#and even if it was i could never teach maths/science well enough.

[delugyu]

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

[antisocialsharky]

Hi, so I don't have ASPD, but my best friend does. I've been doing research on ASPD to understand it better and while I think I do have a general idea on what it is and its causes, I can't find any reliable source other than pwASPD speaking their experiences and like one Psych Central article.

I was wondering if you could give some guidance on where to look for more details on how ASPD affects people in different ways and if there's any reliable websites to look at?

Hi!

This is actually quite the challenge indeed, since theres not even an agreement on what information about ASPD is "reliable" and should be trusted! So theres unfortunately not a website or a collection or anything that I can point you to!

But I do have some general advice (which is solely based on what I personally think gives you a well rounded understanding of the condition):

• read both, the current DSM-5 ASPD criteria (with all sections under the criteria list itself) and the proposed alternative criteria in the back of the DSM-5 (its a downloadable PDF). then take that information and compare it to any more recent scientific articles about ASPD and see whats confirmed, whats prevalant, where research isn't sure, etc. (you can find articles usually by typing "x symptom in ASPD scientific article" into google. if you have access to libraries they also have some printed versions of psychology related magazines/journals sometimes)

• also look into the history (wikipedia actually details some of those steps nicely, but earlier versions of the DSM-5 do as well) to understand how the category evolved, as that especially furthers understanding on the distinction between sociopathy & psychopathy, the term changes, current debates, etc.

• once you have a good outlook on it from that point, possibly also consume some articles/books on general personality theories and the general info about specific symptoms and how they come to be, as well as trauma theories => then you combine that with your understanding about ASPD as a specific condition and a lot kinda falls into place rly?

• then you round that up by reading about peoples personal experiences on all types of platforms and mediums! you have to kinda assume that any experience may fall somewhere on the spectrum (tho many ppl may also group experiences under the ASPD label, that arent technically truly caused by it...but yk you'll never rly be able to judge that, unless you are a specific persons therapist/the person itself, so assuming it as a possibility is usually the way to go)

=> You may wanna teach yourself how to spot a reliable scientific article, which means you gotta learn how scientists are supposed to word stuff, what good sources look like, how conclusions should/can be drawn and whether or not the math is right. at the same time you gotta remember that science is never fact but always just an assumption based on evidence that seems true in the moment/supports the theory. so personal experience & science do not always get along! oh and pay attention to where the studies are done, with how many people, who those ppl are, etc. => aka whether the findings even represent a broad enough group of ppl so they can generalize that! (theres books on this shit too)

=> Additionally theres (at least) 2 different perceptions of ASPD going on rn! 1. ASPD as a personality disorder and this being a valid concept and 2. ASPD being a trauma response that ofc affects your personality but that doesnt mean its disordered or wrong in any way. Its helpful to take a look at both perspectives and also do some reading & thinking on personality disorders as a concept overall, what recovery as a concept means for these conditions, etc.

Well and tbh the best and most reliable source for you, may just be your best friend! Cus in the end their individual presentation is what matters and what you would benefit from understanding! So make sure to ask questions if ur friend is comfy with that and learn about what they personally need & are like!

Long story short: Understanding ASPD starts and ends with a well rounded overall understanding of psychology & a sort of grip and feeling for how broad presentation spectrums are and what science can & can't capture. Its something you kinda aquire once you spend a lot of time in these spaces and the amount of reading you do & exposure you have? Which is maybe not a satisfying answer, but it is what it is, cus unfortunately ASPD is still underesearched!

[anthroamazed]

tips for stem majors in math and science courses (spoonie + neurodivergent friendly)

hi y’all! my nameis lila and i’m a 28 year old physics and anthropology major who’s about 2 years through college (in the US)! as we’re coming up on the start of the fall ‘23 college semester, i thought i might share some really solid hacks for fellow STEM students taking science and/or math courses that i’ve basically built my college academic career on. and! these study tips are spoonie and adhd friendly! as a matter of fact, a lot of these are tips/methods that specifically work for me as a neurodivergent spoonie (i have pretty severe adhd, as well as POTS and ME/CFS), but that i think non-disabled/non-spoonie and/or neurotypical students could also benefit from using! so with out any further ado, here are my 7 tried and true study hacks for college math and science classes…

1) discover your learning style and tailor your studying towards leveraging it.

you’ve probably heard of visual, audio, and kinesthetic learning styles, but did you now there’s actually way more learning styles than just those three? i’m personally a “social learner,” meaning i learn best through discussion and socialization with 1+ other people to interact with. this could look like teaching other classmates concepts and methods that we’ve learned or discussing ideas with classmates and/or professors until i fully understand the concepts at play and how they connect and can reflect them in performing analysis and application, etc. honestly, figuring out my learning style was hands down one of the most helpful things i’ve done in college. it has allowed me to choose professors who i will mesh better with in terms of how they teach, as well as to adapt materials and methods to my style of learning in order to master them quicker and more effectively.

2) rewrite your notes after lecture, for the love of god.

this tip actually comes from my high school IB Math HL teacher, who told me to do this when i originally left high school for college. even if you think you’ve mastered the basics of the topic covered during the lecture, rewriting those notes after lecture helps really hammer in the knowledge that you’ve already established and also helps to get the wheels turning on pieces of information you might have less of a grasp on. try tp set aside at least 30 - 40 minutes after class to just rewrite your notes and try to really digest the information.

3) body doubling is one of the most beneficial things ever to be invented even if you’re not adhd, and i WILL die on that hill, thank you very much.

“body doubling” or “having an accountabilibuddy” are interchangeable terms in the adhd community that mean you have one or more consistent study buddy/buddies who you do all the homework and/or studying with in person on a regular basis, even if you’re just working next to each other in total silence. this does a couple of things. first off, it forces homework/assignments/studying to become a concrete social obligation you need to regularly show up for, rather than a nebulous obligation based on an invisible deadline. second off, it gives you 1+ partners to work out your problems concerning course topics with. third off, it allows you to build a network of peers where you feel comfortable helping each other with course material (this is especially great because it’s likely you and your classmates have different strengths regarding course content). tbh, body doubling is the other method that i, personally, have found most useful in college and i highly recommend trying it, even if you don’t have adhd.

4) teach others/your classmates the analysis and application methods you’ve learned, even if those methods aren’t 100% solidified for you (trust me on this).

the goal of stem courses is never memorization, but rather being able to understand a topic well enough to analyze a similar situation and apply the what you’ve learned creatively. this is where teaching others comes in. in order to teach others a concept and its related analysis and application well, you have to have at least a fraction of a decent understanding of these things yourself, and, further, often time in teaching these things you also learn to grasp the concepts/aanalysis/applications even better than you did before with each new teaching session. basically: teaching others is a creative way of also teaching yourself. you get the benefits of repetition, of thinking about a concept/technique/analysis and application in a new way, and of getting to apply the concept/technique/analysis and applicatioin to a new scenario each time. plus, you’ll typically make friends quickly in the process! there’s really no downside to this tip imo ;-)

5) utilize your college’s tutoring center/program(s), even when you don’t think you need to.

usually colleges have either set up a general “tutoring center,” on campus where you can find tutors for all different kinds of topics and courses available during regular hours for walk-in sessions and/or appointments free of charge or departments will hold regular weekly (or twice weekly) free on-campus tutoring sessions for specific courses. regardless of which of these options your college has, i highly recommend attending at least one tutoring session/appointment (ideally with the same tutor if/when you eventually find one you click with) every single week, even when you don’t feel like you’re struggling with the topic(s) covered in that week’s lecture. this will help you review topics and techniques covered in lecture, deepen your understanding of them, and, if nothing else, it’s an excuse to get homework out of the way while having someone else there who can help you if/when you get stuck. attending at least one session weekly also helps you get into a habit and routine of keeping up with your assignments, so you’re not left scrambling at the last minute before they’re due.

6) if you have accommodations, request access to record lectures. if you do not have accommodations, ask your professor if you are allowed to record lectures. IF YOU RECORD LECTURES, DO NOT FORGET TO REVIEW THEM!

okay, so first up for my fellow spoonies and neurodivergent peeps: when you apply for/renew your accommodations, make sure that “recordinng lectures” is on your MOA (memorandum of accommodations), because so long as it is, your professors legally cannot deny you permission to record lectures without risk of themself and the college being sued for an ADA violation. also, make friends with a classmate and ask them to record lectures and send them to you if/when you are absent (let the professor know that you’ve asked this classmate to record and send you the lecture if you are absent)

now, if you aren’t disabled, a spoonie, and/or neurodivergent, you aren’t guaranteed permission to record lectures. however. ask the professor if you can have their permission to audio record lectures (be sure to also let them know that such a recording would be for personal use only and that you don’t plan on distributing the recordings). i’ve found that many professors don’t mind you having an audio recording.

even if you aren’t an audible learner it can be really useful to have these recordings to review at a later point. oftentimes reviewing lecture recordings can be useful if you glazed over and missed a section of the lecture and/or if you can’t remember what a professor taught during a section of a lecture.

7) last but not least, on a related note, if you have accommodations, also request access to your professor’s lecture notes. if you don’t have accommodations, check if your professor posts their lecture notes for students to use.

having your professor’s notes can be extremely useful for review purposes, but they can also help you understand where your professor is going with course content and what they want to stress as important.

[tthatsonme]

Intellect, by molly.

— People often underestimate the seriousness of your sudden shift of motivation, in this day and age; it’s uncommon to see anyone (especially younger people) read a book or have any interest in having goals whatsoever, but you’re different, you’ve set the curve, you’re the centre of attention and everyone should be like you especially when it comes to academics, parents are constantly asking you to teach their kids your way because of how effortless your work ethic and dedication to school seems.

— Whenever the teacher needs an example on how to do a math equation or what a well written and worded essay SHOULD look like they always hold up your assignments as an example, you are 100% the best example of what a student should be like an any generation but especially this one, all of the parents and guardians with the “brain rotted iPad babies” or “wasting their lives away because of technology addiction teenagers” beg you to tell them what your “secret is” but maybe you’re not even fully aware of your greatness or level of discipline and success.

— You have a very distinct and important morning routine that you do every day, whether your routine has 4-steps or 40-steps it’s almost like it’s been burned into your DNA to follow it daily, your routine is not optional, you have the most perfect sleep schedule it’s almost as perfect as you, but in case you need a late study night you wake up everyday well rested regardless of whether you slept a full 8-hours or not, your memory to do things is amazing, you have a better memory than most people in your classes, you remember everything that you hear, read, and write in terms of school, you remember how to spell everything, your handwriting is always neat and legible, you could basically rewrite the dictionary at this point, fun fact: most people in this generation aren’t fluent in English because of the lack of spelling and vocabulary (my teacher said this so it’s probably true), while the other people in your class are crying over the phone ban if you have you you’re perfectly fine without your phone for 6-8 hours a day, you’ve never had any issues writing stories or having original thoughts, you have an extremely expanded vocabulary and are an amazing writer, “You don’t use brain rot?? Nerd alert!” It’s surprising to hear someone only use quote “brain rot terms” ironically, whilst the rest of the world is having unintelligent conversations about skibidi toilet and whatnot you’re the complete opposite.

— You have no issues in and are the best at all forms of mathematics, geometry, algebra, calculus, arithmetic, trigonometry, number theory, statistics, set theory, topology, discrete mathematics, probability, combinatorics, numbers, mathematics analysis, analytical geometry, differential equations, applied mathematics, game theory, pure mathematics, linear algebra, numerical analysis, and matrix algebra, natural sciences, engineering, medicine, finance, computer science and social sciences, biology, chemistry, physics, astronomy, earth sciences, zoology, ecology, microbiology, astrophysics, neuroscience, logic, ethics, psychology, philosophy, mechanics, and social sciences, morphology, sociolinguistics, pragmatics, psycholinguistic, linguistics, phonetics, historical linguistics, stylistics, and computational linguistics plus whatever other courses and classes that you have. [If this last part seems random it’s because it is, it’s copy and pasted from a personal sub I made a year ago for 11th grade :p]

_Things to remember

You can and will only ever manifest what you desire from this subliminal

Make sure not to obsess over your results because they can lead to limiting beliefs

You don’t have to listen daily or 1-7 times or anything like that, one is always enough with any subliminal :)

[dustin4ce]

stability.

young! tony stark x male!teacher! reader

a/n: i kinda threw this together while talking to a friend, but if you enjoy it… let me know and i’ll write a follow up!!

warnings: student-teacher relationship, brief mention of sex, mention of abuse, tony crying (poor baby)

ace is the only stability a young tony stark has. mr. (ace) ellis teaches the junior english class at tony’s high school. tony was never good in english, but he tried his hardest. he was a smart kid, he just put all his energy towards science and maths to impress his father, causing his english grade and writing portion of school to fall short.

tony walked into english with his head down, he didn’t want mr. ellis to see the black eye. ace cared too much about tony, and it would immediately bring attention to him. tony hates being the center of attention. the young stark sat his bag down next to his chair as he sat. his head falling heavy on the wooden desk in from of him. this was unusual. tony always seemed interested in english. tony enjoyed english (mainly because of his teacher). mr. ellis came from his desk rubbing tony’s back like he did with everyone, but he got no response. people still filing into class, giving ace the perfect opportunity to talk to tony. the taller authority squated down next to tony, hand still on his back. “hey kiddo — you alright?” that was all it took. the small shakes of tony’s body told him everything. the quiet sniffing and shake in stark’s breath. tony’s fists clenched as he gripped onto his own sleeves, yet he made no effort to turn to look at his teacher. “hey.. why don’t you step out into the hall? maybe go to the bathroom — wipe your eyes with a wet paper towel. i’ll be out there after i explain the lesson.” tony, still shaking, got up with his head down and went outside.

mr. ellis didn’t take long to explain. some simple assignment. ‘write me an essay about a life motto you believe is important’. ace was proud, he came up with the idea himself. he even wrote his own essay. ‘don’t take what you earned for granted.’ it sounded stupid, (the motto), but ace had realized many times that he’d work for something — then quit working to improve what he got as soon as he got it. he wanted to be better. that’s why he was really trying to check on tony — he wanted to be someone people could depend on, especially tony. stark had always had a portion in ace’s mind. tony had trusted him with things — his dreams, life goals, his family. ace always wondered what tony was doing, how tony was doing. he knew it was wrong, but couldn’t stop himself when it was just him in his bed at night. his thoughts always wondered back to tony. the soft touches, his almost perfect smile, his shy personality, his (as ace would classify it) adorable face. his hand always found a way to his pants. he knew better, he swore he’d never let it get out of hand, but when the images of a young tony stark being bent over his desk under him and his control flooded his mind, he just couldn’t keep that promise.

ace had rubbed his hair back after explaining then stepped outside. tony was sitting on the ground, knees basically to his chest, his arms wrapped around his legs, and his forehead pressed to his knees. the young boy was still crying. mr. ellis sat down next to him. “tony — talk to me? what’s going on today?” tony blubbered, he finally looked up, ace’s eyes widened as he saw the bruising on tony’s face. first, he felt sympathy and sorrow. then, he felt anger. who could do this to his boy? his sweet, little baby. he was gonna get to the bottom of it, he made sure of it. “what happened, kid?” ace gently touched tony’s cheek, his fingers shocking tony. “don’t be mad.” tony’s frown and tears still evident. ace nodded. “my dad, uh, didn’t like my grades — maths and science — they weren’t good enough for him.” tony sniffled, he did really well for the term, but it wasn’t perfect — so howard obviously didn’t like it. “so he hit you?” ace’s voice was laced with anger. stark just nodded. “oh kid — i’m so sorry, i really am.” tony teared up more as ace pulled him into a hug, stark’s head immediately landing on the older man’s chest and cuddling into him. he always loved the smell of mr. ellis, and his sweet gentle demeanor. ace kissed the top of the young man’s head and rubbed his back. tony couldn’t take it, through his tears he mumbled what he thought would be incoherent. “mm — ‘m sorry. i love you.” but ace heard, yet said nothing. just smiled. he heard all he needed to. tony stark had told him he loved him, and ace knew he loved his tony stark. nothing was ever going to hurt tony again, especially not his father.

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 14 - middle school teacher

pairing: middle school teacher!spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: in which you greet your new colleague who happens to be the same age as you

word count: 1634

warnings: fluff, awkward, its a meet cute

spence-tober masterlist

As you turn down the colorfully, painted hallway of the middle school classrooms, you spot an unfamiliar sight. 

Usually so early in the morning, you were one of the few to be in the school and to your knowledge, you were the only middle school teacher who came so early to prep for the school day.

Carrying your tote bag and your large to-go coffee cup and dressed for the school day, your interest peaks as you spot a man sprawled out on the floor on his hands and knees, collecting a large amount of papers that had obviously escaped from his hands.

You rush down the hall, your flat shoes clicking on the tile of the hallway, and then set your stuff on the ground, bending down to help the man.

Even though his face is angled to the floor, the man looks to be about your age. His face is slightly flushed, you guess by embarrassment, but it’s a rather handsome face you can tell. He’s dressed in a nice button up with a cardigan over it and some nice slacks with some white vans on his feet. His brown hair is messy, but short enough that it doesn’t roam about around his face.

“Are you okay?” You ask, him, trying to search his face to see if he had slipped and fallen.

He looks up at you and gives you a small, shy, smile, “Yeah, I just tripped.” The tips of his ears turn a bit red. 

“I didn’t fall.” He corrects, “But I did send all of these papers flying.” He chuckles, nervously, “Thank you, for the help,” He says, gesturing to the collection of papers you have gathered from around the hallway for him.

You shrug it off and offer him a kind smile of your own, “It’s no problem. Are you new to the school?” You inquire.

You, yourself, have been working as a middle school teacher at this school for about six years now, having started right after you graduated with your degree. You had interned as a student teacher in your last year of college to gain experience and then accepted the offer by your mentor to take her place when she retired. 

The man nods and gratefully takes the papers from your hand, adding it to the pile in his own, “Uh, yeah, I am. I’m Spencer, by the way.” He introduces. He offers his free hand not holding the stack of papers for you to shake.

You give him your name and shake his hand with yours.

“What are you teaching, Spencer?” You ask, wanting to get to know your new co-worker more.

“English for 7th and Math for 6th.” He responds, his nervousness starting to dissipate. “How about you?”

“Science for 7th and 6th.” You answer, “I’ve never been very good at grammar or inferences.” You admit to him.

“Well, you must be pretty good at math to teach a variety of sciences.” Spencer assures you.

You giggle and shake your head, “As long as I’ve got a calculator, I’m fine.”

Spencer chuckles back at you, “A calculator never hurts to have.”

You glance at the stack of papers in his arms, “So those are your first day activities?” You ask him, pointing down at the pile held by his hands.

The top paper is one of those get to know me print out sheets that could be found all over the internet. If you’re not mistaken, you used that exact print out during your first official year of teaching.

Spencer nods and neatly tucks in the paper edges of the stack to be more uniform, “Oh, yeah. Um, just some get to know me’s. I have some math puzzle sheets and a few of my favorite short stories too.”

“That’s really nice of you to share your favorites.” You compliment with a warm smile, “Don’t worry, the middle schoolers aren’t too ruthless.” You joke. 

He returns with a smile equally as warm as your own, “That’s good to know. I don’t want to get eaten alive on my first day.” He quips.

“Oh, I wouldn’t let them.” You assure him, playfully bantering back and forth now.

Neither of you go to leave and still stay, standing stagnant in the hallway together alone. “Do you, um, usually come to school this early?” Spencer asks, trying to make some small talk.

You nod, “Yeah, I usually like to get the work day started. Leaves me less to do at the end of the day and all that.”

He grins at you, “That’s really smart.” He holds up the stack of papers in his hands, “I wanted to get everything printed and ready for today.” There’s a hint of nervousness in his expressions.

He adjusts the stack once again and seems to struggle a little bit when he has to readjust the glasses up further on his nose. “Can I help you with that?” You ask, pointing to the papers.

Spencer looks like he’s about to refuse your offer when the papers slide once again. You chuckle and go ahead and take about half the stack in your free hand, having grabbed your own possessions off the floor but easily juggling them.

He profusely thanks you for the help, but you brush it off. 

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll get easier to carry stacks of papers when there’s a crowd of students in the hallway and you only have time to make one trip to and back. Trust me.” You inform him, trying to calm some of his nerves, “Everything will get a lot easier. Teaching’s the easy part, wrangling middle schoolers who are in the midst of drama is much harder.”

“Thanks,” Spencer says again, “First day jitters are getting to me and all that.” He chuckles, nervously.

“Well, my classroom is the one with my name on the door.” You say, pointing down the hallway a little further back, “Let me know if I can help you. I swear, I had first day jitters my entire first year of student teaching.”

He nods, “Hopefully I can get into the routine of things. I, uh, was teaching at a community college for some time, but realized I wanted to teach a little younger. This is my first time with middle schoolers.” Spencer walks with you until you reach a door. It’s like yours, just a little bit more plain and instead has his name on it, Mr. Spencer Reid. 

He holds the door open for you and gestures you to go first, “Here, if you could just put it on my desk.” He directs.

You do as he says and find a space on the crowded desk for the papers. He follows behind you and piles on the rest of the papers in his hand.

While he straightens things out, you decide to look around the classroom. You were familiar with it, of course, you knew the older teacher who retired last year and often came into the classroom for supplies or otherwise. All of the decorations from the prior teacher were gone and it was still quite bare bones, but you could see the little things Spencer has started to add. 

The large shelves were filled with many books of different variety and sorted by genre. You could spot The Hunger Games Trilogy, the Illiad, Geronimo Stilton, and Magic Tree House, to name a few. The walls were pretty bare, but there were some brand new dinosaur themed garlands decorating the tops of the cabinets and bulletin boards. Judging by the plastic bags resting on the floor near the teacher’s desk, Spencer wasn’t quite done with decorating yet.

Spencer turns back to you when he’s finished straightening out his desk. He watches your eyes take in the room around you, “It’s not done yet, I, uh, didn’t realize how much stuff I need to fill a classroom.” He chuckles, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. 

“It looks really good so far.” You compliment, looking back at Spencer with a smile.

“Sorry, bye the way.” Spencer blurts out next, like he had been sitting on saying it for a while. 

You furrow your eyebrows, “What?”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer repeats, a bit bashful this time. “For keeping you. You came early to get things done and I’ve kept occupied. You haven’t even bene able to put your stuff down.” He gestures with his hands towards the tote on your shoulder and the travel coffee cup in your hand.

Before you can respond, a school bell sounds off and Spencer visibly panics. You know the panic all too well and hold up your hand to stop him in his tracks, “That’s the teacher bell. No students yet. They test the bell on the first day to let all the teachers know its 30 minutes until students will show up.”

“Oh,” Spence relaxes and his tense shoulders melt with your explanation.

“I should get going though and sort out my classroom.” You say, looking at the watch on your wrist, “And don’t worry about keeping me today, any time you need help, just come find me. The first year teaching middle school can be stressful.” You tell him, honestly, “I’m here early every day and I leave about an hour after school ends.”

You collect yourself and move towards the door, turning around one last time, “Have a good first day.” You say, wishing him the best.

“You too!” He says, catching you right before you left down the hallway.

It would be years before you would tell Spencer that when you left his classroom starting down the hallway towards your own, that the other teachers were giving you very knowing looks. 

When you did finally tell him, it would be on your honeymoon.

a/n: i am not very happy with how this turned out but at least its done? at this point (sorta halfway through writing the month) all these prompts and blurbs are running together...

[petrenocka]

There are several programs here at UFUS, that were described to me as horrible nightmares. Cruel professors, insane deadlines, stupid test formats.

But something is different about Chaos Frequencies and Crystal Structures 1.

It is said, the lecture hall is haunted by the caffinated ghosts of students taken by despair when receiving their exam papers. Rumor has it, the reason professor in charge of the course is so strict about attendance, is that if enough seats are empty during a lecture you can hear those trapped souls still scribbling at their desks, trying in vain to pass, in more ways then one.

It's a silly story of course, a fascinating bit of student folklore! ... Sometimes it does feel real, the way everyone is referencing it with serious expressions. It can't be though - the building is too new for a ghoul to manifest.

Point is, people don't like this course. There is a senior of 3 years attending. His sigh is just like Shadow's. It's really bad.

And I want to hate this course as much as everyone else, I really, honestly do.

But how can anyone be uninterested when the first thing the lecturer asks is weather anyone in attendance have wondered before why the famous Chaos Emeralds are emeralds, and not literally any other kind of substance in the world. Because I didn't! I am probably the only person here who actually saw and touched the gems but I didn't. And this guy did! Of all people!

I can't help it but be excited. The subject is fascinating, the math works out soooooo satisfyingly. And luckily, Eggman never published his research into Chaos Emerads, so the professor actually has to teach instead of fawning over the evil doctor, making his excitement for the science actually captivating instead of exhausting. For once. He has a stage presence, his voice and pronunciations are clear and cover the whole room. I thought all doctors could do this, but apparently it takes a crazy one to not be deathly boring to listen to.

And what we're studying is fascinating, useful and makes perfect sense, well, maybe except for that bit.

"Excuse me Dr. Starline!"

----------------------------

Chaos Frequencies and Crystal Structures, an introduction course into the work of my life - study of all the magnificent mutant minerals of Mobius. Just like the objects in qestion, the subject is complex and multifaceted. And obviously important.

I do try my best to help as many of my students grasp the material as possible. I have gotten into several fights with the administration over my draconian attendance policy, but data shows clearly - students who don't show up to the lecturers are doomed to failure.

Unfortunately even here, many are showing impressive feats of speed in escaping the knowledge that chases them. Several attendees are zoned out, perhaps trying to hear a rumored ghost instead of me, comedically failing to grasp the clever metaphor at the heart of the story.

Several. But never this one.

A tiny yellow fox, barely not a toddler, is vying for my attention. To that end the poor boy has to raise his hand all the way up and almost climb on top of his desk, just to put his hand high enough for me to notice. Or maybe he is just that excited to ask his qestion. Academic honesty is compelling me to concede that it is probably the latter.

"Yes, Mr. Prower?" I lock eyes with the prodigy across the room from me. Oh, that got everyone's attention? Fair enough, my conflict with the youngest student to ever enroll into the United Federations University of Science is obviousl to anyone possessed of an ear for gossip. What can I do? The young lad suffers form an extreme case of passionate, vocal, WRONG OPINIONS about the greatest scientific mind in history, father of most modern technology - great Dr. Ivo "Eggman" Robotnic. No matter ones talent, what does one even seek in a place of higher education, if devoid of admiration, or at the very least respect for his betters?

"Umm, I'm sorry, but if the resonace in the cell is recursive, why do we need to continuously supply the ignition?" A high-pitched voice brings me a poignant qestion of someone truly paying close attention. If only the tiny genius was as model of a student during any of my other classes. Perhaps he could come to see Eggman's omni-generational genius.

Worse still, looking around the lecture hall, half of the students present, all adults, don’t even seem to understand the nature of what he's asking. Oh well, you can lead a horse to water.

"Very good qestion. Indeed, it would be possible to trace a particular tone throughout the structure of a chaos crystal. However, as the energy is subsumed into the system, it's distortion is decreasing parabolically. Remember that we are trying to measure the system's wpn here, and according to ..."

"... and in the wave rate formula it asks us to divide by the distortion index, which would be approaching 0 and fail the calculation if we stop the ignition. Got it! Sorry. Thank you." And he sink back into his chair.

Honestly, how is THIS my number one problem student?

------------------

How is this the most evil professor in the whole university?

----------------------

Why would such a brilliant mind ever despise the works of the great Robotnic?

---------------------

Why would anyone at all *like* Eggman?

WHAT IN GAIA'S NAME IS WRONG WITH THIS GUY?

---------

WHAT IN CHAOS' IS WRONG WITH THIS GUY?

[my-castles-crumbling]

Hey, cas!

I think I need some advice. Apologies in advance if this sounds too urgent or something. I know one of your boundaries is to not feel pressured to answer immediately and I don’t want you to feel like that’s what I’m doing.

So school started again about three weeks ago but I was sick the entirety of last week, so I’ve only actually been to school for two. Where I live the school system is a bit different from America, but you could say that this is my first year of high school, only that I didn’t have to change schools.

Even though it’s only been two weeks, I’m already immensely stressed out. Now that I’ve been sick for a week, I’m scared I missed too much stuff, especially because the level of things we need to do has doubled since last year. I’ve always been pretty lazy and never really studied for anything except sometimes math. I never needed to because I got Bs and often As anyway. Now however I’m completely overwhelmed.

Last night I panicked so much about having to go back to school today, that I almost threw up. When I realized, I found myself thinking about forcing myself to throw up to prove to my mother that I was still sick so I wouldn’t have to go to school.

When I realized that that was what was going on I had another breakdown and didn’t do anything. I felt almost disgusted at myself for even thinking about that.

This morning I wanted to fake a headache, but ended up not because my mother kept insisting I go to school.

When I was on my way to school, my bike had issues, so I asked my mom to come help me. I had a breakdown before she even arrived. When she did, she tried to help me and understand what was going on, but I couldn’t really speak or listen to anything she told me. I think I may have had a panic attack of some sort.

When I’d calmed down enough to explain what was going on, she tried to reassure me that everything would be alright and that my grades didn’t matter to her. I knew all of that already, but it did calm me down a bit.

After we agreed that I can stay home today as long as I promise to go tomorrow, no matter what, she suggested that I go to therapy, which I was planning on asking for anyway.

All in all it doesn’t sound as bad anymore now that I’ve typed it all out like this. The only issue is that in my country Therapy waiting lists take an average of 6 months. I don’t know how I’m supposed to wait that long.

Do you have any advice on how to get my anxiety under control until then. Or how to feel less stressed about school in general. I can’t talk to my teacher because she’s very strict and her method of teaching people who don’t know stuff yet is to repeatedly call on them and throw them in ice water basically. I’m sure she means well, but it only increases my anxiety by a tenfold. What would you tell your students if they were having trouble with something?

I definitely struggled with this when I was younger, so I completely get it. I think one of the things about feeling overwhelmed like this is you feel like you have to get it all done in one day. So instead, could you maybe make a list of the things you need to get done, but then separate it into manageable chunks? Like Make up all your math work on Monday, science on Tuesday, etc? You could even show your teacher your plans to let her know you're working toward getting caught up.

Honestly, I would tell my student that you need to go easy on yourself. If you push yourself too much, you're going to end up learning less because you're too stressed! The people what expect you to be perfect aren't worth it. Take breaks, do a little at a time, and remind yourself that it's just as important to take care of yourself as it is to catch up <3

Sending love and naming you catch up anon!

[simknowsstuff]

The human mind has no definite state on any matter. No one mind comprehends the world the same, but many people conform. No one model of the mind exists, but many work well enough to be used, but also many conflict in key components.

Behaviour can come from biology, physical structure, environmental influences, current received input, taught behaviour, hormones, neurotransmitters, specialised structures, and inward conjecture. All of which differ vastly

If the brain were an actual neural network, the synaptic firing that regularly occurs would just be teaching the brain to retain its current state. Memories would just be a gradient mapping and recall of input relativity to other inputs.

We can't map out neuron clusters because not every brain has the wiring.

Neural networks aren't even close to the brain. I fucking hate that comparison. They're using math to approximate the shape some function makes. Its like covering a frozen blanket over an art student's sculpture using only a ballpoint pen

The brain is a machine that uses nature to construct these approximations, encoding hyper-compressed genetic data on the right initial firings and right densities that would preclude the degradation of function, leading to "functional groups" of neurons that have no purpose but to generally exist, made to roughly approximate hundreds of models that process things in ways we could never even comprehend, or imagine the intended genetic function of.

If you try and describe the brain to anybody it'll sound like fucking science fiction, but life is a metaphysical entity that yearns to feed off of waves of entropy, so it burst through the seams of whatever part of the earth FUCA came from, and decided "hey lets lead to a maximised creature designed to create change"

I'm not saying we are maximally made, but we're the best that there is currently in the same way that adding and modifying more and more computer parts to a shitty pc would make a maximally good computer

and thus society and industry and classes and hierarchies are born, dents in the pathways that make up the multidimensional shape we call our hippocampus, forged likely from the will of life, as the first step into catalysing the world.

Creatures that don't maximally destroy or change are the ones that fall victims to those that maximally do, after all.

Idk what this rant is about, brains weird, do whatever the fuck you want and make your mind whatever the fuck you want, as long as it perpetuates and encourages the story of your life and others to be beautiful and complex.

Moral of the story: fuckin idk

[ask-jaxy-boy]

Tell is more about Whimsy and Tux!!!

((Well. I'll tell you information I'm willing to share without lore development, and stuff I've already established in canon

Tux: (23) He has a pansexual polygamous brother in the real world. He is a licensed therapist, which he became because he struggles with issues that he was medicated for. Despite how put together and stable he looks he's actually struggling greatly with out his medication, luckily Noone has made him super angry (he is very violent when angry, like he blacks out in rage) he has tried to kill his brother a couple times when he was little, but formed an understanding and close bond with his brother, and misses him greatly. He has hallucinations m, mostly veiw8ng himself abstracting, and has to check himself in a mirror every morning to make sure he isn't actually abstracting, even though he knows logically he's nowhere near abstraction. He views Whimsy as a sister. Out of canon, he's adopted by Caine. One of his clients gave him the headset, stating they were far to afraid to try the game their friend (who works at C&A) wanted her to play test as this friend was known for his harsh pranks and almost abusive treatment of the girl. Tux likes murder mysteries and horror to a level where he can experience them with little to no flinching. Despite his sweet caring personality, he can get annoyed easily and is often quite rude in his own mind, but having been through school and training to be a good therapist he has developed quite the skill to be fake. Its almost unnoticable how fake he is or isnt in any given moment. Tux is based upon me although I have no real training in being a therapist.

Whimsy: whimsy has almost abstracted once, and lost her arms as a result. Due to this she hates Caine, even though he gave her hands so she could still talk, write, and draw. She was born and raised in a brothel, drugged and left to suffer at the hands of multiple "mean men" (I'll let you all make assumptions as to what happened to her in that room). She is mentally stunted due to never going to school and only learning to cook, clean, write to male suitors her dad planned on selling her off to once she got old enough, and be a "proper lady" for the man she married. Thankfully the man who quite litterally bought her was a very sweet elderly man who only wanted to save her. He was teaching her all sorts of things that would help her in life. He taught her how to draw, that there's more ways to live then how she was taught, taught her some math, science and simple things you'd learn in school. She was in university when one of her friends gave her the headset and game.))

[docholligay]

Consider a setting where graduating from a certain school gives you the right to wield political power on a national level, depriving everyone who doesn’t attend of the right to vote, but the bottom third students of every year get transformed into magical slaves. How terribly would the Senshi or Overwatch crew handle that?

Okay, so, let's get this out of the way first: WHAT THE FUCK.

Now that we've taken that important break, let's think about this.

Do we know what they teach at this school? Because I think that would be a large part of my decision for this. Some of the cannier players in the game would enter if they thought they stood a chance, but by the very nature of the thing they ALSO know that the best of the best are going to go here. Do you think you're in the top 66% of 1000 driven and probably proven intelligent people? I mean, I probably would be like, "I guess I am a voteless worker bee."

So, for the purposes of this question, we'll assume it's a standard high school type setup, with, fuck, I'm just doing this for the purposes of answering. We'll use what was the AP track for each at my high school, because, well, I'm familiar with it.

Math : Algebra, Geometry, Trig, Calc

Science: Earth, Biology, Chemistry, Physics

English: Four years of upper level Literature courses focusing on analysis and knowledge of the canon.

History: (Insert country of origin here), Government, World i, World ii

Language: Four years of a language, I took Spanish.

And then we can make space for other shit. We had 6 periods a day, but not every day had to be the same. Whatever, we'll go with the guideline.

SAILOR MOON

Rei goes because Rei has never been humble for even one moment in her life, and also she wants to boss the entire country around. She knows that she is going to be in the top 66%, and also probably graduate first in the class, she's just that smart. Is she though???? We don't see one way or the other, and I think of her as a sort high-middling student, and in an environment like this one, I could see her maybe ending up on bottom.

Minako would never do it unless she was sure she could find a good way to cheat on everything. Minako's not stupid, but I do think she can be a little intellectually lazy. Sitting down and actually doing the work would take her aback a little bit, but I also think she knows that and also isn't too proud to admit, to herself at least, that she might be in danger there.

Michiru's family has so much money and influence that even if she can't vote, she can vote, so I don't see her willingly putting herself through that.

Haruka would not attend, but it would only be because Minako stopped her from some desperate and quasi-suicidal jaunt to prove herself worthy or some shit. She knows its dumb, Mina knows its dumb, but here she is, signing up for it! It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Overwatch:

Lena has laughed herself out of the building already. Thanks but no thanks. Voting isn't worth the entirety of a physics class and having to do well in it on top of everything else. She'll go wash glasses in a pub if she has to, goodbye.

Fareeha acknowledges that it is a difficult task, and it will encourage a high level of competition, but luckily, rigorous testing of her abilities is a boon in her eyes. She spends long nights studying and sharpening her acumen. Literature is never her strongest class, and she does worry about it, but she gets it together just fine, and is strong enough in everything else.

Mercy is the sort that is more than smart enough for this sort of thing, but I don't know that she would want to sign up for it because it just seems cruel. It seems wrong. She will, of course, be talked into taking a spot, because better someone with her scruples than someone chomping at the bit to have the power.

Dva is following Lena out the door but she's posting the whole reel to TikTok, including she and Lena popping babychams in the parking lot.

[alcoholttm]

@shipwrght asked:

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." Though, he can't deny his curiosity to peel back the curtain to Kaku's true past. Out of all the time they had spent together, before and after everything that happened, his past had always felt more of a taboo topic. Never quite pressing further to avoid discomfort, but always having that wish he would bring it up first. Paulie sighs, scratching at his face. "I won't lie, I want to know... but I'm guessing it's going to be a lot." And even then, he feels like that was an understatement.

"no, no, it's about time that i actually tell you what happened," it was a loaded question that paulie had asked, but kaku knew that he deserved some explanation on how he came to be what he was. so, with a breath he looked down at his hands, they were scarred sure, but there were times that he swore he could still see blood upon them.

"i was sold to the world government from a very young age," he started, eyes glancing upwards just a bit to look at the window of their bedroom, he could remember bits and pieces of the nursery that he grew up in when he wasn't learning all that he could about the world from the eyes of the government. "see, my father was in debt and the only way to get out of it was to sell me. my mother had passed away when i was only a year old so i don't even remember what she looked like--not that i really remember my old man either." he then eyed paulie for a moment. "i was two when i was sold, from what i was told it wasn't much-babies don't really sell much, not like slaves who could actually do labor, but it was enough to get him out of debt and then some so he took the deal and never looked back."

he was starting to fiddle with his hands now as he thought about the training.

"they started out like a school, i guess, you know, learning to read and write, math and science and such, so it wasn't so bad at first," yet another breath left his throat, head shaking slightly. "but then when i turned ten they called it an advanced curriculum. teaching me how to hone my body to become stronger, there were nights that i came back to the dorms aching with pain, cuts and bruises all over my body but i couldn't complain." no, if he did so much as weep at the pain he'd have wake up the next day without any breakfast--without food for even a day kaku learned quickly not to show any agony of the days training.

"my training to become an actually assassin didn't really start until i was around fifteen. i got my first gun and was taught how to shoot it, taught how to zip around without being noticed--it's how i got so good at jumping across this city actually, so it wasn't all that bad." he always had to look at the positive of his trainings or he'd lose it. "i learned how to read pulses to check of people were lying--" he was sure that skill in and of itself would bring back some bad memories from paulie, but he did say he was curious about his childhood upbringing. "and then the guns turned into using my fingers to pierce people's skin, my legs now act like swords--i can cut a building in two if i wanted to.." he grew silent, unsure if he wanted to keep talking about this.

"i know now how wrong the world government is, but they did teach me some techniques that have gotten me to where i am today." did he regret his choices back on that day? of course he did, but at the same time if he didn't grow up the way he did he couldn't fight as well as he could now. "but now i use those techniques to keep this city safe, keep us safe..y'know?"

spilling his guts onto the floor, he hated himself somedays because of his past, and now that paulie knew a bit more about it--could he hate him now, too?

[paigesprojectpan]

Here's Why You Shouldn't Give Me A Scholarship

You shouldn’t give me a scholarship because I have withdrawn from three courses so far in my college career. Because I chose to take seven dual-enrollment courses instead of eight in high school. Because I have severe imposter syndrome within my chosen major. Because I already have a 40,000 scholarship. Because my parents work hard and make good choices with their money. Because I am white. Because I am not going into healthcare or music, engineering, coding, or even dance. I don’t deserve a scholarship because I procrastinate and then have missing assignments and because my room is messy.

I could think of a million more reasons why you shouldn't give me a scholarship. I don’t set aside time for assignments, I do not apply often to scholarships or internships. I am not in more than two clubs on campus. But I am a summer camp counselor. I have been for five years. I pick up shifts at Steam Anchor Coffee Co. where I work. I have always picked up extra shifts. And it has never been for money. It is because I liked my job. I like working with kids. I like to write, but not when someone else tells me what to write, where I can take evidence from, how long the piece has to be, and when I have to have it complete. I like to learn, but when I find things interesting. 

I am more in the Chemistry Teacher Education major for teaching than chemistry. And as I have said, ‘if not me then who?’ If I don’t pick up this shift and help someone else out, then who will. Because the group chats are most often silent. The National Science Foundation created a nation-wide scholarship for university juniors and seniors studying to become teachers in the STEM subjects. At my school there are 3 math majors, 2 bio, and 1 chem. Me. There are no physics teachers. I was not even a junior when I received my scholarship. I was a sophomore with junior hours thanks to the 7 dual-enrollment courses in high school.

My mom is going to be so mad at me because I had to withdraw from both of my summer classes. I did not make a lick of time for either of them in the first week. And, well, it set me up for failure. Late work gets zero’s in the gradebook so I would have an ‘F’. But instead I choose ‘W’. I have withdrawn from a class before. I withdrew from a psychology course my second semester of freshman year at Clinton Community College. I was registered for 5, 16-week classes and I looked at the workload after syllabus week and said, “Nope.” I got 100% tuition reimbursement though since I withdrew during the first week.

This is starting to sound like a sob-story and I hate it.

I am thinking of completely leaving college altogether. But I do not want to be considered a drop-out. I want to get a degree in something since I am already here. But, when I come home for summer I am blinded with the amount of people that go straight into the workforce or military after high school. Or they stopped after receiving an associate’s or a certificate or license. I am not sure I am cut out for the length of time it will take me to finish my bachelor’s in Chemistry Teacher Education (especially since I withdrew from two classes this summer).

I really liked geology, but I am not sure I liked it enough to do a whole major in it. I have said this about concerts as well. I like Taylor Swift, but I’m not sure I like her enough to go sit through 3 hours of her.

Am I screwed? No one is going to give a summer job to someone wanting to start in mid-June and leaving and mid-August. No one is going to give a scholarship to someone who would rather see a ‘W’ on her college record than an ‘F’. No one is going to give a scholarship to someone who procrastinates so bad she just doesn’t do her assignments. No one is going to give a scholarship to a hypocrite.

[emptymanuscript]

I admit I'm on the fence about AI in general... well, on the I have never used it and am not sure if I ever should but I've got the deep fear of missing out side.

But in the context of learning, it strikes me as falling in the same landscape as a calculator or Excel. I use a calculator or (actually more commonly) Excel to do any math because I'm not particularly good at math and never really have been.

BUT

When I was growing up, you did NOT get to use a calculator until you knew how to calculate. This was not a thing to make us suffer or just make life more difficult.

I also had stupid tests where I had to solve 100 math problems in 3 minutes, and I'm not about to argue that was good for me, helped me, or should be inflicted on subsequent generations.

I had to learn how to calculate BECAUSE of the above. If YOU don't know how to calculate, then it is impossible to tell if the calculator gave you the correct answer or not.

Back when I used to post to r/excel, I used to get flack for not showing the "EFFICIENT" way to solve problems but instead would show things step by step. But this is the same thing. If you do things in a big complicated group, you either get the right answer or the wrong answer. If you do things step by step you can CHECK your answer step by step and see if they make sense.

Do I need to know how to do 87^2 in my head in 30 seconds or less? No. I really don't. But I do need to know what is going on and why it is happening.

87^2 = 7,569 is great for a calculator to do. The calculator absolutely can do it faster than most people can. But if I just plug in 87^2 and get 689, how do I verify it? How do I check? Can I even realize, hmmm, that doesn't look quite right. Are my functions all right?

Knowing what is going on is the insurance for that. I can probably catch that, oh, I was trying to use a clever trick and forgot some steps.

The answer isn't all that is important.

And yes, it absolutely can make you dumber. Like I got to hear a discussion between two lecturers I really liked. And one just went off on a tangent and the other was clearly wondering why the hell she was there, this isn't science. BUT because I knew the details of how they were both dealing with the basic problem they were talking about - current science not being able to successfully predict certain phenomenon without numbers to fudge the situation that represent things that can't be proven independently of the need to fudge the numbers - I was able to follow the miscommunication while they, themselves, could not. His tangent made perfect sense in the context of his field of interest and made zero sense in hers. And if all you have the answers with no information of how you got to them, there's zero way to connect "I think the Sun might be conscious" and "I think half of the standard model is based on incorrect assumptions." They were in fact talking about the same things and differing solutions but there's no way to align that without talking about the assumptions, which needs to be laid out in order to UNDERSTAND the answer.

And struggling with my FOMO on writing, there's the basic truth that the reason I fear like I'm missing out is in part because I AM an expert. I have a graduate degree in TEACHING creative writing. I know my shit. So if I ask ChatGPT or whatever to spit out a scene for me, I not only can tell if it is good or bad, I can explain WHY it is good or bad and what needs to be done to improve it. I have zero fear of amateurs asking ChatGPT to spit out a novel for them and getting a novel of quality that I will be competing with. I am scared of people with enough knowledge of how writing works and knowledge of how ChatGPT creating the equivalent situation of me doing long division on paper while they're plugging the equations into a calculator.

A calculator, used as a tool, by someone who understands what they're doing, can do calculations faster and with less errors than someone who also understands what they're doing but isn't using a calculator. But it's not the difference of one being able to do it and another not. It's a difference of speed and accuracy.

It's an entirely different set up when it's someone who understands what they're doing versus someone who doesn't. You can give someone who doesn't know what they're doing all the tools in the world and it will still take them longer and produce an inferior product because they can't understand what they're doing.

And that's the basic problem with using ChatGPT for education. Yes, it can give you an answer. But because you don't know how, you simply have to trust that it is the correct answer. With no way to double check, no way to gauge, and no way to adjust the workflow to better suit your needs.

It absolutely is shooting themselves in the foot. Because school is the point where access to help with process and WHY things work the way to do is easiest to get. It does simply get harder to find the farther away from educational opportunities you get. And when you need it to work isn't the best time to be trying to figure out what you're really doing instead of already having that education and skill under your belt.

It's also relying on the fatal assumption that tomorrow is going to look like yesterday. My earliest datable memory is June 1st 1982. The world is so profoundly different in February 13th 2025, that I am very comfortable promising you that the idea that you can depend on the world looking the same for your entire life WILL get you into trouble because that's simply not the way the world works. Certainly not now. The assumption that it is safe to use ChatGPT now because you will always be able to use ChatGPT is a set up for failure. Will there always be tools? Yes. Will you know how to get future tools to work the same way as ChatGPT? Probably not. I grew up using Dos and then Window's machines. These days, the programs are so different, I find it easier to use a Mac instead of learning the new way that Windows does things.

If you rely on a particular tool solving a problem for you in a way you don't understand beyond that tool giving you the answer, you will be relearning the tool every large iteration. And eventually it will be different enough that it will set you back. That you will essentially be starting from nearly scratch. And then what? If you don't know what kind of answer you should get, how are you going to know if you're using that new tool correctly because some engineer decided that it is more efficient to move in a different direction?

Even novels have changed over the course of my life. Every book I've read that was published in the last 15 years breaks fundamental rules I was taught back in the early 90's. The conventions that I would have insisted that ChatGPT follow have changed. But if I didn't know WHY those conventions existed how would I even know? How would I adjust? Why would it even occur to me that I needed to adjust? ChatGPT sure doesn't know.

That's probably fine if it's just something you're doing for fun.

But if it is your job? Getting things wrong can be the difference between keeping that job and going hungry. It is not a good idea to be utterly dependent on your tools. Tools are to make what you're doing easier, not to do the task for you all together.

Yeah, just don't. The grades are not as important as what you will be able to do (or not be able to do) later in life. And sometimes that later can be a LOT sooner than you anticipate. I watched a LOT of people wash out or nearly wash out of college because they didn't know the whys and hows of what they were doing academically. I saw straight A students flunk out because they just learned the cheat or because their schools were crap and only taught one way to do things or taught nothing at all and just let the cards fall. I had a good friend who came in with a 4.2 GPA and nearly flunk out because she wasn't taught basic skills I had gotten in middle school.

Which was intentional.

Because she was black and poor and I wasn't.

Her schooling was designed to fail her because the best way to make sure someone as smart as her STAYED black and poor was to let her fly without ever teaching her the skills to do better when she needed to. And she was damned smart. And she worked damned hard. And she pulled through and got a master's before I did. But she was in the extreme minority and had a lot of help and still slid through by the skin of her teeth. Most people in her position crashed and burned and ended up WORSE off than they started. Which is great for the powers that be because it makes them a demonstration of why you shouldn't even try. It shows that society is stacked against you. Because it is. Because it is designed to fail.

Understand that ChatGPT is the same set up. It will make things easier. For now. It will give you the answers. It will work. Until it hits the level it can't anymore. And that WILL happen. It is inevitable. And then you have no supports and you ARE going to crash and burn.

There is a reason that ChatGPT is cheap and being forced on everyone. It is controlled by the people who are being served by the current societal structure.

Are you being served? Are you sure? Because if there is ANYTHING about you they can benefit by crushing, washing you out, setting you out to sacrifice, they're going to do it. Anything that is free in our society is a tool to make YOU the product. And they're damn good at doing it. So think long and hard about using that tool when they have so much history and investment in making you crap out for their benefit. Don't rely on them to save you.

I just started grad school this fall after a few years away from school and man I did not realize how dire the AI/LLM situation is in universities now. In the past few weeks:

I chatted with a classmate about how it was going to be a tight timeline on a project for a programming class. He responded "Yeah, at least if we run short on time, we can just ask chatGPT to finish it for us"

One of my professors pulled up chatGPT on the screen to show us how it can sometimes do our homework problems for us and showed how she thanks it after asking it questions "in case it takes over some day."

I asked one of my TAs in a math class to explain how a piece of code he had written worked in an assignment. He looked at it for about 15 seconds then went "I don't know, ask chatGPT"

A student in my math group insisted he was right on an answer to a problem. When I asked where he got that info, he sent me a screenshot of Google gemini giving just blatantly wrong info. He still insisted he was right when I pointed this out and refused to click into any of the actual web pages.

A different student in my math class told me he pays $20 per month for the "computational" version of chatGPT, which he uses for all of his classes and PhD research. The computational version is worth it, he says, because it is wrong "less often". He uses chatGPT for all his homework and can't figure out why he's struggling on exams.

There's a lot more, but it's really making me feel crazy. Even if it was right 100% of the time, why are you paying thousands of dollars to go to school and learn if you're just going to plug everything into a computer whenever you're asked to think??

[everythingismadeofchaos]

I get that YouTube drama is some pretty weak shit to get interested in. I get that most of YouTube contains misinformation, often the people you hear from are not qualified to really promulgate the ideas that they are waving around like giant flags, that a lot of YouTube is just people disagreeing with each other and making responses to responses to responses to responses. Logical fallacies fly back and forth like cannonballs. One side accepts facts the other one doesn't.

But it's a hell of a gift that if I have a passing interest in something vaguely controversial among kooky people, like astronomy is to the flat Earthers, or like actual history is to the biblical literalists, or like evolutionary biology is to the young Earth creationists, I can get to know specific YouTubers with actual qualifications and come to trust them and learn an enormous amount a specific field of study while listening to the glorious evisceration of these grifting cretinous assholes. It is an absolute pleasure beyond belief to hear somebody like Paulogia casually and politely and calmly go through a Ken Ham video point by point pointing out every lie, every intentional misstatement, while a guest, represented by a cartoon on his show, often sporting credibility in the form of an advanced degree from an accredited University, casually teaches me real information about how the world actually works.

Science presenters on television used to work so hard. They had budgets far beyond what a guy in his basement in Canada has access to. And they produced great things, like Carl Sagan's Cosmos show or Connections, starring James Burke. Those things are marvelous and instructive pieces of art that give you a casual familiarity with interesting quirks of history or facts that you can read entire books about later but at the very least keep you informed as to what the current human understanding is as regards some specific field of study.

But Gutsick Gibbon keeps me entertained. It's not even a fair contest. It's like watching the Tampa Bay buccaneers play a game of American football against my 10-year-old nephew's baseball team. It's not even close. She's a PhD student arguing with a breatharian. But the drama is so fun. It's so satisfying to hear these posturing nitwits actively making stuff up and misinterpreting stuff they heard on one of these preposterous History Channel shows about aliens and the pyramids, carefully edited together with measured responses that teach me more about anatomy and human history than I learned watching a decade's worth of documentaries in my twenties.

Sci Man Dan. Gutsick Gibbon. Paulogia. HealthyGamerGG. Dan McClellan. The Green brothers, Hank and John. Stand-Up maths. The Millennial Gardner. Emma Thorne. Lindsay Nikole. Dami Lee. Sabine Hossenfelder. EV Nautilus. Yoga with Adriene, Oh God how could I forget someone who makes me feel 5 years younger if I pay enough attention to her. Rocky Kanaka ... I learned a little bit about dog psychology from my sister, who used to train dogs, and a little bit about it from my friend who used to rescue and foster dogs, but I learned a lot from Rocky Kanaka, and his videos are so positive and upbeat sometimes they make me cry a little bit. In a good way, I mean. There's so much stuff to learn. You have to fact check things, but all of these people are just giving me all of this knowledge for free. That's a brilliant thing and I treasure it. Crime Pays but Botany Doesn't! Learn new things and have a brilliant time at the same time! And I can listen while I'm driving around and doing nothing important anyway! I just can't watch like that obviously. But still! It's great! Anton Petrov! Sauti Reese! Good god, I've learned things from Sir Sic I'd never thought about before, and that guy is, well, a dumb. Edit: dear God, how could I forget about Angela Collier? And I'm sure there are other people I'm forgetting about.

I'm so pleased to be here you guys. Going to go cut the grass with my noise suppression earbuds. I love you all

[poltergeist-coffee]

Writing this while my physics teacher corrects the exams

I don't have anxiety but I might have now because of him

Help

Anyway

About the college au

YAS, ART STUDENT JAIDEN FOR THE WIN

Also, I love the duality of Jaiden and Cellbit, they are both obsessed with Cucurucho in opposite ways and I think Cellbit deserves to hate Cucurucho without reason

He has enough traumas on canon

Do you have any idea for the french in the au?

- 🍽️

i’m sure you did great plate anon <33 i don’t think i’ve personally ever took a physics class before… i always did chemistry (which sucks) (i’m so bad at science and math MAKNCINKAJO)

rip cellbit <//3 in every universe he hates cucurucho but has to listen to jaiden talk about it like it’s her best friend

hmmm for the french in the au…

i think baghera would be an animal conservation major? just something to do with nature in general or she’s a law student as well. etoiles in the au is whatever the real life streamer has done (i think cc!etoiles has said before he studied like computer science or something?? i don’t remember). Antoine i have no idea but maybe linguistics or something to do with language could be cool? Aypierre very obviously is an engineering major and Kameto is in business.

I’ve thought the most about etoiles in the au so MKSNHCKJA uh mini ramble about him so sorry <//3

he’s apart of an esports club on campus and gone to tournaments and stuff before which he’s won!! he’s sort of well known for being super fucking good at Smash Bros and beating literally anyone who challenges him lol. i think he would also teach a self defense class or help run it (pac found out and immediately signed up for it btw…if u even care…). i think etoiles would just be content living in a box but none of his friends are so he is roommates with antoine (by force) (dw he’s fine) etoiles also would probably never go out to any school event unless he’s physically dragged there or he hears that philza is also going (they’re best friends you honor) then he’s more willing to attend kekw