#it feels like you have a better understanding of who they are to each other than even i do 😌 very much a fan

[cugzarui]

i am not saying you are intentionally guilting people onto being vegan but guilting is very much a key component of your argument. if this is something that moves you then i invite you to look into why that is.

yes evolution WILL create an organism that overproduces to the point of harm. humanity itself is a prime example. i do not assume that bees oftenly encounter this problem in nature. it is undoubtedly a product of artificially changing their environment. but evolution is not a conscious process that plans ahead and prepares for every contingency. if a mechanism that tells you to stop making honey is not beneficial to your immediate survival, or is not a byproduct of some other adaptation, you will simply not have it. this still doesnt mean humans harm bees by creating an environment where theyd produce more honey. you could do that just by creating a higher density of flowers around the hive. is such manipulation of the environment bad? probably not but that is a separate issue to whether it harms bees. which, why would it?

modifying animals with selective breeding to suit our needs is indeed morally dubious. it is also, already done. there is no moral way to undo it for several of the species weve modified (cows would do fine just being returned to the wild from what i understand. sheep though...) if these animals already exist and can give us what we need in a way that isnt harmful to them in their current form, and we can treat them respectfully and caringly then isnt that the most moral course of action? and each animal is a different case with its own circumstances. arguing that beekeeping isnt wrong and arguing that sheering sheep isnt wrong and arguing that milking cows isnt wrong are all different things which do not have much to do with each other, other than the fact that humans are involved.

yes we are quite far from where pretty much any animal is in the food chain. we are also still very much part of the food chain. it will only become a moot point when we no longer rely on earth for nutrients. which will never happen.

we are animals with free will who have always tried to reduce harm. often we were dismissive of the suffering of not just animals but even other humans. still are. but despite what some people believe no human ever wants to do something wrong or cause unnecessary harm. we only ever disagree on which harm is necessary and which is not, and why. yes we have free will and are not limited to a set of basal instinct but we are not free of them. nor are we free of logistical limitations or imperfections. could we do better? yes. should we do better? also yes. do we have good valid reasons why we havent gotten there yet that dont just boil down to "we didnt feel like it"? again, yes.

Vegans of tumblr, listen up. Harvesting agave in the quantities required so you dont have to eat honey is killing mexican long-nosed bats. They feed off the nectar and pollinate the plants. They need the agave. You want to help the environment? Go back to honey. Your liver and thyroid will thank you, as well. Agave is 90% fructose, which can cause a host of issues. Bye.

[janecafe]

ROMANTIC PURSUITS PAC: your next (first) date will be 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

can be applied for future spouse. soulmate. twinflames. crushes and other romantic pursuits.

𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗦𝗘? from the left side to the right side. pick which picture is drowning you with, pulling you in. breathe in and out and start to visualise all the piles. trust your intuition and set aside your aesthetic preferences. enjoy and have fun! 🍀✨

⠀⠀ ⠀𐚁 ❪ヵめへ❫

SHOP | MASTERLIST | JOIN TO MY COMMUNITY

• reblogs for „ huggies

© janecafe 2025

special shout out and credits @uzmacchiato for letting me use your lace divider for free.

template link: here. the basic color divider and edits was mine.

• 𝗨𝗡𝗢

the date is gonna take place at an amusement park. and could be one of you is gonna be late at an agreed time and place. this rendezvous is a moment that engraved your memories in this lifetime, it is gonna be flowing with sweetness. the interaction between two souls is gonna honey, sweet and smooth. i can feel the timidity between these two but it's more likely because before dating, you've already have feelings for each other. which is quite interesting because this sounds like a shelter in my fingertips but the hesitation and insecurities take the lead from this date. well, i quite understand that because it was your first time going out with this individual. perhaps, negativity won't make the situation any better but i advise you to feel the moment--- enjoy and have fun. feelings here are not lying, i can feel the 100% affection from the two of you. i also feel this person is gonna ask tons of questions to you like they want to get to know you more. you may have a remembrance picture from a photo booth or in another term, you gonna take a lot of pictures especially stolen photographs. this on the spot of "spark" date where you gonna feel elated. having conversations with this person is like pulling you into their soul and you want to more. after this first date, i think the text and video calls will be more often. you two will grow closer.

★ check the previous pac

• 𝗗𝗢𝗦

your person is gonna be so damn whipped and tripped for you, my goodness 😩🤌🏻 this person is gonna express their intense feelings towards you like how much they likens their favorite brew. they underscore the profound impact of this date and you in their heart. sissy, their love is like an affogato burning hot but willing to pour more and more dozen. this is date is gonna bring overwhelm feeling at the same time comfort on your side. this date gonna delectable treat that you want to consume every day 😉✨this pile is giving me so much young-spirited epoch. a reminiscent of a teenage love drama that will make you giggle and tickle. i think your will be your tour guide for this date, it feels like this is their favorite place. they will guide you in this place. i found this rom-com lol, where the two of you may seems different from others people at this place. for example, you two are wearing face mask 😷 which you may find odd from others. it's like you gonna feel shy at the same time see it as funny scenario. the place where you two will dine in to eat is something new from your eyes and ears, it can be fine-dining restaurant. although, your date may casually notice your eyes seems wondering and roaming the place where your partner may seem notice. they may buy you something you really want, i can say they are someone who have a lot of money but they are able to afford what you want. thus, i don't feel like the two of you were looking for love or any romantic ship but in the end you gonna feel something with each other. otherwise, i don't see you two as people are hungry and desperate for love perhaps you two wants to take it slow.

★ check the previous pac

𝗧𝗥𝗘𝗦

warning some parts are 18+

geez. so hot. btw, this is kinda similar to group two, your person is gonna spoil you a lot on this date. the first kiss and sex may happen after this date. i see that you will wear something black and your partner is gray partnering with a white. i view the two of you as attractive individuals on this date. this date might take a lot of chances and moving due to busy schedule of you two. thus, i see that in the beginning the conversation is awkward but it end the conversation goes in sexier and hotter. you gonna ogle with each other and thinking some lewd stuff. i also think both you are ready to settle down like you are on right age to get committed. you are interested to get to know each other. i think you are the one who will take the initiative to kiss your person. it seems like you weren't even expecting that this is gonna be your best date? this person is giving you fun that your previous dates don't. thus, this person will bring a lot of healing into your soul and heart. you are gonna feel appreciated and loved by this individual.

★ check the previous pac

jane, the bean fiend tarot reader

˚⊱🍀⊰˚

[vanilleandclove]

carried away; jack abbot x f!trauma surgeon!reader 

fourth of july always has always dampened a stain on your relationship, for the betterment of it, it helps you both understand each other a little bit differently.

warnings: ptsd episode. mass casualty event (mce), pregnancy & pregnancy issues, samira deserves a boy/girlfriend outside of the ed THE GIRL NEEDS NORMALITY AND CARE, aggressive patients, a damn bomb, whole lotta robby yap, langdon goes to rehab but is that really a warning, jack is halfway codependent (man has trauma), there will be a fluffy chapter maybe word count: 4.2k notes: had to search up bizarre stories from the emergency room & ask my immigrant, can do no wrong, dad his crazy stories (radiologist in the emergency department), only for him to ask if i was going to give up film school. if you're unfamilar with emergency depts in america, fourth of july is the peak holiday for injurys and chaos, happy summer for me.

prev - next

“Hey can I use you during the briefing, the Fourth is always a hectic day here, got some new faces and these kids aren’t familiar with how we run things during the summer” Robby asked you as you walked out of the lounge, seeing you lightly waddle as you needed to pee.

“Robby, these kids survived Pitfest- they can handle an independence day- but, sure, let me just handle this real quick” you grunted, feeling your bladder overwhelming full. This time around the life growing inside of you decided to fill and harass your bladder rather than morning sickness. Week 13, you couldn’t wait to get to at least the second trimester. 

You and Jack decided to tell Dana, Bridget, Robby, and Heather. They were the only ones allowed to know, even though it killed Jack to not tell his mom, slowly hurt you to not tell your sister or mom. Heather was ready to throw you a baby shower by the first day, Dana already bought clothes for your little bean. But Jack, Jack was a nervous wreck. Monitoring you closely while you slept and ate, helped you shower as if it was strenuous. He loved seeing your belly grow as small as it did from week 1 to 13. It felt like a year, to him it felt like time slowed just to spare him any worries. 

From babe; 

How’s work? Anything yet? I just fully clocked in lmao, you coming in today? Probably gonna get called in you know how it is every year Not really, this is the first time we didn’t go on vacation Dr. Abbot  Way too early for the teasing honey. I’ll pick you up if I don’t get called in. I love you and bug. We love you too- would love you more if I got lucky tonight. Depends on if you’re a good girl or not doesn’t it?

The most intimate time you’ve both had in 5 weeks was him giving you a foot rub, other than that nothing. You were either too tired and slept in- the pregnancy pillow he got you works wonders, woke up in the middle of the night with indigestion, or you put the lingerie on and then got emotional seeing him- sometimes all the three. You missed your fiancé more than anything.

Upon exiting the bathroom there was Robby grilling into everybody, “Doctor L/n will give you the rundown on how things go surgical wise on today”. 

“Surgery is usually bombarded- it’s a peak day for the entire ED, night shift comes and helps out when they phase in about two to three hours earlier” you announced, you ran this shit as if it were the Navy- courtesy of your man back at home who taught you how his C.O.s talked to him, “We deal with the stroke & heart related issues- I get the more severe cases therefore I am not always going to be down here”. 

You made your way to the board, “Trauma gets a designated 4 operating rooms today, we have three surgeons on call, all trained under me or my predecessor Doctor Greene- bless our lucky asses, Greene comes in to help every Fourth of July” looking directly into everyone’s eyes, Jack’s habit directly rubbed off on you, “Worst we’ve had was Fourth of July 2022, I was up a near 24 hours. We’ve had someone be given a bomb instead of an illegal firework- didn’t detonate, had to call the bomb squad when we were in the OR”.

“20 year old male, Mark Coleman, mom said he bought fireworks in Texas last week only for the fireworks to be an actual bomb- didn’t detonate in the field, bomb squad is already on the way” The EMT ran over to you keeping his voice lowered in order to not panic the crowd, supplying oxygen from the kids intubation, you nodded and ran over to change your gloves as you saw Jack in a woman’s chest cavity trying to stimulate her heart.

“What do you got?” he asked, thinking it would be more interesting, only to be given a concerned and almost scared look from you, “Doctor Shen, take over” John didn’t hesitate to replace Abbot, “Stimulate for another three, if no response send her up with Walsh and Greene”.

He discarded his gloves and placed a hand on your elbow to follow you to Mark, “Have bomb squad come in through the helipad, we can’t afford freaking out anyone down here, we have to operate on the west surgical wing anyway” you told Dana as she nodded.

“Wait, you're operating?” Jack questioned.

“Bomb squad’s going to be in there with me the entire time, I’m the only surgeon available and willing” you looked into his eyes almost as if you were being stern and for your selfish reasons of looking at him, “This is my department Doctor Abbot, don’t question my job, I won’t question yours”.

“I will question it if you’re putting yourself in immediate danger” he told you, searching for the exact feeling you were hiding, fear. 

“It’s my job Jack” you whispered to him before walking off. 

It was a three hour surgery with no one other than your surgical team and the bomb squad on the floor, Greene came in to help if something were to happen to you. Truth was Jack yelled at him over the phone when he told him that you “had it under control”- which you did, Jack barely built up the courage to open up about his war PTSD since he just started going to therapy, you weren’t exactly someone he wanted to handle a bomb extraction. 

When you went back down, he could breathe again, you took your losses as Mark may not be able to speak again as the bomb landed just in the right spot to strain his larynx. 

“There are also a lot of worried parents with children who are the spawns of satan. I had a mom that same year scream in both mine and Doctor Mohan’s face about her son falling into their active fire pit with soot all over his body, minor burns, earned a beautiful punch in the chest” you told them, seeing the smile on Samira’s face as she recalled the memory on the first year of her residency.

“I don’t give a fuck! He is screaming, just take him!” she screamed at you and Samira as you did the exam while explaining to Samira in passing.

“Ma’am there are no burns on your son, enough for it to be surgical or an emergency, we are currently swamped here. We are going to give you three cold compresses and some cream to help, only use Tylenol to control the pain because NSAIDs can be dangerous if he hit his head while falling in” you told her, giving her son a pat on the back as he shook from the bass of her voice as she screamed. 

“You fucking bitch, I pay your fucking wages through all of those fuckass taxes just for you to dismiss my fucking son?”.

You formed a barrier between you and her, making sure Samira wouldn’t be spat on or hit if the mom became even more aggressive.

“Ma’am I can assure you, you do not pay my wage or my coworkers wage, now please take your leave before I have security come and hold you in front of your son- now would you prefer that or the care we just gave you to handle this at home?” you responded, she got in your face only to take a step back and aim directly for your chest, Samira swore she heard a light crack before she screamed for security.

You were fine, winded, but fine none of the less. Jack spent the whole night back at your home kissing the middle of your chest as it began to bruise. You insisted it was because it gave him free reign to play with and admire your tits.

“It’s a hectic day for everyone, best advice I can give to you is phase your main patient load out of here by 4 or 5 pm, firework shows start around that time, by 8 pm you’re hopefully already home and night shift is here, we get all the road accidents here” you told them, “Just like Pitfest, if you cannot find Doctor Robinavitch, Doctor Collins, Doctor Abbot, or myself, the next level of command is to get approval from Doctor Mohan or- Doctor Langdon. Robby, Abbot, and I run things down here, we’ve been doing this together for the past 6 years, today is just one of those days that gets convoluted, now eat and hydrate, good luck”. 

When Frank got back from rehab, Abbot was impressed he put in the work. Heather and you knew he was going to be given his position back immediately and by May Heather had finally completed her residency program- Frank having to make up for the time lost. 

You all had a calm morning, taking a half day to resort for an oncall schedule. By 4 pm you were at home, resting on the couch as Jack made you the lunch you didn’t have time for at work. 

“So far nothing, might just be a quiet Fourth of July” you shouted at him from the living room. 

“Some of my old buddies from the VA invited us down to grill with them at 6, I told them maybe- depends on my wife” Jack said as he brought your food to you on a tray.

“Baby all of them are your age, so old?” you joked, giving him a kiss as he set down your food on the coffee table, “Also wife, Mrs. Abbot hasn’t even been engraved on my social security or Facebook”. 

“Last time I checked you have an Abbot in you”. 

“Unfortunately not in bed” you teased yet again. 

“Eat. Y’Might just pass out if I ravage you before eating” with every dirty joke you gave, Jack’s stoicism would top it. Made for good laughs over the years. Jack made you pass out once from overstimulation, scared the shit out of him, you found it quite sexy that made you feel that good- ever since then, he makes sure you’re hydrated.

You and him were no strangers to calmness in the cusp of afternoons to evenings, especially since you became pregnant, all you both wanted were quiet times like these. By 5:30, you both had showered and got ready for the barbecue Jack promised to attend. Only before you both got the call from Robby and Gloria to come in as there was a shooting at the Fourth of July firework show. Normally, you admired your fiancés punctuality, but he stood there pondering while staring into your soul. 

“You’re going?”.

“It’s a MCE, of course I’m going” you responded, grabbing your spare scrubs you kept hung up and sneakers, you were on your feet all day.

The reality of it was Jack was worried about another miscarriage, worried about you overworking yourself. He put limits where he knew you misconstrued them. 

“You’re being reckless” he blurted out as you packed your bag, you froze from the words that left his mouth, “I’m sorry honey but-“.

You swallowed the heartbreak that came with your fiancé questioning if you had the strength to get through this while pregnant. Swallowed the doubt that he put on you because he was worried, the doubt that only shined to you where he thought you couldn’t do your job while pregnant. The same doubt men put other women through because they think it’s not their place or they don’t belong. 

“We’ll talk about this later” you told him, shrugging him off as you walked away. Jack knew your limits under the guise of understanding you, though as much as it prided you both it had its repercussions such as right now. 

The car ride was quiet and tense, the air thick and both of your throats dry. You wouldn’t argue before work, everything stayed at home. As much as you knew where  his concern came from, you knew if something were to happen, he’d silently blame you in the deepest part of him even if his body rejected that fact. 

You took your leave ahead of Jack, feeling the light jerks of your stomach, there’s a version of you and Jack and you’re carrying it. You felt the weight of your chest as your breasts were sore from the bra and hormones. You saw both Javadi and Langdon outside as they handled triage, giving them the best of luck.

“What happened?” you asked Dana at her desk.

“Shooting at the park, we’re expecting 67 patients in the ambulances, maybe more depending on transport. You okay honey?” she questioned, seeing the tiredness in your eyes. 

“Yeah, some jerks but at least bean is moving” you lowered your voice. Normally, you wouldn’t feel your baby moving until a few more weeks, with your hyper vigilance and rotations to OB during residency, you knew the movement, the little soft jerks. You also knew you couldn’t wait for your womb to move away from your bladder and for the light aches of your hips to stop. “No sign of Greene? He never misses a year”.

Dana shrugged as she called her family, everyone around you called their loved ones as you just shrugged yours off. When Jack came in, it was your instinct to lean into his close proximity, your own way of telling him “I love you” while on the clock. His breath against the skin of your neck and the squeeze he gave your hand, it was going to be a long night. 

“Okay, this is not the first MCE you all have gone through, I hope we all are familiar with the protocol for tonight. Doctor Abbot, Shen, Collins, and myself are going to stay down here at all times. Your number one determinant for surgical cases will go to Doctor L/n, can’t find her? Go to Walsh, we have three fellows courtesy of Doctor L/n on standby in the ORs, send your patients up immediately, they know you’re coming” Robby announced, “SWAT and the police haven’t identified a shooter therefore they will be collecting any and all fragments of evidence taken from patients, upon extraction give it to an attending. Unfortunately, we are the only trauma center nearby, we are putting ourselves at risk for the shooter to arrive here”. 

Jack felt your body tense from behind him, his knuckles finding their way to rolling against your spine to ease tension. You waited a few seconds before speaking up. 

“Any and all cardio, neuro, pediatric, and advanced traumas go to me. Lower grade trauma, general, ophthalmic, and ortho will be split between Garcia and Walsh. Nipples to navel is no-man’s land if you for any reason believe your patient cannot get the most adequate standard of care for the situation, send them to surgery immediately” you told all of them, “If I am not available or are already in an OR, I can work on up to three patients per OR, I’ve done it before, I can do it again”. 

“You’re authorized for neuro?” Whitaker and Santos both questioned you, slowly being tempted to swap to surgery. 

“Neurosurgeons are hard to come by, no one ever wants to hire more because of pay grade. Therefore everyone else has to pick up the slack” you answered, “Doctor Rios is our attending Neurosurgeon, he taught me everything I need to know”. 

“Doctor Mohan and McKay, you’ll be with me and Walsh” you told both of them, “It’s going to be a long night”.

After dismissal you heard the distant sirens from the ambulances, giving Jack enough time to check up on you. 

“He’ll come by, he never misses a Fourth” Jack reassured you as you rapidly typed on your phone to Greene’s wife.

“His daughter’s family was over there, pretty sure they all went” you told him, shaking your head slightly before putting your phone away, “You sure you’re ready for this?”.

“Nothing we haven’t seen”. 

You looked at him once more, you saw the apprehension. Last Fourth of July he worked, a firework went off in the halls and sent him into a frenzy the rest of the night. You were a senior resident, just before you and Jack decided to finally take things seriously. 

“Doctor Abbot we ran out of chest tubes Princess told me-“ you walked into a room filled with blood all over the floor and no one else but Jack who was sunk down to the floor, prosthetic to the side of him. “Jack?”.

He remained quiet as he picked at his cuticles, blood trickling from his hand, there was a deep gash in the palm of his hand, blood flowing more as he flexed his hand. 

“Jack” you took a step closer just before he fixed his eyes on you, bloodshot and pupils blown. His hair was caked in blood, “Baby let me stitch-“.

“No” he spoke up, eyes never leaving yours. Luckily, it was cooled down outside, nothing too serious to begin with minus the car collisions that sent three families here. Jack had worked on one of the moms, the mom whose blood now coated the floor and him. “I couldn’t save him,” he muttered.

Your eyebrows furrowed, taking a look at the leftover chart to see if the mom was accidentally misplaced. Only to realize Jack wasn’t thinking coherently, “Baby, the Jamison’s mom is with Greene. She’s okay, he does thank you for stabilizing her”. 

“I couldn’t save him” a sob wrecked through his throat. You took your chances and got down on your knees, the blood on the floor staining your scrubs, making yourself be at eye level to him. 

You cautiously snapped your sterile gloves off to cup his face with your hands, only after you placed his spare hand on your chest where your heart was beating- erratically from the subsiding adrenaline. The blood from his hand coated your scrubs.

“Breathe with and repeat after me” you instructed, “Your name is Jack Abbot, you are currently in Pittsburgh as an attending emergency physician, in a trauma room with Y/n”.

He lightly breathed, his breath shuddered as he opened his mouth, “My name is Jack Abbot. I am currently in Pittsburgh and an attending emergency physician, in trauma room 3 with Y/n L/n”. 

“I am not overseas in war”. 

“I am not overseas in war”.

He calmed down as you tested it another three times. Upon the third he got up and let you clean and dress his gash. “What are you thinking?” you asked, silently giving him stitches. 

“I’m lucky to be with you”.

You smiled lightly, “You’re lucky it wasn’t Langdon who came in” chortling quietly, “three more stitches and you should be good cowboy”. 

“70 year old male, multiple GSWs to the chest, wife helped stabilize him on the field”.

“Mrs. Greene?” you called out as you walked away from Jack. 

Doctor Peter Greene was the 70 year old male with the 7 gunshot wounds to his chest. His wife, Lisa, was an anesthesiologist up until last year, she was barely 65.

“Oh my god Y/n” she sobbed before engulfing you into a hug, “Please help him” you nodded as you pulled away running off to the trauma bay they held him.

“Send him to the OR now, Samira you’re scrubbing in with me” you directed, “Cassie, Lisa Greene is out there, she’s bleeding from her legs I think she was shot can you check up on her?” both the girls nodded as you wheeled Greene to the elevator.

“Are you sure you want me to scrub in?” Samira asked as you reached the elevator, it was just you two- well three. 

“Samira, I’m pregnant” you confessed as the elevator doors closed on the two of you, “I’ve already miscarried once, I don’t plan on that again, I’m hoping his stubborn ass pulls through so my baby isn’t distressed from me being stressed, you being there is more than enough”. 

She looked stunned from the confession, smiling in the light of the situation, “Do you want me to get an OB down after just to see where things are?”.

“I may need you to sub in so I can sit down once or twice, I’ll be with you the entire time” you told her, just as you reached the third floor. The surgical wing was scattered as you made it to OR 4, your body stiffened up with worry as you realized it was the same OR. 

4 hours, it took you and Samira 4 hours to get every bullet, repair any tissue. You stood standing the entire time, your heels ached, knees slightly wobbly. Luckily, Greene was stable and okay, the ED only lost 2 patients that day, most non-surgical minus laparotomies split between your fellows and Walsh. You gave your graces to Samira as she beamed with joy, her job was her life, but luckily, you convinced her to finally go on a date every once and awhile.

The most important part, you still felt the light jerks. Peeing finally felt like liberation, what you really wanted was a bath and maybe a soda to substitute the craving for wine. You wanted to talk.

“Abbot?” you asked Bridget as her and Dana contacted the hospital officials to open the emergency department again. Bridget pointed up and you gave her a thumbs up. 

There on the roof, Jack was admiring the skyline with Robby. As the elevator dinged, Robby took his leave, giving you a smile and a nod.

“How’s Greene?”.

“Good, he almost woke up from the anesthesia, but other than that, stubborn bastard is asleep in post-op. His daughter came to drop off some clothes and food” you filled him in, the silence found the both of you in an unwelcoming way, “You doubted me today”.

“I did”.

“I became a surgeon at 22, by 27 I was already an attending” you started, “I’ve also was lucky enough to have Greene and Adamson as mentors, you and Robby as colleagues” you boasted, feeling the wind blow through your hair, “But, you walk into a room and patients don’t doubt you for a singular second. I walk in and it’s always a question of if I belong here- it’s not an age thing, that I learned a long time ago” you licked your lips before continuing, “I can feel our baby moving, at 13 weeks, I can feel it, I didn’t before. I think it’s because I’m a doctor, I am aware of the feeling. Let me put the limit on what I can and can’t do”.

Jack finally looked over at you, “I’m sorry” he started, sighing gently, “I feel you walk away and it scares the living shit out of me” raking his hand through his curls, “I feel selfish a bit, knowing you’re out of reach, that you’re upstairs operating and I don’t know what’s happening”.

You smiled at the sentiment of care, “I’m working” you told him, “I’m doing the job I fell in love with when I was a kid. Now my knees and back hurt both from age and the fact that there is a little Abbot in me” you took a second for him to smile, “This job gave me you, gave me some of the best memories I could imagine, I’d bargain the recklessness every single day if it meant I’m ending up with you”. 

He chuckled, moving away from his spot and climbing over the bars to hold you in his arms. He goes on the roof to admire the city, rather than the want to leave it. 

“Sometimes I feel like I’m back out there, fighting”.

“I know. You talk in your sleep a lot” you told him. 

You saved him as much as he saved you.

dividers by @cafekitsune

[chimerafeathers]

party pov of the Siffrinless run through the House during the Loop hangout has a hold on me rn…

i spoke broadly about it in this post but each of them would have much more personal conflicts and thoughts about Siffrin just…..disappearing without a word on the day of the final battle.

i was gonna talk about all of them in one post but i kept having more to say about Mirabelle. and i don’t talk about Mirabelle in depth as much as she deserves. so!

Party POV of Loop Hangout Day - MIRABELLE EDITION

we don’t see the clocktower interaction play out after Siffrin agrees to hang out with Loop, but there’s no reason to believe it goes much differently than usual without the friendquests changing things. which means this probably happens

We’ll stay with you, Mira. Siffrin says it every time this conversation happens.

Mirabelle offers them all a final opportunity to back out. she’s felt guilty, this entire time, dragging everyone along with her on a quest that feels doomed to fail, and that more than half of the party shouldn’t even really be involved with—a child, and two travelers risking their lives for a country that isn’t theirs, just because they had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

they should be allowed to leave. she may not have a choice, but the rest of them do. so she tries to offer them this escape, even though the thought of what’s ahead fills her with dread, even if she’s terrified she was the wrong choice for something this important and may not be able to protect them, or even succeed at all. and it’s such a relief and a comfort that they all choose to stay anyway, and she doesn’t have to face the House alone. she has support, company, friends to rely on. people who believe in her even when she doesn’t believe in herself.

except when they wake up the next morning, Siffrin is nowhere to be found. not in the clocktower, not in the town. how long do they search? how long does it take them to decide this must be his real answer to the question Mirabelle posed the night before?

Mirabelle takes Siffrin’s act 5 behavior…very personally. in her hurt and anger, she decides that if nothing’s wrong, if he thought it was okay to say something like that in that moment, they must have always been a worse person than she thought they were. she was always uncertain of his motives, his attitude. she reassures herself that their teasing is friendly, like it’s something she has to convince herself is true.

but some part of her really did believe that he saw himself as better than the rest of them—even if she never treated them with anything other than kindness! she didn’t let her uncertainty or anxiety get in the way of treating him with warmth, ignoring the potential bad-faith explanations of his behavior and trusting that they had better intentions than her fears would lead her to believe…until she had evidence that, just maybe, those fears weren’t so unfounded.

the Housemaiden in the Prologue even says that she thought they were mean, at first. uncaring. an impression that didn’t turn around until Siffrin got hurt protecting Bonnie. maybe it’s cheating a little bit to bring Prologue dialogue into an ISAT discussion since they’re not perfectly identical timelines, but i think it lines up with ISAT Mirabelle thinking Siffrin saw themself as “better” than her.

Prologue:

ISAT:

she applies this judgement not just in the moment, but retroactively. whatever goodwill and trust she had read into their behavior before, it’s gone. the person she reassured herself that he was would never do something like this, so she must have failed to understand him entirely, from the very beginning.

there’s no confrontation, in the Hangout loop. just a silent disappearance. they have no context or explanation for what happens. no heightened emotions from the immediacy of insults and anger thrown in their faces. but whatever emotions bubble up have time to simmer.

i can imagine Mirabelle’s thought process might be quite similar to how it is in Act 5.

something must be wrong, for them to act like this. to disappear without a word after promising everyone that they’d stay.

but if nothing’s wrong…she must have been wrong about them. he isn’t the person she thought he was. how could they leave now, after what they already sacrificed defending Bonnie? or was it because of what he lost defending them—that he had given all he was willing to give, and no more?

did they finally decide Mirabelle wasn’t a person worth believing in anymore? that her mission wasn’t important enough to waste his life in its pursuit? that someone like them shouldn’t bother following someone as weak as her?

she gave them the option to leave. she feels guilty that it hurts so much that he took it. angry and betrayed that he would lie to their faces and leave without a goodbye, when for all they know they’ll never see each other again. did they all really matter so little to him?

or was he scared, and unable to face them out of shame? can she really blame them for that, knowing her own terror at what entering the House will bring? maybe he’s just as scared as she is, even if he never shows it like she does. it’s their choice. he has no responsibility here, no obligation to stay and put himself in danger for their sakes. she offered them this. she offered them this. they’re allowed to change their mind. what right does she have to be angry? she would have understood if they’d just!! said something!!! it would have hurt, still, but, but—

did she ever really understand them at all, if she couldn’t see this coming?

[dark-wackademia]

Concerning the NI bit, as an INTJ, this is true to a point. If I feel like I can actually share openly, I'll keep getting more relaxed at being myself, sharing myself, getting longer and deeper with my texts and convos until I see something that tells me more of who you really are, and if that is not in alignment with essential parts of who I am. Usually, that’s eventually where the disconnect comes into play and shifts how I interact. Seeing this and allowing it to click makes me not give the same energy, not as a dig at them in any bitterness but in knowing they won’t get it. It’s like being in one place in development and trying to talk to someone that is nowhere near that place, you can’t knock 'em for being uncaring about the matters that they haven’t danced with as you have. I guess, for me, always finding out people are who they say they are still is something that I cope with in a grieving sense, being that I believe we are so much more than what we think we are.

Anyway, yeah, I'm an open book of the flux and flow I philosophize my way through but only with people that are receptive, show enjoyment and engagement with, and or get what it is I’m sharing. Otherwise, it feels like I'm being vulnerable in seeking a deeper, real connection and expression of authentically living and being, only to feel disrespected, disregarded, and undervalued—or, on a very soul level, rejected like they are rejecting the parts of themselves I’m trying to show them… but my answer is right there. I understand I’m just a mirror and what they reject of me, is just reflective of what they reject in themselves. It’s sad how many are unhealed to the extent of rejecting their possibility, especially in the aspect of healing, growing, and rebuilding themselves, of their power. If they’re rejecting parts of themselves, and not abiding by themselves, then how do I expect them to offer me a sliver of such a thing? Which I am learning to more quickly acclimate to, as an INTJ, despite my proclivities for holding out hope, since I just hate feeling like I'm wasting my time and energy. And it’s nothing against them for just not being there, but it’s still disheartening.

So, often I'll go back to concise and “normal” speech because I don't have the energy to share something that doesn't matter to them, that they’re not ready to do something with. What’s the point? I was just talking to my super spiritual sister in law who's some type of ExFx, I can't recall. But we do still get each other because she is proactive with her life/cycles and is always willing to face the truth and facts, however upsetting, however raw and brutally honest, to better work her way through it to heal. I relate with that. Which to me, is the BIGGEST part of knowing if a dynamic will work long term or not, for me. IDC how long you cycle in your loops, I’m the type that’s in control of my emotions enough to deal with any frustration of you not taking advice and it coming to fruition (ie. making a mistake) to keep helping you via hours upon hours, days upon days, forever, through your journey because I know THAT’S life. That is living. And I know we all have them, our own loops. I get that we’re all learning and relearning, dismantling and rebuilding, imperfect and trying. But, in this, we recognise the difference between saying and doing. She and I are doers. We love this death and rebirth cycle and chase that growth, changing for the better, no matter how hard the work ahead is. That is the main plus someone can have in my book. Courage, determination, and self-accountability for the things you say matter to you. A deeper consciousness that you do something with. Escaping the loop. But I thankfully am learning how to not people please and let go when I recognize something isn’t working for me and letting a relationship just be what it is. Sometimes, the best thing we can offer is the space and time for that person to decide on their own, who they are and what work matters to them in their life. I have to do the same, regardless, so sticking with that has been helpful. Which is to say, learning and relearning how to keep abiding by myself. Plus, doing something that makes me just feel further alone and misunderstood for the sake of others is people pleasing and the type of self-sabotaging/self-defeating behavior I've worked, and continue to work hard to not fall into. I have to do more of what makes me feel like I'm actually doing something of substance with my time and energy. I have to do what's right for me, and they, as well.

Acceptance is always the key though, and I’m finally really learning how to keep hold of that key in every situation, and in this, my peace, contentment, and embracing of all, as it is, while still accepting me and what is and isn't working for me.

MBTI Types & Texting Styles

Perceiving Functions

xNxP | High Ne: uses run-on sentences and parentheses (to maximize info-dumping and clarification via extraneous details, respectively)

xNxJ | High Ni: Short and simple sentences. It’s not intentionally “dry”, it’s just effective word choice.

xSxP | High Se: lowercase letters/free form sentences and p much any slang they wanna use bc its just texting and not deep enough for proper spelling and grammar

xSxJ | High Si: Breaking up responses to multiple topics into separate paragraphs.

It’s easier to keep track of what you’re talking about this way.

—

Judging Functions

xxFJ | High Fe: traditional/safe emojis and slang for effective communication ie. lol, brb, ☺️, 😅 periods in the middle are okay. Periods at the end are intimidating so it’s best to avoid those

xxFP | High Fi: Using creative combinations of emojis ( 🙏😩 | 👁️👄👁️ | 🥺👉👈) for the ultimate range of personal expression

xxTJ | High Te: Capital letters, and advanced punctuation; they exist for a reason. Big fan of the Oxford Comma.

xxTP | High Ti: Correct spelling and grammar is mostly a byproduct of autocorrect unless its absolutely necessary. it doesnt have to be perfext just understandable

[stxxrlights]

𝐄𝐗-𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

ex-husband!toji who was devastated when you asked for a divorce but knew it was gonna end up that way. the way he acted like he never cared, always acting sassy towards you even on the days he knew there was something wrong with you on that day. he didn't know that all that would lead up to you eventually wanting a divorce. he denied at first but after thinking it through, he knew it was for the best.

ex-husband!toji who cried himself to sleep the first few months after you had left. the house never felt so empty and quiet. the bed was so warm and everything looked so dull. he missed your warm touch, your weird but cute laugh, the stupid jokes you would tell him when you were getting too sleepy. and now all of that was gone. all because of his ignorance, his negligence. he had finally found happiness with you and he fucked it up. his heart aching whenever he though of you.

ex-husband!toji who resorted to drinking to full all the emotions he was feeling. wasting all of his money on alcohol, but it still didn't help. because even in his drunken state, he still acknowledge you as the love of his life. the one who was able to fix him. him getting a little sober when he comes back to his place calling your name and then remembering that you're gone.

ex-husband!toji who got a little too exited when you called him telling him that you left some important things. his heart is beating rapidly in his chest, a wide smile etched on his face as he hopes you don't get a hint of it either. as much as he wants you back, he does not want to appear too desperate.

ex-husband!toji who's hand was shaking when you rang the doorbell. he opened the door to see you looking as stunning as possible, while he felt like shit. he had heavy bags under his eyes, his beard disheveled and his eyes slightly red form the alcohol in his system and from crying.

ex-husband!toji who persuaded you to stay a little longer and have a chat. and was shocked that you agreed. it was kind of awkward at first, but the years of knowing each other didn't go to waste. you talked about the new place you got, and how you felt during your marriage, getting to understand your side and realizing what an asshole he was to you. but at least now he doesn't feel so lonely. at least today he can go to bed knowing that he got to have you close to him, even if it was only for about an hour.

ex-husband!toji who you agreed to stay friends with because you still cared about him. there were many memories of the both of you happy and in love, acting like complete fools, memories that still put a smile on your face. he was quite the experience, but circumstances made you let go. it was better for the both of you. but of course staying friends is not a big deal.

ex-husband!toji who slowly started getting his life back on track. shaving his stubble regularly, keeping the house clean, arranging his wardrobe and drinking way less that he was as well as working extra hard on his job so he can earn a lot of money and buy himself or you something nice. because at least he didn't fuck up that bad, right...?

ex-husband!toji who became a better person in general, to maintain your relationship. in hopes of trying to get you back. slowly, it was a process. getting you to trust him, just like the first time and making you realize that you miss him and being with him just as much as he does and eventually confessing your feelings to him like the first time. it was genius, really.

ex-husband!toji who gets heart broken when he finds out you've moved on. moved on to a guy more handsome, younger, richer and clearly treats you better than he ever did. he's stunned when you introduce them to one another, not knowing what to say. a fake wobbly smile is plastered on his face as he shakes hands with your new man. he congratulates you. what else is there to say? but he realizes now that he's lost you. there was no chance you were ever going to be together again. nome at all...

comments and reblogs are appreciated

[slasherslittlesimp]

Cursed (Avengers X Reader)

Series Masterlist

Part Five

You sit in the lab on a table as your eyes flicker between armor man and nervous man- whose names you were told are Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. The two men stand on the other side of the room as they quietly discuss how to go about removing your muzzle without causing you any harm. You're quite glad that the files apparently mentioned what happens when you try to carelessly remove the device. It saves you unnecessary pain as the two know what not to do.

It feels like hours pass by before the two finally turn towards you. Tony strides off to the other side of the room while Bruce moves a bit closer to you while still keeping a good amount of distance. "We're going to do some scans on the mask to see what components it's made of. Hopefully then we can figure out how to remove it." Bruce rubs his hands together as he gives you a tight smile that looks more like a grimace.

You nod in understanding before turning your attention towards Tony who comes towards you with a device in hand. He moves to stand directly in front of you- roughly a foot away- as he lifts the device to your face. A strange blue light emits from it as it scans over the mask resting over the lower portion of your face. It does this for a few moments before stopping, a screen nearby beeping as it pulls up the information gathered.

Tony and Bruce both move to examine the results, once again quietly discussing things with each other. You pull your gaze from them since you have no clue what they're talking about and instead focus on your still bare feet. They had offered you shoes but you had shaken your head, denying the offer. After so many years without wearing anything on your feet you've grown used to it. The idea of stuffing them into such restricting things seems unpleasant.

All you really want is to get your muzzle off so you can finally shower. Hydra was quite stingy with letting you cleanse yourself, only allowing it if you had been particularly well behaved that week. Any time you failed a task, training, or even started to show signs of remembering anything, they'd take away your shower privileges. It's been a few weeks since you last stood under the cold stream of water and washed away the dirt that seems to always stain your skin. You've grown used to the way you smell but certainly you smell horrendous to the people around you even if they haven't mentioned it.

You also want a nice hot meal. When you were fed, it was often small meals that were enough to keep you alive and to keep you from growing too weak but they were always cold or bland. Applesauce, plain jelly sandwiches, slices of thin cut ham, and water. That was all you were ever really fed. At this point, you're curious if your body will even be able to handle other food or if it will simply reject it. Maybe you should start with something light and work your way up to fuller meals. Not like you really know what options there even are out there.

The longer you sit there on the table lost in thought, the more pathetic you feel. You know you were with Hydra your entire life- it's all you can remember. What you can't remember is if it's always been like that. Small meals, scrappy clothes, rare showers. You know it's at least been like that for a few years now but what about in the beginning? Were you treated better? Worse? Not knowing the answers makes you uncomfortable, especially since the two strangers in the room seem to know more about you than you do.

You want to ask to see your files but you also are terrified at what you might remember as you read through them. Natasha had stated that there were multiple pages worth of files on you- on... what was the name? (Y/N)? You believe that's what she had said. It's a bit hard to think of it when so many different thoughts have been racing through your mind lately. Perhaps you should just ask for simple answers like your name and age. Start slow with it and then progressively try to remember more on your own.

"Ready Hannibal?" Tony's voice forcefully drags you from your thoughts as he suddenly stands in front of you. You had zoned out so much that you failed to realize the two of them had finished with whatever they were doing and that Tony moved back to his previous position of standing just a foot away from you. He holds up another small device, this one a bit smaller than the other one. "This is kinda like a jammer. We're hoping it'll block the signals in your mask which will make it unlock and pop off."

You sit up a bit straighter, feeling a bit nervous. It's been a long time since anyone has seen you without the mask and the last person who had was a target you needed to interrogate and kill. This will be the first time someone is seeing it in a long time without you having the intention to cause them harm. The last time was when the markings first appeared. Since then, you've only been allowed to remove it when alone or with someone you've been ordered to use your ability against.

"Alright, let's see that pretty smile." Tony flashes his own smile as he pushes a button on the jammer. You squeeze your eyes shut, half convinced that something with go wrong and you'll end up being painfully shocked. After a few silent seconds there's the sound of a mechanical click before the mask falls from your face and clatters onto the ground. Tony and Bruce both let out sighs of relief, glad their plan worked.

You keep your face angled towards the ground as you bring your fingers up to brush against the markings. You can't physically feel them but you know they're there, same with the one on your tongue. Neither you nor Hydra knew why the markings appeared along with the ability but you're almost certain that if the markings go away then so will your Cursed Speech.

"How are you feeling?" Bruce questions, watching you as you stare at the ground.

Taking a deep breath, you gather your courage before lifting your head so the two men can fully see your face. You give them a shaky thumbs up, not quite sure how else to let them know you're fine. They don't really seem to pay much attention to that though as their eyes instantly zero in on the circles and lines coming off both sides of your mouth.

Tony subconsciously reaches forward, his hand moving towards your face. You naturally flinch despite the fact that he wasn't moving very fast. He pauses when he sees this, realizing what he was doing. He clears his throat as he drops his hand to his side and continues to simply look at the markings instead.

"Now that the mask is off, why don't we let someone show you to a room where you can shower and rest?" Bruce cuts in, noticing how awkward things have gotten. You nod in agreement, sliding off of the table and side-stepping around Tony. Bruce informs the AI to send down one of the others as he leads you to the door.

Taglist: @desiree-lee @seventeen-x @svtbpbts @that-b-word-lol @keshet2k @cl0u-dy @randoes-world @nynxtea @cinnamoroll-things @emily2003azalga

[halfmoonshines]

**this takes places during Thunderbolts*, WILL have spoilers*

Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

summary; Bucky receives the call from Mel to come and find the ragtag bunch that just escaped Valentina; he struggles with what to do. But you've always been there to help him.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿

I feel my brows pinch together in worry when Bucky's shoulders stiffen, my coffee paused just before my lips. I can only hear his part of the conversation, but he seems incessant about something.

"I don't do that anymore." His voice comes out gravelly, and my cup is discarded on the island between us. Something big was happening.

He mumbles something else and hangs up, his phone hitting the counter with a bit too much force. He still doesn't turn to look at me.

"Jamie." I say it quietly, looping around the middle of the kitchen and coming to stand at his side. My hand raises to rest on his taut shoulders and I can feel him twitch just slightly beneath me. He's stiff, and when those eyes finally look up to meet mine there's a storm raging in them.

Just when I think he's going to pull away, like he would in the early days of our relationship and something rocked him like this, he steps toward me instead. Arms banding themselves around my waist and his head dropped to my shoulder, I hold him close to me. I just listen to his breathing, and wait for him.

"There's a situation." He says finally, pulling away from me and showing those tempest eyes. "Valentina tried to trick her ghost operatives into killing each other and when that didn't work, they escaped. I need to bring them in." Bucky started tidying the mess we had made during dinner, keeping his hands busy. "I arrest them, they testify against her, and everyone's happy. Some assassins are behind bars and Valentina finally gets impeached." He stops fidgeting and heaves a sigh, head dropping back, eyes closed.

My hand goes to rest on the one he has splayed across the counter, but he doesn't open his eyes.

"Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Bucky's eyes blink open and he looks at me, confused. "Of course. I'm a congressman now, doll. Even apprehending them is way beyond my jurisdiction. I need to try and put them through due processes. Let the law handle it."

I can see it, the uncertainty in his face and the muscles of his jaw working against the words he's saying, like they taste bad.

"I think that, maybe, you're afraid the law won't handle it justly." I proceed carefully, not wanting to upset him farther. "Weren't you telling me a few days ago that Natasha's sister was one of Valentina's assets?" Bucky had always talked about Natasha and Steve like they hung the moon. A former Red Room assassin, Natasha Romanoff was everything that Bucky strives to be. Better. Someone who faces their mistakes head on, and works through them. Apologizes for them. Dies for them, though he never glorifies that, I know that he respects it on a level I could never understand.

His silence is the answer I need.

"Do you think it's fair? That Yelena would be behind bars but you get to go to the next congressional meeting?" His eyes snap to mine, a glacier blue burning against my own. I wasn't trying to hurt him, but make him understand these complicated emotions I know were cementing him in place right now.

"I've done my time, babe. Yelena has showed no signs of changing her life around. She's still killing people, just for a different organization." He pulls his hand out from under mine and walks to the fridge, putting his half empty water in there to retrieve later.

The light of the refrigerator cuts a stark image of him in our kitchen; this man in his newly pressed dress shirt, metal arm glinting in the low light. This was a new Bucky; one of many that I had seen, and I wasn't convinced that this was the one he felt most comfortable being.

I follow him, hands coming up to rub small circles along his back as he shuts the fridge door. "Certainly we can't compare the CIA and the Red Room?" Quietly, I do. But that won't help matters here. "How do we know that she isn't trying to turn over a new leaf in the only way she knows how? You had a support system, Buck. She has nothing."

He doesn't say anything and we stand like that for a moment. His hands braced on either side of the fridge, I can see indents forming there where he's squeezing just a little too hard. A war raging in him that I don't control. There's no ceasefire to be called; he has to reconcile with himself.

He turns to be abruptly and pulls me against him. I feel his cool hand at the back of my head before he draws me forward, lips melding to mine with a bruising force. When he pulls away, there's a new resolve there. He's made his decision, whatever that may be.

"I'm going to go and get them." He pauses for a moment, worrying his lip between his teeth. "But I think I'm going to talk to them first. Try to gauge what they're thinking. Maybe you're right."

I smile as he pulls away from me, holding his hand in mine as long as I can before he's across the room heading to change.

"But if I find an excuse to hit Walker, I'm taking it." He throws over his shoulder, a small smile as a gift to me.

My laugh is light. "I would expect nothing less."

I'll be staying up tonight, as long as my already tired body would let me, to be sure that I'm awake when he gets home. His demons in tow and uncertainty in every step. It's nights like this that he'll need to be reminded how far he's come; who he is now.

I want nothing more than that.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

After reading your post on Maleonor opinions on humans I've been wondering if she would have approved of Lilia adopting Silver had she survived. The idea of her left-hand man and childhood friend adopting the child of her worst enemy would be absolutely disgusting to her. I wouldn't be surprised if she were to use her status to get rid of Silver. If so do you think Lilia would go through with? Or would he have defied her. How would that affect their relationship? How would that have affected Silver's childhood growing up? Or his relationship with others (Malleus in particular)?

[Referencing this post!]

Assuming that everything else is changed (so Raverne is still missing, Lilia still departed on his travels to find a way to hatch a dragon’s egg, etc.) aside from Maleanor being alive… I don’t think she would be very approving of Lilia, a childhood friend and general, making the sudden decision to adopt a human infant—and not just any infant, but the son of that accursed Dawn Knight, who struck a devastating blow to her country and people. The betrayal!! The temerity!!

I’d see them having a stubborn shouting match on the subject, trying to get the other to see reason. Maleanor raining down her furious lightning while Lilia tucks and rolls, dodging each bolt. “Humans stole everything from us. Bled our land of resources, claimed countless lives… yet you dare to stand before me and defend the spawn of our greatest enemy?! As your princess, I order you to return it to where you discovered it.”

Lilia tries to tell her he understands why she feels this way, that he knows just how much Briarland has suffered at the hands of humans…! But the longer he talks, the more confused and frustrated with himself he becomes. Why is he trying so hard to protect this child he doesn’t know? What has changed these past several decades? Traveling Twisted Wonderland, experiencing new people and cultures… all the love and happiness a unified world bring. And finally, Lilia realizes. Raverne, my friend. Is this what you felt all those times? Telling me of the humans and the importance of understanding them, safeguarding that enrollment letter for that school. It was all for this future you hoped for and dreamed of.

“Maleanor!!” he’d yell over her thunder. “You know as well as I do that Raverne would have wanted the relationship between fae and humans to heal. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t abandon this child, deny it the chance to live with love. To do so would make us no better than Heinrick, who sought to part you and Malleus. Please, Maleanor.”

“You would use my own husband’s name against me?!” But, deep down, she knows he speaks the truth. Maleanor has always known her beloved to be a kind, peaceful man. Water to temper her fire. And she falters. “… Tell me, Lilia. For what reason do you fight so stringently for a creature so pathetic so weak, as to require your protection at its age?”

“Hard to say. I don’t fully understand it myself. Parenthood isn’t my forte, you know that. I guess… people are just willing to do crazy things in the name of love.”

So I think Maleanor could begrudgingly be convinced to allow Lilia to adopt + raise Silver, but she won’t exactly be happy about it. I see her eyeing baby!Silver with suspicion or even expecting “it” to grow up into another killing machine like its biological father. Maybe initially her relationship with Lilia is strained too, as he now has to devote more time to raising the kid. (A little jealousy??) As Silver grows up… I see them adopting more of an Aurora-Maleficent dynamic from the Maleficent films. In other words, Silver becomes fond of the visiting Maleanor and treats her like an auntie or family friend. Running up to her, grabbing her robes, giving her things he picked up on the forest floor. She frowns and tries to shoo him away—she just wanted to enjoy the shade of this tree while observing him from a comfortable distance away, not PLAY!! It would be cute if Silver called Maleanor his fairy godmother too 😭

Omg, what if??? Malleus comes out with his mom to visit Lilia and he’s able to meet Silver (while Sebek happens to be over)?? Then the kids get curious and start chatting. They could all be childhood friends!! Maleanor of course protests at first and gets too heated when reminding Malleus to exert his nobility as a Draconia and future ruler or Briar Valley… With enough time and whittling, I’m sure she can be turned back around on his matter too—it just may take a while.

cbjsbsjejkwe This ended up very much sounding like how Baur interacts with his mixed grandchildren.)

[cupcait777]

under the bleachers ⋆˚࿔

what starts with one stolen glance across the soccer field turns into a secret-laced spiral of late-night drives, under-the-bleachers kisses, and the kind of love that makes you reckless. in a town that doesn’t understand girls like them, they find freedom in each other—and maybe something like forever. 𔘓 a/n : last part's here and yeah so bittersweet tbh.... pls if you're filo,, listen to multo while reading!!! TANGINA

you can still hear the whistle blowing.

the scoreboard blinking bright. the crowd on their feet. your lungs burning from how hard you screamed. confetti fell like a late snowstorm and for once, you didn’t care about your makeup or your matching socks—you were running, full speed, past the sidelines and into the chaos of victory.

the yellowjackets had won.

natalie had won.

nationals. the big one. the title everyone said was a long shot. and now you were there, in the middle of it, being lifted by your girls, streamers clinging to your sneakers, and natalie—god, natalie was laughing so hard her head almost fell off.

she ran straight for you.

and you didn’t hesitate. you leapt into her arms like she’d just returned from war. her arms wrapped around your waist and spun you, both of you breathless, wild, alive. her cheeks were flushed. her knuckles scraped. her jersey soaked in sweat and victory.

“we did it,” she whispered against your mouth before she kissed you. the whole team saw. nobody cared. you kissed her back.

the whole night felt like gold.

you took photos you’d later rip in half. you chanted on the bus ride home with half your team asleep on each other’s shoulders. you collapsed on the locker room floor, sweaty and sore and laughing until your ribs ached. laura lee was crying. lottie had stolen someone’s gatorade. tai and van had made out in the corner and no one even blinked. it was that kind of night.

you sat beside her. she handed you a drink someone snuck in. “you’re not allowed to leave me,” you told her, half-kidding.

she tapped her can against yours. “not even if i tried.”

you should’ve known then.

⸝⸝⸝

the therapist’s office was too quiet.

everything was beige. too soft. too polite. her voice was slow and kind, like she didn’t want to startle you. like grief made you an injured animal.

“have you had any… episodes?” she asked gently.

you stared at the floor. the floor stared back.

“episodes like what?”

she checked her clipboard. “dissociation. hallucinations. vivid dreams of the deceased.”

you shrugged. “no dreams.”

a lie. natalie came every night. sometimes with blood under her fingernails. sometimes just smiling.

“are you still wearing the hoodie?” the therapist asked.

you looked down. black. fraying at the cuffs. her scent long gone.

“yeah.”

she nodded like she expected it. “grief can linger in the body. you might feel her as a presence.”

you swallowed. “she is a presence.”

she said nothing. just wrote something down.

you wished she’d write help me. or bring her back.

you wanted to scream. instead, you folded your hands like a good little ghost.

⸝⸝⸝

the crash didn’t make sense.

you watched the news like it was a horror movie where the ending never came.

no distress call. no storm warning. just silence. they were there. then they weren’t.

twenty minutes into the flight, the plane went off radar somewhere over the northern wilderness. no bodies. no wreckage. just lost. like a story someone stopped telling.

you remember reading the headline over and over:

“private plane carrying yellowjackets team presumed crashed.”

you read it until it stopped meaning anything. you read it until your eyes went numb.

⸝⸝⸝

no one tells you that the worst part isn’t the crying. it’s the waiting.

you waited for days. waited for news. waited for the door to open and natalie to walk in, bruised and bitchy and fine.

but all you got were memorial flyers. yellow ribbons. candles at school. a counselor who said “they’re in a better place.” you wanted to set something on fire.

the rest of the cheer squad tried to move on. tried to plan a tribute routine. you didn’t go.

you just sat in your room with the light off, hoodie wrapped around your knees, playing that voice memo she sent you after the game.

“did you see me tackle that girl? god, you better write a poem about it. or a cheer. or—i dunno—tattoo my name on your face. you’re my good luck charm, y’know that?”

you listened to it until her voice didn’t sound real anymore.

⸝⸝⸝

it was lottie’s dad.

that’s how they got the plane.

you overheard it in the hallway outside the counselor’s office. one of the teachers was whispering about it. “her father’s loaded—old money, i think. chartered that jet like it was nothing.”

only the team. no room for extras. no cheerleaders. no girlfriends.

no you.

natalie had offered to sneak you in. joked about stuffing you in the luggage bay.

“i’ll see you in a week,” she said instead. “i’ll bring you back a trophy.”

you would’ve preferred her bones. at least then, you’d know where she ended.

⸝⸝⸝

but the thing is—she hasn’t ended.

she’s still here. in the cold breeze that rattles your window. in the whisper behind your ear when you close your eyes. in the heaviness on your chest at night.

she’s here when you reach for your phone. here when you wake up sobbing with her name on your lips. here in the mirror, where you think you see her smile—only to blink and find nothing.

you want to let her go. but she won’t leave.

maybe she can’t. maybe you don’t want her to.

either way, she’s become your shadow.

and shadows don’t fade. not when they’re born from love.

“dinadalaw mo ’ko bawat gabi.” “haplos mo’y ramdam pa rin sa dilim.” “minumulto na ’ko ng damdamin ko.”

𔘓 a/n : sige bye po mga burikat

part five ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[cami040405]

Vincent Sinclair courting headcannons but the reader does not know asl and tries to, but it’s very hard for her to be interested in it? Maybe they text each other? You can choose the genre

Vincent Sinclair Courting Headcannons

Summary: Vincent Sinclair quietly courts you, you struggle to learn ASL despite wanting to communicate with him. Though frustrated by your slow progress, you continues to try, and you rely on texts, sketches, and small gestures to connect. 

A/N: I loved writing this request, imagining how Vincent Sinclair would communicate with the reader. I found this approach interesting because in my story, Between Art And Silence, Vincent speaks. If you want to check it out, the link is in the text.

When Vincent first starts to court you, he tries to communicate mostly through body language and gestures — soft touches on the arm, a hand held out to guide you somewhere, or leaving little sketches for you to find.

He doesn’t expect you to know ASL at all — in fact, he seems almost guilty or hesitant to use it in front of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable.

Bo teases him, of course: “Tryin’ to woo someone who can’t even read your love notes, huh?” But Vincent shrugs it off, used to being misunderstood — until you try.

You suggest texting. Vincent doesn’t like technology much, but for you? He adapts.

He keeps his old, beat-up phone charged just so you two can have late-night text conversations. He’s not wordy, but his messages are always careful and intentional.

“Did you eat today?”“You looked sad. Want me to sit with you?”“The stars are out. Thought of you.”

You try. You really do. But ASL doesn’t come naturally to you — the grammar feels strange, and your hands just don’t move the way you want them to.

Sometimes you mess up signs badly enough that he chuckles silently and gently corrects you, guiding your hands with his own, warm fingers. It’s frustrating — not because he’s impatient (he never is), but because you want to understand him better. Still, it’s hard to stay interested when your brain just doesn’t click with it.

Vincent notices right away. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the way your eyes dart away in embarrassment after a failed attempt. He never pressures you. Instead, he starts drawing more — sketching out how he feels, what he wants to say, or what he notices about you. You have an entire drawer full of little drawings he’s made just for you.

Sometimes he’ll use one hand to sign something simple and the other to type it on his phone — a hybrid method that eases the burden for you.

Vincent expresses love in actions: brushing your hair behind your ear, fixing a squeaky cabinet in your room without asking, leaving your favorite tea beside your bed. He sometimes signs I love you slowly, just so you’ll recognize it. Even if you can't respond in ASL, you always press his hand to your cheek, showing that you know. One night, you sign something almost right — “You’re beautiful,” maybe — and he just stares at you like you hung the moon, his face flushing under his mask.

You might not become fluent in ASL, and that’s okay. Vincent never wanted perfection from you. He just wanted your effort — and you gave him your heart, one crooked sign and midnight text at a time.

.

You sat on the edge of the bed, phone in hand, a pit growing quietly in your stomach as you stared at the screen.

Your latest attempt at learning ASL had ended with a migraine and three nearly-broken fingers from accidentally jamming them trying to mimic a video. The app had long been closed. You were done for the night.

The silence in Ambrose was heavy, as always, broken only by the low hum of the cooling fan in Vincent’s workshop down the hall. He had texted you an hour ago:

“Working. Come by when you’re tired. Want you near.”

You had smiled when you saw it. He rarely typed that much.

Still, you couldn’t help but feel like a disappointment. It had been weeks, and you could barely manage the alphabet. Meanwhile, Vincent was patient — too patient — like he knew you’d give up eventually and was already forgiving you for it.

A soft knock on your door.

Not Bo. Too gentle.

You opened it to find Vincent, mask reflecting the faint glow of the hallway light, tall and silent. He held a sketchpad in one hand and his phone in the other. He tilted his head.

“Hi,” you whispered.

He nodded once, then tapped on his phone.

“Can I come in?”

You stepped aside and let him in. He smelled faintly of wax and pine, and the sleeves of his long shirt were pushed up, revealing pale arms marred with old scars and dried streaks of charcoal.

He sat on the floor, cross-legged like always, and you joined him.

You watched his hands carefully as he began to sign something — slow, deliberate. You caught maybe one word. “You…”

“Wait.” You reached for your phone and typed:

“I don’t know what you said. I’m sorry.”

He read it, then looked at you. There was no disappointment in his eyes, no hint of judgment — only that quiet depth he always carried, something heavy and old and kind.

He pulled his sketchpad into his lap and flipped it open.

The drawing was simple — the two of you sitting together, knees touching, your head leaned gently on his shoulder. Your face was wrong — lopsided, eyes too big — but you recognized the moment. It had been three days ago. He’d remembered.

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.

“I’m trying,” you whispered. “I just… it’s hard.”

He nodded. Then, slowly, he lifted his hands and signed something else.

You didn’t get it. Not all of it. Maybe “feel” or “you”. Something about safe. But you couldn’t be sure.

Your hands lifted without thinking. You fumbled to shape a sign you’d practiced — badly — one you hoped you wouldn’t screw up again.

You signed “beautiful”, aiming it toward him.

Vincent froze.

Not like he was offended. More like… stunned. Like he didn’t understand the word could ever apply to him.

He reached slowly and took your hand — large, warm fingers wrapping around yours, guiding them, correcting the shape gently.

You laughed nervously. “I messed it up, didn’t I?”

He shook his head. Then, he signed again — slowly, so you could follow.

“I love you.”

Three motions. You’d seen them before, sure, but never directed at you. Not like this. Not from him.

Your breath hitched.

You didn’t know how to sign it back.

So instead, you leaned forward and pressed his hand to your cheek, closing your eyes.

He held still.

He didn’t pull away.

And in the silence that followed, in the soft weight of his fingers against your skin, you realized that love wasn’t always spoken — not in words, or even in perfect signs.

Sometimes, it was drawn.

Sometimes, it was typed out awkwardly at midnight.

And sometimes, it was felt in the gentle way someone stayed, even when you didn’t know how to say “I love you” the right way.

.

[xylatox]

By a string || cyj

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by a string

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

pairings: yeonjun x fem!reader

word count: 18.9k

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

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

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

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

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

[you] have u done the calc homework

[you] how do you solve #4 :(

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

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

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

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

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

“Hey Yeonjun?”

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

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

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

“Yeah, for sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You will,” he promises mindlessly.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeonjun! What’s up!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dude, come on!” Yeonjun whines.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if it was someone else who asked?”

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

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

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

“No chance I’d go,” he says.

“So what makes me different?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you keep looking at them?” he asks, curious and soft. He hopes he’s not prying.

“They’re just some friends,” you answer.

“Oh. Why don’t we go say hi, then?” he offers.

You pull your lips into a tight line. “I’d rather not.”

“That’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You give a small smile in appreciation.

“What about you?” you ask. He tilts his head, not knowing what you mean. You continue, “Who’s in your friend group?”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly and shrugs. “I mostly hang out with the physics honor society,” he admits.

“That’s cool. You must have a good bond.”

“We do,” he says. “How’d you meet your friends?”

You smile at him, and something in your face tells Yeonjun that it’s a complicated story. You sigh dramatically and lean back a little, ���I met them at parties. Does that surprise you?”

Yeonjun’s not sure if that’s a rhetorical question. “No. You’re friendly. I can see why people come to you,” he answers.

“Thanks,” you say, voice a little quieter.

“Are you friends with your roommate?” he asks.

“I don’t have one. I live in a single dorm.”

Lucky. If Yeonjun had the extra money to spare, he’d be dorming alone too. It would definitely make heading out as Spider-man easier; he’d just be able to change in his room and jump out his window. Assuming no one is around to see, that is.

“That must be nice,” he says.

You shrug. “It’s alright. What about you? You got a roommate?”

“Yeah. We’re…” Yeonjun struggles to find a word to describe his relationship with Soobin. They’re not exactly friends, but they’re peaceful with each other.

You laugh and finish the sentence for him, “Roommates and nothing more.” There’s a lilt to your voice when you say that, and you wiggle your eyebrows like that’s supposed to suggest something.

“Ignoring your insinuations, yeah, pretty much.”

“I’m just kidding,” you say. He’ll let you make jokes at his expense all you want, it doesn’t bother him. Especially not when it means he gets to see you all giggly and happy. He thinks that you look the prettiest like this. Yeonjun would stare at you smiling up at him forever if he could.

The sound of a guy calling your name pulls Yeonjun from his stupor. He blinks at the man standing before the two of you, then looks at you with scrunched brows as if to ask who is that?

His unspoken question is answered the next second. “Hey, Kai,” you say. When Yeonjun gets a better look, he realizes that this is one of the dudes in the group you kept looking over at.

“Who’s this guy?” Kai asks, jutting his chin toward him.

“I’m Yeonjun.” He goes to hold out his hand for Kai to shake, but quickly puts it back down upon realizing that might be weird.

“Oh, Yeonjun from calculus. I know you,” he says.

“I didn’t know you’re in that class too,” Yeonjun muses.

Kai laughs, “I’m not. Y/n just talks about you.”

Yeonjun nearly melts. You talk about him. This is the best day of his life.

“Anyway,” Kai continues, looking at you again. “I need a couple more people on my beer pong team. You guys down?”

Yeonjun turns to you to gauge your reaction. He can’t really tell what you're feeling, not even when you face him as you contemplate your answer. Yeonjun shrugs, as if to tell you that he’s down for whatever you want to do.

“I think I’m good,” you say.

“Ah, alright, you bummer,” Kai jokes, stepping back and sending you a bright smile. “Continue your convo with the calc lord, I insist.” He’s gone after that, jogging off to the rest of his friends, setting up the game.

“Calc lord?” Yeonjun repeats, amused.

Your laugh is accompanied by a roll of your eyes. “He means it nicely, I swear.”

“Well, depending on how well he does in this game, I might start calling him beer pong lord,” Yeonjun says. You push at his shoulder as your laughter continues.

Yeonjun already knew he likes you a lot, but as the night goes on, he finds out that you’re even better than he thought. Conversation unfolds easily with you, even if Yeonjun’s answers are dorky and awkward at times. He feels exactly how he thinks you look when you sit in the grass alone: content and peaceful.

He’s not sure how many minutes or hours have passed when you ask him to walk you back to your dorm. All he knows is that tonight could have stretched into infinity, and that would’ve been fine. He follows you into the building, then into your room. He’s not sure why. It just feels right.

“Thanks for bringing me back,” you say. Yeonjun smiles and nods. He leans against the wall and stares out the window. You live on the top floor of your building, so the view’s pretty different from Yeonjun’s second story view. This would be a fun room to swing out of.

“Do you need anything else?” Yeonjun asks. A smile slowly takes over your face, and you cross the room to stand in front of him. You blink up at him, and something about it feels flirty. If he wasn’t biting his tongue so hard, his thoughts would have slipped right past his lips: you look cute.

You break the short moment of silence with a giggle. “Just for you to promise me we’ll hang out again,” you say, voice barely over a whisper.

Yeonjun has to remind himself to breathe and be normal. “I promise,” he says. He even holds out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your pinky around his, accepting the playful gesture.

“Did you want to stay?” you ask. You look out the window, then back at him. “I’m okay with sharing my bed.”

That definitely flusters Yeonjun. “Oh, no, I’m—I was gonna just walk back to my dorm or something. Or take a bus. I don’t know. Thank you, though.”

You laugh. Hopefully not at his sputtering and rambling, but Yeonjun has a feeling that might be why. “Alright, then. Good night, Yeonjun.”

Your soft voice has Yeonjun wanting to backpedal and say he’ll stay the night, but he swallows down the words. He smiles at you as he backs away toward your door. “Good night,” he says, standing in your doorway.

“Yeonjun,” you call, stopping him before he could leave. He turns, waiting for your words. He’s surprised to see that you look a little shy. “I’m really happy I asked you to come with me. Tonight was fun.”

Butterflies erupt in Yeonjun’s stomach, and he feels like he could float from how giddy he is. “I’m happy too,” he says.

He steps out into the hall, thoughts lingering on how overwhelmingly good his time with you was. His mind is clouded with rosy memories of his night with you, and he finds himself repressing the urge to twirl around and jump for joy. He’ll probably be skipping all the way home, imagining all the possibilities of what could come next between you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

It’s Sunday, and Yeonjun knows exactly why you’re calling. He stares at his phone, then back at the man in front of him tangled up in webs. Yeonjun shoots another web over the guy’s mouth.

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

“Hey Yeonjun!” Your voice is so cheerful that it makes Yeonjun giggle. He even swings his feet in the air as he sits on the branch.

“Hi Y/n,” he greets, hoping his voice isn’t too muffled through the mask of his suit.

“Did those last-minute plans end up showing, or are you down to try out that bakery?” you ask. Yeonjun frowns, hating to let you down when you sound so happy.

“I’m really busy today, I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging from how awful he feels. He’s got a whole lab procedure to write once he’s done sorting out the crime scenes of today.

“No worries, maybe we can go after class sometime.”

He frowns. “I wish I could, but I got another class right after ours. Let me check my schedule, I might be able to”—

“Are those sirens?” you interrupt, and Yeonjun looks out to the street. He’s grown so accustomed to the sound of those things that it didn’t even register. “Where are you?” you ask.

“I’m… uh,” Yeonjun stammers, focusing on the cops getting out of the car and making their way towards the criminal.

He tunes into the cops’ conversation. “Looks like Spider-shit’s been here already,” one of them comments in a gruff voice.

The other cop huffs out a laugh. “He’s always meddling in with petty crimes. What do you think this guy did?”

“Jaywalking?” The cops chuckle.

“Not like he can explain with that over his mouth.” He points to the web Yeonjun placed on the man a minute ago.

Yeonjun scowls. He’s not sure why the cops hold so much scorn for him, but if they’d like to know, then the petty crime that Spider-shit helped stop was an armed robbery. If these guys were a little better at their jobs, he wouldn’t have to meddle in all the time.

“Hello?” you ask, and Yeonjun reels his attention back to his conversation with you.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just coming back from the store. Crazy stuff going on today.”

“Oh. Well, stay safe,” you say.

“Thanks, I will.” He sees the cops looking around, probably trying to spot him, so he flattens his back against the tree and tries to talk a little quieter. “I’ll see you in class, I gotta go.”

“See you!”

Yeonjun sighs once the call ends. His suit doesn’t even have pockets, he just carried his phone with him today in case you contacted him. Stupid? Mildly. Inconvenient? Very. He had one less hand to work with when dealing with today’s crime culprits. To hear your voice, though? Worth it. He smiles like an idiot as he swings over to the next nearest building, making his way back to his dorm.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Yeonjun’s professor accompanies him to the lab today, overseeing the procedures for the day. The feeling of his professor watching over his shoulder is more nerve-wracking than any day spent fighting crime on the streets. He’s usually careful with his work in the lab, but he’s extra, extra careful on these days.

He pauses when he retrieves the petri dish of cells. He briefly considers the possibility that he’s crazy and just seeing things, but Yeonjun’s pretty sure that the clump of cells just moved. Like, uncanny movement. He holds his breath.

He stares at the clump, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It doesn’t jerk around anymore, so maybe it was just his imagination. Fear still creeps up his neck at the idea of the research going wrong. He remembers feeling like he messed up at some point last time he was here, and the realization is making his skin grow clammy.

“What is it?” his professor asks, taking a step closer to Yeonjun.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” he quickly responds, keeping his voice calm and steady. He brings the petri dish to the table and does his best to forget what he saw earlier. Yeonjun fears how his professor would react if he told him something unprecedented might be occurring. It happened so quickly that he can’t even tell if his mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe he’s just extra nervous today.

He wipes the sweat off his palms onto his lab coat, bringing the necessary materials to the table to continue the research. His professor reads off the instructions slowly, and Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t feel his stomach twisting as he works with the cells.

He tries to calm down as he walks back to his dorm, but there’s a permanent chill shooting down his spine. There’s no way the clump should have moved like that—it shouldn’t show any observable motion at all, not without some kind of electrical stimulation.

Maybe he just jerked the dish too harshly. He was pretty nervous, so it would make sense. He must have been shaking and just didn’t realize. That would explain it. That would put Yeonjun at ease.

He can try to convince himself that everything’s fine, but he can’t stop the anxious thrum of his heart. Apparently the fear reads on his face, too, because Soobin’s quick to notice it when Yeonjun enters the dorm.

“Are you okay?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun’s not sure what must have given himself away. He pays more attention to breathing slowly and talking casually.

“I’m good,” he answers. He doesn’t expect Soobin to push the subject considering how quiet he always is, but Soobin’s gaze isn’t leaving Yeonjun. He must be really concerned.

“Did something happen?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun sinks into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands as he groans. “Sorry,” his roommate apologizes, turning away from Yeonjun to look at his laptop instead.

“No, you’re good, it’s just…” Yeonjun sighs. He might as well get this off his chest. “Some lab thing.”

Soobin nods, not asking any further. Now that Yeonjun’s started though, he doesn’t feel like stopping.

“I think I might’ve fucked up,” Yeonjun admits.

“How?” Soobin’s playing some video game on his laptop as he talks, which actually puts Yeonjun at ease. It feels less pressing, less like an interrogation or a confession and more like a normal conversation.

“The cells I’m working with are being weird. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I saw it right. I just feel crazy now.” Yeonjun rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, soothing the headache he’s got building up.

Soobin hums. The little shooting sounds and animated voices coming from Soobin’s game fill the room until Soobin speaks again, “Did anyone else see?”

“No. My professor was there, but he didn’t notice.”

Soobin shrugs. “You’re probably fine then.”

Honestly, Soobin’s nonchalance to the situation eases Yeonjun’s worries a lot. He knows he can get in his head sometimes, especially when it comes to doing everything right, so to hear he’ll be fine lifts a weight from his shoulders.

“Yeah, probably,” he agrees. He basks in comfortable silence for a minute now that his heart isn’t beating so hard.

“By the way, have you bought more laundry detergent yet?” Soobin asks.

Ah, shit. “Tomorrow, I promise.”

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Being Spider-man is tasking, but it’s usually pretty cool. Not everyone gets to zip around the city and restore peace in people’s neighborhoods. Not everyone, however, has to worry about getting stabbed by a criminal in the middle of the night.

Yeonjun always stays until the cops arrive. It almost feels essential, just to make sure justice gets served. This time, he can’t.

He has to stop himself from groaning too loud when he feels the knife pull out from his side. The man in front of Yeonjun is already stuck to the side of a building, held there with a thick layer of web, so there has to be someone else. He turns around to look at the perpetrator, but the world moves a lot slower than normal.

Yeonjun blinks hard, focusing on breathing and staying conscious. The coward who stabbed him is wearing a ski mask, and he’s running away quickly. Yeonjun can’t let him leave. He moves forward and ignores the searing pain that sets his body alight. He straightens out his shaky arm and aims his wrist at the man, but the web that shoots out is just as weak as Yeonjun is.

Frustrated, Yeonjun growls and forces himself to move faster. It burns, he’s never felt any kind of pain like this, but he can’t let this man walk free. He can’t let this man stab another innocent person. Even with his staggered pace, limping as he tries his best to catch up to the man, he advances quickly.

He breathes hard and holds the air in his lungs as he aims again at the man, brows furrowed with angry determination beneath his mask. He lets out a loud grunt as he shoots his web out, and finally, it lands. The criminal falls as the web captures his ankle, keeping his leg stuck to the ground.

Yeonjun huffs as he traverses the rest of the way toward the man, nothing but fury in his veins as he shoots another web out. This one’s bigger, covering the man’s back and securing him to the pavement. He picks up his head and looks at Yeonjun with fear in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. All he feels is pain and anger and pain and pain and so much fucking pain.

Yeonjun’s not the vengeful type, but getting stabbed really tests a person’s limits. He shoots more webs over the guy, making sure he won’t be able to move a muscle until the cops arrive.

Yeonjun doesn’t waste his breath making snide comments, though he does have a few choice words for him. He takes off the man’s ski mask and resists the urge to deck his face. He’s got fear etched into his expression, but Yeonjun finds it hard to feel sorry for him. The man starts begging for his life, and Yeonjun scoffs. Of course he’s not going to kill this man—no matter what, he doesn’t end people’s lives. A city’s hero shouldn’t get to decide who lives and dies.

Yeonjun stumbles away after finding a passerby to call the police. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, Yeonjun feels less mad and more scared. He’s really bleeding now; his hand comes up soaked when it presses against the wound. What the hell does he do? He can’t die like this.

He can’t go to the hospital with a stab wound. There’s no way for him to make up some alibi that wouldn’t just trace Spider-man’s identity back to him. He hisses through gritted teeth as he frantically scans his surroundings, looking for somewhere to go. The only thing that’s coming to mind is you, and it’s aggravating. He could be dying right now, and all his useless mind can do is think of you. Maybe it’s all the blood loss, and he’s just getting delirious, or maybe it’s a sign. It’s not like he has many good options right now.

There’s not enough time to think about it. He zips through the city and back onto campus as fast as he can, ignoring the splitting pain in his side that shoots up his body every time he moves. It’s getting harder to breathe, suddenly feeling suffocated by his mask, but he has to hold on. He’s not far away now.

He remembers the view from your window. He remembers exactly which room to shoot himself up to. He adheres himself to the wall outside your room and pulls his mask off, leaning his forehead onto the cold glass of your window with a sigh of relief. He catches his breath and knocks with a shaky fist. He’s really sorry for having to wake you up at this hour, but he has a feeling you’ll understand.

He doesn’t wait long. You're trudging out of bed and making your way toward the window, tired eyes blinking slowly. You look really cute. Everything is spinning around him, but he focuses on you. You’re still groggy and out of it until you meet Yeonjun’s eyes through the glass. As soon as you see him, it’s like you wake up immediately.

He watches your jaw drop, your frantic hands racing to open your window. His vision is nearly blacking out, and he tries to blink away the dizzy feeling in his head the best he can.

“Yeonjun?!” you squeak as he drags himself through your window and into your room. He can’t even hold himself up anymore, weak body collapsing to the floor. He groans and leans against the wall, clutching his side. He ignores the sickening feeling of blood dampening his hand, sticky and warm against his palm and between his digits.

You pick him up by the underarms, grunting as you heave him toward your bed. He notices how shaky your arms are, and he tries his best to pick up his own weight, even if it hurts like hell. He’s burdening you enough as is coming here so late.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to go to,” he says, catching his breath as you guide him to lay on your bed. He’s half-aware of how bloody and dirty he is, but you seem fully ready to let him stain your sheets. Concern and confusion fill your wide eyes, and Yeonjun can hear every word that you don’t say.

Luckily, you save the unnecessary questions for later. “What do I do?” you ask. Your hands tremble as they peel the shirt of his suit up, just enough to expose his midriff and the nasty damage to his side. You gasp upon seeing how bad it is, hardly able to stomach it, opting to look into his eyes instead.

He wants to respond to you, if not to answer your question then just to comfort you, but breathing is enough of a chore on its own right now; talking seems almost impossible. Watching you panic about this is shattering him. He makes an effort to move his arm out toward you, just to hold your hand and reassure you, but he doesn’t have enough strength.

You lift from the bed and open up a bottle of water, pouring some of the cool liquid over his head. It’s relieving against his burning skin and keeps him from losing consciousness. It also makes him realize how dehydrated he is.

“Please sit up,” you beg, placing a hand underneath his head to lift it a bit. He comes up just enough to drink some of the water you feed to him, swallowing down the rest of the bottle. He collapses back against your pillow once he’s finished, feeling much better just from that.

You come back with another bottle of water and pour small bits at a time over the gash in his side. He hisses and tenses up each time it hits his skin, but he knows you have to do this. He doesn’t want to make it harder by thrashing around and complaining, so he bites his tongue and keeps his body stiff.

The sheets soak beneath him as you continue emptying the water bottle over the wound. He should help you clean up after this; he doesn’t want you dealing with his mess all alone. A few minutes pass before you discard the plastic bottle and grab a t-shirt from your dresser.

You press the bunched up cloth against his injured skin gently, and he holds back any grunts that threaten to slip out. It’s like you can sense his pain despite his efforts to hide it, because you keep murmuring apologies to him.

“I’m okay, don’t be sorry,” he reassures. He doesn’t think you believe him, judging by the way lips stay tugged into a frown.

A quietness falls over the room. You pull your t-shirt away from his body and observe the wound, and your fingertips on his torso send electricity throughout his body. It doesn’t hurt so much now.

“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you point out.

He hums. “That’s good.” Your hand grazes the skin just outside the gash. There’s a soothing effect in the way your fingers glide against him, pressure so light that it’s barely there.

“You need stitches,” you say quietly, like you hate to break the news to him.

Yeonjun doesn’t mind. “You got a needle?” he asks. You fidget with the fabric of Yeonjun’s suit as you sigh and look away.

“I do,” you say. You don’t sound too confident, though. He doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better.

You grab his hand like it’s second nature to do so, and the action would be romantic if only you didn’t have that nervous look on your face. He can practically feel your heart pounding, and he’s dying to let you know that everything’s okay.

“I trust you,” he breathes out. He makes sure he’s looking you in the eye so you can see how much he means it. He’s risking everything by trusting you, but he’s not scared. He feels safe even with his life in your hands, his secret identity in your knowledge. If there was something more sacred and dangerous to give up than that, he’s sure he’d be okay lending that to you too.

It feels much more real when you have your needle and thread in hand. Yeonjun can’t contain his noises anymore, whimpering in pain when he feels the sharp tip pierce his skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say quickly and desperately. “I’ll do it fast.”

He hisses as he feels the thread start to tug his wound shut. He throws an arm over his eyes, as if not watching you treat him will stop the piercing feeling. All his muscles are tensed up no matter how much he tries to relax, but he keeps his breathing steady and lets you do your work.

It’s not too long before you’re tying off the final knot and discarding your needle onto your nightstand. You run your thumb over the stitch, gentle and slow. Yeonjun takes his arm off his face and fixes his gaze on you, watching you scrutinize your work with scrunched brows.

“It feels fine. You did perfect,” he says, wanting to keep you from judging yourself too harshly. He wants to thank you, but the words feel so awkward building up in his throat.

“I don’t have a big enough bandage to put over this,” you say, still fixated on his injury. Yeonjun tries to sit up, but your hand on his shoulder eases him back down. “Don’t move too much.”

“Y/n…” he starts, but you give him a pointed look, and he decides to shut up and listen. He relaxes against your mattress.

“I wish I had some clothes to change you into,” you mutter after he pulls the shirt of his suit back down. The spandex isn’t super comfortable against his fresh stitches, but it’s easy to ignore in comparison to the searing pain of the open wound. He’ll have to throw out this suit; it’s bloodied beyond repair, and he has plenty of back-ups anyway.

“It’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You shuffle on the mattress until you’re laying down beside him. “Aren’t the sheets wet?” he asks, surprised at how unfazed you seem.

You let out a small laugh, and that frown finally leaves your face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to lay down.”

“I’ll buy you new sheets,” Yeonjun promises. “And a new needle. And I’ll explain everything to you, I swear. Please don’t”—

“Yeonjun,” you cut off. He shuts his mouth. “That stuff doesn’t matter. Are you okay now?”

He nods. “I’m okay.”

“That’s all I care about.”

The room falls into a comfortable silence. Yeonjun stares at the ceiling and wonders how much this is going to change things between you. He has some hope that this will make you two even closer, but a small part of him fears that you won’t want to associate with him anymore. He wouldn’t blame you; it’s not like being close to Spider-man isn’t a riskless situation. He doesn’t regret coming to you tonight, though.

He feels your eyes on him a moment later, and he can only bring himself to look at you for a second before returning his gaze to your ceiling. You must find that funny, because he hears you chuckling beside him.

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

“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he says.

“How do you plan on doing that?”

He turns his head to face you, and something feels awfully domestic about getting to lay this close to you in your bed. It’s hard to breathe when you’re smiling at him so eagerly, when there’s a glint in your eyes that tells Yeonjun you’re having fun. There’s an itch all the way down to his bones that begs him to push forward and kiss you already, but he resists.

“I’ll find a way,” he whispers.

The room gets quiet again, and Yeonjun supposes he should leave. It’s not like he can wait for the sun to rise and walk out of your room in his bloodied Spidey-suit glory. He’s not sure what time it is right now, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon and get some sleep, he’ll be passing out in his classes.

“Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, pushing himself off your bed and stretching his limbs. He feels beyond sore, wincing at the pain that shoots through his body. You sit up immediately, scrambling to stop him.

“You’re leaving? Are you crazy? Stay here!” you insist, trying to drag him back to the bed. He turns his head to you and smiles, and something about the silent plea in your eyes lights up his heart. He keeps his feet on the ground and resists your efforts, even though he wants nothing more than to spend the night with you. It’s just not smart and not worth the risk.

“I can’t,” he says. You pout and stand before him, blinking up at him so prettily that he almost changes his mind. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know. I just wanted to keep you.” That makes Yeonjun giggle.

“Sorry. Maybe next time.”

You swat his chest. “Don’t let there be a next time. You almost scared me to death.”

“I’ll make sure to tell the next knife-bearer you said that,” Yeonjun jokes. It gets the laugh that he was hoping for out of you.

“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. Your smile is just as soft and sweet as your kiss was. “Just stay out of trouble,” you finish, patting his chest gently.

“I’ll try.”

“I guess I’ll see you in class, then,” you say.

“Yeah,” he agrees. He should go now. He should make use of his feet and back away, but he stays planted in his spot. You sway girlishly in front of him, hands clasped behind your back.

“Good night,” you whisper. Yeonjun can’t help it—he pulls your face in so he can feel your lips on his again, more properly this time. They’re pillowy and dreamy, and Yeonjun could just melt into you. He doesn’t linger longer than he has to, backing up just enough to see your face. You mirror the glee that he feels in his own expression.

“Good night,” he echoes. He backs away and grabs his mask, slipping it back on. He opens your window back up and slings himself to the nearest tree. Each time Yeonjun looks over his shoulder, he sees you leaning at your window smiling right back at him. His heart does a little flip. On second thought, maybe getting stabbed is kind of cool.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

Despite how well last night went, Yeonjun wakes up with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Every ounce of confidence that his interaction with you last night might have given him is completely gone the moment he remembers it, and sheds away at itself further when he notices you skipped class. A dreadful thought creeps up his spine: are you avoiding him?

Maybe you woke up regretting it all. Maybe you realized how ridiculous and stupid getting involved with Spider-man is, and you’re just protecting yourself before you can be burdened further. The classroom feels hot and suffocating, and fresh air sounds really nice right now, but Yeonjun stays put in his seat. He doesn’t want to make a scene and start freaking everyone out. To the best of his ability, he pushes his fears down and saves his panic for later—preferably for after he talks to you and gets some answers.

He doesn’t even open his notebook in his last class of the day. He shows up just for attendance purposes, then zones out staring at his desk for the rest of the hour. Time passes far too slowly; Yeonjun’s itching for the lecture to end so he can talk to you already. He’s practically running out of class as soon as it’s dismissed, but finds himself slowing down the moment he’s outside the building.

He’s pretty sure he knows where to find you. The bigger issue is figuring out what the hell he’s going to say. Is there any way to start this conversation without being awkward? Hey, thanks for saving my life last night. Also I am indeed that hero or whatever taking care of criminals in the city, hope you don’t mind! He feels so lame.

It’s wishful thinking to hope that you won’t care about what happened last night—well, except for the kissing part, but that’s probably not as important right now. He’ll push aside that conversation until the more important one happens.

He wants to run away the moment he sees your figure in the distance, sitting exactly where he thought you’d be. His tongue suddenly feels like lead, too heavy and useless to try talking to you. He gathers his breath and walks across the field, not letting himself back out now. You deserve to be given a little peace of mind. He’s sure today must have been confusing for you, that clarity hit you like a train this morning the same way it did to him.

You look over your shoulder when he reaches you, staring up at him and squinting your eyes from the sun. “How’d I know you’d come find me?” you ask, half-amused.

Yeonjun gives you a short laugh, unsure of himself as he sits on the grass beside you. It feels a little like he’s invading your space. He’s seen you sitting alone on this field as if it was all yours so many times.

“I thought I should thank you again,” he says, a little shy. He feels like he owes you a lot for last night. The whole city probably owes you a lot for saving him, honestly.

You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head on your bent knees. “Mhm. Shouldn’t I be thanking you, Spider-man?” There’s a teasing quality to your voice, and it makes Yeonjun laugh nervously. He should probably address that.

“I really hope you won’t tell anybody.”

“I won’t. I’m still finding it hard to believe anyway,” you say. Your sentences are all laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that Yeonjun can’t help but to feel at fault for. “It’s just weird to know it now.”

Yeonjun hums. He can sympathize with you on that—it must be really bewildering to know your classmate is the one swinging around town shooting webs at criminals. He just hopes you can forgive him for dragging you into this.

“Spider-man’s a little less cool now, huh?” he jokes, keeping his voice quiet even though no one’s around.

Your smile is full and genuine, and Yeonjun’s heart skips a beat. “I always thought he was a little lame,” you answer. Yeonjun’s ego bruises at that. You continue, “But I think he’s kind of interesting now.”

He can only hope that you don’t see the blush that takes over his face. He looks away to hide it, but he feels your gaze on him. “I don’t know if I’m that interesting,” he says, acting all humble. It’s clearly bait, and he hopes you’ll catch it.

“I can be the judge of that. Let me get to know you more,” you offer. Yeonjun bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning at this massive win.

“Well, we still have that bakery to go to,” Yeonjun mentions, and judging by the way your eyes gain a new sparkle, you seem to like the idea.

“You don’t have any more classes today, do you?” You already look ready to go.

Yeonjun doesn’t bother hiding his excitement anymore, letting his smile take over his face. “I don’t.” You’re standing up the next second, and Yeonjun’s quick to follow.

The bakery is a cute, cozy little place near some other restaurants downtown. There’s no seating inside due to the lack of space, but that’s made up for by the giant row of sweet selections to choose from. Yeonjun’s stomach rumbles in anticipation as his eyes jump around to look at each confection.

After buying your treats, you lead Yeonjun to a nearby bench. You both open your pastry boxes and bite down on the baked goods eagerly. You hum in satisfaction, nodding at the taste. “Wow, we should go here again,” you say, going in for another bite.

Yeonjun chose a sweet cheese bread, which he completely devours within a couple minutes. You don’t eat as fast as him, but he doesn’t mind waiting for you. He makes conversation in the meantime: “How come you skipped class today?”

You laugh a little around your mouthful of food, swallowing before you answer, “I barely slept. There was no way I could’ve focused if I went.”

Yeonjun hums in understanding. “I barely slept too,” he says.

“But you still went,” you add. “I guess you’re better than me.”

Oh god, he hopes you didn’t take it that way. “Not at all!” he rushes to say.

You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know. You’re just a star student, that’s all.”

Is that a compliment? Yeonjun blushes anyway. “I like to do well,” he says.

“I mean, considering everything you’re balancing, yeah, you are doing pretty well.”

Yeonjun laughs awkwardly in response, barely able to take your praise. He’s pretty sure you’re alluding to what you found out about him yesterday. “Thanks,” he mutters, all humble.

“Do you wanna talk about last night?” you ask, finishing your last bite.

“Sure,” Yeonjun answers, feeling a smidge of nervousness returning to him. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Did you have any questions?” he asks. He feels more bashful than anything else, but it’s better than coming off as braggadocious.

You hum in thought, pouting your lips while you conjure up some ideas. “Was that your first kiss?”

He’s completely taken aback by your question—and a little embarrassed, quite frankly—and he scrambles to spit out a response. You’re stifling your laughter before he can even get his defense out. “No! I had my first kiss in, like, high school!”

“I’m just teasing,” you admit. “You’re a good kisser.” The compliment goes to Yeonjun’s head, playing in a loop while he floats on cloud nine. You liked kissing him. He should do it again and again, just to keep you happy. And for more selfish reasons, too.

Your voice breaks through his thoughts when you speak again, “Do you feel better today? Are you healing alright?” The joking tone leaves your voice, replaced with genuinity and care.

“I feel fine,” he answers. He pulls up his shirt to show you the wound, all stitched up and starting to heal over.

You wince. “Good thing I finished my food already. That killed my appetite.” Yeonjun laughs at your grimace and releases his shirt, falling back into place. “You should really put a bandage over that,” you suggest.

“I don’t have any.”

You shake your head in disbelief, though your amusement reads on your face. “You should be more prepared.”

Your concern is cute to Yeonjun. “I know,” he says.

“So who stabbed you?” you ask.

He shrugs. “No clue. He’s probably in a cell now.”

“Did it hurt?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.

“Like hell,” he says.

“How’d it even happen?” Honestly, Yeonjun’s not too sure about that either. He can usually sense imminent danger before it comes, but maybe he was too focused on the crimes he’d already been dealing with.

“He came up behind me while I was handling another criminal,” he answers.

You hum, getting off the bench and tossing your trash in a bin nearby. You start walking off then, and Yeonjun follows mindlessly. “Must be tough being Spider-man,” you say.

“Careful how loud you say that.” Yeonjun tenses as someone walks past the two of you, praying they were out of earshot when you said that. He sighs in relief when he sees the person had headphones in.

“Right, sorry. There’s just so much I wanna know now.” You turn a corner, taking a path leading back to campus.

Your curiosity excites Yeonjun, and he’s ready to answer whatever question you come up with. Some of his stories have serious entertainment value to them.

“Ask me, then,” he invites. You twist your head to smile up at him for a second.

“How’d you get like this? Were you just born this way?”

Yeonjun laughs at the idea. He swings his head around to make sure no one’s around when he answers, “No, a radioactive spider bit me.”

“When did that happen?” you ask. Yeonjun reminisces the first few weeks after the bite, thinking back to those initial feelings of fear and dread when he realized something had happened to him.

“In high school,” he says. It was super bewildering back then to change so drastically, yet be forced to act so normal. It’s much easier now—he’s had years to adjust—but he was a teenager when it first happened. That’s a lot for a kid to take on. He had to act like he was the same Choi Yeonjun his classmates had grown up with, and not some mutated superhuman dealing with the stresses of his new identity. Of course, he did that whole Spider-man thing to himself, but it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t regret it.

“Does anyone else know?”

“My uncle did, but he’s gone, so now it’s just you.” He looks at you, lips twitching upward.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you apologize, voice growing soft. He realizes that you’re in front of your dorm building now, and he supposes this is where he should leave. His eyes dart between yours, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to go. To ask him to stay.

“Are you doing anything today?” he asks. Maybe he sounds desperate. He doesn’t really care.

“Catching up on some work,” you say.

“I’ll give you my calculus notes.”

You smile. “That would be nice.”

Yeonjun didn’t even take notes in calculus today. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

“Can I stay?” He’s teeming with hope and bravery today. You open the door to your building and signal him inside, and he has to hold back the victorious giggle that almost escapes him as he trails behind you.

The rest of the day passes in a blur of questions and answers. Yeonjun’s never talked so openly about being Spider-man before, and a part of it feels healing. You study hard while he rambles about stories of the little things he’s done throughout the years. Some are funny and make you cackle, and some draw your attention away from your textbook so you can look at him in shock. It’s impossible for Yeonjun to wipe the grin off his face—not when he bids you good night, not when he walks back to his dorm, not even when lays in bed to sleep. His heart never lets up on that jittery rush it has for you.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

A quintessential part of the college experience, Yeonjun’s come to find out, is trying out all the different ramen brands to see which one is the best. He’s a fan of whichever one he’s chowing down on right now, and a 5-pack of this barely puts a dent in his bank account. Seems like a winner.

He glances over at his dorm’s door when it opens, curious to see that Soobin brought someone over. Yeonjun isn’t bothered by that, though; if this guy is anything like Soobin, he’s not worried about getting annoyed.

“You can remember to buy ramen but not detergent?” Soobin asks, chuckling. Yeonjun chooses to read that as a joke instead of a passive aggressive comment.

“Ugh, dude, I keep forgetting, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. Yeonjun points at Soobin’s friend and continues, “This your friend?”

“Yeah, I’m Beomgyu,” the friend introduces. Something about him looks a little familiar.

“Nice to meet you,” Yeonjun greets with a nod.

Soobin grabs some clothes from his closet then turns to the door. “I’m gonna go change and then we can head out,” he says to Beomgyu, then heads off to the bathroom.

When the door shuts, Yeonjun returns his attention to his ramen and ignores Beomgyu’s presence as best as he can. That doesn’t last too long, though, cause soon enough, Beomgyu’s breaking the silence: “Are you still hanging out with Y/n?”

Yeonjun turns in his seat to face Beomgyu. He’s not sure how Beomgyu would know that, but Yeonjun entertains the question nevertheless. “Yeah. You know her?” he asks.

“She’s my friend,” he says. “Kind of.”

Yeonjun already feels something weird in the air. He’s waiting for the turn that this conversation is bound to take. He finally pieces together why this guy looks so familiar; he’s one of the boys at the party in the group that you kept looking over at. Now Yeonjun’s really curious.

“Why do you ask?” The question comes out a little hesitantly.

“I’m telling you this man-to-man, I think you might be getting played,” Beomgyu says.

Yeonjun’s immediate reaction is only confusion. How would you be playing him? You’ve been nothing but sincere with your feelings—or, that’s what it seemed like, at least. Now Yeonjun’s doubting himself. A part of him doesn’t believe it and doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation any further, but he’d start spiraling whether or not Beomgyu explains himself now. Worry swirls in Yeonjun’s stomach.

“Why?” he asks despite himself.

“This is just what I’ve heard, but apparently she had a thing with Kai, and he started talking to another girl, so she wanted to get back at him. I don’t know, though.”

Kai. That boy who came up to you at the party. Yeonjun remembers him.

He doesn’t want to show how much those words affect him, but shit. Hearing that hurts. His body feels weightless, like he’d be falling over if he wasn’t sitting at his desk. He nods as he exhales slowly, keeping his heart from going haywire.

“Huh,” is all he says. Soobin comes back the next second, and Beomgyu heads out with him after that, and the world keeps spinning on, but Yeonjun feels trapped in that moment. He waits to wake up in a sweat, hoping this is all some nightmare that’s going to end, but the wake never comes. He’s forced to deal with his whirling thoughts instead.

None of this can be true. It wouldn’t make sense. You kissed Yeonjun. You said you were interested in him. If this was all a lie, how will Yeonjun ever trust anyone again? When he came to you bleeding out, you saved his life. When you found out his secret identity, you kept it safe. Yeonjun miscalculated something that night—there is something more sacred and dangerous to trust you with than those things: his heart.

He doesn’t even want to finish his ramen anymore. His fingers brush against the wound that’s healing pretty well thanks to you, and a thought crosses his mind. The night that you kissed him was the night you found out he was Spider-man. An especially sickening question starts to haunt him. Did you only start liking him because of that?

Yeonjun feels played. He’s always known that he was a fool, so he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but really? Beer pong lord?

Five minutes is hardly enough to process the information Beomgyu dumped onto Yeonjun, but that’s all he gets, because now his alarm is going off and telling him to go over to the lab. He drops his head to his desk with a groan. It’s like an anchor’s been tied to his heart, sinking further and further until it makes him his stomach churn.

The fresh air feels good in Yeonjun’s lungs as he walks over to the lab. A permanent pout is etched onto his lips, unable to stop thinking about you. Good things. Bad things. Everything. Each memory hurts now.

He probably looks like some depressed college kid, walking around with his hood up and head down. He should be less pathetic, pick himself up and get himself together. It’s not like you two were really anything anyway. A kiss doesn't always mean something to everyone. Maybe it’s his fault for assuming that for you, it did.

It’s not just that, though. Yeah, kissing you made Yeonjun feel alive in a way that only swinging through the city could compare to, but there’s so much more to you than that. It’s the way you talked to him, the way you cared for him, the way you looked at him. How the hell do you fake that kind of connection? Hurt splits him at the seams like he’s being torn in two, but he keeps walking like nothing’s wrong.

“Yeonjun!” He recognizes that voice immediately. He pulls his eyes off the sidewalk and catches sight of you walking up to him. He almost forgot that he walks past your little field on the way to his lab.

It feels like he’s the one keeping a secret, palms clamming up as you stand in front of him. He stops in his tracks to allow you the conversation. “Hey,” he says.

“What are you up to?” you ask. He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Should he just act normal? Should he let you get away with using him? When he thinks about it like that, it puts a sour taste in his mouth.

“I’m headed to the lab. Got some stuff to do, and it’s time sensitive, so…” he trails off awkwardly, looking off into the distance instead of at you.

“Oh, okay,” you say, sounding a little dejected. Yeonjun shouldn’t be feeling bad for you right now, but he can’t help it. It makes his chest clench to hear the joy leave your voice. “Maybe we can hang out after? Just to study or something,” you offer.

Yeonjun sighs, “Maybe.”

You’re quiet for a second as you assess him. “Are you okay?” Concern fills your voice, and when he brings his vision back to you, he can see it in your eyes too.

“I’ll talk to you about it later,” he says.

You frown, taking in his flat expression. You must gain some insight from that, because then you’re asking, “Did I do something?”

He wants to hold his head, feeling defeated and frustrated and sad and a million other different things. He’s not sure how to label it. He’s never felt emotions this complex before, probably because he’s never liked anyone this much before.

“Oh god, did I?” you repeat, more fear in your voice at Yeonjun’s lack of a response. It strikes him and deflates his will to be dismissive about it, not wanting you to sit here worrying for the rest of the day. Curse his soft heart.

“Just come with me,” Yeonjun says, continuing on the path to his lab building. You follow beside him, taking long strides to match his quick pace. He notices you struggling to keep up, so he slows down, even though it might make him a few minutes late.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. He can feel you looking at him, but he keeps his eyes ahead.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he mumbles.

“Tell me then,” you plead. The thought of having to talk about this with you makes him feel sick. He doesn’t know if he can even choke up the words without getting nauseous.

“Let me clock into my lab first.” The rest of the walk is silent; you keep quiet even as you enter the room with him, watching him take off his sweatshirt and put on his lab coat. You’re quiet even as he goes through the study procedure, not even lingering near him to see what he’s doing. He feels a little cruel for it, wondering if he’s just torturing you by forcing you to stand silently and worry about what he must be upset at you for.

He steals a glance at you. You’re leaning against the wall by the door, so many steps away, keeping so much distance. He bites his lip and looks away, figuring it’s time to start the conversation.

“I want to talk to you, but I don’t want you to lie to me,” Yeonjun says, breaking the long stretch of silence. He walks toward you, stopping before he gets too close.

“I won’t. I’m not gonna hide anything from you.” It’s funny you say that.

“Do you like Kai?” His question catches you off guard, your frown leaving your face.

“No,” you answer.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not.”

“Okay. So why did Beomgyu tell me you used me to get back at him?”

He watches you stiffen at the question. “How do you know Beomgyu?” you ask.

“Please just answer me,” Yeonjun says. He doesn’t want to run around in circles, he just wants to hear the truth from you.

“I don’t like Kai anymore.” Something about that sentence hits like a stab to the gut. Yeonjun would know the feeling.

He tsks and shakes his head, ready to walk away and end the conversation, but you continue, “Please let me say the whole story.” Yeonjun sighs and meets your eyes. He decides to hear you out, only because a part of him is dying for you to make this right.

“Go ahead,” he says.

“I invited you to the party because you’re my friend, and I think you’re cute, but also for really petty, stupid revenge. It was so dumb and I’m so sorry, I feel so fucking bad for that now,” you explain. Yeonjun thinks back to how excited he was when you asked him. He remembers the rush of butterflies, the nervousness that pooled in his stomach, the adrenaline through his veins when he realized he finally had your attention.

You continue, “But I swear on my life, Yeonjun, the second we went outside at that party, I realized how unfair it was. I wanted to make Kai jealous, but when we were standing out there, I couldn’t do it. You’re a good person, and I felt fucking awful, and I didn’t go through with anything, and I’m glad I didn’t. You gave me one of the best nights of my life that day. I mean that. Seriously.”

There’s sincerity in your eyes, so Yeonjun knows you’re not lying. The ache in his chest is dull now, but still there. He can’t believe you planned to use him as some pawn to get back at Kai.

“Why’d I have to hear it from someone else? Why couldn’t you tell me yourself?” he asks. It’s pathetic how his voice carries more heartbreak than anger.

“Cause I didn’t want you to misunderstand and leave!” you explain, desperate. “Yeonjun, please. I don’t care about Kai anymore. I haven’t even talked to him since the party.”

Yeonjun wishes he could feel comforted by your words, but all he feels is hurt. He has this terrible thing where he can’t stop asking questions that will only batter him worse. “So you didn’t really like me?”

You take a step closer to him, placing both hands over your heart. Yeonjun’s not blind; he can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might walk away. He doesn’t have it in him to relieve your stress right now.

“I always liked you. I like you more every day,” you answer. There’s honesty in your words, which Yeonjun appreciates. It doesn’t quite melt away his insecurities, though.

Yeonjun can’t bear looking at you any longer, dropping his gaze to the floor and stepping back. He’s ready to leave, thinking he needs the night to himself to stare at the ceiling and contemplate this whole situation.

You stop him before he can get too far. Your hand hooks onto the sleeve of his lab coat, shaking as you cling to him. It’s so pitiful that it ruins the monstrous image Yeonjun’s trying to fit you into in his mind. Against his better judgment, his eyes meet yours again.

He’s about to speak—maybe to console you, to get some of that sadness out of your eyes—but the sound of glass breaking behind him makes him turn with wide eyes, searching for the damage. He’ll be the one stuck replacing any broken equipment; he can only pray that it wasn’t a more expensive piece.

His eyes flit across the room, but he finds nothing. Is he seriously losing his mind? Every time he’s in this lab, there’s something new giving him a mini heart attack. He brushes this off as some kind of paranoia. He considers talking to his professor about taking a break from the lab, just until he can restore his sanity.

“Let’s just head out of here,” Yeonjun says, unable to rid himself of the chill down his spine.

“Do you still like me?” you ask, unable to move on from the conversation. You stay planted in your spot as Yeonjun takes off his lab gear. He groans internally at your question—of course he still likes you. Do you think his feelings are so malleable? His adoration for you feels like an immovable boulder. He can’t even stay mad at you for as long as he wanted to, though he tries not to let you win too easily.

He sighs out your name instead of answering. He waits for you at the door as he throws his sweatshirt back on, and you trudge forward with a pout. Once his sweatshirt is slipped over his head, he catches sight of something behind you, heart stopping entirely.

“What the hell—?!” he emits, eyes growing wide as the cell clump he’d been working with expands out past its storage spot, spilling out onto the floor. The broken glass earlier must’ve been from the petri dish—shit, he should’ve checked. It’s discolored now, so dark it’s nearly black, and growing more rapidly than it should be able to.

You spin on your feet to see what Yeonjun’s looking at, yelping when you see the growth. You back up quickly and bump into Yeonjun’s chest. “What’s happening?” you ask, turning your head back to look up at him.

“I don’t know,” he answers. He has to think fast, because it doesn’t look like the cell replication is stopping any time soon—if anything, it looks like it’s growing exponentially. The clump is a goo-like substance, slowly spilling out further and further onto the floor, looking something like tar as it expands out. “We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” he says.

“How do we do that?” you ask. Yeonjun’s not sure either, so he doesn’t bother to answer. He opens one of the cabinets and pulls out all the different liquid chemicals he can find. One of these is bound to do something.

You hold yourself and watch him carefully, still looking shy and desperate and nervous from your argument. Yeonjun’s not sure why you seem to be more bothered by him not reassuring you that he likes you than by the clump that grows behind you. Your attention remains on him the whole time.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“No,” he answers sharply and quickly. He has bigger issues to be worried about than staying mad at you.

“I promise I wasn’t lying. I won’t talk to Kai ever again.”

“Why are we having this conversation right now?!” Yeonjun asks, frustrated.

“Because it’s important to me that you know!”

He ignores you in favor of unscrewing the lid to one of the acids, hoping it could digest the cells. When he pours it onto the clump, a loud hiss rings through the room and smoke comes up from the mass. It doesn’t seem to dissolve the cells, though.

He emits an exasperated groan, opening the lid to another chemical substance, and you rush to do the same. He can’t stop to think about how dangerous this is, too focused on controlling the problem before it gets irreparable. You and Yeonjun pour chemicals onto it at the same time, and it seems to react. The tar-like blob thickens now, erecting itself up from the floor languidly.

You and Yeonjun back up, watching with fearful eyes as it stands. It moves like it’s alive, like it’s a living organism. It’s eerily silent for a room as you two stare at the mass in shock. Then, rapidly, it comes charging at you, attaching itself to your cardigan as you shriek. Yeonjun acts fast, running to you and grabbing your waist, adhering his feet to the floor to keep you from getting dragged any more. You shed your cardigan quickly before tugging it back from the blob. It tears from how harsh you pull it, but you don’t seem to care, chucking it to the opposite side of the room.

This is an unfortunate time to see you in a tight-fitting tank top. Your chest heaves from the panic of being grabbed by the organism, rising and falling as you start to steady your breath. You look over at him, and he finds himself blushing and removing his gaze from you in embarrassment. God, now he’s the one struggling to focus on the bigger problem.

Yeonjun directs his wrist at the blob, shooting a web at it to keep it from charging at you again. The web sends the mass flying back until it collides with the wall. Though it can’t remove itself from the confines of the web, it still slowly grows, and it will be able to expand enough to attack again soon. Still, this should buy you two some more time.

“You should leave,” Yeonjun says, coming to you and cupping your face. His eyes beg you to go, strung up on the possibility of you getting hurt.

“I won’t,” you say, grabbing onto his wrists.

“Please. You’re too important.” His hand strokes through your hair like you’re something precious.

You take his hand and kiss it. “You are too. I won’t leave.”

He sighs. He knows he’s not winning this, there’s too much determination in your words. Before he removes his focus from you, he thinks he should tell you one last thing. “Just so you know, I like you too.”

You’re barely able to hold back your smile, but Yeonjun can’t stay and watch your reaction. The mass continues to grow over the confines of the web, and he has to find a way to control it before it overcomes the binds. He opens the binder that holds the descriptions of all the lab materials, hoping he can find something useful in there. His eyes flit across the words, scanning for the chemicals that will be his saving grace.

He stops when he reads the description for nitric acid. The words digest and dissolve kick his body to life, hope stirring inside of him. “Come here with the nitric acid!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“Which one is that?” you ask hurriedly, scanning through the different bottles of chemicals.

“It’s in a brown translucent bottle. Quick!” Before he can panic further, you’re racing to his side with a bottle of the acid. Yeonjun quickly pours it over the mass, watching it shrivel when the liquid hits its surface. A weight lifts off Yeonjun’s shoulders when he realizes he finally found something that works. The bottle doesn’t hold nearly enough, though, because Yeonjun empties it out before he can melt the organism completely.

He turns to you expectantly, and you’re rushing back to the counter where all the chemical substances are held. You’re turning each to read the labels, growing more aggravated as you fail to find another container of nitric acid. You curse as you swing the cabinet doors open, checking if there’s any stored away in there.

You pull out a bottle from the cabinet, reading it quickly. “Would sulfuric acid work?” you ask, looking at Yeonjun like you need him to say yes.

“It would react with the nitric acid,” he answers. You groan.

“You think I know any of this stuff?!” You go back to searching through the cabinet.

“Yes! You’re, like, the smartest girl I know!” Yeonjun exclaims, equally as frustrated.

“You must not know a lot of girls then,” you huff. You finally pull out a bottle that seems to match, running over to Yeonjun. He takes it from your hands and pours the liquid over what remains of the clump, watching it dissolve until all that’s left is a murky puddle on the floor. He plops the nitric acid onto a table, finally letting himself take a full breath. He tastes the chemicals swirling in the air, but he can’t bring himself to care about any toxins filling his lungs. He’s worn out, crouching down in exhaustion with a groan.

When he picks his head up from between his arms, he searches for you. You’re bent over one of the tables, head tucked between your arms as half your body rests over the surface. You must be just as drained as him. He stretches his body out as he stands back up, then approaches you at the opposite side of the table. He rests his elbows onto the tabletop, leaning forward to be closer to you.

“You get feisty when you’re working under pressure,” Yeonjun teases, breathless laugh escaping him. You lift your head to look at him, and he can see how you hold back your amusement.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond. You seem winded, still breathing hard as you push yourself off the table and pick up your cardigan from the floor. You hold up your cardigan and examine the damage. It’s stained and ripped and looks disgusting. You pout. “This was my favorite one…”

“Don’t worry, you’re pretty good at stitching things back up,” Yeonjun says, coming up to you and taking the cardigan from your hands to tie it around your waist. You look up at him, something fond shining in your eyes.

“I guess I am,” you say, tugging on Yeonjun’s sweatshirt to pull him closer to you. You wear a dopey smile as you stare at him, hands resting on his shoulders, and Yeonjun really hopes that you do what he knows you’re both thinking about right now.

You don’t leave him waiting long; your hand comes to his jaw to bring his face to yours, and the next second, Yeonjun’s having the best kiss of his life. It feels like a reward after the shitshow that today’s been. For it to come to this, he’d relive it a dozen more times.

“Wait,” Yeonjun says, pulling back. “Are we dating now?”

“Haven’t we been dating?” You look at him like he’s a fool, and it endears Yeonjun endlessly.

“I mean, boyfriend-girlfriend dating,” Yeonjun explains.

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

“Good,” he says, coming in for another quick kiss. “I’m all yours.” His words are uttered against your lips, since he can’t seem to pull himself away from you.

You gladly accept his kisses, and he has to keep himself from getting too drunk off your taste. He has to remember he’s still in a lab with a bunch of chemicals filling the air—it’s probably a good idea to get out. Even though he doesn’t want to, Yeonjun steps back and looks around at the mess throughout the room. Given everything that happened, it’s not awful. A mop would take care of ninety percent of the problem.

“We should clean this up,” he sighs.

“Yeah,” you agree. Neither of you make a move. You start laughing after a few seconds, and Yeonjun returns his attention to you with a cheeky grin.

“No, let’s just leave,” he suggests. He’s exhausted. He’ll explain everything to his professor tomorrow, he can’t take any more of this today.

“Should we go back to my place then?” you ask. Yeonjun does a very poor job of hiding his excitement. He wants more than anything to hold you to his chest and zip across campus to get to your dorm, but alas, he does the smart thing instead. A ten minute walk has never felt more like ten hours in his life, and seeing your dorm building finally come into view has his heart racing in anticipation.

Yeonjun’s all over you the minute your door closes behind him. He doesn’t let your lips disconnect for a second—not to talk, not to breathe, because nothing’s more important than tasting your lips on his.

Your back falls to your mattress, and Yeonjun’s mind briefly wanders to the last time you two were here. Having you sprawled out beneath him is quite different than you patching him up above him. In a way, that moment felt like the start of something bigger between you. The initial spark came long before it, but that night is what caused fire to catch. He feeds the flame now, fingers untying the cardigan at your waist and throwing it to the floor. Your shirt’s the next thing to go, and he only pulls away long enough to shed the cloth off of you.

His mouth on yours is ravenous and unwilling to waste any more time. He feels up your stomach, cherishing the warm flesh with eager fingers. He trails his hands up to your chest, feeling your breasts over your bra. You gasp when he squeezes experimentally, and it encourages him to continue, movements growing hungry.

You break away from the kiss, panting for air while Yeonjun latches onto your jaw. He’s insatiable, sucking your skin and placing kitten licks over the mark after. He hovers his face over yours, biting back his grin when he sees how hazy your eyes have become.

You catch his face in your hand, cupping his jaw and thumbing his cheek. The action makes his heart soar, and he leans into your warm touch. Your smile turns from soft to wicked when you push your thumb between his lips, and he engulfs the digit without a fight.

“I like you,” you say as he sucks your thumb, blinking up at him adoringly like he’s not doing some lewd act right now. He swirls his tongue around you before popping it out of his mouth, kissing your fingertip then taking your hand in his own.

“I like you too.” His free hand goes behind your back to search for your bra clasp, fumbling with it clumsily until he gets it to disconnect. You pull the material off, and Yeonjun’s cock twitches in his pants when he takes in the sight of you. A part of him feels wrong for doing this, like this is too dirty, but a larger part of him can’t wait to indulge in you. He’ll just make sure to take you out for dinner after.

Yeonjun throws his sweatshirt and shirt to the floor, pride swirling inside him when he sees the way you ogle at his skin. You lay your hand over his chest, trailing your fingers over the expanse teasingly. He takes your wrist and drags your hand away.

“You don’t deserve to touch me. I’m still upset about Kai,” he says. It’s a lie, but he’s in a playful mood. Your hand makes its way back to his chest despite that, so he grabs it and brings it to the bed, shooting a web over your wrist so you can’t move it. He giggles. The whole web-slinging thing comes with some perks.

“Oh, come on,” you sulk as he does the same to your other wrist. He leans back for a moment, looking down at you all proud. A few different sights flash through his mind, endless possibilities of how he could make the most of your hands being restrained. Maybe he should punish you for ever liking Kai in the first place, keep you on the edge until you’re chanting apologies into the air. He could also just indulge in your body greedily, taste every inch of you without your hands pulling him away. The ache in his pants grows at the thought.

You sigh in satisfaction when his hand meets your clothed core. Your hips grind against his hand, and he allows you to use him to find your pleasure. Your hands close into fists as Yeonjun lets you ride his open palm, still fighting against your restraints.

“How much do you like me?” Yeonjun asks. His free hand holds your waist, fingers brushing against your skin gently.

“So much,” you answer, never abandoning your rhythm. “You’re so smart, and handsome, and funny, and—nngh—and good to me…” Yeonjun’s hand travels from your waist to your chest in reward, thumb rolling over one of your nipples.

“Yeah, I am good to you. I stay with you even though you’re mean to me.”

You shake your head at his statement. “I’m not mean to you,” you say.

He laughs at how you try to control yourself, how serious your tone gets. Your hips slow, so he takes measures into his own hands and moves his palm against your cunt instead. If he presses down hard enough, he can feel how wet you are even through your pants.

“You are,” he says. “You use me to get other men.” He knows that’s not true now, but a part of him is still a little bruised by the idea. He figures that airing out his insecurities like this might help him, and it makes him feel less vulnerable.

“No! That’s not true!” Yeonjun ignores you and takes off your pants, letting them join the other articles of clothing on your floor. He short circuits when he sees the wet patch on your panties. A sense of shame must fill you then, because your legs clamp shut to block his view.

“Hey, be nice,” he says, opening your legs back up. He holds you open as he presses his knee to your folds, and he can feel your arousal even through the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s squealing internally, overjoyed to have you soaking for him, but he keeps his calm on the outside.

Your hands push against the webs again, shaking the mattress a little. You pout at him. “I want to touch you,” you whine.

“Sorry about that,” he says. He matches your pout as his hands smooth down your legs, lazily exploring your flesh. He grabs your hips and positions them up a little so that you’re pressing into his thigh. He hears the moan that gets caught in your throat as he drags your cunt against him, holding back a satisfied smirk.

“Should I tell you what I like about you?” Yeonjun asks, something silky and smooth in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips over his thigh. “Say pleaseeeee,” he prompts.

“Please,” you echo. He giggles.

“Again.” He’s having fun.

“Please, Yeonjun,” you beg, sweet voice dripping with need.

He releases your hips so he can pull off your panties, tugging you back onto him once you kick the cloth off your ankles. He can really feel how wet you are now, and it makes a knot form in his stomach. He wants you more than anything.

“I like how pretty you are,” he starts, leaning over you to press kisses against your neck. “And I like how cool you are.” His mouth travels a little lower, sucking at your collarbone. “And I like how I can talk to you for hours and never get bored.” His lips smother your chest, just above your tits, familiarizing himself with every inch of your skin. Your hips buck against him when he presses his thigh more firmly between your legs. “And I like how wet you get,” he laughs.

His mouth finds your breasts then, tongue swirling teasingly around one of your buds. Your nipples perk up, begging for his attention. He drags his tongue over to your other mound, sucking at the swell of flesh, moaning against you. The taste of your skin in his mouth makes him feel high.

You whine, hips rolling more fervently against him, chasing your approaching high. Yeonjun busies himself with delivering kitten licks to your nipples, watching the way they glisten with his saliva after he runs his tongue across them a few times. He peels himself off of you when your rhythm gets unsteady, not wanting you to cum yet. There’s a look of betrayal on your face as he disconnects from you, not touching you at all anymore.

“Yeonjun,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in. “I need to cum.” Your needy cunt grinds against the tent in his boxers, hungrily trying to get yourself off. He lets you have your fun for a minute, enjoying the feel of your warm, wet slit coating his clothed cock, before holding your hips still and keeping you from moving. That doesn’t stop you from digging your heels into his back, pushing him harder against you.

He removes your legs from him, holding you open as he plunges two fingers into your cunt. Your heat takes him in so nicely, the slide of his digits inside you made so easy from how slick your cunt is. You arch your back, moaning out as he curls his fingers inside you.

“Tight girl, gotta stretch you out,” he says, scissoring his digits to prepare you. Your arousal pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress as Yeonjun fucks you on his fingers. “Need to get you ready for me.”

“Mhm, need your dick,” you say. You look so helpless like this, laying back and letting Yeonjun fuck his fingers into you however he wants. He increases his speed just because he can, knowing you can’t pry his hand away, grinning when you emit a surprised gasp. Your walls start tightening around his fingers, a warning of your orgasm, and Yeonjun pulls his hand away before you can get there.

You’re whining his name again, thighs clamping shut to relieve the pressure. He shushes you as he tugs his boxers out of the way, stroking his cock as he watches the way you tremble. Poor thing.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asks. Your legs spread open immediately in invitation. He watches as a glob of arousal drips out from your core.

“Yes,” you breathe out. He pumps his shaft a few more times before bringing it to your folds, letting your wetness coat his tip. “Put it in,” you beg, jerking your hips up. He ignores your plea, bringing the head of his cock to your clit to tap on it a few times. The stimulation sends a buzz through you, and Yeonjun coos at you sweetly.

“Want you to feel so good,” he says, aligning his tip to your hole and starts pushing in. You throw your head back and groan, and he gives your neck a wet kiss. “Wanna be the best you’ve had.” He sinks in slowly, letting your walls adjust to him inch by inch. You feel like heaven around him, and his fingers dig into your hips to keep himself from losing his mind. He wants to meld himself into you.

He grinds his pelvis against you when he bottoms out, steadying his breaths so he doesn’t lose himself too quickly. His moans are deep and airy, while yours are whiny and pathetic. He trails a hand up your body until he’s cupping your face, bringing your attention to him. You look dazed, and he wants to watch you fall apart. He needs to see your perfect face scrunched up with pleasure, eyes glassy and mouth open, going stupid from how fucked out you are.

He presses a light kiss against your lips, then leans his face into the crook of your neck. He finally starts pulling back, slamming back into you with a whimper. Your cunt takes him so readily despite how tight you are, your arousal making him glide in and out of you so easily.

“Gonna be perfect for you,” Yeonjun promises. “Be a good boyfriend. Fuck you every day. Keep you happy.” He lifts himself up to watch your mouth fall open as he thrusts into you. He presses against your stomach to feel himself inside you, moaning whorishly when he does. It makes him fuck you harder, desperation coursing through his system.

You can barely speak from how far gone you are, stuttering out curses and whimpers of his name. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing at the swollen bud to get you clenching around him. He groans at how tight you get, sucking him in like your body was meant to take him.

“Need you to cum now,” Yeonjun says, feeling his high looming over. “Gotta feel you milking my cock, let me see it.”

“Kiss me,” you say breathlessly, mouth hanging open as you wait for him to take it. He obliges eagerly, shoving his tongue into your mouth with a needy whine. He licks into you as if this will coax your orgasm out, and it does. Your walls clamp around him, and he’s barely able to move from how tight you get. He circles your clit diligently, only letting up when your body jolts in overstimulation.

He pulls out soon after, only having to stroke himself a few times before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. He groans as he milks himself for every last drop, hand shaking as he releases the last of it. You look hot painted with his cum; he bites his lip and squeezes your thighs, needing more and more of you.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, making you turn your head away shyly.

“Thanks. You are too.” His stomach flips, feeling proud that he earned your praise. He lowers himself to your torso, lapping at the milky strands of his cum. He cleans you nicely, swallowing down his own release until your stomach’s coated in only his saliva. He brings himself to your slit to lap at it languidly, loving the little whines you emit at the sensation.

“Did so good for me, thank you,” he murmurs into your cunt. He pushes his tongue into your entrance, slowly fucking the muscle inside you. You sigh and roll your hips against his face, relaxed and melting into the feeling.

“Y-you’re good too,” you praise. He licks his way up to your clit, taking it into his mouth and letting his tongue roll over the bud. He likes to hear that he’s being good for you, it makes him feel like he’s worthy of you. He thrives off your happiness, so he feels content as he pleases you with his mouth.

He never wants to let you go. He wants you in his arms forever, he wants to stay in this room and live the rest of his life with just you by his side. This much is enough for him. He glides his hands down your thighs, letting his fingers lightly drag along your skin. He opens his mouth a little more to taste more of you, to kiss your folds more hungrily. He presses the tip of his tongue to your bud, focusing the pressure right against it until he hears you mewl.

“Right there!” you gasp out, pressing yourself further into Yeonjun’s face. He hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, making sure you don’t jolt away when your orgasm creeps up on you. He flicks his tongue over your clit repeatedly, feeling your thighs shake in his grasp. He doesn’t stop until you’re releasing on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your essence.

He detaches himself after a minute, licking his lips and letting go of your legs. He sits up and smiles at you, taking in how pretty you look. He holds your jaw so he can kiss you, and he can’t help but to giggle into the kiss. This is so surreal. He would have fainted if he knew one month ago that this would be happening to him.

“Hi,” you say when he finally pulls his face from yours. This feels like a dream.

“Hi,” he echoes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He cherishes the smile you give him.

“So when does this dissolve?” you ask, tugging at the webs holding your arms in place. Yeonjun scratches his neck bashfully. That's enough of an answer for you. “Yeonjun…” you sigh, body deflating.

“Less than two hours!” he rushes to say.

“Two hours?!”

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

Your eyes flit down to his stirring cock. “I guess I have nothing better to do,” you give in. Yeonjun sees right through your nonchalant act, but he lets you get away with it. He has better things to busy himself with than arguing about that.

──── ──── ──── ──── ────

You bring Yeonjun to the market after learning about the laundry detergent debacle. You place the item in your basket, shaking your head at him as you do. “I can’t believe your roommate had to tell me to get you to buy this.”

Yeonjun raises his hands in defense. “I get busy sometimes,” he says.

“With coming to my dorm every other night?” you ask with a raised brow, walking into the next aisle.

Yeonjun drops a candy bar into the basket alongside the detergent. “No, with lab stuff, and class stuff, and Spidey stuff,” he corrects. He picks up a bottle of your favorite drink as he passes by it on the shelf. “And with girlfriend stuff,” he adds sweetly.

“Right,” you say unconvincingly, smiling as you nod your head.

Yeonjun grabs a pair of sunglasses off a rack, placing them on his face and turning to you with a grin. “How cool are these?” he asks, pointing at himself.

You laugh and lift the sunglasses up so they rest on his head. “So cool,” you answer. You tilt your head to check the price on them. “You should totally spend the last of your money on them.”

He pulls the glasses off his face to check the price tag, eyebrows raising in reaction. He puts them back on the rack. He can’t get rid of the smile on his face as he watches you shop, endeared and swooned by every little thing you do. It’s small moments like these that make him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.

“We should get bandages. I can’t believe you don’t have any,” you say, looking for where the item would be in the store.

“There’s a lot of things I don’t have. I’m operating on a limited budget,” he explains. It’s not like he can tackle a job on top of everything else he does. He’s grown accustomed to his ways of living, accepting that he’s become the male college student stereotype.

“I’m glad I stepped into your life then,” you say, throwing a box of bandages into your basket. “I’m actually scared you’d die without me.”

Yeonjun can’t help but to laugh at that. “I would die without you,” he agrees. He follows you as you continue walking around the store, aimlessly searching for anything you might need. You stop when you feel your phone buzz, pulling out your phone upon receiving a notification, checking it curiously. He reads the message over your shoulder; it’s an alert from your local news station about some rescue mission for a bunch of dogs that ran loose from their shelter just now. You turn to him with a knowing smile.

“That’s your cue, Spider-man.”

notes: god i loved writing this so much…. i hope u like spideyjjun just as much as i do<3 i would love to hear ur thoughts if u have anyyy!!! tysm for reading hehe

taglist: @ambsphoria @bananasdiary @beaabz @beomgyusluver @beomsdoll @brrytears @bumgyuz @dawngyu @enhastolemyheart @estrnrea @fancypeacepersona @fatbixchwithanopinion @heejamas @heesmiles @insanityz @i4tzy @jellyyjn @kejingken @lilbrorufr @lovesickchoi @mrsjohnnysuh @raspberrii @sanscupid @saraalovestxt @soobinieswife @starrynightgyu @starstrucktae @taebatu @taysfairies @tubatukimoa @tyongyuta @usuallyunlikelyfox @verco @vvjolyneee @xylatox @younbeanz @yourenzoo @yunverie 🤍

© delugyu 2025, do not translate or reupload

[imtryingbuck]

Maybe tomorrow

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: To kill time on a mission, you, Bucky, and Sam get a drink. When the topic of your dating life comes up, Sam tries to convince Bucky to tell you his feelings.

Word count: 1,557

Warnings: drunk reader(?) mentions of a period. swearing. fluff. angst(?)

Masterlist

Sam was your favourite person to be sent on missions with, even during the intense moments Sam never failed to put a smile on your face - one time he made a comment about something whilst you was fighting with a man twice the size of you and you burst out laughing which caused the man to frown… before he punched you in the face.

Bucky was also your favourite person to go on missions with, he always tried to be so grumpy around you but as observant as always you noticed the subtle twitch of his lips threatening to curve into a beautiful smile you had seen only once before. It helped that he was strong, fast, a trained fighter who just so happened to be the most beautiful man you had ever been blessed to lay your eyes on.

The three of you had been sent on a mission to get some important information, you were expected to be back in three days. You guys were done within five hours of landing in London. And since none of you were in any rush to get back home, you decided to drag an excited falcon and an unimpressed wolf sightseeing.

Obviously telling them untruthful facts about everything around you.

On your last day the three of you found your way into a pub, sitting in the far corner away from prying eyes - Bucky sat on the bench with his eyes trained on the door whilst you and Sam sat next to each other facing him. Sam bless his heart tried in vain to get the other man to at least crack a smile by telling him - in your opinion - the most hilarious jokes, tears were freely falling from your eyes as you cackled like a witch. At one point Sam had to grab a hold of the chair you was sitting on whilst Bucky leaned over the table to grab your arm as your toppled over at the latest joke.

Everyone on the team knew that once you had more than a few glasses of wine in your system you became very talkative, openly sharing your most intimate deepest darkest secrets, sometimes getting emotional before you’d burst out laughing again. Nat and Wanda had held you in their arms on the middle of the crowded dance floor as you wept, mumbling about how your first time wasn’t as romantic as you imagined - instantly perking up when your favourite song blared out of the stereos, dancing away as if you didn’t have tears rolling down your face.

Truthfully, they loved it when a drunk Y/n made her appearance, it was their way of getting to know you better, because if everyone thought that Nat and Bucky were the most secretive of their lives then they had never met you. Tony once said that they could get more information from a brick wall than they could you.

So it’s no surprise that the more drinks Sam placed in front of you the more you talked before the more sane part of your brain could catch up.

“G-Guys… I need to tell you something.” You leaned into the table, looking around to check if anyone was nearby. “When… when I had my first period I thought I was dying.”

Sam chuckles. “Why?”

“Why? Because Samuel there was so much blood an-and I’m pretty sure my stomach was in my underwear!” The two men gasped which caused you to do the same. “But I’m okay now.” You vowed not wanting either man to worry.

“How do you know?” Bucky asked, finally lighting up.

“How do I know what?”

“That you’re okay now.”

“Because Bucky, because of this.” You tapped the side of your head. Both men share a look before laughing, which prompted you to join in - not really understanding the joke.

“Hey Y/n, can I ask you a question.” Sam asked as he tapped your cheek, as you also had the tendency to fall asleep when alcohol was flowing through you.

“Yes I’ll marry you but on one conscience.”

“Condition.” Bucky corrected, amusement evident in his voice.

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Anyway, I want to ask you a question.” Sam’s voice cuts off the staring competition between you and the super solider. “How’s your dating life going?”

“Great. Like super, super, super great.”

“Really?” You don’t realise that it was both of them speaking at the same time as you nodded with your eyes closed.

“Yeah, I went on a date last week with this guy- do you know him? Probably don’t. But it was going amazingly and when it was over he lent into kiss me.” They both watch your fingers hover over your lips. Two sets of eyes squinting waiting for you to continue but you don’t, looking to lost in the memory.

“Then what?”

“His wife rang. Fucking dick had a wife who was at home looking after their baby waiting him to come back from work.” Their eyes widen and before either one can ask, you answered their unspoken question. “I left quickly but then I followed him home, where I told his wife and guys she was so beautiful and I mean beautiful! She believed me instantly and kicked him out right as I stood there. Not his first rodeo.”

“Y/n…”

“It’s okay. I’m just going to die alone. Now I need the toilet don’t miss me too much.”

Bucky watched as you stood before making your way towards the toilets - only to watch you pass by again because you went in the wrong way - once he knew you were gone he rolled his eyes at Sam as he stared at him with a smug smile on his lips. “What?”

“When are you going to ask her?”

“Ask her what?”

“Ask her out.”

Bucky choked on his drink which Sam found hilarious, once Bucky gained composure he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We all see the way you look at her Bucky, save her from dying alone.”

“She’s not going to die alone.”

“Because you’re going to ask her out?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“She deserves someone better than me.”

“Like a man who already has a wife?”

“Obviously not.”

“You’re a good man Bucky, trust me-“

“Shut up. You alright Y/n?”

“I went into the men’s bathroom… I’m horrified.”

“Why on earth did you go into the men’s?”

“I got confused. Why are men so dirty?”

“We’re not?” Sam points between himself and Bucky.

“Not you two but other men.” You patted Sam on his shoulder. “I’m tired.”

“Let’s go back to the hotel then.”

As Sam goes to pay the tab Bucky helped you get your coat on after watching in amusement of you fighting with the thing, he swallowed the lump in his throat that formed when you stared up at him - the only way he could call the look on your face was dreamy, and that made him nervous.

“Bucky.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I lov- you’re drunk and tired doll.”

“I know b-but I do. Did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That you are perfect.”

Bucky choked on air. He’s never been called that before, not even before the war. Hearing the person who he thought was the definition of perfection call him that made his heart rate spike, his palms sweat and his eyes to well up with tears. “I- let’s get you to bed.”

“With you?” You asked with a yawn, your eyes closing and head dropping onto his chest.

“Come on doll.”

Bucky ended up having to carry you back to the hotel - with Sam holding carrying your shoes after you kicked them off your feet. He managed to wake you up and keep you awake long enough for you to get your pyjamas on, he kept his back to you the whole time, answering your drunken questions about the most random of things, chuckling at your giggles.

“Finished.” You slurred.

Turning around he smiled softly as you tapped your thighs and kick your legs back and forth. “Okay doll, let’s get you to dreamland, yeah?”

“Will you come with me?”

“Of course.” Pulling back the quilt he held his hand for you to take, he helped you into bed and tucked you in. “Goodnight doll.”

“Stay. Please.” Your hand tightened around his own, he stared into your sleepy eyes and nodded. Taking his shoes off he got onto the bed but that wasn’t good enough for you, with all the strength you had - which wasn’t a lot in your tired form - you tried to put the quilt over him.

“Happy now?” He asked once he was under the warm quilt, you hummed as he wrapped his arms around you. He knew himself that Sam was right, that he would have to tell you how he feels but he’s just scared because he truly believes you deserve someone better.

“I love you Bucky.”

He moves your hair out of your face and gently lays his hand on your cheek, he leans down to place a soft kiss on to your forehead. “I love you too doll.”

Maybe just maybe tomorrow he’ll tell you, but for now he was going to commit the feeling of your body wrapped up in his arms to memory.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[cherrynailsgrl]

Nature and I were one.

words: 1,6k

Charlotte Matthews x Fem!Reader

type: fluffy & angst. You and Lottie were in situation ship and now you met again after two months, what could go wrong with an ex cult leader? I will be accepting requests <3

ty @lotties-ashwagandha for the beginning idea!!

Sorry if I have some errors, english it’s not my first language. Enjoy your reading. <3

You were waiting impatiently at the traffic light, a silly song playing on the radio while your fingers lightly tapped the steering wheel.

Everything was fine. You were thinking about getting home to catch up on some of the assignments for the advertising company where you worked; and the workload had doubled since they now had to come up with something more impressive than what artificial intelligence could produce.

However, your thoughts scattered when you saw her—her fur coat, stepping out of the bank. Charlotte Matthews. You thought she was either in the psychiatric facility or leading her heliotropic cult like she had been since you met her.

But no, there she was. You hadn’t ended on bad terms with her; it had been a few months of good sex, and you had just stopped seeing each other because the distance from the city to her wellness center was too far. You’d had really good sex that night two months ago when you both said, “Well, I guess it’ll be a while until I see you again, if I ever do.” You got up shaking, and that feeling lingered for a few days.

You loved her in secret. You would have been in a relationship with her. But God, she was so far away.

You saw her step toward the curb, trying to catch a cab. When the light turned green, you drove up to her as quickly as possible and stopped beside her. You rolled down the window and leaned toward that side of the car. “Need a ride?” you asked, lowering your sunglasses to see her.

“Y/N?” she asked. She licked her lips, hesitated a moment, and then got in. Her perfume filled the car, and she kissed your cheek. “You look good,” she said as she buckled her seatbelt.

“You too.” You started driving. “Do you have plans?”

“I think I’ve got the afternoon off.” She rested her head on the cushion, watching how your hair had grown over the past two months, tracing your features, like she always did.

“Do you want to come home and… talk?”

“Can we order Chinese food?” she asked first.

“We can,” you said, glancing at her at a red light. “And you’re not paying,” you added before she could say it.

On the way, you talked about the psychiatric hospital—though she didn’t tell you much. They couldn’t lock her up because of her religion, and her meds kept her stable. Everything was fine. She told you about the death of one of her friends, which was somehow one of the reasons she lost her center.

When you got to your apartment, she took off her coat and helped you with your work—or rather, she made you tea and played with your hair while you worked and chatted. You told her you’d gotten a better position at work, that you were thinking of adopting a cat, and about some of the problems you were having with your friends.

“Can you order the Chinese food and let me cook myself some veggie noodles? Please.” She gave you those big brown eyes you could never say no to; though you didn’t understand—Why did she want you to order Chinese if she wasn’t going to eat it with you?

Still, you didn’t deny her request. You drank some wine while you waited for your food and helped her cook her own.

The odd part came when the doorbell rang—she was the one who went to the door with your money. She took an envelope from the pocket of her coat that you didn’t get to read. You heard her close the door a moment later and saw her sit on the couch beside you, now carrying a new kind of tension.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, setting her hot dish on the coffee table. She placed the cardboard bag there too. She didn’t look at you for a moment, adjusting herself beside you, sideways. “Lottie,” you called again, softly now, a bit worried by the look in her eyes. You tilted your head to get a better view of her.

“Can I stay the night?” she finally asked. She looked at you—and she looked so… so lost. Lottie was never lost. She was always the guide.

“Lottie,” you murmured, not to say no—her nickname slipped from your lips with… was pity? You just knew she wasn’t telling you everything, and you wanted to help.

“I’m sorry, that was stupid,” she said quickly, standing up. “I should go.” When she turned, you took her hand and gently pulled her back to you.

“Stay.” It was a plea.

You intertwined your fingers with hers. “Talk to me.” You gently caressed the back of her hand.

She took a breath. “I lost everything. And I ruined so many lives thinking I was helping people.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I lost my home, I lost the Wellness Center, my friends think I’m insane, I’ve never… never felt so lost.”

Her voice broke, but she didn’t look at you, trying not to cry. She sobbed, and you moved closer, letting her speak while your free hand gently tucked her dark hair behind her ear.

“I thought I was helping people, truly healing them. Lisa was like a daughter to me, you know? And now she’s back on cigarettes, she has that same look in her eyes from when I first met her. I couldn’t fix anything. I didn’t help anyone. If I’d done better, I wouldn’t be like this. It’s my fault.” The delivery girl…

You pulled her into a hug. She finally broke, crying into your neck, a silent scream while you whispered, “Shh, it’s okay,” into her ear. You held her as long as she cried, comforting her, reassuring her that she did the best she could, that she had helped a lot of people, and if they relapsed, it wasn’t really her fault. That things would get better.

When she finally pulled away from your neck, you wiped her tears with your thumbs and kissed her face, feeling her slowly relax. The food went cold, but that didn’t matter—not really.

“Do you want to go to bed?” It was your turn to comfort her. She always helped you when something happened—fights with your parents, with your friends, always offering useful advice. She was older than you, and if your problems were like the ones she’d once had, her advice was more precise.

“Yes, please.” You took her hand and led her to your room. She hadn’t seen your apartment until that day. The walls were white, a bunch of photos stuck on them with your friends, a TV, two shelves of books, a decent closet, and some plants.

“I know it’s not much,” you said, a little embarrassed, used to her home, as you turned on a small lamp. “But it’s something,” you added.

She shook her head and waved a hand, dismissing your words. “It’s perfect.” She walked over to you and, to your surprise, kissed you—softly, sweetly, slowly.

But what surprised you even more was when you felt her guide your hands to the straps of her dress. You gently pulled away. “Lottie,” you said, confused by her action since she didn’t look like she wanted to have sex.

“What?”

“You don’t have to do this to stay the night.” You clarified, and she let out a relieved sigh.

“Really?” she asked, just to be sure.

“Really.” You lifted the straps back up, let your hands slide from her arms to her cheeks, and kissed her slowly, with no rush—just one slow kiss, and you pulled away gently.

“Thank you,” she whispered warmly. You lent her some pajamas and sat with her in bed after your nighttime routine. You sat behind her, gently brushing her hair, braiding it. You remembered how she used to get out of bed just so you’d do that.

“All done.” She thanked you and crawled into bed beside you. You talked about all the good things she’d done while cuddling her like she used to do for you, and suddenly she confessed:

“I think sometimes I miss the woods.” She had told you about that before—the first time she did was when you asked why she’d chosen to live in nature so… literally. How she’d bundle up so much to keep the cold from getting to her bones.

“Why?” you asked, lying close, your breaths brushing against each other.

“I think I was never as… free again. I didn’t have to take pills. No one called me crazy. Nature and I were one. I… I think I belong to that. I don’t know, I miss it. No one judged us, it was 1998, homophobia was… but there, in the woods, no one judged us. We could be ourselves. I could be myself. Sometimes I just want to go back.” Lottie fell silent, then chuckled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You just look so beautiful talking about something you truly love, like nature. Your eyes shine so much.” Charlotte often told you the terrible parts (not the terrible things they did), but mostly she also said things like this.

“Shut up, brat.” But you didn’t get to answer—she kissed you gently, and when she pulled back, you said something else cheesy and kissed her again. “Oh, you want to do this—kissing before sleep like we were teenagers?” And it felt so good to just do that. So soft.

“Yes. And I’m not far off from being a teenager again.” You kissed her while you cuddled her. It was simply soft. You weren’t looking for anything more than that—not in this moment, not tonight. Just kisses.

“Would you come with me?” she asked after a while, in your ear, as she hugged you to fall asleep.

“To the woods? Lottie, I’m afraid of bears,” you murmured just before dozing off. It wasn’t a 100% answer. You weren’t taking it seriously.

“I’ll have to kidnap you,” she whispered, kissed your head, and rested hers on top of yours, wrapping her whole body around you. “I’m not letting you go. Not again.”

[chenlezip]

.⊹˖ᯓ★. ݁₊ love at first like | a mark lee smau

009: the truth hurts.

annas note: next chapter is the last D: i know this seems so rushed and im so sorry for all who were excited for this… i hope you enjoy though. and i hope the next chapter will be even better for you as the last.

it is official. the end of the ‘relationship’ you had with mark has finally come to an end but did you really want it to? you didn’t expect to enjoy these past 3 months but you really did. he was like no other. he treat you so kindly and with care, never once made you feel bad or like you didn’t understand anything like that time he showed you new tricks to use for making music. the silent actions too, the small looks you both gave each other to check if either one was okay, the whispered nothings that you both talked about.

you both were truly emotionally invested into this, soon forgetting that it was fake and just a contract but even then, with the harsh reality hitting you both like this.. would anything really pull you apart? even marks members haven’t seen him so happy and comfortable with someone so fast before but you’re different to him. someone who can keep him grounded and not let him lose himself in his work and in general.

speaking of, mark was absolutely crushed at the news. he knew it was coming, that’s why he tried to talk to you about it the other day in the car but his words wouldn’t come out the way he wanted them to and he didn’t get to explain. it was too late. the next couple of days, mark keeps himself busy and whenever he sees a text from you, he tries his best to ignore it, just swiping it off his screen. he didn’t mean to ignore you but he didn’t know what else to do, he can’t try and act like everything is normal because it’s not. not to him it isn’t.

you, on the other hand, were sick of mark ignoring you. he even went as far as to ignore your calls when he promised you (and pinky promised by the way) that he would answer always. one night, you both ended up staying late at the company and you notice him coming out of a recording studio. your chance.

you make your way up to him, dragging him somewhere quiet so you both could chat in peace and as soon as you found a small room, you push you and him inside and close the door, crossing your arms. “mark, i’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while about this but you’ve been non stop avoiding me ever since our contract ended. you don’t have to avoid me, you don’t have to just push me out of your life.. it’s hurting me, you should know that but i guess you don’t because we stopped keeping in touch. you said you wouldn’t, you said you would always answer my calls when i ring.. pinky promised and everything but you lied.”

“i told you it was supposed to be fake yn, didn’t i? we got told specifically that we can’t get our feelings involved in this, it said so on that contract and i know it’s ended but i.. i let my feelings come between us countless times like when i wanted to kiss you as it rained the day we got to the cafe, when i said you were more important than i thought while we got drunk in my studio, the small whispers we shared hiding away from our managers. i thought that if i ignored you, my feelings would die down and we could go back to normal for the sake of everything. for our careers. obviously it didn’t work because all i could think of was you and how everything was so real.”

you felt your stomach churn with so many unknown feelings. “what do we do?” you ask softly. “i’ll sort it, okay? i’ll make it up to you but i don’t think we can just be colleagues or friends after this. not with the way i feel about you, yn.”

@polarisjisung @luvmrk @finewinesixtynine @bbyjjunie @multifandomania @jenocity23 @iluv7tn @sungbites @haluenx @222brainrot @iluvkyo @ayukas @mmjhh1998 @skibidihan @f6llsun @florihaei @kiszjuli @cloudmrk @cigsaftersuh @i06hae @neozon3nha @urlocalbeaner5 @sunghoonsgfreal @nasasungs @mbella607 @desssss-0 @prettymoles @haechsworld @mejaemin @yizhrt @fullmoon0606 @n0hyuck @dilflover44 @nctdreamchaser @stuckonmark @bananinhazz @luvs4haechan @tynlvr @remgeolli @jae-n0 @blondemrk @lukeys-giggle @mimi894 @haechyuckan @jakiki94 @sacdepixie @bluedbliss @yoyomul @nctrawberries @hoeingthefuckup @joneborder

[itsaspectrumcomic]

hi, sorry, feel free to completely ignore this, i don’t know if i am overstepping as this is a bit of a vent i guess but i just don’t know what to do or feel

so i was fairly confident that i am autistic (and very maybe have adhd too but not too sure about that one) so with my parents, because i am still 17 (i also went through the child diagnosis), i tried to get a diagnosis and today we got the results. turns out according to the assessment i am neither autistic nor do i have adhd but only possibly a social phobia and emotional stress. this is very upsetting to me, i really thought i would get the diagnosis for autism

and it took so long for me to be comfortable to call myself autistic even without the official diagnosis and now i am having doubts again. maybe they are right and i am actually not autistic and just like that without, i don’t know, a real ‘reason’? i know that sounds bad but i can’t help thinking it.

can i just continue on like i never tried to get diagnosed? because it literally says that i was wrong. i’m so sorry for just dumping this on you, i just don’t know what to do

I'm so sorry you didn't get the answer you were hoping for, it must have been very distressing to be invalidated like that.

It's possible the assessors were wrong, especially since you had to go through a process aimed at children despite being 17. Children can display and are assessed pretty differently to those who are older, and if you're high masking it could easily have been missed. It's also possible the assessors were basing their diagnosis too much on stereotypes, which can be common depending on where you are and who assessed you. It might be worth trying to get a second opinion, although I know that isn't easy and you still might not get diagnosed.

If you still feel you relate to a lot of autistic traits and find accommodations aimed at autistic people helpful, then personally I think it's perfectly OK for you to continue to self identify. If you haven't already taken the RAADS-R (a short version is usually given during assessment, but not always) it might help you understand yourself a bit better: https://embrace-autism.com/raads-r/#test

It's also possible you aren't autistic after all, and what you're experiencing really is just social phobia and stress, or it could even be something else they missed instead, but that doesn't mean your experiences aren't real and valid. Don't feel like you have to stop using accommodations you find helpful. You're still welcome in this community.

Obviously I can't say whether you're autistic or not since we don't know each other and I'm not trained in autism assessment, but that's how I see it. I hope you feel better soon ❤️