#OKAY YOU ALL HAVE TO STOP BEING NICE TO ME NOW

[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

[companionjones]

Not Your Fault

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Fandoms: Marvel, MCU

Summary: Bucky reacts accordingly.

Warnings: Cursing

*******

You always liked the quin-jet after missions. Successful missions, anyway. After successful missions the atmosphere on the quin-jet was so light and airy. You loved it.

"Honey, you're not making sense," Bucky, your boyfriend said suddenly, interrupting your thoughts.

Wait, had you said that out loud?

Everyone on the quin-jet was staring at you.

Had you said that out loud too?

Bucky slowly got up and approached you, "Y/n? Honey, are you okay?"

No, you weren't. Now that you thought about it. Your head hurt a little. You brought a hand up, hoping pressure to the painful area would help. It didn't. What also didn't help with your growing headache was seeing that your hand was then covered in blood. "Huh. That might explain why I'm narrating out loud."

The last thing you remembered before everything went to black was Bucky catching you before you hit the ground.

You woke up in the medbay back at the compound. You were surprised to see Bruce there. Usually, he was only involved in super-powered medical cases. As far as you could tell, your head injury resulted from hitting a wall that was not made of gamma rays.

"Hey, Banner," you smiled as you noticed your drug-induced haze.

The doctor reflected your grin. "Hey, look who's awake. And don't worry about me being here. Your head's all stitched up. It was nothing serious. Bucky just insisted I be involved to cover all our bases.

"Oh, Bucky." You face-palmed when you thought about your boyfriend. "Is he okay?"

Bruce was confused. "Yeah. He's fine, of course. Why wouldn't he--?"

"I know he's okay physically, Bruce. I mean--" You didn't need to refer to how Bucky usually got when you were in trouble.

"Oh," Bruce immediately got what you were saying. "Yeah, no. Buck is sorta..."

"Losing his shit out there?"

"Entirely," Bruce nodded.

You snorted, but the humor didn't stay. "Could you send him in here please?"

Again, he nodded. "Of course. Regarding the head injury, you'll be fine. Just stay on bed-rest for a couple weeks, okay?"

You mock-saluted, "You got it, doc. Thank you."

"Anytime." Bruce smiled just before he ducked out of the room.

Bucky entered less than thirty seconds later.

He looked like shit. You'd talked out loud on purpose that time. "How long was I out for? It couldn't've been that long, right?"

"Only a few hours, but it felt longer," Bucky explained.

He really did look horrible. "Oh, baby. Come here." You held out your arms to him.

Bucky approached you and sat down on your hospital bed. He took your face in his hands. "Banner said you're okay. Do you feel okay?"

"I do. Baby, baby." You took his hands in yours, partly to get them off your face. "I'm okay."

He was tearing up. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? I know you couldn't've stopped me from getting hurt, if that's what we're talking about...Bucky." You brought his gaze up to meet yours again when it fell. "Look at me and say that I'm okay."

"...You're okay," he mumbled.

"Now tell me that this isn't your fault."

"It's...it's not my fault."

"I'm sorry, what? I couldn't hear you."

"It's not my fault!" he laughed at how stubborn you were. "Happy now?"

"Almost...Come here," you smiled and pulled him to you for a kiss.

*******

Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, check out my masterlists. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you! <3 <3 <3

[mountttmase]

7) you take your eyes off mine for even a second and I stop, okay?

Smut, him being the sub one

Just saying what we’re all thinking after yesterday tbh 🤭 it’s not very long or good but I need him in every way possible.

'I'm so so proud of you baby' you cooed. Your lips pressing gentle but deeply affectionate kisses to his neck as you straddled his lap and you knew he was loving every second of the attention you were showering him in from the way he squeezed your bum lazily.

‘Oh yeah?’ he hummed, an edge of tiredness to his voice but you really couldn't blame him. 'I'll have to score more often if I get this treatment afterwards’

‘Well since you scored twice, I figured I’d be twice as nice’ you whispered cheekily, your tongue darting out to lick a small stripe up his neck before you began kissing and sucking away at his skin again.

‘And how are you gonna do that?’ He mumbled, a slight cockiness to his tone as he figured you were just going to ride him like you usually did when he was tired and needy and whilst you were… you had other plans first.

‘You just sit back baby, let me look after you’ you smiled, popping one more kiss to his lips before shuffling yourself off of his lap. It took him a second or two to figure out what you were up to but as you were getting comfy in between his thighs he lazy smile grew into a cocky one that you were about to shut down. ‘I do have one rule though’

‘What’s that?’ He questioned, raising his hips slightly so you could pull his boxers from him and once they were on the floor you made yourself eye level with him again.

‘You take your eyes off mine for even a second and I stop, okay?’

‘Okay’ he gulped. His eyes following yours as you got back to where you needed to be and you did your best to take him into your mouth as you kept your eyes fixed on his. His breath stuttering as he felt your warmth engulf him and just like always his reactions to you made you moan onto him. Loving the way you could affect him like you did and as his hips bucked up into your mouth you tried your best to take as much of him as you could.

‘Fucking hell’ he gulped. One hand fisting the sheets as the other moved to touch your arm as he wasn’t content with not holding you in some sort of way so this seemed to be a compromise. His fingers lightly dancing over your skin and you took more comfort in it than you realised.

You knew just how he liked it, you’d had your lips wrapped around him more than enough times to know so you did exactly what you knew he wanted. Taking all of him slowly and building yourself up to take him as far as you could, all whilst your eyes were set on his and for a silly little rule you’d made up on the spot, he was sticking to it well.

‘You’re so big Masey’ you teased after you’d come off of him with a pop. A small trail of saliva still connecting you as your hand got to work now to give your cheeks a rest and the way Mason’s face turned an even deeper red thrilled you. ‘That feel good?’

‘Y-yes’ he just about stuttered out. ‘You’re so good at that f-fuck’

‘You want more?’

‘I always want more of you’ he breathed, your tummy flipping at his words and you knew you wanted to give him all you had now. A coy smile on your lips as you lowered yourself back down and took care of your man as best as you knew how.

[paucubarsisimp]

Reader being drunk 😭and Alejandro balde picks her up from the club. When they get home he carries her bridal style. Removed her make up and even takes off her high heels. “Mi princesa traviesa” 🫢

drunk

pairing: alejandro balde x reader

summary: in which alejandro takes care of you while you’re drunk

warnings: alcohol?

your head is spinning in the best and worst way.

the music at the club was too loud, the drinks way too strong, and now you’re giggling into your phone, trying to type a message but your fingers feel like noodles.

“alejandroooo,” you slur into the voice note you just sent him. “i may or may not be a lil tipsy… okay a lot tipsy… i miss your face.”

you don’t even have time to send another before your phone buzzes.

alejandro: stay where you are. i’m coming to get you.

twenty minutes later, a sleek car pulls up outside the club, and you stumble out the door just as alejandro steps out. his expression is somewhere between amused and exasperated, but his eyes soften when he sees you.

“mi princesa traviesa,” he says with a sigh, catching you as you trip slightly in your heels. “what did i say about mixing drinks?”

you blink up at him, grinning. “you said don’t… but you weren’t there to stop meee…”

he can’t help but laugh, wrapping his arms around you. “ay dios mío.”

he helps you into the car, buckles your seatbelt, and keeps glancing over at you the whole drive home while you ramble about how pretty the stars are and how his hands are so nice and “why are your eyelashes so long it’s actually rude.”

once home, he doesn’t even let you walk.

“come here, party princess,” he says with a teasing smile, and lifts you up bridal style like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

you gasp dramatically, wrapping your arms around his neck. “you’re so strong! wait, am i dreaming?”

“no, baby,” he chuckles. “but you are very drunk.”

he carries you into the bedroom, gently setting you down on the bed like you’re made of glass. you flop back with a sigh, shoes still on, makeup smudged, hair a complete mess.

“okay, sleep time now,” you mumble.

“not yet, mi amor.” he kneels in front of you, slipping off your heels one by one with care. “these must’ve been killing you.”

you hum sleepily as he sets them aside. then, he disappears for a second and comes back with a warm cloth and your makeup remover. he sits beside you, tilting your face gently.

“let me take this off,” he says softly.

you blink at him, melting under his touch as he wipes away your mascara and the glitter on your cheeks.

“you’re like… a hot nurse,” you murmur, your eyes half-lidded.

he snorts. “glad you think so.”

once he’s done, he presses a kiss to your now clean cheek. “there we go. mi princesa traviesa… all ready for bed.”

you smile, curling into the blanket as he helps you lie down. before he can move, your hand catches his.

“stay?”

he nods without hesitation. “always.”

he climbs into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms. and even in your half-drunken haze, you know there’s no safer place than right here.

taglist: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, @joaosnovia, @ilovebarcaaaa, @levidazai, @hollyf1, lmk if you want to be added!

[cranberrymoons]

fuck me already friday?!?! don't mind if i do.

eddie did his superhero thing to save buck after he got trapped in the collapsed building--ravi managed to zipline to freedom but oops, the line broke and then the floor fell out from under buck and eddie got to the disaster just in time to watch buck vanish inside the building, so he goes rushing in because he's not gonna let buck die, too, not when he's here this time. and then he finds buck buried beneath rubble and grabs him by the suspenders and hauls him up to freedom and buck can't tell if their lips brushed because eddie just yanked him too hard (doesn't know his own strength, obviously) or because eddie did that on purpose (bros can kiss, right?). but either way eddie was breathing into his mouth when he said "never do that again" and buck was breathing right back into eddie's mouth when he kinda stammered his way through a promise because like. he's been rock hard since he saw eddie single-handedly haul a wall up off of buck to save him. he doesn't have enough blood in his brain to say anything more than "you got it bud" because he's a dumb dumb.

but anyway they're back home--their home, even if eddie hasn't officially declared that he's staying yet. everyone else knows he is because they have eyes but buck isn't in possession of the communal brain cell right now so he's just like "okay another morning where i've walked into the kitchen to eddie still here, it's gonna be a good day so long as i forget about The Agonies :)" (The Agonies being the fact he is walking around half-chubbed because like. eddie pulled a wall up off of him! single-handedly! and The Agonies are also the idea eddie might go back to el paso sometime soon but that's not as fun so buck would rather lament over his half-chub)

and they're just orbiting each other. and eddie is getting increasingly more and more flirtatious (even if buck refuses to describe it as such in the safety of his own mind), and touchy, and he's not leaving. he's slowly moving back into the house even if he still hasn't officially said anything yet, and chris is here. and at one point buck and eddie come back from a night out with the 118 (buck spent the entire night going "why is everyone acting so strange, don't they know that eddie hasn't officially decided he's coming back yet!!" and every time this happens--buck looking like a deer in headlights when anyone so much as hints at eddie moving back to LA--everyone has to mentally add another mark to the tally of "buckneddie shenanigans" while eddie just gets red-cheeked and smiley because buck is being dumb but that's his buck :) so it's okay) and buck drops onto his bed and is surprised but also not when eddie drops down next to him because they were in the middle of a debate about the best way to cook eggs and eddie isn't gonna win this debate while standing up, his feet are tired from piggybacking buck (buck didn't think he could carry him all the way home and eddie is never one to back down from a challenge), besides buck's bed is big and comfy. and so they talk themselves literally to sleep, like a bedtime story no one else would ever want to listen to.

and then eventually buck wakes up in the small hours to eddie looking at him. and it's quiet in the room, and eddie must have been awake for a while because buck doesn't remember taking off his shoes but yeah his shoes are off. and they're both just. staring at each other. sharing breaths again. and they're both gross and sweaty from the piggyback ride and also still wearing their jeans and probably still a bit tipsy. but they're close close close and it's dark and the world outside feels quiet and buck has just. stopped thinking about eddie leaving because how can he think about that when eddie is right here in front of him. and eddie looks at buck's mouth, so buck looks at eddie's mouth. it's a nice mouth to look at. and he hears as much as feels as much as tastes eddie softly say "you gonna kiss me now or would you prefer an engraved invitation?" and he's smiling again and his cheeks are so so so red and how the fuck can buck say no to that? so he kisses eddie, and the "fuck me already" goes unspoken but like. their hands are already reaching and their bodies are already moving and clothes are already coming off and its shaky and messy but it's real, and it's them, and finally buck stops worrying about eddie leaving. eddie holds him too tight and kisses him too deep like these touches are the words he hasn't said. yay. :)

(this got so goopy. sorry. i'm up in my feels today.)

CLAPS AND CHEERS AND APPLAUDS AND POPS BOTTLES wow episode 818 of 911 on abc is literally so beautiful I can’t believe I just got to watch it early by reading this beautiful ask in my inbox 😌 yay for real!!!!!!!!!

[tgmsunmontue]

A picture is worth 1000 words - 18/?

Hangster post-TGM events, Jake and Bradley becoming friends on Instagram through increasingly competitive thirst traps.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN

PART EIGHTEEN

                “You look happy…” Jake looks up and grins at his sister because yeah, he is happy. He was already happy. Bradshaw, Bradley, being here, is just amplifying all of it. “It’s nice to see you like this.”

                “I wasn’t sad.”

                “No. I know you weren’t,” Kara says, and she kicks at him in annoyance. “It’s just… You can share your happiness with him. That’s nice.”

                “Yeah, I guess it is.”

                She rolls her eyes at him and he laughs, annoying her has always been one of his joys in life and she knows it too.

                “Thanks for inviting him.”

                “Anytime. Anyway, it was easy. Especially once Natasha told me Bradley would drop everything and come if I did…”

                “Oh… I didn’t realize you and Trace had been chatting.”

                “That’s okay baby bro, you’ve been a little distracted staring at Bradley.”

                “You’re two minutes older!”

                “I note you don’t dispute the staring…”

                “You’ll just call me out for lyin’,” Jake mutters with a sigh, because watching Bradley is definitely one of his favorite past times, especially now when he gets to touch. And already if Bradley notices he’s looking he’ll come over and touch Jake, quite frankly it’s a very nice reciprocal arrangement they’ve got going, for it being all of a day old. He knows he’s only got Bradley here for a finite period of time, but he tries not to focus on that. Wants to enjoy their time together.

                “Is it time to make forts Uncle Jake?”

                “Uh…” he freezes, because his bedroom is usually the scene of fort building, and right now his bedroom is definitely not somewhere for his niece and nephew. His eyes fly to Kara’s and she’s making a face, lips sucked in to stop the outright laughter she clearly wants to let loose. Jake can’t even find it in him to be upset or angry. He’d made a throw away promise earlier in the week about building forts anyway, but…

                “How do you feel about building a tree house instead?”

                “A tree fort!” Andy says, eyes going wide.

                “Yeah. A tree fort,” Jake agrees, feeling a little manic, and Kara is now laughing silently. Kaleb has appeared in the doorway, already hot and dusty from being out working already.

                “You building the kids a fort?”

                “Apparently,” Jake muses, but Andy is climbing on him, excited and he knows he’s no longer got a free day to spend with Bradley. Ah well. They do have all night.

                “What are we doing?” Bradley asks, coming through the hallway door and he’s freshly shaved, informing Jake that morning that he had subpar shaving equipment and maybe he did need to teach him. Jake had told him he’d let him, which had just made Bradley blush and now Jake’s going to try and make him do that more often.

                “We are making a tree house!”

                “No! A tree fort!” Andy corrects.

                “You’re going to have to fix the fence if you’re thinking of using the old oak tree as your base. You are going to build it there, right?”

                “It’s where our dad built our tree house, it’s perfect really,” Kara says, but she’s directing her words to Bradley who’s looking interested.

                “You ever built a tree fort Rooster?”

                “Nope. But I’m good at following directions.”

                “Oh, I know.”

                Kara’s snort of laughter reminds him of where he is and he’s pretty sure his cheeks are as pink as Bradley’s.

[majoryeager104]

also for ONCE i have a request xD

Dabi x healer!user? :3 (im sorrry im not spefieieietic, I like leaving it open so you can do whatever with it :3)

omg a new request from youuu you just made my day I’m on itttt <333

Dabi x gn!healer reader

No warnings, just silly fluff

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

You heard the knock before the smoke alarm.

“Open up,” came the familiar, deadpan voice through the door. “I’m dying. Again.”

You flung it open and immediately sighed, exasperated but not surprised.

There stood Dabi, your favorite fire hazard, looking like he'd just crawled out of a dumpster fire; shirt half-burned, face smudged in soot, one eyebrow singed off (again), and holding a crumpled fast food bag like it was a peace offering.

"I brought you fries," he said, grinning lopsidedly. "They're a little... uh, warm."

"They're charred, Dabi."

"Yeah, well, I walk with hellfire, babe."

You blinked. "You ran into a propane tank during a fight again, didn’t you?"

“…I plead the fifth.”

Your couch was already prepped. Dabi flopped onto it dramatically, sprawling like a sad, crispy noodle. You stood over him, hands glowing faintly, and tapped his forehead with your index finger. “Do you know how many people would kill to have a free on-call healer and still manage to look like this every three days?”

“Yeah, I’m special like that.”

“Specially stupid.”

“Ouch,” he said. “Wounded.”

“Indeed. Now stay still so I can change that”

You pressed your hands against his ribs, healing the burn on his side first, as you muttered to yourself.

“I told you to stop getting set on fire.”

“I am fire.”

“Then stop getting extra set on fire. And stop giving me such cringey replies”

He gave you a lazy grin, watching as your fingers moved carefully across his skin. You always healed him so gently. Like he wasn’t a walking Molotov cocktail. Like you weren’t constantly fixing what he broke.

“You know,” he said after a pause, “if I faked an injury, would you still patch me up?”

You gave him a flat look. “If you faked an injury, I’d patch up the floor after I knocked you through it.”

He merely snorted and let you continue, making a mental note to test that later. 

“Hey.” He poked your arm as you worked on the cut across his collarbone. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

You shrugged. “Because you're my favorite arsonist.”

“There are others?”

“There are surprisingly many.”

Dabi made a mock-offended sound. “Unbelievable. You cheating on me with some two-bit matchstick wannabe?”

“I would never,” you said, gasping dramatically. “You’re my one and only defective fireplace.”

He smirked. “Damn right I am.”

The healing ended with him dramatically flopping his arm over his forehead like some kind of Victorian maiden. “Ohhh... I’m all better, thanks to your tender, magical touch.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

He peeked at you from beneath his arm. “You like it.”

You tried not to smile.

He definitely noticed.

When he finally sat up, dusting soot off your couch (rude), you noticed his hair was sticking up wildly on one side, as if he’d gotten into a fight with a hairdryer and lost. And so you reached up without thinking and gently tried to flatten it.

He blinked.

You froze.

“I- sorry. Habit.”

He didn’t move. Just looked at you, then said in that deadpan sarcastic tone “Okay that’s fine, but if you start braiding my hair or putting cute little clips in it, we’re gonna fight.”

“Oh no, you’ve discovered my plan.”

“…Wait, really?”

(Lmao imagine)

Later, when he was stretched out on your couch eating cookies you’d made earlier (you always had snacks ready for his post-‘crime scene’ recovery), he looked over at you.

“You know, you’re kind of a menace.”

“Me?!”

“Yeah. You’re out here being nice and sweet and putting yourself in danger by hanging around a guy like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was fond. “You’re not dangerous to me, Dabi.”

He merely grinned, that cocky look making you roll your eyes for seemingly the millionth time that night as you sat beside him, curling your legs up under you, and resting your head on his shoulder. He tensed for a second, but then leaned into you, like he didn’t mean to, like he was totally used to it.

“…You’re lucky I like you,” you mumbled.

“Correction,” he said smugly, “you’re blessed to be in my smoky, charred presence.”

You elbowed him gently. “I’m considered ‘blessed’ when you keep showing up for my cookies and healing like it’s your day job?”

“Gotta keep the brand alive,” he replied, stealing another cookie.

Dabi never said thank you out loud, he never had a way with words, but he always left his dishes in the sink, carefully rinsed. Always placed the blanket you gave him (almost) neatly over the couch before leaving.

And once- just once- you found a small, soot-smeared sticky note on your fridge that read:

You’re an idiot for doing this. Don’t stop. I’ll probably be back tomorrow – D.

✦••······················••✦•······················•✦••······················••✦

[the-dreams-i-dream-blog]

The summary:

2025 the boys of BTS were in the biggest band of the world, they have sold out shows and finished their mandatory military service. The world was theirs until an accident that happened in the year 2027 with their bandmate Jeon Jungkook. They all decided to break up after this accident, nobody speaking about it until now…. These are their interviews.

Pairing: yandere Jungkook x reader

Warning: some smut

Chapter 3: From their mouths

(Year 2026)

Interviewer- Hello it’s so nice to meet you. Please state your name, age, and relation.

Y/N-

Hello my name is y/n l/n, I’m 26 years old and I’m the girlfriend of Jeon Jungkook.

(She lets out a small giggle)

I can’t believe I’m getting interviewed, this is my first time on camera.

Sorry if I’m being too excited…

Interviewer- It’s okay, we are happy you are excited. I’m going to start with this simple question. When did you meet Jungkook?

Y/N-

Jungkook and I met at the Han River in December of 2025. I remember it clearly, it was day 4 of me being in Korea. I really wanted to visited it but I wanted to see it when it wasn’t busy so I decided 7 am would be perfect time. Jungkook was taking his daily early run. At first I didn’t see him I was in my own little world. I brought my journal so I was doing that when I saw someone approaching me. I’m the type to not make contact first so I just ignored him.

Jeon Jungkook-

I was taking my run down the Han River, I had stopped to take a breather. That’s when I saw her, and that is when I heard a bell. I knew I had to go up to her, don’t get me wrong I was nervous. I know who I am, I know my name holds a lot of power. So I didn’t want this to be another fan interaction… I wanted this to be different.

Y/N-

He sat down right next to me and spoke in his adorable broken English

“Hello?”

That’s when I finally looked at him. When I saw who it was I swear my eyes were going to pop out of my head.

Jeon Jungkook-

I’ve never seen someone’s eyes get so big and beautiful. I think I froze up just staring at them. My heart knew she was going to be someone so special to me.

Y/N-

I just stared at him not believing that he was actually sitting right in front of me. I didn’t know what to say or really know how to act. So I just said hello back.

(Flashback)

Y/N POV

Hello? Hello? Really Y/N that's the only thing you have to say to the JEON JUNGKOOK!

"You...you look bored." Jungkook says in his broken English.

"No. No. I'm not bored, just relaxed." I say back trying to calm my breathing.

He nods and looks down, he looks like he was trying to figure out what he was going to say next.

I looked down at my own lap and noticed my leg was shaking from the excitement of meeting my bias.

" You are beautiful." he speaks.

I looked at him so fast, I feel the blush reach my cheeks.

" I'm sorry... What?" I can't believe what I just heard.

"Did you say I'm beautiful?"

"Yes beautiful, very beautiful" he looks directly in my eyes. He isn't blinking and he is lookin at me like if he blinks I will be gone.

" Thank you" I look back to my lap not being able to hold eye contact with him.

“ 완벽한” he mumbled underneath his breath.

(End of flashback)

Jeon Jungkook-

I tried to talk to her the best that I could but my English wasn’t the best. Even though I did take English lessons in the military, I still didn’t know much to carry on a real conversation.

Y/N-

What he asked me next was like I was dreaming.

Jeon Jungkook-

I asked if she wanted to hang out with me and a couple of my friends. I mean the best that I could with the little English I had.

Y/N-

I remember saying no.

I didn’t know why… actually I do know why.

I didn’t want him to think that I wanted anything from him.

Jeon Jungkook-

She said no.

I was in shock but I understood why she said no. But I insisted that she come and just hang out.

I think it took me 15 minutes for me to convince her but at the end she said yes.

(Flashback)

Jungkook’s POV

Got her right where I want her .

She is the reason I stopped it all.

The girls.

No girl could ever satisfy me and I always thought it was me. But the moment I laid eyes on her I knew it was her to satisfy me. To please me.

Before I actually did approach her, I still fucked other girls. But all I could imagine was her perfect face.

“Yes, yes right there… OH MY GOD jungkook right there!” The random women moans loudly.

My tattooed arm reach down to her clit and teased it.

“You love that don’t you?”

The women moans loudly, I reach down and grabbed her by the throat.

“Tonight your name is Y/N, do you understand?”

The women looks at me confused, so I squeezed her throat a little harder.

“ I asked Do. You. Understand.”

“Yes” she responded

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir” i slammed right into her

“Fuckk-“

“Fuckk Y/N you are so good for daddy!” I moaned out while I feel her reach for my hair and pull.

“Y/N you were meant for me, for my cock” I flipped her so I couldn’t see her face anymore and i slammed my length back in.

“You are mine only Y/N! Do you understand me Y/N?!”

“Yes OH MY GOD I understand!” The women under me basically yells out.

(End of flashback)

Interviewer- were you nervous meeting up with Jungkook and his friends?

Y/N-

Oh of course!

( she lets out a giggle)

I remember going back to my hotel and looked through all my clothes. I wanted my outfit to be perfect. I also didn’t know if these “friends” were just other friends he had or the other BTS boys. Either way I wanted to impress them.

Jeon Jungkook-

I wanted to make sure she was comfortable around me and all my friends. So we decided to go to a small restaurant that not a lot of people knew. I also didn’t want random people taking photos. Everyone knew she won the contest, people talk… make nasty rumors.

Y/N-

Everything felt like a dream, ever since I stepped into Korea everything was perfect. Like someone planned for my trip to be perfect. Maybe the universe saw how I needed one thing in my life to feel magical.

Interviewer- Can you talk about how you felt going into this dinner?

Jeon Jungkook-

My friends made fun of me because how nervous I was.

(He lets out a little laugh)

I kept looking at the door to see when she was going to come in.

Made sure my friends were in check.I was so lucky one of my friends did speak English so he could help me translate.

Y/N-

Once I got to the restaurant I didn’t want to go in. So I stayed outside until I could work myself up to go inside. But my moment of deep breaths were interrupted. Jungkook came out.

Jeon Jungkook-

I went out for a smoke break.

Yes! I do smoke, I’m grown… sue me. Anyway I did go for a smoke and thats when I saw her standing to the side and taking deep breaths. We both felt the same… nervous as hell.

(Flashback)

Y/N POV

I’m leaning against the building, I truly think I can’t go in. Would Jungkook be mad if I didn’t show up?

Breathe Y/N breathe.

A door opens and someone steps out of the restaurant, it’s Jungkook with a cigarette. My eyes locked with his.

“You’re here?” Jungkook speaks first.

“Yeah I’m here.”

“Do you mind?” He asks while looking down at his cigarette.

I shake my head to let him know it’s okay to smoke. He lights it up and takes a hit, eye contact the whole time.

He looks so good right now. The tattoos, the piercings, the smoking. DAMN what the hell I’m I even doing here.

“You are nervous?” He speaks letting out a smirk and walking towards me.

“Yes I am actually” I state, I feel my hands shaking.

“Don’t worry you are fine, okay?” He lets his smirk fall and a soft smile appears.

I nod and take another deep breath how I’m I talking to the Jeon Jungkook.

“Do smoke?” He asks me

“Yes I do actually” I responded 

“Here” he takes a hit then puts the cigarette towards my mouth. I was going to grab it from him but he pulls back and says “ I can hold, you smoke.”

I nod and did as he said, he just stood there and smirked at me. 

Tagz: @kokoandkookie @petersasteria @crispynutella

[kafka-ish]

obsessed | a.d.

patrick has a new girlfriend; art has a new obsession

word count: 2.7k

warnings: fem!reader, toxic!art, general nsfw content (18+)

-

"yes, yes, yes. god, tashi you feel so good."

"pat," you manage out in between thrusts.

"that's not my name. and you know it." art punctuates the point in which he wants to make by sliding his dick even deeper into your cunt, hitting that sweet spot.

"patrick," you moan again. this time, earning yourself the promise of an orgasm. when art gets turned on he can't stop, can't turn it off. not until he's done. and he almost is. you can tell by way of his movements that are getting sloppier by the second. he's about to finish, whether or not he has a say in it, whether or not he can help it — of course, he can't and now he's about to bring the both of you the release you’ve so been craving.

he's the same when he plays tennis, you've noticed. all that pent up emotion and energy needs an outlet. it's what allows him to demolish his opponents.

and you, at the moment. he's rutting into you the way rabbits do to make babies, the way a puppy would against a pillow before getting neutered or spayed. he's an animal with pure, unadulterated adrenaline running through him and you can feel it. it’s as if he's transferring it to you from just being inside you, pumping in and out, not bothering to fully pull out just to ram his way back inside, not giving you time to adjust. he humps into you fast, sliding in, in, in until his dick is kissing your cervix.

"i'm close, pat. i'm close," you whine.

“i know. can feel it. i am too,” art pants. “fuck.” he isn’t even able to pull out in time, too caught up in the feeling of you gripping him, the heat of the situation — what this new dynamic is doing to him.

okay, maybe it was a little sick. roleplaying like this. but it’s what art wanted. he was the one to make the proposition; you were just going along with it.

patrick has a new girlfriend. tashi duncan. she’s stunning — all legs and elegance. has the ability to take your breath away with just one look at her image. also, she’s really fucking good at tennis.

as if art didn’t have enough problems. already, he’s been skipping lectures to work on his serve. now his best friend was prancing up to him to tell him about the date he scored with his favorite girl on the court.

“you’re joking,” art says with his mouth open.

“you wish.”

yeah. art does wish. he wants this whole conversation to be a standup routine that his friend is trying out on him, wants any inkling of the prospect that patrick could be going out with tashi duncan to go away under the guise of some cruel prank. but it doesn’t.

“i asked her out after her game and she said yes. we’re going to some italian place.”

“which one?” art’s eyebrows are raised. he doesn’t even get to process this information by himself, alone, in private. which is what he wants right now so he can get off to his new playboy that just came in. instead, he has to hear about the details of patrick’s date and how long, he wonders, it’ll take for him to get to third base.

“this new spot in L.A. …think she’ll like it?”

“yeah. that sounds nice,” art manages, swallowing down any hint of jealousy his friend might detect on him.

“great.” patrick slaps art on the back. “and hey, tell you all about it later?” he’s wiggling his eyebrows as he says this.

“yeah. great.” art nods, like he’s as equally into it. like it doesn’t take everything for him to not strangle his friend. he would tell him to have fun, but he doesn’t. he doesn’t want to wish his friend any luck and the furthest thing he wants is for either tashi or patrick to have fun. instead he walks off, making up some excuse about how he has homework for one of his classes and he just remembered but yeah, tell me all about it after.

he’s pissed, still, even after the walk to his dorm. and it’s as if things couldn’t get any worse until they do, when he reaches for his keys in the pocket of his shorts only to realize he either left them on the court or locked himself out of his own home.

he doesn’t go to the front desk, doesn’t bother trying to text his RA to tell them what happened. doesn’t even go back to the court to check if that’s where he left them.

he gets a call. it’s you, his doubles partner. what the hell, sure. he answers.

“hey,” your voice breathes into the speaker.

"hey," he says, almost a sigh of frustration.

"jeez, donaldson. you good? i didn’t catch you at a bad time, did i?" and you're always so conscious, so observant of other people and how they're feeling, even if they don’t say anything. when the two of you are playing, you're the one to ask if he needs a break. let him have the snacks you have saved. started bringing extras just for him. you fill up his water bottle when it's almost empty. even after having just crushed the team you’re against, you tell them good game and mean it. "art? i can call back if-"

"no, it’s okay. what's up?" and he realizes how much of an idiot he looks like, standing outside his own door, on the phone. hand in his pocket as if feeling around the lining will summon the key he’s missing.

"i was wondering if you'd be down to hit the gym. get some sets in?"

"funny, i just got back from doing exactly that."

"oh. that's fine. we can-"

"actually, can i come over?"

art's question catches you off guard. you've never hung out with each other alone for reasons other than hitting a ball with a racket. you don't even think he's been to your dorm before this.

"oh, um. yeah. sure."

"okay. cool. great. i'll call you when i'm there." and he's about to hang up just when he hears your voice come through the other end again:

"art?"

"hm?"

"do you need my address?" you giggle into the speaker.

and it only takes five minutes for art to confirm that he’s true to his word. he calls you when he reaches the front of your building and you dash down the stairs to let him in.

“hi,” you say, shy, upon seeing his face. he’s gorgeous, as always. even when he’s all sweaty from practicing his backhand. even when his curls are all messy and he’s trying to hide how irritated he is.

“hi,” art repeats.

you let him in, let him follow you upstairs and into your room where he wanders in without waiting.

“so this is it,” you tell him, a little abashed when you open your door for him, now able to see the inside of your being, it seems. especially while he drinks in all the details of your arrangement: the posters you have pinned up, the way you sort your sweaters hanging your closet, your textbook laid open to the chapter you were in the middle of reading, your notebook that sits on top of it. your handwriting is haphazard, messy.

“sorry, i didn’t have much of a chance to clean,” you say, closing the notebook. “i didn’t realize you were so close.”

art doesn’t say anything and you wonder if you should be worried.

“do you want to watch a movie? i just got Bring It On on DVD.” you’re about to go get it from one of your drawers until he stops you. takes one of your hands in his before you can turn away from him; catches your jaw in his free palm. traces the distance between your neck to your chin with his thumb; his mouth is on yours before you can protest.

and you’re not sure if this is actually happening. if you’re actually kissing art donaldson. this past hour has been a whirlwind but you figure you should take it because he’s patrick’s best friend and maybe this will be the closest to him you’ll ever get.

his lips on yours feel desperate, a hungry attempt for salvation. but also, like he needs this. and maybe you need it too. so you lean into it. let him have this moment. melt into his touch, just a little, though it isn’t especially hard considering.

but he pulls himself off just after you’ve gotten used to the feeling of his mouth working against yours.

“sorry, that was… sorry.” he’s shaking his head, ashamed of what he’s just done. his grandmother didn’t raise him to not ask permission.

“no, that was-”

“patrick’s going out with tashi. tonight.” the words come out of art’s mouth like that. a slip. he has no control over his actions or anything he says.

“oh.” you wonder if your crush on his best friend is that obvious; if that’s why art asked to come over in the first place, so he could to tell you. the kiss was just to soften the blow. padding for the inevitable, terrible.

but you also know about the crush your doubles partner has been harboring on tashi duncan. you see the way he looks at her while she’s about to send her opponent into oblivion. the way he looks at her from across the court, preparing for her matches. he’s her number one fan, not patrick.

“yeah,” art breathes back. a similar note of disappointment hangs in his verbiage.

neither of you say anything following the hurt sentiment. you can’t. not with your lips newly attached to his. he’s taken aback at the fact that you’re the one to initiate it, surprised you’re still here, next to him, haven’t shooed him away yet.

and it’s different from the first one you shared with him. it’s soft, gentle. an apology and a requiem all at once. already, he misses your touch even though the two of your lips are still locked and your body language hasn’t suggested anything else. you’d pull apart only to say sorry, that was sudden but you don’t because you’re not.

his teeth find your flesh and they bite down on the fullest part of your lip, hard. any more pressure and he’d be drawing blood, you think. but he doesn’t and you like it. open your mouth for him to thrust his tongue inside. he licks over your teeth, wants to explore every inch of the inside of your cheek.

and before either of you realize it, your back is pressed flush against your twin XL mattress. he’s on top, pinning you down, still trying to find relinquishment, trying to rid himself of the ugly feelings about tashi and patrick that still clinging onto him through the harsh action. it doesn’t even feel intimate. this is just another one of your shared workout sessions. his hips are grinding into yours and while both of you revel in the friction the movement offers it’s not enough, still.

“tashi,” he moans. he doesn’t even register the fact that the name he calls out isn’t yours.

and for some reason, it doesn't bother you. at least, not as much as it should. maybe because you both are hurt; you both are using each other. art just isn't beating around the bush.

it made sense in the moment. it made sense for you to call him patrick instead. it made sense to art too, when he hears his best friend's name fall from your lips. and neither of you stop to think how wrong this is. rather, you relish it. this unspoken agreement has you wetter than you ever anticipated, has art harder than he would be if it were actually tashi under him.

and, finally, your hand finds purchase on the elastic of his waistband. you don't waste any time trying to tease him, dragging jersey down with a sense of immediacy. think you'll die if you don't get to see him — feel him — immediately.

you tug his boxers down with them and replacing the feeling of fabric is your grip on him. he's soft, bigger than you expected. the tip of his dick is weeping and it's the prettiest thing you've ever seen.

you remove your palm from him for a brief second. spit in it, then resume the position it was in.

“fuck.” he seethes at the contact. uses the hand that’s not holding him up to trail the opening of your shorts and pushes aside your panties. his thumb runs against your soaked cunt as — “fuck,” — he tries to find your clit to press and rub circles on.

and the two of you keep that position: hands on each other, getting off one another while your clothed bodies are pressed together, finally finding a pace that’s satisfying for you both. this is until art removes his hand from your shorts and takes yours, wrapped around his girth.

“need to feel you,” he groans, almost a whisper.

you brush your fingers against his lips when he tries pressing them into yours all while he’s in the middle of tugging down your shorts. you want him to taste himself first.

and now you’re the one to groan. the sight of his mouth around your fingers, the feeling of his tongue swirling around them, the thought of him lapping up his precum, is almost too much, almost has you coming undone. art senses this from your facial expression when he says, “c’mon tash, just a little longer. you can hold out, yeah?”

you nod lamely but all you can think of is how much you need him. all you can feel is how much your cunt is aching. you grind your hips toward his in a futile attempt to get him to notice, to get any relief you can take from the feeling of your skin against his.

and he does notice. “you want it?” he teases, dragging his dick against the wetness of your folds, though his breaths only become more uneven in doing so. for a split second you wonder if he wants it more and he’s putting on a show, just going through the motions of what he’s seen on porn.

but you’ll humor him; think if he doesn’t put it in you might explode.

“yes,” you tell him breathlessly. the syllable squeaks out in between labored inhales.

“how much?” he’s nudging the tip against your entrance. it’s as if he’s a vampire and can’t enter until you give him permission, invite him inside.

“please, patrick. need you so much.”

and it only takes that first thrust for you to feel your climax building. but you both are athletes; art, especially, has the stamina of one. it’s almost impressive, considering your previous hook ups.

each pump is deeper than the last one, still keeping with the rhythm he’s got going. your eyes flutter at the sensation. the feeling of his length stretching out your walls, eventually hitting the innermost part of your being almost has you numb, almost has you keeling from under him.

it’s not until you feel art’s fingers pull your chin to meet his face. when he tells you, i want to see that pretty face when you finish. until you’re trapped under his ice cold gaze and you realize he’s serious that you allow yourself to cum around him.

and he takes that as his signal. pulls out. jerks his dick as he hovers over your stomach, bringing himself to his own climax. his seed spills onto the exposed part of your abdomen but he doesn’t bother getting up to clean it off, not yet. he makes sure to paint your lips with the residue caught on his fingers and you open up your mouth for him once you realize what he wants.

your lips attach around his digits the way they would if you were to blow him. your tongue swirls around his index and middle finger and he uses this as an opportunity to shove them further down your throat.

you wrap your leg around his waist, letting him collapse into yours. and the two of you stay like that, silent. neither of you want to address what just happened but it’ll become your routine and maybe it’s sick but so is the thought of tashi going out with patrick; vice versa.

[iguessitsjustme]

Pit Babe 2 Ep 2 Thoughts

I have had a week. No idea what happened this week but Monday after work, I lost all of my energy. Literally not an ounce of energy in my body. Then came the migraines. God. But I'm better now! Just in time for Pit Babe. God bless. Not only do I have the energy to liveblog, it feels like all of the energy that I didn't have earlier this week has slammed into my body. So while not guaranteed, there is a possibility that I am super chatty this episode. As always, under the cut:

I fucking love this theme song. I doubt I will be skipping it the way I do with most theme songs.

Unrelated but I went to the store on my lunch because I desperately needed groceries and I wanted bananas but they only have bunches of eight bananas. I am one person. How the fuck am I supposed to eat eight bananas? The odds of me making banana bread in the next week is high. But the bananas are currently staring at me. Just sitting there. All eight of them. Staring. 

Obligatory "Is Chris Lee the new pope" comment before the theme song ends. I have been LIVING seeing all of that on my dash the past few days. Absolutely living. It's possibly what restored my energy.

The X Hunter boys proving that Superman's Clark Kent disguise wouldn't work. They see Chris with glasses and go "That's Way! But with glasses!" Despite it not being Way (at least not proven yet).

One point for the doppelganger theory

Babe you were THERE. Way died in your arms. Did it not seem like a straightforward death then? One that needs to be questioned? I am genuinely asking. It has been a year since I watched it and I do not remember.

Okay I didn't mention it last week in my liveblog because I was too busy thinking about other things but like. Chris said that he never met Way. How did he know Way though? Like how did he know Way existed? Did someone tell him that he looked like Way? But they didn't warn the people likely to be startled by it? How does Chris know of Way even if they never met? So Chris might not be lying but they weren't paying attention to what he actually said.

Sonic you're not only breaking North's heart, you're also breaking mine. Come back here and explain to me why you hate me and want me dead? Look me in the eyes and tell me why I must suffer like this. Oh also be nice to North and go get food with him my god. Then go kiss his face. Is that too much to ask?

I'm sorry. Is this a magical bar where you don't need to say the NAME OF THE DRINK YOU WANT? They just KNOW? What special alpha power is that? Do they only serve one type of alcohol? Boy what do you WANT (other than Pete and to be A Problem)

Sure okay yeah. I believe him. I trust him 100%

Babe trying (and succeeding) to make Charlie jealous is adorable.

Ah back to Tony.

Oh Kenta baby. You've come so far.

This was very sexy of him actually.

Oh don't hit Kenta.

Is Sonic the plant? Is that not really Sonic? Is that why he was being EVIL AND CRUEL and breaking my North's heart?

Oh this is the same music that was playing during Willy's "Tick Tick Tick Tocks"....interesting. Very interesting.

Whoever put Kenta in that shirt, thank you for your service.

Did they miss Dean when they shot at him? How'd he get here? Anyway god bless this show. Everything happens all of the time.

Yay Dean's back! What could possibly go wrong?

I am obsessed with him

Hear me out Babe. Just hear me out. Poly. Date him AND Charlie.

Okay Babe listen to me. If you won't listen to the poly then listen to this. The way to deal with Willy is to not meet him on his level. Stop trying to one-liner him. Just be like "Okay whatever you say." Indifference. Not superiority. Indifference is how you leave this situation. But you are gonna get yourself into an even bigger situation now aren't you?

Babe's gonna end up going home with Willy because of that dumb bet. Charlie is gonna kill him. We don't even need to worry about what Tony is gonna do. Because Babe will not be surviving this race.

Oh thank god Babe won. But I think Willy let him win. Cannot explain why.

This is the WRONG thing to be saying at this particular moment my guy

Babe is gonna die by Charlie's hands when all he had to do was USE HIS WORDS

SEX IS NOT A REPLACEMENT FOR GOOD COMMUNICATION GUYS.

But I hope they never change.

On the stairs?? When will someone think of their BACKS? God I am too old to be watching this. I am in PAIN and I am not the one having sex on the stairs. Oh their backs. Their knees.

This was truly fascinating to watch because Babe accidentally created all of Charlie's insecurities with his teasing earlier this episode. Really just watched the whole thing be created and develop in real time.

Oh poor baby Jeff. Someone help him.

Nothing in the soundtrack really caught my attention this week but if you want me to do a brief analysis on anything, just ask. If not then I will do another analysis next week for episode 3.

[alicelillianshaw]

Alice knew he was a tactile guy— he'd all but admitted it on day two, hadn't he? Asking Alice for a bit of comfort; a kiss on the cheek. Holding his hand, at this hypothetical plastic surgery appointment.

But even still, she could tell this was a delicate moment. Spilling out all this pain, this most terrible wound, this terrible loss.

His daughter.

Jack was locked in a cell, sobering up for a weekend, no doubt nauseated, or anxious, and by the time he got out Maddy was gone.

She wouldn't have blamed Jack if he didn't want physical contact right now.

But, fuck— Alice can't even begin to describe the release that washes over her when Jack's body melts against her own.

He even tucked his chin into her shoulder like it belonged there.

It probably did.

It definitely did.

If not him, who else? Alice can't think of a single soul. Jack could put whatever part he wanted against her neck.

For a long minute they are silent, Alice's hand rubbing a steady arc up and down Jack's spine. She thinks she can feel movement— a shaky breath, maybe, or emotion passing across his face, but Alice is just content to hold him. Let him feel whatever it was he was feeling.

This was Jack's pain, and she just wanted to help him hold it in whatever way she could— and maybe that just meant holding him.

And that was okay. Alice was active; she could hold Jack in these arms for as many hours as necessary, and she was so certain not a single muscle of hers would complain.

Eventually Jack moves a bit. His face turns, a few inches, and Alice feels the expanse of his cheek press against her neck. God. Could he feel her pulse like that? Feel how her skin was warm just from the emotion and proximity?

It feels good with him there, intimate in a way that makes Alice's head feel a bit funny— like her brain had been scooped out, replaced with cottonballs. But that was okay. Alice's heart was intact, and that was all she really needed for this, right?

Being there for Jack just required that soft organ at the center of her chest.

'Things feel better with you right here. Like this.'

Inhale. Exhale. All Alice had done was hold Jack, and say things that were true. That was it! But it was what Jack needed, at this moment— somehow, in the midst of all of Jack's pain, this is what he needed.

It felt ... humbling. Strange, and humbling, to know she was able to be here for him like that.

Alice didn't want to get ahead of herself, or inflate her own importance in Jack's life, but. Fuck. Fuck. It's making things swirl in her chest and making words float around in her head, strong words, words that she can't remember saying to someone in a long, long while.

Only three days, and those words stir up stronger inside her than they ever had with anyone else.

And then—

'I think I could be good with you in my life. I'd never do a bad thing again.'

A sharp inhale. It takes several moments for Alice to process that. Mostly processing the things happening in her body— the way her heart is beating fast, not just pounding, but beating so fast it feels like it's going to escape from her chest, or else flip, and tangle up the arteries and stop working. Or the way her face heats. Or the way her arms refuse to let go of Jack, or drop her hand from his hair.

Or the way Alice thinks about how his neck would feel against her lips, and his jaw, and his lips. His chin, too, and she bets those nice hands of his would be exquisite against her mouth. His hipbones, too, she saw those in the pool.

'I think I could be good with you in my life.'

'I'd never do a bad thing again.'

Alice swallows, and prays it isn't audible.

"You would be good before and after me, Jack," Alice says, but she knows her voice sounds a little funny. A little strangled, by emotion. No matter what had happened six months ago— Jack wasn't bad. That she knew with her whole heart.

But it's more than just that, Alice knows— it's what she felt when he spoke about a surgeon. A flawless surgery, even on a bad day. Without intention. Still sincere and true. It's what she felt when Jack says he would have been with her in college, mess or no. There to help pick up the pieces.

It was comfort, those words gave her, some other emotion that was similar to being cared for, just ... intensified. Somehow, on some level, Alice must bring those feelings out in Jack. Being cared for, but stronger.

What was a word similar to that, but stronger? Alice thinks she knows. She sees it a lot in other people's writing. She sees that same word exist in the spaces of the words she's written this week.

And Jack didn't want those feelings to go. Alice knew that, because she felt the same.

She flexes her left hand against his back.

"But. Fuck," Alice exhales when she feels tears again. "Yeah. I won't leave your life. Just to be safe."

Don't ever stop wanting me in your life, please. Don't stop wanting me.

"I think the only thing that would make me leave it is you asking, and—" Alice clears her throat. "It would probably take you several tries. I would make it really hard for you, I think. Wouldn't go quietly."

"Might not go at all."

Jack didn’t know why he’d revealed all of that. Maybe just so Alice knew that he understood her. Maybe because it felt right — admitting things to Alice, things he’d never said out loud.

She’d keep all of his secrets safe. Jack had absolutely no doubt about that. She was crying again, and Jack couldn’t help but follow the path of tears down her shirt. Then, she was moving toward him, wrapping her arms around him like she’d known him for a lifetime. Jack was stunned at first, heart racing — but then he exhaled, emptying his lungs in obvious relief. He wasted no time, nestling his chin on her shoulder. When she ran her hands along his spine, Jack shivered.

Being held by her felt like it had solved everything, somehow. It made the pain subside, feeling her pressed against him, fingers brushing through his hair. He could smell her perfume, and it was better than any scent in the whole world, he thought. Better than the ocean air.

"Kids remember being loved. Who wouldn't remember being loved by you?"

Jack’s eyes were stinging again. His bottom lip twitched, and he was thankful that she couldn’t see his face.

I could love you, Jack thought. I could love you, and I wouldn’t mess it up. It’d be so easy to love you.

Jack tightened his hold around Alice’s waist. He shifted his head slightly, so that the side of his face was pressed directly against the skin of her neck. She felt so warm. Smelled so nice. Jack just wanted to live there, in her arms, until he forgot about every bad thing that had ever happened to him.

Jack didn’t know what to say. There were no words, really, and he was scared that revealing anything else would actually make him break. It felt like he was only a few more sentences away from crying, and Jack was certain that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

That’s why he’d avoided it. For the last six months. Tears would form in his eyes, but he’d will them away, stubbornly blink until the feeling disappeared. Sometimes, he downed a few pills to help. He knew the relief would probably be good for him, but he didn’t deserve that. Jack wasn’t allowed to feel unburdened. No weight lifted off of his shoulders.

It was his cross to bear.

“Things feel better with you right here. Like this.” Jack said. His voice was quiet. He thought about her tattoo again. He thought about how good it would feel to kiss her right now, lie her back onto the couch. Crawl on top of her, find the artwork on her ribs, and spend an eternity with his mouth there.

His ears felt warm again.

And then Jack felt sick to his stomach for thinking that when he was supposed to be upset about the state of his life. When she’d just bared her soul to him. He just wanted to be close to her, that’s all, so he squeezed his arms around her tighter.

“I think I could be good with you in my life. I'd never do a bad thing again."

It sounded like a proposition. Please, don't go. I can't fix myself without you here.

[pfhwrittes]

First: Holy shit their writing is amazing! Huh? Didn’t know I was into that.

Now: I LOVE YOU! You are one of the kindest most thoughtful people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. Huh? Didn’t know I was into that.

please take this gif that i spent an embarrassing amount of time on instead of putting my feelings into words

[the-kipsabian]

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

[narugen]

i seriously need more narumi and mina moments because just imagine the relief mina felt when narumi joined, similar age to her and was also considered a prodigy in the force.

to have someone to share the burden of the defence force’s future with must’ve felt so freeing. because before he joined it was just her, age 18, being told that she was going to change kaiju extermination with her exceptional synergy with firearms. and she was so, so scared.

narumi doesn’t have the kind of skills or talent for long range combat like she does, but he’s also a top candidate (despite his behavioural issues- which aren’t much of a hinderance anyway) and mina doesn’t have to carry the burden of the future alone anymore

(although she’d never admit, given she probably views narumi as someone completely shocking i just think it’s so funny how she stood there like O_O when she first saw him)

like i LOVE seeing the contrast. mina who was sent onto the battlefield for the first time and was deathly afraid vs narumi who was sent out and immediately took action because that’s how he always lived (fighting)

and now they’re the top two strongest captains in the force and they will be the ones to lead the new generation..

[parfaitmew]

Thank you♡

To all the new followers and everyone who's down with me drawing their MCs and OCs♡ (๑>◡<๑)

Everyone has been soo sweet♡ and i'm just really happy to finally find my fire to draw again☆!

I dunno what else to say i'm just happy and i wanted to say thank you♡(>ᴗ•)

[wiretism]

We need to start treating bad writing like bad art and im not kidding