.

When the door shuts, Yeonjun returns his attention to his ramen and ignores Beomgyu’s presence as best as he can. That doesn’t last too long, though, cause soon enough, Beomgyu’s breaking the silence: “Are you still hanging out with Y/n?”

Yeonjun turns in his seat to face Beomgyu. He’s not sure how Beomgyu would know that, but Yeonjun entertains the question nevertheless. “Yeah. You know her?” he asks.

“She’s my friend,” he says. “Kind of.”

Yeonjun already feels something weird in the air. He’s waiting for the turn that this conversation is bound to take. He finally pieces together why this guy looks so familiar; he’s one of the boys at the party in the group that you kept looking over at. Now Yeonjun’s really curious.

“Why do you ask?” The question comes out a little hesitantly.

“I’m telling you this man-to-man, I think you might be getting played,” Beomgyu says.

Yeonjun’s immediate reaction is only confusion. How would you be playing him? You’ve been nothing but sincere with your feelings—or, that’s what it seemed like, at least. Now Yeonjun’s doubting himself. A part of him doesn’t believe it and doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation any further, but he’d start spiraling whether or not Beomgyu explains himself now. Worry swirls in Yeonjun’s stomach.

“Why?” he asks despite himself.

“This is just what I’ve heard, but apparently she had a thing with Kai, and he started talking to another girl, so she wanted to get back at him. I don’t know, though.”

Kai. That boy who came up to you at the party. Yeonjun remembers him.

He doesn’t want to show how much those words affect him, but shit. Hearing that hurts. His body feels weightless, like he’d be falling over if he wasn’t sitting at his desk. He nods as he exhales slowly, keeping his heart from going haywire.

“Huh,” is all he says. Soobin comes back the next second, and Beomgyu heads out with him after that, and the world keeps spinning on, but Yeonjun feels trapped in that moment. He waits to wake up in a sweat, hoping this is all some nightmare that’s going to end, but the wake never comes. He’s forced to deal with his whirling thoughts instead.

None of this can be true. It wouldn’t make sense. You kissed Yeonjun. You said you were interested in him. If this was all a lie, how will Yeonjun ever trust anyone again? When he came to you bleeding out, you saved his life. When you found out his secret identity, you kept it safe. Yeonjun miscalculated something that night—there is something more sacred and dangerous to trust you with than those things: his heart.

He doesn’t even want to finish his ramen anymore. His fingers brush against the wound that’s healing pretty well thanks to you, and a thought crosses his mind. The night that you kissed him was the night you found out he was Spider-man. An especially sickening question starts to haunt him. Did you only start liking him because of that?

Yeonjun feels played. He’s always known that he was a fool, so he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but really? Beer pong lord?

Five minutes is hardly enough to process the information Beomgyu dumped onto Yeonjun, but that’s all he gets, because now his alarm is going off and telling him to go over to the lab. He drops his head to his desk with a groan. It’s like an anchor’s been tied to his heart, sinking further and further until it makes him his stomach churn.

The fresh air feels good in Yeonjun’s lungs as he walks over to the lab. A permanent pout is etched onto his lips, unable to stop thinking about you. Good things. Bad things. Everything. Each memory hurts now.

He probably looks like some depressed college kid, walking around with his hood up and head down. He should be less pathetic, pick himself up and get himself together. It’s not like you two were really anything anyway. A kiss doesn't always mean something to everyone. Maybe it’s his fault for assuming that for you, it did.

It’s not just that, though. Yeah, kissing you made Yeonjun feel alive in a way that only swinging through the city could compare to, but there’s so much more to you than that. It’s the way you talked to him, the way you cared for him, the way you looked at him. How the hell do you fake that kind of connection? Hurt splits him at the seams like he’s being torn in two, but he keeps walking like nothing’s wrong.

“Yeonjun!” He recognizes that voice immediately. He pulls his eyes off the sidewalk and catches sight of you walking up to him. He almost forgot that he walks past your little field on the way to his lab.

It feels like he’s the one keeping a secret, palms clamming up as you stand in front of him. He stops in his tracks to allow you the conversation. “Hey,” he says.

“What are you up to?” you ask. He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Should he just act normal? Should he let you get away with using him? When he thinks about it like that, it puts a sour taste in his mouth.

“I���m headed to the lab. Got some stuff to do, and it’s time sensitive, so…” he trails off awkwardly, looking off into the distance instead of at you.

“Oh, okay,” you say, sounding a little dejected. Yeonjun shouldn’t be feeling bad for you right now, but he can’t help it. It makes his chest clench to hear the joy leave your voice. “Maybe we can hang out after? Just to study or something,” you offer.

Yeonjun sighs, “Maybe.”

You’re quiet for a second as you assess him. “Are you okay?” Concern fills your voice, and when he brings his vision back to you, he can see it in your eyes too.

“I’ll talk to you about it later,” he says.

You frown, taking in his flat expression. You must gain some insight from that, because then you’re asking, “Did I do something?”

He wants to hold his head, feeling defeated and frustrated and sad and a million other different things. He’s not sure how to label it. He’s never felt emotions this complex before, probably because he’s never liked anyone this much before.

“Oh god, did I?” you repeat, more fear in your voice at Yeonjun’s lack of a response. It strikes him and deflates his will to be dismissive about it, not wanting you to sit here worrying for the rest of the day. Curse his soft heart.

“Just come with me,” Yeonjun says, continuing on the path to his lab building. You follow beside him, taking long strides to match his quick pace. He notices you struggling to keep up, so he slows down, even though it might make him a few minutes late.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. He can feel you looking at him, but he keeps his eyes ahead.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he mumbles.

“Tell me then,” you plead. The thought of having to talk about this with you makes him feel sick. He doesn’t know if he can even choke up the words without getting nauseous.

“Let me clock into my lab first.” The rest of the walk is silent; you keep quiet even as you enter the room with him, watching him take off his sweatshirt and put on his lab coat. You’re quiet even as he goes through the study procedure, not even lingering near him to see what he’s doing. He feels a little cruel for it, wondering if he’s just torturing you by forcing you to stand silently and worry about what he must be upset at you for.

He steals a glance at you. You’re leaning against the wall by the door, so many steps away, keeping so much distance. He bites his lip and looks away, figuring it’s time to start the conversation.

“I want to talk to you, but I don’t want you to lie to me,” Yeonjun says, breaking the long stretch of silence. He walks toward you, stopping before he gets too close.

“I won’t. I’m not gonna hide anything from you.” It’s funny you say that.

“Do you like Kai?” His question catches you off guard, your frown leaving your face.

“No,” you answer.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. So why did Beomgyu tell me you used me to get back at him?”

He watches you stiffen at the question. “How do you know Beomgyu?” you ask.

“Please just answer me,” Yeonjun says. He doesn’t want to run around in circles, he just wants to hear the truth from you.

“I don’t like Kai anymore.” Something about that sentence hits like a stab to the gut. Yeonjun would know the feeling.

He tsks and shakes his head, ready to walk away and end the conversation, but you continue, “Please let me say the whole story.” Yeonjun sighs and meets your eyes. He decides to hear you out, only because a part of him is dying for you to make this right.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“I invited you to the party because you’re my friend, and I think you’re cute, but also for really petty, stupid revenge. It was so dumb and I’m so sorry, I feel so fucking bad for that now,” you explain. Yeonjun thinks back to how excited he was when you asked him. He remembers the rush of butterflies, the nervousness that pooled in his stomach, the adrenaline through his veins when he realized he finally had your attention.

You continue, “But I swear on my life, Yeonjun, the second we went outside at that party, I realized how unfair it was. I wanted to make Kai jealous, but when we were standing out there, I couldn’t do it. You’re a good person, and I felt fucking awful, and I didn’t go through with anything, and I’m glad I didn’t. You gave me one of the best nights of my life that day. I mean that. Seriously.”

There’s sincerity in your eyes, so Yeonjun knows you’re not lying. The ache in his chest is dull now, but still there. He can’t believe you planned to use him as some pawn to get back at Kai.

“Why’d I have to hear it from someone else? Why couldn’t you tell me yourself?” he asks. It’s pathetic how his voice carries more heartbreak than anger.

“Cause I didn’t want you to misunderstand and leave!” you explain, desperate. “Yeonjun, please. I don’t care about Kai anymore. I haven’t even talked to him since the party.”

Yeonjun wishes he could feel comforted by your words, but all he feels is hurt. He has this terrible thing where he can’t stop asking questions that will only batter him worse. “So you didn’t really like me?”

You take a step closer to him, placing both hands over your heart. Yeonjun’s not blind; he can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might walk away. He doesn’t have it in him to relieve your stress right now.

“I always liked you. I like you more every day,” you answer. There’s honesty in your words, which Yeonjun appreciates. It doesn’t quite melt away his insecurities, though.

Yeonjun can’t bear looking at you any longer, dropping his gaze to the floor and stepping back. He’s ready to leave, thinking he needs the night to himself to stare at the ceiling and contemplate this whole situation.

You stop him before he can get too far. Your hand hooks onto the sleeve of his lab coat, shaking as you cling to him. It’s so pitiful that it ruins the monstrous image Yeonjun’s trying to fit you into in his mind. Against his better judgment, his eyes meet yours again.

He’s about to speak—maybe to console you, to get some of that sadness out of your eyes—but the sound of glass breaking behind him makes him turn with wide eyes, searching for the damage. He’ll be the one stuck replacing any broken equipment; he can only pray that it wasn’t a more expensive piece.

His eyes flit across the room, but he finds nothing. Is he seriously losing his mind? Every time he’s in this lab, there’s something new giving him a mini heart attack. He brushes this off as some kind of paranoia. He considers talking to his professor about taking a break from the lab, just until he can restore his sanity.

“Let’s just head out of here,” Yeonjun says, unable to rid himself of the chill down his spine.

“Do you still like me?” you ask, unable to move on from the conversation. You stay planted in your spot as Yeonjun takes off his lab gear. He groans internally at your question—of course he still likes you. Do you think his feelings are so malleable? His adoration for you feels like an immovable boulder. He can’t even stay mad at you for as long as he wanted to, though he tries not to let you win too easily.

He sighs out your name instead of answering. He waits for you at the door as he throws his sweatshirt back on, and you trudge forward with a pout. Once his sweatshirt is slipped over his head, he catches sight of something behind you, heart stopping entirely.

“What the hell—?!” he emits, eyes growing wide as the cell clump he’d been working with expands out past its storage spot, spilling out onto the floor. The broken glass earlier must’ve been from the petri dish—shit, he should’ve checked. It’s discolored now, so dark it’s nearly black, and growing more rapidly than it should be able to.

You spin on your feet to see what Yeonjun’s looking at, yelping when you see the growth. You back up quickly and bump into Yeonjun’s chest. “What’s happening?” you ask, turning your head back to look up at him.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He has to think fast, because it doesn’t look like the cell replication is stopping any time soon—if anything, it looks like it’s growing exponentially. The clump is a goo-like substance, slowly spilling out further and further onto the floor, looking something like tar as it expands out. “We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” he says.

“How do we do that?” you ask. Yeonjun’s not sure either, so he doesn’t bother to answer. He opens one of the cabinets and pulls out all the different liquid chemicals he can find. One of these is bound to do something.

You hold yourself and watch him carefully, still looking shy and desperate and nervous from your argument. Yeonjun’s not sure why you seem to be more bothered by him not reassuring you that he likes you than by the clump that grows behind you. Your attention remains on him the whole time.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“No,” he answers sharply and quickly. He has bigger issues to be worried about than staying mad at you.

“I promise I wasn’t lying. I won’t talk to Kai ever again.”

“Why are we having this conversation right now?!” Yeonjun asks, frustrated.

“Because it’s important to me that you know!”

He ignores you in favor of unscrewing the lid to one of the acids, hoping it could digest the cells. When he pours it onto the clump, a loud hiss rings through the room and smoke comes up from the mass. It doesn’t seem to dissolve the cells, though.

He emits an exasperated groan, opening the lid to another chemical substance, and you rush to do the same. He can’t stop to think about how dangerous this is, too focused on controlling the problem before it gets irreparable. You and Yeonjun pour chemicals onto it at the same time, and it seems to react. The tar-like blob thickens now, erecting itself up from the floor languidly.

You and Yeonjun back up, watching with fearful eyes as it stands. It moves like it’s alive, like it’s a living organism. It’s eerily silent for a room as you two stare at the mass in shock. Then, rapidly, it comes charging at you, attaching itself to your cardigan as you shriek. Yeonjun acts fast, running to you and grabbing your waist, adhering his feet to the floor to keep you from getting dragged any more. You shed your cardigan quickly before tugging it back from the blob. It tears from how harsh you pull it, but you don’t seem to care, chucking it to the opposite side of the room.

This is an unfortunate time to see you in a tight-fitting tank top. Your chest heaves from the panic of being grabbed by the organism, rising and falling as you start to steady your breath. You look over at him, and he finds himself blushing and removing his gaze from you in embarrassment. God, now he’s the one struggling to focus on the bigger problem.

Yeonjun directs his wrist at the blob, shooting a web at it to keep it from charging at you again. The web sends the mass flying back until it collides with the wall. Though it can’t remove itself from the confines of the web, it still slowly grows, and it will be able to expand enough to attack again soon. Still, this should buy you two some more time.

“You should leave,” Yeonjun says, coming to you and cupping your face. His eyes beg you to go, strung up on the possibility of you getting hurt.

“I won’t,” you say, grabbing onto his wrists.

“Please. You’re too important.” His hand strokes through your hair like you’re something precious.

You take his hand and kiss it. “You are too. I won’t leave.”

He sighs. He knows he’s not winning this, there’s too much determination in your words. Before he removes his focus from you, he thinks he should tell you one last thing. “Just so you know, I like you too.”

You’re barely able to hold back your smile, but Yeonjun can’t stay and watch your reaction. The mass continues to grow over the confines of the web, and he has to find a way to control it before it overcomes the binds. He opens the binder that holds the descriptions of all the lab materials, hoping he can find something useful in there. His eyes flit across the words, scanning for the chemicals that will be his saving grace.

He stops when he reads the description for nitric acid. The words digest and dissolve kick his body to life, hope stirring inside of him. “Come here with the nitric acid!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Which one is that?” you ask hurriedly, scanning through the different bottles of chemicals.

“It’s in a brown translucent bottle. Quick!” Before he can panic further, you’re racing to his side with a bottle of the acid. Yeonjun quickly pours it over the mass, watching it shrivel when the liquid hits its surface. A weight lifts off Yeonjun’s shoulders when he realizes he finally found something that works. The bottle doesn’t hold nearly enough, though, because Yeonjun empties it out before he can melt the organism completely.

He turns to you expectantly, and you’re rushing back to the counter where all the chemical substances are held. You’re turning each to read the labels, growing more aggravated as you fail to find another container of nitric acid. You curse as you swing the cabinet doors open, checking if there’s any stored away in there.

You pull out a bottle from the cabinet, reading it quickly. “Would sulfuric acid work?” you ask, looking at Yeonjun like you need him to say yes.

“It would react with the nitric acid,” he answers. You groan.

“You think I know any of this stuff?!” You go back to searching through the cabinet.

“Yes! You’re, like, the smartest girl I know!” Yeonjun exclaims, equally as frustrated.

“You must not know a lot of girls then,” you huff. You finally pull out a bottle that seems to match, running over to Yeonjun. He takes it from your hands and pours the liquid over what remains of the clump, watching it dissolve until all that’s left is a murky puddle on the floor. He plops the nitric acid onto a table, finally letting himself take a full breath. He tastes the chemicals swirling in the air, but he can’t bring himself to care about any toxins filling his lungs. He’s worn out, crouching down in exhaustion with a groan.

When he picks his head up from between his arms, he searches for you. You’re bent over one of the tables, head tucked between your arms as half your body rests over the surface. You must be just as drained as him. He stretches his body out as he stands back up, then approaches you at the opposite side of the table. He rests his elbows onto the tabletop, leaning forward to be closer to you.

“You get feisty when you’re working under pressure,” Yeonjun teases, breathless laugh escaping him. You lift your head to look at him, and he can see how you hold back your amusement.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond. You seem winded, still breathing hard as you push yourself off the table and pick up your cardigan from the floor. You hold up your cardigan and examine the damage. It’s stained and ripped and looks disgusting. You pout. “This was my favorite one…”

“Don’t worry, you’re pretty good at stitching things back up,” Yeonjun says, coming up to you and taking the cardigan from your hands to tie it around your waist. You look up at him, something fond shining in your eyes.

“I guess I am,” you say, tugging on Yeonjun’s sweatshirt to pull him closer to you. You wear a dopey smile as you stare at him, hands resting on his shoulders, and Yeonjun really hopes that you do what he knows you’re both thinking about right now.

You don’t leave him waiting long; your hand comes to his jaw to bring his face to yours, and the next second, Yeonjun’s having the best kiss of his life. It feels like a reward after the shitshow that today’s been. For it to come to this, he’d relive it a dozen more times.

“Wait,” Yeonjun says, pulling back. “Are we dating now?”

“Haven’t we been dating?” You look at him like he’s a fool, and it endears Yeonjun endlessly.

“I mean, boyfriend-girlfriend dating,” Yeonjun explains.

“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now.

“Good,” he says, coming in for another quick kiss. “I’m all yours.” His words are uttered against your lips, since he can’t seem to pull himself away from you.

You gladly accept his kisses, and he has to keep himself from getting too drunk off your taste. He has to remember he’s still in a lab with a bunch of chemicals filling the air—it’s probably a good idea to get out. Even though he doesn’t want to, Yeonjun steps back and looks around at the mess throughout the room. Given everything that happened, it’s not awful. A mop would take care of ninety percent of the problem.

“We should clean this up,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” you agree. Neither of you make a move. You start laughing after a few seconds, and Yeonjun returns his attention to you with a cheeky grin.

“No, let’s just leave,” he suggests. He’s exhausted. He’ll explain everything to his professor tomorrow, he can’t take any more of this today.

“Should we go back to my place then?” you ask. Yeonjun does a very poor job of hiding his excitement. He wants more than anything to hold you to his chest and zip across campus to get to your dorm, but alas, he does the smart thing instead. A ten minute walk has never felt more like ten hours in his life, and seeing your dorm building finally come into view has his heart racing in anticipation.

Yeonjun’s all over you the minute your door closes behind him. He doesn’t let your lips disconnect for a second—not to talk, not to breathe, because nothing’s more important than tasting your lips on his.

Your back falls to your mattress, and Yeonjun’s mind briefly wanders to the last time you two were here. Having you sprawled out beneath him is quite different than you patching him up above him. In a way, that moment felt like the start of something bigger between you. The initial spark came long before it, but that night is what caused fire to catch. He feeds the flame now, fingers untying the cardigan at your waist and throwing it to the floor. Your shirt’s the next thing to go, and he only pulls away long enough to shed the cloth off of you.

His mouth on yours is ravenous and unwilling to waste any more time. He feels up your stomach, cherishing the warm flesh with eager fingers. He trails his hands up to your chest, feeling your breasts over your bra. You gasp when he squeezes experimentally, and it encourages him to continue, movements growing hungry.

You break away from the kiss, panting for air while Yeonjun latches onto your jaw. He’s insatiable, sucking your skin and placing kitten licks over the mark after. He hovers his face over yours, biting back his grin when he sees how hazy your eyes have become.

You catch his face in your hand, cupping his jaw and thumbing his cheek. The action makes his heart soar, and he leans into your warm touch. Your smile turns from soft to wicked when you push your thumb between his lips, and he engulfs the digit without a fight.

“I like you,” you say as he sucks your thumb, blinking up at him adoringly like he’s not doing some lewd act right now. He swirls his tongue around you before popping it out of his mouth, kissing your fingertip then taking your hand in his own.

“I like you too.” His free hand goes behind your back to search for your bra clasp, fumbling with it clumsily until he gets it to disconnect. You pull the material off, and Yeonjun’s cock twitches in his pants when he takes in the sight of you. A part of him feels wrong for doing this, like this is too dirty, but a larger part of him can’t wait to indulge in you. He’ll just make sure to take you out for dinner after.

Yeonjun throws his sweatshirt and shirt to the floor, pride swirling inside him when he sees the way you ogle at his skin. You lay your hand over his chest, trailing your fingers over the expanse teasingly. He takes your wrist and drags your hand away.

“You don’t deserve to touch me. I’m still upset about Kai,” he says. It’s a lie, but he’s in a playful mood. Your hand makes its way back to his chest despite that, so he grabs it and brings it to the bed, shooting a web over your wrist so you can’t move it. He giggles. The whole web-slinging thing comes with some perks.

“Oh, come on,” you sulk as he does the same to your other wrist. He leans back for a moment, looking down at you all proud. A few different sights flash through his mind, endless possibilities of how he could make the most of your hands being restrained. Maybe he should punish you for ever liking Kai in the first place, keep you on the edge until you’re chanting apologies into the air. He could also just indulge in your body greedily, taste every inch of you without your hands pulling him away. The ache in his pants grows at the thought.

You sigh in satisfaction when his hand meets your clothed core. Your hips grind against his hand, and he allows you to use him to find your pleasure. Your hands close into fists as Yeonjun lets you ride his open palm, still fighting against your restraints.

“How much do you like me?” Yeonjun asks. His free hand holds your waist, fingers brushing against your skin gently.

“So much,” you answer, never abandoning your rhythm. “You’re so smart, and handsome, and funny, and—nngh—and good to me…” Yeonjun’s hand travels from your waist to your chest in reward, thumb rolling over one of your nipples.

“Yeah, I am good to you. I stay with you even though you’re mean to me.”

You shake your head at his statement. “I’m not mean to you,” you say.

He laughs at how you try to control yourself, how serious your tone gets. Your hips slow, so he takes measures into his own hands and moves his palm against your cunt instead. If he presses down hard enough, he can feel how wet you are even through your pants.

“You are,” he says. “You use me to get other men.” He knows that’s not true now, but a part of him is still a little bruised by the idea. He figures that airing out his insecurities like this might help him, and it makes him feel less vulnerable.

“No! That’s not true!” Yeonjun ignores you and takes off your pants, letting them join the other articles of clothing on your floor. He short circuits when he sees the wet patch on your panties. A sense of shame must fill you then, because your legs clamp shut to block his view.

“Hey, be nice,” he says, opening your legs back up. He holds you open as he presses his knee to your folds, and he can feel your arousal even through the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s squealing internally, overjoyed to have you soaking for him, but he keeps his calm on the outside.

Your hands push against the webs again, shaking the mattress a little. You pout at him. “I want to touch you,” you whine.

“Sorry about that,” he says. He matches your pout as his hands smooth down your legs, lazily exploring your flesh. He grabs your hips and positions them up a little so that you’re pressing into his thigh. He hears the moan that gets caught in your throat as he drags your cunt against him, holding back a satisfied smirk.

“Should I tell you what I like about you?” Yeonjun asks, something silky and smooth in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips over his thigh. “Say pleaseeeee,” he prompts.

“Please,” you echo. He giggles.

“Again.” He’s having fun.

“Please, Yeonjun,” you beg, sweet voice dripping with need.

He releases your hips so he can pull off your panties, tugging you back onto him once you kick the cloth off your ankles. He can really feel how wet you are now, and it makes a knot form in his stomach. He wants you more than anything.

“I like how pretty you are,” he starts, leaning over you to press kisses against your neck. “And I like how cool you are.” His mouth travels a little lower, sucking at your collarbone. “And I like how I can talk to you for hours and never get bored.” His lips smother your chest, just above your tits, familiarizing himself with every inch of your skin. Your hips buck against him when he presses his thigh more firmly between your legs. “And I like how wet you get,” he laughs.

His mouth finds your breasts then, tongue swirling teasingly around one of your buds. Your nipples perk up, begging for his attention. He drags his tongue over to your other mound, sucking at the swell of flesh, moaning against you. The taste of your skin in his mouth makes him feel high.

You whine, hips rolling more fervently against him, chasing your approaching high. Yeonjun busies himself with delivering kitten licks to your nipples, watching the way they glisten with his saliva after he runs his tongue across them a few times. He peels himself off of you when your rhythm gets unsteady, not wanting you to cum yet. There’s a look of betrayal on your face as he disconnects from you, not touching you at all anymore.

“Yeonjun,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in. “I need to cum.” Your needy cunt grinds against the tent in his boxers, hungrily trying to get yourself off. He lets you have your fun for a minute, enjoying the feel of your warm, wet slit coating his clothed cock, before holding your hips still and keeping you from moving. That doesn’t stop you from digging your heels into his back, pushing him harder against you.

He removes your legs from him, holding you open as he plunges two fingers into your cunt. Your heat takes him in so nicely, the slide of his digits inside you made so easy from how slick your cunt is. You arch your back, moaning out as he curls his fingers inside you.

“Tight girl, gotta stretch you out,” he says, scissoring his digits to prepare you. Your arousal pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress as Yeonjun fucks you on his fingers. “Need to get you ready for me.”

“Mhm, need your dick,” you say. You look so helpless like this, laying back and letting Yeonjun fuck his fingers into you however he wants. He increases his speed just because he can, knowing you can’t pry his hand away, grinning when you emit a surprised gasp. Your walls start tightening around his fingers, a warning of your orgasm, and Yeonjun pulls his hand away before you can get there.

You’re whining his name again, thighs clamping shut to relieve the pressure. He shushes you as he tugs his boxers out of the way, stroking his cock as he watches the way you tremble. Poor thing.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks. Your legs spread open immediately in invitation. He watches as a glob of arousal drips out from your core.

“Yes,” you breathe out. He pumps his shaft a few more times before bringing it to your folds, letting your wetness coat his tip. “Put it in,” you beg, jerking your hips up. He ignores your plea, bringing the head of his cock to your clit to tap on it a few times. The stimulation sends a buzz through you, and Yeonjun coos at you sweetly.

“Want you to feel so good,” he says, aligning his tip to your hole and starts pushing in. You throw your head back and groan, and he gives your neck a wet kiss. “Wanna be the best you’ve had.” He sinks in slowly, letting your walls adjust to him inch by inch. You feel like heaven around him, and his fingers dig into your hips to keep himself from losing his mind. He wants to meld himself into you.

He grinds his pelvis against you when he bottoms out, steadying his breaths so he doesn’t lose himself too quickly. His moans are deep and airy, while yours are whiny and pathetic. He trails a hand up your body until he’s cupping your face, bringing your attention to him. You look dazed, and he wants to watch you fall apart. He needs to see your perfect face scrunched up with pleasure, eyes glassy and mouth open, going stupid from how fucked out you are.

He presses a light kiss against your lips, then leans his face into the crook of your neck. He finally starts pulling back, slamming back into you with a whimper. Your cunt takes him so readily despite how tight you are, your arousal making him glide in and out of you so easily.

“Gonna be perfect for you,” Yeonjun promises. “Be a good boyfriend. Fuck you every day. Keep you happy.” He lifts himself up to watch your mouth fall open as he thrusts into you. He presses against your stomach to feel himself inside you, moaning whorishly when he does. It makes him fuck you harder, desperation coursing through his system.

You can barely speak from how far gone you are, stuttering out curses and whimpers of his name. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing at the swollen bud to get you clenching around him. He groans at how tight you get, sucking him in like your body was meant to take him.

“Need you to cum now,” Yeonjun says, feeling his high looming over. “Gotta feel you milking my cock, let me see it.”

“Kiss me,” you say breathlessly, mouth hanging open as you wait for him to take it. He obliges eagerly, shoving his tongue into your mouth with a needy whine. He licks into you as if this will coax your orgasm out, and it does. Your walls clamp around him, and he’s barely able to move from how tight you get. He circles your clit diligently, only letting up when your body jolts in overstimulation.

He pulls out soon after, only having to stroke himself a few times before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. He groans as he milks himself for every last drop, hand shaking as he releases the last of it. You look hot painted with his cum; he bites his lip and squeezes your thighs, needing more and more of you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, making you turn your head away shyly.

“Thanks. You are too.” His stomach flips, feeling proud that he earned your praise. He lowers himself to your torso, lapping at the milky strands of his cum. He cleans you nicely, swallowing down his own release until your stomach’s coated in only his saliva. He brings himself to your slit to lap at it languidly, loving the little whines you emit at the sensation.

“Did so good for me, thank you,” he murmurs into your cunt. He pushes his tongue into your entrance, slowly fucking the muscle inside you. You sigh and roll your hips against his face, relaxed and melting into the feeling.

“Y-you’re good too,” you praise. He licks his way up to your clit, taking it into his mouth and letting his tongue roll over the bud. He likes to hear that he’s being good for you, it makes him feel like he’s worthy of you. He thrives off your happiness, so he feels content as he pleases you with his mouth.

He never wants to let you go. He wants you in his arms forever, he wants to stay in this room and live the rest of his life with just you by his side. This much is enough for him. He glides his hands down your thighs, letting his fingers lightly drag along your skin. He opens his mouth a little more to taste more of you, to kiss your folds more hungrily. He presses the tip of his tongue to your bud, focusing the pressure right against it until he hears you mewl.

“Right there!” you gasp out, pressing yourself further into Yeonjun’s face. He hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, making sure you don’t jolt away when your orgasm creeps up on you. He flicks his tongue over your clit repeatedly, feeling your thighs shake in his grasp. He doesn’t stop until you’re releasing on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your essence.

He detaches himself after a minute, licking his lips and letting go of your legs. He sits up and smiles at you, taking in how pretty you look. He holds your jaw so he can kiss you, and he can’t help but to giggle into the kiss. This is so surreal. He would have fainted if he knew one month ago that this would be happening to him.

“Hi,” you say when he finally pulls his face from yours. This feels like a dream.

“Hi,” he echoes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He cherishes the smile you give him.

“So when does this dissolve?” you ask, tugging at the webs holding your arms in place. Yeonjun scratches his neck bashfully. That's enough of an answer for you. “Yeonjun…” you sigh, body deflating.

“Less than two hours!” he rushes to say.

“Two hours?!”

“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile.

Your eyes flit down to his stirring cock. “I guess I have nothing better to do,” you give in. Yeonjun sees right through your nonchalant act, but he lets you get away with it. He has better things to busy himself with than arguing about that.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You bring Yeonjun to the market after learning about the laundry detergent debacle. You place the item in your basket, shaking your head at him as you do. “I can’t believe your roommate had to tell me to get you to buy this.”

Yeonjun raises his hands in defense. “I get busy sometimes,” he says.

“With coming to my dorm every other night?” you ask with a raised brow, walking into the next aisle.

Yeonjun drops a candy bar into the basket alongside the detergent. “No, with lab stuff, and class stuff, and Spidey stuff,” he corrects. He picks up a bottle of your favorite drink as he passes by it on the shelf. “And with girlfriend stuff,” he adds sweetly.

“Right,” you say unconvincingly, smiling as you nod your head.

Yeonjun grabs a pair of sunglasses off a rack, placing them on his face and turning to you with a grin. “How cool are these?” he asks, pointing at himself.

You laugh and lift the sunglasses up so they rest on his head. “So cool,” you answer. You tilt your head to check the price on them. “You should totally spend the last of your money on them.”

He pulls the glasses off his face to check the price tag, eyebrows raising in reaction. He puts them back on the rack. He can’t get rid of the smile on his face as he watches you shop, endeared and swooned by every little thing you do. It’s small moments like these that make him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

“We should get bandages. I can’t believe you don’t have any,” you say, looking for where the item would be in the store.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t have. I’m operating on a limited budget,” he explains. It’s not like he can tackle a job on top of everything else he does. He’s grown accustomed to his ways of living, accepting that he’s become the male college student stereotype.

“I’m glad I stepped into your life then,” you say, throwing a box of bandages into your basket. “I’m actually scared you’d die without me.”

Yeonjun can’t help but to laugh at that. “I would die without you,” he agrees. He follows you as you continue walking around the store, aimlessly searching for anything you might need. You stop when you feel your phone buzz, pulling out your phone upon receiving a notification, checking it curiously. He reads the message over your shoulder; it’s an alert from your local news station about some rescue mission for a bunch of dogs that ran loose from their shelter just now. You turn to him with a knowing smile.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.”

notes: god i loved writing this so much…. i hope u like spideyjjun just as much as i do<3 i would love to hear ur thoughts if u have anyyy!!! tysm for reading hehe

taglist: @ambsphoria @bananasdiary @beaabz @beomgyusluver @beomsdoll @brrytears @bumgyuz @dawngyu @enhastolemyheart @estrnrea @fancypeacepersona @fatbixchwithanopinion @heejamas @heesmiles @insanityz @i4tzy @jellyyjn @kejingken @lilbrorufr @lovesickchoi @mrsjohnnysuh @raspberrii @sanscupid @saraalovestxt @soobinieswife @starrynightgyu @starstrucktae @taebatu @taysfairies @tubatukimoa @tyongyuta @usuallyunlikelyfox @verco @vvjolyneee @xylatox @younbeanz @yourenzoo @yunverie 🤍

© delugyu 2025, do not translate or reupload

[adelina-shifts]

𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗳𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘴 /ꪮ 𝗮𝘀𝗸 𝗴𝗮𝗺𝗲 ꔫ

reblog for ask! ᡣ𐭩 what scents remind you of your relationship? ᡣ𐭩 how does your s/o show love? ᡣ𐭩 what does the winter season look like for you two? ᡣ𐭩 what do summers look like for you + your s/o? ᡣ𐭩 when you think of them, what is the first song or lyric that sparkles into your mind? why does this remind you of them or your relationship? ᡣ𐭩 how do you celebrate your achievements together? ᡣ𐭩 how do you two spice up your relationship when things are feeling dull or monotonous in your lives? ᡣ𐭩 how does your s/o help soothe or ground you when you’re feeling overwhelmed, stressed, or anxious? ᡣ𐭩 how does your s/o make your inner child feel safe? ᡣ𐭩 what makes you want to “stick” with your s/o for the rest of your lives?

lemons and leather one summer when we were kids, i created a lemonade stand to raise money for non-profit wildlife and environmental organizations. Lorenzo (my brother) laughed at me, but Benjamin (s/o) gave me this look as if he was seeing me or rather the person i would become. that day smelled like heaven and freshly squeezed lemon. he always smells like his cologne (teakwood and leather), and yet somehow, a faint lemony scent follows him everywhere and i whenever i get a whiff i sometimes wonder if it is on purpose.

affection Benjamin had always been one of few words, he's quiet around people he doesn't know very well, if at all. he's an artist, he loves sketching and writing, sometimes even a highlighted quote in a book is how he'll show his affection. he's also a hoverer; he's not talkative but he's always near. he's shows his love quietly, quality time, physical touch, and small gifts!

comfort in company both Benji and i are homebodies, we are friends when i shift, so we tend to not spend as much time alone as we do with our friend group. when we're at social gatherings we stay close to each other our of comfort and habit. we'd both rather stay in by the fire and order takeout during winter holiday.

the summer versions of us despite our lack of need to socialize, we do have a pretty big friends group–especially during the summer when we head down to Cousins. we can typically be found going on morning muffin/coffee runs, eating lunch out by our pools, and on the beach at bonfires after noon. there's the deb ball every beach season and organized beach-clean-ups we help set-up and take part in. it might be the summer air, or maybe it's just the magic of Cousins, but we come out of our shell this time of year.

a song: a memory "It was summer when i saw your face, looked like a teenage runaway..." (Rollercoaster, Bleachers). this song always pops into my head when i think of Benjamin. yes, we share a love for the classics, but we also love a good summer song. when i hear this song, i instantly think of our relationship and what could possibly change this summer.

love in the little things when i receive an award or accomplish a goal i'd set out for myself, i always celebrate with my family and friends (which includes Benji). he'll normally slip me a piece of paper or a small present privately. when he receives an award i'm more vocal about my congratulations. he gets embarrassed about it, but i know he secretly adores it. this happens with birthdays and holidays as well–except Halloween, we're both October-maniacs and are not afraid to show it.

summer of what ifs our entire lives it's been this "will they, won't they?" kind of relationship. i've known i've had a crush on him since the age of 13, this summer i'm being a bit more bold about myself–i'm not just looking at him anymoe–at least i'm trying not to. he's got this silent energy about him that keeps me wondering if he sees me more than his best friends little sister.

held, just long enough i'm typically very nervous before giving a speech–i do my best to be a good advocate for climate change and how it affects the environment. i am the vice president of key club and–and with that comes a lot of public speaking–which intensifies my anxiety. only my close family and friends know this about me, they encourage me with smiles and nice words, but, Benji, he always takes a moment to hold my hand. he'll squeeze it three times before letting go, almost like a quiet countdown.

the echo of addie everyone calls me Adelina or Lina. Benji's the only one that calls me Addie. he picked it up around age 9. my father had just congratulated me and had said, "adda girl" to which Ren and Benji had overheard and snickered at. i'd made a face at them and right after Benji had said, "it kind of fits, though, Adda–Addie." at the time i'd hated the nickname, but as we got older, it became one of the few things i still had of my childhood. he only calls me Adelina when he's mad at me, but Benji's never mad at me.

before we knew what it meant for me, it's always been him. he was there when i was born, my brother's best friends. the boy next door. i grew up with him. i laughed with him. he was there for my losses and my wins. he saw me through every phase i've ever had. he knew everything about me even when he didn't know anything at all. i was his before we even knew what that meant.

ib: @junoshifts