they/them i talk about kpop, miraculous ladybug, five nights at freddy’s, treasure planet, sonic the hedgehog, and other things (sometimes). I also waste my time on widgets.
synopsis: going up to yeonjun's dorm, the man you believe to be a complete tool, and asking to use his shower isn't very fun.
genre: one sided enemies to lovers, fluff, angst??
pairing: yeonjun x f!reader
warning: very unrealistic writing of living on campus (i'm manifesting here..), a curse word here and there
author notes: this is so incredibly short but i like writing banter so..lol this really is just banter. reblogging is appreciated!
Transferring to a different college mid semester for better opportunities proved to be that mistake. The mistake you realize is going to be hard to top, the biggest one you've made in your entire life.
In addition to losing daily contact with your friends, you were in a complete foreign city, practically stranded. You had zero relationship with your professors, there were completely different material you had to learn to pass exams, and you had no time to make any friends. even after you decided to go through the on-campus housing route, You were only on friendly speaking terms with your roommate.
You wished you reviewed the dormitories, but you hadn't which then cost you to learn that the girls dormitory had constant complaints about water supply; it was either the sink, the toilet, or the shower — it would just decide to stop working.
Thankfully, the time you've spent living with your roommate, you only experienced one — the sink. There were problems with it practically every other day, ten times more constant than everybody else. Which caused you to naively believe it canceled out all the other occuring problems everyone else had.
So, imagine your surprise when you walk in under the shower head, butt naked, with not one drop coming out on your hair.
"Yunjin!" you yell out, panicking as you adjust the diverter still with no sign of water. "Yunjin is the water out!?"
You sigh when you can't hear a response through the door, and opted to step out the shower, and carefully walk towards the door. You slightly open it, making sure to only poke your head out as your eyes wandered around the dorm.
Great, there's no sign of her.
When you get dressed again, you throw yourself on your bed, staring at the time on your phone. 8:39PM.
Your roommate had helped you out with getting a blind date, in hopes of "putting yourself out there". Though at the time you didn't meet her with much excitement, pretending to despise the idea—Currently, you were practically a few seconds away from pulling out your hair at the thought of missing it.
For god sake, you haven't been on a date since, what, two years? And even worse, when you finally got a chance, you weren't ditching the date on your own accord, but because you couldn't shower!
"I'm gonna fucking sue them!" you shout, directing your pit of rage at your ceiling. Though, right after, you bury your face in your pillow, groaning like a little child, knowing that no matter how many complaints you submit, there would be zero response. So, at the moment, it felt like the best thing to do was give up.
Give up and ...reschedule.
No, you can't—you won't. You have to go on the date—today. An adrenaline-like surge of determination motivates you to shoot up from your bed, and quickly head to your bathroom again. You will go on this date, you owe it to Yunjin—and also, to yourself.
When you look at the counter, you immediately spot the magic wand practically ogling at you, begging you to use it. Your deodorant.
What other option did you have? When you pick up the deodorant stick, you shut your eyes, praying that the combination between deodorant and perfume could manage to make you smell good enough. You exhale, the gross thought making it hard for you to even lift your shirt.
You hear a ping of your phone, quickly opening your eyes, dropping your hand, which in turn also gets your hand off the piece of fabric you were holding.
When you look at the notification, you exhaustedly exhale, your shoulders dropping. It wasn't surprising to see it was him. Yeonjun—the guy you've been working on a project with for the past few months.
And also, the guy you've been trying to avoid ever since you got assigned the project. He was practically a mosquito, buzzing near your ears every waking moment of the day. It was easier for him when he got your number, as per your professor's request. According to her, it would be easier for you two to communicate with each other's contact numbers.
But you begged to differ, especially after these tortuous days of having your phone go off randomly throughout the day. All it did was tear away your focus from more important matters.
You opt to ignore the text, like you always do— and focus on your preparation for your date. That is, until a light bulb lights up above your head, halting your movement, as you furrow your brows in thought.
The boy's dormitory never had an issue with water, it was a usual complaint you'd overhear girls around you say in your morning classes. Their issue was odor. Which you would bet a few cents that that was specifically the consequence of the herd of men living in one space, but you digress.
Sure, you aren't very fond of the idea to go up to the man you find pretty repulsive—in terms of personality, repulsive. He was the walking definition of a douche, but you just got a date, in two years! Who knows the next time you'll get the golden opportunity again? So, you grab your towel and head out the bathroom.
You only hope that your lack of answering back texts wouldn't backfire on you.
Though it took him a few knocks, Yeonjun finally opens his door. His jaw slacks a little and brows raised, clearly taken back by your sudden visit. You wait for him to say something—or rather, you take the time to study his figure for a good second; your eyes instinctually taking in how...good he looks. His dyed hair subtly spiking his eyes, his lips looking a little more pink than usual, and the flowy dress shirt being down two button, exposing his chest—
"Y/N checking out Yeonjun part, what, a hundred?" he stupidly grins, leaning on his door frame with his arms crossed.
"Part zero." you deadpan, he was back to getting on your nerves.
"Right..." he purses his lip, which earns an audible scoff from you, his confidence was astoundingly high. Normally, you'd think it was a praiseworthy trait, confident people are cool, but Yeonjun was something else.
"Okay—look, I have no time to waste. I need your help." you say, cutting to the chase.
"Clearly..." Yeonjun says, his gaze falling to the towel hanging on one arm, and a plastic bag tight in your hand.
"First, sorry for coming here so unexpectedly—"
"Hold on," he raises up a hand to stop you, which is an annoying thing he's been doing to you lately. "Did you just apologize? To me?" he then puts a hand on his heart, pouting like a child.
When you try to open your mouth again, his finger was on your lips in attempt to shut you up — he was getting dangerously confident. You glare at him, which sends the message loud and clear as he drops his hand immediately.
"Look, if you're here for the project, I can't. I actually have a bedtime I have to follow through."
You furrow your eyebrows in disbelief. "A bedtime? What are you? Twelve?"
He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disapproval. "Damn it Y/N, this was the part where you were supposed to prove to me that you're worthy of me letting you in my dorm."
"I'm not here for the project, Yeonjun." you sigh, your energy drained from all his talking.
"Then what? It's like—" he raises his wrist to take a look at his watch. And to your dismay, his smug smile prepares you for some more teasing. "My, my, my. Coming to my dorm at nine? So I see it you changed your mind about, you know..." he puckers his lips in attempt to make smooching noises, which only earned a judgemental stare from your side.
"We're never going to have sex—ugh, I just came to use your shower, the one at my dorm stopped working." you've learned to stop yourself from engaging with his antics, it only cost you more social battery after all.
"Ah." he says, biting his lip as he appears to think more of your request. "I'm sorry, can't." he concludes.
"Huh? Why?" you ask then immediately groan at a thought, "God, do you have a girl naked in there?"
"You don't realize it sometimes Y/N, but you are a slut shamer."
You deadpan, letting out a long sigh. "Are you calling yourself a slut?"
"Frankly, for your information, I don't have a girl in there. She actually left a few minutes ago." he says ignoring your question, though he couldn't be happier from the annoyed reaction he got out of you— which he was quick to love and appreciate the more he got it.
You roll your eyes, "So, why can't you?"
"Glad you asked," he says, reaching in his pockets to dig out something. He faces his phone to you, your messages open, only blue texts being on the screen. "You've been ghosting me for like, two weeks."
So your lack of replying back is biting you in the ass.
You didn't have time, dropping the plastic bag full of your date clothes, reaching out to your pocket to get your phone.
You quickly type up an 'okay' without reading the text, and hit send. When you hear the sound of a notification from his phone, you put up a tight lipped smile as you shove your phone in your pockets, picking up your clothes and pushing yourself in his dorm.
Yeonjun broke into a smile you don't catch, as he looks back to you. "Breaking and entering is a felony Y/N!" he yells out.
You ignore him, your attention more focused on how weirdly neat his place was. Was he a fast cleaner? Tidying up the place this fast after sex?
You guessed that was what a long duration of experience gives you — the ability to clean up in minutes. But then you noticed a computer open, with the desk it's on being surrounded with crumbled paper.
Odd.
You hear the door shut, guessing it was Yeonjun, which snaps you out of your thoughts as you immediately head to the bathroom. If you stayed a second later, there was a 50% chance he would've stopped you to ask questions.
When you enter the bathroom, and lock the door behind you, you're pleasantly caught by surprise.
The smell—the smell wasn't foul. You hate to admit, in the back of your mind, you'd always have this image of Yeonjun—a player who was gross.
You don't exactly know why you held onto it for so long since there were multiple, multiple times you got close enough, that your nose could pick up his cologne—it smelled really good, not too strong, just enough.
And when you stand there in his bathroom, weirdly finding yourself inhaling the scent of the air—it smelled pretty fucking good.
A loud knock on the door your back is leaning on startles you, making you jump. "Hey, hurry up! I'm giving you fifteen minutes."
Fifteen minutes? What a psycho.
You shake your head at your own ungratefulness—he was letting you borrow his shower, which you genuinely appreciated, so you undressed quickly in hopes of showering forty minutes max.
You didn't pick up your hair brush with you, so consequently you were spending a great deal of time untangling your hair with your towel—which wasn't very..effecitve.
You already changed, obviously, but your makeup was undone. Just lipgloss was all you had time to do, you thought in your head, disappointed.
Not to forget—Yeonjun has been talking to you through the door the moment you shut the running water—not proving the mosquito reincarnation theories you've been holding onto, to be wrong. He was driving you very close to the edge of insanity.
"You're taking so long." he whines for the hundredth time. "I have to show you something."
You groan, walking towards the door. You were clothed now anyway, if opening the door would finally fix Yeonjun's mouth being a broken record, you would happily do it.
He shuffles away from the door when you push it open, flustered as he clears his throat.
Was he leaning on the door?
"What do you want?"
You think you see his eyes scanning your outfit for a second, a hint of confusion overtaking his expression but he turns away to walk towards the computer—the one that was previously surrounded with balled up paper, so you ignore it. "You look hot but I'll decide to ignore that. I have to show you something."
You exhale, your hair still pretty untamed. "Alright, I don't have that much time though."
He let himself fall on his spinning office chair, as he gestures his hand for you to sit at the edge of his bed.
You clear your throat, waiting for him to stop stalling through his spinning.
And he does.
"Okay." he exhaled, a little shakily. Which was weird. "So, remember the text you sent okay too?"
"Yeonjun...that just happened. Like an hour ago."
"Yep, yeah. Cool, cool, cool." he repeats, opting to spin once more. You raise an eyebrow, is he trolling you?
"I didn't like—you know, read the text. I mean, I can."
"You didn't read it? You should. Actually—nope, no. You shouldn't. You should. Yeah, you should."
You knit your eyebrows together at his odd speaking patterns. Reaching for your phone, you click on the message icon—until a number pops up, calling you.
All of a sudden, you get nervous. Your hand getting all clammy as you swiped right on the call.
"Hi." you breath out, biting your lip in eagerness to hear your date's voice.
Yeonjun only watches you, cocking his head at the sudden mood change. No—he was tilting his head because of all of that. Your dress, the matching bag, your lipgloss.
He furrows his brows, still watching you stutter on the phone, and practically making a fool of yourself with the way you were stupidly, prettily smiling ear to ear.
You never did that with him. Okay, sure, he likes seeing you roll your eyes or scoff at his antics— it brings him pure joy! But god, thinking now, he would appreciate it a hundred times more if your reaction to him was a smile—that smile instead. Or a laugh. Or a hug, maybe a kiss—
Time didn't wait for anyone—connecting the dots unfortunately only happened the moment you hung up the phone.
"Sorry, that was my date. I really have to go. What do you want to show me?"
"Um—uh...gross!"
You scrunch up your face, taken aback. "What?"
"You—you have, like, spinach stuck between your teeth."
Your eyes widen in shock immediately getting off the bed, but then you halt, turning to look at Yeonjun. "But I didn't eat spinach today. Or yesterday." you mumble.
"Well, I'm sorry I'm not a professional chef that can tell what that nasty piece of green leaf is in between your teeth."
"God, is it that bad?" you ask in horror, not waiting for his reply as you burst into the bathroom.
Meanwhile as you check your teeth in the mirror, Yeonjun immediately grabs the phone you left on his bed, which was still open—letting him breath in relief.
He immediately went on to his name on your phone to open the messages between you two—it was ridiculous but a smile still tugged on his lips for a split second when he noticed his contact name was the one he typed in a few months ago, still 'hottest man alive'—he took it a sign you didn't disagree... or it could be that you were too lazy to change it.
But he immediately shook his head out of the thought — doing his job of deleting the message that you sent an okay to.
"What the fuck are you doing?" you say with wide eyes, snatching your phone away from the boys hand.
"Just checking the time." he says with an awkward smile, a little startled of your sudden presence.
"On my phone? You literally have a watch." you say, your tone laced with confusion.
Which signaled Yeonjun to shoot up from his bed, pushing you out towards the door—there was no way out of this but to push you out, and hopefully the date being horrible enough for you to forget about confronting him about this tomorrow. And the day after tomorrow. Preferably, for the rest of his life on Earth.
"Time for you to leave!" he yells, finally getting you out of his dorm, and now out in the hallway.
Before you could say anything—for example, reminding him that 90% of the stuff you brought was still in the bathroom—he slammed the door right in your face.
When you recollect your shock, you scoff, your annoyance through the roof.
What was he looking at in your phone?
You open it, hoping to find the answer.
But you're only confused as you only see your chat with Yeonjun open.
And even more confused when the text length of the message before your 'okay' was way shorter than what you remember.
Meanwhile, Yeonjun was sitting on his desk chair, biting his lip as he hesitantly hit the delete button on the music project he's been working on.
ending a/n: i think i'm allergic to ending a fic with the two pairings getting together cz tell me why this was deadass just enemies to ????? T_T
genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, crack, little angst
synopsis: after yeonjun hears you referring to him as someone who's like a brother ...he tries his hardest to make you see him as a potential boyfriend.
or in which you're perplexed at all the movie hangouts your friend has been initiating.
warning: mature language, reader is assumed to be fem
notes: honestly, i always try to cut down the word count to make it more available for people who only read drabbles/blurbs but i just CANT. so here's another short oneshot T-T and as always, reblog to help the algorithm pick up on this :D
yeonjun was confused walking back home -- no, the whole day, he was disturbed. the reason for this was yesterday...when he went to get drinks for both you and him at a frat party.
the crowds were insanely hard to get through (and it didn't help that people kept on stopping him to 'catch up' or whatnot) so it took him more than fifty minutes to come back with the drinks he promised to get.
but it looked like it was too late because the people you were surrounding yourself with when yeonjun was there...disappeared. instead, you're bundled up, alone in a corner, with a guy he does not know. which was already weird because yeonjun knew everybody, and that was enough reason for him to hurry his ass up through sweaty frat drunks and make sure the unknown guy isn't some sleazeball.
that time he wasn't aware that he rolled his eyes but he did conciously plan to squeeze himself into the conversation...and technically cockblock.
but when he neared you...that's when his world shattered...on more dramatic terms. it was more like his confidence was shot down to the deepest depths of hell.
"oh, yeonjun? pfft, he's like a brother!"
even though it was almost barely audible due to the blasting music, 'brother' to his ears were magnified -- the word circling through his head.
brother. brother?!
and as a result of this baffling situation, he had backed himself in an opposing corner with your cup in his right and his cup in his left, way further than you now, thinking of where did it go wrong?
he's never had someone friend-zone him -- for heavensake, he's yeonjun, he's aware of how attractive he is. but brother-zone? that was even worse of an attack!
it doesn't matter that you said it -- come on, that's barely the case. it's the fact that someone was so unattracted to him that he was seen as a sibling.
sure, you and yeonjun were a sort of bunch that have been together since... forever, really. seriously, you were friends since elementary -- when you joined the school, fourth grade, mindlessly kicking rocks at recess he approached you like the social butterfly kid that he was, asking you if you wanted to come play with his friends.
once he took another sip of the red cup in his right hand, the fruity punch being way too overbearing (just how'd you like it), he furrowed his brows together.
he definitely doesn't see you as a sister.
he'd have to admit that when middle school hit and his puberty was acting up around ...the seventh grade? he was convinced that he would eventually marry you like the way his parents were. a brother wouldn't have felt that way about his sister! normally that is...
granted, he mostly blamed that on the first strikes of puberty because right after middle school, he moved on from the thought -- completely abandoning his pre-puberty dreams, but that was besides the point!
he was getting nauseous from the sweetness of his drink and the further he thought about the way you thought of him, he felt that he would ruin the party by vomiting on someone.
his night was officially ruined. absolutely, fundementally, literally ruined.
and thats how he found himself unfocused on everything around him the next day, finally making the decision to consult with his roommates about this frankly, very big conundrum.
"you can't just purposefully leave out important details? like, how am i supposed to diagnose you properly bro?" beomgyu asked as he spammed the keys on his controller.
"you're not diagnosing me--" yeonjun exhaled, wanting to to keep the banter to the minimum in respect to the issue he's facing. "literally what do you think we're doing right now?"
"i'm going to be completely honest and say ...i have no idea-- shit, what the fuck are you doing heeseung? jump! jump!" he yelled towards the big screen in front of him.
yeonjun groaned, turning his head to behind the couch. "soobin, it's not too late to help out your only friend!" he yelled out in hopes of it reaching the guy's bedroom.
and with no response, he turned back to watching the game beomgyu was playing. "god, you know how many times i gave that guy life changing advice on women?"
"and this is how he repays me?"
beomgyu nodded along to whatever yeonjun was mumbling about until the brunette magically connected dots and euphoric realization hit him. beomgyu almost scrambled around to completely face him this time, "hold on, hold on. yeonjun you lost me, are you having girl problems?"
to that, yeonjun rolled his eyes. "i wouldn't call it 'girl problems', that sounds like a problem soobin would have."
"uh-huh ...uh-huh. no, no yeah." beomgyu said nodding mindlessly to save the guy some face. "heeseung i'm logging off dude, yeonjuns got girl problems."
yeonjun just deadpanned to the back of the guys head, having no will to correct him.
he wanted to get the pending issue out of the way first.
it was more situated a few minutes later. instead of beomgyu sitting on the floor criss crossed, leaned on the couch yeonjun was sitting on, beomgyu was now sitting on the chair next to the couch, his elbows on his knees, brows deeply furrowed.
and not to forget yeonjun's pen and paper in hand.
"so... you're trying to get a girl to like you?"
"not like. i want her to see me as someone she would want as a boyfrie--" when he saw beomgyus brow raising up as to say 'whats the difference' he cleared his throat. "yea, basically."
"don't you know how to do that though?"
he shrugged, "it's different this time."
"how?"
"trust me, it's very different."
"okay but how?"
"you'd be the last person i'd ask for an interrogation beomgyu, that'd be a task for like... taehyun or something."
"i'm sorry that i need to understand my client first--"
"i am not your client" yeonjun said, rolling his eyes.
"what's going on here?", yeonjun turned his head to see soobin behind the kitchen island, scooping himself some icecream.
"dude, where were you when i needed you?", yeonjun asked.
"me and yj are holding a dating therapy session."
yeonjun turned his head to beomgyu, "again, it's not a therapy sessio--"
"you're getting dating advice from beomgyu?" soobin asked, his face scrunched up doubting if it really got this bad.
and back to soobin. "when you say it like that.."
"soobin can you please leave yeonjun alone? he's in a very vulnerable state right now"
then beomgyu again. "i'm seriously going to beat you up." he said, biting his bottom lip and raising his fist against his roommate. beomgyu immediately jumps dramatically, shielding himself with his arms up.
"see? he's getting violent!"
soobin finally plopped on the couch next to yeonjun with his cup of icecream. "explain it to me, maybe i can help you out."
"i'll save you the trouble, he's not explaining for whatever reason--"
"a girl said that i'm like a brother to her." yeonjun reluctantly mumbled.
a wave of silence hit the dorm, for a minute yeonjun thought they just didn't hear him and to be completely honest, he was about to thank the gods because he regretted saying anything the moment he did, but that thought was immediately shot down when both sides of his ears were being blasted by humiliating laughter.
soobin got up, patting yeonjun's shoulder as reassurance, still laughing. "yeah, good luck with that hyung."
"okay, it's not even that bad--"
"dude, not even cha eunwoo would survive the sibling zone." beomgyu said, a hard reality check for yeonjun. "though hyunbin might.." he mumbled to himself. yeonjun caught it though, but it didn't matter. yeonjun was no hyunbin.
"fuck." he breathed out, the utensils he was holding had lesser grip on them as he just stared into nothingness. beomgyu was right. he's forever stuck as a brother in your eyes.
but then a ring of his phone snaps him out of it.
when he checks the id, his ambition is restored almost immediately for whatever reason; it was you.
"yo why are you smiling?", beomgyu said trying to peep at yeonjun's phone, but yeonjun reflexes took over, and he immediately turned his phone off.
"beomgyu, don't you think i kind of resemble hyunbin?" he said with a head tilt and an overconfident smirk, talking like he just had an epiphany.
"the one from crash landing on you? uh no."
yeonjun jumped from the couch a new man, his pen and paper in one hand and his ringing phone on the other. he finally faced beomgyu as the man he was, choi motherfucking yeonjun. "i gotta answer this call...and also, if you ask anybody who my celebrity doppelganger is, everyone would proudly say its hyunbin dumbass."
then yeonjun left with a smile and a surge of new confidence overtaking his face as he spoke away on the phone with you, while beomgyu was left in the living room more than confused as he looked up the actor on his phone.
instead of finding the difference, beomgyus brain was tasking him into finding the similarities...which, there was one to yeonjun's credit.
black hair.
"when are the others coming?" you asked looking around the crowded floor as yeonjun was buying popcorn and drinks. "the movies about to start.." you mumbled, checking your phone for the hundredth time.
"oh, i guess its just me and you again." he said with the popcorn and bottle of coke finally in his arms.
"again? don't you think this is getting suspicious?" you said as you walked alongside yeonjun, not noticing the way yeonjun just gulped.
you stopped in your tracks, in turn yeonjun bumping into your back a little, a few popcorns dropping on the floor.
"hey...you don't think.." you furrowed your brows, in deep thought. this has been on your mind for a while now. "you don't think they're trying to set us up or something do you?"
after the third time your friends stood you and yeonjun up, you were starting to think they were pushing, what they called, the 'ynjun' agenda..but it was the first time you'd ever bring it up to yeonjun, so you just laughed it off -- scolding your friends will come on a later date.
"nevermind, lets go inside the movie theatre jun."
"ya' y/n, wait."
you turned around to an awkward standing yeonjun at first, but he immediately straightens up and clears his throat, with a smile you've grown so attached to -- the smile that reached his eyes. for something so simple, it made your heart beat a little quicker than normal.
"can you hold the coke for a sec? i'm trynna--i'm trynna do something."
you break into a light laugh, "um, okay." that snapped you out of it because you remember who he was again -- your platonic best friend.
you took the cola bottle off his right arm, expecting him to take his phone out of his pocket to check something.
but as you stared at your sneakers, checking if they're untied, you felt his hand on top of your head, which startled you.
you looked up to meet yeonjuns eyes, a brow raised.
before you could say anything, he ruffled the top of your hair gently, leaning towards you a bit, to shorten the height difference.
"y/n, let this be our first date." your platonic best friend's voice, so warm and gentle you thought you would only hear in dreams, said those words...to you.
"so you asked her out on a date but you don't even like her...? that doesn't make any sense." soobin said, sitting on the couch watching beomgyu hog up the tv screen, his use time running out.
"bros an asshole..but i feel like we knew that already-- fuck you heeseung. you fucking suck ass you need to get off my team." beomgyu yelled.
"okay, first of all, it's not that bad. she doesn't like me at all, plus the date was how we would usually hung out anyway."
soobin just shook his head -- being the only guy with a functioning moral compass amongst the people he called his friends was exhausting.
as soon as he was about to lecture yeonjun, the tv timer goes off -- and that makes his plan a fleeting thought.
"it's my turn now, throw me the remote."
"bro give me a second, let me finish this gam--"
"no! unplug your console." soobin yelled impatiently, he knew better than to let beomgyu go over the timer again.
beomgyu groaned, abandoning heeseung in the game and unplugging his console. when soobin got control of the tv and opened up netflix, beomgyu stood up to sit next to yeonjun -- who had gotten a notification from you.
"yj, who's the chick? you never told us."
"uh, you don't really know her." he mindlessly answered, focused on the messages from you.
[y/n, 9:16 pm] that serenade ..as cringe as it was..
[y/n, 9:16 pm] like lets be serious, there was NO reason for u to get on top of the cafeteria table lol
he hadn't yet told his roommates what he did this morning, thinking that he'd get a longer lecture by soobin.
but he had took inspiration from the movie you guys were watching the other night at the cinema. you talked his ear off about how romantic it was, how you would fall at the feet of dicaprio if he did the same to you..
he was no dicaprio, but he could try is what he thought. and though you forced him to get down half way through, he could still enjoy sharing the laughter, your laughter, that was ringing in his ear.
[yeonjun, 9:17 pm] as cringe as it was...? you're in love w me ;)
he typed it as a joke, a smile tugging on his lips waiting for your reaction to his teasing.
but beomgyu hovered over his phone out of boredom again, and out of instinct yeonjun threw his phone -- the three chois looking at the phone on the floor in shock.
"bro, why are you being so secretive? were you sexting?" beomgyu yelled, accusatory.
"can we collectively have some decency in this house, jesus fucking christ beomgyu." soobin muttered.
"shut up church boy, yeonjun's hiding something for sure."
"or maybe he just wanted some privacy dude?" soobin retaliated.
yeonjun jumped up pointing at soobin, "exactly! exactly! listen to soobin, you were invading my personal space. so not cool beomgyu."
"yeah, okay. you've never agreed with me with this much enthusiasm before. he's hiding something. quick, check his phone." to soobins order, beomgyu was prepared to run to the phone when he made eye contact with the owner -- but yeonjun was quick.
"good god, wait wait. what do you want beomgyu--fuck, if you wanted her name it's y/n alright? the chick's y/n!" yeonjun doesn't do well under pressure, at all.
"what are you talking about--" beomgyu's face morphed into shock with his mouth agape. "--oh my fucking god. yeonjun, y/n's the chick? the one who brother zoned you?" beomgyu yelled.
"yeah...?" he said hesitantly.
"i can't--i just can't. soobin knock some sense into him." beomgyu turned away dramatically, shaking his head.
"yeonjun--" soobin started.
"dude, y/n has been in love with you for like a decade!" beomgyu blurted out, turning to face yeonjun again, interrupting soobin.
"uh..no? guys, i literally told you that she said she sees me as a brother. i saw her telling some guy that at the frat party last week."
beomgyu walked towards yeonjun, grabbing both of his shoulders, shaking him, "she. didn't. brother. zone. you. you stupid fuck!"
"she's been saying that to people because its so obvious that every time she tries moving on, she still likes you." soobin added in.
yeonjun, with his brows furrowed, tore beomgyu's hands off his shoulder -- walking towards his phone.
and it felt like a million thoughts were racing around his head the three seconds it took for him to get his phone, like a storm, a big tornado clouding his mind. but the most heavy was...how long? a fucking decade? and he never noticed?
he found it hard to swallow, almost nervous...that it was true.
the two other chois were staring at him, exchanging glances.
and when he picked up his phone, it was like he feared.
his text was left on read.
yeonjun's roommates were right for once.
all the secret glances he'd catch, a smirk twitching on his face as he pretended not to see, all the times you'd practically asked him out -- he shot it all down subconsciously thinking it was nothing more than coincidences on top of coincidences.
"you know, i was thinking it was weird you freaked out so much about the brother thing. yunjin told you that right to your face like last month and you didn't say anything." beomgyu said as he let himself fall on the couch.
beomgyu was right, he didn't care when yunjin said it.
yeonjun looked at beomgyu, eyes confused. "so...what are you trying to say?"
"maybe you feel the same way...? god, do i have to spell it out for you every single time?" he said dramatically, groaning.
"okay yeonjun. drama's over, go do your walk of shame to your room." soobin said, getting comfortable on the chair again to watch the premier of his show.
"and reflect!" beomgyu shouted out as yeonjun went over to his room, obeying soobin with his phone tight in hand.
"what are we watchin?" beomgyu finally asked, soobin giving him a side eye in response.
"we? beomgyu, i'm not watching another show premier with you again."
"just because my commentary is too good doesn't mean you have to get all jealous--"
yeonjun bursts out of his room through the narrow hallway that lead to the main door, a coat hanging on his right arm as he hurriedly slipped on his sneakers.
it startled both of the guys on the couch, looking over at him with brows raised: what is yeonjun doing?
no one could get a word in, not even beomgyu, before he was totally out of sight.
only adrenaline was rushing through his veins as he shut the door behind him, putting his arms through his padded coat, and sprinting to the elevator -- frantically spamming the button to make him falsely hope the elevator would reach his floor any faster
it wasn't like he had to do something in the ten minutes his head thought he had left, no, it was the realization that had him acting in urgency he never thought he'd have for a girl. all of his stupidity dawning on him -- for fucksake, of course it mattered that you said he was like a brother, it was you.
and as he ran out the building -- his head felt dizzy, not because it was overwhelmed with thoughts, no, this time he only had a few but those were harder to manage his head.
did he ever give up on you in middle school?
did he ever move on from you in highschool?
did he really dump a dream, you -- the dream he had as a boy, with all the other dreams he never thought would happen?
when yeonjun was finally in front of your family house, the one you still chose to live in through your college experience, he moved to where'd he guess the window of your room was.
"y/n?" he shouted out with all the energy he could muster up. he had to bend over his knee to catch his breath, because he would shout your name again.
again, and again, and again.
blood rushed up to his cheeks, not because of the cold, because he was embarrassed -- what if you weren't even here?
he waited, staring up at the window which showed no sign of your room light being on.
but he wouldn't give up, he'd have to try something else.
yeonjun looked down at his feet, the absence of the sun being harder on his vision. there were no rocks, the only thing visible to his eyes were branch sticks which only made him hope that his aim was good enough to get your window a few times.
it wasn't.
when the last stick that he found hit a window that wasn't the one he was trying to aim at - he cursed under his breath, defeated. yeonjun concluded that this was a bigger fail than the fucking time he found out that he was flirting at a family--not a class, reunion.
he could just go back to his dorm and call you is what he thought as he exhaled, a fog escaping his lips into the cold, feeling even more of a loser.
"yeonjun?!" he turned around at the familiar voice calling out for him and his eyes widened, lighting up as they set on your face, finally out of the window, with your room light making it a little easier for him to see your features.
"y/n?" he shouted back, ecstatic.
"what are you doing out here?", you shouted the words slowly so he could pick it up. then add, "it's fucking cold!"
"i just wanted to know" he inhaled, the cold air burning his nostrils, "why you didn't answer my text!"
it was silent, yeonjuns lips agape waiting for a response.
"you're fucking insane!" you said laughs slipping between your words, yeonjun scoffs lightly, a wide smile on his face.
he put his hands up as walls to his mouth to echo his words louder, "for you!" he shouted out in response.
"shut the fuck up!" it was a distant yell, one you both assumed, as you met eye contact, was y/n's neighbors. and then you laughed again at the untimely part of it all.
when you turned away from the window, yeonjun found himself yearningly waiting for you to come back. hands that were in his pockets felt a vibration -- his phone.
he took it out just to see a notification from his, quite frankly, favorite person ever.
[y/n, 10:26 pm] lets talk on here lol
he looked up and saw you at the window again, with you waving your phone at him -- it earned a smile tugging once more, on the ends of his lips.
just how did he manage to ignore overwhelming feelings about you, of you, for the past decade?
[yeonjun, 10:27 pm] come down. i'm not gonna tell u this thru text
[y/n, 10:27 pm] why not?
[yeonjun, 10:27 pm] don't wanna
[y/n, 10:28 pm] youre asking me to get out of my cozy ass room just bcs u dont wanna??
"yeah! basically dumbass!" he shouted, startling your poor self out of your focus on your phone. you glared at him, yeonjun most likely missing it.
[y/n, 10:28 pm] STOP DONT DO THAT THOSE PSYCHOS ARE GOING TO CALL THE COPS ON ME
[yeonjun, 10:29 pm] ok then come down before i freeze my fingers off
when you slid your window closed, closing your curtains, he immediately turned to quickly run towards the front of your house. yeonjun leaned on the fence of your porch, smiling with thoughts of you clouding his mind, as he looked up at the moon.
it was all so cliché -- the type of scene his roommates would squeal over and one that he would roll his eyes to, but if he were to watch this part of his life, again and again -- the moment you opened the door, the moment you both exchanged looks that communicated 'we feel the same way don't we?', a short awkward laugh that was shared, the moment you hesitantly opened your mouth to say something -- and then, the final moment of his longing lips crashing onto yours, his cold hands warming up the moment he cupped your face, the repocracy from your side making him smile into the kiss, the euphoric realisation that he wasn't late, you didn't stop loving him yet, and when he cut the kiss short, both your lips barely apart, yeonjun whispered an i love you, and to it you smiled, pulling him into your house, to finish your kiss -- he would too, squeal over the scene, kicking his feet like a highschool girl.
ending a/n: YOU FINISHED IT YAY :D yeonjun was lowk an asshole for wanting to lead on mc at first for his own benefit, but hes such a cutie im sorry, its easy to forgive T-T let me know what you feel about this piece, it was so fun to write!!
summary: Yeonjun’s got a lot on his plate. Not only does he have to worry about being a star student, but he also has to be the city’s web-slinging hero. And a lab intern. And a semi-decent roommate. And a little bit in love with you.
pairings: yeonjun x fem!reader
word count: 18.9k
tags: fluff, smut (mdni), some angst, spiderman!yeonjun, his webs shoot from his actual wrists like tobey maguire’s spiderman, college au, yeonjun is a cute awkward charming nerd, inaccurate science stuff sorry, blood, physical violence, lots of spidey shenanigans, campy weird action scene teehee, small arguments
smut tags: making out, heavy petting, webs as cuffs LOLLL, thigh riding, edging, fingering, praise, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (f rec.), yeonjun is so playful and such a tease
notes: omg she’s finally here!!! i am so excited to get this out to u guys hehe<3 tysm for all the love on the teaser, i hope spideyjjun steals ur heart. enjoy the fic !!!
Saving the city can suck sometimes. Homework sucks significantly more. If Yeonjun had the option to zip through the city chasing some bad guys instead of sitting here trying to finish his calculus assignment, he’d be flying out his window in a heartbeat. Unfortunately, responsibility is a virtue, and Yeonjun cannot swing through the city for no good reason.
The one good thing about this tedious, awful calculus homework is that if it’s hard enough, he always gets a text from you. His body springs to life when he hears his phone buzz, rushing to pick it up and check the notification.
[you] have u done the calc homework
[you] how do you solve #4 :(
Do most of your conversations revolve around your shared class? Yes. Does Yeonjun ever get tired of teaching you the concepts? No, never. In fact, he stretches out his explanations as long as possible to keep you talking to him longer. Yeonjun never knew before that math talk could make his heart flutter.
“So, does that make sense?” he asks after a long-winded explanation. He’s almost out of breath after spewing out so much math jargon, but being on a call with you for ten minutes has similarly breathtaking effects.
“Yeah. Thanks, Yeonjun.” He bites back a giggle upon hearing your words. “You should seriously be teaching this class,” you say with a laugh.
“Oh, no, I wouldn’t—I mean, I’m—I’m more of a science guy,” he stammers out, lips tightening into a thin line at the embarrassment of stumbling over his own sentence. “Our professor’s pretty cool, too,” he adds as if that saves him at all.
“Is he? Maybe I should start going to his office hours,” you muse.
Oh. Well in that case, your professor sucks. Yeonjun can’t have you stop coming to him for math help; you’d never talk to him at all if it came to that!
“He’s not that cool,” Yeonjun says. You laugh, and he huffs out a short chuckle too.
“Noted. I’m gonna go now, but thanks for helping me. You’re the best.” Your praise goes straight to Yeonjun’s head, making him feel like the greatest man to ever live. He doesn’t even feel this accomplished after going out on his little spidey-missions.
He’s a beat too late to say goodbye or good night to you, the call already hanging up as he opens his mouth to speak. He melts into a puddle over his desk, sighing out as he plays back his conversation with you in his head. He thinks you have the prettiest voice he’s ever heard. You’re so smart, too. He never has to over exert himself to get you to understand, though he would happily do that for you.
He jolts up as his roommate walks into his dorm. Yeonjun glances at him quickly as he straightens out his posture, picking his pencil back up and returning to his homework.
“Hey,” his roommate, Soobin, greets quietly. Yeonjun didn’t know Soobin prior to this semester, but he’s been pretty nice. He’s very quiet, but very respectful of Yeonjun’s space. It’s much appreciated, considering Yeonjun’s hiding a few of his red and blue spandex suits in his closet.
“Hey. How was your day?” Yeonjun asks, only half-interested in the conversation.
He watches Soobin shrug from his peripheral as he slides off his shoes. “Normal,” he answers.
Yeonjun nods. “Cool.” The conversation kind of dies after that, which is fine. Soobin isn’t the most extroverted person, and Yeonjun doesn’t push him to talk more than he’s willing to. He sometimes forgets he even has a roommate with how quiet it gets in the room.
Yeonjun regains his focus a minute into the silence. His eyes widen when he realizes that there’s now a doodle of your face on his calculus homework—when did that get there..? His face heats up as he grabs an eraser from his desk’s drawer. Thank god he didn’t do this assignment in pen.
──── ──── ──── ──── ────
Yeonjun’s not really paying attention to the professor, finding more interest in taking quick glances at you. You’re wearing a different bracelet today. It’s really pretty—maybe he should compliment you on it. Is it weird to lean in and tell you that? Are you close enough where he can compliment you without looking weird and creepy?
He rests his head in his hand and starts doodling in his notebook, mindlessly scribbling on the page while he waits for the lecture to end. He thinks of quick conversational things to say, something to discuss in a few minutes when it’s time to pack your bags and leave. Interesting class, right? Who would’ve thought—Yeonjun looks up at the projector to see the professor’s notes—the shell method… would be so cool… Maybe he shouldn’t say that, actually.
He’s honestly better off not trying to strike up a conversation with you at all; the chances of it leading to total and utter embarrassment lean greatly towards one hundred percent. He just wishes he had a little more spine, or that he was naturally a little cooler. The only interesting thing about him is something he can’t even talk to you about, or with anyone at all.
Yeonjun barely registers it when the professor dismisses class. He steals one last glance toward you, lips parting like he finally built up the courage to speak, but the words build up in his throat and die on his tongue. He seals his lips and focuses his gaze back on his own things, closing his notebook and shoving it in his bag. It’s not worth it. He decides he’ll just keep his mouth shut.
“Hey Yeonjun?”
Yeonjun almost jumps out of his seat, and he has to fight away his nerves as he turns to you. You’re packing your things back into your bag, not even looking at him. A part of him thinks he might be hearing things until your eyes meet his, waiting for an answer.
“Yeah?” he responds, voice coming out strained. He clears his throat.
“We’re friends, right?” you ask. He blinks, feeling like this is some kind of trick. He analyzes your face, making sure there’s nothing snide or teasing hidden in your question. You look honest enough, which puts him at ease.
“Yeah, for sure.”
“I hope that’s not sarcasm,” you say, getting up from your seat and adjusting your bag over your shoulders.
“It’s not! Really, we’re friends,” he reassures. You walk past him and he follows, leaving the classroom and entering the busy hallway.
“Well, good. I wanted you to go with me somewhere.” Your statement is wildly cryptic, and it leaves Yeonjun’s mind whirling with the possibilities of what you might offer.
“Right now?” he asks. “I-I have class…” As much as he likes you, he really can’t risk dropping his grade due to missed attendance.
You laugh, “No, tonight. There’s this party, and I”—you keep talking, but Yeonjun barely registers it. He’s never partied in college before. What would he even do at a party? He can’t handle his drinks well, and he’s not sure how well he’d blend into that kind of environment. He’s scared he’d make a fool of himself.
As you leave the academic building, you turn to Yeonjun, raising a brow in question. You must have asked him for his confirmation. Yeonjun forces his brain to rack up a response.
“Could you text me the details..?” Yeonjun asks. You relax a little at his words, nodding happily. You pull out your phone, ready to text him now. Yeonjun feels his heart pounding. He catches sight of the time on your phone, noticing he’s only got five minutes until his next class. The hall he’s supposed to be in is at least a three minute walk from here.
“There,” you say, awarding Yeonjun with a grin so bright that being late to class might just be worth it. “I really hope to see you there.” You tilt your head a little, and Yeonjun feels starstruck.
“You will,” he promises mindlessly.
──── ──── ──── ──── ────
Yeonjun feared he might’ve been in trouble when his professor asked him to stay after class. Turns out, it’s something much worse.
“Yeonjun, do you think you could help in the lab later today?”
Yeonjun doesn’t think much before he nods. “Yeah, of course, how much later?”
“Around 6 this evening,” his professor answers. Yeonjun’s heart drops. That would be perfectly fine any other day, but he promised to go out with you today. Of course the party would start at the same time Yeonjun’s professor wants him to stop by the lab.
“I’m not sure I have the time,” Yeonjun says quickly, suddenly fidgety and feeling antsy to leave the room. “I’ve got this… thing to do.” His professor doesn’t look too convinced. Yeonjun wants to facepalm himself. Yeah, great excuse.
The professor sighs, but Yeonjun starts up again before his professor can say anything. “I can come in earlier! I’m free right now, so I could just go over after this.”
“The cells we’re working with need a full 24 hours in culture for the sake of our research. Are you sure you can’t push your plans forward? Or back?” he asks.
Yeonjun’s stomach twists with guilt. He knows he shouldn’t let his professor down. Yeonjun’s kind of counting on him to write his recommendation letter for a graduate program, too.
“I’ll push the plans back,” Yeonjun says, giving in. He hopes the dejection isn’t too evident in his voice. His professor smiles and pats Yeonjun’s shoulder in thanks. He half-listens as his professor gives him the usual rundown of what to do during and after the process, nodding along and holding back the frown that tries to tug at his lips.
When Yeonjun finally leaves the building, he lets out the heaviest sigh of his life. His shoulders sag, and he feels like he might be the unluckiest person in the world. You finally give him attention outside of just asking for homework help, and the universe just had to intervene. This is laughable. It’s also stupid. Annoying. Frustrating.
There’s a pout etched onto Yeonjun’s face as he walks back to his dorm. He’s got a couple hours until he needs to go to the lab, so maybe he can take a nap or tidy up his room a little. His head hangs low, gaze transfixed on the sidewalk, kicking along a small pebble that keeps him company on the way.
He only picks his head back up as he walks past a certain field of grass, one he often finds you sitting in. Sometimes you’re on your laptop, sometimes you’re taking notes in a textbook, but most of the time you’re just lounging and doing nothing. It’s almost inspiring. Yeonjun would probably benefit from relaxing and decompressing more.
You’re there, sitting cross-legged on the grass, peaceful and silent. You look up suddenly, making eye contact with Yeonjun. His face flushes, but before he can turn his head in embarrassment, you raise your hand and wave. Yeonjun almost stops in his tracks. You’re waving at him, acknowledging his existence yet again.
He smiles and waves back, failing to tame his heartbeat as he takes the sight of you in. He’s forced to look away when he nearly stumbles over the pebble he’s been kicking around—“Oh, shit!” he utters, quietly enough to not draw attention to himself.
He glances back at you casually, making sure you didn’t witness him tripping. Fortunately, you’re on your phone, no longer paying him any mind.
Back at his dorm, Yeonjun stands by his closet, contemplating what exactly to wear tonight. He also has to make sure his outfit is lab-friendly, so the loose sweater he’d been eyeing is a no-go. He sighs, looking at himself in the mirror. Maybe the t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing now will suffice.
Time passes slowly, slow enough for Yeonjun to clean his half of the room, make himself a small meal in the communal kitchen, and even read a chapter ahead in his calculus textbook. He almost feels relieved when his alarm sets off to go to the lab, eager to get his work over with.
He’s determined to get this done quickly enough to still see you tonight. The thought of letting you down the one time you ask him to hang out is almost painful. He imagines the frown you’d wear next time he sits next to you in class. He can’t let that happen; he has to make sure he gets to you.
He throws on his lab coat and adjusts the goggles to fit onto his face. He sighs as he grabs containers of various chemical compounds from the cabinet, leaving them on the counter as he fetches the other materials he needs. With everything set out in front of him, he grabs the petri dish of cells and glances at the procedural note his professor left.
Yeonjun’s done this enough times to get into the swing of things, so he’s not too concerned with double checking his every move. His bigger priority is getting this done as fast as possible so that he can get to you. Lab work is never particularly fun or interesting, so he passes the time thinking about you.
The smell of the chemicals burns Yeonjun’s nose a little, and he wonders for a second if he’d been zoning out too much. He picks up the procedural note and glances over the measurements again, making sure he’s been adding the right amounts of everything. If he does something wrong and messes with the cell culture, he risks not being allowed back in the lab. He should probably slow down a bit, even if it means making you wait longer.
He’s more careful throughout the rest of the process, pushing back the worries that he might’ve messed something up. He continues to reassure himself that everything’s okay as he finishes up his work, placing the lid back on the petri dish and storing it away. He writes the date and time on a piece of tape that he sticks onto the lid, then finally lets his body relax as he steps back.
He cracks his knuckles to alleviate the stiffness that had been building there and rolls his shoulders back, groaning at the soreness of his muscles. All the fine motor movements from working in a lab does a number on his arms and fingers.
He hears a rattle, and he turns quickly to make sure he didn’t knock anything over in his haste. His eyes scan the room, but nothing looks amiss. He shakes the feeling and sheds himself of his lab gear, eager to head to you at the party already.
It’s been over an hour, and the thought of you waiting so long for Yeonjun’s arrival strikes guilt inside his chest. He opens his phone to find the path he needs to walk to get to the house the party’s being held in, eyes bugging out when he sees that it’s a twenty minute walk from the lab. Shit, by then you’ll have been waiting an hour and a half for him to show up!
He groans, trying to think if there’s a better way to get to you. The buses around campus don’t stop at the street he needs to get to, and it’s not like he has one of those electric bicycles or scooters that everyone seems to love. He wonders now if it might be a worthy investment. He pouts and throws his head back, totally drained from everything happening today. His eyes land on the tops of the academic buildings and the tall trees overhead. Maybe there is another way to get there after all.
No, he shouldn’t. That would be way too reckless. He’s already gone through the whole power and responsibility spiel, and he’s not in the mood to get himself in trouble for acting rashly. But if no one sees…
He turns his head and scans for people in each direction. No one’s around. No one would know, and he really needs to get to the party before he makes himself look like an asshole. He checks for anyone one last time, then aims his wrist towards the sky.
“Yeonjun! What’s up!”
Yeonjun startles and brings his arm back to his side hastily. He whips around to see who’s talking to him and lets out a breath when he sees his friend who had just exited the lab building. “Taehyun, hey man,” he says, ignoring the anxious pounding of his heart. That was way too close. Lesson learned.
“Didn’t catch you at the physics meet last week. Everything alright?” Taehyun asks. Yeonjun really hopes this conversation doesn’t take too long. The last thing he needs is another ten minutes piled on top of how late he already is.
“I’m good, I was just”—controlling a fire set by some idiot arsonist, then trapping said arsonist with his webs until the cops arrived—“uh, kind of sick.”
Taehyun hums and nods. “Well, we missed you bro, hope you’re feeling better. I’ll see you around!” Yeonjun waves and returns the smile his friend gives him, then walks as fast as he can to the location you sent him. He manages to get there in fifteen minutes instead of twenty, only at the expense of heavy breathing like he just finished a marathon.
When he gets to the entrance, there’s two men Yeonjun has never seen in his life guarding the door. He almost scoffs. What is this, some kind of nightclub?
“You got the money?” one of the guys ask.
“What?” Yeonjun scrunches his brows and leans his head forward a little, thinking he might have misheard him.
“No money, no entrance,” the other man says.
“Dude, come on!” Yeonjun whines.
“House rules. Stop wasting our time and get out of line.”
“No, no, I’ll”—Yeonjun sighs, reaching into the back pocket of his pants to fetch out his wallet. “How much?” he asks. The men tell him, and he bites back the complaints that almost push past his lips. Yeonjun slaps the bills into the guy’s open palm. They finally open the door for him, and Yeonjun steps inside.
He’s taken aback by how many people are cramped into this place. The house is pretty big, but there’s at least a hundred people mingling around, which makes space tight. He squeezes past the crowd with muttered apologies, but no one seems to pay him any mind. He scans every room for you, but it’s a little hard to do it efficiently when there’s so many faces to check. A part of him fears you might’ve left already.
He pulls out his phone, ready to text you and ask, before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns at the action and smiles when he’s met with your pretty face. “Hey, you!” you exclaim. “I thought you bailed on me.” There’s no real bite to your words, but it still makes Yeonjun frown.
“I’m sorry. I had to do this lab thing, and”—
“It’s alright, don’t explain. You’re here now!” you say. “Did you have anything to drink?”
Yeonjun shakes his head. “I don’t drink much.”
“Me either,” you say. You look out the window, then grab onto Yeonjun’s hand. His brain short-circuits, and he has to stop his eyes from going all dumb and wide. “It’s kinda stuffy in here. Let’s go outside.”
Yeonjun puts up no fight as you lead him out the back door, walking out into the yard. There’s almost as many people out here as there are inside, but the lack of walls means there’s more space to move. It’s much more breathable.
He takes quick glances at your face, trying to decipher what you’re staring so hard at. Your gaze is fixed on a small group of people just sitting and laughing. All the guys have girls in their laps, and a few girls stand around them, sipping their drinks. They all look happy. And drunk.
“Did you want to join them?” Yeonjun asks. He doesn’t know any of those people, but he’ll go if that’s what you’d like. It’s not like there’s much else to do when you’re not drinking or dancing.
The LED lights that line the house reflect in your eyes, making them dazzle extra bright. Your eyes dart to the group one last time before you shake your head. “Nah. Let’s just sit down and talk.” Yeonjun gladly obliges.
You find an empty spot to sit at, looking up at Yeonjun after you situate yourself. He laughs a little, “You really like sitting on the grass, huh?”
You smile at him and pat the ground next to you. “Don’t act like you’re too good to connect with nature.”
“It’s more about getting grass stains on my pants,” Yeonjun says, but sits beside you anyways.
You turn your head to him, and something about seeing your face this close makes it hard for him to keep eye contact. It’s quiet for a few seconds before you speak up, “So how come you said yes to the party?”
Something about your question strikes fear inside Yeonjun. Did you find him out? Do you know he likes you? Maybe this is some kind of humiliation ritual you’ve set him up for.
“Cause you asked,” he answers, voice a little meek as he fidgets with his hands in his lap.
“And if it was someone else who asked?”
Yeonjun thinks for a second, but he can’t come to an answer. “I don’t know. Like who?”
You hum and look into the crowd of people. Your head turns back to him after a couple seconds. “Like Yerim,” you say.
Yeonjun laughs as if the scenario is ridiculous, mostly because it is. Yerim would never even give him the time of day. She’s notorious for being cold to anyone who she isn’t interested in. Somehow, that seems to attract a bunch of guys to her. Not Yeonjun, though.
“No chance I’d go,” he says.
“So what makes me different?” you ask.
A lot of things. You’re nice, and you’re smart, and you’re down to earth, and you’re a beacon of warmth. Everything makes you different.
“Cause we’re friends,” he says instead. He wants to punch himself after the words leave him. This was his chance to flirt with you, yet he couldn’t even muster up the courage to give you a single compliment.
You nod. “I’m just asking cause… well, I guess I’m just surprised you agreed to come.” Your eyes meet his, warm and kind. “Thank you for that, by the way.”
Yeonjun’s stomach does flips when you look at him like that. “You’re welcome.” It goes quiet for a moment, so he continues, “I think this was worth handing over the last of my cash for.”
You burst out laughing. “They made you pay?! Why didn’t you just say you’re here with me?”
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he says. He bites his tongue after the words leave him. Who is he to assume there will be a next time? He hopes you don’t call him out on it.
“We should just go somewhere else next time. There’s a lot of places downtown that I want to visit,” you suggest, bumping his shoulder with yours. Yeonjun almost explodes.
“We should do that then,” he agrees. He’s not sure what suddenly drew you to him as more than some kind of tutor, but he thanks the universe for bestowing him with all this luck.
“There’s that bakery that opened a couple months ago,” you mention.
Yeonjun lights up. “Oh my god, I’ve been wanting to go there too!”
You squeal in excitement and clasp your hands together. “Let’s do that next. Tell me you’re free on Sunday,” you say.
“I don’t know, things come up last-minute sometimes. I’ll let you know.” It’s hard to make plans when he’s basically living a double life. Then again, he did agree to going out with you tonight on a whim. He’s not very consistent with his rules. He pushes the thought back.
Your eyes land back on the group of people hanging out and laughing. Yeonjun frowns, and he wonders if he’s not entertaining you enough. He doesn’t want to keep you from having fun.
“Why do you keep looking at them?” he asks, curious and soft. He hopes he’s not prying.
“They’re just some friends,” you answer.
“Oh. Why don’t we go say hi, then?” he offers.
You pull your lips into a tight line. “I’d rather not.”
“That’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You give a small smile in appreciation.
“What about you?” you ask. He tilts his head, not knowing what you mean. You continue, “Who’s in your friend group?”
Yeonjun laughs awkwardly and shrugs. “I mostly hang out with the physics honor society,” he admits.
“That’s cool. You must have a good bond.”
“We do,” he says. “How’d you meet your friends?”
You smile at him, and something in your face tells Yeonjun that it’s a complicated story. You sigh dramatically and lean back a little, “I met them at parties. Does that surprise you?”
Yeonjun’s not sure if that’s a rhetorical question. “No. You’re friendly. I can see why people come to you,” he answers.
“Thanks,” you say, voice a little quieter.
“Are you friends with your roommate?” he asks.
“I don’t have one. I live in a single dorm.”
Lucky. If Yeonjun had the extra money to spare, he’d be dorming alone too. It would definitely make heading out as Spider-man easier; he’d just be able to change in his room and jump out his window. Assuming no one is around to see, that is.
“That must be nice,” he says.
You shrug. “It’s alright. What about you? You got a roommate?”
“Yeah. We’re…” Yeonjun struggles to find a word to describe his relationship with Soobin. They’re not exactly friends, but they’re peaceful with each other.
You laugh and finish the sentence for him, “Roommates and nothing more.” There’s a lilt to your voice when you say that, and you wiggle your eyebrows like that’s supposed to suggest something.
“Ignoring your insinuations, yeah, pretty much.”
“I’m just kidding,” you say. He’ll let you make jokes at his expense all you want, it doesn’t bother him. Especially not when it means he gets to see you all giggly and happy. He thinks that you look the prettiest like this. Yeonjun would stare at you smiling up at him forever if he could.
The sound of a guy calling your name pulls Yeonjun from his stupor. He blinks at the man standing before the two of you, then looks at you with scrunched brows as if to ask who is that?
His unspoken question is answered the next second. “Hey, Kai,” you say. When Yeonjun gets a better look, he realizes that this is one of the dudes in the group you kept looking over at.
“Who’s this guy?” Kai asks, jutting his chin toward him.
“I’m Yeonjun.” He goes to hold out his hand for Kai to shake, but quickly puts it back down upon realizing that might be weird.
“Oh, Yeonjun from calculus. I know you,” he says.
“I didn’t know you’re in that class too,” Yeonjun muses.
Kai laughs, “I’m not. Y/n just talks about you.”
Yeonjun nearly melts. You talk about him. This is the best day of his life.
“Anyway,” Kai continues, looking at you again. “I need a couple more people on my beer pong team. You guys down?”
Yeonjun turns to you to gauge your reaction. He can’t really tell what you're feeling, not even when you face him as you contemplate your answer. Yeonjun shrugs, as if to tell you that he’s down for whatever you want to do.
“I think I’m good,” you say.
“Ah, alright, you bummer,” Kai jokes, stepping back and sending you a bright smile. “Continue your convo with the calc lord, I insist.” He’s gone after that, jogging off to the rest of his friends, setting up the game.
“Calc lord?” Yeonjun repeats, amused.
Your laugh is accompanied by a roll of your eyes. “He means it nicely, I swear.”
“Well, depending on how well he does in this game, I might start calling him beer pong lord,” Yeonjun says. You push at his shoulder as your laughter continues.
Yeonjun already knew he likes you a lot, but as the night goes on, he finds out that you’re even better than he thought. Conversation unfolds easily with you, even if Yeonjun’s answers are dorky and awkward at times. He feels exactly how he thinks you look when you sit in the grass alone: content and peaceful.
He’s not sure how many minutes or hours have passed when you ask him to walk you back to your dorm. All he knows is that tonight could have stretched into infinity, and that would’ve been fine. He follows you into the building, then into your room. He’s not sure why. It just feels right.
“Thanks for bringing me back,” you say. Yeonjun smiles and nods. He leans against the wall and stares out the window. You live on the top floor of your building, so the view’s pretty different from Yeonjun’s second story view. This would be a fun room to swing out of.
“Do you need anything else?” Yeonjun asks. A smile slowly takes over your face, and you cross the room to stand in front of him. You blink up at him, and something about it feels flirty. If he wasn’t biting his tongue so hard, his thoughts would have slipped right past his lips: you look cute.
You break the short moment of silence with a giggle. “Just for you to promise me we’ll hang out again,” you say, voice barely over a whisper.
Yeonjun has to remind himself to breathe and be normal. “I promise,” he says. He even holds out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your pinky around his, accepting the playful gesture.
“Did you want to stay?” you ask. You look out the window, then back at him. “I’m okay with sharing my bed.”
That definitely flusters Yeonjun. “Oh, no, I’m—I was gonna just walk back to my dorm or something. Or take a bus. I don’t know. Thank you, though.”
You laugh. Hopefully not at his sputtering and rambling, but Yeonjun has a feeling that might be why. “Alright, then. Good night, Yeonjun.”
Your soft voice has Yeonjun wanting to backpedal and say he’ll stay the night, but he swallows down the words. He smiles at you as he backs away toward your door. “Good night,” he says, standing in your doorway.
“Yeonjun,” you call, stopping him before he could leave. He turns, waiting for your words. He’s surprised to see that you look a little shy. “I’m really happy I asked you to come with me. Tonight was fun.”
Butterflies erupt in Yeonjun’s stomach, and he feels like he could float from how giddy he is. “I’m happy too,” he says.
He steps out into the hall, thoughts lingering on how overwhelmingly good his time with you was. His mind is clouded with rosy memories of his night with you, and he finds himself repressing the urge to twirl around and jump for joy. He’ll probably be skipping all the way home, imagining all the possibilities of what could come next between you.
──── ──── ──── ──── ────
It’s Sunday, and Yeonjun knows exactly why you’re calling. He stares at his phone, then back at the man in front of him tangled up in webs. Yeonjun shoots another web over the guy’s mouth.
“Sorry, gotta take this,” he says. “Stay right here.” He slings himself onto a branch of a tall tree nearby, just to make sure no one can listen in as he accepts your call.
“Hey Yeonjun!” Your voice is so cheerful that it makes Yeonjun giggle. He even swings his feet in the air as he sits on the branch.
“Hi Y/n,” he greets, hoping his voice isn’t too muffled through the mask of his suit.
“Did those last-minute plans end up showing, or are you down to try out that bakery?” you ask. Yeonjun frowns, hating to let you down when you sound so happy.
“I’m really busy today, I’m sorry,” he says, shoulders sagging from how awful he feels. He’s got a whole lab procedure to write once he’s done sorting out the crime scenes of today.
“No worries, maybe we can go after class sometime.”
He frowns. “I wish I could, but I got another class right after ours. Let me check my schedule, I might be able to”—
“Are those sirens?” you interrupt, and Yeonjun looks out to the street. He’s grown so accustomed to the sound of those things that it didn’t even register. “Where are you?” you ask.
“I’m… uh,” Yeonjun stammers, focusing on the cops getting out of the car and making their way towards the criminal.
He tunes into the cops’ conversation. “Looks like Spider-shit’s been here already,” one of them comments in a gruff voice.
The other cop huffs out a laugh. “He’s always meddling in with petty crimes. What do you think this guy did?”
“Jaywalking?” The cops chuckle.
“Not like he can explain with that over his mouth.” He points to the web Yeonjun placed on the man a minute ago.
Yeonjun scowls. He’s not sure why the cops hold so much scorn for him, but if they’d like to know, then the petty crime that Spider-shit helped stop was an armed robbery. If these guys were a little better at their jobs, he wouldn’t have to meddle in all the time.
“Hello?” you ask, and Yeonjun reels his attention back to his conversation with you.
“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just coming back from the store. Crazy stuff going on today.”
“Oh. Well, stay safe,” you say.
“Thanks, I will.” He sees the cops looking around, probably trying to spot him, so he flattens his back against the tree and tries to talk a little quieter. “I’ll see you in class, I gotta go.”
“See you!”
Yeonjun sighs once the call ends. His suit doesn’t even have pockets, he just carried his phone with him today in case you contacted him. Stupid? Mildly. Inconvenient? Very. He had one less hand to work with when dealing with today’s crime culprits. To hear your voice, though? Worth it. He smiles like an idiot as he swings over to the next nearest building, making his way back to his dorm.
──── ──── ──── ──── ────
Yeonjun’s professor accompanies him to the lab today, overseeing the procedures for the day. The feeling of his professor watching over his shoulder is more nerve-wracking than any day spent fighting crime on the streets. He’s usually careful with his work in the lab, but he’s extra, extra careful on these days.
He pauses when he retrieves the petri dish of cells. He briefly considers the possibility that he’s crazy and just seeing things, but Yeonjun’s pretty sure that the clump of cells just moved. Like, uncanny movement. He holds his breath.
He stares at the clump, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. It doesn’t jerk around anymore, so maybe it was just his imagination. Fear still creeps up his neck at the idea of the research going wrong. He remembers feeling like he messed up at some point last time he was here, and the realization is making his skin grow clammy.
“What is it?” his professor asks, taking a step closer to Yeonjun.
“Nothing, I was just thinking,” he quickly responds, keeping his voice calm and steady. He brings the petri dish to the table and does his best to forget what he saw earlier. Yeonjun fears how his professor would react if he told him something unprecedented might be occurring. It happened so quickly that he can’t even tell if his mind was just playing tricks on him. Maybe he’s just extra nervous today.
He wipes the sweat off his palms onto his lab coat, bringing the necessary materials to the table to continue the research. His professor reads off the instructions slowly, and Yeonjun pretends he doesn’t feel his stomach twisting as he works with the cells.
He tries to calm down as he walks back to his dorm, but there’s a permanent chill shooting down his spine. There’s no way the clump should have moved like that—it shouldn’t show any observable motion at all, not without some kind of electrical stimulation.
Maybe he just jerked the dish too harshly. He was pretty nervous, so it would make sense. He must have been shaking and just didn’t realize. That would explain it. That would put Yeonjun at ease.
He can try to convince himself that everything’s fine, but he can’t stop the anxious thrum of his heart. Apparently the fear reads on his face, too, because Soobin’s quick to notice it when Yeonjun enters the dorm.
“Are you okay?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun’s not sure what must have given himself away. He pays more attention to breathing slowly and talking casually.
“I’m good,” he answers. He doesn’t expect Soobin to push the subject considering how quiet he always is, but Soobin’s gaze isn’t leaving Yeonjun. He must be really concerned.
“Did something happen?” Soobin asks. Yeonjun sinks into his desk chair, covering his face with his hands as he groans. “Sorry,” his roommate apologizes, turning away from Yeonjun to look at his laptop instead.
“No, you’re good, it’s just…” Yeonjun sighs. He might as well get this off his chest. “Some lab thing.”
Soobin nods, not asking any further. Now that Yeonjun’s started though, he doesn’t feel like stopping.
“I think I might’ve fucked up,” Yeonjun admits.
“How?” Soobin’s playing some video game on his laptop as he talks, which actually puts Yeonjun at ease. It feels less pressing, less like an interrogation or a confession and more like a normal conversation.
“The cells I’m working with are being weird. I don’t know. I don’t even know if I saw it right. I just feel crazy now.” Yeonjun rubs his palms against his eyes in frustration and exhaustion, soothing the headache he’s got building up.
Soobin hums. The little shooting sounds and animated voices coming from Soobin’s game fill the room until Soobin speaks again, “Did anyone else see?”
“No. My professor was there, but he didn’t notice.”
Soobin shrugs. “You’re probably fine then.”
Honestly, Soobin’s nonchalance to the situation eases Yeonjun’s worries a lot. He knows he can get in his head sometimes, especially when it comes to doing everything right, so to hear he’ll be fine lifts a weight from his shoulders.
“Yeah, probably,” he agrees. He basks in comfortable silence for a minute now that his heart isn’t beating so hard.
“By the way, have you bought more laundry detergent yet?” Soobin asks.
Ah, shit. “Tomorrow, I promise.”
──── ──── ──── ──── ────
Being Spider-man is tasking, but it’s usually pretty cool. Not everyone gets to zip around the city and restore peace in people’s neighborhoods. Not everyone, however, has to worry about getting stabbed by a criminal in the middle of the night.
Yeonjun always stays until the cops arrive. It almost feels essential, just to make sure justice gets served. This time, he can’t.
He has to stop himself from groaning too loud when he feels the knife pull out from his side. The man in front of Yeonjun is already stuck to the side of a building, held there with a thick layer of web, so there has to be someone else. He turns around to look at the perpetrator, but the world moves a lot slower than normal.
Yeonjun blinks hard, focusing on breathing and staying conscious. The coward who stabbed him is wearing a ski mask, and he’s running away quickly. Yeonjun can’t let him leave. He moves forward and ignores the searing pain that sets his body alight. He straightens out his shaky arm and aims his wrist at the man, but the web that shoots out is just as weak as Yeonjun is.
Frustrated, Yeonjun growls and forces himself to move faster. It burns, he’s never felt any kind of pain like this, but he can’t let this man walk free. He can’t let this man stab another innocent person. Even with his staggered pace, limping as he tries his best to catch up to the man, he advances quickly.
He breathes hard and holds the air in his lungs as he aims again at the man, brows furrowed with angry determination beneath his mask. He lets out a loud grunt as he shoots his web out, and finally, it lands. The criminal falls as the web captures his ankle, keeping his leg stuck to the ground.
Yeonjun huffs as he traverses the rest of the way toward the man, nothing but fury in his veins as he shoots another web out. This one’s bigger, covering the man’s back and securing him to the pavement. He picks up his head and looks at Yeonjun with fear in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. He can’t. All he feels is pain and anger and pain and pain and so much fucking pain.
Yeonjun’s not the vengeful type, but getting stabbed really tests a person’s limits. He shoots more webs over the guy, making sure he won’t be able to move a muscle until the cops arrive.
Yeonjun doesn’t waste his breath making snide comments, though he does have a few choice words for him. He takes off the man’s ski mask and resists the urge to deck his face. He’s got fear etched into his expression, but Yeonjun finds it hard to feel sorry for him. The man starts begging for his life, and Yeonjun scoffs. Of course he’s not going to kill this man—no matter what, he doesn’t end people’s lives. A city’s hero shouldn’t get to decide who lives and dies.
Yeonjun stumbles away after finding a passerby to call the police. Now that the adrenaline’s gone, Yeonjun feels less mad and more scared. He’s really bleeding now; his hand comes up soaked when it presses against the wound. What the hell does he do? He can’t die like this.
He can’t go to the hospital with a stab wound. There’s no way for him to make up some alibi that wouldn’t just trace Spider-man’s identity back to him. He hisses through gritted teeth as he frantically scans his surroundings, looking for somewhere to go. The only thing that’s coming to mind is you, and it’s aggravating. He could be dying right now, and all his useless mind can do is think of you. Maybe it’s all the blood loss, and he’s just getting delirious, or maybe it’s a sign. It’s not like he has many good options right now.
There’s not enough time to think about it. He zips through the city and back onto campus as fast as he can, ignoring the splitting pain in his side that shoots up his body every time he moves. It’s getting harder to breathe, suddenly feeling suffocated by his mask, but he has to hold on. He’s not far away now.
He remembers the view from your window. He remembers exactly which room to shoot himself up to. He adheres himself to the wall outside your room and pulls his mask off, leaning his forehead onto the cold glass of your window with a sigh of relief. He catches his breath and knocks with a shaky fist. He’s really sorry for having to wake you up at this hour, but he has a feeling you’ll understand.
He doesn’t wait long. You're trudging out of bed and making your way toward the window, tired eyes blinking slowly. You look really cute. Everything is spinning around him, but he focuses on you. You’re still groggy and out of it until you meet Yeonjun’s eyes through the glass. As soon as you see him, it’s like you wake up immediately.
He watches your jaw drop, your frantic hands racing to open your window. His vision is nearly blacking out, and he tries to blink away the dizzy feeling in his head the best he can.
“Yeonjun?!” you squeak as he drags himself through your window and into your room. He can’t even hold himself up anymore, weak body collapsing to the floor. He groans and leans against the wall, clutching his side. He ignores the sickening feeling of blood dampening his hand, sticky and warm against his palm and between his digits.
You pick him up by the underarms, grunting as you heave him toward your bed. He notices how shaky your arms are, and he tries his best to pick up his own weight, even if it hurts like hell. He’s burdening you enough as is coming here so late.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know who else to go to,” he says, catching his breath as you guide him to lay on your bed. He’s half-aware of how bloody and dirty he is, but you seem fully ready to let him stain your sheets. Concern and confusion fill your wide eyes, and Yeonjun can hear every word that you don’t say.
Luckily, you save the unnecessary questions for later. “What do I do?” you ask. Your hands tremble as they peel the shirt of his suit up, just enough to expose his midriff and the nasty damage to his side. You gasp upon seeing how bad it is, hardly able to stomach it, opting to look into his eyes instead.
He wants to respond to you, if not to answer your question then just to comfort you, but breathing is enough of a chore on its own right now; talking seems almost impossible. Watching you panic about this is shattering him. He makes an effort to move his arm out toward you, just to hold your hand and reassure you, but he doesn’t have enough strength.
You lift from the bed and open up a bottle of water, pouring some of the cool liquid over his head. It’s relieving against his burning skin and keeps him from losing consciousness. It also makes him realize how dehydrated he is.
“Please sit up,” you beg, placing a hand underneath his head to lift it a bit. He comes up just enough to drink some of the water you feed to him, swallowing down the rest of the bottle. He collapses back against your pillow once he’s finished, feeling much better just from that.
You come back with another bottle of water and pour small bits at a time over the gash in his side. He hisses and tenses up each time it hits his skin, but he knows you have to do this. He doesn’t want to make it harder by thrashing around and complaining, so he bites his tongue and keeps his body stiff.
The sheets soak beneath him as you continue emptying the water bottle over the wound. He should help you clean up after this; he doesn’t want you dealing with his mess all alone. A few minutes pass before you discard the plastic bottle and grab a t-shirt from your dresser.
You press the bunched up cloth against his injured skin gently, and he holds back any grunts that threaten to slip out. It’s like you can sense his pain despite his efforts to hide it, because you keep murmuring apologies to him.
“I’m okay, don’t be sorry,” he reassures. He doesn’t think you believe him, judging by the way lips stay tugged into a frown.
A quietness falls over the room. You pull your t-shirt away from his body and observe the wound, and your fingertips on his torso send electricity throughout his body. It doesn’t hurt so much now.
“You’re not bleeding anymore,” you point out.
He hums. “That’s good.” Your hand grazes the skin just outside the gash. There’s a soothing effect in the way your fingers glide against him, pressure so light that it’s barely there.
“You need stitches,” you say quietly, like you hate to break the news to him.
Yeonjun doesn’t mind. “You got a needle?” he asks. You fidget with the fabric of Yeonjun’s suit as you sigh and look away.
“I do,” you say. You don’t sound too confident, though. He doesn’t know what to do to make you feel better.
You grab his hand like it’s second nature to do so, and the action would be romantic if only you didn’t have that nervous look on your face. He can practically feel your heart pounding, and he’s dying to let you know that everything’s okay.
“I trust you,” he breathes out. He makes sure he’s looking you in the eye so you can see how much he means it. He’s risking everything by trusting you, but he’s not scared. He feels safe even with his life in your hands, his secret identity in your knowledge. If there was something more sacred and dangerous to give up than that, he’s sure he’d be okay lending that to you too.
It feels much more real when you have your needle and thread in hand. Yeonjun can’t contain his noises anymore, whimpering in pain when he feels the sharp tip pierce his skin.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you say quickly and desperately. “I’ll do it fast.”
He hisses as he feels the thread start to tug his wound shut. He throws an arm over his eyes, as if not watching you treat him will stop the piercing feeling. All his muscles are tensed up no matter how much he tries to relax, but he keeps his breathing steady and lets you do your work.
It’s not too long before you’re tying off the final knot and discarding your needle onto your nightstand. You run your thumb over the stitch, gentle and slow. Yeonjun takes his arm off his face and fixes his gaze on you, watching you scrutinize your work with scrunched brows.
“It feels fine. You did perfect,” he says, wanting to keep you from judging yourself too harshly. He wants to thank you, but the words feel so awkward building up in his throat.
“I don’t have a big enough bandage to put over this,” you say, still fixated on his injury. Yeonjun tries to sit up, but your hand on his shoulder eases him back down. “Don’t move too much.”
“Y/n…” he starts, but you give him a pointed look, and he decides to shut up and listen. He relaxes against your mattress.
“I wish I had some clothes to change you into,” you mutter after he pulls the shirt of his suit back down. The spandex isn’t super comfortable against his fresh stitches, but it’s easy to ignore in comparison to the searing pain of the open wound. He’ll have to throw out this suit; it’s bloodied beyond repair, and he has plenty of back-ups anyway.
“It’s alright,” Yeonjun says. You shuffle on the mattress until you’re laying down beside him. “Aren’t the sheets wet?” he asks, surprised at how unfazed you seem.
You let out a small laugh, and that frown finally leaves your face. “I don’t mind. I wanted to lay down.”
“I’ll buy you new sheets,” Yeonjun promises. “And a new needle. And I’ll explain everything to you, I swear. Please don’t”—
“Yeonjun,” you cut off. He shuts his mouth. “That stuff doesn’t matter. Are you okay now?”
He nods. “I’m okay.”
“That’s all I care about.”
The room falls into a comfortable silence. Yeonjun stares at the ceiling and wonders how much this is going to change things between you. He has some hope that this will make you two even closer, but a small part of him fears that you won’t want to associate with him anymore. He wouldn’t blame you; it’s not like being close to Spider-man isn’t a riskless situation. He doesn’t regret coming to you tonight, though.
He feels your eyes on him a moment later, and he can only bring himself to look at you for a second before returning his gaze to your ceiling. You must find that funny, because he hears you chuckling beside him.
“You know, I wasn’t expecting this when you said you’d hang out with me again.” There’s a softness in your voice that makes Yeonjun feel lightheaded. Not the losing-too-much-blood kind of lightheaded, but the oh-god-I-really-like-her kind—this one’s much more preferable and much more welcome than the former.
“I’ll have to make it up to you,” he says.
“How do you plan on doing that?”
He turns his head to face you, and something feels awfully domestic about getting to lay this close to you in your bed. It’s hard to breathe when you’re smiling at him so eagerly, when there’s a glint in your eyes that tells Yeonjun you’re having fun. There’s an itch all the way down to his bones that begs him to push forward and kiss you already, but he resists.
“I’ll find a way,” he whispers.
The room gets quiet again, and Yeonjun supposes he should leave. It’s not like he can wait for the sun to rise and walk out of your room in his bloodied Spidey-suit glory. He’s not sure what time it is right now, but he knows that if he doesn’t leave soon and get some sleep, he’ll be passing out in his classes.
“Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, pushing himself off your bed and stretching his limbs. He feels beyond sore, wincing at the pain that shoots through his body. You sit up immediately, scrambling to stop him.
“You’re leaving? Are you crazy? Stay here!” you insist, trying to drag him back to the bed. He turns his head to you and smiles, and something about the silent plea in your eyes lights up his heart. He keeps his feet on the ground and resists your efforts, even though he wants nothing more than to spend the night with you. It’s just not smart and not worth the risk.
“I can’t,” he says. You pout and stand before him, blinking up at him so prettily that he almost changes his mind. “It’s dangerous.”
“I know. I just wanted to keep you.” That makes Yeonjun giggle.
“Sorry. Maybe next time.”
You swat his chest. “Don’t let there be a next time. You almost scared me to death.”
“I’ll make sure to tell the next knife-bearer you said that,” Yeonjun jokes. It gets the laugh that he was hoping for out of you.
“Well…” you start, eyes darting between his own. He barely has time to register it when you press a kiss against his lips, your movement so hesitant and shy. It’s soft. It’s sweet. It’s over before he knows it. He blinks at you dumbly—it’s all he can do to not pass out like a dork in front of you. Your smile is just as soft and sweet as your kiss was. “Just stay out of trouble,” you finish, patting his chest gently.
“I’ll try.”
“I guess I’ll see you in class, then,” you say.
“Yeah,” he agrees. He should go now. He should make use of his feet and back away, but he stays planted in his spot. You sway girlishly in front of him, hands clasped behind your back.
“Good night,” you whisper. Yeonjun can’t help it—he pulls your face in so he can feel your lips on his again, more properly this time. They’re pillowy and dreamy, and Yeonjun could just melt into you. He doesn’t linger longer than he has to, backing up just enough to see your face. You mirror the glee that he feels in his own expression.
“Good night,” he echoes. He backs away and grabs his mask, slipping it back on. He opens your window back up and slings himself to the nearest tree. Each time Yeonjun looks over his shoulder, he sees you leaning at your window smiling right back at him. His heart does a little flip. On second thought, maybe getting stabbed is kind of cool.
──── ──── ──── ──── ────
Despite how well last night went, Yeonjun wakes up with a heavy weight on his shoulders. Every ounce of confidence that his interaction with you last night might have given him is completely gone the moment he remembers it, and sheds away at itself further when he notices you skipped class. A dreadful thought creeps up his spine: are you avoiding him?
Maybe you woke up regretting it all. Maybe you realized how ridiculous and stupid getting involved with Spider-man is, and you’re just protecting yourself before you can be burdened further. The classroom feels hot and suffocating, and fresh air sounds really nice right now, but Yeonjun stays put in his seat. He doesn’t want to make a scene and start freaking everyone out. To the best of his ability, he pushes his fears down and saves his panic for later—preferably for after he talks to you and gets some answers.
He doesn’t even open his notebook in his last class of the day. He shows up just for attendance purposes, then zones out staring at his desk for the rest of the hour. Time passes far too slowly; Yeonjun’s itching for the lecture to end so he can talk to you already. He’s practically running out of class as soon as it’s dismissed, but finds himself slowing down the moment he’s outside the building.
He’s pretty sure he knows where to find you. The bigger issue is figuring out what the hell he’s going to say. Is there any way to start this conversation without being awkward? Hey, thanks for saving my life last night. Also I am indeed that hero or whatever taking care of criminals in the city, hope you don’t mind! He feels so lame.
It’s wishful thinking to hope that you won’t care about what happened last night—well, except for the kissing part, but that’s probably not as important right now. He’ll push aside that conversation until the more important one happens.
He wants to run away the moment he sees your figure in the distance, sitting exactly where he thought you’d be. His tongue suddenly feels like lead, too heavy and useless to try talking to you. He gathers his breath and walks across the field, not letting himself back out now. You deserve to be given a little peace of mind. He’s sure today must have been confusing for you, that clarity hit you like a train this morning the same way it did to him.
You look over your shoulder when he reaches you, staring up at him and squinting your eyes from the sun. “How’d I know you’d come find me?” you ask, half-amused.
Yeonjun gives you a short laugh, unsure of himself as he sits on the grass beside you. It feels a little like he’s invading your space. He’s seen you sitting alone on this field as if it was all yours so many times.
“I thought I should thank you again,” he says, a little shy. He feels like he owes you a lot for last night. The whole city probably owes you a lot for saving him, honestly.
You look at him with a small smile, leaning your head on your bent knees. “Mhm. Shouldn’t I be thanking you, Spider-man?” There’s a teasing quality to your voice, and it makes Yeonjun laugh nervously. He should probably address that.
“I really hope you won’t tell anybody.”
“I won’t. I’m still finding it hard to believe anyway,” you say. Your sentences are all laced with a tiredness and exhaustion that Yeonjun can’t help but to feel at fault for. “It’s just weird to know it now.”
Yeonjun hums. He can sympathize with you on that—it must be really bewildering to know your classmate is the one swinging around town shooting webs at criminals. He just hopes you can forgive him for dragging you into this.
“Spider-man’s a little less cool now, huh?” he jokes, keeping his voice quiet even though no one’s around.
Your smile is full and genuine, and Yeonjun’s heart skips a beat. “I always thought he was a little lame,” you answer. Yeonjun’s ego bruises at that. You continue, “But I think he’s kind of interesting now.”
He can only hope that you don’t see the blush that takes over his face. He looks away to hide it, but he feels your gaze on him. “I don’t know if I’m that interesting,” he says, acting all humble. It’s clearly bait, and he hopes you’ll catch it.
“I can be the judge of that. Let me get to know you more,” you offer. Yeonjun bites his cheek to stop himself from grinning at this massive win.
“Well, we still have that bakery to go to,” Yeonjun mentions, and judging by the way your eyes gain a new sparkle, you seem to like the idea.
“You don’t have any more classes today, do you?” You already look ready to go.
Yeonjun doesn’t bother hiding his excitement anymore, letting his smile take over his face. “I don’t.” You’re standing up the next second, and Yeonjun’s quick to follow.
The bakery is a cute, cozy little place near some other restaurants downtown. There’s no seating inside due to the lack of space, but that’s made up for by the giant row of sweet selections to choose from. Yeonjun’s stomach rumbles in anticipation as his eyes jump around to look at each confection.
After buying your treats, you lead Yeonjun to a nearby bench. You both open your pastry boxes and bite down on the baked goods eagerly. You hum in satisfaction, nodding at the taste. “Wow, we should go here again,” you say, going in for another bite.
Yeonjun chose a sweet cheese bread, which he completely devours within a couple minutes. You don’t eat as fast as him, but he doesn’t mind waiting for you. He makes conversation in the meantime: “How come you skipped class today?”
You laugh a little around your mouthful of food, swallowing before you answer, “I barely slept. There was no way I could’ve focused if I went.”
Yeonjun hums in understanding. “I barely slept too,” he says.
“But you still went,” you add. “I guess you’re better than me.”
Oh god, he hopes you didn’t take it that way. “Not at all!” he rushes to say.
You smile and pat his shoulder. “I know. You’re just a star student, that’s all.”
Is that a compliment? Yeonjun blushes anyway. “I like to do well,” he says.
“I mean, considering everything you’re balancing, yeah, you are doing pretty well.”
Yeonjun laughs awkwardly in response, barely able to take your praise. He’s pretty sure you’re alluding to what you found out about him yesterday. “Thanks,” he mutters, all humble.
“Do you wanna talk about last night?” you ask, finishing your last bite.
“Sure,” Yeonjun answers, feeling a smidge of nervousness returning to him. It’s quiet for a few seconds. “Did you have any questions?” he asks. He feels more bashful than anything else, but it’s better than coming off as braggadocious.
You hum in thought, pouting your lips while you conjure up some ideas. “Was that your first kiss?”
He’s completely taken aback by your question—and a little embarrassed, quite frankly—and he scrambles to spit out a response. You’re stifling your laughter before he can even get his defense out. “No! I had my first kiss in, like, high school!”
“I’m just teasing,” you admit. “You’re a good kisser.” The compliment goes to Yeonjun’s head, playing in a loop while he floats on cloud nine. You liked kissing him. He should do it again and again, just to keep you happy. And for more selfish reasons, too.
Your voice breaks through his thoughts when you speak again, “Do you feel better today? Are you healing alright?” The joking tone leaves your voice, replaced with genuinity and care.
“I feel fine,” he answers. He pulls up his shirt to show you the wound, all stitched up and starting to heal over.
You wince. “Good thing I finished my food already. That killed my appetite.” Yeonjun laughs at your grimace and releases his shirt, falling back into place. “You should really put a bandage over that,” you suggest.
“I don’t have any.”
You shake your head in disbelief, though your amusement reads on your face. “You should be more prepared.”
Your concern is cute to Yeonjun. “I know,” he says.
“So who stabbed you?” you ask.
He shrugs. “No clue. He’s probably in a cell now.”
“Did it hurt?” you ask, though the answer is obvious.
“Like hell,” he says.
“How’d it even happen?” Honestly, Yeonjun’s not too sure about that either. He can usually sense imminent danger before it comes, but maybe he was too focused on the crimes he’d already been dealing with.
“He came up behind me while I was handling another criminal,” he answers.
You hum, getting off the bench and tossing your trash in a bin nearby. You start walking off then, and Yeonjun follows mindlessly. “Must be tough being Spider-man,” you say.
“Careful how loud you say that.” Yeonjun tenses as someone walks past the two of you, praying they were out of earshot when you said that. He sighs in relief when he sees the person had headphones in.
“Right, sorry. There’s just so much I wanna know now.” You turn a corner, taking a path leading back to campus.
Your curiosity excites Yeonjun, and he’s ready to answer whatever question you come up with. Some of his stories have serious entertainment value to them.
“Ask me, then,” he invites. You twist your head to smile up at him for a second.
“How’d you get like this? Were you just born this way?”
Yeonjun laughs at the idea. He swings his head around to make sure no one’s around when he answers, “No, a radioactive spider bit me.”
“When did that happen?” you ask. Yeonjun reminisces the first few weeks after the bite, thinking back to those initial feelings of fear and dread when he realized something had happened to him.
“In high school,” he says. It was super bewildering back then to change so drastically, yet be forced to act so normal. It’s much easier now—he’s had years to adjust—but he was a teenager when it first happened. That’s a lot for a kid to take on. He had to act like he was the same Choi Yeonjun his classmates had grown up with, and not some mutated superhuman dealing with the stresses of his new identity. Of course, he did that whole Spider-man thing to himself, but it was the right thing to do. He doesn’t regret it.
“Does anyone else know?”
“My uncle did, but he’s gone, so now it’s just you.” He looks at you, lips twitching upward.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” you apologize, voice growing soft. He realizes that you’re in front of your dorm building now, and he supposes this is where he should leave. His eyes dart between yours, like he’s waiting for you to tell him to go. To ask him to stay.
“Are you doing anything today?” he asks. Maybe he sounds desperate. He doesn’t really care.
“Catching up on some work,” you say.
“I’ll give you my calculus notes.”
You smile. “That would be nice.”
Yeonjun didn’t even take notes in calculus today. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.
“Can I stay?” He’s teeming with hope and bravery today. You open the door to your building and signal him inside, and he has to hold back the victorious giggle that almost escapes him as he trails behind you.
The rest of the day passes in a blur of questions and answers. Yeonjun’s never talked so openly about being Spider-man before, and a part of it feels healing. You study hard while he rambles about stories of the little things he’s done throughout the years. Some are funny and make you cackle, and some draw your attention away from your textbook so you can look at him in shock. It’s impossible for Yeonjun to wipe the grin off his face—not when he bids you good night, not when he walks back to his dorm, not even when lays in bed to sleep. His heart never lets up on that jittery rush it has for you.
──── ──── ──── ──── ────
A quintessential part of the college experience, Yeonjun’s come to find out, is trying out all the different ramen brands to see which one is the best. He’s a fan of whichever one he’s chowing down on right now, and a 5-pack of this barely puts a dent in his bank account. Seems like a winner.
He glances over at his dorm’s door when it opens, curious to see that Soobin brought someone over. Yeonjun isn’t bothered by that, though; if this guy is anything like Soobin, he’s not worried about getting annoyed.
“You can remember to buy ramen but not detergent?” Soobin asks, chuckling. Yeonjun chooses to read that as a joke instead of a passive aggressive comment.
“Ugh, dude, I keep forgetting, I’m sorry,” he apologizes. Yeonjun points at Soobin’s friend and continues, “This your friend?”
“Yeah, I’m Beomgyu,” the friend introduces. Something about him looks a little familiar.
“Nice to meet you,” Yeonjun greets with a nod.
Soobin grabs some clothes from his closet then turns to the door. “I’m gonna go change and then we can head out,” he says to Beomgyu, then heads off to the bathroom.
When the door shuts, Yeonjun returns his attention to his ramen and ignores Beomgyu’s presence as best as he can. That doesn’t last too long, though, cause soon enough, Beomgyu’s breaking the silence: “Are you still hanging out with Y/n?”
Yeonjun turns in his seat to face Beomgyu. He’s not sure how Beomgyu would know that, but Yeonjun entertains the question nevertheless. “Yeah. You know her?” he asks.
“She’s my friend,” he says. “Kind of.”
Yeonjun already feels something weird in the air. He’s waiting for the turn that this conversation is bound to take. He finally pieces together why this guy looks so familiar; he’s one of the boys at the party in the group that you kept looking over at. Now Yeonjun’s really curious.
“Why do you ask?” The question comes out a little hesitantly.
“I’m telling you this man-to-man, I think you might be getting played,” Beomgyu says.
Yeonjun’s immediate reaction is only confusion. How would you be playing him? You’ve been nothing but sincere with your feelings—or, that’s what it seemed like, at least. Now Yeonjun’s doubting himself. A part of him doesn’t believe it and doesn’t want to indulge in this conversation any further, but he’d start spiraling whether or not Beomgyu explains himself now. Worry swirls in Yeonjun’s stomach.
“Why?” he asks despite himself.
“This is just what I’ve heard, but apparently she had a thing with Kai, and he started talking to another girl, so she wanted to get back at him. I don’t know, though.”
Kai. That boy who came up to you at the party. Yeonjun remembers him.
He doesn’t want to show how much those words affect him, but shit. Hearing that hurts. His body feels weightless, like he’d be falling over if he wasn’t sitting at his desk. He nods as he exhales slowly, keeping his heart from going haywire.
“Huh,” is all he says. Soobin comes back the next second, and Beomgyu heads out with him after that, and the world keeps spinning on, but Yeonjun feels trapped in that moment. He waits to wake up in a sweat, hoping this is all some nightmare that’s going to end, but the wake never comes. He’s forced to deal with his whirling thoughts instead.
None of this can be true. It wouldn’t make sense. You kissed Yeonjun. You said you were interested in him. If this was all a lie, how will Yeonjun ever trust anyone again? When he came to you bleeding out, you saved his life. When you found out his secret identity, you kept it safe. Yeonjun miscalculated something that night—there is something more sacred and dangerous to trust you with than those things: his heart.
He doesn’t even want to finish his ramen anymore. His fingers brush against the wound that’s healing pretty well thanks to you, and a thought crosses his mind. The night that you kissed him was the night you found out he was Spider-man. An especially sickening question starts to haunt him. Did you only start liking him because of that?
Yeonjun feels played. He’s always known that he was a fool, so he doesn’t know why he’s so surprised, but really? Beer pong lord?
Five minutes is hardly enough to process the information Beomgyu dumped onto Yeonjun, but that’s all he gets, because now his alarm is going off and telling him to go over to the lab. He drops his head to his desk with a groan. It’s like an anchor’s been tied to his heart, sinking further and further until it makes him his stomach churn.
The fresh air feels good in Yeonjun’s lungs as he walks over to the lab. A permanent pout is etched onto his lips, unable to stop thinking about you. Good things. Bad things. Everything. Each memory hurts now.
He probably looks like some depressed college kid, walking around with his hood up and head down. He should be less pathetic, pick himself up and get himself together. It’s not like you two were really anything anyway. A kiss doesn't always mean something to everyone. Maybe it’s his fault for assuming that for you, it did.
It’s not just that, though. Yeah, kissing you made Yeonjun feel alive in a way that only swinging through the city could compare to, but there’s so much more to you than that. It’s the way you talked to him, the way you cared for him, the way you looked at him. How the hell do you fake that kind of connection? Hurt splits him at the seams like he’s being torn in two, but he keeps walking like nothing’s wrong.
“Yeonjun!” He recognizes that voice immediately. He pulls his eyes off the sidewalk and catches sight of you walking up to him. He almost forgot that he walks past your little field on the way to his lab.
It feels like he’s the one keeping a secret, palms clamming up as you stand in front of him. He stops in his tracks to allow you the conversation. “Hey,” he says.
“What are you up to?” you ask. He fidgets with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. Should he just act normal? Should he let you get away with using him? When he thinks about it like that, it puts a sour taste in his mouth.
“I’m headed to the lab. Got some stuff to do, and it’s time sensitive, so…” he trails off awkwardly, looking off into the distance instead of at you.
“Oh, okay,” you say, sounding a little dejected. Yeonjun shouldn’t be feeling bad for you right now, but he can’t help it. It makes his chest clench to hear the joy leave your voice. “Maybe we can hang out after? Just to study or something,” you offer.
Yeonjun sighs, “Maybe.”
You’re quiet for a second as you assess him. “Are you okay?” Concern fills your voice, and when he brings his vision back to you, he can see it in your eyes too.
“I’ll talk to you about it later,” he says.
You frown, taking in his flat expression. You must gain some insight from that, because then you’re asking, “Did I do something?”
He wants to hold his head, feeling defeated and frustrated and sad and a million other different things. He’s not sure how to label it. He’s never felt emotions this complex before, probably because he’s never liked anyone this much before.
“Oh god, did I?” you repeat, more fear in your voice at Yeonjun’s lack of a response. It strikes him and deflates his will to be dismissive about it, not wanting you to sit here worrying for the rest of the day. Curse his soft heart.
“Just come with me,” Yeonjun says, continuing on the path to his lab building. You follow beside him, taking long strides to match his quick pace. He notices you struggling to keep up, so he slows down, even though it might make him a few minutes late.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. He can feel you looking at him, but he keeps his eyes ahead.
“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for,” he mumbles.
“Tell me then,” you plead. The thought of having to talk about this with you makes him feel sick. He doesn’t know if he can even choke up the words without getting nauseous.
“Let me clock into my lab first.” The rest of the walk is silent; you keep quiet even as you enter the room with him, watching him take off his sweatshirt and put on his lab coat. You’re quiet even as he goes through the study procedure, not even lingering near him to see what he’s doing. He feels a little cruel for it, wondering if he’s just torturing you by forcing you to stand silently and worry about what he must be upset at you for.
He steals a glance at you. You’re leaning against the wall by the door, so many steps away, keeping so much distance. He bites his lip and looks away, figuring it’s time to start the conversation.
“I want to talk to you, but I don’t want you to lie to me,” Yeonjun says, breaking the long stretch of silence. He walks toward you, stopping before he gets too close.
“I won’t. I’m not gonna hide anything from you.” It’s funny you say that.
“Do you like Kai?” His question catches you off guard, your frown leaving your face.
“No,” you answer.
“Don’t lie.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay. So why did Beomgyu tell me you used me to get back at him?”
He watches you stiffen at the question. “How do you know Beomgyu?” you ask.
“Please just answer me,” Yeonjun says. He doesn’t want to run around in circles, he just wants to hear the truth from you.
“I don’t like Kai anymore.” Something about that sentence hits like a stab to the gut. Yeonjun would know the feeling.
He tsks and shakes his head, ready to walk away and end the conversation, but you continue, “Please let me say the whole story.” Yeonjun sighs and meets your eyes. He decides to hear you out, only because a part of him is dying for you to make this right.
“Go ahead,” he says.
“I invited you to the party because you’re my friend, and I think you’re cute, but also for really petty, stupid revenge. It was so dumb and I’m so sorry, I feel so fucking bad for that now,” you explain. Yeonjun thinks back to how excited he was when you asked him. He remembers the rush of butterflies, the nervousness that pooled in his stomach, the adrenaline through his veins when he realized he finally had your attention.
You continue, “But I swear on my life, Yeonjun, the second we went outside at that party, I realized how unfair it was. I wanted to make Kai jealous, but when we were standing out there, I couldn’t do it. You’re a good person, and I felt fucking awful, and I didn’t go through with anything, and I’m glad I didn’t. You gave me one of the best nights of my life that day. I mean that. Seriously.”
There’s sincerity in your eyes, so Yeonjun knows you’re not lying. The ache in his chest is dull now, but still there. He can’t believe you planned to use him as some pawn to get back at Kai.
“Why’d I have to hear it from someone else? Why couldn’t you tell me yourself?” he asks. It’s pathetic how his voice carries more heartbreak than anger.
“Cause I didn’t want you to misunderstand and leave!” you explain, desperate. “Yeonjun, please. I don’t care about Kai anymore. I haven’t even talked to him since the party.”
Yeonjun wishes he could feel comforted by your words, but all he feels is hurt. He has this terrible thing where he can’t stop asking questions that will only batter him worse. “So you didn’t really like me?”
You take a step closer to him, placing both hands over your heart. Yeonjun’s not blind; he can see the fear in your eyes, the worry that he might walk away. He doesn’t have it in him to relieve your stress right now.
“I always liked you. I like you more every day,” you answer. There’s honesty in your words, which Yeonjun appreciates. It doesn’t quite melt away his insecurities, though.
Yeonjun can’t bear looking at you any longer, dropping his gaze to the floor and stepping back. He’s ready to leave, thinking he needs the night to himself to stare at the ceiling and contemplate this whole situation.
You stop him before he can get too far. Your hand hooks onto the sleeve of his lab coat, shaking as you cling to him. It’s so pitiful that it ruins the monstrous image Yeonjun’s trying to fit you into in his mind. Against his better judgment, his eyes meet yours again.
He’s about to speak—maybe to console you, to get some of that sadness out of your eyes—but the sound of glass breaking behind him makes him turn with wide eyes, searching for the damage. He’ll be the one stuck replacing any broken equipment; he can only pray that it wasn’t a more expensive piece.
His eyes flit across the room, but he finds nothing. Is he seriously losing his mind? Every time he’s in this lab, there’s something new giving him a mini heart attack. He brushes this off as some kind of paranoia. He considers talking to his professor about taking a break from the lab, just until he can restore his sanity.
“Let’s just head out of here,” Yeonjun says, unable to rid himself of the chill down his spine.
“Do you still like me?” you ask, unable to move on from the conversation. You stay planted in your spot as Yeonjun takes off his lab gear. He groans internally at your question—of course he still likes you. Do you think his feelings are so malleable? His adoration for you feels like an immovable boulder. He can’t even stay mad at you for as long as he wanted to, though he tries not to let you win too easily.
He sighs out your name instead of answering. He waits for you at the door as he throws his sweatshirt back on, and you trudge forward with a pout. Once his sweatshirt is slipped over his head, he catches sight of something behind you, heart stopping entirely.
“What the hell—?!” he emits, eyes growing wide as the cell clump he’d been working with expands out past its storage spot, spilling out onto the floor. The broken glass earlier must’ve been from the petri dish—shit, he should’ve checked. It’s discolored now, so dark it’s nearly black, and growing more rapidly than it should be able to.
You spin on your feet to see what Yeonjun’s looking at, yelping when you see the growth. You back up quickly and bump into Yeonjun’s chest. “What’s happening?” you ask, turning your head back to look up at him.
“I don’t know,” he answers. He has to think fast, because it doesn’t look like the cell replication is stopping any time soon—if anything, it looks like it’s growing exponentially. The clump is a goo-like substance, slowly spilling out further and further onto the floor, looking something like tar as it expands out. “We’ll have to trigger rapid apoptosis,” he says.
“How do we do that?” you ask. Yeonjun’s not sure either, so he doesn’t bother to answer. He opens one of the cabinets and pulls out all the different liquid chemicals he can find. One of these is bound to do something.
You hold yourself and watch him carefully, still looking shy and desperate and nervous from your argument. Yeonjun’s not sure why you seem to be more bothered by him not reassuring you that he likes you than by the clump that grows behind you. Your attention remains on him the whole time.
“Are you mad at me?” you ask.
“No,” he answers sharply and quickly. He has bigger issues to be worried about than staying mad at you.
“I promise I wasn’t lying. I won’t talk to Kai ever again.”
“Why are we having this conversation right now?!” Yeonjun asks, frustrated.
“Because it’s important to me that you know!”
He ignores you in favor of unscrewing the lid to one of the acids, hoping it could digest the cells. When he pours it onto the clump, a loud hiss rings through the room and smoke comes up from the mass. It doesn’t seem to dissolve the cells, though.
He emits an exasperated groan, opening the lid to another chemical substance, and you rush to do the same. He can’t stop to think about how dangerous this is, too focused on controlling the problem before it gets irreparable. You and Yeonjun pour chemicals onto it at the same time, and it seems to react. The tar-like blob thickens now, erecting itself up from the floor languidly.
You and Yeonjun back up, watching with fearful eyes as it stands. It moves like it’s alive, like it’s a living organism. It’s eerily silent for a room as you two stare at the mass in shock. Then, rapidly, it comes charging at you, attaching itself to your cardigan as you shriek. Yeonjun acts fast, running to you and grabbing your waist, adhering his feet to the floor to keep you from getting dragged any more. You shed your cardigan quickly before tugging it back from the blob. It tears from how harsh you pull it, but you don’t seem to care, chucking it to the opposite side of the room.
This is an unfortunate time to see you in a tight-fitting tank top. Your chest heaves from the panic of being grabbed by the organism, rising and falling as you start to steady your breath. You look over at him, and he finds himself blushing and removing his gaze from you in embarrassment. God, now he’s the one struggling to focus on the bigger problem.
Yeonjun directs his wrist at the blob, shooting a web at it to keep it from charging at you again. The web sends the mass flying back until it collides with the wall. Though it can’t remove itself from the confines of the web, it still slowly grows, and it will be able to expand enough to attack again soon. Still, this should buy you two some more time.
“You should leave,” Yeonjun says, coming to you and cupping your face. His eyes beg you to go, strung up on the possibility of you getting hurt.
“I won’t,” you say, grabbing onto his wrists.
“Please. You’re too important.” His hand strokes through your hair like you’re something precious.
You take his hand and kiss it. “You are too. I won’t leave.”
He sighs. He knows he’s not winning this, there’s too much determination in your words. Before he removes his focus from you, he thinks he should tell you one last thing. “Just so you know, I like you too.”
You’re barely able to hold back your smile, but Yeonjun can’t stay and watch your reaction. The mass continues to grow over the confines of the web, and he has to find a way to control it before it overcomes the binds. He opens the binder that holds the descriptions of all the lab materials, hoping he can find something useful in there. His eyes flit across the words, scanning for the chemicals that will be his saving grace.
He stops when he reads the description for nitric acid. The words digest and dissolve kick his body to life, hope stirring inside of him. “Come here with the nitric acid!” he shouts over his shoulder.
“Which one is that?” you ask hurriedly, scanning through the different bottles of chemicals.
“It’s in a brown translucent bottle. Quick!” Before he can panic further, you’re racing to his side with a bottle of the acid. Yeonjun quickly pours it over the mass, watching it shrivel when the liquid hits its surface. A weight lifts off Yeonjun’s shoulders when he realizes he finally found something that works. The bottle doesn’t hold nearly enough, though, because Yeonjun empties it out before he can melt the organism completely.
He turns to you expectantly, and you’re rushing back to the counter where all the chemical substances are held. You’re turning each to read the labels, growing more aggravated as you fail to find another container of nitric acid. You curse as you swing the cabinet doors open, checking if there’s any stored away in there.
You pull out a bottle from the cabinet, reading it quickly. “Would sulfuric acid work?” you ask, looking at Yeonjun like you need him to say yes.
“It would react with the nitric acid,” he answers. You groan.
“You think I know any of this stuff?!” You go back to searching through the cabinet.
“Yes! You’re, like, the smartest girl I know!” Yeonjun exclaims, equally as frustrated.
“You must not know a lot of girls then,” you huff. You finally pull out a bottle that seems to match, running over to Yeonjun. He takes it from your hands and pours the liquid over what remains of the clump, watching it dissolve until all that’s left is a murky puddle on the floor. He plops the nitric acid onto a table, finally letting himself take a full breath. He tastes the chemicals swirling in the air, but he can’t bring himself to care about any toxins filling his lungs. He’s worn out, crouching down in exhaustion with a groan.
When he picks his head up from between his arms, he searches for you. You’re bent over one of the tables, head tucked between your arms as half your body rests over the surface. You must be just as drained as him. He stretches his body out as he stands back up, then approaches you at the opposite side of the table. He rests his elbows onto the tabletop, leaning forward to be closer to you.
“You get feisty when you’re working under pressure,” Yeonjun teases, breathless laugh escaping him. You lift your head to look at him, and he can see how you hold back your amusement.
“I could say the same about you,” you respond. You seem winded, still breathing hard as you push yourself off the table and pick up your cardigan from the floor. You hold up your cardigan and examine the damage. It’s stained and ripped and looks disgusting. You pout. “This was my favorite one…”
“Don’t worry, you’re pretty good at stitching things back up,” Yeonjun says, coming up to you and taking the cardigan from your hands to tie it around your waist. You look up at him, something fond shining in your eyes.
“I guess I am,” you say, tugging on Yeonjun’s sweatshirt to pull him closer to you. You wear a dopey smile as you stare at him, hands resting on his shoulders, and Yeonjun really hopes that you do what he knows you’re both thinking about right now.
You don’t leave him waiting long; your hand comes to his jaw to bring his face to yours, and the next second, Yeonjun’s having the best kiss of his life. It feels like a reward after the shitshow that today’s been. For it to come to this, he’d relive it a dozen more times.
“Wait,” Yeonjun says, pulling back. “Are we dating now?”
“Haven’t we been dating?” You look at him like he’s a fool, and it endears Yeonjun endlessly.
“Oh, I’ve already told, like, three people that you’re my boyfriend.” There might be real hearts in Yeonjun’s eyes right now.
“Good,” he says, coming in for another quick kiss. “I’m all yours.” His words are uttered against your lips, since he can’t seem to pull himself away from you.
You gladly accept his kisses, and he has to keep himself from getting too drunk off your taste. He has to remember he’s still in a lab with a bunch of chemicals filling the air—it’s probably a good idea to get out. Even though he doesn’t want to, Yeonjun steps back and looks around at the mess throughout the room. Given everything that happened, it’s not awful. A mop would take care of ninety percent of the problem.
“We should clean this up,” he sighs.
“Yeah,” you agree. Neither of you make a move. You start laughing after a few seconds, and Yeonjun returns his attention to you with a cheeky grin.
“No, let’s just leave,” he suggests. He’s exhausted. He’ll explain everything to his professor tomorrow, he can’t take any more of this today.
“Should we go back to my place then?” you ask. Yeonjun does a very poor job of hiding his excitement. He wants more than anything to hold you to his chest and zip across campus to get to your dorm, but alas, he does the smart thing instead. A ten minute walk has never felt more like ten hours in his life, and seeing your dorm building finally come into view has his heart racing in anticipation.
Yeonjun’s all over you the minute your door closes behind him. He doesn’t let your lips disconnect for a second—not to talk, not to breathe, because nothing’s more important than tasting your lips on his.
Your back falls to your mattress, and Yeonjun’s mind briefly wanders to the last time you two were here. Having you sprawled out beneath him is quite different than you patching him up above him. In a way, that moment felt like the start of something bigger between you. The initial spark came long before it, but that night is what caused fire to catch. He feeds the flame now, fingers untying the cardigan at your waist and throwing it to the floor. Your shirt’s the next thing to go, and he only pulls away long enough to shed the cloth off of you.
His mouth on yours is ravenous and unwilling to waste any more time. He feels up your stomach, cherishing the warm flesh with eager fingers. He trails his hands up to your chest, feeling your breasts over your bra. You gasp when he squeezes experimentally, and it encourages him to continue, movements growing hungry.
You break away from the kiss, panting for air while Yeonjun latches onto your jaw. He’s insatiable, sucking your skin and placing kitten licks over the mark after. He hovers his face over yours, biting back his grin when he sees how hazy your eyes have become.
You catch his face in your hand, cupping his jaw and thumbing his cheek. The action makes his heart soar, and he leans into your warm touch. Your smile turns from soft to wicked when you push your thumb between his lips, and he engulfs the digit without a fight.
“I like you,” you say as he sucks your thumb, blinking up at him adoringly like he’s not doing some lewd act right now. He swirls his tongue around you before popping it out of his mouth, kissing your fingertip then taking your hand in his own.
“I like you too.” His free hand goes behind your back to search for your bra clasp, fumbling with it clumsily until he gets it to disconnect. You pull the material off, and Yeonjun’s cock twitches in his pants when he takes in the sight of you. A part of him feels wrong for doing this, like this is too dirty, but a larger part of him can’t wait to indulge in you. He’ll just make sure to take you out for dinner after.
Yeonjun throws his sweatshirt and shirt to the floor, pride swirling inside him when he sees the way you ogle at his skin. You lay your hand over his chest, trailing your fingers over the expanse teasingly. He takes your wrist and drags your hand away.
“You don’t deserve to touch me. I’m still upset about Kai,” he says. It’s a lie, but he’s in a playful mood. Your hand makes its way back to his chest despite that, so he grabs it and brings it to the bed, shooting a web over your wrist so you can’t move it. He giggles. The whole web-slinging thing comes with some perks.
“Oh, come on,” you sulk as he does the same to your other wrist. He leans back for a moment, looking down at you all proud. A few different sights flash through his mind, endless possibilities of how he could make the most of your hands being restrained. Maybe he should punish you for ever liking Kai in the first place, keep you on the edge until you’re chanting apologies into the air. He could also just indulge in your body greedily, taste every inch of you without your hands pulling him away. The ache in his pants grows at the thought.
You sigh in satisfaction when his hand meets your clothed core. Your hips grind against his hand, and he allows you to use him to find your pleasure. Your hands close into fists as Yeonjun lets you ride his open palm, still fighting against your restraints.
“How much do you like me?” Yeonjun asks. His free hand holds your waist, fingers brushing against your skin gently.
“So much,” you answer, never abandoning your rhythm. “You’re so smart, and handsome, and funny, and—nngh—and good to me…” Yeonjun’s hand travels from your waist to your chest in reward, thumb rolling over one of your nipples.
“Yeah, I am good to you. I stay with you even though you’re mean to me.”
You shake your head at his statement. “I’m not mean to you,” you say.
He laughs at how you try to control yourself, how serious your tone gets. Your hips slow, so he takes measures into his own hands and moves his palm against your cunt instead. If he presses down hard enough, he can feel how wet you are even through your pants.
“You are,” he says. “You use me to get other men.” He knows that’s not true now, but a part of him is still a little bruised by the idea. He figures that airing out his insecurities like this might help him, and it makes him feel less vulnerable.
“No! That’s not true!” Yeonjun ignores you and takes off your pants, letting them join the other articles of clothing on your floor. He short circuits when he sees the wet patch on your panties. A sense of shame must fill you then, because your legs clamp shut to block his view.
“Hey, be nice,” he says, opening your legs back up. He holds you open as he presses his knee to your folds, and he can feel your arousal even through the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s squealing internally, overjoyed to have you soaking for him, but he keeps his calm on the outside.
Your hands push against the webs again, shaking the mattress a little. You pout at him. “I want to touch you,” you whine.
“Sorry about that,” he says. He matches your pout as his hands smooth down your legs, lazily exploring your flesh. He grabs your hips and positions them up a little so that you’re pressing into his thigh. He hears the moan that gets caught in your throat as he drags your cunt against him, holding back a satisfied smirk.
“Should I tell you what I like about you?” Yeonjun asks, something silky and smooth in his voice. You nod, rolling your hips over his thigh. “Say pleaseeeee,” he prompts.
“Please,” you echo. He giggles.
“Again.” He’s having fun.
“Please, Yeonjun,” you beg, sweet voice dripping with need.
He releases your hips so he can pull off your panties, tugging you back onto him once you kick the cloth off your ankles. He can really feel how wet you are now, and it makes a knot form in his stomach. He wants you more than anything.
“I like how pretty you are,” he starts, leaning over you to press kisses against your neck. “And I like how cool you are.” His mouth travels a little lower, sucking at your collarbone. “And I like how I can talk to you for hours and never get bored.” His lips smother your chest, just above your tits, familiarizing himself with every inch of your skin. Your hips buck against him when he presses his thigh more firmly between your legs. “And I like how wet you get,” he laughs.
His mouth finds your breasts then, tongue swirling teasingly around one of your buds. Your nipples perk up, begging for his attention. He drags his tongue over to your other mound, sucking at the swell of flesh, moaning against you. The taste of your skin in his mouth makes him feel high.
You whine, hips rolling more fervently against him, chasing your approaching high. Yeonjun busies himself with delivering kitten licks to your nipples, watching the way they glisten with his saliva after he runs his tongue across them a few times. He peels himself off of you when your rhythm gets unsteady, not wanting you to cum yet. There’s a look of betrayal on your face as he disconnects from you, not touching you at all anymore.
“Yeonjun,” you moan, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him in. “I need to cum.” Your needy cunt grinds against the tent in his boxers, hungrily trying to get yourself off. He lets you have your fun for a minute, enjoying the feel of your warm, wet slit coating his clothed cock, before holding your hips still and keeping you from moving. That doesn’t stop you from digging your heels into his back, pushing him harder against you.
He removes your legs from him, holding you open as he plunges two fingers into your cunt. Your heat takes him in so nicely, the slide of his digits inside you made so easy from how slick your cunt is. You arch your back, moaning out as he curls his fingers inside you.
“Tight girl, gotta stretch you out,” he says, scissoring his digits to prepare you. Your arousal pools out of you, dripping onto the mattress as Yeonjun fucks you on his fingers. “Need to get you ready for me.”
“Mhm, need your dick,” you say. You look so helpless like this, laying back and letting Yeonjun fuck his fingers into you however he wants. He increases his speed just because he can, knowing you can’t pry his hand away, grinning when you emit a surprised gasp. Your walls start tightening around his fingers, a warning of your orgasm, and Yeonjun pulls his hand away before you can get there.
You’re whining his name again, thighs clamping shut to relieve the pressure. He shushes you as he tugs his boxers out of the way, stroking his cock as he watches the way you tremble. Poor thing.
“You want me to fuck you?” he asks. Your legs spread open immediately in invitation. He watches as a glob of arousal drips out from your core.
“Yes,” you breathe out. He pumps his shaft a few more times before bringing it to your folds, letting your wetness coat his tip. “Put it in,” you beg, jerking your hips up. He ignores your plea, bringing the head of his cock to your clit to tap on it a few times. The stimulation sends a buzz through you, and Yeonjun coos at you sweetly.
“Want you to feel so good,” he says, aligning his tip to your hole and starts pushing in. You throw your head back and groan, and he gives your neck a wet kiss. “Wanna be the best you’ve had.” He sinks in slowly, letting your walls adjust to him inch by inch. You feel like heaven around him, and his fingers dig into your hips to keep himself from losing his mind. He wants to meld himself into you.
He grinds his pelvis against you when he bottoms out, steadying his breaths so he doesn’t lose himself too quickly. His moans are deep and airy, while yours are whiny and pathetic. He trails a hand up your body until he’s cupping your face, bringing your attention to him. You look dazed, and he wants to watch you fall apart. He needs to see your perfect face scrunched up with pleasure, eyes glassy and mouth open, going stupid from how fucked out you are.
He presses a light kiss against your lips, then leans his face into the crook of your neck. He finally starts pulling back, slamming back into you with a whimper. Your cunt takes him so readily despite how tight you are, your arousal making him glide in and out of you so easily.
“Gonna be perfect for you,” Yeonjun promises. “Be a good boyfriend. Fuck you every day. Keep you happy.” He lifts himself up to watch your mouth fall open as he thrusts into you. He presses against your stomach to feel himself inside you, moaning whorishly when he does. It makes him fuck you harder, desperation coursing through his system.
You can barely speak from how far gone you are, stuttering out curses and whimpers of his name. He brings his thumb to your clit, rubbing at the swollen bud to get you clenching around him. He groans at how tight you get, sucking him in like your body was meant to take him.
“Need you to cum now,” Yeonjun says, feeling his high looming over. “Gotta feel you milking my cock, let me see it.”
“Kiss me,” you say breathlessly, mouth hanging open as you wait for him to take it. He obliges eagerly, shoving his tongue into your mouth with a needy whine. He licks into you as if this will coax your orgasm out, and it does. Your walls clamp around him, and he’s barely able to move from how tight you get. He circles your clit diligently, only letting up when your body jolts in overstimulation.
He pulls out soon after, only having to stroke himself a few times before he’s spilling his seed onto your stomach. He groans as he milks himself for every last drop, hand shaking as he releases the last of it. You look hot painted with his cum; he bites his lip and squeezes your thighs, needing more and more of you.
“You’re so gorgeous,” he says, making you turn your head away shyly.
“Thanks. You are too.” His stomach flips, feeling proud that he earned your praise. He lowers himself to your torso, lapping at the milky strands of his cum. He cleans you nicely, swallowing down his own release until your stomach’s coated in only his saliva. He brings himself to your slit to lap at it languidly, loving the little whines you emit at the sensation.
“Did so good for me, thank you,” he murmurs into your cunt. He pushes his tongue into your entrance, slowly fucking the muscle inside you. You sigh and roll your hips against his face, relaxed and melting into the feeling.
“Y-you’re good too,” you praise. He licks his way up to your clit, taking it into his mouth and letting his tongue roll over the bud. He likes to hear that he’s being good for you, it makes him feel like he’s worthy of you. He thrives off your happiness, so he feels content as he pleases you with his mouth.
He never wants to let you go. He wants you in his arms forever, he wants to stay in this room and live the rest of his life with just you by his side. This much is enough for him. He glides his hands down your thighs, letting his fingers lightly drag along your skin. He opens his mouth a little more to taste more of you, to kiss your folds more hungrily. He presses the tip of his tongue to your bud, focusing the pressure right against it until he hears you mewl.
“Right there!” you gasp out, pressing yourself further into Yeonjun’s face. He hooks his arms around your thighs to keep you in place, making sure you don’t jolt away when your orgasm creeps up on you. He flicks his tongue over your clit repeatedly, feeling your thighs shake in his grasp. He doesn’t stop until you’re releasing on his face, coating his mouth and chin with your essence.
He detaches himself after a minute, licking his lips and letting go of your legs. He sits up and smiles at you, taking in how pretty you look. He holds your jaw so he can kiss you, and he can’t help but to giggle into the kiss. This is so surreal. He would have fainted if he knew one month ago that this would be happening to him.
“Hi,” you say when he finally pulls his face from yours. This feels like a dream.
“Hi,” he echoes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He cherishes the smile you give him.
“So when does this dissolve?” you ask, tugging at the webs holding your arms in place. Yeonjun scratches his neck bashfully. That's enough of an answer for you. “Yeonjun…” you sigh, body deflating.
“Less than two hours!” he rushes to say.
“Two hours?!”
“It’s not that bad. I think we can pass the time,” he says, failing to hold back his smile.
Your eyes flit down to his stirring cock. “I guess I have nothing better to do,” you give in. Yeonjun sees right through your nonchalant act, but he lets you get away with it. He has better things to busy himself with than arguing about that.
──── ──── ──── ──── ────
You bring Yeonjun to the market after learning about the laundry detergent debacle. You place the item in your basket, shaking your head at him as you do. “I can’t believe your roommate had to tell me to get you to buy this.”
Yeonjun raises his hands in defense. “I get busy sometimes,” he says.
“With coming to my dorm every other night?” you ask with a raised brow, walking into the next aisle.
Yeonjun drops a candy bar into the basket alongside the detergent. “No, with lab stuff, and class stuff, and Spidey stuff,” he corrects. He picks up a bottle of your favorite drink as he passes by it on the shelf. “And with girlfriend stuff,” he adds sweetly.
“Right,” you say unconvincingly, smiling as you nod your head.
Yeonjun grabs a pair of sunglasses off a rack, placing them on his face and turning to you with a grin. “How cool are these?” he asks, pointing at himself.
You laugh and lift the sunglasses up so they rest on his head. “So cool,” you answer. You tilt your head to check the price on them. “You should totally spend the last of your money on them.”
He pulls the glasses off his face to check the price tag, eyebrows raising in reaction. He puts them back on the rack. He can’t get rid of the smile on his face as he watches you shop, endeared and swooned by every little thing you do. It’s small moments like these that make him feel like the luckiest guy on earth.
“We should get bandages. I can’t believe you don’t have any,” you say, looking for where the item would be in the store.
“There’s a lot of things I don’t have. I’m operating on a limited budget,” he explains. It’s not like he can tackle a job on top of everything else he does. He’s grown accustomed to his ways of living, accepting that he’s become the male college student stereotype.
“I’m glad I stepped into your life then,” you say, throwing a box of bandages into your basket. “I’m actually scared you’d die without me.”
Yeonjun can’t help but to laugh at that. “I would die without you,” he agrees. He follows you as you continue walking around the store, aimlessly searching for anything you might need. You stop when you feel your phone buzz, pulling out your phone upon receiving a notification, checking it curiously. He reads the message over your shoulder; it’s an alert from your local news station about some rescue mission for a bunch of dogs that ran loose from their shelter just now. You turn to him with a knowing smile.
“That’s your cue, Spider-man.”
notes: god i loved writing this so much…. i hope u like spideyjjun just as much as i do<3 i would love to hear ur thoughts if u have anyyy!!! tysm for reading hehe
babe. be real with me. if i were a plain little rock on a beach would you pick me up and turn me over in your hand and marvel over how wonderfully ordinary i am. like really take the time to ponder how there isn't necessarily anything special about me but that the very deed of choosing me out of countless other rocks raises me to a precious, almost sacred level of irreplaceability that is only accessible through the act of being seen and loved?
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