#oh but speaking of :) yeah i had a good day all things considered
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miscommunication | spencer reid



pairing: spencer reid x bau!reader
masterlist
summary: in which reader mistakes penelope for fawning over spencer reid and accidently reveals her secret crush on the talkative doctor.
word count: 1.9k
author's note: hiiiii!!!! i have been thinking of this idea for weeks and thanks to summer, it was finally brought to life so enjoy my loves â„ïž
It was a fairly slow morning at the BAU.
Agents were steadily strolling in and settling into their spots to start the long day ahead of them. Placing your jacket on the back of your chair, and your bag on the open space of your desk, you walked towards the coffee bar where your fellow coworkers were talking.
Holding a coffee cup from the local café that was stained with the lipstick you wore, you walked into a conversation the tech analysis, Penelope Garcia, was having with fellow agent, Spencer Reid.
"Hi guys!" you softly greeted as you found your spot beside Penelope.
"Morning." Spencer spoke with a smile. Your hands fiddled with the cardboard around your hot coffee cup as her looked into your eyes with this gentleness that made your heart warm.
"Good morning my sweetness." Penelope greeted with a big smile, "We were just talking about how Hotch was being a meanie and making us finish yesterday's paperwork by this afternoon."
"Oh yeah, I already finished mine. Haven't you guys?" you looked at Penelope who had a guilty smile before your eyes flickered back to Spencer.
"Unfortunately not. I fell asleep as soon as I got home, but if I start now, I can probably finish it in an hour if I really pace myself." he answered your question and you felt yourself unable to meet his gaze once again, instead keeping your focus on either the ground or Penelope.
It really wasn't your fault, it was his. After he got his new haircut, you found it even harder to focus while he was in the room.
Being in a room full of profilers, it was hard fo keep this little secret of yours but you truly had no choice. It could be considered unprofessional and totally embarassing due to the things he made you feel from simply existing.
You have the hugest crush on Doctor Spencer Reid and he was consuming all your thoughts. You always had a thing for nerdsâ well, smart men who knew what they were talking about and made learning their life mission. You found his love for knowledge and statistics and facts so cute. Whenever he opened his mouth to speak about facts he had mesmorized, you could barely focus.
It was already hard to stop yourself from biting your lip or keeping your gaze off of him, but after his new haircut that perfectly enhanced all his perfect features, you were doomed for failure.
"Well you should get working on that. Hotch seems even more cranky ever since Strauss gave him a little visit yesterday." Penelope advised.
"Good idea. I'll see you guys later." Spencer stated before grabbing his coffee mug and walking back to his desk. He used his hand to brush down the bangs in front of his face, a habit he picked up ever since he got his new haircut.
You allowed your eyes to linger more than it should have on his retreating figure. Looking back towards Penelope, you were almost taken aback from the look on her faceâ well the look in her eyes.
It was the look of a lion that hadn't eaten anything in days and just spotted a pretty little gazelle. It was a look you were all too famaliar with ever since you caught yourself staring at Spencer and when he left, you caught yourself in the mirror he was previously standing in front of. You scared yourself at that unfortunate moment. You followed her line of vision and she was looking in the same direction you had, towards Spencer.
He was working at his desk, studiously doing what he said he was going to do. Penelope stayed quiet for a few moments and you hadn't mind since you were all too busy thinking about how Spencer's jaw was hand-crafted by angels.
"Man, ever since he got that new thingy, he has been looking even more yummy."
You felt yourself tense a bit. Penelope was always a girl to make flattering comments about everybody so you innocently agreed since she was rightâ Spencer's haircut did make him look good. "Yeah, he really does look nice with it."
"Ugh, and that way he just fills that shirt in." She took another sip of her coffee and your eyes flickered to her before going back to Spencer, trailing your eyes on the fitted dark plum purple button up.
"He looks good in it. That really is his color." Innocent comments so far.
Penelope hummed, "Sometimes it makes me mad. Like how can somebody look so goodâ don't even get me started on his voice. Everytime he talks, I can hardly focus."
You had a small laugh as you brought the coffee up to your lips. You really couldn't believe the words that were coming out of her mouth but then again, it was Penelopeâ she had no filter. She was the type of woman to make anyone feel safe and seen, which is maybe part of the reason you kept agreeing with her and revealed more. "I thought I was the only one who thought that."
"Oh sweetie, I am positive everybody shares the same opinion. I mean look at himâ even Hotch or Rossi can't deny his looks. The way he has the ability to command the room with his words alone." Penelope continued.
You did suppose there was a reason Morgan calls Spencer 'pretty boy' and no one bats an eye. "He does have a way with his words."
Penelope looked at you and saw this sort of softness in your eyes as you looked towards the desk area.
"Whenever he spurs out all this knowledge, it makes me feel safe. You know?" you looked towards Penelope, "He always knows what he's doing and what he's talking about. It's just nice to know you can always fall back on him."
"I hear you so much. I don't want to spoil the mood or whateverâ I am all for women empowerment, but something about him being so dominating makes me so hot and bothered."
"Dominating?" you whispered under your breath, a little confused.
"You know, I didn't think you would be that into him. This is the first time you agreed with me about him." Penelope commented and you tilted your head.
You thought back to all the times she's mentioned Spencer and you believed you always held a somewhat indifferent view on him. Either that or you let it slip that you quite admired him. "Really? Well it isn't so suprising, I guess I am kind of secretive when it comes to the dating scene since not a lot of people get my type."
"Type? Honey, that man over there is everybody's type. I don't think there is a girl in the world who would pass up an opportunity with him."
You glanced back towards Spencer. She really did have a point. He truly looked like a model, but you supposed his personality sort of deleted people away, but you personally found that the most attractive thing about him.
"He really is a great guy isn't he?" You confessed to Penelope while looking in Spencer's direction and you heard a small gasp. She sets down her coffee cup before covering her mouth.
"My sweetie is that love in your eyes that I see."
You hummed in suprise, "W-What? No, of course not. Don't be ridiculous."
"Oh it so is and don't even try to deny it. The eyes do not lie. I thought there was something going on. You always seemed quiet during the briefings and your eyes were always kept on the ground. I may not be a profiler, but I too, noticd things."
You quietly tried to shush Penelope and she got the message and she pulled you further away from the target of affections.
"Please tell me how it all happened! I need to know! How did this crush start?"
"I-I don't know. It just did. I always found him quite cuteâ"
"Cute? Aw!" That wasn't how Penelope would personally describe the fox that is Derek Morgan, but to each their own.
"â and he was always just so nice to me and we shared the same interests â and I just really feel comfortable around him."
Penelope had the warmest smile on her face as you recounted the times where you felt the most safest and loved around Spencer. You tucked a hair behind your ear to try to give yourself some time to stop the cheek hurting smile on your face.
"Who would've known that you would have a crush on the muscularâ" Hm? "Mister playboy bunny himselfâ" Excuse me? "âDerek Morgan."
Silence.
"What?" you almost dropped your coffee cup and your eyes quickly flickered back to Spencer and his general direction. There it was.
Whenever you looked at Spencer, there would often be moments were he was the sole focus of your eye and everything around him became blurry and unimportant. Not to say that your fellow coworker was unimportant, but he wasn't exactly a priority in your mind.
There sat Spencer at his desk and behind his figure, was Agent Derek Morgan, laughing on his phone as he caught your eye and waved. You were too shocked â too horrified to even wave back. Derek sort of flinched back in his seat by the look you were giving him. He had never seen you stared at him like that before. You looked at him as if he was a ghost or had a huge bug on his head which caused him to look around. Was he the only you were giving these crazy eyes too?
Penelope was taken aback by your shocked expression and redirected her eyes to the same direction. The wires had connected and a lightbulb of pure chaos had sparked inside her head.
"Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God." Penelope repeated these words as she whisper shouted, slowly increasing her voice.
"Shhh! No!"
"Earlierâ the new thingy and him looking attractive. I was talking about Derek's giant new watchâ you thought I was talking about Reid's new haircut. Oh and his voiceâ oh my dear you are getting turned on by Spencer's constant yapping on statistics and facts. You naughty naughtyâ"
"Okay! Penelope stop!" you practically shrieked, "You didn't hear a word. This didn't happen."
Horrified, you placed your coffee cup down and began to walk backwards, placing a finger against your glossed lips while staring into Penelope's soul.
You inched back further as Penelope had to refrain herself from bursting out laughing. She knew you must be feeling so embarassed at that moment so she did her best to compose herself... until you were out of sight.
You yelped as you had accidently bumped into somebody.
"Are you alright?" Emily Prentiss asked as she steadied you by the shoulders and got you balanced, "And why does Penelope look like she just hacked into the winning lottery numbers."
"Nothing!" you whispered shouted, very loudly, "You both heard and saw nothing!" your fingers threatlessly threatened your fellow older coworkers; one who knew exactly what had transpired and the other being an innocent bystander who walked in at the wrong moment at the wrong time.
Emily and Penelope watched your retreating figure as you ran down the hall, towards the bathrooms.
"What's up with her?" Emily inquired, eyes furrowed with concern.
"Oh, just the sweet illness and craziness of love." Penelope spoke, she then looked at Emily's confused face before bursting out laughing. The loudest laughter she thinks she has ever laughed. Everybody looked at Penelope who was gripping onto the coffee bar table, doubling down on laughter.
The laughter echoed all the way to the bathroom in which you were trying not to drown yourself in the toilet from embrassment.
Hotch came outside his office and took one glance after Penelope before turning to Rossi, "Remind me to get her drug tested later."
Emily quickly fled the scene, not bothering to look back until she was in the safety of her own desk surrounded by her fellow agents who were armed. Spencer paused in his work to find Penelope slowly calming down but still shaking with laughter as she trudged back to her little computer den.
The slow and quiet morning of the BAU turned into a loud mystery of a case the agents weren't sure they wanted to solve.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid onshot#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfic
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doodle from a couple days ago.. i need to restart this ref rn....
#doodles#reaction doodlies#the Dramatics ! ! ! they were in full swing jfhsjgh#//anyway i'm HOME o7 from WORK o/âš#i've been able to walk around p okay for a couple days now so i was running around w/ my mom on a quick grocery run :3#Did i tucker myself out? let's not ask these sorts of questions now lmao#/i got some of those wafer things. they're in the cookie section but they're Not cookies. you know what i'm sayin jfhsj#they're just Wafers i think but also plain wafers exist so#many things to consider when speaking. many things pfsh#//oh yea though i needa get this ref done.. like really bad lmao#i wanna be ready for artf1ght this year ! ! ! more ready than last year when i was panic-rushing and yeagh jfhjsf#i won't be able to do as much this year cuz i'm werkinggg but i will be Doing my darn darlin damnedest!!#//anyway wafer topic which flavour do you think is best this is Not an optional question on the quiz đ€#i have had maybe.. 3 flavours but that's dubious tbh jfhsjf - cuz like flavour? does not register sometimes man it's all air to me lmao#i DO know i've had these vanilla ones which SLAP#maybe strawberry at some point..? unknown....#for sure chocolate i thinks cuz i mighta compared it to kitkats in my head#and i'm not counting kitkats cuz its got all its insides out we do NOT count kitkats đ«”âŒïžđ„#i think chocolate was good though so :D yeyyy#/n also cuz i told my youngest siblings i'd get more wafers on sunday and then. forgor oTL#but tomorrow is payday and i remembered yesterday and they cost like 4 bucks a pack so you know what. 3 whole wafers let's go jfhsjhf#is this frivolous? yeagh. Does it bring joy? ehe. yeagh#:3#:333#//i'm having a p nice day! acknowledging that while avoiding eye contact with the ever-looming concept of the Jinx right next to me Lmfhsfj#yeah though not bad!! think i'll watch a movie or smth and then draw ? or movie And draw? no it's gotta be one or the other or i can't focu#i mean youtube works.. but there's nothin on yt i want rn... hmnmnmnmnmnm....#OH i've got it: bonanza and draw ! ! yieshh this will work perfectly [rubs palms]#i was watching it while at work so it's not Super distracting it's just a nice piece of companion-media lol :>#went to go google that rn i just made that term up đ„ JFjhsfj
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Part 2
1.8k, cw: ghosts a pervert, smut, readers husband is piece of work, not proofread.
Simon Riley who first saw you at the butcher's shop on the phone.Â
You were a pretty thing. Wearing a pink little yoga set, one arm holding your mat and the other holding your phone to your ear as you wait for the butcher to bring out your cut of meat.
Which was taking a long time
Simon wouldâve had it chopped and packed to go by now. Though, he canât complain with the view he has of your ass- you. The man was touch starved. He hadnât been back home in a while, back-to-back deployments keeping him occupied. His only company being his calloused and scraped hands roughly jerking himself until he came, bordering on unpleasurable. Not what some could consider enjoyable, but try being in the middle of fuckinâ nowhere for weeks on end and see if you care so much about gentle.
The borderline perverted look you were blissfully unaware of was tracking down your form. He stared at the way the material tightly clung on to every bit of you in a welcoming way, a second skin. The sweat on you from your little session.
Just how flexible does yoga make a bird like you?
It was only when he heard a grating sound come from your phone that he snapped out of his trance. Even with his bad ears from all the bullets whizzing past him, bombs going off within meters of him, and the usual shit show he did for a living he could hear the voice which bled through your phone's speaker.
"Get me a steak this time. Nonna that nasty shit from last time!"
You hurriedly turned your volume down as it blasted in your ear, startled by the voice. Chewing on your lip you pivoted towards the counter to see if your order had been brought out; the motion to no avail as the employee continued chopping away in the back room.
It was only when your other hand came into full view from the motion he noticed the absolute rock on your finger.
"Honey, I thought the salmon was pretty good." That prick clearly firing something back as you winced away from your phone once again. Gritting your teeth as if biting back your arguments, looking around to occupy your time as the man on the phone continues to speak. "I know... I'm sorry. Don't worry, it'll be ready by 7." You placatingly cooed.
"Listen, I have to go. I love y-" You began, but the moment the words tumbled from your lips you pulled the phone fully from your cheek to see a blank screen with the time staring back on you. The asshole hung up!
What a fuckin tosser.
Simon hears the butcher finally call your name with familiarity and with a sigh you step towards the counter.Â
He leaned on to the wall further as he had been the entire time. Silent. Unsettling. A stark contrast to your bright appearance in the shop, the larger man brooded in his corner waiting his turn.
âSee yaâ next Friday!â You still managed a bright smile at the butcher who handed you your meat.
A mild thing like you really shouldnât be talked to so thoughtlessly, some guys are fuckwits though. He never liked the type. Why lock a bird down with a ring if you were gonna be mean to her?
âSâcuse me sir, iâm just gonna push past you hereâ You asked. With widened eyes, Simon gruffly mumbled a âYeah,â out before creating a stupidly small space.
Maybe he really did want you to push past him. Or just push up on him but oh well.
Sweeping past him, you give him a toothy smile as you had so sweetly done to the butcher, as if you hadnât got yelled at less than five minutes ago. God you really have no common sense, beaming up at the lurker in the corner at least twice your size. A girl as pretty as you should really stick to herself.
From that interaction on, Simon found himself being guided by the memory of you back to the butcher shop the next Friday.
And the nextâŠ
And the next.
Every week progressively standing closer and closer to you as you picked up your usual order. One day you had taken the liberty of starting small talk with him after recognizing his unmistakable stature. After all, there were only so many people you had seen in this shop and none so⊠large.
You could not deny you found this mystery man disquieting. Always dressed in dark colours, not so much as a word coming from him. Like clockwork you would come in after hot yoga, greet the butcher, he would come in, silence would ensue as you both waited for your meat, and you would leave with a quick smile.
It was rude. He had never even said a simple hello to you! Though, you suppose that it could be due to your own curt exits. The thought of the unkindness you mightâve exhibited subconsciously sent your mind into a spiral, leading to your abrupt introduction.
After all, who were you to judge! Kindness is and should always be the response in your books.
At this kindness, Simon swore he had to take a breath in as you politely outstretched your hand and spoke your name casually. Tilting his head down to your face he raises a brow skeptically, and then firmly shakes your head.
He failed to hide the shudder which wracked his body. The way your hand effortlessly slipped into his. Soft and manicured engulfed in his.
âSimon.â
âWell itâs good to meet you Simonâ With the twinkly little smile you would grace him as you hauled it out of the shop. He felt the shiver go down his spine a second time when you spoke his name for the first time.
And then- it happened.
You giggled. A soft thing, no doubt intended to be small. It wasnât to Simon though. It reverberated throughout the room, rang so prettily in his ears. Fuck. He would remember that sound later on tonight.
âAre you cold? You keep shivering. Itâs pretty harsh out there right now.â
âNah. Not really.â His accent thick as he shrugged.
Letting out a little âmhmâ you nod and look back to the counter.
âI was freezing outside! Usually I walk home-â Simon already knew that â-but today I called my husband to come grab me! Way too cold!â
That visibly made him stiffen. Of course. Perfectly normal that guy is coming to get you, heâd be an idiot to leave you walking home alone in the cold.
If you were his girl, Simon wouldnât have let you out of his sight. Fuck sakes you practically had âcome mess with meâ written all over you. There were creeps all over the place nowadays, (thought the creep).
He wouldâve carried everything for you, scarfed down whatever the hell you had taken the time to prepare him. That husband of yours doesnât like your salmon? Simon would. Hell if he didnât, heâd cram it down his throat with gratitude anyways. He doubted anything could be worse than some of the rations heâs eaten on duty.Â
That train of thought is pretty redundant when he takes note of how you wouldnât be able to leave the bed to make anything.
Maybe youâd cram something of his down your throat in gratitude.
Shaking his head subtly, he hears the bells of the store door opening. He watched your face fall as you step away from him and itâs when he sees your husband's look of complete irritation he understands why.
You had grabbed your order swiftly and with a quick wave goodbye you were on your way back to your husband. Simon could only register your husband's whisper-yell as he disapprovingly glared his way. âThe fuck are you doin talking to him?â. And with that you were hurriedly ushered out.
You deigned it necessary to continue greeting Simon, have little chats about the weather, any plans he had for the weekend. Tossing in your stupid jokes that he would laugh at. You interpreted it as something closer to a breathy snort-hopefully positive- and it went on as such for weeks
And every time he returned home Friday night, he came home with only one thought after. You.
As he laid in bed the same thought persisted as he slipped his cock out of his boxers, red and weeping for some sort of stimulation. He took to his usual harsh pace. Youâd be so much softer.
Youâd be so nice to him wouldnât you? Coo some compliment as he lets you tug at him. Fuck he wouldnât know what to take first.
Would you give him a blowie or a hand job?Â
No. You wouldnât be on your knees- not yet. If youâd let him have you, youâd be on your back in an instant. Heâd rip the stitches of those leggings right down the middle, your panties next.
âFuuuuuckâ he moaned into the quiet of his room. Heâd stick it in slow, heâd try. It would be torture not to ram himself right up to the hilt, but heâd do it for such a good girl.
Thatâs what you were, werenât you? Always a nice word for someone? What would you say to him when he began to rut into you like a madman. When you would feel the pummeling intrusion, his head knocking into the deepest parts of you.
Heâd be able bend you into so many different positions that youâd better hope that yoga has taught you well. Split your legs open to accommodate his imposing body size as heâd take purchase between them. Then you better hope your cunny can accommodate his other size when he spears you open on his cock.
Would you take it smiling? Would your tears roll down your cheeks, the prodding bordering too much? Youâd take it either way, he knew you could. Heâd rub at your clit with such tenderness he never afforded himself (as gentle as he could anyway). Heâd make sure you begged to stay on his cock forever, fuck himself so deep you would be too stupid to pull away unknowing of where he ended and you started. Not that youâd have to care.
Heâd flip you on to all fours and rip away your clothes entirely, pounding you from the back and instead of just his own labored breaths, the sound of skin slapping together would ring out.
In silent stoicism, he feels his balls tighten up at the thought of your perfect face stuffed into the pillows screaming your thank youâs. You probably were just as nice with someone stuffing themselves into your pussy.
At both his ruthless ministrations and boundless imagination, his release spurted all over his hand with a breathy sigh. When you were here heâd make sure to slam his hips to yours and keep them flush against you, coat your insides in hot cum better than your limp-dick husband ever could. That man wouldnât be able to fuck you the way Simon knew he could. You deserve someone who could make you go stupid on his dick, not cry of frustration like you probably did everytime that knob who thinks himself a man rolled over after finishing himself off.
Not that youâll have to worry about that soon
âŠ
He wouldnât be around for much longer anyways.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#ghost x reader#cod fanfic#simon riley smut#ghost cod#ghost mw2
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by a string



summary: Yeonjunâs 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 cityâs 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 maguireâs 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 sheâs 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, heâd 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 itâs 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.
âSo, does that make sense?â he asks after a long-winded explanation. Heâs 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.
âYeah. Thanks, Yeonjun.â He bites back a giggle upon hearing your words. âYou should seriously be teaching this class,â you say with a laugh.
âOh, no, I wouldnâtâI mean, IâmâIâm more of a science guy,â he stammers out, lips tightening into a thin line at the embarrassment of stumbling over his own sentence. âOur professorâs pretty cool, too,â he adds as if that saves him at all.
âIs he? Maybe I should start going to his office hours,â you muse.
Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun canât have you stop coming to him for math help; youâd never talk to him at all if it came to that!
âHeâs not that cool,â Yeonjun says. You laugh, and he huffs out a short chuckle too.
âNoted. Iâm gonna go now, but thanks for helping me. Youâre the best.â Your praise goes straight to Yeonjunâs head, making him feel like the greatest man to ever live. He doesnât even feel this accomplished after going out on his little spidey-missions.
Heâs 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 heâs ever heard. Youâre 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.
âHey,â his roommate, Soobin, greets quietly. Yeonjun didnât know Soobin prior to this semester, but heâs been pretty nice. Heâs very quiet, but very respectful of Yeonjunâs space. Itâs much appreciated, considering Yeonjunâs hiding a few of his red and blue spandex suits in his closet.
âHey. How was your day?â Yeonjun asks, only half-interested in the conversation.
He watches Soobin shrug from his peripheral as he slides off his shoes. âNormal,â he answers.
Yeonjun nods. âCool.â The conversation kind of dies after that, which is fine. Soobin isnât the most extroverted person, and Yeonjun doesnât push him to talk more than heâs 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 thereâs now a doodle of your face on his calculus homeworkâwhen did that get there..? His face heats up as he grabs an eraser from his deskâs drawer. Thank god he didnât do this assignment in pen.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ
Yeonjunâs not really paying attention to the professor, finding more interest in taking quick glances at you. Youâre wearing a different bracelet today. Itâs really prettyâmaybe 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 itâs time to pack your bags and leave. Interesting class, right? Who wouldâve thoughtâYeonjun looks up at the projector to see the professorâs notesâthe shell method⊠would be so cool⊠Maybe he shouldnât say that, actually.
Heâs 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 canât 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. Itâs not worth it. He decides heâll just keep his mouth shut.
âHey Yeonjun?â
Yeonjun almost jumps out of his seat, and he has to fight away his nerves as he turns to you. Youâre 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.
âYeah?â he responds, voice coming out strained. He clears his throat.
âWeâre friends, right?â you ask. He blinks, feeling like this is some kind of trick. He analyzes your face, making sure thereâs nothing snide or teasing hidden in your question. You look honest enough, which puts him at ease.
âYeah, for sure.â
âI hope thatâs not sarcasm,â you say, getting up from your seat and adjusting your bag over your shoulders.
âItâs not! Really, weâre friends,â he reassures. You walk past him and he follows, leaving the classroom and entering the busy hallway.
âWell, good. I wanted you to go with me somewhere.â Your statement is wildly cryptic, and it leaves Yeonjunâs mind whirling with the possibilities of what you might offer.
âRight now?â he asks. âI-I have classâŠâ As much as he likes you, he really canât risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance.
You laugh, âNo, tonight. Thereâs this party, and Iââyou keep talking, but Yeonjun barely registers it. Heâs never partied in college before. What would he even do at a party? He canât handle his drinks well, and heâs not sure how well heâd blend into that kind of environment. Heâs scared heâd 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.
âCould you text me the details..?â 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 heâs only got five minutes until his next class. The hall heâs supposed to be in is at least a three minute walk from here.
âThere,â you say, awarding Yeonjun with a grin so bright that being late to class might just be worth it. âI really hope to see you there.â You tilt your head a little, and Yeonjun feels starstruck.
âYou will,â he promises mindlessly.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ
Yeonjun feared he mightâve been in trouble when his professor asked him to stay after class. Turns out, itâs something much worse.
âYeonjun, do you think you could help in the lab later today?â
Yeonjun doesnât think much before he nods. âYeah, of course, how much later?â
âAround 6 this evening,â his professor answers. Yeonjunâs 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 Yeonjunâs professor wants him to stop by the lab.
âIâm not sure I have the time,â Yeonjun says quickly, suddenly fidgety and feeling antsy to leave the room. âIâve got this⊠thing to do.â His professor doesnât 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. âI can come in earlier! Iâm free right now, so I could just go over after this.â
âThe cells weâre working with need a full 24 hours in culture for the sake of our research. Are you sure you canât push your plans forward? Or back?â he asks.
Yeonjunâs stomach twists with guilt. He knows he shouldnât let his professor down. Yeonjunâs kind of counting on him to write his recommendation letter for a graduate program, too.
âIâll push the plans back,â Yeonjun says, giving in. He hopes the dejection isnât too evident in his voice. His professor smiles and pats Yeonjunâs 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. Itâs also stupid. Annoying. Frustrating.
Thereâs a pout etched onto Yeonjunâs face as he walks back to his dorm. Heâs 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 youâre on your laptop, sometimes youâre taking notes in a textbook, but most of the time youâre just lounging and doing nothing. Itâs almost inspiring. Yeonjun would probably benefit from relaxing and decompressing more.
Youâre 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. Youâre 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. Heâs forced to look away when he nearly stumbles over the pebble heâs been kicking aroundââOh, shit!â he utters, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.
He glances back at you casually, making sure you didnât witness him tripping. Fortunately, youâre 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 heâd been eyeing is a no-go. He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe the t-shirt and jeans heâs 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.
Heâs 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 youâd wear next time he sits next to you in class. He canât 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.
Yeonjunâs done this enough times to get into the swing of things, so heâs 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 Yeonjunâs nose a little, and he wonders for a second if heâd been zoning out too much. He picks up the procedural note and glances over the measurements again, making sure heâs 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.
Heâs more careful throughout the rest of the process, pushing back the worries that he mightâve messed something up. He continues to reassure himself that everythingâs 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 didnât 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.
Itâs been over an hour, and the thought of you waiting so long for Yeonjunâs arrival strikes guilt inside his chest. He opens his phone to find the path he needs to walk to get to the house the partyâs being held in, eyes bugging out when he sees that itâs a twenty minute walk from the lab. Shit, by then youâll have been waiting an hour and a half for him to show up!
He groans, trying to think if thereâs a better way to get to you. The buses around campus donât stop at the street he needs to get to, and itâs 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 shouldnât. That would be way too reckless. Heâs already gone through the whole power and responsibility spiel, and heâs not in the mood to get himself in trouble for acting rashly. But if no one seesâŠ
He turns his head and scans for people in each direction. No oneâs 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.
âYeonjun! Whatâs up!â
Yeonjun startles and brings his arm back to his side hastily. He whips around to see whoâs talking to him and lets out a breath when he sees his friend who had just exited the lab building. âTaehyun, hey man,â he says, ignoring the anxious pounding of his heart. That was way too close. Lesson learned.
âDidnât catch you at the physics meet last week. Everything alright?â Taehyun asks. Yeonjun really hopes this conversation doesnât take too long. The last thing he needs is another ten minutes piled on top of how late he already is.
âIâm good, I was justââcontrolling a fire set by some idiot arsonist, then trapping said arsonist with his webs until the cops arrivedââuh, kind of sick.â
Taehyun hums and nods. âWell, we missed you bro, hope youâre feeling better. Iâll see you around!â 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, thereâs two men Yeonjun has never seen in his life guarding the door. He almost scoffs. What is this, some kind of nightclub?
âYou got the money?â one of the guys ask.
âWhat?â Yeonjun scrunches his brows and leans his head forward a little, thinking he might have misheard him.
âNo money, no entrance,â the other man says.
âDude, come on!â Yeonjun whines.
âHouse rules. Stop wasting our time and get out of line.â
âNo, no, IâllââYeonjun sighs, reaching into the back pocket of his pants to fetch out his wallet. âHow much?â he asks. The men tell him, and he bites back the complaints that almost push past his lips. Yeonjun slaps the bills into the guyâs open palm. They finally open the door for him, and Yeonjun steps inside.
Heâs taken aback by how many people are cramped into this place. The house is pretty big, but thereâs 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 itâs a little hard to do it efficiently when thereâs so many faces to check. A part of him fears you mightâve 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 heâs met with your pretty face. âHey, you!â you exclaim. âI thought you bailed on me.â Thereâs no real bite to your words, but it still makes Yeonjun frown.
âIâm sorry. I had to do this lab thing, andââ
âItâs alright, donât explain. Youâre here now!â you say. âDid you have anything to drink?â
Yeonjun shakes his head. âI donât drink much.â
âMe either,â you say. You look out the window, then grab onto Yeonjunâs hand. His brain short-circuits, and he has to stop his eyes from going all dumb and wide. âItâs kinda stuffy in here. Letâs go outside.â
Yeonjun puts up no fight as you lead him out the back door, walking out into the yard. Thereâs almost as many people out here as there are inside, but the lack of walls means thereâs more space to move. Itâs much more breathable.
He takes quick glances at your face, trying to decipher what youâre 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.
âDid you want to join them?â Yeonjun asks. He doesnât know any of those people, but heâll go if thatâs what youâd like. Itâs not like thereâs much else to do when youâre 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. âNah. Letâs just sit down and talk.â Yeonjun gladly obliges.
You find an empty spot to sit at, looking up at Yeonjun after you situate yourself. He laughs a little, âYou really like sitting on the grass, huh?â
You smile at him and pat the ground next to you. âDonât act like youâre too good to connect with nature.â
âItâs more about getting grass stains on my pants,â 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. Itâs quiet for a few seconds before you speak up, âSo how come you said yes to the party?â
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 youâve set him up for.
âCause you asked,â he answers, voice a little meek as he fidgets with his hands in his lap.
âAnd if it was someone else who asked?â
Yeonjun thinks for a second, but he canât come to an answer. âI donât know. Like who?â
You hum and look into the crowd of people. Your head turns back to him after a couple seconds. âLike Yerim,â you say.
Yeonjun laughs as if the scenario is ridiculous, mostly because it is. Yerim would never even give him the time of day. Sheâs notorious for being cold to anyone who she isnât interested in. Somehow, that seems to attract a bunch of guys to her. Not Yeonjun, though.
âNo chance Iâd go,â he says.
âSo what makes me different?â you ask.
A lot of things. Youâre nice, and youâre smart, and youâre down to earth, and youâre a beacon of warmth. Everything makes you different.
âCause weâre friends,â he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldnât even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment.
You nod. âIâm just asking cause⊠well, I guess Iâm just surprised you agreed to come.â Your eyes meet his, warm and kind. âThank you for that, by the way.â
Yeonjunâs stomach does flips when you look at him like that. âYouâre welcome.â It goes quiet for a moment, so he continues, âI think this was worth handing over the last of my cash for.â
You burst out laughing. âThey made you pay?! Why didnât you just say youâre here with me?â
âIâll keep that in mind for next time,â 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 donât call him out on it.
âWe should just go somewhere else next time. Thereâs a lot of places downtown that I want to visit,â you suggest, bumping his shoulder with yours. Yeonjun almost explodes.
âWe should do that then,â he agrees. Heâs 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.
âThereâs that bakery that opened a couple months ago,â you mention.
Yeonjun lights up. âOh my god, Iâve been wanting to go there too!â
You squeal in excitement and clasp your hands together. âLetâs do that next. Tell me youâre free on Sunday,â you say.
âI donât know, things come up last-minute sometimes. Iâll let you know.â Itâs hard to make plans when heâs basically living a double life. Then again, he did agree to going out with you tonight on a whim. Heâs 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 heâs not entertaining you enough. He doesnât want to keep you from having fun.
âWhy do you keep looking at them?â he asks, curious and soft. He hopes heâs not prying.
âTheyâre just some friends,â you answer.
âOh. Why donât we go say hi, then?â he offers.
You pull your lips into a tight line. âIâd rather not.â
âThatâs alright,â Yeonjun says. You give a small smile in appreciation.
âWhat about you?â you ask. He tilts his head, not knowing what you mean. You continue, âWhoâs in your friend group?â
Yeonjun laughs awkwardly and shrugs. âI mostly hang out with the physics honor society,â he admits.
âThatâs cool. You must have a good bond.â
âWe do,â he says. âHowâd you meet your friends?â
You smile at him, and something in your face tells Yeonjun that itâs a complicated story. You sigh dramatically and lean back a little, âI met them at parties. Does that surprise you?â
Yeonjunâs not sure if thatâs a rhetorical question. âNo. Youâre friendly. I can see why people come to you,â he answers.
âThanks,â you say, voice a little quieter.
âAre you friends with your roommate?â he asks.
âI donât have one. I live in a single dorm.â
Lucky. If Yeonjun had the extra money to spare, heâd be dorming alone too. It would definitely make heading out as Spider-man easier; heâd just be able to change in his room and jump out his window. Assuming no one is around to see, that is.
âThat must be nice,â he says.
You shrug. âItâs alright. What about you? You got a roommate?â
âYeah. WeâreâŠâ Yeonjun struggles to find a word to describe his relationship with Soobin. Theyâre not exactly friends, but theyâre peaceful with each other.
You laugh and finish the sentence for him, âRoommates and nothing more.â Thereâs a lilt to your voice when you say that, and you wiggle your eyebrows like thatâs supposed to suggest something.
âIgnoring your insinuations, yeah, pretty much.â
âIâm just kidding,â you say. Heâll let you make jokes at his expense all you want, it doesnât 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. âHey, Kai,â 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.
âWhoâs this guy?â Kai asks, jutting his chin toward him.
âIâm Yeonjun.â He goes to hold out his hand for Kai to shake, but quickly puts it back down upon realizing that might be weird.
âOh, Yeonjun from calculus. I know you,â he says.
âI didnât know youâre in that class too,â Yeonjun muses.
Kai laughs, âIâm not. Y/n just talks about you.â
Yeonjun nearly melts. You talk about him. This is the best day of his life.
âAnyway,â Kai continues, looking at you again. âI need a couple more people on my beer pong team. You guys down?â
Yeonjun turns to you to gauge your reaction. He canât 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 heâs down for whatever you want to do.
âI think Iâm good,â you say.
âAh, alright, you bummer,â Kai jokes, stepping back and sending you a bright smile. âContinue your convo with the calc lord, I insist.â Heâs gone after that, jogging off to the rest of his friends, setting up the game.
âCalc lord?â Yeonjun repeats, amused.
Your laugh is accompanied by a roll of your eyes. âHe means it nicely, I swear.â
âWell, depending on how well he does in this game, I might start calling him beer pong lord,â 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 youâre even better than he thought. Conversation unfolds easily with you, even if Yeonjunâs 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.
Heâs 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 wouldâve been fine. He follows you into the building, then into your room. Heâs not sure why. It just feels right.
âThanks for bringing me back,â 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 viewâs pretty different from Yeonjunâs second story view. This would be a fun room to swing out of.
âDo you need anything else?â 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 wasnât 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. âJust for you to promise me weâll hang out again,â you say, voice barely over a whisper.
Yeonjun has to remind himself to breathe and be normal. âI promise,â he says. He even holds out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your pinky around his, accepting the playful gesture.
âDid you want to stay?â you ask. You look out the window, then back at him. âIâm okay with sharing my bed.â
That definitely flusters Yeonjun. âOh, no, IâmâI was gonna just walk back to my dorm or something. Or take a bus. I donât know. Thank you, though.â
You laugh. Hopefully not at his sputtering and rambling, but Yeonjun has a feeling that might be why. âAlright, then. Good night, Yeonjun.â
Your soft voice has Yeonjun wanting to backpedal and say heâll stay the night, but he swallows down the words. He smiles at you as he backs away toward your door. âGood night,â he says, standing in your doorway.
âYeonjun,â you call, stopping him before he could leave. He turns, waiting for your words. Heâs surprised to see that you look a little shy. âIâm really happy I asked you to come with me. Tonight was fun.â
Butterflies erupt in Yeonjunâs stomach, and he feels like he could float from how giddy he is. âIâm happy too,â 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. Heâll probably be skipping all the way home, imagining all the possibilities of what could come next between you.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ
Itâs Sunday, and Yeonjun knows exactly why youâre 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 guyâs mouth.
âSorry, gotta take this,â he says. âStay right here.â 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.
âHey Yeonjun!â Your voice is so cheerful that it makes Yeonjun giggle. He even swings his feet in the air as he sits on the branch.
âHi Y/n,â he greets, hoping his voice isnât too muffled through the mask of his suit.
âDid those last-minute plans end up showing, or are you down to try out that bakery?â you ask. Yeonjun frowns, hating to let you down when you sound so happy.
âIâm really busy today, Iâm sorry,â he says, shoulders sagging from how awful he feels. Heâs got a whole lab procedure to write once heâs done sorting out the crime scenes of today.
âNo worries, maybe we can go after class sometime.â
He frowns. âI wish I could, but I got another class right after ours. Let me check my schedule, I might be able toââ
âAre those sirens?â you interrupt, and Yeonjun looks out to the street. Heâs grown so accustomed to the sound of those things that it didnât even register. âWhere are you?â you ask.
âIâm⊠uh,â Yeonjun stammers, focusing on the cops getting out of the car and making their way towards the criminal.
He tunes into the copsâ conversation. âLooks like Spider-shitâs been here already,â one of them comments in a gruff voice.
The other cop huffs out a laugh. âHeâs always meddling in with petty crimes. What do you think this guy did?â
âJaywalking?â The cops chuckle.
âNot like he can explain with that over his mouth.â He points to the web Yeonjun placed on the man a minute ago.
Yeonjun scowls. Heâs not sure why the cops hold so much scorn for him, but if theyâd 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 wouldnât have to meddle in all the time.
âHello?â you ask, and Yeonjun reels his attention back to his conversation with you.
âSorry,â he says. âIâm just coming back from the store. Crazy stuff going on today.â
âOh. Well, stay safe,â you say.
âThanks, I will.â 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. âIâll see you in class, I gotta go.â
âSee you!â
Yeonjun sighs once the call ends. His suit doesnât 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 todayâs 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.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ
Yeonjunâs 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. Heâs usually careful with his work in the lab, but heâs extra, extra careful on these days.
He pauses when he retrieves the petri dish of cells. He briefly considers the possibility that heâs crazy and just seeing things, but Yeonjunâs 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 heâs seeing. It doesnât 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.
âWhat is it?â his professor asks, taking a step closer to Yeonjun.
âNothing, I was just thinking,â 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 canât even tell if his mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe heâs 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 doesnât feel his stomach twisting as he works with the cells.
He tries to calm down as he walks back to his dorm, but thereâs a permanent chill shooting down his spine. Thereâs no way the clump should have moved like thatâit shouldnât 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 didnât realize. That would explain it. That would put Yeonjun at ease.
He can try to convince himself that everythingâs fine, but he canât stop the anxious thrum of his heart. Apparently the fear reads on his face, too, because Soobinâs quick to notice it when Yeonjun enters the dorm.
âAre you okay?â Soobin asks. Yeonjunâs not sure what must have given himself away. He pays more attention to breathing slowly and talking casually.
âIâm good,â he answers. He doesnât expect Soobin to push the subject considering how quiet he always is, but Soobinâs gaze isnât leaving Yeonjun. He must be really concerned.
âDid something happen?â Soobin asks. Yeonjun sinks into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands as he groans. âSorry,â his roommate apologizes, turning away from Yeonjun to look at his laptop instead.
âNo, youâre good, itâs justâŠâ Yeonjun sighs. He might as well get this off his chest. âSome lab thing.â
Soobin nods, not asking any further. Now that Yeonjunâs started though, he doesnât feel like stopping.
âI think I mightâve fucked up,â Yeonjun admits.
âHow?â Soobinâs 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.
âThe cells Iâm working with are being weird. I donât know. I donât even know if I saw it right. I just feel crazy now.â Yeonjun rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, soothing the headache heâs got building up.
Soobin hums. The little shooting sounds and animated voices coming from Soobinâs game fill the room until Soobin speaks again, âDid anyone else see?â
âNo. My professor was there, but he didnât notice.â
Soobin shrugs. âYouâre probably fine then.â
Honestly, Soobinâs nonchalance to the situation eases Yeonjunâs worries a lot. He knows he can get in his head sometimes, especially when it comes to doing everything right, so to hear heâll be fine lifts a weight from his shoulders.
âYeah, probably,â he agrees. He basks in comfortable silence for a minute now that his heart isnât beating so hard.
âBy the way, have you bought more laundry detergent yet?â Soobin asks.
Ah, shit. âTomorrow, I promise.â
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ
Being Spider-man is tasking, but itâs usually pretty cool. Not everyone gets to zip around the city and restore peace in peopleâs 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 canât.
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 heâs running away quickly. Yeonjun canât 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, heâs never felt any kind of pain like this, but he canât let this man walk free. He canât 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 oneâs bigger, covering the manâs back and securing him to the pavement. He picks up his head and looks at Yeonjun with fear in his eyes, but he doesnât care. He canât. All he feels is pain and anger and pain and pain and so much fucking pain.
Yeonjunâs not the vengeful type, but getting stabbed really tests a personâs limits. He shoots more webs over the guy, making sure he wonât be able to move a muscle until the cops arrive.
Yeonjun doesnât waste his breath making snide comments, though he does have a few choice words for him. He takes off the manâs ski mask and resists the urge to deck his face. Heâs 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 heâs not going to kill this manâno matter what, he doesnât end peopleâs lives. A cityâs hero shouldnât get to decide who lives and dies.
Yeonjun stumbles away after finding a passerby to call the police. Now that the adrenalineâs gone, Yeonjun feels less mad and more scared. Heâs really bleeding now; his hand comes up soaked when it presses against the wound. What the hell does he do? He canât die like this.
He canât go to the hospital with a stab wound. Thereâs no way for him to make up some alibi that wouldnât just trace Spider-manâs identity back to him. He hisses through gritted teeth as he frantically scans his surroundings, looking for somewhere to go. The only thing thatâs coming to mind is you, and itâs aggravating. He could be dying right now, and all his useless mind can do is think of you. Maybe itâs all the blood loss, and heâs just getting delirious, or maybe itâs a sign. Itâs not like he has many good options right now.
Thereâs 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. Itâs getting harder to breathe, suddenly feeling suffocated by his mask, but he has to hold on. Heâs 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. Heâs really sorry for having to wake you up at this hour, but he has a feeling youâll understand.
He doesnât 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. Youâre still groggy and out of it until you meet Yeonjunâs eyes through the glass. As soon as you see him, itâs 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.
âYeonjun?!â you squeak as he drags himself through your window and into your room. He canât 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. Heâs burdening you enough as is coming here so late.
âIâm sorry, I didnât know who else to go to,â he says, catching his breath as you guide him to lay on your bed. Heâs 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 donât say.
Luckily, you save the unnecessary questions for later. âWhat do I do?â 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 doesnât have enough strength.
You lift from the bed and open up a bottle of water, pouring some of the cool liquid over his head. Itâs relieving against his burning skin and keeps him from losing consciousness. It also makes him realize how dehydrated he is.
âPlease sit up,â 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 heâs 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 doesnât 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 doesnât 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. Itâs like you can sense his pain despite his efforts to hide it, because you keep murmuring apologies to him.
âIâm okay, donât be sorry,â he reassures. He doesnât 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 doesnât hurt so much now.
âYouâre not bleeding anymore,â you point out.
He hums. âThatâs good.â Your hand grazes the skin just outside the gash. Thereâs a soothing effect in the way your fingers glide against him, pressure so light that itâs barely there.
âYou need stitches,â you say quietly, like you hate to break the news to him.
Yeonjun doesnât mind. âYou got a needle?â he asks. You fidget with the fabric of Yeonjunâs suit as you sigh and look away.
âI do,â you say. You donât sound too confident, though. He doesnât know what to do to make you feel better.
You grab his hand like itâs second nature to do so, and the action would be romantic if only you didnât have that nervous look on your face. He can practically feel your heart pounding, and heâs dying to let you know that everythingâs okay.
âI trust you,â he breathes out. He makes sure heâs looking you in the eye so you can see how much he means it. Heâs risking everything by trusting you, but heâs 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, heâs sure heâd be okay lending that to you too.
It feels much more real when you have your needle and thread in hand. Yeonjun canât contain his noises anymore, whimpering in pain when he feels the sharp tip pierce his skin.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry,â you say quickly and desperately. âIâll do it fast.â
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.
Itâs not too long before youâre 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.
âIt feels fine. You did perfect,â 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.
âI donât have a big enough bandage to put over this,â you say, still fixated on his injury. Yeonjun tries to sit up, but your hand on his shoulder eases him back down. âDonât move too much.â
âY/nâŠâ he starts, but you give him a pointed look, and he decides to shut up and listen. He relaxes against your mattress.
âI wish I had some clothes to change you into,â you mutter after he pulls the shirt of his suit back down. The spandex isnât super comfortable against his fresh stitches, but itâs easy to ignore in comparison to the searing pain of the open wound. Heâll have to throw out this suit; itâs bloodied beyond repair, and he has plenty of back-ups anyway.
âItâs alright,â Yeonjun says. You shuffle on the mattress until youâre laying down beside him. âArenât the sheets wet?â he asks, surprised at how unfazed you seem.
You let out a small laugh, and that frown finally leaves your face. âI donât mind. I wanted to lay down.â
âIâll buy you new sheets,â Yeonjun promises. âAnd a new needle. And Iâll explain everything to you, I swear. Please donâtââ
âYeonjun,â you cut off. He shuts his mouth. âThat stuff doesnât matter. Are you okay now?â
He nods. âIâm okay.â
âThatâs all I care about.â
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 wonât want to associate with him anymore. He wouldnât blame you; itâs not like being close to Spider-man isnât a riskless situation. He doesnât 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.
âYou know, I wasnât expecting this when you said youâd hang out with me again.â Thereâs 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 kindâthis oneâs much more preferable and much more welcome than the former.
âIâll have to make it up to you,â he says.
âHow do you plan on doing that?â
He turns his head to face you, and something feels awfully domestic about getting to lay this close to you in your bed. Itâs hard to breathe when youâre smiling at him so eagerly, when thereâs a glint in your eyes that tells Yeonjun youâre having fun. Thereâs an itch all the way down to his bones that begs him to push forward and kiss you already, but he resists.
âIâll find a way,â he whispers.
The room gets quiet again, and Yeonjun supposes he should leave. Itâs not like he can wait for the sun to rise and walk out of your room in his bloodied Spidey-suit glory. Heâs not sure what time it is right now, but he knows that if he doesnât leave soon and get some sleep, heâll be passing out in his classes.
âThanks for fixing me up,â 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.
âYouâre leaving? Are you crazy? Stay here!â 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. Itâs just not smart and not worth the risk.
âI canât,â he says. You pout and stand before him, blinking up at him so prettily that he almost changes his mind. âItâs dangerous.â
âI know. I just wanted to keep you.â That makes Yeonjun giggle.
âSorry. Maybe next time.â
You swat his chest. âDonât let there be a next time. You almost scared me to death.â
âIâll make sure to tell the next knife-bearer you said that,â Yeonjun jokes. It gets the laugh that he was hoping for out of you.
âWellâŠâ 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. Itâs soft. Itâs sweet. Itâs over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumblyâitâs 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. âJust stay out of trouble,â you finish, patting his chest gently.
âIâll try.â
âI guess Iâll see you in class, then,â you say.
âYeah,â 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.
âGood night,â you whisper. Yeonjun canât help itâhe pulls your face in so he can feel your lips on his again, more properly this time. Theyâre pillowy and dreamy, and Yeonjun could just melt into you. He doesnât 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.
âGood night,â 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.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ
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 youâre 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 doesnât 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 laterâpreferably for after he talks to you and gets some answers.
He doesnât 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; Yeonjunâs itching for the lecture to end so he can talk to you already. Heâs practically running out of class as soon as itâs dismissed, but finds himself slowing down the moment heâs outside the building.
Heâs pretty sure he knows where to find you. The bigger issue is figuring out what the hell heâs 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 donât mind! He feels so lame.
Itâs wishful thinking to hope that you wonât care about what happened last nightâwell, except for the kissing part, but thatâs probably not as important right now. Heâll 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 youâd 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. Heâs 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. âHowâd I know youâd come find me?â 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 heâs invading your space. Heâs seen you sitting alone on this field as if it was all yours so many times.
âI thought I should thank you again,â 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. âMhm. Shouldnât I be thanking you, Spider-man?â Thereâs a teasing quality to your voice, and it makes Yeonjun laugh nervously. He should probably address that.
âI really hope you wonât tell anybody.â
âI wonât. Iâm still finding it hard to believe anyway,â you say. Your sentences are all laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that Yeonjun canât help but to feel at fault for. âItâs just weird to know it now.â
Yeonjun hums. He can sympathize with you on thatâit 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.
âSpider-manâs a little less cool now, huh?â he jokes, keeping his voice quiet even though no oneâs around.
Your smile is full and genuine, and Yeonjunâs heart skips a beat. âI always thought he was a little lame,â you answer. Yeonjunâs ego bruises at that. You continue, âBut I think heâs kind of interesting now.â
He can only hope that you donât see the blush that takes over his face. He looks away to hide it, but he feels your gaze on him. âI donât know if Iâm that interesting,â he says, acting all humble. Itâs clearly bait, and he hopes youâll catch it.
âI can be the judge of that. Let me get to know you more,â you offer. Yeonjun bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning at this massive win.
âWell, we still have that bakery to go to,â Yeonjun mentions, and judging by the way your eyes gain a new sparkle, you seem to like the idea.
âYou donât have any more classes today, do you?â You already look ready to go.
Yeonjun doesnât bother hiding his excitement anymore, letting his smile take over his face. âI donât.â Youâre standing up the next second, and Yeonjunâs quick to follow.
The bakery is a cute, cozy little place near some other restaurants downtown. Thereâs no seating inside due to the lack of space, but thatâs made up for by the giant row of sweet selections to choose from. Yeonjunâs 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. âWow, we should go here again,â you say, going in for another bite.
Yeonjun chose a sweet cheese bread, which he completely devours within a couple minutes. You donât eat as fast as him, but he doesnât mind waiting for you. He makes conversation in the meantime: âHow come you skipped class today?â
You laugh a little around your mouthful of food, swallowing before you answer, âI barely slept. There was no way I couldâve focused if I went.â
Yeonjun hums in understanding. âI barely slept too,â he says.
âBut you still went,â you add. âI guess youâre better than me.â
Oh god, he hopes you didnât take it that way. âNot at all!â he rushes to say.
You smile and pat his shoulder. âI know. Youâre just a star student, thatâs all.â
Is that a compliment? Yeonjun blushes anyway. âI like to do well,â he says.
âI mean, considering everything youâre balancing, yeah, you are doing pretty well.â
Yeonjun laughs awkwardly in response, barely able to take your praise. Heâs pretty sure youâre alluding to what you found out about him yesterday. âThanks,â he mutters, all humble.
âDo you wanna talk about last night?â you ask, finishing your last bite.
âSure,â Yeonjun answers, feeling a smidge of nervousness returning to him. Itâs quiet for a few seconds. âDid you have any questions?â he asks. He feels more bashful than anything else, but itâs better than coming off as braggadocious.
You hum in thought, pouting your lips while you conjure up some ideas. âWas that your first kiss?â
Heâs completely taken aback by your questionâand a little embarrassed, quite franklyâand he scrambles to spit out a response. Youâre stifling your laughter before he can even get his defense out. âNo! I had my first kiss in, like, high school!â
âIâm just teasing,â you admit. âYouâre a good kisser.â The compliment goes to Yeonjunâs 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, âDo you feel better today? Are you healing alright?â The joking tone leaves your voice, replaced with genuinity and care.
âI feel fine,â he answers. He pulls up his shirt to show you the wound, all stitched up and starting to heal over.
You wince. âGood thing I finished my food already. That killed my appetite.â Yeonjun laughs at your grimace and releases his shirt, falling back into place. âYou should really put a bandage over that,â you suggest.
âI donât have any.â
You shake your head in disbelief, though your amusement reads on your face. âYou should be more prepared.â
Your concern is cute to Yeonjun. âI know,â he says.
âSo who stabbed you?â you ask.
He shrugs. âNo clue. Heâs probably in a cell now.â
âDid it hurt?â you ask, though the answer is obvious.
âLike hell,â he says.
âHowâd it even happen?â Honestly, Yeonjunâs not too sure about that either. He can usually sense imminent danger before it comes, but maybe he was too focused on the crimes heâd already been dealing with.
âHe came up behind me while I was handling another criminal,â 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. âMust be tough being Spider-man,â you say.
âCareful how loud you say that.â 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.
âRight, sorry. Thereâs just so much I wanna know now.â You turn a corner, taking a path leading back to campus.
Your curiosity excites Yeonjun, and heâs ready to answer whatever question you come up with. Some of his stories have serious entertainment value to them.
âAsk me, then,â he invites. You twist your head to smile up at him for a second.
âHowâd you get like this? Were you just born this way?â
Yeonjun laughs at the idea. He swings his head around to make sure no oneâs around when he answers, âNo, a radioactive spider bit me.â
âWhen did that happen?â 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.
âIn high school,â he says. It was super bewildering back then to change so drastically, yet be forced to act so normal. Itâs much easier nowâheâs had years to adjustâbut he was a teenager when it first happened. Thatâs 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 doesnât regret it.
âDoes anyone else know?â
âMy uncle did, but heâs gone, so now itâs just you.â He looks at you, lips twitching upward.
âIâm sorry to hear that,â you apologize, voice growing soft. He realizes that youâre in front of your dorm building now, and he supposes this is where he should leave. His eyes dart between yours, like heâs waiting for you to tell him to go. To ask him to stay.
âAre you doing anything today?â he asks. Maybe he sounds desperate. He doesnât really care.
âCatching up on some work,â you say.
âIâll give you my calculus notes.â
You smile. âThat would be nice.â
Yeonjun didnât even take notes in calculus today. He doesnât know what heâs saying.
âCan I stay?â Heâs 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. Yeonjunâs 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 heâs 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. Itâs impossible for Yeonjun to wipe the grin off his faceânot 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.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ
A quintessential part of the college experience, Yeonjunâs come to find out, is trying out all the different ramen brands to see which one is the best. Heâs a fan of whichever one heâs 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 dormâs door when it opens, curious to see that Soobin brought someone over. Yeonjun isnât bothered by that, though; if this guy is anything like Soobin, heâs not worried about getting annoyed.
âYou can remember to buy ramen but not detergent?â Soobin asks, chuckling. Yeonjun chooses to read that as a joke instead of a passive aggressive comment.
âUgh, dude, I keep forgetting, Iâm sorry,â he apologizes. Yeonjun points at Soobinâs friend and continues, âThis your friend?â
âYeah, Iâm Beomgyu,â the friend introduces. Something about him looks a little familiar.
âNice to meet you,â Yeonjun greets with a nod.
Soobin grabs some clothes from his closet then turns to the door. âIâm gonna go change and then we can head out,â he says to Beomgyu, then heads off to the bathroom.
When the door shuts, Yeonjun returns his attention to his ramen and ignores Beomgyuâs presence as best as he can. That doesnât last too long, though, cause soon enough, Beomgyuâs breaking the silence: âAre you still hanging out with Y/n?â
Yeonjun turns in his seat to face Beomgyu. Heâs not sure how Beomgyu would know that, but Yeonjun entertains the question nevertheless. âYeah. You know her?â he asks.
âSheâs my friend,â he says. âKind of.â
Yeonjun already feels something weird in the air. Heâs waiting for the turn that this conversation is bound to take. He finally pieces together why this guy looks so familiar; heâs one of the boys at the party in the group that you kept looking over at. Now Yeonjunâs really curious.
âWhy do you ask?â The question comes out a little hesitantly.
âIâm telling you this man-to-man, I think you might be getting played,â Beomgyu says.
Yeonjunâs immediate reaction is only confusion. How would you be playing him? Youâve been nothing but sincere with your feelingsâor, thatâs what it seemed like, at least. Now Yeonjunâs doubting himself. A part of him doesnât believe it and doesnât want to indulge in this conversation any further, but heâd start spiraling whether or not Beomgyu explains himself now. Worry swirls in Yeonjunâs stomach.
âWhy?â he asks despite himself.
âThis is just what Iâve 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 donât know, though.â
Kai. That boy who came up to you at the party. Yeonjun remembers him.
He doesnât want to show how much those words affect him, but shit. Hearing that hurts. His body feels weightless, like heâd be falling over if he wasnât sitting at his desk. He nods as he exhales slowly, keeping his heart from going haywire.
âHuh,â 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 thatâs going to end, but the wake never comes. Heâs forced to deal with his whirling thoughts instead.
None of this can be true. It wouldnât 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 nightâthere is something more sacred and dangerous to trust you with than those things: his heart.
He doesnât even want to finish his ramen anymore. His fingers brush against the wound thatâs 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. Heâs always known that he was a fool, so he doesnât know why heâs so surprised, but really? Beer pong lord?
Five minutes is hardly enough to process the information Beomgyu dumped onto Yeonjun, but thatâs 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. Itâs like an anchorâs been tied to his heart, sinking further and further until it makes him his stomach churn.
The fresh air feels good in Yeonjunâs 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. Itâs not like you two were really anything anyway. A kiss doesn't always mean something to everyone. Maybe itâs his fault for assuming that for you, it did.
Itâs not just that, though. Yeah, kissing you made Yeonjun feel alive in a way that only swinging through the city could compare to, but thereâs so much more to you than that. Itâs 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 heâs being torn in two, but he keeps walking like nothingâs wrong.
âYeonjun!â 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 heâs 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. âHey,â he says.
âWhat are you up to?â 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.
âIâm headed to the lab. Got some stuff to do, and itâs time sensitive, soâŠâ he trails off awkwardly, looking off into the distance instead of at you.
âOh, okay,â you say, sounding a little dejected. Yeonjun shouldnât be feeling bad for you right now, but he canât help it. It makes his chest clench to hear the joy leave your voice. âMaybe we can hang out after? Just to study or something,â you offer.
Yeonjun sighs, âMaybe.â
Youâre quiet for a second as you assess him. âAre you okay?â Concern fills your voice, and when he brings his vision back to you, he can see it in your eyes too.
âIâll talk to you about it later,â he says.
You frown, taking in his flat expression. You must gain some insight from that, because then youâre asking, âDid I do something?â
He wants to hold his head, feeling defeated and frustrated and sad and a million other different things. Heâs not sure how to label it. Heâs never felt emotions this complex before, probably because heâs never liked anyone this much before.
âOh god, did I?â you repeat, more fear in your voice at Yeonjunâs 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.
âJust come with me,â 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.
âIâm sorry,â you apologize. He can feel you looking at him, but he keeps his eyes ahead.
âYou donât even know what youâre apologizing for,â he mumbles.
âTell me then,â you plead. The thought of having to talk about this with you makes him feel sick. He doesnât know if he can even choke up the words without getting nauseous.
âLet me clock into my lab first.â 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. Youâre quiet even as he goes through the study procedure, not even lingering near him to see what heâs doing. He feels a little cruel for it, wondering if heâs 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. Youâre leaning against the wall by the door, so many steps away, keeping so much distance. He bites his lip and looks away, figuring itâs time to start the conversation.
âI want to talk to you, but I donât want you to lie to me,â Yeonjun says, breaking the long stretch of silence. He walks toward you, stopping before he gets too close.
âI wonât. Iâm not gonna hide anything from you.â Itâs funny you say that.
âDo you like Kai?â His question catches you off guard, your frown leaving your face.
âNo,â you answer.
âDonât lie.â
âIâm not.â
âOkay. So why did Beomgyu tell me you used me to get back at him?â
He watches you stiffen at the question. âHow do you know Beomgyu?â you ask.
âPlease just answer me,â Yeonjun says. He doesnât want to run around in circles, he just wants to hear the truth from you.
âI donât like Kai anymore.â 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, âPlease let me say the whole story.â 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.
âGo ahead,â he says.
âI invited you to the party because youâre my friend, and I think youâre cute, but also for really petty, stupid revenge. It was so dumb and Iâm so sorry, I feel so fucking bad for that now,â 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, âBut 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 couldnât do it. Youâre a good person, and I felt fucking awful, and I didnât go through with anything, and Iâm glad I didnât. You gave me one of the best nights of my life that day. I mean that. Seriously.â
Thereâs sincerity in your eyes, so Yeonjun knows youâre not lying. The ache in his chest is dull now, but still there. He canât believe you planned to use him as some pawn to get back at Kai.
âWhyâd I have to hear it from someone else? Why couldnât you tell me yourself?â he asks. Itâs pathetic how his voice carries more heartbreak than anger.
âCause I didnât want you to misunderstand and leave!â you explain, desperate. âYeonjun, please. I donât care about Kai anymore. I havenât even talked to him since the party.â
Yeonjun wishes he could feel comforted by your words, but all he feels is hurt. He has this terrible thing where he canât stop asking questions that will only batter him worse. âSo you didnât really like me?â
You take a step closer to him, placing both hands over your heart. Yeonjunâs not blind; he can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might walk away. He doesnât have it in him to relieve your stress right now.
âI always liked you. I like you more every day,â you answer. Thereâs honesty in your words, which Yeonjun appreciates. It doesnât quite melt away his insecurities, though.
Yeonjun canât bear looking at you any longer, dropping his gaze to the floor and stepping back. Heâs 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. Itâs so pitiful that it ruins the monstrous image Yeonjunâs trying to fit you into in his mind. Against his better judgment, his eyes meet yours again.
Heâs about to speakâmaybe to console you, to get some of that sadness out of your eyesâbut the sound of glass breaking behind him makes him turn with wide eyes, searching for the damage. Heâll be the one stuck replacing any broken equipment; he can only pray that it wasnât a more expensive piece.
His eyes flit across the room, but he finds nothing. Is he seriously losing his mind? Every time heâs in this lab, thereâs 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.
âLetâs just head out of here,â Yeonjun says, unable to rid himself of the chill down his spine.
âDo you still like me?â 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 questionâof course he still likes you. Do you think his feelings are so malleable? His adoration for you feels like an immovable boulder. He canât 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.
âWhat the hellâ?!â he emits, eyes growing wide as the cell clump heâd been working with expands out past its storage spot, spilling out onto the floor. The broken glass earlier mustâve been from the petri dishâshit, he shouldâve checked. Itâs discolored now, so dark itâs nearly black, and growing more rapidly than it should be able to.
You spin on your feet to see what Yeonjunâs looking at, yelping when you see the growth. You back up quickly and bump into Yeonjunâs chest. âWhatâs happening?â you ask, turning your head back to look up at him.
âI donât know,â he answers. He has to think fast, because it doesnât look like the cell replication is stopping any time soonâif anything, it looks like itâs 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. âWeâll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,â he says.
âHow do we do that?â you ask. Yeonjunâs not sure either, so he doesnât 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. Yeonjunâs 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.
âAre you mad at me?â you ask.
âNo,â he answers sharply and quickly. He has bigger issues to be worried about than staying mad at you.
âI promise I wasnât lying. I wonât talk to Kai ever again.â
âWhy are we having this conversation right now?!â Yeonjun asks, frustrated.
âBecause itâs important to me that you know!â
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 doesnât 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 canât 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 itâs alive, like itâs a living organism. Itâs 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 donât 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 heâs 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 canât 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.
âYou should leave,â Yeonjun says, coming to you and cupping your face. His eyes beg you to go, strung up on the possibility of you getting hurt.
âI wonât,â you say, grabbing onto his wrists.
âPlease. Youâre too important.â His hand strokes through your hair like youâre something precious.
You take his hand and kiss it. âYou are too. I wonât leave.â
He sighs. He knows heâs not winning this, thereâs too much determination in your words. Before he removes his focus from you, he thinks he should tell you one last thing. âJust so you know, I like you too.â
Youâre barely able to hold back your smile, but Yeonjun canât 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. âCome here with the nitric acid!â he shouts over his shoulder.
âWhich one is that?â you ask hurriedly, scanning through the different bottles of chemicals.
âItâs in a brown translucent bottle. Quick!â Before he can panic further, youâre 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 Yeonjunâs shoulders when he realizes he finally found something that works. The bottle doesnât hold nearly enough, though, because Yeonjun empties it out before he can melt the organism completely.
He turns to you expectantly, and youâre rushing back to the counter where all the chemical substances are held. Youâre 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 thereâs any stored away in there.
You pull out a bottle from the cabinet, reading it quickly. âWould sulfuric acid work?â you ask, looking at Yeonjun like you need him to say yes.
âIt would react with the nitric acid,â he answers. You groan.
âYou think I know any of this stuff?!â You go back to searching through the cabinet.
âYes! Youâre, like, the smartest girl I know!â Yeonjun exclaims, equally as frustrated.
âYou must not know a lot of girls then,â 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 thatâs 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 canât bring himself to care about any toxins filling his lungs. Heâs worn out, crouching down in exhaustion with a groan.
When he picks his head up from between his arms, he searches for you. Youâre 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.
âYou get feisty when youâre working under pressure,â Yeonjun teases, breathless laugh escaping him. You lift your head to look at him, and he can see how you hold back your amusement.
âI could say the same about you,â 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. Itâs stained and ripped and looks disgusting. You pout. âThis was my favorite oneâŠâ
âDonât worry, youâre pretty good at stitching things back up,â 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.
âI guess I am,â you say, tugging on Yeonjunâs 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 youâre both thinking about right now.
You donât leave him waiting long; your hand comes to his jaw to bring his face to yours, and the next second, Yeonjunâs having the best kiss of his life. It feels like a reward after the shitshow that todayâs been. For it to come to this, heâd relive it a dozen more times.
âWait,â Yeonjun says, pulling back. âAre we dating now?â
âHavenât we been dating?â You look at him like heâs a fool, and it endears Yeonjun endlessly.
âI mean, boyfriend-girlfriend dating,â Yeonjun explains.
âOh, Iâve already told, like, three people that youâre my boyfriend.â There might be real hearts in Yeonjunâs eyes right now.
âGood,â he says, coming in for another quick kiss. âIâm all yours.â His words are uttered against your lips, since he canât 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 heâs still in a lab with a bunch of chemicals filling the airâitâs probably a good idea to get out. Even though he doesnât want to, Yeonjun steps back and looks around at the mess throughout the room. Given everything that happened, itâs not awful. A mop would take care of ninety percent of the problem.
âWe should clean this up,â he sighs.
âYeah,â 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.
âNo, letâs just leave,â he suggests. Heâs exhausted. Heâll explain everything to his professor tomorrow, he canât take any more of this today.
âShould we go back to my place then?â 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.
Yeonjunâs all over you the minute your door closes behind him. He doesnât let your lips disconnect for a secondânot to talk, not to breathe, because nothingâs more important than tasting your lips on his.
Your back falls to your mattress, and Yeonjunâs 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 shirtâs 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. Heâs 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.
âI like you,â you say as he sucks your thumb, blinking up at him adoringly like heâs 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.
âI like you too.â 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 Yeonjunâs 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 canât wait to indulge in you. Heâll 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.
âYou donât deserve to touch me. Iâm still upset about Kai,â he says. Itâs a lie, but heâs 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 canât move it. He giggles. The whole web-slinging thing comes with some perks.
âOh, come on,â 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 youâre 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.
âHow much do you like me?â Yeonjun asks. His free hand holds your waist, fingers brushing against your skin gently.
âSo much,â you answer, never abandoning your rhythm. âYouâre so smart, and handsome, and funny, andânnghâand good to meâŠâ Yeonjunâs hand travels from your waist to your chest in reward, thumb rolling over one of your nipples.
âYeah, I am good to you. I stay with you even though youâre mean to me.â
You shake your head at his statement. âIâm not mean to you,â 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.
âYou are,â he says. âYou use me to get other men.â He knows thatâs 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.
âNo! Thatâs not true!â 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.
âHey, be nice,â 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. Heâs 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. âI want to touch you,â you whine.
âSorry about that,â 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 youâre 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.
âShould I tell you what I like about you?â Yeonjun asks, something silky and smooth in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips over his thigh. âSay pleaseeeee,â he prompts.
âPlease,â you echo. He giggles.
âAgain.â Heâs having fun.
âPlease, Yeonjun,â 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.
âI like how pretty you are,â he starts, leaning over you to press kisses against your neck. âAnd I like how cool you are.â His mouth travels a little lower, sucking at your collarbone. âAnd I like how I can talk to you for hours and never get bored.â 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. âAnd I like how wet you get,â 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. Thereâs a look of betrayal on your face as he disconnects from you, not touching you at all anymore.
âYeonjun,â you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in. âI need to cum.â 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 doesnât 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.
âTight girl, gotta stretch you out,â 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. âNeed to get you ready for me.â
âMhm, need your dick,â 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 canât 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.
Youâre 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.
âYou want me to fuck you?â he asks. Your legs spread open immediately in invitation. He watches as a glob of arousal drips out from your core.
âYes,â you breathe out. He pumps his shaft a few more times before bringing it to your folds, letting your wetness coat his tip. âPut it in,â 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.
âWant you to feel so good,â 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. âWanna be the best youâve had.â 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 doesnât lose himself too quickly. His moans are deep and airy, while yours are whiny and pathetic. He trails a hand up your body until heâs 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.
âGonna be perfect for you,â Yeonjun promises. âBe a good boyfriend. Fuck you every day. Keep you happy.â 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.
âNeed you to cum now,â Yeonjun says, feeling his high looming over. âGotta feel you milking my cock, let me see it.â
âKiss me,â 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 heâs 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 heâs 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.
âYouâre so gorgeous,â he says, making you turn your head away shyly.
âThanks. You are too.â 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 stomachâs 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.
âDid so good for me, thank you,â 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.
âY-youâre good too,â 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 heâs being good for you, it makes him feel like heâs 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.
âRight there!â you gasp out, pressing yourself further into Yeonjunâs face. He hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, making sure you donât 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 doesnât stop until youâre 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 canât 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.
âHi,â you say when he finally pulls his face from yours. This feels like a dream.
âHi,â he echoes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He cherishes the smile you give him.
âSo when does this dissolve?â you ask, tugging at the webs holding your arms in place. Yeonjun scratches his neck bashfully. That's enough of an answer for you. âYeonjunâŠâ you sigh, body deflating.
âLess than two hours!â he rushes to say.
âTwo hours?!â
âItâs not that bad. I think we can pass the time,â he says, failing to hold back his smile.
Your eyes flit down to his stirring cock. âI guess I have nothing better to do,â 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.
ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ ââââ
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. âI canât believe your roommate had to tell me to get you to buy this.â
Yeonjun raises his hands in defense. âI get busy sometimes,â he says.
âWith coming to my dorm every other night?â you ask with a raised brow, walking into the next aisle.
Yeonjun drops a candy bar into the basket alongside the detergent. âNo, with lab stuff, and class stuff, and Spidey stuff,â he corrects. He picks up a bottle of your favorite drink as he passes by it on the shelf. âAnd with girlfriend stuff,â he adds sweetly.
âRight,â 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. âHow cool are these?â he asks, pointing at himself.
You laugh and lift the sunglasses up so they rest on his head. âSo cool,â you answer. You tilt your head to check the price on them. âYou should totally spend the last of your money on them.â
He pulls the glasses off his face to check the price tag, eyebrows raising in reaction. He puts them back on the rack. He canât get rid of the smile on his face as he watches you shop, endeared and swooned by every little thing you do. Itâs small moments like these that make him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.
âWe should get bandages. I canât believe you donât have any,â you say, looking for where the item would be in the store.
âThereâs a lot of things I donât have. Iâm operating on a limited budget,â he explains. Itâs not like he can tackle a job on top of everything else he does. Heâs grown accustomed to his ways of living, accepting that heâs become the male college student stereotype.
âIâm glad I stepped into your life then,â you say, throwing a box of bandages into your basket. âIâm actually scared youâd die without me.â
Yeonjun canât help but to laugh at that. âI would die without you,â 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; itâs 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.
âThatâs your cue, Spider-man.â
notes: god i loved writing this so muchâŠ. 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 đ€
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Bait: Jason Todd x reader
aka: the one when Jason's family is using you to renew relationship with him
She certainly did not expect to see a huge bouquet sitting on top of her desk on rainy Friday morning.
And definitely did not want them.
Cause if there was one thing sure in the world it was that those flowers couldnât have been a gift from Jason.
And if not from Jason this meant she had a secret admirer.
And since she was a taken and very in love woman, a man creeping on her could turn into a big problem, especially considering the fact that she was taken by no one else but Red Hood, who wasn;t a big fan of sharing.
âY/N! Look, those came for you, this morning.â
âUh. I see.â She muttered, trying to act unfazed by the excited squeals of her office bestie. How could she be so happy about it? And what the hell was her definition of morning if it was barely 8.30 am?
âYou look like youâre mad about it.â
âIâm not mad about it-â
âThen what is it about?â God save Y/N from the office gossip and curious coworkers.
âNothing. Nothing, itâs nothing.â She put a smile that was equally as big as it was fake, hoping it would be enough to nip this ridiculous conversation in the bud. âI got a lot of work, you know. How about we talk during the lunch break, how does that sound? Good? Great, see you later then!â Before anyone managed to chip in and threw their opinion into the newest office sensation Y/N closed the door to her room, using the unusual force of will power into not locking them. This place definitely didnât have enough men on board, cause as much as she was a fan of women and their greatest cheerleader a firm full of girls could turn into a hen house at times.
Only after taking a few inhales and exhales did she begin the inspection of the gift, created from her favorite plants.
Hence â the person who sent it must have known her.
She started counting in her mind the amount of people who were close enough to dare to gather such knowledge, successfully limiting it to about 5 individuals.
Second clue was wrapping paper. The kind that only one flower shop in this silly city used. A very expensive one, hence someone truly must have put an effort into this.
And that made her narrow her suspect circle to three people.
But the final tell tale was a card, sticking innocently from the bottom. A teeny tiny note as if someone who endowed her hoped the recipient wouldnât notice it.
Ha! Good try, but not when it came to Y/N. Honestly, living with Red Hood made her not as vigilant, as almost paranoid and sensitive to every detail.
Back to the gift card.
Two words. Two completely harmless words that under any other circumstances would mean absolutely nothing.
Thank you.
Oh hell no!
***
âHello?â
âDick! What the hell!?â
âHello Y/N. So good to hear you too, howâs your day going?â
âDonât try to placate me!â
âI swear you became so aggressive since living with Jason-â
âWhat the hell?!â she cried out again, circling the desk and the flowers as if it was a predator only waiting for the right opportunity to pounce at her, not that he could see it through the phone.
âI take it, you got my gift?â
âOh, I got your gift, all right. Thank you! Iâm not doing you any favors, wing! I merely managed to get Jason to talk to you about-â
âWhich was a small miracle by itself and I figured it would be nice to ââ
â- to what? To freaking bribe me!?â
âBribe you?!â Dick gasped, acting dramatically even through the phone âIâm hurt, Y/N. Itâs nothing more but a token of my gratitude.â She could almost see his shit-eating grin through the phone.â
âItâs a freaking bribe, Dick!â
âItâs a token of gratitude!â
âOh yeah? And what will you ask in return? Cause I know for sure I am being used to get to Jason. And thatâs both betrayal to Jay and â â
âI would never use my favorite sister-in-law to â â
âI am not your sister in law!â
âYet.â He cut her off with a hint of humor in voice. âBut since weâre already speak Iâve been thinking that maybe you could â â
âOh, what? What? Dick? I cannot hear you! Iâm entering the tunnel â Iâm â losing â the â connectionâŠ.â
She hated using such a lame excuse to hang up on her boyfriendâs older brother but clearly, using any rational argument against Dick Grayson while in his playful attitude was completely futile. And a loss of energy, that she didnât have in abundance.
But once again, she was starting to realize that forming a relationship with Jason was equal to getting into a mess of connections with his entire (huge) family.
***
She should have left those flowers in the office and that mistake became painfully clear the second the crossed the threshold of her and Jasonâs apartment. There were no logical arguments against doing otherwise, besides the fact that it was upcoming weekend and no one would water thema and they would turn into dry sticks on Monday and since Dick bought them for her it would be a waste of money and â
Yeah, yeah, women logic.
Though, menâs logic was working in quite different, mysterious waysâŠ.
âJay? Iâm home! Something smells nice in here!â
Coat ended up in the wardrobe, shoes on the shelf, bag on the hanger and without much thinking she followed her nose to the kitchen, eyes landing on her boyfriend in that silly no bitchin in my kitchin apron, bustling about.
âHi princess.â Obviously, he didnât even have to turn around to sense her presence. âHow was work today?â
âLike a sledgehammer. I swear, sometimes I feel like strangling half of the people there.â
âDo you need help with that violent activity?â he grinned and finally spun to face her, heading for a kiss on the forehead when his sharp gaze laser focused on the thing she was still holding in her hands. Laser gaze that turned from playful and loving to accusatory and cunning in a second. And regardless of how amazingly swiftly Jason was switching between his two personas, such transformation also send a shiver down her spine.
Not a nice kind of tremble.
âY/n?â
âUmâŠâ
âYou got something to say to me?â
âItâs not what it looks like, I swear-â
âPrincess.â
âI can explain!â
âGood. Good, sweetheart, because explanation is all Iâm asking about.â Jason grinned, but it was the grin of Red Hood, who was expecting a low blow, right into the groin.
He stepped closer, wrapping one arm around her waist and using the other to carelessly toss the bouquet somewhere far away.
âI canât remember buying them.â He pointed out, now sneaking the other arm on her, effectively but subtly preventing her potential escape.
âHm? Oh no, you didnât. In fact you havenât bought me flowers since my birthday last year and â â
ânun-uh. Back to the point, Y/N.â he smiled again âwhere did you get them? Who did you get it from?â
âItâs not what you think!â She struggled against his grip.
âYou have no idea what I think, love.â
âIâm not cheating on you!â
âI know.â
âThen whatâs with the squeezing and hugging and â â
âCanât a guy hold his girlfriend after a long day apart?â
âSince when are you so cuddly all of a sudden?!â
âSince some fucker is clearly trying to flirt with my woman!â
OhâŠ
He called her his woman. Not a girlfriend, not a girl, not any other sweet yet infantile word of affection.
His woman.
Making their entire relationship seem way more serious than â
Still being enraged and holding her captive until getting the info he wanted.
And that made her get back to reality from the cloud nine she was floating on.
âWho was it baby?â he whispered, leaning to nuzzle into her neck.
âNo one!â
âMhh. Donât think so.â His lips moved upwards and to her ear. âYou are protecting someone, I can tell. If it makes you feel any better, I can promise I wonât do any permanent damage. Just a broken leg or an arm as a reminder to keep a court mandated restraining orderâŠ.â
âI take it youâre the presiding judge in this case?â
âOf courseâŠâ he kissed her briefly, rubbing soothing circles on her waist. âBut cross my heart, no shooting, bleeding out or spine twisting.â
âThose are your arguments to convince me?â
âI can kiss you senseless and make you feel so high youâd babble it, but figured it was nice to try and ask.â
âHuh! Lucky me.â She scoffed.
Of course she could just tell him, but that would probably cause an interstate scandal and a very heated argument in a Wayne family.
If only Jason knew the scope of conspiracy against him-
She spaced out for a moment and those few seconds were used by Jason to take a look at the flowers on the floor and quickly get into the same conclusion about the donor she had earlier at the office.
âIâm going to fucking kill him!â
âWhat? NO! What happened to the no permanent damage!?â
âThis is not permanent damage! This is terminal damage!â Jason yelled, grabbing his jacket and keys.
âAnd where is the difference in â Jason!? Jason! Where the hell are youâOh my godâŠ.â
 ***
Living with Red hood under one roof was sure as hell far from peaceful, but never in her wildest dreams she wouldnât think that it would get to such an extreme as chasing her biker boyfriend thought Gotham In a car.
***
âWhere the hell is he?!â Jason busted through the door of Wayne Manor, acting like his usual self.
âJason, what-â Bruce looked up from his newspaper, displeased but not surprised by the commotion.
âI swear to God, when I get my hands on him-â
âJason!â Y/N busted through the doors a few minutes later, and her appearance made quite a noticeable effect.
âY/N.â Something akin to a smile bloomed on papa Wayne's face, getting as far as making him stand up and approach her. âSo good to see you.â
âYeah, um â nice to ââ
âListen, Iâve been thinking about something-â
âYeah? You were?â she stuttered, looking above Bruceâs shoulder, helplessly observing Jason and Dick strangling, pushing and pulling, acting like two mad wrestlers in front of camera, much to Batmanâs obliviousness. âUm⊠Bruce-â her efforts to put his attention to the display of violence behind him came to nothing.
âLater. Now, I know youâve been struggling to gather finances for your post-grad-â
âWhat? The hell you know that? Did you run a background check on me!?â
âAnd I was thinking I could loan you the amount ââ he skillfully omitted her question getting right to the point.
âL-loan me-?â
âLook, thereâs no shame in asking your family for help. Itâs natural.â Y/N could not believe the words Bruce was aiming her way. Family help? How could he be such a freaking hypocrite? When was his effing family help when Jason was struggling?
âUhâŠâ she groaned in total shock, while Dick and Jason were now running around the Manor, like a two five year olds playing chase, making so much noise it was getting almost hilarious that Bruce chose not to hear it.
âAnd I was hoping to see you and Jason at dinner on Saturday? And maybe next Saturday? And maybe every Saturday?â
Was that hope in Bruceâs voice?
âOver my dead body!â Jasonâs yelling tore into the conversation and finally Bruce sighed, acting almost forced to intervene.
And the fact that his two sons were laying on the ground, one being half-choked the other flat on his back with the first on top of him made zero impression.
âThose are not funny words to use, Jason.â
âThose are when I say it.â Jason smirked almost vindictively.
âGet off Dick, Jason.â
âLike hell I am going to get off him.â
âI donât know what I did!â Dick whined theatrically
âDonât give me bullshit, Grayson! You bought her flowers!â
âAs if it was the first timeâAAH!â
It took the combined efforts of Y/N, Bruce and even Alfred (who had a miraculous talent of showing up when most needed) to stop Jason from knocking out Dickâs teeth.
âYou!â he hissed, throwing his hands around, before grabbing onto Y/N and pulling her into his chest. âYou are all a bunch of mentals! Using my girl to get to me! Sheâs not your fucking toy!â he held her even closer as if she was a precious baby, unaware of being treated like a pawn and having to be protected at all cost. âI swear if she wasnât here I would ââ
âFather, what is all that noise?â Damian was standing on top of the stairs, looking down at everyone, both metaphorically and literally.
âWe have guests.â Bruce stated with a flat tone.
âOh, Y/L/N, good. I got those books you were looking for and ââ
***
-Â Â Â Â and she was forbidden to ever contact any of his family members ever again.Â
#jason todd x reader#red hood x reader#jason todd x you#red hood x you#jason todd x y/n#red hood x y/n#jason todd fluff#red hood fluff
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Scars / Logan Howlett
pairing: dofp!logan howlett x mutant!reader summary: every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him. word count: 3.2k a/n: good ol'fashioned soulmate AU. this is the first actual fic i've written in a long time so please have some grace. reblogs and replies are super appreciated! warnings: general mentions of logan's past, scars, self-doubt, alcoholism, reader smokes a cigar, mentions of razors, scars, wounds, two uses of y/n
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It had been a week since Logan woke up in his healed timeline.
For most people, the change would have been dramatic. But Logan was far unlike most people. The initial dreamlike state he was in when he first walked through the mansion- seeing the ghosts he had once known returned to the flesh, unscathed- quickly subsided. Logan had always been a man thrown onto a new path- how he lived life constantly changing to best fit his interests. Now, with his newfound peace he found the most complicated mission of all: what to do with the life he was now free to live?
Even before the sentinels, the battles, the wars- he had always been a man on the run. He was solo, strategic, concise. For a man who was gifted with infinite regeneration, he had solely concerned himself with staying alive. He ate for sustenance, sought shelter for safety, and nursed a bottle to find enough peace of mind to sleep at night.
The professor had once told him that for a person to reach self-actualization they first had to have all of their needs met. Logan had scoffed at the time, assuring the professor that he knew himself just fine. But now, with his problems so solved that they had ceased to ever exist, he wondered if maybe the professor was right.
Who was he? Where did he go from here?
The answer was found in the form of a scar on his hand.
"Well, everything seems to be just fine."
Logan scoffed at the blue man in front of him
"Well it's not." Logan said. "Check again."
Two days after he had come back, a large, circular scar had appeared on the palms of each of his hands. When they hadn't disappeared after two minutes, he rushed to the bathroom and nicked himself with his razor, watching as the wound healed with only blood dripping down his scruff as a remanent of it. Thirty minutes after that he found himself in the lab with Hank, Jean, and the Professor hypothesizing his miraculous marks.
"Logan, the tests came back clear." Jean assured him, leaning against the wall. "Maybe it's time to consider that it's something else."
Logan quirked his head towards her.
"I haven't had a scar in over two hundred years," he reminded her, his voice laced with irony. "I get not one, but two and you... what? Think it's a coincidence?"
Before Jean had a chance at rebuttal, the professor moved to face Logan.
"That's not what Jean's inferring, Logan." Charles reminded him. "We're simply asking that you consider other options. Less... dire options. It could, after all, be a good thing."
"Yeah?" Logan scoffed. "Like what?"
A silence hung in the air.
When Logan had first come to them with news of his scar, the thought had been on all three of their minds. Still, there were a plethora of things that could have caused that. Though, when the tests came back clear and his skin continued to heal from all sorts of abrasions, it felt as if there was only one answer for his seemingly magical scars.
However, none of them were keen on sharing this diagnosis with Logan. One wondered whether he'd handle the idea of his body failing him over fated love.
Hank was the first to speak up.
"Like a soulmate."
Oh that was rich, Logan thought.
Logan wasn't unfamiliar with the idea of soulmates.
Around the time that two fated lovers were destined to meet, there would be a sign for each of them. In some cases they were eyes changing colors, feeling the other's pain, finding their names everywhere they looked. In other cases they were new birthmarks, tattoos, scars.
In some way, the two were inextricably connected.
In his long life he had seen others experience it dozens if not hundreds of times. When the first thirty years of his life rolled around with no one, Logan accepted that he was one of the outliers. He considered it for the best and by now, with everything that he had gone through, the concept of soulmates almost seemed like an old wives' tale.
Logan glanced at their faces. When he realized they were serious, a deep laugh escaped from his gut. There was a lack of light in his eyes that admitted his insincerity.
"So I disappear for a few decades and you all start believing in fairytales?" Logan pulled the needles from his arm, the heart rate monitor going flat as he did. "What a bunch of bullshit."
Jean laid her hand against his chest, urging him back into the seat.
"Logan." She soothed him. "This is a good thing. Scott and I-"
Oh this was real rich.
"Scott and you are... what, huh?" Logan urged. "Soulmates?"
Logan scoffed, swiping Jean's hand from his chest.
"Bet you're so happy with your 'soulmate' and that's why you lead me on, huh? That it? You're happy?" He taunted, a dark laugh escaping him once more. "Spare me-"
"Logan, that's enough!"
The professor's voice echoed against the linoleum walls of the lab, reverberating off of the medical equipment throughout.
"If you want to wallow in your own self-deprivation, be my guest, but spare the rest of us your grief." Charles continued. "I think it would be best if you go back to your quarters and consider the future the universe has offered you."
The energy in the air was thick.
Jean and Hank avoided Loganâs eye contact while the professorâs nearly burned a whole through him.
Accepting defeat, Logan threw his hands up in the air and pushed himself out of his metal chair.
âFine.â
Soulmates. Logan thought. Who would believe in a thing like that?
-
"It's a pleasure to see you again."
The atmosphere in the mansion was a stark contrast to the lab Charles had been in days before.
Now the school day had commenced: children skipping from class to class, students chatting with their friends in the hallway, teachers grabbing coffee between lessons. Amidst the organized chaos, Charles had arranged to meet you in the foyer: the replacement history teacher for Logan's class.
"You too, professor." You smiled, reaching out your hand. "I was so glad to hear from you."
Your hand hung in the air briefly, awaiting his return. Charles examined it for a moment- a twinkle in his eye- before taking it. His thumbs brushed against the newfound scars between your knuckles as he did.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't always have these scars, did you, Y/n?" Charles asked.
You had not.
You had woken with them a few days before. Despite your powers rooted in chaos magic, it wasn't uncommon for blemishes or wounds to etch themselves into your skin. However, you often knew why. These marks, scars, were not faint, but instead quite profound. Three thick, healed over wounds patched together like a stitch on the back of each of your hands.
"No professor."
He closed his eyes, a soft smile gracing his lips. Though you knew he wished to ask more questions, the moment was broken by Logan.
"Ah, the man himself." Charles beamed. "Logan, I'd like you to meet Y/n. She'll be covering your class."
You had seen your fair share of news stories about the Wolverine. Who hadn't? Though the television had never prepared you for just how tall, or broad he was.
"It's nice to meet you, Logan."
"You too." He nodded, taking your hand.
His hand lingered in yours for a moment. Charles cleared his throat.
"We were just discussing the most peculiar scar on Y/n's hand." Charles said. "Appeared just a few days ago out of nowhere."
Charles nodded his head in the direction of your hand, leading Logan to squint. As if a light bulb had gone off over his head, Logan glanced between Charles and yourself and with your hand still in his, he turned it examine the back.
Three scars between your knuckles. Right where his own claws would be.
Though he liked to imagine himself as the patron of remaining suave, Logan's eyebrows shot up at the recognition. He traced his view from your hands, up your torso, to your face where you eyed him questioningly.
He thought back to the way that he woke up in the seventies, wrapped in the arms of another woman. If times had been different and Logan hadn't undergone all the so-called character development in the last forty years, he was sure that a face like yours would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. You were beautiful, and your demeanor highlighted your strength.
Your face radiated kindness, warmth and most of all, sincerity- a trait that was difficult to come by in a trade such as his.
But then Logan recalled that this wasn't the seventies and you weren't at some bar leading him on the entire night: your hand was in his and, according to everyone else, he was yours.
The idea almost couldn't register in Logan's brain.
"Interesting, isn't it, Logan?" Charles asked, breaking the silence. "Almost identical to where your claws are, hmm?"
Oh the professor thought he was quite funny.
Logan pulled his hand back from your grasp and shook his head.
"Not that easy, Charles." Logan commented before turning to you, a spiteful tone in his voice. "See you around, bub."
Before you had the chance to open your mouth, you watched as Logan stomped down the nearest hallway, his boots squeaking against the floorboards as he did. His fists clenched and released at his sides as he disappeared from view.
His reaction had come so far from left field that if it hadn't given you whiplash, it would have hurt your ego. Instead you turned back to the professor.
"Was it something I said?" You asked.
The professor shook his head, patting your hand gently.
"Logan's quite a complicated man." He assured you. "I'm sure you'll come to know that more than the rest of us. Now, to your classroom..."
Glancing over your shoulder to the void-like hallway that Logan went down, you considered the professor's words.
-
A storm had taken over the mansion by nightfall.
As you padded down the wood panelled hallways, the lightbulbs shook in their glass with each thunder clap- wind swatting at the window panes every few seconds. The pitter patter of the raindrops, although harsh, was comforting. It was almost as if the mansion had been engulfed by the storm, trapping everyone inside, while consequently making the outside world feel a thousand miles away.
When you found Logan's door, tucked in at the end of the hallway, you knocked.
"Yep."
The weight of the door fell against the palm of your hands as you pushed it open.
Logan's room was dark. The only light in the space had been from the embers of the cigar that hung in his mouth, cradled between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the darkness, you could make out his figure sitting at his desk chair by the window, feet kicked up on the sill.
Logan only gave you a quick glance over his shoulder before turning back to the view.
"What d'you want?"
His voice was thick and rough around the edges.
"I came for your textbooks." You replied, tiptoeing against his floorboards. "The professor said you'd have them."
The hand of his that held the cigar waved around. Minuscule ashes fell to the floor as your eyes remained trained on the light and the faint glow of the moon that illuminated the side of his face.
"Be my guest," he said. "Donât have a clue where they are."
The professor had given you the lowdown when he saw your scars.
Charles told you that despite everything that you had learned- the history that you had known- the Wolverine you'd meet was not the same person. He was a man from a different time with far different, darker memories and enough baggage to weigh down dozens.
Amidst the silence, you cleared your throat.
"Must be hard to wake up in someone else's life."
By now you had reached his desk, your fingertips tracing the lines in the dark, lacquered wood.
You could smell him and the cigar from this distance- aftershave mixed with smoke.
"The professor tell you that?"
"Mhm."
The chair creaked as Logan flicked his hand towards the window, ushering you to come closer.
Watching your step in the dark, you maneuvered around the furniture and sat beside Logan on his desk- pushing loose papers to the side.
"He give you his whole spiel on soulmates too?" He asked, eyes trained on the rain outside.
Soulmates.
Now that was the last thing you expected to come from the Wolverine's mouth.
You'd heard of them more times than you could count. You once wondered whether every repetitive coincidence was a sign that your person was coming. But, when that never happened, you lost hope.
Who got to tell you who you belonged to anyway?
Leaning over, you gingerly took the cigar from his grasp and replaced it with your own fingers. Sitting back into the desk as lightening struck a tree in the distance, you took a puff.
"So that's what the scars on my hands were all about," You thought aloud.
The window fogged as you let the smoke leave from your mouth in a breathy sigh.
Logan tapped his fingers on his thighs, counting the seconds between a lightening strike and its consecutive rumble of thunder.
"Listen, I'm no prince charming if that's what you came here looking for."
Logan's chair creaked again as he leaned back in his seat. His arm draped against the desk as he met your gaze.
You chuckled and held out his cigar, offering it back to him.
"I came here looking for textbooks." You laughed. "You're the one who keeps talking about soulmates. I think you're more of a romantic than you let on.â
His fingers brushed against yours as he took the cigar back into his own hand. Another lightning strike met the ground in the distance, a clap of thunder following moments afterwards.
"You don't buy it?" Logan quirked his eyebrow. It was a teasing question, one he was curious to hear your answer to.
You shrugged.
"I don't think the universe gets to tell me who to love," you said. "If I fall in love with you it's because I love you, Logan. Not because some mark told me to. I just think of it as... a little shove in the right direction.â
The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile for the first time.
"A shove?"
"Like a... blind date." You finished. "Ever been on one of those?"
A congested laugh escaped him.
"Sweetheart, do I look like the type of guy to go on a blind date?"
You bit the inside of your cheek at the name.
Rolling your eyes, you swatted at his arm. You wouldn't admit how much it hurt your knuckles to do so. You'd have to make a mental note to remember his adamantium skeleton.
"Gosh, you're cocky!"
Logan shrugged, "You're the one who likes it apparently."
You felt yourself grow hot at his accusation.
Even though he had a mark signalling his future affection for you, you couldn't help but feel embarrassed by Logan's knowledge of yours. You felt like a child who's crush had just been exposed to the whole class. Was he noting ever glance that you gave him? The way you didn't move when his arm brushed against yours?
A brief pause hung in the air until another thunder clap reverberated against the walls.
"So what's your mark?" You asked.
Logan shoved the cigar into the corner of his mouth. The biting motion forced him to flex his jaw in a way that you would refuse to admit made you start to realize that maybe the universe was right.
And that maybe his cockiness was justified.
He laid out his hands for you. The room was still dark, making the ability to discern the details of his scar impossible. Taking Logan's hands in yours, you summoned your magic into your hands, watching as they glowed gold.
Logan had two large, circular scars imprinted into his palms. It was a clear indicator of your own magical power that surged from your hands.
It left a feeling you couldn't describe in your chest to know that someone else was marked for you. They were destined for you. To be with you. You had a future written together before the two of you had met. Even if he rejected you, there was a sign etched into his skin that bound the two of you together in some fateful way.
Gently, you traced your fingertips against the mark, feeling the warmth that radiated from his palms.
When your eyes flicked upwards, you noticed how close the two of you were now sitting. You could feel his warm breath against your lips as the lingering smell of the cigar drifted up your nose.
Although he wouldnât admit it, Logan was enchanted by the energy radiating from you. Whether people hated or loved him, his ability got a lot of talk. In his mind though, he would never be a hero. He was just some guy who got lucky.
You, though? He didnât need you to tell him that you were an Omega level mutant. Logan had heard about you from the professor: you could cast spells, read minds, reconfigure reality- to name a few. You didn't need a reason to fight for what's right, you just did. Again, and again, and again. Even here, now, you were picking up Logan's history class when he knew very well you could be on the other side of the world sipping pina coladas if you wanted.
What the hell was the universe thinking putting you with him?
Logan admired the reflection of the magic on your cheeks and the way your eyes stayed trained on his palms. Your touch was so gentle he could have sworn he was in a distant dream until your eyes met his.
The two of you stared at each other for a moment, gaze locked.
Then another clap of thunder shook the mansion.
You quickly leaned back, pulling your hands from Logan's touch.
"I should... I should go." You said, pushing yourself off of Logan's desk. "It's getting late and I have my first class in the morning."
Logan leaned back in his seat. He said nothing but eyes remained fixed on your form as you made your way towards the door.
Looking back at him with your hand on the knob you made a mental note to remember the image of him with his feet kicked back on the window as he smoked his cigar.
A soft smile remained.
"Good night, Logan."
When you didn't leave immediately, he nodded.
"Night, sweetheart."
Mustering up the courage to shoot him one last smile, you pulled open the door and stepped outside.
Now, Logan didn't know how much he believed in soulmates, but he could be inclined to consider that it was one good wingman.
Leaning back in his seat, Logan sighed and closed his eyes, letting himself drown out his worries with the sound of the rain.
a/n: my inbox is open for more requests! thank you for the request @welcometochilis585
#wolverine#logan howlett#logan#logan howlett x reader#logan x reader#wolverine x reader#wolverine fluff#wolverine fanfiction#xmen#xmen fanfiction#deadpool and wolverine
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YIPPEEEEEE I'M SOSOSOSO EXCITED FOR THE FIC I'm glad it sounds like you've had a pretty good day, it's well-deserved! :] I love Barbie aesthetically... I love Meta Knight...
OH BUT YEAH this was actually my third time watching The Deer King but it is JUST as good as the first... As I've Said I really love Tsutsumi's character and his little daughter and how their relationship progresses [Top Ten Most Doting Fathers Every Other Scene Makes Me Violently Clutch Whatever I Can Get My Hands On], BUT ASIDE FROM THAT the cast as a whole is very enjoyable!
Although it's a novel adaptation, it's also really intuitive to understand the setting and lore thanks to its decision to put personal conflicts in the foreground while the politics and major themes develop in the background, on top of some pretty well-utilized exposition and the movie's strong visual storytelling/direction/editing.
Visually It's Stunning, there isn't a single frame that's not SEAMLESS, but what stands out to me consistently throughout every scene is definitely how much weight there is to every movement [like The Physics Are Off The Charts, but it's also exaggerated to emphasize things in the way only animation can], and how strong the character "acting" is.
OVERALL. MAGNIFIQUE. I do Highly Recommend checking it out if you were interested :] Tsutsumi's character isn't the type to talk much but y'know... proud of him...
DON'T BE EXCITED YOU'RE SETTING YOURSELF UP FOR DISAPPOINTMENT but if i release it any time soon.. i hope you find some enjoyment from it.. but omg meta knight :)
THREE TIMES WATCHING well now i have to watch it if you've watched it three times: it MUST be worth its salt then.. đïžđïž
#snap chats#i made him small so he couldnt take up The Whole Page... i coulda just posted my whole B&N haul but thats not the point of the ask ANYWAY#will have to give Deer King a watch when i get the time.. and after WMA2... turns out all my writing time took up all my B&N time..#oh but speaking of :) yeah i had a good day all things considered#i love the aesthetic of barbie too so im glad the movie was good.... def a fun watch even if it felt very In Your Face sometimes#but i mean it's for kids and if you wanna get a message across You Better Get It Across yk.#also sometimes you just gotta grab people by the shoulders and shake them with your message. i mean.#they basically did that in the movie too to resolve their conflict LMAO BUT YEAH OVERALL FUN MOVIE ENJOYED IT PLENTY#META KNIGHT SO SILLAY THO when i was growing up my sis and i LOVED kirby air ride and i remember in free-trial you could play as him#im p sure you could also play as him in Races but cmon... city trial was the selling point of that game... love him 5ever..#but nooo while i was at B&N i accidentally bought a new manga and a new bookmark đ·#i did try looking for After The Rain since i know THAT one has an english translation but alas... i just saw After The Bitch â ïžâ ïž#i forget the whole title dont even ask me i just saw After The Bitch and snorted and continued looking down the aisle for anythin else#the manga i did get's called Our Dining Table. i didnt MEAN to buy it#i dont usually read manga that star young adults I Like That Middle-Aged Flavor. like Dont Call Me Daddy but yk#i was just skimming it and by the time store was about to close i ended up on chapter 2 so i figured Might As Well#it was cute SOOOO why not. i could always learn a thing or two from manga and how they panel/pace things anyhow#i also got a new bookmark since i always like to get bookmarks when i get a new book :) cause IDK its the hoarder genes in me ig#the bookmark i got this time was this like. purple string charm with a butterfly pendant Very Pretty#almost as pretty as this other butterfly bookmark i have of a purple emperor#THAT one has a gold bar- thought one of the panels on its wings is missing.... still a good bookmark tho ive had it forever LMAO#butterflies always make me think of my sister- i feel like i mentioned that before but i also cant remember doing so..#fucked up that butterflies were for my sis and bees were for me The Fuck You Tryna Say Dad đ IM NOT A BEE đđ#bees are cooler than me... but they also die really easily so.... I Repeat Fuck You Mean Old Man...#jk i know what he means.. he means i was an asshole â ïž weird-naming-conventions-aside NO WAIT I REMEMBERED A STUPID THING#i saw this weird-as-hell bee i saw on my walk yesterday.... tried looking up what it was but couldnt find anything..#in any case. its funny i think of my sis with butterflies since owls Also remind me of her since she LOVED owls growing up#i DEF know i mentioned that when i was talking about rings i owned... WHICH ALSO REMINDS ME#for the longest time i had this old-as-hell butterfly ring with like. Movable Wings since the wings were attached with springs#but one of the springs disconnected years ago so it's just kinda had one and a half wings BUT I FIXED IT RECENTLY
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drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader
summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.
tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship
wc: 3.3k
a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.
No surprise that Wade wasnât exactly anyoneâs favoriteâ that goes for among the heroes heâs worked with and throughout his life in general. Heâs â to put it in the kindest way anyoneâs ever told him â fucking annoying. Oh, heâs more than aware that heâs a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsiveâ a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse.Â
Look, having a rough start in life isnât uncommon and heâs sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but heâs grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that heâs had it tough over the years.
Heâs still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but heâs still making it by, day by day.
But, well, itâs still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned â or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into â whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.
That was until you came along. So, obviously youâre crazy hot â heâs gotta get that out of the way first â but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wadeâs experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you werenât always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control â your words â was basically winning on easy mode.
But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequentâ only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental healthâ who knew?
And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually heâd be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.
So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.
âŠ
âSo, glad thatâs over, huh?â Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. âSpeaking of over, you wanna come?â
âOver?â you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. âRight after we took on a whole crime ring?â
âWell, what a better time to unwind, am I right?â
âOh?â you raise your eyebrows. âWeâre unwinding?â
Itâs small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, âWell, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.â
You hum, pretending to consider it, âDepends, you got a holo Charizard?â
And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. âYou insult me.â
The two of you enter his apartment not long after youâre dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, youâd assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?
Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.
Youâve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally heâs always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that youâre seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants â awfully warm for this weather â youâre struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.
Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.
âNice sweats, green looks good on you.â
Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, âIâve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder â could this thing be more flattering?â
He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.
Heâs a bit tall, so the sweatpants donât go all the way down to his ankles, but Wadeâs wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodieâs easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.
But obviously Wadeâs hands are scarredâ heâs a mercenary. Heâs handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You werenât expecting his skin to be baby-smooth.Â
Whatâs interesting to you is why heâd go through all the trouble to hide it.
Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and â how could you forget this one â his Deadpool mask is still on.
Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesnât want to take his mask off with you, he doesnât have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. Heâs more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.
Wadeâs been fiddling with the remote while youâve been â hopefully â subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.
âWeâre watching The Princess Bride? I didnât take you for a romantic.â
He bats his eyes â at least, you think he does, given the maskâ and speaks in a sweet voice âWhy, me? Oh please, I know romance. Iâm not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the firstââ
His back straightens out like heâs been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.
âHang-out.â
Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you canât just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.
âMmm, just a hang out?â you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. Youâve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours â which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you â but never in a context like this.
He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.
Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.
âYou want this to be a date?â he says, flat.
âWhy, thank you for asking, dear sir,â you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. âYes, Wade, I like you.â
âIââ he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.
Wade doesnât say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like heâs more than out of his element.Â
âThatâs why you invited me over, right?â you try and help him out. âYou feel the same, too.â
And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. Thereâs barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesnât take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.
His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like itâs on fire. Heâs constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible.Â
Itâs making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.
âHoly shit,â you whisper, voice rough.
âYouâre telling me,â Wade coughs out. âWe couldâve been doing that this whole time?â
âWell, all you had to do was ask.â
And although you canât see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until youâre both standing right in front of his bed.
âIs this okay?â he asks, quiet. You donât think youâve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.
âYes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.â
âWe do?â
âYeah,â you pause to give him a second to think. âI canât see you at all like this.â
âWhat if â and you're just going to have to trust me on this one â youâd prefer it this way,â Wadeâs voice is light, but it feels like itâs cracking at the edges.
âAnd whyâs that?â
Not like youâd be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, âHuh? Oh, Iâ uhâŠâ
âLook, if youâre worried about how Iâm going to react to you having a bunch of scarsâ donât. I donât mind,â the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. âI figured it out. Youâre not sneaky.â
âYou say that, butâŠâ
âWade, I donât care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesnât bother me.â
Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, âLook, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here â really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job â but you donât have to force yourself, Iââ
âWade, you either confront your insecurities head on or Iâm not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person whoâs going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?â
No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. Youâre about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.
âJesus H. Christ,â he groans. âYouâre so hot when you're putting people in their place.â
Your lips curl into a shaky smile, âYeah, what else do you think is hot?â
And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.
âŠ
Itâs actually happening. No fucking way he didnât dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possibleâ a big ask.
âBossing anyone â everyone, especially me â around. You using your abilitiesââ you reach over and find Wadeâs hand before running your fingers up his arm. âShit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when Iâm there.â
âOh?â you giggle. âWhen you get to watch, or?â
âWhen I get to feel.â
Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wadeâs nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respondâ for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.
âYou got a thing for pain, Wilson?â
He chuckles, âYouâd be surprised.â
âOkay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.â
âDonât worry,â he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. âItâll be great for me.â
You hum, âAlright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you donât like something, okay?â
âAye, aye, captain,â he salutes, though you probably canât see it. âAnd, same goes for you.â
âWhat a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.â
Heâs blushing something furious and heâs never been more grateful for the dark, âAnything for you.â
Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but heâs really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat.Â
Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.
Youâre not saying anything. Thatâsâ a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesnât know. Heâs trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.
You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.
âThere,â you say. âWasnât so hard, was it?â
Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. Thereâs a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.
âIâm sorry, is that funny to you?â
âNo!â he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.
âGood, seems like youâre learning.â
You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.
He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.
While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.
Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, âYouâre so hot, Iâm not forgiving you for hiding for so long.â
Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.
âFrom now on, I get to hear you, okay?â you say and Wade nods rapidly.
You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, âIâm going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.â
âOkayââ he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. Itâs a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the backgroundâ almost like the sensation of being choked except itâs affecting his entire body. Wade feels like thereâs a weight pinning down each of his limbs and itâs so freeingâ so relaxing.
He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.
âHow is it?â you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, itâs powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.
âItâs goodâ so good, Iââ he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.
âYeah, baby? What do you need?â
At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs.Â
âNot sure, umm, a little moreââ
And he doesnât know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but heâs willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like heâs not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.
From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. Itâs a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.
âIâm gonnaââ he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.
As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what heâs been wanting to say since he met you.
âThankââ
You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up.Â
#deadpool#wade wilson#deadpool smut#wade wilson smut#deadpool x reader#deadpool x gn! reader#wade wilson x reader#wade wilson x gn! reader#marvel#marvel smut#dom reader#sub character#gn reader#smut#deadpool x you#wade wilson x you
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Rivalry
Kinktember Day 8: Hate Sex
(G)I-DLE Shuhua x male reader smut
words: 4,799 Kinktember Masterlist


School rivalries can get fierce, but none as fierce as this one.
It's been drilled in since the very first day, no matter what class you were in. From math tournaments to football games, these schools live and die by their standing. If one of them wins, the entire school wins. If they lose, then the school loses with them.
The fun in this rivalry has long since been drained from the system, replaced with spiteful desperation and a toxic desire. The sort of thing that has spilt well beyond the competition hall or the sports field, so much so that local authorities have had to step in for the safety and peace of mind of the students who might've gotten hurt in the chaos.
Needless to say, no individual is really to blameâor maybe all of them are.
You're coming off the back of a crushing victory at the start of this year's Summer Cup, bringing home an early advantage that, to you at least, has meant you could finally take a breath of fresh air, relax, and support your school the rest of the way. You had been chosen for the bits of media coverage (some of this actually makes national TV) such as the post-game interview spots, something not particularly fun, but something that gives you a chance to enjoy the win and rub it in the face of the rivals. Meaning that you were late to the ice bath and the shower and you're now walking through the corridor alone, while everyone is outside awaiting the next game.
Everyone except her.
There's a girl, wearing an outfit in the colours of your rival. Her yellow (really short) shorts, and white top, rolled up to just below her bust.
"You're in the wrong place," you call out as she walks closer, but she says nothing and gives a casual side-eye as she tries to walk on by. This pisses you off, so you move to block her. "I said you're in the wrong fucking place."
"Funny," she replies through that contemptuous smirk is there. She doesn't even try to mask it. "Since you're the one that's in my way. Get lost."
"See that?" You point to the wall, to the crest of your school. "This is our building. You aren't supposed to be here. What? Can't you read?"
The girl, having fully shifted her attention to you at this point, folds her arms beneath her chest. "Oh, grow up. It's an athletics competition. This is an athletics centre. You can take your tribalism elsewhere, bud."
The nickname and condescending tone, the absolute nonchalance that this girl seems to be able to project when speaking to you...it does something. It sends a twitch through your fists. "My tribalism? You're the one sporting your colours in our building."
The girl makes a brief, sarcastic sound. "I hate you all the same, but that doesn't mean you can deny me using the toilet in here. Move."
"Why don't you walk your pretentious arse back out the door where you came from, find the one next door and use it instead? Just seems like some foolish excuse to come in here and sabotage us, you people have a track record of this shit."
"Yeah, or," she responds, giving the most fake smile, before taking a step forward into your space. "Maybe I really need to use a toilet. Ever consider that, smart guy?"
This close, you can really take a good look at her. From her petite and lithe, athletic figure, to her soft skin, and messy ponytail. Her demeanour, too, along with her hazelnut eyes and pouting lips. It takes a moment, but soon, you recognise her. This is Shuhua. Maybe the most vocal of your rivals. Known for her antagonistic behaviour, her temper, her endless mocking and recently her frustration with always coming second.
"I know you."
"Congratu-fucking-lations, now step aside unless you want me to piss down your leg."
You grit your teeth at her crude words, "Toilet huh? Okay. Use it, but I'm escorting you there and then back out of the building. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you."
"I don't know, I'm a pretty skinny girl and you're a strong guy, maybe you could throw me pretty far..." Shuhua says as she steps past you. "You can wait by the door, fucking pervert."
You roll your eyes but don't dignify the insult with a response. Instead, you make sure to walk closely by her side and lead her to the ladies toilet. "You've got five minutes."
"Oh no. So scared," she drones before you swing the door open for her. She's about to step in when she stalls and glances up at you. "Sure you trust me? What if I... Oh, what if I leave the tap running and waste your water? How's that for sabotage?" Shuhua absolutely drenches her words in sarcasm.
You pull the door closed, forcing her to step inside without waiting for a reply. Once more, your fist twitches at the annoyance.
A couple of minutes pass before the door finally swings open and you watch as the girl saunters back out with a self-satisfied smirk. "There, that wasn't so hard, now was it? Want to come in and check the taps?"
That, funnily enough, does make you laugh, if a little humourlessly. "Don't you ever get sick of yourself? Actually, scratch that, that was stupid to ask, of course not," you mutter. "You know, I almost feel sorry for your school. Having to deal with you must be a real fucking burden. Hey, what's that they say, one bad apple and all that."
"Ugh, the fucking ego," Shuhua shakes her head as if she can't believe the nonsense. "You're even worse in person." She sighs and gestures in a bid for you to lead the way back towards the exit.
"Sounds like jealousy to me," you retort and start walking, and she follows behind. "Doesn't feel great, does it?"
You don't have to look, her exasperated scoff speaks volumes. "Wow. Is this really what your school thinks? Of course, it is, why would I ever have thought differently. You are all so fucking alike. All stuck in this same, boring headspace. And for the record, no, it isn't 'jealousy'. There is no jealousy here because I, unlike you, can pull my head out of my arse."
She's nothing if not stubborn, and while you know she's trying to get a rise out of you, you bite, "You're all the same at that fucking school, this is who they raised. Vocal, obnoxious, bitter. Too much time caring about how you look rather than resultsâ"
A door slams behind you. You turn. The door to the locker room. Shuhua has disappeared.
You rush into the door, throwing it open. Empty, or so it seems, but she has to be in here somewhere. You walk down the left row of lockers, taking slow, quiet steps. Listening, hoping to hear the smallest bit of movement. The crunch of feet, a giggle, the slight jangle of coins.
Nothing.
You're approaching the end of the row of lockers and nothing so far. You get right up against the corner, readying to quickly round it when you think you hear a small breath from just the other side.
Three, two, one, and you launch yourself around the corner.
Shuhua is right there, waiting, she grabs you by the shoulders and pins you against the lockers with a crash, before smiling sweetly.
"What the fuck are you doingâ"
You're immediately hushed by the feeling of something soft pressed against your lips, followed by the press of a hand against your groin and a thigh, nestled right between yours.
It takes a moment. You're not quite sure how to process this. It's instinct more than anything that makes your hands come to grasp and clutch Shuhua's ass firmly. She grins and lets out an approving hum, slipping her tongue in while squeezing harder against your groin and getting another equally pleasurable response of you tightening your grip on her.
There's a few moments of this, kissing, back against the lockers, Shuhua against your chest. Then, your tongue meets hers, and she lets a soft moan into your mouth. A moment of weakness that allows you to shove her backwards against the wall with a thump. It takes less than a moment and you're both back at it again, clawing away at each other. Your body presses her into the wall, lips parting before briefly, quickly reconnecting. Shuhua doesn't resist, and not long after, you've parted the kiss, she's moved her lips to your neck and you're running a hand down her thigh.
"What the fuck are you doing?" you growl into her ear as your fingertips approach the edge of those frustratingly short shorts. "Did your little brain figure out you can't win these events so you have to find other ways to know what winning feels like? If you can't beat them, fuck them?"
The girl pulls herself from your neck and takes a fist full of your hair. "You piece of shit," she seethes. "Like you aren't desperate for this pussy."
You aggressively push your hand up under her shorts and she squeaks as you clutch the flesh of her ass in a tight grip. You pull her and she raises a leg around you. "This pussy? You have got to be kidding me. Have you seen the cheerleaders at our school?"
She uses her legs to push you aside, forcing you to swap positions with her. She has you against the wall now, and her hand has dipped down the front of your shorts. She's grinning, groping you in a tight, frustratingly wonderful, fist. "Bunch of bimbos who fall to their knees as soon as you turn on the charm."
"I didn't even have to turn on the charm for you. What does that say about you?"
She takes a firmer grip on your length and a loud groan escapes from deep within you. Shuhua can't help herself, her lips quirking into that insufferable smirk, her eyes shining. "It says that you couldn't take your eyes off my ass the entire walk down that corridor, you fucking animal. You were practically salivating. Just like you're doing now."
She uses her free hand to swipe her thumb against the corner of your mouth.
"Pretty sure that's yours," you tell her before you slide your hands up her exposed sides and slip your fingers under her shirt, pulling it up and she quickly raises her free arm so you can slip it over it and over her head, leaving it around the arm still buried into your trousers.
There she is, bra and tits on show and being fucking annoyingly hot.
Even if she doesn't stop you from undressing her, she still berates you for it, "Look at you, can't wait to touch them, can you. Are you really that simple? See a pair of tits and you get hornier than a fucking dog in heat?"
"So says the girl who can't get her hand off my cock," you reply, hand slipping beneath her bra and your fingers closing around her nipple.
She raises an eyebrow and looks down at her chest, "Did I say you could touch me there?"
"So now we're talking consent, Miss 'Grab-cock-ask-questions-later'?" you snarl, fingers rolling the nipple in between them. "A bit late, don't you think?"
Shuhua's really stroking you now, even with limited space inside your shorts, she's able to use her thumb to circle around your sensitive tip with each jerk. "Yeah, well. I didn't sign up to get molested by a dickhead like you."
"Right back at you."
Shuhua laughs a little then cracks a wicked smile, one that is as seductive as it is contemptuous. The girl shrugs, reaches a hand behind her and unclasps her bra. She takes her hand out of your shorts and lets it fall off with her shirt. Bare little tits with stiff nipples stare at youâand you stare back. "Never seen a pair before? Or just not a pair on a girl as hot as me?"
"I've seen better."
"Yeah, sure you have sweetie." Shuhua tugs at the waist of your shorts and underwear until she pushes them down to your knees. "You know..." she starts as her gaze drops down to your aching shaft. "There's a rumour at our school that all the guys in your school are decidedly average down there, and are real bad at using them," she looks you in the eye with an eager smile, biting her lip.
"Want to know what they say about girls at your school?" You grab a hand full of her tit in a tight grasp and squeeze her flesh firmly, eliciting a sharp gasp. "They say all the girls are sluts but are fucking terrible at giving head. Funny, since all you seem to do is run your mouth." You push her back until it's your turn to have her pinned against the lockers. "Here, I'll show you how you can put that mouth to better use."
Pushing down on her shoulders, you guide her to her knees. "Hey, I never said that Iâ" You jerk your hips and you hit her on the cheek with your length. "The fuck?"
"You've been licking your lips since you pulled my shorts down. Stop pretending this isn't what you wanted." You rub yourself against her cheek.
"I should tear this ugly cock right off," Shuhua says as she wraps her fingers around the base of it. Then, before you have time to register it, her mouth is already on you, engulfing your head. The sudden wetness around your most delicate part, her tongue dancing along it, the suction her mouth produces; it's hard to comprehend all of it. What she says and what her mouth is doing contradict one another.
Then her head begins to bob, her lips firmly wrapped around your cock. As she sucks, she simultaneously strokes it, making sure no bit of you remains unserviced. It doesn't take long for her to build a tempo, and it doesn't take long for you to want more.
Your hand locks around her ponytail and she shivers when you pull at it. She glares at you but doesn't complain and continues working your length. Her mouth feels absolutely exquisiteâwarm, wet, and tight. With every stroke, the desire to be buried inside her gets stronger. You groan, moving her faster on your shaft.
"Rip it off, huh? Look at you sucking me off like the needy little whore you are. Just look at you."
Shuhua moans into you and she keeps on sucking. The vibrations the noise creates are an absolute pleasure. Your hips buck and the motion takes the girl by surprise, who immediately gags as you hit the back of her mouth. She immediately goes to draw back but the hand locked onto her ponytail refuses her release.
"Where the hell do you think you're going," you force your hips forward.
And you're off. You begin facefucking this annoying girl, who struggles and chokes every time you go balls-deep into her mouth. Still, not once does she try to push your hips, or her teeth to bite. Not once does her head make any gesture to signal that she actually wants you to stop, or even ease off. It seems she's determined to prove that she's not only better than all your cheerleaders, or your classmates, but she's also determined to prove that she's capable of taking everything you give, and all without needing to ask for respite.
"You're so much prettier when you aren't talking," you taunt her.
As a response, she stabs her nails into your ass. Hard. The pain makes you roar, both in surprise and anger. Shuhua simply responds by sucking you harder.
As fun as this is, the urge to ravage her more is still incredibly high, even if that means pulling out of the confines of the girl's sinful mouth. You give it a good couple of minutes before you finally relent and let her go. You pull your hips back and Shuhua instantly coughs, splutters and falls backwards onto her rear.
"The fuck do you think you're doing? I'm not done with that. Get it back here." She spits those words at you angrily, looking almost disgusted, with spit drooling down her chin and coating her lips.
You look at her, hunched over the floor, panting, in only her little yellow shorts. Looking more beautiful and desirable than you ever remember her doing on camera or out on the track. You fall on your knees in front of her and push your hand into her shorts, causing her breath to hitch and her pupils to dilate.
"Well aren't you eager?" she hums, letting out a husky purr as your fingertips tease the delicate lips of her entrance. "What's up, couldn't take any more of my mouth? We're you going to cum so quickly? I know you've never had anyone quite like me before."
"Not even close to cumming," you sneer. "In fact, let's get one thing clear. I don't have standards as low as the boys in your school, I don't just cum at the sight of some tits and the feel of your trashy mouth." Your finger slips past her lips and a surprised moan escapes her throat. "God you're fucking soaked."
"Trashy?" she scoffs and slowly rolls her body in response to your intruding digit. "Should have seen your face with my lips around you, you fucking adored it, dickhead. If you want disappointment, try being in my shoes. This pathetic excuse for fingering? It's like when I did it for the first time."
"Yeah?" You drive a second finger into her and curl your fingers as you begin to stand, forcing her to follow you to her feet. You push your body against hers, pinning her to the locker, squishing those tits against you.
She lets out a taunting, "Yeah" this time, huskily, while arching her back a little, raising those beautiful breasts. "And my first time was real bad. I couldn't even make myself cum. Maybe we do have something in common." While she's talking, you're using your other hand to free her shorts and panties from her hips, sliding them over that juicy ass that you press against the cold metal locker. "I doubt you have ever made a girl câ"
You move fast and hard. Your fingers curled into her cunt, palm pressed against her clit, thrusting into her, and your eyes fall right onto hers, piercing, right into her soul. Her eyes widen with shock and then quickly darken and roll back. Those sweet, vicious lips of hers open as her mind is stunned into silence and her face contorts in pleasure. "Cute," you smirk, speeding up.
"IâI'm fine. Youâ" You push your other hand against her neck and you lean right against her ear.
"Shut your pretty mouth," you growl, you thrust your fingers deeper. Shuhua can't control the shocks of her own pleasure as she grows limp, her eyes rolling back, her moans coming out uncontrollably and rapidly. Her pussy is quivering, pulsing, you can feel her orgasm growing inside.
You push closer and kiss her as the muscles in her lower belly spasm, and she trembles as her cunt clamps down on your fingers. Shuhua pulls and scrapes her fingers along your skin. "Fucking god, fuck," the girl tries to continue to speak, but she is in total ecstasy. You drink the words directly from her mouth.
When you pull away, her body falls away from the locker, but you hold her tightly and dip a hand right under the curve of her ass, keeping her standing. You smirk triumphantly. "Who can't make you cum, bitch?" you tease her.
"Fuck you," Shuhua mumbles into your ear.
"Oh, you will." You shuffle across the room, finding the nearest bench and falling back onto it, pulling Shuhua onto you. "This is all you're good for, I bet." You pull your shirt over your head and then Shuhua throws herself against your naked body. Her tits press against your bare chest, and your stiff cock is trapped between your stomachs.
"We'll see," she breathes, running a hand into your hair and yanking at the locks as she pulls herself upright.
Your lips meet hers, a passionate and desperate union as the need to be in her consumes your every fibre. Tongues dance and your hands explore one another's bodies. Groping, stroking, touching, squeezing, grinding. When the kiss ends, she leans her forehead against yours, her eyes lidded.
"I hate you," you growl into the space in front of her.
"You too," she says, hoisting her hips up over your cock. With a mischievous and playful look in her eye, she furrows her eyebrows. "But you won't when this is over. You're gonna fucking worship me."
Before you can think to retort, she sinks herself onto you and, after what feels like a torturously long series of minutes of teasing and waiting, your bodies finally unite. Her inner walls are unbelievably hot and wet, squeezing down around you as if desperate for you to remain buried within her. Shuhua makes no attempts to hide her expression, her head rolls back and her teeth press down on her lip to conceal an enchanting whine. Her breasts press firmly into your hands as you hastily reach to cup them.
It doesn't take long at all for the pair of you to adjust, and you begin to pump your hips beneath hers. She's fucking down onto you too and it's a mess, there's no rhythm, two different bodies fighting to control a single movement, all the while searching desperately for the best result. You're on different wavelengths, and it's glorious, the chaos is addictive. It's raw fucking, and it's fucking amazing.
As frustrating and confusing as it is, nothing in the world feels better right now. Your chest heaving with every desperate gasp as she grinds onto you and around you, her lust-filled gaze still struggling to fight away your shared frustrations, it's raw and incredible.
"Oh God, right there." Shuhua squeezes her eyes shut and buries her forehead into the crook of your neck, her body shuddering and tensing with every push you make into her. Her pace on you is irregular, sometimes slow, sometimes fast. But as her orgasm grows inside of her, she sinks harder and deeper down upon you, taking you as deep as she possibly can and as often as you will give it to her.
"Bad at using it, am I?" you jest with a strained voice, slapping her ass hard as the impact causes it to ripple. "So bad that you're cumming already?"
"Tch." She goes to speak, to say something witty and defiant, but the sensation hits and her eyelids flutter, she twitches and lets out a shuddering moan as another climax hits her, "Ah fuck. God." Her nails dig into the skin of your chest, hard, painful enough that you hiss. "I'm doing all the work here."
"As you should be. Getting the privilege to ride my cock, the least you could do is break a sweat," you tell her.
She opens her eyes to flash you a glare and she slams her body down on your hips a bit faster. "You just knowâ that you couldn'tâ fuck as good as me."
Shuhua rides you mercilessly, completely lost in her desire to get herself off again. You enjoy the way her tits bounce and the way you can freely land a series of spanks on her bouncing ass.
"Guess that makes me more of a winner than you'll ever be." She tries to bite her lip, to hide it, but the pleasure that shines through her features is impossible to miss. She cums again, harder, no doubt about it.
This time, when the climactic orgasm subsides, she fights against her exhaustion with ragged, heavy breaths. You can see her lips twitch. Words escape her, so instead, she focuses on attempting to ride your cock even more mercilessly, just like earlier.
"Looks like you're all spent," you continue and push a hand onto her hip, steadying her before shoving her aside and away, pulling out. Shuhua topples and stumbles onto the floor, with her hands on the bench, breathing heavily. She's bent over the bench and her back glistens with a thin layer of sweat, her ass up in the air. Her body trembles with anticipation.
You don't hesitate. Not for a single second.
Before Shuhua can so much as open her mouth, you're behind her, your hands on her hips, her skin slick.
"Here's your loser's prize," you tell her as you slide back home, back inside her, feeling yourself plunged so deeply. Her thick ass presses against your hips and you spread it to push in deeper. You take in the beautiful view of her well-toned, petite back. The outline of every muscle stretches and flexes as she claws desperately at the benches as her pleasure is recharged, and restored, as though the fire is reignited with your touch. She lets out a soft little hiss, the briefest hint of displeasure that's quickly overcome by her passion for the raw sensation of sex. She relishes your presence and your length, and as she relaxes once more, she allows herself to sink into the rhythm of the rut.
You fuck her, taking pleasure in the way her body pushes back against yours, your balls slapping against her, and the obscene wet noises as you take her from behind. It's a dizzying crescendo, a desire so great that it cannot possibly be contained. To both yourself and Shuhua, desire cannot be denied, for you to cum inside her.
All you have left now is to pound the life out of this smug bitch's tight cunt, one hard, sharp, aggressive thrust after the other.
"Finallyâ" You raise a hand and bring it down upon the cheek of her arse. Hard, harsh, jiggling. The skin flushes and burns an angry red. She squeals in delight, she arches her body up as she takes the rough fucking. "Finally something useful has come out of your fucking school. One good pussy, just for me." Another slap. Another cry.
"Making me cum, is all you're good for. Just a cock," she spits back as her body shakes and bucks back onto your hardness, "One good fuck, just for me."
Shuhua straight-up shrieks when you wrap a fist up in her ponytail and yank her backwards, arching her spine. She cums again like this, and the hot rush of pleasure sends you spiralling off the edge yourself. It is utterly satisfying, the burning in your loins, and the immense pleasure that follows as your dick unloads in powerful spurt after powerful spurt. All of the tension evaporates, and all the negativity flows away as you find absolute pleasure. Shuhua takes what you give to her and it's absolute bliss.
For the longest moment, there's nothing but moans and grunts as you cum together before you let her collapse against the bench and you fall over her. Shuhua heaves beneath you, your warm fluids slowly leaking out around your exhausted cock. You suck in deep, gulping lungfuls of air as you grind out the final dying sparks of a well and truly mind-numbing orgasm.
"Still feel the same way about me now?" you groan. Your cock slips out, followed by a mixture of your combined orgasmic release.
Her head lifts. Hazel eyes focus and then fixate on yours. She almost manages to mask the grin, but she can't help it. Shuhua bites her bottom lip and glances at the space where, moments ago, your body had been conjoined.
"I still hate you. Don't think this means I'm suddenly a fangirl."
"Of course not, it's in your DNA to hate me. Just like how the sight of you still makes me sick." You place a kiss against the top of her spine and savour the brief hum of approval she gives.
"Uh-huh." Shuhua laughs. "Shame you couldn't last a little longer... I was just about to let you fuck my virgin ass." She lays her forehead against the cool wood of the bench, and you rest your head between her shoulder blades. "I guess my pussy is just too much for you."
"Or maybe," you hiss into her ear. "Maybe I'm saving that for the next time I catch your obnoxious ass around here."
"You think there will be a next time?"
"I know there will."
#kinktember#kpop smut#Shuhua smut#gidle smut#kpop fanfic#male reader#m reader#smut#shuhua x reader#maid play#(G)i-dle smut#gidle x reader
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Be My Baby
Summary: Eddie Munson never thought heâd fall for someone like youâthe quiet one who always seemed to blend into the background. But as fate keeps pulling you together, he finds himself unable to resist your charm. When the schoolâs winter formal comes around, Eddie takes a leap of faith, hoping to finally win your heart.
Pairings: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Fluff, a little awkwardness, shy moments, mutual pining, a touch of 80s high school angst, and a sweet, heartwarming ending.
Authorâs Note: This is inspired by âBe My Babyâ by The Ronettes, which is one of my all-time favorite love songs! Hope you enjoy!
The first time Eddie Munson saw you, he thought you were too good for Hawkins. You were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria with a book in your lap, your legs tucked underneath you as you half-listened to your friendsâ chatter. There was something about the way you laughed softly, like you didnât want to disturb anyone, that made Eddieâs heart skip a beat.
âEarth to Munson,â Gareth teased, snapping his fingers in Eddieâs face. âYouâve been staring at the same girl for five minutes. You good?â
Eddie blinked, shaking his head as if to clear it. âYeah, yeah. Just⊠zoning out.â
âRight,â Gareth smirked. âZoning out on her, huh?â
Eddie ignored him, but deep down, he couldnât deny it. There was something about you that drew him in, even though you seemed worlds apart.
The second time he saw you, it was at the record store. You were thumbing through the vinyl, your fingers delicate as they flipped through the sleeves. Eddie couldnât help but linger a few feet away, pretending to browse but really watching you.
When you pulled out a copy of The Ronettesâ Greatest Hits, his heart stuttered. He couldnât stop himself from speaking up.
âClassic choice,â he said, leaning against the shelf with his signature grin.
You glanced up, startled, but then smiled shyly. âThanks. I love their soundâitâs just so timeless.â
Eddie nodded, trying to keep his cool. âYeah, itâs good stuff. You going to the winter formal? They usually play stuff like that.â
You tilted your head, surprised heâd asked. âI donât think so. Itâs not really my thing.â
âNot your thing?â Eddie echoed, pretending to be scandalized. âBut slow dances, bad punch, and awkward small talkâitâs the highlight of high school.â
You laughed softly, the sound making his chest feel warm. âMaybe if I had a good reason to go, Iâd consider it.â
Eddie bit his tongue, stopping himself from blurting out something stupid. Instead, he just nodded. âWell, if you change your mind⊠you never know.â
For days, Eddie couldnât stop thinking about you. Heâd never been one for dances or anything that screamed âtraditional high school experience,â but for you, heâd make an exception.
âDude, just ask her,â Dustin urged as they packed up after Hellfire one afternoon.
Eddie sighed, ruffling his hair in frustration. âItâs not that easy, Henderson. Sheâs⊠different. Sheâs not into guys like me.â
âYou donât know that,â Dustin argued. âShe talked to you, didnât she? Thatâs a good sign.â
Eddie hesitated, but Dustinâs words stuck with him.
The week before the dance, Eddie found you sitting alone outside the library, flipping through the pages of another book. His heart raced as he approached, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets to keep them from fidgeting.
âHey,â he said, his voice softer than usual.
You looked up, your eyes lighting up when you saw him. âOh, hey, Eddie.â
He shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous. âSo, uh, about the formal⊠I was thinking, maybe youâd want to go. With me. As, like, my date.â
Your eyes widened, and for a moment, Eddie thought heâd made a huge mistake. But then you smiled, and it was like the sun breaking through the clouds.
âIâd love to,â you said simply.
The night of the formal, Eddie picked you up in his van, his heart pounding as he saw you step outside in a simple but beautiful dress.
âYou look⊠wow,â he said, his usual bravado gone.
âThanks,â you replied, blushing. âYou look great too.â
Eddie, in his mismatched suit and messy hair, didnât feel particularly great, but the way you smiled at him made him believe you meant it.
At the dance, the two of you stuck to the edges of the gym, laughing at the cheesy decorations and bad song choices. But then, the opening chords of âBe My Babyâ started playing, and Eddieâs breath caught.
âWanna dance?â he asked, holding out his hand.
You nodded, letting him lead you onto the floor. As the music swelled, he held you close, his heart racing as your head rested on his shoulder.
âYou know,â he murmured, âI never thought Iâd end up at a dance like this. But now that Iâm here⊠itâs not so bad.â
You smiled against his shoulder. âMe neither. But Iâm glad I came.â
âYeah?â Eddie asked, his voice hopeful.
âYeah,â you said softly. âWith you, itâs perfect.â
And as the song played on, Eddie knew heâd never forget this momentâor you
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things#eddie munson fluff#stranger things x reader#stranger things x you#stranger things x y/n#be my baby
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Mrs. R Part Three
Part Two | Part Four
Notes: Not beta-read.
Warnings: This...Got a lot more angsty than I meant it to. Whoops.
Summary: Robby had sent a đĄ text two days agoâhis new shorthand to ask if he could come over. You'd declined, cited previous plans, and proposed tonight instead.
So here he is, and there you are with your head full of muddled feelings and unasked questions.
"I don't know what changed, and I don't know how you did it, but he seems better."
You want to tell her that it isn't youâthat you haven't seen Robby since you went to the ER, that whatever's changed about him, you had nothing to do with itâbut that would be a bold-faced lie.
Though, at moments, you don't think that you have had much to do with the shift in his mood. But over the last few weeks, he's seemed a little lighter. It's been noticeable to you.
And, apparently, it's been noticeable to Dana.
She wouldn't accept the lie, anywayâyou can see that in the way she grins at you over her pint of beer, daring you to disagree.
So you just shrug and offer, "Sometimes he just needs someone to talk toâoutside of work, you know."
"So he is telling you about work?"
"God no, I don't think he'd ever..." You trail off, mind dipping dangerously into the past. He used to. A long time ago, he'd come home with tired but warm smiles, with a funny story from his shift on the tip of his tongue, chasing the kisses that he showered you with the second he was in the door. But the pandemic, Adamson, the dwindling staff, the slammed ER, the administration, the occasional ratâit's a constant, Sisyphean uphill push for all of them.
You clear your throat, shaking your head. "I mean, sometimes he needs to talk about something that isn't that. I used to think talking about work when he was home would help him process it, but maybe he needs a bubble to shut that part of his mind off. I don't know, it's weird," Your brow furrows. "I feel like I understand him so much more now that we aren't married."
"Speaking of which."
"Mm?"
"What's with the name?"
You take a long sip, biding as much time as you can as heat rushes your face.
"Name?" You do your best to play dumb, but Dana's laugh tells you that she isn't buying it for a damn second.
"Yeah, Mrs. Robinavitch, the name."
You let your eyes scan the bustling bar around you, unable to take the knowing way that Dana watches you.
"You don't have to call me that, you know."
"Oh yeah? What should I call you?"
"Gee, I don't know Dana," You lean into it. "Maybe my first name?"
"Doesn't make you squirm like your last name does. Come on," She chuckles again, "It's been almost a year. What gives?"
You consider, eyeing the chipped wood grain of the table.
"Honestly?"
"Uh-huh."
"Cone of silence?"
"Cross my heart."
"...I can't..." You struggle for the words as your feelings flood into your chest, making each breath feel heavy. Your sweating palms flex, nails pressing into your skin, prickling the still-raised scar on your dominant hand.
"It just feels like giving up on us. On him. And I know that sounds so stupid, we're divorced, but letting go of his name feels like letting go, really letting go of all of it, all of the good stuff, and lately things feel..." You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut against the embarrassment. "It's like the door isn't completely closed. Like he's opening up to me again, and if I change it now, it's like I'llâJinx it? Orâ?" You groan, tipping your head back and scrubbing at your eyes with the heels of your palms. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"
Dana doesn't answer, and when you finally get a good look at her again, you just find a warm, soft smile there.
"Oh, sweetie," She shakes her head. "There's nothing wrong with hope."
You bite the inside of your cheek to try and push back the swell of tears that threaten to spill over.
"Goddamnit," You laugh shakily. "How much would I have to pay you to quit the hospital and just run my life full-time?"
"You couldn't afford me."
--
"You're quiet."
It isn't accusatory, you don't think, but it's paired with a speculative little glance across the kitchen able that makes you want to fold into yourself and disappear.
"Just following your example." You manage to make it a tease, and when Robby's lips tip up in a small smile, you feel the relief of knowing that you hit the mark. He huffs a soft laugh, shaking his head and turning back to his food.
You should've sorted this morose shit out before he turned up. You'd known that he was planning on stopping by.
He'd sent a đĄ text two days agoâhis new shorthand to ask if he could come over. You'd declined, cited previous plans, and proposed tonight instead.
So here he is, and there you are with your head full of muddled feelings and unasked questions.
You haven't been able to stop thinking about your conversation with Dana. The fact that you let your truth hit the air for the first time since the divorce, to admit not only to yourself but to someone else that you're hopeful that your relationship with Michael could still changeâthat you're still holding on to the likely misguided belief that one of you or both of you will come back together with the understanding that this whole divorce was one big, stupid, expensive mistakeâ
"What'd you get up to the other night?"
"Hmm?"
"When I wanted to come by."
You shrug, reach over and pluck a fry up off of his plate. "Just some stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Well clearly nothing that landed me back in the ER."
"That leaves a lot of possibilities."
You pop the fry into your mouth, take your time chewing, and raise your brows when he dips his head a touch, catching and holding your gaze.
"Come on," He plies, "Gimme a hint."
"Why does it matter?"
"Doesn't."
"Why do you care?"
"...I don't."
And you may've bought thatâif he hadn't hesitated. Your eyes narrow a touch, a playful smile pulling at your lips.
"Well what do you think I was doing, Dr. Robinavitch?"
"Any number of things, Mrs. Robinavitch."
And you know that he doesn't mean to break it, this light and delicious mood, but goddamn did he pop your balloon. The words make your stomach lurch. You hurriedly push yourself up from the table, avoiding his eye and rounding to the fridge.
"You want another beer?" You ask, and force yourself to keep your eyes on the fridge's contents when he doesn't answer right away.
"Haven't finished my first one," He finally says, and you nod a bit, pulling one out for yourself and cracking it open. You lean against the counter, toying with the pull tab.
"You have a date?"
It feels almost like a trap of a question, and you know that you'd be wise to answer quickly, but his tease is still ringing through your ears.
"You can tell me if you did," He tacks on, "Not like we'reâ"
"No, I know."
"Soâ?"
"Why would you think that?"
"Why not? You're single, you're gorgeousâ"
"Okayâ"
"âMore skilled at evading questions than an ex-KGB agent."
"CIA, please."
"It'd be fine if you were. You're free to do whatever you want."
You don't think that he's trying to twist the knife, don't believe that he even realizes he's holding it, but the fact of the matter is what you want is this, right hereâin the kitchen with him, but having almost any other conversation.
"Thanks for the permission."
"Just making sure you don't think you need it, considering you still have my name."
He still thinks you're both joking, that's the problem. And maybe you should be joking, but Mrs. Robinavitch. Goddamn, when's the last time he called you that? Must've been your last anniversaryâor the one beforeâ?
"Hey." His hands cupping your cheeks takes you aback, and you draw in a deep, stunned breath. When did he get up? "What's going on up there?"
You shake your head, avoiding his eye as you take a deep draw from the beer can. He plucks it out of your hand once you lower it, setting it onto the counter beside you. You curl your arms around yourself, trying to ignore the fact that you're pouting like a petulant child.
"It wasn't a date," You finally offer.
"Okay. It wouldn't matter if it was."
Maybe that's half the problem. You want him it to matter, but to him it justâdoesn't. Unless he's bluffing.
Since the two of you started...Whatever the hell this is, you've laid your cards on the table, in some measure. You told Michael that you wouldn't be okay if he wasn't okay. But you're starting to worry that Michael doesn't have any cards to lay on the table. You thought this was high-stakes poker, but it's starting to feel a helluva lot like solitaire.
But if he didn't care, then why change your light bulb? Why kiss you the way he did? He'd fallen asleep on your couch, back in your bed, he remembered where your mugs wereâ
But maybe you're not the safe space for himâmaybe it's your home. Maybe you're just its custodian.
You raise a hand to scrub at your rapidly heating face, fighting back pinpricks of tears as you clench your jaw.
"Headache," You insist before he can pry, and it's not entirely lie. This is beginning to make your head spin.
"You should take something."
"I'm alright." You slap on a thin, unconvincing smile and nod back toward the table. "Your food's gonna get cold."
--
"You sure you're okay?"
You don't even grace that one with a response, just smile and insist:
"Let me know when you get home."
You can see him pushing down another prying question as he straightens his hoodie and takes up his backpack. He gives a small nod and leans in, dropping a kiss to your forehead.
"Drink some water, take something before you go to bed. You don't wanna wake up with it."
"Good night of sleep will clear it." As if you'll be able to sleep tonight.
"Maybe." He reaches out, gently chucking under your chin. "Seriously, don't wait for it to get worse."
"I won't! Crying out loud."
He grunts, turns to the door and opens it.
"Oh, and for the record," He adds, smiling widely at you over his shoulder. "Dana said she had a good time."
You manage to keep your smile frozen in place, and nod. You hold it until he's shut the door and you've locked it behind him. You rest your forehead against the cool wood, drawing a deep breath in through your nose and pushing it out between your lips. You draw in another, and as you push it out, the tears come.
If he'd known what you'd been up to the other night why put you through that song and dance? Just to see what you'd say? If you'd lie?
Your face twists as the tears flow faster, sorrow and anger and nerves twining together as you plop down onto your couch and let the sobs come freely.
If there's nothing wrong with hope, then why the hell does it hurt so much?
Next Part
Tag list:
@missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ;Â
@ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ;Â @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ;Â
@millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesaâ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ;Â @missswriter ;Â
@thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @realwhoreforfictionalmen
@mad-girl-without-a-box ;Â @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989 ; @veryprairieberry ;
@kittenlittle24 ; @ilariyalavorowrites
#Michael Robinavitch x Reader#Michael Robinavitch x You#Dr Robby x Reader#Dr Robby x You#Doctor Robby x Reader#Doctor Robby x You#Mrs. R
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'Birdritch' part 3
Someday I might post this not at fuck all in the morning and proof read it first, but today is not that day! Masterpost Art
-
âPamelaââ
âDonât âPamelaâ me during a fight!â
âBut thatâs the thing!â Nightwing said, keeping his hands raised even as he motioned with them. âThis isnât a fight. I get that you were upsetââ
âThey were trying to bury a body in my park!â Pamela hissed.
âAnd we stopped them!â
âYou know,â Red Hood started from where he was sitting on top of the bound criminals, âyou could have just thought of it as free fertilizer.â
Nightwing gave up and buried his face n his gloved hands. âHood, youâre not really helping.â
ââCourse Iâm helping.,â Hood said as he inspected his gloved fingers. âIâm keeping the baddies pinned. Red is the one whoâs not helping.â
âIâm keeping a birds eye view on things,â Red said into the comms. Which really was a good thing, considering. Like, what? âSpeaking of birds, thereâs one the size of a large SUV headed this way. Or at least it mostly looks like a bird.â
âWhat do you mean it mostly looks like a bird?â Nightwing asked.
âFuck that,â Hood cut in, âwhat do you mean the size of an SUV?â
Pamela crossed her arms, hip jutted out defiantly. âWhat it wasnât me. I donât deal with animals, you know that.â
âI mean itâs got two legs and a beakâŠish thing? It looks like some sort of water bird. Which I guess could explain it? Like, we know Gotham Harbor has too many weird chemicals in it. Maybe someone emptied one too many things right on a totally normal bird andâ oh, itâs glowing too.â
âWell great,â Hood managed right before, with a thundering step, the bird thing broke through the vines.
The tuft of green feathers on its chest seemed to almost glow from how bright the color was, but Red hadnât been wrong. The bird thing really was glowing, a pale cyan color that seemed to shift and ripple and pull away from the white crest and mostly black body of the bird.
âSee,â Red said, motioning from his perch on the lamppost, âan SUV sized bird like thing.â
The bird thingâs head tilted and Red and the very sudden, very certain sense that all of the creatureâs focus was suddenly on him.
âRed,â Hood rumbled as he slowly pulled out out a gun, âI think you better stop moving.â
âYou canât shoot it,â Nightwing hissed.
âIf it tries to eat Red, I sure as fuck am shooting it,â Red growled back.
âOr I could just entangle it with my vines,â Pamela said. She crossed her arms when they all turned to look at her and examined her nails. âWhat? I am not going just stand here and let a giant bird eat my favorite little birds.â
âAw,â Nightwing cooed, you do care!â
Pamela rolled her eyes and flicked the hand she had been looking at. One of the massive vines broke free from the ground and whipped towards the bird thing at a speed that was almost hard to track.
And stopped.
Short.
Held in the clawed grasp of the creature. The long neck reared back and the bird thing opened its beak and squawked in offense.
âUh, guys?â Red said, his voice quiet now.
âYeah, Iâm seeing it too,â Nightwing answered.
âWhy the fuck does it have three legs?â Hood asked.
#dp x dc#this is so weird#I'm writing it and I think it's so weird#but it's making me happy#and I need any happy I can get atm#birdritch
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I heard you accepted opinions than httyd, could I ask for one? maybe a headcanoon about Hiccup x reader, maybe "how Hiccup would show love to the reader or what would happen if he was jealous", thank you for considering it.
Warnings(?): Hiccup is a lil jealous. A/n: thank you for the request <3! I hope I brought what you were asking for with the headcanons! (I feel like it's a bit short, but here you go! Notes: takes place after httyd 2 and before the plot of httyd 3.
Jealousy has a sword
First off, Hiccup wouldn't be one to get jealous that quickly, although he is protective and such, he trusts you to know that you won't do anything that'll purposefully hurt him in that way.
This doesn't mean he can ignore the pricking feelings of jealousy whenever someone or something else is taking up a lot of your time - more than usual.
He has a habit of checking on you throughout the day, even if his schedule is brimmed with chiefly duties, it's his desire to make sure you're just overall okay. So when he finds himself being more occupied throughout the day and gets the word that you're spending your time with other people, he feels somewhat guilty that he can't be that person who's giving you some attention.
Then the jealousy kicks in.
Especially if it's Eret; he trusts the guy now but he isn't dumb - almost everyone says he is extremely handsome and well-built. He knows you wouldn't do anything with him but he just doesn't like it if he's the one who's with you the most throughout your daily tasks.
"So, how was your day?" He'd ask. You hummed, embracing him into a warm hug that he initiated. "It was nice. I got to go on patrol with Astrid, help put out a couple of fires - again - and, oh, Eret helped me a bit with my sword fighting. After that I was in-"
"Wait, wait, wait. You said who helped you out?" Hiccup slightly broke out of the hug to look at you as you questioningly gazed back at him.
"Uhm, Eret?" You remained still in your spot as you watched him deeply sigh, his head turning towards the ground, allowing his hair to barely brush against your face. "Is ... something the matter..?"
Hiccup shook his head, his hair tickling your nose in the slightest, as he lifted his eyes to meet yours while he spoke hesitantly: "N-no, I just-" he sighed once again as he stared at you, fumbling over his words. As though he had given up on speaking, he gently pulled you closer, allowing your lips to meet. The kiss held an earnestness and passion that was disguised by the delicate way he handled you. He took his time pulling away from you, only doing it because of the necessary oxygen you both needed while he took in every detail on your face.
"Nothing's wrong.. I suppose.. but you do know that you can always come to me for that kind of stuff, right?" He leaned his forehead against yours, auburn hair mixing with yours at the touch.
You were flustered at his response, fighting against the temptation to stutter in your speech; "Yeah, I know... but you're more busy now and I wouldn't want to make you feel more stressed or anything-"
Hiccup was quick to interrupt you as he shut down your statement: "No. You wouldn't be doing anything bad to me if you came and asked for my help in something. I want you to do that." His answer seemed to be more urgent than he wanted, making him clear his throat from the embarrassment that began to creep upon him, "W-when you're a available, that is.." He let out a breath that looked as though he were exhaling all negative feelings away. "Y'know what, I'm making a new plan. From now on, we'll meet every day to better improve your sword techniques. Sound good?"
You were shocked, to say the least, by his answer. It took a lot of convincing to tell him that it shouldn't be every single day this happens, for the sake of his schedule and the things he has to do on certain occasions. He's the Chief now, not a teenage kid running away from his problems anymore - which made him a little bit sour when he thought about it.
In the end, after practicing your sword fighting every other day, he just went right back into doing it everyday instead. Even moreso after Snotlout had tried to spar with you. Hiccup felt more "entitled" to do that specific activity with you - for some odd reason.
(He just really likes to do this with you, especially with Inferno.)
"Hiccup, it's not like we don't see each other everyday as it is-"
"Shush. We're gonna meet everyday and work on this. It's for your benefit anyways. "
He definitely feels like it's one of the ways he can show his love for you, if not the most important one: by giving you his time.
(That's why he's so protective over being the person that helps you with your sword fighting.)
----------------------------------------------
#hiccup how to train your dragon#hiccup haddock#hiccup x reader#how to train your dragon#httyd#hiccup httyd#httyd hiccup#hiccup horrendous haddock iii#httyd rtte#how to train you dragon: the hidden world#hiccup#httyd fanfiction#httyd headcanon#x reader#headcanon#httyd x reader
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one-sided academic rival! Dick Grayson Ă reader
Being in university was hard enough as it is. Now imagine that plus an annoying trust fund baby making it his life's mission to annoy the hell out of you.
trigger warnings: kissing, reader in deep denial, reader gets attacked, dick gets injured
word count: circa 8K
part 1 part 2

Going to university was a privilege you never thought you'd have.
Although now it feels more like a curse.
"What do you want?" you ask the man sitting in front of you, swirling a pen around his fingers without a care in the world. It's not like you had a midterm in a few days.
Only you did, and he was distracting you, "Your attention would suffice for now" he says, honey coating his words.
You exhale as you raise your head, squinting at the bright light behind him, "Can't you see I'm busy?" you ask, rolling your eyes.
But Dick Grayson ignores your blatant annoyance towards him, as he did every other time.
"Oh, come on," he smiles, sitting across from you, "You've been locked in here, for like what, a year?" he exaggerates, leaning towards the table, "You can take a break."
"Breaks are for those who are done studying." That's not true. You know that, he knows that. But he's just here to annoy you, so you don't care what's true or not, if you continue working he'll get bored and leave.
"It's doesn't have to be long, just a minute." he presses, now full-on laying on the table. Has he no shame?
Stupid question. Of course not, people like Dick Grayson don't know how to feel shame. Either because they are perfect at everything, always, or because they are trust fund babies, who never had anyone tell them to stop behaving like children.
"No." you repeat, voice flat.
Dick continues staring at you, a smirk plastered on his face as always. No wasn't gonna cut it. "This actually reminds me of the time, my brother, Jason-"
You exhale loudly as he starts telling you yet another story. After this many interactions with Bruce Wayne's ward, you know he won't stop talking until you give in.
You always considered yourself stubborn, and in all truth, you were. You never backed away until you got what you wanted. That's one of the reasons you are here in the first place.
Unfortunately, you had met you equal in these very halls, and you knew better than to hold your ground on a losing battle.
"Okay, stop. What do you want?" you give in, putting your pen down, turning to look at him, your arms crossed in front of you.
"You."
You're taken back by his words, a slight heat creeping up your neck, "Excuse me?"
Only then does he realise what he said, "Not like that!" Dick waves his hands around, feeling the heat on his cheeks increase tenfold, praying you dont notice how flustered he got, "I wanna be partners for the next assignment." he says, willing himself to calm down, a smile finding its way home on his lips.
"No way." your answer is immediate, and his smile falls in an instant.
"What?"
"Have you hit your head on a pole, Grayson?" you snort, revelling in the fact you had the upper hand even for a while, "I said no."
"But why?"
"Because." I won't be able to live with myself if you actually end up being a good student and not just lucky.
"But it's gonna-"
"No."
"Fine" he says "What about a bet then?"
"A bet?"
"Yeah, if I score higher than you on the next test, you become my partner-"
"No, I know when I'm set up for failure"
"Let me finish," "If you get a higher grade, I won't speak to you ever again."
"...Never again?" you raise an eyebrow, "You're capable of holding your tongue for that long? I'm surprised."
Wrong answer.
"Wanna see the other things my tongue can do?" he says smirking at you, tingling his eyebrows.
The heat that creeps up once again is very distinguishable.
This wasn't an issue of you having a crush - which you were not - but an issue of having eyes.
You'd be a liar to deny that Dick Grayson was a very attractive man.
"Youre disgusting." you shoot, face grimacing, you force your eyes back on your notebook.
You wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing he got under your skin. Not today, not ever.
"I know it keeps me up at night." he leans back, "So what do you say?"
"To you showing me your skills?" you mutter flatly, a small smile still appearing on your lips, missing how this time around, he was the one feeling the familiar heat, "In your dreams, Grayson."
"Then I'll keep dreaming."

You can't believe this. This isn't real. It's not true.
"See, this sweetheart?" Dick shoves the paper in your face, "98%" he grins at your flabbergasted expression, "I win!"
"H-How..." you studied so much for this. How could he beat you yet again. You exhale in defeat.
You have a bet, you'll upkeep it. You're not sore loser.
"Fine." Dick grins, "We can do it over at my place." you offer.
He smiles at you, "Okay, let's go!" he grips the strap of his backpack entusiasticly, making you roll your eyes.
This isn't happening.
A bus ride later, you're back in your house, Dick Grayson in tow.
"Do you want water? Tea?" you ask, hearing him close the door as you head into the kitchen.
"Tea." he says, and you feel him moving around, snooping no doubt.
"Sugar?"
"Don't need any", you hear him say in the distance as you add three teaspoons in your cup -you know its not the healthiest habit but you can't help but indulge in your sweet tooth- "You're sweet enough." you hear him much closer to you this time.
You turn around, wanting to retort to his flirty comment, chastise him about you'd have none of it during the duration of your project. But you're left speechless, gasping lowly at the distance between you two. Dick was standing extremely close to you, to the point you could feel the heat radiating from his body - or maybe it was your own rising up rapidly at the proximity. You look in his eyes, glinting with mischief and something else you couldn't quite place.
"What?" he smirks, trapping you between himself and the counter, "Cat, got your tongue?" he whispers in your ear. You can only gulp at his words, feeling your skin prickle as he moves closer to your neck.
"Oh, shut up." you say and push him away lightly, feeling the difference in temperature immediately. "We have a project to do." you grab one of his arms and try to go to the living room. Away from him, away from whatever he had in mind.
"Not so quickly," he grabs your wrist with a quick motion, pulling you back at him. You feel yourself falling, yelping as you place your free hand on his chest trying to support yourself.
"Dick," you mutter, raising your head to look into his eyes, "Let go." you say, your voice steady, but heart thrumming inside your chest.
"You really want that?" he asks, raising your hand towards his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, all the while staring into your eyes. Were they always this blue?
"Your pulse is rising," he presses on your wrist as he lowers your hand, pressing it on his chest, covering it with his own, "Your pupils are blown..." he leans down.
You exhale shakily. You're staring, you know. But how can you not when he looks ethereal under this light. Like a dream come true.
"Stop me." he says, a breath away from you, leaning in slowly, steadily.
You don't make a noise. You don't move a single muscle, afraid to break the moment. You just stare in the sea of his eyes, willingly getting lost in them.
Next thing you know, you feel a pair of lips on yours.
He's kissing you. Dick Grayson is kissing you.
It is soft and tentative, as if he's scared you'll pull away. But you dont, not when it feels this right. This good.
You move against his lips, kissing him back in the same manner, and he immediately brings his free hand to your jaw, the other still holding your hand against his chest, as he leans in, deepening the kiss.
You feel so many things at once, slowly getting overstimulated. From Dicks lips rhythmically moving against your own, to his heart beating widely under your hand.
This feels like heaven. He feels like heaven.
"Dick," you exhale, and he pulls away just enough to let you breathe, forehead resting against your own.
You simply stare at him, before pulling your hands away from him, seeing his smile falter if only for the minute it takes you to throw them around his neck, whispering don't stop as you dive into his lips again, with more fervour than before.
You can feel him smile in the kiss, moving his hands to the small of your back, slowly reaching downwards -
You suddenly shoot up drenched in cold sweat, the room feeling hotter than usual. You're lying in your bed, looking at the ceiling above you, the room filled with the commotion caused by the traffic. You're alone...
"What the fuck."

"Hey!" you see a hand waving in front of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You jump a bit, taken aback, "Rough night?" you look up and see the last person you wished to. The same person you were thinking about, despite your best efforts not to.
You turn red at his words, the dream still fresh in you head "Wh-What? No, no. Why would you say that?" you chuckle nervously, tearing your eyes away from him, "It was a totally normal night and I am fine!"
"Fine people don't get this jumpy when people talk to them." he chuckles lightly.
"Maybe I'm having an allergic reaction to you" you glare at him, trying to get yourself to calm down. "What is it you want anyway?"
"You still haven't given me an answer," he says, and you can see his mouth moving but can't hear a thing.
"You really want that?" he asks, raising your hand towards his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the inside of your wrist, all the while staring into your eyes. Were they always this blue?
You shake your head lowering you head. God damnit, why did he have to be here.
"Are you listening to me?"
"H-Huh? What?" why did you stutter? He's gonna realise. He's gonna realise and you'll be fucked.
"The bet," you can feel your cheeks flush at the sound of his voice. What is wrong with you?
"No." you answer quickly, wanting, needing him to go away.
"Why?" he presses.
"Cause I don't feel like it." you reply and get up. If he wasn't going to leave, you would.
But luck wasn't by your side, "Okay, if you don't wanna have a bet, just partner up with me!" he scrambled, following behind you. "I know you wanna do well, and I can help with that!" he exclaims, you shake your head trying to drown out the sound of his voice, "Plus I'm great company! I've been told I'm very charming-" you stop in your tracks and turn around annoyed, ready to give him a piece of your mind.
He wasn't as quick though, and ended up body slamming on you. You yelp as you feel yourself getting off balance, you close your eyes, waiting for the pain to hit any moment now.
But it never came.
Instead you feel a warm hand around your wrist. You open your eyes seeing Dick Grayson looking down at you.
Your breath is caught in your throat, getting dizzy.
"Are you okay?" he asks, and you feel your whole body burning up at the proximity. He's so close, too close.
"Okay, lets have that bet, whatever!" you end up exclaiming, pulling away from him, it was like if you'd stayed in his presence any longer, he would have burned you alive. And with that, you storm away, leaving him behind with a confused smile on his face.
He didn't know what was going on with you, but you agreed.
A win is a win, and he'd take it.

You wanted to say that falling asleep in the library wasn't a common occurrence.
And a few weeks ago you'd say that this is lie and you're not a liar.
But nowadays, lies are all you tell.
So, no falling asleep in the library, drool coating your chin wasn't common.
The same way your dream about Dick Grayson did not make you feel a certain way.
You shake your head as you tighten your coat around you. Gotham winters are brutal. The temperature was below freezing at this point, and the city was one rainstorm away from being coated in white, like a very depressed, very drunk bride to be.
God, you couldn't wait to get out of this hell hole. Go someplace warmer, safer, and welcoming. Metropolis sounds like a good choice. Maybe even leave the country? But then you'd had to learn a whole new language, and at this point, the only thing you can store in your brain is information for next weeks test. Maybe in the summer?
You could learn French, maybe Greek? What if you just went for it and learned Chinese? That could be fun.
You speed up, pulling your head out of your own daydreams, trying to get to the bus stop as quickly as you can.
Living this far away from the city centre is annoying for sure, but apartments aren't cheap anywhere, much less a nice apartment with no holes in the walls and no leaking ceilings, in a good neighborhood, close to the university. But that wasn't your apartment, and that wasn't your neighbourhood. So you speed walk towards the bus hoping the last bus of the day hasn't gone by while you slept.
You check the display on the bus stop. A quarter past one, fifteen minutes till the bus arrived. You exhale in relief at this, you'll be home soon enough, safe under the warm covers of your bed.
You sit on the bench, close your eyes, and let the cold air caress your face. This was a good time to do your mental journaling. This way, you can just head to bed without disrupting your carefully constructed routine.
And this was a good day all in all.
Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. Dick Grayson looking like an angel- No. No Dick Grayson. No dream. That didn't happen.
Okay, let's start from the top. Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. You got your American History test score back, which meant you wouldn't have to pair up with Grayson. They had pasta in the cafeteria. Dick Grayson smiling down at you with his perfect smile, his skin shining -
You open your eyes, exhaling in annoyance. "Jesus Christ..." you matter as you start pacing.
Ten minutes to go.
This didn't make any sense. You don't like the guy, not even as a friend, much less in any romantic or sexual way. All he does is annoy you, pulling your focus away from what is important. So why? Why the hell the only thing you can think of is that stupid dream you had, which by the way was nothing more than your brain using what he said to you, to conjure up these absurd images. If anything, this was his fault. Again.
It wasn't like- you stop at your tracks. There are footsteps closing in.
You turn forward and see a man approaching you. Shit. He was older than you and bigger.
Maybe he's just there for the bus. There's no reason you freak out, you think, but you still hold your bag tighter, just in case you needed to run or hit him or both at the same time.
"How long?" you hear him say, his voice low and gruff, slurring. God, you could smell the alcohol on his breath from here.
"Wh-What?" you stutter turning your head to look at him.
"Can't you hear? How long is the bus?" he yelled pulling his hands out of his pockets.
You felt nauseous in his presence, "O-Oh, it's gonna be here in," you check your phone, "seven minutes." he only grunts in response, you turn forward, hoping he'll stop asking questions.
But in no universe, you'd ever get what you want, "Tis very late for a young thing like you to be out in the cold," you only hum in response, "What are you? 21? 22?" you don't amswer.
He takes a step towards you, you shuffle to the side, "Don't be like that sweetheart-"
"Please stop!" you yell, shoulders jumping up ready for impact.
You feel the man stiffen next to you. And then, he starts laughing, "Oh, come on, I didn't even do anything!" he threw his hands up, the smell of alcohol getting stronger. Beer, you could now tell.
"All you women are like that! You just assume all men are pricks!" you feel his spit landing on your cheek and immediately fight the urge to recoil in disgust.
You slowly raise your trembling hand to wipe your cheek, not daring to look at the man. Too scared to. Of how close he is. Of what he could do to you. Of how even when you screamed for help, no one would come.
What is another is another grave in Gotham, but a number on a very long list.
Your actions seemed to have aggravated the man further as he began to shake in anger, "YOU FUCKING BITCH," you jump at the volume, grip tightening more, "I was," he forcibly lowered his voice, "just being nice to you! But you had to make me-"
"DONT TOUCH ME!" you scream the moment the man grabbed your arm, "LET GO OF ME!" you start pulling your arm to yourself, but his grip only tightens. Tears sting your eyes.
"LISTEN HERE YOU BITCH-" you close your eyes tightly, waiting for his next move.
This is it. This is where you die. Good God, you are going to die without having done anything with your life. You should have taken that gap year. You should have travelled more. Maybe find someone to marry and live a happy quiet life.
But no, now you'll be just a mention on tomorrows news. Maybe someone will shed a tear or two, but that's all. You'll be forgotten the moment the next big crime strikes Gotham, and this son of a bitch is gonna roam fr-
"I thought she asked you to let go?" you hear another voice with no one to belong to. You open your eyes quickly, trying to see who spoke. But no one seemed to be around.
"What?" the man lets go and turns around, slightly stumbling, "Who said that?" he asks, and you see a head appear from above you.
You hand shoots to your heart when you lock eyes with the owner of the voice, as he grins at you, holding a finger to his lips.
"I'm your conscience," he says, disappearing again as the man turns around and you're face to face with him again, "you shouldn't harass women."
"Come out, punk!" the man yells as you take more steps backwards.
"What? Are you too much of a pussy to face me like a man?" you see the mysterious voice drop behind him, getting a closer look only when he stood up straight.
Tight black costume. Blue accents. Domino mask. Nightwing, no doubt.
This was your first time ever to see one of Gotham's vigilantes in the flesh, and to be honest, you were surprised he was real. Practically, you knew he existed, he was all over the news, but it was different seeing him up close. He seemed... familiar? In a way you can't quite place...
"You insult me!" Nightwing joked as he moved behind his back undetected, without any particular difficulty, "I think dick suits me better." he says before smacking the man's neck, knocking him unconscious.
You look at him in awe, mouth hanging, eyes wide as saucers, as he turns to you, a shit eating grin on his face as if he said some great joke.
"Are you alright?" he asks you, his voice stable, although it had another layer to it, well hidden, "Did he hurt you?" he moves closer checking for any superficial injuries.
You stand there, staring at him with a blank expression.
You can still feel the blood rushing through your veins, your heartbeat distinct in your ears.
You're alive. You're still alive.
You can see the vigilante approach you slowly, his hands raised in front of him. He was saying something... What was he saying?
"Hey, it's okay..." Dick slowly approaches you, but you seem to be completely unresponsive. Probably in shock from what happened. "He's gone, you're safe." he says now in front of you.
He can hear the bus approaching, you must have been waiting for it, but you still remain still, even as the bus speeds by you both.
"Do you need a ride home?" he asks.
You hear the bus, you do. You know you should have gotten on it, but your legs are not moving. He's still talking.
You're broken out of your trance by Nightwings hand on your shoulder, you shake a bit at the gesture before you calm yourself.
He's a hero. He wouldn't do anything to you.
"I- I'm sorry, what?" you look at him, staring right in the whites of his domino mask. He looks concerned.
"Do you need a lift home?" he asks, his hand falling back to his side.
He looks at you, too. He notices the crease of your eyebrows, how you bite the inside of your cheek. Your knuckles are white, your eyes darting around checking for danger.
You're nervous, scared. Dick has never seen you like this, and he would never if you had anything to say about it.
You quickly wipe your cheeks, feeling the dry tears, "I would appreciate that, thank you." you say clearing your throat. He just nods, and starts talking to whoever it was on the other side of the intercom.
You close your eyes, sitting back on the bench, letting the cold winter air caress your face.
Today was a bad day.
Your coffee was less watered down than usual. You arrived in class just in time. You got your American History test score back, which meant you wouldn't have to pair up with Grayson. They had pasta in the cafeteria. You fell asleep in the library. You were attacked. And a man in spandex is taking you home.
It was a very shitty day all in all.

Dick was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, an arm behind his head.
He's been there for what, two hours? maybe three, he didn't know anymore, he didn't care to find out.
Last nights patrol has left him in shambles, seeing you like that. Crying. Helpless.
Sure, he had seen people cry before, people who had gone through her same thing as you. People who have gone through less or more.
But you? Crying? He never hoped to see you like that.
You were always so well put together. Confident. Assertive.
He's seen you annoyed, happy, stressed. He's seen you just exist. Although he supposes yesterday you were just existing too, until that asshole decided to assault you.
It felt... sort of intimate, seeing someone so confident, fall apart.
And he hated it.
He has imagined so many things with you in mind -plans he wanted to make true if only you didn't seem to hate the ground he walked on, all the while he worshipped the one you did in secret.
But his daydreams were always happy. First kisses, first dates, and peaceful days. Wedding days and kids running around. You were always smiling in them.
He knows it's strange and probably a bit creepy to think all that when you barely wasted a glance at him. But he had come to terms with it. It wasn't like he was the only one who did it. Or like he stalked you.
Yesterday was an eye-opener. He idealised you, thought you couldn't be anything aside from what he saw, what he thought.
He was wrong.
He felt ashamed to have thought that. Ashamed to have stripped you from the right of being human, just for you to fit his delusions.
Yesterday he saw you, not all of you but more than he had before. And it left him more determined to get to know everything.
First step was to get you to be his partner at the project, and with his score he was pretty sure has got that one in the bag.
Then he'd make you fall for his charms. Also easy.
Then, he'd hope you don't actually hate him too much. That one he didn't know how to make sure of.
He sighed and closed his eyes, his brain immediately conjuring up the image of your face last night. You seemed so out of it, crying, unresponsive. You seemed to have been pulled some place he couldn't understand or reach. There's so much he didn't know.
He wonders if you are doing better tonight, but he can't check on you in any way.
Except he could.
He knew where you lived. He could drop by and check on you.
Actually, Nightwing could. That wouldn't do much to further his plans, but it'd calm the tightness in his chest.
No.
That's too much.
Maybe he should stake out at the bus stop. Or maybe he could be normal for once in his life and leave you alone.

You feel chills walking at the bus station. You know statistically it isn't very likely you'll be attacked again, but still the fear of possibility lingers.
Its much earlier this time around -you made sure to not fall asleep in the library again, and quite frankly you wouldn't do it again.
But the cold and the darkness where the same. As did the fact you the the only person waiting for the bus.
But you had bought a pepper spray, that must account for something, right?
You sit on the bench, same as you did last time, and before you know youre spacing out again. This seemed to be the norm the last few days.
After the dream.
You hate that this is the only thing you can think of, that he seems to consume your every thought, working himself into the corners of your mind.
And he doesn't even know! He's walking around clueless of just how much he has thrown you off of your game.
Maybe he knows. Maybe he went to one of those witches and had the dream incepted in your brain because he wanted to mess with you. That's it.
There's no other explanation on why you'd-
"You'll get attacked again if you keep zoning you like this." a voice breaks you out of your thoughts6 turn your head and see the very same guy that saved you the other night, "Hello." he smiles at you, and you can only think about how he must have practiced for hours in the mirror to get it just right.
"Should I be afraid you're here again?" you ask him, holding the pepper spray tighter. Hero or not, he's a man.
He comes and sits next to you, like he knew you from yesterday, making you scoot a bit to the side, "Afraid I'm stalking you?" he asks, flashing that award winning smile of his again.
"Are you?" you raise an eyebrow, looking into the whites on his mask.
"What if I am?" he shoots back, like second nature. He's so weird.
You roll your eyes at him, "Then youre doing a terrible job at it." he just chuckles, "Why are you even here?" you ask him.
Of course it was possible that it was a coincidence, and that he was patrolling the area- "I wanted to check on you." he interrupts you.
Your eyebrows shoot up in a mix of surprise and confusion, why would he want to do that?
"You seemed very distraught," he continues when you dont answer him, "It seemed like you were traumatised." he says, fighting the urge to fidget.
He couldn't do that, he was Nightwing. What kind of impression would he give if he appeared anything but confident.
But this is you we we're talking about, how can he not be nervous. Especially how its the first time, he seems to having a conversation with you without you trying to get him to leave.
You stay quiet for another moment, "So you are stalking me." he say trying to hide a smile. He's caught off guard at your words. He had never expected that answer.
"You seem much too nonchalant about that." he says smirking, any ounce of anxiety he had leaving his body.
"Why shouldn't I be?" you turn forward, not looking at him, "You seem hardly dangerous," you say, "Besides, I can take care of myself."
Dicks eyes glint at your response, "Crime alley?" he asks, jumping at the chance to learn more about you.
"East End," you muse, and he smiles at you, humming, not saying another word, and you fall into a comfortable silence before he starts talking again, about what, you can't remember.
The only thing you know is that no matter how strange, you feel content with this stranger talking your ear off.

This is the worst moment in your life. Rock bottom.
"See, this sweetheart?" Dick shoves the paper in your face, "98%" he grins at your flabbergasted expression, "I win!"
You're having war flashbacks. How could this have happened.
"Only for a point!" you exclaim annoyed at how smug he looked.
Dick seems to be a silver away from jumping around and dancing, and honestly you'd prefer that, to his smug annoying smirk.
"Deal's a deal honey bunch!" he says stuffing his test back into his bag, "So when do we start?" he asks
What sins had you committed in your past life to deserve this?
Still, you weren't gonna go back on your word, even if you agreed out of desperation to get away from him.
"Fine," you exhale and his smiles widens, "We start tomorrow," you continue opening up your bag, pulling out a pen and your post-its, "Be there at 10," you scribble down your address, Dick stood patiently, his cheeks hurting from how wide he was smiling, "And don't be late." you say pointedly as you hand him the paper, which he took with a smile.
"Got it!" he nods, "See you tomorrow!" he walks away.
Was that a skip in his step?
You stare at his form getting smaller and smaller, your face slowly falling.
What have you done?
Never mind that, how would you make sure you would freak out while having him in your house?

After that day, every morning, you'd meet up with Dick to work on your project.
The first few sessions, were hell for you. You were always stepping on glass even in your own home, and he seemed to be oblivious to all of it.
Then, suddenly everything was fine!
Turns out he wasn't as bad as you thought he was - when his stuff wasn't taking over the whole room anyway. Contrary to what you thought of him, he was actually putting in effort in order to achieve the marks he did, and the whole reason he seemed so chill in class, was because he crammed all the material 4 days before the final by pulling all-nighter after all-nighter. You even got to witness that in person, when you both had a test and he decided that having a study buddy was beneficial for you both, and by extension crashed on your couch until the exam was over.
That put you a bit at ease at first, that you were on equal footing. That he wasn't somehow flying through university because of his father.
Then you simply realised, you were being a bitch to him for no reason. No matter how jealous you were, you had no reason to act like you did.
And now? You somehow had become friends.
You dont know when or how it had become a staple for Dick to come over so you could eat lunch together. But you didn't mind it one bit.
As much as you'd never admit it to him -in fear you'd boost his ego even more, God knows he didn't need it - he was great company. He had this talent of never letting the conversation die, which made him very entertaining to be around.
His affinity to talk endlessly, was especially helpful to you the first few times he came over to work for the project.
You were so afraid that your stupid dream wouldn't let you get any work done, especially with him sitting across from you, but as if he knew that you were nervous, he managed to talk the entire time he was there, whether it was about the project or not. And while you found that annoying, it also made you realise that you were fretting over nothing. Because the dream was just that, a dream.
You quickly learned that Dick Grayson was never gonna be as smooth as he was in that dream. At least not the Dick you knew.
The Dick you knew, banged his head on the table when he couldn't figure something out, and he'd show you pictures of his siblings any chance he got, and he would barge into your house and gush about Superman. He would drop by at the weirdest time, just to show you a new game he got, or to tell you about a book his brother recommended.
You're pulled back to reality at the sound of your door opening, Dick appearing in the kitchen soon enough.
"You'll never guess what happened before I got here," he said and you looked at him as he rambled on about how, his little brother, Damian, got a cow as a pet and how the cow somehow ended up in the manor.
You smiled as you hummed every once, acknowledging all that he said, all the while feeling a comfortable warmth spreading through your chest.
You had fallen into a comfortable routine with him, you've gotten so used to his presence, that it seemed wrong to you, how you used to avoid him like the plague.
Then at night, Nightwing would drop by, taking a break from patrol, basically forcing you to stop studying for a while - he said it's because it is mutually beneficial, you said he's full of shit and that he should just admit to missing you, which he didn't deny.
That was another thing you had grown accustomed too.
After the second time you saw him at the bus stop, he kept appearing. "I'd be a terrible stalker if I didn't" he said when you asked him why he' basically dropping you home every chance he gets.
You didn't know how you ended up becoming friends with the vigilante, but you did, and for a guy that wears a skin tight suit and calls himself Nightwing, he was great company. Although his ego was also somewhere amongst the clouds -probably hanging out with Dicks.
You're sitting on the desk in your room, studying, when you feel your skin tingle. Someone was in your room.
You immediately grab the cup you have next to you and throw it at the intruder, only to hear the familiar low chuckle of Nightwing.
"Really sweetheart?" he raising an eyebrow as your shoulders slump in relief, "I thought you'd know better by now." he tilts his head before, moving closer to place the cup back on your desk.
You roll your eyes at him, "You could have knocked idiot." you say as he moves and lays on the floor, relief flowing in his bones. He knows better that to lie on you bed in his 'grim, dirty suit' as you made sure to point out last time he did it.
"Where's the fun in that?" he smirks as you turn around to look at him. Your exhale as you look at him, noticing the small cuts on his cheek, immediately grabbing the small bottle of iodine you stored in your room for that exact reason
"Can't win either way," you mumble as you move next to him, opening up the cap. Nightwing sits up, laying his back on the bed post as you move closer.
You work in silence staring at his face, slowly applying it on his cuts, when you notice three distinct marks on his face shaped like a triangle.
Strange.
"This is funny," you say as you softly apply iodine on the cut at the side of his face
"What is?"
"My friend has the same three moles on his cheek."
Nightwing stills at your words. Do you know? How long have you known? Is this your way of telling him you do? Are you gonna hate him for not telling you?
He's such an idiot. He shouldn't have gotten this close. Now you'll know his identity and be in constant danger.
"A lot of people have moles," he says nonchalantly, muscles tense.
"But in the same pattern?"
"It's more common that you think,"
"I'm sure it is," you mutter, focused on not missing a cut.
You both stay quiet for a while. You seemed to not have made the connection, causing Dick to relax a bit. You didn't know.
You did, however, seem to notice the moles on his face in the time he spent with you as a civilian. You even called him a friend.
He hoped you couldn't feel his pulse rising at the revelation.
"What is your friend like?" he asks before he could stop himself.
"He's nice I suppose"
"You suppose?" he turns to look at you, but you move away, sitting across from him waiting for the medicine to dry.
"He's actually perfect, it's infuriating," you continue leaning back,
"He is very social. Everybody loves him. It's because he's fun to be around. And he's doing great academically too,
"I'm kind of a terrible person to admit this, but I couldn't stand him for the longest time because I was jealous," you chuckle, thinking how stupid that was of you, missing out on Dick Grayson for something as immature as the first spot in the class,
"He seemed to be able to do anything effortlessly when I couldn't. I know now that it was stupid to dislike him for that, but it was eating me away." you stop for a minute, lost in thought.
"It was unfair too, since all he did was be nice to me even when i was acting like a bitch."
It felt strange hearing you talk about him to him, but he couldn't help but pry.
"What made you change your mind?" he asks.
"Do you know how you have this idea of what people are like in your head? And then you find out they're nothing like that?" he knows because he did have one of what you'd be like, before the incident,
"Well, I thought he was a lucky trust fund baby who just messed around in class. But then I had to work with him, and it turns out he's actually very smart. He's also insufferably nice. That part is still annoying." you smile and he felt like his heart would burst
"One time, he went to deal with my neighbour because he kept knocking on my door and then disappearing, " Dick remembers that day, you were both sitting on your couch brainstorming for the project when a knock echoed through your house. He looks at the door, expecting you to go check, but you never did. Turns out one of your neighbours keeps knocking and disappearing. You told him not to worry about it, but he was having none of that and stop by the door for another hour, catching him red-handed the next time he knocked. Safe to say he didn't bother you again.
"He's... special. I'm glad he's in my life..."
Dick hums in understanding as you lean forward again and continue working, your touch hot against his skin.
A win is a win, he thought. You don't hate him anymore, and he'll take what he can get, so he stays silent, feeling you apply ointment on his cuts.
"I actually dreamt of him once..." you say, getting up from the floor to grab the band-aids. Nightwing stills staring intensively at you.
"You did?" he asks carefully. He didn't know this...
You chuckle lightly as you plop next to him again, holding a package of colourful band aids - he thought it was charming that you still used those for kids - "Yeah", you take a pink one out and start to peel it,
"I dreamt of kissing him in the kitchen," now you had him hanging from your lips more than he ever did before, "he had come over for the project, in my dream, in actual life I hadn't even agreed to do it with him," so this was before he saved you.
You chuckle again, pressing tightly the band aid over his cut, "I couldn't function for days, it was all I could think about..." you trail off, opening another band aid. "It's stupid..."
Dick speaks before you can even think of falling deeper into your thoughts, "Doesn't sound stupid to me," he says looking at you, "You seem to be in love with the guy," he self projects as you stare at him annoyed, he loved it when you did that, "Can't blame you since he's oh so charming and smart!" he teased
"Oh, shut up" you roll your eyes, slapping lightly his abdomen, causing him to wince.
"You are so mean," he whines, holding his abdomen in mock pain.
"You love me," you joke, getting up, moving everything back to its place, his eyes following your every move, a lovestruck expression painting his face.
He did.

You don't want to say that you feel disappointed that Nightwing didn't show up tonight. You know he's busy. Plus its not like you're entitled to his time.
He's a hero for Gods shake, he doesn't have time to drop by just because you feel lonely.
You could always call Dick... But it's late and he's probably getting his beaty sleep.
You exhale, as you stand up, stretching as you move the bathroom.
You mechanically grab your toothbrush, applying a generous amount of toothpaste on it. You can hear your mothers voice in your head, telling you not to be wasteful, but your teeth don't feel clean enough, if you don't look like your foaming at the mouth by the end of brushing.
You spit out the foam, "Sorry mom," you say as you rinse the rest out.
You feel like shed be proud to see where you are. Attending university, having friends, having a stable life.
You smile as you back hits your bed, ready to doze off until the morning.
And then you hear it. A knock on the glass of your window.
Your ears immediately perk up at the sound, "Nightwing?" you call out, seeing the familiar black and blue suit, the atmosphere in the room changing.
He knocked... He never knocks...
"Hey sweet cheeks," he says, sending a smile towards your way, voice weaker than you've ever heard before. Something was very wrong...
You scan over him. He's leaning his back against the windowsill, his lips is busted coating his chin with blood. His chest is heaving up and down, like he's having trouble breathing. And his hand is draped over his abdomen, pressing on them.
And then it hits you. The distinct metallic smell of blood.
You feel your stomach turn, staring in his eyes. With a quick move you open the window wider. "Get in and take off your suit." he say as calmly as you can.
But he feels like messing around, "Damn girl, take me out to dinner, at least." he says as he slowly climbs in, immediately sitting down groaning as he did. You were having none of his bullshit today.
"Take it off." you demand again and he slowly peels off the upper part.
Your hands fly to cover your mouth at the large gush on his abdomen. The blood seems to have stopped by the pressure the suit was adding to the skin. But everything around it was covered by a mixture of dried and new blood.
You're gonna throw up.
You stand up quickly, rushing to your bathroom, "What the hell is wrong with you!" you say, grabbing the first aid kit, "Waltzing in here, bleeding out, cracking jokes!" you yell at him as you wet a towel, trying to gather your scattered thoughts.
You need alcohol. And a needle with thread. You frantically move to your kitchen, trying to gather everything before he's gone.
"It's no big deal, just a-"
"Just a scratch?" you cut him off, "Just a scratch!" you storm back into your room, eyes wide, standing over him, "Of course! Just a scratch! A small scratch that extends through your torso!" you yell at him, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.
"It's okay-" he leans forward.
"Don't tell me it's okay! Not when you're bleeding out on my carpet! Not when you have a large fucking wound that needs stiches!" you sit by him, pushing him against the wall, before dousing the wet towel with alcohol, softly cleaning the wound despite your emotional state.
You stay silent if only for a moment, trying to calm yourself, "Why did you come here?" you ask him, staring into the whites of his domino mask, after he didn't speak.
He takes a second to answer, "I wanted to see you."
You gape at him, "Are you insane?" you exclaim dapping his skin with more pressure, causing him to wince, "You wanted to see me? Tomorrow is a day too, Nightwing! What on earth made you think that it was a good idea to come here in this state?" you throw the towel to the side, grabbing the needle, "What if I didn't know how to stitch you up? What then?" you pass the thread through, dipping the whole thing in alcohol. "What then?"
Dick lowers his eyes to look at you, chuckling lightly, "You're from the East End," he muses, trying to focus his vision on you, "Of course you'd know.."
"That's no reason-"
Nightwing winces as you drench his would with alcohol again, "It's not a big deal-" he begins to say, cutting you off, but you interrupt him.
"Not a big deal?" you say slowly now, a single tear falling from your eye, eyes trembling as you force the needle to pierce through his skin, "You are hurt! What if you bleed out in front of me and I can't help you?" you say, allowing more tears to break free. Dick could feel his heart breaking.
"What if you died?" you said slowly, trying to steady your hand, doing your best to keep that from happening.
"But I'm not-" he goes to lean closer to you again.
"You could!", you push him back, not daring to look up, focusing on your handiwork, tears falling like waterfalls, blurring your vision.
You just need to focus, a couple more to go. Just to keep him alive, until he can call someone to get him to an actual doctor. They dont have to be perfect. They just need to keep him here with you.
He doesn't dare break the silence, letting you do your work, regretting the moment he decided to come here.
He doesn't even know how he did, much less why.
He remembers fighting, and then the pain bleeding throughout his body. Next thing he knew, he was outside your house, holding his abdomen, trying to walk in a straight.
You sit back when youre done, staring at the badly patched up wound, ears ringing.
"I know I can be mean and-" you break the silence, voice low and hoarse, "and that I am a total bitch, and I know i dont say it often, but I care!" you exclaim, "I care so much and I- I don't wanna lose you..." you say softly, "You're my first friend here, and- and-" Dick watches you as sobs wreck your whole body, his hands instinctively move towards you, wanting to provide any semblance of comfort, even when pain radiates at every movement.
"It's okay," he says, pulling you against him despite the pain, "I'm okay, I'm here." he brushes his fingers through your hair, letting you get it all out, "I'm not dying."
"But you could be..." you say, pulling away, looking at him, "If not today, then tomorrow... I canât do this again! I canât watch you come in here hurt, pretending itâs all okay. I canât-" you trail off, turning your gaze away from him.
But he doesn't, he looks at you, as he always did. He doesn't think he was able to see until he met you the first day of university, even if you shoot his suggestion of hanging out down. It was like the world was filled with all kinds of colours he didn't even know existed. He wanted to see more, he wanted to watch you forever.
Even like this, even if you're crying in his arms, even if it is his fault.
You take a deep breath, opening your mouth to speak again, but don't get a chance. His hand flies on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him, slotting his lips against yours, before you get the chance to react.
You freeze at this, not leaning in, not backing out. Just sitting there frozen, brain short circuiting.
His kiss is soft. Slow, as if he's scared, you'll run away. But you don't. You lean into it, accepting whatever he was willing to give to you.
His lips are chapped against yours, but you don't mind because that is so entirely him.
You feel the tension in him, the hesitancy, the unspoken emotions swirling between you. His kiss deepens slightly, but itâs still gentle, tender-like heâs testing the waters, unsure if youâll pull away or welcome him in.
And just like with everything else about him, you welcome this change of pace, wanting nothing more than to feel him close. Alive.
You slowly move your hand to rest over his heart, and he immediately covers it with his own, pressing it firmer on his chest, letting you feel the heartbeat against your skin.
He's here. He's alive.
After a moment, he pulls away, resting his forehead against yours. You can see the determination on his face.
"I can't promise," he says slowly, afraid he'll scare you away, "I can't promise you that I'll won't get hurt, that I won't be reckless..." you feel your heart tighten at his words, tears welling up again, "But I can promise to always come back..." he stares into your eyes, "You won't lose me."
Sobs break out of you once again as you throw yourself around his shoulders, hugging him tightly, his own arms snaking around your waist.
And you stay there, entangled in one another, even after you stop crying.
He keeps holding you close, afraid you'll disappear if he doesn't. Afraid that this is just a dream, he'll soon wake up from.
He holds you close until he feels your breath lower and your body giving away to exhaustion.
And even then, he doesn't leave. He sits by you for another hour before Bruce calls to check on him.
He knows he has to leave, to get his wound checked out.
But all that seemed insignificant when he held you.

okay! this was supposed to be waaaay longer but tumblr wouldn't let me add more dividersđđ
I hope you'll enjoy it! :)))
#batfam#dick grayson#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson x you#dick grayson x y/n#nightwing#nightwing x reader#nightwing x y/n#nightwing x you#richard grayson#richard grayson x reader#richard grayson x you
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The Ink Shop Part 2
Description: After your encounter with Eddie, things are beginning to get a bit more complicated; especially when you ask him for another little favour. But, will Eddie go for it?Â
Warnings: NSFW, minors DNI this ain't for you, angst, tiny bit of fluff, smut, fem oral receiving, male masturbation.
A/N: OK when I said this will be in 3 parts I lied, it's totally going to be at least 4, maybe 5! Thank you for the love you've shown the first part, it's incredible! You're superstars.Â
â€ïž If you like it please comment and reblog, it really makes my day!â€ïž
7k wordsÂ
Masterlist Part 1
For some reason, the shop seems more welcoming today than ever. It might be the fact that the sun is shining, it might be the radio seemingly playing all your favourite songs, or it might be last night. Either way, you feel loose and free, laughing at jokes, smiling at everyone, and genuinely just happier.Â
Eddie saunters in thirty minutes late and you barely notice, apart from flashing him a bashful smile.Â
âWell hello there sweetheart, you seem chipper today.â
You roll your eyes at the obvious insinuation, but your smile is warm. âI had a good night's sleep, that's all.âÂ
âBet you did,â he grins, âyou look real pretty.âÂ
Looking down, you consider your outfit; you'd decided enough of the corporate clothes, this is a tattoo shop after all. So, you'd paired a roll neck sweater with a short jean skirt and sneakers. A more relaxed outfit to go with a more relaxed attitude. Before you can say anything in reply he strolls over to his station.Â
Right, so a few jabs, but he's being nonchalant. So put it out of your mind.
The morning moves quickly, a messy blur of clients and phone calls. After a fast lunch, the shop finally calms down a little. When you're focusing on sorting the mess of the heavy bookings tome in front of you, Eddie approaches, mischief glinting in his eyes.Â
âI see London, I see FranceâŠâÂ
You follow his bowed head and cross your legs in sheer embarrassment, realising a sliver of your panties must be on display.Â
âEddie!âÂ
He simply laughs, throwing his head back far enough that your gaze drifts to his Adam's apple.Â
âSorry, I couldn't resist, I'm a big fan of this skirt,â he says, drinking you in with his eyes, âanyway I wanted to ask-âÂ
His sentence is stopped however by the loud ringing of the old corded phone. You and Eddie share a look, yours begging and his smug. Before you can grab it, he picks up the phone, putting on a ridiculous British accent.Â
âGood Afternoon, London Underground Airways, this is your captain speaking- Oh shit Mac- Yeah she's- I know I'm not supposed to answer- Sorry I- Fine, here.â He brandishes the phone at you.Â
âHello? Oh, of course I'll let them know- I understand- It'd be my pleasure- see you soon.â replacing the receiver, you make a note on the pad at your side.Â
âWhat'd he say?â Eddie asks, hovering over you.Â
Not giving him the satisfaction of a look, you continue to make your note, however perfunctory it may be. âMac's going to be a little late, he told me to tell his next client.âÂ
âHe said my name, I heard it. What'd he say?âÂ
Placing your pen down with a loud click, you turn to him.Â
You tell him as you smile smugly. âHe told me to hit you for answering the phone.â
If anything, his grin grows broader. âOh? Go on then princess, I'd hate for you to break the rules.â He turns his face, no doubt expecting a cuff to the back of the head.
Spinning on your stool, you slap him right across the cheek; not with all your strength, but certainly hard enough to remember. Eddie's face is a picture of shock, pink handprint already flushing his cheek.Â
But that just makes his smile wider.Â
âHarder.â He asks, eyes flashing arousal at you.Â
âEddie!â you shout, pushing him away, but his laugh echoes through the shop. Before he has a chance to continue, a burly biker type walks right in the door.Â
âGood afternoon, can I help you?âÂ
âYeah, It's Jimmy, I'm here for Mac?âÂ
âHe's running a little late, but he'll be with you as soon as possible. Can I get you a coffee or something while you wait?âÂ
You can't help but hear a huff from Eddie, but before you can question it he's drawing in his book, entirely oblivious to the outside world.Â
At the end of the day, you're tired, but still in fairly high spirits. It's the first time you've seen everyone in the shop at once. There's an edge to the air though, as if an expectation hangs over everyone.Â
So⊠bar?â Mac asks in a defeated tone, although he's smiling. Everyone reacts; Eddie woops, pumping his fist, even the usually reserved Miranda is clapping quietly. You smile and nod, finally understanding what the atmosphere was about.Â
As you all enter the dimly lit bar, chatting and laughing, you hear a low huff.Â
âWhat did I do to deserve this?â John is standing behind the bar. An imposing figure, his arms crossed and face surly, but there's a kindness in his eyes. Mac leans straight over and hands him a card. Â
âEasy John, I got this,â he chuckles. The card is accepted gratefully, the gruff demeanour lessening with the promise of payment.Â
You accept a bottle of beer and slide into a nearby booth, the rest of the group filtering in. Mac walks over, eyes the space next to you, then grabs a stool to sit at the head of the table. It throws you for a minute; surely he knows he can sit there? Before you can tell him so, Eddie waltzes across the room with a tray of tequila shots and all the fixings with a cheeky look in his eyes. He slides right in next to you, tray and all, and places it on the table with exaggerated care.Â
âLadies, gentlemen.â He says, gesturing to the tiny glasses like an old timey butler. There's a succession of groans from the party, but despite this they all grab a shot. All except you.Â
âI don't think I-â you begin, but he's waving a hand in the air.Â
âCome on, you drink. It's a shot. Never had tequila before?âÂ
Fixing him with a sharp look, your cheeks begin to redden of their own accord. Eddie smirks and tosses his head back, hiding his eyes with one hand.Â
âShit princess, what did you do at college?âÂ
âStudy.â You say primly, but take a glass tentatively and place it in front of you.Â
âRight, so for the new guysâŠâ Eddie smiles right at you and licks his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That hint of silver mesmerises you, the ball of his tongue piercing catching the light. It's almost sensual the way he does it, your eyes automatically following the movement of his tongue. âsalt right hereâŠâ he sprinkles some on the spot he moistened, âthen, lick, shoot, suck.âÂ
In a few fluid movements he licks the salt from his hand, downs the shot, and sticks a wedge of lime in his mouth. As your brain finally engages after that display, the little show that shouldn't have heated your insides up, you follow along, and take your shot with everyone else. It's easier than you would have thought, the lime easing the burn somewhat.Â
Eddie squeezes your thigh under the table and whispers low enough for you to hear.Â
âGood girl.âÂ
Shooting daggers with a simple look, he just smirks, leaving his hand on your bare leg as if challenging you. Dimly, you hear the echoes of a conversation in front of you; it's Julio, arguing about good tequila not needing salt and lime, but you're lost in the deep pools of Eddie's chocolate eyes.
For a moment, your body flashes red hot and you regret your choice of the high necked sweater. Tearing your eyes away you look at something, anything, but Eddie.Â
The conversation drifts between all manner of subjects and you start to relax, the beer and tequila swimming in your belly loosening your tongue. It's nice, having a chance to chat and giggle with your coworkers in a setting not interrupted by the constant buzzing of tattoo machines.Â
Julio and Chloe end up in a full scale argument about the karaoke machine in the corner. Before you're subjected to the horror of having to sing in public, you get up to grab another beer. Perching on a stool by the bar with your purse in hand, you're waiting patiently to be served.Â
Eddie strolls over. You see him in your periphery; that confident walk as if he owns the very ground he walks on. Casually he hops up on the stool next to you, making no effort to hide the way he undresses you with his eyes.Â
âQuit staring Eddie,â you say testily as you knock the bar with your bank card.Â
âNow I can't look at you?â He asks with an amused grin.Â
âI said quit staring, not quit looking,â you huff out.Â
âWhat's the difference?â He asks, shrugging his shoulders and scrunching his nose at you.
You groan, turning on your stool to face him. âYou are impossible,âÂ
He sticks his long tongue out childishly, flashing his piercing at you.Â
Thankfully, John's voice cuts through the squabble. âWhat can I get you?â
âMay I have a beer, please?âÂ
âYou certainly may.â John cocks his thumb in your direction, addressing Eddie, âI like this one, she's polite. Don't scare her off.âÂ
Eddie dramatically holds his chest. âYou wound me, sir!âÂ
Two beers are placed on the bar and John waves your card away. âDon't worry about it, Mac's treating you guys tonight.âÂ
As you swig your beer, you contemplate for a moment, trying to work out something.
âYou're staring, sweetheart.â Eddie grins, as he gulps his drink.Â
âI wasn't staring, I was thinking! I know that's a foreign concept to you.â It's catty, you know that, but he just seems to bring it out in you. No one else has annoyed you so much in your life just by⊠being.Â
âThat was rude. I thought we were playing nice?â he pouts playfully.Â
âSorry. I- Can I ask you something?âÂ
âSure, shoot.âÂ
Turning to him, you speak what's on your mind. âWhy do people get their tongues pierced? No one really sees it. I get like, nose and eyebrow piercings and stuff, but the tongue one I don't understand.âÂ
Eddie's grin is wide as he bites his bottom lip and stares at you. Well, you couldn't call it a grin. It's a flash of teeth, almost wolfish in its delivery.Â
âOh princess, you are too cute.âÂ
Staring at him with your brow furrowed, you try to work out what he means, but the longer you take, the more amused he looks.Â
âWhat? What is it?âÂ
Sighing, he leans closer, the scent of aftershave, cigarettes and man clouding around you. âIt's got a purpose, sweetheart.âÂ
âWhat, like, kissing?âÂ
Shaking his head, he looks you up and down. âKinda. Kissing somewhere⊠specific.âÂ
Realisation breaks across your face, followed by a fierce blush that you can feel to the roots of your hair. Laughing, Eddie pulls away a little and takes a mouthful of beer.Â
Voice an airy whisper, you lean over to him as you speak. âAnd girls like that?âÂ
His laugh is so loud it reverberates around the bar.Â
âYeah, a lot, in my experience.âÂ
âOh.â
Well, the thought is there now, and you're pretty sure it won't ever go away, not without some sort of mind bleach. Eddie's head between your legs, his long tongue exploring your sex. The image is burned into the back of your brain, playing on a loop.
âYou're looking a little hot there,â he says, as if he can read your thoughts. It's fair to say it wouldn't take a psychic to know what's rattling around your head right now.Â
âI'm fine, this sweater is too warm,â you shake out, pressing your thighs together.Â
âLiar.âÂ
Mouth opening and closing like a fish, you finally snap it shut with a crunch. Curiosity is eating away at you, and it's too easy to say what's on your mind after a couple of drinks.Â
âEddie, could you⊠tell me, what- what it's like?âÂ
He chuckles lightly and scoots closer to you. âyou know I can't, I've not exactly had the pleasure.âÂ
âI know that, I meanâŠâÂ
For a second he just gapes at you.Â
âWait, princess, are you asking me to tell you or⊠show you?âÂ
Flustered, you turn away a little. âSorry that's- that's too much isn't it. It's just you⊠did such a good job with the, you know, the other thing, I was just curious.âÂ
Eddie bites his lip, puffing out a little breath. âYou know, flattery works with me. I did a good job, huh?âÂ
âWell, yeah. I can imagine you'd be really good at⊠that too. I could, owe you a favour?â It's bold, especially from you, but the way he's looking at you, the slight flush to his cheeks, you'd put money on him agreeing.Â
Eddie stares at you incredulously. âWait, you're saying you want me to stick my tongue in the holiest of holes and then you owe me a favour?âÂ
âYeah? Like a little⊠arrangement.âÂ
He rubs his face with his hand, his voice muffled as he speaks. âI'd feel like I was taking advantage of you.âÂ
That confuses you for a moment. Surely you were the one who asked him? Hesitantly you reach out and touch soft fingertips to the back of his hand.Â
âPlease?âÂ
âFuck.â He looks around, and turns to you, gazing into your eyes for a moment.Â
âFine. Right now.âÂ
âOh I didn't-âÂ
âListen, before I change my mind. Meet me out back. I'll tell the guys you're not feeling well and I'm taking you home.âÂ
Wordlessly, you grab your purse and head to the back door, heart hammering in your ears. It's a little dank out here, with the sound of a dripping pipe and moss covering the cement. Eddie comes out a moment later looking more serious than you've ever seen him.Â
âYou sure about this?â He asks, searching your eyes.Â
âYeah, butâŠâ you look around the small yard, gesturing vaguely.Â
âOh. Oh! You thought- oh Christ no, not here. I'm not a complete asshole. Come with me.â
Letting out a relieved breath, you follow him. He walks over to a gate in the fence and opens it, which leads down a narrow alleyway, a little shortcut between yards. That eventually opens up to another road with a couple of apartment blocks. The one he moves towards looks mostly clean, if a bit lifeless, with a creepy looking van parked out the front.
âThis way sweetheart,â he says, leading you through the courtyard and to the stairs.Â
For a second you stop in sheer surprise.Â
âWait, you live this close and you still manage to be late for work?âÂ
He chuckles, looking at you over his shoulder. âI have a condition, you know. Chronic tardiness; I'm afraid there's no cure.âÂ
You bat him on the arm playfully and he grasps your wrist, stopping on the stairs briefly, giving you a look that is wickedness personified.Â
âIf you're gonna hit me, do it properly.âÂ
âEddie!âÂ
He laughs loud and grabs your hand, holding it in his until he reaches his door. That alone is enough to shut you up. It's warm and rough, and the feeling of his skin on yours, no matter how tiny, sends bolts of sensation through you.Â
âRight, here is my castle,â he says as he opens the door and lets you inside.Â
Chaos. That's the first word that crosses your mind. It doesn't look dirty, there's just things everywhere. A bookshelf stuffed with books and weird little trinkets placed any which way dominates one wall, and another on the other side with a huge music collection. There's a poky little kitchen with a couple of pots still in the sink, and a big couch with mismatched cushions takes up the remaining space. A tower of board games is precariously leaning next to it, and on the wall over the TV is an honest to goodness sword.
âIt's nice,â you say as you walk in, as if you're not mentally organising it in your head.Â
âYou hate it.â He scoffs, pulling his boots off and dumping them by the door.Â
âNo, no, it's very⊠you.âÂ
âI stand by my previous statement.â He grins at you, clearly indicating he wasn't being entirely serious.Â
âThis is the bedroom.â He walks over and nudges the door open with his foot. Surprisingly, apart from an open clothes rail, an overflowing laundry hamper, and an enormous bed, there's not much in it. The wallpaper is a pretty purple colour, and looks oddly familiar.Â
âEddie isn't that the same wallpaper-âÂ
â-As the shop? Yeah. Mac let me have the leftovers. I was broke and this room was fucking pink.âÂ
You snort out a laugh; the thought of Eddie with a pretty pink bedroom was rather unbelievable.
âYeah, yeah, laugh it up. I can live with purple.â He roots around and grabs a pair of sweats. âMake yourself comfortable, I'm gonna change real quick.âÂ
Then he walks out into another doorway, you assume the bathroom. The urge to snoop is real, but you resist. It looks like he spends less time here anyway.Â
The question is, how comfortable are you supposed to make yourself? Nerves start settling in, the thought of what you've asked him to do is finally sinking its way into your mind and down your jangling spine. What if he doesn't like the underwear you're wearing? God, you've been at work all day, what if you smell bad? Or taste bad? What if-Â
âYou can sit down, princess.âÂ
Eddie saunters back in, shirtless, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging so low on his hips you see his cut groin. A little squeak hiccups out of your throat at the sight. You stay standing, ready to make your excuses and leave, but the signal hasn't reached your legs just yet.Â
âWhat's wrong?â his eyes are brimming with concern as he steps toward you.Â
âNo I- I was- maybe this-âÂ
âHey, look at me,â he says, grabbing both of your hands. You stare up at him, his face gentle.Â
âWhatever you're worried about, I'm sure it's nothing.âÂ
âBut i haven't showered-âÂ
âWhen did you last?âÂ
âWell⊠this morning.âÂ
âYou're fine. Trust me.âÂ
He backs you up onto the bed, your knees folding as you flop down. The air around you feels full, humid with anticipation. He's so close, your bodies almost pressed together.Â
âI wanna kiss you.â He says softly, stroking a lock of your hair out of your face. Heart leaping into your throat, you try to suppress the urge to lean forward. The last thing you need is to fall for this man. Chloe's words echo in your head; he's not boyfriend material.
He'll break your heart.Â
âThat's not part of our deal, Eddie.âÂ
A frown flickers across his face. It's just for a second, a flash of vulnerability, before his usual cocky smile returns.Â
âThat's not where I wanna kiss you.â He winks and tugs at your top, âcan I take this off?âÂ
Nodding wordlessly, you help him and wriggle it up and over your head.Â
âGod damn.â Eddie props up on an elbow, running a finger between your breasts, before following the edge of your black cotton bra.Â
He looks up at your face, grinning wide, and points at your neck; little purple marks adorn it. âThat why you wore that sweater today?âÂ
Flushing crimson, you run fingers across your neck.Â
âYeah, you marked me Eddie. Not exactly discreet.âÂ
He chuckles, stroking the side of your neck. âSorry sweetheart, I won't do it again. Well, not anywhere that anyone can see.âÂ
Heat floods your stomach, the stark realisation that you want him to mark you clings to your insides. If he notices your reaction he doesn't say, instead he leans toward you pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.Â
âYou're really pretty. I don't know if I said that before.âÂ
Awash with a new heat in your cheeks, you smile bashfully. âThanks, I don't get told that very much.âÂ
Staring at you, he shakes his head.
âYou should. You should be told every fucking day.âÂ
You open your mouth, but before you can reply he kisses your jaw, running his tongue down your neck, before he presses his mouth to the top of your breast, sucking roughly. A gasp flies out, and your hand makes a decision entirely on its own to grab his hair.Â
It seems it was the right thing to do, judging by the deep groan that comes from him. It seems to spur him on, and he yanks the cup of your bra down, taking your nipple into his mouth. His tongue teases it, rubbing his piercing over the pebbled nub.
âOh Holy fuck!â Back arching with the foreign sensation, you revel in it, wriggling underneath him. He smirks against your skin, and takes your nipple between his teeth. Moaning loudly, you pull his hair.Â
âFuck, sweetheart,â He looks up at you, pupils blown to black, âcanât hold back if you do that.âÂ
It's not a dare, but it tastes like one, and before you can think you're tugging at it again. Eddie's eyes roll back, and a hard look crosses underneath his eyes.Â
His actions turn a little feral, pulling you up so he can unhook your bra, practically ripping it off you before his mouth is all over your chest, firm fingers digging into the flesh of your hip.Â
âFuck, Eddieâ you stutter it out, voice laced with need.Â
âYeah?â He whispers out breathlessly between urgent kisses, making his way down your stomach. Suddenly he takes the flesh of your hip in his mouth and bites down little before sucking a bruise as you writhe under him.Â
He reaches your skirt, hooking fingers into the waistband as he looks up at you, his tone urgent. âCan I?âÂ
As you nod frantically, he reacts immediately, yanking it down along with your underwear.Â
âFuck, look at you.âÂ
The urge to close your legs is real, embarrassed at the way he's ogling you right between your thighs. They quiver with tension, but Eddie forces them open with his large palms.Â
âDon't hide from me. You still want this?âÂ
You nod, and his head snaps up to look at you. His voice is hard, swirling around your insides with an intensity you're not used to from him.Â
âSay it. You need to say it.âÂ
âYes, please Eddie.âÂ
That satisfies him. He leans forward, breath ghosting over your clit. You're waiting for his mouth, his tongue, but that's not what happens. He inhales you, nose so close it's almost touching your sex.Â
âJesus Christ, you smell so fucking good.âÂ
âEddie!â you cry it out, cringing at his words as you bury your face in your hands.Â
âRelax princess, it's a compliment.âÂ
Before you can retort that it's not a compliment, it's weird, and he's a freak for saying it, it no longer matters. He's licking a fat stripe up the length of your pussy, long tongue pushing against you hard in an animal-like gesture.Â
The noise that expels from your chest is inhuman, a choked, guttural breath that belongs in a cave somewhere, not a bedroom.Â
He doesn't relent, his mouth exploring every inch of you with a ferality that has you tingling all the way to your toes. His fierce movements, accentuated by the bump of his piercing, have you nearly leaving the mattress. You're not sure if you're trying to get more, or move away. Not that it matters. His hands are holding you so firmly that all you can do is wriggle helplessly like a fish on a line.Â
Fingers trace the outside of your entrance before they slide in, beckoning your release. Whimpering, you grasp the bedsheets in a need to keep contact with something real.Â
âTalk to me,â he says between mind numbing messy kisses to your clit, âgood, yeah?âÂ
âEddie, f-fuck, its incredible, please, oh God, k-keep going!âÂ
You can practically feel the smirk on his face as he dives back in, suckling at your clit with an unmatched fervour, his tongue piercing flicking expertly as he does so. Suddenly, you're not creeping toward your release, you're being hurtled toward it, thrown into the depths of absolute pleasure.Â
Hands finding their way into Eddie's hair again, you hold on tight, buckling up for the ride. It's almost violent the way he pulls your climax from you, and you scream loudly, almost folding in half before you fall back onto the bed.Â
Eddie sits up, hands placed on your thighs, as he grins proudly, face shining with your slick.Â
âYou OK princess?âÂ
OK doesn't seem to cover it. You're panting wildly, each breath shallow and ragged, brain melted into soup.Â
âThink you can go again?âÂ
That gets your attention. You sit up, gaping at him. âAgain?âÂ
Chuckling, he runs a finger up your slit and circles your clit in a teasing manner. The slight touch has your thighs trembling.Â
âI think you've got at least one more in you.âÂ
Without a further word he presses his tongue against you. On instinct you grip his hair once more, bucking your hips up.Â
âFuck, that's it sweetheart, ride my face.âÂ
This time he slips his tongue inside as his nose nudges at your clit, the thick muscle curling and writhing. Holding on tight, your hips know what to do, your body reacting and rolling to meet him.Â
You're yanking his hair hard as you grind against his face, pulling deep grunts and moans from him which vibrate inside of you. It feels primal, sheer need clouding your mind, a fog that rolls into every limb and leaves no part untouched.Â
âEddie, fuck!â You moan loudly as your walls clench around his tongue, another climax bubbling its way to the surface. He doubles down with his efforts almost as if he needs this as much as you do.Â
With one final thrust of his tongue you whine out your orgasm, back finally touching the bed once more. There are no thoughts, only your heavy breath and beating heart keeping you in the moment.Â
After a few seconds that seem to stretch on for a year, he hovers over your face. He's wiped off your release, but nothing could wipe that smug grin.Â
âSo? Good?âÂ
It's not like he doesn't know. You pat blindly at his arm, words stuck in a puddle on your tongue. In an unexpected tender gesture, he swipes his thumb over your chin, his gaze pensive. You stare back, fingers reaching out to gently touch his cheek.Â
âAre you going to kiss me?â You whisper, the words pooling from you unbidden.Â
For a split second you think he's going to lean in and close the gap, but he flashes his teeth at you and flicks the tip of your nose.Â
âThat's not part of the deal.âÂ
Disappointment leaks into your stomach. Which is entirely unfair. He's using your words after all. Fighting the feeling, you force a smile.Â
âI think I'll need a wheelchair to get home.â You chuckle, indicating to your still twitching legs.Â
âStay here. I'll take the couch.âÂ
âOh, no, Eddie, I couldn't kick you out of your own bed thats-âÂ
âHey, it's fine, honestly. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean it.â He shrugs and rolls off the bed and onto his feet in one quick movement like a cat. âHere. If you want something to sleep in.â He hands you a faded t-shirt. Hesitating for a moment, your hand hovers over it, but he stuffs it into your grip.Â
âHonestly, it's fine. I can drop you home before work so you can get changed and stuff. No big deal.âÂ
âWhat about your chronic tardiness?â You joke, smiling softly at him.Â
âYou're here, I'm sure you'll whip me into shape.âÂ
âYou'd probably like that,â you tease.Â
âMore than you know.â He winks again, and walks to the doorway. âNight, princess.âÂ
âNight Eddie.âÂ
When he's gone you shrug the shirt on. It's clean, but there's an undercurrent of pure Eddie still there that's more comforting than you'll care to admit. Then, you lay there, staring at the ceiling.Â
Well. You certainly weren't expecting to end up in Eddie's room, in his bed, but here you are. You're not sure what this all means just yet and processing it is just hurting your brain. A part of you is saying that you should get out now whilst you can. Another, louder part is telling you this is where you should be. The only problem: is this message coming from your heart, or much lower down?Â
Chloe drifts into your mind whilst you lay there. Did they hook up in this bed? Are you in the same place she was? And how did that end? Clearly it was on good terms, considering how friendly they are, but how many girls have been where you are right now? A few? A dozen? A hundred?
After a while your thoughts just start to ache, leaving a migraine behind your eyes. Shifting on the bed, you try to get comfortable, but it's no use. You wonder if Eddie is still awake. After all, he's the only one that can answer your questions.Â
Sitting up a little, you listen intently for any signs of life from the next room, but no matter how hard you strain your ears, you can't hear anything.Â
As you quietly get up and creep to the door, you press your ear to it. Maybe that was a word you heard, a loud breath, or the signs of an overactive imagination. Turning the doorknob like a safecracker, you inch the door open ever so slightly to peek beyond.Â
There he is, laying on the couch, eyes tight shut and face contorted in concentration. Odd. You slowly guide the door open a little more and your eyes nearly bug out of your head.Â
Eddie's laying there, hand down his sweats, tugging at himself like there's no tomorrow.
You almost cry out in shock but manage to swallow the noise just in time. For what feels like a full minute you stand and stare, mouth gaping open. It's like you're hypnotised, unable to tear away from his urgent movements.Â
A particularly good stroke has him bucking into his hand, and he lets out this strained whimper that shoots directly between your legs.Â
Right, stop. This is wrong. How would you feel if he caught you? âŠOK, bad example.Â
Reluctantly, you close the door again as quietly as you can before climbing back into his bed to stare at the ceiling once more.Â
It looks like it's going to be a long night.Â
********************
âYou look really great,â Chloe says as she strolls into the shop, handing you a coffee, âlike, happier, more relaxed.âÂ
It's a few days after your impromptu sleepover at Eddie's place, and she's absolutely right. You do look more relaxed, even you've noticed the change. There's more confidence in you, and a smile that was once a little forced is warm and genuine.Â
âThanks, I think I'm getting more comfortable here.â It's not a lie, exactly, but it's certainly not the whole truth.Â
âGood, glad to hear it!â She beams at you and heads to her table.Â
The bell over the door chimes once again startling you. Miranda and Mac are already here and it couldn't possibly be Eddie this early.Â
âUm⊠Hi.â A gangly youth walks in, all arms and legs and bright blonde hair. He shuffles over to the counter awkwardly.Â
âMorning, can I help you?âÂ
âY-yeah, you do walk-ins today, right?â He asks, brandishing a crumpled flyer at you.Â
Face lighting up, you fix your best smile.Â
âWhy yes we do, it's walk-in Wednesday. It's a little early though. Can I see some ID?Â
He hands it over. The guy's freshly 21 and knows it, puffing out his little pigeon chest with pride.Â
âExcellent. It's about 10 minutes until we open, but Miranda will be with you. Miranda, you got a book for this guy?âÂ
Confusion paints Mirandas's face, but then she smiles.Â
âA walk in? Wow.â She strolls over and hands him her portfolio of designs, introducing herself.Â
When Eddie finally turns up, there's another guy waiting.Â
âYou're not my 10:30.âÂ
The poor boy looks at him nervously like he did something wrong.Â
âEddie, he's a walk-in.â Mac says, calling over his shoulder.Â
Eddie smirks at you and leans over the counter.Â
âWell well, bet you're happy. Atta girl.âÂ
Blushing profusely, you move to tap him on the arm in warning, but he grabs your hand and kisses it. Heat flies straight to your belly at the gesture.
âLet me know when my 10:30 is here, alright sweetheart?âÂ
He's still holding your hand, brushing his fingers over your knuckles. Weakly you nod, gazing at him as your toes curl in your shoes.Â
Shooting you a wink, he ambles over to his station as you watch him, eyes drawn to the way he moves.Â
There's three more clients asking about Wednesdays; granted, one didn't have an ID, but the other two were seen and inked, and one even booked a follow up with Miranda.Â
Buzzing with job satisfaction, you're grinning when you nip to the restroom, walking through the narrow corridor. As you exit, you're immediately accosted by Eddie. He stands close, a hand loosely holding your wrist to keep you there as he bends to whisper in your ear.Â
âNow, you're not supposed to touch fine art, but someone's gotta pin you against the wall and nail you right.âÂ
âEddie!â You whisper shout at him, only serving to make him chuckle low in his throat.Â
âSorry, couldn't resist. I have an idea, for that favour you owe me?âÂ
Body tensing of its own accord, you look up at him, your cheeks flushed and mouth slightly parted. Before you can ask what it is, a voice cuts through the tension.Â
âHey, keep it at home guys.âÂ
Mac's standing at the other end of the corridor with his arms crossed, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pursing your lips, you wriggle from Eddie's grip.Â
âIt's not what it looks like Mac, I promise.â You say, shouldering past Eddie.Â
âCome on sweetheart, don't get all shy on me now!â He shouts, walking after you.
You ignore him, giving Mac an apologetic look, and sit back down at the counter. God, that was embarrassing. Seems like professional and discreet are out the window.Â
âSo, as I was saying-âÂ
âEddie, stop, not now.â you say, cheeks bright red.Â
âI was only-âÂ
âEddie please! I don't want to get into trouble!âÂ
Eddie scoffs and rolls his eyes, but backs off finally.Â
You make a very clear point of being busy until the rest of the day, completing any ad hoc tasks you can think of. Tidying the stock cupboards, refreshing the consent sheets, and even organising the sparse counter. Anything to avoid further comment from Mac.Â
When six rolls around you turn to talk to Eddie, but he's already leaving without a glance at you.Â
Sighing, you make your way outside and home, trying to ignore the little sting in your chest.Â
********************
It's Saturday before you see him again. Your day off was mostly spent worrying about how you upset him and thinking about everything you could have done differently.Â
By the morning you're an emotional wreck, anxiety having done her job and left you a bubbling mass of maybes. When Eddie storms in the shop with a proverbial rain cloud over his head your heart pangs in your chest.Â
He's such a big character, and you didn't realise until now the influence this has on this place. Usually he's energetic and upbeat; however, with this melancholy energy coming from him, everyone seems to stoop a little more, eyes a touch downcast, movements more shuffled and broken. It's like a black hole has descended on the shop, pulling joy from your soul and sucking everything into its gravity.
The tattoo shop is quiet for a Saturday. Not from lack of customers; it's just a more hushed and sullen atmosphere. By the afternoon you decide enough is enough and you grab Eddie's arm between clients.
âEddie, can I talk to you?âÂ
He gets up, stretching his back in a feline movement, and walks with you slowly to the stockroom.Â
âListen, I'm really sorry about what happened on Wednesday, I didn't want to upset you and I can't stand seeing you like this and-âÂ
âWoah, sweetheart, slow down. You been worrying? About me?â He tilts his head, giving you a small lopsided smile.Â
âYeah? I thought you were mad at me.â You mumble out.Â
âOh, princess, come here.â He wraps you in his arms, holding your head close to his chest. A relieved breath puffs from your chest as you melt into the hug.Â
âThat's not what I'm upset about, I promise.âÂ
You pull from the embrace to look at him, a hopeful smile tugging at your lips.Â
âReally?âÂ
Stroking your cheek softly, he presses his lips together. âYou're adorable,â he moves his hand away and starts waving his arm about as he tells you what's wrong.Â
âYou know I'm in a band? Well we've got this regular gig at Hatters, which is great and all, but I found out they're looking for more bands at The Pit. That big rock club on Main? I've been trying to get hold of the damn owner but he's ignoring all my calls and I'm pissed off.âÂ
Grinning, you grab his arm. âEddie, I can totally help you with that.âÂ
His gaze is soft and warm as he asks âReally? You'd do that for me?âÂ
âOf course I would. You got their number?âÂ
He digs around in his pocket and passes you a wedge of shiny paper. Unfolding it, you look at the details, smiling even wider when you see they're attempting a ladies night. There's a telephone number at the bottom, the contact listed as William.Â
âI gotta idea. Just roll with it, OK?âÂ
He looks confused but nods at you. Skipping to the counter, you pick up the phone and dial the number. When it's answered by a young woman, you speak with a nasal voice, sounding almost bored.Â
âIs Bill there?- Tell him it's Barb- oh trust me he's gonna wanna take this call honey.âÂ
Eddie's staring at you with an amused expression; you look back at him, flashing a smile while you wait.Â
âBill! How long has it been! Oh, don't say you don't remember me⊠oh, you do!- I'm good, I'm good- I'm managing this band, yeah, you've gotta book them- Corroded Coffin- yeah, yeah- They are hot right now, selling out their shows- look I know you're struggling getting the ladies in, but that's about to change. Their lead singer is- well lemme tell you, if I were a younger woman- haha yes, sounds great! Next Saturday?- Nine- Great stuff- I'll speak to you soon.âÂ
Placing the phone down with a little click, you cross your legs and look at Eddie smugly.Â
His jaw may as well be on the floor, eyebrows so high that he resembles a cartoon character.Â
âBarb? Selling out their shows? If I were a younger woman? Where the fuck did that come from?âÂ
You giggle, âI thought he'd listen if he thought I was a business connection. I took a shot, a little bullshit can take you far.âÂ
He swoops over to you and grabs you in his arms, lifting you bodily from your seat and swinging you around as you squeal helplessly.Â
âSaturday? Not even midweek? Princess I owe you big time.âÂ
âEddie I already owe-âÂ
He's not listening, running over to Mac and bouncing on the spot like a child. âMac, Mac, did you hear? I'm playing at The Pit!!âÂ
You watch as he explains what just happened; he's so animated, gesticulating wildly as loose locks of hair fly from his bun. Mac beams at him and hugs him in a fatherly motion before Eddie springs back over to you.Â
âWho the fuck is Barb?â
âI dunno, she sounded worldly.âÂ
He grins, shaking his head, âI can't believe you lied for me. You seem⊠different lately. More confident. It suits you.âÂ
Blushing, you thank him. For a second you stare at each other, both lost in the other.Â
Eddie shakes his head, and looks at the time.Â
âFuck, right, I got 20 minutes, I'll be back!â He grabs his coat and runs out of the shop shouting âpersonal errand!âÂ
Chuckling, you sit back down at the counter. Mac approaches, smiling softly.Â
âYou did good Miss, he's really happy.âÂ
âThanks, I couldn't bear the sulking.âÂ
He laughs and touches your shoulder, âhe cares about you. In case you didn't notice.âÂ
He walks away nonchalantly as if he didn't just drop a bomb at your feet. Eddie cares about you? You're still pondering it when he returns a half hour later looking sweaty and dishevelled.Â
âPrincess, I got you a present,â he whispers, brandishing a nondescript black bag at you. You peek inside and shut it immediately.Â
âEddie what the fuck!â You whisper, face flooding with blood at the sight as you hide it under the counter. There's a sex toy in the bag, well at least one, but you were so shocked at the sight you didn't get a good look.Â
He chuckles and leans in close. âThought you'd like it.âÂ
âEddie I don't know how to- to use this stuff,â you mumble quietly, looking around to make sure no one's listening.Â
He smirks at you in response.
âYou free tonight? I can show you.âÂ
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#ms gexy writes#ink shop eddie#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie x you#tattoo artist eddie munson#tattoo artist eddie#eddie x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x female!reader#older eddie munson#older! eddie#older!eddie#stranger things imagines#stranger things#stranger things smut
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"Is the room to your liking?"
Riddle's tentative voice rings through the peaceful silence. He's stood like a stranger, unsure and hesitant in his crimson pajamas. Which is ironic given the fact that itâs his own room that the two of you are in. Really, that should be you standing around awkwardly. But instead here you were, sat on his king sized bed in similar pajamas without shame.
"Riddle," you don't have to fake the giddy grin as it stretches across your face painfully wide. "Any room is to my liking considering the shack I currently call home."
He gives you a concerned little smile in response. You couldnât help it, you were excited to finally be able to sleep on a mattress that wasnât lumpy. Or creaky. And or slightly moldy. The point being youâre excited to get some good sleep.
Riddle flicks off the lights and starts to settle into bed. You follow his lead, because if there is one thing Riddle Rosehearts can do is be a commanding presence even in satin pjs.
He turns on his side, staring at you from across a reasonable gap given the fact that you were currently sharing a bed. A really big one at that but a bed regardless.
And then continues to stare as a questionable silence occurs.
âDo you always go to bed this early?â You blurt out before you can think any better of it. The awkwardness was just asking to be broken.
âThis is early?â Riddleâs eyebrows raise in surprise. âIâve always gone to bed at this hour, even as a child.â
You can just vaguely make out the light of the still setting sun from the window behind you.
âWell, I mean, what time do you normally get up?â
â6 am.â
âOh,â well. Maybe heâll let you sleep in, enjoy the luxury of a non-lumpy bed while you still can.
âYou seem apprehensive.â Riddle fiddles with the blanket in his hands where it rests right below his chin. You try and shoo the imagery of a small child being tucked in out of your brain.
Thank god his unique magic didnât have to do with reading minds, otherwise youâd be thrown to the streets with a collar as a parting gift.
Speaking of collars and lack there of, today had marked a month since Riddleâs âbig summer blowoutâ as you have codenamed it as. And what started as a â1 month of sobrietyâ joke by Ace turned into an actual celebration by Cater. So, naturally, you dragged yourself along and helped yourself to Treyâs mouthwatering pastries. But then one thing led to another and somehow you were roped into playing a Twisted Wonderland version of Monopoly that led to Grim melting all the plastic house pieces in a fit of firey tantrum to then being forced to fix them by Riddle in an impromptu magic lesson/lecture andâ
Yeah, so a lot happened. And next thing you know, youâre being surveilled watched by Trey as you meticulously brush your teeth along to his direction⊠for some reason? Turns out Ace wasnât spewing complete lies about Treyâs âfetishâ for teeth. You wouldnât call it that, personally. It was more like a⊠slightly uncomfortable passion.
But anyway, here you are. Sleeping over at Heartslabyul because Riddle had insisted you and Grim stay the night since by the time you had realized, it was past curfew. Though, surprisingly, Riddle insisted that you share his bed. And Grim, still more than a little apprehensive about the Dormhead, scampered off to sleep with the other freshmen. Cramped dorm rooms be damned.
âPrefect?â
You shake yourself from your thoughts, realizing you had left Riddle hanging for your answer.
âNo, no. Iâm just⊠difficult to get up in the morning.â You settle on saying, fiddling with the comforter much like Riddle was.
âOh, well you canât be worse than Ace. Heâd sleep the entire day away if I allowed it.â
You can see that familiar spark of disapproval flare up behind his eyes and you instinctively tense up. Though as quick as it was there, it fizzles out. Reminding you that yes, this was Riddle, but not the same one that nearly decapitated you with a rose bush.
This is the one that you saw break down in tears on the Heartslabyul lawn after treating it like a playground sandbox. The one that nearly did it againâthe crying part, not the sandbox bitâas he pulled you aside and apologized for nearly killing you.
You remind yourself that as you decide to take a small leap of faith with your next words.
âI was also sort of hoping to sleep in tomorrow.â
âOh,â is all he says. Which isnât terrible, but not exactly good either.
âSince, you know. Itâll be Sunday. And, you know, still the weekend so. Good to get caught up on sleep while you can⊠you know.â
Heâs analyzing what youâve said, you can tell by the way his eyes get wide and concentrated. Oh, heâs biting his lip now. That means heâs actually considering your thoughts. Heâs thinking, heâs about to speakâ
âAlright.â
ââŠAlright?â
âYes, alright.â He seems to solidify his answer with a nod. âLetâs sleep in.â
Those words settle in your chest like the sweetest relief.
âBrilliant idea, Riddle!â You can feel the excitement as it grows in your chest. So much so you reach over and grasp his hand, shaking it in emphasis. âYou wonât regret this, I tell you.â
âYouâre acting like Iâve just done something revolutionary.â He titters, cheeks pink from the unexpected contact as you basically start shaking his hand like an eager businessman after a hard won deal.
âHow many times have you slept in before?â
He opens his mouth to respond, ponders, and then slowly shuts it.
âSee! So it's basically revolutionary. Why do you think we threw you a party?"
"Oh, and that's another thing." He seems to remember something at the mention of the party. "The fact that Ace and Cater kept congratulating me on my '1 month of sobriety' is pure nonsense. I've never had a lick of alcohol my whole life, so why would I be sober if I never got not sober to begin with?"
As he rambled, you could see his confusion slowly shifting towards indignance. His cheeks were beginning to flush, eyebrows knitting together. His fingers were clenching and unclenching in the sheets pulled over his body.
He looks at you now with pursed lips, bordering on pouty, waiting for a reply.
"...Well, it's a, um..." You stop yourself from saying joke. If you wanted Riddle to not possibly get offended, you'd need to overexplain as much as he can overthink. "It's supposed to be ironic. As in like, 'haha get it? Riddle would never get drunk and therefore sobriety makes no sense and therefore is funny!' kind of ironic."
You subconsciously ended up avoiding eye contact throughout your entire explanation. And also leaving out the comparison of his... "moments" with alcoholism, since you didn't think that would go over very well. So when you finish and decide to just bite the bullet and look, his expression is one of... disappointment?
"Oh," he says, simply and softly. "I see, I guess that... makes sense."
...Maybe you should explain the comparison. "If you need me to elaborate, I can."
"No," he quickly responds with a shake of the head. "That won't be necessary. Your explanation was more than enough."
His eyes are trained on a loose piece of thread near the edge of his pillow yet it's like he's staring straight through it.
"Is there... something else then that's on your mind?"
"I guess I am just... realizing a few things about myself. Especially in regards to these past few months. All those times when I overheard a student comment that I 'couldn't take a joke' were, in essence, correct."
"What?" Talk about a topic shift. "Wait, hold on a second, where did this come from?"
"From just now, actually." He begins picking at the thread he's been zoning out on. "I mean, you saw me. I almost talked myself into a tizzy over, what? A harmless phrase that had no intention of demeaning my character? That ended up turning into a party meant to congratulate me?"
"Well, I mean, there is an underlying comparison between your 'tizzy' moments and alcoholism soâ"
"Ace was right."
You blink, momentarily wondering if the person laying across from you is actually Riddle or not.
"How?" You don't bother with hiding your incredulousness, too confused to sugarcoat.
"When he said that everyone around me only panders to my behavior." He huffs, a small humorless laugh filled with self deprecation. "I, all that time, was just silencing thoughts and behavior that I viewed as wrong even though it would've been right. It's no wonder some of the freshman are still hesitant with me. Why it feels like everyone is walking around eggshells when they talk to me."
"Even you, Prefect." He looks... small, truly like a child. Curled into himself like he wishes to disappear from sight. Blinking rapidly like he's trying not to cry. "Even you do it. You let me do what I want, you're never 100% honest with me, and you justify my responses. Like just now."
You open your mouth to rebuttal, but he shakes his head, smiling sadly.
"Don't bother, I can give you examples. Asking me if we could sleep in, expecting me to disagree. Only half explaining the meaning to me since it'd be directly referencing my anger. Which you have yet to actually name for what it is, not once."
You... hadn't even realized you were doing that. It was all just, natural. Instinctive.
"I can... I'm not the most perceptive but, I can tell when you tense up, Prefect."
He meets your gaze, and that's when you process the tension in your shoulders. You had been tensing them, for who knows how long.
"I don't blame you," he speaks before you can begin to try and say anything in response. "Not after everything I did, not after I overblotted and nearly got us all killed."
He looks defeated as he turns over to lie on his back, staring up at the canopy of his bed.
"Ace and all of them were right, I'm just a baby tyrant."
The two of you lapse into silence, you with nothing to say and him having said it all. You don't know how long you stare at his profile for, just scraping the recesses of your brain for the words to say. But eventually, you decide "fuck it" and just let him have it. Like he deserves.
"So you're a bit of a control freak." His head snaps to you but you force yourself to ignore it, barreling onwards. "Scratch that, you ARE a control freak. Can you blame yourself? What with that shitty mom you have, I'd be surprised if you didn't turn out some form of fucked up."
"My mother isâ"
"Nope," you abruptly hold a finger up right to his face. "None of that, I'm talking. You want the truth so I'm giving you the truth. Your mom sucks, severely. She basically made you into the baby tyrant that you are. And we, as friends and as your dormmates, have perpetuated that attitude. Thereby continuing the cycle of tyranny until when someone eventually called you out on it, you exploded."
All that momentary fight dies out the more you went on. Every new statement was like a lash across his face. Now he refuses to look at you, too disappointed to meet your gaze. Eyes glossy with unshed tears.
You cross the invisible wall between you two and reach out, grabbing his hand once again in yours.
"But that doesn't mean you can't change." You squeeze his hand, whether to reassure yourself or him is beyond even you. "The fact that you're acknowledging your behavior is proof enough that you're on your way to fixing it. But even then, healing isn't linear. If you take a few steps back, just get back on it again. It's going to be a while but there's nothing you can do about that except let it happen and be patient. Don't let every reminder of your faults be a dissuasion, let it be a motivator to keep going."
You take a moment to breathe, but also to gauge his reaction. Wide eyed and staring at you in wonderment, Riddle lays unmoving. Nothing but the dim impression of street lights outside to illuminate his form in the darkness of his bedroom. Looking at you and only you.
"I'll do better," you tell him, resolute. "I'll hold you accountable. I'll remind myself more to say what I mean, or even call you out on your shit if I need to. And if not me then someone else will, especially Ace. Consequences be damned with him."
He's lying once more on his side, mirroring you like before. His fingers have since found their place around your hand, holding it in kind. His grip tightens with the lull in your speech. You don't know whether it was intentionally or not but it's enough to encourage you to let that last little thought out.
"And for what it's worth, I think you're doing as good a job as any, Riddle."
Silence settles in, him with nothing to say and you having said it all. Well, almost having said it all.
"So," you pipe up before those tears you can see in his eyes decide to fall. "I think this call for a concluding hug, what do you say?"
So, so many emotions fly across his face as you hold open your arms as best you can while lying on a bed. Eventually, what he settles on doing is laughing. Watery and in disbelief, Riddle laughs and leans forwards into your arms.
"Honestly," he chides without an ounce of real intent as he presses his face into your shoulder. "That's how you decide to end your thoughts?"
"I don't see you doing any better, Mr. 'I'm just a baby tyrant.'"
A month ago, that response would've gotten you a one way ticket to collar town. But tonight, he only laughs and holds you tighter.
"Touché, Prefect." He leans back enough that you're able to watch as a smile spreads across his face, unabashed and bright like the sun.
It's one of the firsts of its kind that you've ever seen on his face. You hope you can keep producing more just like it.
#merry f-ing christmas#here's some food#yes i know it's been a while college tried to eat me alive#never take 20 credit hours in one semester#but anyways i'm back and with riddle this time#this was meant to be more lighthearted and less actual coping advice but idk what happened my finger slipped or smth#twisted wonderland#disney twisted wonderland#twst#twst scenarios#twst imagines#twst x reader#twisted wonderland scenarios#twisted wonderland x reader#riddle rosehearts x reader#riddle rosehearts#alice writes twst
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